I Got Tagged with Seven Things!

I got tagged with the Seven Things Virus, I mean meme by The_Mrs. Here goes:

Seven things that attract me to my wife:
1. Unlike the others, she called it "dating," not "stalking."
2. Unlike the others, she thought that getting a restraining order was going too far.
3. She always has Doritos® Brand Tortilla Chips hidden somewhere in the house.
4. Her penchant for public nudity.*
5. I think her invisible friend Adrianne is REALLY hot.
6. Our common love of the early work of Doug E. Doug.
7. She puts up with my crap.

*I totally made this one up because her dad sometimes reads this idiocy.

Seven Things to Do Before I Die:
1. Grasp my chest and go "Arggggh!"
2. Look around to see who fired the fatal shot.
3. Glance scornfully down at my dog and say "Et Tu, Buttercup?"
4. Set phaser to "liquify" and blaze away at the villains.
5. Collapse gracefully like a flower wilting in the cruel August heat
6. Set my Tivo® so I don't miss the finale of Survivor
7. Say "Rosebud" and then watch the screen fade to images of my childhood sled.


Et Tu, Buttercup?


Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. See clearly now, nor can I see all the obstacles in my way.
2. Say "Get that goddamn piece of crap piano off my frickin' foot" in Mandarin Chinese, but I expect that any day now I'll find the fortune cookie that knocks this off my list.
3. Talk on a cell phone without getting "shouty"*
4. Believe the dumbass trades the Red Sox are making.
5. Figure out how to use the staple remover at work.
6. For some reason I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. I keep thinking that it'll soon be here, better than before, yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone. On a lesser scale, I also can't stop believing ever since I saw Journey in concert, I just have to hold on to that feeling. (Streetlight people are also somehow tied into this). Also, I can't fight this feeling anymore.
7. Understand what the hell people see in Paris Hilton.

*this is according to Mrs. Idiot and a small sampling of our friends. I'm still not convinced.

Seven Things I Say Most Often:
1. I swear to God I didn't eat it.
2. I didn't know it would smell THAT bad!
3. Is this the sort of function where I have to wear pants?
4. That Oprah, she knows everything!
5. Dumbass
6. Whattaya mean I'm shouting? It's a bad connection!
7. Whoops!

Seven Books (or Book Series) I Love:
1. Blogging for Dummies
2. How to Rid Your House of Owls in 3 Easy Steps
3. That One with the Hobbits and Scary Bits
4. Does Sports Illustrated count?
5. Women are From Mars, Men Have a Penis
6. Anything by Oprah
7. Why Do Bassetts Smell Like that and other Big Questions

Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:
1. Anything About Oprah
2. That one with the Hobbits and the Scary Bits
3. Caddyshack
4. Snow White and the Seven Samurai
5. Xanadu!
6. Naughty Housewives 9; Revenge of the Sith
7. Sixteen Candles

Seven People I Tag To Do Seven Sevens:
1. The Girl In Camouflage
2. Wiccachicky
3. SignGurl
4. Don't Miss
5. Blither
6. Coastal Cutie
7. (Insert Name here)*

I hate tagging people. Some people like it, some don't. If you wanted to be tagged, consider yourself tagged and do the dreaded Seven Sevens!

The Tattoo Tale

The story behind my recent tattoo binge is really quite simple. All my life I've wanted to be a pop singer. You know, like Leif Garrett.

So when I heard that Pink is dating a guy who owns a tattoo shop, and that they put people who were getting tattoos on television, I knew it was probably my last chance to attain the stardom I so desperately seek. (Other than cooking up a fascinating blog like Bob Gentry).

Now, this is where the idiot part kicks in. I apparently confused Punk'd with Pink's boyfriend's tattoo show, Inked. I was under the impression that Pink and her wacky tattooing chums went from tattoo parlor to tattoo parlor playing little practical candid camera jokes on us poor saps. I planned on using my fifteen minutes of fame to boost my career; you know, the usual mix of crooning, joke cracking, and charismatic behavior that marks us pop sensations. At the very least, I figured that I could charm the crap out of Pink and she'd let me hang around in her posse. Maybe I could volunteer to carry the boom box. So I went to dozens of tattoo parlors and got dozens of tattoos before Mrs. Idiot demanded the story. Then she straightened me out.


