Thursday, July 31, 2003

Only a Fool Breaks the Kotwf

Funky Cory had a link to this great site. It's an advertising slogan generator. Now I'm not going to get anything done today...

My Kotwf to Yours.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Repeat After Me

My car horn is not a whip. My car horn is not a paddle. Honking it obnoxiously does not punish people who do things that I don't like.

In fact, it usually makes them wish that they had done something worse.

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Family Pride

I attended my brother's first ever movie premier this weekend. And let me tell you what, it was great. Before you start saying things like "KOTWF, if your family is in with Hollywood, can you get me a gig," or "Take me now, I need to be filled with your celebrity manhood" I'd just like to mention that he was an extra, but that's not the point. The point is, I sat in a movie theatre, watching a mainstream movie, and there, larger than life, was my brother for a good five, maybe ten seconds.

And he got paid to be there.

Just so you all can share the experience, I'll tell you what to look for. Go see Seabiscuit (Which, by the way, was a fucking great film if you don't mind getting a little sap on you) starring The Dude and Spiderman. During the big horse-race at Pimlico, where they let the "common-folk" into the infield of the track, watch for a tall guy in a BRIGHT RED FLANNEL JACKET. He wore it on purpose to make sure you could see him. Trust me, he stands out. Anyway, that's my brother: Currently poor and playing 132nd fiddle to Tobey Maguire, but soon to be rich and famous.

But seeing him on the big screen reminded me of a few of my other "brushes with fame" so I thought I'd share them with you:

My dad's secretary's sister is married to Tom Urich who is the brother of Robert Urich and father of Justin Urich. I have had dinner with Tom numerous times. When Robert passed away last year, I sent a card to his family.

Years ago, Dick Sargent came to my little town for a benefit he was hosting. While he was here, he was befriended by my father, and he came back regularly to visit. One year, we had a big pool party when he was in town and everyone had their picture taken with him. Two days later, he came out of the closet on national television, and everyone ripped up their pictures. I live in Appalachia.

In Chicago O'Hare airport, I sat down in a bar right next to Fred Rogers. I turned to him and said, "Excuse me, neighbor, would you be my friend?" Fred looked me square in the eye and said "Fuck off, asshole."

A couple of years ago, Shirley King came to town to do a concert. After the concert, we slipped her a note that said "You and your band are cordially invited brunch at our home tomorrow morning. We understand that someone of your celebrity must be leary of accepting invitations from strangers, so we suggest that, if you are interested, you check our credibility with anyone whom you trust." and our phone number. Shirley asked the desk clerk at her hotel if she should party with us, the clerk responded that if she got an invitation from us, that she should accept because our house is the place to be. She ended up drinking all our booze and borrowing our van. At the end of the visit, she said "I just gots to tell dad to give ya'll a call if'n he's ever round these parts." That's all we wanted. Incidentally, that link is to a restaurant in Cleveland, Ohio that is great. Go there.

One time, I got yelled at by Christy Brinkley for running through her lawn. That was kinda cool.

I saw David Hasselhoff in a leather shop in Venice, Italy. No else had recognized him. I said to my brother, "Hey, look! That's David Hasselhoff! You know, Germans love him." Apparently, so do Venetians, because as soon as I said that, they all started saying "David Hasselhoff" and rushing up to see him/shake hands with him/take pictures of him and he had to hurry out of the store because the crowd wouldn't leave him alone. I felt bad for a minute, then remembered that it was just David Hasselhoff.

Now, about my celebrity manhood...

Monday, July 28, 2003

I Mourn Your Passing*

Mankind has suffered a great loss. Last night, Bob Hope passed away at the tender young age of 100. I'm sure that we can all remember a "Bob Hope Moment" where he touched our lives in a very real, very permanent way. I'd like to take this opportunity to share a few of my favourites:

The Scene in Some Like it Hot where he says all those funny lines. God I'll miss him.

The way he cracked me up in his role as Ice Cream Vendor in The Muppet Movie.

His role as Buzz Fielding in The Big Broadcast of 1938 which neither I nor anyone I know has ever seen.

Oh God! You Devil! where he played both roles.

His terrific rendition of White Christmas in a movie with a similar title.

Him almost making it over the barbed wire in The Great Escape.

And of course, his famous line "I'll be back!"

You will be sorely missed, Bob. I'll never be able to watch Ghostbusters again without weeping.

*This post is actually really fucking lame. Just warning you.

Friday, July 25, 2003

Other People Get the Laughs!

