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I have a FATALFAME FETUS, do you?
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| THE FIRST PERSON TO DRINK MILK FROM A COW |
| 04.28.04 (2:27 pm) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104118.15[/b]
In my search for the truth behind the brave soul who first drank milk from a cow, I decided to ask the nearest old person I could locate ......DEARY. DEARY is my 90 year old grandmother whose real name is LUCY but she likes to call eveyone DEARY. After reading a few of my blogs, I proposed the question to her. "Who first drank milk from a cow?" She slightly adjusted in her chair and ventured her opinion which had such an impact, it sucked all the strength from my little sister, dropping her to the floor immediatley with a severe case of snort laughing. The soft taco I was enjoying had a hard time staying in my mouth as I managed to stay on the couch with the help of crouching in the fetal position, thus mantaining my dignity! I was taught in grade school that in case you are on fire, or potent case of giggles, to STOP, DROP and ROLE or FETAL POSTION.
(S.D.R or F.) Deary's reply was as follows. "WELL I DON"T KNOW, BUT MY UNCLE USED TO SPRAY IT IN MY MOUTH."------
The charming visual that sprung into my head, as well as my little sister's, was of some crazy, straw hat wearing great uncle laughing his head off, spraying a little girl with pig tails in the face with warm milk. Seriously people WHO WAS THE FIRT PERSON who decided to look at the utter of a cow and say, "Hmmmmm, why not. Sounds good" Has anyone ever seen the TIT (pronounced TEET... pervs) of a cow. They're pinkish brown, long and they swell with warm sweet goodness. YIKES! Even if I was about to die and I was alone on some Scottish highland, poor because the King of England took my farm, I doubt I would drink anything that came from between the legs of an animal. But I guess it caught on so much, and was such a hit, that thousands of years later, we put it on our HONEYCOMBS. I just don't understand. But I can think of nothing more I like with my Spaghetti O's. I do have to wonder though, all this talk about who did things first, what was the name of the poor bull who had the distinct honor of coining the phrase of BULL'S EYE? And what was it exactly being shot at its face?
:END LOG ENTRY :lol:
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| THE SMELL...PLEASE STOP THE SMELL! |
| 04.26.04 (3:40 pm) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104116.16 [/b]
I was going to entertain all with a blog that was sure to make ya'll giggle and snort, but to everyone's most disagreeable misfortune, the geriatric gentleman sitting to my left decided to bathe in BEN GAY today. The gasious vapor not only has disintegrated my nasal sinus cavities, but the gelatinous snot discharge has drenched the keyboard providing a lubrication it needed desperatley! The X button works now, see XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. Anywho please feel free to acquaint yourselves with the other noteable entries in my blog and discover for yourself the entertaing mind that is the CAPTAIN. Notwithstanding, I would like to extend an appreciation to all my readers for their continuing support of this blog. WOW, BEN GAY sure makes you want to hug everybody. I'm really starting to appreciate things like carpet, or the smart fellow who invented door knobs...But I must ask my readers just one question that has burned inside my intellect since I was a wee lad. O.K. here goes. WHO WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO TRY MILK FROM A COW?
Please excuse me now, I must put myself out of my misery! TOODLES. :x :x :x :x :x :x :x
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| 8 EASY WAYS TO SEE IF YOU ARE IMMORTAL!!!! |
| 04.24.04 (1:40 pm) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104114.14[/b]
After a building fell on me yesterday, I had to ask myself some simple questions as I drove home in FIZBIN. Am I immortal? Could I be one of the lucky individuals who'll never die of old age? As luck would have it, my search on the internet gave me the answers for which I was so desperately searching. "New puzzle books hot off the press .89 cents." Oh, uh I mean, an article with some simple questions done by our times finest researchers. Here, from the "EXPERTS," are various signs that you are an immortal and have those happy go lucky behavior traits linked to the flaw in the aging gene.
---You are of Chinese, Russian or Scandinavian extraction. Most immortals THUS FAR IDENTIFIED have ancestors of such heritage. (Nope, I'm all Scottish)
---You have attached earlobes. (This one I nailed)
---You prefer tea to coffee. (Tea Earl Grey hot!)
---You like cats more than dogs. (I have a 34lbs cat named "JABBA THE CAT" that will be on the ELLEN DEGENERES SHOW.)
