Stoners are funny

If anyone is ever thinking of writing their novel, and putting in a stoner as one of the characters, don't try and make up their dialogue. Just go talk to a stoner. You can not make up stuff any better than what comes out of their mouths. Now, I don't speak for all stoners, but I certainly speak for the one I bonded with a few weekends ago while riding a ferry. And by that I mean the boat.

I was taking the fam up to the San Juan Islands, and we were on the ole Washington State Ferry Boat. This dude, just stoned out of the bejesus (which was a great feat at 9am) gets startled by something he sees out the window, and picks me to discuss it with. I guess it was the two kids climbing all over me that gave me away as someone looking to hang out.

Stoner: DUDE, do you see that?

Wood Dog: What dude?
(oh god, please go away. You might, I don't know, get the kids stoned or something. I decide to go with a "Spicoli" dialect of Stoner, from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, in hopes to better communicate and get him to leave sooner)

S: Those sticks out the window dude! Why are they moving back and forth?

WD: Oh, those stcks are pilings. And they aren't moving. We are actually pulling away from the dock now. We are moving, and the pilings are standing still. It just seems like the sticks are moving (simple reason will make him go away, right?)

S: (long pause, stares out the window at the pilings moving by the window, just blown away. Then..) HA HA! Yeah right. Good one. Seriously, why are they moving? Do they just keep going back and forth all day long?

WD: Dude, I am totally serious. The pilings are standing still. WE are the ones moving.
(if logic doesn't work, maybe repetition?)

S: Come on man, stop messing with me, why are they moving?
(he's getting semi agitated. oh crap)

WD: (in a hopefully calming voice) Dude, trust me. Our ferry just pulled away from the dock. The pilings are standing still. The boat is what is moving.

S: WAIT, WE'RE ON A BOAT?

WD: YEAH! You're totally riding on one dude!
(I'm pouring the "Spicoli" on very thick now)

S: OOOOOOOOO, HAHA! No way .....(leaves. thank god)


I love stoners.

Obsolesence

"Handheld internet has changed pooping forever." -- Me

"No, WiFi changed pooping forever. Handheld internet just made it less obvious." -- Wood Dog

Seems a timely post considering the content of the latest shitty post by my blogmate. Odd that at the ripe old age of 36 I have a blogmate. Shouldn't I be mature enough to have my own blog by now? I guess I've proven that I can't take care of a blog by myself, but I am a little wary of showing chicks my blog. What if my blogmate is around, clogging and blogging from the bathroom? Awkward, thy name is OKTO Blog.

Seems like pretty much everyone has a Blackberry, iPhone, or some other internet-capable handheld device. I myself have a Samsung Blackjack II which, although 3G-enabled, is somewhat limited as an internet device due to its Windows Mobile browser (call it 60% functionality). It works well enough to get the job done so long as you're not trying to buy things online or view videos. Actually, I think it can view videos but I haven't tried such a thing as yet.

I selected my device because I was in the market for a GPS for my car. I learned that many handhelds function as a GPS, so I figured a GPS that I always had on me would be the way to go, for those occasions when I was in someone else's car. So, along with GPS my handheld came with the ability to read and respond to work e-mails and view the internet. I'm sure this increased my productivity, as it has for society as a whole.

This increased productivity is somewhat bittersweet for me, however. I am not going to wax poetic about the times people used to talk to each other on buses, in airports, while alone on barstools, etc., rather than talking to their friends on the phone (or texting or e-mailing them, or surfing the web) because quite honestly I don't really care for people or for speaking to them. No, my concerns run quite a bit deeper. Specifically, I am a published author. I have had one piece published on the internet, in something called the Gentleman's Glossary, which is a portion of the website Goofball.com. The Gentleman's Glossary is a repository for the definitions of all sorts of important terms, like the following:

The Stranger [n]: Sitting on your hand until it falls asleep and then jerking off, eliciting the feeling of a hand job from someone else.

The Shocker [n]: The act of inserting a free finger deep into the anus of your partner during sex or oral pleasure, much to their surprise.

Hot Lunch [n]: The result of defecating a tube of shit directly into a young girl's mouth.