I was relating my Holiday Inn Express story to my uncle, and he proceeded to tell me a story about being in the elevator of an Embassy Suites one time. Apparently, the elevator was extremely crowded, so much so that you couldn't help but touch the person next to you. About half-way up, he turned another passenger and said "I lowered my cholesterol today!"

I understand that they are still laughing.

Thursday, July 24, 2003


And the Lord said, "Let the HTML for the comments not cause the user's browser to freeze up and explode." And so the KOTWF went forth from Galilee in search of a new comment server. And he found a new comment server. And it was good.

There is balm in Gilead.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Doesn't Anybody Get Pop Culture References?

A few years ago, I worked for a company, which shall remain nameless, that manufactured replacement windows. One of our bigest customers was a certain nationwide chain of home improvement stores. My job, unfortunately, was to go into two of these stores per day to restock the shelves, clean and repair displays, place special orders, order additional windows to fill the shelves, replace documentation, and rearrange shelves to make windows easier to reach/purchase. Needless to say, it sucked.

On one particular day, I was unhappily restocking some 36" x 52", double-paned, low E with argon windows, when a woman approached and asked me where she could find a particular size of furnace filter. I set down my window and said "Follow me," then walked her halfway across the store to where the furnace filters were kept and helped her find the correct size.

At this point, she noticed that I was not wearing the traditional uniform of this store's employees. She suddenly felt very silly for asking for my help and said "My goodness! You do work here don't you?" To which I replied, "No. But I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night."

She looked at me like I was a sea cucumber singing an Aria.

Monday, July 21, 2003

While I'm At It

While I was adding The Strawsburg to my sidebar, I decided I would add Pretty Paranoia and Hastily Paraphrased as well. They are both fun sites, and will help to get you through the workday.

Also, Fishy!
Here we go again

Well, Faithful Reader, it looks like another busy week of marauding with the horde. I'll update as often as I can (hopefully daily, as the Scottish/Conglerian crew of the HMS MacMacMac has been instructed to install an internet connection before they pick me up again). If I am killed while at large in the cosmos, then you can amuse yourselves with this link:

The Strawsburg

The Strawsburg and I have been friends for, like, ever. In fact, it was with The Strawsburg that I discovered the interesting fact that weekends actually start on Wednesday at 10:00pm and last until Sunday. It was also with The Strawsburg that I realized just how difficult it is to talk after consuming 1.75 litres of Gin at one sitting. Ah good times.

Anyway, read his blog, laugh, cry, just don't blame me.

Friday, July 18, 2003

It's Been Awhile

I apologize for my delinquency. I have simply not had the time to update this site as much as I would like, or indeed, as much as I had promised myself I would. I could feed you all some lame excuse about trouble at home, or being swamped at work, or an ingrown hair on my big toe, but I feel like you deserve more than that. I feel like you, my adoring public, deserve the truth.

Picture this: it is Monday evening, approximately 6:30, and I have just finished off my second bottle of Talisker. I am relaxing on my Italian leather sofa wearing my gold watch, the Blondage is beside me in her silk dress, and we're watching some bitches in the living room getting it on. Suddenly, I hear La Vie En Rose arpeggios coming from the driftwood castle nextdoor, and I decide I'm sick and tired of the guy next door quietly making noise. Up to the window I flew like Jumping Jack Flash, Threw open the shutters and ripped up the sash. "You there, boy!" I shouted to a passing urchin, "What day is it?" "Why sir, It's Christmas day!" came the cheerful reply. I was so elated that the spirits hadn't let me miss it, that I didn't hear my stereo begin to play the theme song to Close Encounters nor did I notice the menacing craft slowly descending on my slightly inebriated form. Before you could say "Another Round, Please!" I found myself breaking down into the very atoms that make up my body, and then reassembling inside the alien vessel. A wild-eyed, red-headed/red-bearded man with a Kilt and a Claymore stood behind a control panel mumbling something about "revolution...war...large bowl of porridge...drown middlesex in a sea of blood...FRRRREEDOM!!!" Then he stared at me.

Several minutes later, two more Highlanders came in and both shouted "FRRREEDOM!!!" and looked at me intently. Seconds ticked by. "FRRREEDOM!!!" they said again. "Freedom?" I asked. "Aye! FRRREEDOM!!!" They replied. "'Tis a Braw Bricht Moon-Licht Nicht Tonicht?" They inquired. "Ya're Richt Cha Can!" I said back forcefully. Then they said something that sounded like a chicken being fed through a food processor, so I just stood there. After a moment, one of the Highlanders pointed to a set of stairs and said "Ya'll tak tha high road, aye'll tak tha low road." I was beginning to understand their language. They spoke in old Scottish cliches and quotes. I replied "And I'll be in Scotland Afore Ye!" and they bellowed "FRRREEDOM!!!" then walked through the lower door. I climbed the stairs, and walked down the hallway to the bridge of the ship.

