Looks like the ol’ Kaos Theory has been very naughty.
Mingle2 – Online Dating
First impression. He’s gay. Second impression, his kid might be too. More later.
Damn, Cheesehead Todd is at it again providing The Kaos Theory with content despite the fact he is absolutely delusional. He seems to think his Wisconsin Badgers football team has a shot at the BCS title this year, let alone ANY year. Todd, please take your meds.
Please review and justify.
GENTLEMEN, IT’S TIME FOR YOUR ANNUAL “AM I GAY?” SELF-EXAMINATION…
1. If you are over thirty and you have a washboard stomach, you are
gay. It means you haven’t sucked back enough beer with the boys and
have spent the rest of your free time doing sit-ups, aerobics, and
doing the Oprah diet.
2. If you have a cat, you are a Flaaaaming homo. A cat is like a
dog, but gay – it grooms itself constantly but never scratches itself,
has a delicate touch except when it uses its nails, and whines to be
fed. And just think about how you call a dog… “Killer, come here! I
said get your ass over here, Killer!” Now think about how you call a
cat…”Bun-bun, come to daddy, snookums!”
Jeeezus, you’re fit to be framed, you’re so gay.
3. If you suck on lollipops, Ring-Pops, baby pacifiers, or any such
nonsense, rest assured, you are a Gaylord. A straight man only sucks on
bar-b-que ribs, crab claws, raw oysters, crawfish guts, pickled pigs
feet, or tits. Anything else and you are in training to suck El Dicko
and undeniably a fag.
4. If you refuse to take a dump in a public bathroom or piss in a
parking lot, you crave a deep homosexual relationship. A man’s world is
his bathroom; he defecates and urinates where he pleases.
5. If you drink decaf coffee with skim milk, you like a high hard
one in the poop chute. Coffee is to be hard strong, black, and full
aroma. A straight man will never be heard ordering a “Decaf Cafe Latte
with Skim” and he will never, ever know what artificial sweetener
tastes like. If you’ve had NutraSweet in your mouth, you’ve had a man there, too.
6. If you know more than six names of colors or four different
types of dessert, you might as well be handing out free passes to your
ass. A real man doesn’t have memory space in his brain to remember all
of that crap as well as all the names of all the players in the Major
league, NFL, NHL, college ball, PGA and NASCAR. If you can pick out
chartreuse or you know what a “fressier” is you’re gay. And if you can
name ANY type of textile other than denim, you are faggadocious.
7. If you drive with both hands on the wheel, forget it, you’re
dying to tune a meat whistle. A man only puts both hands on the wheel to honk at a slow-ass driver or to cut the punk off. The rest of the
time he needs that hand to change the radio station, eat a hamburger,
hold his beer, or play with his honey in the passenger seat……!
I don’t usually remember the dreams I have at night but for some reason I couldn’t forget these two.
First one was truly strange. It involved sharing a house with William Powell and Myrna Loy.
Apparently, Myrna had some sort of gastro-intestinal problems because she kept clogging up the toilet. And when I say clogging up the toilet, she did it in epic fashion. If you flushed the toilet, shiite came out of EVERYWHERE, sinks, hoses you name it.
The second dream dealt with playing a round of golf with John Daly, Manute Bol and somebody else I can’t remember. Here’s Manute.
The dream involved me being the butt end of some sort of joke. The joke being after every hole several of my golf clubs would go missing. Finally I was left with nothing but my golf bag. At this point Manute suggested I use some extra clubs he brought along. Why Manute was carrying around some kiddie clubs and a seven foot driver I don’t know. So I played my round with 20 inch clubs. I have no idea what any of this means and why I remembered it but it must mean something.
My wife’s Aunt and cousin visited the great northwest last week. There was something about her Aunt that kept bugging me, she kept reminding me of somebody I’d seen on TV. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I watched an episode of King of the Hill. I post, you decide.
I was laying in bed last night after being awoken by the local owl devouring another neighborhood cat when I thought of the answer to the illegal immigration problem. It’s really quite simple. First thing is to amend the tax code to a flat tax of let’s say 10 – 12 %. By doing this you would eliminate about 90% of the IRS employees. Second, you give these former employees the option of being let go entirely or they can work for boarder security. Be that erecting the wall from San Diego the Gulf of Mexico or patrolling the border it doesn’t matter to me. The cost to the Federal government would be the same regardless. Some other options include a giant flaming ditch along the border, stocking the Rio Grand with Pirhanas or having Jack Bauer do it himself. I ask, you decide.
When your mother told you when you were little not to take candy from strangers. This is what she was talking about. Thanks again to Motorhead Rob.
Starting last weekend was the beginning of the Portland Rose Festival. A 10 day event resembling a State Fair except for even more freaky people. It must have been bring your retard to work day because it appeared most of the Carny’s were short a chromosome or two, if you know what I mean. I brought the trusty Nikon D80 to document the carnage. Here are a few pics.
One of the themes of the festival related to Pirates. There were people dressed all in their finest Pirate apparel. How Pirates relate to roses I don’t get but it is Portland.
The Red Coat didn’t get the memo about harassing the local gentry. You’re supposed to screw with the Pirates instead of stealing chairs from the paying customers.
Since it was quite warm, the family and I ducked into the big top for some lunch and relief from the sun. What we encountered was a band of high school drama queens who haven’t quite grown up yet. They were led by this guy.
Here are two of his cohorts.
Here’s another one of the members. It takes large stones to get up in front of a crowd wearing that get up.
You’re starting to get the picture now, aren’t you? Well one of their stunts had to do with dueling flaming pogo sticks. Everytime they bounced up and down flames shot from a flamethrower attached at the knees. These people have waaaay too much time on their hands. I’d love to have been a fly on the wall when they decide this.
I’ll leave you with one last photo, this one the my wife and little one riding some insane spinning ride. You tell me, who’s scared here?