planetdan

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2007-02-02T13:34:58.479-06:00

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planetdan

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A site for people who love dan.

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danielmarkmiller@gmail.com

Mystery Buzz

2010-02-15T23:25:00.002-06:00

My friends and I like to have the occassional game night, so I have a linen closet full of party games and board games and a random puzzle or two. This closet is located directly next to my bathroom, and for the last month or so one of the games has been randomly buzzing an alarm and I can't figure out which one.

Generally, I'll hear it while I'm sitting on the toilet (sorry to make you picture that). I'll be doing my business when suddenly I'll hear a loud harsh honk/buzz, like I'm being judged for not completing my task fast enough. Time's up! It's very disconcerting and mildly offensive.

Other times I'll hear it while on a conference call, or randomly in the middle of the night, or opening a cabinet - as if I chose the wrong prize door on Let's Make a Deal. It's never constant, completely random, and I don't know what's setting if off, but it always seems to be judging me. It's like having my own soundtrack to life as I constantly attempt to beat the clock. I think it's raising my blood pressure.

The other day I stood in front of the closet and studied each game to try to remember which ones have buzzers and which ones have alarms and which ones are totally silent and non-judgmental and love me for who I am, but I can't for the life of me figure out the culprit. Maybe it's like the Tell-Tale Heart and I'm slowly going bonkers.

I suspect that I will have to take each individual game out of the closet this weekend to locate the mystery buzzer, but I'm beginning to think that it's the only thing keeping me on my toes these days, so it might be to my benefit to just let it be for a while.

The only real problem is that I just recently put my house up for sale and I've started having private showings and open houses, and I imagine a prospective buyer opening a closet only to be greeted with an alarming gameshow buzz, like I boobytrapped the house and they just got busted. Not very inviting. Not very inviting at all.

So which games have buzzers? The only one I can think of is Catchphrase, and I don't believe I own the electronic version of that...

I guess it's only a matter of time before the battery runs out. But what if it never does?

A Brief Hiatus

2010-02-15T23:59:00.002-06:00

I'll probably never quit my blog, because I'm selfish and attention-starved and I crave validation. Also, I have a bad memory lately so I need to have a place to write everything down and I'm too exhibitionistic to do it in a private journal. But sadly, I have to go on a brief blogging Hiatus because Blogger has decided it will no longer support FTP.

This means I will no longer be able to post, which means I will most likely have to transfer this big bad boy over to Word Press, which means I will need to figure out how in the hell Word Press works and then design myself a new site, which means I have a ton of stuff to figure out. Stupid Blogger.

In the meantime, I've posted a ton of crap below that's been sitting around on my blogging dashboard, half-finished and half-hearted, in order to tide anyone over who might need the occassional dan fix. Just don't read them all at once or you'll be hungry again way before dinner.

I'd would say that planetdan will be back soon, bigger and better than ever, but it will probably be pretty much the same when all is said and done. Maybe even worse for the wear, depending on how well the migration goes. If I can even figure it out at all.

Wish me luck.

Animated GIF Blow-Out

2010-02-15T23:11:00.004-06:00

I've neglected Animated Friday for far too many weekends now, so I'm clearing out the inventory in one ginormous posting focused around the two best animated GIF subjects on the planet: crazy animals and stupid people that teach you life lessons. You're welcome.

1. Baby monkeys are mean.

2. Humans are mentally challenged.

3. Whales are cruel bitches.

4. Babies are super cute.

5. Bulls are clumsy sluts.

6. Men are monumentally uncoordinated.

7. Orangutans are creepy pervs.

8. Belt sanders are wicked dangerous.

9. Collies never say die.

10. Dogs are cheeky bastards.

11. Skinny chicks are gullible.

12. Obese doods are unstoppable.

13. And finally, this: Perhaps my new favoritest animated GIF of all time.

Groovy

2010-02-15T22:57:00.001-06:00

Can you guess what these super magnified photos are revealing?

Hint: I have a lot of both of them and they both do the same thing.

Certain Old Willies

2010-02-15T22:55:00.002-06:00

I saw this picture of the old Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory children online the other day and it shocked me, as it always does, even though I've seen it a million times in the past and I've even posted about it before. Especially Charlie's porn star moustache and Augustus Gloop's Brian Peppers eyes:

But it inspired me to do a little research into these former child-stars' current day careers, which I'm sure has already been blogged about a million times on better sites than mine so I won't go into detail about most of my findings, but I was a tad surprised to find out that the man who once played Mike Tee Vee (Paris Themmen - dead center above) has his own website on which he claims to have starred in The Big Lebowski - a movie which I have seen many times.

The only problem is that there is no mention of the guy anywhere in the extended credits on IMDB.com. So then I had a private movie night where I viewed my copy of The Big Lebowski in super-slow-mo, scanning the faces of every bit character and walk-on for anything resembling the man. As the credits rolled four and a half hours later, I still had no Mike Tee Vee sightings.

Not that I'm calling the man a liar, because he apparently works in casting as well, so perhaps that was his function on the Coen Brothers movie (even though he cryptically lists it in the same "Filmography" chart as his role on Willy Wonka).

So then I went all stalky-time and googled him even further and found out that he's got a Facebook page, where I promptly sent him a friend request so that I could just flat out ask him where I might find him in The Big Lebowski and finish this stupid treasure hunt once and for all. But with rude dismission, he has STILL not accepted my friend request nearly a month later. Maybe he's hanging out in his mom's purse or busy with the taffy pulling machine or something, I dunno, but I'd like to offer him a piece of (exploding) candy as a conciliatory gesture.

I tell you all of this as an explanation as to why I haven't posted much lately: I'm just too damned busy with more important things.

Helpful Size Comparison Chart

2010-02-15T22:50:00.001-06:00

I found this online, but I think it will prove to be a very helpful reference for some people. I'm talking to you, J-Ballz.

Recently on TV

2010-02-15T22:40:00.003-06:00

People are awesome.

Snuggies Are a Total Ripoff

2010-02-15T22:24:00.001-06:00

I got mine back in the 30's when they were still cool. You new-Snuggy losers are fools.

Three times is enough, honey.

2010-01-26T17:23:00.006-06:00

I happened across this mindblowing item at Walgreens today:

So let me see if I can figure this out: McDonalds makes a commercial that pokes fun of those horrible Big Mouth Billy Bass singing fish contraptions and the people who like them. It makes everyone laugh because it is so awful. Years later, and completely missing the irony, someone else licenses the concept to manufacture a new version of the Big Mouth Billy Bass that now sings the McDonald's Filet O Fish song that was used in the commercial that was originally produced to mock those animatronic fish and the people who buy them in the first place. At $20 a pop.

It's like a horrible, viscious circle that keeps spawning useless, expensive crap and bad marketing ideas, each one worse than the previous, in a never-ending loop of bad taste. You'd have to be a moron to buy one.

And yet I stood there at Walgreen's and pushed the play button on him three times in a row while I waited to check out, singing along with every "whooo!" until I realized the cashier was not only unimpressed, but literally scowling at me. It's a shame that I turned off the video camera just as she began to chastize me in front of the other customers, because they all laughed when she said, "Three times is enough, honey, give the fish a break."

And I have to admit that I'm dying to hear the Club Remix Bonus Track.

:(

Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. Lover.

2010-01-24T16:53:00.000-06:00

Oh no! I shouldn't have hesitated! These are sold out!

Man, they are totally in effect.

Unfortunately, the following item is not actually for sale, because I know certain expecting someones who I'm sure would love this to compliment their nursery room decor:

Prime Time Debut

2010-01-19T08:20:00.002-06:00

I was on MTV's The Buried Life last night:

It was almost two full seconds of airtime surrounded on both sides by some show about four guys traveling around the country in a bus trying to accomplish everything on Bucket List. So I guess that means I can cross "Appear on MTV" off my own Bucket List. If I even had a Bucket List. And if being on MTV were a part of it. Which it probably wouldn't be. And of course, you can't even recognize me. But still, it was quite excitin'.

YOU. ARE. JEALOUS.

You can watch the whole episode here. I'm somewhere in the middle, animated for about two seconds.

In the Name of Science!

2010-01-16T12:18:00.000-06:00

When I first saw this video online a couple years ago I was simultaneously horrified and fascinated...

...until I realized that it was most likely fake, since infrared or thermographic flatulence would appear to be the same hue or color as the body, if not lighter, wouldn't it? Plus if it were real, the sheer volume was disturbing and that subject would surely have some major intestinal issues that might even require hospitalization. After a quick google search, I was confronted with the disappointment that it was indeed fraudulent flatulence. Can't one trust the internet anymore?

And THEN I saw this animated GIF on a web forum the other day, which re-ignited the same sense of shock and awe that I had felt years before, only at least this color representation seemed more realistic and plausible:

But the location of the emission seemed a little too high, and I had already been burned once before, so I went on another web search to see if I could verify the authenticity. Alas, I couldn't locate the source, even with the tantalizing clues that this video apparently aired on NBC and The Travel Channel? What the what?

And THEN I found this sadly static image, which has a slightly more respectable attribution than any of the previous examples, having apparently come from SciencePhotos.com:

But how can you ever know for sure? So I tried researching the origins of the image or the lab/photographer that captured it, but authentication still eluded me. Seriously, with the abundance of information available at my fingertips within the world wide web, this shouldn't be so difficult, should it?

And THEN I realized I was spending way too much time investigating farts on the intarwebs and I shuddered in self-disgust as my eyes welled up with bitter tears of regret. But I ignore my pride and pass these findings along to you in the name of science. Make of it what you will and take from it what you can.

I Want My DanTV

2010-01-17T16:14:00.003-06:00

A few months ago a lawyer emailed me and asked for my permission to use this image on some MTV show I'd never heard of before:

It felt nice to get a non-threatening letter from a lawyer about my website, so without giving it much thought, I said "sure, go ahead." But then later it occurred to me that I probably should have gotten a few more details first. Even though I had already given my consent, I emailed back and asked in what context my picture would be used, because I had begun to imagine the worst (ridicule, derision, Jersey Shore, etc). They were kind enough to respond, and told me that they wanted to use it for some innocuous reason that I can't specifically recall on an upcoming show called The Buried Life. And to think that I didn't even win the costume contest that Halloween.

Cut to five months later, and the show is finally debuting tomorrow (Monday) night on MTV. They never guaranteed they would actually use my image on the show, and they never told me what episode it might air in if they even did, and the total cumulative airtime would probably amount to less than two seconds maximum, but I'm excited for my Prime Time debut nonetheless and have set up my DVR accordingly.

Unless this was all a ploy just to get me to watch their show, in which case they are diabolical and I applaud them.

Crazy Like A Fox

2010-01-09T09:31:00.002-06:00

Yeah, it's cold. It was nearly -20° outside when I woke up this morning, not including the windchill. It's also very snowy. Ever since the Christmas Day snowstorm, I've been continuously shoveling myself out.

Shoveling is one of my least favorite jobs in the world, second only to mowing the lawn, so I try to make a grand show of it for all my neighbors. It's all a part of my secret plan. Every time I bump into a neighbor while shoveling or mowing the lawn, I make sure to remark about how much I hate that particular task, very consciously hoping that they will remember my remark the next time they are shoveling or mowing their own yards and perhaps find it in their hearts to do mine as well. It's not such a clever or subtle trick, but it's actually worked quite often in the past. So I've stuck with it.

But a couple nights ago I was shoveling and a neighbor stepped out of the duplex next to my house. It was dark and I couldn't tell if I recognized him or not, so I casually shoveled my way over in his direction until I was close enough to say "Hey," and do a casual neighborly wave. He said "Hey," back and then went about his business. I didn't recognize him but I had to play it cool if I was going to con him into shoveling my walk the next time it snowed, and he seemed like he was going to be a tough nut to crack.

Finally, after I pretended to push snow around every which way I could within his vicinity for a good five minutes, the man finally broke the awkward silence and said, "Cold enough for ya?" which is one of my least favorite rhetorical questions of all time. But it was also an opening. For some reason, my first instinct was to reply, "You're telling me!" but I quickly realized that wouldn't make sense in the context, so midway through I tried to jump start my secret plan by remarking, "Shoveling is the worst!" but it all mixed together.

"You're the worst," I told my new neighbor whom I had never met.

I took way too long to recover, and then just babbled, "I mean it's the worst. This is the worst. Shoveling is the worst. Man do I hate this. I didn't mean you were the worst. Ha ha, that's funny. Obviously I wouldn't know if you were the worst since we never met... I'm Dan by the way."

"Tom, we just moved in." Then he turned away.

"Oh okay Tom, well let me know if you ever need anything. Feel free to knock, that's what neighbors are for!" But I think it was too late. I doubt Tom will be shoveling my walk anytime soon. I wanted to stick my head in the snow and die.

Bonus Related Foxy Animated GIF.

Sheer Genius

2010-01-08T12:32:00.000-06:00

My mom cut my hair until I was nearly 18, which means she has cut my hair for the majority of my life so far. From my curly blond baby locks all the way to the eventual and unfortunate side-spike/mullet combo. And not to knock my mom's haircutting ability in any way, but I kinda looked like a kid whose mom cut his hair.

Of course, I thought nothing of it at the time. I went to a catholic school and wore uniforms all day and didn't really care what I looked like until the 7th or 8th grade, which is around the same time that I adopted the daily routine of deodorant, and everything just snowballed from there. Now I get my haircut every four weeks to the day and I'm quite particular about it.

This is all making me sound like some grubby little runt of a kid, but I was actually the opposite. Except for the haircuts.

You see, my mother was not a trained stylist in anyway. She just had a husband, four kids, a pair of scissors, and a limited budget. Let me remind you of some of the results:

But that's not the worst of it. Apparently my dad was such a big Star Trek fan in his youth, that he always requested the angular "Spock" sideburns treatment at the barber. This continued into his adulthood and marriage, when my mom took over his haircutting duties and honed her techniques.

I don't think she ever actually realized that my father's haircut was Star Trek inspired. She just thought that's the way guys were doing it in those days. So due to her limited haircutting experience, that particular distinctive hairstyle was also transferred onto me by default.

Which means that when I wasn't running around looking like the hydrocephalic wolfchild pictured above, I was running around looking like this:

It's no wonder I am how I am today.

New Math for the New Year

2009-12-31T16:35:00.000-06:00

I was watching Jeopardy today when I suddenly got curious about what might be the highest possible amount a contestant could win in one game, if they happened to answer every single question correctly, including all the Double and Final Jeopardies (assuming they always bet the maximum). So being the biggest nerd on the planet, I did some math:

Jeopardy Round:
Six Categories, six dollar amounts: $200, $400, $600, $800, $1000
$3,000 x 6 = $18,000
One Daily Double, assuming it's in the $200 spot (which it never is) and a player picked that one last: 17,800 x 2 = $35,600

Double Jeopardy Round:
Six Categories, six dollar amounts: $400, $800, $1200, $1600, $2000
$6,000 x 6 = $36,000
Two Daily Doubles, assuming they're in the $400 spots (which they never are) and a player picked them last: $35,200 + $35,600 from first round x 2 = $141,600 x 2 = $283,200

Double it for Final Jeopardy = $566,400

Although it would probably something a tad less than that, because Daily Doubles are generally located in the higher dollar amounts, although I don't know if there's any rule that says they AWLAYS are.

By contrast, it took Ken Jennings over 75 games to win just $3,022,700, which by my calculations, he should have been able to do in 6 if he were really all that smart.

What has this got to do with New Years?
EFF YOU! THAT'S WHAT IT'S GOT TO DO WITH NEW YEARS!

The Reason for the Season

2009-12-25T12:31:00.001-06:00

Merry Xmas Everyone!

The Season of Giving

2009-12-23T19:26:00.001-06:00

I was at the gas station yesterday and I had just purchased my Powerball tickets. I was about to leave when I heard the customer at the cashier next to me say "Hey man, do you have that new Mario game for the Wii?" and the guy behind the counter said, "We don't sell video games here. It's a gas station."

So I looked over and saw that the curious customer was a younger fella, maybe around the age of 14 or so, and not mentally handicapped, but certainly not at the head of his class either. The boy continued "No man, I'm not asking if you sell it, I'm asking if you have it."

The employee said "You mean, like, personally?" the older cashier asked.

"Yeah, man," he answered.

So the gas station attendant answered a little warily, "No, I don't."

"Oh, man, that's too bad cuz it's really cool."

There was an awkward silence. I looked around and realized that everyone in the gas station was watching the interaction with mild interest. The conversation seemed over, but the cashier and boy were still locking eyes, expectantly. Finally, the boy broke the silence:

"You know what else is cool?" he asked.

After a long beat, the cashier finally relented and responded, "No... what?"

"Dirty magazines," replied the kid, a little too quickly.

Like a good train wreck, nobody could take their eyes off the scene. The cashier stared at the boy. The boy stared at the cashier. The entire gas station stared at the duo. And all the dirty magazines behind the counter stared back at everyone. That's when I realized what game the kid was playing, and how badly he was playing it.

The crowd waited with anticipation, wondering how the cashier would reply. But he must have been an expert at this kind of situation, because he glared at the boy without blinking or breaking eye contact, waited just long enough for it to get extremely uncomfortable, and then replied with as little inflection as possible:

"Okay then, have a good day."

The kid got the hint and left, seemingly unshamed by the exchange. I guess I can't blame the kid for trying, but he's gotta work on his strategy a bit.

Speaking of the possibility of free p0rn, I finally got rid of the BBOP. The willing recipient will have to reveal him/herself in his/her own good time. But I'm glad to be rid of that thing. I hope it's better appreciated in its new home.

Um, whut?

2009-12-21T21:22:00.000-06:00

Man Performs Bum-Sniffing Assault on Workers at Co-Op

I know I can space out a little sometimes, but how do you not notice someone sticking their face in your rear twenty times in a row? Wouldn't you start thinking, "How many bottom-shelf yogurts does that guy need?"

A Pre-New Years Resolution

2009-12-17T19:00:00.000-06:00

I know I am not a nice person because I can observe other people acting much more mature and making kind, empathetic decisions that I would never make in a similar situation. For example:

We had our holiday work dinner party last night. Apparently I got a little overzealous during the dessert course and unbeknownst to me I had somehow managed to smear chocolate sauce across my forehead. When my friend and coworker Cherry Nut noticed this, she discreetly leaned forward, pointed at her own forehead, said "You have some chocolate right here," and went on with her own table discussion as if nothing had happened.

By comparison, had I been in the same situation and noticed some chocolate smeared across her forehead, I probably would have snickered, nudged the person next to me and gotten them to notice. Then I would've regained my composure for long enough to ask her to pose for a picture as if nothing were the matter. Then I would have posted it online the second I had the chance and laughed even harder as I imagined her getting home that evening and going to the mirror to wash her face before bed and realizing...

I'd like to think I wouldn't act like this, but one case in point against me would be the time my good friend C-Minus and I were eating spaghetti at an Italian restaurant, and she somehow got a piece of meatball and some sauce to stick right in the middle of her neck without noticing. I let her walk around like that all night, not because I was afraid to embarrass her by pointing it out, but because it was funnier to leave it there.

I'm not going to be like that anymore, though. I'm going to turn over a new leaf and live my life by the Golden Rule: Tell Someone When They've Got A Meatball On Their Neck Just Like You'd Like Someone To Tell You If You've Got Chocolate Sauce on Your Forehead.

Super Sinus Friction

2009-12-08T18:28:00.004-06:00

A few months ago I took a cab to an event where I knew parking would be an issue. It's kind of rare to take a cab in Minneapolis when you aren't drunk, in my limited experience. But it's better than circling the block for two hours.

The foreign cabbie was was chatty. And absurdly vulgar. He began by insulting all the people on the street and talking about their flaws. They were apparently all former fares, and most of the ladies were once "skinny and hot" but were now fat and "repulsing." A lot of the guys were "up-nosed assholes" or "lowlifers." I started to get nervous about my own behavior, because god knows what how he would describe me to all his future fares if I didn't play it right. So I tried not to act like an "up-nosed asshole," whatever that was. I also vowed not to walk by any cabs if I happened to gain any weight in the future. Those foreign cabbies are apparently a fickle bunch, with superlative memories to boot.

I'll leave out any further expletives, but he continued like so: "You like Sinus Friction?"

His accent wasn't great to begin with, but this was perplexing because I had no idea how to interpret it, and it was especially coincidental that I had been battling with a Neti Pot at the time, which did indeed cause a little Sinus Friction. But I wouldn't say I liked it, and why would he even care?

"What?" I replied.

"Sinus Friction. Sinus Friction! You know, like voodoo and interspace and Vulkings. Sinus Friction!" And then it clicked, "Ohhhh, Science Fiction," I corrected him.

"Yes, Sinus Friction. If you like Sinus Friction, then you go downtown and look at the lights. It's like Super Sinus Friction, man."

"How do you mean?" I questioned.

"Just go downtown to Marquette and 11th and you'll see what I mean. Traffic signs from future. Super Sinus Friction. You see that girl there walking the dog? She used to be hot but now she's super fat, man, hahahahahahahahaha."

It was all very cryptic. I wasn't sure how it was all related, but I memorized the intersection for future reference and eventually exited the cab a few blocks early because he was making me uncomfortable. But for months I kept it in the back of my mind whenever I was driving through downtown, yet I never seemed to make it to that particular intersection.

Then a few days ago I was waiting at a stoplight and I looked up: Marquette and 11th. The Super Sinus Friction intersection. This was it. I looked around in anticipation, expecting some amazing traffic lightshow with lasers or talking robots. This is what I saw:

It's a light-up LED No Left Turn sign. It doesn't even blink. Even if you could attribute it to being in the realm of "Science Fiction" (which would be a major stretch) you certainly couldn't refer to it as being "super" in any way.

Don't ever let that guy write for Star Trek, because his imagination isn't exactly forward-thinking. Someone should get him a Lite Brite for Christmas and blow his mind.

Talk about disappointing. But I guess I shouldn't put so much stock in the crazy ramblings of a foreign cabbie with undiagnosed Tourette Syndrome.

Brassy McSassypants

2009-12-07T18:14:00.002-06:00

Note to self:

* Brass Ring is a third-party career portral that large coporations use to outsource their employment and hiring websites.

* Brass Rail is a stripper pole. It's also a gay strip club in downtown Minneapolis.

Try not to interchange the two during important client meetings anymore. It makes for many strange looks. Especially when it comes out something like "I'll have to take a closer look at the Brass Rail to see what I'm capable of doing with it."

And here is a related animated GIF repost:

P.S. I hate the phrase "note to self" passionately, but I couldn't seem to find a way around it this time. I promise to try harder in the future.

"Because I am, in many ways, a six year old."

2009-12-03T17:17:00.002-06:00

I hope his specialty is sanitation and septic systems.

I once knew a guy named Boody. No lie.

Awesomest. Name. Ever.

What not to buy dan for xmas, vol. II.

2009-12-02T17:08:00.000-06:00

By the graciousness of a good friend, I was able to try out a Snuggie the other day. I do not see the point. It was more cumbersome than convenient, and even by her own admission, the owner wears it backwards and ties the sleeves around her neck otherwise they "just keep getting in the way." So she basically had to turn it into a robe-cape to make it effective.

Look at me reading a book AND drinking wine AND staying warm all at the same time! Of course, I'm always the kind of guy who is uncomfortably hot and sweaty in any and all environments anyway, so perhaps I am not the target market for this type of thing. At least the color is somewhat flattering to my complexion.

This seems like a good time to bring back this video. It's full of naughty language and it's been seen over eight millions times, but I think it might need to be seen at least eight million more:

My friend looks really good in hers, though. :)

A Kickass Xmas 2009

2009-11-27T10:40:00.003-06:00

Yay! Thanksgiving is over and we can now listen to Xmas Music guilt-free! And it's a good thing, because my annual xmas mix is pretty darned solid this year, even if the planetdan/polar bear hybrid image I made for the cover seems to be creeping people out instead of putting them in the yuletide mood:

Tracklist:

01. Bring Out The Bells - Andy Williams
02. Christmas Song - Cocoon
03. Let It Snow - A Fine Frenzy
04. Sleigh Ride - Ella Fitzgerald
05. Someday At Christmas (Alternate Version) - Jack Johnson
06. Soul Cake - Sting
07. The Heartache Can Wait - Brandi Carlile
08. Do They Know It's Christmas - Pete Yorn
09. O Come All Ye Faithful - Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra
10. Little Drummer Boy - Family Force 5
11. Winter Wonderland - Goldfrapp
12. Ol' Saint Nicholas - Doris Day
13. Jingle Bells - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass
14. Oh, Sweet Christmas - Oh, Sweet Music
15. Jeanette, Isabella - Tori Amos
16. Christmas In The Room - Sufjan Stevens
17. Here We Come A-Wassailing - Kate Rusby
18. Buon Natale - Nat King Cole
19. Handel's Hallelujah Chorus - Relient K
20. Christmas - Rogue Wave
21. Christmas in London - Krista Detor
22. It Came Upon A Midnight Clear - Laura Gibson
23. I Like a Sleighride - Peggy Lee
24. Spiritual Guidance - Titan
25. It's Almost Christmas - Chris Garneau
26. Maybe Next Year -Meiko

And if you send me a friendly email, I might be able to point you in the direction of some MP3s...

What not to buy dan for xmas.

2009-11-24T07:32:00.000-06:00

The World's Largest Gummy Bear. Only $30.

Available at Vat19.

DO NOT WANT. Although you get free shipping if you spend over $99, which means you only need to buy four of them - one in each color and an extra backup blue one!

You can also get them on a stick, which seems very awkward and just a tad perverse.

Animated Friday (Awkward and Embarrassing Edition)!

2009-11-20T07:18:00.000-06:00

I'm not the only one who falls, trips, stumbles or just generally embarrasses himself on a regular basis. Even adults and professionals can look stupid:

Soccer players do it.

Gymnasts do it.

Even people in the middle east do it.

But this one might be my favorite: Nice save, buddy.

The Case of the Missing Subway Sandwich

2009-11-19T12:34:00.000-06:00

I've been very busy at work lately, and combine that with the upcoming holidays and the BBOP stinking up the back of my closet(see below), I've been fairly distracted. Which is probably why I lost my Subway sandwich for a good 45 minutes today.

I had used my lunch hour to pick up two ginormous armfuls of drycleaning and a low-fat Buffalo Chicken. I'm the kind of guy who needs to do everything in one trip, no matter how difficult. So with about fifty pounds of clothing in each arm and a fountain drink balanced in the middle, I trudged through my garage, avoided my dirty wet car, took off my shoes, walked up two flights of stairs, and got to my closet without spilling a drop.

After the relief of hanging up the heavy clothes I realized that the only thing missing was my Subway sammich.

My first distressing thought was that it had fallen onto the dirty garage floor, but upon inspection there was no sign of it. I looked inside the car and under the seats. I retraced my steps from the garage to the bedroom. I even checked the kitchen fridge (although how it would have gotten there would have been an even bigger mystery). No sammich.

I thought back to being at the Subway. I could remember walking out of the place with the fountain drink, but was I actually carrying the Subway bag, too? I had no recollection of it. So I drove back to Subway, scanning the gutters and sidewalks along the way just in case I had left it on the top of my car or it had somehow managed to fall out of the window. No sammich.

Back at Subway, I didn't want to run up to the counter and say "'Scuse me, sir, but have you seen a sandwich? I lost my sandwich. Can anyone help me find my sandwich?" so I discreetly checked the soda station and the potato chip bin. No sammich. I carefully peeked around the corner to the front counter to see if there was an unaccounted for bag patiently waiting for its owner's return. No sammich. I resisted the urge to purchase a replacement.

I walked the same path back to my car, looking carefully at my feet for any dropped items. No sammich.

Back at home I started to get angry. How does a sandwich just disappear? I rechecked all the places I had already rechecked. I found my receipt to make sure that I had indeed purchased a sandwich in the first place. Everything seemed to be in order. Still no sammich.

On an impulse I went back up to my bedroom closet and stared at the drycleaning. I had gone to the drycleaners BEFORE the Subway, so I couldn't have left the sandwich there. Exasperated, I absentmindedly punched one of my drycleaning bags to let out a little steam, and out from between the two big bags of laundered suits, shirts, and slacks fell my missing sack lunch. Relief enveloped me like a warm summer breeze.

Unfortunately, the sandwich turned out to be not worth the hassle. Never stray from ordering your usual at a place like Subway. You'll always be disappointed.

Upon retelling the story to C-Minus, she found the silver lining: at least I hadn't given up on the search and found the sandwich weeks later after it had turned to a smelly bag of liquid rot.

I Can Haz Ancient Internet Memes on Jeopardy for 200 Alex.

2009-11-18T17:25:00.000-06:00

And two years later, Jeopardy finally caught up to the Internet today:

What was really strange was that Alex said the name of the category with a Russian accent, and the contestants followed suit. I never imagined that cat to have a Russian accent. I thought it would be more American Yokel. Maybe Cockney British. But never Russian.

My Dilemma

2009-11-16T12:59:00.001-06:00

So I've gotten myself into a little dilemma RE: The Big Box of Porn (BBOP) I Found in My Garbage. It's just sitting in the back of my closet collecting dust and I've started to worry about the hopefully-unlikely event of my untimely death due to some unforeseen accident or terrorist attack. It's just begging to be discovered by some unsuspecting innocent relative as they battle through their grief to clean out my house, and how would I ever be able to explain myself from beyond the grave?

But seriously, none of my friends seem want the BBOP (or maybe they just don't want to admit that they want the BBOP). I've only received one reader request for the BBOP, but I started thinking about that option and the question arose: What if he's just some pimply 15-year-old kid pretending to be of legal age, and I go and ship the box off to him, and his mom intercepts this BBOP from dan in Minneapolis addressed to her adolescent son? Not good.

I can't put it up on Craigslist because I don't want some creepy porn perv coming to my house to collect the goods, and I certainly don't want to venture out of the house with the BBOP to make a delivery.

It seems that the only real option is to allow the BBOP to be destroyed or to be hauled away with the worthless refuse, which is unfortunate. But I don't want to put it back in my own garbage because god knows who might find it there or what the garbage man might think (besides "jackpot!"), and I don't want to shove it in someone else's garbage and force them into the same dilemma in which I find myself right now.

I could find some sort of public trash option, but that seems a little too out in the open, and I don't know anyone who lives in an apartment who might be able to anonymously dispose of the thing.

I could throw them away one-at-a-time I suppose, buried deep within the trash and surrounded by a dozen dirty Lean Cuisine containers. But that just seems like such an awful, shameful way to die. What did the BBOP ever do to deserve such a fate?

Seriously. What am I supposed to do with this BBOP? It's becoming a real burden. I see some sort of Aesop Fable hidden somewhere in this tale, something slightly askew of the "careful what you wish for..." school of thought.

The Trashman's Delight

2009-11-05T21:30:00.003-06:00

I went to toss out some garbage the other day, and sitting right on top of a week's worth of trash was this big box of old-school pornography videos:

I immediately assumed that the old coot across the alley was using my trash bin to get rid of his pornography stash without tipping off his old lady. Or maybe someone else in the neighborhood was finally making the upgrade to DVD. Regardless, I had to make the decision: rescue the videos from my garbage or let the sanitation department dispose of them as someone clearly intended.

Having worked in a video store for almost five years in my youth, I know much more about old Triple-X videos than necessary, and I could tell that some of these videos in particular were classics, starring the likes of John Holmes and Ron Jeremy. It seemed like a shame to send them off to the landfill. But on the other hand, I'm not exactly a porn video type of guy, and rescuing them would mean: a) reaching into my garbage can, and b) touching somebody else's porn collection. Neither of which seemed very appealing or advisable to me.

And yet, I reached into the garbage can.

I have one friend in particular who I thought would be thrilled to adopt the big box of mystery pornography, but to my surprise he was not interested. "Who even owns a VCR anymore?" was his ungrateful reply. And he's right. So now I got a big box of pornography videos hidden in my closet like a guilty teenager or something, and I have no idea what to do with them. Plus I'm afraid to touch them.

Any ideas? Or, should I take a vote:

Vote A for: Throw them back in the trash where they belong, you freak.
Vote B for: Hold onto them until you can find a grateful recipient.
Vote C for: OMG can I have them please? Send them to:

P.S. I'll hate to see what this post does to my Google Ads.

P.P.S. Sky Pies. LOL.

Vote Lombard!

2009-11-04T20:06:00.006-06:00

So I voted yesterday, of course. We got a new voting method in Minneapolis which lets you rank your top three preferences for each position in order of preference. Which is a good thing, because our choices for Mayor this year were too interesting to be able to pick just one:

Guess who my third choice was?

VOTE LOMBARD, 2009!

This isn't the first time I've posted a picture of our voting ballot. We always seem to have odd voting options in Minneapolis. Is it just the Midwest or what gives? Does everybody else have odd party titles like we do or should I really be proud to live where you can run on the "Is Awesome" ticket?

I'm also curious about what word was "censored" from Bob Carney Jr's party title. My assumption is "asshole," but in politics I guess you really never can know for sure.

P.S. The name Lombard reminds me way too much of Office Space, and one phrase from that film in particular. Can anyone guess of which phrase I speak?

Final Destination: Death by Homeownership

2009-11-01T15:32:00.007-06:00

My house tried to kill me today.

I'm not a handyman. Nor am I a good homeowner. I don't know what I'm doing, I have no idea how to work tools or fix faucets, and I'm awkward and clumsy to boot. Somehow I manage to keep the place together and just short of ramshackle, but it's a constant battle. Especially when it comes to the Fall yardwork.

Today was gutter cleaning day.

I've neglected this task for the last couple years, and the normally-charming-looking vines on the back of my house had taken over. I knew it would be ugly up there, but I could no longer push off the chore. I grabbed some thick rubber gloves, a pair of dull scissors for trimming away the unwanted foilage, and an ancient aluminum extension ladder that I inherited from my dad years ago.

The ladder is ginormous, and it has an old rope attached to one end that loops around it. I've never been able to ascertain the function of the rope but I've always figured that it must be there for a purpose so I've never dared to remove it. Trying to maneuver the unwieldly monster ladder while simultaneously trying to avoid getting caught up in the mystery rope is a considerably arduous task. I probably look like an Abbott and Costello movie most of the time.

As I positioned the metal bohemoth against the back of my one-and-a-half-story home, the height suddenly looked incredibly imposing. The ladder was perilously perched twenty feet above the ground against a sagging gutter and directly next to a power line. I made sure I had my cell phone in my pocket (just in case I survived whatever disaster was in store for me), I took a deep breath, and I began my ascent.

Climbing the ladder with a garbage bag in one hand and a pair of rusty scissors in the other didn't improve my confidence. The rubber gloves on each hand were most effective at masking the small amount dexterity I might have had left. I started to imagine a morbid death scenario like the ones that play out in those Final Destination movies. I wasn't sure if my death would be by falling, impaling, electrocution, or - knowing those movies - some ghastly combination of the three.

So I took my time and worked deliberately, my hands soaked in putrid mold-water, pulling out years worth of dead vines, rotting leaves, and a substance that was technically not poop but looked and smelled like it was at least related in some way. Halfway through the task, the rotting substance was smeared all over my face, soaked into my clothes, and splattered all over the ground below. The garbage bag filled up quickly and became almost too heavy to bear. The over-extended extension ladder wobbled beneath my feet. The gutter creaked underneath the weight of it all. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.

I heard my neighbor's door open and I looked over just in time to see a black cat scurry out, stop dead in its tracks, and stare directly at me. I thought, "That's funny, I never knew they had a black cat." But it must have sensed the impending doom because it quickly turned around and scurried back inside before the door ever had a chance to close. I took it as a sign and carefully started to climb back down the ladder, one step at a time.

It was at the second to last step when my right foot slipped on a glop of wayward non-poop, my left foot got caught in the mystery rope, and I started to fall backwards toward the ground. I was close enough to the bottom to know I wouldn't get seriously hurt, so my main concern became to avoid landing directly on the garbage bag of barfy compost. I tried to toss the bag to the side but it was too heavy, and the attempt threw off the balance of the ladder, sending it sliding down the gutter toward the power lines. I landed with a thud on my back, with my left leg still caught up in the ladder. The bag of mold and rot landed with a splat, speckling my face with a million droplets of oily sludge.

Miraculously, the sliding ladder was stopped in its sliding tracks by a vine before it could act as a conduit for my electrocution. But the jarring motion had knocked loose the scissors that I had mistakenly left on the top rung, and so they came flipping down the ladder, bouncing and sliding from rung to rung.

I instinctively covered my face and head with my arms until the clang of the falling scissors stopped, but I felt nothing pierce my gut or impale my neck so I slowly lowered my arms and opened my eyes, one at a time. I looked down at my chest, torso, and legs, but the scissors must have landed somewhere else. I turned to my left to see if that evil cat had returned to gloat, and this is what I saw, not two feet from my head:

I guess my cell phone came in handy after all, because I was able to snatch this picture of my very own Final Destination style near death experience. The gutters were far from clean, but let me tell you: gutter cleaning day was o.v.e.r.

Having survived that ordeal, I can declare officially that I will never again attempt to clean a gutter. It's just one more homeowner task of which I am simply incapable. And it confirms what I already knew: it's time to sell this death trap and move on.

So... anybody looking to buy a nice and affordable three bedroom house in South Minneapolis? Jukebox not included.

Animated Friday (Pets: A Two Parter Edition)!

2009-10-30T08:30:00.002-05:00

Last week was all about cute pets. But sometimes cute isn't as entertaining as mean is. So here are some mean pets.

Kangaroos

Rams

Monkeys

Mean pets are mean. Why do they gotta be so mean?

Animated Friday (Pets: A Two Parter Edition)!

2009-10-23T12:26:00.003-05:00

I have a friend who is getting ready to buy a new puppy. Puppies are cute. I like puppies. I like cute pets. Here are some cute pets:

Kitties

Puppies

Don't Know What the Eff This Is But It's Cute
(Apparently is something called a Loris? I dunno.)

To balance out the cute, next week's animated Friday will be all about not cute pets.

Happy Halloween!

2009-10-31T13:32:00.001-05:00

It's not that I haven't been posting. It's that my hosting company wasn't letting me publish to my website. I hadn't had anything interesting to say lately, so it didn't bother me all that much, but I got it all sorted out today, and just in time to say Happy Halloween!

Unfortunately I'm old and tired and boring and I don't do that dress up stuff anymore. I did carve a pumpkin, though:

It was supposed to be a Goonies skull, although now that I look at it, it kinda looks like a cross between the skull in the Goonies logo, the skull on Chester Copperpot's key necklace, and the skull shaped cave that the Goonies escape into when being chased by the Fratelli's.

I think Chester Copperpot would be a good Halloween costume. I'm going to think of a way to pull that off one of these years.

All Swine Flu-ed Out

2009-10-27T20:55:00.002-05:00

Swing Flu is so last week. Stop giving me the death tolls, Local News. It didn't work with Bird Flu, and it ain't gonna work with Swine Flu neither. There are much more interesting ways that people are dying out there. Give me something brand new and even more horrible to be scared about already!

But for real, I have nothing interesting to post about and I thought that pic of poor little Piglet was sooper cute.

C.S.I. B.S.!

2009-10-21T17:40:00.003-05:00

I love shows like any of the bajillion incarnations of Law & Order or CSI because they require little attention or thought and if you miss ten in a row it won't make a lick of difference. But as anyone who has watched an episode of either of these shows with me can tell you, I can't stand how they misrepresent technology and computers. Cuz I'm a computer nerd. And computer nerds are fickle.

I especially hate it when they are doing things like searching databases for a fingerprint match and they show a computer screen flickering through a million different fingerprints looking for a visual match and scanning through all the possibilities. Why would the creator of that program even make a visual representation of the search? What possible benefit could there be to staring at a flickering screen as a hundred fingerprints flash by in the blink of an eye? You know how much work it would be to develop an interface like that? Why would they even bother? I'm positive that the majority of that kind of DNA/print-matching stuff happens behind the scenes, but I suppose that wouldn't make for dynamic television now, would it? But still, I make a point to annoy whoever is watching with me while I bitch about it.

The absolute worst is when they scan and zoom in on some small area of some low-res closed-circuit security tape and it's all crisp and clean and solves the case. There ain't a video enhancement program in the world that can pull that off. That's just not how digital video works. It drives me bonkers. So when somebody emailed me this the other day, I found solace in the fact that I wasn't the only one who could see through the lies:

I just wish I had thought of mocking it first, cuz I got better photoshopping skillz.

Autographed!

2009-10-15T23:41:00.000-05:00

Stacy and I went to see Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black at the the Pantages Theater tonight. It was a super funny show, and I was able to laugh whole-heartedly during the entire event, even through the thick stench emanating from the smelly-haired slacksters sitting in front of us. (FYI: Slackster™ is my newly-coined term for a slacker mixed with a hipster).

After watching the two Michaels for years in Wet Hot American Summer, Stella, and The State, it was awfully strange to see them live in person. It was like witnessing wax figures come to life. Not that they looked waxy or anything, I just don't think I had even considered them to be real people before. It was mesmerizing.

But then afterwards came the horribly awkward ordeal of getting their autographs. First, I was wearing a brown leather coat, which for some reason felt entirely inappropriate, although I couldn't for the life of me tell you why. Second, there's something terribly uncomfortable about the subservient act of standing in line to watch someone write their name for you. It exacerbates my self-consciousness to the point of dumbstruck insanity because it is completely impossible to come off as "cool" in that situation. And who doesn't want to look cool in front of Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black?

The way I could see it, there were really only four ways Stacy and I could have played it:

1) Act normal for the role. Meaning: act excited and fawning and say things like "Great show!" and "Oh man I totally love you guys!" Might as well. We had been snapping photographs and waiting patiently in line so I think there was a clear understanding amongst all parties involved that we liked them more than they liked us. This was no time to have pride. The only problem is that this method isn't very memorable. We'd be just one in a million adoring fans, easily forgotten.

2) Act blasé. Meaning: don't let the celebrities think they are better than us just because we were willing to wait in line to watch them sign their name on a piece of paper. We could simply pretend like we could take them or leave them. We could be too cool for school. The only problem is that this method isn't very believable. We basically waited in line just to get a close-up glimpse at them ferchrissakes. The jig was up. Plus, it's kind of a douche move.

3) Act funny. Meaning: try to be memorable by saying or doing something clever... something they had never seen or heard before... something they would laugh and talk about for years to come. But this method doesn't work either, because they are professional comedians. They are funnier than other people by default and they've heard everything. It would be like bringing a guitar to a Cream autograph session to play a lick for Clapton. It's a game you just can't win.

4) Act insane. Meaning: the only way to really make an unforgettable impression would be to do something genuinely creepy or truly frightening. Like hurdle the table and straddle in their laps. Or start scream-crying like a baby. Or try to lick their signing-hands. Or ask them if they have a used tissue we could keep. Or throw up. But this method is dangerous, because there are always bodyguards in close proximity and because maybe being that memorable isn't a good thing.

Unfortunately, I was starstruck and dumbfounded and so I kind of combined all these possibilities into one giant mess of forgettableness. In my nervousness, I lost control of my facial expression and I think it landed somewhere between a half-awkward-smile and a half-blank-stare kind of look. Then I think I remarked to Michael Showalter that he had signed my T-Shirt in a different place than he had signed Stacy's - a completely useless remark that I was surprised to hear leave my mouth. He replied something about "changing it up a bit" and then passed the T-shirt off to the next Michael without ever making eye contact, which was probably a good thing considering my slack-jawed mug.

It was at that point that I suddenly remembered a past incident at a Star Trek convention. A friend and I had waited in an autograph line for an hour. At the end of this line sat Tuvok from Star Trek Voyager, and Odo (that Rene Auberjonois guy who acted on Benson) from Deep Space Nine. But for some reason we didn't want Odo's autograph, we just wanted Tuvok's. So after we got Tuvok's autograph we just pushed through all the other people waiting in line and walked right past Odo. He even looked up and watched us walk away, avoiding him. It was really awkward and just a tad cruel.

So back to the present, this memory apparently made me absent-mindedly mumble to Michael Ian Black, "Would it be mean if I just skipped over you?" and he played along while signing my T-shirt, "No, everyone has their favorite. Michael is my wife's favorite, too." Again, the lack of eye-contact probably meant that I had not made any sort of impression, and as I walked away, I noticed that his signature on my T-shirt looked more like it read "Jo-Beth" than "Michael Ian" and I wondered if that was his way of exacting revenge for my stupid comment.

But all my regrets have since been replaced with the fact that I get to wear my cool autographed T-shirt all over town, since I doubt I'll ever have to be embarrassed in front of either of the two Michaels again.

But I do extend my apologies to Rene Auberjonois. That was just mean.

Stoked & Juked

2009-10-10T17:45:00.000-05:00

I know it's been a while since I gushed about The Decemberists, but Stacy and I went to their concert last night and it pretty much ruled all up in our faces and stuff.

Lead singer Colin Meloy even performed a brand new song which I thought was awfully nice, although I'm pretty sure that Stacy and I are the only Decemberists fans that read my blog, so none of you will really care all that much to know that I risked being tossed out of the concert to record it for you:

In unrelated musical news, I was watching the craptastically awesome movie Femme Fatale on HBO the other day when I noticed Rebecca Romijn ~~Stamos~~ was gyrating all over my 1972 Seeburg Jukebox!

I gasped and shouted with excitement when I saw it on the TV. Suddenly I realized why gearheads love cars so much and why people buy Macs when they cost twice as much as PCs for half the hardware: it's because it's entirely possible to irrationally fetishize a mechanical device. (No, not that kind of mechanical device, you perverts). I heart my jukebox, so now I finally know exactly how those gearheads, Mac snobs, and Rebecca Romijns feel.

Back to Normal

2009-10-08T07:20:00.002-05:00

So enough of all this fancy art, religious relic, and exotic travel stuff. Now that I'm back home it's time to bring planetdan back down to where it belongs: the gutter. How about we start with an unintentionally vulgar logo?

In case you can't see it, or in case you like vivid details, you can click here to reveal an interactive illustrated explanation. WARNING: the content at that link is slightly X-rated, but even planetdan has to "work blue" sometimes.

My favorite souvenir.

2009-10-06T21:51:00.001-05:00

Right along the Grand Canal in Venice is Peggy Guggenheim's house, which since her death in 1979 has been turned into a museum. Peggy was an eccentric heiress who collected modern art and hung out with hip artists and wild celebrities. I imagine her house to be like Studio 54, only decades earlier and with less cocaine.

On the trip we visited to the museum and I thought it was slightly disappointing, but she did have a couple of nice Magrittes and this stunning sculpture by Marino Marini in her backyard, facing the canal for the whole world to see as they float by:

Originally, the pointy metal phallus was designed to be detachable, so that one could remove it before parties if one didn't want to offend one's more conservative guests. Of course, someone eventually stole the removable "piece" and so they had to replace it with a more permanent one. But I like to imagine that the bronze ding dong disappeared during one of Peggy's later debaucherous Hollywood parties, and that perhaps Dennis Hopper or Christopher Walken or even Jack Nicholson has the thing resting on his bookshelf as we speak.

So even though you can no longer take any of it home with you, the sculpture's history is still worth remembering. Luckily, it's also available in T-shirt format, with all formally detachable parts still in tact:

I think this represents planetdan very well. Thoughtful and expressive, yet just a teeny-weeny bit subversive.

*I can't stopping looking at my weird chin in that picture. I shouldn't have cropped it so weird. It looks like an extra elbow or something.

Italy 2009

2009-10-04T17:59:00.001-05:00

I'm finally back from Italy.

I took a TON of pictures. Of course, I'm usually the only one with a camera on my trips, so if I want pictures of me then I gotta take them myself.

Me in the Sistine Chapel:

Me by the School of Athens
(aka "That painting from the cover of that Guns 'n' Roses album"):

Me taking advantage of a rare empty art niche:

Also, have you ever wondered what the FLOOR of the Sistine Chapel looks like?

Interesting, no? Anyway, you can see all the photos here, but I warn you that there are hundreds, and rarely are they interesting to anyone but myself.

Who do these Venetians think they are?

2009-10-03T13:50:00.005-05:00

I'll take pictures of anything I damn-well please, thank you very much!

Seriously? Who do they think they are?

Relics

2009-10-02T01:14:00.000-05:00

We've been touring a LOT of churches and cathedrals across the Italian countryside. I can really only see so many altars, baptisteries, frescoes, and marble bishops before they all sorta blend together into one ginormous monster church in my mind. Of course, I've taken pictures of all of them to help keep my memory straight.

But no matter which church or cathedral we enter, there is always one thing they will never allow me to photograph: the gruesome relics. And of course, they are always the items that pique my interest the most. So I had to scrounge the Internet to find images of some of the creepy things I've seen over the past week. Here are a few of my favorites:

The Hair of St. Clair:
Yeah, it looks sorta just like a fright wig in a box, but still. Gross.

The Tongue and Jaw of St. Anthony:
They also had his vocal chords, which basically just looked like a black wad of dried-up glop, but the lumpy black tongue was by far my favorite. Grosser.

The Finger of St. Catherine:
This one shocked me the most, probably due to how it was mounted into what looked to me like a gilded lipstick container. Plus, it's just so weird to have a lone bony mummified finger pointing to the sky like that. Grossest.

Italy is awesome!

Ah, the stunnings sights of Tuscany!

2009-09-28T09:22:00.002-05:00

Some people think that bicycling across a foreign land and over rough terrain can be considered a "vacation". I must be one of the most out of shape people on the planet, because I've been utterly exhausted touring museums and churches from the cushions of a luxury coach, but these bikers take their stuff seriously, and all from the uncomfortable, chafing torture of a bike seat. Take this man, for instance, who I saw outside the window of my cozy tour bus, and who has literally worn through the back side of his bike shorts:

Ain't nothing like letting your bare butt appreciate the beautiful scenery of Tuscany, and mooning a good majority of the population in the process.

But of course there are better things to see across Italy than some random cyclist's butt crack, such as:

I also paid some cute old lady a euro to get a peek at her backyard, and I'll have many picture of that to come. And no, it's not as dirty as I made it sound.

Low Clearance, Y'all

2009-09-23T16:28:00.006-05:00

Venice is pretty awesome. I was half expecting a tourist trap with stinky canals, but it's nothing like that at all. It has tourists, yes, and tourist traps to be sure, but there are also great stuff and amazing sceneries around every corner. And riding boats along the canals is insane. Those drivers have no fear whatsoever, and apparently have no concern for high tide and low clearance at great speeds:

Getting here was not as fun, though. They cancelled my flight without ever telling me, tried to re-schedule it for an entire day later, and I ended up leaving half a day earlier.

I sat next to a 22-year old girl from Tennessee who had never been on a plane before. Her name was Sumer (with just one 'm'), and she was supposed to meet her husband who had been stationed in Venice with the Army. She constantly referred to me in the plural as "y'all" even though there is only one of me. "Is the plane supposed to make that noise, y'all?" She was a text-book nervous first-time flyer.

She also had a dog on her lap in a carrier bag. It whined and scratched to get out of the bag which was unfortunately/fortunately against the rules. I asked what the unseen dog was named, and I thought she replied "Aragorn," so I said "Oh, like Lord of the Rings?" and she said "No, like the dragon rider, y'all." Apparently she meant "Eragon."

This was all fine, until the in-flight movie began. As soon as I saw the name Matthew McConaughey appear in the credits, I thought "I'm out," and started to pack up my headphones, but she literally screamed "Oh my god I'm sooooo getting out my headphones, y'all. You totally have to watch this."

It was called The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past and it was, by far, one of the worst movies I've ever seen. Sumer didn't agree. Not only had she already seen it, but she loved it, and she loved it so much that she wanted me to love it too. So during the whole movie she would look over at me to see if I was laughing, loving, crying, barfing - whatever the hell you are supposed to do during a Matthew McConaughey movie. I had to fake it. It was hard to fake it for two hours. On a plane. Next to a whining dog. And a girl name Summer with a thick southern drawl, y'all.

When the movie was finally over, she looked at me expectingly, wanting me to gush. I smiled and nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm, faked a yawn and said, "Well, I better try to get some sleep."

"Will I be able to see the Colosseum from the plane, y'all?" she replied. I knew it was going to be a long night. And I was so afraid that Eragon was going to poop on my carry on that I never actually fell asleep.

But who cares. I'm in Italy now and nothing else matters. I'll have some better pictures for you soon.

Venezia

2009-09-19T11:31:00.006-05:00

I'm celebrating my blog's birthiversary in Venice.

It's pretty, just like in the movies.

I'm pretty, just like in the movies.

We battled the crowd to see something that they kept telling me was called "The Bridge of Size" and when we finally reached it, I took a big long look and thought, "Well, that ain't so large. What's the big deal?"

The Tiny Bridge in Question

And so I asked "Why do they call it 'The Bridge of Size'?" and I was told it was because it was from that bridge that the captives and slaves got to see their last view of Venice before they were lead into the dungeons of the palace, and it was such a beautiful view." And I said "I still don't get why they call it that, so what if the view was beautiful, what has that got to do with the name?" and I was told, with great exasperation, "Because it was such a beautiful and sad sight that it would make them sigh!" And that's when it dawned on me, "Oh! The Bridge of Sighs." I'm pretty thick sometimes.

Of course, there are many views in Venice that will make you sigh, but the best view so far has been from the Rialto Bridge, which is truly a Bridge of Size:

But you have to see the big version.

Animated Friday (Burst Your Bubble Edition)!

2009-09-18T12:18:00.000-05:00

They can't all be about people falling down. Sometime you gotta sneak some learnin' into your edutainment.

Slo-Mo Demo: BB through a Bubble

Slo-Mo Demo: Bullet Into a Wall

Slo-Mo Demo: Lightning Crashes

Who needs face plants and car accidents? Learnin' is fun!

Great Inventions

2009-09-17T13:31:00.001-05:00

I was working at home with the TV on mute the other day when I glanced up from my laptop and saw this:

I immediately rewound the Tivo and turned up the volume. Apparently there is a local news program called Twin Cities Live that has all the production values of... well... a local news program, and they were featuring some would-be inventors who were pitching their ideas to some well-known entrepreneur. The cohosts began by saying they were excited to see the inventions, as they had not been informed of what would be presented. Raw anticipation was in the air. And then right out of the gate, a woman holds up that recognizably-shaped device and starts talking about hoo-haws.

Yeah, it's for a hoo-haw. Specifically, it's an "Intra-Vaginal Cooling Device." It's for hot hoo-haws. The cohosts seemed uncomfortable.

Apparently you stick it in the freezer. And then if your hoo-haw ever gets too hot, you can stick it somewhere else. This was enough to make one host ask "Do you really want that thing in your freezer? Right next to the corn?" which made me wonder what type of disturbing freezer mix-up scenario he was imagining. I don't even want to get into the possible details of that. Let's just say it was a wholly inappropriate comment that did nothing to ease the tension.

I don't know if hot hoo-haws is a big problem, and I'm not judging the concept or the reaction of the host (after all, it's not their fault - someone probably should have warned them that they would be face to face with a vagina popsicle that day), I'm just saying: watching daytime TV is like a social experiment gone horribly wrong, which is kinda awesome.

THIS IS IT.

2009-09-17T05:56:00.000-05:00

Planetdan is 7 years old today, and that just happens to coincide with my 1,500th post. It's time to celebrate.

Huh.

So that was anticlimactic.

PURGE

2009-09-15T12:04:00.005-05:00

Any good mental health professional will tell you that the healthy thing to do on birthdays and anniversaries is to stop and reflect, to take stock in yourself, and to get rid of any baggage so that you can make a clean start. So on this day, only one day before my blog's birthday and my 1,500th post, I'm cleaning out the files, scrubbing out the hard drive, and posting a ton of random crap that's been mucking up my system for far too long. It's a lot of stuff that I never had time to post, some more stuff that I didn't have the ambition to comment on, and some even more stuff that I just didn't feel made the cut.

It's PURGING time, and it feels so good.

TITLE: Parenting 101 - Make Toys Out of Everyday Objects!
From the ceaselessly shiver-inducing People of Walmart website.

TITLE: The Birth of Emoticons
Oh no, this one is copyrighted. Hope I don't get busted. Although we all know that Abraham Lincoln really invented the emoticon.

TITLE: Thread Head
I love installations like these. I want to build one of my own face for my office.

TITLE: Maybe Next Month, Champ
Also available in T-Shirt format.

TITLE: No Time For Love, Dr. Jones
If I were famous like Harrison Ford, I would constantly leak absurd images to the interwebs, each one more WTF than the next.

TITLE: Mother Was Right
I imagine this scenario every single time I ride an escalator, but I envision a lot more blood and severed limbs. And Crocs.

TITLE: Precision Poop Bomb
Never take a well-trained dog out of their comfort zone.

TITLE: Guess Who
Not sure why, but this might be my favoritest celebrity school picture ever.

TITLE: The Power of Penguins
The internets is edumacational. Too see it is to believe it!

TITLE: Um
No comment.

TITLE: She Said Yes, But I Said No!
Just picturing his face is more than enough to inspire a lifetime of abstinence. Yeesh.

TITLE: Traffic Jam
Some people like to talk about how smart their dogs are, because it can fetch a ball or obey a command or jump a fence, but sometimes it's the innocent stupidity of dogs that really makes them so awesome. I mean that in a good way.

TITLE: Twinsies
One of their parents has clearly got ALL of the dominant genes.

TITLE: Warning Sign
Titled as found.

It's nice to finally get all of that out of my system.

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The Blubber Run

2009-09-13T22:40:00.006-05:00

This weekend was the James Page Blubber Run, which for those of you who don't know is a 5k race that winds through downtown Minneapolis and encourages runners to stop and chug a beer at the halfway point. The event organizers also encourage participants to wear costumes, but in my opinion, running five kilometers is torture enough even without the chafing heat of a rubber mask or the added weight of foam padding. So I just wore matching socks and wristbands to show my pep.

Some people really get into it, though. Some of my favorites:

An easter peep, a gurney replete with doctors and a chubby man nurse, my happy coworker, and a bag of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans.

Hugh and the Girls Next Door.

Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Which is ironic because I couldn't keep up with them. They beat me to the finish.

I think it's strange the E! channel had such a strong showing this year. I also tried desperately to get a picture of the man in the Rainbow Bright costume, but he proved to be elusive. You can see all of my Blubber Run pics here.

As for the race itself, it was hard and it was hot and it sucked. I'm all for getting dressed up and going out for a beer, but why do people always gotta throw a 5k into the middle of everything? I can barely even walk today. Which I suppose is not unusual after a day of drinking, but still.

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Drinking Bacardi Like It's My Blog's Birthday

2009-09-14T00:26:00.004-05:00

This is it. My blog's birthday week. Yo, shorty, it's your birthday.

Ain't nothing like an outdated musical reference to kick off a birthday week. Although I'm afraid I might be wearing the wrong color shirt in that animated GIF. Is 50 a blood or a crip? Did I just start a turf war?

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Animated Friday (Owned by Objects Edition)!

2009-09-11T12:19:00.001-05:00

Just a few things I didn't realize could be so dangerous.

Hoses

Mechanical Bulls

Soda

Your paranoia is warranted. Everything is out to get you.

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Deathchips

2009-08-31T18:36:00.006-05:00

Due to circumstances outside of my control, I found myself eating lunch at Subway today. Upon pouring my bag of Lays out onto my unfolded paper sandwich wrap, I noticed a higher density of green potato chips than usual. Just the other day, my friend Stacy told me that green potato chips were poisonous, which I immediately dismissed as being a ridiculous urban myth. If that were indeed the case, how could Big Potato ever justify letting little bites of poison slip into so their bags? Wouldn't there have been a class action lawsuit by now? It didn't seem reasonable. So I ate them all up anyway, as a way of voicing my silent disapproval of outrageous hearsay. They didn't taste good at all, but I felt like I was taking a stand for something I believed in.

But then I got nervous and the self-doubt kicked in (late as usual), and after a visit with my good friends Snopes and Google I found out I was wrong and Stacy was right. Those things are mad deadly.

The chemical processes and specific details attributing to the poisonous nature of these deathchips isn't exactly interesting, and it turns out you'd have to eat over four pounds of the nasty little things to die, but a few sources online stated that even a couple could give you a tummy ache.

So I sit here, belly aching, pondering my death by green Lay. Although my stomach discomfort could just as easily be attributed to my BMT on White. Still, if I don't wake up tomorrow morning, have the forensic investigators raid the Subway near Southtown to find the real culprit. But at least I was able to pass this knowledge along to those that I care about.

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Dr. Pratfall II: Revenge of the Fallen

2009-09-08T23:34:00.002-05:00

Just in case you were wondering - and I'm sure you were - I buy my underwear at discount stores like Marshall's or TJ Maxx. I buy whatever is cheap and in boxer-brief format, which means my underwear drawer is a hodgepodge of strange brands, odd colors, and factory irregulars. This normally isn't an issue or a concern, but today I made a return visit to Dr. Pratfall (see below) for a followup.

He was much more focused today, and his eyes almost seemed to be looking in the same direction most of the time. But for some reason unknown to me, the nurse made me strip down to my underwear for the examination. As I waited for the doctor to come in, I just happened to look down and notice that the underwear I was wearing had no front-flap. No escape hatch. This was atypical for boxer briefs in general, but like I said, my underwear drawer has a few odd ducks. I reached behind me to doublecheck to make sure I could feel the care-instructions tag on the back of the elastic band, just to make sure I hadn't put them on backwards, but everything was in its right place, so I thought nothing of it.

After the examination, I stood up to put my clothes back on and just happened to turn around to see my backside in a mirror - and there it was. The front-flap on my back side, and the care-instructions tag. It seems that the irregularity in these particular factory cast-offs was that the tags were put on the front instead of the back, and in my haste to get dressed that morning I had given only a cursory glance to the positioning of my undergarment. "Tag goes in back" is what I have been trained to believe. But this is only the case with factory regulars, apparently.

I have no idea if the nurse or the doctor or anyone else noticed that I was wearing my underwear backwards, but considering how there was absolutely no need for me to be in my underwear in the first place and that I had just described his embarassing pratfall in vivid detail on my public blog just a week prior, I figured Karma was just being a big ol' bitch again.

And just in case you were curious: I have a sinus infection.

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Mr. Thick

2009-09-10T07:42:00.002-05:00

I visited my neighborhood Wallgreen's Pharmacy yesterday to buy a Neti Pot and to get a prescription filled. I waited in line for 15 minutes while the man in front of me argued with the pharmacist about whether or not he should use the Metamucil that was recommended to him because his "stool was already too hard." He must have used that phrase twenty times during the short wait, to the point where I started to assume that the man might have a related fetish, which made it difficult to stop my brain from picturing things it should never have to picture. So I was already a tad woozy when I left the store and began to pull out of my parking spot.

That's when I bumped into another parked car that was positioned all catawampus across the aisle. It was a very light tap, barely perceptible, not even enough to cause a minor scratch. So I contemplated just pretending like it didn't happen and driving off, but in my rear view mirror I could see the driver stepping out of his car to check the damage. He was not smiling. And he was one of the biggest/scariest-looking gangsters I've ever seen. I gulped down my vomit, waited a beat, and slowly stepped out of the car. That's when I noticed he had a personalized license plate. It said "MR THICK."

"Sorry about that," I offered, stuttering slightly, after making sure that there was indeed no damage to be found.

"Oh man this isn't even my car! This is my babymama's car, and she's inside the store," he replied. No joke - he actually used the word "babymama." I stood momentarily confused, thinking "Your babymama calls herself Mr. Thick?" when he cryptically continued, "She really likes her car, man. You better get the hell out of here before she sees you..."

So with a short nod of acknowledgement and a quick step, that's exactly what I did. And although part of me wanted to stick around to see what a woman who calls herself "Mr. Thick" might look like, the other part of me knew that was not a bright idea.

And for the record, I did not find the whole Neti Pot experience to be very pleasant. Not that I ever thought I would actually enjoy giving my face an enema. But at this point I'll try anything.

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Animated Friday (Horny Animals Edition)!

2009-09-04T08:25:00.001-05:00

Anything goes in the animal kingdom. They are kinky in the sack. Any time, any place, anything. Human's tried to compete in the 70's but never even got close.

Animals will hump anything in sight.

Animals will hump everything in sight.

Animals will hump nothing in sight.

Aww yeah, animals are freaks!

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Literally Frozen Yogurt

2009-09-02T11:57:00.002-05:00

Fruit is Not Dessert has become my mantra over the years, especially when having dinner at my mother's house, as she has been known to trot out a bowl of grapes and try to pawn them off as "something sweet to finish the meal." Grapes are not dessert. Strawberries are not dessert until you add whipping cream and/or shortcake. Cherries are not dessert unless they are baked in a pie. Peaches are not dessert unless they are part of a cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. But fruit by itself is not dessert. Dessert is my favorite course, so I like to consider myself an expert on the matter, and if I had to rate desserts from "Oh my god yes!" to "Oh hell no!" it would go something like this:

1. Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Frosting
2. Non-Chocolate Cake with Frosting
3. Dessert Bars with Chocolate or Peanut Butter
4. Cookies with Chocolate
5. Cake without Frosting (Brownies, Angelfood, etc.)
6. Cookies without Chocolate
7. Ice Cream
8. Pudding
9. Frozen Yogurt/Sherbet
10. Fruit

After years of ungrateful bitching on my part, my mother seemed to have gotten the point, but last night she threw me for a loop. She announced that there was nothing chocolate for dessert. Nor was there cake. Nor was there anything else mouthwatering or sugary. All she had available was some Sherbet and some Frozen Yogurt. Seeing as how both of those options are at the bottom of my list, I was a little discouraged, but at least it wasn't a bowl of grapes. So I sighed with marked disappointment and requested the Frozen Yogurt. That's when my mother went to the freezer and pulled out a container of Yoplait.

She had literally frozen a cup of yogurt and was trying to pass it off as "Frozen Yogurt." That's not how it works, mother. That's not how it works at all. My initial disappointment instantly turned into utter dispair, and dinner in its entirety was ruined. Even my brother was aghast.

Literally frozen yogurt. Who did she think she was kidding? And served as dessert, no less. I don't think so. And now I have to ammend my favorite desserts list:

1. Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Frosting
2. Non-Chocolate Cake with Frosting
3. Dessert Bars with Chocolate or Peanut Butter
4. Cookies with Chocolate
5. Cake without Frosting (Brownies, Angelfood, etc.)
6. Cookies without Chocolate
7. Ice Cream
8. Pudding
9. Frozen Yogurt/Sherbet
10. Fruit
11. Literally Frozen Yogurt

Literally frozen yogurt. Gah. My head is still spinning.

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Dr. Pratfall

2009-09-01T20:10:00.001-05:00

My regular doctor has apparently gotten too popular, or sick of me, so I had to make an appointment with an all new general practitioner this week for some ear/nose/throat issues that I've been having. The new guy is a very nice older gentleman who initially made me feel very comfortable with his calm demeanor and soothing voice. Sure, he had a wonky eye and so he always seemed to be looking two directions at once, but I was clever enough to deduce that the "working" eye was probably the one that moved around a lot, and the other eye that never moved and stared off into space like a dead fish was probably not doing him any favors. So I just focused my attention on his active eye and that seemed to do the trick. The only reason I mention this is because I think it had something to do with why he walked directly into a wall at the end of my appointment.

When I say he walked directly into a wall, I don't mean he brushed against a wall, or grazed a door jam, or bumped into a corner. I mean he stood perpendicular to a wall literally five inches away from him, said "Okay, let me know if you don't feel better in a week," turned toward the wall, and took one giant step for mankind. I'm assuming his useless eye had probably deceived him, because he took the forceful step with brazen confidence, and the resulting thud was dramatic. He grunted a bit, presumably from pain, but I didn't know how to react, so I just said "oopsie..." while he tripped over a garbage can and stumbled into a nearby office. It was like watching a slapstick skit starring Peter Sellers or that racist guy who played Kramer. The only thing missing was a tin bucket on his head.

I stood for a second, debating whether or not I should go into the office to check on his well-being, but then I decided that if I were him at that particular moment, I'd want to be alone for a long while. I turned and walked out, wondering if the incident were caught on video camera somewhere, like it was with this guy.

So I'm trying not to let the incident affect my confidence in his diagnosis. Doctors aren't perfect. They can have blind eyes and walk directly into walls if they want. It doesn't necessarily mean that I have cancer. Right?

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Animated Friday (Showoff Showdown Edition)!

2009-08-28T08:45:00.000-05:00

You gotta love it when an attempt at showing off ends in epic fail.

This is what happens when you show off for your classmates.

This is what happens when you show off for your dancemates.

This is what happens when you show off for your prospective mates.

Not that I'm judging. It happens to the best of us. For instance, I like to believe that I can run a 5k without stopping. I put on a strong face and a good front, but it's always a battle to not vomit at the finish line. One of these days I'm going to regret I ever tempted fate by posting these GIFs - probably on September 12th at the finish line of the James Page Blubber Run.

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Rock You Like A Hurricane

2009-08-27T12:16:00.001-05:00

You can't tell me this is a coincidence:

So are you telling me that a mere three weeks from my seventh blogiversary, and with my 1,500th blog post in the very foreseeable future, Tropical Storm Danny just happens to come raging in? Like I said before, it's all coming together at once! A convergence of monumental events! A universal (or at least planetary) celebration of dan! As if coordinated by the gods themselves and the heavens above!

And it's about effing time. Unless of course this turns into one of those deadly disaster Katrina type of events, then I would like no association with the cyclone whatsoever, thank you, and you may disregard this post.

But until that happens, danny is literally going to rock you like a hurricane!

Batten down the hatches, bitches!

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Butterface.

2009-08-26T07:16:00.001-05:00

Today is the day that they crown the new Princess Kay of the Milky Way. The Midwest Dairy Association's website states that the crowned princess acts as a "goodwill ambassador for the dairy industry and the state's dairy farmers," which means they don't have to do anything at all, and in exchange for this burden they get to have their face carved out of butter and displayed at the Minnesota State Fair.

Unfortunately, I'm am not in the running to be crowned Princess Kay. Their website clearly states that in order to be considered for the position, one must be:

1. Female (Sexist!)
2. A graduating senior in high school when crowned (Ageist!)
3. Not yet 24 years old (Odd, especially considering requirement #2)
4. Not yet married (Creepy, especially considering requirement #2)
5. Committed to dairy promotion (I ain't discreet about my love for cheese, so I guess 1 out of 5 ain't bad)

What all this means, of course, is that there is little hope I will ever get to have my face carved in butter and displayed at the state fair. But that won't stop me from dreaming. Or photoshopping.

Stay strong, people. Someday we will live in a world where planetdan - or anyone else with a dream and a milk moustache - can be butter princess. Mark my words.
Change is coming.

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Guilty Pleasure Mondays (Bait Car Edition)!

2009-08-24T07:55:00.000-05:00

Late one night some years ago, C-Minus and I were idly channel-surfing when we happened across a show called Bait Car on Tru TV. The premise sounded a tad trashy (cops leave an unlocked, camera-rigged car in the middle of a bad neighborhood and wait for the bad seeds to arrive), and it didn't fail to deliver. We watched in wide-eyed shock and got all worked up about the state of society today as the would-be thieves got what they deserved: THE SMACK DOWN.

Stumbling upon Bait Car on TV that night was an event we've talked about ever since, and yet for some reason the show never seemed to air again. We searched for it in TV schedules and tried to find it on Tivo, but it seemed to have mysteriously vanished from television altogether. We started to doubt its very existence, that perhaps we had made it up in some wine-fueled subconscious desire to find something worthwhile to obsess about. It felt like a terrible loss to realize we might never see it again.

For reasons that I can't fathom, it took us quite a while to realize we could probably just google it. And google it we did last week - just in time to learn that NEW EPISODES OF BAIT CAR BEGIN TONIGHT ON TRU TV (8pm ET/PT, 7pm CST)! This discovery was clearly written in the stars. BAIT CAR KISMET.

So I think you should watch it so that it never gets taken off the air again. Our favorite segment was this one, where some children protest as their trashy mom forces them into a "free" ride home:

Relatedly: the other day I saw this empty car at the local Walgreen's parked all akimbo across multiple spots with its window open and radio blaring. I took a picture of it because I figured it was either a) a bait car, or b) the rudest handicapped jackass on the planet. Either way, it was noteworthy.

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Animated Friday (Frustrated Children Edition)!

2009-08-21T12:32:00.001-05:00

Being a kid is hard.

The smallest tasks seem difficult.

Everything is out to get you.

And dexteruos coordination is a constant battle:

I know that last one isn't animated, but that's what makes it even more awesomer.

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Crazy is as crazy does.

2009-08-19T18:00:00.001-05:00

I've been trying to work out more at the gym. My new routine is to go over the lunch hour because I figure it will have the added benefit of reducing any time I might have to shovel food into my mouth. It sucks just as much as it ever did.

Apparently I am on the same workout schedule as one of the local paranoid schizophrenics. I'm not trying to make fun of the psychotically challenged; I seriously think there is something wrong with this particular woman. For example, she'll be chugging along on the treadmill and then suddenly start yelling vulgarities and such at no one in particular. Not in a Tourette's Syndrome kind of way, though, as there seems to be some purpose to her lunacy. It's more like:

"M*therf@cker$ mess with me and I show them who's boss! I'm running the godd@mn show now! All you people talking sh!t. Don't think I can't hear you f#cker$! These people know what I'm talking about!"

Her solitary screaming match generally clears out all the exercise machines that surround her, and her rants occasionally feature stories about strange men breaking into her apartment to steal her secrets, or upcoming court battles she is confident will go in her favor. It's super loud and it's all the time. I suppose it's sad, but at least she's fit as a fiddle.

I try to time my workouts so that we don't encounter each other at specific weight machines, because I've seen her trap unsuspecting people into creepy conversations about the men who have been regularly invading her home. Plus, with the recent health club shootings, I've been trying to keep an eye out for the off-kiltered.

The good news is that it's fairly easy to avoid her because she makes a startling cough/bark sound on a regular basis, like she's trying to scare away bears or something. It's so loud that you can easily pinpoint her position in the gym at any given time. It's like a homing beacon.

But the other day I was at the end of a particularly sweaty workout and I was heading toward the water fountain when I heard that familiar cough/bark sound, only this time is was directly behind me, as if it were meant especially for my ear. I stopped dead in my tracks. Then I felt something swipe the back of my head and brush against my neck. I got goosebumps and spun around, wide-eyed, expecting the worst.

There she stood, eerily expressionless, looking me directly in the eye, holding half of a sweat-soaked paper towel up to my face. There was a tense moment of awkward silence until she suddenly blurted:

"You had paper on your neck."

Then she bolted away. It took me a minute to realize what had happened. About ten minutes before this incident I had pillowed my excessively-sweaty head onto a wad of paper towels while using a weight bench, so as to avoid leaving a big dripping puddle behind. When I got up, the majority of it must have remained attached to my wet scalp, almost like Paper Mache. And apparently Crazy Lady was the only one who was kind enough to notify me. She even had the guts to remove that saturated, sweaty garbage heap from my noggin with her bare hands.

Suddenly I realized I was the crazy dood walking around with a paper towel matted to the back of his head. And she was the crazy lady walking around barking and swearing at nobody. And any other gym members who might have witnessed the encounter must have thought we were M.F.E.O.

In an attempt to rebuild my damaged reputation, I'm going to start bringing my own workout towel to the gym from now on. So I guess you live and you learn. Oh, and just in case there actually are men breaking into her apartment every night to steal her secrets: she's onto you. And she's fearless.

Posts Remaining
Until 1,500

16

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

28

The Perfect Storm

2009-08-17T21:14:00.005-05:00

So in exactly one month from today, my blog turns seven. Celebrating the birthday for a blog sounds about as cool as Tweeting from the mall, but I've also noticed that I am only 18 posts away from my 1,500th post. The metaphysical significance of this convergence of milestones is not lost on me, and I plan on making the most of it. I want my 1,500th post to coincide with the exact time and date of my 7th anniversary. The gravity created by the combining of these two significant achievements with be palpable. It will be just like 2012, when the Mayan calendar ends and all the planets align to destroy the earth. It will be that monumental.

Of course, it also means I have to post with a little more regularity in order to make this deadline. I've been a tad lax of late when it comes to posting, but it's time to turn up the heat. I've got 18 posts to make in 30 days, including this post. It's all so very Julie & Julia, only way lazier, but I think I can do it. The quality of posts might have to take a temporary dip, but if that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. At this point, it very well may be quantity over quality.

AND WE'RE OFF!

Posts Remaining
Until 1,500

17

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

30

You can't go home again.

2009-08-03T18:25:00.004-05:00

This weekend C-Minus and I attended the anniversary/triumphant-return of the St. Al's Fun Fair.

The Fun Fair was a yearly church festival that we anticipated for months in advance. We would save up our allowance all summer long, just to have a little extra spending cash for the Duck Pond. Relatives would come from all over the cities to get drunk on 3.2 beer and party like you can only party on church grounds. Apparently the partying got too hard quite a few years back because they cancelled the thing before C-Minus or I were ever even able to experience it while intoxicated.

It was also where The Miller Five got their big break.

Little danny, pictured as part of the St. Al's Class of '89.

Something is different these days, though. Even with the help of bad tap beer, I couldn't curb my own sense of disappointment. There was no cotton candy, no shelves full of cheap stuffed-animal prizes, no carnival rides or creepy carnies, no dunk tank, no Miller Five, no drunken debauchery. But to be realistic, I suppose I've changed more than the Fun Fair itself, and my memories of the past are probably enhanced through rose-colored glasses, but still... it sucks to grow up. Even with beer.

But C-Minus and I can have a good time anywhere, so this was no exception. We had a blast, indeed, and leave it to us to turn something sweet into something perverse... such as this clown, who seems to be demonstrating the proper technique for self-detecting testicular cancer.

Of course, his disposition changed after he saw he had a female audience:

Oh man, I'm going to hell for that one. :(

Catholics sure know how to party when permitted, though. You can bet I'll be in attendance next year. And maybe C-Minus will wear something extra special for Mr. Floppy.

Animated Friday (Cruelty to Animals Edition)!

2009-07-31T07:33:00.000-05:00

Animals are easy targets.

They are easy to confuse.

They are easy to scare.

They are easy to set up.

They are easy to trick.

And they are easy to humiliate for your own amusement.

When we were growing up, C-Minus had a rabbit hutch which housed two ginormous bunnies in her backyard. Occasionally, we would take them out of their separate cages and watch them as they frantically tried to hump each other. We'd always separate them just as the gettin' was gettin' good. Looking back on it now, it all seems fantastically cruel to me - even though they were both boy rabbits and nothing much was bound to come from it.

Urban Glass Myth

2009-07-30T21:29:00.000-05:00

Sure, I realize that the last bit of wine might splash up in your face with annoying consistency, and that cleaning them out thoroughly would be nearly impossible, but for some reason I still want these glasses so bad:

Too bad I can't find any proof of their existence in the real world.

Coverdan

2009-07-28T22:15:00.000-05:00

I've been featured in a local magazine.

Okay, so that's obviously a photoshopped embellishment of the truth, and to say I've been "featured" isn't exactly accurate either. But do you notice anyone familiar on page 16 of this month's "Twin Cities Statement" (a magazine of which I had previously never heard, but I'm sure it's fast on its way to becoming the next GQ)?

Yup, that's dan! At first I thought, "Oh, that's not a bad picture. I'm in a tux and standing next to a fairly attractive person," but then I looked at tad closer at my big shiny, hot, white & pasty, red & splotchy, extra-wide-load face.

Gross. Honestly, though, if it gets me in a magazine, I don't really care. They could have published a picture of me pooping in a porta-potty at some truck stop in Dubuque and I would have been ecstatic.

And for the record, I don't really know who that girl is. I was at a black-tie event and I saw an approaching photographer. I knew I didn't have much of a chance of being photographed alone, so I scooted up next to this girl's side real quick like. The next thing I know, my portrait is in the Scene & Heard section of this amazing new (to me) magazine. So whoever you are, Anne B., thanks for getting me published!

This is how I roll.