As I walked past busts of Mary Queen of Scots, Robert Burns, and that most famous of all Scots, Ouijock Poopon McPlop, the man who cleans out the public toilets in Aberdeen, I tried to understand what was happening. My best guess is that these strange creatures lived on a planet where they had been receiving television transmissions from Earth, kind of like the Movie Galaxy Quest, but funny. Unfortunately, through a strange twist of fate, they only ever received BBC2. I hated to think of the television programming hell that these poor creatures had had to endure on a daily basis.

After years of only BBC2, they had grown to hate the English and all things having to do with them. The next natural step, of course, would be to identify with the Scots. The sad part is that everthing they knew about the Scottish culture they had gleaned from BBC2. They thought all Scots were read-headed, drunken, bloodthirsty homocidal maniacs with no more ability to enunciate than a lisping stutterer in a peanut butter eating contest. This had kept them happy for a number of years, but eventually they had begun to want more out of life. In an attempt to learn all they could of the Scottish culture, they decided to kidnap an Earthling that showed all the signs they thought necessary to be an expert on Scotland. And that is why, when my Scotch-to-bodymass ratio approached 1:1, they locked onto me and beamed me up.

I entered the bridge, and was greeted with "FRRREEDOM!!!" by the crew. "Freedom." I replied and they all smiled and went back to work drinking whisky and head-butting each other. The captain, eager to test my knowledge of all things Scottish, approached and said "Lad, ye tink ye're a beg man, aye? Tink ye're tuff enuff to tak the captain, aye? Aye'll gie ye a Glaswegian Handshake!" Not waiting to see what would happen next, I shouted "Fuckye!" and smashed my forehead into his, sending him flying across the cabin to land on top of a man carrying a telephone pole. I then sat in is chair and started my carefully crafted speech: "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace Bled! Scots wham Bruce Has often led! Welcome to your gory bed, or to victory!"

Wild cheers filled the vessel as I finished my speech and approached a beautiful young alien/scottish girl. "Fair for yer honest, soncy face..." I said as she melted into me. Then I felt it. Goddamn kilts!

Well, needless to say, I had to kill him in order to ensure that the story never got out. Then, I gave the crew a round of Glaswegian Handshakes to make sure they knew who was in command. Satisfied that I held the ship, I began giving orders, and we, the noble Scottish/Conglerian Crew of the HMS MacMacMac, began our week long crusade of violence, rape, pillage, bloodshed, and Scotch consumption. They finally dropped me back off at home, with the promise to come back next month to continue their education.

Maybe I'll teach them some great Scottish songs like "My Love is a Prick (On a Red Red Rose)," "Let's give KOTWF another dram of Scotch," or "Tub Thumping."

Monday, July 14, 2003

Oh Glorious Day!!!

I am the #1 Google search result for "Make Yourself Vomit" "How To!" Those crazy bolemic kids with their crazy internet searches.

Boy! I hope it wasn't an emergency....

Thursday, July 10, 2003

Ryan Does It, Why Can't I?

Ryan has started posting key search words that led people to his site on google, yahoo, AOL, etc. It's funny shit, so I thought I'd try it, too.

People found my site today by searching for the following key words:

"Girls Going Wild" (I was number 181 on the list, so this guy has a lot of time on his hands)
"Google Acid Spunk" (I was actually on the first page for this one)
"American Gladiator Porn" (This is the best. I was on page 37 of 60. This guy needs a hobby.)

Yesterday, I got 5 hits because people searching for various nationalities (like "French" or "Russian") and the words "Hairy Armpits."

People scare me.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Because It Makes Me Happy...

The complete lyrics to "Step Right Up" by Tom Waits. This sounds perfect. I need to buy one. Whatever it is.

