a short post about my testicles.

I’m drunk, and that can only mean one thing.

I’m playing with Legos. 

Legos are awesome. Like… really awesome. But for some reason, people think it’s weird for an adult to like Legos, and that makes me sad. Apparently models are a good hobby for an adult, but Legos are just too juvenile for an adult to be using to amuse themselves. 

That’s why I get drunk when I play with them though. Alcohol has the magical ability to suddenly make normally weird things into completely acceptable activities. And honestly, it makes the Legos a lot more entertaining.

Sober, I can only build the same set a couple times. But when I’m drunk, I can assemble and disassemble these things a few dozen times before I finally go to bed.

There isn’t much else for me to post here. So here is a comic type thing :-D

click it to view full size

it's crazy sexy ;)

So it’s been awhile since I’ve worked around large amounts of people (bath and body works, early 2009). Working at my mom’s dog grooming shop was kind of close, but really, I barely had to see any humans besides my mom and sister.  But now I’m working at fast food, and I have to say, even though I love my job and co-workers, I fucking HATE some of the people. Seriously, I cannot fathom some of the things our customers do. And my job barely requires me to be near customers. I’m basically a fucking janitor, and I’m still seeing/hearing things that would make my job drop if I didn’t have to fake being a happy human being (rather than the narcissistic, pessimistic asshole that I am). Here are some examples of how much people suck.
 ~ ~ ~

So I was cleaning the windows on the front doors, and this old man is just kind of standing there watching me. As I finish one section, he says something to the effect of

“they sure keep you busy here!”

I grin and reply “oh, it’s not too bad. I don’t mind the work.”

It’s at this point that the old man places his hand on the section he just watched me clean, and proceeds to drag his hand down the glass.

My composure around guests is generally moderately unshakeable. I am a smiling force of nature. A pack of rampaging homophobic Mormon missionaries couldn’t shake my false composure.

but this single act literally caused my jaw to drop.

And then the old fart looked me straight in the eye, and said…

“just making sure you keep busy”

and then he left.

~ ~ ~

Another fine example happened when I was cleaning the bathrooms. I had finished the boy’s room, and was nearly finished with the women’s, when suddenly someone tries to open the door. The knob jiggled, then it jiggled a bit more, and then the door violently shook, and finally, there was a polite and quiet knock.

“I’ll be out in just a moment” I said. And less than 30 seconds, I walked out to find a woman waiting by the door.

“you know…” said the woman “I’m REALLY uncomfortable with a man cleaning the woman’s restroom. How do I know you’re not some sort of peeping Tom?”

“well ma’am, that’s unlikely since it’s a one person restroom.” I replied without letting my false charisma falter. The woman’s face contorts into a look of extreme insult, and she quickly snaps back at me.

“WELL HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?!?” she then pushes her way into the restroom and attempts to slam the door (which isn’t really possible, given the mechanism of the door.)

~ ~ ~

so this story didn’t happen to me directly, but rather, it happened to my coworker. The work phone is ringing at 6:00am, and Ashlee answers it. Now, I only have ashlee’s side of the conversation, but I’ll give what I’m pretty sure the caller said.

Ash: Thank you for calling Oak Harbor fast food, how can I help you?

Caller:  HI, do you have teriyaki bowls?

Ash: I’m sorry, we don’t have those available at the moment. We should have them later today.

Caller: WHAT?!? THAT’S BULLSHIT!!!

Ash: well I’m afraid we don’t have any rice at the moment, and it will take awhile for the rice to cook.

Caller: WELL I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! YOU SHOULD HAVE THAT STUFF READY ALL DAY LONG!!!

Ash: I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t serve those at night, and it takes time to cook the rice.

Caller: WELL I DON’T NEED THE RICE, I HAVE MY OWN. I JUST NEED THE REST OF THE STUFF.

Ash: I suppose we could do that for you…

Caller: IT’S BULLSHIT THAT YOU DON’T HAVE THE RICE THOUGH! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE! HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF GOOD CUSTOMER SERVICE?!?!?

this conversation went on for some time, and once it became apparent that the woman really only wanted to yell at someone, she was hung up on.

that’s not the end of the story, the woman called us non-stop for the next half hour until another of my co-workers answered and told the woman she could come in and we’d happily give her a teriyaki bowl without the rice.

the woman never came in.