Vegetarian Hot Lunch [n] A variation of the Hot Lunch in which the "diner" stretches a piece of saran of wrap over her open mouth such that chewing (for texture) is possible, but no actual contact with waste product occurs (aka Blue Plate Special).

Dirty Sanchez [n]: A time honored event in which while laying the bone doggy style, you insert your finger into said woman's asshole, pull it out, wipe it across her upper lip, leaving a "shitstache" if you will.

Cleveland Steamer [n]: The act of leaving a shit stain or turd on the rib cage of a woman while receiving penile pleasure from tit fucking.

Blocking the Box [v]: When you and your pal are double-teaming a chick - he's got her from behind, you've got her mouth. Selfishly, he drops his load in her, thus preventing you from using that input later (aka Access Denied Error, Road Closed Due to Bad Conditions).

Sadly, unlike the heady days of the Dot Coms and Yuri Gregarin, the Gentelman's Glossary now requires registration and an annual fee, and we all know the internet was meant to be free to the public or else famed Democratic crusader and Man of the People Al Gore would not have invented it. But the point is that I was published in the Glossary, with the following entry:

Print and Poop [v]: The act of printing out an article from your web browser on the office printer, then picking it up and taking it directly into the toilet so you'll have something to read while taking a crap.

I haven't seen Dime One from this obviously vital contribution to the Glossary and to society as a whole. These f*ckers are charging $19.95 per year for membership, and they can't throw me a bone? We'll see if I contribute Alzhummers [v]: The act of visiting a nursing home and receiving a blow job by convincing a resident that you are her husband who actually died during World War II to the Glossary anytime soon.

Sadder still is that with the rise of handheld internet soon there will be no reason to do the Print and Poop. Granted, it is always nice to have some extra paper in case the stall is empty, but (a) this rarely happens and (b) laser printer paper doesn't exactly make for a satisfying wipe. But with the ability to check sports scores, e-mail or text friends, or check your favorite blog, will anyone risk the embarassment of carrying paper into the toilet? Granted, there are a few "Out of the Closet Poopers" who stride right in with the Business page and don't care who sees them. And it is always a treat to enter a stall and find that someone has left the Sports page there for you. But pooping with (non-toilet) paper is sure becoming a thing of the past. Great for the trees and what not, but my Inconvenient Truth is that my only published piece will soon be obsolete. Perhaps my legacy can live on with the Clog N' Blog?

Revenge is a dish best served stinky

I think emailing someone while sitting on the crapper is really funny. It's an unspoken, and unheard, "f**k you" to the recipient. Like giving them a virtual and odorless "upper decker", it just demeans them, and they don't even know it happened. For example, I could be writing a work e-mail, admitting defeat on an argument, "John, you were right, I was wrong. Let's move ahead like you suggest, my apologies" type of thing... but then I'd think "yeah, but I just emailed you while I was taking a dump" and I feel like I just won the battle. Like some jokes, it doesn't translate perfectly in the work environment as it does among friends. Seriously, if you guys only knew...

Speaking of seeking anonymous revenge in the business world, I had a disagreement with a former boss in one of my first jobs out of college. Heck, we had a lot of disagreements. Maybe it all started when we were discussing my job title when she hired me, and I preferred the title "Assistant Controller" over her suggestion "Accounting Manager". In the lame accounting world, these titles are pretty interchangeable. Her response? Dead seriously, "No, that's Spike's title." Spike was her fucking dog that she brought to work with her every day. "I am the Controller, and Spike is the Assistant Controller."

So I shit you not, I started on as the "Accounting Manager" so her Jack Russel Terrier wouldn't feel like he was being demoted. The pecking order in our small department was very clear, and a few times during my brief career with Spike, and his owner, I just couldn't take it anymore. So I would go to Taco Bell for lunch, and intentionally buy an extra bean burrito. When Spike's owner would step out later in the day, I would feed Spike the burrito, and then just sit back, and enjoy my title.

About 20 minutes later I would inevitably hear "OH GOD SPIKE. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!" being yelled from her office, she would stand up and wave at the air like a hive of gnats were swarming in there, and all would seem right in the world.