Step right up, step right up, step right up,
Everyone's a winner, bargains galore
That's right, you too can be the proud owner
Of the quality goes in before the name goes on
One-tenth of a dollar, one-tenth of a dollar, we got service after sales
You need perfume? we got perfume, how 'bout an engagement ring?
Something for the little lady, something for the little lady,
Something for the little lady, hmm
Three for a dollar
We got a year-end clearance, we got a white sale
And a smoke-damaged furniture, you can drive it away today
Act now, act now, and receive as our gift, our gift to you
They come in all colors, one size fits all
No muss, no fuss, no spills, you're tired of kitchen drudgery
Everything must go, going out of business, going out of business
Going out of business sale
Fifty percent off original retail price, skip the middle man
Don't settle for less
How do we do it? how do we do it? volume, volume, turn up the volume
Now you've heard it advertised, don't hesitate
Don't be caught with your drawers down,
Don't be caught with your drawers down
You can step right up, step right up

That's right, it filets, it chops, it dices, slices,
Never stops, lasts a lifetime, mows your lawn
And it mows your lawn and it picks up the kids from school
It gets rid of unwanted facial hair, it gets rid of embarrassing age spots,
It delivers a pizza, and it lengthens, and it strengthens
And it finds that slipper that's been at large
under the chaise lounge for several weeks
And it plays a mean Rhythm Master,
It makes excuses for unwanted lipstick on your collar
And it's only a dollar, step right up, it's only a dollar, step right up

'Cause it forges your signature
If not completely satisfied, mail back unused portion of product
For complete refund of price of purchase
Step right up
Please allow thirty days for delivery, don't be fooled by cheap imitations
You can live in it, live in it, laugh in it, love in it
Swim in it, sleep in it,
Live in it, swim in it, laugh in it, love in it
Removes embarrassing stains from contour sheets, that's right
And it entertains visiting relatives, it turns a sandwich into a banquet
Tired of being the life of the party?
Change your shorts, change your life, change your life
Change into a nine-year-old Hindu boy, get rid of your wife,
And it walks your dog, and it doubles on sax
Doubles on sax, you can jump back Jack, see you later alligator
See you later alligator
And it steals your car
It gets rid of your gambling debts, it quits smoking
It's a friend, and it's a companion,
And it's the only product you will ever need
Follow these easy assembly instructions it never needs ironing
Well it takes weights off hips, bust, thighs, chin, midriff,
Gives you dandruff, and it finds you a job, it is a job
And it strips the phone company free take ten for five exchange,
And it gives you denture breath
And you know it's a friend, and it's a companion
And it gets rid of your traveler's checks
It's new, it's improved, it's old-fashioned
Well it takes care of business, never needs winding,
Never needs winding, never needs winding
Gets rid of blackheads, the heartbreak of psoriasis,
Christ, you don't know the meaning of heartbreak, buddy,
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon
'Cause it's effective, it's defective, it creates household odors,
It disinfects, it sanitizes for your protection
It gives you an erection, it wins the election
Why put up with painful corns any longer?
It's a redeemable coupon, no obligation, no salesman will visit your home
We got a jackpot, jackpot, jackpot, prizes, prizes, prizes, all work guaranteed
How do we do it, how do we do it, how do we do it, how do we do it
We need your business, we're going out of business
We'll give you the business
Get on the business end of our going-out-of-business sale
Receive our free brochure, free brochure
Read the easy-to-follow assembly instructions, batteries not included
Send before midnight tomorrow, terms available,
Step right up, step right up, step right up
You got it buddy: the large print giveth, and the small print taketh away
Step right up, you can step right up, you can step right up
C'mon step right up
(Get away from me kid, you bother me...)
Step right up, step right up, step right up, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon
Step right up, you can step right up, c'mon and step right up,
C'mon and step right up
The Bondage Blondage

One year ago today, I decided it was time to settle down. I stood in the darkest corner of the Town House Bar, drinking a pitcher of Killian's Irish Red and gazing lustily at the miles of exposed flesh undulating before my lecherous eyes. When I found my target, I swooped in like an avenging demon and began buying her drinks.

As soon as she had passed out, I took her back to my evil lair where I chained her in the deepest rat-infested dungeon I have. There, I fed her on a diet of rancid meat and stale bread and I gave her a glass of water every second Sunday. Once her will was broken, I began my campaign of twice daily injections of heroin until she had built up an unshakeable addiction.

She is now dependent on the heroin that I supply, and is too weak from malnutrition to run even if she wanted to. It's time to celebrate our new life together. It's time for the chains to come off!

Happy anniversary, Blondage!
Scary Stuff

I don't know about you, but this doesn't exactly give me warm fuzzies!

And if that interests you/terrifies the living shit out of you then you should read this book.

Monday, July 07, 2003

E-Mail Poetry

I actually received a request for this over the weekend, and who am I to refuse my public anything. So here it is, back by popular demand, poetry made entirely by cutting and pasting e-mails I’ve received recently:

Insects can be a real summer buzz kill,
but I want my visits to have Quality as measured in Metric Litres of Scotch

Is there gonna be drinking? I could use some Sophomore head.
Damn skippy!