2009-07-27T07:43:00.000-05:00

While I was out canoeing with some friends last weekend, someone snapped this picture of me moments before a head-on collision with a barrier wall, which happened to be the only obstacle to avoid within an abundance of open water, as I frantically splashed my oar in the wrong direction in an attempt to avoid said collision, while tightly buckled into my extremely uncomfortable and over-sized life preserver in less than two feet of water.

That's how I roll.

Of course, the person taking the picture was supposed to be the person navigating us away from barrier walls and the like, so I'm not going to take all the blame.

Animated Friday (Kids are Resilient Edition)!

2009-07-24T12:43:00.003-05:00

It's a good thing kids are all bendy and flexible and stuff, otherwise I don't think many of them would survive being a Toddler. For example, if it were me in these animated GIFs...

...this would leave me bedridden and covered in Icy Hot patches for a week.

...I couldn't do this maneuver with years of training or without days of aches.

...the resulting back spasm would probably require an extended hospital stay.

...this would definitely make me soil myself.

...this would result in multiple dislocations, but nice catch, dad.

My joints and muscles are stiff just from watching those, but the kids involved probably just walked it off.

Sheeple.

2009-07-19T23:20:00.002-05:00

I like this:

[xkcd.com]

Just thought I'd share, even though I doubt many of you will actually understand it. You see, I am so much more enlightened than most of you.

Kidding. I was trying to be ironic. But the mere fact that I had to point out that I was trying to attempt irony means that I don't have much faith that the average person would be able to detect the irony without my assistance, which is probably true, which kinda serves to prove the original ironic statement that I am indeed more enlightened than most, because that was some excellently-structured irony.

Kidding. Irony again. Is this starting to bother you? God, you sheeple are so easily bothered.

Kidding again.

Flickrized!

2009-07-20T07:29:00.001-05:00

I've failed miserably at keeping my online photographs organized and updated. After years of using archaic methods and frustrating tools (i.e. my own devices) to attempt some sort of online digital album, I've finally abandoned all hope of self-management and adopted Flickr instead:

Announcing Flickr.com/planetdanny
(Apparently, "planetdan" was already taken - :()
(Wait, how do you follow up a sad-face emoticon with a closing parenteses without making it look like some big-lipped freak? But I digress...)

It took over nine months and over 17,000 uploads, and I still haven't actually labeled or named anything properly, but the project is finally complete. Most people who see this probably won't give a damn about any of these pictures or the people featured within, but some of you might be unwilling subject matter. I tried to be prudent about which photos I made public and which ones I didn't, but apparently my own concept of prudence varies drastically from the general public's. So feel free to send me any "cease and desist" emails, if you are so inclined.

Ah, the stunning sites of Provence!

2009-07-14T12:16:00.001-05:00

Last week I had the fortune of visiting Senanque Abbey in southern France. It's an old Cistercian abbey nestled in the gentle hills of Provence and surrounded by stunningly beautiful fields of lavender:

There was literally lavender as far as the eye could see:

Yet for some reason, my main memory of the visit will always probably be of this guy's catastrophic comb-over:

I kept wondering what his hair looked like right out of the shower. It must hang down below his chin, but only on the one side obviously, which would almost be kinda punk. What would it look like if he spiked it into a lopsided mohawk? Or put it in a sideways ponytail? Does the sun burn in stripes on his bald scalp? I had so many questions.

In spite of my beautiful surroundings, I couldn't take my eyes off that wreck. Sometimes I wish my brain worked like normal people's.

Sympathy for Animals Day

2009-07-13T23:04:00.001-05:00

Today must be Sympathy for The Poor Little Animals day on the internet or something because I'm sensing a pattern in my random web surfing. For instance:

Awwww, poor little squirrel!
Although the genuine sympathy might be diluted by the copywriter's allusion to a certain perverted internet meme. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you don't want to know.

Awwww, poor little monkey!
Or is that an orangutan? I can never tell.

Awwww, poor little pooch!
Although there is a story to go along with this one, and a happy ending, to boot!

Awwww, poor little baby efelant!
Suck it up, dumbo. Oops, I guess I'm all out of sympathy for the day.

It puts the lotion on its skin...

2009-07-04T15:07:00.004-05:00

I'm not even going to play coy anymore. I'm in Provence. That's in France. Today I saw many things. For instance, I saw that I was still fat looking at certain angles:

I also saw that the the Romans were pretty good with architecture and aqueducture and stuff. This is called Pont du Gard. It's only smaller than the colosseum by six measly feet:

And I saw nature in the form of rocks, water, and land, which I suppose is nothing new yet still always exciting. These are called the Cascades of something or other. People are all crazy and do flippy cliff dives and other acts of derring-do:

But just as exciting, I had lunch with Brooke Smith and Saffron Burrows today in a little French town called Uzes. You may know Brooke from such films as The Silence of the Lambs, AKA Brooke "It puts the lotion on its skin" Smith:

And you might know Saffron Burrows from being all hot and stuff in that Bank Job movie:

And when I say I had lunch with them, I mean that I sat a couple tables away from them and snapped photos of them all creepy-stalker-paparazzi style, which honestly is just as good as sharing a meal with them, obviously.

But for real, how awesome of a celebrity sighting is seeing Catherine Martin, the girl at the bottom of Buffalo Bill's well? It almost makes you want to start singing some Tom Petty, doesn't it?

Anyway, greetings from France.

Where in the world is planetdan, pt II

2009-07-04T01:04:00.001-05:00

Now guess what country I am in with a little help from these unhelpful images and clues:

Yes, I really am that white. It comes in helpful when trying to whitebalance your camera, though. Anyway, the place is named after St. Lawrence of the Trees. And the name of my hotel translates into "After the Siesta" I think, although I'm not sure that makes the most logical sense for a hotel name. This is what it looks like:

Another hint is that it is hotter than hell and that A/C hasn't caught on here yet. Hopefully the pool will keep me cool!

Snoopy the Spaz

2009-07-03T11:52:00.002-05:00

This is Snoopy. I visisted him in Belgium this week. He was very excited to see me. He devoted all evening to humping my leg at every opportunity and whenever I dropped my guard:

Dogs love danny. Especially Belgian ones.

Where in the world is planetdan?

2009-07-02T12:34:00.003-05:00

I'm all like Matt Lauer, chillin' in other countries for the week. Can you guess where I'm at?

I'll give you a hint: this dude below is named Oliver the Devil. He's some rogue hairstylist of the king who got all lynched and stuff for being a general jackass. He's from where I'm at today, although I don't know why on earth they erected a memorial to the jerk:

In this place I am eating and drinking, so that's not much of a hint cuz I do that everywhere and all the time:

They have puppies and Prince here, so I'm fulfilled and happy. Again, not so great a hint but a lovely picture nonetheless:

I'll have more to post once I find a place with adequate internet access. Seriously, it's like the dark ages around this place when it comes to connectivity. Some people might like that, but it drives me absolutely bonkers.

Bonus Video:

Ouch, my back!

2009-07-02T21:59:00.000-05:00

Vacation hurts my back. Maybe it's the biking through the countryside, or maybe it's the fact that european beds are literally like bedrock, or perhaps is just that I'm old at 34. Regardless: ouchypoo.

J-Squared managed to snap a few secret pictures of me while I was doing some back-stretches, and against my better judgement (and in the spirit of the "fair is fair" altruism, since I would have posted the same pictures of him, had I caught them), I have animated the covert photos for you here. In the future, perhaps it will stop me from doing such inadvertently perverse-looking exercises in the future (in the presense of other human beings, anyway):

I'm going to regret posting that, aren't I?

Animated Friday (Super Fail Edition)!

2009-06-26T11:36:00.002-05:00

Sometimes if you're gonna fail, you better fail BIG.

Super Ice Cream Fail

Super Hammock Fail

Super "Oh-My-God-I'm-So-Fired" Fork Lift Fail

And a very special personal fail moment: I was trying to mock all the Michael Jackson hoopla today, so I told C-Minus that the downtown Basilica cathedral was going to have a very special memorial mass for the musician, with cathedral choir renditions of his biggest hits, and that they were going to ask people to moonwalk down for communion. She believed me. Epic fail.

Hi

2009-06-25T07:26:00.000-05:00

Hi, from danny.

OMG SUPER DRAMA, LAKE SUPERIOR STYLE!

2009-06-24T18:49:00.002-05:00

While sitting on our luxurious ocean-view deck on Lake Superior this weekend, I kept hearing the desperate squeal of an obnoxious sounding woman:

"Willy! WILLY! WILLY! WILLY?!??!?!?? OHMIGOD WILLY??!!!!?"

I thought some god-forsaken child was dying-slash-drowning, but it turns out some super-smart-slash-super-stupid mutt named Willy was trying to escape its obnoxious owner, and was willing to swim to Canada if that's what it took.

Seriously, the dog was pretty far out into the raging sea, and it didn't seem to care two whits about the crowd on the shore who kept screaming its name. Nor was it interested in the boat that came to save it from certain death by drowning.

I was certain is was going to drown and ruin my weekend, as things are want to do, but it just kept on swimming, like Dori from Finding Nemo or Forrest Gump sans leg braces. Either way, I figured it probably had plans of living wild in Canada, away from certain political atmospheres and owners in awful sport-bra ensembles. It probably was desperate for release, remembering all those tedious sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars... while it could only dream of getting out... getting anywhere... getting all the way... to the EFF-BEE-IIII.

Okay, that was a non-sequitur digression that will probably not be properly appreciated, but I can tell you that the drama on the shore of Lake Superior this weekend was fully appreciated by everyone. Except for Willy, who after being rescued by a not-so-inspiring boat, was only eager to get back in the water and make another break for it.

Unfortunately, he was eventually thwarted from his escape attempt by his shrill owner. Free Willy, indeed.

In honor of the attempt, I present to you: Little Willy as lip-synced by the original band, who were fashion forward enough to don your mother's hairdo and crocheted sweater-vest ensemble decades before she was.

Duluth, 2009

2009-06-22T23:09:00.001-05:00

Some people went to Duluth last weekend to cheer on the runners at Grandma's Marathon. I went to participate in one of my favorite past times: spot the bloody nipples. They can be hard to photograph, like rare birds or ghostly specters, but I managed to snag a couple:

I also managed to rate a 10 on the Awesomeness Scale:

And I won the body fat percentage contest, too, scoring over 20% - higher than all of my friends!

And I pretended to get passionate with a very phallic looking cow head:

Oh, and some people I know ran some races and did real good and stuff. But enough about them, I just noticed that the picture of me taking the body fat test is taken at a strange perspective which makes it seem like I'm holding the guy behind the booth like a ragdoll in my grasp. It's kinda really super creepy now that I look at it. Especially with that look on my face...

Poppin' Pills

2009-06-17T20:12:00.002-05:00

This morning I dropped my Zyrtek on the kitchen floor. Distracted by the television and unwilling to avert my eyes from some tawdry news story, I bent down to retrieve the pill using only my peripherals, sweeping my hands across the floor until I located it. I had heard where it had landed so it was no big feat.

But upon popping the pill into my mouth, I immediately noticed a texture that I was not familiar with. I curiously spit the pill back into my hand to realize that it was not my pill at all, but rather some unidentifiable morsel of mysterious origin which was dried up and shriveled, and no doubt way beyond its expiration date:

Surprisingly, I'm somehow able to remain calm during situations like these. I think it's a defense mechanism, otherwise my borderline OCD might trigger a contamination-alert seizure. Instead, my analytical mind took over and I tried to identify the mystery nugget.

It kind of resembled a lemon seed, but I can't for the life of me remember the last time there would have been a lemon in my kitchen. Or alternatively, it could have been a chewed-up olive pit, which is a much more likely yet much less desirable possibility. I didn't have any other theories, so I smashed it with a frying pan to punish it, and then I put it into the refuse bin, where it should have been banished months ago.

If I didn't have such a discerning tongue, I could have unwittingly swallowed the thing with a gulp and then been royally peeved a couple hours later when my Zyrtek was seemingly ineffective. And then where would I have turned for my allergy relief? It was sort of a reminder of the lesson learned from the rat-loaf a couple posts down: always look before you eat.

Strange Days

2009-06-15T17:10:00.001-05:00

Yesterday at the Mall of America, this dood was running around in full-body spandex and jumping in water fountains:

He gurgled and burped and sounded like Emo Philips mixed with Gomer Pyle. He'd bathe himself in fountain water until the mall cops would come sniffing around. Then he'd start running around in evasive circles, as if suffering from palsy, leaving wet footprints in his wake. All the Japanese tourists seemed to love it. I was baffled.

And while we're on the subject of baffling surrealism, I had a dream last night that I won some prestigious poetry contest by penning the following limerick. In the dream, I had to read it in front of a fawning audience with incredible pretension and utter sincerity, like it was the most important poem ever written. I was even in a tux. It moved the audience to tears:

I always carry a spit,
For the people who don't care a bit,
For a ring and a dime,
I'll surrender my time,
But if moon were my surface, I'd quit.

For the record, the "spit" being referenced was the type you might roast a pig on, and the "For a ring and a dime, I'll surrender my time," phrase makes me sound like some sort of whore, but the rest is beyond me. Sleeping brains are effed up. Please analyze and interpret. Thanks in advance.

Animated Friday (Animals are Cruel Edition)!

2009-06-12T12:06:00.001-05:00

Animals aren't the sweet innocent creatures people like to think they are. They can actually be quite cruel...

...to each other.

...to other species.

...to humans.

And sometimes they taste good in malt loaf.

Don't be fooled!

Ratatouille 2: Back to the Bakery

2009-06-10T11:04:00.002-05:00

Just another reminder to always look before you bite:

Man Finds Dead Mouse in Malt Loaf

What's a malt loaf? Bon Appetit!

Jesus is watching you pee.

2009-06-08T07:48:00.001-05:00

I've recently been sifting through years of digital photographs in preparation for a mass upload to Flickr. I'm tired of managing my own photo sets on planetdan and Flickr is apparently willing to host and organize twenty gigabytes worth of images for only $25 a year. In the process, I've come across some interesting photos, such as this one, where I managed to expertly ruin what would most likely have been a perfectly precious memory with some well-timed photo snipery:

But it was this photograph that startled me the most:

Taken from an awkward overhead angle, my eyeballs must be mid-blink, because I still can't decide if they are opened or closed. And the more I stare at the picture to puzzle it out, the more I want call an exorcist.

My repulsion to this picture is probably due to the fact that my mother had an awful painting of Jesus' disembodied floating head that she hung in the bathroom hallway, directly opposite my bedroom door, during my entire adolescence. It was titled "Veronica's Handkerchief" by Gabriel Max, and if you stared at it long enough, Jesus would open his eyes and look at you, shamingly:

You can see a larger version of it here to get the full effect, but I don't think I recommend it. Or at least 12-year-old danny - waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom - doesn't.

Superstar!

2009-06-05T22:29:00.000-05:00

My friend Stacy and I attended a Karaoke Jam with friends in Northeast Minneapolis last weekend.

We sang duets of Cyndi Lauper's She-Bop and Prince's Erotic City (whose lyrics were a total surprise to me - I always thought it was "F*cks are free to you and me," not "F*cks so pretty you and me." But no matter, I got to swear on stage either way.)

But it was our rendition of The Carpenter's Superstar that was the most confounding. We somehow managed to clear the entire dancefloor with what I thought was a pretty solid version of the classic, which lead me to believe that it was a song that was just too sophisticated for the crowd. I looked around bewildered at all the blank faces and vacant stares. It made me disappointed in the youth of today, who apparently could not appreciate the brilliance of one of the best songs written by one of the best bands ever.

Or at least that is what I assumed was the case, until I discovered that I had accidentally recorded a video of the event when I thought my camera was turned off. Please forgive the Cloverfield-esque cinematography, as I was unaware the cameras were rolling:

You can see me looking around for any type of validation or appreciation at the end of the video, but receiving absolutely nothing in return from the crowd. Perhaps Carpenters songs are a bit too high for my register. And perhaps I don't have the fine singing voice I once thought I did. I can only imagine what the chorus must have sounded like once the tempo picked up and my falsetto came into play.

Animated Friday (Sports are Hard Edition)!

2009-05-29T07:48:00.000-05:00

I have nothing but empathy for this child, because I know the feeling:

FRUSTRATION

Or course, the screams of frustration on the original video really contribute to the experience in ways that just can't be captured in animated GIF format:

Bonus animated GIF:
Some people just aren't cut out for the sporting life:
Misfortune rains.

Bastardos!

2009-05-27T20:27:00.001-05:00

A few months back I had a mini-meltdown about how Subway places the cheese on their subs in a stupid overlapping fashion that defies all logic. But some clever internet sleuth with a camera has proven me wrong. There apparently is a logic applied to the madness!

You see?? It's all just a scam to promote orders of extra cheese! Bastards!

So today I got on my high horse and rode to the nearest Subway to order an Italian BMT, and when the Latina sandwich artist placed my pepperjack in the usual overlapping fashion, I said with just a tad of smug self-righteousness, "could you please make sure that the cheese doesn't overlap?"

When she replied, "What?", I wasn't sure if a) she had not heard me, b) she was caught off-guard by my stupid request, or c) I had misjudged her familiarity with the English language.

I repeated my stupid request and she queried, "you want extra cheese?"

"Aha!" I thought, preparing for the subsequent consumer-rights battle in my head. I said, "no, I just want you to flip that middle piece of cheese so that it covers all the bread."

I expected resistance, but she got the best of me by retaining total eye-contact with me as she flippantly flopped that middle piece of cheese, as requested, and pushed the sandwich into the waiting hands of the veggie expert down the line. Her vacant expression and cold stare were the only cues I needed to understand that this battle was not only beneath her, but that I had absolutely no chance of winning regardless.

I walk a little less tall today.

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T22:19:00.000-05:00

I think it's ironic (in that particular Alanis way) that I'm lacking much memory of our Memorial Day barbecue last night. I was looking through the photographic evidence of the event when I came upon these pictures:

I have a recollection of challenging Nico to a "forehead fight" but I can't remember why, or where the concept of forehead fighting even came from. I'm assuming this was post-jello-shots, but prior to the sparklers in the firepit? Does anyone have a theory?

Regardless, HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY EVERYONE!

This post unfortunately lacks the requried sound effects.

2009-05-24T09:46:00.001-05:00

The other day I got a mysterious phone call where nobody seemed to be on the other line. But when I listened closely I could hear the distinctive *ticka ticka ticka* of furiously typing fingers. I figured somebody must have accidentally called me via speed dial, but I didn't recognize the number. I started to scream "Hello?!??!?" into my phone in order to get the typer's attention, but all I ever got in response was that incessant *ticka ticka ticka* sound.

Rather than hang up, I went through my online address book to try to identify the mystery typer, who was apparently writing an epic tome and had yet to offer even the slightest pause. *ticka ticka ticka*

Finally, I discovered the culprit: it was my project manager from work. All that *ticka ticka ticka* suddenly made sense because that girl can type like the wind. Conveniently we are always connected via Instant Messenger, and she was clearly sitting at her computer, so I patiently waited for my moment.

Suddenly the *ticka ticka ticka* stopped and on the other end of the line I heard *ACHOO* followed immediately by more *ticka ticka ticka*. "Gesundheit," I quickly typed into Instant Messenger and hit send.

I could hear the familiar *bing* noise of her receiving the message on the other end and the *ticka ticka ticka* suddenly stopped cold. After a moment of silence I heard a tiny feminine giggle followed by more *ticka ticka ticka* and then the distinctive sound of her hitting the Enter button. My own computer *bing*ed as I received the return message of: "Ha. What?" She giggled again, and the *ticka ticka ticka* returned.

I immediately replied, "Don't laugh at me. I can hear you giggling." Send. *bing*

Again, the *ticka ticka ticka* stopped cold. Paused for a tad longer than what was comfortable, and then started up again, ending in a *bing* on my end which was accompanied by the message:

"You're freaking me out."

At that point I had to come clean and explain that she must have mistakenly called me and that I could hear everything she was doing. She laughed, fumbled around for her phone, and confessed that she felt lucky she wasn't doing something more embarrassing.

I felt the urge to deepen the charade and tell her that I'd been listening for hours and that I had heard MORE than enough, but I thought I should just let it go. You gotta know when to let the joke die.

Animated Friday (Close Calls Edition)!

2009-05-22T16:57:00.002-05:00

I don't want to be considered "unadventurous," but I tend to avoid putting myself in certain perilous situations. Some groups of people apparently don't have the same concern for prudent caution as I do, and they should be thanking their lucky stars on a daily basis. In particular: gymnasts and rally race audiences.

Close Call Gymnast #1: Mere Millimeters From Certain Tragedy

Close Call Rally Race Audience #1: Mere Millimeters From Certain Tragedy

Close Call Gymnast #2: Timing is Everything

Close Call Rally Race Audience #2: Timing is Everything

Stuff I'm Doing; and Stuff I Shouldn't Be Doing

2009-05-17T21:05:00.004-05:00

I know I haven't posted much lately, but it's not my fault. Blogger is being all stupid and work is being all busy. But I can assure you that I am still the same old dan.

For instance, today I went to the Home Depot to pick up some acoustic ceiling tiles to replace a couple damaged ones in my basement. I wheel them out to my car and push the remote unlock button on my keys, but I don't hear the mechanisms click. I try it again, but still no luck. Finally, I give up on modern conveniences and go in to unlock it manually, but to my surprise the back door is already unlocked. I silently chastise myself for being so absent minded as to forget to lock my own car.

With some difficulty, I maneuver one ceiling tile into the back seat. The things are fragile, so when they hit a hard edge or a car part, they burst into dust. It's kind of a mess, and so I silently chastise myself for not planning ahead enough to bring some blankets to protect my car seats from the obnoxious white powder.

That's when I hear: "Excuse me?" I turn around. A lady is standing by me with her own cart.

She says, "That's my car."

I turn back, and indeed I've shoved my acoustic ceiling tile into the back of someone else's Hyundai. Somehow I had failed to notice the unfamiliar air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror or the copy of Oprah Magazine in the passenger seat. I apologize profusely, and thankfully she thinks it's funny and has a good laugh at my expense while I try desperately to wipe up the dusty mess I've made all over her back seat. I silently chastise myself for being dan.

I wonder how she's going to tell that story to her friends. I wonder if she still laughs as she remembers the sight of my ass hanging out of her back seat, swearing under my breath while I awkwardly shove a ceiling tile against her upholstery.

This is some other stuff I've been up to:

Ice

Dice

Entice

Animated Friday (Back to the Gym Edition)!

2009-05-15T08:56:00.001-05:00

I'm back at the gym. Turns out Tony Horton's 10 Minute Trainer only works if you actually do at least 30 minutes of it a day. Screw that.

In order to not get bored with the routine of the gym again, I've started trying all new machines and exercises. Turns out nothing sucks anything less than anything else when you are at the gym. Double goes for those big stupid exercise balls, which I can't stay balanced on no matter how hard I try.

Some guys are really good at it.

Some guys are really not.

I'm really not, but I'm not stupid enough to try anything like that, either.

Planetdan: Destroying Childhood Innocence Since 1981

2009-05-04T12:12:00.004-05:00

Note: This post is not suitable for young innocent children, as it contains what some may consider to be some pretty major SPOILERS.

A few weeks ago my friend Stacy and I were talking about what the Easter Bunny would be bringing her six-year-old son this year. She tends to go overboard a tad (she thinks the Tooth Fairy's going rate for a cuspid these days should hover around the twenty dollar level), so I was curious to learn what kind of exorbitant bounty would be found in her son's Easter basket this year.

Also out of curiosity, I asked her how long she would be participating in the whole Easter Bunny charade with her child. She said she wasn't sure, but that she actually did feel a little funny perpetuating the myth that a human sized rabbit was hiding eggs around their house once a year - especially to her own child who seems to be a little ahead of the curve, intelligence-wise. I randomly advised her that if he actually ever asked her about the legitimacy of the Easter Bunny - or any other similarly preposterous holiday invention - that she should just be honest and come clean. Those lies can only hold up for so long anyway. She half-heartedly agreed, with a little apprehension, probably pre-mourning the inevitable loss of her only son's childhood innocence.

In an attempt to convince her, I told her about the vivid memory I have of the summer of my own sixth year in 1981. I don't recall what sparked it, but one day I had the sudden realization that Santa was a sham. I walked up to my mother, who was ironing my father's work shirts at the time, and asked her flat out: "Is Santa real?" She replied, "no." I don't even believe she averted her eyes from her task at hand to shatter my childhood illusions. It really was that simple.

From that point on I always felt sorry for the kids in my class who still believed in Santa. They seemed naive and foolish to me. Those judgments even stuck with me throughout high school. I remember one girl in particular - whose name I will withhold out of privacy - who chastised me vehemently for being a nonbeliever. We were in the third grade, and at that point it seemed absolutely absurd to me that she was so convinced of Santa's existence. I don't know when she finally caved, but when we approached high school graduation nine years later I was surprised she had made it through school that far - having always judged her solely on her abnormally late acceptance of the Santa fallacy. I often wonder what conspiracy theories she is buying into today.

But back to the story at hand, it was only a couple fateful days later when Stacy's son questioned her about the Easter Bunny. Apparently an older childhood friend had clued him into the reality of the situation, and he ran back to his mother hoping she would not validate his older friend's shocking revelation. But remembering our recent conversation, she decided to keep it real and told him that the Easter Bunny was an invention for children, and that only big kids like him got to know the fun secret of the Easter Bunny. It was a nice spin on things, I suppose, trying to make him feel special. He seemed to take it okay, but knowing Stacy she probably felt like she was slaughtering his innocence.

Then a couple days later, his teacher asked his class to write a personal Easter story, and this is what he shared with the entire class:

To translate: "I don't believe in the Easter Bunny!! I mean, the Easter Bunny is not real. Your mom and dad hide the eggs. Not the Easter Bunny."

Notice the crossed-out bunnies around the peripheral.

I feel slightly responsible.

Stacy was a bit upset with me. I'm not sure why she ever listens to me anyway. I have little experience in anything whatsoever except making a fool out of myself.

Animated Friday (Animals are Sneaky Bastards Edition)!

2009-05-01T12:40:00.004-05:00

Forget the swines! You got worse animals to worry about!

Never turn your back on an ostrich!

Never turn your back on a kangaroo!

Never turn your back on a squirrel!

Nature is a brute!

By the way, today is officially No Pants Day, so I think you should take off your pants and then send me a picture of it. I may or may not participate, depending on my mood. And the weather. And my choice of underthings.

Dead things, Mikey, dead things.

2009-04-27T21:18:00.003-05:00

I've been in Florida over the last couple of weekends for a couple different reasons, and I was walking on a gulf-side public beach yesterday when I came across a half-eaten shark. The top of the shark had been completely bitten off. The bottom half just laid there, being picked apart by scavaging seagulls.

It wasn't a huge shark, really. It may have been four feet long or so when it was fully in tact. But that's probably just long enough to be able to take a big chunk of flesh out of your unsuspecting thigh. And I had been wading in that very same ocean just hours before.

But the real reason I can't stop thinking about that damn shark is because it was bit in half. Meaning something out there was big enough to separate the top half of a four foot shark from its bottom, in one solid chomp. And I thought I had problems with swimming in the ocean before.

Dan reluctantly pets an unrelated live shark.

Similarly, before I left for this weekend's jaunt to Florida I was a panicked rush to pack a bag. In the middle of my packing frenzy, I noticed a dead spider in my basement. It was the single biggest spider I've ever seen in any house that I've ever lived in. It's body alone was the size of a quarter. I couldn't estimate the size of its "wingspan" because it was all curled up and dried out, but I can assure you it was utterly revolting. I didn't have time to clean it up before I left, but being a tad of an arachnophobe, I planned on introducing it to the vacuum cleaner immediately after returning home from my short shark-filled weekend in Clearwater. In fact, I couldn't wait to get home to do it.

But when I got home it was gone, which means something in my house was large enough - or numerous enough - to haul off a gargantuan spider carcass to its lair, probably to feed its ginormaous, swarming brood. I have little panic attacks when I think about it.

For the same reason I ain't going back into the ocean after seeing that shark carrion, I'm not exactly comfortable sleeping in my own bed right now. I'm sure that the reality of whatever beast carried off that dead spider is probably not nearly as bad as I'm imagining it to be, but at this point I'm ready to put my house up for sale.

Speaking of grody dead things, this fly accompanied me on one of my recent flights. It was deceased, yet fully-grown, and somehow caught between the protective panes of glass and plastic that are supposed to keep me from being sucked out into the sub-zero atmosphere.

The adventurous stowaway.

Staring at it for two solid hours, I wavered between an odd/cheesy sense of Pixaresque whimsy (in that this tiny little creature must have been so excited to truly experience the flight of a lifetime) and nauseous disgust.

But then my head goes strange places under the influence of multiple Bloody Mary's.

Animated Friday (Kids are Helpless Edition)!

2009-04-24T12:02:00.000-05:00

One of the main reasons I never want kids is that their so helpless. They can't do a darned thing for themselves. They need constant assistance.

For example...

For another example...

For yet another example...

Okay, maybe that last one was unnecessary, but honestly, who's got the time?

Sunset Cruise

2009-04-19T15:11:00.003-05:00

I went on a sunset cruise aboard the Adirondack II off the coast of Key West last night. It was quite an adventure.

The wind was roaring and the surf was choppy and the sea was unforgiving. People started barfing almost immediately. Somehow, I always seemed to know when to turn my head just in time to catch someone hurling over the bow. And anyone who knows dan knows that he's prone to a bit of motion sickness himself. But I didn't want to be that guy. You know: the guy that that barfs over boat bows. So I desperately tried to keep my cool.

I was totally fine until the halfway point, about an hour into the cruise, where the was no sign of land, a howling wind in my ears, sea spray on my face, and sickness all around me. Most people on the boat were either barfing or fall-down drunk. The barfers were getting their own vomit all caught in their hair. The fall-down drunks were hitting on the barfers. My stomach was starting to turn for various reasons.

Through sheer concentration and self-control, I barely managed to maintain the integrity of my stomach, and before everyone knew it the sun had set, the ride was over, and the barfers were getting enticed back to the fall-down drunks' hotel rooms, with the alluring promise of "leftover fish."

Overall, you could say it was a very memorable experience.

Greetings!

2009-04-17T17:14:00.002-05:00

I miss you guys!
No Animated Friday today! I'm too busy soaking up the sun and being the whitest person within a 300 mile perimeter!

I'll be back soon!

The Internet is Awesome PT. II

2009-04-15T11:22:00.001-05:00

This might be the awesomest thing I've ever played with on the internet, although you need sound, and for some reason I can only get it to work in Firefox:

The Tone Matrix

What's even cooler:
Copy this line of numbers (Highlight and Ctrl+C), then go back to the Tone Matrix, right-click and select Paste for a special treat.

8048,592,336,126,7936,4212,8020,124,7936,4220,8,7940,5496,0,5888,7424

If you watch...

2009-04-14T11:58:00.001-05:00

Sometimes the internet is awesome. Okay, mostly the internet is awesome.

And it's fun to play along:

e.g. If you watch The Shining backwards, it's about a man who is unfortunately stuck in a hedge maze that is driving him mad, until he finally finds his way out, right back into the arms of his loving family. Although his living quarters are drastically downgraded in the process.

or,

If you watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind backwards, it's the exact same movie.

Animated Friday (The Trials of Childhood Edition)!

2009-04-10T07:30:00.001-05:00

Lesson one: riding a bike requires a minimum amount of multitasking.

Lesson two: never trust your siblings.

Lesson three: it's always best to turn the other cheek.

Speaking of trusting your siblings...

I have vivid memories of a game my sisters used to play with me when I was about four years old that involved blindfolding me and leaving me in unknown places while warning me about certain unavoidable death if I stayed there, and at the same time tricking me into thinking I'd also die if I moved a muscle. It went something like this:

After closing me behind a fence gate with the sound of a dog barking in the distance: "We just accidentally locked you in Bruto's kennel, danny. Bruto is a big black doberman with a taste for blood. That's him barking in the background! He's barking because he knows you've invaded his territory! We're going to run and hide, but maybe if you stand real still he'll only bite you a few times!!!!!"

Or, after balancing me on a broken wagon wheel in some unsuspecting neighbor's backyard: "Oh my god danny, you've walked right onto a bear trap! It's old and rusty and we don't know how long it will hold! If you even move an inch it will surely snap and cut you in two!!!!!"

Or, after placing me barefoot in the middle of a patch of sharp piercing grass and spiky burrs: "Danny! You've stepped into a gigantic beehive! You're walking all over them and they are getting angry! Stand really still or they will swarm and sting you to death! Oh my god I can hear them coming!!!!!"

It was a lot of fun. For some reason it never even occurred to me that I could take off the blindfold.

Managing Expectations

2009-04-08T18:18:00.001-05:00

Every once in a while, but not often, I bump into someone on the street who recognizes me as planetdan, and it's never the exciting ego-boosting moment that I always imagine it will be. In fact, it's quite the opposite, because I can usually see the wave of disappointment as it washes over their face.

My first instinct is to blame the physical features that I hate most about myself: my short height in contrast to my extra-large head, my so-white-it's-almost-transparent skin, my bad posture, my less-than-manly voice, etc. My mind's eye exaggerates these features in my head and I start imagining the view that these other people must be having of me, and it's usually akin to some sort of hair-lipped beggar dwarf.

But in general I'm not a terribly insecure person. I know that I'm a little goofy looking in my proportions, but it's not like I'm Lyle Lovett or something. The point is that I'd like to turn the tide on this phenomenon, because the palpable sense of disappointment I feel during these random encounters isn't exactly edifying to my slightly-fragile self-image.

I figure it's my own fault. I tend to avoid posting unflattering pictures of myself on here, and the web isn't exactly the easiest format to accurately gauge some one's physical attributes. Perhaps the limitations of the internet in combination with my own pride has created some unrealistic expectations. I think I've been doing myself a disservice by posting only the least-ugly photos of myself online, and it's time to do a little damage control.

So from now on, I would really appreciate it if you would imagine me as a cross-eyed hydrocephalic oaf with an awkward disposition and a speech impediment. That way, if and when we ever meet in person, there is no possible way that I could disappoint you. I can only exceed your artificially low expectations. And then hopefully that wave of disappointment that I've become so accustomed to will turn into something that more closely resembles pleasant surprise.

So here's a few gently-altered images of dan to properly set that bar real low. Please burn them into your brain, and I look forward to meeting you in person in the near future:

And yes, I've considered the possibility that it might be my personality and not my looks that is disappointing, but I'd rather not explore that dark territory right now if you don't mind.

Animated Friday (New Phobias Edition)!

2009-04-03T12:34:00.000-05:00

The Internet has supplied me with a plethora of new phobias this week, including:

Owls

Revolving Doors

Turtles (bonus related classic clip that will never get old)

Julia Roberts

And nature, in general:

Headlines

2009-04-02T11:30:00.000-05:00

I think Jamie Foxx might have pissed off his publicist, cuz somebody ain't spinning this story properly:

To be fair, the headline was later changed to "Fights Off", but the original shall live on via the Internet forever. Nothing will ever be as great as this classic headline, though.

A Celebration of Dan

2009-04-01T23:14:00.000-05:00

I haven't had much time to post lately because I was too busy celebrating my birthday. I managed to make the celebration last two full weeks this year, with a seemingly endless string of dinners, desserts, parties, cakes, happy hours, presents, etc. You might ask why I didn't take a full month to celebrate - and I would congratulate you for asking such a great question - but the answer is: because I'm a giving person. You see, I have friends who also have birthdays in March, and I don't want to be a complete attention hog. The two-week limit was self-imposed entirely out of selflessness.

But here are a few photographic highlights of my birthday weeks:

Happy Annunciation!

2009-03-25T08:15:00.000-05:00

On this day, celebrating the Feast of the Annunciation, and only one week after the Pope's condemnation of the use of condoms to prevent the spread of AIDS in Africa, let us pause to remember the true meaning of the occasion.

Animated Friday (Pig in a Poke Edition)!

2009-03-20T12:38:00.011-05:00

Copulation Thwarted Pt. 1: Revenge is Sweet

Copulation Thwarted Pt. 2: Coitus Interruptus

"Oink oink... we'll be pigs!"

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAYS THIRTY ONE THRU SIXTY

As it turns out, you can't really excercize for only ten minutes a day and lose weight. According to Tony's own advice, you have to eat well and drink less, too. These are non-negotiables for me. I like to eat and drink. So I guess this whole experience was a losing battle to begin with.

The bad news is I weigh as much as I did when I started two months ago. The good news is that there has been an almost imperceptible shift in body fat: a little less flab on the love handles and a little more meat on the shoulders. Still, I'm nowhere near being able to feel confident in a bathing suit. But a lot of the insecurity involved in that issue has to do with the fact that my skin is so white it's practically translucent.

None of this means I've given up, of course. Spring has sprung, so I've returned to the occassional jog around the lake and maybe even a push up or two. My long term goal is to never have to upgrade my waist-size again. I know, it's not that lofty of a goal, but I've learned not to challenge myself too hard.

Exercising sucks.

Weight: 167

Ahem

2009-03-20T08:47:00.000-05:00

*cough*

Animated Friday (Or Make That Monday Edition)!

2009-03-16T08:26:00.003-05:00

In spite of its ubiquity on the web lately, this animated GIF has given me much pleasure.

Of course, watching the video is infinitely more rewarding, but then it wouldn't be animated Friday, would it?

When traveling with K-Mack, she used to jog around the room in her sleep during the night. I'd hear a lot of whooshing and running and I'd open my eyes just in time to see her swan dive into her bed. Perhaps she, too, was chasing rabbits. Regardless, her sleeprunning was better than her sleep-chastising. She used to wake me up in the middle of the night clawing at the bottom of my bed with her eyes closed, looking for some watch or piece of jewelry that I was apparently responsible for losing. When I'd groggily ask her what she was talking about, she would suddenly come to and curse at me curtly, without ever opening her eyes: "Shut up. Go to bed."

I may have told this story before, but never with the opportunity to compare her to a dog. So I'm sure you'll excuse the redundancy.

Birthday Week

2009-03-17T08:12:00.001-05:00

My birthday is on Friday, so I plan on treating myself real nice this week.

Actually, I already got birthday cupcakes from C-Minus last Saturday. But I'm sure I'll find other ways to reward myself in the coming days. Any ideas centered around self-indulgence would be greatly appreciated. Although please don't say "Spa Day" because that just ain't my style.

I'm thinking more along the lines of allowing myself to eat BOTH Pop-Tarts® in one sitting, etc.

Masturator

2009-03-11T16:57:00.000-05:00

In the middle of a client meeting today I stumbled over my words and somehow combined the words "web master" and "administrator" in the unfortunate sounding "masturator". Worse even, it was framed within a sentence like such: "So if you are a masturator..." Worse even, the flub made me stop the sentence dead in its tracks, resulting in an awkward pause and some blushing cheeks. Although I'm told I recovered nicely.

I was literally one unpronounced 'B' away from what could have been one of the most embarassing moments of my life. Not that "masturator" wasn't close enough to elicit a few smirks and titters from my fellow colleagues, but if I had indeed uttered that one extra letter I doubt I would have ever been able to live it down.

I'm going to call that one a near miss and thank my lucky stars. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.

Animated Friday (Cats are Cruel Creatures Edition)!

2009-02-27T18:23:00.000-06:00

I'm allergic to cats, otherwise I'd probably have one because they are the pet that requires the least amount of work and dedication. And because they are cruel and merciless. For example:

Cats don't share.

Cats won't au pair.

Cats cheap scare.

But on the flipside, cats don't care:

My TV on TV

2009-02-27T08:15:00.000-06:00

Jack Donaghy and I have the same TV. Jealous much? I was watching 30 Rock yesterday and saw my TV on the TV and it was kind of a trippy experience, so I took a picture of it for posterity:

For some reason that picture reminds me of this picture:

A Turning Point

2009-02-25T17:42:00.001-06:00

I mostly work from home. I have a lot of client meetings during the week but there are often long stretches of consecutive days where I just don't have any need to leave the house. Generally on these days, I wake up and begin working immediately. It will be a couple hours before I bother to eat breakfast. A shower is rarely taken prior to 5pm. I'm lucky if I even remember to brush my teeth at all. From an outside perspective, it's probably pretty grody.

I've been telling myself for months - nay, years - that I should recreate my morning routine to start with a cleansing shower and a typical prep schedule. Because honestly - even though I clean myself up good and proper every early evening - if anyone were to stop by my place unannounced during the day they would be appalled at my personal hygiene. For some reason unfortunately, I've never had the motivation to change my wicked ways.

But today I think I've had a breakthrough, by way of General Mills. I happened to catch a glimpse of myself when passing by a mirror this afternoon and noticed a dark blotch on my neck. It was too big to be a spider, so I was able to avoid any momentary panic, but when I looked closer I realized it was a Golden Graham.

A good six hours earlier, I had indeed eaten a bowl of Golden Grahams for breakfast, and apparently a soggy one had slid down my cheek to rest on my neck. I don't remember attacking my bowl of cereal like the Swedish Chef or the Cookie Monster, but somehow I had been sloppy enough to lose track of a graham or two. And by at this point in the afternoon the lone Golden Graham had dried and formed a sugary bond with my skin:

I studied myself in the mirror: unwashed, unshaven, uncombed, wearing yesterday's clothes and this morning's breakfast. I realized that I had sunk way below my own minimum standards for personal upkeep.

I guess I should consider myself lucky that I didn't make one of my typical runs to the bank or to pick up lunch before taking the time to actually look in a mirror ferchrissakes. So tomorrow I turn over a new leaf. Before I begin work in the morning I will shower, put on fresh undies, eat breakfast, and brush my teeth like a normal person.

Or perhaps in light of today's events I should save the shower until after breakfast.

Animated Friday (Not-So-Sexy Edition)!

2009-02-20T12:14:00.001-06:00

That's what you get for thinking you're sexy...

...on the catwalk.

...on the stripper pole.

...on the dancefloor.

Bonus Friday WTF Addendum:
When I first heard that a shark got out of its tank and jumped into the waterslide at Atlantis' famous Leap of Faith waterslide, I thought it was a bad Jaws-3D joke or something. I mean, you'd think that the park designers would have had more precautions than a foot-high wall separating a shark tank and a swimming pool for humans. But apparently not, which means my worst nightmares were closer to reality than I could have ever thought possible. And apparently there are even pictures just to ensure that my ensuing nightmares are all the more vivid:

[see all the pics at TMZ]

Which all makes me imagine what kind of dialogue must have taken place for such a nightmarish situation to even be possible:

Architect: "I'm envisioning a waterslide that goes down, under, and through a shark tank filled with deadly man-eating reef sharks... wouldn't that be thrilling?"

Moron at the Helm: "Ohmygod we are so doing that."

Architect: "All I have to do to make this dream a reality is devise a way for a waterslide to go under a shark tank but somehow keep them totally separate so that those sharks won't get any of their chocolate in our peanut butter. This is where my skills as an architect will truly shine. I'm thinking a one-foot high divider wall between the shark tank and the waterslide itself should probably do the trick."

Moron at the Helm: "Wait, can sharks jump?"

Architect: "Do they have knees?"

Moron at the Helm: "No."

Architect: "Then they can't jump. Problem solved."

Moron at the Helm: "You had me at 'waterslide through a shark tank'..."

Of course, nobody was in the pool at the time, and the shark died shortly thereafter due to the chlorine, but I'm sure it would have survived more than long enough to take a big ravenous chunk out of some one's thick upper thigh, or to leave a yellow, bloodied inflatable pool-float in its wake. Alex? ALEX?

Mindf@#ks

2009-02-18T12:26:00.006-06:00

Now that all that V-Day hoopla is done and over with, I can get back to what I like most: random Internet crap and meaningless anecdotes. So today I will post some visuals that are sure to blow your mind!

Visual Effect #1: Holy Crap It Really is the Big Floating Head of Jesus!
(a.k.a Religious Pareidolia)

I don't know about you, but I can't NOT see that decapitated Jesus head, although if you stare really close you will see that it is actually just a baby in a bonnet and some background brush.

Visual Effect #2: OMG, I'm a Hideous Beast!
(a.k.a The Thatcher Effect)

[automatically rotates every 5 seconds]

Apparently the brain has a hard time detecting features in upside down faces, so the next time you knock over a bank you should do it while walking on your hands. *cue rimshot*

Visual Effect #3: Ahhh! My Eyes!
(a.k.a Make it go away! Make it go away now!)

Puke. Enjoy.

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAYS NINETEEN THRU THIRTY

So. Day 30. Still 167 pounds. But I can only assume that I lost ten pounds in fat and gained ten pounds in muscle. I do actually think that I may have lost a little weight in my face, but that's probably just an illusion created by the false confidence I've slowly accumulated simply by NOT sitting on my couch for ten minutes each day.

I'm not giving up yet, though, because if my theory is true then at some point the muscle gain will stop when I don't increase my resistance and that's when the dramatic weight loss will finally become apparent. It really is that simple.

Another "WTF, Tony?!?" moment I had the other day was when I noticed that Tony's 10-Minute countdown clock in the bottom corner of the television screen actually pauses and even adds on time occasionally if it reaches zero before the end of the workout. Ten minutes, my ass.

Weight: 167

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 6

2009-02-14T12:40:00.000-06:00

I made some of my nieces some personalized valentines to hand out to their classmates this year, and I figured I may as well throw myself into the mix as well:

I contemplated for about one half of a second to make myself appear naked and hugging that illustrated heart with a tantalizing posture and my scrawny limbs poking out from behind, revealing nothing yet igniting imaginations, but the second half of that one second found me thinking better of the idea. But have a sexy Valentine's Day anyway.

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 5

2009-02-13T12:44:00.000-06:00

It this over-the-top?

And just in case you don't like the sweet and schmaltzy stuff, woot.com is providing some bitter pills to swallow:

You can even download them in a high-quality printable format to hand out to all your "freinemies," or whatever that hip new term for Schadenfreude is.

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 2

2009-02-10T12:17:00.001-06:00

I really do love you, you know.

[buy me at threadless]

Although this not exactly the "one-eyed monster" you might expect to encounter on valentine's day.

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 4

2009-02-12T12:22:00.001-06:00

'Tis true.

The other day there were about a hundred of these mugs at the charity thrift store (where they sell used items and other unwanted treasures from generous donors) for $1.69 each. C-Minus and I contemplated buying one for everyone we knew but we figured that they would all probably end up back at that very same charity thrift store some day - because it's basically where mugs emblazoned with bad jokes go to die - and we didn't want to contribute to that never-ending cycle of madness.

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 3

2009-02-11T12:19:00.000-06:00

Because I'm a romantic at heart. Monkey butt heart.

Countdown to V-Day: Volume 1

2009-02-09T12:14:00.000-06:00

I figure a whole week of sugary sweet planetdan love is better than just one lousy day. So I'm offering you a Valentine every day this week, from my heart to yours:

Footprints

2009-01-28T08:20:00.001-06:00

[fp]

And speaking of footprints, wouldn't it be cool if Jesus' prints looked more like this?

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAYS NINE & TEN

More cardio and more total body workouts. Sigh. It's getting boring. And yesterday was the first day that I very nearly skipped the workout altogether because I just didn't feel like doing it, and that made me realize that the only thing keeping me doing this for ten minutes every day is the fact that this website is making me accountable for it. If I didn't feel the need to provide regular updates on planetdan, I would have given up already. So in the long run, I would not be able to credit Tony Horton with any weight loss, I would only be able to credit planetdan, which is myself. Thank you, me.

Weight: 167

I'm back to square one, weight wise, but I'm hoping that's because my body is replacing lost fat with newly formed muscle.

Shut up, I can believe anything I want.

Animated Friday (Scaredy Cat/Dog Edition)!

2009-02-06T08:31:00.002-06:00

It's probably a good thing that I'm allergic to cat dander and even more so to the responsiblity of owning a dog, because I would probably torture them all day long by tying random things to their tails and filming their reactions:

I thought cats were supposed to have quick reflexes.

I thought dogs weren't supposed to be scaredy cats.

And here is a bonus animated scaredy-GIF that I created myself:

A Monument to Wasteful Spending

2009-02-05T22:02:00.002-06:00

If I were stinky with wealth, I would dedicate an entire wing in my mansion as a gallery to showcase my ability to make outrageously ridiculous purchases, and then I would pack it solid with utter crap and mail-away garbage. I'm sure this would be one of my prized possessions and a gallery highlight:

VHS video? That doll is an antique way before its time.
Speaking of monuments to wasteful spending...

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAYS ELEVEN THRU EIGHTEEN

I dunno... I'm starting to feel a little silly hopping around my basement for ten minutes a day. And to be honest, I missed days Eleven and Twelve, but I made up for them by doing double routines on the weekend. I'm still not really noticing any difference in my body shape, but again I need to be honest and admit that I've been eating like a cow and drinking like a fish which would make me a creepy cowfish combo and thus: uglier than ever.

To illustrate:

Also, Tony has now integrated a ten minute ab routine into the mix and frankly it's a little unrealistic. I don't know anyone who can lie flat on their back and comfortably stick their legs straight up in the air perpendicular to the floor, let alone do it for minutes on end, and I barely even have the energy to make a slut joke about it: something something something difficult legs-up ab routine, something something something Paris Hilton.

I have been sleeping better lately, though.

Weight: 166.4

Sorry, but it's just another embarrassing workout story.

2009-01-26T12:13:00.002-06:00

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer comes with a handy nylon belt that you are supposed to attach to the stretchy resistance bands, that you are then supposed to attach to a strap which is itself attached to a door hinge. That way, when you wear the belt and do the cardio routine, it's like horizontal bungee jumping, and apparently good for the muscles. It's a fun way to amp up your workout. Unless you are like me and you accidentally get trapped in the belt, effectively hogtying yourself to the laundry room door.

To make a long story short, the nylon belt comes with an obnoxiously-constructed metal buckle thingee with an added velcro flap that requires undue effort to fasten. It's also oversized and not adjustable, so I can easily slip out of it just by sliding it down over my hips, which is much easier than messing around with that godforesaken buckle. But for some reason on this particular day I decided to take it off by raising it upwards and over my shoulders, not unlike a freakshow performer putting his entire upper body through the hole of an unstrung tennis racket.

I slipped my arms under the belt and started to raise it up, but at the point where the strap reached my shoulders it suddenly stopped moving, pinning my arms against my sides without enough room to maneuver my hands to the buckle.

The rigid nylon belt wouldn't budge and it was starting to irritate my delicate upper arms. That's when the claustrophobic panic set in. I started to sweat and hop up and down frantically, imagining myself alone all night, chained to the laundry room door by bungee chord, screaming desperately in hopes that a neighbor might hear me. I wondered how far the bungee could stretch. Up the stairs and to the backdoor where my screams of panic might be better heard? What if I didn't have the muscles to withstand that amount of tension and it sent me flying backwards down the stairs and against the door, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor? At least I was wearing pants for when they would eventually discover me.

But suddenly the belt slipped, probably lubricated from flop-sweat, and with a few panicked body jerks I was free.

I can't be the only one who has this many problems working out. It's like god is telling me to just stay fat. He's sent me more than enough warning signs at this point. And who am I to argue with god?

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAYS SIX, SEVEN, and EIGHT

I forgot to work out on day six, and I got stuck in the belt on day seven, but on day eight I made up for any missing workouts by doing extra routines, and thankfully they are beginning to be less painful. Although I still dread doing them with a white hot intensity that follows me around like a thundercloud all day long. And the repetition of the videos is really starting to grate my nerves.

Weight: 166

My Poop is Green

2009-01-22T18:45:00.001-06:00

I noticed this marquee at the Uptown Theater the other evening:

After I got home I did a little research and found out that "my poop is green" is a line from the movie Synecdoche New York, which I have yet to see (so don't spoil it for me - I love Charlie Kaufman movies). It's just that I think they could have chosen a better tagline to place below the movie title to promote it. Perhaps something without the word "poop" in it. Perhaps something that doesn't make it sound like it's double-billing with a scat fetish film.

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAY FIVE

It was Total Body workout day, which meant a return to the resistance bands, which meant strength and toning exercises, which meant undue physical exertion, which meant an unhappy danny. When is it going to be Yoga day again ferchrissakes?

Weight: 165.2

Animated Friday (Inauguration Edition)!

2009-01-23T09:36:00.000-06:00

In honor of certain historic events that took place this week, I made this animated GIF cuz I think I'm funny:

Quick Update

2009-01-21T21:10:00.000-06:00

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAY FOUR

Today was another Cardio day, only this time I used the resistance belt thingee, which was almost kinda fun. Like horizontal bungee jumping. But the whole experience still sucked.

I ache a little less today, which I suppose is a positive thing.

I'm already getting really annoyed listening to Tony's comments during warmup and cooldown and it's only day four. "Is that how you drink your beer? From a cup?"

Don't ask.

Weight: 165.4

Baberaham Lincoln

2009-01-20T19:30:00.007-06:00

In honor of inauguration day, I submit to you this classic from the now defunct Weekly World News:

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAY THREE

Today was Yoga day and it actually wasn't all that bad. It was just some pretty remedial stretching exercises and a few downward facing dogs. I don't even think I broke a sweat. So not much to report here, except that I have a feeling I'm really gonna look forward to Yoga days, since I tend to like things that feel less like torture than things that do.

I'm a tad inflexible though, so doing these stretches probably made me look like Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainwreck.

Weight: 164.8

The Perils of Winter

2009-01-19T17:15:00.003-06:00

For some reason I've chosen a dentist in downtown Minneapolis in spite of the fact that it takes twenty minutes and ten bucks to park there. I think I just like being downtown with all the other working class suits for an hour every six months.

To get to the actual dentist's office, I have to park in an hourly ramp, take an elevator to the street level, cross at a light, enter another building, and then navigate the skyway system until I finally locate the right escalator.

It's winter, obviously, but crossing the street at the light is the only portion of the twenty minute journey that requires a coat, so I didn't even bother to zip it up. Which is what all the cool Minnesotan kids do anyway.

As I waited to cross at the light, I noticed a man across the street staring at me and smiling. It was a wild-eyed, excited grin, too. His enthusiasm was such that I thought he must know me, but I didn't recognize him in the slightest.

As the light turned green and he approached I could tell he was preparing to say something, so I debated about whether or not I should maintain eye contact or just pretend to be distracted by something else in order to avoid the awkwardness. At the midpoint of our crossing he never even slowed down, but he maintained direct eye contact and said "You might wanna zip up there, slick."

At first I thought it was weird that he was so excited with just the anticipation of telling me to bundle up. It wasn't even that cold out at the time. Then I got a little angry that he felt the need to mother me like that. Just because you are a wuss and a slave to Mother Nature doesn't mean I have to be. I'll wear my coat how I want to wear my coat, dammit. Winter, and you sir, can both suck it.

When I finally got to the dentist, the dental assistant put a paper bib around my neck and cleaned my teeth and raped my gums with floss. She left me in a reclining position as she fetched the actual dentist for a proper checkup.

While waiting horizontally, I happened to glance down to notice my pant zipper was down. And it wasn't just kinda down, it was all the way, spread wide, open-gapped, you-could-identify-my-brand-of-underwear down. As in, easily-noticeable-from-across-an-entire-downtown-street down.

So a note to all you good Samaritans out there: the next time you tell somebody that they might want to "zip it up", be more specific.

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAY TWO

Do you know how easy it is to mishandle resistance bands and to smack yourself in the face, in the back of the head, in the ass, and everywhere else on your tender body? They are floppy, stupid, awkward, cruel devices and anyone who would recommend their use (*cough* Tony) is laughing on the inside while imagining the millions of bruises he is inflicting by proxy. By the end of the workout you'll look like you could check into a battered women's shelter, but look at those quads!

Today was the total body workout, and seeing as how my entire body already felt like it was suffering from influenza after yesterday's workout, today's experience was no less unpleasant.

Weight: 165.8

A Man of Action

2009-01-18T16:44:00.009-06:00

I figured since I made my purchase of Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer public last week, I might as well provide regular updates of my progress. Mostly because it might actually make me accountable for keeping up with the program. Because even a scant ten minutes of exercise is still something worth dreading on a daily basis. But the expansion of my gut requires drastic action. And yes, I consider ten minutes of daily exercise agonizing enough to be called "drastic".

Just to let you in on a few secrets about Tony's latest he-gets-rich-while-you-get-fit scheme, each workout is indeed ten minutes long. But there is a two minute warm up and a two minute cool down, bringing the hellish daily routine to 14 curse-filled minutes (which is something they don't tell you in the infomercial). They also recommend doing THREE ten-minute routines daily for maximum results (well, duh), but to make this a true study in the effectiveness of ten minute workouts in general, I'm going to limit myself to doing only one, regardless of how inspired I might feel on any given day to keep on sweatin', which let's face it, was a long shot to actually happen anyway.

So as not to bother the uninterested, I'll keep my updates short and breezy, with the following easily identifiable format:

Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer Update

DAY ONE

In accordance with the instructions, I recorded my measurements, took my "before" photos (which will forever be vaulted for personal use only), and installed my cardio belt. After only three minutes of today's scheduled Cardio routine, any doubt I had about the effectiveness of a ten minute work out were quickly vanquished when I found myself panting like a dog and cursing that titular bastard. Granted, I haven't barely broken a sweat doing anything for well over a month or two, so my muscles were probably nearly atrophied, but he really is a sadistic bastard nonetheless.

The good news is that he's not anywhere near as annoying as Billy Blanks (with the pointless headset mic and the boundless energy), or as perky as Denise Austin (with her floppy hair and doe-eyed stare), or as lifeless as those Firm girls (yes, I clearly know my workout video icons). But that doesn't mean I actually like the bastard. "Bastard, bastard, bastard," throb my aching thighs.

Why does exercise always have to be so unpleasant? And spare me any motivational BS or hang-in-there platitudes. It sucks and it will always suck, and you know it.

Geesh, all this anger after only ten minutes of physical exertion. I can't wait for the next infinity number of days of this crap.

Weight: 167

(I feel like Bridget Jones all the sudden. That's another reason why Tony is a bastard: he's made me feel like Bridget Jones.)

Animated Friday (Bad Driver Edition)!

2009-01-16T12:06:00.003-06:00

I hope I'm never this stupid with my car. Although I don't think the odds are in my favor. Not with my clumsy track record.

Caution: Hole in Floor

Caution: Do Not Attempt

Caution: Low Clearance

Don't worry, I did a little research before posting and surprisingly nobody died in that last one.

I'm a sucker.

2009-01-13T12:14:00.000-06:00

I wouldn't call myself fat (unlike my WiiFit), but I have a burgeoning spare tire around my waste that could use a little special attention in 2009. If you combine my poor self-image with the idealistic sheen of a brand new year then you've got the perfect recipe for "gullible jackass."

While watching TV early one Sunday morning - a scant three days after the dawn of the new year - I caught an infomercial for Tony Horton's 10-Minute-Trainer workout program for the umpteenth time. I sat up in bed to pay full attention as they presented their claim that you can have the body you've always wanted in only ten minutes a day. "Well I've got ten minutes..." I thought to myself. Then they threw in a free set of resistance bands. "Well those look helpful..." I said. Then they showed a few "un-retouched" before and after photos of previous participants. "Well that looks effective!" I shrieked. Then they knocked ONE FULL PAYMENT off the total purchase price of the entire package and my fingers couldn't dial the phone fast enough. The free upgrade to "Express Shipping" was just gravy.

Only nine days later, I finally received my expressly-shipped 10-Minute-Trainer package in the mail. After the dog-and-pony-show I saw on the television, I was expecting an over-sized crate, jam-packed with DVDs and workout accoutrement. Take a look at what $80 really gets you:

Yeah, that's about $3.00 in raw materials, but I suppose what you're really paying for is the expertise that only a real professional like Tony can provide.

Did I tell you that I've met the man?

I'm positive that this is the plan I've been waiting for. All those other workout DVDs I've purchased, the unused gym membership, the WiiFit, the balance ball, the hand weights, the torturous jogging, the Tai-Bo, the Lean Cuisines... they all were useless. My new life begins today and nothing can stop me now. Next stop: six-pack abs. Mark my words.

Great Minds Think Alike

2009-01-12T23:04:00.002-06:00

Tonight C-Minus and I discovered the "PictoChat" function on our Nintendo DS systems (yes, we are late adopters), and so we immediately began sending dirty scribbles back and forth to each other. After about a thousand sketches of ding-dongs and hoo-haws we both simultaneously, yet unknowingly, sent each other remarkably similar images:

It's almost spooky!

Yes, it's juvenile, but so is owning a Nintendo DS at age 33.

Animated Friday (Backflips are Hard Edition)!

2009-01-09T12:09:00.002-06:00

It's the first Animated Friday of the new year, so I thought I would bring it back to the basic equation of stupidity + pain = funny.

Today's topic is: The Elusive Backflip

Nice trophy, but next time try jumping off the top rope.

I'm not sure which fail is worse, the flip or the fanny pack.

I can't actually decide whether this one is win or fail.

Calling Molly

2009-01-05T17:09:00.005-06:00

At a recent gathering of ten friends about a month or so ago, good ol' C-Minus (formerly K-Mack) stood up and abruptly left our game of Scrabble® claiming that she had to go "call Molly".

Now granted, her mother's name is Molly, and she often does call her, but the abruptness of her departure led us all to believe that she was using this so-called phone call to her mother as an excuse to run off to the bathroom without the embarrassment of drawing attention to her predicament, and the length of her absence while making this "call" led us to believe that she was going #2.

When she returned from "making her call" we questioned her about her true motives, and she claimed that she indeed just needed to call her mother. But by this time the damage was done: "Calling Molly" was now an accepted and approved euphemism for going poo.

It came to be in the following weeks that people would use the phrase not even in jest. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go give Molly a call," one might sincerely say as they excused themselves from the room. "Oh, the other day someone in the men's room was totally calling Molly and they were being terribly indiscreet about it," is another statement you wouldn't be surprised to hear.

Then it got clinical. The other day another friend was telling me about a medical issue they were having, and I was nonplussed to hear him utter the sentence, "Basically, the doctor said that if I could just call Molly in those situations, I might experience some relief."

Eventually C-Minus had to come clean with her mother about how her name was unfortunately being used to describe such unpleasantness. But luckily her mother was understanding, and has since used the phrase herself, since it truly does sound much more polite and pleasant than any alternative.

But I don't think I would be so understanding. You have to keep control of your own brand image, you know. Therefore, I'm going to create a meaningful euphemism involving my own name before anyone else does. From this day forward, to "have a chat with dan" will be a synonym for having a glorious, orgasmic experience. e.g. "Last summer I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, and upon reaching the peak at daybreak it was like having a chat with dan."

Brand image = controlled.

Please start using it in your every day conversation at will. I don't think this is too much to ask. I want and expect this to be a part of the American lexicon by my birthday in March.

Thanks.

Mmmmmmm, syrup.

2009-01-04T12:12:00.000-06:00

I wish the people who designed these kinds of things would come forward and admit their intentions. Ain't no way that was by accident.

Papal Irony

2008-12-30T15:04:00.000-06:00

Brilliant Ideas

2008-12-21T17:23:00.004-06:00

At one point a few months back I created a text file on my computer and named it "Brilliant Ideas". I planned to use it to document the millions of untamed brilliant ideas that float through my head on a daily basis.

You could call them inventions, I suppose, but my Brilliant Idea Text File wasn't actually meant to explain how these inventions could be actualized. That wasn't the point. My job was to be the brilliant idea guy. I figured I could pay some grunt to do the dirty work if necessary. Eventually, these inventions would lead to my becoming a millionaire. The Brilliant Idea Text File was itself a brilliant idea.

A few months later the Brilliant Idea Text File had a total of three supposedly brilliant ideas in it. I reviewed it today and realized that I might want to hold off on my plans of becoming a millionaire.

For example: one idea was to invent a nightlight that flashed and blinked in a certain fashion in order to mimic a TV screen, so that if you went away on vacation you could simply turn on your TV Nightlight® and any lurking burglar would think that someone was always home and enjoying some television. But upon re-evaluation of this idea, I realized that an actual TV on a timer could accomplish the same trick, and would most likely use up the same amount of energy. Not such a brilliant idea after all.

One of my other brilliant ideas was much more practical. Basically, someone needs to invent frost-free glass for grocery stores so that after some dumb lady in the frozen dinner aisle stands in front of an open freezer for five minutes picking out her Lean Cuisines, the door doesn't frost over making it impossible for any subsequent shoppers to see their frozen entree options without having to open the damn freezer and stand in the cold for five minutes themselves.

This would have come in particularly handy for me the other day after I found myself in that exact situation in front of a frosted over freezer door at the grocery store. Due to the fact that a previous customer had stood with the freezer door open for far too long, I was forced to hold my grocery basket in one hand and the door open with the other in order to see the available Lean Cuisine selections. When I saw my beloved Thai-Style Chicken, I let go of the freezer door and reached wantonly for the box, causing the door to bonk against my head with a dull thud sound. This would have been no big deal had my hair not been damp and the door not been frosted, because when I went to stand up I realized my head was partially frozen to the door.

Rather than hang there awkwardly and whine like Flick from A Christmas Story with his tongue stuck to a metal pole, I stood up quickly to avoid any attention from fellow shoppers, leaving a few strands of my hair stuck to the inside of the freezer door. It was kinda gross in a food-and-hair-don't-mix kind of way, but I had to hightail it out of there before anyone saw me in such a vulnerable position. The hair is probably still there as I type.

Now granted, this story is probably not typical, but I still think it's a viable idea. Someone needs to invent frost-free glass asap. I don't care if it requires someone to break the laws of physics to accomplish, they just need to get it done. I don't even need any credit for the idea. I'm giving that one out as a freebie. And dust-repellent candles would be nice while you're at it, too.

Man, that was a long way to go just to say "I got my head stuck to a grocery store freezer door", but whatever.

The War on Christmas

2008-12-25T18:55:00.000-06:00

It's a stalemate!

Better luck next year.

MERRY XMAS EVERYBODY!

Houseguests

2008-12-22T18:24:00.002-06:00

I'm hosting a couple of good friends who happen to be Kiwis from New Zealand over the Christmas season. Although I'm usually a very accommodating host, I do have my own tics and compulsive issues when it comes to the cleanliness of my own living space. But this hasn't been an issue. In fact, everything has been going swimmingly with my houseguests. Until today, when I walked downstairs and saw this on my kitchen counter:

EEEWWWWWWWWWWWW, Vegemite? Not in my kitchen! I'm tempted to "accidentally" leave it outside for the birds to eat, but that would be super mean. To the birds.

Barf. I guess some stereotypes are true: they actually do love that stuff in Australia. So much so that one of them actually packed that jar and traveled with it for 36 hours. That's how much they like Vegemite down under.

:(

Third Base

2008-12-17T18:06:00.003-06:00

I was recently doing a little research into my youth for a certain project I've been working on when I came upon my Catholic elementary school's new official website. Upon delving into the content of the site I discovered that they have a new after-school extended care program for all the cute little Catholic kiddies who have no parents or guardians to watch over them in those dangerous afternoon hours between the final ring of the school bell and the first ring of the dinner bell.

Unfortunately, they have decided to name this program "Third Base":

Is it just my disease-ridden, Internet-addled mind, or is that one of the most inappropriate names imaginable for an extended care program? Especially at a school run by Catholic priests. They may as well have named it Father McGinty's Good-Touch Bad-Touch Exploratorium.

I think perhaps they should seek out some generous parishioner in the PR industry, stat, and consult their nearest Urban Dictionary before they end up calling their next Church Picnic a "Meat Retreat".

Animated Friday (Versus Edition)!

2008-12-12T08:33:00.000-06:00

Since I forgot to post on the last Animated Friday, I figure I better make this one supersized, like when they make The Office ten minutes longer and a lot less funny on Thursday nights during Sweeps Month:

Man vs. Diving Board

Baby vs. Sprinkler

Polevaulter vs. Pole

Morons vs. Shotgun

Cosbama Simpson

2008-12-11T19:17:00.000-06:00

I'm a fan of all things unintentionally creepy, which is probably why I have such an affinity for wax museums, so I just had to comment on this new Obama sculpture:

It's as if they made a conglomerate of every famous black man in America, combining them all into one single shape-shifting face. At first glance, he looks a little like Bill Cosby. At second glance, maybe OJ Simpson. Only on close inspection and with careful consideration does it even start to slightly resemble Obama in any significant way. I'd call the sculptors racist if I wasn't so familiar with the generally subpar quality of the their industry in the first place. Let's just chalk this one up to poor workmanship.

Epic fail, to use today's popular Internet terminology.

My Year's Biggest Disappointment

2008-12-10T07:56:00.001-06:00

I was at the mall doing a little xmas shopping last weekend when I noticed a man trying on some cashmere in the middle of the sweater department at Macy's. Apparently it was too much trouble to find a fitting room. Normally, I wouldn't complain, simply because I've done the same thing myself on occasion. Except I'm a little more discreet and a lot less obese. Fortunately he had a T-shirt on underneath, but unfortunately it got caught up in the ensuing struggle to remove the outerwear and it was subsequently lifted up to chin level, revealing his pasty white Santa-sized belly and hairy man boobs to the entire shopping crowd.

To make matters worse he seemed to get momentarily stuck and he tried to shimmy his way out of the situation. Initially I was caught off guard by the whole scene, as it was something that would normally happen to me and not to others. But eventually I came to my senses, and so it was a race with the clock as I frantically patted down my own pockets in a panicked search of my camera phone. I lost that race when the man's wife swooped in to manually lower his T-shirt to a respectable level. Little did either of them know that he was a mere moment away from Internet stardom. Sigh. You can't win 'em all.

To apologize for missing out on such an awesome opportunity, I will post this ass-crack picture instead. I didn't take this picture and it's not nearly the same caliber as what I personally witnessed, but it will have to do:

And here is a helpful graph:

Soapy Ribs

2008-12-01T17:19:00.001-06:00

OMGWTFBBQCARWASH?!? I drove by this place today:

On closer inspection, it turns out they do indeed sell both BBQ ribs and full service car washes - one of which was being advertised for $11.99, I'm just not sure which one.

It's funny because just the other day I asked my friend Kristina if she wanted to go out for a nice rib dinner but unfortunately she was unable to get out of previous plans to get her car washed and detailed. If only I had known that the BBQCARWASH was a mere twenty-minute drive away.

But seriously, you might expect to see something like this at some backwoods grill-house shack with a dude playing Deliverance-style banjo next to a soapy bucket, but this place seems pretty legit. I just wonder how they got the small business loan in the first place. "Well you see, loan officer, I got this idea for a place where you eat ribs and get yer car washed... simultaneously."

A Kickass Xmas 2008

2008-11-28T08:26:00.001-06:00

Today marks the official first day of the Christmas season which means I can finally listen to some holiday music - even some obnxious holiday music - and I've already made my special 2008 Xmas mix:

Tracklist:
1. Jingle Bells - The Puppini Sisters
2. I Got Coal - Deathray Davies
3. Sleigh Ride - Andy Williams
4. I’ll Be Home for Christmas - Holly Conlan
5. All That I Want - The Weepies
6. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Ella Fitzgerald
7. Away in a Manger - Shawn Lee‘s Ping Pong Orchestra
8. Mele Kilikimaka - Luke
9. Winter Song - Sara Barielles & Ingrid Michaelson
10. O Come, O Come Emmanuel - Sixpence None the Richer
11. Un Flambeau, Jeanette, Isabelle - Loreena McKennitt
12. Winter Wonderland - Dean Martin
13. Carol of the Bells - The Bird and the Bee
14. The Little Match Seller - The Puppini Sisters
15. Donde Esta Santa Claus? - Guster
16. Linus and Lucy - Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
17. Rudy - The Be Good Tanyas
18. Holy, Holy, Holy - Sufjan Stevens
19. Winter Wonderland - Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass
20. Christmas Alphabet - The McGuire Sisters
21. Do You Hear What I Hear - Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra
22. Bizarre Christmas Incident - Ben Folds
23. Themes from Christmas - This Story
24. Auld Lang Syne - Mairi Campbell & Dave Francis
25. My Dear Acquaintance (A Happy New Year) - Regina Spektor

And if you send me a very nice email I might let you in on where you can get all of these fine tunes.

Merry Xmas!

Animated Friday (Actually, It's Thursday Edition)!

2008-11-27T11:46:00.002-06:00

Because it's more appropriate being posted today, I'm rescheduling Animated Friday to show something Thanksgiving Day related:

I'd be pissed off too, if I'd seen planetdan's last post.

Bonus GIF: Monkey Attacks: One Dollar

Juicy Turkey! Sumptuous Ham!

2008-11-26T12:08:00.001-06:00

I was driving down the freeway the other day in the freezing cold and I saw a truck pass on my right with some detached tarps flapping up in the wind. Underneath those flapping tarps I could see hundreds of stacked cages stuffed tight with alive-yet-partially-frozen turkeys, all looking retarded and confused and miserably cold. It made me a little sick, and I'm usually not even that much of a bleeding heart when it comes to animal food.

Then I came across this graphic on the web which details the complicated machining process that brings said turkeys from the farm to your table this Thanksgiving holiday:

Click for Larger

Appetizing, indeed!

Then on top of that, a very thoughtful coworker sent me this article about how eating ham can give you tapeworms. And worse yet, unhygienic people who eat undercooked ham can give you BRAINworms. Charming. And lovely. I'll sleep well tonight!

So I guess Ham is off the menu now, too.

It's a good thing that my family has Lasagna for Thanksgiving.

Sorry I had to share all that with you but it didn't seem fair that I had to endure all that hurl-worthy barfiness by myself. Now we can all suffer together, collectively. Just how Thanksgiving was meant to be. Happy Thanksgiving!

Animated Friday (My Favorite Things Edition)!

2008-11-21T12:39:00.000-06:00

Did you know that fountain soda is one of my all-time favorite things on the planet? It's miles ahead of canned soda, which itself is miles ahead of bottles soda. So even though this looks unfortunate, I bet it's not really all that unpleasant:

Stand Here for Free Fountain Soda!

Just like Oprah, I'm sharing my favorite things with you.

The Planetdan Oompa Trance Dance

2008-11-20T18:24:00.001-06:00

Stacy was randomly surfing Facebook the other day when she unexpectedly happened upon a familiar looking face: mine. Apparently she was looking at all the different "causes" of which you can become a member, and suddenly there I was, all dressed up like an Oompa Loompa and officially representing a "Save the Oompa Loompas" charity group:

Yeah, that's me. Apparently somebody snagged this old GIF I made of myself. But that's not the scariest part. I figured that someone just needed an image of an Oompa Loompa for that Facebook page, so they just did a Google Image Search. I did the same, just to test my theory, when I found this:

Oh. My. God.

You'll need to have the sound up to get properly hypnotized by Oompa dan. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that my plan to be ubiquitous on the Web is working, but that really kinda creeps me out.

CSI: The Experience

2008-11-16T18:45:00.002-06:00

My friends and I went to the Science Museum for the second time in one year this weekend. This time is was to see CSI: The Experience, where we were charged with solving the murder of badly-wigged Penny Golden using only data we could collect from the crime scene:

I was pretty thorough in my investigation. I even examined the contents of her stomach. Spoiler Alert: her last meal was rice.

After solving the crime with relative ease and earning the respect of Detective Grissom himself, we explored the rest of the Science Museum, and discovered that you never get too old to appreciate the innate, enduring hilarity of the word "poop", no matter the context.

Apparently E.Coli looks like glazed wieners. You learn something new everyday.

A Brush with Death

2008-11-14T08:08:00.000-06:00

I had an allergic reaction to my Taco Bell last night. We're talking swollen lips, inflamed esophagus, itchy hives, the whole works. I took an antihistamine before my airway closed up or anything like that, but it was quite an uncomfortable ordeal. Why does everything I love have to turn against me??

But seriously, do I have to wear a medical alert bracelet now or something?

Goodbye 7-Layer Burrito. I hardly knew thee.

Okay, that's a lie. I've known you pretty well over the years.
Very well, actually. Maybe a little too well.

Animated Friday (When Animals Attack Edition)!

2008-11-14T18:37:00.000-06:00

I don't like nature because animals and things are mostly unpredictable. The only thing really predictable about them is that they all secretly want to disembowel you. Or at least, that's my theory. But I guess animals attack for many reasons, such as:

When you trespass on their territory...

When you mess with them...

Or when they want to mess with you.

Special Talents

2008-11-12T08:19:00.000-06:00

I went into a public restroom yesterday and I was glad to find it completely empty, except for a single worker who was changing out roles of toilet paper. I was at the urinal when from within a nearby stall I heard the janitor say:

"So how long do you think this ca-ca weather is going to last?"

I knew he was talking to me because the restroom was otherwise empty and because I had accidentally made awkward eye contact with him on the way in. I stood there for a minute debating whether I should just pretend I didn't hear him or if I should be polite and reply. After an extended silence, I replied from my urinal:

"Oh I don't know, I didn't watch the news this morning."

"Neither did I," he replied. I decided that this was a proper end to the conversation and that I had held up my end of the deal. But after another couple seconds of silence he continued:

"I meant to."

Again I didn't reply. This time the following silence was bit longer, but again, he eventually continued with a sigh:

"But it just didn't turn out that way."

But I could tell by the proximity of his voice that he was now standing directly behind me.

I wasn't getting the feeling he was coming on to me or anything like that. But I had the sneaking suspicion that his job probably didn't afford him the opportunity to have conversations with other humans on a regular basis, and that maybe he was a little socially awkward. But that realization didn't make the situation any more comfortable. Thankfully, I was done with my business so I zipped up, scooted around him, and went to wash up.

He followed me to the sinks.

"I got an interesting piece of mail the other day," he said looking at me in the mirror. "It was from some sort of secret society."

"Oh wow," I offered up, lathering my hands as quickly as possible.

"It came registered mail. They want me to join."

"That's cool," I said, drying my hands on my pants instead of taking any extra time to reach for a paper towel. I was beginning to think that perhaps he was a little mentally challenged to boot, even though you would never have suspected it from his speech or mannerisms. I quickly headed for the exit.

"They must know about my special talent," he said.

I stopped in my tracks for a spilt second, hand on the doorknob, momentarily torn between my desire to know what his special talent was and my desire to get the hell out of Dodge. I decided it was better not to know, nodded in his direction, and left the restroom. He followed me out into the store lobby.

"I'm thinking of hiring a lawyer and suing their asses," he added.

This brought up even more questions that I didn't need answers to. So I capped it off with "Oh well good luck with that!" and left the store.

When I pulled out of the parking lot he was standing outside the door, in the rain, watching me leave. If there had been ominous music playing on my car stereo, it would have been a scene right out of a bad horror movie. I could swear it even seemed to happen in slow motion. Let's hope his special talent isn't memorizing license plates.

I'm only posting this in case I disappear or turn up dead in the next couple weeks, you'll know where to start your investigation.

Thanks for listening.

Animated Friday (Parenting is Hard Edition)!

2008-11-07T17:40:00.001-06:00

I don't ever want kids. For many different reasons. Most likely because I'm utterly selfish at heart. But also because I know I'm so clumsy that it would be risky to allow any kid within five feet of me. Kinda like these parents:

Whhheeeeeeeee!

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The Future is Now

2008-11-05T08:19:00.000-06:00

Well last night certainly was exciting! It was a once-in-a-lifetime historical experience that we witnessed and will be talking about for years to come. Someday we will all be sitting around reminiscing about where we were and who we were with when it happened. I'm talking, of course, about when CNN unveiled its new Virtual View "Via Hologram" remote interview technique:

There I was, minding my own democratic business watching those blue state numbers pile up, when suddenly Wolf Blitzer beamed a distant correspondent into his studio for an interview. She even faded-in with an electronic poof, like Spock on Star Trek. Seriously, see it for yourself here:

The truth, or course, is that it was hardly a hologram at all. They simply used synced-up motion control cameras at two different locations to create the illusion. So Wolf was actually staring at nothing. Via Hologram, indeed.

In other exciting CNN news... man discovers a mouse in his buns!

The wrong prince.

