Uh oh.

I am very happy with my life right now. I just graduated after 7 years of college, my idiot idiot boss got fired, I’m starting a wonderful new career in a field I enjoy and I have an amazing new girlfriend whose sense of humor is every bit as sick as mine. That should be a red flag for those of you reading this. It’s usually when an artist becomes content that they begin to suck ass. If you don’t believe me, pick up any of the recent Staind or Papa Roach records. That being said, I apologize profusely for what you are about to read. Any and all hate mail can be sent directly to Yoko.

Happy Memorial Day. For those who don’t know, today is the day in which we pause to remember stuff. What exactly, I don’t quite remember.


Whoa.

I just graduated alongside a 92 year old woman. She got her degree in history.

That’s cheating. I guess she really didn’t want to read the book.

Graduation was a wealth of funny names, including: Chia-Ching Yen, Greg Alicious and Andrew B. Stiffler.

I love my new job. Especially when I get to turn down a query from a psychic.

As for my own writing, I’m still working to push the boundaries. Still trying to italicize a period.

Unfortunately, they don’t always understand what I’m trying to do. So far, 5 people including a professional reader and a professor/published author have read my story, and none of them know what exactly to make of it.

Is it the way I describe things? I know commercial writers may describe a particular character as a “stoner,” while some literary writers may say “chemical wasteland.” I say “pharmaceutical testing facility.”

No, I think it’s the lack of a clear plot. That must be it.

Do you want to know what writer’s block looks like? No, I will not include a picture of a cube that has been written on. I’m not one to stoop to cheap sight gags.



No, writer’s block looks something like this: “To create a screenplay from a printed work is to perform a unique metamorphosis of art which employs the written word in an attempt to translate the written word into a much more primal, audio/visual medium. It is nebulous and constricted. And has explosions and shit.”

This blog is a bit like watching a skydiving Wyle E Coyote pulling the ripcord and an anvil popping out. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I overheard two blind people talking about cooking. I wasn’t impressed until their conversation turned to the latest episode of Lost.

Matthew McConaughey found his calling as an operator at a suicide help line.

I actually kinda hope you don’t get that one.

TV and radio ads where the announcers seem excited and happy about going out of business sales are probably being read by the CEOs who have simply snapped. It’s not like they have the money for announcers, anyway.

“I went to pay for a meal, and the cash was declined.”
-Letterman

Wait a minute. Now that my boss is fired, does that mean the end of English mishaps by the native English speaking management at my work?

Bougets (n) - Magic nose goblins from little girls.

I feel kinda like how comedians must have felt when George Bush left office.

Balls. This means I’ll have to look outside of work for stuff like that.

This is where they keep the tigers.


You can’t really read the label, but it says “Citrus Reamer.” That’s kinda how it was working for that bitch.


Ok, not an English mishap. Just funny.

Hehe. Hooded weiner.

I also got a Captcha that said “Blackie.” Apparently, we still have a ways to go.

Eminem couldn’t stay retired. That’s no surprise, considering how hardcore he is. I mean, look at his recent promo shots and the amount of makeup he’s wearing.

I really have no right to say anything about that.

I don’t have any tattoos, but I almost got one when Tupac got shot.

Thug Death.

Sparklehorse and Danger Mouse just teamed up with James Mercer of The Shins, The Flaming Lips, Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals, Jason Lytle of Grandaddy, Julian Casablancas of The Strokes, Frank Black of the Pixies, Iggy Pop, Nina Persson of The Cardigans, Suzanne Vega, Vic Chesnutt, David Lynch, and Scott Spillane of Neutral Milk Hotel and The Gerbils. Unfortunately, due to legal reasons, the record may never reach stores.

But you can stream it in it’s entirety here.

Bring a change of pants.

There’s also a link on that page to a recent Animal Collective show. I highly recommend that, too.

Regional Sacramento joke: Is today when we remember KWOD radio?

The Jonas Brothers should cover Weezer.

On second thought, they should cover their mouths.

My goal in life is to one day buy moustache wax.

I pay for my own internet, but there are certain places in the house where I can, if I so choose, tap into my neighbor’s unsecured wireless network. This gives me all sorts of entertaining possibilities. Like access to their printer at 2am.

Yet another reason I am a massive nerd: Whenever I am forced to type underlined text (and I do hate it, btw), I will only have the section of words underlined. The punctuation at the end of the sentence or the space after the final underlined word within a sentence can not be underlined, though both MS Word and WordPerfect like to make it very difficult to avoid.

I do not, however, go back and remove the underline from the spaces between underlined words. That too is annoying as hell. If you do that, you need help, you anal fuck.

Bollywood has long surpassed Hollywood as the world’s most prolific cinematic city. In similar fashion, the San Fernando Valley has just been outdone by Stikkit, India.

Not to be outdone, the US is amassing a comeback based in Stikkit, Indiana.


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"Has Rolls" is another inside joke I'll miss now that my boss is gone.

The female brown trout fakes orgasms in order to find the most potent mate.



What is the Catholic Church’s stance on fertility drugs? They hate birth control, and this is essentially the same thing with the opposite results.



With that in mind, all you grateful new parents whose prayers have been answered by the miracle of modern science are heathens. Your children are bastards and you’ve been praying to Satan.

Just once I want to meet someone who prays to Stan.

“Here’s how bad the economy is: they’re watering down the holy water.”
-Letterman

Nobody has any money anymore, but everyone has a Bluetooth.

And yet, nobody refers to them collectively as “Blueteeth.”

I saw the world’s most ghetto Bluetooth: a woman stuffed her cellphone halfway into her burqua.

Is that ghetto or resourceful? You decide.

To give you a point of reference, a 94 Honda CRX sitting on 13s with a Dub sticker is undoubtably ghetto.

Linkin Park has a new song on the Transformers 2 soundtrack. Appropriately enough, it sounds just like their song on the Transformers 1 soundtrack.

Whenever I self-checkout and bring my own bag, they always look at me like I’m stealing something.

Come on. I shaved and everything.

If you just read “Come on. I shaved everything,” I love you.


Doesn’t this man look like a penis?



You know what they say, you are what you finger.

I know this kinda plays into their hands, but I could not resist posting the flyer some dude handed me outside of Safeway the other day:

Hire Contractors who directly/indirectly Fail to Pay Area Standards is actually quite tasty.


I’m sure everyone laughed at Lincoln when he agreed to take time from his presidential duties to pose with a giant coffee mug marked “brand x.”

“Just imagine all of the people he could’ve freed had he not wasted such time on that photo,” they said. Well, I think they’re eating (or maybe even drinking) their words now.

I just want to know why exactly the carpenters’ union hates Starbucks? It’s not like cheaper coffee is driving them out of business. In fact, it allows them to still get the morning perk they need to do their jobs well, even in tough economic times.

I, for one, am proud as hell to be an American who has never told an Octomom joke.

You may have noticed American Idol recently being all over the 11:00 news, on the internet news sites, discussed over coffee at Starbucks, etc. It all leaves me with one question:

Aren’t we at war?

If that wasn’t enough, they recently devoted air time to a young girl who was “sidelined from the cheerleading squad.” Isn’t that where she wants to be? On the sidelines?

In case you’re wondering, she said “like” three times in her one sentence comment, destroying all cheerleader stereotypes.

Another regional Sacramento joke: I’m not certain, but I’m pretty confident the weatherman screams “delta breeze” during sex.

“Uggs” are named after an ancient aboriginal term, meaning “unnecessary.”

The funny thing about this is that women are probably lining up to buy it.

So, what do you think?

You feeling lucky?

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.