I was so drunk, hungry, and tired that I thought I saw a bear.
But it was just two fallen angels seeking Peter---$50.00.

I know the feeling.

The laws of the land are set down and known as the "Fah King Rules"
Disciplinary action will be taken for not following the “Fah King Rules.”

Of course!

Thursday, July 03, 2003

Randomest Thought So Far Today

If mad scientists were to strap me down and perform sinister experiments on me that resulted in me not liking cars, guns, and James Bond, and instead made me like the show Rent and be capable of matching my pants to my shirt, then they blowtorched my horn-dog, womanizing libido and made me want to do things like stay awake after sex or not kiss on the first date, and they finished it up by giving me the ability to dance to anything other than The Macarana, I guess what I'm trying to say is if I somehow became homosexual (not that there is anything wrong with that because I have quite a few gay friends who are absolutely wonderful people and I love them dearly just not like that, nudge nudge, because it's not for me but they can do whatever they want because it's their life) then would I have to change the name of my Blog to "The Queen of the Wilde* Frontier?**

*This link is in case you don't get the pun. Moron.

** This exceptionally long sentence brought to you by The US Space & Rocket Center: "Space Camp: 101 Ways To Make Yourself Vomit!" in conjunction with Knox Gelatin: "We Were Making Jigglers Before Jigglers Were Cool!"
More Fun At Work

After my post yesterday, I've been thinking about the One-Armed-Bandit alot, and how much fun it is having a friend who is missing a limb, but is good-natured about it. The One-Armed-Bandit (his name is Dave) told me this story once, and I've always liked it:

A few years ago, Dave was working with a new bank in trying to close some refinancing for the company. It was about a six-month long process, and Dave was in constant communication with the loan officer the whole time. They spoke on the phone daily, Dave met him personally at least once a month, and there were constant faxes and e-mails flying back and forth between our office and theirs. Well, the time finally came to close the loan. Dave went to the bank for the closing, and the loan officer came out to meet him. When he saw Dave he stuck out his hand to shake*. Dave used his left hand and shook hands with the loan officer who jumped back in surprise and said, "Jesus, Dave, what happened to your arm?"

Without missing a beat, Dave yelled back, "Oh, Fuck! Where'd it go?"

So, I was having a rough morning this morning, and someone asked me for some help. I responded, "Can I do it later? Right now I'm busier than Dave hanging wallpaper."

I've never seen eyes quite so wide.

* One of my pet peeves is people who, when they meet a person whose right arm is incapacitated, shake with the left. This is not proper etiquette, and calls attention to the disability or injury. You still shake with the right hand, they will compensate for it by going over or under your hand with their left and shaking that way. Read your fucking Emily Post people!

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

How to Handle Bar Brawlers

I went out for a drink with the One-Armed-Bandit last night*. He comes by his nickname honestly. Anyway, while I'm standing there, enjoying my Gin and Tonic, minding my own business, checking out girls, this steroid-popping gorilla comes over and starts hassling me. Apparently, I had inadvertantly offended him somehow. Maybe I was talking loudly about his "slut," or selling the videotapes of me and his mom, or maybe I accidently shot him in the leg when I wasn't looking. I don't know, because I was drinking, and, well, didn't care to actually listen to anything he said.

Finally, he bellowed, "Did you hear what I said, motherfucker?" To which I said, "What? Right, um, you can take this up with my body guard, I'm not really interested." and gestured towards the One-Armed-Bandit. To this, the man said, "You're joking, right?" and I replied, "Don't let appearances fool you, he could take you with one hand tied behind his back."

The overgrown orangutang was so appalled that he just walked away shaking his head.

*This sentence is true, although the rest of the story took place over a year ago. I'm just now getting around to telling it, but, hey, I'm backlogged and shit. You just sit in your fucking tower.

I very rarely walk up to acquaintances and say things like, "Do you realize just how fat you are? I mean, do they strip search you on the way out of Big Bear to make sure that you aren't smuggling boxes of Hostess Cupcakes under your gargantuan fat rolls?"

And I also never say, "Holy shit, man, you're as ugly as the love child of Strom Thurmond's Skeleton and Meatloaf! You look like a monkey that someone put in some K-Mart clothes and strategically shaved!"

So why is it that people feel justified in saying, "Dude! Do you know that you're already going white? I mean, your hair will be completely white by the time you're thirty!"?

Yes, I fucking know.