2008-11-02T20:36:00.000-06:00

There was a time a few years back when I put a lot of effort into my Halloween costumes. But the era of crazy costume parties has ended, and so this year I spent Halloween evening eating spaghetti with friends and playing "spooky" games, which basically means Yahtzee by candlelight, which is more my speed these days.

But I was thinking about how all those old costumes were just rotting in storage, completely disregarded after all the time and money I spent perfecting them. So I figured I may as well wear one to my friend's house for spaghetti and spooky games. I decided upon my Prince outfit (sorry, to avoid copyright infringement it's actually called a "Purple Reign Rocker" costume), because it's comfortable like pajamas but still flashy enough to make a statement, only this time without the hassle of the accompanying wig or face makeup.

The problem is that I had to make a couple of stops on the way to my friend's house, and for some reason it was even more embarrassing to be out in public dressed as Prince without the accompanying wig and makeup, because A) I had nothing to hide behind, and because B) without the wig and makeup I was basically just some dude in a creepy faux-velvet jumpsuit with lacy accents.

The line at the liquor store was longer than expected and I was getting a lot of strange looks. When I finally got up to the register, the older humorless cashier inquired "So what are you supposed to be?" I quietly said "Prince" and handed him my debit card. He looked confused and said "Aren't you missing something? Like hair and makeup?" So deciding to diffuse the situation with a lame joke I said "Oh no, I'm Prince William." He slowly looked me up and down and without cracking a smile he simply replied "Oh" and handed me my receipt.

Then at the grocery store, I noticed a family in the produce aisle. The dad and the kid were not dressed up but the mom was in full Cinderella regalia. She was really getting into the part, too, flittering around, making grand gestures and speaking in a creepy high voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her notice me in my purple ensemble and a regrettable amount of eye-contact was made. She must have thought we had some sort of unspoken kinship being that we were both dressed up, but she was mistaken because I am not at all a fan of Disney Princesses or people who dress up like them. Plus her voice was really creeping me out.

When she got close she did a weird royal gesture with her arm and squeaked "Hellllooooo!" But people were starting to stare and my wig was at home and I didn't feel comfortable enough to return her enthusiasm, so I said "Sorry, wrong kind of prince." She didn't get the joke and the awkwardness multiplied exponentially.

Note to self: always wear the wig or leave the purple jumpsuit at home.

Animated Friday (Halloween Horrors Edition)!

2008-10-31T07:33:00.001-05:00

It's fun to scare people on Halloween...

...Because you never know what reaction you're going to get!

As a bonus, and with an advance apology, here are some non-animated Halloween Horrors for you to enjoy:

Non-Animated Halloween Horror #1:
Creepy Half-Robot Dance Partner

Non-Animated Halloween Horror #2:
Dreadlocks Gone Horribly, Horribly Wrong

Non-Animated Halloween Horror #3:
Zombie Bird On The Loose (This one is too gross to post upfront so I'm going to make you click to view it. You've been forewarned.)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Great Minds Think Alike

2008-10-30T23:09:00.001-05:00

The other day at Subway I was crabby about something unrelated when I noticed how my Sandwich Artist was placing the slices of cheese on my six-incher. They were all overlapping and stupid and it totally defeated the point of having the cheese slices cut into triangular shapes in the first place. The idiocy of it all made me inexplicably angry, but I bit my tongue because I didn't want to be the crazy guy at the fast food restaurant, like that lady who called 911 when Burger King wouldn't make her sandwich her way.

Anyway, I swallowed my anger (literally and figuratively) until I got home and decided to design a diagram to illustrate my complaint more efficiently, but a quick Google search revealed that someone has beat me to the punch:

At least now I know that I'm not alone in my crusade.

And yes, I had too much time on my hands that day and I'm feeling much better now.

Palindromed

2008-10-27T22:58:00.003-05:00

Oh my god, someone somewhere has discovered something brilliant.

[fp]

Not my discovery, but at the very least I can pass it on to aid in its dissemination. It needs to be heard all across the land. Someone running for vice president of one of the most influencial countries in the world just got their first passport ever last year. Yay for America where anything can happen!

Animated Friday (Birthday Bummer Edition)!

2008-10-24T12:11:00.000-05:00

In honor of my blog's belated birthday last week, I'm dedicating this week's animated Friday to birthday bummers:

The Stealthy Attack

The Not-So-Stealthy Attack

Ctrl-V

2008-10-20T12:30:00.000-05:00

I'm at the car dealership over my lunch hour getting an oil change and I was using one of the computers in the waiting area to check my email when I hit Ctrl-V, and this is what popped up:

"Cheezie -- im gonna nibble ur nubz off"

What are nubz?

I also found these images on the harddrive of this communal computer:

I don't know if this guy is the aforementioned "Cheezie" of if he is the one wanting to do the nub nibblin' or if he's totally unrelated, but I like to keep my bottles and cups on the kitchen floor, too. Why not? And then there's this pic:

This picture seems to depict a Halloween party, and if I'm not mistaken, that girl is wearing a Sexy Ghostbuster costume, which means that the Sexy Halloween costume meme has finally jumped the shark. It reminds me of this series of images that I created last year.

Public computers are fun.

Congratulations are in order.

2008-10-16T14:46:00.002-05:00

I went to the gym today without incident.

To celebrate, I'm going to post these pics of a super cute asian baby and some dick with chopsticks:

Pure Class

2008-10-14T06:44:00.001-05:00

The company I work for celebrated its 10th anniversary this weekend, and although I have a history of regrettable work party behavior, I think that this year I conducted myself with a relatively high amount of integrity, professionalism, and decorum.

Hey, I said relatively.

Anyway, happy anniversary and congratulations to everyone involved.

Six and Still Sexy!

2008-10-12T16:26:00.003-05:00

I don't know what to say. I mean, I know I was busy traveling the globe over the last month, and I was sick for a week to boot. Plus, work has really been all-consuming lately. But I really should stop making excuses for my unforgivable behavior. I obviously don't even know how I could let it happen, but I have to confess that I've forgotten my blog's birthday.

Planetdan officially turned six on September 20th, 2008, and I didn't get it a present. I didn't take it to dinner. I didn't even bother to utter the words Happy Birthday. I can only hope that with time it will forgive me. I will start my act on contrition by throwing a party in its favor, but I don't know what you guys are going to do to get back into its good graces. Good luck with that, though.

Animated Friday (Not Funny but Fascinating Edition)!

2008-10-10T16:21:00.000-05:00

Not all animated GIFs feature pratfalls and . Some are purely edumacational. Such as:

The slow-motion physics of water-balloons

The power of tornadoes and the danger of crossing their path

The creepiness of high-tech robots

See? Now don't you feel like a more well-rounded person for having seen those?

Fist-Pumpin' Fun

2008-10-08T07:30:00.001-05:00

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of Obama. I think he's a genuine fella and I think he did an okay job in the debates last night. But I don't think I've ever seen anyone pull off a natural-looking "fist pump". It's just not a believable form of solidarity for anyone over forty. Or under forty for that matter:

Or maybe it's just me.

Pastiche

2008-10-05T15:31:00.002-05:00

I spent the last couple weeks in Italy. There was wine-tasting and day-tripping and grape-eating and lack-of-sleeping and lard-eating and euro-spending and garden-strolling and cocktail-sipping and gourmet-eating and oh-my-god-I'm-so-effing-exhausted-I-wanna-die-but-I-swear-I'm-not-complaining.

Rather than posting the usual random collection of photos featuring people you don't know and events you didn't get to take part in, I tried to recreate some of the beautiful scenery you missed by stitching together collections of photos I took of my favorite Italian places. Be sure to click on them for bigger, more engrossing versions:

Viterbo, Tuscany:

Sant' Antimo, Tuscany:

Sistine Chapel, Rome:

Assissi, Tuscany:

The Etruscan Terrace, Vatican:

See? It's just like you were there, isn't it? I still might post the usual random collection of photos featuring people you don't know and events you didn't get to take part in, but I gotta get rid of this headcold and jetlag first.

Animated Friday (Slacker Pothead Edition)!

2008-10-04T15:19:00.002-05:00

It seems like all the animated GIFs I come across lately seem to feature painful falls by random idiots. I've been trying to find less violent files that feature less annoying people, just for the sake of variety, but I guess beggars can't be choosers, so here we go again.

Stay off the drugs, kids, cuz:

Mary Jane Gives you Bad Ideas.

and False Confidence.

Pothead slackers are funny.

Tuscano

2008-09-23T12:27:00.002-05:00

Things I saw today in Tuscany:

Grapes off the vine:

Modern art in the country:

Pig butt:

I also ate some sort of raw lard that was really grody.

Under the Tuscan Sun

2008-09-22T11:29:00.003-05:00

Guess where I am? That's right, I've gone all Diane Lane and I'm galavanting around Tuscany. Actually, I've never seen that movie, so I have no idea what that means or what it suggests I might be doing. Really, I'm just trying to make the point that I am in Tuscany and you are not:

It took over 22 hours of solid traveling just to get here, but it was worth it. This is where I am staying tonight:

Pretty, no?

Animated Friday (I Feel Your Pain Edition)!

2008-09-19T08:02:00.000-05:00

In honor of yesterday's traumatic event, I'm posting this animated GIF in a vain attempt to make myself feel better:

Why do they gotta make those exercize machines so darned complicated?

My Nightmare, Actualized

2008-09-18T20:02:00.005-05:00

My dad called me "chunky" the other day. It turned out to be a bigger motivator than I would have thought, because it actually got me to go back to the gym. Not that I'm grateful he said it or anything, but it's an impressive feat because it cannot be overstated how much I hate the gym.

In the past year I've used my gym membership maybe four times, and in my extended absence my balance and dexterity haven't exactly improved. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised at what happened. And what happened was awful. Today was the day my worst gym nightmare came true.

I was doing some sort of chest press exercise on a weight machine when I noticed a man hovering to the side of me. He was clearly waiting for his turn to blast his pecs, and he didn't look none too patient about it. I anxiously finished my set and stood up to wipe down the machine, but I could feel the man's eyes boring into the back of my skull and I got nervous and distracted, so when I turned to leave I forgot that I was still straddling part of the machine. My body lurched and I went down hard, like a sack of potatoes.

There are two things you need to know in order to accurately picture how awful this was: 1) I'm an excessive sweater, so after having previously spent 30 minutes on the elliptical machine my shirt was fully saturated with nary a dry spot, and 2) The flooring in my gym is this black foam rubber material that might be easy to clean but isn't exactly forgiving. So when my body hit the floor it made a loud, wet smacking sound, almost akin to the smack you might hear the moment a "chunky" bellyflopper hits the surface of the water.

With my cheek flat to the ground, I heard the hovering man say "Aw, man, you alright?" But I had to keep my cool so I quickly stood up and shook it off with a forcedly casual "Oh yeah, man, I'm fine." Then he cryptically said "you left a mark," which I immediately interpreted as meaning I had injured myself. I quickly scanned my legs for blood or bruises but everything seemed to be in order. That's when I noticed he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at the floor. When I followed his gaze and looked down, I saw this:

I didn't wait around to see how long it took to evaporate. I think I'm permanently done with the gym.

The Palin Effect... on my blog.

2008-09-14T15:12:00.009-05:00

I'm trying to avoid politics on my blog, but I saw this the other day and laughed out loud:

And while I do agree with the political statement being implied by the above graphic, I think it's actually the Bush-in-drag imagery that I really responded to. I know this because the following bit of genius photoshoppery, which I also cannot take credit for creating, makes me laugh hysterically every time I look at it:

He almost makes a more handsome woman than a president. Actually, he definitely makes a more handsome woman than a president.

And on the same subject of politics: my friend told me I needed to create a Falling Sarah Palin screensaver to go with my arsenal of other falling politican screensavers, so I said "Sure, but what should I have her falling on?" and she abuptly said "Fetuses." So introducing:

The Falling Sarah Palin Screensaver: Fetus Edition
But even though I'm proud that I was Flash-savvy enough to make the amniotic sac transparent, I think it's still kinda gross to look at, and actually probably makes a stronger political statement than I am really ready to stand by right now. So in order to soften it up a bit, I remembered Palin's pandering to soccer moms and tried another idea:

The Falling Sarah Palin Screensaver: Soccer Mom Edition
But that was almost playing it too safe. I wanted it to be edgy without being offensive, and floaty soccer balls just weren't cutting the mustard. But then I had one final brainstorm:

The Falling Sarah Palin Screensaver: Pitbull Edition
Bingo! That's the effect I was going for.

I really don't like Sarah Palin, but then I really don't like most Republicans. But that's about as political as I'm going to get on my blog this campaign season. Oh, and in case you missed it, this is probably the funniest that Saturday Night Live has been in a long time.

Animated Friday (Flat On Your Face Edition)!

2008-09-12T12:59:00.001-05:00

Last week's animated GIFs were of my favorite subject: people falling down. But they were too seemingly painful to really fully enjoy. I think this crop of slightly-less-graphic animated clips might ellicit a more guilt-free LOL, but it really depends on how sympathetic you are toward:

Middle-Aged Women with No Upper Body Strength

Douchebags Showing Off On the Beach

Utter Morons

iPod, Circa 1973

2008-09-09T18:06:00.001-05:00

I'm confused as to why I am so in love with my new 1973 Seeburg Matador Jukebox and all the classic 45s that it plays. I know I just got it last Sunday, but I can't stop looking at it and fondling it and dreaming about it and rubbing up against it:

What confuses me is that it basically does the same job as my iPod, yet it's a thousand times bigger, a million times heavier, holds over 59,000 less songs, sounds crappier, and is harder to find music for. And yet I love it so much more.

Five people nearly died trying to get it into my house, and I appreciate it dearly. I told them they will each get three free song plays for their efforts.

And wait until Christmas when I stock it full of Xmas tunes! Until then, you can see which songs I stocked it with for the inaugural juke party (dates to be determined) by clicking here.

But don't mock my taste in music. Most of those records were purchased in the 80's.

Other People's Puppies

2008-09-08T23:56:00.004-05:00

I never really want to own a dog of my own, but I've decided that next to pugs, other people's chihuahua puppies are the cutest things I have ever seen in my life.

Of course, they are way cuter when you can see them in action and without my big ugly mug in the way:

When I originally purchased my home, I purposely looked for a fenced-in backyard in the hopes that I would one day buy a dog. But after a few years of dog-sitting for friends and family, I'd seen enough poo-eating and heard enough guilt-inducing whimpering to know that dog life was just not for me. So now I just make do by appreciating other people's puppies. And videos of other people's puppies. You know me. I'm down with OPP and OPPV like that.

Animated Friday (Bring on the Pain Edition)!

2008-09-05T12:08:00.003-05:00

I like watching people fall down, but these three GIFs are on the verge of looking too painful to be funny, yet I can't stop watching them. Does that make me a sadist even if I don't laugh?

Bring on the Pain 1

Bring on the Pain 2

Bring on the Pain 3

IDK, my BFF Jesus?

2008-09-03T23:35:00.000-05:00

I love stuff like this. If I were to ever begin collecting anything, it would be a collection of all the embarrassingly pathetic attempts by the church to make Jesus seem hip to kids. Power Tip: It can't be done.

What I think confuses me the most is the anachronism of Jesus being dressed in business casual, yet still rocking that historically inaccurate flowy mane-and-beard combo. So he's still instantly recognizable as Jesus, yet he eerily resembles your lame cubemate, Dave.

Also, Jesus would be a total Mac snob. Duh.

Creepiness in Perpetuity: My Gift to the Community

2008-09-04T08:30:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, a seemingly nice Mexican family moved in next door. Trying to be neighborly, I made several half-assed attempts to wave and smile whenever I encountered them outside, but I had gotten very little response. They always just looked back confused, as if wondering to themselves, "Why is that guy I don't know always smiling and waving at me and my kids? He's kinda creepy."

A breakthrough occurred last week when I was mowing my lawn. I looked up to see the woman of the family running toward me, waving her arms, wild-eyed and panicked. Over the roar of my mower's engine I could hear her shouting "Meester! Meester!"

She looked so desperate that my initial thought was "Oh shit, did I mow over her cat or something?" But that seemed like something I would have noticed. So my second thought was that something terrible must have happened and she needed help, like her baby wasn't waking up, or someone had accidentally chopped off a finger. And just so you know, I am not a good person to turn to in times of crisis. I mostly just freeze up.

So I apprehensively turned off my lawnmower, and once the noise of the engine subsided the woman finally stopped waving her arms. That's when she looked me square in the face with all the seriousness of a sledgehammer and asked, "Meester... do you know how to tie a tie?"

I was sweaty with dirt and stinking of gasoline, but I spent the next 15 minutes face to face with her husband, who not only did not know how to tie a tie but had clearly never worn one before either, because I had to do everything for him, from buttoning-up his shirt to adjusting the back of his collar.

And when I say face to face, I mean facetoface. Like newlyweds in the morning, I literally stood so close in front of him while adjusting his neckwear that my sweaty forehead bumped into his chin at one point. He just kept his eyes closed tight and grimaced uncomfortably, like it was a rectal exam he just needed to suffer through or something.

When all was said and done, the tie ended up being a little too long (almost reaching his crotch), but I wasn't about to go through that awkward experience twice, so I just said "There, all done!" He looked in the mirror and studied my handiwork while his wife clapped in gratitude. "You saved! You saved!" she said. I went back to my yardwork, proud to have lent a helping hand.

Now when I wave at the woman outside, she waves back enthusiastically, but the man seems more scared than ever to make eye contact. In fact I swear I saw him run back inside his house the other day after he walked outside to find me checking my mailbox.

He'll probably never attend another formal event again out of fear he might find himself face to face with the creepy tie-master again. Oh well. At least I know I did my part for the community!

Animated Friday (For the Birds Edition)!

2008-08-29T12:24:00.001-05:00

I happen to think that most birds are nothing more than winged vermin, but I guess on occasion they can be pretty. From far away. And if they aren't chirping incessantly or dive-bombing at my head. But I don't actually harbor any ill will toward the poor creatures, as this series of animated GIFs might imply:

Golf is for the birds.

Baseball is for the birds.

Melodramatic ceremonies are for the birds.

Walking Around with a Heart On

2008-08-28T10:42:00.003-05:00

The other day I found myself amongst a small group of people who were getting a tour of a friend's new home when she started to brag about the good deal she got on her mattress. "Yeah, we totally scored on that bed," was her prideful boast. "I'll bet you did," was my lascivious reply.

It wasn't as bad as this lady's on-air slip of the tongue, but it was still kinda funny:

Battle of the Bees

2008-08-26T12:04:00.002-05:00

A month or two ago I got stung by a bee in my own backyard. It hurt. I felt a prick, looked down, and the little fella was stuck to the back of my calf (wait - do calves have fronts? Or are those shins?). Anywho, I flicked him away and limped back to my house, clutching my leg with a painful grimace.

Bees: 1 Dan: 0

I had done nothing to warrant an attack, so out of curiosity I ventured back outside a few days later to investigate. I saw a few bees hovering around the dilapidated wooden stairs that lead up toward my alley. When I got closer and stepped on the top stair itself, a dozen bees poured out from beneath it, and I ran screaming - arms literally flailing - back into my house.

Bees: 2 Dan: 0

A couple weeks later my lawn was getting out of control and I needed to mow, so I could avoid the situation no longer. I bought a can of the appropriate Raid pest-control poison and ventured out back once again. In order to get the right angle to spray the poison underneath the top stair, I had to do it from my neighbor's lawn, on the other side of a chain link fence. The angle was tricky, and as soon as I got anywhere near the area, a few angry bees would come out to investigate. But I can be brave when necessary, so I steeled (stole?) my nerves and began spraying the caustic chemicals through the fence and as close to the base of the top stair as I could manage. Immediately the bees started pouring out, dropping to their deaths one by one as they hit the steady stream of lethal poison.

Even though I was managing to stay on top of the growing swarm with my excellent Raid shooting skills, the sheer number of bees was beginning to disturb me, so at some point, and without realizing, I started to scream. I was already narrowly avoiding sheer panic when suddenly the steady stream of poison from my spray can started to dwindle. At the same time the steady stream of bees from the hidden nest under the wooden stair started to surge. Anticipating defeat, I dropped my spray can and ran from my neighbor's backyard into my house, slamming the door behind me. When I realized I was still screaming, I stopped doing that, too.

A few hours later, I peeked outside to see if the swarm was still active and noticed that the empty can of Raid had disappeared from my neighbor's backyard. This meant that either the bees had carried it off to their nest as a trophy, or that my neighbor had witnessed the entire scene in his backyard and picked it up himself. I wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

Bees: 3 Dan: 0

Unsure of how many bees I killed or if I had managed to make their hive uninhabitable by emptying an entire can of Raid onto the mouth of their hidden lair, I waited another week to investigate. Cunningly, I got a long push broom and swiped at the top stair once again. A handful of bees flew out, and the next thing I knew I was in my basement shivering.

Bees: 4 Dan: 0

My friends told me that I should try again, but that I should wait until dawn or dusk to attack. So I bought another can of Raid, and planned my attack for early morning. I rigged the can of Raid with some duct tape and a dowel so that, when activated, the can could spray on its own. My new strategy was going to be a gonzo attack from my own yard: if I could get close enough, and while wearing protective rubber kitchen gloves of course, I could start the spray, drop it right at the mouth of the presumed nest under the top stair, and then cackle maniacally as the can automatically emptied its poisonous payload directly into the belly of the beast.

I got the spray can positioned and spraying with only a couple bees taking notice, and it all seemed to be going as planned until about halfway through the emptying process when the can flipped itself over and rolled down the slope and away from the nest, spewing poison in every direction possible, and once again sending me screaming into the safety of my home.

Bees: 5 Dan: ?

I've since been monitoring the area fairly regularly. From afar, I can see no activity. At closer inspection, not a single bee exits from the beneath the stair to investigate me. Feeling bold, I even stomped on the top stair once, and again nothing happened. Apparently my gonzo attack plan had worked.

But today I went outside to take out the garbage. Upon returning to my back door I noticed a dead squirrel on my patio. So now all day long I've been wondering: unrelated coincidence, or are the bees upping the ante? Was that dead squirrel my final horse-head-in-the-bed warning?

Bees: ? Dan: ?

Animated Friday (Big Inflated Ball Edition)!

2008-08-22T12:15:00.002-05:00

Today's animated GIFs come with what should be a standard disclaimer: Beware of the Big Bouncy Ball. They aren't as harmless as they look.

Sometimes You See It Coming

Sometimes You Don't See It Coming

Sometimes You Had It Coming

Wine Country

2008-08-21T08:06:00.004-05:00

I went all Sideways last weekend and spent a few days in the Sonoma/Napa region of California gurgling wine.

This will help you feel like you were there right along with me:

I also marvelled at some Sonoma art:

And some Sonoma scenery. Well, this is actually at the coast, but I'm the real scenery of this photo anyway:

I also tried to take in some Sonoma culture, but we missed their famous accordion festival by only one week. So this statue had to make do in the mean time:

In summary: I like wine.

Animated Friday (Belated Back to the Basics Edition)!

2008-08-13T07:14:00.000-05:00

My work and travel schedules have my brain all in a bundle these last couple weeks so even though it's not Friday today, it feels like one, and since I missed last week, I might as well just post these early...

Let's get back to the animated GIF basics of people falling down:

I shouldn't make fun of this guy, because this is totally dan playing soccer...

I shouldn't make fun of this guy, because somebody totally glued his slippers to the floor...

Someday I'll get back on the right schedule, I'm sure.

Not Recommended

2008-08-12T08:19:00.000-05:00

I feel like a daredevil even when I use a ladder properly, so in my estimation, these people are effin' batso:

Hooray for hair-brained ingenuity, the bread and butter of planetdan!

Lollapalooza '08 - The VIP Treatment

2008-08-06T08:18:00.000-05:00

Truth be told, I'm a total wuss. The prospect of standing in heat and dirt for three days straight with thousands of sweaty, annoying hipsters (myself included) was all too unappealing, so I managed to talk Erik into upgrading to the VIP Lollalounge tickets at $850 a pop. I justified this with some lame/exaggerated math to insinuate that the three-day cost of regular tickets, booze, water, and food would equal something close to that anyway. Plus the cherry on top is that we would be guaranteed a good view of the shows. These all turned out to be false assumptions, for various reasons.

The VIP Lollalounge tickets were advertised as including the following:

• Lounge Seating
• Lunch and Dinner Buffets
• Beer, Wine, and Water
• Specialty Libations
• Air Conditioned Restrooms
• Viewing Platform
• Mini-spa Treatments
• Much more

It's true there was Lounge Seating, but not enough for all ticket holders. If you wanted a chair you pretty much had to arrive early and park your butt in one all day long. And the Viewing Platform was located directly under the blazing sun and practically packed with parked asses all day long as well, which was just fine since the actual "view" from the viewing platform wasn't exactly spectacular. In fact, the angle and distance made it almost impossible to see the stages at all.

The Lunch and Dinner Buffets were actually satisfying and tasty, although they did occasionally run out of certain menu items (such as tortilla shells for the fajitas) if you didn't arrive early enough, and the Wine and Beer were indeed free if you consider Bud and Bud Lite to be beer. Plus you were pressured to tip the servers, which turned the "free booze" into just a really good extended happy hour. The Specialty Libations were kinda barfy: basically unpleasant-tasting vodka or SOCO with your choice of Vitamin Water mixer. But they worked in a pinch.

The real problem with the booze is that they wouldn't let you carry it out of the Lollalounge, which meant you had to chug a beer in between sets and then hightail it back into the crowd and stand thirsty until the end of the show. After a while, we concocted the clever scheme of replacing the Lemonade Vitamin Water with vodka drinks in order to sneak them out of the lounge, which made me feel 18 again, and not in a good way. After charging someone $850 with the promise of free booze, this was beyond lame, especially since you could barely even see the show from the lounge itself, which meant you basically had to make the choice between drinking free booze and actually seeing the concert.

The Mini-Spa Treatments were ten minute back rubs, that also required gratuity, and as for Much More, I have no idea what they are talking about, unless they mean the free hats and mats that Blackstone Wine handed out.

The Air-Conditioned Restrooms were totally awesome.

All in all, the VIP Treatment was probably worth about two hundred extra bucks, and did very little to increase my enjoyment of the experience. In fact, my best times were had outside the Lollalounges.

And of course, I was secretly hoping there would be celebrities in there, because I can be a total gossip whore. Apparently god saw fit to deliver me a worthy celebrity sighting after all, because I caught a glimpse of this guy from The Daily Show and Upright Citizens Brigade:

Apparently his name is Matt Walsh and he was also in Old School, although for $850 a ticket you think they could have gotten one of the Olson Twins, or at least let me sit on Perry Ferrell's crusty old lap for a song or two.

Apparently $850 doesn't get you what it used to these days. I blame high gas prices.

Lollapalooza '08 - The Fashion

2008-08-05T19:39:00.000-05:00

Basically, the fashion at Lollapalooza was anything that went well with sweat and dirt, because it was like 95 degrees and dusty, all day every day.

Luckily, they gave away neck-saving cowboy hats in the VIP area:

Hip! And mostly, the guys who had the balls just went shirtless. I did not go shirtless. But I teased a tad with a flirty open-front shirt ensemble a couple times. Erik was confident about being sans-top in person, but forbade me to include any nipples in pictures, which I accidentally captured on video:

And then there was this guy, whose chest shaving pattern was ill advised, to say the least, and a true disaster in personal grooming:

I'm all for manscaping, but in the future I'd advise a more-subtle/less-bikini-toppy approach.

Lollapalooza '08 - The Music

2008-08-05T18:50:00.002-05:00

One of my resolutions for 2008 was to see Radiohead in concert. I thought it was going to be an easy task, which is why I resolved to do it, since I'm quite lazy, but little did I know that it would take a plane ticket, a five day vacation, and well over a thousand dollars to accomplish it.

Festival concerts can be exhausting, and since I'm only 5' 7" and a good three inches shorter than your average fella, most of my view at the festival was either the back of some bong-smoker's head or a ginormatron:

I like music, though, so all's well that ends well. The highlights of the concert were The Go! Team, Jamie Lidell, and Kanye West, although I must admit the Kanye show was so great mostly because I was so drunk.

And then of course there were Radiohead:

It was a tad surreal watching them play Fake Plastic Trees while packt like sardines in a sweaty crowd with fireworks in the background and helicopters overhead. Of course the sound totally blew out my cheap camera mic so it sounds kinda like poop, but trust me, it wasn't:

Sigh. During the three days, we took in:

Friday:
Rogue Wave (good)
The Go! Team (surprisingly great)
Duffy (heard but not seen)
The Black Keys (heard but not seen)
Gogol Bordello (pretty energetic, but really not my thing)
Mates of State (one of my favorite bands, but not appropriate for Lollapalooza)
Bloc Party (good, but really just a long wait until Radiohead)
Radiohead (unforgettable)

Saturday:
MGMT (good)
Brand New (ok, but a little too emo for me)
Jamie Lidell (surprisingly incredible)
Broken Social Scene (heard but not seen)
Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings (super fun)
Wilco (slightly boring, but at least nobody got crushed like they did at the competing Rage concert)

Sunday:
Brazilian Girls (pleasant sounds but kinda yawn-worthy)
Amadou & Mariam (heard but not seen)
Black Kids (Erik called them "tight")
Iron & Wine (too quiet for Lollapalooza... too quiet for pretty much anywhere)
Gnarls Barkley (played some nice covers, drew a huge crowd)
Mark Ronson (lots of fun and cuss words)
Kanye West (a drunken delight)

Lollapalooza '08

2008-08-05T18:36:00.002-05:00

Forgive my short absence, but I was in Chicago (what Kanye might call Chi-Town) at Lollapalooza for the last five days, listening to music, drinking cheap beer, showing off a little skin, and building up some of those black crusty dust-boogers that you tend to get at festival concerts.

I'll post a few things about the whole experience soon, but first a kind thank you to Erik for putting up with me and my inconvenient, soup-fearing neuroses.

And he makes good meatloaf.

Pieces of Flair

2008-07-28T08:06:00.001-05:00

I'm a tad late in jumping on the Facebook bandwagon. This is probably due to the fact that I knew I would spend way too much time on it if I were to ever create an account. This turned out to be the case, as evidenced by the two hours I spent on Saturday morning creating my very own "Pieces of Flair" bulletin board:

It was may more fun than it had any right to be. But they had so many awesome buttons that my bulletin board just isn't big enough. I think my favorite piece of flair is the one that says "You boys like tongue?" because I never realized how funny that line was out of context.

I also like the one that says ))<>(( because that scene cracks my shit up every time.

And as you might be able to tell, I even made a few homemade planetdan buttons. Can you pick them out?

Jebus, I'm a nerd.

Animated Friday (Back to the Bikes Edition)!

2008-07-25T11:54:00.002-05:00

I've made the mistake of revealing my opinion on motorcycles and motorcyclists before: deathtraps for deathwishers. But I won't get into that again. I'll just keep posting proof:

Sometimes it's better to just let go.

I repeat:

Sometimes it's better to just let go.

And yes, I know that first vehicle actually has three wheels. But this only helps to prove the four-wheel-minimum rule.

A Tale of Two Fails

2008-07-23T08:02:00.001-05:00

I drive by this stupid railing nearly every day, and nearly every day I dream that real life had a photoshop "skew" transformation function so that I could fix it with the click my mouse:

I don't know what idiot installed it, but he clearly has no remedial concept of structural stability. I should set up a video camera to capture the eventual/comical collapse on the day when some poor old lady relies a little too heavily on this deathtrap for support.

And speaking of bad ideas in my very own neighborhood, this is perhaps not the best idea for a personalized license plate:

That driver better be a teetotaller, otherwise he's just askin' for it. It's a good thing "Drunk & Speeding" is too long to fit on a license plate.

Or is this supposed to be like the sedan version of The Scarlet Letter?

Ba Ba Ba

2008-07-22T08:48:00.001-05:00

Have you ever been out drinking or at a wedding reception or something and it gets to that part of the evening where everyone is just drunk enough to think that participating in a bar-wide singalong is a good idea? And that's when the DJ slips Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline into the set just to watch the drunken mass make a collective fool of itself?

Now imagine if that bar were large enough to hold 50,000 people...

We went to see Neil Diamond for jBall's birthday. It was a great show actually, although the average age of the audience probably hovered in the 45-50 range, and he didn't play my favorite Soolaimon, and the third encore chorus of Sweet Caroline might have been a tad over the top...

But then what is Neil Diamond if not over the top?

Happy birfday jBalls!

ps. That vintage performance youtube link to Soolaimon is definitely worth a look, if only for dood faking the bongos.

Animated Friday!

2008-07-18T11:20:00.000-05:00

Why do babies always gotta be hogging the spotlight?

My bet would be that the owner of that baby pushed her kid head-first into the cake just to get the cameraman to focus on her sweet little blessing of a miracle again. People with babies are all about hoarding attention, you know.

Bonus Animated GIF:
Prince is a sexy tease, and don't you forget it.

I applaud him for attempting to make the bare-midriff a crossover fashion trend.

It's Alive!

2008-07-17T20:59:00.001-05:00

Something strange is afoot on my mantle. My used fake breast seems to be self-inflating:

And the level of the liquid inside seems to be waning still, too. But there is no leak to be found anywhere and the mantle itself shows no sign of staining. I'm certain there is some scientific explanation for this phenomenon, some evaporation/osmosis/barometric pressure solution I would guess, but my main concern is that this trend will continue until the eventual explosion of said used fake breast, and I'd rather prevent that from happening if at all possible.

So if there is a physics expert out there who might be able to explain to me what gives and if I should seek shelter, that would be helpful, kthnxbye.

ps. I find it sad that my breast implant posts seem to trigger a lot of mail-order Asian bride ads.

For a Single Benjamin

2008-07-15T20:59:00.000-05:00

Someone offered my friend JW a hundred dollars to artificially create some male pattern balding on top of his own head for a week. The creepy moustache was also required. I hope.

Now here's where I have to make a decision. Do I turn this into a "What would you do for one hundred dollars" post? Or do I go the route of "What would dan look like if he did the same thing" post? I think I will do both:

First, it's actually an interesting experiment to face your inevitable future head on like that. Luckily, JW's head has a good size and shape. But on the flip side, I feel very fortunate to have a full head of hair on top of my gargantuan, lumpy noggin, and no trace of male pattern baldness in my family's genetic history, because I would not be able to wear it very well. At all. I photoshopped the possibility, of course, but I have a feeling that even this poor recreation is nowhere near as unappealing as the reality would be:

It also got me thinking about what I would do for $100. Not this, of course. I wouldn't even shave my head for $1,000. An offer of $10,000 would probably be refused as well. Beyond that, my desire to hold onto my self-dignity starts to get a little foggy, and for some reason I start to care less and less about what I look like. So it would seem that the price of my dignity would be somewhere around the $30,000-$40,000 range.

You?

Learnin' Ain't Just Fer Kids Anymore

2008-07-13T20:59:00.009-05:00

We went to the Science Museum today, mostly just to visit the Star Wars Imagination exhibit:

But we also did some general learnin' and experimentin':

Sportin' a newscaster smile with a face born for television:

And as long as I was exercisin' my brain, I figure I may as well exercise my "abdominal brain" while I was at it:

From Star Wars to Antique Butt Plugs... all in all, it was a very satisfying day at the Science Museum. Anyway, there are even more pictures here.

Animated Friday (It's Harder Than It Looks Edition)!

2008-07-11T11:41:00.001-05:00

In spite of their titles, I don't think either of these GIFs are really inappropriate for work. But I guess that depends on where you work.

Stripping Is Hard

Streaking Is Hard

Read Without Prejudice, Vol. I

2008-07-08T08:20:00.002-05:00

I went to the George Michael concert last night.

The crowd was an odd mix of disco-dancing gay men and screaming dolled-up soccer moms. The few 100% straight men that were there seemed to be in gay panic mode, as evidenced by the conversation the man in front of me had with the bartender while I waited in line for a drink during the concert:

Bartender: So, how's the show?
Man in line: Fine I guess, not really my thing, man. Girlfriend made me bring her. The girlfriend really likes him. I don't see what the big deal is, but my girlfriend is screaming her lungs out.
Me (under my breath): Yeah, we get it, dood. You have a girlfriend.
Bartender: It's like the IceCapades. I tell my wife that there are two things keeping me from taking her to the IceCapades: my testicles.

Then they shared a hearty guffaw. Sign that bartender up for the Blue Collar Comedy Tour!

But back to the subject at hand: the concert itself was pretty darned good, except for the twenty minute intermission in the middle that totally killed the momentum of the show. I never heard of a concert with an intermission before, but I guess George ain't no spring chicken anymore. Fella needs a rest.

Subsequently, the second half dragged a bit, but overall the show reminded me of how many great songs George actually released nearly twenty years ago that still hold up today, despite the fact that the man himself is starting to look a little too much like Rue McClanahan these days:

When all is said and done, the man puts on a good show. And I can tell you that a few rediscovered George Michael tunes will definitely sneak there way onto my mix CDs over the next few months.

A Proposition

2008-07-06T23:11:00.000-05:00

This weekend I got propositioned by an unsober prostitute while waiting in my car at a corner in Uptown. I saw her approach the car in front of me in broad daylight. Her crack-ho outfit consisted of the typical short-shorts and a tank top with one strap falling carelessly off of her boney, malnourished shoulder. Her hair was dyed black, and from far away you could have easily mistook her for a goth hippie.

She knocked on his passenger-side window and waited patiently, but he didn't respond. When he drove away, forcing her backwards toward the curb, it didn't even phase her. So she moved onto my car, again knocking politely. I rolled down the window a crack and she peered in - her one eye was blinking about twice as fast as, and seemingly independent from, the other one. She didn't say anything. An awkward moment passed. Finally, I broke the silence. "Yes?" I asked her. "Can I help you?"

"Need a date?" she replied, after a beat, turning the entire question into one slurred word. Her teeth barely dotted the landscape of her gums.

"Need a dentist?" I wanted to reply, but that seemed cruel, and she was actually being quite polite.

"Need some penicillin?" would have been an appropriate reply, too, but the humor might have been lost on her, even with her assumingly vast experience with STDs.

"No thanks, I'm legume intolerant!" I thought about saying, cheekily, while adding a verbal rimshot sound effect, because even a down-on-her-luck crack-ho should experience a good clean chuckle at least once a day. But unfortunately I was on the spot and I couldn't actually remember if a date was a legume or some other kind of fruit.

"My Calender says July 5th!" could have been another groan-worthy attempt at humor, but that would have been a stretch, and by this point I had kept her awaiting an answer far too long, and I needed to be on my way anywho.

"Nope, but thanks for the offer," is all I could actually muster up the courage to say.

I could almost swear that she actually said "yer welcome" as I rolled up the window in her face and sped around the corner leaving her in a cloud of dust, but I can't be sure. It could have also been a profane threat. Or simply a grunt. It was hard to interpret due to her complete lack of facial expressions.

Anyway, it was my first hooker-at-my-car-window experience, and now I feel like I need to make a commemorative T-shirt:

And by "lousy" I mean lice-infected.

Happy 4th

2008-07-05T11:44:00.000-05:00

Hope you had a happy 4th. I did.

Animated Friday (Look Before You Leap Edition)!

2008-07-04T08:39:00.001-05:00

It's July 4th, but that doesn't mean we don't all need a good laugh at someone else's expense.

Look Before You Leap, Yo.

8 Beans or Less

2008-06-30T17:14:00.004-05:00

As an extra special treat, I brought some sugar-free jelly beans to a recent employee meeting. My coworker expressed surprise and said something about how I was being risky, and I was confused as to why she would say such a random thing. "Risky how?" I asked, so she whispered gently back, "those sugar-free things will give you diarrhea."

I was incredulous, but she directed me to a warning right on the package:

8 beans or less. I wonder if that ninth bean would send you over the edge? Luckily, I had only consumed three before the truth was revealed to me.

Now, I'd heard of fat-free potato chips and things causing "anal leakage", but this was new to me. Who eats just 8 beans? Why would anyone who knew this ever buy these beans? Why would they even manufacture them in the first place? Who on earth wants to eat diarrhea beans? Are the 50 calories you might save by choosing sugar-free over the regular old Jelly Bellies really worth getting butt rockets?

I think not.

Cooter Kickball Update

2008-06-29T15:02:00.002-05:00

I dropped out of Greasy Cooter Kickball (oops! apparently that site has been "suspended", whatever that means) a few seasons ago. There's just something about playing kickball at the age of 33 that seems a little uncool. So it would seem that it would break down like this:

Ages When Playing Kickball is Cool:
6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

Ages When You Are Pushing It:
4, 5, 19, 20, 30, 31, 32

Ages When Playing Kickball is Not Cool:
1, 2, 3, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 33 - 85

I'm guessing it ain't cool after 85, either, but at least at that point you'd get to take advantage of that "old dude playing kickball" thing, which could be a nice attention-grabber. I'll let you know. As for T-bone, he's only 32 so he's still going strong, although he's riding bitch now:

Animated Friday (Vantage Point Edition)!

2008-06-27T16:59:00.002-05:00

Sometimes we are lucky where embarrassing spills are caught on more than one camera and we get to debate which angle is funnier!

Angle A

Angle B

Random Comix

2008-06-26T12:55:00.000-05:00

Dunno why, but I thought these were funny.

In defense of my own idiocy.

2008-06-23T12:31:00.000-05:00

My friend J-Balls was telling us a story about how she had been training for an upcoming half-marathon by jogging around the lake with a friend when she passed local celebrity/weatherman Sven Sundgaard. Not one to be star-struck, she never broke her stride and just kept on running.

When coming around the bend of the lake for a second lap, they noticed Sven again. Only this time he was kneeling down on the side of the path taking a picture of a turtle coming out of a hole in the ground. As J-Balls jogged by the scene, Sven made some joke about "Snapper, anyone?", which still doesn't make much sense to me, but the girls tittered a bit and kept on running.

After their brief encounter with the famous weatherman and the turtle, J-Ball's friend said "Oh, we should have stopped and asked him what the weather is going to be like for the run this weekend," to which my confused response was, "Why would the turtle know?"

Yes, I realize it was a stupid response and that it was pretty obvious from the story that she was referring to the meteorologist and not the turtle, but in my defense she was a tad vague with her pronoun choice. And actually, I was focusing too much on the "turtle in a hole" aspect of the story, which I was somehow relating to a groundhog coming out of a hole and seeing its shadow to predict the weather. So in all actuality, my brain was working overtime to come up with such a idiotic response, not undertime.

My brain is just TOO efficient, you see.

Bloody Nipples and Legless Seagulls

2008-06-23T08:02:00.005-05:00

I went to Duluth to watch my friends run a half marathon this weekend. Watching marathons has turned into nothing more than a "spot the bloody nipples" event for me. It's like going to NASCAR just for the crashes.

But actually my friends did an impressive job running the half marathon and completely avoided any bloody nipples of their own; probably because we made them such awesomely motivating signs:

But mostly we just ate, drank, and fed the seagulls:

You might think that missing a leg would be a major detriment for a seagull, but I bet that thing gets a TON of pity food. Look at him. You can almost see him milking it for all it's worth. I wouldn't have been surprised to see him shed a single shiny tear, just for effect.

Anyway, congratulations ladies.

Sin Bingo

2008-06-22T20:59:00.002-05:00

Uh oh, I'm screwed.

The good news is that if this were a game of sinner Bingo, I could totally win. I'm not gonna tell you how, though. I'm obviously setting myself up for some wicked comments with this post, but whatever.

Happy Father's Day!

2008-06-15T18:19:00.004-05:00

I didn't find this, and I don't know who did so I can't give credit, but doesn't the Daily Mirror have editors? Anyway, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

And this image is seemingly unrelated, but it just further illustrates the fact that poor design can have disastrous results:

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Animated Friday (Near Miss Edition)!

2008-06-13T16:11:00.001-05:00

I've decided to label both of these animated GIFs as "near misses", even though their depictions are almost exactly opposite of each other, because the accepted use for the term "near miss" doesn't make a lick of sense. By definition of the words, a "near miss" would mean you actually almost missed something, which would mean you actually did hit something. Right?

Lucky Near Miss

Unlucky Near Miss

Apparently that second one was from a police cam during a high speed chase, so you don't have to feel too bad for the person.

The Half Rack

2008-06-10T22:33:00.001-05:00

I got a belated Christmas present this week. My friend got herself a new set of breast implants, and they had to remove the old ones. Somehow, I ended up being the lucky recipient of one discarded fake boob:

I was a little disturbed by the concept at first, but I was assured it had been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. That's when fascination took over.

It's nothing like I would have expected, actually. In fact, I have a few impressions to share:

1. It doesn't seem exactly bust-proof (no pun intended). Meaning: it feels like it could easily explode if I simply tossed it at the wall, or if it collided with a deployed air bag or something, but I'm not about to squeeze it until it bursts to find out.

2. All those Law & Order and CSI shows are full of BS. They are always identifying Jane Doe bodies on that show from "serial numbers" on implants. There are no serial numbers to be found anywhere on this thing. I call foul.

3. It's got air in it, which makes it all sloshy. I was surprised by this fact because you wouldn't think that a girl would want to sound like a bra-full of water balloons if she was running around or bouncing or something. She claims it didn't have any air in it when they first removed it, which leads me to believe that it's either leaking or that it's somehow evaporating outside of its rubbery shell. Whatever the case me be, it wouldn't make me feel too confident about breast implants in general if I were a lady.

Right now it adorns my mantle. I was going to use it as a paperweight, unless someone else has a better idea? It probably won't be around forever, though, considering the mysteriously vanishing fluid issue.

Oh, and for the record, her replacement implants look very nice indeed.

ps. I fear what this post will do to my targeted website ads on the right. I guess we can only wait and see.

Grasping At Straws

2008-06-07T23:01:00.003-05:00

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of a whore for attention. "Whore" is maybe too strong a word. Perhaps I'm just slutty for attention. Whatever the case may be, I used to get a lot of traffic to my blog because of my Senior Pics satire site. But I had to take that down for legal reasons. Then I got a lot of attention for the Falling Bush screensaver. But that cat is almost out of office and I'm beginning to see that candle dimming. So in not-so-quiet desperation, and as a lame attempt to keep my new readership rates up for at least another four years, I've created Falling Obama:

I tried to dress him in the preferred attire from his "Barry" days:

Initially I had decked him out with an afro and everything, but for some reason I was afraid that people would think I was trying to make him look like a pimp and accuse me of racism or something, so I wussed out. And don't worry, I plan on coming up with something new and brilliant to quench my irrational thirst for attention, too. Any day now.

If you think that is creepy, you should see what what I did with McCain.

Urobouros

2008-06-03T08:59:00.003-05:00

Nature is beautiful.

And stupid as f#@k.

I actually saw this happening at the zoo once. It was in a reptile exhibit specifically for kids to learn and fondle and pet, but one poor snake was eating its own tail. Our snake expert tourguide kept unwrapping the snake and pulling its tail free, but the stupid thing kept curling right back up to devour itself. Or maybe it wasn't so stupid after all. Maybe it just hated that lame plexiglass box and all those sweaty little kid fingers.

On a side note, it was on that very same field trip to the zoo that I watched a monkey pound himself in his privates for like twenty minutes. It didn't look all that pleasant but the monkey didn't seem to mind. The little girl next to me asked her guardian what the monkey was doing and the guy replied, "That's how monkeys communicate, it's like sign language." Back then that seemed like a good enough explanation, but I just hope that poor little girl never has to communicate with the deaf herself, because someone should warn her she might be giving off some mixed signals.

Animated Friday (The Cherry On Top Edition)!

2008-06-06T11:19:00.002-05:00

Sure, his awkward swing is funny alone, but it's the failed outburst coda that is truly the cherry on top:

Golf just ain't your game, my friend.

It's sorta like my friend, who shall remain nameless, who recently took quite a tumble while chasing a ball during a casual game of tennis. It was one of those long, drawn-out uncontrollable run/stumbles that ended in a violent collapse of flailing limbs and clanging tennis rackets, and she was quite embarrassed afterwards. But not as embarrassed as when she realized that the impact had made her wet herself.

Game over.

Mess You Up

2008-06-04T22:56:00.000-05:00

I wanted to use my mad photoshop skillz to try to replicate the nausea-inducing effect of this drunk driving poster, but I don't think it works as well on such a small scale. Either that, or my photoshop skillz just ain't what they used to be:

Regardless, the message still rings true.

Animated Friday!

2008-05-30T08:33:00.000-05:00

A whole lotta fail goin' on:

It's hard to tell who's failing harder here.

Medical Marvels

2008-05-29T12:17:00.001-05:00

The "Octopus Girl" has lots of extra limbs. Four, to be exact. Doctors are removed them, and apparently you can watch the whole thing on some National Geographic documentary next month:

I, too, am a medical marvel. I still have two baby teeth that never fell out. Apparently it would be an ordeal to have them removed. Probably not as big of a deal as having four extra limbs removed, but I guess some little girls from India are luckier than certain thirtysomething boys from Minneapolis.

I also have what a doctor once told me could be the beginning of a third nipple on my chest, and although another doctor recently informed me that it is most likely nothing more than your average skin blemish, I'm choosing to believe doctor #1 just for the novelty of it.

A certain friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, tells me that she never has to cut her toenails. The implication was that they just don't grow and that they always retain the perfect length and shape, but I'm more inclined to believe that they are just thin and brittle and maintain themselves by regularly breaking off into her shoes and socks.

And finally, I've recently heard TWO separate secondhand accounts of another kind of medical marvel. One person tells me that they know a girl who swears by her claim that she only poops once every two weeks. Another person tells a similar story of an acquaintance who claims to poop only once a month. I, of course, can't verify either of these claims, but I find them fascinating nonetheless. I can't even begin to imagine what one must feel like toward the end of such a "gestation" period, and I can only assume that such a person would require multiple wardrobes based on what point they are in their "cycle" - due to the subsequent gut bloating - but I'd really rather not explore that concept any further.

I guess everyone is a medical marvel in their own right.

Bonus Related Animated GIF

A Broken Promise

2008-05-28T09:55:00.000-05:00

I know at some point I said I wasn't going to post any more photos or animated GIFs of kids barfing, but that was a lie.

Barfing in public is like a rite of passage for a kid. Unfortunately, I was never afforded the opportunity to barf in public. I've come close - barfing in front of family members at home - but I think in order to count it has to be in front of strangers or lesser acquaintances, and it should also not be alcohol induced.

And anyone who has had the chance to barf in public should count themselves lucky, because you will never be forgotten. I, for one, can easily recall every kid at school who ever barfed in front of me as well as the circumstances surrounding it. It's a sure-fire way to go down in history and to be remembered forever. For instance:

1. Dominic Forte - Barfed in class after hitting his head on the ground too hard during recess.
2. Michael Throndson's Sister - Barfed on more than one occasion and had the talent of acting very casual about it.
3. Joey C. - Barfed while eating a cupcake during a celebration after a class play performance.
4. Shane V. - Barfed in kindergarten after getting over-excited that he was chosen to be first in line to walk to the restrooms.

See? And that's just the few I can vividly recall off the top of my head that occurred prior to fifth grade. Sure, it might seem traumatizing at the time to barf in public, but you'll be glad it happened later when you realize it's the only thing people remember about you from grade school.

Too Smart

2008-05-28T08:53:00.000-05:00

Posting Onion Articles: The Mark of a Blogger Novice?

Another Lesson Learned

2008-05-22T13:59:00.002-05:00

Appointments for which you should NEVER be late:

1. Dentist Cleanings
I was 20 minutes late for the dentist once and the hygienist, who apparently had to delay her lunch break due to my tardiness, practically raped my gums with some unwaxed floss. It was entirely unpleasant.

2. City Court
Those bitches just have NO sense of humor whatsoever.

3. The Hairstylist
Today I was 15 minutes late to my haircut appointment, so the stylist took a slice of my ear as a penance:

I actually felt a slight poke when she cut me, but for some reason I was too embarrassed to say anything and I was uncharacteristically too manly to yelp, so it wasn't until the ear started to drip blood that she said something. "Oh, I think I may have cut you..." she said. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed..." I coolly replied, totally building up my street cred while secretly wondering how many other ears she had recently lopped off and if those scissors had been sterilized in the mean time. Then I apologized to her for causing the unfortunate incident by being late and making her rush, which is probably what quashed any chance I had of a free haircut.

So lesson learned: Always be on time, and that's one to grow on. Or alternatively: never apologize for being late if you lose a chunk of ear and want a free haircut.

Or maybe I should find a new place to get a haircut. This place looks interesting:

Just kidding, hairstylist (in case you're reading this).

Animated Friday (Slo-Mo Violence Edition)!

2008-05-23T11:55:00.000-05:00

This is less funny ha-ha and more funny-oh-that's-interesting-slash-hypnotizing. It also might be a little cathartic if you can mentally replace the faces with whomever might be most deserving in your mind at the moment. In my case, my default effigy is always Bush or Cheney or Bill O'Reilly:

A Slo-Mo Slap in the Face

-and-

A Slo-Mo Punch to the Jaw

WiiFat

2008-05-23T09:18:00.002-05:00

I got my WiiFit on Wednesday, and we hadn't known each other for even five minutes before it called me fat:

Even worse, it altered my previously-created Mii so that it would more accurately represent the reality of my morbidly obese shape, rather than the svelte version that my delusional self-image and I were more comfortable with:

I don't know whether this is supposed to motivate me or make me want to bitch-slap the balance board.

Hair Hats

2008-05-21T21:44:00.001-05:00

Woof.

Better than Cheese Heads, I suppose.

Moar.

Speaking of embarrassing hats, I was recalling the other day about how I can distinctly recall wearing a sailor's hat to the mall on more than one occasion. I was cringing, and imagining myself to be about 8 or 9 at the time of that poor judgement call, but then I realized that my brother didn't go into the Navy until I was 14, and I don't recall having access to a sailor's hat prior to that. This memory has saddened me deeply, so I would sincerely like to give it the old Eternal Sunshine treatment, so I'm requesting that reality please catch up with Hollywood asap, kthnxbye.

Ahoy.

Stay Classy, America

2008-05-15T20:00:00.002-05:00

I went to the flag store at the Mall of America this week to find some patriotic giftware in honor of someone who recently passed his American citizenship test. But it turns out that it's seemingly impossible to be patriotic these days without being xenophobic and racist at the same time. Almost every single item in the store was eyerollingly barfworthy in a "these-colors-don't-run" kind of way, including this cute little sign, which was conveniently located right next to the coin collector books that kiddies buy to hold their special edition state quarters:

Finally, just the item I've been lookin' for: something to display the pride I have in my fear of strangers and people with AIDS. USA! USA! USA!

But my feeling of elitist superiority quickly waned when I went to the Dollar Store with hopes of buying some cheap red white and blue decorations. I was excited to find a felt top hat that was constructed with a stars and stripes pattern, but I couldn't find a price tag, so I waited in line for my turn at the counter where I asked the gawky 16-year-old boy at the checkout (a mirror image of dan circa 1991), "How much is this? I can't find a price on anything," and he smugly replied with his best-yet-unintentional Simpsons-Comic-Book-Guy cadence:
"Sir, you are at a dollar store."

The not-so-slightly overweight lady behind me - who literally had curlers in her hair - snorted at my unfamiliarity with Dollar Store procedure. She was laughing. At me. With curlers in her hair. At the dollar store. In a pink T-shirt over white leggings. At me. With curlers in her hair. At the dollar store.

I was about to get indignant when I realized I didn't even have a dollar to purchase it. So I had to forfeit my place in line in order to find enough additional dollar-priced items to justify a credit card purchase. USA! USA! USA!

Animated Friday (Back-to-Basics Edition)!

2008-05-16T16:31:00.002-05:00

Let's get simple with an old-school fall-down-funny animated GIF this time:

Showing Off + Karma = Oil + Water

Disappointment, Thy Name Be Stretch Monster

2008-05-13T12:18:00.002-05:00

I saw this retro-image online the other day and it brought back a deluge of intense personal memories, circa December 1978:

I was three years old, and my very first recognizable feeling of INTENSE WANT came in the form of the Stretch Monster. I wanted it so bad that it was all I requested for Christmas. I asked my mom, I asked my Dad, I asked my grandparents, I asked the too-skinny Santa at the mall, and I probably asked random strangers in the toy department.

(On a side note, I remember when I was younger I used to believe that if I looked sad and pathetic enough in the toy aisle - like some poor little Match Boy beggar - that some stranger might take pity on me and buy me something just to see my frown turn upsidedown. This, of course, never actually happened, which is probably a good thing because I imagine that the only random strangers actually buying toys for disadvantaged-looking boys in toy stores are probably pedophiles - but maybe I'm just too cynical. Regardless, I spent many-an-afternoon perfecting my audible "sad sigh" and standing with exaggeratedly forlorn facial expressions in front of the latest Transformer, never to have that dream fulfilled.)

Fortunately for me, Santa got me what I asked for that year:

[I actually remember being annoyed that I had to stop playing with my Stretch Monster long enough to pose for this stupid picture.]

Unfortunately for me, it wasn't nearly as stretchy as my three-year-old mind was imagining it would be. I fantasized I would be able to stretch it across entire rooms and around parking lots and all the way to the corner store. So on that very same day, when I finally exerted as much strength as my three-year-old muscles could muster and stretched it nearly a foot above and beyond its normal arm-span, I was obviously shocked to see that it started to pop at the seams, oozing a clear syrupy jelly that I probably shouldn't have tasted. But I was only three and toxic toys were generally not a much-debated issue at my house in the 1970's.

My subsequent sickness was surely due more to the disappointment of the whole situation rather than the actual ingested innards of a cheaply made stretch toy. My dad tried to mend the doll with some electrical tape, which only stopped the hemorrhaging temporarily. But I learned an important lesson that year about bracing myself for disappointment, especially when you want something really bad. It's an inverse proportion kind of thing: the more you want something, the more it will disappoint you when you finally get it. Therefore, always keep your expectations exceedingly low.

Parenting

2008-05-12T20:13:00.001-05:00

Just saw this on the Onion and thought I needed to post it, in light of my general dislike for smug, obnoxious parents:

It's funny that joking about their inflated sense of moral superiority makes me meel morally superior. And so the cycle continues...

Animated Friday (Crotch Rocket Edition)!

2008-05-09T13:57:00.003-05:00

Gives new meaning to the phrase "crotch rocket".

Just to provide a little related personal history, my most painful crotch damage ever came from a dodge ball during gym class and lasted for days. But it wasn't funny. Not at all. The funniest was probably teeter-totter related. I was maybe ten years old and at my friend Dorianne's house and I lost my balance at the zenith of our teetering and somehow slipped around and fell directly under my end of the apparatus. When Dori got off the teeter-totter to check on my well-being, the teeter-totter made a violent thud back into its usual resting position, which happened to be directly on my no-no place. It didn't hurt incredibly bad, but I bet it would have been hilarious to catch on video.

What could have been.

2008-05-07T12:16:00.004-05:00

I made this for my mom for Mother's Day because I try to steer clear of the syrupy sentimental stuff, but I gotta admit that I think I actually look pretty bad ass:

Little does my mother know that the only reason I didn't totally go punk in senior high school was because I couldn't pull it off. In fact, my one attempt at a cool alternative-style hair-do ended up looking more pageboy than skater boy:

dan, circa 1992

Nice try, dan, but no cigar. Or maybe it was the collegiate preppy-guy sweatshirt that was making it hard for me to complete the look and sell the attitude. Although I do recall purchasing a bad-ass magnetic stud earring at Two-Plus-Two (because my mom wouldn't allow actual male piercings in her house - hmmm, maybe my mama did influence my overall appearance after all).

Oh well. At least I wasn't into crappy country music like the rest of my graduating class. I refuse to even photoshop what I might have looked like had I gone down that tired old path.

Shadow Art

2008-05-04T16:01:00.001-05:00

Apparently "shadows" are a new artistic medium. I've seen some fairly impressive examples of shadow art in the last few months. People are using shadows to:

Tell a Story

Draw a Picture/Make a Social Statement

Create Profiles/Animate the Inanimate

But these folks are just barely cracking the surface of the possibilities. Let me create some shadow art that will literally blow your mind, planetdan style:

Winner = Me

Although I think the older I get, the more I appreciate my own juvenile humor. I probably told more sophisticated jokes when I was twelve, only without the aid of animated GIFs. The only thing that's evolved on planetdan over the last thirty years is the technology. :(

Animated Friday (Critters & Vamints Edition)!

2008-05-02T23:54:00.000-05:00

Some people might think that this is cruel, but I think it is perfectly acceptable:

Who ever said only certain kinds of squirrels can fly?

Speaking of critters, I watched this mouse run in circles for nearly twenty minutes the other day. I wasn't sure which one of us was more pitiful: the mouse, who couldn't figure out how to stop himself from turning right, or me, who watched him for twenty minutes with utter delight:

Where monkey's brains are not often to be found...

2008-04-29T21:48:00.004-05:00

Guess where I was all weekend?

I took tons of pictures of all the monuments and museums that one is supposed to take pictures of, but for some reason this one is my favorite because it makes me laugh like a 12 year old every time:

Thre Return of Animated Friday (Full Circle Edition)!

2008-04-25T13:21:00.002-05:00

The very first animated GIF I ever posted on planetdan depicted a girl falling down on a treadmill, so I'm proud that six years later I can return full circle to that old chestnut with a brand new extreme version of an old classic:

Girl Falls on Treadmill v2.0

A different perspective...

2008-04-25T13:19:00.001-05:00

Normally I hate political cartoons, but this one was quite intriguing:

Lollapaloozer

2008-04-25T12:09:00.000-05:00

So even though I haven't received it yet (and I'm not even sure if I qualify, as a matter of fact), I have already spent my economic stimulus rebate five times over, so I guess that lame government tactic totally worked on a chump like me.

My main purchase was an $850 VIP ticket to Lollapalooza, which I will be attending with my good buddy Dr. Erik. We're gonna bust all up in that place like we own the joint and drink all the cheap wine and watery beer that we can before stumbling out sweaty and drunk into the writhing masses to mix with the little folk, because we truly are men of the people.

The lineup is pretty incredible this year. I'm super excited to see Radiohead (one of my new New Years Resolutions, actually - check!), Nine Inch Nails, The Raconteurs, Wilco, and dozens more. That's right, I like the hard stuff...

...except I'm so dainty that I had to spend an extra $600 on the VIP ticket so that I could have access to air conditioned toilets and a less dirt-ridden environment. Oh well. I'm still hardcore on the inside, though.

Circus Pants

2008-04-24T23:04:00.000-05:00

I saw this online the other day and laughed out loud.

Poor girl didn't know she was going to be running for president someday... otherwise I'm sure she would have rethought that outfit. I'll try not to let it make me question her judgement, and I rest happy knowing that she probably has someone to dress her these days.

I can't judge really, though, because if I ever run for president (of a place other than planetdan, obviously, where I am already ruler supreme), I'm sure some rather awkward pictures of me will surface. I'm thinking in particular of mullet shots, which I have yet to be brave enough to post on here. I should really just get it all out in the open, but I like to pretend like that year of my life never happened.

Ooops

2008-04-24T23:00:00.000-05:00

I didn't mean to be gone for so long. I was working OT trying to get a few dozen work projects under control. I guess my real life kinda overshadowed my preferred internet identity for a while, but look out because I'm coming back full force, like the super hero I am.

Sorry your mom blew up, Ricky.

2008-04-15T22:28:00.002-05:00

Am I wrong or did I just see Ricky from Better Off Dead in the audience on American Idol tonight?

I'm not making a bad joke, I really do think that is the same actor...

Here's a recent, absurd video of him from more recent times to aid in the comparison. Prove me wrong!

And, yes, I watch American Idol. That David Archuleta is going to take it all, I tell you!

Post No Bills

2008-04-14T22:20:00.000-05:00

Graffiti artists are getting more clever every day, and I must say I much prefer the use of easily removable stickers as opposed to common ol' spray paint:

I love it that people take the time to do shit like this. And I very much agree with the no Saget sentiment.

Newsclippins

2008-04-08T21:41:00.001-05:00

These have all probably been featured on the Tonight Show at some point, but I re-present them in this format so that you can appreciate their humor without having to endure the humor blackhole that is Jay Leno:

Animated Friday (Rainy Day Edition)!

2008-04-11T15:57:00.002-05:00

It's been raining here for a couple days, but I don't let nuthin' get me down! Still, I thought this Animated GIF would be the most appropriate to post:

A Puddle Jumper's Lament

Unrelated bonus GIF: Mad Skillz.

Ragdoll: The Sequel

2005-08-28T16:21:00.001-05:00

In regards to the original falling ragdoll girl thingee that some genius developed, I remixed it using George Bush instead. It doesn't really work as slick as the original, but then nothing really ever does once the Bush Administration gets involved:

Flailing Bush

All it's missing are some painful sound effects and a high-tech real-time bruising graphics engine.

Smart Alek

2008-04-10T21:45:00.007-05:00

I Tivo Jeopardy! every day because it makes me feel smart. I watch it during lunch on fast forward, which makes me feel even smarter. The other day I was catching up on previously recorded episodes when Alex Trebek walked out on stage sporting a crazy moustache that looked as if it has been drawn on with a magic marker:

Even stranger, the moustache disappeared halfway through the show. Nobody ever acknowledged the scribbly facial hair or its disappearance, so I was feeling very Twighlight-Zoney until I realized I was watching an episode that had originally aired on April 1st. I guess he got me, but I'm still confused about why they never mentioned it or referenced it after the show. Maybe they just decided the gag wasn't worth it.

On a related note: one reason why I know I am not smart enough to ever be on Jeopardy! is that I once bet my friend J-Balls $100 that it was "Alek" Trebek instead of "Alex" Trebek. I'm not normally a betting man, and I dunno what came over me but I was absolutely certain of my accuracy. Of course, I was easily proved incorrect, and I eventually paid her off in drinks, but to this day I am unsure of how I ever got the impression he was an Alek. Maybe I was thinking Smart Alek, but I doubt my own brain was even smart enough to make that leap.

Also on a related note, did you know that Alex has a dirty, filthy mouth even when it isn't covered in Crayola?

Do you kiss your mother with that, Alek? Also, remember Internet Rule #34 that states that SOMEONE is turned on by this.

Cuteness Quiz

2008-04-04T11:25:00.000-05:00

I'm sick of seeing that hairy-eared guy every time I pull up my site, so here is a page-pushing blog post to save the day AND our eyes:

Which of these baby animals is the cutest?

A. Elephant:

B. Hippo:

C. Rhino:

There is a clear loser here. In fact, I hear this noise every time I look at that baby rhino pic. Man, is that thing ugly. It's so ugly its mama doesn't even love it. There's very few baby animals that aren't cute by default, but that thing looks like the mutant baby in Eraserhead. Barf.

Animated Friday (Kick 'Em While They're Down Edition)!

2008-04-04T16:33:00.002-05:00

Dang, dog, that's cold!

A Hairy Situation

2008-04-03T17:15:00.004-05:00

The other day I was at a dinner party when I noticed people's gazes kept drifting off toward my left ear. I'd be chatting innocently with another guest with proper eye contact when suddenly something near the side of my head would catch their attention and the distraction would cause the conversation to temporarily falter. I started to get nervous. Was there something on my face? Cheeto dust, perhaps? Did I miss a spot shaving? Trying to hide my panic, I looked around the unfamiliar room for a mirror but the walls were barren.

I was nervous, but I carried on the evening with false confidence. Eventually I was talking to a friendlier face when I saw his eyes drift to the side of my head like so many before him, so I asked, "What? What are you looking at?" and he replied, "You have a hair on your ear, let me get it for you." But instead of brushing a loose hair away from my face, I felt a slight tug. There was a short yet awkward silence before he said "Oh... it's attached."

I was mortified, but he proceeded to pluck it loose from the top of my ear and hand it to me. I was surprised to see that it was blond and practically an inch long. I couldn't imagine how I ever missed it in the mirror for the month and a half it must have taken to grow, but then again the top of my ear is not a place I generally would expect to be in need of a trim, so I'm sure I hadn't given it much attention. I sheepishly said "...thanks," and tried to continue on with the previous conversation, but it was clear the damage was done. To him, and probably the rest of the guests in attendance, I would forever be the guy with the inch-long ear hair.

I guess now that I'm 33 I have to keep an eye out for errant hairs and other embarrassments. At least I'm not this guy, who - according to Guinness - holds the world record for longest ear hair:

Oh great, now you're probably picturing this:

That's not nice of you. Not nice at all.

"Your Mom!" is the new "That's what she said."

2008-04-03T17:11:00.002-05:00

This one goes out to my friend J-Balls, who lately answers every question asked of her with an enthusiastic "Your mom!" Sometimes it doesn't even make sense in the context, but often times it can unexpectedly produce a real zinger.

I've seen a lot of anti-mom stuff on the intarwebs lately. What gives?

Monkey Bidness

2008-03-31T08:31:00.001-05:00

You know that feeling where you're just sitting around on a Saturday afternoon and you think to yourself, "Wouldn't it be really fun to make a Sock Monkey right now?" No? Well neither do I, but upon completion of a related work project last week I received a gift of Rockford Red Heel socks from the client as a Thank You. They come packaged with instructions on how to make your very own Sock Monkey, and it seemed simple enough. With the exception of the stuffing, I had all the required materials, so I thought, "Hmmmm, why not?" The final results weren't exactly impressive - you can't really call me "competent" with a needle and yarn - yet I felt a sense of accomplishment nonetheless:

I named him Edgar. You might be thinking, "What's the point?" But the whole process has also been very educational. In fact, I soon learned that there exists a Sock Monkey "culture" that obsesses about all things Sock Monkey. For instance, they make Sock Monkey inspired furniture:

And even Sock Monkey inspired fashion:

And maybe I got a little too into it as well, because I thought it would be funny to embroider Edgar a little anus, just like the real red-butted monkeys:

But then I thought that people might think that was a tad perverted or something, which instantly reminded me of Rule 34 on the Internet, which basically states:

If it exists, there is porn of it, or somebody fetishizes it.

And as it turns out, Sock Monkeys are no exception to that rule:

I'm not even going to tell you what I stuffed Edgar with.

Kidding.

Long live the Internet!

Animated Friday (Evil Escalator Edition)!

2008-03-28T15:44:00.007-05:00

Did you know you could also fall UP the stairs?

Escalators are hard.

And evil. Case in point, never turn your back on an escalator:

And relentlessly cruel. Poor sisyphusian duckies:

Trailer All Blowed Up

2008-03-26T20:07:00.003-05:00

I'm too swamped with work to think of anything new to post these last few days, so instead I will just repost one of my favorite videos ever, in case you missed it. If you're new to this video, it's a clip from my local news station as they interview a trailer park community after one of the mobile homes unexpectedly explodes.

"Trailer all blowed up," has been a catchphrase in certain circles ever since. Classic. Although I think my favorite part is when the woman makes a special mention of the damage caused to her precious aquarium.

Some people might think this is too stereotypical to be real, but trust me, it's fer real.

Animated Friday (Head Over Heels Edition)!

2008-03-21T14:42:00.002-05:00

Some people are head over heels for summer.

Some people are head over heels for winter.

But to be honest, that second link is one of the rare cases where an animated GIF just can't seem to recreate the moment with proper justice. For that you need the full video...

Birthday Boy

2008-03-20T10:35:00.005-05:00

Today is my birthday, and I'm turning the perfect age. I've kinda been looking forward to being thirty three, because it's one of my favorite numbers. I like multiples of 11 and my favorite number is 3, so this should be my luckiest year ever.

But apparently, in the early fifth century St. Augustine of Hippo surmised that since Jesus Christ died on the cross at age 33, then ALL humans, upon ascending into heaven at the time of the second coming, will be 33 years of age. For eternity.

Sounds nice and all, but that this means I'll be floating around heaven with an inner-tube of excess fat bouncing around my lower gut, brittle toe nails, and hair in weird places. Frankly, I was hoping for more out of heaven. And out of being 33.

Sick Puppies

2008-03-19T08:04:00.000-05:00

Breaking News: Couple Turns Their Dead Dogs into Winter Warmth

The fashion:

The raw materials:

To be fair, the article seems to carefully avoid mentioning whether or not the old coots actually used the pelts of the dead animals in the final product, but something on the look of that crazed-old-man's face would have me believe that he would not be above passing up that kind of raw material windfall. And even if he did, there's something creepy about being able to answer the question "Nice coat, what's it made out of?" with "My dead dog."

I fail to see how this is any different than making cowboy boots out of your pet lizard's scaly exterior, or for that matter, what about collecting your beloved grandmother's hair from the bathtub drain and knitting yourself some matching heirloom socks and scarves? Or perhaps a leather jacket from the excess flesh of Jared's post-Subway-diet skin removal operation? The moles could make a very lovely pattern... after all, I hear that polka dots are the new asymmetrical stripes. Or did I just take that analogy way too far?

Either way, I'm registering my disapproval for dead pet apparel right here and now!

Freeze Frame

2008-03-13T19:22:00.002-05:00

I have a pretty good memory of my childhood. Most of the memories are pretty colorful and vivid and complete with sound effects and movement. But some of them are more like a slideshow of static images all assembled in succession, like I'm flipping through a photo album of split second moments or something.

For instance, I remember when I was around 10 years old, a friend and I secretly climbed up onto the roof of the school by my house to retrieve lost tennis balls. I searched one half of the roof while he searched the other. When I was finished with my side, I went back to find him but he was nowhere in sight. I noticed a single shoe poking out from behind a chimney, so I investigated. Rounding the corner of the chimney, I was shocked to find my friend squatting, with his pants down, pooping on the roof of the school. His closed eyes and the strained look on his face are like a never-fading freeze-frame snapshot in my mind. I can even accurately describe his entire outfit to this day.

I also have a freeze-frame memory of the first time I saw my grandma with no wig on. I came out of the changing room to see her wading waist-deep in the shallow end of a swimming pool. I didn't recognize that strange bald person with the single poof of gray hair on the tip top of her head, so when she spoke to me I screamed. For some reason I have a freeze-frame memory of myself screaming as well, which is strange since I obviously was not at the proper vantage point to witness my own reaction.

And then there was the time that I collided with another biker on a path through the park. We were headed right at each other, but I saw her approaching from afar, so when she came close enough to pass I simply slowed down and moved over a little to the side. But so did she. So I moved over a little more and reduced my speed again. She did, too. We were like mirror images of each other. By now we were each barely moving fast enough to stay balanced on two wheels, yet we had only a fraction of a second to avoid a collision, so I made one last ditch attempt to hit my breaks and move even further over to the side. But of course, so did she. We ended up colliding head on in an awkward slow-motion crumple of flesh and steel. The final freeze-frame in my mind is from when I came to and saw a twisted heap of foreign legs, bike spokes, and booty socks.

I think I even have freeze-frame memories of events where I wasn't actually present, which really makes me doubt their accuracy. Oh well, I'm going to pretend they are all true until someone tells me otherwise.

Animated Friday (Dogs are Dumb Edition)!

2008-03-14T08:15:00.001-05:00

I really do like dogs. But man are they dumb creatures. You can argue the contrary all you want, but I know better. It's probably a good thing, though, because I think the fact that they are so darned stupid is what makes them so darned cute:

Geronimo!

Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine.

See? Dumb but cute.

Things I Learned from Kmack's Professional Wedding Photographer

2008-03-12T08:27:00.002-05:00

C-Minus (formerly Kmack) got her wedding photos back recently. I immediately sorted through them to find pictures of myself. It was a very enlightening experience for me. Here are some things I learned from Kmack's professional wedding photographer:

1. Wide angle lenses are quite unflattering.
Or at least I hope she was using a wide angle lens on this shot:

Jeesh, I'd look like some fat oil tycoon, if it weren't for the cheap champagne.

2. In hindsight, maybe it does seem strange to have a man as your maid of honor.
Who wouldn't assume I was the groom in this picture:

To make matters worse, there are some pictures of the entire wedding party where the bride is facing me rather than the groom, which I'm sure the actual groom didn't appreciate too much.

3. I am desperate for attention.
I'll do anything to get noticed, even if it means shoving my own hand needlessly into the shot, with an awkward "Madge, I soaked in it!" pose no less:

4. I'm terribly unphotogenic.

Animated Friday (Barrel of Monkeys Edition)!

2008-03-07T16:13:00.000-06:00

Yay for monkeys!

Although sometimes they can be complete jackasses.

And sometimes they can be really gross.

And sometimes they can be really really gross.

I'm so sorry about that last one.
Please accept this formal apology.

Get a room!

2008-03-07T10:58:00.000-06:00

[fp]

I wonder if this is from the Lord of the Rings extended cut?

Damn, nature, you sexy!

Job Offer

2008-03-05T17:48:00.000-06:00

I recently received an email which offered me the opportunity to submit articles for publication in the upcoming Girls Gone Wild magazine.

I'm not kidding.

I'm not so sure that "plentiful circulation in such areas as 7-Elevens nationwide" is an effective enticement.

At first I thought the email was just a marketing ploy, and that some smart marketing executive at GGW headquarters was emailing job offers to bloggers across the country in hopes that they would blog about it, therefore providing free word-of-mouth advertising about the new publication's launch. In which case: mission accomplished.

Then I thought that maybe it was just regular old spam or a phishing attempt... some sort of sneaky way to improve circulation. Of course, there's always the possibility that someone actually finds me entertaining, in which case I'm incredibly flattered, but I don't really understand how my animated GIFs and embarrassing gym stories would translate to Girls Gone Wild in print. Still, if the author of this email is still out there, I can only thank you for your kind offer and flattering words.

Having said that, my eventual reply stated: "I don't know much about drunk chicks or tits. Not to marginalize your business or anything."

Was that inappropriate?

Real Life v. Politics

2008-03-04T18:38:00.001-06:00

I've been trying to avoid blogging about politics lately, simply
because I devoted a little too much wasted time and energy to it back in 2004, and
frankly I kinda think that none of the three viable candidates we have
left are anywhere near as bad as the current asshat in charge. The
next round of elected officials could only be an improvement. Heck, even electing this guy would be an improvement.

But anyway, I think this comic makes a good, if obvious, point:

Or I guess at least I wish it was obvious. It doesn't seem to be in
some circles.

Animated Friday (Drinking Problems Edition)!

2008-02-29T11:41:00.001-06:00

This kid has one serious drinking problem...

This kid kinda has the opposite problem...

Get Smart

2008-02-28T23:34:00.000-06:00

I want to move that gooey pooey rat heap in the previous post down a notch or two, so here's an interesting little quiz for you:

I'll wait a tad before revealing the answer in the comments.

And here is another interactive logic quiz that my brother in law sent me a while back. I figured it out pretty quickly because I'm such a smart cookie, but it was still a little tricky. Unfortunately it is an MS Excel file, so I don't know if everyone will be able to open it or not...

O...M...G...

2008-02-26T08:06:00.001-06:00

When I heard about it on 30 Rock, I thought that the concept of a "Rat King" was just a clever plot device, but unfortunately Wikipedia has informed me otherwise:

"Rat kings are cryptozoological phenomena said to arise when a number of rats become intertwined at their tails, which become stuck together with blood, dirt, and excrement. The animals consequently grow together while joined at the tails, which are often broken."

*fingers crossed*
Please be a hoax... please be a hoax... please be a hoax...

...otherwise I may have to kill myself because I don't even want there to be the slightest possibility that I could one day encounter such a disgusting writhing heap of mutated excrement-caked vermin.

And to think I used to like 30 Rock. :(

The Brave One

2008-02-25T18:38:00.005-06:00

At the coffee shop near my house there is a "community journal" that asks a generic question on a daily basis and invites the coffee shop patrons to answer in participation. The other day the question was "Who do you think will win the Oscar for Best Picture?" to which the lone written answer was Hairspray, a film which wasn't even in the running, which I guess says a lot about my neighborhood. So while I waited for my tea to brew, I decided to flip through the journal to read the previous questions and answers to see if they were equally inspiring. That's when I came across the question "What is the bravest thing you've ever done?" The answers from those participating went something like this:

- Had a kid
- Had a baby
- Went to college
- Bought a car
- Had a baby
- Had a baby
- Had a kid
- Had a baby
- Wore a sleeveless dress
- Had a baby

I instantly felt bad for the obviously fat-armed participant who mustered up the guts to wear a sleeveless dress, because if that was indeed the bravest thing she's ever done then she either has the most boring life ever or mutant shoulders. I suppose it could have been written by a man, and that's where the bravery part comes in. I dunno.