~ ~ ~

 I have plenty of other stories I could (and will) share, but this post is already obscenely long. And for that, I apologize (not really. I hate you all.) and for now, here is a comic ^_^

it's back, bitches.

And so it began (for a third time)

As the world descended into darkness, a light came forth. And it was good.

And the people looked upon this light and asked “what is this beacon of hope?”

And the light replied, “you know me. All of you do. I have died, and come back. I left you, but I return to spread hope and love.”

The crowd was silent, save for a single small child that spoke up.

“Are you Jesus?”

“what? No. are you ridiculous? I’m fucking Divide by Zero.”

Okay, serious note, I feel I owe an explanation as to why I haven’t posted in six months. There are a number of reasons why and I’m a fan of lists. soooooo… LIST TIME!!!!

1.      I’m a lazy bastard. I know, that’s a bad reason, but it’s a reason nonetheless. Of course, it’s also one of the least important reasons, but I feel like I should own up to it.

2.      My life has been kind of boring. Well… okay that’s only partly true. My life has been filled with a lot of exciting and dramatic things, but either they weren’t funny, or they were very private (for other people. I’m happy to blog about my “private” things.

3.      I’ve been very sad. The extent of my employment was working for my mom at a dog grooming salon. You would have been sad too. Now here’s the thing, sad Michael is very funny, but not in a way that really goes with this blog at all. But now I’m employed at a job that I actually love, so I’m happy ^_^

4.      I had no real inspiration. Most of my days consisted of staying at home alone, with naught but the company of my cats. Seeing as my cats already filled my facebook and reddit posts, I felt that they should be a minimal presence on D over Z. As I had no other real inspiration besides things I shouldn’t share with the world, I had to start resorting to my back-up blog posts, and I ran out of those pretty quickly. But now I have a job that requires me to work with the public (well, public adjacent), so inspiration is bountiful.

5.      I’ve had a distinct lack of alcohol whenever I’ve had access to something I can write on/with. My writing abilities are almost directly related to the amount of alcohol in my system. the general relationship is that the amount of alcohol related in my willingness to post what I write is rather direct, until (that is) I hit a average of 9/10 (with 10 being black out drunk) at which point my hands decide that they don’t have to listen to my brain, and they start typing whatever the hell they want. Of course, usually when I have booze, I’m out and about, and don’t have anything to record my thoughts with. But now I have a job, so I can buy alcohol and can be drunk enough to write AAAAAALLLLLLLLL the time.

And so here it goes again. I’m making no promises this time. I’ll try to update regularly, but there may be weeks I go without. Regardless of those weeks though, I’ll try my best to not let it die again.

And because I know some of you have absolutely no patience at all for the shit I write, here’s a comic.

Ceiling Mike is watching you masturbate.

You know who make the greatest wingmen ever? Gay guys.

No, really. If a straight guy wants to score a date or a hookup or whatever, he needs to take a gay guy to the bar. You wanna know how this works? Here a couple plays that usually work pretty well.

THE HYPE

Step one
Scout out girl sitting at the bar drinking/ordering a stereotypically effeminate drink (like an appletini).

Step two
you (gay guy) goes up and orders the same drink in a slightly flamboyant manner.

Step three
the goal of step three is to actually make contact with the target (becomes unneeded if she initiates contact). It can be done a number of ways. Here are two options

A) notice her drink order and comment how you got the same thing and how they're "super yummy"

B) obviously "accidentally" try to take something of hers (phone, drink, etc) as though you thought it was your own.

Step four
Now this is where you really gay it up. Every bar chick wants one thing more than anything else. That is to have a gay best friend. You talk to her about her. Her clothes, her hair, her personality. The point is to make her feel amazing, while getting her to subconsciously think "he's gay, so he knows what he's talking about"

Step five
Mention that you're here with your straight male friend and that she should meet him because they would hit it off. Phrases like "super adorable" or "such a sweetie" are good ways to describe your friend.