Corey Hart

Inked, as all of you smart people know, is nothing like Punk'd. It's set in Corey Hart's tattoo shop in Egypt. (I'm just guessing it's in Egypt. Mrs. Idiot said it was "in the Palms" so I figured it has to be in Egypt because of all the palm trees they have there).

Well, as Mrs. Idiot interrogated me, she dragged the whole story out of me, and clued me in to the fact that I had a couple of other things wrong. The extent of my knowledge of who the heck Pink is comes from my watching of that "Vooley-Voo Sushi Abbatoir, Cessna" video, you know, from the Olympic movie with the cows, Moolawn Luge. (I didn't see it because I figured it was just a rip-off of Babe and Cool Runnings, both of which I loved).


Embarrasingly, I thought that Pink was the black girl in that video, because I think she may have had on a pink wig at one point or something. As you can probably tell, I'm easily confused.

Turns out this isn't Pink

Then, to make matters worse, it turns out that my new almost- homegirl, Lil Kim, is not only not affiliated with Inked, she's not recruiting members fro her posse because she's like in jail or something. (Probably for impersonating Pink).

So there you have it. I'm no closer to realizing my dream of being the next American Idol, but I do have a lot of cool new tattoos to show off on Half Nekkid Thursday.

HNT- The Tattoo Parade

Tattoo #1; The Blackhawk


I have a whole long story about this. I've been getting tattoos all over my body over the past several months. Because y'all are just here for the pics, I'll spare the story till another time. Over the next few weeks I'll be posting pics of all my new tattoos, so come on back!

Crime May Not Pay, but Google Might!

Over the past week or two there have been a spate of stories about criminals who ran into some seriously bad luck.

Unlucky Bank Robber Pleads Guilty

Washington- Bank Robber Michael Donahoe, 53, robbed a Washington D.C. bank, but was foiled in his getaway when a witness blocked in the taxi Donahoe was using as his getaway car. As he was angrily trying to persuade the witness to move, the dye pack that a teller had put in with the stolen money exploded, covering Donahoe in red ink. This attracted the attention of two FBI agents who just happened to be having lunch nearby. They marched the inky Donahoe into the bank where witnesses identified him as the bank robber.

Indeed, that guy was unlucky. I think this guy might be cursed, however:

Fugitive hides in church, finds police praying
ROME (Reuters) - Gilberto Antonio Carnoale, 48, a man on the run from his house arrest, gave the police who were pursuing him the slip. Unfortunately for Mr. Carnoale, he slipped into a church that was full of police officers attending mass. The officers recognized Carnoale and arrested him. They did honor his request to hear the mass before taking him away, however.

Finally, I'd say that this is a case of divine intervention, because this surely sounds like the "eye for an eye" philosophy we read about in various religious texts:

Police Hit Man in Genitals With Taser
FORT MYERS BEACH, Fla. - Police accidentally hit a naked man in the genitals with a Taser after he was caught breaking windows and asking women to touch him, authorities said. Jeremy J. Miljour, 26, tried to run away when sheriff's deputies approached so one of them shot their Taser, said Cpl. Matt Chitwood. But one of the gun's prongs accidentally hit Miljour's genitals and got stuck, Chitwood said. "The Taser is relatively accurate, but when someone is moving like that, it doesn't matter if you have a Taser, or a pistol. (Officers) can't aim," Chitwood said. Miljour was treated at a hospital before being taken to the Lee County jail. He was charged with indecent exposure, resisting an officer and criminal damage.

The sad thing about printing this story is that I kinda dread the weird search hits I'm going to get now that I have "taser" and "genitals" on the same page. If I could only think of a clever way to work in a "Pam Oliver" or a "Katie Couric Nude" into the sentence, I could probably put up some Google Ads and retire.

Bag Balm Anyone?