But I was a little confused about why having a kid was suddenly and ubiquitously considered a "brave" thing to do. I can concede that raising a kid can be a lot of work and is in some cases a sincerely selfless act, but I hardly think that succumbing to the innate biological imperative to reproduce - an imperative that 95% of the rest of the population also succumbs to - can be considered "brave". If that's the case, then we may as well hand out medals to everyone who is brave enough to breathe oxygen and walk on two feet.

But then I started to feel judgmental about those self-important babymakers, mostly because I couldn't instantly think of anything I've done that could seriously be considered braver than locking yourself into that lifetime commitment of having a kid. The results after I sat down to write my own bravery list were less than impressive:

- Figured out how to ride the Eurail train in Germany
- Walked home drunk through the Minneapolis ghetto at 3am
- Quit my stable corporate job to work at a risky startup
- Approached Lindsay Lohan in an Eyeglass Store
- Ate foie gras
- Um... ran a 5k?

Lame indeed. But what really counts as being "brave" these days anyway? Combat in Iraq? Skydiving? Cold Water Rescue? The Iditarod? If that's what it takes to be considered brave then you can count me out. And in that case, I guess it's a good thing to actively lower the standards for what can and cannot be labeled as a brave act. So let's give it up for those brave babymakers:

Hip, hip, hooray!

Animated Friday (Dance Dance Revolution Edition)!

2008-02-22T12:18:00.002-06:00

Great moments in dance, Volume I:

1. Whoever said "never be ashamed of the past" never had a twirling mullet.

2. It's called breakdancing for a reason. *cue rimshot*

3. Maybe there is such a thing as too gay: a.k.a the crotch pat.

4. Never invade another man's dance space.

Loose Screws

2008-02-20T12:48:00.002-06:00

I know next to nothing about cars. How they work and how one might go about performing repairs is an utter mystery to me. The engine could be nothing more than a greasy monkey furiously pumping a hand crank for all I know. I suppose this has made me a good mark for unscrupulous mechanics who have undoubtedly charged me obscene sums of money in the past for things that probably amounted to little more than flipping a switch or adjusting a lever. Do cars even have switches and levers? I dunno.

So recently my "door ajar" alarm has been emitting an ear-piercing and insanity-inducing ding at all times, regardless of whether or not my car door is actually ajar. A cursory glance and the door latch mechanism was all I could muster before I just broke down and called the dealership to schedule a repair.

It's times like these when my insecurity gets the best of me. I imagined bringing in the car and telling them my problems only to be met with laughter and derision when the issue turned out to be something trivial or obvious. "He brought in his car to the dealership for an ungreased door latch! LOL! What a buffoon!" they would all guffaw while kicking me in the nuts.

So I was a little caught off guard today when the mechanic walked into the waiting lounge at the dealership and told me I had a screw loose.

"You got a screw loose, man."

My initial desire was to shout "Oh yeah? Not everyone on the planet needs to know how to repair a car, jackass! Do you know how to design and build a website? HUH? NO?!? Well, then maybe YOU'RE the one with the loose screw, pal!"

But thankfully the reality of my low self-confidence limited my reply to: "Say what?"

"You got a screw loose. In the door latch. I'm just having my guys give it a good tightening and that should solve the problem."

So it turns out he was speaking literally when it came to loose screws. But I still think his comment was a double entendre. Mechanics can be so damned self-righteous.

Flashy!

2008-02-19T22:25:00.004-06:00

My coworker sent me this:

[HINT: Click on the dan to see him in action]

I don't get it, and I don't like it. I creep me out. The randomness/leglessness of it is a little too David Lynchy for my tastes.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, C-Minus sent me this the other day, and I think it is the cutest thing I have ever seen.

I just leave it running/licking in the background all day long.

The Return of Animated Friday!

2008-02-15T07:46:00.002-06:00

Rules for riding personal motorized vehicles:

You got to know when to let go.

You're never too young to learn.

My childhood friend Cory had a motorbike. I finally got up the nerve to try it out one afternoon and it didn't end well. I remember a sudden thrust, the bike disappearing from beneath me, and then my ass triple-bouncing on the pavement. And let's just say that that experience didn't exactly benefit my reputation in the neighborhood.

Valentimes

2008-02-14T08:24:00.002-06:00

I made this Valentine especially for you:

Although this Darwin Valentine is my favorite:

Send them to someone you love!

Out of Pocket

2008-02-11T14:24:00.000-06:00

I'm sorta out of the country right now.

It's like 55 degrees where I'm at. It's like 40 degrees below zero back home, so suck on that:

Someone should tell that guy that his browns don't match.

Someone should also tell this foreign TV manufacturer that their brand name sucks:

Someone should tell this foreign women's clothing store that their name is a little inappropriate:

Someone should tell this guy that if he's going to be representing America to the rest of the world that he should stop being such a jackass:

Someone should tell this guy that he can stand in front of a giant windmill and suck in his gut all he wants, but he still looks like he's getting fat:

Someone should tell the world that this guy love Bruges. I guess he'll just let his shopping bags do the talking:

Anyway, I'll be back tomorrow.

Animated Friday (Midget Wrestling Edition)!

2008-02-01T19:44:00.000-06:00

I was invited to attend a midget wrestling event once and I declined because I thought it sounded a tad exploitative, regardless of whether or not the midget was into it, but for some reason those previous moral aprehensions were completely absent as I laughed at these for minutes on end:

Tough Little Guy

Greasy Little Guy

Don't worry, we'll get back to people falling down next week.

Lil' E Knows Good TV

2008-01-30T11:29:00.001-06:00

It's not just that I have cool friends, it's that my friends have cool babies, so the cycle of coolness never ends. For instance, Kwatts and Cwatts have the cutest baby ever, and she's already displaying a tendency for having awesome taste in TV:

I think my favorite part is when the intro ends and she slumps down from the TV, dejected and depressed. I know how you feel, Lil' E. I used to get that excited too, and it's been a loooong year without them. :(

Toe Graft Update

2008-01-28T18:33:00.000-06:00

Not that I want to seem obsessed with toe grafts and thumb replacements (let's see what those phrases do to my google ads), but Jim from Ohio emailed me a video which seems to bolster our theory that perhaps the big toe is not exactly the best choice to replace a thumb after all. Apparently middle toes can work just as well, and with less of an impact on the foot in general:

Watch the whole video here. Dood can still play his video games.

In my opinion, it's no less grody.

Unscrambled

2008-01-29T12:11:00.000-06:00

This is all over the internet lately, but it's too fun not too post, especially with my history with Sexy Scrabble:

Sexy Scrabble, indeed.

For all you pervs: the actual answer is probably "subtext".

Animated Friday (Wild Horse Edition!)

2008-01-25T13:23:00.000-06:00

Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken, but Reporter's Bones Can

Bonus GIF:

I suppose this is a donkey and not a horse, but he's still one wild sumbitch.

Palate Cleanser

2008-01-25T08:19:00.000-06:00

My last two posts were generally just kinda gross, so I need to post a cute palate-cleansing image:

Floating Chinese babies can make any wrong right again.

Toe Finger

2008-01-24T23:11:00.000-06:00

My friend C-Minus used to know a guy who had some skin graphed onto is pinky from his armpit after an accident when he was younger. When he hit puberty his pinky started to sprout pubic hair. I always thought that was really unfortunate and rather gross. But this is probably worse:

I've heard of appendage replacement operations like this before, but I've never actually seen an example of it until now. Kinda wish I hadn't. But my questions is: do they just leave the foot with no toe? Or do they replace that, too? Is it just a never ending cycle of replacing more important appendages with less important ones until finally all your toes and fingers are in the wrong place and your earlobes are missing? Where does it all end?

Overheard at the STD Clinic

2008-01-22T19:32:00.000-06:00

A couple weeks ago I blogged about the podunk couple at the specialty clinic who were filling out their medical histories with their volume set to eleven, but I guess I didn't realize how lucky I was, because at least it wasn't an STD clinic:

Citypages: Talk Dirty to Me - Things Overheard at the STD Clinic

Warning: some of them made me gag. As the requisite palate cleanser, here is this year's top ten list, and the last and only top ten list ever needed, from McSweeneys, which I found to be crushingly clever:

Top Ten Best Ever.
BY PETER FERLAND

1. "Standard" by Generally Beloved

2. "Obvious" by Everyone's List

3. "Understandable" by Debatable but Worthy

4. "Totally Obscure" by Feel Suddenly Inferior

5. "Universally Forgotten" by Curiously Vehement Reverence

6. Whole body of work by Your Ignorance Limits You

7. "Otherwise Underwhelming" by What Was Playing That Time Specific to Me When Everything Came Together Just as It Should Have

8. "Footnote" by Guess Which Were My Drugs

9. "Other-Culture Techno Trance Experience" by See How Well-Rounded I Am

10. "Children's Version of See Above" by We've Got Kids Now

Animated Friday!

2008-01-18T10:43:00.000-06:00

Gravity is a curious thing.

Sometimes its presence it felt, harshly.

Sometimes the lack of it can be just as cruel.

Insulting Compliments

2008-01-17T22:32:00.000-06:00

I was on vacation at one point last year getting my photograph taken in front of some old building or cathedral or something. After the photographer snapped the picture with my camera, I rejoined him to review the photo before moving on. The picture looked okay to me: there I stood, all happy and proud to be there, with a big toothy grin on my face. My pearlies were practically sparkling in the setting afternoon sun. Upon seeing the image of my beaming smile displayed on the back of my digital camera, my acquaintance said:

"You know, you have a really nice closed-mouth smile."

The true meaning of that "compliment" wasn't lost on me. The rest of my photos from that particular vacation bare no teeth.

But I really shouldn't judge. The other day we got on the unfortunate topic of "What animal does each of our friends resemble?" and I told Cherry Nut she reminded me of a big horse. In my head, I was picturing something majestic and proud, with a long flowing mane, kinda like The Black Stallion or something. But regardless, I don't think girls like being called big horses.

For the record, I was told I resembled and orangutan.

Faultless

2008-01-15T07:59:00.000-06:00

My sister and I came across this little gem in the back of a long-forgotten bathroom cabinet this weekend:

It had a copyright date of 1980 on it - so we are way beyond its four year guarantee. I don't know if the lady on the box needs a douche or an enema, but either way it looks like it may be urgent.

And she doesn't look at all "faultless". In fact, she looks guilty as hell.

2008

2008-01-02T23:14:00.000-06:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Do you think the beads and the hat and the neck garland and the over sized plastic rape whistle and the mouthful of Baileys are overkill?

I used to make elaborate year-end lists of my favorites things, but for the last couple years I just can't imagine that anyone would care what I liked and didn't like. Plus, I just didn't see nearly enough movies or read nearly enough books. Plus I'm super lazy. So I'll be quick about it:

Favorite Books of 2007:
I never read books the year they come out, but the best book I read in 2007 regardless of release date was undoubtedly Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. I also really enjoyed Under the Banner of Heaven by Krakauer, because Mormons are, like, crazy and stuff.

Favorite Movies of 2007:
This really isn't fair because I didn't see half the movies I wanted to.
3. Superbad
2. Juno
1. No Country for Old Men

Best movie not from 2007 that I finally saw:
Hard Candy

Worst Movie I saw all year:
The Holiday

Favorite CDs of 2007:
I seem to have lost my edge. If I were trying to be hip, I'd put Of Montreal on here too, but honestly that CD's charm faded on me after just a couple listens.
5. Feist - The Reminder
4. Suzanne Vega - Beauty & Crime
3. Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton - What is Free to a Good Home?
2. The Owls - Suns and Daughters
1. Radiohead - In Rainbows

Favorite Songs of 2007:
In no particular order.
Cleanse Song by Bright Eyes
The Bank by Emily Haines
Reckoner by Radiohead
My Moon My Man by Feist
What We Had by Handsome Furs
Almost Over by Elliott Smith
Happy Alone by Earlimart
For Those in Favor by the Owls
Big Wheel by Tori Amos
Luscious Life by Patrick Watson
Lake Michigan by Rogue Wave
Zephyr & I by Suzanne Vega

Favorite People I Don't Know of 2007:
Tina Fey - For saying that the word Lovers "really bums me out unless it's between the words Meat and Pizza".
Stewey on the Family Guy - Because I like the pitter patter of this little footsteps.
Ellen Paige - For making Hard Candy believable.
Sarah Silverman - For the episode where she becomes a lesbian.
Kathy Griffin (Shut up, I like her) - For hating Ann Coulter.
Nigel Godrich - For getting Radiohead out of their funk.
Miranda July - Because she's just plain awesome.
Michael Cera - Because he was funny once or twice.

My new mortal enemy:
Liev Schrieber, for ruining one of my favorite books of all time.

Favorite TV Show of 2007:
Now that Gilmore Girls is long gone, I guess I have to say 30 Rock. Or all day back-to-back Law & Order reruns.

Resolutions for 2008:
3. Spend Less Money
2. See Radiohead Live in Concert
1. Lose The Gut

Animated Friday (Rad Edition)!

2008-01-11T16:55:00.000-06:00

Oh man, that's so rad!

Could it get any radder?

The raddest of them all:

That's why I always ride my bike like an old lady: slow and steady.

TMI

2008-01-10T23:18:00.000-06:00

I found myself in a specialty health clinic waiting room earlier this week, where a middle-aged podunk couple sitting a few seats away from me were filling out their medical history chart. For some reason this couple did not understand the private nature of such information, so they both talked at full volume for the whole room to hear, as if their voices didn't have any subtler options between off and the-top-of-your-lungs. It went a little something like this:

Podunk wife with clipboard and checklist: You got trouble sleeping?
Podunk husband with hobo beard and missing teeth: Yep.
Podunk wife: You got trouble waking up early?
Podunk husband: Yep.
Podunk wife: You got trouble staying asleep?
Podunk husband: Yep.
Podunk wife: Itchiness?
Podunk husband: Yep.
Podunk wife: Hot sweats?
Podunk husband: Yep.
Podunk wife: Pain in your joints?
Podunk husband: Yep.
Podunk wife: Tingling in your feet?
Podunk husband: Just in my butt and legs.
Podunk wife: Tingling in your hands?
Podunk husband: Just in my butt and legs.
Podunk wife: Tingling in your neck or head?
Podunk husband: WOMAN! I TOLD YOU JUST IN MY BUTT AND IN MY LEGS!!!
Podunk wife: Irritability?
Podunk husband: Nope.

But the worst part was when he would answer before she would finish asking the question, because it really made my mind race. For example there was this little exchange:

Podunk wife: What color is your...
Podunk husband: Yellow.

Grody to the max. It's sad when I actually have to think the phrase "I hope they were talking about his urine." I am always fascinated by people who have a complete lack of shame. I got plenty to spare, in case anyone needs some extra.

Two can play at that game, mister.

2008-01-09T18:33:00.000-06:00

A few people have sent me this article in the last couple days. It's about a fellow "Dan Miller" and rap enthusiast who has legally changed his name to "The" Dan Miller Experience.

Now admittedly, the whole name-change idea had never even occurred to me, but now that it's been thrown out there I'm feeling a little bit cheated. What makes this guy "THE" Official Dan Miller Experience? I think I should have at least been given a shot at the title. I think I could have been a contender:

Now THAT'S a Dan Miller Experience to be reckoned with.

Winner = me.

Unintentional flattery will get you everywhere.

2008-01-08T11:43:00.000-06:00

Add me to the list of the millions of people who went to the gym for the first time in months this week, united in our common New Year's Resolution to quit being lumpy fatsos. I kind of soured on the gym after it gave me mono, stole my pants, and humiliated me in every possible way. But I figured that real results are achieved through pain and sacrifice, so it's back to the Bally's I go.

This time I was humiliated by my own arrogance and susceptibility to flattery. It happened after I had just completed my jog on the treadmill. Sweaty and panting, I was straining hard while stretching on a mat when a Bally's Trainer approached me and said:

"People are going to think you're a Trainer!"

I was immediately flattered. Clearly I didn't look as flabby as I thought I did. The Bally's Trainer obviously could see the enthusiasm and effort I was putting into my workout. I must be looking good. I could barely hold back a proud smile. I practically screamed "Thanks!" and continued on with my workout, only now I stood a little bit taller.

A while later, during my cool down, I caught a glimpse of myself while passing a mirror and realized that my red T-shirt and black wind pants were a direct match for the Bally's Trainer uniform. Rather than being impressed with my physique and workout stamina, the Trainer was actually just making a remark about my outfit, and how it so closely resembled his own. Suddenly, my ethusiastic reply of "Thanks!" seemed entirely inappropriate, and downright awkward.

I should have known better. You don't wear a red sweater to Target, and you don't wear the Bally's brand colors at the gym.

I hate the gym.

At which point you know you've gone WAY over the top...

2008-01-08T08:30:00.000-06:00

I know that they like to say they do things "big" in Texas, but there still has to be a point where common sense makes one reconsider certain outlandish ideas, such as having a life-size wedding cake made of yourself:

[read all about it]

I'm not sure which is worse: her actual wedding dress which looks like she barfed up potpourri all over the front of herself, or the fact that she had it immortalized in frosting.

I think the most telling image is the one where the groom is shoved into the background, forced to peer impishly over the bride's shoulder in a desperate attempt to be noticed, as if he's lucky even to be included in the photograph. It's not hard to tell who's wearing the pants in that relationship.

Yay for Texas.

Animated Friday!

2008-01-04T16:27:00.000-06:00

Even though "professional" wrestling might not technically be a sport, it definitely requires more practice than some people are willing to do.

Oh, and ouch.

And here is a bonus that's-gotta-hurt gif.

The truth comes out in North Minneapolis

2008-01-04T00:07:00.000-06:00

Finally the church admits that Jesus loved nailin' them broads...

*cue rimshot*

[Taken not far from where I live, but not by me. From here.]

And while we're on the subject, another curious sign:

So wait, should I or shouldn't I go near the platform's edge?

Animated Friday!

2007-12-28T16:06:00.000-06:00

Riddle: What element is a necessary requirement for both swimmin' and surfin'?

WATER.

Say again?

WATER.

The New Classics

2007-12-27T21:23:00.000-06:00

I think it's awesomely cavalier that cable TV can force a movie into "classic" status just by running it 24 hours straight or ad nauseum, as if excessive repetition is all it takes to make the American people think they actually like something. TNT has even dubbed Mel Gibson's craptastic What Women Want as a "new classic", simply because they plan on airing it three nights in a row.

At least TBS picked a worthy movie to "classicify" when they chose to start running A Christmas Story for 24 hours straight every xmas eve, because it's one of the best movies ever made, and it's barely even 25 years old. Good ol' Ralphie doesn't even look that old these days:

Look at those baby blues! Although this picture is more intriguing:

Um, you'll DEFINITELY shoot your eye out, kid.
His younger brother didn't age as well, though:

And so help me god, Scut Farkas does NOT have yellow eyes anymore:

Unfortunately, Ralphie's papa died last year, but his mama is still going strong, and I was surprised to realize that I last saw her onscreen as the cokehead's mother in Magnolia, a recent favorite of mine:

Anyway, A Christmas Story is the one movie that is well deserving of the "new classic" label. I managed to watch it three times this year. Here are a few more not-so-worthy movies that TNT has declared to be "classic":

• Air Force One
• CastAway
• Con Air
• The Fifth Element
• Hitch
• Maverick
• Ocean's Eleven
• Shrek
• Signs
• Titanic
• What Lies Beneath

Hmmmm, perhaps we need to propose a referendum.

Oh, ok, just one more, it's Flick:

The Xmas Spirit

2007-12-26T12:25:00.000-06:00

Best Xmas card ever:

[see the large version here]

I really like xmas. I like shopping for gifts. I like tacky decorations. I like knowing that a good portion of the world's population is doing the exact same thing, listening to the exact same music, and feeling the exact same nostalgia as I am. I like that so many people can keep an idea like Santa Claus afloat for so many years without forming a religion around him. Unless you consider consumerism a religion, I guess. But heck, sometimes I like consumerism, too.

Sometimes I don't like people, though. I was at Target on Christmas Eve buying a few last minute items. As I stood in the express check-out line, the elderly man behind me tapped my shoulder.

Elderly Man: Excuse me, young man.
Me: Yes?
Elderly Man: You went in front of me.
Me: Excuse me?
Elderly Man: You went in front of me to get in line.
Me: I did?
Elderly Man: Yes, back there.

He was pointing toward the housewares department. Granted, it was right across from the checkout section and a direct shot to the lane I was standing in, but he was making it sound like I was just cutting in line when in fact I had passed him in an unrelated shopping aisle a good twenty feet back. Was I really supposed to know that the slow old man I was briskly passing was headed to the same checkout counter as I was? Should I take to remaining behind elderly people at all times while shopping, just in case they are headed to the same destination as I am, lest be accused of budding? And since that was a rhetorical question, what exactly is the etiquette for appeasing a crazy old man?

Being the xmas season (and seeing as how the cashier was giving me a dirty look by this point), I apologized and let him ahead of me in line. But afterwards I felt taken advantage of. It's not like he was crippled or pregnant. Do I really have to give up my place in line for some lazy coot just because he happens to be elderly? Eff that. He was lucky I was in the xmas spirit. And he better think twice before trying that shit again with me in a non-xmas environment.

PS. Speaking of the xmas spirit, Cherry Nut wanted to buy this for you for xmas, but she didn't have your shipping address.

Animated Friday!

2007-12-21T12:29:00.000-06:00

I know how you internet nerds love cats, so this one is for you guys:

Fail.

Not fail.

Super not fail.

The Sound of Bad Musical Theater

2007-12-21T10:48:00.000-06:00

My friends and I like to gather for an annual holiday dinner and event every year. This year we decided to eat at an Italian restaurant in our beautiful capital city of St. Paul, and then see the Ordway Theater's awful production of The Sound of Music, the film version of which is one of my favorite movies of all time. Sure, the original movie is cheesy and a tad campy and altogether sickeningly-sweet, but the difference is that Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer could sell that shit like nobody's business, while the actors in last night's production were far less convincing. The production seemed straight out of a high school musical and they somehow shifted the sequencing around to where Mother Superior ended up singing "My Favorite Things", which is an utter travesty. I shouldn't even mention the absurdity of casting an Asian in the role of the Nazi-Sympathizing Baroness, but I just did anyway. All in all, it was quite bad indeed. And $75 a ticket.

There was a mentally-handicapped man in a wheelchair a few rows behind us. He would moan intermittently throughout the performance with innocent confusion, like many mentally-handicapped people tend to do. But his timing was impeccable. Every time one of the actors mumbled some horribly-delivered line of dialogue, or every time the on-stage ensemble completed one of their numerous off-key tunes (arms raised, awaiting applause), the mentally-handicapped man would groan questioningly into the deafening silence: "Aaaaaoooooaahhh?" It was almost as if he was thinking exactly what everyone else was thinking at the exact same moment. Something tells me that mentally-handicapped man is a lot smarter than people give him credit for.

And I got busted for taking a photograph inside the theater. One of the ushers caught me snapping a picture of my friends and came over to ask me to delete it. I knew it was forbidden to take pictures of the performance, but I didn't see any harm in taking pictures of my friends in their seats before the lights even dimmed, so I just said "Yes, I'll delete it," and put the camera into my pocket. But he looked at me all stern-faced and said "No, can you delete it now?" So I took the camera back out and pretended to fumble with its buttons until he walked away. This is the picture he caught me taking:

Can you imagine the damage that could be done if this picture ever got released to the public?!? The Ordway would never recover! It's a good thing they have such crackerjack security there.

Altered Egos

2007-12-18T21:18:00.000-06:00

I've always wondered if I would be recognizable as a disguised super hero. Obviously, a disguise like Spiderman's would be easy for anyone to pull off because he's fully covered head to toe, but the other super heroes really push the limits sometimes. Anyway, I thought rather than wasting my time pondering it, I would just activate my Photoshop powers.

Dan as Batman:

Pretty unrecognizable, actually, but I still have a hard time believing that Michelle Pfeiffer couldn't tell it was Michael Keaton in there.

Dan as Robin:

I'm owning the character, but that one is barely even a disguise. I'd give it an F.

Dan as Wonder Woman:

Surprisingly, I think the five o'clock shadow would give me away more than the body type ever would, but still, she wasn't exactly ever incognito. And I never noticed how awful her shorts were in that show. Damn.

Dan as Santa:

The coverage is good, but shopping mall santas aren't exactly superheros. In fact, I have a hard time seeing them as anything other than warm-kneed perverts, but maybe I'm just being cynical.

Well anyway, ho ho ho.

The Wedding

2007-12-16T17:27:00.000-06:00

Here are Kmack's wedding photos that I'm sure we will all enjoy:

Proud Papa & Funcle Dan

2007-12-14T16:06:00.000-06:00

T-bone's brand new baby is pretty derned cute.

Proud Papa:

Funcle Dan:

"Funcle" sounds like I'm trying to make myself sound like a "fun" uncle or something lame like that, but really I meant it to be short for "faux-uncle", since I'm technically not really an uncle or a blood relative of any kind, which I suppose is still kind of a lame meaning, but screw you for being so judgmental.

Regardless, I will be a the best funcle lil' baby MJ ever had.

Animated Friday!

2007-12-14T16:11:00.000-06:00

I'd imagine it to feel like one of those Chinese finger traps.

Curiosity Killed the Cat and Molested the Dog

Which really reminds me of this.

Kmack is no more.

2007-12-10T11:53:00.000-06:00

So I didn't post much for the last week because it was too jam-packed with many major events, some of which were totally awesome, and some of which I'd rather forget altogether, but the long and short of the good bits are that:

I GOT TO WEAR A TUXEDO!

and... K-MACK IS MARRIED!

Guess this means I can't call her Kmack anymore. It's officially time to start calling her by her new nickname.

There will be more pictures to come later. I'm sweaty in most of them so some major air-brushing is in order.

Animated (Last) Friday!

2007-12-10T11:48:00.000-06:00

I missed animated Friday again, but for good reason this time. Anyway, here goes:

You are not the father...

...which is ironic since T-bone had a baby last Friday! He's dancing because he IS the father... of a healthy lil' girl. So congratulations, T-bone! I'd post a picture of your baby but I'm starting to realize there's an etiquette to these things.

Instead, I'll post a bonus animated GIF of the scariest baby, ever.

IRONY!

2007-12-10T11:46:00.001-06:00

Random internet finds:

Animated Friday!

2007-11-30T15:15:00.000-06:00

Man, it's getting late in the day! I almost forgot. Anyway, today's animated GIF comes with a life lesson:

WHEN YOU SEE YOUR OPPORTUNITY, SEIZE IT.

Bonus link: A sure fire way to get your kid to go to law school when they grow up is to name them appropriately.

A Kickass Xmas 2007

2007-11-25T17:34:00.000-06:00

I made my annual Xmas Music Mix and launched it this weekend:

I must say, it's the best mix yet:

1. The 12 Days of Xmas - The Joseph & Mary Chain, et al.
2. Merry Xmas & Happy New Year - Martha Wainwright
3. Papa Noel - Brenda Lee
4. Winter Wonderland - Liz Phair
5. Sleigh Ride - The Soulful Strings
6. The Man with All the Toys - Knight & Doble
7. Santa Clause is Coming to Town - Bing Crosby
8. Carol of the Bells - The Carpenters
9. Still Still Still - Sunfall Festival
10. That was the Worst Xmas Ever! - Sufjan Stevens
11. Little Drummer Boy - Iain Archer
12. Fairy Tale of New York - KT Tunstall & Ed Harcourt
13. In Dulce Jublio - Mike Oldfield
14. Have Yourself a Merry Little Xmas - Aimee Mann
15. Jingle Bells - Frank Sinatra
16. Ring Those Xmas Bells - Peggy Lee
17. Santa Clause is Comin’ to Town - Bobby Sherman
18. Jolly Ol’ St. Nick Medly - The Ray Conniff Singers
19. Kings & Things - The Recital
20. What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? - Henry Mancini
21. 2006 (This Year’s Resolutions) - Hello Saferide
22. Sister Winter - Sufjan Stevens
23. Merry Xmas Everyone - Shakin’ Stevens

I wish I could share it with all of your without breaking a million different copyright laws. If you're crafty, though, you can probably find most of the tunes online for free, and then you can email me and ask me for the high res cover to print for your own collection and we can spend the holiday season knowing that we are enjoying the exact same soundtrack. Unfortunately I didn't have the time or the inspiration to create my own original Xmas tune this year, but you can still download The Kickassiest Christmas from last year, a tune which I have recently submitted to The Great Sufan Xmas Song Xchange contest. I not only expect to win, but I expect to be discovered and launched toward inevitable stardom as a result. See you at that Grammys, bitches!

UPDATE: I added a link to a Jukebox where you can listen to this mix in its entirety. It's in the right column, so click away and enjoy!

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-24T17:19:00.000-06:00

I really don't like Thanksgiving dinner. I'd rather eat my own hair. (Oops, nevermind, no I wouldn't - caution do not click to view the images in that link or you'll be sorry...). In recent years my family has skipped the homemade turkey meal for subpar restaurant food at Barnacle Bill's, followed by a madcap game of bowling in the alley that is attached to the aforementioned "restaurant". Unfortunately, or fortunately, or however you look at it, we skipped the Barnacle Bill's visit this year, which means I also missed my annual Madam von Bighair sighting. But we still got in a solid game of bowling:

I had a hard time even cracking 100.

Then on Friday I decorated my house for the upcoming holiday season and my friends and I played Sexy Scrabble, which honestly isn't really all that sexy. As a matter of fact, it can be downright filthy, and with the utter lack of rules and poor phonetic spelling, the playing field can get unwieldy, and disturbingly GROSS:

I hope that doesn't shatter the innocent thoughts you had about me. Here are some more pictures from the evening.

In fact, I updated my whole Pics section, if you're at all innerested...

I'm not sure if I apologize more for that hair-eating link up top or the filthy scrabble picture. Let's just play it safe: sorry for both.

Animated Friday (Sunday)!

2007-11-25T14:11:00.000-06:00

With all the holiday hubbub, I forgot to post some animated GIFs this week. So here they are, and in the spirit of the season, I thought I'd post something sweet:

Got your nose #1!

Got your nose #2!

My First Bachelorette Party

2007-11-19T18:14:00.000-06:00

As Kmack's Mantron of Honor, I had to throw her a bachelorette party this weekend. Here is the evidence:

Click on the image for the full photo album, and no that picture above wasn't posed. I have no idea what I was doing at the time but it was candid. It must have been a good party because everyone woke up embarrassed and we're still hungover two days later.

Party Favors

2007-11-19T17:44:00.000-06:00

For the bachelorette party I threw last weekend, I used my extensive backlog of embarrassing Kmack photos to whip up some saucy party buttons for handing out to attendants, attendees, and random people:

I also made up T-shirts for everyone to wear:

And of course, I went shopping at Sex World for some dirty gifts. The sales there were spectacular:

But I settled for some Anal Beads and Butt Wipes. Ain't I the best Mantron of Honor, like, ever?

Animated Friday!

2007-11-16T12:22:00.000-06:00

It's all a crap shoot.

Sometimes you get what you deserve.

Sometimes you get what you don't deserve.

Life in the fast lane.

2007-11-15T16:56:00.000-06:00

I got a speeding ticket a couple weeks ago, and just like everyone else here at Shawshank, I am totally innocent. But that's beside the point. The point is that I had to spend two hours waiting to see a hearing officer at the government center to try and talk my way out of it.

In the waiting room, sandwiched between an angry loud woman who's bottom gut was pouring over into my seat and an unbathed man who was working on coughing up a substance that sounded to consist mostly of pure solids, I could only wonder if it was worth it. But I was too self rightous to admit defeat.

When the angry loud woman asked me where Hennepin Avenue was and I responded, "Downtown," she erupted with an even louder "I know Hennepin's downtown! You don't gotta tell me Hennepin's downtown! Everyone know's Hennepin's downtown!" With her insane yelps being directed at me, suddenly I was the center of everyone's attention, and for the first time I realized that everyone there looked either deathly ill or drunk and beligerent. It was like a hospital ward mixed with a holding cell.

I would have found the whole experience entertaining had it been beneficial to me at all. When I finally got to the hearing officer, she told me there was nothing she could do for me except schedule a court date later in December. Then when I got back to the government center parking ramp, I discovered that it costs $21 for two hours of parking, a billing practice I will henceforth refer to as "that whole crock of shit." No wonder they don't take appointments at the hearing office, ensuring that their average wait time is well over two hours.

Not that I think they should make it easy to get out of a speeding ticket, but there seems to be issues with efficiency in that government office (surprise), and I should be able to leave their waiting room without developing a skin rash or contracting the flu. All I know is that I'll be driving at a prudent ten miles per hour BELOW the speed limit from now on, thank you very much.

So I guess, in that sense, I learned a bigger lesson than whatever a $142 speeding ticket could ever teach me. But I refuse to admit I learned anything at all right now, because I'm officially in full-on eff-the-police mode.

And I'm attaching this picture of a two-faced pig for no reason whatsoever.

Hi/Bye

2007-11-14T17:02:00.000-06:00

I'm just dropping in to say Hi and Bye. I'm too busy playing Super Mario Galaxy and counting down to the premiere of Project Runway to post.

Ciao for now. I'll post more when I resurface.

Animated Friday!

2007-11-09T15:49:00.000-06:00

I'm not exactly sure if these images are technically suitable for viewing at work or not. I don't think there were any naughty bits showing, but with all those folds I was never quite sure what I was looking at. Also: do not operate heavy machinery while watching these animated GIFs.

Hypnotic Motion - Male

Hypnotic Motion - Female

Suddenly Abdominal Etching doesn't seem so bad after all.

Abominal Etching

2007-11-07T19:42:00.000-06:00

At what point does cosmetic surgery cross the line into outright lying? I think it's when you have to fake your six-pack:

An Abdominal Etching Gallery, for the curious.

When Awkward Becomes So Much More

2007-11-08T17:49:00.001-06:00

There's an employee at my bank who thinks I am someone else. The first few times it happened he would just approach me from afar with a confident walk, waving his hand in the air, and bellow "Hey, man!" with way too much enthusiasm for a casual acquaintance. It would always catch me off guard, and I'd have to look over my shoulder to see if he was in fact talking to someone else standing directly behind me, but there was never anyone else there. He would usually traverse about half of the distance between us before his face would suddenly change and his hand would drop and he would mutter disappointedly, "Oh sorry, man, I thought you were someone else."

This happened way too many times to count. The same scenario acting itself out ad nauseum. Eventually he seemed to restrain himself. Rather than speed-walking in my direction, he simply started to wave at me from behind his counter. But the wave was still accompanied by an enthusiastic "Hey, man!" and the smile was still way too big. Being the polite guy that I am, I always waved back, which probably only helped to perpetuate the problem.

But after a couple years, it got to the ridiculous point where it was happening every time I went to the bank, so I decided that he had finally become aware of his problem, and that this tradition of waving and smiling was just an acknowledgement of his past foolishness. Almost like an inside joke between the two of us. It was as if we had a secret handshake. I became so certain that he was in on the joke that one day I made a goofy wink grin, gun-pointed at him with my index finger, said "Hey man, long time no see!", and followed it up with a laugh so that he knew I was kidding. I got nothing but an awkward smile in return, but I didn't think much of it.

Then today I went to deposit a couple checks. The second I walked in the door I heard "Hey, man!" and I looked up to see him yet again speed-walking in my direction, this time with his hand held out as if he was expecting a shake. At first I thought that maybe he was just taking my previous lame joke one step further and he was really committing to the bit. But this time he didn't stop. He walked right up and I was forced to offer him my hand in return, still unsure if he was pulling my leg. Then he said: "So how's your sister?"

I laughed, hoping this was all a part of our secret in joke. But he just stared back at me. At first I thought he had the best poker face ever, but then it slowly started to dawn on me that I had clearly invented our entire inside-joke-based relationship in my head. I couldn't be sure, so I just said "My sister?" And he said, "Yeah, man, how's she doin'? I ain't seen her in ages!" So I slowly responded, "You know my sister?" His smile faded, his hand released mine, and he took a step back.

"Sorry, man, I thought you were someone else," he said and walked away without even the slightest acknowledgement that this had been happening for YEARS now, dozens upon dozens of times. It kind of made me sad to realize that we weren't the buddies I thought we were. And it makes me insanely curious to see this mysterious fella, who is apparently my exact doppelganger, so that I can know exactly how crazy this bank employee really is.

Next time he waves at me I'm going to give him the finger. He'll wonder why his good ol' pal has turned on him and how such a jerk can have such a cool sister. The word will spread and my doppelganger will get a bad reputation around town. I win. In your face, doppelganger. I'm clearly the better me!

Animated Friday!

2007-11-02T12:03:00.000-05:00

Stupid is as stupid does:

Ever been to Bangkok?

Speaking of tailpipes:

[FP]

Daylight $avings

2007-10-30T22:38:00.000-05:00

I think the new Target by my house is still getting their employees up to speed, because some of them aren't so bright. I was at the checkout last Saturday night when it suddenly occurred to me that the Daylight Savings time-change weekend must be approaching. So I asked the cashier:

Me: Hey, do you know if Daylight Savings is this weekend?
Target Cashier: I don't think we have those kinds of savings.
Me: [confused silence, followed by] What kind of savings?
Target Cashier: Daylight savings.

It was suddenly clear to me that she was confusing Daylight Savings with some type of Kmart-style Bluelight savings event, so I tried to clarify:

Me: No, I mean Daylight Savings, like, turn-back-the-clock Daylight Savings.
Target Cashier: I don't think we have that, but you can ask the Service Counter. They have all of our print ads.

At that point I just gave up, but I did seriously consider taking her advice to visit the Service Counter and inform them that one of their employees would most certainly be an hour early to work next weekend.

Happy Halloween, Planetdan Style

2007-10-31T08:32:00.000-05:00

I tried to carve my own likeness into a pumpkin, but it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. And frankly, I prefer messing around with my face in Photoshop:

Yeah, I know, it doesn't really look like me, but if you think you can do better, then here is the Official Planetdan Pumpkin Carving Template.

I suppose in the end the results are successful enough since pumpkindan looks creepy as hell.

Boo, indeed.

Roma, 2007

2007-10-30T07:15:00.000-05:00

I've been back from Rome for over a week now, but I finally got a chance to put up a small photo gallery. I went with a group of more than twenty, so rather than get all of their permissions to put their pictures online, I just decided to put up pictures of myself and my surroundings, sans travel companions. So even though it might look like a sad and lonely trip, it was actually quite jam-packed with more than a few lovely individuals.

You can click on the image above to actually view the gallery. I'm also too lazy to write descriptions, so if you want to know what something is, just let me know.

Animated Friday (Monday)!

2007-10-29T16:56:00.000-05:00

I was way too busy last Friday, and so this is three days late and quite a few dollars short, but whatever:

Oompf #1

Oompf #2

Oompf #3

Bonegulper

2007-10-29T22:59:00.000-05:00

"Gulps bone" is not a phrase you would find referring to a politician's wife in a modern day newspaper. Now, if it were referring to a politician's intern, that would be another story altogether, but still I think this older article harks back to a MUCH simpler time. When Republicans still gulped bones.

[FP]

Triumphs in Product Design, Volume 1

2007-10-23T18:37:00.000-05:00

Oh dear. No comment.

[FP]

Have Yourself a Sexy Halloween!

2007-10-24T18:41:00.001-05:00

Apparently the ladies are getting tired of the same old Sexy Cop, Sexy Nurse, and Sexy Stewardess costumes of yesteryear, because I came across this perplexing option on the Internet today:

Sexy Freddy Krueger? I'm not sure I fully understand the trend, but I thought I'd get a jump on next year anyway and create a few more options for the ladies to choose from, seeing as how sexy never seems to go out of style:

Enjoy, ladies!

Celebrity Sightings, Roman Style

2007-10-20T13:57:00.000-05:00

Apparently the Rome Film Festival was this weekend, and rumor has it that a multitude of celebrities the likes of George Clooney and Tom Cruise were in town. I didn't see either of them, but I did have a few random sightings, such as:

Geoffrey Rush:

That Pope Guy:

Tim Robbins:

Angelina Jolie:

Oops, never mind, that last one was my friend Ricardo. Sometimes I have a hard time telling them apart. It was kind of fun sitting at the fancy hotel bar where all the celebrities were staying in town, even if it was twenty euros per drink, because when we left there were a whole bunch of paparazzi fans waiting outside snapping their flashes. I'm not sure who they were waiting for, and I'm sure the sight of me certainly wasn't it, but I pretended to be a superstar nonetheless.

The Chapel

2007-10-16T17:15:00.000-05:00

Today I survived The Last Judgement, in a suit no less.

I just couldn't reach, goddammit.

I'm sure you're sick of Rome pictures, but...

2007-10-16T08:12:00.000-05:00

I figured all the plain old static photos would get boring, so here's an action shot of me throwing a coin into the Trevi Fountain. You like?

And here's me taking advantage of a little unexpected unaccompanied time in the Restoration Labs at the Vatican Museums:

So pious.

il papa

2007-10-15T12:55:00.000-05:00

The pope:

Dan at the pope's private gardens,Castel Gandolfo:

Lil' Ceasar:

I own Rome.

Marcus Aurelius and I

2007-10-14T12:33:00.000-05:00

Like brothers. Too bad I didn't bring my horse, otherwise you'd be able to see the resemblance.

I've been wearing the same underwear for two days because the airline lost one of my suitcases. I've also been shaving with what is basically a rusty razor blade and soap. But I still look good!

Viva Roma!

2007-10-13T14:32:00.000-05:00

I'm in Rome. Well, actually today I was in Pittigliano where this picture was taken, but right now I'm in Rome.

Did you know that in Rome the prosititutes hang out on the side of the freeway? For serious. It's dangerous work.

Animated Friday!

2007-10-12T08:20:00.000-05:00

I don't have much time right now, but here's some fun anyway:

Hindleg Freakshow

Frontleg Freakshow

How to appear crazy insane, even when you totally aren't.

2007-10-11T12:43:00.000-05:00

A new Target store opened right by my house. It's grand opening this week has been one of the most anticipated moments of my recent past. Today I went there for the first time to get the battery in my watch replaced, but when I got there the conversation went like this:

Me at the jewelry counter: Can you replace my watch battery?
Jewelry counter employee: We can only replace batteries on watches purchased at Target.
Me: Why?
Employee: For liability reasons.
Me: Okay, then can you open up the watch and just sell me the battery I need?
Employee: You'd have to open it yourself. For liability reasons.
Me: Okay, can you lend me a tool to open it?
Employee: No, we can't do that for...
Me: ...liability reasons, yeah I get it. So how do you propose I get it open then?
Employee: All you need is a razor blade or a needle to pop it open...

So I started looking around the store for razor blades and needles without much success when I happened across the Halloween candy aisle, so I thought it was as good a time as any to stock up. I was trying to balance three pillow-sized bags of candy in my arms when I noticed a Target employee walking by, so I shouted to get her attention:

"Hey, can you tell me where you keep the needles and razor blades?"

She stood silent, looked down at the ginormous bags of Halloween candy in my arms, and stammered:

"Um, I don't think we have those..."

At this point, I didn't realize that she was imagining me to be some Halloween-candy-contaminating psychopath. I just figured she was being lazy, so I got all huffy, adjusted the bags of candy in my arms, and said:

"So you don't have any razor blades OR needles in this entire store?"

She blinked. "Well..."

"Forget it!" I grumbled passive-aggressively, and stormed off down the aisle. It wasn't until I was at the check-out counter that I suddenly understood her apprehension. I'm kinda dim-witted sometimes. I never did get that damn watch open, either.

By the way, did you know that those needles-in-Halloween-candy stories are true? I always thought that was an urban legend, but it has happened at least once in my own little Hamlet of Minneapolis.

A Handmade Halloween

2007-10-10T07:35:00.000-05:00

Reminder: Halloween is only three weeks away.

Advice: Make your own costume this year. Star Wars always brings out the best in people. Mix in a little cardboard, and you got the kind of Halloween that dreams are made of.

Stormtrooper:

Chewy:

The Death Star:

A+++++ for effort. But for real, I shouldn't be mocking handmade costumes of any caliber. I don't think I've been invited to any parties this year, so I won't have to get dressed up, which is probably a good thing.

Falling Hillary

2007-10-06T13:52:00.000-05:00

I'm so proud of myself. This old dog finally learned out to reverse-engineer a Flash movie to edit it. I'm a total elite hacker! My first inclination was to use this new power to insert my own likeness (of course) into the Falling George Bush Screensaver, but making my own body parts connect in realistic ways proved to be difficult so I was forced to go with the templates available to me, and since I don't really look right in a power suit or a bikini, I had to give up. Instead I went with Hillary Clinton, because she can look good (and by "good" I mean "appropriate") in both.

So now I deliver unto you:

The Falling Hillary Clinton Screensaver
I put her in a nice gray pantsuit with matching pumps. I think she really looks sharp.

- AND -

The Falling Hillary Clinton in a Bikini Screensaver
I think I prefer the bikini version, because she was still sassy enough to keep the pumps.

Who should I defile next? And remember, they have to look good in either a suit or a bikini.

Animated Friday!

2007-10-05T12:17:00.000-05:00

Both sides of the coin:

Lucky Guy

Not So Lucky Guy

Although, I don't think the masochist in the second one really needed to lean into it so much. I think he secretly has a testicle pain fetish.

ps. Don't ever google "testicle pain fetish".

Who you callin' a pest, bitch?

2007-10-05T12:05:00.001-05:00

I found this letter written to my brother, circa 1982, from one of his best friends. I was surprised to see that it mentions me right out of the gate, and his response is scathing! That's what you get when you try to badmouth dan, bro! The moral smackdown! Booyah!

Of course my brother and his friend were just 11 at the time, and I was just an innocent young thing barely 7 years old, but that goody-two-shoes dude had my back!

Tanya

2007-10-05T11:57:00.000-05:00

This made me laugh out loud, at poor Tanya's expense:

I don't know where this is from, but it's got a definite Vice Magazine Do's and Don'ts vibe to it...

I shouldn't laugh, though. I don't have the best fashion record myself, and I'm sure there is photographic evidence of it out there somewhere. I've destroyed as many pictures as I could of my mullet phase, but you can never be too sure.

Squirrel Burgers

2007-10-02T12:15:00.000-05:00

I recently received a link (thanks, Courtney!) to a striking video featuring the blond-banged vixen Heidi Wilson (a.k.a. The Huntress) who the promotes the eating of homemade squirrel melts:

[watch the video]

She's even kind enough to provide a recipe, which as far as I can tell seems to be something akin to: "Kill it, skin it, an' eat it."

Here, I'll break it down for you:

Oops, I forgot about the step where you add mayo.

I think my favorite part is where she suggests that you bring this homemade treat to your next tailgating party. What a hit you'd be! ... at the trashiest tailgating party ever.

I obviously can't condone eating what is basically a rat sandwich, but one good thing did come out of this video:

...it inspired/empowered me to create this.

Animated Friday!

2007-09-28T08:52:00.000-05:00

I've been digging the sports related clips lately:

SuperUmp doesn't know his own strength.

And as a Friday bonus, here is a fun story that proves that pictures can speak louder than words.

Unplugged

2007-09-27T19:49:00.000-05:00

I love finding stuff like this:

[FP]

It reminds me of stuff like this:

Um, I'm busted.

2007-09-25T17:23:00.000-05:00

I stayed over at a friend's cabin the other weekend. I'm not exactly a fan of being out-of-doors or of taking my shirt off in public, but sometimes it's just nice to get out of the city and relax on a boat.

My friends were kind enough to let me sleep in their mother's bedroom that evening, so in the morning I used her master bathroom to clean myself up and take a shower. Unfortunately, I had neglected to bring any soap or shampoo along with me. I'm never quite sure of the proper etiquette in that sort of situation: do I just rinse off and hope that water alone is good enough to wash away the smells of the previous day in the wilderness, or do I sneak a little of the host's soap and shampoo for a good a proper cleaning?

I decided that I would sneak a little body wash. It looked kinda fancy and probably expensive, but it's not like anyone would ever notice one day's worth of soap missing from a huge bottle of bodywash, right?

A few hours later I found myself lounging in the sunshine on a boat deck. The heat was considerable, so I worked up the courage to remove my shirt and allow my porcelain white skin to absorb some sun. As I lie basking, I heard my friend ask:

"Um, why are you all sparkly?"

I looked down to see that I was covered in glitter, head to toe. Apparently, my friend's mother's bodywash was even fancier than I thought. I was a bodywash thief, and there was no hiding it. I eventually had to come clean, as it were. If I believed in that sort of stuff, I would say that the karma gods had a hearty laugh at my expense that day.

Yes, there are pictures of my glittery body, but due to my poor body image I'm only going to show you a small snippet of my sparkly skin:

Somehow the cropped image is even more disturbing than the original. Sometimes a little skin is worse than a lot of skin. Oh well. Sorry for that.

Oh, dan.

2007-09-24T20:20:00.000-05:00

Was it only last week that I made fun of drunk people dancing at weddings?

Friday night turned me into a huge hypocrite.

Um, you're busted.

2007-09-25T15:22:00.000-05:00

A married couple who didn't realise they were chatting each other up on the internet are divorcing.

Sana Klaric and husband Adnan, who used the names "Sweetie" and "Prince of Joy" in an online chatroom, spent hours telling each other about their marriage troubles, Metro.co.uk reported.

The truth emerged when the two turned up for a date. Now the pair... are divorcing after accusing each other of being unfaithful.

I think I would pay almost anything to see the exact moment when they both realized what was going on. But I don't really understand... they got married in the first place, then fell in love again over the Internet, but are still getting divorced? Don't you think it would have reinforced how made-for-each-other they actually are? Isn't that happily-ever-after material? Or am I being way too Hollywood-endingy?

Animated Friday!

2007-09-21T13:34:00.000-05:00

It's all about angles.

Inertia + Momentum + Poor Judgment = Fail

Inertia + Lack of Momentum + Poor Judgment = Fail: The Sequel

YES, YOU FORGOT MY BLOGIVERSARY YET AGAIN.

2007-09-19T14:20:00.000-05:00

Today marks the five year anniversary of my first blog post evar. If we were married, you'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

Planetdan.net has actually been around since 1999 as an ill-conceived portfolio website when I was still in my fertile early-employment stages. But I decided that "planetdan" didn't exactly sound professional, so on September 19th 2002 I birthed my blog instead, which was probably a smart move, considering this paragraph from a recent resume do's-and-dont's article that made me laugh the other day:

Colored paper, cutesy fonts, links to personal websites and childish e-mail addresses all scream unprofessional and are a turn off to hiring managers. One otherwise qualified applicant didn't get an interview at Bandujo's firm solely because of the name in her email address: "weird2themax."

"I recognize the advertising industry is full of talented, interesting 'characters'," Bandujo says, "but did I really want one who thought she was weird to the max?" No, he decided, he did not.

But I digress. This post is about celebrating ME. So let's get on with that. I'm sure somebody, somewhere got me a cake, right? And just so you know, my blogiversary happens to coincide with International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so now you guys won't forget to buy me presents next year.

When you think of "Avast Ye Matey", think of dan.

In my pants right now.

2007-09-18T20:22:00.001-05:00

You may think that this is just a pathetic excuse to post a crotch shot, but unbeknownst to me there was a nice little surprise hidden behind the zipper of the new pants that I brought to the tailor to get hemmed last week:

She's sewn right in there, nice and good. The nice Asian lady who tailors my clothes thought it was particularly funny. She'd never seen anything like it. I think she thought it was racy. And to think, I originally purchased them for my upcoming trip to the Vatican.

I want to tell everyone I encounter about my own personal secret fly girl, but somehow I don't think it would ever be a good idea to start out a conversation with: "Hey, wanna see what happens when I unzip my fly?"

Nobody likes a whiner.

2007-09-14T11:40:00.001-05:00

You should really pity this guy. Winning 79 million dollars in cold hard cash has really been hell. Some people probably believe in that old adage that says "be careful what you wish for because it might come true," because it makes them feel better thinking that it actually wouldn't be all grapes and gravy to win the lottery. But I don't buy that crap for one second. Winning the lottery would be a major life improvement for 99.999999% of the population.

A Lottery Nightmare

This part of the article is my favorite. It describes just one of the many hardships he's had to endure after hitting the jackpot:

His home and car were repeatedly burglarized. At a strip club, thieves broke into his Lincoln Navigator and stole a briefcase stuffed with $245,000 in $100 bills and three $100,000 cashiers checks. The briefcase was later found, with the money.

Awww! They left him at the titty-bar without no cash fer panty-stuffin'! Can you imagine?

Animated Friday!

2007-09-14T11:51:00.001-05:00

Nom nom nom.

Rockin' the Five Feathered Discount

[And here's the video from whence it came.]

And to even further your enhance your pleasure this Friday afternoon, here is a picture of a disappointed monkey:

UPDATE:

Did you know that I have an obsession with photoshopping my face onto almost every picture I find? Is that a sign of egomania or narcissism? I can never remember the difference.

Songs I hate irrationally, rationalized.

2007-09-13T23:52:00.000-05:00

There are certain songs that make me inexplicably angry, which apparently is not all that usual. My friend Stacy has the same response to any version of "Lean on Me". It doesn't necessarily need to be a bad song to get my blood boiling, although many of them are. Regardless of quality, hearing even the first few notes makes me indescribably mad, so it's usually a race to the radio to switch the station as fast as possible. But sometimes when I am at the bar or attending a party, the fuming is inescapable. So I will try to rationalize my irrationality:

Songs I hate irrationally, rationalized:

You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC
Possible Explanation: I think this one is a casualty that can be blamed on mediocre wedding DJs. I hate watching barefoot drunk girls in formal wear and guys in ties with rolled-up sleeves singing along to this lame tune, fists pumping in the air, sweaty hair clinging to sweaty foreheads, as if it signifies some form of rebellion.

Stupid Boy by The Gear Daddies
Possible Explanation: I think this one angers me because it is so dang bland. It's like the aural equivalent of a saltine cracker.

Dyslexic Heart by Paul Westerberg
Possible Explanation: Maybe it's because the word "dyslexic" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Or maybe it's how clever Paul thinks he is for describing a love/hate relationship as having a "dyslexic heart". Or maybe it's all the endless Na-Na-Nas that permeate the melody. Or maybe it's because it was on the soundtrack to one of the worst movies of all time. I don't know, but it makes my face turn red when I hear it.

Drift Away by Uncle Kracker
Possible Explanation: I'm not a fan of the original Dobie Gray version either. Nor am I a fan of the countless American Idol versions. Nor am I a fan of the barely-legal backwards-baseball-cap-wearing 21-year-old drunken ass who uses this song to serenade some random girl at the college town bar while simultaneously handing her a third raspberry kami. I'm just not a fan, period.

Calling All Angels by Train
Possible Explanation: Train is the worst band of all time, so I shouldn't have to explain myself. But I'm sure it has something to do with the schmaltzy sentiment of lame-ass lyrics that gets the adult contemporary music crowd humming. Train should be the standard litmus test for bad musical taste.

Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks
Possible Explanation: I realize that by country music standards, this song really isn't all that bad. It could be a lot worse. But I think my hatred of it boils down to a single word: oasis. I like a good sing-along as much as the next guy, but when this song gets played in public and the chorus rolls around, there will inevitably be five guys that hold their mugs of beer tight to their chest, close their eyes tight, lean back, and belt out at the top of their lungs: "...I'll slip on down to the OOOOOO-AY-SIS!" Just that one line. It's like a bonding ritual for drunk ex-frat boys with fake southern drawls.

Suicide is Painless the theme song to M*A*S*H
Possible Explanation: Perhaps this song doesn't anger me as much as it gives me a sour stomach, but I think it has something to do with the vague memory of my grade school afternoons, when the light was fading, my cartoons were ending, the early-evening adult reruns were beginning, and the salty smell of Hamburger Helper hung heavy in the air.

American Pie by Don McLean
Possible Explanation: The inexcusable length? The rhyming of Chevy with Levy? The singer's doughy face and wispy hair? I'm not sure, but if this song doesn't make you inexplicably angry, then you need to lower your meds and start living for gosh sakes.

Those are all just theories, but it feels good to get it all off my chest. Constant self-examination is very important.

Hot Beef Sundae

2007-09-11T18:47:00.000-05:00

I didn't make it to the Minnesota State Fair this year. Thank god. Because if it was anything like Iowa's...

[FP]

Scariest Clown Ever

2007-09-12T17:51:00.000-05:00

"I want to give my daughter a birthday she will never forget!"

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

I do not know these people, nor where the photo came from, but I just wanted to register my EXTREME DISAPPROVAL.

Animated Friday!

2007-09-07T12:30:00.001-05:00

I think bullfighting is pretty lame. Sure it seems ballsy, and a lot of the Matador's movements are balletic and graceful, but do they really gotta kill the bull after? It seems cruel, especially since they put so much ceremony around taunting the poor thing first. That's why I like to see things like this:

A Last Minute Psyche-Out Take Down

Take that, sucka!

And if you need more diversion on a boring Friday afternoon at work, I've finally gotten around to updating my Reviews section, which I had let lag for a good long while. I plan to get back to updating it regularly again, so feel free to pretend to care about my opinions on the most recent movies, books, and music that I've been enjoying.

Children are Spooky

2007-09-04T12:20:00.000-05:00

I took this photograph in a sandwich shop restroom the other day, and I couldn't decide what was truly creepier: the updated evil child with green eyes and fangs, or the underlying original Damon-esque image of the little boy with the eerie, knowing smile:

For example, which is creepier: the altered version or the unaltered version of this image I found on the Internet?

Yeesh. It's a toss up.

The World Shall Not Be Your Own Personal Toilet

2007-09-05T12:49:00.000-05:00

I realize that most people disagree with me on this point, but I really think that peeing in a lake is trashy and disgusting. I don't really care what your excuse is. On the one hand, I had previously never been able to do it myself, due to my inability to just relax and let go, so perhaps my disgust was actually just disguised jealousy. But on the other hand, it's really just not appetizing to see people swimming and floating and splashing around in what is basically a big community toilet, regardless of lake size. Plus, I'd like to believe that we humans have reached a level of civilization where we would think twice about the prospect of gleefully splashing around in your own urine, as well as the urine of countless others.

But last weekend was a turning point for me. Faced with the decision of peeing in the lake or my own pants, I chose the lake, and after reaching a state of zen-like relaxation through intense meditation and concentration, I let it loose. And now that I've finally been able to participate in this seemingly popular tradition, I can definitively say that it was not jealously that initially led me to be disgusted by the practice of lake-peeing. On the contrary, I just think it's gross. In this photograph, which captures the exact moment of my inaugural underwater bladder evacuation, you can clearly see my look of utter disgust with myself:

So my lake-peeing career was over just as fast as it began. Hopefully, I will not be put in the position of having to decide between lake or pants again. And I sincerely apologize to those who swam after me.

Speaking of lake pee, I find this video to be simultaneously funny and cruel. One deserves a little humiliation for using the world as their own personal toilet:

Animated Friday!

2007-08-31T13:06:00.000-05:00

Here's an animated GIF that I altered to better reflect planetdan and some of my most recent posts:

Shirtless Horrors

And here's a bonus image for people who prefer a little less self-reference and a little more injury in their animated GIFs:

False Start

And finally, here's a little non-animated Friday humor bonus, because you know I like to treat you good:

Phrases Commonly Used by 1950s Housewives That Were Often Misinterpreted by the Housewives' Husbands as Blatant Requests for Sex.
BY WHITNEY COLLINS

"I think it's time to wax the linoleum."

"Has anyone seen my muffin pan?"

"Looks like I forgot to pay the milkman."

"I'll just put my pie on the windowsill to cool."

"How about brown-bagging it for lunch tomorrow, dear?"

"Yahtzee!"

"Ward, it's time you and the Beaver had a little chat."

There's bones in that there belly.

2007-08-31T13:03:00.000-05:00

A lot of people think that pregnancy is a beautiful thing. I think it is disgusting on every level. Every time someone I know gets pregnant, all I can do is look at their stomach and think "There's bones in there. And a tongue. And some eyeballs. And it's all just floating around in a big slime-filled sack." I can't believe someone would actually enjoy having something like that inside them, pooping. That's why this Onion article made me laugh out loud:

By the way, I'd advise against ever Googling a phrase "parasite baby", otherwise you might have to see stuff like this. You were warned.

Secret Passages!

2007-08-30T12:38:00.000-05:00

One of my most frequently recurring dreams is the one where I find a secret door in my basement that leads to a whole new room or extra level in my house that I never knew existed. It's always super exciting in a I-have-to-poop-at-the-bookstore kind-of-way and I always wake up disappointed that it's not a reality. I have the dream so often that I thought I would seek the help of Google for an analysis, and this is what I found:

Your dream theme is "finding extra rooms in a house". This is common to people at times when their dreams are putting them in touch with the feeling that there is "room" to grow and much more "room" to be. At times when we are not recognising our full potential...

The dream house tends to symbolise the dreamer's mind, the rooms being the compartments and space within...

Your dream shows you your "room for potential", mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Room to spread yourself out, occupy and utilise new space and live fully in a greater way.

...but I kinda think that's a load of crap. I think I'm really just dreaming that I'd like a bigger house and a new room to decorate, because I can be really materialistic like that. And because sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

PS. I took the above picture of the hidden doorway a while ago in the craziest residence I've ever seen during the oddest party I've ever attended (T-bone can back me up on that). I was super jealous of it. Here are some more pics of the same event:

Working from home.

2007-08-30T15:30:00.001-05:00

I mostly work from home. This sounds super cool and convenient to a lot of people, and it often is, but it's also very much like becoming a shut-in hermit.

Please illuminate.

2007-08-27T23:26:00.000-05:00

Why do people do this? Or more to the point: how, during the course of the years that it takes to grow such a monstrosity, does one NOT look in a mirror, gag, and run for the trimming shears?

The Cherry Nut Cancer Strut

2007-08-28T20:19:00.000-05:00

My good friend Cherry Nut walked 60 miles for boobs last weekend. Her walking team wore ribbons for people they know who have battled breast cancer, like my mama (who is fine now, by the way):

I made her a graphic to put on T-shirts and to show my support:

She braved the unforgiving sun and heat over the course of the three day walk:

She's been known to battle other elements for the sake of staying active as well:

Anyway, I think walking 60 miles is crazy, but that doesn't make us any less proud of her!

Animated Friday!

2007-08-24T16:04:00.000-05:00

I'd like to make this week's Animated Friday posting a tribute to Little Superstar. Over the last couple years, he has brought loads of smiles 'n' sunshine to many-a-day on planetdan. And finally, he is available in animated GIF format:

Little Superstar

Sure, he's been available for years in a longer and even creepier video format, but a little Little Superstar goes a long way.

If that doesn't float your boat, then here is a more typical Animated Friday posting:

Save the cheerleader, save the... oops too late.

TV Personalities You Never Wanted to See Shirtless, Volume I

2007-08-22T11:27:00.001-05:00

Thanks to the Internet, things that should never even be imagined are fully realized. Some of these might be photoshopped, some might be real, but regardless, you'll probably need a lot of this when all is said and done:

#1 Alex Trebek
My friend J-Balls will probably like this one.

#2 John Stossel
If you don't know who this is, you're lucky.

#3 Geraldo Rivera
Where did this guy ever get the impression that he was good-looking?

#4 The Geico Caveman
Don't tell me you weren't curious...

#5 Carrot Top
:( :( :( :( :(

#6 Jerry Springer
Surprisingly, like looking in a mirror.

#6 ALF
The Internet is a strange, strange place.

You're welcome!

Mad Weight, Yo

2007-08-21T21:52:00.000-05:00

Kmack and I watched some documentary about 9/11 conspiracies last night. Apparently Kmack was unaware that there was any controversy at all. She was completely oblivious to all the online muckraking and the tinfoil-hat stories about how the twin towers were actually brought down with hidden demolition charges that were secretly controlled by our very own government! And that's just one of a hundred crazy theories they were able to debunk with little effort during the illuminating two-hour documentary. And yet there are still thousands of obsessive people, ranting at the tops of their lungs about conspiracies and the temperature at which steel melts and yadda yadda yadda, as if they were actually trained in structural engineering and possesed the proper knowledge to be talking out of their asses with such confidence.

Then Kmack, in all of her elemental glory, said it best when she suddenly mused: "If the government wanted to start a war or stage a terrorist attack... wouldn't one plane into one building have been plenty?"

And then I stumbled upon this graphic today that deftly wins the argument using nothing but the elegance of simplicity. I apologize in advance for the cussing.

It's quite simple, really. [fp]

Animated Friday!

2007-08-17T12:08:00.000-05:00

Every time I mention the fact that I hate motorcycles I get unprecedented hate mail, but I don't care...

Motorcycles are way too dangerous.

And the people that ride them can be asshats.

Yay Nature!

2007-08-16T12:13:00.000-05:00

Nature is kinda gruesome. I tend not to appreciate it as much as most people do. I'd rather just sit back and watch it from the safety of my internet:

Nom Nom Nom

2007-08-15T22:23:00.000-05:00

I've seen this dood walking his McDonalds-lovin'-dog around Uptown three times in the last week:

It's probably not a good idea to be feeding your dog fastfood on such regular basis, but I still think it's the cutest thing ever. And for all I know he's got a Southwest Grilled Chicken Salad in there.

Don't forget your jugs.

2007-08-10T13:41:00.001-05:00

We had our annual Summer Work Party last night, and this year I was in charge of coming up with a game or activity to entertain my coworkers. I decided the only thing I am really good at is Photoshop, so I created a "Name That Hair" game where I swapped the heads and the hairdos of my coworkers and made them guess whose hair was on whose head. These are a couple of my favorites, a bald Cherry Nut and the worst picture possible of my good buddy Jason:

Of course, in order to avoid accusations of cruelty or mockery, I had to include myself in the gag:

I kinda look like that stoner kids from Dazed and Confused.

Another cool thing about the party is that I didn't make a huge fool out of myself like I normally do at these functions. I kept my cool and stayed mostly sober the whole time. Except maybe for when I told my coworker who was leaving the party not to forget her "jugs". I was referring to the complimentary water bottles that we had emblazoned with our corporate logo to hand out as party gifts, but my mind of course found the most inappropriate substitute word possible. Oops. Still, alls well that ends well.

Planetdan = Sell Out

2007-08-09T07:54:00.000-05:00

You might have noticed a recent addition to planetdan in the last couple months: ads. I initially subscribed to Google Adsense in a rather pathetic attempt to earn a fast buck. Turns out those bucks aren't earned so fast after all. But on the plus side, I have become obsessed with the ads and their placement. Apparently Google crawls the content of every page on my site and posts ads that it thinks are most relevent to the content, so my new past time is trying to figure out which ad corresponds with what content.

It's quite obvious where some of them are coming from, and yet the I'm still surprised by how deeper the Internet goes than I ever imagined:

PS. Not that I want to increase the frequency of squirrel message board ads on my site, but someone sent me this Drunken Squirrel Youtube video the other day that I think it quite worth checking out.

Anyway, some of the ad placements baffle me:

Some of them make me gag:

And sometimes the way Google places the ads makes me think it has a sense of humor of its own:

And just in case you were worried, they finally found that long lost Garlic Bread recipe of legend:

Phew, we can sleep soundly tonight.

So even though ads aren't as profitable as I thought they might be (or at all for that matter), I think I'll keep them around for the entertainment and enlightenment.

Ripe for a Spankin'

2007-08-09T11:44:00.000-05:00

I was playing with Falling Georgie today, which I often tend to do for much longer than I should (it's both hypnotic and cathartic at the same time), when he got stuck on a bubble and appeared to bare his assets:

It's a disturbing discovery, especially in light of his recent colonoscopy. I'd never noticed before that I should have rated him PG-13, but consider yourself warned.

Animated Friday!

2007-08-10T11:42:00.001-05:00

Testosterone might not diminish with age, but agility and balance apparently do:

Punches = Thrown

Happy Birfday Intarweb!

2007-08-07T11:55:00.000-05:00

According to Wired, today is the birthday of the Double-U Double-U Double-U (World Wide Web).

[FP]

If it weren't for the WWW, I wouldn't have a job, a hobby, or a social life. I also wouldn't know the joy of LOLcats, Fan Fiction, or Animated GIFs. I suppose out of appreciation I should get it a present or something. But what do you get for something that has everything?

I'm thinking maybe a pair of topless sandals.

Of course, this means that the Web is 16, so it's probably going through its sullen, withdrawn, goth phase. Actually, the World Wide Web is a pretty popular fella, so I can probably just get it a shell necklace and call it a day.

Animated Friday!

2007-08-03T12:48:00.000-05:00

So, you expect a couple of clasped hands to counteract your momentum, but not the huge wooden plank?

Someone needs to find a new hobby.

I Hate Yard Work

2007-08-01T20:05:00.000-05:00

Mowing the lawn is my least favorite chore of all time. If I could, I would replace the whole shebang with a pile of rocks and never look back.

Emo? Back in my day, we called them Goth. I don't know what the self-flaggelating groups were called before that. Regular old satanists? Opus Dei? I dunno. But god love 'em!

Long Haired Hippie People Need Not Apply

2007-08-01T21:04:00.000-05:00

This is the senator that Al Franken is running to defeat in '08:

Celebstoner thinks he's a hypocrite for being an ex-hippie-pothead Republican, considering his recent voting records. But lets be honest, calling a Republican a Hypocrite is no big feat. I just think he's a party-flipping egocentric vote-whoring a-hole who looks like a troll regardless of his hair length.

On a related note, anagrams are fun:

NORMAN COLEMAN = NO LAMER CONMAN

NORMAN COLEMAN = MEAN CLAN MORON

NORMAN COLEMAN = ME ANAL CORN NOM

Okay, that last one doesn't make sense, but I had to include it because I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to use the phrase "anal corn" online again.

Animated Friday!

2007-07-27T09:06:00.000-05:00

I should just rename it Face-plant Friday, considering the typical content and my fondness for alliteration:

Faceplant Friday Foolish Flippery

And here is a lovely little bonus animated GIF, which somehow manages to be both suitable for work and not suitable for work at the same time:

I'm at a loss for what to title this.

Will the real Jon Stewart please stand up?

2007-07-26T22:02:00.001-05:00

Only one of the men pictured below is actually Jon Stewart. One is a Jon Stewart impersonator, and the other one is actually me, if you can believe it! Can you guess which is which?

Obviously I'm joking, but to start from the beginning: I was looking through some old photographs the other day and I came across the above picture of myself and I thought "Holy crap I kinda look like Jon Stewart when I make that face!" which I realize sounds annoyingly arrogant. Believe me, it always makes me roll my eyes in a who-do-you-think-you-are kind of way when I hear a girl utter something like, "People say I look like Meg Ryan." Mmm-hmm. Sure they do. Maybe Meg Ryan looking in a funhouse mirror.

So I looked online to find a picture of Mr. Stewart to compare and contrast our ugly mugs when I came across the other photo posted above, which is a picture of an actual Jon Stewart impersonator who works in the New York City area, and who doesn't look one iota like Jon Stewart. So I came to the conclusion that if that guy thinks he looks like Jon Stewart when he so clearly does not, then I probably don't either.

Not that I want to look like Jon Stewart, mind you, but it would be a major improvement from the comparisons to Willem Dafoe and Chris Kattan that I usually get.

:(

The legend is true.

2007-07-26T22:01:00.000-05:00

Speed Bumps

2007-07-25T17:26:00.000-05:00

I'm constantly amazed that there seems to be a market for absolutely everything:

Just in case you were looking for a little love and tenderNASCAR.

I can't understand why NASCAR has a fan base to begin with, especially when you take into consideration how insufferably boring it is, so I really can't believe there is actually a market for NASCAR harliquin romance novels, yet there they were on the shelf at the book store when I just happened to be shopping for J-Ball's birthday present...

I chose Speed Bumps for J-Balls because I liked the feminist approach of the catchphrase on its cover: "She was born to race... deal with it!" She was surprised to realize that it was indeed written for adult women, and not thirteen-year-old tomboys who are too butch for Sweet Valley High. I'm wondering if anyone has ever purchased a NASCAR romance title with the sincere intention of reading it, or if they were all just gag gifts.

Speaking of gag, this might be the worst book title ever, even in the world of romance novels:

And while we're still on the subject of romance novels, notice anything wrong with this cover?

Subtitled: Prince Valiant Porks the Three-Armed Circus Freak

Animated Friday!

2007-07-20T08:46:00.000-05:00

The Crime and Punishment Edition of Animated Friday:

Robbery Tip #1: Practice Makes Perfect

Robbery Tip #2: Choose Your Targets Wisely

Bad Ideas in Body Modifcation Volume 1

2007-07-19T22:37:00.000-05:00

There are entire websites dedicated to showcasing bad tattoos, but I just want to go on record and state that incorporating your body hair into your tattoo concept is probably considered by most people to be a MAJOR turn off:

The second image wins by a nose because of the classy addition of the bruise, but both turn my stomach equally. On the other hand, this tattoo is something I could really get behind:

And while we're on the subject of tattoos:

The price of grass stains.

2007-07-16T22:15:00.000-05:00

Are you kidding me?

I like to think that no one would be stupid enough to pay four hundred dollars for grass stains, but then I remember Shane, that jackass kid from The Real Wives of Orange County, who probably has a closet full of 'em. (If you don't know who I am talking about, then you obviously haven't been fully absorbed into the Bravo reality-TV vortex yet; but don't worry, it will get you soon enough, its gravity is inescapable).

I wonder how much you have to pay a sweatshop worker in China to rub grass on denim.

The Sporting Life

2007-07-16T22:55:00.000-05:00

The Greasy Cooters ended their seventh kickball season this weekend. I think we lost the game and ended up in third place or something like that, but don't ask me, I was too busy kicking ass and taking names:

I followed up kickball with a Twins game and then some midnight lawn-bowling, a sport in which I've clearly got game. In fact, I'm a barefooted, blurry-armed, beer-holding, rooftop lawn-bowling master:

My good fella T-bone was always in attendance, of course, but he's not as sportsmanly as I am. He was too busy wooing the ladies with personalized ass tattoos. It's all just a part of that alluring T-bone charm:

No wonder the ladies swoon! I don't want to know how the paint got smudged and smeary, but I think the makeshift solar flares are a particularly nice effect.

My Tragic Childhood

2007-07-12T12:29:00.000-05:00

Every time I find a new stack of forgotten photographs in a box or a hidden envelope, my self-esteem takes a hit. Let's zoom around in time, shall we?

1987:
It would be another twenty years before The White Stripes would make this look cool. I can't pull this look off now, and I couldn't pull it off then. To make matters worse, I'm fairly certain that the red shirt was a hand-me-down... from my sister.

1990:
Either the shirt was way too long or the shorts were way too short. Or both. Sadly, the naked-from-the-waste-down look never caught on. Who wears short shorts? Dan wears short shorts. And black ankle socks with white tennis shoes. And a mullet. And in public.

1984:
I've posted this picture before, but I'd just like to point out the tight black T-shirt with the rolled-up sleeves tucked snugly into the belted black jeans. Never mind that the shirt says "Truckin'" in a sparkly silver font face. Do I see pleats?

1988:
I'm not sure which is worse: the fact that you can see my nipples and ribcage through my thin white pocket-T, or that my huge head is actually wider than my torso.

1985:
Sleeveless mesh and blow-dried hair. :(

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. For an entire year I actually had to wear a silver cap on a front tooth as some experimental technique to straighten out my choppers. It was very bling. I'd like to think that I outgrew that decade-long ugly phase, but I'm sure ten years from now I'll probably think differently.

Animated Friday!

2007-07-13T12:53:00.000-05:00

Somebody's jealous:

Ambushed!

Bonus Animated Gif:

Best Lame Joke Ever.

Problem solved!

2007-07-10T00:25:00.000-05:00

Now that's clever thinking:

But I don't know what's more embarrassing: Having a white crack or having to stick a spool between your cheeks to avoid having a white crack. No wait, it's definitely the spool one.

Second Place

2007-07-05T08:51:00.000-05:00

Hooray! Gramma won second place in the cake baking contest!

Too bad she was the only person who entered...

In your face, granny! First place is too good for you!

I think that might be the best schadenfreude story I will read all year. I admit I initially laughed out loud when I read it. But then I suddenly had a tragic Flashback to my eighth grade graduation ceremony, when Marsha Kramer was presented with the "Artistic" Award after I had spent the last eight years drawing praiseworthy posters to hang on the office door of the nuncipal (that's the new word I just made up for a nun school principal). I even remember the awkward eye contact I received from the nuncipal at the precise moment she was handing the "Artistic" Award to Marsha, amidst thunderous applause. You could see in her eyes that she knew it was a punch to my gut. The only award I got that day was for participating in Great Books. If it were acceptable to call a nun a bitch, I might consider it, but even typing this sentence has given me the catholic guilt shivers. So instead, I will transfer the blame to Marsha Kramer.

I am a large breasted sea captain.

2007-07-05T23:07:00.000-05:00

You know you've gotten too lazy when you let the Mad Libs do the work for you, but it's way better than playing with some boring prude who chooses "ran" when asked for a Past Tense Verb, or "happy" when in need of an Adjective. So therefore, this link is the most fun I've had not mad-libbing in a long time:

You Are A... Who Likes To...

Be careful, though: the accompanying music is loud (yet catchy) and the words it conjures up are salacious (to say the least). Which is the only real way to play Mad Libs: as filthy as possible.

After doing it a thousand times, I began to have even more fun visualizing the results, like this:

See, my mind isn't as deep in the gutter as you might like to think.

Happy Fourth!

2007-07-04T11:23:00.000-05:00

I like the subtle implication of this painting.

Animated Friday!

2007-07-06T11:44:00.000-05:00

There's nothing like a good face plant to end your week right:

Jesus, take the wheel...

Insert Wii/Penis Joke Here

2007-06-24T23:46:00.000-05:00

This weekend I finally had a Wii party:

More fun than the games was watching people's Wii faces:

More fun than watching people's Wii faces was making their lookalike Miis. And more fun than making their lookalike Miis was finding these links to celebrity lookalike Miis:

• The Kottke Mii Lookalike Contest
• The Office Miis on Flickr
• Celebrity Miis by Video Game Nerds

I think these are my favorite:

Everybody ached the morning after. From video games. So I guess I'm in no position to be calling someone else a video game nerd.

Animated Friday!

2007-06-29T08:18:00.000-05:00

Planetdan.tv : All Kitty Porn, All The Time.

Channel One : Solo Action

Channel Two : Threeways

Channel Three : Inter-Species Fetishes

The Missing Piece

2007-06-26T07:56:00.000-05:00

I saw this brilliantly tragic image in an online forum the other day:

Awwwww! :(

I apologize that I don't know the source of the image or its creator, but it made me realize what an apt metaphor the missing puzzle piece can be. Even if you simplify the concept, it can be quite effective. So I made my own missing-puzzle-piece gallery:

That last one was too obvious wasn't it? Damn, why do I always have to go for the cheap and easy!? Shame on me!

Animated Friday!

2007-06-22T12:07:00.000-05:00

It's a tiny one, but you'll still feel the impact:

That's ballsy!

Bikini Kickball

2007-06-24T22:54:00.000-05:00

I didn't play kickball in a bikini this weekend, but one of my teammates did.

Apparently it was a "distraction tactic".

I participated in my own way:

Dinos!

2007-06-22T08:02:00.000-05:00

I can't remember where this is from, and it's just tad judgemental, but I like it:

It reminds me of this, which I always thought was funny.