Step six
after they've met you decide to leave them alone so they can hit it off. Your job as gay wingman is done. The rest is in the hands of your friend.


THE BOYFRIEND HEART BREAK

**I should mention that you (the gay wingman) are to be straight acting through this entire play. In addition, this play is dependent on your appeal to the opposite sex. It works best on a 7> out of 10 (whole play requires two gay men)**

Step one
Introduce yourself to the target. The goal is to make her think you might be interested. In other words, get her on the hook.

Step two
Reel her in. You tell her all the things she wants to hear. You want this girl to become hopelessly infatuated with you. This could take five minutes, or two hours. The key telling point is that she'll be hanging on your every word.

Step three
this is where a second gay guy comes in. The goal here is to destroy any hope the girl had of getting with you. The best way is to introduce gay guy two as your boyfriend.

The key point to this step is that when you introduce your own sexuality, it must be done in a way that makes it seem like it was never a secret. A line like "oh by the way, this is my boyfriend of 2 years."

Step four
you and gay man number two walk away, leaving the girl in a vulnerable position. This is when your straight friend swoops in and takes advantage of the easy pickings.



These are just a couple plays that exist, but the possibilities of the gay wingman are endless. And before I get bitched at for being a misogynist, please keep in mind ladies, part of my posting this is to give my female friends a bit of insight into these ploys so they don't unwillingly fall for them.

Yeah, so I hope you've all been well. Here's a comic. CTVF

I know... I'm a little late. suck it up princess.

Today's blogpost is brought to you by vodka. Vodka: giving me my greatest insights since 2004.

So has anyone thought about how immensely fucked up the Smurfs were? I mean, it was screwed up. There was nothing normal about it at all.

You have that evil wizard guy. He wanted to basically melt down these little blue humans for a little bit of gold. And even assuming the amount of gold he'd get was exactly equal to the mass of the Smurfs he killed, there is no way that by the end of the series that the gold would be equal to the money and effort he put into catching those little blue bastards. This implies that at some point, he started doing what he did for nothing more than revenge and homicidal lust.

Then we'll look into the surfs themselves. Here you have this village filled with a shit ton of men, and two girls. And one of those girls was a mother fucking little kid. I mean we can hope that all those guys stuck to fucking Smurfette, but let's face it, at some point Smurfette would have 1) gotten very boring (assuming she was used by the guys for nothing more than sex) and 2) she would have gotten very loose. Seriously, it must be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway. So if the dozens of men in the village get tired of Smurfette, then we can assume they’ll look for something else. Maybe a few of them tested the other side of live and plowed Vanity Smurf, but it’s just as likely that they went for that little girl instead.

I dunno… maybe I’m over thinking it, but I feel like the show was pretty screwed up. Then again, I can say the same thing about a lot of cartoons from that time. Anyway, here is a comic for you wonderful people.

this is my single greatest post EVER /sarcasm

Today I happened across a website that provides random writing prompts. So I’ll be using some of those to write today’s blog.

"If you could be someone else, who would you be?  Why?"

I’d be Neil Patrick Harris. That man makes being gay cool. Plus he’s hot. I want to be hot. Being hot is awesome. And he can sing. I wish I could sing like that man. Seriously, he’s hilarious too. Oh, and he has babies. Babies are awesome (and delicious).

"If I were a superhero, I would be..."

I’d be the Naked Shadow, spreading my own brand of naked justice across the city, and beating up nuns every chance I get.

"You have just been paroled from prison.  Tell what happens next."

I become the Naked Shadow. Duh.

"If I were President of the USA I would..."

Gay marriage.  I’d push for it to be legalized. In fact, equal rights for everyone. I’d also press hard for a drug policy similar to Portugal. At the very least I’d get marijuana legalized and have it regulated like alcohol.

Oh and I’d find a way to make Tom Cruise illegal.

"A flying saucer has been sighted over your town. You have never believed in flying saucers, but then you see it for yourself and...What happens next?"

I pull out my bazooka and blow that shit up. The aliens beam out at the last second and ask me WTF my problem is. I tell them I was bored and ask if they wanna get a drink. They say yeah, and the next morning we all wake up naked in a hotel room in Amsterdam with three midgets and an assortment of cup cakes.