---You rarely experience physical illness. (YEP, just ask my old girlfriends)
---People often compliment you on your youthful apperance. (All the time, I mean always. just ask the girl I'm dating)
---Deep down you find it immpossible to imagine your own death. (Ya right. There's lots of fire and burning Klingon ships)
---You frequently procrastinate as if you are unconsciously aware you have "all the time in the world."
(Should I be doing blogs everyday?)
Well, I didn't make it, but if you did, give me a comment on my blog and we will get together for further studies. Plus we can make a ton in VEGAS!!!!!!! :lol:
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| SECRETS ON CHEATING THE CAR POOL LANE! |
| 04.22.04 (6:15 pm) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104112.18 [/b]
Many years ago, I was part of a cruel group of friends that loved practical jokes. This one joke consisted of my friend Ben taking the torso of a manikin we "borrowed" from Bannana Republic into a restaurant and pretending it was his date. Naturally, the remainder of us sat at a far away table releshing the hush tones of the once noisy eating establishment and quite frankly put our bladders to the test with the increased abdominal pressure from our hysterical giggles. Ben, the good sport that he was, insisted on conversation with his date. A bib for it as well. Even its own seperate set of cheese fries which Ben insisted on feeding it. The manikin was even subject to the whisperings of Ben's sweet nothing's which to this day almost a decade later he will not divulge. I was sitting by a drunk at the time who nudged me with his arm exclaiming in the best inebriated sardonic undertones he could muster, "Get a load of that looney." Any spark or flame would have ignited his breath causing me serious injury (THANK YOU UTAH CLEAN AIR ACT WHICH PROHIBITS SMOKING IN RESTAURANTS.) A guest at Dee's family restaurant even had the audacity to come up to Ben and ask for his date's telephone number...Ben said no. Anyway, how does this help you cheat the carpool lane? Well I'll tell you. The girl I'm dating lives 23.8 miles from my house. A couple of days ago I thought I would surprise her by showing up unexpectedly, but I had to drive during rush hour. For 35 min I watched as idiots broke the law and were quite single getting to their destinastions. This ticked me off big time. BIG TIME. If I knew how to change the font size on this blog, "BIG TIME" Would be at least a 30. Anyway, the next day, the humorous nostalgia of that night at Dee's gave me an idea. Yep!!!!!!!!, you guessed it. I dressed up my front seat with one of my coats, even putting the hood up over the headrest making him very tall. I cruised down the carpool lane yelling SUCKERS to all the other people slowly watching their temperature gages rise on their dashboards. I even engaged "FRITZ," That's what I named him, in pretend conversation as I sailed by making it to Hillary's apartment in record time. Ya, I was cool and ironically "RUNN'IN WITH THE DEVIL" was blasting through all four of FIZBIN'S little speakers. I thought all was well until the sign came up from nowhere saying that the carpool lane would end in a 1/4 of a mile. I merged naturally, but a lady took the time to stare intently at FRITZ trying to make heads or tails of what she saw before almost rear-ending her neighbor! I made it to Hill's quite happy it only took 25 minutes instead of 45 agonizing stop and go, wear and tear, rush hour minutes it would have taken! They call me -----
---THE CARPOOL LANE BANDIT-----
:END LOG ENTRY :twisted: :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:
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| BOOST YOUR I.Q. WITH A TOILET PAPER TUBE! |
| 04.21.04 (3:22 pm) [edit] |
:?:
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104111.16[/b]
I believe in a strong connection between body and mind. That's why when I saw this article I had to read on with a burning anticipation worthy of hell! "Boost your I.Q. with a toilet paper tube." A study was conducted were claims were made that a boost to your I.Q. of 15 to 20 points is possible by taping a toilet paper tube to the middle of your forehead! YES, finally I will be getting the respect I deserve. You see, the tube is placed just above your nose, right over the illustrious "THIRD EYE." The tube then creates a tornado like vortex that draws ambient atmospheric energies into the brain. According to the article, you can get results in two to three weeks by wearing the tube out-doors for as little as seven hours per day.--------Now I know what you're asking, where did I get the toilet paper tube? Guess what, you can get the tube right in your own home for free. My comrades at work thought ill of the idea, but the fact of the matter, sales have gone up 8%---Plus the newsletter, with picture, I might add, was a smashing sucess across the United States. I estimate that if I double the daily recommended allowance of the tube, (not yet endorsed by the F.D.A) I will have cured cancer by June....and that stupid riddle about the midget in the elevator!