Updated:
For Erik, who needs everything to be animated:

Mr. Tough Guy

2007-06-19T21:03:00.001-05:00

A kind acquaintance named Noelle sent me this lovely article because she knew that it would interest/scare-the-shit-out-of me due to my past experiences with squirrels (reference #1, #2, #3, etc.). But rather than scare me, it even more so impressed me, because damn if that squirrel wasn't the neighborhood bad ass:

BERLIN (Reuters) - An aggressive squirrel attacked and injured three people in a German town before a 72-year-old pensioner dispatched the rampaging animal with his crutch. The squirrel first ran into a house in the southern town of Passau, leapt from behind on a 70-year-old woman, and sank its teeth into her hand, a local police spokesman said Thursday. With the squirrel still hanging from her hand, the woman ran onto the street in panic, where she managed to shake it off.

The animal then entered a building site and jumped on a construction worker, injuring him on the hand and arm, before he managed to fight it off with a measuring pole. "After that, the squirrel went into the 72-year-old man's garden and massively attacked him on the arms, hand and thigh," the spokesman said. "Then he killed it with his crutch." The spokesman said experts thought the attack may have been linked to the mating season or because the squirrel was ill.

To help you visualize what I'm sure must have been a grizzly scene, this is what I picture the squirrel to look like in the midst of his bloody rampage:

Look at him, so confident and full of determination, only to be done in by an old man's crutch. It's almost ironic, or poetic, or TERRIFYING ENOUGH FOR ME TO WET MYSELF.

Just try not to wince.

2007-06-18T08:26:00.000-05:00

One reason why I have no desire to run a half marathon: nipple chafing.

My companions and I made simultaneous wincing noises as this poor guy jogged by. I felt so bad for the fella. Not bad enough to keep my camera's lens cap on, but that doesn't mean my nipples don't throb in sympathy every time I look at the picture.

Pringle Trivia

2007-06-17T20:58:00.000-05:00

I went to Duluth this weekend to watch Cherry Nut and J-Balls destroy their bodies by running a half marathon, and then I destroyed my own body by drinking too much bowling alley tap beer.

Almost as exciting as the half-marathon was the Pringle Trivia. Apparently, Pingles have discovered a new use for Blue-Dye #40 and they have begun to use it to print movie trivia questions on some of their chips. The only problem is that the answer is printed on the same side of the chip as the question, so you can't really play it alone. Plus, sometimes you eat the chip too fast to remember to read it. Plus, Pringles don't always taste so good, and I ended up force feeding them to myself in order to keep the game going. Still, I was overjoyed to have discovered them on the gas station shelf.

Anyway, here is a photo gallery of some of my other Duluth trip highlights.

And congratulations to J-Balls and Cherry Nut!

Animated Friday!

2007-06-15T08:36:00.001-05:00

I don't shut up, I grow up, and when I look at you I throw up.

And here's a bonus GIF that I have to post due to it being related to a current event. Apparently, some dood flipped of Putin, and the guy behind him was none to happy about it:

The Evil-Eyed Commie

You people are so gross.

2007-06-13T15:29:00.000-05:00

From a recent online poll:

You people who pee in the shower are disgusting. And don't give me that "urine is sterile" bullshit. Healthy urine is sterile. And don't try the "all the pipes go to the same place" excuse either, because most people don't walk around barefoot in those pipes. Plus, most showers are located in fairly close proximity to a toilet, so walking two steps before evacuating your bladder shouldn't be too difficult. There's just no good excuse for it, so stop it this instant.

Triple feature or fetish porno? You decide.

2007-06-13T08:41:00.000-05:00

Awesomely photographed by this guy on flickr.

Shuffle

2007-06-12T21:53:00.000-05:00

I always wonder how randomizers work, because they never seem all that random. Take word verification systems for instance. They must have some sort of algorithm that combines random letters and then spits the result through a filter so that you don't get any actual words that could be found in a dictionary, or even worse, eff words or salacious entendres or something. Of course, it's clearly never a fool proof system:

[FP]

The above example is not mine, but I did get "fishycoc" on blogger once, which I thought was particularly disturbing.

I also wonder how my iPod shuffles songs, because I've read that it truly is random and that any pattern you hear in the playlist is just a coincidence, but I don't buy it. I bet it's more like shuffling a properly sorted deck of cards: you might succeed in mixing some of the suits together, but all of the hearts are still going to be closer to one side of the deck, and in the same sequential order. That hardly seems "random" at all. I know it's not 100% random when it plays six of the most awful Jethro Tull Christmas songs in the course of one hour. I really just need to delete that CD from my collection all together.

Animated Friday!

2007-06-08T12:46:00.000-05:00

I'm scoring so hard in your face right now.

Bonus gif:

O, to be in the first grade again.

Typography

2007-06-07T08:35:00.000-05:00

To illustrate the importance of proper kerning:

Of course, this is nothing new.

Girls are a blessing.

2007-06-04T08:07:00.000-05:00

Here is an actual conversation I heard yesterday while waiting in line to exchange a chair at Office Max, spoken with utter sincerity and complete seriousness, as if they were having a casual conversation about the performance of their favorite sports team or something:

Cashier: Is that your daughter?
Gangster: Yes, one of two.
Cashier: Two daughters! You got any boys?
Gangster: They were supposed to be boys.
Cashier: Say what?
Gangster: They had dicks on the ultrasound, but they came out with cootchies.

[prolonged silence]

Cashier: Girls are a blessing.

Season 7

2007-06-02T10:20:00.000-05:00

Greasy Cooter Kickball has started its spring season. I've only made it to one game so far due to previously scheduled obligations, but it seems like the same old Cooters, meaning: cheap beer and awkward nudity.

There are more pictures, but it's just mostly people kicking balls and stuff.

Mood Swings

2007-05-31T23:08:00.000-05:00

Animals have emotions and feelings, too. See?

Attraction:

Repulsion:

Anticipation:

Boredom:

Man, zoo life must be so effin' boring.

Animated Fridays!

2007-06-01T13:12:00.000-05:00

I don't exactly know why I think this is the funniest thing ever, but I do.

I can almost imagine the accompanying dramatic soundtrack that would so perfectly punctuate the camera zoom.

Animated Friday!

2007-05-25T08:06:00.000-05:00

There should be something extra special about an Animated Friday before a three day weekend, but I can't think of anything clever so I'll just shut up and supply the goods:

A Spread Eagle Surprise

Relatedly, I found this on toothpastefordinner.com, and in certain rare circumstances I suppose I share the sentiment:

Keep Bustin'

2007-05-24T08:07:00.000-05:00

Here's a little poll: It's summer again, and car windows are being rolled down across the country, so what do you think is the worst song to be caught singing loudly in your car?

Kmack thinks that show tunes like How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria would be the worst, assumingly because no one ever wants to admit they like them in the first place. But I think even worse would be a song like Batdance by Prince, because it's hopelessly dated and was never really all that good to begin with.

Of course I speak from experience. Yesterday some woman walking her dog caught me at a stoplight singing along to Prince's nadir performance a little too enthusiastically, right at the point of the song when the music scratches to a halt and Prince dramatically says: "Keep Bustin'." Of course, in this case it was a dan and Prince duet. I could see the lady trying not to laugh, and those awful words just kept echoing through my head: Keep Bustin'.

Even worse, later in the day I found myself driving and singing again, apparently having not learned my lesson. This time it was along with The Long Winters' Ultimatum (right click to download), which has a chorus that starts out: "My arms miss you, my hands miss you...", at which point I looked over to see a man staring at me from the corner and quickly realized that he had no arms. And rather than minimizing the embarrassment for everyone involved by pretending not to notice, I panicked, gasped, and rolled up my window. Because I keep my cool in situations like that. That's twice in one day. Time to keep your trap shut, dan. At stoplights and intersections, at least.

Househuntin'

2007-05-22T07:42:00.000-05:00

So Kmack is moving away from me. We've been roomies for almost ten years, but she and her fiance have purchased a house three miles south and will be completing the move at the end of June.

I was jealous of their house hunt and asked for constant updates. I loved house-hunting. Looking at other people's stuff was almost too intoxicating. It's really fun and easy to judge someone by their wall-hangings. Even more astounding is what some people think is presentable when preparing their house for a showing, for instance:

• One house we looked at was almost completely empty except for an overflowing litter box. You'd think that would be the one item you'd be sure to remove before a visit by prospective buyers.

• Another house had ashtrays that were brimming with cigarette butts in every single room, which wasn't surprising because the entire house stunk like smoker's lung. There was even an overflowing ashtray on the dresser in the children's bedroom, surrounded by stuffed animals.

• Yet another house had a poorly-drawn pastel portrait of Boy George in the bedroom, which I thought at first was meant to be kitschy, until I saw the matching hand-molded clay statue, complete with top hat and microphone. Apparently someone was a fanatic AND an amateur artist.

Of course, things could have been worse. Take for instance this genuine real estate appraisal description for a house somewhere in Nevada that I don't ever want to visit:

Looks like new appliances and cabinets, though! Um, is the discarded slipper included?

Anyway, Kmack and I have begun the division of assets and packing process, so it won't be long before she's gone which makes me sad. I'm talking really sad. Like Gilmore-Girls-is-Cancelled sad. She will be missed.

Plus, it's her birthday today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KMACK!

Miranda July

2007-05-21T23:14:00.000-05:00

I love Miranda July. A couple weeks back, I ordered her new book from Amazon but it was taking forever to arrive. Then last night I had a very vivid dream that the delay in delivery was due to the fact that she was hand-delivering the books to random people who had purchased it on Amazon.com as a publicity-stunt/performance-art-piece, since she is kind of prone to that sort of thing. In my dream she came to my door and handed me my book and said "Here is my book that you ordered," and she had a camera man with her to film the whole exchange and she asked "Would you like me to sign it for you?" and I said "No, but I'd like him to sign it," and I handed it to the camera man and we laughed and laughed because in dreams sometimes retarded things seem brilliant.

Anyway, I woke up and instead of hoping I would receive my book in the mail that day, I was hoping I wouldn't, because then it might mean that my dream was a premonition and that not only would I get to meet Miranda July in person, but I was prescient to boot.

But I got it in the mail today. So I'm not prescient. And I don't get to meet Miranda July, who's movie You Me and Everyone We Know is one of my favorite films of all time and has already become a sort of Internet legend due to its famous "Poop Back and Forth, Forever" scene, which was brilliant, and not in a retarded dream kind of way:

Anyway, you should buy her book, and not just because of the clever way in which she promoted it, but because I said so.

2007-05-19T09:45:00.000-05:00

It's time for a quiz! Guess these superultra-magnified items:

The answers are here, if you highlight, but you should put your guesses in the comments before cheating:
a) Velcro, b) A Butterfly Wing, c) Salt and Pepper, repectively, d) Scotch Tape, e) A Spider's Foot (Gah! No wonder they digust me!)

Animated Friday!

2007-05-18T08:03:00.000-05:00

Today I feel a little naughty and a little nice, so I offer you two animated GIFs to better illustrate the constant battle between good and evil dan:

Lil' fella's got the munchies
(caution: so cute you could vomit!)

Sometimes big fake boobs don't help with the confidence
(caution: actual vomit!)

Baby Killer

2007-05-16T08:10:00.000-05:00

I mostly hate working/being out of doors, but homeownership forces me to do yardwork from time to time. The little girl who lives on the corner has a habit of coming over to talk to me every time I am working on my lawn, but she only ever asks one question: "What are you doing?" She's rather young, so usually I humor her with a straightforward answer in the spirit of that Whitney Houston song about children being our future blah blah blah. But our "conversations" usually go like this:

Little Girl: What are you doing?
Dan (holding a rake over a big pile of leaves): Raking leaves.

Or like this:

Little Girl: What are you doing?
Dan (bent over a garden with a trowel and a handful of weeds): Weeding the garden.

Or like this:

Little Girl: What are you doing?
Dan (standing behind a running lawnmower): *incredulous silence*

Last weekend I got up the ambition to clean out my gutters, so I got out my ladder, carefully propped it up, and slowly climbed up the rungs. Wobbling at the top, I started to dig out the usual debris and mulch when I heard the familiar voice from far down below:

"What are you doing?"

I was busy yanking on an oddly wedged mass of twigs and leaves, so I impatiently shouted back, "Cleaning the gutters!" without even giving her a glance. Suddenly my hand flew violently backwards, the mass of sticks and dirt came loose, and from deep within its center fell three little birdie eggs, which subsequently crashed to the bottom of the gutter, creating a big yolky mess of death and destruction. I had inadvertently destroyed a sparrow's nest and killed an entire generation of as-of-yet unhatched tweeties in the process. When the reality of what I had done hit me, I shouted rather dramatically, "OH NOOOOOOOO!", and just stared in disbelief.
"Now what are you doing?" I heard again from below.

I looked down at her innocent little Kool-Aid stained face, unsure of how to answer. And although I could have been truthful and said, "Killing babies," instead I just swallowed the tiny lump in my throat and said, "Nothing." So much for being truthful to the little kiddies. I don't want to be labeled a baby killer after all.

Planet Dan

2007-05-15T12:36:00.000-05:00

Hubble captured this picture of Planet Dan, for realz:

I wonder how many moons it's got?

Actually, it's a high digital photograph of my eyeball taken at the optometrist today. Kinda looks a little bloodshot, but I swear it's a perfectly good eyeball. Or at least that's what the doctor says. And actually I have two of them. Let's hear it for my rods and cones!

As for moons, if you email me a picture of your naked rear end, I will photoshop it into orbit around my eyeball if you wish. As for rods and cones, if you send me a picture of your... oh never mind.

ps. That little bump at the top of the image is not some creepy eye zit or anything, it's just the registration mark for the photo so that you know which end is up.

Hot Ham and Turkey

2007-05-13T11:04:00.000-05:00

I think that I may have angered the Karma gods when I gave K-mack the new nickname of C-Minus a couple weeks ago, because the other day I found out that my nickname at the corner cafe where I buy my lunches on a regular basis is "Hot Ham and Turkey".

In my defense, their hot ham and turkey sandwich is truly remarkable, which is why I order it so often. Grilled on a croissant with a delectable poppy seed spread, the hot ham and turkey sandwich practically melts in your mouth. Sure, I should perhaps try something different every once and again, to broaden my horizons, but when you find something you really like you tend to stick with it.

The other day they had a sandwich special that sounded intriguing, and to be honest I had kind of OD'd on the hot ham and turkey. So when the cafe owner recommended it and I accepted, he excitedly turned around and shouted back to the kitchen, "Hey, I just talked Hot Ham and Turkey into a Southwest Chicken Wrap!"

It took some time to register, so I stood there for a minute and then finally said "Did you just refer to me as Hot Ham and Turkey?"

"Yeah," he said, realizing that he just let it slip in front of me. "Your real name is Dan, right?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"I'm going to give you a free deviled egg," he offered as an unofficial apology.

So as I sat there and ate my deviled egg, I decided it could be worse. At least it has the word "hot" in it. I'd prefer it had no "ham", but what are you going to do.

Animated Fridays

2007-05-11T08:04:00.000-05:00

Man, the weeks just fly by, don't they?

A totally not fake legitimate sport.

A Eulogy

2007-05-08T12:29:00.000-05:00

This is it. It's the end. I always knew it was coming, and I actually prayed for a premature, yet dignified death, but to receive the announcement about the demise of Gilmore Girls only TWO WEEKS ahead of its fateful finale was a shock to my system nonetheless. All I needed was a little time to prepare myself for its passing, but no, the powers that be decided it would be better just to pull the plug, and the rug, right out from under me.

I guess that's the way these types of things happen. Live each day/episode like it's your last, as they say. I have no idea how they plan on wrapping up seven years of history in two short episodes, but I tell you this: if it ends with a wedding, I'm going to puke. At least Lorelie feels the same.

I propose that the world takes an hour to mourn the passing of our beloved Gilmore Girls on May 15th at 7pm Central Standard Time. Personally, I know that I will be having a memorial party at my house to mark the occasion. And by "party" I mean me, Kmack, two black veils, and a bag of Cheese and Pretzel Combos.

And all the mirrors in the house will be draped in black fabric, of course.

Just when you think you've got it all figured out.

2007-05-06T15:41:00.000-05:00

I consider myself to be a pretty sophisticated concert-goer. I've attended many shows and events, so over the years I've prided myself at learning the tricks of the trade. For instance, if the ticket says "Doors open at 6pm", you'll be lucky if the main act starts before 9pm.

There haven't been many good concerts in town lately. All the worthwhile acts are travelling the festival circuit right now apparently. Minneapolis always gets skipped. So Ben Gibbard of The Postal Service and Deathcab for Cutie was coming to town and I thought it might be an interesting show, in spite of my indifference toward the artist himself.

"Doors 6pm" said the ticket. I called the venue, and a bare-bones message said there were two opening acts, neither of which I had ever heard of. I surmised that if doors opened at 6pm, the first opening act would start at 7pm, the second at 8pm, followed by the main act at 9pm. And that was wishful thinking. I'd been to concerts where the doors opened at six and the main act started after midnight, so I wasn't too worried.

Kmack and I took our time, got a nice dinner, walked toward the concert venue while stopping at various bars along the way, and casually sauntered up to the doors of First Avenue around 9:10, fully aware but not worried that we may have missed the first song or two. To our surprise we were greeted by the door(wo)man who just gave us a confused look:

"Um, shows over."

I'm getting too old for this shit. Why can't they print out schedules and stick to them? This is the internet age fer chrissakes.

Who gives a shit about Ben Gibbard anyway.

Animated Fridays

2007-05-04T10:52:00.000-05:00

It's time to peek into my prized collection of animated GIFs again:

Junk in the Trunk

Happy National Hair Stylist Day!

2007-04-30T17:20:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I scare myself.

Today is National Hair Stylist Day. So in honor of my friend Laura, who at one time cut my hair on a regular basis, I photoshopped a picture of my face on the worst head of hair that Google could find, along with the message: "Thanks for making me look so beautiful!" The result was something even I was not prepared for:

Sorry I made you see that.

Dan as the red headed stepchild is really unpretty.

C-Minus

2007-04-30T18:10:00.000-05:00

Kmack came home early from work today because she threw out her back while blow-drying her hair this morning. For serious. I mocked her mercilessly, but a shocking discovery this weekend may shed some light on the situation. I present to you, Kmack's twelfth grade report card:

Ouch! A C-Minus in Personal Appearance. I can't imagine how it must feel to get judged as being "below average in personal appearance" by a high school home-ec teacher. I'm not exactly sure what is really involved in a class called Personal Appearance, but I'm assuming the curriculum had something to do with brushing hair and coordinating outfits, or the art of avoiding getting lipstick on your teeth. Kmack must have been sick the day they taught hair-drying. That's a lesson to us all: be cool, stay in school. Or suffer the consequences.

Of course, she's quite a lovely lady these days, so perhaps her past failures have caused no long term damage. Heck, even Einstein flunked math when he was a kid.

Anyway, now that's she getting married, her old nickname "Kmack" doesn't make much sense anymore since it was an amalgam of her first and last names. I've been trying to come up with a new one for the last couple months before her approaching wedding, and I think I've finally found one.

Get well soon, C-Minus!

Foreskins

2007-04-29T16:53:00.000-05:00

Er, this is why you need to read things out loud first:

Animated and fantastic!

[From here. Discovered at Freakytrigger, who apparently are of the knowledge that Thing is circumcized.]

Animated Fridays

2007-04-27T08:40:00.000-05:00

It's Friday! Time for some more low-tech tomfoolery!

Now who's the chicken?

Avid Enthusiast

2007-04-26T18:04:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about my epitaph and the typical two-word descriptive structure of modern day obituary writing, such as "Devoted Husband", "Avid Sportsman", and "NASCAR Enthusiast" (none of which am I). It would appear that brevity is an important factor in obit/epitaph writing, especially if you want enough room left over for a nice big face picture, which I certainly do.

So I started a list of possible two-word obituary-style descriptions of myself, just to prepare for the inevitable:

• Avid Gilmore Girls Viewer
• Decemberist Enthusiast
• Devoted Misanthrope
• Yardwork Avoider
• Prolific Jaywalker
• Energetic Spectator
• Backup Singer Wannabe
• Ethusiastic Fist-Pumper
• Subpar High-Fiver
• Disingenuine Crusader
• Eminent Apologist
• Amature Pop-locker
• Moustache Virgin
• Celebrated Animated-GIF Collector
• Uncelebrated Christmas Song Composer
• Anti-Skydiver
• Mad Genius

But I think it would be better to be enigmatic and intriguing and just go for something all-encompassing like "Avid Enthusiast". That could mean anything, which is what makes it particularly attractive. In fact, I almost don't want to wait until I die to unveil that one:

Also, I want to be cremated. And I want Lily Tomlin to eat the ashes. So at the risk of sounding like a bad frozen pizza commercial, what two words do you want on your tombstone?

NSFW

2007-04-26T17:40:00.000-05:00

I just recently discovered that I am the #1 Google Image Search result for "NSFW", which means "Not Suitable For Work" (to any of you who may be new to the internet) and is the widely accepted acronym used to flag material on the web that might be unsuitable for public viewing. I don't know how long this honor will last, but I acknowledge the accomplishment humbly.

This makes me proud.
[The above link is obviously VERY NSFW!]

The Dangers of Drug Interactions

2007-04-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

I was sick all weekend, so last night night I took some Tylenol PM in attempt to recuperate some strength for Monday morning. Subsequently, I woke up with space brain, which is a side effect of Tylenol PM that seems to magically combine the foggy confusion of a hangover with the hyper-alertness of an amphetamine. But I needed to focus my thoughts for an important client meeting, so unfortunately I decided that adding caffeine into the mix was a super idea. I don't normally drink coffee in the morning and when I do it really affects me. So after two brimming cupfuls of pure black java, my space brain condition had evolved into a twitchy, sweaty amalgam of hyper-real, blissful euphoria and utter mental retardation. In other words, my eyes were plastered wide open, but any form of cognitive concentration was impossible.

I somehow survived the meeting with my dignity in tact (so say my coworkers) and headed home, deciding to stop at Burger King along the way (shut up, I crave it sometimes). The lunch-crowd drive-thru line was long, but the anticipation of savory onion rings made it possible to endure the wait, especially since my brain still couldn't hold a proper thought for longer than two seconds and I was able to easily entertain myself by obsessively adjusting the side-view mirrors. Upon my arrival at the payment/food-exchange window, I greeted the cashier with a big toothy grin and an enthusiastic hello. She gave me my diet coke, I gave her my money, she returned my change, and I promptly drove away, completely forgetting to wait for my food.

I didn't realize my mistake until halfway home, when I blindly reached over to snatch a steamy onion ring from the bag, but my grasping hand couldn't find its prize. It took me a few minutes to realize that this was because I had left the drive-thru window prematurely. I was moderately shocked by my foolishness. Fortunately, the effects of my Tylenol/Coffee cocktail seemed to completely eradicate any sense of shame, so I calmly turned around and drove back to correct my mistake.

But the drive-thru line was still long, and my mouth sorely needed an onion ring, so I parked and made the journey into the lobby on foot and waited in line until my turn at the counter, where I tried to explain to the cashier that I required a free burger and onion ring combo due to the fact that I had mistakenly left my purchase at the drive-thru fifteen minutes earlier. She was understandably confused, and not exactly as familiar with English as I am, so it took some convincing and some helpful explanation from a coworker before I was finally rewarded with my lunch.

I was bemused when they made me a brand new bag with an entirely fresh combo meal. I had just assumed that I would be forced to accept my cold bag of food which was probably still sitting at the drive-thru window awaiting my return. Back at home, as my head eventually began to clear, I realized that my food had probably been given away to the next driver by mistake, causing a massive chain reaction of wrong orders to follow. Hopefully, the first cashier realized that my car had been replaced by another and was able to recover by delivering the correct meal to the next car in line. But if you were at the Hiawatha Burger King in Minneapolis today and you mistakenly received a Whopper Junior with no tomatoes instead of whatever wilty salad or chicken monstrosity you ordered, I truly do apologize, but it was Tylenol's fault.

That was a really long way of saying "I forgot my burger at the drive-thru window," which itself sounds like some bad country song title. It's almost midnight now, but I'm still way too wired for sleep.

Animated Fridays

2007-04-20T12:23:00.000-05:00

Here is your regularly scheduled animated GIF:

Worst Highjump Ever
[fp]

Seeing Stars

2007-04-13T07:30:00.000-05:00

My Netflix has been going very well, thank you very much. Of course, it's totally ruined my movie review section, because I've seen way too many movies to review and it's much easier just to rate them with stars in my Netflix queue.

But in case you care, here are my recent rentals/ratings. Yes, I admit I rented Basic Instinct 2:

Shortbus 4 Stars 04/13/07
The Prestige 2 Stars 04/10/07
Borat 4 Stars 04/03/07
Stranger than Fiction 4 Stars 04/03/07
Sarah Silverman:Jesus is Magic 4 Stars 03/30/07
Wordplay 4 Stars 03/16/07
Basic Instinct 2 1 Star 03/12/07
Jesus Camp 4 Stars 03/06/07
Everything Is Illuminated 1 Star 03/06/07
The Departed 4 Stars 02/27/07
Babel 2 Stars 02/27/07
Clerks 2 1 Star 02/21/07
This Film Is Not Yet Rated 4 Stars 02/21/07
An Inconvenient Truth 4 Stars 02/13/07
Idiocracy 3 Stars 02/13/07
A Prairie Home Companion 3 Stars 02/09/07
The Devil Wears Prada 3 Stars 01/30/07
Art School Confidential 2 Stars 01/23/07
Superman Returns 2 Stars 01/17/07
Nacho Libre 3 Stars 01/17/07
Hostel 3 Stars 01/12/07
Lady in the Water 1 Star 01/12/07
The Descent 5 Stars 01/05/07

Speaking of watching things on TV (I know, worst segue ever), I have to say that the last few episodes of Gilmore Girls have renewed my spirits in the show. In reality, they have just been digging themselves out of the horrible hole they created with the first half of the season, but still, the characters are back on track, the drama has been amped up, and Lorelie suddenly had a nice moment of clarity that I think was long overdue. Perhaps I can return to posting regularly about my beloved GG, although I still was hoping this would be the final season. I just can't stand the possibility of even one more episode about Lane's baby.

T.G.I.Friday and Animated

2007-04-13T11:58:00.000-05:00

Your regularly scheduled Friday Afternoon Animated GIF:

It's all in the reaction shot.
[fp]

Nobody likes a clown.

2007-04-19T12:30:00.000-05:00

Like most people, the majority of my worst childhood memories involve clowns. Likewise, the majority of embarrassing pictures from my youth involve me dressed as a clown:

The picture above was taken after a particularly grueling day of handing out Slo-Poke suckers to kids who weren't all that much younger than I was at the annual neighborhood church fair. My mother was in charge of the "clowns" at the St. Al's Fun Fair every year and since no one else was interested in participating, she mostly had to recruit her own family members to don the wigs, face paint, and costumes. The reason I am not wearing a wig in the picture is because some drunken church fair brutes had snatched if off my head and then forced me to play Pickle in the Middle with the wig to get it back. But I wasn't a very good pickle, and it wasn't easy to jump or run in the clown costume under the steamy July sun, so the hooligans ended up running off with the wig and tossing it into the dunk tank. I spent the rest of my church fair clowning career wigless.

I'm still a tad bitter about it, but to get my revenge, and for purely cathartic reasons, I like to photoshop clown make-up onto people I know, like I did for my Dad's birthday:

Freaks them out every time. I think a great idea would be to photoshop clown make-up onto photos of all of my coworkers, and then slip the photos into their purses or under their keyboards so that they would accidentally find them when they least expected it. I don't think I can imagine anything more disturbing than seeing yourself in clown make-up. Believe me, I know.

Speaking of clown jokes, this one has always been one of my favorites.

The internet has ruined me.

2007-04-18T23:40:00.001-05:00

I received an advertisement in the mail yesterday that featured this comparison chart:

My initial interpretation was that they were either morbidly droopy boobs or diseased hairless testicles, but they were neither.

I guess I am curious to know if anyone else had the same initial reaction as me, or if I have just become desensitized by seeing so many pictures of diseased genitals on the internet that it will forever be my first association and that my mind has been permanently warped. Please advise.

Case Closed

2007-04-18T23:32:00.000-05:00

One of my first blog posts ever, back in September of 2002, was short and sweet, and something along the lines of:

"...Dr. Phil is a bozo."

I've always had an irrational hatred for the man. No wait, I take that back, there's nothing irrational about it. The problem is I've never been to articulate my despise for him in words. When forced to defend my opinion of him (which I'm surprised I've actually had to do on occasion), I come up blank. But then I found this description of him in an article titled The 100 Unsexiest Men 2007 that sums it up so perfectly that I couldn't have said it any better myself:

I probably would have added in a negative comment about his affected southern accent being his subsitute for "wisdom", but it's still nearly perfect so I just thought I'd share. Although how he didn't make the top 10 is beyond me.

Carbonated.

2007-04-12T23:08:00.000-05:00

I like this idea:

Carbon Copies
Pencils made from the carbon of human cremains. 240 pencils can be made from an average body of ash - a lifetime supply of pencils for those left behind.

I guess it's mostly just a concept right now, but I think people should do it for real. Although it might be a little weird jotting down a grocery list with your husband's dead ashes. And would you feel bad about sharpening them? And if you did, what would you do with the shavings? It's like a never ending cycle. I think you'd have to save those pencils for special occasions. Or art class or something.

I wonder how much they would cost? I wonder how much a body's worth of carbon costs? I know blood is pretty expensive. Not toner-expensive apparently, but expensive:

[And here is a much more detailed list of the prices of liquids, which makes you wonder what the big deal is about waging war for oil in the middle east. We should be invading Hewlett Packard's corporate headquarters. FP]

Everyone is gay.

2007-04-13T11:57:00.000-05:00

Apparently, heterosexuality is just a conspiracy:

Of course, that is just a very pat reading of a very interesting subject...
[thanks cwatts!]

A Coordinated Attack

2007-04-09T21:14:00.000-05:00

One of my biggest fears is being the guy on the treadmill at the gym who loses his balance or forgets to pay attention to his footing and does the spectacular flailing crash onto the rotating band that forcefully expels you backwards and throws you off of the apparatus with utter lack of control to the sound of screeching skin and the smell of burnt rubber.

I've seen it happen to other people, who sometimes land face down, flat on their stomach and are then thrown backwards like assembly-belt fodder. Afterwards, they always mysteriously disappear from the gym, never to be seen again in the aftermath of their embarrassment. It's only a matter of time before it's me. In fact, it almost happened today.

I was on the treadmill, minding my own business, lip-syncing to my MP3 player (which I admit looks a little ridiculous but eff that, it's the only thing that gets me through the workout), when the cleaning crew starts wiping down the machines all around me. They don't even bother to wait until you've finished your workout, they just squat down right in front of you with their soapy rags and wipe down the treadmill in the middle of your jog. There's been more than one occasion where I've witnessed my own hard-earned sweat drip right onto the top of their unsuspecting heads, but they pay no mind and just keep on scrubbing. It probably happens to them a dozen times a day, and I try to rationalize it by telling myself that if they don't have the patience to wait until I'm finished then they get what they deserve, but it still makes me very self-conscious.

Today they were working in unison, one woman scrubbed the front end of the machines while one scrubbed the back and another woman followed up behind them with a vacuum. It almost felt like a coordinated attack. Perhaps it was a retaliation for having to endure my dripping sweat for all these years. When they got to my machine it was all so frenetic and distracting that I started to get nervous. The sweat flew and I stumbled a bit but I held my ground. That's when the vacuum lady kicked the electrical cord out of its socket. I lurched forward into the machine with a thud as the apparatus screeched to a sudden halt. I just stood there, nursing my bruises and awaiting an apology. I watched her as she plugged the machine back in, never making eye contact and never skipping a beat, and then off she went with her vacuum, not even caring that she almost caused me to live out my worst nightmare.

I'm not sure how I'm going to get my revenge of the treadmill cleaning crew yet, but she won't get away with this passive-aggressive attack. This last video is fake I think, but I've tried that itch-your-knee routine on the treadmill before with near disastrous results.

Happy Easter

2007-04-09T08:20:00.000-05:00

Steal the rabbit's eggs and unleash its wrath. Jesus loves that.

A Million Frowning Emoticons Couldn't Convey My Disapointment :(

2007-04-05T08:02:00.000-05:00

I've been a Decemberists evangelist (hey that almost rhymes!) for years. I can't even begin to estimate how many of their concerts I've blogged about or CDs I've gushed over. I proudly wore their concert T-shirt all over town nearly every day for two whole summers until it literally evaporated off of my body from excessive wear. Yes, literally. I even have a bustificated tambourine from one of their concerts that is prominently displayed in my bedroom. But right now they are on my naughty list.

Last time they were in town they put on a pretty good show in spite of lead singer Colin Meloy's illness. He would disappear from stage occasionally, presumably to vomit, and return looking a little pale and feverish. Understandably, they cut the show short and Colin himself apologized for the lackluster performance, promising to "remember Minneapolis next time around."

Apparently they forgot to remember because Minneapolis isn't even on the tour schedule this time around.

[original pic from bbgunbilly.com]

I even emailed him to express my disappointment, but got no reply. Not that I was expecting one. Celebrities are busy, fickle people.

Once I got an email reply from Roger Ebert. I can't remember why I emailed him in the first place, but his personalized reply was one of my prized possessions until my computer crashed and I lost it forever. Another time, I got this lengthy email response from Sufjan Stevens, which I've desperately and almost successfully tried to convince myself was not actually just some form letter or canned reply.

I also got an unsolicited email from Mike White once, which I detailed in this post and am still quite proud of. Not that I'm a star-effer or anything. I don't make it a habit to hound celebrities. I just get bored sometimes. And obsessive. And fanatical.

Speaking of fantatics, this is one of my favorite SNL skits ever, in spite of Ben Affleck, and it's also appropriately (or maybe not-so-appropriately) topical.

Pig in a Poke

2007-04-02T17:56:00.000-05:00

I went to Europe for a couple weeks. Most notably, I went to France, Belgium, and Luxembourg on a whirlwind tour of things European. I saw iconic art and ate stinky cheese and drank fancy liquor and walked for a million kilometers and roamed the Belgian countryside. I took baths instead of showers, I ate salads for the last course rather than the first, I rode the Metro while humming that song by that band in the 80's, and I ate pancakes and waffles on the street. I saw Brussels and Bruges and Waterloo and Paris and canals and sculptures and more cathedrals than I can even recall or differentiate between. I sampled exotic foods and indulged and imbibed and subsequently regretted. I met many pleasing people, learned many foreign phrases, and basically made such a good impression on behalf of all Americans that I've pretty much reinvented international diplomacy from scratch. We're all good now. No more worries. BFF.

I took nearly 800 pictures. An abridged set of my travel photos is located here:

Dan invades Europe

Anyway, I'm back now.

Too Much Information

2007-03-30T16:51:00.000-05:00

This isn't my discovery, but see if you can figure out why I laughed out loud:

[FP]

Sure, it's an old joke but the delivery is perfect.

Rockin' the Lux

2007-03-26T17:21:00.000-05:00

This also happens to be my 1,100th blog post, if I trust that blogger knows how to count.

Darth Father

2007-03-21T05:27:00.000-05:00

Did you know that Vader means Father in Dutch? I do, because I am in Belgium. So suck on that, bitches. Sheds a whole new light on Star Wars.

This keyboard is even worse than the last one. Salut or whatever.

Le Blog

2007-03-18T12:51:00.000-05:00

Today I saw the Mona Lisa smile. No, not that awful movie where Julia Roberts is an inspiration to those boring boarding school chicks... the REAL Mona Lisa smile, because I am in Paris so suck on that, bitches.

I'd post more but this keyboard is all whacked out and it took me forever just to find the apostrophe. So ciao or whatever.

Franken on Franklin

2007-03-12T23:01:00.000-05:00

I was waiting at a red light on Franklin Street last Friday night when I looked into the SUV on my left and noticed Al Franken was in the driver's seat. It would probably never be considered a rare or exciting celebrity sighting, especially since he's actually living in the Twin Cities again while he runs for senate, but it was a celebrity sighting nonetheless and they don't come around too often in Minnesota. So like a wannabe paparazzo, I readied my digital camera and started waving violently to get his reaction.

But it was dark, and he and his wife were steadfast in their attention to the road. The light turned green and he took off, but my Hyundai and I stayed even with them until the next red light, where I took a few quick snapshots using the red-eye-reduction flash, thinking this might get their attention. But again, they were unfazed, and again the light turned green without even a hint of acknowledgement.

Turns out I should have been paying more attention to the road in front of me because I didn't really see the cars parked on the side of the road and I had to make a last minute decision to hit the gas and swerve ahead of Franken's SUV in order to avoid ramming into anything, which elicited a nasty honk, I'm assuming from Franken himself. Guess I finally got his attention.

So it turns out the paparazzo life is not for me. Which is okay, because in Minneapolis there aren't many targets. You'd only really have to split your time between Prince and Al Franken. Maybe Jesse Ventura, Dean Johnson from HomeTime, or Joan Steffand from Decorating Cents, or this lady (not suitable for work), if you're lucky. But with "celebrities" like that, you'd have to catch them doing something particularly nasty before anyone would really care. I mean, it's not like when barefoot Brittney buys a taco.

And I'm obviously not the best photographer. This is the best picture I could get:

Used Jockeys for Sale

2007-03-10T18:51:00.000-06:00

I buy my brandname underwear at Marshall's (Brand Names for Less™) to take advantage of the discount prices. Today I purchased a variety of different styles and colors, but when I got home and opened one of the packages for its pre-wear inaugural washing, something was not right. The plastic wrapping of the package itself was secured with unofficial-looking Scotch brand tape. Once opened, even more Scotch brand tape was to be found inside, applied in an even-less-official-looking manner:

This could only mean one of two things:

1. Someone bought some undies, took them home, tried them on, didn't appreciate the look or fit, repackaged them, and returned them to the store for a refund, or

2. Marshall's found an opened pack of Jockeys in their usual shipment of "slightly irregulars" and decided just to reassemble the package in the hopes that some unobservant schmuck like me wouldn't notice and purchase them by accident.

I'm hoping the latter is the actual scenario, but regardless, they went straight into the trash. I suppose I could have complained to Marshall's and returned them for a refund, but god knows the store would have just repackaged them again and put them right back out on the shelf for the next unsuspecting victim, and I decided that the cycle needed to end with me. The madness stops here. Oprah take note: I'm considering this to be my random act of kindness for the week.

It reminds me of when I was younger and we had a neighborhood garage sale and some sicko neighbor of mine put their tighty-whities up for sale at a quarter a piece. Who buys garage sale underwear, except maybe for sniffing fetishists?

Even worse: doods who sell their drawers on eBay, after modeling them for the auction listing.

Disco Pierre Knead Stoner

2007-03-06T17:23:00.000-06:00

This weekend we celebrated a birthday with a fiesta. I rasterbated Cherry Nut an oversized poster and stuffed her a pinata.

I didn't know how to pack a pinata that would be suitable for adult entertainment, so I stuffed some condoms and liquor into it, but everyone was more impressed with the fake teeth and Laffy Taffy, so I guess there was no need to imagine that thirtysomethings were any harder to please than pre-teens and toddlers. I don't think I've ever referred to myself as being thirtysomething before. It makes me think of bad TV melodramas from the '80s. I don't remember Timothy Busfield or Peter Horton ever having an adult pinata party. Oh well.

We also played Mad Gab. Let's see if any of you can decipher the phrase from this clue of phonetically similar-sounding words:

Happy Birfday Cherry Nut.

Blowin' Yer Mind

2007-02-28T07:52:00.000-06:00

Trippy 'n' shit.

I'd rather slit my wrists...

2007-02-27T12:00:00.000-06:00

...than ever watch Ghost Rider. I don't think I've ever been so vehemently opposed to a film's existence.

What's the opposite of Trendsetter?

2007-02-27T17:15:00.000-06:00

Remember when I had a goatee? Yeah, I don't either. I had it for a total of two weeks nearly six years ago until one day I decided I looked like a reject from a Kevin Smith movie so I shaved it off. I just don't think I'm a facial hair kinda guy. I don't have the personality to back up whatever it is that a goatee represents. Plus the thing was a pain in the poopka to maintain.

I think this is the only surviving picture of it:

Yes, I know it was trendy to sport a goatee back then. Here is a short list of other fads I may have participated in:

First Grade: Anything Star Wars
Second Grade: Anything E.T.
Third Grade: Anything Transformers/Go-Bots (Robots in Disguise)
Fourth Grade: Police Academy Movies
Fifth Grade: Garbage Pail Kids
Sixth Grade: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Seventh Grade: Rolling and pinning jeans, concurrently
Eighth Grade: Armitron watches; Turtlenecks; Memorizing Ton Loc lyrics
Ninth Grade: Mullet and sidespike, concurrently
Tenth Grade: Adding the word "not" to the end of a sentence as a negating declarative, a'la Wayne and Garth
Eleventh Grade: Long-haired alternative haircut and skateboarder clothing, regardless of the fact that I didn't own a skateboard or know how to ride one; Memorizing Vanilla Ice lyrics
Twelfth Grade: Nirvana

Speaking of lackluster facial hair, this is my favorite exchange on The People's Court, evar*:

*Actually, there was a People's Court episode that K-Mack and I viewed once that I may have enjoyed more, where a kid was sued for throwing a rock and damaging an automobile after having to endure a chorus of "blondie-butt" taunts. And I also appreciated the episode where Divine Brown's pimp tried to sue her for not giving him his cut,** but that may have been Judge Judy now that I think about it.

**Isn't it the awesomest thing ever that Divine Brown has a Wikipedia entry?

Art in Reverse

2007-02-21T18:49:00.000-06:00

A couple months ago I saw this story on the intarwebs about a group of people who tried to re-enact Seurat's famous painting "A Sunday on La Grande Jatte" in real life:

Not bad.

Then today I saw this guy's photography portfolio where he re-creates children's crayon drawings into photography:

Yeondoo Jung's : Wonderland

Pretty cool.

It's also available in one big graphic for side by side comparisons, if you care. It is so inspirational that I wanted to try it myself, but I didn't have any crayon drawings by children except for this portrait of me that my niece drew a few years ago which has always kind of creeped me out:

This is the best recreation I could come up with:

Nope, still creepy.

Enough with the art, here's a naked streaker farting on live TV, which I suppose is a form of art in its own right. [Thanks to Patrick!]

Return of the Animated GIF

2007-02-16T09:20:00.000-06:00

I love me some animated GIFs. There's something about the old-school technology that I find disarmingly charming. This one might be the best one I've seen so far this year:

Tunnel Baby: Mind = Blown [FP]

Your two-month taxes-due countdown reminder.

2007-02-14T15:40:00.000-06:00

This valentine is wonderfully subversive:

But this one is a little closer to my heart:

Wiiiiiiiiii!

Motivational Deodorant

2007-02-09T12:44:00.000-06:00

Early this morning, I was surprised to be greeted with a positive inspirational message from people who clearly care about my emotional well-being:

My first thought was of the dozen or so marketing directors in the Ultra Dry Degree Deodorant marketing department who probably had multiple hour-long brainstorming sessions as to decide which messages would be carved into the freshly-formed deodorant chunks. I wondered if the message was always intended to be a positive one, or if they had initially proposed more product-supporting phrases like "Stink No More" or "Apply Liberally". Once the decision was made to avoid any reference to the user's body odor, how many arguments did it take before phrases like "Exxxtreme!" and "Live The Dream!" were taken off the table? Whatever the case, I wasn't about to let the marketing managers' hard work and perseverance go to waste: today, I would take their advice to heart, and "Go For It".

And "Go For It" I did. When I craved a second bowl of cereal for breakfast, I went for it. When the green light I was approaching on the way to work turned prematurely yellow, I went for it. When I was debating whether or not to buy myself a luxuriously over-priced caffeinated beverage at the local cafe, I went for it. When I debated whether or not to use the only empty urinal that was unfortunately situated directly in between two occupied urinals, I took a deep breath and I went for it. My deodorant only wants me to proceed with confidence. Worry not, Ultra Dry Degree Invisible Stick Solid (Non-Irritating with Aloe)... it has been gone for.

Ultra Dry Degree Invisible Stick Solid (Non-Irritating with Aloe) has changed my life. My only regret is that my personalized motivational message was forever erased after one generous swipe on the armpit. Tomorrow's motivation will have to come from as-of-yet unknown alternative sources.

Woah.

2007-02-09T12:28:00.000-06:00

It's not just that it's so considerably sized. It's that he seems to have some sort of unnatural control over its movement:

View the video.

In Yer Face

2007-02-08T00:26:00.000-06:00

I always wondered what authority gives churches the right to call themselves the "first":

Dan Murray

2007-02-02T00:32:00.000-06:00

Last night I dreamt that I was preparing myself for a formal event when I noticed my hair was wildly out of control (which was probably just a subliminal aftershock from seeing that crazy bride video the other day), so I ran to my usual stylist to get a quick trim.

In waking life, there is a man-stylist at the salon who is always giving me dirty looks. My innate insecurity has led me to believe that he thinks I'm just not good-looking enough to be frequenting such a high-scale salon, which is probably true. Apparently my fear of him has invaded my subconscious, because in my dream I saw him pull my stylist aside and hand her a big wad of crumpled up cash and whisper, "I'll give you all of my tips from today if you give him a Meg Ryan. No wait, give him an Anne Murray." To my surprise, my stylist smirked and pocketed the cash, and I started to sweat through my tuxedo.

I carefully confronted my stylist as she was trimming my hair: "You know, I heard what he said, and I saw you take the cash." But she just demurred, saying "Oh no, we were just joking around. He owed me that money for a sandwich," but of course when she turned me around to face the mirror I looked something like this, only without the hoop earrings:

For the sake of comparison:

Obviously, I freaked out but then somehow the dream changed into something else where my hairstylist was a television reporter and she was interviewing me for an exposé about adoption scams and that's where all logic falls apart.

But when I woke up I was intrigued about what I'd look like with a Meg Ryan. It's much better:

Then I got a little photoshop crazy imagining what other nasty celebrity hairdos they could have inflicted upon me:

Dan as Steven Wright

Dan as Thom Yorke

Dan as Phil Spector

I had a Dan as K.D. Lang all mocked up, too, but it was just too hideous.

Oh, and while I was mocking up the Anne Murray photo, I inadvertently adjusted a transparency setting in Photoshop that gave me a startling vision of what Miller/Murray offspring might look like, and it's really not a pretty picture:

It definitely looks Canadian, though. Anyway, I have better things to do than to fool around with Photoshop all night.

Planetdan, now in 3D!

2007-01-24T00:00:00.000-06:00

The other day I came across this guy's page, where he experiments with a way to present 3D stereo images on a computer monitor by simply putting two slightly different images into a single animated gif. Well you know that there are not many things that I love as dearly as animated gifs and myself, so here goes nothing:

Did I just blow your mind? It's just like an old Viewmaster! Apparently I'm easily impressed these days.

Using Netflix to Spread the Joy of Dan

2007-01-23T23:09:00.000-06:00

Ever since I joined Netflix I've been astounded by what must surely be an incredibly complex service infrastructure. They have millions of DVDs in millions of sleeves in millions of envelopes in millions of mailboxes every day, and they ship unbelievably fast. I couldn't conceive of how it was possible, and I didn't really understand how they knew what DVD was in what sleeve when you returned your envelope. But today I found out by accident that they apparently have no idea what DVD is in the sleeve you return. In fact it doesn't even have to be a DVD at all.

You see, I was organizing my movie collection and putting discs back in boxes, etcetera, when I decided to hit the eject button on my DVD changer. I was surprised when the Hostel DVD popped out, because I had supposedly returned it to Netflix three weeks ago. Confused, I looked around for an empty box to help me figure out which of my personal DVDs I had returned to Netflix by mistake, but they were all accounted for. The only empty case in the vicinity was for my own homemade Kickassiest Xmas music mix. Which means some lucky Netflix customer out there who was expecting a gory pseudo-snuff horror film would instead be hearing some lovely holiday classics from the past and present, including the planetdan original Xmas song: The Kickassiest Xmas. What a treat! Sure, it's a little out of season, but who wouldn't love an opportunity to tickle their earholes with a little dan?

This would make an interesting grass roots distribution system for struggling bands, I think. Just keep ordering Netflix movies and replacing them with your demo disc. Netflix has yet to contact me about the error, which means they probably never bother to check to see if the proper titles are in the proper mailing sleeves. Who knows, maybe the head of the Holiday Song Division at some huge record company is listening to The Kickassiest Xmas right now! Of course, that would mean they expected to be watching Hostel tonight, so they're probably not too happy with me right now. Plus I neglected to include any contact information for them to call and offer me millions for the distribution rights, but whatever.

Worst. Photo. Ever.

2007-01-16T22:44:00.000-06:00

Whenever I come across forgotten childhood pictures, the resulting feelings are usually that of deep mortification and regretful sorrow. I dream of one day finding some seemingly normal photo of myself as a nine-year-old, perhaps wearing a baseball jersey, or maybe even a shirt with sleeves. This continues to be my dream. Here is, by far, the worst I've yet to see:

I don't know what makes me cringe worse, the purse around my elbow, the baby doll in my lap, or the fabric bag worn as a bonnet. I guess I can find a little solace in the fact that at least I had enough shame to keep my shirt on, unlike my scrawny older brother. My cousin Linzee was kind enough to scan and send this photo to me. She is pictured here in the middle. I'm positive her intention was to embarrass me with the memories, so I'll return her the favor by telling a true story: this very same day at her house in Pennsylvania, she was having so much fun playing dress up with us that she literally wet her pants. Okay, so she was probably at the age where wetting her pants wouldn't seem as strange as, say, a nine-year-old boy carrying a purse and a baby doll, but I just thought I would mention it.

Anyway, thanks for the memories, Linzee.

Hammer Humor

2007-01-16T22:23:00.000-06:00

I don't know what it is about MC Hammer jokes lately, but I sure have taken a liking to them. Although I have no idea who created this masterpiece of simplicity and logic, I like it very much. I post it in honor of Dr. Erik, who I know appreciates flowchart humor as much as I do, although I'm unsure about his affinity for Hammer Humor in general:

I have always liked this one, too, but I can't decide if the inclusion of nazis actually increases or diminishes the potential humor:

Okay, just one more.

Ouch

2007-01-14T17:48:00.000-06:00

I was looking through old pictures the other day when I came across this gem of myself from Stacy's wedding a few years ago:

When it comes to dancing, I like to roll up my sleeves and get down to business. I always suspected that perhaps I worked it a little too hard on the dance floor. I guess this picture confirms it. Please, Hammer, don't hurt 'em.

And here's a more recent picture, taken this last New Year's Eve, of K-Mack and I workin' it a little too hard on the dance floor yet again. Little has changed over the years. Notice that my hair is soaked wet with hard-earned dance-sweat. K-Mack doesn't seem to mind:

Newphews

2007-01-14T18:02:00.000-06:00

My family celebrated xmas late this year due to some inconveniently-timed vacations. But that's okay, because it gave me some extra time to work on a Shutterfly hardcover photobook for everyone. You see, I had thoughtfully gathered some old digital photographs of my entire family and organized them with titles and captions. With my trusty Photoshop, I created a custom cover image that I hoped would be suitable for display in any home, and I even splurged to add a few extra pages to accommodate some cute photos that I was positive everyone would appreciate. I was excited about the final results, which were printed and mailed to me earlier this week. All of those hours of sifting through photos, laying out nearly thirty pages, and designing the cover were finally going to pay off:

Nieces and Newphews. Nice work, dan. Your thoughtful (and not exactly inexpensive) gift is forever besmirched by an errant 'w'. I tried to make myself feel better by comparing it to misprinted stamps, where an upside-down airplane only increases the item's value, but that proved ineffective. Oh well, maybe next year someone will get me spell check for xmas.

2002-10-08T14:58:00.000-05:00

'I love to dance country'
Not that I think anyone is actually reading this weblog, but if any old Quikpager comes across my ramblings, you might remember this guy:
http://www.celebrityvintage.qpg.com/
That's him dressed as a pirate/stevie-nicks on the top of the page. He used to call every day to update his site with leopard print furniture pics and celebrity site links. He was the type of guy that would insist that 'shop' be spelled with two P's and an E. Shoppe. Also notice that he likes to 'dance country.' Good to see his site is still up and running. Dude was awesome. Ahhh, good times.

The Barking of the Squirrels

2007-01-08T22:28:00.000-06:00

It's no secret that I've had problems with squirrels in the past. Today the conflict reached a boiling point. I'm going to dramatize the retelling of my terrifying ordeal, but I assure you: while the story might seem fancifully told, the details are entirely accurate.

This morning, I needed to take a ripe-smelling garbage bag to the receptacle in the alley out back, but my "outside" shoes were not conveniently waiting by the back door as usual, so I had to wear my slippers. It seemed safe enough, as the sun had temporarily broken through the clouds and the ground looked dry and coarse, but in reality there had been a frost overnight and the ground wasn't as unslippery as it seemed. My backyard slopes uphill rather dramatically, so about halfway up the treacherous hike in my tractionless slippers, I heard a terrible noise: it was the sound of an angry squirrel, barking. I stopped dead in my tracks.

If you've never heard a squirrel barking, believe me, it would send shivers down your spine. It's indescribable. It kind of sounds like a cross between an evil hiss and an unworldly, demonic grunt. But I recognized it immediately. I slowly turned to see a nasty looking squirrel at the base of my tree. He was on his hind legs. He was angry. And he was looking right at me. Barking.

I tried to retreat, but my slippered feet gave way beneath me and I fell, flailing onto my backside, garbage bag still in hand. This didn't deter the squirrel. It just barked louder. My heart stopped as I watched it take a few menacing, but cautious leaps toward me. It stopped about fifteen feet short of my legs and resumed barking. Cleverly, I banged on my garbage bag to cause a racket, hoping that this would startle the creature and bring a little fear back into its soul-less existence. I even yelped, "Hey you! ... Git...!" but this tactic was unsuccessful.

He held his ground, still hissing, and I lied there as motionless as possible. It was not unlike a tense scene in an action movie where both gunmen have run out of ammunition and simultaneously noticed a loaded gun situated on the ground directly in between them, as the camera pans in dramatically to focus on their twitching eyes. Who would make the first move? Except there was no gun, I was in slippers, and the squirrel clearly had the upper hand.

Making a command decision, I stood up and ran for the back gate, toward the dumpster. The barking had stopped, but I was unsure if the peripheral motion I could see out of the corner of my eye was a rabid running squirrel with sharp fangs or some innocuous rustling leaves, so when I finally reached the dumpster with my garbage bag still in hand, I just kept running. I swear I could hear the insipid beast lunging through my lilac bush, so I never looked back.

By the time I got to the end of the alley, the animal was nowhere to be seen, and I was not about to attempt another confrontation. So I dispensed with the garbage bag in a neighbor's trash bin (an illegal act, I know, but I doubt any jury would convict me after what I had just been through), and walked around the entire block - in my slippers - to my home's front entrance, where I was reasonably sure there were no squirrels lying in wait to feast on my fleshy ankles and weakened spirit. And that is where my tale of courage ends, my friends.

So, I told that story with some exaggerated flourish, but seriously... what could possibly make a squirrel go all bat-shit crazy like that this time of year? Besides rabies? I'm afraid of my backyard. I'm a prisoner in my own home.

Squirrels are nasty. Last time I had a bad encounter with a squirrel, my coworker sent me this image to mock me, the power of which has never diminished:

Just add snow and that's basically what I encountered this morning.

Aught Seven

2007-01-04T17:30:00.000-06:00

I rang in the new year at a fancy shindig featuring fire dancers, high-flying aerialists, and some energetic booty shaking. K-Mack got drunk and vampish:

I've been playing with my Wii ever since. [The first person to make a lame joke here loses.] It's the best thing I've ever purchased. I probably won't be around the intarwebs much anymore, I have to work on my back swing because this tennis elbow is killing me...

My new year's resolution is to curb my spending. Again. I hereby vow to stop hemorrhaging money. Right after I amass a good solid Wii software collection...

Freaking my shit out.

2007-01-04T18:28:00.000-06:00

I finally joined Netflix. I justified the added monthly expense by canceling some of my unused cable channels. I thought I would go all insane with queuing movies, but I'm actually having a hard time coming up with titles that I'd like to see.

The first title sent to me was The Decent. It was the first movie ever to make me scream out loud. In the middle of the day. In a brightly sunlit living room. It really freaked my shit out. It's also the first movie to almost make me vomit. Not from gore, mind you, but from the uncomfortable claustrophobia induced by crawling through a tunnel no wider than your shoulders. If you've seen it, you know what I mean. I had to turn away. Another movie first for dan. I guess you can consider that a rave review.

And now I make my Netflix queue open to the public, and open to ridicule:

Dan Hearts Netflix

The best of the year.

2006-12-31T09:50:00.000-06:00

I received an Onion daily calendar from Kmack last year for xmas. Today I removed the very last page, which is always an extremely satisfying experience. All year long I've saved the ones that made me laugh out loud. Some of them are still funny. Some of them make me wonder what I was on that day. My top three favorites:

And here are all the ones I saved throughout the year, so you can see what choices I had for the top three.

I'd put together a big Best of 2006 Extravaganza like I usually do, but it was a busy year and so I only saw a few movies and read a couple books. This is the best I can do:

Best Movie I Saw: Children of Men
Worst Movie I Saw: Apocalypto
Most Disappointing Movie: For Your Consideration

Best Book I Read All The Way Through: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson
Only Book I Read All The Way Through: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson
Great Books I've Started but Haven't Finished:
Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs
Spook by Mary Roach

My Top Ten Favorite CDs of the Year:
10. Friendly Fire by Sean Lennon
(It grows on you.)
9. The Avalanche by Sufjan Stevens
(Not entirely perfect but still great.)
8. The Trials of Van Occupanther by Midlake
(If only for the opening track: Roscoe.)
7. The Life Persuit by Belle and Sebastian
(Which was one of the best concerts I saw, too.)
6. Ys by Joanna Newsom
(In spite of the fact that it gave me the stomach flu.)
5. Putting the Days To Bed by the Long Winters
(Underappreciated and underrated by everyone and anyone.)
4. Apologies to the Queen Mary by Wolf Parade
(I know this came out last year, but I only gained appreciation for it
this year, and I listened to it more than any other CD.)
3. Rabbit Fur Coat by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
(So totally enjoyable that even my musically illiterate roommate likes it.)
2. The Crane Wife by the Decemberists
(Duh.)
1. Impeach My Bush by Peaches
(I had to buy this CD four times because I kept giving it away to spread the love.
It has made me happier than any other CD released this year.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Happy Xmas (War Ain't Over)

2006-12-27T23:42:00.001-06:00

I'm kinda depressed that Xmas is actually over. For anyone interested, I got some real good gifts. Check it out:

Jealous?

As tradition dictates, I also bought a few gifts for myself this holiday season, including a new Nintendo Wii game system which shipped last week but hasn't arrived yet. I've been waiting very impatiently for what feels like an eternity and tracking the shipment online from city to city as it trudges ever-so-slowly yet frustratingly closer to its final destination. But now I hear that the entire post office might be shutting down for a day because dumb old Gerald Ford died. As if there's a single mailman out there who seriously gives a crap. I'll tell you whut, if I have to wait even one extra day to get my Wii in the mail on account of dumb dead old Gerald Ford, then I'm going to go postal, which would be the ultimate in irony.

• Here's an Xmas gift I'm glad I got.
• Here's another Xmas gift I'm glad I got.
• Here's an Xmas gift I'm glad I didn't get from anybody.
• Here's an Xmas gift that I really wish I would have gotten somebody. Anybody.
('Cept maybe my mom cuz it's NSFW!) [Thanks, Rebecca]

Shopping Cart Chaos

2006-12-20T22:54:00.000-06:00

I finished up my Christmas shopping at Target this evening. Somehow stocking stuffers and wrapping accoutrements cost me nearly $200. But the excessive crowd and the manic atmosphere got me flustered, so the majority of my time there was spent wandering glossy-eyed and aimless, trying to remember the internalized shopping list that I had previously and regrettably decided need not be written down.

At some point during my hour-long Target shopping extravaganza, I returned to where I thought I had parked my cart to find some unfamiliar items, including a snowglobe, a leather purse and a black coat with a hideous fur collar. In fact, nothing in this cart looked familiar to me. I stood for a minute, perplexed, and then started traversing the aisles to find my cart, which I had previously packed to the gills with typical Target purchases like shaving cream and toilet paper, but I had no luck. I decided to walk back to the last place that I actually remembered seeing my cart, which was halfway across the store in the giftwrap section, and sure enough it was there quietly awaiting my return.

But I was certain that I had brought my cart with me across the store before losing it, so my instant assumption was that I had accidentally grabbed another lady's cart, a good twenty minutes earlier, and had been mindlessly pushing it through multiple departments ever since. Suddenly the frazzled looks on the Target Team Members faces as they communicated via walkie talkie were starting to make sense. Someone had obviously reported their purse stolen and they were on a manhunt...

So I slyly returned to the department where I had discovered the mystery cart with the purse, only now there were multiple carts with multiple purses and I had no idea which cart was the errant one. Shockingly, hideous black fur collars are not rare in my neck of the woods. I pretended to peruse some random merchandise as I waited for people to come back to claim their carts, hoping that I could simply assume that any cart leftover would be the one I had inadvertently stolen from the giftwrap department. I didn't want to grab the wrong cart AGAIN, after all. I had been lucky enough not to have gotten tackled by some pissed off Target bargain-hunter the first time I grabbed the wrong cart, so I wasn't about to take the same risk again.

After waiting fifteen minutes for fate to sort out the cart situation for me, I started to imagine the Target Team Members checking the store security tape, frantically searching for the thief who had callously stolen some poor lady's purse and coat the week before Christmas. So I bailed.

All I could do at that point was hope that someone would find the "misplaced" cart and return it to its proper owner. I can only imagine how I would have felt had I been a woman shopping at Target and returned to where I thought I had parked my cart, and purse, only to find them missing. I probably really ruined her evening. And she had probably planned on getting all her Christmas shopping done tonight. And now she'll have to finish another time when she is less prepared, and her gift choices will be shoddy and rushed and therefore poorly thought-out, resulting in disappointed gift-receivers and decades of resentment and hurt feelings.

Karma is going to bite me in the ass BIG TIME for that one. Dammit.

Merry Xmas from T-Bone

2006-12-15T12:29:00.000-06:00

T-Bone and his hairless cats want to wish you a merry xmas:

A little closer, for the detail:

I activated my Photoshop powers to help him create the card. And here I've altered it a bit for planetdan. Needed more skin folds:

Feliz Navidad!

Two Incher

2006-12-14T17:38:00.000-06:00

I passed this car on the freeway today and for a while I thought the dude was advertising his shortcomings:

It took me a while to figure out that it probably isn't supposed to be read as "Two-incher". He's probably some insurance agent and so you're supposed to read it as "To insure", but I think he made a serious error in judgment when personalizing that plate. Or maybe his wife gave them to him as a gift as she laughed under her breath.

Balls

2006-12-13T08:31:00.000-06:00

K-Mack and I spent an entire day decorating the house for Christmas. I spent four hours of that day climbing a ladder in my dining room to hang balls using fishing wire and 3M Command hooks, but I think it was worth it because the effect is quite breathtaking:

And here's our tree so you can pretend to celebrate xmas with us:

And here's me, doing an elf dance for you:

And for a temporary time, you can watch me do the whole dance. [Thanks, Cherry Nut]

The Fearless Photographer

2006-12-10T20:24:00.000-06:00

Back in my mulletted days of the late 80's and early 90's, I had myself a little hair-band phase. So when an opportunity comes to relive those "glory days" and take in some arena rock by a little band called Guns n' Roses, you can bet I'll be there. And when I'm with my pushy and fearless friends T-Bone and Alicia, you can bet I'll get up nice and close, to boot:

It's a good thing I was a little tipsy, because cameras were banned at the event, and the extra booze gave me the false courage to take about a million pictures while standing just a few feet in front of the notoriously high-strung Axel Rose. Seriously, it must have looked like there was a strobe light going off in the audience right where I was standing. When I got home I was surprised to discover that I had taken over 180 pictures of the front man himself:

I had slyly snuck the camera into the venue (don't ask me how), but as the night wore on I became increasingly liberal with it. At the end of the evening there seemed to be more drunk people in the general admission holding area than in the actual arena, and I got this AWESOME video of two police men dragging a nearly-passed-out and naked-from-the-waist-down super fan into the security area. Of course by this time I wasn't exactly being discreet when I took the picture, so the guards chased me down and forced me to delete the video in front of them. I suppose I should be grateful that they didn't confiscate the camera altogether, but damn that was a good video. :(

Check out the pyro, dood:

An Eventful Weekend

2006-12-11T08:03:00.000-06:00

I started out last weekend by attending the Joanna Newsom concert with Stacy. If you're unfamiliar with Joanna Newsom, she's a spritely little elf of a freak-folk harpist who writes beautiful music that she sings with a shriekingly squealish voice, and she's incredible. She didn't disappoint, either. It was an unbelievable performance that I was sure I would remember as one of my favorites ever...

UNTIL...

... I went home that evening and promptly fell ill with the stomach flu. Throughout the course of the evening and between the violent bouts of throwing up, I would drift in and out of mad consciousness, never quite falling asleep but never really lucid either. The intense fever mixed with the sweaty chills kept my hallucinations vivid, and for some reason my mind decided to keep me at that Joanna Newsom concert all night long. I just kept hearing her harp and then that voice, and then more harp, and then more voice, ad nasueum (literally) until at one point I actually shouted loud enough to awake me from my own hallucinatory stupor: "Enough with the harp already!" fully believing that I was still being forced to endure that concert in my sickened state.

Two days later and eight pounds lighter, I still can't even look at the cover of my new Joanna Newsom CD or the awesome new concert t-shirt that I purchased without it bringing back memories of vomit and nausea. The negative association truly saddens me. I hope that it subsides over time and that I will once again be able to listen to her music without clutching my stomach in agony, but I still can't eat Rocky Rococo pizza and that little incident was almost eight years ago, so who knows what the future will bring.

Oh, and as I lay sick on the couch all day Saturday, K-Mack got engaged. It's a nice little story so I'll let her tell it:

CONGRATULATIONS K-MACK AND KROGGY!

Knittin' Foo'

2006-11-29T17:15:00.000-06:00

I've been trying to take up knitting. I'm not sure why. I guess it just sounded like something productive to do while watching TV. Turns out it's not so bad, but anyone who tries to tell you that knitting is a perfectly respectable hobby for a man and that it isn't at all emasculating is a total liar. It's emasculating as hell. Honestly, it's incredibly hard, if not impossible, to hold two knitting needles in your hands and a ball of pristinely wound yarn in your lap and not feel a little bit like you may as well be breastfeeding. But there is a certain sense of satisfaction you get after completing each perfect row that almost makes it worth it. Almost.

It's not exactly a hobby for the impatient or those inclined toward instant gratification, that's for sure. It's been two months and I have about one foot completed of my five foot scarf, which when all is said and done will probably have taken me 15-20 hours to complete, making this scarf worth almost $500 when you factor in my time, and that doesn't even include the price of yarn. And even after all that, it still won't look as nice as the nine dollar knitted scarf I bought on clearance at Banana Republic last year. But somehow, it's all worth it? I dunno, I'm still trying to convince myself of that.

Or instead of yarn I could using IV tubing and then fill it with my own blood... oh wait, that's already been done:

How to Make Your Very Own Bloodscarf

TIS THE SEASON and Stuff

2006-12-01T22:30:00.000-06:00

Yay! The day after Thanksgiving marks the earliest possible date when it is socially acceptable to listen to Christmas music. I have actually been listening for months already, gathering tunes and making the selections for my sixth annual KICK ASS XMAS MIX CD, this year dubbed as "The Kickassiest" (for reasons that will be made obvious), which has the following official playlist:

1. Jingle Bells - Bing Crosby & The Andrew Sisters
2. Get Behind Me, Santa! - Sufjan Stevens
3. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Aimee Mann
4. Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming - Feist
5. Sleigh Ride - Herb Alpert
6. Over the River - Danny Kaye and The Andrew Sisters
7. Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy - The Berlin Symphony
8. iPod xMas - Hello Saferide
9. Greensleeves - Sarah McLachlan
10. A Christmas Song - Jethro Tull
11. The Ice Storm - The Go! Team
12. Calling on Mary - Aimee Mann
13. O Holy Night - Sufjan Stevens
14. White Christmas - Esquivel
15. Santa Claus’s Party - Ferrante and Teicher
16. Port Starboard Sox - Kate and Anna McGarrigle
17. Winter Wonderland - Chet Baker Quartet
18. Jing-A-Ling, Jing-A-Ling - The Quincy Jones Orchestra
19. Back Door Santa - Clarence Carter
20. Deck the Halls - Bobby Timmons
21. Jingle Bell Rock - Pas/Cal
22. River - Sarah McLachlan
23. Come On! Let’s Boogey to the Elf Dance! - Sufjan Stevens
24. Santa Claus is Coming to Town - The Ray Conniff Singers
25. The Kickassiest Christmas - Planetdan
26. An Auld Lang Syne Adios - Esquivel

I can't offer them for download or disseminate actual CDs since that would infringe on copyrights and such, but I think I can stream low-bit versions without any worry, so feel free to listen to the mix on my holiday jukebox, which shall be made available to you throughout the celebrating season on the right hand side of my site. Take a peek, it's there already.

You'll notice that there is another xmas surprise as well: the first ever planetdan original xmas tune. It's the official title track to the album, in fact, and since I wrote, composed, and performed this already-classic song myself, I am legally entitled to offer it as a free download. You can get your own copy by right-clicking on its title above. It's an unassuming little ditty, created only with a wonderful little program called GarageBand and my own free-wheelin' penchant for go-for-broke brilliance, that slowly builds to an incredible climax that is not unlike an orgy of aural delights. Listen to it and your world will be forever changed. No hyperbole intended. I have given you the gift of auditory perfection. Enjoy.

Happy Thanksgivin'

2006-11-24T09:05:00.000-06:00

As per our Thanksgiving Day tradition, my family dined at Barnicle Bills yesterday and then regaled in a rousing game of ten-pin, or "bowling" as they probably call it in your neck of the woods:

Yes, the food is as good as the laminated xeroxed menu might suggest. Also in accordance with our usual Thanksgiving Day tradition, Madam Von Bighair made her regularly scheduled appearance. Unfortunately we were not seated in the same vicinity, but that didn't mean that I wasn't able to enjoy her presence from afar:

There were a lot of disappointed faces at the bowling game, as the stakes were high and 7-10 splits were aplenty, so I made sure to capture the dejected looks with my camera:

Including my own, when I didn't take first place for the first time ever in Thanksgiving Day bowling history:

But my crushing defeat marks the beginning of the Christmas Holiday season, so all's well that ends well! HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Turkey Trot '06

2006-11-23T10:42:00.000-06:00

I began my Thanksgiving this morning by running the Turkey Trot 5k through downtown Minneapolis with Cherry Nut and 8,000 other people:

We just wore our normal jogging-in-the-frigid-cold outfits, but some people dressed up for the event:

At the halfway point of the jog stood a man with a megaphone who was shouting words of encouragement. In an out-of-breath hallucinatory stupor, I thought, "Why is David Lee Roth here? That's weird..." but then the closer I got I reconsidered, "No wait, that's Bobcat Goldthwait," who's presence I wasn't sure if I should consider more or less weird. That's when I realized for the first time that they could be brothers, or Doppelgangers living parallel lives, like in The Double Life of Veronique (or is that reference too obscure?):

Or maybe I'm just confused because they both look so weathered lately. Turns out that the man with the megaphone was neither of these "celebrities", but I thank the Turkey Trot for giving me the personal epiphany of their lookalikedness, which is a word I just made up. So I thank the Turkey Trot for helping me make up a word, too. I also thank the Turkey Trot for being kinda pretty:

Now it's off to participate in my next Thanksgiving day tradition: bowling with the family.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve

2006-11-22T23:46:00.000-06:00

They say that the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the busiest bar night of the year.

I wouldn't know anything about that.

I better get to bed. I gotta run a 5k in the morning.

I like Tina Fey

2006-11-19T16:02:00.000-06:00

I've been catching up on my recorded Tivo programs this week and I've decided that 30 Rock is a good show, plus Tina Fey is a personal hero of mine, for saying things like this:

Howard Stern: What is Paris Hilton like?

Tina Fey: She's a piece of sh-t. The people at SNL were like maybe she'll be fun, maybe she won't take herself so seriously. She takes herself so seriously! She's unbelievably dumb and so proud of how dumb she is. She looks like a tranny up close.

Howard Stern: Was she bad on SNL, was she hard to deal with?

Tina Fey: She was awful. People never come in and say "I'm not doing that." So, this guy Jim Downey wrote a really really funny sketch, it was supposed to be Lorne Michaels just finding out that she had a sex tape and telling her she couldn't host the show because SNL has standards... So she was like "I'm not doing it!" and refused to come out of her dressing room. Also, you would walk down the hall and find what just looked like nasty wads of Barbie hair on the stairs... Her hair is like a Fraggle.

Howard Stern: Did she give you ideas for sketches?

Tina Fey: Yeah, she wanted to make fun of all the girls she hates. She was like "I want to play Jessica Simpson, I hate her." She would come in the room and say "you should do a show about Jessica Simpson because she's fat."

Howard Stern: What was the bet you guys had going about her?

Tina Fey: The cast had a bet if she would ask anyone on the cast anything about themselves, you know like how are you? where are you from? anything. I think Seth Meyers won because at one point, she asked him if Maya Rudolf was Italian.

I know I should probably have better things to do than to care about what Tina Fey said about Paris Hilton, but nope, I don't.

Again with the mice?

2006-11-19T16:08:00.000-06:00

After a few weeks of living in what seemed like a perfectly mouseless house, we found fresh poops in the kitchen. I'm smack dab in the middle of an expensive professional extermination cycle, and they had warned me that the mice were probably not all gone yet, but I was still disappointed to discover that they are indeed still living among us.

I was hoping the "mouse repellent" that the exterminator sprayed around my yard would do the trick. It is supposed to be laced with "predator urine" after all, although they didn't specify which predator. I fear it to be human. Last time the exterminator made a house visit, I asked what was in the mouse-repelling mixture that he was spraying all over my lawn. He replied that it was a "secret concoction" he himself had mixed back at the office, and I just winced while imagining him evacuating his bladder directly into the spray applicator. So now not only do I have mouse poop in my kitchen, but I probably have a barrier of some random dude's pee around the perimeter of my house.

Last time I posted about trapping mice, I got a whole bunch of comments from people who were concerned about how humane some of the traps might be, but I say eff that. Once something starts pooping in your kitchen, all pleasantries go out the window. You can't train a mouse to spread its disease infested defecations somewhere more convenient. They aren't like dogs, after all. How much would you put up with? What if it wasn't a cute little mouse? What if some person just decided to poo all over your kitchen? Sure, you probably wouldn't catch him in a sticky trap and then drown him in a bucket, but you'd definitely retaliate...

There are drawbacks to having super powers.

2006-11-17T00:17:00.000-06:00

I love this:

Jesus at the pool.

Doggies

2006-11-13T22:36:00.000-06:00

I had a dream the other night that I got a puppy with a human face. The face was that of a middle-aged bald man, slightly pudgy with reddish-brown facial hair. He kinda sorta looked like the guy who played the dad in Just the Ten of Us, only with a goatee. He pooped in my kitchen and so I rubbed his nose in it (like your are supposed to do while house-training a puppy), which made for a very disturbing visual. I could tell by my man-puppy's reaction that he wasn't very happy with me, and so I apologized, but being just a puppy, he wasn't mature enough to accept, so he just sulked off stubbornly. I woke up unsettled.

Then today I saw this video, which for some reason I find to be EXTREMELY perverse:

Dog Humping Cat (The title is accurate. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Anyway, all that reminded me of this old picture, one of my favorites, which depicts K-Mack's dad in the process of snow removal while the children use the dogs to re-enact key scenes from Eyes Wide Shut in the background:

What does all this mean?

Pop Culture Catch-Up

2006-11-13T21:45:00.001-06:00

I used to spend a lot of time on my website talking about The Decemberists and Gilmore Girls, but I let those obsessions slide while waiting for a new album and a new season, respectively. Well, The Decemberists were in town last night, so I attended the show (solo... thanks, Stacy). Their new album is astounding, and they put on a great show as always, even while lead singer Colin Meloy was taking time out between songs to barf backstage. That sounds very rock and roll, but honestly, he claims he just had the flu.

I brought my camera but only had the opportunity to snap one picture before a steroid-enhanced bouncer threatened me with a menacing glare. Had he not been distracted by some drunk bimbo who started throwing elbows by the coat check, I may have lost the camera altogether. The picture didn't turn out so great, so I turned it into a collage by adding in my new Decemberists T-shirt, which, if it's anything like my last Decemberists T-shirt, will be getting a lot of wear:

The Decemberists are as awesome as always. I can't tout them enough. Gilmore Girls, on the other hand, is working my nerves hard. Not only did they do a complete 180 (and a total disservice to their characters) by barely even recognizing the Luke and Lorelie split-up that we spent three years preparing for, but everything about the show seems a bit... off. Sure, there is still some witty banter, but the characters aren't as true to themselves anymore, the plot development moves at a glacial pace, and irritatingly phony side characters like Kirk get WAY too much screen time. Worst of all, the show, which always felt like it was building toward something bigger, seems to be spinning its wheels in anticipation of an unknown future on a new network. The "Big Picture" has been lost in a tidal wave of restructuring by new writers with no solid direction. Even after all that, it's still one of the best shows ever on television, but the magic is gone.

The biggest insult of all might be the horrible "girl talk" round table discussions they have after each episode, produced in some half-assed target-marketing attempt by a loathsome facial soap company, that depict an obnoxious group of fresh-faced twenty-somethings philosophizing about what they think of the latest episode with an utter lack of understanding or profundity that is nauseatingly embarrassing, to say the least. That these spots are even allowed to air within any proximity to the actual episode shows a gigantic lack of judgment by the show's new producers, and pretty much acts as the final nail in the coffin for me. After six great years, The Gilmore Girls and I may be breaking up. It's a sad realization, indeed.

So if you're impressionable or at all prone to influence: go buy any Decemberists CD and the first season of Gilmore Girls on DVD and you won't be disappointed. Trust me.

They Stole My Pants

2006-11-11T15:04:00.000-06:00

After working out at the gym during lunch yesterday, I returned to the locker room to find my locker busted open and my pants missing. Along with my pants, some crafty jackass had taken my wallet, my Blackberry, thirty bucks, and my La Tortilla Ria frequent eater stamp card, which incidentally was finally full and would have entitled me to a free burrito.

It's a good thing I was working at home that day, otherwise I would have had to return to work in my sweaty gym shorts. It's also a good thing that I had left my car keys in my coat pocket, otherwise those probably would have gone missing, too. By the time I contacted my credit card company and bank, they had already charged up $800 worth of crap from the local mall. But what I really don't understand is why they had to take the pants? They were nice looking, to be sure, but did the thief and I just happen to share the same size? They couldn't have much street value, since I think I had purchased them at the Gap for thirty bucks over six months ago... but they were my favorite pair. They could have at least just left me my pants for gosh sake.

My poor jeans are probably lying by the side of the street somewhere. Abused and discarded as if completely uncared for. Bally's Swim & Fitness has kindly denied having any responsibility for my lost or stolen articles, in spite of the fact that they let some random stranger sneak into the locker room and pick my padlock.

The good news is that my company will provide me with a new phone, the replacements for my credit cards and ID are already in the mail, and I won't be held responsible for any unauthorized charges.

But some nasty bastard out there owes me a burrito.

