Hello.

My name is Bono and this is my blog. I sincerely apologize if it sucks ass.

Among other things, I am a tutor. I never used to claim that. Usually I’d blame it on the dog.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Tutoring at the CSUS Writing Center is kinda like working at the Center for Kids Who Can’t Write Good and Want to Learn to do Other Stuff Good Too.

In the span of three sentences, I found two more grammatical errors in my book on tutoring writing. This may be one of those cases in which the professor has you read a crap book because their friend wrote it.

I have one in another class, and surprise, it’s the van-dweller I mentioned last time. She also has a head twitch that is really starting to bother me. She looks like the chicken who got into the farmer’s meth. On the first day of class, I asked if I could call her “Mrs. Goldfarb.” She didn't get it.

If that's not enough, she says things like, “compositiony,” “more strongly” and “it’s more easier.”

Girls go to Jupiter to get more stupider.
Boys go to Mars to get more candy bars.

I love eating sandwiches. If that didn’t make you chuckle just a little, it’s best you stop reading right now.

There has been an influx of funny names at work lately, and I will disperse them throughout this blog. The first name is: Mi Hoang.

Sometimes when I’m not sick but just a little congested, I open my jaw and it sounds like owls having sex in my ear.

Stop me if I ever want to go to therapy.

Ok. Going out to the club with a bunch of women. Need to eat first. I know. I’ll make pizza and garlic fries. And then I'll wonder why I'm single.

I was out having drinks the other night and this girl we were with pointed out someone and said, "That guy isn't a douchebag. He's the whole box. He's a douchebox."

New word.

I met a girl who looks like Jared Leto.

Funny name #2: Ben Assman.

I have determined that manliness = covering up your jigglybits but at the same time wagging them around for all to see.

"Wait. You mean. Really. Jigglybits are. Ugh."
Cut the act. You're a sick fuck too. Embrace it.

My day job sucks, but it has its perks. Today, I brought an old lady her food, and she said in delightful satisfaction, “My! You came quickly.”

See.

Do they use alcohol to sterilize the mouthpiece on a breathalyzer in between uses?

I saw a bumper sticker that said “In memory of (dead guy). We’ll see you soon.” Well, that’s a bit pessimistic.


Somewhere Mitch Hedberg is smiling.

I think Carrot Top is grossly misunderstood. Carrot tops are green.

I’m not a fan of “light” foods. If something is light, I’d like to be able to read by it.

I realize that what I’m asking for is iridescent yogurt, and that’s probably not a good thing.

Not to get all Platonic on you, but what would happen if Bono discovered the world is not orange?

This is the real mascot for a school district in Arkansas:

The town is Weiner, AK. Why they chose the cardinal over the woodpecker is beyond me. And no, it’s not a private school district. It’s public.

Funny Roman name: Publius.

I have a box. At work. For close to a year now, the only thing in it has been a book of matches.

That’s appropriate, I think.

I blow dry my hair, but I don’t own a blow drier.

Before I had the beard, I looked like Robert Smith when I woke up. Now I’m Joaquin Phoenix.


Take that, Nelly.

It’s no surprise that the mall caters to those who are so insecure that they become fashion whores. I recently saw a literal example of this. And if the security guards didn’t already take to following around the one bearded man in the place wearing a leather jacket and walking quickly by himself, I would’ve snapped a nice picture of the manikin bending over with its ass out in a pose somewhere in between that of a cat and my ex girlfriend.

And manikins always have that look on their face like you just slipped it in their ass.

When I went to make my purchase, the cashier didn’t take my money and hand me my receipt. There were other things on her agenda:

1. She asked if I wanted to buy insurance for my small kitchen appliance for a fifth of the cost of the small kitchen appliance.
2. She informed me of a survey I could take online. Like people do that shit for fun.
3. She asked for my email address, and not because I looked like Joaquin Phoenix. It was so the store could send me coupons and promotional info. This is happening more and more frequently in places it shouldn’t, like Jack in the Box. When it does, I do a quick assessment of the cashier:
   

• If she’s an old lady, I smile and say “no, thanks.”
• If she’s a teenager, I politely accept and spell out “flesheatingbacteria@yourmom.com.”
• For all other women and dudes, I politely accept and spell out “sexwithfish@yahoo.com.”
  

In those situations, I don’t bother telling them I brought my own bag.

I also work for a literary agent. I am the environmentally-conscious guy whose job is to help with the creation and selling of bound volumes of paper.

Books can be the perfect gifts. Except for the “Complete Idiots Guide to______.”

I’m kinda like an idiot savant, only not a savant.

“Al Gore won a Grammy for best spoken word, and he immediately gave it to George W. Bush. Because that’s what happens when he wins things.”
Ah, Craig.

Why why why are American Idol rumors on the 10:00 news?

Can a ninja write off a fake tan as a business expense? I need to do my taxes.

I just got in the mail a 67 cent refund check from a storage unit I rented 4 years ago from Samuel L. Jackson.