:END LOG ENTRY :?:
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| SADDAM'S GORGEOUS DOCTORS OF DEATH |
| 04.19.04 (6:39 pm) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE 104109.19[/b]
Forget Chinese water torture. Here are a couple of ways to drive yourself insane. At work I blabbed that the chairs for the banquet rooms needed to be clean. 3 years of filth and grim were just to much for some guests to handle, so naturally nobody wanted to do it. Whom do they ask to make it all better but the person who had the mouth big enough to suggest the manual labor..ME! So I rented the cleaner and began the immpossible task of cleaning 250 chairs in one day. Well, to make a long story short, the fumes were pretty bad, so I opened up every window in the ballroom to prevent myself the singular joy of a carpet cleaning high at the cost of my very precious brain cells. Unknown to me at the time, a street bum decided to grace everyone with his wonderous skill of the banjo right outside the very windows I opened. To some that might not be so bad, but consider for a moment just how loud a carpet cleaner can be. LOUD! When I would turn it off to get more chairs...oh yes the banjo player. Here's the thing, he only knew one song....the theme from "Beverly Hillbillies." KARMA I tell you. Just because I made fun of GILLIGAN'S ISLAND on STARDATE: 104105.18 T.V. sitcoms decided on revenge. 9 hours of the same theme everytime I turned the cleaner off. The lower back pain didn't add much to my charming mood either. Speaking of torture. I guess it could be worse. I just read how SADDAM HUSSEIN had his lethal lovelies inject prisoners with VIAGRA, then made them look at girly magazines! WOW, what a way to go. You should see the picture. In fact, They took special delight in trying to torture male prisoners, but they didn't get it. In one experiment designed to test men's ability to withstand psychological pressure, they made prisoners of war watch the PLAYBOY channel for hours on end as if seeing scantily clad women was going to drive them crazy. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Didn't they realize these men were from the America. Of course, can ya believe everything you read on the internet? Nevertheless, if I was going to be tortured by the "lovelies," and they offered me the Iron Maiden, which they still have over there, or Viagra and the girly magazines....do I need to finish the sentence...well ok, the IRON MAIDEN all the way!
:END LOG ENTRY :wink:
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| GILLIGAN IS SATAN? |
| 04.15.04 (5:33 pm) [edit] |
:twisted:
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104105.18[/b]
Driving home in FIZBIN GIZBOT, I glanced at a rather unusual sight which forced my secondary nervous system to produce the reflex of a double take. A lady was walking down the street with headphones on the size of Princess Leia's buns....(the buns on her hair that is). Notwithstanding that wasn't the gut wrenching humorous part about her. The fact of the matter was she was dressed in white pants, a red shirt with a white collar and a sailor's cap. GILLIGAN, she looked exactly like GILLIGAN. For all I know she was listening to the old sailor's ballad on her headphones...You know the one we could all repeat in a crunch if a family member's life was narrowly hanging in the balance. Well, her three hour walk gave me a three minute laugh, and then I had to wonder!!!!!!!! Yup, here goes my moral for the day. That was a pretty twisted show. Let me explain. I firmly believe there is a dark secret to the show. To sum it all up this "comedy" is a direct representation of HELL. Yes, you read it correctly. Blink your eyes and read on...IF YOU DARE! Fisrt off, nobody on the island really wants to be there; but they can't leave. Each one of those lovable characters represents one of the seven deadly sins. GINGER: Represents lust. She wears skimpy outfits, is obsessed with looks, and is borderline nymphomanic. MARY ANN: Represents envy. She is jealous of Ginger's good looks and killer body. THE PROFESSOR: Represents pride. He is an annoying know it all. Isn't he? ISN'T HE! MR. HOWELL: Represents greed. Do I really need to explain? MRS. HOWELL: Represents sloth. She has never lifted a finger to assist with any of the escape plans. THE SKIPPER: Has two sins under that belly of his, and speaking of belly the first is gluttony. The other is anger. He violently hits Gilligan on each and every show. O.K. I've run out of sins. But go ahead and run this through your brains. Gilligan was the one who put them on the island, and he is the one who always prevents them from leaving by foiling the escape plots. His island, his HELL. Therefore, Gilligan is SATAN! Am I crazy?.......well maybe, but he does wear red in every episode.