Predominant Memories

2006-11-09T08:17:00.000-06:00

I always wonder what impression I'm making on little kids. I don't like to talk all cutesy with them and I rarely have the patience to indulge their childlike behaviors or accept their limited reasoning abilities, but I like to think I come off as pretty cool. The reason I'm worrying about it is because I was searching through my own memory for my impressions of the adults I encountered as a child, and most of my memories aren't so sweet. For instance, here are the predominant memories I have of my elementary school teachers, grades one through eight, with their names removed to protect the innocent:

Grade One: Mrs. H
Mrs. H yelled at me for squeezing Cory Hendrick's face during class. I couldn't help it, it just looked so squishy.

Grade Two: Miss R
Miss R rolled her eyes and acted put out when my mother offered a candy-stuffed pinata for my class' entertainment, then she purposefully structured the pinata-whacking list in the order of "reverse birthday" so that I would be dead last. I never even got to take a single swing at my own pinata. I was still twenty names down the wait list when another kid busted its seams. I ended up with nothing more than a Root Beer Barrel, some Butter Rum Lifesavers, and a broken spirit.

Grade Three: Mrs. Hg
Mrs. Hg's heel clicked when she walked.

Grade Four: Mrs. B
Once while helping me with a math problem, she had breath that smelled like pipe tobacco and poop.

Grade Five: Mrs. A
During the summer, I saw Mrs. A on a televised local news variety program talking about how she curbed her appetite with the help of a hypnotist. She told the reporter her success story about how she didn't even have cravings for hotdogs at ballgames anymore. I saw her in public a short time after and she greeted me with a smile before I shouted "Hey! I saw you on TV talking about how you had to get hypnotized into not eating so many hotdogs!" Her smile instantly faded and she walked off without replying.

Grade Six: Mrs. N
Mrs. N had an indistinguishable face. I can't even picture what she looked like if I close my eyes and try real hard.

Grade Seven: Mrs. Bx
Mrs. Bx shouted out the F-word after frustration with her students caused her to have a minor break down during Social Studies class.

Grade Eight: Mr. P
Mr. P once had white powdery pinch marks on his pants at the precise place his butthole would be after he picked at his own backside with his chalky fingers.

I can do that with almost every adult I ever met, and most of the predominant memories are the embarrassing or bad ones. It makes me worry about what predominant memories people will have of me. Therefore, I shall stay away from chalk and hypnotists.

Palette Cleansing

2006-11-08T14:57:00.000-06:00

I need to cleanse the blog palette. I can't have Michele Bachmann's hideous face above the fold on my site. A person should have a little forewarning before having to view that beast. So this should fix it:

[FP]

Beelzebubesque

2006-11-08T11:26:00.000-06:00

Dear Sixth Congressional District of Minnesota,
I'm unsure why you thought that the devil's concubine (a.k.a Michele Bachmann) would best represent you in the U.S. House of Representatives. I gotta hand it to you, it's a bold move, to elect evil incarnate like that. Perhaps you were worried about the inevitable damage her flaming breath would have caused as she swooped down in vengeance over your cities and counties had she lost, which I suppose is understandable. I mean, I wouldn't want to be torn to shreds by her beelzebubesque talons, either. Is it possible that you believe a demon of the underworld could really serve you best? She may tout her dedication to God (similar to how a Revelationary Anti-christ might... I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'), but taking into consideration her past record and statements you must know where her true allegiances lie, so I can't believe you elected it by accident. I'm just not sure I understand your motives as a voting public yet. Perhaps they will become more clear in the warming glow of Armageddon.

Seriously, though. She first got into politics because her husband told her to, and she had to obey her husband because she had been given a vision by God to marry him in the first place. Then God told her to run for Congress. Then she sprouted horns and fangs and cackled as she ate innocent babies. Oops, I'm getting ahead of myself here, but if you aren't from Minnesota, or don't know Michele Bachmann, you should read up, because she may be coming to your town, soon.

Oh, and I'm all for Independents trying to upset our rusty old two-party system in this country, but sometimes they really should just consider the greater good and back down:

Sigh. Thanks a lot, Binkowski. You're kinda like this guy. I blame half of this fiasco on you, and half on Patty Wetterling's haircut.

PS. This might be the best photograph ever taken. It deserves the Pulitzer. It was taken as Bachmann's evil male counterpart, Rick Santorum, conceded the election:

MATCHING DOLL CLOTHES.

Public Service Announcement

2006-11-07T11:40:00.000-06:00

For the benefit of the gym-going public: a service announcement targeted at some people who seem to have allowed their public behavior and social standards to get a little lax lately. I'm here to help.

Things you should NOT do at the gym, ever:

1. Hork a loogey in the public shower. Maybe you thought it was okay since you were alone in there, but guess what, everyone else outside the showers in the locker room can hear that awful throaty extended nasal inhale followed by the even more disturbing "hoooorrrrcchhh" noise you make to transfer your nasal bounty into your mouth in preparation of its release. We know you're not swallowing it. Even in flipflops, I don't wanna be walking around in that stuff. Similarly, don't leave your blood-stained band-aids floating in the soap holder, either.

2. Those nasty pelvic thrust exercises. You know the ones, where you lie with your arms, shoulders, and back flat on the ground with your knees up and your feet firmly planted and then you thrust your crotch upwards. You're probably in stretch pants, and you're probably grunt-counting with each and every violent thrust of your pelvis, and I'm sure it's doing wonders for your abs, but honestly: no thanks.

3. Bring your disease to the gym. Maybe you think you can exercise that head cold away, but I can see the snot running down your chin, and I can hear your chunky, labored breathing. I also saw you wipe your nose with your bare hand and then grab the handle to the elliptical machine nice and tight. I still maintain that I contracted mono from a mislaid water bottle that I mistook as my own. I vividly recall leaving the gym and gulping the last of my water only to remember that I didn't bring a bottle of water to the gym that day. I blame you for my three weeks of sickness.

4. Shave anything but your face in the locker room. And remember that it is indeed possible to wear your pants and shave your face at the same time. Full nudity isn't required for a clean close shave. Similarly, the air blast hand-dryers aren't meant to dry off your entire body, especially if it means you're going to rustle your hands all over your pubic region to help speed the drying process.

5. Stand on the bench while you change your clothes. I know that some of the lockers are higher to reach than others, or maybe you just don't want your bare feet on that nasty bacteria-covered floor, which is understandable, but the cleanliness of those benches isn't any better, and frankly I just don't need your junk at my eye level.

Also, don't wear sunglasses in the locker room: we know what you're looking at. Don't forget to brush your teeth before coming to the gym: your sour-milk breath is only exacerbated by your heaving and panting. And, trim... everything. In the privacy of your own home.

And that's one to grow on, because knowing is half the battle.

Happy Halloween

2006-10-31T17:34:00.000-06:00

I wonder what kind of commotion you would cause in your neighborhood if you just gave away old canned goods for Halloween. I wouldn't mind unloading some creamed corn or a couple of K-Mack's Ramen noodle packs. Or those nasty low-cal ice cream bars that have been in the freezer for six months. Or, like, a slice of bread.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, what are you going to be? If you're having problems thinking of something scary, you could always go as my newly developing double chin:

Dan Mask Download

Bodypaint

2006-10-31T17:17:00.000-06:00

This is some cool body painting:

This is some not cool body painting. (Caution: Nudity, both real and fabricated.)

My mother used to buy us these water-based colored pencils formulated especially for face-painting. When I was twelve, she made me work the face-painting both at the local church fair (you see, I was considered artistically gifted, which really meant "bad at sports"). I could draw two things: E.T. and a wavy American Flag. Sometimes I could draw them both together. Most of the time, the special colored pencils would run and mix and form a big red, white, blue, and brown blob that looked like E.T. throwing up all over the American Flag. All the little kids who paid to have me paint their faces were very confused. I could also draw Pac-Man, but by 1987 that fad was SO over. But I guess E.T. wasn't?

Tommy Lee

2006-10-29T16:29:00.000-06:00

This year for Halloween, I was Tommy Lee, mostly just because I wanted to wear tattoo sleeves and pad my crotch:

I grew out my facial hair, bleached some jeans, grabbed some drumsticks, and never looked back. I tried to get Cherry Nut to wear a nude suit, a red bathing suit, and a blonde wig to go as my Pamela, but she wasn't interested, so it was just solo Tommy Lee. My awesome new scrolling message LED belt buckle had six different messages that I could alternate, but I settled for the simple "Dr. Feelgood" just to reinforce the costume.

I feel this is the best picture of the costume in action, since I appear to be VERY in character:

P.S. if you tell people you've padded your crotch, they will squeeze it:

The rest of the pictures are available right here, if you are interested, although there is some slight nudity involved (but not of yours truly).

This also, of course, means that I updated My Halloween History.

Heavenly Mullet

2006-10-26T22:07:00.000-05:00

My network television debut was sixteen years ago this month, when K-Mack and I got interviewed by a local-news beat reporter while walking home from school one day. K-Mack got more air time than I did, although they misspelled her name and misclassified her grade. But look at her exuding the highschool attitude:

"People don't want to be outside, alone, by themselves or anything like that," was her line but her delivery was unispired. My screen time was limited and I didn't get a byline, but it still made quite an impact on the viewing public:

My only line was "Yeah, I thought they would have caught him by now...", but I really want to congratulate the photographer for this stunning work. I mean, look at the shallow depth of focus, and how my feathery mullet practically glistens in the soft Autumn sunlight. It's too bad I was wearing a cap so you can't see the accompanying sidespike.

The mullet got chopped off ceremonially a couple months later, and no offense to Sampson, but the power of my magnetic screen presence has never subsided.

Again!

2006-10-26T21:39:00.000-05:00

It's becoming and epidemic! These are always my favorite news stories:

Toddler Stuck in Vending Machine

Karaoke King

2006-10-23T12:10:00.000-05:00

It's not that I stole the show at the Cwatts & Kwatts Commemorative Karaoke Jam last Saturday night at the local VFW, it's just that I was so much better than absolutely everyone else there. Here are some highlights of my performance(s):

Who are you calling a microphone hog? I'll have you know I belted out renditions of The Carpenter's Superstar, The Beatles' Lady Madonna, and Fleetwood Mac's Say You Love Me that would have made the original artists cry. In a good way. As you can plainly see, I practically had to fight off my hoards of screaming lady-fans.

Okay, so all of my performances were actually duets, and I cropped out the heads of my singing partners, but if you really think you need to see anyone else from the karaoke jam, then you can click here:

The Cwatts & Kwatts Commemorative Karaoke Jam '06

Cooter out.

2006-10-23T08:07:00.000-05:00

Kickball season has finally finished. We did the appropriate celebrating. We also made some personalized T-shirts to celebrate our captain's couragous season-long stance against pants:

Pictures to blow your mind.

Home Town Classic on You-Tube

2006-10-22T23:00:00.000-05:00

This classic is an old newscast from a more innocent time in Minneapolis. Just to help any non-Minnesotans better appreciate the flavor and culture of our fine city:

Dang, dood. The eighties were FREAKY.

Best/Worst Segue Ever

2006-10-17T17:17:00.000-05:00

My coworker/pal Jason got engaged last weekend. He planned it out all perfect, seemingly. There was a limo involved and a nice, romantic drive around the beautiful downtown lakes; all he had to do was choose the right moment to actually present the ring and pop the question. The problem was that their conversation in the limo had naturally turned toward the annoyances of the day, which wasn't exactly providing a good segue for the proposal. It got to the point where his bride-to-be started talking about her friends health problems and she said "So, Suzie finally passed her kidney stone last weekend..."

That's when Jason saw his opportunity and seized upon it:

"Speaking of stones..." he said.

Perhaps a kidney stone is not the best association you want to have with your wedding ring. I suppose some kidney stones are worth even more than diamonds, though, considering William Shatner auctioned his off for $33,000 earlier this year. Regardless, I laughed at him derisively and now I share it all with you.

Congratulations, though, Jason. I have some recommendations for you:

First, I think you should get his ring as your wedding band.
Second, you obviously are going to want this for your wedding cake. If not this.

Name That Celebrity

2006-10-17T08:42:00.000-05:00

[FP]

Okay, I admit, it's kind of a trick question.

Return of the Animated GIFs

2006-10-16T22:44:00.000-05:00

I think my obsession with animated GIFs is somehow related to my obsession with America's Funniest Home Videos. I could watch that show all day.

I could watch this all day, too.

Embarrassing Gym Story #17466: The Half-Naked Shimmy

2006-10-10T07:53:00.000-05:00

I have a habit of tying my car keys to the drawstring of my gym shorts when I jog around the lake, and I tend to triple knot it to accommodate for the extra weight. Sometimes I get lazy after such a run and instead of taking the time to untie my shorts properly, I just yank real hard and force them over my hips, while they are still tightly knotted, and throw them into the wash. It can be a delicate procedure that can be somewhat painful, but for some reason it seems easier than trying to dismantle a triple-tied knot at your waist when you're tired and sweaty.

So the other day at the gym I was standing in my underwear and attempting to pull up my gym shorts, but they got stuck just above my knees. I looked down to notice that they were still triple-knotted from a previous jog a few days earlier. Luckily the locker room was empty so I stood there knock-kneed, in nothing but my underwear, trying to untie the shorts at knee-level. But the knot was tight, I couldn't see that far very well, and I had just trimmed my fingernails, so it was a clumsy-looking effort and it quickly became an exercise in frustration. I instantly regretted having already taken off my shirt. There was just too much skin showing to be in that type of awkward position if someone were to walk and witness the scene. Which of course someone did. And of course their locker was directly above mine, so of course they had to stand behind me and wait while I yanked on my britches and swore at my crotch.

After a few agonizing seconds of staring at me with my shorts pulled halfway down, he apparently got impatient and said "'Scuse me, my locker is right above yours," which put me in the awkward position of either having to remove my shorts altogether in order to get myself and my gym bag out of his way, or to try to shimmy my way to the side while basically having my legs tied together at the knees. Regretfully, I opted for the naked shimmy, which was an embarrassing enough maneuver to do in front of one person, but by this time two more had entered the locker room. I no more than finished the initial sideways shimmy when another man said from behind, "'Scuse me, that's my locker," and I had to repeat it.

At this point, I thought "Enough is enough," and I turned around to sit down on the bench in order to give that damned triple-knot my full attention, but the second my butt hit the bench another guy pointed and gestured that I was now in front of his locker. So I had to stand up, knees still tied together, and shimmy one last time, only this time with my crotch facing out, to the very end of the bench. Ten minutes later, I had the knot untied and my shorts pulled up to where they belonged. And I cursed myself for not being a boxers guy. I don't know why I always have to be half-naked in my most embarrassing moments.

Take Your Pants Off

2006-10-10T11:29:00.000-05:00

My Greasy Cooter kickball teams gets a wee bit excited when we win a game. Add in gallons of cheap beer and a karaoke machine and you've got trouble:

Thanks, Sarah, for the vid.

You need sound to fully appreciate T-bone in his boxers, and I don't know how long that video will be up so view it while you can. Or take a look at some of the pictures from the last couple weeks of kickball. This week, the Cooters enter the playoffs with our best record ever: 3-2. Good luck to us!

Unwanted Nostalgia

2006-10-06T07:27:00.000-05:00

That new Trivial Pursuit 80's Edition commercial has left me baffled. I don't recognize anyone in the commercial except one of the Corys, Mrs. Garrett (who doesn't seem to have aged a day), and Kelly LeBrock (who, by the way, you no longer have to hate for being beautiful, because she ain't no more):

[Click for Larger]

There might be a Run DMC guy in there. I dunno. Speaking of Mrs. Garrett, does anyone remember this clip from Facts of Life? It's this marijuana episode and the episode where Natalie almost gets raped while wearing a Charlie Chaplin costume that have forever scarred my psyche:

Tootie's Bong [FP]

Wait, is that Cyndi Lauper up there? I would hope not. A Trivial Pursuit commercial seems a little beneath her, even if she is past her heyday. Speaking of Cyndi, and since Halloween is coming up, here is a Halloween costume tip that I got from Bloghungry.com a while ago:

[Definitely Click for Larger]

Keepin' score?

2006-10-06T11:54:00.000-05:00

Planetdan is four. Again, I didn't receive any gifts or well-wishes. You guys are terrible at anniversaries. Had we been married, the disregard and neglect would have forced me to cheat on you by now.

Over one thousand posts, and still as pointless as ever. Hooray!

Uh Oh

2006-10-05T22:51:00.000-05:00

Irony overload:

[FP]

FYI

2006-10-03T22:23:00.000-05:00

These are the top ten searches that brought people to my site during the last couple weeks:

1. 9.82% oompa loompa
2. 5.40% thundercats
3. 3.75% unicorns
4. 3.75% whale penis
5. 3.57% jfk
6. 3.42% babies
7. 1.87% emo hair
8. 1.77% watermelon
9. 1.47% senior pictures
10. 1.30% cheeseburger

Funniest: Mr. Miyagi Wax Off

I feel kind of bad about the Unicorns link, because people typing in "Whale Penis" know what they're getting, but I imagine the Unicorn searches are coming from some little girl playing princess who just wants to color a picture of herself on the back of a unicorn or something, and instead she gets this. Oh well. Whatever, I can't be watchin' your kids fer chrissakes.

I suppose I should do something to balance out all the "Whale Penis" hits I get. I don't know what the antidote to "Whale Penis" is, though. Maybe this?

I'm not even sure what kind of creature that is. A muskrat? A lemur? I should probably try to label it properly or my search stats are going to get even more messed up.

In case you missed it...

2006-10-03T21:02:00.000-05:00

I can't remember where I first saw this on the internet tubes a couple weeks ago, but it bares repeating, regardless of how ubiquitous it might be. The best mysterious Jesus apparition picture evar, animated to assist the nonbelievers:

It's dog butt jesus, and no it's not sacrilegious: Jesus loves all the little creatures, big and small.

Mouse Jerky

2006-10-01T23:27:00.000-05:00

I broke down and called an exterminator. I'm paying an extravagant amount of money for some mouse bait traps that he took 15 minutes to place strategically around my house. Then he used some scare tactics to get me to agree to a three month extended service contract that would all but ensure my house be mouse free by 2007.

But I was concerned about the poison. Would the mice eat the poison, crawl into the walls, die, rot, and stink I wondered out loud? "No, no, no," my pest expert replied, "we use special poison that dehydrates the mice from the inside out. So yes, they will eat the poison, crawl into the walls and die, but they won't rot in stink. Instead they shrivel up and harden. Kinda like Mouse Jerky."

I don't know if this is true or if he's just trying to make me feel better, and even if it is indeed true, is mouse jerky the better route to go? Do I really want to move a ceiling tile someday to find a pile of nearly mummified mouse carcasses? I googled Mouse Jerky but got no helpful results.

Homeownership has become really distasteful to me lately. But we caught another one last night. Three down, god knows how many to go.

Drunk at the Wax Museum

2006-09-25T23:29:00.000-05:00

I went to the wax museum in Vegas after having had a few too many beers. And apparently I REALLY enjoyed it.

See for yourself: Drunk at the Wax Museum

There are more vegas pictures here, for the interested, but I can sum it up pretty easy: drink, eat, gamble, drink, eat, gamble, visit Hoover dam, drink, eat, gamble, drink, drink, drink.

Mouse(s)

2006-09-25T19:03:00.000-05:00

I returned from Las Vegas on Sunday to discover that one of the myriad of mousetraps that I setup in my absence had done its job. Twice.

Yup, looks like there's more than one mouse after all. I'm not going to disclose the method or device I used to catch said mice, out of fear of starting a brouhaha in the comments about animal ethics, etc., but lets just say that little Houdini and his friend are no longer with us. I almost felt a twinge of regret after finding the carcasses, but then K-Mack and I discovered that they had been using our snack cabinet as their personal buffet/toilet, which made me want to squash the bastards with my bare feet. Sorry, but just wait until you realize that you may have eaten a rodent-spiced tortilla chip before you judge me.

Now I have to wonder how many there actually are, though. I was sure that a lone intruder had accidentally found its way into my open doorway, but who knows? I guess the question is, do I call an exterminator now or just wait to see if I find any more "evidence" of an infestation? Gross. Bastards.

Something to hold you over.

2006-09-20T18:51:00.000-05:00

I may be away from the blogging machine for the next couple days, so here's something else for you to drool over until I get back:

And here's something else to ponder: Did you know that "Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo." is a grammatically valid sentence in English? For real it is. Chew on that!

Hirsute Horoscopery

2006-09-20T18:37:00.000-05:00

My fortune cookie has an attitude.

My dad has mutant eyebrows. And he doesn't have the ambition to keep them in line, so they grow and curl and ensnare his glasses like wild jungle grass. I'm hoping I didn't inherit that gene. I've been more and more worried about the hair on my ears lately, though. It's still baby soft white but seems to be growing at a faster pace and to a longer length lately. It's only a matter of time before it darkens to be even more noticeable. Why does head-top hair turn white with age but ear hair darkens? That's lame.

At least there's no sign of any growth on my back yet, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

Speaking of hair, they say that everything's been done before, but I hadn't even considered this type of hairdo to be a possibility until now:

The guy did it for $1,000 bet. It'd be kinda cool if it were longer. Like a lion's mane or something.

FURRY LITTLE BASTARD.

2006-09-18T20:07:00.000-05:00

After nearly killing my entire household (including my esteemed houseguest) with carbon monoxide a couple weeks ago, I had to leave my doors wide open in the middle of the night to rid my basement of the poisoned air, and in doing so it seems that I have acquired a whole new houseguest: a mouse. I first saw it last week scurrying across my kitchen floor and I had to do a doubletake. I always assumed that my house was unwelcoming to such creatures, so my mind wasn't even able to process the possibility.

Considering my phobic reactions to spiders, robots, and soup, you might predict that I would have a problem with a rodent moving in. But honestly, the mouse itself doesn't bother me all that much, except for the fact that it could be hiding anywhere and chewing through anything, and god only knows where it's pooping.

So I set up traps. Just the normal ol' Tom and Jerry kind with the trigger and snapping spring device, only I substituted peanut butter for cheese. The next morning I woke up to find the traps unsprung, but the peanut butter had been licked clean. I don't know how he did it, but I can only imagine it was ever so gently. Suddenly I wasn't just providing the little bastard with free lodging, but a nice greasy meal as well. And probably some rodential diarrhea to boot.

So I got some sticky glue traps and positioned them strategically around the traps in a way that would make it quite difficult to snag the prize without getting caught. But the other morning, I woke up to this:

How in the...? He's like Houdini or something. What gives? There ain't so much as a single mouse print in the glue trap and the peanut butter is but a memory. Not to mention that K-Mack and I had him trapped in the corner the other night only to have him miraculously disappear, escaping our clutches. It's driving me nuts.

Tonight I've got a pretty special concoction of cheese, peanut butter, spring traps, and glue in store for that little freeloading bastard. So I'll keep you posted.

Dancing T

2006-09-18T19:40:00.000-05:00

T got his dance on at last Thursday's Greasy Cooter game. He's got some moves.

Keep on dancin', T! Never stop dancin'!

There are, of course, many pictures of the evening, including that of a rather indulgent after party.

Speaking of dancing, I hate this banner ad so bad. That guy is the worst dancer evar. His wiggling makes my lunch repeat on me:

[you may have to rollover the ad to see him in action]

Dumb Fan

2006-09-13T20:02:00.000-05:00

It took me the better part of a really preplexing 20-minute car ride today to realize that this personalized license plate was not owned by a self-proclaimed Dumb Fan but rather a Dave Matthews Band Fan most likely. Not that the distinction is important really. Potayto/potahto.

Bad Decisions

2006-09-11T23:23:00.000-05:00

My first experience with Karaoke was as a senior in highschool. Stacy and I sang a charming duet of Copacabana at our Senior All-Night Party that literally got the crowd off the floor and onto their feet dancing. We were the life of the party. We were an entire graduating class' second wind during a long night of underaged partying. Or at least that's how I choose to remember it, regardless of accuracy.

My Karaoke history came to a climax last Thursday, after a much deserved kickball victory, where there happened to be Karaoke at the neighborhood dive bar.

It's a somewhat sobering moment to look around the room while your belting out Meatloaf's vocals from all nine minutes of Paradise By The Dashboard Light to see a bunch of stumbling drunk teammates completely lost in their own worlds, a couple random pool games being played uninterrupted three feet to my right, a spattering of beer-soaked locals with eyes fixated on some televised sporting event, and not one single patron actually watching me sing. Which is sad, really, because I killed. But seriously, a more enlightened thirtyone-year-old karaoke-singing kickball player might have taken it as a wake-up call.

Before that evening, I had higher Karaoke aspirations. I had wanted to make my next Karaoke performance to be my own interpretation of ELO's Sweet Talkin' Woman, but the requisite falsetto has me spooked. I may need to practice that one a bit before I unleash it on the general public. It's going to be an attention-grabber for sure, I promise you that.

Just to be clear, I am really not a fan of that Meatloaf song, so I must have been feeling pretty loose. There are a few songs that have been completely ruined for me due to rampant overuse by wedding reception deejays. Paradise.. is one of them. You Shook Me All Night Long is another, just the thought of which makes my stomach turn sour. Rounding out that list is probably Stroke It, You Look Beautiful Tonight, Brown Eyed Girl, Shout, and The Electric Slide. There are, of course, many more where those came from.

The Chicken Dance hasn't quite soured on me yet, though.

An Olde Favourite

2006-09-11T23:06:00.000-05:00

Nevar forget the free fries.

I know how to entertain a houseguest.

2006-09-06T00:21:00.000-05:00

Erik from Playing Doctor was my houseguest this Labor Day weekend. My plan was to impress him with fine foods and good wine, accompanied by some great conversation and perhaps a tour of what is surely one of the best cities on the planet: Minneapolis. But instead we got super drunk on mediocre beer and bad shots within a few short hours of his arrival. So much so, that the subsequent hangover had me practically bed-ridden for the next two days straight.

Dr. Erik will probably confirm that I look just as unphotogenic in person as I do on film. I tried to rally for the rest of the weekend, but the rain made it difficult to leave the house, so during his short visit, he was fortunate enough to experience:

1. An Ill-Advised Drunk Fest
2. Swedish Meatballs at IKEA
3. Multiple Naps
4. Countless Hours in Front of the TV Watching Some of the Worst Cable Movies Ever Produced
5. A Near Death Experience via Carbon Monoxide Poisoning

Sounds like the best vacation evar, right? To further explain number 4: somehow on the third night, in a weakened mental state, we returned from a late dinner and I left my car running in the attached garage. Don't ask me how. I know it seems ridiculous, but let's just reserve judgment for now. Hours went by without noticing. Luckily, we were up exceptionally late watching cable TV so I was awake enough to hear the subtle beeping of the Carbon Monoxide detector I had purchased a couple years back. Upon investigating the beep, we discovered my car purring in the closed garage, and the detector readings were off the charts, peaking at almost 500 parts per million. Just a slight bump above the 50 parts per million that is apparently dangerous enough to trip the alarm.

The hazy thick stink of the fumes in the basement was choking. Had we gone to bed ten minutes earlier, the Carbon Monoxide would have surely permeated the "expanse" of my smallish climate-controlled abode, silently killing us all in our sleep. You'd think that almost killing your houseguest by means of being a total thoughtless idiot might sound a little embarrassing or uncouth, but really, what's more exciting than almost dying, right? People might come for my sparkling personality, but they stay for the near-death experience. After all, you can't get that just anywhere.

To be fair, Erik was gracious and understanding about the whole affair. And he did get a Greasy Cooter T-shirt out of the deal, though, so all's well that ends well. Right, Erik? Oh, and I didn't force him to eat those $1.99 meatballs. He did that of his own volition.

Is an innocent rubber penis story suitable for work? I dunno.

2006-09-05T23:56:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, in the innocent era before heightened airplane security, I bought K-Mack a cheap and floppy rubber penis for Christmas, just to see what her reaction would be when she reached blindly into her stocking and felt the rubbery flesh. It was a good reaction; worth the six bucks I spent on it, and even more so as it has since become a long running gag (ewwww no pun intended) between the two of us. It gets hidden under pillows, packed in suitcases, slipped into purses, and tossed back and forth on a semi-regular basis. In fact, I think the rubber penis is better traveled than I am. It's been to Hawaii, Las Vegas, Florida, and god knows where else, all unexpectedly. For instance, if you don't pay attention to your belongings while packing or while actually on vacation, you might find it:

1. Packed in your purse at a restaurant...
2. Placed next to your unsuspecting face as you slumber, or...
3. Slyly hidden in your carry-on bag for all the x-ray machine guards to see...

Most of these shenanigans happened before September 11th, but a few trips back in the post 9-11 world, K-Mack slipped the six-incher into my carry-on. I made it all the way through the security x-ray before discovering it, which in hindsight helped me understand the odd behavior of the guards on duty. This was all amusing with acceptable levels of embarrassment, but my good sense of humor changed abruptly when we got to the actual gate and they were doing random searches. These weren't private pat-downs either... they actually emptied the contents of your carry-on baggage, one piece at a time, for clear display on a large metal table in front of a long line of gaping passengers. I nearly vomited in line while waiting to see if I would be chosen. For some reason it didn't occur to me that I could simply throw the penis into one of the nearest trash bins to avoid any embarrassment. Or perhaps it did and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Whatever the case and with great fortune, I was not chosen for random inspection, and I made sure the penis found its way back into K-Mack's luggage for the ride home a few days later.

This guy, however, was not so lucky:

Evidence ruled sufficient in penis pump case

I definitely feel his pain.
[thanks, marty, for the link]

It's back.

2006-09-01T00:27:00.000-05:00

Greasy Cooter Kickball, Season Six.

I don't even actually play anymore. For me, kickball has turned into two hours of cheap canned beer and some slap and tickle.

Still, it's kinda fun. I think we lost, but I never verified that.

Ooo, and we got fleece vests this year. I'll model one off as soon as the weather permits. This may be my last season of kickball, but I got a wardrobe full of Cooter Gear to show for it.

A New Weight Loss Program

2006-08-30T16:40:00.000-05:00

Why bother losing weight when you can just furnish your house with warped circus mirrors that benefit your silhouette and get a new HP digital camera that removes the pounds for you?

HP's Exclusive Digital Cameras with Slimming Feature

With all these new technologies, my photoshopping powers are soon to be obsolete. Although to be fair, I usually like to take the opposite approach and fatten people up in pictures. I rarely go the extra mile to make people look better, so until HP unveils a Fattening Filter or some type of feature that removes teeth and adds pimples, I'll just keep on keepin' on with my pitiful old Canon Sureshot and my abused copy of Photoshop.

Of course, there's also something a little unethical, or perhaps diabolical, about offering such a ridiculously shallow, inherently manipulative, and flagrantly fraud-assisting option on a consumer-priced camera. Not to mention the fact that it blatantly enforces negative body image issues. But I'm too lazy to be philosophical today.

Wake up call.

2006-08-29T22:19:00.000-05:00

I was standing in line at the market yesterday in between work meetings, sharply dressed in my pressed pants with my matching messenger bag slung casually around my shoulder. I was in a hurry, both to get to my next meeting and to eat the sushi bagel roles that I was eagerly waiting to devour. My Blackberry buzzed, and I instinctively reached to grab it from its cradle on my belt, when I heard a half-laugh/half-tsk grunt coming from the lady behind me in line. I looked up to see the lady staring at me in a way with which I was very familiar: keen judgment. It only took me a second to see myself the way she was seeing me: thirtysomething conservatively-dressed hipster wannabe standing in line to buy sushi and checking his Blackberry. Just describing it, I can hardly stop myself from making a half-laugh/half-tsk grunt at my own expense.

I never even saw it coming, but my transformation into yuppie asshole is apparently complete. I feel sad for myself.

I felt a little better about myself after dripping soy sauce all over my lap while trying to eat the sushi in my scraped-up Hyundai economy car that's missing half of the sideview mirror from when I hit it on the side of my garage over a year and a half ago. Any truly devoted yuppie would be driving a VW of some sort. I'm sure of it.

Whaaaa?

2006-08-24T15:50:00.000-05:00

I came across this online quiz today that dared to question whether I was as smart as an eighth grader or something like that. Of course I thought I had to prove myself, so I fired up the quiz with self-righteous confidence... and I totally flunked on the very first question. Apparently there are more than four oceans now. Everything I ever learned from Trivial Pursuit is totally blowing up in my face:

Where the hell was I in 2000 that I missed the addition on an entire ocean? The Southern? WTF? Am I the only one who let that one slip by? So we lost planet Pluto today, but we gained an ocean?

I feel dumb.

The Great Minnesota Get Together

2006-08-25T07:57:00.000-05:00

I attended opening day at the Minnesota State Fair yesterday with Cwatts & Kwatts, in spite of the constant near-torrential downpour:

We ate cheese curds and pronto pups and a very large overflowing bucket of chocolate chip cookies. Then we trudged through wet poop to see the little bitty animals in the Miracle of Birth Center, where I pet a piglet:

We also saw cows and horsies and marveled at goats in spandex:

There was one food-on-a-stick item at the Fair of which I refused to partake. It looked just like a corndog only inside its deepfried exterior it was stuffed with potatoes and beef and some kind of cream soup mixture I'm sure. I gag just thinking about it:

We did some learnin' in a mock television studio and weather station, where the excitement of a promised "Tornado Room" was met with disappointment, when we discovered that it was merely a round-shaped room with some low-powered fans mounted on the wall and a swirly blacklight type of thing, apparently for ambiance.

We strolled through the midway, but most of it was sadly inactive due to the rain, which was frustrating because I was really interested to see this Magnum P.I. themed ride in action:

Besides the awkwardly painted Tom Selleck in the mural, I don't understand exactly what makes this a Magnum P.I. ride. There's no Hawaii, no helicopter, no red sports car, no too-short-and-tight man shorts. Or maybe I just don't remember the episode with the giant dancing coke can in sunglasses.

But luckily, the clouds parted and the rain stopped for long enough to provide a beautiful night to see The Flaming Lips perform at the grandstand:

It was a pretty good show besides the late start and the interruptions and the wet and the cold and the fact that even though we had general admission tickets and could have pushed our way to the front row, we were just too exhausted from the events of the afternoon so instead we slyly borrowed some unspoken-for seats higher up in the grandstand.

Our adventure at the Fair also included a few local celebrities, a few politicians, and some Karaoke, where a creepy old man decided it was perfectly appropriate to sing Sexual Healing in front of a bunch of transfixed 8-year-old girls.

It was indeed the great Minnesota get-together.

Popular Music

2006-08-22T19:23:00.000-05:00

I went to see Wolf Parade in concert last week. It was a terrific show, and of course I added to my concert T-shirt collection, most of which is virtually unwearable, but whatever. The ladies directly in front of us decided to dance in a way that is wholly inappropriate to any Wolf Parade song I've ever heard, and the reaction of the crowd around them was perfectly articulated in the blank stare of the girl behind them:

I miss my online jukebox where I could play all the exciting new music I'm listening to, but my webhost was choking on it so I'm forced to look for a better solution. In the meantime, I will take this opportunity to list out the upcoming CD releases that I am practically shitting myself for, in case anyone cares. This will also help solidify my music-snob pedigree, I'm sure:

1. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
It already has leaked online, and I already love it.

2. Emily Haines - Knives Don't Have Your Back
The lead singer of Metric finally goes solo. She's like the Gwen Stefani of the alternative rock world. Wait, that's the worst analogy ever. Regardless, it's going to be an amazing CD, trust me.

3. Andrew Bird -?
I'd be more excited for this if it had a release date. But apparently he finished recording it months ago. If it sounds anything like the new songs he's been playing in concert lately, it's going to be my favorite of the year.

4. Scissor Sisters - Ta-dah
Shut up, they're fun. Go eff yourself if you think otherwise.

5. Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Even Before the Ship Sank
Only because Johnny Marr has officially joined the band and I'm curious.

6. Swan Lake - Beast Moans
Members from Destroyer, The New Pornographers, and Wolf Parade, all wrapped into one. There's also some Frog Eyes in there, but I guess I can't have my cake and eat it, too.

7. Badly Drawn Boy - Born in the U.K.
The first single is a little underwhelming, but still.

8. Augie March - Moo You Bloody Choir
One of the most underrated bands of all time released a CD in Australia earlier this year that I just can't seem to get my hands on.

Other good albums, recently released: The Long Winters, The Junior Boys, TV on the Radio. Who among you can challenge my musical snobbery? Step up and declare yourself.

Dr. Erik

2006-08-23T15:57:00.000-05:00

My good friend Dr. Erik sure has a lot of reasons to celebrate today. Not only is it his birthday, but he is also feeling the relief of having finally finished his internal medicine boards! So I say Happy Birthday and Congratulations Dr. Erik! Go put on your dancing shoes, your favorite out-on-the-town ensemble, and celebrate in style, like we know you will!

Dr. Erik, out on the town:

Someone should probably teach you how to accessorize, but Happy Birthday anyway.

Topicality

2006-08-22T18:20:00.000-05:00

This would probably be considered the zenith of animated gifs, if it made any sense whatsoever.

Dikfore

2006-06-28T17:05:00.000-05:00

Apparently, some jokes never get old.

Dikfore for Prez

2006-08-23T00:41:00.000-05:00

Look who's running for State Representative:

[thanks for the heads up Alicia]

I had no idea he was such a politico. Is running for a position in the government and getting photographed in such a T-shirt the hometown equivalent of sitting in a boat called Monkey Business with Donna Rice on your lap? Or is that reference too outdated and obscure for anyone to follow anymore?

While we're talking politics, take a look at this ranking of countries by their relative bank accounts, and then notice the rank of the U.S., dead last, with nearly ten times more debt than the nearest competitor. And ten times is a lot when you're talking tens of billions. Fiscal conservatives my ass.

Meat Head

2006-08-23T00:06:00.000-05:00

It's nice not to be the only one making an ass of myself at the gym, finally. Earlier today, I went to exercise at my regular health club, which is bigger than a breadbox, but not by much. There are maybe twenty weight-lifting machines (I'm ascared of free-weights) in the whole place, so it's hard not to keep seeing the same people. One guy in particular seemed to have the exact same workout routine as I did, only he was one step ahead. He didn't appear to be too aware of my presence at first, so I began to notice that every time he finished a set on a weight machine, he would reach over, take out the metal peg that determines the amount of weight he was lifting per repetition, and he would increase it by a good thirty pounds. Then he would walk away and start on the next machine, repeating the process: lift weights, increase total weight without actually trying to lift that amount, and then move on.

It took me a while to realize that he was doing this for the benefit of anyone who might happen to see him working out and then approach the machine immediately after, as if they would notice the weight setting and be impressed with his strength and vigor. And he did it every time, totally oblivious to the fact that I was watching with keen observation.

Finally, on the vertical bench press machine, he did the same thing, only this time he looked up to see me catching him in the act just as he was increasing the weight at the end of his set. I didn't flinch, and he literally stopped dead in his tracks with a scared, startled look. The awkward pause was lengthy, as he was unable (and I was unwilling) to break the gaze. It was then that he totally pulled a dan and tried to fake his way through it, fully committing himself to the farce: he sat down and pretended that he was simply going to do another set, at the significantly increased weight, as if that was always his intention. So he took a deep breath, prepared himself physically with marked embellishment, and then nearly popped a blood vessel trying to complete even one lift. When it clearly wasn't going to happen, he faked a cough attack (I'm assuming), and got up quickly to use the water fountain, ostensibly. But he wasn't fooling me. He was totally busted.

I quickly tried to work on a facial expression that would convey an I-know-what-you-were-doing-you-vain-meat-head kind of sentiment, but alas, he never made eye contact with me again. Oh well, at least I know I'm not the biggest douchbag in the place anymore. That will probably last about a week.

Stranger in a Strange Land

2006-08-16T12:03:00.000-05:00

T-Bone took me to a Twins game last night. I haven't been to a baseball game in at least 15 years, and I was embarrassingly unfamiliar with the customs and practices of such an event. For instance, some random clip of organ music would play without warning and the entire crowd of 30,000 would spontaneously clap in some predetermined pattern and then cheer as if it meant something. I couldn't keep up.

But we each had 72 ounces of beer and some salty peanuts.

I also kept hearing someone call my name, and I'd turn around to find nobody but gape-mouthed baseball fans. It took me a few times to realize it was just the Miller Lite guy, and he wasn't calling my last name, he was simply announcing that he had cold bottles of Miller to sell. At one point, while waiting for his payment, the Miller Lite man yelled "Anyone else want some Miller?" and I thought sheepishly, "Hell, yeah, who doesn't want a piece of Miller?" Sometimes it's fun being named after a beer. I can easily get clothing and kitchenware pre-emblazoned with my surname.

Miller Lite Guy:

I watched as the girl in the orange dreads and alternative threads ordered and devoured a huge Dome dog that must have had a three inch diameter. It reminded me of this.

And we won the game. Anyway, it wasn't nearly as boring as I was assuming it would be.

Mmmm... Pringles.

2006-08-16T01:45:00.000-05:00

I can't remember where I found this image in order to give them due credit, but I think it's astounding:

Insert joke about Olestra and anal leakage here.

It's an interesting shape/pattern. Almost like a buttsweat Rorschach test. I feel bad for the unsuspecting subject of the photograph, though, seeing as how I am not a stranger to excessive dance sweat.

Hurlworthy

2006-08-13T20:11:00.000-05:00

I may tuck my T-shirt into my underwear, but I take solace in the fact that I could never ever in twelvity million years be this lame:

Tattooed with Polo. Why? It's left unexplained here.

He's probably got a Guess triangle tattooed on his left buttcheek, too. And one of those Girbaud tag and loops on his... oh never mind.

Speaking of Girbaud jeans, I was in the ninth grade and making the transition from private school to public school when that trend hit, and my mom was gracious enough to buy me a pair. That article of clothing, along with my newly minted mullet/sidespike combination haircut, should have cemented my spot in the popular pantheon. Plus my acne provided an air of burgeoning maturity that those fresh-and-rosy-faced kids were clearly lacking.

But alas, it wasn't meant to be. I wore the jeans along with a fetching cardigan sweater over a black turtleneck for the first day of school, only to be ridiculed with endless taunts, most of them crude and underdeveloped, but all of them possessing the basic principal of "a loser in Girbaud jeans is still a loser." Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

I was going to be brave and post my ninth grade photo, just to help you imagine it properly, but when I got out my yearbook all I found was this. Hmmmm, perhaps I didn't have the healthiest self-image back then after all.

Man that guy's got a bad haircut to boot.

Proper Tuckage

2006-08-11T00:54:00.000-05:00

I've taken a lot of heat in recent days for admitting that I tuck my T-shirts into my underwear. But I stand firm in my conviction that this is the only proper and most practical way for a man to dress. K-Mack couldn't really mount an argument against my method of T-shirt tuckage. Instead she just said it looked too "Sears Catalog". Cherry Nut agreed, only she used the just-as-offensive variation of JC Penney. All my coworkers just laughed and pointed. But it's clear that they are merely jealous of my ability to dress myself properly and with total disregard of any ridiculous and absurd culturally imposed standards.

Allow me to mock up a demonstration of the most practical tucking strategy and outline its benefits:

You see, this way your undershirt and the tails of your dress shirt don't get all bunchy and entangled. Everything stays tucked and taut, all day long. There's no abundance of fabric or excessive bulging at the waist (in spite of the extra large package I seem to have given myself in the above illustration). There is absolutely no downside to this method, except for K-Mack's lame and unjustifiable retort of "well, it just looks dorky," which she said with a tone that suggested that I should be feeling a certain level of shameful disgust with myself. This coming from the girl who likes to indulge in gas station hotdogs when they "catch her eye in the steamer box."

Anyway, I was originally going to make this a poll and ask for opinions about whether or not T-shirts should be tucked into underwear, but while I prepared my debate strategy I realized that I don't need a poll to determine that I am inarguably correct on this issue.

Unrelatedly, that illustration I created above gave me an interesting idea:
planetdan paperdolls.

If it bends, it's funny, if it breaks, it's even more funny.

2006-08-10T22:26:00.000-05:00

So what's the most funny:

A. Pre-disaster Photos

B. Mid-disaster Photos

C. Post-disaster Photos

Not that I don't love a good bloody Fabio photo, but I think I gotta go with B.

Heatwave

2006-08-04T16:42:00.000-05:00

When life gives you effin' hot lemons...
...make cookies on your dashboard.

[the full story]

I remember one summer break, decades ago, when I was still young enough to be retarded but old enough to get bright ideas on my own, I saw a news reporter state that it was hot enough outside to fry an egg on asphalt. So I took an egg from the fridge and brought it out into the blistering sun. I cracked the egg onto our concrete driveway and waited, but nothing happened. It just sat there all liquid egg-like. So then I decided that the black-top parking lot out behind the house was probably hotter and had a surface more akin to a frying pan, so I scooped up the yolk (now with added dirt and egg-drowned ants) with my mama's spatula and carefully took it out back, where I skillfully poured it onto the black-top.

I stood looking down at that dirty egg holding my mama's spatula for ten minutes, just waiting patiently for something to happen, when I looked up and saw our crusty old neighbor staring at me from his backyard, which also bordered the parking lot. He was a mean ol' bastard and had it in for me. He had this face whenever he saw me coming:

Only his head was more square. Anyway, that exact moment an adversarial neighborhood kid screeched up on his dirtbike. He was at least one whole year younger than me, but still somehow had the chutzpah to play the role of neighborhood bully. "Making dinner?" he said and laughed and sped off. It was a sophisticated joke for a nine year old, so admittedly I was feeling a little burned. I looked up at my neighbor for some sympathy, but all he said was, "You better clean that mess up." I went in the house and came out with some paper towels to wipe up the still-liquid egg/ant mixture, but my crusty old neighbor wasn't satisfied. The dude actually made me go get a bucket of water and mop that shit up. The thing wasn't even partially cooked. It was just a sloppy raw egg mixture on a bed of dirt and dead bugs. Stupid news reporter. Stupid ants. Stupid neighborhood bully. Stupid crusty neighbor guy. *sniff*

Outta my way, bitches.

2006-08-04T00:11:00.000-05:00

I went to see The Raconteurs in concert this evening. This was my initial view of the stage, the back of Mr. Fidget McCantstandstill's tall head:

I fake fan-yelped directly into his ear until he got annoyed and moved away, which allowed me this view:

Jack White was all crazy on guitars and shit. They were putting on a really good show, but some drunken ass from the balcony above kept spilling beer on me:

If you're out there somewhere, Drunken Asshat, keep your beer inside the guard rail next time. I was able to ignore it long enough to see Brendan Benson sing some pretty harmonies:

But then a new girl weaved her way in front of me and proceeded to enthusiastically headbang her pony-tail into my mouth, repeatedly. Every time I took a step back she would do the same, getting all up in my stuff and tasting like aquanet:

But when she dropped her guard and danced too hard to one side, I seized the opportunity to nudge her outta the way, leaving me with a clear view of the grand finale:

It was a great show, indeed. Of course I bought a concert T-shirt and a limited edition gig poster suitable for framing. Perhaps I'm getting too old and ornery to go to rock concerts. Next up: Wolf Parade, August 9th.

No No No

2006-08-04T00:06:00.000-05:00

Ketchup doesn't have the charm of mustard. I could eat mustard by the spoonful. All my friends will tell you that I like hotdogs, because they are a good vehicle for mustard. In my opinion, all food can be judged on how well it can aid in the transport of mustard into my mouth. But ketchup is nasty, and this is a disturbing trend:

Shame on the conceptualizers, the manufacturers, and the participating consumers.

The Return of the Rentals/Planetdan

2006-08-01T00:44:00.000-05:00

My Roommate K-Mack keeps leaving blog comments requesting a new post because planetdan has gone un-updated for nearly a week, but she knows as well as I do that there is nothing new to tell. It's been rather uneventful around here. In fact, she can contest that our early evening activities tonight alternated between me playing with her tactilely pleasant upper-arm fat and her sniffing my armpit. For serious, it's true: K-Mack has a not-so-secret and rather nauseating fetish/fondness for sniffing male deoderant:

But the good news is that later in the evening I was fortunate enough to see The Rentals at First Avenue (thanks for the tix, Lauren!), and it was a great show. In fact, they are such an entertaining live band that they totally upstaged the too-old-for-pigtails and too-wide-for-that-skirt thirtysomething gal who was straddling/humping the guardrail directly in front of me with rabbit-like fervor. They were really that good. I suggest you give them a listen:

I thought I got a video of the poodle-haired guardrail vixen and her mating dance, but apparently the lighting situation inside First Avenue could not properly capture the intensity of her pelvic thrusts. Oh well, next time.

But back to K-Mack, who will be relieved that I finally put up a new post. So I will leave you with a transcript of one of our recent discussions, after we viewed a television commercial for an upcoming film that is touted by Roger Ebert as having "Hitchcockian Suspense":

K-Mack: "Is Hitchcockian even a word?"
Me: "Of course."
K-Mack: "I don't see how."
Me: "People make up words all the time. That's how language evolves."
K-Mack: "Oh yeah? Well you're douchebagian."

She truly has a way with words.

I make good impressions.

2006-07-31T23:29:00.000-05:00

I surely made a good impression at my bi-annual work party last week!

Jesus I'm hot. Next year: a self imposed one martini limit.

Found Objects

2006-07-25T11:20:00.000-05:00

I work my computers pretty hard, so it's not surprising that they occasionally give out on me. Whenever a harddrive crashes, I box it up and store it away, assuming I will try to mine some data off it in the future. This weekend I had a spare moment while hiding from the blistering heat and I plugged an old drive into my machine to search for anything salvageable, and I found some weird stuff. For instance, why did I make this:

I must have had good reason. And although I do actually recall making this graphic, I can't for the life of me remember who this woman is or why I defiled her:

I'm assuming this was created for a Valentine's day card of some sort, but that doesn't make it any less creepy:

Speaking of Valentine's, I also found this lovely little Flash memento I apparently received from Bruce Willis.

God knows what else I'll find on these neglected drives. It's kinda like finding an old time capsule. Buried by some crazy delusional shut-in.

Fifi is Batshit

2006-07-16T20:35:00.000-05:00

I went to the Fiona Apple concert on Friday. That girl is bonafide batshit crazy. She performed well, but spoke with little coherence and often ran to hide under the piano and beat herself. It almost felt more like watching an exorcism than a concert. But I guess that's why I love her. I was a total rebel and snuck in a camera to snap some pictures:

You kinda have to be crazy when you are as brilliant as Fifi, though. She revealed during the concert that she wrote her ballad Slow Like Honey when she was 15 after a boy she liked made fun of her. FIFTEEN. Seriously, check out these lyrics:

You moved like honey, In my dream last night
Yeah, some old fires were burning
You came near to me, and you endeared to me
But you couldn't quite discern me
Does that scare you? I'll let you run away
But your heart will not oblige you
You'll remember me like a melody
Yeah, I'll haunt the world inside you
And my big secret: gonna win you over
Slow like honey, heavy with mood...

It's not that I think these are the most amazing lyrics ever put to paper, in fact they definitely smack of lovelorn prepubescence, but in comparison, here is some of my own poetry that yielded me an A+ in my highschool creative writing class when I was around the same age as Fiona:

There once was a singer named Milli,
Who sang with this brother, Vanilli,
Gyrating their hips,
Not a sound left their lips,
At least they could dance, well not really.

And nobody has ever offered ME a record deal. I guess we can't all be sullen, self-flagellating geniuses. In fact, I am seemingly way behind in the genius curve lately, seeing as how I had to break into my own house after I lost my keys in the concert hall:

Thanks for the boost, Kwatts.

Double Drat!

2006-07-21T12:46:00.000-05:00

I can still see the top of that darn cat!

Here is a picture of me coming on to you:

When dan turns it on... look out.

This reminds me of another story. K-Mack was slightly tipsy and therefore a tad amorous one night and so she winked all sexy-like at B-Dub. B-Dub, who at this point was used to ignoring her drunken flirtatious advances, changed the subject by asking her "Can you do that with both eyes?" since he was curious if her winking abilities were ambidextrous (a genetric trait similiar to rolling one's tongue) .

"Of course!" she replied, and proceeded, with exaggerated sensuality and utter sincerity, to pout her lips and blink both eyes at once. Sometimes drunky K-Mack is not so bright. You probably had to be there, but we laughed and pointed for hours.

I think this should be long enough to take care of that cat once and for all.

Drat!

2006-07-21T12:36:00.000-05:00

I can't stand to look at that cat. I'm angry with myself for posting it but I have too much pride to take it down, so I'm going to post this picture of a bologna rat sandwich to push it off the main page a little:

This reminds me of one of the most closely guarded secrets of my childhood: my favorite food and the only thing I would eat for lunch when I was little were bologna and ketchup sandwiches. It's disgusting, and I demand to know how I became so fond of them in the first place. How on earth does a mother justify feeding her kid a sandwich with bologna and ketchup on it? How does anyone even invent such a concoction? I'll never forgive her.

I hope this is enough to push that cat picture down far enough...

Oh dear.

2006-07-21T11:55:00.000-05:00

Not fake: Cat sees world from both sides.

Gah! It's like I can't focus...

Happy Halloween in July

2006-07-16T20:28:00.000-05:00

It was effin' hot outside today so I stayed inside and rifled through a bunch of old boxes in search of a giant chunk of old hair from some girl who let me shave her head almost a decade ago. I just wanted to see if I was disgusting enough to keep it this long. I didn't find the hair, but I did find one of my long lost costume pictures to help complete my online Halloween scrapbook:

I'm supposed to be a magician. You can tell by the moustache. Duh.

Big Boned

2006-07-12T23:56:00.000-05:00

I've been feeling a little heavy in the gut area lately because my over-burdened work schedule hasn't allowed me to jog lately, and because I generally eat like a sow. Then I saw this horrifying obesity Flash presentation about fat Americans:

Click here to view it, fatty.

Apparently, "morbidly obese" is defined as having a BMI of 30 or more, or basically being 30 pounds or more overweight. So then I got curious about my ideal weight, so I looked it up, and according to the chart and factoring in my measly height of 5' 7", my ideal weight would be around 135. I generally tip the scales at about 160, which would mean I was a scant FIVE POUNDS AWAY from being "morbidly" obese. But these figures were all based on "frame" size, so I found a chart to determine if I was of small or large frame, and it turns out that this can be determined by measuring ones elbow. So I did, and it seems that scientifically, I would be categorized as "large" framed, or "big-boned" (Ahem, *cough*). According to the charts, this allows me to have an ideal weight of 155. Phew. I've generally considered myself to be of the smaller, scrawny variety of human being, so all of this self discovery was really rather disconcerting today.

By the way, DO NOT do a google image search for "morbidly obese". Nothing good will come of it.

I shouldn't have eaten that Dairy Queen Blizzard for lunch. Of course, it only takes a few seconds with Photoshop's "liquify" tool can help me feel a little better about myself:

Mmmmm, deviled eggs. Ewww, sausage fingers.

Hamster Wheel

2006-07-12T23:22:00.000-05:00

Seems like it would be a hazard to mow.

A Walk in The Park

Speaking of hamsters...
As a child I was not allowed pets. My mother is deathly allergic to cats the way that some pale-faced nerds are allergic to dairy. My father had been bitten by a dog as a child, so those were out, too. Birds are a chirpy nuisance. My sisters had hamsters, which while ostensibly cute, rarely did much more than poop in your hand when you took them out of their cage. Occasionally they would frantically gnaw their way out of their prison and find their way to my mother's pantry, so by the time I was old enough to have a hamster of my own, it was forbidden. Instead I was allowed a single goldfish that I kept in a barren glass mixing bowl on my shelf. It wasn't much, but I was ecstatic to be allowed to own anything living, so for two whole weeks I cared for it with unparalleled attention. Then I got bored. Plus the stench of the thing and the appearance of the murky poop-filled bowl on my shelf was starting to make me nauseous. Secretly hoping it would perish from having to live in its own filth, I would clean its bowl as little as possible, but somehow it perservered. I neglected it completely for months on end, but it was resilient. I prayed for its death to no avail. Eventually, I "accidentally" sprayed some 409 into its habitat, hoping it would choke on the toxicity, but that somehow made it stronger. Finally, one day, it started to swim erratically, fighting to stop from floating to the top. I decided it was in its death throes and that I should put it out of its misery, so I dumped it into a stinky old milk carton and callously tossed it out with the trash. I wish I could say I feel bad about it, but I learned a valuable lesson. Like my mother and father before me, I'm really just NOT a pet person. Its probably a good thing I wasn't allowed a hamster. And dogsitting has put me off puppies forever, especially after dogsitting two dogs at once, when I witnessed them devour each other's poo as a late afternoon snack. I can pet and cuddle with someone else's pet at someone else's house like nobody's business, but the second it expects me to clean up its poo, I'm outtie.

I know I already posted this, but it's appropriate once more.

Blind your eyes...

2006-07-11T00:07:00.000-05:00

...or witness a view you never wanted to see:

[FP]

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Photolog, June - July '06

2006-07-10T23:39:00.000-05:00

Here are a few random dan pics from the last week or so, whilst I celebrated my independence and whatnot.

Deviled eggs are effin good. That last picture is from J-Ball's 30th Birthday Surprise Party. Turns out I'm that lame guy who always ends up with the ribbon or bow on the top of his head at parties and Christmas. I'm surprised, actually, because THAT GUY is usually the same guy who would tell fart jokes and watch Blue Collar TV, which doesn't really sound like dan, but I guess I may as well accept my fate.

Here are a few more pictures from J-Ball's 30th:

And here is the whole lot, for anyone who cares.

Of course, I ended up the evening covered in wine and looking like this, which is almost identical to the first picture of this post from almost two weeks prior. I've come full circle so fast.

A Slow Weekend for CNN

2006-07-05T14:54:00.000-05:00

Straight from CNN headquarters comes this newsworthy nugget:

A hotdog skewered on a truck antenna is still there five years later. KUSA's Roger Wolfe reports.

I liked hotdogs up until about five minutes ago. After five years outside in the elements they fossilize? Grody.

CHiPs

2006-06-28T12:38:00.000-05:00

So K-Mack wanted me to make her a T-shirt for a 1980's-themed dress-up day at her work. I obliged her, but I told her that as payback she would have to model the T-shirt with some extra lip gloss and blush (which I kept calling "rouge", much to her dismay) for a photo. She hemmed and hawed and acted generally disagreeable. She practically stomped her feet, acting put-out beyond reason at the request. She whined as she applied some extra shiny vaseline-based lip product. She grunted defiantly as she smeared on extra layers of blush. Finally, I told her to pose on her bed, and without even an ounce of prompting she said:

"Wait... should I take my pants off?"

(Needs more blue eye shadow.)

But it just seems to me that someone who is ostensibly unhappy with being photographed wouldn't generally volunteer to remove their pants. Her demure shy-for-the-camera attitude is obviously just an act. For some reason it reminds me of that episode of the Facts of Life where Tootie is hired as a supermodel and they give her a Stevie Wonder beaded hairdo and a silky blue robe, but Mrs. Garrett puts a stop to it after she learns they want Tootie to pose nudie. Ha, that rhymes.

Phew - finished.

2006-06-27T14:05:00.000-05:00

Holy crap. I feel like I've just finished running a marathon. Last night I sat down to read a few more pages of that seemingly never-ending science book that I talk incessantly about and that is making everybody hate me at dinner parties. From the looks of my bookmark in the binding, I had at least one hundred pages left to read, but when I finished the chapter I suddenly realized that the book had ended and that the rest of the paperback was filled with author notes, bibliographies, and an extensive index. It was a pleasant surprise to say the least. Not that I didn't love the book, mind you, as it taught me about many things indeed, such as:

• Atoms
• Whale Vomit Perfume
• Fossils
And much much more...

But it took me almost a year to read. Seriously. I'm lowering my sights for the next book, that's for sure. I probably should go for something with a monkey in it, less than a hundred pages, and illustrated, but I'm thinking about giving Lolita a shot instead. So if anyone want to join in on the planetdan book club, let me know. We can have meaningful revelatory discussions about Nabokov when I finish it, next year.

A Psychic Connection

2006-06-25T23:13:00.000-05:00

Even on opposite sides of the car seat and invisible to each other, me and this random cab driver somehow decided to spontaneously make the same hideously glazed-over face for the camera:

What are the odds. This was on Friday before T-bone ended up like this, which means I ended up walking home five miles through the ghetto at 3:30am.

Get Ur Freak On

2006-06-22T23:37:00.000-05:00

I attended my coworker's wedding this weekend. I mostly kept my poise. Although we did dance rather enthusiastically to My Humps:

Dan gets sweaty when he dances. And sometimes at weddings he abandons his typical music snobbery and will dance to just about anything. There are a few wedding reception standards that I refuse to dance to, though: The Electric Slide, You Shook Me All Night Long, You Look Wonderful Tonight, Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy or any other equally nauseating country song, etc. But for some reason, I will dance to My Humps and like it. At least I wasn't this guy, though, who backed that thing up on someone's mother:

Contact Kickball

2006-06-18T18:29:00.000-05:00

The Cooters lost our final kickball game this season, which put us in fourth place. Out of six. And for some as-of-yet unexplained reason, T-Bone and Bad Apples conspired with a willing videographer and decided it would make good TV to tackle me in the middle of the game while I was out protecting left field (a job I take very seriously).

You can watch the video of it here (3.8MB WMV), although it's kinda far away and mostly just funny because you can pinpoint the exact moment where my mind goes from "Why are those guys running at me?" to "Oh, I better take some evasive action."

Or if you can't view WMVs, you can always download the MPEG (4MB). Or, if you aren't into motion pictures, there are of course lots of static shots of the game.

Potato Face

2006-06-14T11:11:00.000-05:00

I recently had to get my picture taken for a visitor's ID card. I'm keenly aware that I'm generally not very photogenic to begin with, but is this picture really as bad as I think it is?

I look either:
a) stoned
b) mentally challenged, or
c) made out of wet Play-Doh

I also seem to have what my friend Stacy would refer to as "Black Licorice Mouth". And there's something weird with the glare on my forehead that makes it look like I have a monobrow. Anyway, I have to wear it hanging on a badge around my neck every time I visit this place until I die. And apparently retakes are not an option. Plus, the image is conveniently stored in a database somewhere for easy retrieval, just in case you "accidentally" lose the badge somewhere and need a replacement. Believe me, I already inquired about it.

Beaver

2006-06-14T23:53:00.000-05:00

The name of this crayon really makes me uncomfortable, which obviously says a lot more about my own state of mind than Crayola's. But still, Beaver? No one in the marketing department at Crayola second guessed that idea? Sure, it's the name of a common animal, but so is "cock" and "ass", but you don't see any cock- or ass-colored crayons. Even in the 120 pack.

I snagged it from one of those restaurants with the paper tablecloths. Perhaps it will be a collector's item someday, like the "Flesh" colored ones (renamed "Peach" in 1962).

Luke Pie Rocker

2006-06-12T11:11:00.000-05:00

Galactic Pizza is a local pizza joint that requires its delivery guys to wear spandex, helmets, and capes while driving around town on three-wheeled electrical eco-cars. You can seem them zooming around Uptown at all hours, their capes flapping in the wind behind them. A friend of mine happened to live directly above the place, so I've been up close and personal with the superheroes a few times. In fact, on top of Galactic Pizza is where this exchange originally happened.

Anyway, they made the news for foiling a purse snatcher:

Caped Uptown Pizza Crusader Comes To The Rescue

The victim in the video reminds me of these people a little bit, which is one of my favorite all time videos. I love the local news. But I think that Luke Pie Rocker might be the worst pun I've ever heard. [Thanks to Monkey for the link]

My Weekend's High Point

2006-06-13T00:37:00.000-05:00

I got K-Mack this Zobmondo game for her birthday.

It's that game where you ask stupid questions like, "Would you rather lick all the bugs off an 18-wheeler's radiator after a long haul -OR- suck on a frozen dog poop for 30 seconds?" and "Would you rather chew a mole off someone's neck -OR- drink a half cup of your best friend's blood?" But they make a game out of it. Anyway, I think you get the point.

The game also comes with "Challenge Cards", and K-Mack's fella drew this one:

I have no problem with public humiliation, so I would have chosen ANY option but #5, therefore I was shocked when it was the challenge he accepted. It's not pleasant to watch K-Mack chew up an entire seven-layer bar, regurgitate it into someone else's hands, and then watch as he proceeds to smear it between every single finger. It's not pleasant at all. Just ask Cherry Nut, who was so traumatized by the game that she vowed never to play it again.

I thought K-Mack would have been more disgusted, too, but she was more excited to be temporarily allowed to have an eating disorder. All the taste of a seven-layer bar and none of the calories. People are weird.

I probably would have done #4. It seems like the least amount of effort.

Cooter Update

2006-06-12T23:25:00.000-05:00

Apparently there was a second photographer on the scene at last week's kickball game. So while I was busy snapping pictures of myself and forcing people to take pictures of me, she was busy snapping pictures of me snapping pictures of myself. It's a little embarrassing, but it's also kinda neat. I get to see myself from all angles. If we get a few more photographers into the mix maybe we can get enough angles to pull off one of those Matrixy bullet-time things. I just can't get enough of me.

But last week's game was back to normal, with just dan as the photographer, so there are no pictures of me again. But my new co-photographer allowed me to use her camera instead so the pictures actually turned out pretty good this time...

AND WE WON AGAIN. That's TWO IN A ROW. This Wednesday is the final playoff game. Wish us luck or whatever.

Penile Park

2006-06-08T02:07:00.000-05:00

Aerial photo illuminates the beautiful grandeur of the land below...

This aerial photo taken from the Polk County assessorÂ?s Web page shows the city of Des MoinesÂ? detention basin at 2617 Easton Blvd. The basin, constructed about two years ago, helps prevent flooding, according to Des Moines City Engineer Jeb Brewer. [FULL STORY] [FP]

I think the writers of the article were funny when they subtitled it:

City design with a vast difference

Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with a better pun than that.

Completely unrelated, I'm also fascinated by this optical illusion.

Extra Extra Read All About It

2006-06-05T23:12:00.000-05:00

So the other day this three armed baby made the news:

[story]

It's too bad they gotta remove one of the arms, because if ever there were a kid destined to be a piano prodigy, it was the Asian three armed baby. Even with three arms, an Asian baby is the cutest thing ever.

So I was thinking about extra appendages when I FINALLY remembered the Google Image Search I've wanted to perform for YEARS, but I've always somehow forgotten: diphallia. There was this Trivial Pursuit question that asked, "What does a man suffering from Diphallia have?" And the answer was "two penises", and I've always been curious as to whether they were side by side or one on top of the other. Well, thanks to Google Image Search, I have my answer. But the image made my stomach churn something awful, so I refuse to post it. If you want to see it, you gotta Google it yourself. It's a curiosity-killing-the-cat type of scenario, but I'm relieved that I finally got that out of my system. Thank you, three armed baby!

If you do decide to Google it for yourself and need to cleanse your visual palate, here is something much much more cute to witness (albeit slow to download):

Lunch Yard Bully

Greasy Cooters. Now with more dan.

2006-06-02T13:47:00.000-05:00

I decided that I'm not in nearly enough kickball pictures. I play every week, but I'm the only one who regularly snaps photos, so I'm never in any of them. Therefore I decreed that this week I shall be in every single picture.

Every. Single. One.

Take a look at me now, bitches!

And guess what, we actually won the game. We are somehow still ranked dead last, but it's always during the playoffs that the Cooters really kick it into high gear, attempting greatness, grasping at that brass ring, and watching it all slip away as we spectacularly crash in biggest fall from glory, evar!

Playoffs start next week...

Foot in Mouth Disease

2006-05-31T19:21:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to filter everything I say before I say it in 2006. And my earnest attempt at professionalism seems to be paying off. Let me give you an example.

Old dan:
A few years back I took a vacation to Hawaii with some friends. One lively night in the hotel bar we met a couple from California who engaged us in some drunken rambling conversation, spurred on by our common love of Prince music and popular movies. After we got the lounge singer lady to belt-out a pitiful chorus of "Little Red Corvette", the guy politely leaned over to me and asked, "Have you ever seen a movie called 'Free Enterprise' with William Shatner?" I instantly went on a lame drunken tirade that probably sounded something like this:

"William Shatner? Ugh, no way. I'm not watching any movie that stars William Shatner, for chrissakes. That guy is an obnoxious has-been. His acting is a craptastic mess of affected mannerisms and stilted speech. I'd poop in my own mouth before I'd watch that rubbish."*

"Oh," He replied, "I wrote and directed it."

Oopsie.

*That last line was slightly embellished. I can't recall what I actually said, and it probably didn't involve pooping into my own mouth, but it was definitely crass, inarticulate, and violently anti-Shatner.

New dan:
I went out with a friend last week, and he ran into an old classmate who joined us for a drink. While they reminisced about high school, their old cars, and other boring subjects, my mind wandered and I noticed this older-looking lady making her way around the bar. She was pretty much moving from table to table, barstool to barstool, making conversation with any man that dared to inadvertently meet her gaze. From the looks of it she wasn't having any success, but not for lack of trying hard. Then she got up and started walking toward our table. I very nearly said something like:

"Look out, guys, this old gal has been throwing herself at every guy in the bar and it looks like it's our turn."

But I bit my tongue. I didn't want to judge that thumbed-through book by its cover. Perhaps she was just really friendly. Friendliness doesn't imply promiscuity, after all. And it's a good thing I kept my mouth shut, because my friend's old classmate turned to the lady as she approached and said:

"Hi, mom."

Phew. Inner-filter activated. Crisis averted.

The Press Rules

2006-05-31T19:10:00.000-05:00

I'm quoted in this article. Apparently, I'm big on the comedian circuit in Jersey:

Comedians love the president

I love how the article is able to imply that I am some sort of authority in presidential comedy, or that I'm even a comedian at all. I didn't even create that George Bush Falling Bubble thing, I just posted it. And it doesn't exactly get "millions" of hits each month. Closer to 900,000 actually. I'm not sure where the lies originated, me or her, but the rest of the article is true. I am indeed a 31 year old web developer. I love the innernets!

She could have at least given a shout out to planetdan.net, though. Jeesh.

Beersplosion

2006-05-26T09:20:00.000-05:00

From my last Greasy Cooter kickball game, the hazards of shotgunning a beer:

We lost the game of course, but by the smallest spread yet, and I hurt my ankle trying to get back to my beer faster in between innings. It's all swollen and ouchy, which puts a hamper on my Memorial Day Weekend plans, but it also gives me a good excuse to lie around and do nothing for a few days.

Name Game '06 Results!

2006-05-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

A little over two weeks ago, I sent out a call to participate in planetdan's Name Game '06. I was expecting maybe twenty responses, but I got almost 200. So it took me a while to compile the data, and now, finally, the time has come to share my groundbreaking findings:

The official winner of the planetdan Name Game '06 was, by far, Ellen DeGeneres. But that is only the beginning. You won't believe the results!

CLICK HERE TO HAVE YOUR MIND, LIKE, TOTALLY BLOWN AND STUFF.

Thanks to everyone who participated. It was much appreciated. And interesting. To say the least. But don't worry, I removed all personal names.

HAPPY BIRFDAY K-MACK!

2006-05-22T14:07:00.000-05:00

Today is K-Mack's birthday, so I threatened to post an embarrassing picture of her. This ought to do it:

This, of course, was taken at least seven years ago, before the ubiquity of digital cameras sapped all the fun out of Polaroid pictures. I miss the usefulness of my Polaroid camera. I remember lugging that thing all over my first trip to Hawaii and paying ten dollars for ten pictures, most of which never turned out or faded away within two years. Sigh. Good times. This picture never faded, though!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY K-MACK!

From last month's picture archives.

2006-05-17T23:01:00.000-05:00

Even in the midst of a drunken pub lift, I maintain my composure.

Look at that poise! I could be a ballet dancer. I even had the presence of mind to throw out a thumbs up.

Barf!

2006-05-17T23:17:00.000-05:00

Barf Barf!

Play-Doh Perfume

Barf!

Barf Barf Barf!

I think the smell of play-doh ranks right up there with the smell of cold mashed potatoes. someone should market that as a fragrance. I have a VERY vivid recollection of tasting a big lump of play-doh as a kid. Let me tell you whut, that's something you don't soon forget. They can label it Non-Toxic all they want, but you'll think you ate raw sewage.

Speaking of barf... (sorry)

And speaking of dog vomit, I ate dinner at K-Mack's parents house once when their dog barfed on the floor. It ate half of it back up and then they cleaned the rest up with a soup ladle. Maybe this is where I got my phobia of eating soup.
OMG, BREAKTHROUGH.

Cooter Gear

2006-05-17T00:55:00.000-05:00

My friend Pimpsmax showed interest in purchasing a Greasy Cooters jersey the other day, and then she gave me the idea of offering some Cooter Gear on cafepress.com for anyone who might be interested. Well, I had no idea that cafepress.com was so simple because 20 minutes later I had an online Greasy Cooter store all set up.

I have mixed emotions about Cooter gear. On the one hand, the vulgar name is utterly distasteful and contradicts my innocent nature. On the other hand, I designed the logos and feel that I did a pretty damned good job.

But cafepress.com is honestly pretty awesome. They got tons of cool products to slap your logo on:

Although it was this product in particular that made me really think I was taking the team name way too far past innuendo...

Did anyone else ever have to watch that old 70's video in junior high economics class where the 70's teenagers with the too-big hair and the too-tight shorts decide to start a T-shirt screenprinting business, expounding on all the hard work involved in business ownership while at the same time providing valuable education about supply, demand, and other totally forgettable economic principles? Or was that just a Minnesota thing? Regardless, times sure have changed because all I had to do was upload a logo and I'm in bidness!

Nevermind that the profit margin on almost every item is only a dollar and that I'd be lucky to sell ten shirts total... Gee maybe I could have learned a thing or two from that grade school video had I paid more attention.

A Call to Participate

2006-04-29T15:42:00.000-05:00

Almost three years ago, I read a news headline that stated "Who will distribute Mel's movie?" I immediately thought "Huh, Mel Brooks has a new movie?" Then I clicked on the link to realize that, of course, they were referring to Mel Gibson's controversial Jesus flick. It got me to wondering, who else would've made this mistake? Which names get the most common assumptions? Who owns the market on the first name Sally? Struthers or Field?

So I sent out a list of names to a few friends and got my answers. It wasn't exactly comprehensive, but I thought it was fun and interesting nonetheless.

So I want to do it again. If you're interested in participating, you can download the new list of names at the link below, fill in the name of the first person you think of for each first name, and email it back to me at the address provided. You don't actually get anything for participating, but it's really fast and easy, and usually only takes a couple minutes to complete.

The Name Game '06 - Official List of Names (.txt)

There are simple rules:

1. Enter the first name you think of, whether it's someone famous or your next door neighbor or a character from a book you read in middle school. Don't try to be clever or funny or intelligent. The whole point is to get your initial reaction.

2. If it's a personal acquaintance or family member whose name I might not recognize, just make a note that it's a personal person. You don't need to use their last names if you don't want. For example: if the name is Tina, and the first person you think of is an old childhood neighbor named Tina Johnson, then you can just enter "Tina, (childhood friend)".

3. Likewise, if you enter any person, celebrity or otherwise, who you think dan might not be familiar with, then feel free to make a note as to who they are.

4. Don't worry, I won't post your list or your name. It's all confidential and stuff. So feel free to enter the names of old boyfriends, prior crushes, etc. You don't even need to put your name on it if you don't want.

5. Send your reply by Sunday, May 7th, 2006. That gives anyone who is interested a whole week to participate! I'll compile the results into a format that I find interesting sometime soon after that.

Thanks in advance!

UPDATE: As of today, 5/12/06, I am no longer taking Name Game submissions as the deadline has passed and I have officially begun pouring over the data, the results of which are very interesting. I received almost 200 entries, so give me a week to organize my findings. Thanks for playing!

Cooter Kickball '06

2006-05-15T01:03:00.000-05:00

You might think that at 31 years of age I'd be getting too old to play kickball, but you'd be right.

Kickball Season Five started a couple weeks ago. I skipped the first game, but made a good showing at game two. I even scored the first run. This is the only picture of me from the game, taken right before I made that big red ball my bitch:

There were injuries, as the teammate we like to call Bad Apples bloodied his forearm. Then T-Bone thought it would be cool to transfer the blood stain to his own shirt and wear it in solidarity, kinda like a trophy or something. He thought it was pretty bad ass at the time but I bet that in hindsight he's thinking that wasn't such a cool idea after all.

Down is Greasy, up is Cooter!

More Than a Mouthful

2006-05-10T00:47:00.000-05:00

When I was about eight, my dad came back from a business trip with some souvenirs for me and my brother. They were T-shirts from a restaurant he had visited in Florida. I remember him telling us how he had a good time there. Apparently it was a rowdy place. It was called Hooters.

Please keep in mind that my Dad was, and still is, the lead guitarist for the church choir. We spent the majority of our free time with church friends, if not at the church itself. My mom worked part-time coordinating the ecumenical education for the parish's children. I'd never heard my Dad use a curse word, and he certainly didn't have any Playboys hidden in his nightstand.

Sure, this was decades ago, before Hooters was a household name. But the owl's eyes were clearly breasts; the word "Hooters" can hardly be misinterpreted even while taking into account the visual pun of the owl; and the catchphrase that was splattered across the back, "More Than A Mouthful", was not exactly veiled. But my cute little innocent mom and dad clearly had no idea.

Our wardrobes were extremely limited when I was a kid, so we wore those shirts incessantly and for years, totally oblivious to their lascivious origin. All I knew was that it had a cool owl on it. We wore them to church fairs, friend's houses, holiday functions, everywhere. I think it's funny to imagine someone letting their eight year old boy run around the annual family-oriented church retreat in a Hooters T-shirt that advocated suckling large breasts. I don't even want to know what other parents were imagining the "More Than a Mouthful" catchphrase would imply on the back of an eight year old boy. The 80's were clearly a much more innocent decade. Either that or my parents were just totally naive. Whatever the case, I wish I still had that shirt because I bet it would be some sort of collector's item by now.

Hooters has a REALLY good buffalo chicken sandwich though. Seriously.

Another interesting story about dan and Hooters: the one time I actually ate there, Skid Row was at the next table, but without Sebastian Bach. I know, meeting Skid Row without Sebastian Bach is like listening to INXS without Michael Hutchence, but still.

GG

2006-05-10T00:23:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted about the Gilmore Girls in a while because Lorlie has been pissing me off this season. Her stupid whiny passive-aggressive woe-is-me attitude was really starting to grate. But I liked the ending of the season finale tonight. Sure, it wasn't as good as when Rory gave it up to pilsbury dough-boy Dean at the end of season 4, but what Gilmore Girls needed badly at this point was a big rusty wrench thrown in the mix, and that's finally what we got.

I think it's funny when people get mad at fictional characters. I was in my room the other day when K-Mack ran in, visibly irritated, and said "You have to turn on the TV, this lady is really pissing me off." But I was busy. So she insisted. Finally I succumbed and turned on the TV expecting to see some lame talking head on a news magazine show speaking in absurd counterpoints to K-Mack's political worldview, but instead I found some bad sitcom pilot called Teachers, or at least it was about teachers or something. "But this is a sitcom," I said. "Yeah, I know," she replied. "A bad sitcom," I continued, "Yeah, I know," she followed. "But she's a fictional character," I queried, "Yeah and she's a total bitch," she answered. She was all worked up. It'd be like if I stormed around the house all mad at that pastor guy from 7th Heaven for being such a smug, self-righteous ass. Actually, I think I've done that before.

There is way too much WB going on in this post. My apologies.

I'm the V-Jay, He's the Rapper.

2006-05-07T22:52:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of spreading the job, here's a few links to videos I've been obsessed with lately. Some old and some new. This post is also in the spirit of getting that jesus pancake off the top page:

Flip That Collar, Bitch [from goldenfiddle]

Not Abba, Not Even Close [from presurfer]

The Ultimate in Unfortunately Named Products [from FP]

They are safe for work, if not altogether tasteful. The music video was probably the highlight of my month.

Willie Aames is the devil.

2006-05-07T23:12:00.000-05:00

Book orders were awesome in elementary school. Once a month, we'd receive a single sheet of full-color newsprint with countless books and children's publications from which to choose. (Proof that childhood reading pays off: I refused to end that last sentence in a preposition, regardless of how awkward it sounds in its proper format).