Seriously.

His middle initial really is L. You can call and ask him. I wouldn't lie to you.

I am a furry bastard. I gave my jigglybits a hi-top fade.

Funny name #3: Harry Arriola. That one turned up on a myspace friend’s friend’s “people you may know.”

I’m compulsively non-compulsive. For example: I recently noticed that when I wash my face, I always wash the right side of my nose first. It’s a good system that has worked for me for years, but I still changed it at the very next opportunity.

It should be no surprise that I have yet to stay in a relationship long enough to buy towels. So when I accidentally left my ‘02 Target Bath Towel on the hook at my friends’ place in San Francisco, I had to go out and get a replacement. Anyway, the new model is hella tricked out with all sorts of absorptive fibers and soft fluffy comfortableness. And it goes with the theme of my lily-pad-hand-painted-cartoon-bugs-and-frogs-cubbies-on-the-walls-not-intended-for-a-twenty-six-year-old-straight-man bathroom decor.

I want a funfetti cake at my funeral.

If you don’t count “balls,” “scroats,” or any such references to that portion of the male jigglybits, my current favorite swear word usually consists of a compound word that provides a vivid image of something specific. For example: as of about five minutes ago, my current word of choice is: Bitchfist.

For those interested, the previous word was Caknab. This was inspired mostly by a bout of spastic dyslexia and advertisements for the NAK fraternity.

I’m not really certain it’s dyslexia, but it sure is fun. Here are some other things I've read:

• Child Action Center = Child Auction Center
• Astrobody = Astrobooty
  

Freud just did this in his grave:


I read “iPod!” and thought some Spanish speaker was very excited about a pod.

iHappy Birthday, Mia!

I don’t know about you, but I can do without Uggs and dudes in Twilight shirts.

When I first saw a faux hawk, it was on Russel Crowe. I have not watched any of his movies since then.

That is purely out of coincidence and him making a bunch of crap movies. I really don’t care how he denies getting old.

Apparently, Wesley Snipes is now doing ads for the Total Gym. If you didn’t know that, don’t care about his financial situation, nor do you know the names of any of Angelina Jolie’s kids, I love you.

Funny name #4: Mahboob.

If you’re a dude, chances are you’ve heard about the woman who recently broke the world’s record for largest jawbreakers with her purchase of a shiny new pair of 38KKKs. You know my stance on fake flapjacks, so I won’t get into that. But KKKs? That’s offensive. Those boobs are anti-Semitic. That puzzles me more than offends me. Usually they’re very receptive to Semitism.

Funny name #5: Mrs. Chisolm. Ladies, that’s when you don’t take his last name.

On page 139 of Anne Lamott’s book on writing, she uses the word, “Googe.” I want your feedback here. What exactly does that word mean? Is it like Chisolm?

More often than you’d think, some nutjob sends us their self-published book, perplexed at why it hasn’t made them a millionaire, and asks us to kindly make them so by selling them to a large house. This is one such case:


You are as surprised as I was to learn that this book was a near verbatim ripoff of Dracula and not in fact porn (though with the exception of these two, vampires are hot as hell).

I hate it when they do that for a number of reasons:

1. They are idiots and don’t follow our submission guidelines.
2. They often include those bigass manilla folders with several dollars worth of postage on them (instead of a much cheaper email) so that when I’m done determining that their work is shite (usually in the time it takes to make one), I can kindly mail it back to them so they can use the same book over and over to harass other agencies. It’s an environmentally sound strategy, except for the paper envelopes used and the gasoline-burning transportation that results in no net travel. And they never buy the self-adhesive envelopes. I always do because although I’m a big fan of licking random objects that have been fingered by god knows who, I realize that not everyone is, and I respect that.
   

My brother is an architectural draftsman. I could never do that because:

• I can’t draw. Not even with rulers. If I could, I would probably throw my life away making a comic strip.
• It requires the ability to say “flying buttresses” with a straight face.
  

Funny name #6: BJ Hoff. Hand to god. And he writes Christian novels. Now, that’s the kind of overt fusion of sex and religion that has been denied for way too long.

Take a Catholic mass for example: You kneel down and close your eyes while a man with a staff wearing a dress splashes water on you. I know of several people who are quick to say “Yes, please” to that, and ironically, the church wants to exclude them.

“Are you gay?” should be a hopeful question from someone looking for love. Where did we go wrong with that?

I have the texting program where it predicts the word you’re trying to type. If you type in “God” and then hit the “next” button, it gives you “Hoe.” If God = Hoe, then wouldn’t Priest = Pimp?

Look at the uniform:


I can see it.

I’m going to hell, but at least there’ll be bitches.

A bajingo ate my baby.

I heard the best joke ever:
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Chicken. Joke’s over.”

Except for Jess and Vaughan. Then the joke is just starting. I hope it’s long and satisfying. Your marriage, too.


In all seriousness, that may be my favorite song.