:END LOG ENTRY :twisted:
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| NEAR DEATH AND EASTER |
| 04.14.04 (10:29 am) [edit] |
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104104.11[/b]
This last Easter was a barrel of laughs, or more appropriately an Easter egg basket full of laughs. On my way to my mother's house I was on the freeway minding my own scruples, when all to soon the truck infront of me had a tire blow up. Rubber, everywhere. The poor guy in his little red Toyota hatchback from the 70's didn't have a clue how to compinsate. Left, then right, and left again. I was actually enjoying my time behind him dodging all the debre, quite sure all the years of Mario Cart was finally paying off. But what Nintendo doesn't teach you is to check your 6. (That's lingo for looking behind you.) What do you all think could be the worst thing to have behind you in a situation like that...besides Hillary Clinton? It was a Semi. I was quite sure he didn't see the little puff of smoke that was once a tire and was causing choas in an otherwise safe right lane! So I found myself holding my breath again...I guess I do that (check STARDATE 104103.19). I zoooooooooomed pass the red truck who had gotten to safety, and made in into the emergency lane right as the truck whooshed by causing my little white Saturn (FIZBIN GIZBOT) to shake from the rushing wind.. I checked on the guy who was alright and finally got to my mom's. Wonderful dinner, just wonderful...Even "Deary" (GRANDMA) came. My brother showed up late as usual and I had to go because I wanted to see this real cute girl I'm dating. 1 hour later, my little sis gives me a ring and explains to me that on a simple whim, fate has graced my brother with the discovery of his real birth mother! HELLO! He even has a half sister. This women gave my brother up for adoption 33 years before and they both have been searching for each other ever since. Discouraged at not having any results my brother was about to give up. My mom said otherwise. "Let's just check on-line again for fun." Fun indeed. On their first try they found her. What a tearful Easter. Can you inagine this! Upon hearing my brother's name, JASON, she thought something terrible had happened to her house that was being remodeled. The foreman in charge was named Jason also. Good one fate...I was laughing. Then it hit her and after 3 decades she found her son! Tearful Easter gift indeed. My moral to the story. Fate is very much apart of our lives. It guides us on a perfect timetable. Although I am saddend that I missed that reunion with my brother and his birth mother, the fact of the matter is I avoided a wreck that might have cost me my life. TIMING! We are where we are supposed to be. So never make fun of fate. It protects fools, little children, and ships named ENTERPRISE.
:END LOG ENTRY :D
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| PINK ELEPHANTS |
| 04.13.04 (7:06 pm) [edit] |
:?
[b]CAPTAIN'S BLOG STARDATE: 104103.19[/b]
Ok, so today at work I over-heard a conversation about the fact that if someone tells you to sit in a corner and explains to you not to think about a pink elephant, you will automatically think about one. I was curious, so I decided the best way to prove that point was to actually sit in a corner and avail my mind to the deeper meanings of the cosmos....or pink elephants. My first problem was that all the corners in my grandma's house scare me; plus she's 90 and it's real warm with every television on with the volume sky-rocket high to compinsate for her lack of hearing. So I chose a swing outside her house. After lubricating the swing so the annoying squeaks from rusty hinges didn't sidetrack me from this important experiment, I blissfully engulfed myself in this puzzle of philosophy determined to dominate the conversation the next day at work.....My findings are as follows. I honestly lasted about one minute. I was very discouraged to say the least...are our minds so easily programable? and if so, what kind of smut are we telling ourselves to do? Nevertheless, and notwithstanding, I did expeience a slight episode of enlightenment. I discovered that I had held my breath for 1 minute. Why did I do that? who holds their breath like that except fools who believe in that Urban legend it will cure hiccups. Well, I guess I'm one of those guys that can't play poker and chew gum at the same time. But I did discover something and I know my readers, if any, are just waiting to know. Not thinking about pink elephants and holding my breath gave me interesting ideas that one day could bring about some cash. Well, not really, I doubt Techno Polka will go far or teeth whitening cigaretts. I do like hot chicks in UPS uniforms though. My idea was that if we all hold our breath for one minute every day it would compinsate for the senseless slaughter of rainforest being cut down until they can grow back. For the amount of air we breath every day it takes 100 trees to produce that. Do we say thank you....no, instead we all just climb on them and make tree houses and say cool when they fall on a house after a wind storm. My point is, holding our breath gives great ideas. Quiznos for example, who would have thought road kill would be a great spokeman for a sandwhich....actually they probably held their breath a little longer then I recommend. Hmmmmmmm. What I learned for me is, I guess we all think about what we are not trying to think about. Denial is dangerous.
Loads of Love!
:END LOG ENTRY
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