Every three months or so, my mom would give in to all my begging and allow me a two dollar limit. This left me few options, so I usually ended up ordering the latest issue of something called Peanut Butter magazine - a publication so beloved that I can't even seem to find any evidence online that it ever existed. All I remember is that one issue had a picture Scott Baio on the cover and I seem to recall it accompanying an article about the benefits of brushing your teeth.

I was reminded of all this because I found an old book on K-Mack's bookshelf the other day. It's totally Book Order fodder:

It basically lists out all of the "Super Stars" of late seventies/early eighties television, and then gives you their vital statistics.

For instance, did you know the Kristy McNichol, nicknamed "The Wiz", was a borderline OCD neat freak? Or that Jaclyn Smith has a passion for animal training? Anyway, you can read all about Melissa Gilbert, Pam Dawber, Penny Marshall, Dianne Kay (?), and so many more. It's awesome because it all serves as a build up to the grand finale: Henry Winkler. The way this book paints it, the Fonz was more popular than jesus.

But apparently, the book's owner was not a fan of Willie Aames.

I was more partial to Three's Company, myself.

Willy Wonka, Today.

2006-05-03T17:44:00.000-05:00

It's no secret I have a small obsession with the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The other day I found a collage of the original stars, 25 years later. Sure, it's always interesting to see 50-year-old Oompa Loompa, but it was the picture of the modern day Augustus Gloop through me for a loop:

It looks like he showed up for the interview in character, with the original costume and everything. It really creeps me out in a Whatever Happened to Baby Jane kinda way.

You can see the whole collage of characters here.

Of course, all of this is available on the new edition DVD, but screw you for lookin' a gift horse in the mouth.

Pancake Jesus

2006-05-04T01:56:00.000-05:00

This is the first time that I can actually see the jesus in the pancake!

I'm not going to run out and pray over it or anything, but I've never been able to actually see the holy mother or jesus in the food item/tree trunk. For me, holy visions have always been like those stupid 3D stereograms that people complain they can't see. I just stare and nod and pretend like I see the second coming in the faux-wood grain pattern on a door, but really I'm just fakin'.

But not anymore! I once was blind, but now I can see! He's kind of wonky-eyed, though. Pancake jesus is ugs. I guess a griddle in the face will do that to a guy.

That's Disgusting

2006-05-01T12:34:00.000-05:00

I bought this children's book the other day at the store because it said it was authored by "Gervais" and I just assumed that Ricky Gervais had written another children's book. Turns out that he had nothing to do with this book, but I didn't regret the purchase after I got to this page:
Click to see a couple more.

Not everyone enjoys the humor, though.

Andy Dick

2006-04-29T15:02:00.000-05:00

I came across this photo online, titled "Andy Dick", and it made me laugh out loud:

[FP]

Uncanny. Poor Andy Dick, as if he doesn't have enough embarrassing photos floating around of him.

Speaking of coked-up animals...

And speaking of animals doing flips...

Welcome to my Wedding Cake

2006-04-24T23:26:00.000-05:00

I love snack cakes. Little Debbies... Hostess products... Zingers... what have you. Anything super sugary and overly processed tasting, basically. Ten individually wrapped Zebra Cakes in a box for a buck-o-nine. I came home from the grocery store with three different flavors of Zingers the other day. K-Mack thought me to be foolish and obsessive, but just knowing they were in my kitchen and waiting to be sampled made my days a little brighter.

Sno-Balls are my favorite, so when I learned that someone had ventured to make the largest Sno-Ball evar, I nearly lost consciousness:

View the entire ginormous Sno-Ball baking process here.

A few years back, right after he had watched some disturbing Food Network special about the creation of said snack cake treats, Brent actually bet me fifty dollars that he would never ever eat another one. No return bet was required on my part, which makes this deal particularly sweet. All I have to do is catch that fool with a snack cake and I get fifty bones (which if you're keeping track is nearly 500 zebra cakes). So if you ever see this guy with a Twinkie or a processed cupcake of any kind in hand (this includes Banana Flips and Oatmeal Cream Pies), then let me know and I will split with you my zebra cake bounty.

Hometown pride, wif teef.

2006-04-19T18:00:00.000-05:00

I am from Minneapolis, Minnesota, which according to this site, is one of the best states to live in the country. Perhaps because we are so low-rated on this alternate chart:

A ranking of states by loss of natural teeth.

Planetdan: A Week in Review

2006-04-19T17:24:00.000-05:00

Least favorite anonymous quote of the week:

"The good news: the scab finally fell off; the bad news: I don't know where."

For those of you who know the source of that one, don't give it away.

I'm trying to play catch-up by posting some pictures that are from the last couple of weeks, but I don't know how many times I can post pictures of me drinking with T-Bone and still find people interested in looking at them, although this picture in particular is at least a little bit intriguing:

That's me in the background sporting a T-Shirt that says "I Make Stuff Up". T-Bone bought it off a sweaty bartender for whatever cash he had left in his pocket. I was in a state where it wasn't hard to talk me into wearing it. In fact, it was probably my idea. The blindfold had something to do with a Red Bull taste test that I didn't participate in and the entire night of drinking was in sponsorship of some softball team that I am not a part of. The rest of the pictures from that evening are here:

Beer Bust + More

One week later was T-Bone's surprise birthday party, which he barely survived:

Enjoy: T-Bone's Surprise

On a related note, it's too bad scientists can't work faster.

So, lots of picture of T-Bone, but to be fair it was his birthday. Oh, I also worked a lot during the last week, celebrated Easter in spite of my previous posts (although some people celebrated that one a bit harder than I did), successfully assembled an "Ab-Lounger", and enjoyed our beautiful Minnesotan Spring weather by taking out my new bike, who I've christened the Judy II, for a ride around the lakes.

Bonus link: ewww.

Dirty Thirty Shirty

2006-04-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

T-Bone turned thirty yesterday, so I gave him the T-shirt that I made for myself last year:

I think it's a pretty nice gift. Granted, I've been using it as a workout shirt for the entire last year and it's totally pitted-out to a really nasty degree, but I'm sure he appreciates it nonetheless.

Happy birfday, T-Bone.

Meth Kills

2006-04-13T22:12:00.000-05:00

I've had a sinus headache for a week, so yesterday I went to Wallgreens for some Sudafed®. Apparently, Sudafed® is a semi-controlled substance these days, so purchasing it requires permission from the pharmacist and you have to register in the "I'm Not a Meth-Head, I Swear It" book. I wasn't aware of this change in policy, so when I walked up to the pharmacy counter and requested two boxes of the illicit drug, the lady pharmacist practically gasped. "Oh no! You can't get TWO boxes of Sudafed®!" So I lowered my request to one box, but it was too late, I had already aroused her suspicions. Then she asked for my ID, and when I gave it to her, she looked back at me with perplexed stupor and disappeared into the pharmacy dungeon. A minute later, a brand-new and even more concerned-looking pharmacist appeared.

"Sir, this ID says you are 6' 4" tall."
Turns out I had accidentally handed her T-Bone's expired license. This wasn't boding well for promoting an "I'm Not a Meth-Head, I Swear It" persona.

Forget the fact that I'm barely 5' 7", we don't even look remotely alike. (At this point you might ask yourself "Why does Dan carry around T's expired license?" but you'd have to know T-Bone to understand why it has come in handy on more than one occasion.)

I got flustered and stammered "Oh sorry, that's my friend's ID, here's mine." He furrowed his brow, took my license, and disappeared back into the dungeon for what seemed like an eternity. I was certain they were calling the cops, or "dropping a dime on me" as they say in the movies. When he finally returned, he approved the Sudafed® purchase, but I saw him mark my name in the Sudafed Registry book with an asterisk. I've been flagged at the Wallgreens. Whatever, dude, I ain't no meth-head.

Speaking of meth-heads, I drove by the Kid Rock concert last night and woah. Nothing against Kid Rock, but he either has a large leper fan base, or there is some strange connection between his brand of southern rap-rock and meth addiction that I'm just not understanding.

Speaking of dead bunnies...

2006-04-11T17:04:00.000-05:00

[FP]

Happy easter week.

Easter Uncancelled

2006-04-08T11:21:00.000-05:00

Happy easter week. This makes me sad. Poor 'lil bunny.

Frankenbunny

It's like a John Woo directed version of Watership Down.

When I was really little I found a nest of 'lil baby bunnies in a hole in the backyard. I wanted to keep them in a box in the garage, but someone, either my mom or my sister, told me I couldn't touch them or their mom would abandon them. So I left them alone. The next day I went out to peek at them again and it was just a big mess of shredded fur. Something had obviously found the nest and eaten them all up, but I was too young to really comprehend that sad fate. After much thought, I remember deciding that the baby bunnies must have simply shed their baby fur and grew brand new fur before hopping off into the sunset as adult bunnies. I'm happy I was able to delude myself at such a young age.

Danny Loves His Granny

2006-04-04T00:06:00.000-05:00

I made my gramma a belated birthday card last week and I printed up this photoshopped image to accompany it, so that she might have something interesting to hang on the fridge:

I know, it's kinda creepy, and my gramma probably won't appreciate the subversive evil-clown humor with which I made it, but that's not the point. The point is that I put the picture in my work bag when I was running late this morning, hoping to get a chance to mail it off after my big work meeting. You may not believe it, but I try to convey a professional demeanor in client meetings, so I don't like it when homemade cards featuring the phrase "Danny Loves His Granny" fall out of my work folder and slide onto the conference desk for everyone to scrutinize, which of course is exactly what happened. Hopefully, I scooped it back up before anyone had a chance to read it. I'm not sure, but no one said anything. I did see one person give it a perplexed glance, but maybe that was just because I was in such a panic to cover it up.

I'm actually surprised that I never thought of rhyming Danny and Granny before. It only took 31 years for me to come up with that one.

The Shrink Is In

2006-04-03T23:57:00.000-05:00

I don't know who made this, but it's kinda mind-bending, in a screwing-with-my childhood kinda way:

[FP]

I always pictured Lucy as being more of a prude than a slut. But maybe I'm forgetting about this. And I'd be way more interested to see what they would do with Peppermint Patty.

The Game of Life

2006-04-02T23:15:00.000-05:00

Today I got a call from my credit card company. Apparently I used my credit card so much this weekend that it got flagged for abuse. They just figured some carefree thief had gone on a wild spending binge. But really it was just me acting with utter disregard of my New Year's Resolution to curb my spending habits.

The fraud protection agent asked me to verify my purchases, and it was rather embarrassing to hear them read back to me over the phone:

"The suspect charges occurred on the first of April. On that day did you spend $270 at Target?"
"Yes."
"$140 at Circuit City?"
"Yes."
"$30 at the gas station?"
"Yes."
"$4.24 at Burger King?"
"..."
"$4.24 at Burger King, sir?"
"...yes."

My shame was audible. And it only got worse from there. In my own defense, the first two seemingly large purchases were actually a combination of returns, exchanges, and price matches gone wrong, so not that much money was actually spent.

Ironically, I am still a winner at the game of Life. Blog-friend Sarah visited town this weekend, so T-Bone and I took her out for lunch and a board game at one of my favorite local watering holes. I mopped the floor with both of them. I was spinning tens left and right. Even an unrealistically massive payment to repair unforeseen flood damage couldn't hold me back. It was quite a scene. Witness me in my victory pose:

Non-sequitrekkies

2006-04-02T22:59:00.000-05:00

When I'm crabby I like to look at this to cheer me up.

I don't know why. It makes no sense to me. I don't know what the connection is between Star Trek and those Saturday Night Live Roxbury guys, but I don't care.

Of course, I had to add my own face into the mix, but I'm clearly not as talented with animated gifs as the original creator. I put myself in the Chris Kattan position, which is not entirely without purpose, since Stacy often tells me that I remind her of him. Him and Spongebob Squarepants. I'm not kidding, she says that with utter sincerity. But that's okay, because she wasn't exactly happy when I compared her to Kelly Osborne, so I guess we're even.

April Not-So-Fooled

2006-04-01T22:22:00.000-06:00

My sorry attempts at April Fool's pranks this year were pretty lackluster. First I planned to convince K-Mack that her car had been stolen/towed from the street in front of the house. But when I looked out the window and coyly asked "Hey, where'd your car go?" she simply walked over, and pointed. "It's right there." So maybe I could have planned that better and actually moved it before she woke up. Oh well, hindsight, etc.

Then Brent called. New mark = new angle. I acted all mysterious and secretive on the phone and then I hushly whispered "Guess what? K-Mack is pregnant. She missed her period." I was expecting shock and drama on the other end of the line, or at least a properly emphasized "Oh... my... god...", but instead he just got all serious and chastised me, "You know, you really shouldn't be telling other people's secrets like that." Booo. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails.

So I'm not so good at April Fooling. This list of The Top 100 April Fool's Day Hoaxes of All Time pops up every year, and I think the Taco Liberty Bell joke is kinda funny I guess. It's not "Hey your car got towed!" funny, but it's funny.

Polka Party

2006-03-28T23:27:00.000-06:00

Fellow blogger pal Christine came to town this weekend. So we hung out on Saturday night, ate super spicey shrimp, and polkad. Or polkaed. I don't know how to spell the past tense of polka and I ain't looking it up. And we all know that Blogger spell-check is a bonafide moron. I didn't get a picture of me mid-polka (see how I avoided figuring out how to type polka-ing?), but everyone seemed to have a camera, so unfortunately I'm sure one exists out there somewhere.

Christine is cool. Everyone dug her.
See all the pictures of our polka party.

The Crane Game

2006-03-28T23:20:00.000-06:00

I love it when this happens. What's awesome is that it isn't even the first time I've posted about this happening:

Boy gets caught in toy-filled 'claw' machine

I wonder if it was one of those "Play Until You Win" versions of the game. Because if so, I would've popped a quarter in there and poked at the kid for hours. Godfathers is yuckers.

ETPJs

2006-03-25T17:56:00.000-06:00

When I was seven I had a minor E.T. fetish. While all the girls were imagining themselves with red afros and dancing around their very own Daddy Warbucks, I was pretending to find an alien in my closet and eating a shitload of Reese's Pieces. I even made my very own E.T. pajamas when the official Steven Spielberg endorsed pajamas at Target proved to be too expensive for my mother. Instead, she gave me some two-dollar fabric crayons and the license to go crazy:

You can see that the iron-on crayon transfer wasn't completely successful, but it's really not bad work for a seven year old, if I do say so myself. I remember the initial design took some pretty intense deliberation. I wasn't sure if I should title it "E.T. Phone Home" or "E.T. Ouch" or if I should just leave it blank and rely solely on solid visuals. If you look closely, you can see I eventually settled on "E.T. Elliott", which was the option that made the least amount of sense. I wore those pajamas proudly, well beyond the growth spurts that should have forced us apart. At the bitter end, the cuffs of the sleeves came to a rest at my elbows. You see, my dedication to E.T. was as strong as Elliott's. Nothing could tear us apart. Until the pajamas literally tore apart.

Did you know that the E.T. video game cartridge for the Atari 2600 has been blamed for single-handedly causing the Great Video Game Crash of 1983? And that millions of them are buried in a landfill in New Mexico? Well it's an interesting story if you're a former E.T. fetishist/nerd like me.

Eye Hate U, Prince

2006-03-23T23:13:00.000-06:00

Eye just can't seem to get out of under Prince's spell. Eye honestly haven't enjoyed a Prince CD since 1990. But my love for him ran so deep in the 80's that eye find myself in constant conflict over his existence. Plus, me and him had a pretty ugly falling out in the late 90's over the ill-fated Crystal Ball fiasco that eye won't even get into. Then a couple years ago, when eye had finally decided that eye had bought my last Prince CD ever, he announced his "comeback" tour. Eye'd never had the chance to see the guy perform live, even in his heyday, so eye went. Little did eye know that the $75 concert ticket was basically forcing me into buying his new CD, as it was "included" (read: added on) to the price of the concert ticket. That CD was called Musicology, and it sucked royal ass.

So news came out he was releasing a new CD this month and eye didn't even bother to look into it. My anti-Prince stance had reached its pinnacle, or so eye thought. Because today eye walked by an end-cap at Target and saw the CD adorned with a sticker advertising a contest where a small number of random CDs contained an elusive "Purple Ticket" that entitled the lucky recipient to a private Prince concert. Eye stood, conflicted.

Oh my god he was pulling a Willy Wonka. Eye had read about it of course, and put it out of my mind, just figuring eye could ignore it, but standing at Target and seeing that packaging and imagining myself being Charlie Bucket and opening the CD to discover my Golden Ticket was just too overwhelming of a prospect to pass up. Eye always wanted to be Charlie Bucket, and here was my chance. Only it wasn't a lifetime supply of chocolate eye was after, but rather an evening of Black Sweat. To-may-to, To-mah-to.

So eye bought the CD, and waited, with much anticipation, until the privacy of my own home to open it. Eye peeled back the plastic, slowly, relishing the possibilities, just like Charlie would have:

Eye took a deep breath and flipped open the cover, camera at the ready. This was my moment to shine, and eye was going to catch it on film:

Drats! Foiled again. Eye hate U, Prince. There's nothing in here but an advertisement for the latest underwhelming Prince protege, a booklet of pictures featuring his hideously obnoxious pimped-out Prince pad (that he has recently been sued over), and a CD filled with mediocre music:

How many Prince CDs can eye be tricked into buying? Booo. Even Charlie Bucket had to buy four Wonka bars before finally finding his Golden Ticket. Maybe eye need to go back to Target tomorrow...

Blogger's plumbing is gebusted.

2006-03-22T22:50:00.000-06:00

Broken pipe? Whatever dude. Blogger is on my bad list right now.

The celebration continues.

2006-03-19T23:51:00.000-06:00

My birthday festivities continued into Saturday, when Cherry Nut and Brent treated me to some spicy chicken and garlic snap peas. I wore cuff links for the first time ever, because Year 31 is going to be all about new experiences for me, I've decided:

The Oscar Wilde T-shirt is from Ireland, but after just one wash it shrunk to skin-tight proportions, so now it's relegated to underwear status, which is kinda cool because it almost seems even more subversive when nobody knows I'm wearing it. Speaking of outfits, don't stare at the gold glittery woman in the background for too long or you'll go blind. She's head to toe sequined and for some reason she reminded me of the wheel in Wheel of Fortune. In fact, I would venture to say that if she wore that outfit on Halloween and somebody asked her what she was and she said "I'm a game show set decoration" they would be like "Oh yeah..."

Actually, I'm not 31 for another nine minutes, so I better take advantage of my last few moments of being even-numbered.

Paddy Cakes

2006-03-18T17:21:00.000-06:00

Last night was a strange convergence of a million different events all culminating into one huge explosion of drunken Irish debauchery. I've never actually gone out to an Irish bar on St. Paddy's day before, and since St. Paul is known for its Irish population and famous Irish pubs, we headed downtown pretty early and parked ourselves at McGovern's, an appropriately Irish-sounding place. There also happened to be some major hockey tournament at the neighboring arena, so the usual drunken St. Paddy's Day crowd collided with the usual drunken hockey tourney crowd and the resulting madness was captured on film by yours truly.

Plus it's my birthday weekend.

Me and T were good sports with the green-hued clothing.

We all clearly had a good time. Especially T:

Cans of beers were shotgunned. But not by me. Being 31 now, I'm far too old for those types of shenanigans. You can even see pictures of T confusingly trying to shotgun a shot. In fact, you can see all the pictures here.

Olé!

2006-03-16T22:24:00.000-06:00

It's my birthday weekend, but the festivities already started a few days ago. My coworkers took me to Chevy's (which is a Mexican restaurant in spite of its very American sounding name) for some burritos, some fried ice cream, and a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday", sung by the very accommodating wait staff. My coworker was kind enough to snap a picture with her camera phone:

And I got to keep the sombrero! You can't beat a free sombrero! Olé!

My birthday celebration will continue well into the weekend, in spite of the fact that K-Mack has gone to Puerto Vallarta and left me in the lurch. Maybe she'll bring me back a free sombrero, too. Just to make up for it.

I think I'm going to shower at home from now on.

2006-03-16T21:47:00.000-06:00

You'd think there would be only so many ways to embarrass yourself in the gym locker-room. Especially while naked. I've done them all. Or so I thought until yesterday, when I accidentally snapped a guy in the back with my sweaty underwear.

I hesitated about telling this story, just because it forces one to imagine me naked and in awkward positions. And then I remembered that I have no shame. But anyway, I was removing my drawers after a particularly grueling and sweat-inducing run. That's when the elastic around the legs of my boxer briefs caught my toe, so I yanked, perhaps a little too hard since I was in a hurry to make the nude portion of my locker-room visit as short as possible. I lost my balance, my foot fell, my arm lurched, the elastic gave, and the man a few lockers down from me got a surprise snap in the back. Not hard enough to sting, mind you, but hard enough to make him turn around to see what was going on, only to find me standing naked with a pair of sweaty underwear.

My way of dealing with the situation was to avoid eye contact, pretend it never happened, and rush off to the showers, where I stood and worried about what it must've seemed like from his point of view: some strange naked guy snaps him in the back with some sweaty undies and then turns and runs off to the shower. Real nice.

Can't sleep... baby will eat me... can't sleep... baby will eat me...

2006-03-15T11:23:00.000-06:00

The other day, K-Mack left me a surprise on the kitchen table; something she thought I might enjoy with my morning breakfast. She had found it in the weekly mailing supplement. His name is William, and he's your newborn baby boy, captured forever by the miracle of GentleTouch™ vinyl:

He's also one of the scariest, most repulsive things I've ever seen, and not only because he kinda looks like Angelina Jolie-Pitt:

Gross. Who would buy that and what would you do with it once you had it? And why does it need an introductory price? Are they trying to reel you in by offering the first one at the deleriously low price of $24.98 and then – before you know it – you are hooked on hideously ghoulish newborn baby replicas? The first hit is always free.

Then the very next day I was reading the Presurfer when I came across this link to a collection of classic Horror Masks. Some are quite disturbing, indeed, but the worst – BY FAR – is this one, simply titled "Baby":

Seriously, if someone wanted to make dan shit his pants for real, show up at his door wearing that mask on Halloween. Or any other day of the year for that matter. I won't be able to hold it in. It's worse than that guy in the Burger King mask. My face turns white just looking at it.

Dantle

2006-03-13T17:15:00.000-06:00

Hey! What's that on my usually inauspicious mantle?

Why, it's me! With a candle on top!

I have the ugliest profile, evar. And now I have a cherished keepsake to commemorate it for always.

It's my own personal pirolette.

Esoterica

2006-03-13T15:51:00.000-06:00

Myspace is just the latest in a long list of internet fads, starting I suppose with AOL, and then followed in quick succession by Napster, Friendster, Blogger, and god knows what else. It's so faddy that even I had to sign up. Can't be the only one without a Myspace listing, of course!

Anyway, I saw this T-shirt for sale today, which made me laugh out loud, because as a Myspacer, I'm in on the joke. If you don't get it, then perhaps it's time to jump on the bandwagon. You can buy the shirt at bustedtees.com, but hurry because you'll only be able to wear it for like two weeks before it doesn't make sense to anyone anymore. I love esoteric stuff like that.

That model's myspace emo hair has got to go, though.

I'm blinding you with science!

2006-03-09T22:44:00.000-06:00

There's been a rumor going around in my circle of friends that eyeballs do not grow over time. Rumor has it that you are born with the very same sized eyeballs that you die with. This rumor was met with some skepticism, so I googled it, and thought I would share my findings. From BooksBigQuestions:

Do eyeballs grow and, if so, how much?
At birth, the head and structures within it, such as the eyes and brain, are more developed in proportion to the rest of the body. The head and eyes increase in width by only 1.5 times up to the age of 5 years, and after that only a very small proportion more until early adulthood. So the eyes do grow slightly, probably only a matter of millimetres, and only up to age 5 or so.

So yes, eyeballs grow, albeit very slightly, and less so than most other organs. On the other hand, there is also a rumor that the cartilage in your nose NEVER stops growing, which if true explains Karl Malden, and makes me fear for my own future:

I'm hoping that rumor proves to be false.

And while we're talking about bones and stuff, I was reading (in that seemingly never ending science book that I mention far too often), that only about one bone in a billion becomes a fossil. This means that the 6 billion people currently on the planet with 206 bones each will only produce a couple thousand fossils max, which really doesn't seem like much. And they'll probably be hopelessly scattered. And they'll probably all be fingers or teeth or boring bones like that.

This kind pisses me off and shatters my illusions, because I used to worry about worldwide nuclear holocausts and extinction level events and all that end-of-the-human-race mumbo jumbo, and the only thing that would ease my mind was daydreaming of a probable future, millions of years from now, where space aliens or maybe even some other indigenously evolved lifeform would discover our bones, under all the earth and soil. And they'd be all, "holy crap, whoever these beasts were millions of years ago, they sure kicked ass," and they'd rebuild and study us in museums and then some future species' version of Steven Spielberg would make a blockbuster movie featuring computer generated humans and it would be a phenomenon that would spark numerous subpar sequels, and their version of children (assuming they procreate sexually) would wear pajamas and sleep on sheets emblazoned with tiny little humanoids in funny poses. And they would collect our fossilized droppings and use them as paperweights on desks (assuming they have paper and desks). But I don't know how this new super-evolved species is going to manage all of that with just a couple thousand measly bones. I guess that childhood scenario I baked up to soothe my overworked nerves wasn't so probable after all.

Midget Wrestling : A Moral Quandary

2006-03-08T12:40:00.000-06:00

The other day I got a phone call from T-bone:

"Midget wrestling. Wednesday night. You in?"

I'm torn. On the one hand, I'm intrigued. I'm sure that midget wrestling would be quite a spectacle. And it seems like an opportunity that might not come around too often. But on the other hand, I'm disturbed. What kind of circus sideshow are they selling? Can I, in good conscience, pay a three dollar cover to watch midgets wrestle? There seems to be something inherently distasteful about that concept.

It reminds me of the circus sideshows at the old Midway at the Minnesota State Fair. Most of them were fakeries or mirror tricks like ape men and snake ladies, but one of them featured the "World's Tiniest Lady." I remember we paid our two dollars, walked up into a trailer, and looked into an oven-sized box, where a tiny little woman sat on a stool, knitting and watching TV, ignoring the crowds of people staring down at her. I instantly felt sick that I had paid to get a peek at a midget. And she clearly didn't like being gawked at, because she was quite surly. Not that I blame her, but when someone asked her to stand up, she angrily snapped that it would cost another dollar.

But it's possible that these midgets make a good living, taking their wrestling show on the road. I still can't decide how exploitive the whole thing is. So I did a Google image search for Midget Wrestlers, and found this picture:

Afros and mowhawks to boot! Sadly, the decision will probably be made for me, as I am still sick as a dog and really can't leave the house for any reason whatsoever. But what do you think? Midget wrestling: good for midgets or bad for midgets?

Ah, the simple pleasures of watching a kid get kicked in the face.

2006-03-07T17:43:00.000-06:00

Not that I should like watching a kid get kicked in the face, but...

...the spinning is mesmerizing. [FP]

Sure, the kid is young, but I bet he'll remember that particular moment in time forever, and in slow-motion. I have a million slow-motion childhood memories of swingset accidents, flipped bicycles, moonboot mishaps, and one particularly vivid moment involving a teeter-totter, Cory Hendricks' sister's looming backside, and a frightening lesson about the disastrous possibilities of mismanaged weight distribution, but describing that incident would be way too complicated and might require diagrams and storyboards.

It kind of reminds me of one time, way back in high school, when Stacy was forced down a dangerously steep sledding hill by a stranger with the stranger's young child in tow. The resulting crash at the bottom of the hill was an insane explosion of relentless momentum, flailing limbs, and lost mittens. They literally tumbled on top of one another, head over heels, at least a dozen times before skidding to a halt. When the cloud of snow finally settled, the child was stumbling around, confused and crying, but no worse for the wear, and Stacy was kneeling upright, herself confused by the red winter headband that had fallen across her eyes, unsure of whether or not she was seeing the crimson shade of blood. She wasn't, of course, and besides a pinched nerve or two, she seemed to come out of it okay. Luckily, K-Mack was at the bottom of the hill and was able to snap this picture, seconds before complete loss of sled control:

If you look really close, you can see the little kid getting dragged behind her. I wish I could see that kid's slow motion memory of those events. Better yet, I wish K-Mack had been carrying a video camera that day instead of her purple Le Click. Ah, good times.

A detriment to my own health.

2006-03-05T23:35:00.000-06:00

I've been pretty sick for the last week. But I'm too busy at work to take off any time. So I was feeling a bit run down. And then this weekend, when I should have been resting up, I decided instead to pretend like nothing was wrong with me. So Friday night I went and saw Rogue Wave in concert, and they were excellent, so it was worth the risk, in spite of my throbbing sore throat. We secured a good position to view their performance, with no loud bitches anywhere within listening distance:

Of course I bought a concert T-shirt. Then on Saturday we celebrated Cherry-Nut's birthday, so I had to pull it together long enough to give her a much deserved birfday spankin':

And to eat some Ichiban:

Of course it was a lot of fun, but now I'm more sick than ever. It will all have been worth it, unless I die. So let's keep our fingers crossed that I had a good weekend.

The Po-Po

2006-02-27T22:44:00.000-06:00

I've only been pulled over by the cops four times in my whole life, and I've never gotten a ticket. In fact, the worst punishment ever bestowed upon me by law enforcement was in the sixth grade, when K-Mack and I had a Silly String fight outside the Brookdale Mall. Some power-hungry lady mall cop, who obviously had too much time and too little to do, made us clean up all of the silly string we had sprayed in the parking lot in case "some old lady should come along and trip on it and break a hip." Never mind the fact that the stuff disintegrates into dust when you touch it. She even took down our names and numbers in case such an accident actually occurred. And being the good kids that we were, we gave her our real information.

Anyway, I never understood the whole "cops are pigs" reference or how that came about, but I thought this was kind of funny:

Does Cleveland Police Logo Contain Hidden Image Of Pig?

Wilbur? Nicely done, graphic designer.

Oh wait. I've been pulled over five times. I forgot about the time in senior high when we got pulled over late one night while making a home movie. I had slicked-back hair and a painted-on goatee (totally in character), and K-Mack was playing a mysterious hitchhiker, which must have looked odd to the cop who had obviously been watching us film at the abandoned gas station on the corner. When asked for his license, the driver of the vehicle (who was also in character portraying the cab driver) said "I don't have one. But I got an A in driver's ed, officer." Man, we were lame kids. Most kids our age who got pulled over in the middle of the night had to worry about getting caught with beer or pot in their car. My only worry was that my costume make-up was smudged.

UPDATED:
Here is a screencap of me in full costume that evening, right before we got pulled over, just to help you visualize the scenario:

Is it me or do I totally look like a young Colin Farrell? And here's my big death scene. Dan gets murdered by K-Mack. Oh shit, I just gave away the ending:

Million to one shot, doc. Million to one.

2006-02-27T22:08:00.000-06:00

Genetics are neato.

Black and white twins!

[FP]

That poor mom is never going to live down the inevitable infidelity jokes. Plus, it's going to be a really awkward social experiment if one of them becomes more popular in school than the other one. But still, isn't that cool? This is where someone more sentimental than me would break into a chorus of John Lennon's Imagine, or if you're really tacky, Blessid Union of Souls I Believe. But I just like the science of it. Plus those babies are super cute.

Brand Spankin' New Music

2006-02-25T21:30:00.000-06:00

I hadn't posted any new music in my Juke Box since the end of 2005. So I finally put some new music in there, including a fresh Prince song, which surprisingly isn't half bad (but still doesn't even come close to touching anything from his 1987 heyday), and the best Radiohead Remix/Remake I've ever heard: Mark Ronson's Edit of Just.

If you're so inclined, look over to the right and listen to me turn this bitch out.

Payday!

2006-02-25T01:05:00.000-06:00

Some people frame their first earned dollar, but I saved my first honest paystub, which I found the other day:

I was hired at $4.25 an hour without any chance for a raise due to the fact that the company was already in chapter 11, which wasn't a surprise considering the fact that the entire department store would be lucky to have ten customers a night. I can't think of anything in the world that I would do for $4.25 an hour anymore. Someone could offer me that to sit around and watch TV and I'd still turn it down. Totally not worth it.

I had to get the job to pay for car insurance, which were the rules in my house. My mom told me that I could blow every penny of my first paycheck, just to get it out of my system, but that all subsequent paydays would be dedicated to savings. So after two weeks of work, I got my first paycheck: eighty bucks. I remember exactly what I bought, vividly:

1. A Hypercolor T-shirt (Actually, it was a generic brand from Kohls, but it still changed colors when you blew on it.)
2. A Black Crowes cassette tape
3. Gasoline
4. Some Pizza Hutt

Little has changed. I still blow all my money on trendy clothes, music, and bad food. As they say in Six Degrees of Separation: It's hand to mouth, just at a higher plateau.

Anyway, you can get Hypercolor paint now. For your walls and stuff. But it's like $350 a gallon. And I'm not sure why you'd want to go gettin' all hot on a wall.

Andy Bird and the Loud Bitches

2006-02-24T00:32:00.000-06:00

I had no idea Andrew Bird had gotten so popular, but the Fine Line was packed to the gills at his show tonight. My fellow concert attendee and I sacrificed a good view of the show for a chance to sit comfortably at a table and get served drinks for most of the evening, so at best this is what we saw:

Andrew was great of course, but even more interesting was the fall-down drunk girl within stumbling distance who apparently thought that Andrew Bird was the type of music that inspired hip-grinding ass-rubbing hyper-sexual pole dancing, without the pole. But unfortunately, it is not that kind of music, and even more unfortunately, she was not even remotely capable of dancing sexy. In fact, it looked more like she was in a perpetual state of controlled falling down and tripping over her own feet. Most people had to turn away out of sympathetic embarrassment, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of that train-wreck. She totally made my evening.

On the flip side, there were also some loud bitches who did nothing to add to the experience. They stood around in clumps, chatting incessantly at the top of their lungs throughout the entire performance, spewing pointless drivel involving someone's latest haircut and "Oh my god do you know what Tom did?!?" banality. It was actually as if they were battling with the musicians for audibility. The dumb girls almost seemed annoyed that they couldn't hear each other over the music they had just paid twenty dollars to witness. Why pay money to have a random gab-fest smack dab in the middle of a concert venue? I couldn't help but hear their conversation about planning a "pre-party" at 7:00 the next night. Or maybe 8:00. Well, how 'bout we say between 7:00 and 8:00? Or maybe even 8:30. Should we say 8:30? Yeah, let's say 8:30. I was hoping to god she would scream-shout her address so that I could show up at her stupid "pre-party" holding a ghetto blaster with the volume on my Andrew Bird CD set to eleven so that when they all looked at me with utter disgust and annoyance I could just shout "Oh, I'm sorry, is this annoying and inappropriate? Is this type of distraction only acceptable if everyone else has paid a twenty dollar entrance fee? My mistake, you dumb loud bitches."

And I bought a concert t-shirt.

Lonely T

2006-02-21T21:38:00.000-06:00

This is me and my friend T:

I'm not tryin' to be his pimp, but T's on the market, ladies. I'm taking it upon myself to find him a good normal girl. His reputation is only slightly tarnished, and even though he's pushing thirty, he still has a lot going for him. Such as:

1. He's tall: 6' 3"
2. He's generous with the bar tabs.
3. He's friendly and jolly, but not in an obese Santa Clause kinda way.
4. He's gainfully employed.
5. He don't look half bad:

So, if you're a nice single lady, or you know a nice single lady, who might be interested in T, email me a friendly note at FindTaDate@yahoo.com.

It would help if you are near or around Minneapolis, too.

Planetdan: A Year in Review

2005-01-20T15:19:00.000-06:00

This graph from SiteMeter indicates Page Views and Page Visits on the planetdan blog index in 2004, and then out of curiosity I added stars to indicate the benchmark postings that got me the most hits:

1. Passion Parade

2. The Olsen Twizins

3. Dan is a Local Celebrity Whore

4. Senior Pics Gallery (all gone... boooo!)

5. The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of

6. Political pandering at its finest!

7. My Baby Likes Menthols

8. 8 Days

9. An Oopma Loompa Halloween

10. Monster Thickburger

11. Wifebeaters

I don't know why some of those posts were popular, because some of them are admittedly pretty lame. It's clear that the Senior Pics gallery was the most popular, especially since the actual hits on those pages aren't even calculated on this chart (this chart only indicates hits on the blog index page). Too bad it no longer exists, because that was a traffic magnet.

I still get daily hits on my site from people searching for Whale Penis, Oompa Loompa, and Accidental Nudity, although I don't know where that last one comes from.

Mmmmm, salad.

2006-02-19T23:25:00.000-06:00

The other day I got an email from "Bobbey" with a link to Rachel Ray's Mini Cheeseburger Salad recipe, which I find to be absolutely brilliant. Someone actually made a salad topped with mini-cheeseburgers. It reminds me of that episode of the Simpsons where Marge buys Homer some ice cream topped with mini-cherry pies, and it looks just as ridiculous:

Only 15 Minutes Prep Time!!

I love how people can always find new ways to royally fatten up a salad. It also reminds me of my friend Brent. Once I called him on the phone while he was eating, so I made the usual inquisitions, and the conversation went something like this:

Dan: "What are you eating?"
Brent: "Hotdog salad."
Dan: "..." [confused silence] "What's hotdog salad?"
Brent: "It's chopped up hotdogs in a mustard sauce."
Dan: "Where on earth did you get that recipe?"
Brent: "It's my own invention."
Dan: "What's in the mustard sauce?"
Brent: "Mustard."

Not that I wouldn't eat it, mind you.

Test Post

2006-02-18T23:59:00.000-06:00

My last post about Pepsi and The Hoff keeps disappearing. So this is a test post to see if perhaps Blogger just doesn't like David Hasselhoff. I'm sure Blogger likes pirate penguins, because who doesn't.

Dare For More

2006-02-16T23:58:00.000-06:00

Adrants posted about this Australian billboard the other day, and it has forever since been burned in my brain. There's something disturbingly, gushingly, over-the-top phallic about it. As if I need another reason to be revolted by the taste of Pepsi:

You can, of course, download the image for you desktop here.

I know the internet is literally jam-packed with crazy Hasselhoff shit, but I can't help to wonder if he's self aware of his absolute ludicrousness? How does one keep topping oneself when one is David Hasselhoff? The bar is raised so high now if must be a full time job keep up with him. At this point, calling him the Liberace of Eurasia (and Australia) would almost be an understatement.

Australians must be a fun bunch, though. My friend Maurice told me about a calling feature from Virgin Mobile in Australia that allows you to pre-dial a special code number at the beginning of a night of drinking that will block a number from being dialed on your phone until 6am the next morning. This is to prevent drunk dials. Apparently it's true, it's old news, and it's awesome.

I know a few people who would benefit GREATLY from such a service.
*ahem* T-Bone *cough*

And if you don't already own it, you should download Har Mar Superstar's DUI MP3.

My Big Floaty Disembodied Head

2006-02-15T23:44:00.000-06:00

I was testing out some free software converter thingee for a work project, and I thought I may as well use my own head as a test subject. Then I thought I would share it, because who doesn't want another good look at dan, especially in glorious 360º.

head by picturecloud.com

You can even manipulate my big floaty disembodied head by clicking on it. It could've worked better had I used more images, but it was just a test run.

Anyway, thanks to presurfer for the link.

Bacon In The News

2006-02-15T21:50:00.000-06:00

I saw this online today and was thoroughly disgusted. And let me tell you what, it takes something really special to turn me off bacon. Uncle Oinker's Strawberry Flavored Gummy Bacon:

[FP] Some things just shouldn't taste like strawberries. Or be gummy. But you can buy them if you're exceptionally crazy. You'd probably like Circus Peanuts, too.

The absurdity of it reminds me of those bacon-shaped band-aids you can buy. I guess I'm just not sure why you'd want to fool someone into thinking that you've bandaged your finger in bacon, but if you're that type of person, then consider that boat floated.

Also, did you know that we are on the verge of printable bacon? Technology has come a long way, you see, and we are THISCLOSE to having one of those cool sci-fi food generators like they got in Star Trek. I don't know why the author of the article focused so much on the bacon, though, because in reality the technology could be used for just about anything at all. But for some reason, the dude was fixated on revealing a new delivery method for bacon, which I guess really speaks volumes about the universal appeal of non-gummy bacon.

Of course, there is such a thing as too much bacon.

Bacon bacon bacon. I've typed it so much that it's starting to look wrong.

Happy Valentine's Day

2006-02-14T16:03:00.000-06:00

[FP]

Really, I do.

Bloody Hell

2006-02-12T13:39:00.000-06:00

I got two stitches in my scalp last Friday after this stripper hit me in the head with a beer bottle. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell people. Actually, the stitches are from the doctor after I got a little bump removed from my scalp on Friday afternoon. It was a tiny little bump that was buried past my hairline, so it was virtually invisible and undetectable by anyone except me. But apparently I am too vain to live with something like that on my head for the rest of my life. So it's gone, replaced by two stitches of blue nylon thread.

Then later that evening, I went out to celebrate my friend Ashley's birthday, but I arrived late and my friends T-Bone and Lambert were already well into that "I love you, man," drunk phase, so there were lots of group hugs, loving head pats, and innocent love taps. I kept reminding them to avoid yanking my stitches, but they were beyond retaining useful information at that point.

Eventually we left that bar to visit another, and after dropping some friends off at the front door of the establishment, I went to park my sweet Hyundai ride in a downtown ramp. On the long elevator ride back up to the ground level, these two guys were both staring at me silently. I got nervous until one finally broke the creepy silence and said, "Dude, you got blood all over your forehead."

Slightly embarrassed, I walked to the nearest restroom imagining a small crimson drop at my hairline, but when I looked in the mirror I saw a big mess of smeared crusty blood that covered half of my brow. Apparently my stitches were no longer doing their job. The levies had been breached. I quickly wiped myself clean and high-tailed it outta there.

All I know is that if I saw some messy-looking loner in a downtown parking ramp elevator with a forehead covered in smeared blood, I would probably think "Holy crap that dude must be crazy," but I'd keep it to myself. I certainly wouldn't make eye contact. So I guess I should be glad I got noticed when I did because the next stop was supposed to be a sing-along piano bar, and I doubt it would've been cool to sing/shout "Jeremiah was a bullfrog..." with a blood-smeared forehead. Actually that probably wouldn't have been cool even without the blood. Either way, I'm grateful. And no, I didn't take a picture of it.

It's also kind of embarrassing that the first bar we attended was a trendy downtown restaurant that is frequented by local celebrities and news anchors, who I tend to obsess about. So it's very possible that Rick Kupchella from our local NBC affiliate, who happened to be sitting at the table right next to us, had his appetite ruined by the sight of my blood-smeared forehead. Or maybe I should be proud of that. I dunno.

That was a pretty disgusting post.

I actually have been hit in the face with a beer bottle by a stripper before, but that's a whole different story and fortunately it didn't require stitches, and someday I plan on James-Freying that little tale into a full-fledged docu-novel.

The Usual Suspects

2006-02-08T07:43:00.000-06:00

I've always been dubious about the usefulness of police sketches. I doubt people remember faces all that well in the first place, and then to have to relay that visual memory in verbal form to a third party seems absolutely ludicrous. The end results are always awesomely generic and therefore completely pointless, or even worse: sub-human in appearance. Case in point, here is a sketch that I saw on the BBC site today:

To be fair, the point of the article is that the eyewitness is unhappy with the accuracy of this police sketch. Apparently the suspect wasn't a sun-bleached Hitler after all.

Anyway, that gave the idea to do a Google Image search for "police sketch", the results of which were totally awesome. Seriously, it's like when my grade school art teacher made us draw each other's faces for display in the hallway. Fascinating, but some of them freak my shit out:

Yuck. They totally give me that Unsolved Mysteries type of upset stomach. I can't even hear the theme song to that show without convulsing. They play it twice daily on Lifetime and I always accidentally flip to it during my lunch break and instantly lose my appetite. It must be a weird childhood trauma association, from having watched the show as a kid while I was home alone. I had a similar experience with a particular episode of Three's Company where Janet gets robbed at the flower shop and the detective tells her that the suspect may come back to kill her, since she was the only eyewitness, and that she should therefore avoid walking in front of any open windows. I may be be getting the details of the episode wrong, but I closed all the drapes and ducked under windows for weeks after watching that damn thing. I still can't sit with my back to a window.

Truckin'

2006-02-06T22:50:00.000-06:00

I hate finding old pictures of myself because they always remind me of my awful childhood wardrobe. I'm not even sure where most of my clothes came from back then, because I only remember getting actual brand-new shirts on two separate occasions, and both times were at Sears. I'm pretty sure the majority of my wardrobe was acquired through the barter system during our annual neighborhood garage sale. I don't think I cared much at the time, since I wore a uniform to school, and at least I didn't have it as bad as my poor friend Maurice who was forced to wear his sister's Chic jeans as hand-me-downs. But take this picture for instance:

My shirt says "Truckin". I'm assuming it is a Grateful Dead reference, so even if this picture was taken in 1983, how old must that T-shirt have been? I guess Head Shops never go out of style. But how did it come to be on my body? And was it appropriate to tuck it into black slacks for an afternoon hike through the lush vegetation of Gooseberry Falls, Duluth? I wish I still had it, because now that T-shirt would be cool as hell, and sadly I'm pretty much of the same size and stature.

Truckin. Shit, man, I was pretty cool for an 8-year-old, and it looks like I knew it.

My worst nightmare, realized.

2006-02-06T22:47:00.000-06:00

Nothing interesting has happened to me in a while. Nothing postworthy, anyway. Even the internet seems to be disappointing me lately. So instead I'll have to tell you about what happened to my friend B* last night.

Imagine that you live alone in an apartment-style condo and that you're fast asleep. Now imagine that you wake up to someone tapping you on your shoulder. Now imagine that after the initial shock of waking up to a stranger standing over your bed, that you manage not to wet yourself and stumble to turn on the light, only to discover a 90-year-old man hovering over where you were just sleeping, slack-jawed and pointing at nothing.

Would you:

a) have a heart attack
b) poop yourself
c) instinctively pummel the old man to death

I would probably do 'a' and 'b' simultaneously, but honestly I couldn't judge anyone if a 'c' took place. Regardless, this specific scenario, without any of the above options, happened to my friend just last night. As B* struggled to compose himself and assess the situation, the old man just mumbled and ranted disorientedly, calling B* 'Cousin Frank' or something like that. I imagine him to look like that creepy old evil guy in Poltergeist II. Turns out that the poor old guy had wandered up from downstairs, found B*s door unlocked, entered, turned on all the lights, rooted through his drawers and cupboards, and then apparently decided it was time to wake up the sleeping stranger in the bedroom. Go figure that the one night B* forgets to lock his front door is the one night that the dementia-addled old-fart downstairs decides to go hunting for long-lost relatives at 2am. Anyway, my friend luckily remembered that his downstairs neighbor lived with his elderly father, so the poor guy was eventually returned to his right place. B*s one relief is that he had been too tired to disrobe that night before bedtime. Otherwise that whole scene would have played-out in nude slo-mo, which I'm sure would have killed that poor old man.

Just kidding, B*.

I gotta give B* credit. At least once a week I wake up and see the confusing silhouette of my office chair in the distance and freeze in terror thinking it's some odd-shaped intruder. It can honestly take a good 20 minutes to stop my heart from racing.

Dollar Palace

2006-01-31T20:25:00.000-06:00

I can't seem to bring myself to turn off the State of the Union address, yet I'm doing my best to avoid actually listening to it because I'm just not in a dry-heave kind of mood tonight. So instead, I'm surfing the web, getting myself excited for the new Raconteurs album, and trying to interpret this statistical chart, created by a fellow Minnesotan, titled: Americans Grow To Fit Their Environment

Basically, as obesity rates have risen over the years in America, so has the average house size. I'm not exactly sure what these stats imply. It could be a dig at the suburban exodus and excessiveness of fat complacent Americans; it could just be revealing that Americans have been extremely fortunate over the last decade in order to better afford both food and square footage; or it could simply mean that big people need big houses. Whatever the case, I doubt a correlation actually exists because the average clientele at your local dollar store, who can barely afford a 12-pack of Mountain Dew let alone own a home, couldn't exactly be characterized as "slim".

Speaking of dollar stores, I found this online today:

Ha ha. I'd love to see her best Wal-Mart shopping outfit. I wonder if a knee-length t-shirt and stretch-pants are involved. Dang, how can I be so contradictory as to mock underprivileged fatties and overprivileged Republicans in the very same blog post? I guess my cruelty is bipartisan tonight.

Oh jesus he just called himself a "good steward of tax dollars". Look at that smug smile. I gotta turn this shit off.

I would get my teeth capped if I had the money.

2006-01-29T16:59:00.000-06:00

Face/Off was the worst. Seriously.

Relatedly, here is an example of good, useful cosmetic surgery (if you can even consider an entire face transplant "cosmetic"):

Face Transplant Recipient Photographed : Better a droopy mouth than the unsightly mess of dog-chewed ground beef that the article describes.

Speaking of dogs, here is an example of bad, evil cosmetic surgery:

[FP]

Booo.

Coming of Age

2006-01-29T12:26:00.000-06:00

There are a million Hollywood "coming-of-age" movies where the kid loses his innocence, and for the first time he's able to see the world as it really exists, facilitating the realization that it's time to grow up and be a man. In the movies, the catalyst is usually something dramatic and heavy, involving a first love or a dying mother or the Great Depression. My own coming-of-age story involves a Prince & The Revolution LP and my Fisher Price portable record player:

I was ten years old and I was biking home from piano lessons when I passed a garage sale where I found quite a bargain: an almost-new and unscratched Prince 1999 record for only fifty cents. Purple Rain had just recently made a big splash and I was a fan of that "Delirious" song from having heard it on Solid Gold and at the neighborhood roller rink. Luckily, I had the cash on me, so I made my purchase and excitedly peddled home.

But at home I opened the record's slip sleeve and this poured out:

Looking back on it now, it's a ridiculously cheesy picture. He's naked in a bed, painting in watercolor, enveloped in fog and bathed in neon? Please. That must've have been lame even back in the early eighties. But I was ten, going to catholic school, and utterly appalled. I immediately hid the record jacket in the back of my closet and pretended like I never saw it.

Then I pulled out my Fisher Price portable record player and put on the first track of side two, which was curiously titled "Let's Pretend We're Married." I'd heard this before on the radio, but was too young to really catch its drift. I was also apparently unaware the that radio version was heavily edited, because toward the end of the song there is an extended riff where - to my ten-year-old horror - Prince moans loud and lasciviously: "I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna... f*ck you..."

I instantly got a tummy ache and wanted to cry. I scratched the needle off the record before my mother could hear it and hid the offending item behind my bed. It was just too dirty. The album stayed hidden for months before I finally got the courage to play it a second time, but I never used that Fisher Price record player again. A children's toy playing very grown-up music; it's an intriguing visual "coming-of-age" metaphor if I do say so myself. It'd almost be poetic, if it didn't involve a half-naked Prince painting in watercolors.

Anyway, I remembered all this because I saw one of those Fisher Price record players in a movie on TV this morning and I got a vivid flashback. Speaking of innocence and LPs, does anyone else remember The Music Machine or the Lollywinks? Man, those were awesome albums.

Twenty Dollars

2006-01-28T11:07:00.000-06:00

How much money would you have to accidentally throw away with the trash before it would be worth retrieving? This is not a metaphor; this is for real. Two days ago, I threw away some packaging for a digital memory card. The barcode on the packaging is required to redeem the twenty dollar mail-in rebate. The trash bag that contains the packaging that contains the barcode is currently in the trash bin out in the alley. Inside the trash bag is a hodge-podge of disgusting items that would need to be sifted through to find the packaging. I remember emptying the kitchen garbage, the bathroom garbage, my bedroom garbage, and about fifty pairs of K-Mack's old used panty hose into the Glad-bag before bringing it to the curb. So the prize may be buried deep within the refuse. I just can't decide if twenty dollars is worth it.

UPDATE: I retrieved the packaging. It wouldn't have been so bad if there hadn't been discarded spaghetti (with marinara) at the top of the bag. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but Best Buy will now get their spaghetti-stained barcode and I will get my twenty dollars. In six to eight weeks.

A Bonanza of Ireland Pictures!

2006-01-25T15:45:00.000-06:00

I'm back. I took pictures.

We did lots of stuff. We didn't sleep or stay sober much, but we did see castles and villages and cliffs and pubs and leprechauns and harps and fairy bushes and all that celtic jazz. I can't thank Cherry Nut enough for the invitation, so thanks Cherry Nut. Thank you thank you thank you.

There isn't really any commentary on the pics, but here is a list of the things we did, and you can apply them to whatever pictures you want:

1. Stayed up for almost two days straight traveling and then walked the city of Dublin
2. Drank Bailey and Coffees at our first pub, called Pete's, where the soups of the day were Turnip Barley and Beef & Veg
3. Drank fresh Irish beers at a pub called Quay's and listened to a troubadour strum the latest hits by Coldplay
4. Saw the hotel that Bono owns
5. Had a sing-along or two
6. Saw the Book of Kells at Trinity College
7. Took pictures in a library where photography was prohibited
8. Drank lotsa Guinesses
9. Ate Fois Gras
10. Took a train ride across the country while experiencing the worstest hangover evar
11. Visited towns and villages like Limerick, Ennis and Howth
12. Did the Welchman Two-Fist
13. Drank at more than one pub called O'Donoghues
14. Saw Malahide Castle, where apparently no one was ever murdered
15. Slept at Dromoland Castle, where apparently no one was ever murdered
16. Learned to play snooker
17. Saw a doorway accessories store called Knobs and Knockers
18. Discovered that Europeans have their own equivalent to the Dollar Store, called the 2 Euro Store
19. Was serenaded by three Irish tenors, one who sang Danny Boy
20. Heard a jazz band massacre a Radiohead song
21. Saw the Cliffs at Moher where we wished for less wind
22. Swam at the castle pool
23. Took a steam with Kroggy
24. Drank 15 year old Irish Whiskey at the Four Seasons, and also partook of an authentic Irish Coffee
25. Spent way too much time in the Atlanta ~~armpit~~ err, airport

There was more, too. I'm sure bits and pieces will come back to me as time goes on.

Squid beak and whale vomit.

2006-01-25T15:31:00.000-06:00

While on my trip I was reading that science book that I keep blathering on about, and I came across this footnote:

The indigestible parts of giant squid, in particular, their beaks, accumulate in sperm whales' stomachs into the substance known as ambergris, which is used as a fixitive in perfumes... you may wish to reflect that you are dousing yourself in distillate of unseen sea monster.

So your Axe Body Spray is partially whale vomit. And squid beak. Anyway, by total coincidence, I also came across this article today:

Whale 'vomit' sparks cash bonanza

Just thought I'd share. I don't use the word "bonanza" enough. I'm amending my '06 new year's resolutions to include its usage.

Jealous much?

2006-01-22T10:09:00.000-06:00

This is where I am right now:

Dromoland Castle

The last few days in Dublin have severely tested my stamina, as well as my tolerance for alcohol. But you can bet I pulled through okay. Things I miss at home:

1. My Computer
2. My Bed
3. Sleeping
4. Proper Qwerty Keyboards
5. TV news that isn't about a whale getting stranded in the Thames.

Van Dammit that dude can dance.

2006-01-18T00:07:00.000-06:00

I was flipping past some bad E! channel expose show on Jean-Claude Van Damme this weekend when they happened to mention that he got his start as an actor in movies such as Breakin'. Try as I might, I had no recollection of Van Damme pop-lockin' along side the likes of Turbo and Ozone (or to a WAY lesser extent, Kelly), so tonight I finally remembered to perform my due diligence and I looked it up. It turns out that not only did he actually have a cameo in Breakin', but that someone was actually kind enough to make a video-capture of his scene and transpose it into animated GIF format for everyone to enjoy.

This is just a screencap, click here to view the animated GIF. It's big, but for some odd reason it's worth it:

You can also see more of his moves here.

I was a big fan of Breakin' as a third-grader, but who wasn't. I remember when the breakdancing fad hit its peak and some kids at school requested an audience for what promised to be a breakdancing extravaganza, so our principal, Sister Mary Ann, allowed them to perform in the gym during mid-morning recess. There ain't nothing like skipping recess in a catholic elementary school to watch twenty pre-teens compete for your attention by attempting the robot in front of a poorly painted cardboard brick wall. I remember that Sister Mary Ann had explicitly forbade any headspins, fearing the inevitable broken neck, but the Helicopter was fair game. I wish I had that on video. Thank god I didn't participate, cuz my knee-spin was subpar.

ps. I also found this clip of Van Damme dancin', although it ain't from Breakin'. It's just as hurl-inducing, though.

Testing

2006-01-18T00:05:00.000-06:00

This is a test to see if I can figure out how to post to my blog from Ireland via email with my crackberry because being disconnected from the internet for six whole days might kill me.

Autographs

2006-01-15T16:58:00.000-06:00

A PLEA FOR HELP:
A little over two years ago (December 7th, 2003 to be exact), I stalked Rufus Wainwright after a concert and got my ticket autographed. Then some mystery woman took a picture of us together and promised to mail it to me, but I never got it in the mail, nor did I get her name or contact information. All I know is that she worked at US Bank somewhere in Minneapolis. I've waited long enough. I want that picture. So if you know a current or former US Bank employee in Minneapolis who likes to make empty promises and is also a Rufus Wainwright fanatic, help a brother out.

As long as we're on the topic of autographs, I have a few others I should mention:

Anna Nicole Smith
Way before Anna was famous for slurring her speech and marrying an octogenarian, she was just a Guess model with less-big-yet-still-fake breasts. She came to the mall I was working at to promote jeans at the JC Penney, so on my scheduled 15-minute break I got a taco and went to meet her. This autograph is funny because it says "thanks for waiting" even though I was the only person there to see her. At the time I was embarrassed about munching on a taco in front of a supermodel (hey, my break was only 15 minutes, I had to multi-task), but had I known the trashy depths to which she would eventually sink I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. In fact I probably would have offered her a bite.

Carmen Electra
Way before she was on Baywatch or married to that mush-mouthed basketball player, Carmen Electra was just a Prince protege trying to put out her own rap record. B* and I were at Prince's club Glam Slam to attend a "Star Party" that I had won tickets to (featuring such amazing acts as John Secada, Shai, Expose, and Eddie Money, if you can handle it). Prince was nowhere in sight, but Carmen made a surprise appearance to promote her new single Go-Go Dancer. This autograph was signed mere minutes after she cartwheeled across the stage in a hot pink bikini while she rapped about being the life of the party:

I also have a autographs of Tuvok and B'Elanna Torres from Star Trek: Voyager that I acquired after B* dragged me to a couple sci-fi conventions. They are not scan-worthy. On the other hand, the pictures I took at the sci-fi-convention are extremely scan-worthy, but B* told me he would stab me in the face if they were ever released to the public, so I guess that's out.

I also got David Cassidy's autograph once, but I gave it to a friend. And I had every member of KISS sign a CD booklet for a coworker once, too. I believe that's the extent of my autograph collection, so I'll shut up now.

Atoms

2006-01-15T16:22:00.000-06:00

I've been on-again/off-again reading this rudimentary mass-market science book, A Brief History of Nearly Everything, for the past year now. It's a good book because I like that kind of nerdy science stuff, and because today I read this passage:

Because they are so long lived, atoms really get around. Every atom you possess has almost certainly passed through several stars and been part of millions of organisms on its way to becoming you. We are each so atomically numerous and so vigorously recycled at death that a significant number of our atoms - up to a billion for each of us, it has been suggested - probably once belonged to Shakespeare. A billion more each came from Buddha and Genghis Khan and Beethoven, and any other historical figure you care to name. (The personages have to be historical, apparently, as it takes the atoms some decades to become thoroughly redistributed; however much you may wish it, you are not yet one with Elvis Presley.)

Not to bring this admittedly mind-blowing concept to gutter level, but this means that little bitty parts of your body were once Alexander the Great's penis (which would make you part gay, by the way). You might like to think that some of your own personal atoms were also once part of Da Vinci's superior brain, or Chopin's nimble fingers, and that may very well be true, but you are also part Virginia Woolf vagina. Or you could be part of the fingernail that Caligula used to pick his crack. I could go on forever. Science is fun.

Religious people might want to believe that this makes them literally one with jesus (or maybe not, would that be sacrilegious?), but they would be forgetting that according to their tradition he eventually ascended into heaven, so none of his earthly atoms would remain, except for those in his foreskin as we have already learned.

I'm kind of bored today.

I lettered in Nerd.

2006-01-07T20:12:00.000-06:00

I went clearance shopping today and found myself at the dorm-room superstore: Urban Outfitters, where I saw this T-shirt for sale:

It was $28. I had five of these when I was in high school. Had I known there would be a market for ironic t-shirts in the future, I would have saved them and made a mint on eBay.

To repeat myself for the umpteenth time: I wasn't exactly popular in high school. In fact, after a disastrous transition from Catholic school to public school in the ninth grade, one of my well-meaning friends, Maurice, suggested that I join a group with him called Friends For Life. It would be fun, he assured me, help me meet people who wouldn't want to beat me up for a change, and perhaps even look good on a college resume. I thought "Ok! Friends For Life! Sounds great! God knows I could use some of those!" and I signed up. Little did I know that it was my school district's version of D.A.R.E. As in: Dare to Keep Kids Off Drugs. It's kinda funny how being desperate for friendship will make you do just about anything. No wonder these Al Qaeda jackasses find it so easy to find new recruits.

Now don't get me wrong, I know it's all good to keep the kids away from the naughty substances. I read A Million Little Pieces. I know where that road leads. But if there is anything that guarantees social suicide at a public high school more than joining the unionized anti-drug crusade, I don't know what it is. To make matters worse, my involvement with this group put me on the front page of the metro section of the local newspaper mere weeks after starting the tenth grade at my new school:

Yes, that's a mullet. Social death: accomplished.

What's funny is that I remained a member of this group throughout the duration of my high school career, and somehow got elected as secretary of the club, in spite of the fact that I didn't attend a single club meeting for the entire last year. Upon graduation, I discovered that my participation in this club had somehow earned enough points to qualify me for a letterman's patch in Friends for Life, a.k.a., DARE.

That's right, I lettered in Nerd:

Granted, this was 15 years ago, but it was a proud moment, to be sure. The real irony might come from the fact that my predecessor as club secretary died last year. His death was attributed to drug and alcohol abuse. Seriously. Friends For Life, indeed.

Mad Skillz

2006-01-11T17:36:00.000-06:00

I am awesome. My friend Homer-J just got a brand new job, and they took his picture at orientation. Another friend who happens to work at the same company saw it on their intranet and forwarded it to me. As a stupid joke, I photoshopped an open fly with a protruding shirt onto the front of his trousers, and emailed it back to Homer-J with the following message:

How embarrassing for you on your first day!
Did you walk around like that the whole time????
XYZ, BUDDY!

Apparently my photoshopping skills are completely awesome and utterly convincing, because upon receiving the picture, Homer-J panicked and called his brand new HR department to inform them of the embarrassing picture they were posting to the intranet, and then proceeded to have a confusing conversation with them about whether or not his barn door was open. It took a few minutes before it occurred to Homer-J to doublecheck the actual image on the intranet and realize he'd been hoodwinked. It may be an almost cruelly embarrassing thing to happen to a guy on his first week at a new job, but I am more proud of inciting this confusion than of anything I've done so far in 2006. I rule. Yay for being the cause of embarrassing mayhem.

Helpful Warning

2006-01-11T08:29:00.000-06:00

This was on boingboing last week and I think it's awesome:

It's a "beware of bumping head on sign" sign, and apparently it's real. It throws my head for a loop because it could be totally recursive and go on forever, like videotaping yourself in front of a television. I'm not making any sense, am I. Still, the apparent uselessness of such a sign is what makes me so happy that it exists.

The story of the sign can be found here.

The sincerest form of flattery.

2006-01-10T13:48:00.000-06:00

My friend B* just sent this to me, and I think it is all too appropriate considering the fact that tonight is the first new Gilmore Girls episode in almost two months.

When two TV obsessions collide:

Watch the clip.

A Slight Miscalculation

2006-01-03T20:06:00.000-06:00

Next time I'm having an obnoxious day where things just aren't going right, I'm going to watch this:

Breaking the Ice (500k .wmv, right click to download)

I especially love the astute comment from the audience member who correctly deduces that there may have been an issue with the distribution of weight.

The Best of Aught Five

2006-01-01T18:02:00.000-06:00

Now that the year is finally over, and I'm officially sick of all things xmas, I have compiled my Best of 2005 List because it's never to late to jump on a bandwagon. This is mostly just a good way of replacing the xmas songs in my jukebox with something more palatable, but click on the icon below to read about all the stuff I liked last year:

Or just listen to my Top 40 of '05 in the Jukebox on the right. ------>

100 Things You Don't Know

2005-12-30T07:06:00.000-06:00

BBC's 100 things we didn't know this time last year is more like 100 things BRITISH people didn't know this time last year, but still, it's got a lot of cool stuff in it:

8. Devout Orthodox Jews are three times as likely to jaywalk as other people, according to an Israeli survey reported in the New Scientist. The researchers say it's possibly because religious people have less fear of death.

Apparently their god doesn't hate rude people. They probably cross diagonally, too, just to prolong the annoyance.

10. Humans can be born suffering from a rare condition known as "sirenomelia" or "mermaid syndrome", in which the legs are fused together to resemble the tail of a fish.

Yikes:

17. Bosses at Madame Tussauds spent £10,000 separating the models of Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston when they separated. It was the first time the museum had two people's waxworks joined together.

I liked this one because I have a weird obsession with wax museums. I wonder if they had to melt them apart. And I wonder exactly where they were attached. Ahem.

20. The Queen has never been on a computer, she told Bill Gates as she awarded him an honorary knighthood.

That's too bad because it's fun to imagine the Queen sitting up all prim and proper at a computer, with one of those gelatin wrist-rests for comfort, updating her MySpace page or buying some Five for Fighting songs on iTunes.

41. Tactically, the best Monopoly properties to buy are the orange ones: Vine Street, Marlborough Street and Bow Street.

What kind of messed up Monopoly do they play over in England?

73. One in six children think that broccoli is a baby tree.

Awwwwww! Barf. Did they steal that one from a Family Circus cartoon?

Read 'em all and be smarter than the average British dolt.

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T00:55:00.000-06:00

My friends and I celebrated the arrival of aught six by eating some expensive beef and then playing some games. Confetti was thrown. Horns were blown.

Cherry Nut and I ring in the new year:

Cherry Nut gets sick of my shit:

Dang, ten minutes into the new year and I'm already grating on everyone's nerves. Actually, we all had a good time and I'm going to assume the camera simply caught Cherry Nut mid-blink, 30-seconds before she burst out laughing because I am so awesomely entertaining.

Anyway, Happy New Year!

Back into the Frying Pan

2005-12-29T23:40:00.000-06:00

How Republicans Are Like Michael Jackson Fans

Best Simile Ever

This should probably read "Bush Supporters" instead of "Republicans" but I didn't want to editorialize the guy.

Classy

2005-12-29T19:49:00.000-06:00

I came across this image a couple days ago and I'm speechless. Such exquisite craftsmanship. Such sophisticated beauty. Such tacky subjects.

[FP]

See More of these, because you know you're looking for ideas.

Of course, this made me curious and I had to go and do an image google search for "fingernails" to see what other grotesqueries might exist out there. Yikes. Between these and gem sweaters, you could create a beast to rival even the most hideous Homeric creation.

Symmetry

2005-12-30T17:36:00.000-06:00

My friend Brent has talked for years about some TV show he saw on cable one night about how the secret to beauty is a symmetrical face. Seems like a pretty obvious hypothesis, because no one likes a crooked face, but apparently all the great beauties in history have symmetrical faces, where it looks like one side of the face is simply reflecting the other. He claims they documented some experiment with babies and that the babies always preferred the symmetrical faces and that this somehow implies that a human's love for symmetrical beauty is hardwired at birth. Never mind how they manage to judge a baby's preference, lets get down to how this applies to me. The implication seems to be that if your face is symmetrical that you are attractive to other people, therefore if you reflect your face in photoshop, you can test out your level of beauty.

The results are kinda creepy and inconclusive. I'm not terribly asymmetrical, but I ain't so pretty either, no matter how you slice it. I guess babies are just stupid:

Normal

Mirrored Left

Mirrored Right

My ears are definitely wonky, though. That's just one more thing to avoid looking at in the mirror.

The last of the xmas parties.

2005-12-27T23:43:00.000-06:00

My friend Frank shares her birthday with the christ, which means she rarely gets to celebrate, so we made special plans to "one up the baby jesus with a rager at the Champps in Burnsville" on xmas night.

I am terribly photogenic.

Normally I blink with both eyes at the same time, I swear.

There was an 80's cover band playing, and they were actually pretty good. In fact, they were so good that they sounded exactly like the original songs no matter what they were performing, which led me to question why the bar didn't just buy a ghetto blaster, play some random 80's compilation CD, and call it a night. But I guess a live band always gets the crowd revved up, plus it means you can charge a seven dollar cover at a sports bar chain restaurant.

All the pics are here, but it will probably be hard to distinguish these pics from any of the other pics I usually post lately, and there are also these recent pics from when I went out for a fancy xmas meal a couple weeks ago with friends, which will really confuse you because I'm even wearing the same outfit. Next month I have Ireland on the roster, so if you're sick of pictures of beer bottles and dan's sweaty face then you have that to look forward to. Not that there won't be beer bottles and sweaty faces in Ireland.

Distractions

2005-12-27T17:08:00.000-06:00

I want to stop playing with this thing so bad, but I can't.

I also want to stop watching this over and over. (3MB .mov, right click to download)

It's amazing. Slow motion = drunkorz. I never realized it before.

My Gift to You

2005-12-25T10:11:00.000-06:00

This year I got my brothers and sisters some books for xmas. I love getting books as gifts, but I worry that some people might think they are boring, so I decided to spruce up the gifts with some handmade personalized holiday bookmarks:

Some people may think it's weird or solipsistic that I feel the need to put my own face on everything. Those people are just jealous.

I even hand-wove the tassles myself. That's right, I can finger-weave, bitches. And I'm proud of it. Anyway here is a slightly bigger PDF version of my bookmark that you can download for your own amusement, but you'll have to finger-weave your own tassles.

A Christmas Eve Miracle

2005-12-24T21:40:00.000-06:00

My roomie K-Mack and I exchanged xmas gifts early this morning, and apparently it was the year of the nearly-useless and wholly-unnecessary kitchen appliance, since she bought me a Quesadilla maker and I bought her an Egg McMuffin maker.

So tonight, as I watched A Christmas Story for the brazillianth time, I decided to test out my gift to her and make myself an Egg McMuffin for xmas eve dinner. Let me tell you what, the results were spectacular. And since I had nothing better to do, I documented my xmas eve miracle:

Seriously, this might be one of the best inventions, evar. It's a fairly sophisticated device, cooking the egg while toasting the muffin to a nice crispy brown. It even has a "meat warmer", but I didn't have any pre-cooked bacon to test out that functionality. We have no kitchen counter space for this device, but whatever... it's here to stay. Next up is a test run of the Quesadilla maker, as soon as I can get to the store to score some tortillas.

Damn You, Don Pablo's.

2005-12-24T16:14:00.000-06:00

A couple days ago, my department at work went out for some Mexican food at Don Pablo's, the Mexican Food Mega-Chain. I'm not the hugest fan, but I don't like to rock the boat when it comes to my coworkers' lunch choices. I ate my tacos and went about my business for the rest of the day, until I went to Target after work, over four hours later, to finish up some Christmas shopping. While waiting in line at the check-out, the little kid behind me started yanking on his mom's skirt and repeating loudly: "I smell tacos, mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy, I smell tacos, mommy. I smell tacos. I smell tacos, mommy." I sniffed my jacket and the smell was definitely emanating from me. I must have become accustomed to it, I guess. But the kid wouldn't shut up about smelling some damned tacos, and the cashier just stared at me while the little boy's mother, who obviously knew where the stink was coming from, tried to stifle him for my sake. Stupid Don Pablo's. You shouldn't have to take a shower after patronizing an eating establishment.

It was really embarrassing, but it also reminded me of this girl at my health club who always seems to occupy the treadmill next to me. She has angel-wing tattoos on her back shoulder blades, so she wears a low-hanging tank top to accentuate them; and even more distinctively, she always smells like corned beef. Every time I'm at the club, she winds up next to me on the treadmills in her wifebeater, running like mad, and stinking of lunch meat. I always figured that maybe that was just her natural odor, but I guess in light of my taco incident, I may have to rethink my theory. So, in the spirit of understanding, since it is Christmas Eve and all, I'm going to assume that she just eats at the deli every day and the fact that she smells like old cold cuts is actually not her fault at all. The benefit of the doubt will be my Christmas present to her. You're welcome, smelly tattooed jogging lady.

Maury Christmas

2005-12-22T13:06:00.000-06:00

I thought this was funny. Hats off to whomever made it.

[FP]

Is this in poor taste? Maury is such a crybaby bozo. I can't stand that guy.

My First Christmas Present

2005-12-22T08:32:00.000-06:00

My first Christmas present this year was a Nerf dart gun, which was given to me and all of my coworkers from another coworker. It shoots these foam darts that are tipped with mini-suction cups, but it's rather difficult to get the darts to actually stick to anything. Unless of course you are talking about my big greasy forehead:

I know my big head is an easy target, but when one dart actually stuck to my face, it wasn't necessary to laugh and point and snap camera phone pictures. That type of behavior is not in the spirit of the holiday.

Holiday Sweater

2005-12-22T08:22:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine was doing a google image search for "Holiday Sweater" when he came across someone familiar. Me:

See For Yourself

That's the FIRST page of results, bitches! Check out that mother/daughter matching sweater combo. I'm in good company.

Anyway, that image is from last year's holiday party.

Party Time!

2005-12-19T21:58:00.000-06:00

This is the worst picture of me ever, at my company's recent holiday party, as the boss' wife ties a shiny gold ribbon in my hair.

Sadly, I wasn't drunk. Just starved for attention.

Punished for Being Shallow

2005-12-19T21:26:00.000-06:00

I went to the gym today. While changing into my work-out clothes in the locker room, a fellow exerciser initiated some random chit chat. He asked me how often I've been working out, whether or not I've had any muscle problems, and if I do a lot of cardio. Then he asked me how fast I run on the treadmill and for how long. The real answer is six miles per hour for 25 minutes. Five minutes of which is cool-down. But for some obviously shallow reason, I told him 6.5 miles per hour for 30 minutes. It was just a small fib, I thought. Then I left his company to go start my work-out.

Thirty seconds after I started my run, I looked in the mirror to see that my new locker room friend had taken position on the stair-stepper, right behind me and to the left. So there he was, literally towering just over my shoulder, with a perfectly clear view of my treadmill pedometer, which of course meant I actually had to run at a steady 6.5 miles per hour for the full 30 minutes. It almost killed me. My sweat-drenched shirt was clinging to my chest and stomach and my mouth was permanently agape as I fought for air. All the color drained from my face. My footfalls sounded like galloping clydedales. It was ugly.

It was kinda like he was Daryl Zero and I was Ryan O'Neal and he was just testing me as a way of judging my character. That's a really good movie, by the way. Anyway, lesson learned. Don't be shallow like dan.

Then to add insult to (literal) injury, I passed him while leaving the club and he held out his hand. In retrospect, I now recognize that it was just supposed to be a friendly wave, but I mistook it as an invitation for a high-five. Then midway through raising my hand to slap his, I realized my mistake, and that split-second of hesitation made me unsure of how to compensate, so I ended up doing a weird half-squeeze-handshake/half-high-five thing with this guy I barely know in the lobby of my health club.

I'm really not a high-five type of person anyway, so I should have resisted to begin with. Oh well. Lesson learned. Don't be socially retarded like dan.

Butt Face

2005-12-19T16:58:00.000-06:00

Someone got to my site by doing a google search for "can you get sick from using the same bar of soap for both your butt and your face?" I have no idea why. I can't actually remember ever posting about soapy butts, but google is a mystery. Anyway, I thought it was funny at first, but then I got curious. What if you can get sick from using the same bar of soap for both your butt and your face? If someone else is concerned about it, then should I be? K-Mack and I often share a bar of soap, should I be worried about her butt getting on my face? So I duplicated the search on google, but got no concrete answer. All I got was an ad for this two-sided bar of soap that is conveniently labeled so that you don't even have to worry about it:

Makes great stocking stuffers. I really don't appreciate the brown color of the "butt" side, though.

Screw You, Face Recognizer!

2005-12-14T12:27:00.000-06:00

I found out about some online face recognition software that can compare your face with thousands of celebrities and well-to-dos. Of course I wanted to know what dashing young movie stars I resembled, so I uploaded my picture. Well, screw you myheritage.com!

Who the hell is Melvin Calvin? Then I thought that this would be a good test to see how accurate my Prince costume was from last Halloween. So I uploaded that picture, and it confirmed my fears: I looked more like Captain Jack than The Artist Formerly.

Dirrty.

A Fresh Start

2005-12-13T23:51:00.000-06:00

After all the posts about panty-sniffing and vestigial tails and sexed-up trekkies, I'm feeling like I need to cleanse the blog palate again, so here is Jedi Jesus, which I figure will do double duty because it will also pacify the creationists I offended earlier in the week:

Too much? Okay, maybe you prefer a baby hippo?

Still no? How about this. It doesn't get any more innocuous than this:

I suppose I could just post pictures of whale penises. Again.

Jeesh, I don't know what you guys want.

Panties

2005-12-13T23:21:00.000-06:00

I'm confused about these photoshopped pictures. They were either done by anti-Republicans who want to make the Bush Administration seem like perverts and panty-sniffers, or they were done by fetishists, who have a thing for both Republicans and panties. Or perhaps they are bi-partisan. Either way, I think they are funny, but I found them on a site that did not explain their existence, which is maddening.

Not that it comes up in conversation a lot, but I am not allowed to use the word "panties" in front of K-Mack and J-Balls. They are repulsed by it. They also don't like the word "moist," and if you mix the two words together they practically have seizures. I myself don't have any word phobias, but I do get oddly uncomfortable when someone orders a Pot Pie at a restaurant. I seriously hate those things at a primordial level.

p.s. Of course blogger doesn't recognize the word "fetishist." Blogger is such a prude. Either that or it has word phobias, too.

2005: A Year In Review

2005-12-13T21:31:00.000-06:00

I tried to think back and reflect on the year in broad strokes. But this is all I can come up with that is worth remembering, in chronological order:

February - Got Mono
March - Turned 30, had a Fondu
April - Saw The Decemberists in Concert, Scored a Tambourine
May - Got My House Stuccoed, Spiraled into Debt
June - Got Named One of the Country's Top 50 Bachelors by People Magazine. (Oh wait, that wasn't me.)
June thru September - Clearly Did Nothing Memorable All Summer
October - Attended a 70's Party, Wore Broad Leather Lapels in Public
October - Visited Hawaii, Attended J-Ball's Wedding, Got a Monster Ear Ache
October - Was Prince for Halloween, Took Too Many Pictures of It
November - Got Invited to Ireland in Ought Six
December - Nothing Yet, But I'll Let You Know if Anything Worthwhile Transpires

Man, broad strokes are almost depressing. Not that I was hoping for much more, because honestly it was a pretty good year, and the fun parts are in the details. Plus, my site stats for Ought Five are much more optimistic:

I can't account for the latest spike in popularity, but I like the trend. I'm seeing big things in '06.

Happy Holidays

2005-12-13T20:57:00.000-06:00

The Bushes might be too afraid to wish you a Merry Christmas this year, but Spock and Kirk are beholden to no man:

I think it's funny there is a huge subculture that likes to imagine that Spock and Kirk were more than just Best Shipmates Forever, and that this subculture is very into making Fan Art depicting their obsessions. This one in particular is a personal favorite. I'm sure the accompanying story is fascinating. It's a pretty tame picture, but I have no idea whether or not that type of thing could ever be considered suitable for viewing at work. Probably more suitable than a naked baby with a vestigial tail, though.