I would like to think that I handle work disagreements more professionally these days. But then again, maybe it's just that I don't with any dogs.

And hey, guess what? Apparently you can also BLOG while on the crapper. Who knew?

Don't you feel like I just demeaned you? (and that maybe you should go wash your hands?)

A Nice Chianti

First, a shout out to that sometime reader of the now-defunct and never-entertaining TAP blog for mailing me an amazing set of coasters. Even if said coasters were mailed in a child- and JW-proof (notify the Redundancy Department of Redundancy) box. Took me several minutes and multiple sharp objects to get that sucker open. However, it was well worth the time and wrist cuts involved. Now, on with the show...

I can't tell you how many requests we've gotten here at OKTO to weigh in on the "Brett Favre" issue. Actually, I can. It's zero. But the Favre issue explains the title of this post, which is the only Brett Favre pun in existence. Or at least the only Brett Favre meets Silence of the Lambs pun in existence. This Favre character has been mentioned on the radio a whole helluva lot lately, and I just don't understand it.
The particular instance I'm referring to occurs almost daily on the Dan Patrick radio show. Deanna Favre contacted Greta van Susteren for an exclusive interview with Brett Favre, and this interview was aired on the Dan Patrick show. You may remember Greta as a homely Court TV reporter in the 1990's or currently as a reporter for Fox News.
Fox - now there's a appropriate word. Hubba hubba, that is some high quality cosmetic surgery! I wonder if Greta's doctor also does penile implants. Because, er, the Wood Dog was asking me where he could get one of those. Yes, that's it.

Back on topic (and channeling Randy Jackson): Yo, check it out dawg. Check it out. This post doesn't have anything to do with anything Brett might have said to Greta, or that Greta subsequently said to Dan Patrick. I didn't listen to her radio appearance. The thing that bothers me far more than any retire / don't retire / screw over former Cal Bear and future mid-round fantasy flop Aaron Rodgers scheme Brett may have up his sleeve are the Brett Favre commercials that are run on the Dan Patrick show. Now, we all know Brett Favre plays football with a bunch of middle-aged guys while they all wear Wrangler Jeans:
Seriously Brett, if you can't avoid that pass rush, maybe its time for you to stay retired.

In any event, dear reader, you may not know that Brett Favre mows his lawn with a Snapper lawn mower. He does (at least, he does during the three months each year he is retired). You know how I know that? Because Dan Patrick says Brett Favre mows his lawn with a Snapper lawn mower in a radio spot. That's right, the f*cking commercial is Dan Patrick telling the audience that Brett Favre mows his lawn with a Snapper lawn mover. It isn't Brett Favre telling us he uses a Snapper lawn mower. It is Dan Patrick telling us that Brett Favre uses a Snapper lawn mower. Are we supposed to just take Dan's word for it? How do we know Dan isn't completely full of shit? Are we sure that Brett actually endorses Snapper mowers? If he did, wouldn't he actually do commercials for them?

I understand this in the political context. If, to take a purely hypothetical example, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger gives a speech at the 2004 Republican National Convention and says things like "We move prosperity ahead. We move freedom ahead. We move people ahead. Under President Bush and Vice President Cheney, America's economy is moving ahead in spite of a recession they inherited and in spite of the attack on our homeland"** and "Ladies and gentlemen, America is back! Back from the attack on our homeland — back from the attack on our economy, back from the attack on our way of life. We're back because of the perseverance, character and leadership of the 43rd President of the United States, George W. Bush."** Now we all know the Governator is way too savvy of a politician to have said these things, but try and suspend disbelief for a moment and just pretend he did. Now, he is technically saying something about someone else, just as Dan Patrick is doing. But in the Governator's case, he is actually advertising that someone else, not advertising that that someone else advertises a product.