“Undefined”

Just like your mother’s uterus.

"My grandmother is special because..."

Her hair comes off in a strong breeze.

"You awake from a nap only to discover you are 80 years old.  Describe what happens next."

Wonder how the fuck I got younger.

"She seemed like such a sweet old lady. Who would ever believe that she was really . . ."

A man. Though that would explain why that bitch was so hurt when I cunt-punted her.

"Would you eat a bowl of live crickets for $40,000?  Explain why or why not?"

Probably. Cook them and I’d do it for free. It’s a staple of millions (if not billions) of people’s diets. There has to be something to it.

“Write about a time you did something that made you feel good, and why it made you feel that way.”

… I’m not sure I wanna write about that stuff on this blog… I have family members who read this.

"You are the last surviving member of the human race.  What do you do?"

Masturbate. A LOT.

Okay, I’m done with that. I know, it’s a weak post. Suck it up girls. Here’s a comic. It’s shittier than normal, but I’m still learning how to use this thing.

my cat watches me in the shower...

This week’s blog is brought to you by the letter F for FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING MUSIC NAZIS!!!!!!!

I know what you're thinking. "Mike, isn't calling them Nazis a bit harsh?" well the answer is no. No it is not. These are people who act like their choice in music is the only correct music, and all other music should be destroyed in a horrible fashion, or experimented on, in order to further their own master race of music.

Here's the thing (and if I have to repeat myself, it will be accompanied by a swift kick to the nuts/vag), everyone has different taste in music. While I will concede that here is a fairly set definition for what is "classically good", what makes any kind of music truly good is people's ability to enjoy it. Look at Ke$he for example. From the stand point of being a good singer, she fails miserably. That woman could not carry a tune if she had a bucket and a forklift. But despite that, a lot of people really enjoy her music. It is something that can get people moving and make them feel some kind of emotion. Am I saying everyone has to like it? No, I'm not saying that at all. But you know who is passing along a message similar to that? The music Nazis. They'll claim that because ke$ha music isn't "good" that people shouldn't enjoy it.

I'm sure I'll get shit from people saying things like "Mike, you're a hypocrite. You always talk about how you hate country and rap, and you constantly talk about the twisted ways in which you will kill Justin Beiber."

Let's look at those two claims separately. Yes I hate most rap and country, but this doesn't mean I want to eradicate those particular forms off the face of the planet, and I really don't care if other people enjoy/listen to them. And as for Justin Beiber, that has nothing to do with music. I just feel he is a pretentious little douche who stole the fashion stylings of lesbians across the world (and Daniel), and he needs to be punished for that. Seriously that little twat is 16 years old. He/she DOES NOT need a film made about his/her life when he/she has barely even had one at this point.

But I digress; there is NO reason to shit on people for their taste in music. If you think yourself so superior just because you think you have better taste, or if you try telling someone that they shouldn't enjoy some kind of music, I will come for you. I will take your music collection, and I will insert it into a very dark place, in the most uncomfortable way possible.

Because I love you Starr.

So there I was, two conflicting decisions staring each other in the face like two infants right before they fight to the death.

You see, I needed to catch the bus into town so I could buy food stuffs, and I only had 10 minutes to catch the bus. Now that is just enough time to get to the stop, and not have to worry about the bus coming a minute or two early. But here was the catch. I had to pee. BADLY. we're talking, this would have been a 2 minute pee at least.

And so I was bitch slapped with a horrifying decision. Satisfy my bladder and risk missing the bus forcing me to catch another bus in an hour, or leave now to catch the bus, thus placating my stomach more quickly but risking loss of bladder control before reaching the store bathroom.  Had this taken place earlier in the day, this decision would have been easy, i would choose too pee. But alas, there was another catch. A catch upon catch. A double catch. You see, the next bus was the 2:48 bus (one bus an hour), which meant my bus home, rather than being at 22 minutes after the hour, would instead be at 3:45! The 3 o’clock hour is when they make a time change for the evening routes. Rather than just having to wait 1 hour longer, I’d have to wait an hour and a half if I chose to open the floodgates and missed my bus.