In honor of my chapped lips, I present you with this:

The old cowhand came riding into town on a hot, dry, dusty day.
The local sheriff watched from his chair in front of the saloon as the cowboy wearily dismounted and tied his horse to the rail a few feet in front of the sheriff.
"Howdy, stranger..."
"Howdy, Sheriff..."
The cowboy then moved slowly to the back of his horse, lifted its tail, and placed a big kiss right on the horse's ass. He dropped the horse's tail, stepped up on the walk, and aimed towards the swinging doors of the saloon. "Hold on, Mister..."
"Sheriff?"
"Did I just see what I think I just saw?"
"Reckon you did, Sheriff...I got me some powerful chapped lips..."
"And that cures them?"

"Nope, but it keeps me from lickin' em."

NFL Name of the Week

This week's great NFL name is Earthwind Moreland. He is no longer in the NFL, and I believe his position on the Patriots is now filled by Randy Gay. (I'm not making that name up either). Yes, he was named for his mother's favorite musical act, Earth, Wind and Fire

Given the injuries in the Patriots secondary this season, and the fact that we've allowed such great names as Ty Law and Lawyer Milloy to go to other teams, we may need to get Earthwind back from NFL Europe or wherever he's gone. I heard that this "Shining Star" needed to "Getaway" in "September" (Ok, I'm now totally out of Earth Wind and Fire songs).

Rock On, Earthwind!

slang most fly

I had so much fun learning all the weird things that brought people here that I've been checking more regularly. Here's the latest list.

I seem to be everyone's new expert on puppies:
delivering letter of puppies
stuffed puppies little hat
can puppies get constipated?
why do puppies fart so much?
picture of puppies helping baby stand
puppies hoo need a home
celebrity puppies
pictures of puppies coming out of the butt
pictures of puppies playing with a coke bottle
kicked puppies
allison krauss puppies dress
puppies gas
puppies gas smell

I also seem to be an expert on idiotry:
you are an idiot
village idiot pics
idiot boyfriend ringtone
idiot athlete
idiot likes my sandwich
idiot picture
village idiot
jim rome
jim rome is an idiot
jim rome and jim everett video
jim everett fight

I seem to have also tapped into a weird cult of people who like Pam Oliver:
pam oliver pics
pam oliver pics nude
pam oliver nude
pam oliver - big butt
pam oliver makes me happy

These kind of defy categorization:
slevin's bus hire
slang most fly
borat, ali g, ringtone
kicked in the groin pointy shoes
kicked
picture of man's butt crack
winnacunnet nude
man glued to toilet seat picture
debra lafave nude
ronnie van zant
inhuman fart
mailbox prank shoot
lofa tatupu at thanksgiving
ali g harvard commencement speech
big pecker
cow mating
jetsons nascar jacket
assbag
assmatter
katie couric hat thanksgiving pictures 2005
Katie Couric 2005 Thanksgiving Hat
katie couric nude
p diddle shoes

There you go. Search on!

Limbo- The Forbidden Dance

Have ya been reading that there's pressure on the new Pope to outlaw the limbo?

You know, I hate cheesey dances, so a few years ago I would have been all for it. But then we went to Aruba or someplace and saw a show where some old island guy was able to limbo under a stick that was held up only by two coke bottles. That's when I realized that the Limbo is an art form, rather than a dance.

I wonder if maybe they're confusing the Limbo and the Lambada. The Lambada is already "the forbidden dance," so I'm thinking that the Theologians, well known for hating dances (did you see Footloose?), got confuddled. I mean, both dances start with the letter L and all.

Also, though I'm in favor of a lot of legislation barring certain types of dancing, (Hey Macarena!) and I'm especially in favor or legislation that would ban cheesey wedding disc jockeys from breathing, I think that one performance by one of these island guys would sway even the most curmudgeonly theologian, just like Kevin Bacon did when he rode that tractor straight into the Danger Zone. (Ok, I never actually saw Footloose all the way through, and I think that that song might be from the wrong movie, but you get the idea).