** Denotes direct quote from Arnold Schwarzenegger RNC speech.

This may work in the political arena, but on the Dan Patrick show it is just hearsay. Maybe Snapper was too cheap to pay Brett's full endorsement fee, so they just got to use the name but not the voice? Can Brett not read? I mean, he is from Mississippi so that is possible, but his voice is featured in the Wrangler commercial above. I'm sure the real reason is that listeners are less likely to change stations when an advertisement is read by the on-air host, as they may at least initially be fooled into thinking that the advertisement is part of the show. But is that the case with celebrity endorsements? Shouldn't "I'm Brett Favre" as the opening line to the ad be enough to excite and capture the attention of whatever demographic (hint: Wisconsonites who are too fat to push a lawn mower) you're shooting for by signing Brett Favre to an endorsement deal? If you're going to have Dan Patrick read the ad, why don't you just save a few bucks and have Dan Patrick endorse your product?

Star Wars Joke of the Day

How many Sith does it take to screw in a hyperdrive?

Two, but I don't know how they got in it.

It's OKTO Ramble

I am watching the movie "10,000 BC" while writing this post right now, and I am already very disappointed only 5 minutes in. First, the Cavemen speak English, and second there is ZERO cheap Cavewoman nudity so far, and no signs there is any on the way. Isn't it required to have a hot semi-to-mostly-naked Cavewoman in these movies? Didn't the producers of this crap see Clan of the Cave Bear? Jesus, CONAN or Red Sonja? I'm not sure how much longer I can take this.

Sometimes jokes at work just don't translate very well. When our IT guy sent me a temporary password for our network, he used "Ilovecake2" as the password. I replied, "TOM, YOU ARE A SICK F&@#! Oh, wait, you said I love 'CAKE'. Never mind." I thought it was funny, but oddly he didn't respond to me after that.

It reminded me of the time I tried out the "Donkey Dick" joke at work. It was a total train wreck. And I wonder why I haven't made CFO yet...

In his last start, it was announced that pitcher Felix Hernandez of the Mariners tied the MLB record for number of pitches it took to strike out three batters in an inning with... can you guess it... NINE PITCHES! Why waste our time with keeping dumb records like this? Hey, in that same game the Mariners tied the MLB record for the number of outs it took to get out of an inning! THREE! Way to go guys!

In related news, my 1.7-year-old, Ryan, tied his personal record for the number of meals in a row when he didn't throw his food everywhere... at ONE. One in a row...That's my boy Ryan. Keep up the good work buddy.

Speaking of the kids, my 3.6-year-old girl Charlotte submitted a drawing of "Ariel the Mermaid" to the "My Princess Picture" contest in last month's Princess Magazine. What? You don't get Princess Magazine? OK, whatever, but I am still waiting for the call from that fucking mouse (or whoever announces to the winner) that they are going to be publishing Charlotte's Ariel in next month's Princess Magazine. Take a look at this picture! It's awesome. Note the red hair, green tail, and purple bikini top! CLICK ON THE DAMN PICTURE. She's HOT! I need a lawyer. I need a lawyer now. And Disney sure as shit better get ready to explain themselves legally if there is any indication of a suspect selection process. Whiting, where the hell is Boom Boom? She knows how to do this. And by this I mean suing huge companies for illegally manipulating contests, not drawing mermaids.

And speaking of Mermaids and Cavewomen, do you think Daryl Hannah was hotter as a Mermaid or a Cavewoman? Not sure any other actress has tackled both roles by the way, you throw in "50 Foot Tall Woman" and I'm sure she is the career leader in the number of roles as a bikini wearing creature-women. Bless her. Darryl as a Mermaid though, I must say, that's some nice tail...

And the answer is... 15 minutes. I lasted 15 minutes into "10,000 BC". Just horrible.

/ramble

Seattle "Sports"

When did Seattle become the anti-Boston?

I think we have to be the worst sports city in the universe right now. Well, at least until this fall when the Sea Chickens start their Mike Holmgren farewell tour. Actually, that's going to be annoying too.

As Paul Pierce cut down the nets for the Celtics last month (or did the NBA equivalent... I don't know, piled a few groupies and fought someone), and while Tom Brady ponders how many of Gisele's friends he will allow into their bedroom tonight, after being in four of the last seven Super Bowls, Seattle has quietly become the meat in a two-sport shit sandwich. That's right, the two contributors to It's OKTO Blog live in sports Bizarro Worlds of each other, and here (for my pleasure only) is a cathartic rant on why the Seattle sports world sucks for me.

