This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Treasures in the mail

So ... my sister (Madeline Hammersmark) is fucking weird. I'm sure this comes as absolutely no surprise to you, what with us both being the fruit of the same loins.

Basically, she was sending a mutual friend of ours a t-shirt he'd asked for about a year ago (so prompt) and as she is wont to do, included an assload of random objects for his consideration. Since he (Logan) is also sort of cracked in the head, he took photos of these objects and said things about them (I know, totally bonkers, right?)

Since I am desperately lazy, that situation is what you get as a post this week. A day late ish. Enjoy!


Apparently Hammersmark sent me a shirt based on a drunken request I made a year ago. Upon further inspection, it was more than a shirt! Let's look!

Well at least she knew my full name.

First up, we have the nondescript metal tube, possibly useful for conking purposes. This is followed by the Petty Soul Gem which doesn't even have a soul trapped in it! Now I have to go out and fill it! Rounding out the first batch is a defunct ear thermometer and some wonderful black and white pictures of office equipment! Next time I need to check my temperature, it'll comfort me to know that I now have two broken thermometers!

The next batch is even better! We have some fantastic metal brackets/nuts and bolts that are just oozing with potential. We also have a pair of tweezers shaped like a tiny girl, which I'm now extremely proud to own. There's also a chewable pill that is either a) poison, b) made before 1976 or c) both. These items are of course complete with some more random computer parts, eraser refills for a pencil I don't have, and computer part stickers for components I don't own. Now I can fool everyone into thinking my computer is "Fueled by ATI".

Round three! Let's start out with the 3M privacy filter samples! Maybe next time I'm looking at my private picture collection, I can just keep it relegated to this one-inch square area and people will be none the wiser! This is of course flanked by a SLI bridge! It'll be good company for the other 3 I have and will never use! And since my 12 USB ports aren't enough, I now have a PS/2 adapter straight out of 1999. We also have the world's piddiliest heatsink and anchor screws. The weirdest item has got to be the calcium pills though. Now, God knows I need them, but not only is the bottle half empty, they seem to have ruptured and are sticking to the bottom.

Here's a fun batch! From left to right, we of course first have the NFL trading cards. Unfortunately, they're not of players, but of referees. After I was shocked that these things actually exist, I then noticed they were literally from 1991. I googled one of these guys and he's actually dead now! Next up was honestly what I thought was a pair of panties. Upon closer inspection however, it is a ghetto-skull cap thing, which I'm sure was given to me in order to better fit in with my surroundings. We'll call it "West Greenville on a Friday Night Camouflage". Finally, we have a neat page out of a Resident Evil calendar from 5 years ago. Awesome!

This one is actually really useful! I always need pens that actually write and I always need matches to cover up the smell of Chief farts! However, seeing as I haven't owned a pencil sharpener since 3rd grade, I'd need to gnaw on that thing like a squirrel to get any use out of it.

Finally, I thought this was going to be a note detailing how she raked off a persons desk into a box and shipped it to me. Nope, just a picture of the Hammersmarks! Madeline looks like the offspring of Harry and Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber.

Finally, I did actually dig through to a shirt and it's really comfortable! I also donned my new skull cap! Unless that really is a strange pair of panties, in which case, this is awkward.

Thanks Madeline!

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Tuesday, June 12, 2012

As IS. I'm gunna do it. I don't have too much artistic integrity.

We dida Mad Libs. While drunk.

On the Track of Bigfoot

One kind of pink day, our class went hiking along the Cherry Hill, NJ River. Like all bee shaped hikers, we were ready for any emergency. In our backpacks, we carried percentages, ramen noodles, and one the number 6.

As we walked along the trail, Dr. Abrahamson noticed a snorthworthy footprint. “Do you think a honeycomb made these tracks?” Dr. Abrahamson asked.

“No, but let's follow them anyway,” suggested Jesus.

We snorkled for hours. Then I screamed, “Oh Jesus What da fuuuuck! I think I see a huge armpit.”

“Where's my Vodka?!!” we heard someone say. It was Principal Buttsavage.

“Principal Buttsavage!” we screamed. “We thought you were a huge armpit!”

“Do I look like a huge armpit? Well, as long as you're all here, you can help me look for teeny tiny vacuums. There are lots of them here along the Cherry Hill, NJ River. We can take them back to school and study them under our microscopes.”

“Where's my Vodka?!!!” everyone said.

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Monday, June 4, 2012

Story Time

Most of my friends have heard all of my stories, at least twice. What can ya do? Tell your stories to strangers.

Between the ages of three and nine, my parents and I lived with my grandparents - I had my own bedroom upstairs and my parents had a sort of studio apartment set up in the rec room, which was downstairs from the kitchen, upstairs from the basement and adjacent to the utility room/laundry - the bedroom portion of my parent's area also lead out into the back yard.  The reason I'm giving you this mind-numbing amount of information about my childhood home is to illustrate the fact that my parent's domain was a very high-traffic area, which definitely made my mother insane. Not only did she have to live with her in-laws, she had to have them traipsing around her turf, irking her fucking hillbilly liver.

I was an only child to very young parents until I was eleven years old, and I apparently annoyed the ever-loving shit out of my mother. She had this thing about me going in and out of the house - maybe I slammed the god damned door every single time, maybe she just needed a Vodnax (vodka with a Xanax chaser). Your guess is as good as mine.

One day, she decided that if I came in the god-fucking house one more Christly time, I was not going to be allowed back out again, I could just fucking hide and watch, too. Well, that would just not fucking do. I couldn't go back inside. Not now. I was ... standing in my back yard with a friend.

But then I had to pee - urgently - as it always is when you're like, seven years old. Not having the benefit of years of experience drinking underage in the woods, I didn't know how to properly navigate the intricacies of squatting in the grass to relieve myself - at least not in a sanitary fashion.

I'd pissed all over my shorts. My mother's head was going to explode. Fucking explode. I looked at my friend, she looked back. "What do I do?" I begged.  She shrugged and said simply, "clothespins?"

I ran to the clothesline, wet shorts clutched loosely between my thighs. I attached exactly two pins to the crotch of my shorts. The shorts I was still wearing. Nothing happened. I'm sure about that detail, I watched.  I whipped my head back up to look at my friend again, panic screaming from my expression. "It's not working!" I cried.

As I'm sure you've noted, as a child I wasn't the sparkling genius standing before you today. Anyway, that's your story. Begone with you! Mama needs a nap.
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