Limbo Artiste in action. How could they ban this?

So there you have it, a semi cogent essay on why the Limbo should be protected. Go ahead, Pope, ban the Lambada! Please Pope, ban the Macarena and the cheesey wedding DJs, but leave us our limbo. I see no harm in it, so let it be!

Well, unless of course you get so caught up in limbo fever you forget you're not wearing underwear.

Putting On The Foil, Coach

When I was growing up the Celtics were awesome, the Patriots were stinky*, the Bruins were good and the Red Sox were anyone's guess. Now of course, the times have changed. The Patriots have been awesome, the Red Sox won a World Series, the Celtics have been stinky* and the Bruins? Well, Wednesday's trade of star Joe Thornton couldn't be good, thought I.


Yes, for those of you who are not addicted to New England professional sports, the Boston Bruins traded their franchise player and team captain, Joe Thornton, to the San Jose Sharks for three players in a trade that just flat out doesn't make sense for us. Then, to confound me further, the Bruins played last night using the three new players and managed to shut out the Ottawa Senators 3-0. The winning goal was of course scored by Marco Sturm, one of the three new guys.

Because it fits my brand of journalism, I'm going to ignore last night's game and focus on the negative, namely, that if we're going to trade a star, we went after the wrong three guys. We should have gone after the Hanson Brothers.

No, I don't mean the three Hanson Brothers that make up the Weenie Rocksters Hanson.


This is not a case of the Village Idiot wanting to Hear Mmm-Bop or whatever the heck* their hit was. No, this is the Village Idiot out to kick some fanny*


The Hansons I'm talking about are the goons from the 1977 Paul Newman movie Slap Shot**. I mean, if we Bruins fans have to watch a bad team, they should at least give us a team that's fun to watch. The Hanson Brothers would have provided us with entertainment as well as the satisfaction of knowing that our team would leave the ice only after they'd pounded the living daylights out of the other team. These guys liked to fight, and they liked to fight dirty.

The Hanson Brothers, ready for action

Now, I'm not telling you to go rent Slap Shot, or even to watch hockey, (Mrs. Idiot lists both of those activities only slightly higher than using an olive fork to remove her own spleen, for example). What I am saying is this; The Bruins made a bad trade, and I'm happy to use that as a reason to talk about the Hanson Brothers because they amuse me.


The Hanson Brothers, pre-game but post fight

Really, that's it. There's no moral here or punchline or anything, just the Hanson Brothers, forever putting on the foil, coach.

*I'm trying to clean up the language on my blog at the suggestion of one of my sisters. I'll be going back to bowdlerize previous posts as time permits. (Yes, I am that desperate for readers). I should also note that this was a separate conversation from the one I had with my Sainted Mother, who suggested I should extend the Outhouse Post and research whether or not the moon on an outhouse door has anything to do with mooning. Then, Mom suggested, I could post the story on Half Nekkid Thursday along with a picture of my fanny **** Yes, that's right, the sainted mother was encouraging me to moon y'all

**Slap Shot's tagline was "Slap Shot out slaps... out swears... out laughs..." It is rated R and contains strong language and adult situations. Do not undertake the watching of this film unless you are prepared for salty dialogue. Occasionally it's shown on cable, but there are so many bleeps, omitted words and overdubs that the movie sounds as if the sound technicians were very very drunk.

***I make no claims on Slap Shot II. I didn't see it. I did, however, see Caddyshack II and, based on that seemingly unrelated fact, advise against seeing Slap Shot II.

**** In Britain, they don't use the word "fanny" to mean "bum" or "bottom", instead, the fanny is the naughty bits in front. A friend of mine learned this the hard way when she gave a toast to her British friend's wedding, and humorously mentioned the lady's "nice fanny" which, instead of making everyone laugh as intended, made the room so quiet you could hear all those staid British jaws dropping.

Res Ipsa Loquitur, Have a Nice Weekend!

HNT-Full Frontal Cartoon

Well, I had to black out part of it, I mean we can't have totally nekkid cartoon Idiots on the interweb can we?

Happy HNT!