The Oklahoma City Supersonics

This past July 4th weekend, The Emerald City celebrated it's independence from professional basketball. What better way to celebrate being an American than by allowing a savvier businessman to fleece your basketball team from you? It's capitalism at it's finest. GOD BLESS THE USA!

The reason this whole thing stinks is because there was never any actual intention of keeping the team here (which actually illegally violates the terms of the sale of the team). That has become very clear. Clay Bennett's plan of stealing the Supes for OK City was steamrolled through the NBA by commissioner David Stern because Dave owed Clay a huge favor after Clay had saved his butt by buying the Hornets a few years back, when nobody wanted them. This is basically two rich pricks scratching each other's back. It's the good ole boys, vs everyone else, and the GOB's are like 82-0.

Screw this whole situation. These pricks have turned us into a 2-sport city, and that sucks. We are now Kansas City, we are now Minnesota. Wait, Minnesota has the T-Wolves? CRAP! Well, at least we wont be a 2-sport town when the Sounders FC ("the countdown is on") take the pitch next year, right? Doesn't soccer count? I guess I at least have a new favorite NBA team, and that's anyone who is playing against Oklahoma City. Good times.

SuperSonic Haiku

No more Kemp, Payton,
Detlef or Cage. So who cares.
A Sonic ka-boom

The Mariners

Bill Bavasi not only put the worst team in baseball together this year, but he also mortgaged our future to do so. Eat a dick Bill, you are now out of a job. Not that it helps anything right now, but it does make me feel better. Here is a summary of the team you traded Rafael Soriano, Adam Jones, George Sherril, another small hanful of prospects, and $118 million in payroll for. There is not one hitter in our lineup that could possibly scare an opposing pitcher, and a very normal pitching staff. In your defense though Bill, I didn't think Bedard would suck this much either.

1B - Richie Sexson who an unnamed baseball GM described as "worthless" and as "stealing money from the Mariners". He should be let go of here any day now. Over the past 2+ years he has been making $15 million a season to be inarguably the worst first basemen in all of baseball.

2B - Jose Lopez. Same unnamed GM described Lopez as "ordinary". He's our #3 hitter in the lineup. Maybe has the most power on the starting roster, currently on pace for about 12 homeruns.

SS - Yunieski Betancourt. Makes up for his bad defense with ordinary hitting. Doesn't kill us though like some others.

3B - Adrian Beltre. GREAT glove, I'll give him that. Has been named as one of the reasons our team has no leadership, backbone, or pride. As a veteran hitting in the low .200's he is never seen taking extra batting practice or giving a damn. Making $13 million this year to play defense. His contract makes him impossible to trade.

LF - Raul Ibanez. Maybe the only guy on the team we will trade and get anything in return for. Not hitting all that well, but not killing us with his bat. His defense is atrocious though, and that does hurt. He will make a solid DH for some lucky team in the hunt this year.

RF - Ichiro. Hitting a career low. Still, one of the best players on the planet. He says stuff like "I see things, I feel things, I know things" in interviews. He is actually playing right field again, but started the year in center.

CF - unknown. We fired Brad Wilkerson, and demoted Balentin back to AAA... Jeremy Reed? Really?

C - Kenji Johjima. He's legit and we just locked him up for two more years. Catcher also happens to be the only position where we have a MLB ready player in minors in Jeff Clement. Fantastic planning Bill.

DH - Jose Vidro. The least scary DH in the history of baseball. A slap hitter, with zero power. First base and DH are the easiest spots to fill with someone who can hit, and we failed twice. You take two average AAA players and swap out Vidro and Sexson, the Mariners would be better off.
Bench - Willie "Fucking" Bloomquist is the great overachieving white ballplayer who is really "scrappy" but not really "good". He can hurt you in almost every position on the field too as a super backup, and currently holds the longest streak by an active MLB player for number of base hits in a row that aren't of the extra-base variety (at 90+ right now). We also have Miguel Cairo on the bench who is a poor man's Willie Bloomquist. I can't for the life of me think of an angle why you would have BOTH of these guys on the same team. Bavasi released Greg Norton after he hit .400 in spring training, and he is now a solid pinch hitter for the Braves. Norton is the perfect low cost, professional hitter you want on your bench. Or I guess have two identical utility slap hitters.