Which one to choose? My bladder was like a balloon filled too much, just a little pressure away from bursting. At the same time, my stomach was like a catholic priest who hadn’t raped a little boy in 6 whole hours. It was willing to kill to get what it wanted.

I turned to my cats for guidance, but they had none. They simply looked at me mockingly, knowing the inner turmoil I was suffering through. I glance to the bathroom, then to my front door, and finally to my phone to check the time. I had to choose.

Well I grab my bag, and start heading to the bus stop. It was a good thing I left when I did because literally the moment I got to the bus stop, I saw the bus come over the hill. 2 minutes early. A couple minutes later I got to Albertsons and I walked to the bathroom (if I had ran, I would have peed my pants).

That period where I had to choose was easily the longest 30 seconds of my life.

Now that I’ve assaulted you all with imagery of my bathroom business, I’ll give you a comic I made on my iPod in 60 seconds. CTVF

someone just punch him in the face already.

so yesterdays post left me feeling disappointed. so I'm giving you a better one.

There I was at Albertsons when I see this woman at the cereal aisle. She picks up a box of. Cereal, walks down the aisle, then she picks up a bag of the generic brand and puts down the box on the fucking ground. This bitch couldn't take the 5 seconds it would have taken to put it back in its proper spot.

So of course, when I was checking out, this bitch got in line behind me in the express lane. I see her count her items, and realize that she had too many items. So what does she do? She takes a carton of orange juice out of her cart AND PUT IT ON THE SHELF AROUND THE CORNER OF THE CONVEYOR BELT!!!

The cashier sees this and asks the woman to put it back where it belongs. I swear to FSM that this next part is true. She looks the cashier in the eye and says "that's your job. I shouldn't have to do your work for you just because you're lazy."

This is where I pipe in. I can't remember exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of her being a fat lazy bitch who wasn't worth the price of the Wal-Mart atrocity that she was wearing (she was actually quite skinny, but that wasn't the point).

I seriously can't comprehend the rationale behind this level of laziness. Like leaving your cart in the middle of the parking lot, when a cart return is 20 feet away. Can people really not spare an extra 30 second of their life to be considerate of others? I see crap like that and I just want to start spleen-stabbing people. I honestly almost kicked that woman with the juice and cereal right in her hatchet wound.

Fuck... I don't get people sometimes. I'm gonna go punch some baby koalas until I feel better.

have a comic... CTVF

Kitten genocide

There are certain things you just don't talk to people about. This can be for various reasons, but it's usually because it could piss certain people off. For me, one of the biggest is my zombie survival plan.

Now I'm fully aware that zombies aren't real. For the most part my plan is just a joke, done for fun. But don't let that fool you for even a second, this list was written as if they are real (because... Well... You can't be too careful). I've thought out every major detail needed to ensure survival for myself and about 20 others. Now why don't I share this with people? Those 20 others are why.

I'm more than happy to share broad details of my plan (though never specific locations) with other people, but NEVER who I plan to have in my survival group. Thing is, I have lots of friends but only a handful of them are on the list. It's nothing personal to those who I don't have on it, but this plan is designed to maximize my chances of survival.

My list has about a dozen people on it who bring some kind of skill to the table to help with survival, or have a wide enough spread of skills to stay useful. Each of those 12 can bring ONE person with them of their choosing, though I reserve the right to veto their choice. Why would I veto their choice? Because the biggest factor in who I chose (aside from skill set) is how well these people can work together. Not just whether they like each other, but if they can put aside personal qualms for the good of the group. Nothing will result in our asses getting munched faster than some dumb fuck getting pissed over something petty argument, and missing a zombie who then bites other group members.

As of right now only a couple of the people I've picked know that they've been picked. I REALLY don't want other people to find out because nothing can kill a friendship like finding out the other person is useful/stable enough to be in a survival group.

Should I ever see the signs of a stage three outbreak starting, I'll contact all these people and tell them the situation. I'll also be doing this if I foresee a tea party uprising, because to be entirely frank, those assholes scare me a lot more than zombies.

and now, a comic. CTVF bitches