seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from Australia
seen from Yemen
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
so im in the library and i hear "i swear to god you motherfucking motherfucker" followed by shrill screeching and i stopped dead in my tracks & a long story short someone is watching ah right now and altho i appreciate their taste lmjs [GAVIN SCREAMING] is not conductive to a learning environment
MARIO NOT MARIO
I hate waiting for that penny...when I order coffee or something where tip jars exist, and my change is one penny. It's no-win. If I walk away: "Thanks for the tip, you cheap bastard." If I wait: "Oh, here's your change, you cheap bastard." The funny thing is, a one-cent tip just about covers the effort of handing me a self-serve coffee cup. But that's another blog. I'm also finished with giving my real name to coffee shop cashiers. For those unfamiliar, I've always pronounced it: "Marry-oh." It's an An-drea/Ahhn-drea sorta thing. Strictly preference. But apparently, once I leave the northeast region, I'm saying my own name incorrectly. When I say "Marry-oh," baristas cock their heads like dogs at a Sonic Youth show. -Barry-o? I shit you not. I thought, really? BARRY-O topped the list on your mental quick-correct? Let's try again. Mario. -How do you spell that? M-A-R-I-O -Ohh, Mahh-rio. Sure. My mistake. One time, after going through this at the register, the girl making my coffee held up a cup and shouted: "I have a tall Americano in the window for MARIA!" I just smiled and said: "MARRY-oh." She replied: "Oh, I'm fine, how are YOU?" Umm... So now I'm Jack. You can't fuck up "Jack." Right? That's what I thought until I used it recently: "I have a tall Americano in the window for JEFF." Nice.
I GOT A WORD IN THE DICTIONARY...
...the Urban Dictionary. But it's still pretty cool. Click for the full definition of my submission: Hipocracy.
What's really cool, however, is while someone beat me to the punch, UD moved my version to the #1 spot. It's a genuine honor to be sandwiched in between historic entries like Gate Rape and Izzle. Word.
COMEDY CONDO TREASURES
Who needs cable? Our video library has everything from crap to shit. Filed in order of testosterone. Not pictured: The Firm and K2: The Ultimate High. Or perhaps you're more of a reader...
All I have to say is, the book is nothing like the movie...
...60 pages in and still no arm wrestling. Just lots of "womanly heat." LMBO* What's the deal with erotic novels? Here is the deal with erotic novels:
I was a proofreader for an erotic novel publisher...we didn't have cubicles, we had stalls.
I read one to my girlfriend, and she got wet...'cos I spit when I talk.
What's that spot, you ask? Let's call it a bookmark.
Hey smug parents, my "kids" started reading at a reeeeally young age.
I skip over the boring pages so I can get to the money-sentence.
Does that Kindle come with a squeegie?
Best. Book club. Ever.
See you next year, Little Rock. Maybe. -md *Laughing my boner off
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CATHOLIC
So a priest and a deacon walk into a comedy club... There's no punchline, that actually happened. I had just finished a show at the Funny Bone in Columbus, Ohio and a paunchy gentleman in his 50's was chatting me up. I don't know how we got on the topic of religion, but I made the mistake of telling him that I'm agnostic. (For those too lazy to click on the link, it just means that when it comes to the 'how and why' we exist, I have the courage to say, I don't know, and I don't care.) The guy wasn't a jerk or dogmatic, and the conversation ended with him complimenting my act, then disappearing into the mall. Not five minutes later, he returned with a priest and a deacon dressed in full regalia, each toting a doggie bag from a nearby Italian restaurant. Apparently, the dude from the show summoned them like two off-the-clock super heroes to come save the clown from eternal damnation. I liked the deacon right away. He had a friendly face covered with near-hipster whiskers and was sharp and witty. The priest was a bit smug for my taste, and both were in their mid-20's. Like most good Christians--and they do exist--I don't wear my beliefs on my sleeve. If I believe in anything, it's common courtesy, and I generally don't voice my distaste for religion out of consideration. Unless I'm provoked. This particular evening, I felt like a zoo animal getting prodded, jabbed and gawked at by three slack-jawed deists. "You grew up with Catholicism? What went wrong?" I told them I was a bad Catholic...I asked questions. "Don't you have faith?" Yes I do. I have faith in my lack of faith in man. Man can manipulate and con the masses. There are sheepish people and shepherds with soap boxes. And peddling the idea of blind faith is the scam of a lifetime. I began to question everything when I was 12. I was on the porch with my best friend, star-gazing, and I said aloud, "You know the only reason we believe in God is 'cos our parents told us to?" That was the beginning of the end. I spent the next several years looking for answers that no one had. Even a priest said, "You're just supposed to believe." Nice, huh? Then I felt guilty for not believing. Then I got over it. I came to the conclusion that I don't need religion to be a good person. In essence, curiosity killed the Catholic. And thank Christ for that. Heh. You could poke fun at my disbelief until the flying pigs come home, you'll only strengthen my grip on reality. But it rarely works in the opposite direction. Most people get offended if you rag on their religion, even if said ragging is civil discourse. In my opinion, "getting offended" is just insecurity with a fake nose and mustache. So I remain Agnostic and sure of it. It's not cowardly, it's honest. And for those who say things like, "get off the fence," I always reply with tongue buried in cheek: "I like it up here...it puts me above the rest of you."
...
Oh yeah, so back to the three wise men...each shook my hand and took their leave. It was a lively discussion, and my pleasant nihilism remains intact. The deacon gave me a genuine smile, but Father Superior's good-bye reeked to high heaven of judgment. At that moment, I bet he was thinking the same thing I was thinking: God help this poor soul. Okay, sermon over. Go now, in peace. spiritual hugs and hickeys, mario