Pitchers

Eric Bedard - Apparently he has declared that he has a 100-pitch pitch count. He no shit pulls himself out of games after that. Not quite a "gamer", not quite the "Ace" we thought we were mortgaging our future for. He's soft, he kind of seems like a prick, and I bet we send his ass out of town before the rest of baseball realizes how overrated he is.

Felix Hernandez - Our best player not Japanese. He also hit a grand slam off of Johan Santana this year. He will be a Cy Young winner soon.

Carlos Silva - Just signed him to a four year contract. Currently has an ERA in the 7.00's and can't seem to pitch into the fifth inning. Our enjoyment of this guy has just begun.

Batista / Washburn - Per the unnamed GM I quoted above, both of these guys "couldn't be GIVEN away" right now. Fantastic.

Bullpen - actually pretty good, so I wont bitch about them.

Seattle Mariners Haiku

Sexson K's again
Our future for a Bedard
Bavasi's boys lose

Star Wars Joke of the Day

Why aren't the Jedi good recipients of fragile gifts?

Because they always feel your presents.

Mystery Texting

I've apparently made a text friend. I don't know who this friend is, but I periodically receive text messages from a specific number. The number isn't programmed into my phone or anything, so I have no idea who it might be. Kind of reminds me of the time I moved to San Diego, and my way of letting some people know my new phone number was to send them text messages from the phone. Now, it would be perfectly reasonable for me to have texted something like "Hey, this is from JW. This is my new phone number." But I am, to date, not reasonable. So I was texting things like "Fuck you asshole," "Eat shit" and "Cal football sucks." If those aren't dead giveaways that it was me sending the messages, I don't know what is.

But I found out after the fact that a few of my friends were confused and annoyed by this. One of them had the cojones to call the number and find out who it was sending these harassing text messages. The rest of my friends are just wussies who are afraid to stand up to a crazy person in the 619.

That's not the point of my post - the mystery texter is the point of my post. Not moments ago, I received the following text message from the mystery texter:

U kno wat time it is? Peanut Butter & Jelly Time!

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?! I can't even begin to know why or care that it is time for a PB&J. Who is it that thinks I need this information? I must know. So I searched for the number using a Free Reverse Phone Number Lookup on the internet. I am not going to link to this site, because, to quote Marcellus Wallace, it was pretty fuckin' far from being free. Unless you consider the result "Number available! Click here to pay $19.95 for more information" to be free. Actually, I guess the lookup technicallywas free - it is just the result of the lookup that costs money.

The mystery texter is apparently a cell phone user located in Coachella, California - I got that far without having to submit a credit card number. Clearly I don't have the cojones to call this person and confront him/her/it to figure out who it is - for all I know it is some insane chick I gave my phone number to and who has had my love child (though I'm not sure "love" would be appropriate in that context). Or even worse, maybe it is someone who has decided it is time for a PB&J. But there is another clue. I received another text from this person recently. It was an MMS, no words or comment but just the following picture:

Apparently the mystery texter did send me a picture of my love child. Come to think of it, I kind of remember a weekend camping and four-wheeling near Coachella... lots of bad tequila (Bandolero or somesuch)... a chick with a mohawk and a fantastic pooper... Good times. Good times with unthinkably horrible consequences.

So I started thinking of possible responses:

YES/NO
OR WHAT
GO AWAY
PLEASE COME BACK LATER
FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE

Then I realized that I am not the T-800, regardless of how much my physique resembles that of Arnold Schwarzenegger circa 1984. What response, then?

EAD (an old classic)
GFY (a new classic, doesn't stand for "Good For You")
Lose my number
No, its time for a spelling and/or typing class
Hope you are enjoying your chronic
I miss U. Wat r U doing this weeknd?
They let you text from prison?
Hi Mom

Hmmm... gotta stew on this one a bit. Though I'm not so sure I want to get rid of the mystery texter - without these sorts of adventures, what in the world would I blog about?