If you actually want to see more of that, a google search for "Star Trek Fan Art" is your friend.

Creationists be Damned

2005-12-11T22:13:00.000-06:00

My friend Stacy was complaining about her ailing tail bone the other day. She believes it is bumpier than the average tail bone and therefore causes her discomfort when she sits. I joked that perhaps it was the start of a vestigial tail, just because I knew it would make her uneasy. Then the very next day I came across this picture:

[You can read about this baby if you want, he's supposedly reincarnated from a Hindu god]

This piqued my curiosity, so then of course I unfortunately googled "vestigial tail" and saw many things that I didn't want to see. [Both of those links could probably be considered NSFW, especially that last one, ugh.]

Then I got to thinking about how Creationists must hate vestigial tails, because they seem to be pretty clear indicators of human evolution. But those sly creationists are quite capable of reinforcing their own delusions, and it turns out they've already tried to debunk that theory of mine, however unconvincingly.

But then I came across this collection of Things Creationists Hate, which I found very informative and illuminating.

Anyway, all of this reminds me of why I love The Family Guy:

Um, no offense to any creationist planetdan readers. Ahem.

Subliminable

2005-12-11T22:01:00.000-06:00

I think this comic is funny.

It kinda reminds me of this.

More Remixed Trailers

2005-12-10T19:58:00.000-06:00

Like I said, I've been out of commission for a week, which in internet time is closer to a year, which means I'm so far behind that everything I post will most likely be old hat. So I'm sure everyone on the planet has seen this but me, but it looks like that remixed The Shining trailer that I posted about a couple months ago has created a trend, like in this remixed Big trailer for example:

Big: Have You Ever Had a Big Secret?
[rightclick to download]

And less effectively but more appropriate to the season, in this remixed A Christmas Story trailer:

A Christmas Gory

That Big trailer really creeps me out. Especially the end, because if they are implying what I think they are implying with that last shot of the stuff sprayed all over that kid's face, then they are REALLY dirty. I will never look at Tom Hanks in the same way again.

Blogging Absence

2005-12-10T19:12:00.000-06:00

I swear I don't drink that much. But don't think I haven't noticed that most of the personal pictures and stories that I've posted over the last couple years have involved me holding a drink, me drinking a drink, or me doing something really stupid/embarrassing after holding and drinking a drink. It just so happens that I, along with the majority of the over-and-underage planet, do the stupidest and/or most noteworthy things when I'm feeling uninhibited and inebriated, and therefore those are the stories that get told most often. But in order to avoid having the reputation of being an alcoholic or being the type of person who can only have fun while drinking, I was going to make a conscious effort to avoid alcohol-related stories for a short while.

Having said that, the reason I haven't posted in a week is because I was too sick with a cold during the first half, and too hungover during the second. For real. Three day hangover. I'm never drinking again. Or at least until my work holiday party next Wednesday.

I normally don't drink during the week. But on Wednesday I somehow found myself on the receiving end of a pyramid scheme pitch, something akin to Amway but proffering "the unparalleled profitability of e-Commerce!", and so I may have had one-too-many in order to preoccupy myself so as not to be forced into slitting my own wrists. When I told the presenter that I was uninterested in participating because it all seemed just "too pyramid schemey" for me, I didn't get a good response. What's interesting is that the very next night, my friend B* had a similar experience when he was invited to what he described as a "cultish" self-empowerment seminar, something akin to Scientology but proferring absolutely nothing concrete in return for your $500 enrollment fee. And he also did not get a very good response when he asked his fellow seminar attendees when they would be serving the Kool-Aid. But don't worry, B*, it's hard to really sell a good Jonestown joke. It was probably just your delivery.

But back to me, I suffered through Thursday feeling a bit hungover only to attend a work function on Thursday night, telling myself that a little hair-of-the-dog wouldn't hurt me. But I had much more than the hair of the dog, I had the whole goddamned hide. So yesterday and today have been less than enjoyable for me.

But I did finish all of my Christmas shopping.

Bitches Love Me

2005-11-29T21:31:00.000-06:00

My friend's dog:

He's a cute dog, so the bitches probably do indeed love him. On the other end of the spectrum, and in case you haven't heard, that crazy ugly demon dog died of old age last week. They interviewed his owner on CNN today and admittedly it was pretty sad.

Don't worry though, because when one spectacularly unattractive dog dies, there is always another one waiting in the wings to take it's place. For instance, I'm expecting big things out of this ugly little fella:

[thanks alivicwil]

The Cost of Being Dashing

2005-12-04T21:27:00.000-06:00

My suit cost me $540. I don't live a fancy-suit kind of lifestyle. In the three years that I've owned it – and including the two recent formal events I've attended – I've worn it approximately ten times. That brings the cost-per-use ratio down to $54. Still far from a bargain in my opinion. I figure I'll have to wear this suit at least twenty more times to make it reasonable. And be buried in it.

Lucky Charms

2005-12-04T22:38:00.000-06:00

Cherry Nut invited me to her work's annual holiday function last Friday. I've attended the same party for the last four years now, either as her date or K-Mack's. Free drinks + free food + good people = yes please.

Cherry Nut won an award for outstanding service and dedication to her company which came with an all-expenses-paid trip for two to Ireland. She hastily invited me on the trip with her, but the amount of wine that had been drunk pre-invitation made me skeptical that it was sincere or that it would be remembered, so I made her repeat the invitation when her elusive sobriety returned. K-Mack's fella also won a trip, so it looks like we'll all be visiting the rolling green hills of Ireland come January. It's true that I wanted to vomit from excitement, but for the record it was not me who threw up in the mens' room urinal.

To celebrate, I loaded up on more wine and mashed potatoes at the ~~buffet~~ "interactive serving station", and then I hit the dance floor. Heck, it wasn't my company party.

What is that white glare on my face in all those dance floor pictures? You might guess that it's a reflection on the camera lens, or that some of my mega-pixels are wonky. But nope. It's just the camera flash reflecting in the glistening, dance-induced sweat that was literally pouring from my brow. In retrospect, I may have celebrated a wee bit too hard on the dance floor. Save it for Dublin, dan.

Of course, they probably don't play Love Shack there. And thank god that Cherry Nut can't work a camera when she's over-imbibed, because she almost caught my cringe-worthy dance performance on video. But that's a beautiful singing voice you got there, Cherry Nut.

At the after-party bar, my friend T-Bone showed up, traded his shirt for some lady's fluffy scarf, and stumbled back out into the cold Minneapolis night. I'm not sure who got the raw end of that deal, but I don't care, because I'm going to Ireland. Thanks Cherry Nut! Although, it's kinda not fun to tell people you have been invited on a free trip to Ireland, because it makes everybody hate you.

Here's lotsa pics of the night, if you care. You can thank me for deleting the picture I took of the vomit-filled urinal.

Bipolar Illusion

2005-12-01T22:46:00.000-06:00

Look at this creepy image, then get up, walk across the room, and look at it again. The mad guy is now happy, and the happy guy is now mad.

And just in case you are lazy or shameful and you can't muster the strength to walk across your room or office to view this illusion from afar, you can see that it works just by looking at this thumbnail, but it's not nearly as cool:

I'm all about cheap parlor tricks. I can't remember where I found this, though. I'm really good at the right-click and saving, just not so good with the remembering of things.

The beginning of the end.

2005-12-01T22:35:00.000-06:00

It's happening. They're taking over.

"They are said to have scampered off at the sight of humans, some carrying pieces of flesh."

Smells Like Crazy

2005-12-01T08:15:00.000-06:00

K-Mack is K-razy.

-----Original Message-----
From: "K-Mack" [mailto:]
To: [dan@planetdan.net]
Date: Wed, 30 Nov 2005 15:22:48 -0600

Do you ever smell something that reminds you of something really super obscure? I don't know what it was, but I just got a whiff of something that totally reminded me of the time we went to see The Crying Game, well, not really about how we went, just the Crying Game itself. So strange.

-----Original Message-----
From: Dan [mailto:dan@planetdan.net]
Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 3:34 PM
To: K-Mack
Subject: RE:

I don't even want to know what The Crying Game smells like.

-----Original Message-----
From: "K-Mack" [mailto:]
To: [dan@planetdan.net]
Date: Wed, 30 Nov 2005 16:08:48 -0600

It's a little fruity, and kinda spicy.

Subversively Conquering the Internet

2005-11-30T11:55:00.000-06:00

Sometimes when a client doesn't want to pay a model or stock photo company for the rights to use a photo, I get to throw myself into the mix cuz I kindly grant the use of my image for free. Like in this banner ad:

So keep an eye out for dan. I'll be like the Alfred Hitchcock of the web.

Indoor Pool

2005-11-30T08:27:00.000-06:00

My sister has an indoor pool. I'm incredibly jealous of her, in spite of the fact that the god of irony has made her allergic to it. I don't like public pools out of fear of what people are doing in them, and I don't like lakes because of whatever fishy mysteries lie in their murky depths. The ocean has sharks and therefore panic attacks, so I usually only get to swim in personal pools like my sister's. My house is way too small to accommodate such a pool, but I think I may have found a solution from this guy:

I'd just have to reinforce my floor and buy a dehumidifier. What could possibly go wrong?

A Kick Ass Christmas '05

2005-11-25T09:57:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving, my least favorite holiday, is also one of the most exciting days of the year, because it is the eve of the release of my annual Christmas Mix of musical awesomeness. I really like Xmas music, and this year I think I outdid myself with the playlist. It may be a little Sufjan heavy, but screw it, this is my mix and I can play whatever I want. Planetdan's only got one DJ, and it's me.

1. I Saw Three Ships by Sufjan Stevens
2. My Favorite Things by Herb Alpert
3. Father Christmas by The Kinks
4. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by The Ray Conniff Singers
5. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing by Sufjan Stevens
6. Constant Raincheck by Sundae Club
7. Marshmallow World by Dean Martin
8. Happy Holidays by Percy Faith
9. I Wish You a Merry Christmas by Big Dee Irwin
10. Put the Lights on the Tree by Sufjan Stevens
11. Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring by Dr. Elmo
12. Frosty the Snowman by Esquivel
13. Home for the Holidays by Perry Como
14. It’s Christmas Time by The Carpenters
15. Little Drummer Boy by The Ray Conniff Singers
16. A Rockin’Jingle Bells by The Partridge Family
17. Once in Royal David’s City by Sufjan Stevens
18. A Soalin’ by Peter Paul and Mary
19. We Need a Little Christmas by Percy Faith
20. Frosty the Snowman by Fiona Apple
21. The Friendly Beasts by Sufjan Stevens
22. What are you Doing New Years Eve? by Rufus Wainwright
23. A Party for Poppa Santa by Bing Crosby + The Andrew Sisters
24. Joy to the World by The Moog Machine

What's even better is that unlike last year, I now I have the JUKE BOX on the right side of this site, so for the month of December, it will feature my Kick Ass Christmas '05 on eternal loop. Spreading the joy, bitches!

RIP Arnold

2005-11-25T08:13:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning and turned on CNN to hear:

"The man who taught the karate kid how to wax off has died..."

It was the first time I ever realized that "wax off" sounds suspiciously like "whacks off". Is this a joke I've been missing for years? Is that why people are always quoting that part of the movie? Does "sweep the leg" have a lascivious double meaning as well? What else have I been missing out on? Jeesh, and I thought I was pretty adept at catching the double entendres.

Anyway, RIP Mr. Miyagi:

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

2005-11-24T19:34:00.000-06:00

Holy crap, it's a Thanksgiving deja-vu miracle! Last year I commented about my family's Thanksgiving Day traditions of low-class dining and rented-footwear sportsmanship. So after today's festivities, I went back into my archives to compare bowling scores, and although I didn't realize it at the time, the similarities between this year and last are downright eerie:

- Same Bowling Alley/Restaurant
- Same Sutter Home White Zin
- Same Make-Shift Bluecheese Burger
- Same Relishing in the Senior Discount
- Same Madam Von Bighair:

(And again, if you're out there, Madam Von Bighair, there is truly no offense implied. In fact, it's a pleasure to see you there year after year. Just like some people find solace in green bean casserole on Thanksgiving, I find comfort in your impossibly high coiffure.)

- And last but not least, same exact high bowling score by dan:

That's right! 144, bitches!

Next year I might shake things up by substituting a baked potato for the fries.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING.

Turkey Trot

2005-11-24T19:00:00.000-06:00

Today I got up at 7am to run 3-point-whatever miles in below-zero-windchill temperatures through the streets of downtown Minneapolis along with my friends and 7,000 other crazy people. It's affectionately called the Turkey Trot. Your reward is a banana at the finish line.

I thought I would be able to keep up with Stacy but she quickly left me in the dust. I finished the race about a minute behind her, and she finished the race in approximately 26 minutes:

For some reason, they gave us all the same racing numbers, which defeated their purpose. It was cold as hell, which I guess you should expect at the end of November in Minnesota:

And it was early. And we had all been up late drinking the night before because we are not very good at proper training or taking things seriously:

And Bert and Ernie were there:

I think it's pretty telling that in Minneapolis we get Sesame Street characters as mascots, but at the NYC Marathon, they get Giant Testicles.

Giant, hairy, happy running testicles. [thanks monkeyface]

Rampant zombie consumerism!

2005-11-21T23:37:00.000-06:00

Where to find the bestest shopping deals this coming Friday:

Black Friday, 2005: The Book of Shadows

So, if you want to spend a day rubbing ass to gut with god knows who and seeing WAY more stirrup-pant/T-shirt combo outfits than you ever thought possible, then going to Wal-Mart on Black Friday Morning may just be the adventure you've been looking for. Plus, you could score a non-brand-name DVD player for, like, thirty bucks.

Personally, I can't think of anything that looks less fun than this (except perhaps having my eyeball eaten out by ants):

Wait, that last one is from the Katrina aftermath. And one of them might be from the Parisian riots. But still, I'm staying home that day. Better safe than sorry.

Fountain Soda Faux-Pas

2005-11-21T23:28:00.000-06:00

I had lunch today with an old co-worker. Last time I saw him, he was hardcore exercising and dieting in preparation for his upcoming wedding. We talked at length about calorie counting, a practice I routinely denounce because calories taste so damned good. So at the restaurant today, while waiting in line at the self-serve fountain-soda station, I thought he was standing behind me, and when I saw him approaching the Cherry Coke spigot with an extra-jumbo soda cup, I decided to be (not-so) funny and exclaim "Woah there! That ain't diet!"

But of course it wasn't my old coworker. It was some understandably offended stranger who gave me the stink-eye and then quickly shuffled off before I could explain my confusion. Luckily, he wasn't that out of shape, but whoever he was, I hope he's not overly sensitive. If he is, then I probably totally ruined his Thanksgiving dinner. Because when a random stranger implies that you should be counting your calories, some people might consider that a wake-up call.

Sometimes extra ugly = cutesy wootsy.

2005-11-20T21:14:00.000-06:00

This little guy is equal parts ugly, creepy, and cute. Something about his human-like hands makes me queasy, and his male-pattern baldness reminds me of Wallace Shawn.

[fp]

There are more pictures. Apparently his mama is a little over-doting when it comes to his grooming.

Climb Every Mountain

2005-11-21T06:15:00.000-06:00

This is all inspirational and shit.

Someone needs to make a Successories poster of this, stat.

Frisky.

2005-11-20T21:23:00.000-06:00

J-Balls' wedding reception was this weekend.

If you liquor-up dan and put him in a suit he gets kissy kissy.

And hoppy hoppy.

And he invades everyone's personal space.

I knew the bride when she used to let me rub my face on her face.
Oh wait, she still does.

Anyway, congrats J-Balls.

That just ain't right.

2005-11-20T20:51:00.000-06:00

I don't know what creepy erectile dysfunction spamming list I've been listed on or how they got my email address, but I found this in my inbox last week. What's underneath the planetdan-imposed censorship bars is rather graphic. I really don't understand the marketing demographic they are trying to appeal to here. Perhaps the impotent-pedophile-animation-fan target market is larger than I think.

Cleaning out my camera phone.

2005-11-15T23:41:00.000-06:00

I was cleaning out my camera phone recently to prepare for the arrival of my new communication device. My place of employment is donating our old phones to battered women's shelters. A noble cause indeed, but the thought of battered women sifting through my old photos creeped me out a bit, so I forwarded them all to my home email and erased the phone memory. I was thinking about replacing them with something that a battered woman might enjoy, but honestly I just couldn't put myself in their headspace. Anyway, going through those pics was like a walk down memory lane:

• Um, no comment.
• Um, no comment.
• Um, no comment.
• Um, no comment.
• Har Mar Superstar Live!
• Um, no comment.

Good times.

The worst news story ever.

2005-11-16T00:30:00.000-06:00

I've never read anything so horrible in my entire life.

Speaking of ants, I ate an entire bowlful once. For serious. It was a decade ago, and I was living in my parents house. I was eating my morning breakfast and with every single mouthful I would think to myself, "these peanut butter puffs taste funky," but I was too preoccupied with reading the newspaper to actually look down and investigate. Finally, after the final bite, my eyes glanced downward to see some foreign-looking floaters in my leftover milk. Then I looked over at the box of opened cereal, still on the kitchen table, and saw thousands of tiny grease ants swarming out of the box. I've honestly blacked-out the next few moments that would recall my subsequent reaction. I don't believe there was vomiting, but I do remember swallowing enough Listerine to consider a phone call to poison control. But now I can look back at that horrifying day and think: at least they didn't eat my eyeball.

Return of the GG posts.

2005-11-15T23:33:00.000-06:00

I was consciously trying to avoid Gilmore Girls posts, just because my obsession has already been over-documented, but out of all the Halloween costumes I saw online this year, my favorite might be the Rory:

I wish I knew this guy.

As for tonight's episode, it was top notch, except I'm going to claim amnesia if anyone ever mentions the introduction of Luke's surprise 12-year-old daughter, otherwise regretful thoughts of jumped sharks and such might thrust me into a major funk. It all just smacks a little too much of cousin Oliver (or the red-headed southern-fried step-son on Diff'rent Strokes, says Brent). I'm just crossing my fingers that was an extended dream sequence and that Luke will wake up sweaty and startled in next week's opener.

The Truffle Shuffle

2005-11-16T00:39:00.000-06:00

I'm only posting this image to cleanse my blog palate from that last post about the ants and the eyeball.

Disney Riot

2005-11-14T00:22:00.000-06:00

Brookdale was the mall of my adolescence. It has since gone a little downhill, but in its heyday it was... still kinda crappy. I was in the area visiting my parents so it took the promise of a Marshall Fields 13-Hour Sale to get me to step foot inside again. As I was hunting for an eye-pleasing tie and dress-shirt combo for an upcoming formal event, I heard a ruckus in the mall atrium. Turns out Radio Disney was hosting an event at the mall for what seemed like a brazillion children, ages 5 to 15. I stood and watched the DJ as he labored through his MC duties, trying to mask his own self-pity. He attempted to give away prizes in a half-baked trivia session that went something like this:

DJ: We give away prizes everyday on Radio Disney! Who knows what you need to know to win a prize?
Child 1: The Answer!
DJ: Yes, but that's not the answer I'm looking for. We ask for something specific...
Child 2: The Question!
DJ: No... we say it all day long!
Child 3: A Guess!
DJ: A Guess? No...
Child 4: A Song!
DJ: Yes we play songs all day long, but that's not the answer I'm looking for...
Child 5: Music!

This went on for ten minutes. The DJ eventually gave up and announced that the next musical act would be some cheezy band I'd never heard of called B5. A million little girl screams erupted in unison and I thought, "I'm outta here." I'm kinda sorry that I trusted my instincts, because apparently five minutes after I left, things got interesting:

Boy Band Causes Chaos At Suburban Mall

What my hyperbolic local news referred to as a "Mall Riot" has since been downgraded in the national news to a "Girl Frenzy". Kinda like when a Hurricane is cruelly downgraded to Tropical Depression. Either way, it would have been exhilarating to witness. Oh well. Next time. There's always the video.

I think "Girl Frenzy" would make a better boy-band name than B5.

Liquid Cereal - Serious Effing Nay

2005-11-12T22:18:00.000-06:00

When email was getting ubiquitous in the late nineties and all those stupid viral email rumors were spreading and people actually believed that they could get a dollar from Bill Gates every time they forwarded an email, I decided to start my own rumor to see if it would catch on. I decided to spread the rumor that they were developing Peanut Butter Coke that would be test marketed in Twin Cities grocery stores. Seemed believable enough, but I only knew about five people, so disseminating the rumor proved difficult and it died a fast death. Anyway, today I saw this and nearly barfed:

It's close enough to Peanut Butter Coke, I think, and even more disgusting in concept. You can read reviews of the stuff here, like this one:

With a slight thickness to its body, this product also feels somewhat like cereal in your mouth. The greenish color is probably our biggest issue with this product as green colored milk is typically a sign of some sort of problem.

I'll say there is some sort of problem here. Grody.

Honestly, though, Saw 1 sucked.

2005-11-10T22:30:00.000-06:00

This site is pissed off that the marketing team behind this fall's must-see horror event didn't have the foresight to take advantage of a unique situation, so they made their own poster:

It doesn't take much to please dan. Actually, the entire Serious Danger site is very entertaining. I especially liked this post as well as the beautiful simplicity of this love poem:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
One of you I'm about to totally go to school on.

Peeeyamped.

2005-11-10T22:15:00.000-06:00

I wouldn't say I have a phobia of big primary-colored plastic toddler toys, but I can definitely say that you won't ever actually catch me touching one and that I fear they harbor obscene amounts of festering bacteria. I'm not a germaphobe or anything, but seriously, check out the nasty smudge marks in that "Before" picture.

Pimped Out:

Ahhh, much better. Makes me breathe a sigh of relief. If you can't see the grubby kid smudges, then they don't exist.

See it bigger and better here.

[FP. I have no idea where this originated. If someone wants to take credit, please do cuz it's real nice work.]

Blue Balls Yay!

2005-11-10T22:07:00.000-06:00

I could watch this all day. And the accompanying sound track makes me even happier.

Blue Balls, Yay!

[via grow-a-brain]

Cooter Charged

2005-11-09T23:16:00.000-06:00

Hmm. This one hit a little too close to home:

Son charged in quadruple murder

Just an excerpt:
His brother-in-law... was attacked from behind and beaten to death in his family room as he worked on a computer... His sister was fatally bludgeoned in the foyer of her home.

Hours later, he allegedly returned to his parents' Naperville home and fatally shot them as they slept... each died of bullet wounds to the head.

Dude's been at my house. I even have a picture of his backside (nsfw).

For the sci-fi nerds, wrestler-turned-actor fans, and anti-republicans.

2005-11-09T00:21:00.000-06:00

Found online. If you understand this reference, please please please don't quote that "I'm all out of bubblegum" line. Please.

[FP]

If you don't understand it, start here.

Gutter Mind

2005-11-07T18:39:00.000-06:00

My mom is the queen of the unintentional sexual entendre. I never call attention to it, though, in fear she won't understand and force me to explain, so I have to internalize the juvenile chuckling. I've started keeping a list. Here are a few of my favorites:

"I don't care what kind of action I'm getting, just as long as I'm getting some action."
This was in regards to the quality and voracity of her electronic toothbrush.

"With any luck, he'll rub off on you."
This one was funny because it had no context. It was a random non-sequitur. Yeah, keep your fingers crossed, ma. Dirty.

"Do you have a broom? Because I want to fill your cracks and holes."
I shouldn't mock her. She was simply offering to sweep sand in between some bricks to ensure the integrity of my patio.

It seems her awkward utterances are pretty constant. Or maybe I just got a gutter mind and can make anything seem dirty. I dunno. Of course, I'm guilty of the unintentional entendre myself. For instance, the other day I was craving one of K-Mack's famous hotdog-wrapped-in-a-Pillsbury-crescent-role conconctions, but she seemed reticent to bake them for me, so I became impatient and said "C'mon, just crack open that tube and stick a wiener in it."

Forget it. I guess my emotional development is stunted at the Junior High level.

Least Reputable Charities

2005-11-07T17:14:00.000-06:00

From McSweeneys. The sad thing is that they screwed up the really nerdy l33t speak joke and so I had to fix it, because I am the biggest computer nerd ever. (They had "l77t" instead of "l33t", or even the uber-nerdy "1337", as if I expect anyone to have any idea what I'm talking about). Speaking of l33t speak, this Jeopardy dude was king of the internet nerds. Anyway, I thought this was funny in spite of their obvious error:

Least Reputable Charities
BY LUCAS COX

Doctors Without Credentials

Habitat for Sean Hannity

Red Cross—Undisclosed Location in the Cayman Islands Division

United l33t d00d College Fund

Feed the Children (to Other Children)

Oxporn

Why animals are better/smarter than dan.

2005-11-06T23:42:00.000-06:00

I can barely stay upright on a trampoline. This goat has more natural balance than dan:

[If you want, you can read about why a boy is jumping on a trampoline with a goat.]

Unlike dan, this dancing goat would probably never punch his fist into the air during a Guns n' Roses song no matter how much he drank:

[Sadly, I don't know the origin of this photo.]

Dan can't water-ski and is afraid to try:

[This cat actually has a better physique than dan, too.]

Unlike this kangaroo, dan would probably lose in any fight, and has no idea how to throw a punch:

[Dan isn't afraid of getting his picture taken, tho.]

Regretting The Dan Sandwich

2005-11-06T22:39:00.000-06:00

What started out as a simple company-wide training-session/happy-hour on how to use our new Blackberry cell phones ended with me at a downtown club, over-imbibed, drenched in sweat, dancing to Guns n' Roses Welcome to the Jungle with one of my project managers.

A lot of the evening is hazy, but my most vivid memory involves me on the dance floor, thrusting my fist skyward (to the beat of course), and repeatedly yelling "punch it, punch it, punch it!" with every forceful thrust.

Even worse, my rowdy friends were also in attendance. So by the end of the evening, my pal T-Bone had licked my boss' shaved head, thrown up in the alley, and forcefully invented something called a "Dan Sandwich" which is basically just a very awkward group hug with Dan in the middle.

All walls between professional and private life are hereby demolished.

Songs and stuffs.

2005-11-04T01:17:00.000-06:00

I put new songs in my jukebox. Mostly for my own selfish benefit. I needed new tunes for the weekend. I will miss The Owls, but it was time for something new.

And yeah, I put a Marilyn Manson song in there. I don't care what anybody says, his alien glam rock Mechanical Animals phase was awesome. On the other hand, his urine drinking Antichrist Superstar stuff is way less interesting to me. And you might think that the new Radiohead song sounds just like another funeral dirge, but the ending kills me every time. So pretty.

Also, I really recommend the new Metric and Ladytron CDs. Thems good bands. And although I put a Super Furry Animals and an OK Go song on there, I don't really recommend the full CDs. They are both kind of meh.

Pop goes the weasel.

2005-11-02T17:29:00.000-06:00

When we were in grade school, K-Mack had a rabbit hutch in her backyard. Separated in the rabbit hutch were two of the biggest male rabbits I'd ever seen, which K-Mack's brother had caught in a neighborhood arboretum. Strategically placed under the hutch was a sled that was overflowing with all of the rabbit poop that would sift through the hutch's chicken-wire flooring. And when you let the poor things out to play, they just humped anything and everything in sight, mostly each other.

In spite of all the poop, humping bunnies can be cute, I guess.
[FP]

K-Mack gets embarrassed when I tell that story. I think she worries that people think she was mistreating animals by forcing two helpless bunnies to live hovering mere inches above a mountain of their own waste.

She also gets embarrassed when I tell people that she has had sex dreams about Elvin from the Cosby Show:

And I Am Funky. Aarrrrrrgh.

2005-10-30T19:57:00.000-06:00

Last night was the Halloween party. K-Mack said my Prince costume ended up looking more like Johnny Depp in The Pirates of the Caribbean than the '80s icon, and she was right, but I still think I got the point across:

I was most proud of the lace socks I found to match my ensemble:

The only real problem is that I didn't bother to practice any Prince dance moves or facial expressions in advance, so even though there are about a thousand pictures of me, I always look the same.

See all the pics. But be forewarned that I took way too many, and some of them may be a tad bit... risque.

My Halloween History : Updated

2005-10-30T20:07:00.000-06:00

Oh, and I updated my Halloween History in honor of last night's events.

Can I Consider That Equity?

2005-10-28T16:51:00.000-05:00

I'm worth half a million, bitches.

My blog is worth $514,860.48.
How much is your blog worth?

Thanks for sending me the link, Ann Marie, but you did the math wrong.

Halloween Party Eve

2005-10-28T19:02:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is T-Bone's Halloween party that I've been preparing for all month. I'm going as Prince, circa 1984, so I was extremely disappointed to see the televised advertisement for that Everyone Hates Chris Rock TV show, where he's shown attending his grade-school Halloween party in full-on Prince regalia. Stupid Chris Rock. Stealing my thunder. I'd like to point out that I declared my costume intentions over a month ago. Whatever. Who watches UPN anyway.

I tried on my Prince costume today, and it's pretty funny in a pathetic doesn't-really-look-anything-like-Prince kind of way. I also have tried growing my own Prince moustache for the occasion, disguising it in the meantime as a half-assed goatee. But I should have started it more than two days ago, because it's not going to be nearly long enough by tomorrow night:

Damn my facial hair for not growing freakishly fast! I may have to pencil most of it in. Oh well. I was also planning on being tanner after my Hawaii trip in order to more closely resemble Prince's skin tone, but that obviously didn't happen either. Oh well.

There will be jello shots. I wonder if the real Prince has ever done a jello shot.

Not So Sexy Silhouettes

2005-10-28T18:55:00.000-05:00

I, and probably the rest of the e-mail enabled world, just got this spam in my inbox. On close inspection, it's apparently an ad for discount Viagra, but at a first glance it seemed to indicate:

1. Smoke a Cigg 2. Dance Like an Ass 3. Get Kneed in the Groin

They might wanna increase that font size at the bottom, if only for the sake of clarity.

For the Recently Bereaved, and Excessively Frugal

2005-10-28T18:34:00.000-05:00

For when you want to bring home your dead like you would Chinese take-out. Available in bulk. Costco is creepy:

Renaissance Silk Urns

Kate, who sent me the link to the Costco Caskets page, would like to point out that there is a 100% satisfaction guaranteed return policy.

I also think this is super dooper creepy, in a sacrilegious, deifying-a-false-idol type of way:

iBelieve

Hawaii '05!

2005-10-26T22:49:00.000-05:00

Got a killer ear ache. Never saw Jackie Chan. Never got leied. But it was a great trip. Click the lei to see the pics if you care. You can read image descriptions for every picture if you click on the info tab:

Golden Showers

2005-10-26T22:45:00.000-05:00

Things I wouldn't do for an Ipod Nano:

• Shave my head.
• Get peed on.

So I would've lost this contest.

"Four hours later, the 16 contestants had been whittled to the final four. The remaining competitors all stripped naked and streaked across Wisconsin Avenue NW at around 1 a.m. Gordon says one “might have even streaked onto [National] Cathedral property.”

The victor, 21-year-old Glover Park resident Jeff Schneidman, shaved his head and endured one most-humiliating act: a golden shower."

Vacation Update

2005-10-22T21:42:00.000-05:00

As punishment for rubbing my Hawaiian vacation in all of your faces, I've contracted something called "Swimmer's Ear", which is technically just an ear infection, but feels more like a hot poker being jabbed repeatedly into the side of my head. I spent three hours and $140 today to drive to the nearest urgent care in Kona, Hawaii. The good news is that I was given Vicadin to ease the pain, so let's get this vacation started again!

Our current location is a resort in Wiakalea that is the fanciest place I've ever stayed. One of my travel companions keeps repeating to herself "Who do I think I am, staying at a place like this?" And I concur. This place is way to good for me. There is a rumor going around that Jackie Chan is somewhere on site, so I've constantly got my camera on the ready, in case I can manage a papparazzi-style skin shot of him on the beach to sell to the Chinese tabloids for millions of yen, which from what I understand is like fifty bucks.

I read that people were expecting some skin shots of my own when I return and post my vacation pics, so here is a sneak preview:

CLICK FOR SKIN

P.S.: Oh, and the wedding that this vacation has been based around has come and gone, and now my good friend J-Wack is married. But the problem is her J-Wack nickname is derived from her maiden name, and if I apply a similar formula to her new married name then I come up with "J-Balls", which sounds a little filthy, so I may have to rethink this. Anyway, congrats J-Balls.

P.P.S or P.S.S. or whichever one is right: This expensive/fancy resort that I am too good to stay at charges $5.00 for 10 minutes of internet access, making this the most expensive. blogpost. evar.

Power 90 in Kauai

2005-10-18T21:03:00.000-05:00

This is where I am right now:

At our hotel in Kauai, there is a film crew making a new infommercial for the Power 90 Weight Loss Supplement, so there are a whole bunch of fit and trim models strutting around the beach, which certainly isn't good for my ego, but whatever. Yesterday I made sure to stay right behind the models but back in the distance a bit while they filmed some beach scene. I flopped around in the ocean like an idiot, battling the waves, making the biggest splashes I could. So with any luck, you may see me repetitively during odd hours on the WB sometime in the next few months. Just look for the scrawny glowing-white flailing man in the background.

Then today I passed this guy on the stairway up to my room:

It was Tony Horton himself, and he said "That's what I like to see, a guy using the stairs instead of the elevator!" I'm not kidding. Dude is trying to motivate strangers while on vacation. Awesome.

In the Canyon

2005-10-19T22:42:00.000-05:00

This is a terrible picture of me taken halfway to the top of the Waimea Canyon, in Kauai.

My camera phone has distorted my face a bit, but the canyons in the background sure are pretty. The sad thing is that we drove for an hour and a half to get to the best lookout for the Napali Coast, but it was fogged out. Nothing to see here, folks.

We we drove back down to the bottom and I bought myself a Hawaiian oven mitt as a souvenir. I'm not bitching, though, because I'm in Hawaii.

70's Smarm

2005-10-16T01:30:00.000-05:00

Tonight was T-Bone's 70's party and it afforded me an opportunity to utter a phrase I never thought I'd say in my whole life:

"Man, this gold herringbone necklace is wreaking havoc in my chest hair."

My leather coat is near orange and the ruffles on my shirt turned me on just a little bit. The party started out at Trevor's, then moved to some bar in Cottage Grove (which sounds like a place from Little House on the Prairie and looks like one, too) where a popular local 70's band was playing, then moved to downtown Minneapolis where the embarrassment caused by the glaring eyes of the Minneapolitan non-participants could only be dullened by copious booze. Actually, I didn't care one what people thought about me one bit, even after I got home and realized that only one single shirt button was keeping me from full-on exposing my bare chest to the entire Minneapolis nightlife.

Anywho, all the pictures are here, but I can't imagine them being interesting to anyone, unless'n you wanna see 30-year-olds in bad outfits doing keg stands and generally just acting like regular jackasses.

I know I'm too old to act like this, so you really don't need to remind me.

Best Article Ever

2005-10-16T01:26:00.000-05:00

Gilmore Girls the Best Show on TV for Men
[thanks jeremy]

We are not the champions, my friend.

2005-10-14T21:12:00.000-05:00

My kickball team made it all the way to the championship game, which unfortunately was scheduled for 9pm, which provided my teammates with WAY too much pre-game drinking time. So we lost. In a very bad way. But that didn't stop us from celebrating a great season:

We've been told that our team doesn't have a good reputation in the league, which I guess doesn't really surprise me. Regardless, we have the most fun. See the pics.

The final score was 13 to 3, one of which was scored by me.

Where Babies Come From

2005-10-14T20:58:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the world, creepy German baby! Your oval-eyed pear-shaped parents have gross pubes and your doctor smiles like a pedophile! But it looks like your happy to be here anyway!

Where Babies Come From

I have no idea where this came from but I love it. If anybody knows who originally scanned this, please inform me because I'd like to give proper credit.

An Unpleasant Concept

2005-10-12T15:30:00.000-05:00

And hopefully not the same hoses, either.

[FP]

Tanning Schmanning

2005-10-12T17:21:00.000-05:00

In spite of the fact that I have sensitive skin that sizzles like bacon after three minutes in any sort of direct sunlight, I've been visiting a tanning salon in preparation for an upcoming tropical vacation. The last time I tried to pre-tan for a vacation, it ended up very, very bad. So this time around, I've been very cautious. So much so, that ten tanning sessions later, I'm only slightly less white than a ghost:

After 10 sessions.

I hate tanning anyway. I always feel like such a vain heal lying there in my undies risking cancer just to look better on a beach. And I hate that tanning bed smell and all the twice-baked high-school girls that work the front counter for $4.75 an hour and apparently all the free tanning they want. And yet, I spent over $50 to look just a little less white.

Even worse, the tanning bed room is equipped with a boom box for my listening pleasure, but I keep setting it to the wrong station. I'll turn on what I think is the cool alternative station and hop in the bed before realizing that it is in fact tuned to the modern jesus music station. No offense to you believers out there, but your music sucks. Trapped with christian music in a light bulb coffin for 10 minutes (ironically celebrating the deadly sin of vanity) is practically torture in my book. And it's happened more than once. At least it wasn't country music. So there is a silver lining.

Big Drinks This Weekend

2005-10-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

You wouldn't think I'd be into communal drinks, what with the possibility of contracting mouth herpes and all.

Das Boot:
I'm actually breaking the rules by drinking this with the toe pointing down, but that's how I roll. I'm a rule-breaker.

The Largest Margarita, Evar:

The verdict: too much salt on the rim.

Hat Hair

2005-10-09T23:50:00.000-05:00

Boing Boing had a link to this article last week and it's awesome:

Hair is the Hat

The gist of it is this unforgettable picture:

Back in my day, hat hair was an entirely different thing. It was the weird helmet shape your hair would assume after removing a hat you'd been wearing all day. I remember wearing a corduroy baseball hat everyday to high school in the tenth grade (which looked rather elegant over my long flowing mullet). One day my teacher told me to remove it, as some sort of sign of respect for him or something, but I was mortified at the inevitable hat hair I would have underneath, so I told him I was allergic to the classroom's fluorescent lights and that I could provide a doctor's note, if necessary. My lie worked, but then instead of getting mocked by my fellow students for the hat hair, I was mocked for being allergic to light. I made it impossible for myself to be cool in high school.

Hyundai Service

2005-10-07T12:43:00.000-05:00

My Hyundai service center just updated their waiting facilities with a children's play area and some computers for web surfing. So while sitting here waiting for an oil change during my lunch hour, I can totally post to my blog.

I can also listen to people in the waiting room talk loudly on their cell phones. Like this dude:

According to his loud public phone conversation, he was post-coitus sleeping with one of this current girlfriends when he started having a dream about "taking the best piss ever" but then suddenly in his dream the urinal was overflowing and splashing back onto him. That's when we woke up to discover that he had just wet his lady friend's bed.

So just as a reminder, if you talk on your cell phone too loudly, the guy who is blogging from the public computer in the room next to you can totally hear your every word. And he's got a camera phone.

What's almost more fun is checking out this public computer's History logs and Cookies folder. They use Websense to block offending websites from being surfable, but Websense stores the IP addresses of all attempted sites that it blocks. So with a little help from WhoIs, I can tell that Hyundai owners are some sick freaks by and large.

The Google Autofill logs are also a fun thing to peruse on public computers. Suddenly getting an oil change ain't so boring anymore.

Pineapple Drinks

2005-10-06T08:16:00.000-05:00

Last night was Alicia's birthday. I took a couple hours off to celebrate. I normally wouldn't wear khakis to the bar, but I was straight from a late night at work.

Re-enacting Uncle Ray for Bill:

Fainting Goats

2005-10-03T21:56:00.000-05:00

Apparently some goats are bred to faint when startled so as to be sacraficed for the good of the lamb when the wolves attack. It sounds like a horrible Biblical allegory, but it's for real and it's fun as hell to watch:

Watch the Fainting Goats in Action [FP]

I also like these random shots of fainted goats. I want one as a pet.

This video is awesome, too:

The Lord of War

2005-10-03T21:46:00.000-05:00

Fun with billboards, guerilla style:

The Lord of War, Redux by whileseated via Flickr

I honestly don't know who's worse. Bush or Nic Cage. Yuckers on both counts.

Crayon Dan

2005-10-03T08:30:00.000-05:00

I just found this old portrait that one of my nieces made of me a few years back. It's super cute and all, but a lot of it really disturbs me:

I don't stink so quit bothering me.

2005-10-03T08:03:00.000-05:00

There is an automatic air freshener in the bathroom at work and it's really beginning to insult me. Every single time I walk by it, the thing makes this whirring FSSSSSST noise and shoots out a potent fog of misty fragrance, as if it's trying to tell me something. I've started to personify the air freshener. I've made it my enemy and I give it dirty looks every time it goes off, but that just seems to anger it. My coworker, who thinks a lot more clearly than I do, suggested that perhaps the automatic air freshener had a motion sensor on it, to trigger a squirt of fresh air with each and every visit to the bathroom. This seemed like a sound theory, so the other day as I was following someone else out of the bathroom, I paid close attention to the air freshener as he passed by it, and the damned thing didn't go off. But the second I stepped within range - FSSSSSST. I got all pissed off at the thing and I tried to get a closer look to see if there was any type of sensor device on it but it was mounted too high on the wall. So I stood in front of it and waved my hands back and forth to try to set it off, but that resulted in nothing except for strange looks from the next guy who walked in the bathroom and caught me waving at the wall.

That damn thing better be on some sort of clock and I just got bad timing or something because I'm about to knock it off the wall but good.

One of my favorite links of the week.

2005-10-02T23:01:00.000-05:00

This has been all over the internet since last week, which means it's ancient, but just in case you haven't seen it:

The Shining, Recut (10MB .mov)

A Halloween Tragedy

2005-09-28T17:45:00.000-05:00

I was going through some old photographs at my mama's house the other day and I realized that I don't exactly have the most successful record when it comes to dressing up for Halloween. There are some gaps in the history, and I really have to swallow some pride by setting this loose on the internets, but I almost consider it a public service announcement for all you parents out there.

So for your enjoyment and for my public derision, I present:

Planetdan's Halloween History: A Tragedy in 15 Acts

Family Circus

2005-09-28T12:40:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I think this is super funny.

The Gas Man

2005-09-28T12:31:00.000-05:00

The man who came out to fix my gas stove yesterday kept belching into the oven, creating a odd hallow metal echo every time he did it. Finally he acknowledged his gassiness and took his head out of the oven. The following conversation, that involved way too much direct eye contact, went something like this:

Him: [locking in eye contact] "Sorry, man."
Me: [finding eye contact to be extremely awkward] "That's ok."
Him: "I haven't even eaten anything."
Me: [grasping at straws] "Oh, yeah? That's odd."
Him: [maintaining eye contact] "How do you even burp if you haven't anything?"
Me: [holding my own with his awkward piercing gaze] "I can't answer that."
Him: "..."
Me: "..."
Him: [maintaining eye contact] "..."
Me: [about to crack] "..."
Him: "It's totally bogus, man."
Me: "Totally."

Goddamn it's almost October again already??

2005-09-25T22:37:00.000-05:00

I hate dressing up for Halloween. It's too stressful and expensive and I'm too anal about accuracy. I'm like a Bridezilla only for Halloween costumes. Last year I spent way to much time and energy attempting to be the best Oompa Loompa ever, when it turns out I only had the ability to be the creepiest. (FYI, doing a keg stand in your Oompa Loompa costume is not a good idea. It smears the makeup and soggies-up the eyebrows.) The only reason I even bother is because a costume is required for T-bone's party. So this year I am going to take it down a notch and go as Purple Rain era Prince, because I kinda have a sordid love/hate relationship with the guy that goes back decades, and because I conveniently got a lacy purple velvet outfit from Target (which was un-copyright-infringably labeled as a "Purple Reign Rocker" costume) and now all I need is a wig and some eyeliner. But there's something wrong with me because I'm already going overboard by wondering how many days it would take me to actually grow the Prince facial hair rather than just pencil it in, and if I could get away with it at work:

Please make it stop. I tried researching other costumes, but came up empty:

• Thundercats, Roar!
• The Biggest Nerd Ever
• Sexy Vader
• Sexy Manga Fast Food Icons
• Death Star
• The Cast of Zoolander

I would consider the Zoolander idea if only to be able to utter one of my favorite movie lines of all time: "You think you're too cool for school. But I got a newsflash for you, Walter Kronkite... you aren't." Of course, if you are looking for costume ideas like I am, I would recommend attempting the infamous Princess Leia Slave Bikini, which you can buy or learn how to make here [thanks, james]. If I had the figure, I'd totally do it.

And don't forget the pets:

Tornado!

2005-09-24T20:21:00.000-05:00

A storm blew some trees onto my parents' house this week. This isn't the first time the house has barely survived a wind storm. You'd think they lived in a trailer park or something. Last time it happened was ten or so years ago when I was still living at home. The following day the local news were driving up and down the street filming the destruction and they caught me in my underwear staring out the window. My mom saw me on Channel 5 Eyewitness News that night.

This time the tree hit their house though, so we spent Saturday cutting it down:

Another tree destroyed my mom's "Peace Garden", but she didn't appreciate the irony in that when I pointed it out to her:

I helped haul branches all day.

Uncle Ray was absolutely no help at all:

I kid, I kid. I don't even have an Uncle Ray. I just found that image during a google search for "topiary fetishes". Just kidding again.

Mad Genius

2005-09-24T01:43:00.000-05:00

In case you haven't heard it yet, Andrew Bird's Mysterious Production of Eggs CD is one of the best of the year. Even more exciting, the dude is like a mad idiot-savant musical genius on stage. He stands up there with a violin/fiddle thing, his guitar, and a xylophone, and he quickly and seamlessly samples his instruments and lays down multiple tracks on top of each other until it sounds like there is an entire string symphony behind him and yet there is only one man on stage. He also seems to stare at invisible people and have conversations with himself, making me think that perhaps the obviously overdeveloped musical part of his brain has left other parts of his brain slightly underdeveloped. Whatever the case, I don't care, because he's brilliant. I saw him tonight at the Cedar Cultural Center:

And they were selling limited edition prints of the artwork he had commissioned for his latest CD booklet, which you can also buy online here, but I bought this one because it represents my favorite song on the CD:

And finally, I was excited to find out that one of my local favorites, The Owls, were the opening act. They are quite the ear-pleasing band as well, although perhaps a little less mind-blowingly insane than Andrew:

Anyway, to celebrate the awesome concert I saw tonight and to spread the joy to anyone who cares, I have temporarily replaced all the songs in my jukebox (on the right) with both acts' newest CDs. Yay!

I can't help it. Sometimes my sense of humor is retarded.

2005-09-24T01:28:00.000-05:00

Some of the worst jokes are topical ones. But that doesn't mean I don't laugh at them or that I won't pass them on:

Lame Topical Bush Joke #1:

Donald Rumsfeld is giving the president his daily briefing. He concludes by saying, "Yesterday, three Brazilian soldiers were killed in an accident."

"OH NO!" the President exclaims. "That's terrible!"

His staff sits stunned at this display of emotion, nervously watching as the president sits, head in hands. Finally, the President looks up and asks...

"How many is a Brazillion??!"

Lame Topical Bush Joke #2:

Last night they asked President Bush what he thought about Roe versus Wade.

He said, "I don't care how the people get out of New Orleans."

Cue rimshots.

Her Very Own Shadow

2005-09-16T20:03:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wish I could ignore the instinct to feel utterly embarrassed for myself, like some people apparently can. It's takes a very special complete lack of shame to be an actor. I've been terrified/mortified by this all day:

Not Mary Tyler Moore

I love her THIS MUCH.

[FP]

Googling Jazz Hands

2005-09-20T22:15:00.000-05:00

I googled Jazz Hands. I don't know what I was expecting, but I eventually came across this picture:

You may want to click for larger.

I shouldn't laugh. There are probably worse pictures of me floating around god knows where.

Adventures in Bad Camera Phone Pics

2005-09-20T21:51:00.000-05:00

My camera phone will soon be replaced by a non-picture-taking Blackberry contraption for the sake of my professional life, so while mourning its imminent loss, I have been giving it quite a workout lately. Here is my last weekend told thru the lens of my telephone:

This is at the Sufjan Stevens concert. He was great, but the venue sucked, and it being a Sunday, the bar had to close at midnight, which means he played for an hour and then got shooed off the stage. Boooo. And he didn't even play Come On, Feel The Illinoise! Whatever dude. And apparently one Vodka Redbull is enough to keep me awake for 48 hours straight.

The next night was Beck, who puts on an enthusiastic show. At one point the whole band jammed with some sugar spoons and teacups. Plus he played one of my favorites from Midnight Vultures: Nicotine & Gravy. Then for the encore he mentioned he'd like some audience members up on stage with him. We didn't even notice that our friend Alicia was missing until we saw her up on stage dancing next to Beck.

I didn't get on stage like Alicia, but I did manage to get a couple new Beck emblazoned terrycloth wristbands, which I totally rocked with my popeye forearms. Anybody got any tape? Cuz I'm ripped.

Bye camera phone. I'll miss you.

Cooter Update

2005-09-15T23:50:00.000-05:00

The Greasy Cooters have been back on the kickball field for a few weeks now. We've had some ups and downs, but we totally owned last night. And then we celebrated.

There's always picures at Greasycooters.com.

Halloween

2005-09-15T17:24:00.000-05:00

Last year, I spent way too much time and way too much money putting together an Oompa Loompa costume for a Halloween party.

This is not a joke.

2005-09-15T17:10:00.000-05:00

These images are taken directly from the Yahoo slideshow of photos from the UN General Assembly as provided by the Reuters news service. They are accompanied by the following caption:

U.S. President George W. Bush writes a note to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice during a Security Council meeting at the 2005 World Summit and 60th General Assembly of the United Nations...

Maybe someone pulled a fast one on Reuters and photoshopped the actual note. Either that, or Bush still thinks he needs to raise his hand to use the bafroom.

See for yourself.

Ok, just one more Gilmore Girls post.

2005-09-13T22:41:00.000-05:00

I seem to catch flak for being a 30-year-old male Gilmore Girls fanatic. Sure, I blog about it a lot and fervently recommend it without shame, but it's not like I write them fan letters or wear Gilmore Girls T-shirts or anything. Ok, well I don't write them fan letters, anyway.

And just because a Google Image Search for Gilmore Girls turns up a headless picture of me in my hoodie, well that means nothing at all. I'm still a grown-up. Still a sophisticated television viewer. Still a man.

Plus, I don't understand who the WB thinks their target market is anyway. I defy any 14-year-old girl to explain to me the meaning of Lorelie's Paper Moon reference, Rory's "Bob, Carol, Ted, and Alice minus Bob" joke, or how Paris can use Blue-Lagooning as a verb. Tonight's Season Premiere only solidified my status as a tricenarian Gilmore Girls fan. I wasn't sure if my favorite line was Luke calling Zima his girl beer or Michel contemplating the risk of getting jock itch on his forearm, but the whole episode was top notch.

Pissed Off Taxpayer

2005-09-13T14:33:00.000-05:00

I voted in the Minneapolis mayoral primaries today.

I didn't vote for the "Pissed Off Taxpayer" Party Candidate, though:

You'd think they would get a lot of complaints about that being printed on the ballot. I'm not sure about the legalities of taking photos in a voting booth. Am I going to jail?

Wallhangings

2005-09-12T22:30:00.000-05:00

I love all of these concert posters.

Especially this one for Sufjan, which I just bought:

It would look extra cool on my wall if I could actually afford to have it framed. Oh well. I really wish I liked Rilo Kiley or Death Cab for Cutie because some of their posters are pretty cool, too. But I don't.

[thanks, glaser]

ART!

2005-09-12T13:12:00.000-05:00

Art prints. The old and the new, begging the question:

Does Billy Dee Williams really need six-pack abs?

Also, I'd tell you to get your husband's portrait painted on a tambourine featuring a top-hatted Stevie Nicks, but unfortunately, the artist is not accepting commissions right now:

Stevie's favourite musical instrument, enhanced!

Teabagged Footballer

2005-09-12T14:01:00.000-05:00

Heh. Pull it together, dood.

First Day on the Job (.wmv)
[Right click to download]

The $135 CD

2005-09-11T23:15:00.000-05:00

Ok, so my current obsessions are probably pretty obvious if you've visited planetdan at all in the last couple months:

1. Sufjan Stevens
This obsession is compounded by the fact that I will be seeing him in concert come next Sunday night. I've already made a new T-shirt for the occasion, featuring the Superman that he was forced to remove from his new CD cover due to copyright infringement issues. I know, it's dorky to wear such a thing to a concert, but I can't help it. I'm blinded by raw obsession.

2. The Gilmore Girls
Season Six starts TUESDAY. Every time I think about it I pee a little.

3. The Decemberists
Still the best band ever. I plan to attend as many concerts as possible until my entire wardrobe consists of nothing but Decemberists concert T-shirts. I already have a pretty good start. But this Decemberists obsession has started to worry me, because it cost me $135 this weekend.

I've been hunting for this ultra-rare Decemberists EP where the lead singer covers six Morrissey songs. They only made 1,000 and it was only sold at Colin's solo shows last year. They regularly go for $100 on eBay, but somehow I got lucky and found an auction ending on Labor Day, so I won the bidding at a not-so-reasonable $66. I know, it sounds horrifyingly obnoxious to spend $66 on a six song EP, no matter how rare it is. Especially when I already had all the MP3s. But to make matters even worse: I developed a guilty conscience spending so much money on a CD right after that stupid Katrina hurricane. Damn you, Katrina, for putting things into focused perspective! So I forced myself to donate an equal amount to the Red Cross. Now I am $132 lighter in my already thin wallet and that much further away from getting a custom-made Pirolette, which incidentally dropped in price to $99.95 recently.

This is what an impulsive $66 eBay bid + $66 to pay off your guilt + $3 in shipping will get you:

Anniversary #2

2005-09-09T13:05:00.000-05:00

I celebrated another anniversary this month, too. As of September, I have worked at my current job for four and a half years, making it the longest job I’ve ever had. My work history seems a little spotty now that I look back on it:

First job: BEST Products (formerly Labelle’s), a department store.
Title: Electronics Specialist
Having just turned 16, I got my first job at Best, where they hired me for $4.25 an hour with the understanding that they were in Chapter 11 and that there would “absolutely not be any chance for a raise.” I worked there 16 months before the whole operation collapsed, but not before I got caught by a customer while I was hiding in a giant wardrobe to avoid working. Another good hiding spot was the hanging sleeping bags display. If you couldn’t find me there, I was most likely at the computer display playing solitaire.

Second job: Paperweight, a sub-garage-sale-quality gift store at the mall for 14 year-old trend whore girls.
Title: None/Troll-doll Salesman
For $4.50 an hour I was expected to care that pre-teen girls were stealing sparkly glitter pens and novelty condoms. A year and a half later, I was forced to quit rather than be fired after being accused of stealing a suncatcher for my gramma’s birthday. I still have the receipt that proves my innocence, but they suggested that I made up a fake receipt (which was entirely possible since their cash register was little more than a printing calculator attached to the top of a shoebox) and I was not afforded the benefit of the doubt. I never even got the suncatcher back, so my gramma went giftless that year.

Third job: Adventures in Video
Title: Assistant Manager
Best job ever. Regularly worked alone watching movies all day long and cataloging pornography. I worked there for four and a half years, eventually earning $6.00 an hour, which somehow put me through college. I never officially quit the job, I just told my manager to “take me off the schedule for a few weeks” after I scored my first post-collegiate job, which is probably why I still have recurring nightmares about being put back on the schedule. I never got closure.

Fourth job: The Quikpages
Title: Web Designer
Worst job ever. Built websites that were sold to confused and exploited small business owners via telemarketing. It was like a sweatshop for entry level web coders. I lasted a year and a half before I was eventually fired for making a “subversive” website that I distributed across the company, but it was the first job I ever had that paid benefits. And $12 an hour.

Fifth Job: Techies.com
Title: Web Designer
I started making real money at a dotcom that burned through cash like it was coal on a steam engine. It was a really cool job with lots of fancy dotcom benefits. Best perk: free fountain soda. I was in Mountain Dew heaven. Lasted 20 months before the dotcom bubble burst and techies went down the tubes. Having an inside view of its spectacular nosedive was mesmerizing and almost made it worth getting laid off.

Sixth Job: MLT
Title: Web Designer
Good solid job working on travel booking websites, but I quit within four months for a better opportunity, and then a few months later they eliminated my position, so I guess I dodged that bullet.

Seventh Job: Current Job
Title: Web Designer
My current job has officially outlasted the previous record holder: Adventures in Video. Of course it’s not the same type of cake walk as working alone in a video store, but I’m all grown up now, so my current job suits my skills well and provides lots of cool opportunities, so I consider myself very lucky.

So I’ve been laid off twice, fired once, forced to quit, and just phased out. Not so good.

Anniversary

2005-09-09T13:10:00.000-05:00

Planetdan turns three this month. Actually, planetdan.net has been around since 1999, but the blog only started in 2002. In lieu of gifts, monetary donations can be sent to me, directly.

Game playa

2005-09-09T12:47:00.000-05:00

This graphic I just found brings up some painful memories. I had two adolescent friendships dissolve over accusations of cheating at boardgames. The most ridiculous of which was with one friend who accused me of cheating at Hungry Hungry Hippos. I didn't even know how one would go about cheating at that game, but he claimed he heard me dropping extra marbles into my tray. As if I had palmed an extra Ace in poker or something. I was absolutely innocent of the charges. Dude was just a sore loser.

The second dissolution came from a boardgame that I believe was called Squiggle, but the embarrassing thing is that I had no idea how to play the game. The convoluted rules had been explained to me multiple times but they just didn't make sense. So I played along as if I knew what the hell I was doing, only to be accused of cheating later after making an "illegal" move. I believe cheating should require some sort of intentional deceit, but my pride would not allow me to admit that I just didn't understand the rules. Whatever the case, we stopped being friends after that incident and he told everyone on the playground that I was a cheater at Squiggle. No big loss since his house always smelled like hamburger hotdish anyway.

K-Mack and I have played the old blue edition of Trivial Pursuit so many times that we know all the questions by heart, which I believe is a form of cheating. For instance, when a Science question is read that asks "What was estimated to weigh 180,000,000 tons?" I know to answer, "All the tea in China." No one would ever actually be able to answer such a question without having memorized it in advance. But that's the extent of my cheating. I swear.

I heart bad puns and accessory nipples.

2005-09-05T18:09:00.000-05:00

Maybe this is an old joke, but I don't get into car humor that much so it's new to me. This is an excerpt from a fire-side discussion about my Hyundai Sonata's poor gas mileage:

J-Wack: What kind of gas mileage you get?
Me: Only about 20 miles to the gallon.
Cherry Nut: Oh, it-sonata gas efficient.

Nice one, Cherry Nut.

That honestly may have been the high point of my holiday weekend. I also went out and drank too much with K-Mack and T-Bone, which was fun and would have easily been the high point of the weekend if I didn't have the awkward memory of trying to pose for a picture with my neighbor's third nipple. It's a long story, but we bumped into her, she has three nipples, K-Mack has a camera phone, and I have a low tolerance for Tequila.

Agreed.

2005-09-06T18:35:00.000-05:00

Finally, Fox News gets something right:

[thanks FP]

Hung like a .... whaaaa?!?

2005-09-01T17:25:00.000-05:00

My friend used to say that Old Navy could sell wool sweaters for so cheap because it was subpar wool, most likely sheared from the butt of the sheep. But after seeing this image from Flickr's Minnesota State Fair slideshow, I got a new theory about where they get the subpar wool:

[via chuckumentary]

Look at the size of those things. That's at least three Old Navy sweaters right there.

Other interesting images from the Flickr's MN State Fair collection:
• The DFL Booth [via missjasmine]
• The Butter Face [via culturecat]
• The Spaghetti on a Stick Booth

Inadvertently Offensive

2005-08-30T23:15:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I feel bad about laughing at this Target.com listing. There's nothing really inherently offensive about it, and it's obviously just a poor choice of wording, but my PC alarm is sounding off nonetheless. I wish Mirriam-Webster or someone equally definitive would just write a reference book about what is or isn't offensive. Get it all sorted out once and for all.

{Target has since re-described this item as "classic".)

Poppin' Fresh

2005-08-30T23:36:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to make of this.
I don't understand why it exists.

The Crue

2005-08-27T17:22:00.000-05:00

T-Bone was nice enough to give me a ticket to the Motley Crue concert at the Minnesota State Fair last night. Even better, he gave me a ride to the ultimate 80's concert in the ultimate 80's vehicle: his black corvette. It was almost too perfect. I didn't have any leather or faded black jeans to wear to the concert, so I wore my new Greasy Cooters track jacket. Then I tried to pose all Fonzi-like by the car, but I just don't have the modelesque instincts to pull it off:

When I naively asked who the guitarist was on stage with the stupid-looking top hat, T-Bone replied with utter contempt, "That's Mick Mars, you dumb bastard." People take their Crue so seriously. Here's us rockin' to "Home Sweet Home" at the great Minnesotan get-together:

Then afterwards we went to some biker bar on the other side of town, where lead singer Vince Neil was rumored to be making an appearance. Needless to say, I didn't exactly feel comfortable in that environment, but I made the most of it, and eventually got this shot:

Thick blue eye-shadow and a sports jersey is always a nice look. And apparently Vince got paid $7,000 to show up at the bar and shout obscenities over the microphone for 30-seconds. Or at least that's what the way-too-talkative man at the urinal next to me said.

Anyway, I'm all Crued out.

Knowledge Transfer

2005-08-27T17:09:00.000-05:00

Continuing on with the series about making sure other people learn from my mistakes:

Tip 1: Don't store your Maalox Max next to your Listerine Whitening Mouth Rinse because the bottles are quite similar and one of them will actually make your stomach feel worse if you accidently swallow a mouthfull. Trust me.

Ok, so the bottles aren't that similar, but I was hungover and was not exactly at my peak mental capacity. Geesh.

Tip 2: You can't use toilet bowl cleaner to clean off an actual toilet seat, as it will almost immediately eat through the toilet seat's paint and create awkward colored drip stains all over the seat that look suspiciously like diarrhea. Toilet bowl cleaner apparently belongs inside the bowl and nowhere else. I learned this the hard way a couple years ago. Then my roomie K-Mack learned it the hard way last week, and I was forced to make an emergency trip to the Home Depot for a new seat before her parents arrived for a fancy dinner event. And then she was forced to explain exactly what I meant when I announced to the entire dinner party that she had "made a mess of the toilet seat so bad that it required replacement."

Consider yourself informed.

I guess the dingo didn't eat your baby.

2005-08-26T17:42:00.000-05:00

In case you were unawares, back in the 1980's, an Australian family claimed that a dingo stole and ate their baby while she was asleep in a tent during a camping trip. Speculation arose and rumors flew that the parents actually killed their baby; the main rumor usually involved some crazy religious ritual. Dingo experts weighed in. The parents were eventually convicted and then released on appeal. Finally, they made a movie about it with Meryl Streep, which was eventually parodied on Seinfeld and in a Far Side comic. Which means that dingoes eating babies is now a funny concept, and not a grotesque one.

Suddenly, though, this lady comes along and claims to be the long lost eaten baby, with some convoluted back story about being rescued and adopted by an abusive religious sect. Read all about it.

But after seeing her picture, my theory is she was actually sired by dingoes, or at the very least raised by them:

Was that too mean? Dead baby dingo jokes are funny now, remember?

Prized Possessions

2005-08-23T17:03:00.000-05:00

I like to sit and think about what I would grab from my house in a mad dash if it was being consumed by fire. I like to be prepared like that. Mostly I just imagine grabbing my laptop and maybe a few precious vinyl LPs because I am an unsentimental jackass with solid stone for a heart. But I would also at least make an attempt to grab my photo albums, because I'm honestly not as bastardly as I just portrayed myself to be. Oh, and I should probably save K-Mack, too. There are only a few other items I own that I would make an extra effort to save as well. Everything else can burn.

1. My Broken Decemberists Tambourine
So generously donated to me by BigDubb after he swiped it from the last Decemberists concert I attended.

2. My autographed copy of In The Presence of Aliens
One of my former coworkers wrote a nonfiction book about her experiences being abducted by aliens. Contrary to what Fox Mulder might say, I don't want to believe, but it still makes her one of the coolest people I've ever associated myself with. On one of the final days before getting the big shove-off from the doomed dotcom we were both employed with, she gave me an autographed copy. I have since read it into tatters.

3. Black sand from some beach in Hawaii
There's nothing special about this sand, and it really holds no special place in my heart, but replacing it would take an 8-hour plane ride, followed by another inter-island plane ride, followed by a weavy three-hour motion-sickness-inducing car ride (most likely while hungover) to a remote black sand beach somewhere in Maui. Not that I wouldn't want to make the trip to get more if I had to.

Speaking of dirty Hawaii and aliens, here is a picture of me putting the moves on a sexy grey-face islander. No anal probe jokes, please:

ps. Blogger spellcheck is such a goody two-shoes. It doesn't even recognize the word "hungover". Don't drink, don't smoke, what d-do you do, Blogger Spellcheck?

Oopsies

2005-08-22T18:00:00.000-05:00

When photographers come to your house for an interview about selling your old furniture in the classifieds, be wary, and maybe think twice before you volunteer to pose by your dedicated bondage apparatus:

[view the whole article][FP]

Read the whole story about all of the subsequent embarrassment here.

Abomination

2005-08-21T11:23:00.000-05:00

NO NO NO NO NO.

Strawberry. Cheetos.

A review from Kibo.com:
I don't know the actual name of these, as the package was in Korean and did not have the sticker that foods imported to the USA are required to have (ingredients in English, etc.) These are genuine Cheetos brand snacks that are not cheez flavored, but strawberry... these are bright pink puffs. (Shaped like Chester Cheetah's paw.)Glossy with sugar, they taste no different from, say, Frankenberry or any other artificial strawberry snack.

What to get dan for christmas.

2005-08-20T01:24:00.000-05:00

I saw this on Presurfer and thought it was the coolest thing ever. Sure, some people might consider it narcissistic to decorate your mantle with your own profile, but I bet the majority of people probably wouldn't even notice the negative space anyway, so you could conceivably admire your own image in almost total secrecy, as if you were simply admiring an oddly shaped wooden chalice. I totally want one. At $150 bucks a pop, though, it might be a little out of my means:

Buy one here.

Juked

2005-08-19T18:22:00.000-05:00

Stacy "tagged" me with a song poll last week, and my jukebox needed a refill, so these are the songs that are gracing my playlist lately, which you can listen to over on the right:

Get it Together by The Go Team - Because they are finally releasing this CD in the US, and because every single song on this CD makes me happy. Yay for whistles and flutes!

The Predatory Wasp by Sufjan Stevens - because it builds to an emotional coda that almost makes me a little misty. * sniff *

This Will Be Our Year by the OK Go - Because they are an underrated band who write underrated pop songs.

The Bleeding Heart Show by The New Pornographers - Because it's interesting and unpredictable.

It's the Nightime by Josh Rouse - Because it makes me happy to sing along.

The History of Lovers by Iron and Wine with Calexico - Because even with all the pedal-steel twang goin' on, it's still the perfect collaboration between two great bands.

The Trapeze Singer by Iron and Wine - Because it's almost 10 minutes long and basically repeats the same melody over and over and over, yet I still can't stop listening to it.

Born in the 70's and The Wind That Blew My Heart Away by The Fruit Bats - Because I currently play this CD more often than any other, which was a complete surprise, and because I actually was born in the 70's so it gets a little added undeserved appreciation. And because I love the falsetto.

The Storm by Doves - Because it has an undeniably cool vibe.

Different Names for the Same Thing by Death Cab For Cutie - I'm not the hugest fan of this band at all because they are kind of the definition of wuss rock, but every once in a while they record a song that makes me not care.

Fix You by Coldplay - Because even though it is really cool to hate Coldplay right now and even though the lyrics are embarrassingly trite, the bombastic melodrama of the last half still somehow appeals to my inner drama queen.

Between Us by Brendan Benson - Because it is the perfect pace for jogging in synch with my stride.

Chewing Gum by Annie - Because I can like retarded pop music just like the next guy, and because it will piss B* off.

MX missiles by Andrew Bird - Because I get to see him live next month, and I've heard he's an idiot savant, only for music, and because this is from one of the best CDs that I've purchased all year.

Ride a White Swan by T Rex - Because I think T-Rex was an underappreciated genius. Mix this with Donovan's Hurdy Gurdy Man and you got the start of the best 70's mix tape evar!

When I Go Deaf by Low - Because I don't know why. Hometown pride, I guess.

Sugar by Ladytron - Because Ladytron is 80's new wave retro in a very very good way.

Gold Digger by Kanye West - Because this Jon Brion produced track is infectious like the flu in kindergarten, as they say.

I'm also sad, because I'm way too embarrassed to put Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights in there. Because yes, I do care what you think. Damn my insecurities. Damn them all to hell.

Mac Attack

2005-08-17T08:09:00.000-05:00

After reading this article about the recent riot in Virginia over $50 Mac laptops, there was one line that stuck out for me and got me pondering:

...A rush to purchase $50 used laptops turned into a violent stampede Tuesday, with people getting thrown to the pavement, beaten with a folding chair and nearly driven over. One woman went so far to wet herself rather than surrender her place in line.

I would never even consider wetting myself in public for the opportunity to buy a crappy four-year-old iBook. But I would be happy to wet myself in public for the following:

Front row tickets to a Beatles concert, with a resurrected John and George.
Unfettered access to this WB party, which was literally bursting with Gilmore Girls. [thanks jeremy]
The opportunity to tour as a back-up singer with Sufjan Stevens. C'mon, Feel the Illinoise!
A time machine to go back in history to kill Joe Cocker before he has a chance to record that You Can Leave Your Hat On song.
To be granted the superpower of invisibility.
Any amount of money over $10,000 (which I've recently decided will be the official asking price for my dignity).
Just for the sake of doing it.

What would it take to get you to wet yourself in public?

The Dancin' Foo'

2005-08-16T00:24:00.000-05:00

I really don't like to imagine how many videos might exist of me dancing. Someone always has a video camera at weddings, parties, on vacations, or god knows where else. I already know that Stacy has one of us from her wedding, alone together on the dancefloor, attempting a speed-polka. The worst would probably be when I was 15 and drunk off table champagne at my cousin's wedding. I ended up slow dancing with my aunt to Angel Eyes by the Jeff Healy Band. We swayed back and forth dramatically. I had my eyes closed and was singing along. I feel sick to this day just thinking about it.

Speaking of unfairly capturing the drunk and uncoordinated on video: over a year ago, the night before departing on a cruise out of Jacksonville, Florida, my travel companions and I witnessed a phenomenon unlike anything we've ever witnessed before. Alive with energy and apparently uninhibited by any sense or shame or fear of public humiliation, one undaunted dancer entertained and captivated an enthralled audience of onlookers for at least thirty spellbinding minutes.

As I took a video of her startling performance, the old man next to me, who reminded me of Sanford from Sanford and Son, said "That lady sure is a dancin' foo'," which I'm pretty sure is a direct quote from Billy Elliot. This lady was no Billy Elliot.

Anyway, I never posted it before because it was not the best quality and 7MB large and not all that great. But now that my bandwidth is unmetered and thereby free, I can post anything I damn well please.

Right click to download The Dancin' Foo' (7MB)
[it's better viewed at full screen with the sound on]

Oh, and Dancin' Foo', if you're out there somewhere reading this and you recognize yourself, don't worry because it's not really you. It's just someone who looks and moves and dresses like you. You're actually a really really good dancer.

Roger Ebert lays the smackdown...

2005-08-15T22:06:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I love Roger Ebert. I emailed him once and he actually replied. I considered printing out the email and framing it for my wall, but then I thought better of it. I don't want to seem like a freak, after all. This is an excerpt from Roger Ebert's review of Deuce Bigelow 2:

[Deuce Bigelow: European Gigolo] created a spot of controversy last February. According to a story by Larry Carroll of MTV News, Rob Schneider took offense when Patrick Goldstein of the Los Angeles Times listed this year's Best Picture Nominees and wrote that they were "ignored, unloved and turned down flat by most of the same studios that ... bankroll hundreds of sequels, including a follow-up to 'Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo,' a film that was sadly overlooked at Oscar time because apparently nobody had the foresight to invent a category for Best Running Penis Joke Delivered by a Third-Rate Comic."

Schneider retaliated by attacking Goldstein in full-page ads in Daily Variety and the Hollywood Reporter. In an open letter to Goldstein, Schneider wrote: "Well, Mr. Goldstein, I decided to do some research to find out what awards you have won. I went online and found that you have won nothing. Absolutely nothing. No journalistic awards of any kind ... Maybe you didn't win a Pulitzer Prize because they haven't invented a category for Best Third-Rate, Unfunny Pompous Reporter Who's Never Been Acknowledged by His Peers."

Reading this, I was about to observe that Schneider can dish it out but he can't take it. Then I found he's not so good at dishing it out, either. I went online and found that Patrick Goldstein has won a National Headliner Award, a Los Angeles Press Club Award, a RockCritics.com award, and the Publicists' Guild award for lifetime achievement.

Schneider was nominated for a 2000 Razzie Award for Worst Supporting Actor, but lost to Jar-Jar Binks.

But Schneider is correct, and Patrick Goldstein has not yet won a Pulitzer Prize. Therefore, Goldstein is not qualified to complain that Columbia financed "Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo" while passing on the opportunity to participate in "Million Dollar Baby," "Ray," "The Aviator," "Sideways" and "Finding Neverland." As chance would have it, I have won the Pulitzer Prize, and so I am qualified. Speaking in my official capacity as a Pulitzer Prize winner, Mr. Schneider, your movie sucks.

Neato Insurance Ads

2005-08-15T22:11:00.000-05:00

I think these billboards are super cool. I forgot to post them when I originally found them online months ago and now I can't remember where they came from in order to give due credit:

• Neato Billboard #1
• Neato Billboard #2
• Neato Billboard #3

Too Old for This

2005-08-14T23:06:00.000-05:00

We went to the Pizza Luce Block Party on Friday. T-Bone wore his Har Mar Superstar T-shirt for the occasion. It's generally considered pretty lame to wear a concert T-shirt of the band that you are going to see, but when it's Har Mar, and when you bought the shirt for $40 off of a roadie's back, then somehow it's cool as hell:

Har Mar put on a good show, as usual:

I got some better pics of him, actually, but they didn't seem very suitable for work:
1 2

Finally we ended up at a bar for the rest of the evening, which is really hazy, and where this was typical:

Sunday was not a good day. The shame of my embarrassing behavior is compounded by the fact that my boss was there. Let's hope his memory is as hazy as mine.

Your three dollar gas station purchase is an...

2005-08-10T22:53:00.000-05:00

It sucks to have to be so cynical, but it doesn't get any more truthful than this.

Not that I'm trying to be self-righteous. An empty gesture may very well be better than no gesture at all. I dunno.

The Not-So-Funny McSweeney's Test

2005-08-10T22:40:00.000-05:00

I actually don't think this recent McSweeney's post is funny. In fact, only one of them made me laugh. So I thought I would post it, obviously not as a tribute to its worthiness, but more as a test for anyone who thinks they might understand my sense of humor enough to know which one I thought was funny. If you want to, leave your guess as a comment. So here goes:

Lesser-Known Movie Prequels
by Sarah Garb

Ocean's Three
Borderline-Inappropriate Dancing
There Are Plenty of Mohicans
Charlie and the Limited-Production Chocolate Startup
Thursday the 12th
Four Bachelorette Parties and a Friend in the Hospital
Babette's Snack
Joseph and the Nondescript Monochrome Sportcoat
My Brunch With Andre
Triassic Park
The Upwardly Mobile Tenenbaums

Saturday.

2005-08-10T00:44:00.000-05:00

Live in Minnesota? Free Har Mar Superstar on Saturday night!

Belly Button Monkey Anus

2005-08-09T23:41:00.000-05:00

I don't have any tattoos. I remember when my friends Stacy and K-Mack went to get tattoos and Stacy came back with a black hole sun smack-dabb in the middle of her forearm. The black hole sun was probably chosen to represent her obsession with grunge music and her favoritest band of all time: Soundgarden; but the forearm placement was a mystery. After she picked the scab while it was healing, I had to take her back to the parlor to get it re-inked and the substitute tattoo artist said "Oooo, it's on your forearm. What a badass," with so much sarcasm that you could almost taste the bitterness. To this day she wears a band-aid to hide it, even though I kinda like it.

Get inked:

• Never ever ever forget.

• Not everybody loves Raymond.

• Belly button monkey anus.

I couldn't find any more info on the Raymond tattoo, which is by far my favorite. If I ever did get a tattoo, it would have to be something totally random and absurd like that, because even tribal armband tattoos were cool at one point. You just never know what's going to end up being embarrassingly, permanently lame.
*cough* tazmanian devil *cough*
*cough* panther clawing at skin *cough*
*cough* dolphin ankle *cough*
Just kidding K-mack.

ps. I wondered if I was the first person ever to use the words "belly button monkey anus" in that particular order, so I googled it and it seems that I was, at least on the traceable internet. So I'm trademarking it. Hands off bitches.

Woah nelly.

2005-08-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

The WNBA, unphotoshopped:

You can read about it here.

It scares me. And reminds me of this picture:

...which also scares me. And for some reason reminds me of Silly Putty.

Unrelatedly, here is a photo gallery of stills from the movie Freaks.

Er, duh.

2005-08-08T07:58:00.000-05:00

"Men who feel anxious about their masculinity are more likely to support war, buy SUVs and be hostile to gays, according to a new study from Cornell University. Robb Willer, a sociology doctoral candidate at Cornell, gave men and women a gender-identity survey in which they received feedback saying that their answers were either masculine or feminine. Women's responses weren't affected by this feedback, but men whose manliness was threatened reacted strongly. "I found that if you made men more insecure about their masculinity, they displayed more homophobic attitudes, tended to support the Iraq war more and would be more willing to purchase an SUV over another type of vehicle," Willer said. He plans a follow-up study on men's attitudes about violence toward women, and another to see if testosterone levels are a factor." [ the story ]

I suspect at some point someone must have threatened Bush's masculinity. Although, you'd have to be pretty secure in your masculinity to dress like this. Gayest president ever.

Immortalized in print.

2005-08-07T23:02:00.000-05:00

I wasn't exactly popular in highschool. People seemed to know my name, but not for good reasons. That's why it seemed like an advantage to have K-Mack, one of my best friends, be named Photo Editor of my senior class yearbook - Class of 1993. If I didn't have someone on the inside, there wasn't a chance in hell I'd be pictured anywhere in that book. Turns out maybe it wasn't such an advantage after all, because not only did K-Mack get to choose the pictures of me that would be featured in the yearbook, she also took it upon herself to completely make up my quotes out of thin air. This one in particular has always bothered me:

Life's a beach, too bad we're not on it. It echoes in my head like a bad memory even though I've never uttered such a stupid phrase in my life. And that picture makes me look like like a post-facelift Greta Van Susteren. Thanks for nuthin' K-Mack.

People Falling Down

2005-08-07T21:03:00.000-05:00

In honor of America's Funnies Home Video 300th Episode Special that aired this week (Shut up, a Saget-less AFHV is comedy gold), I take pleasure in the misfortune of others:

• Uh Oh #1
• Uh Oh #2
• Uh Oh #3
• Uh Oh #4

Yeah, one of these images is not like the others. It's a fake, taken by a photographer who has a whole series of people in various states of unbalance. You can view the whole portfolio here.

Swasticomedy

2005-08-03T21:06:00.000-05:00

It's too bad that those damn nazis had to go and claim the swastika as the official symbol of their evil deeds, because it's actually a pretty cool shape, design-wise. They've gone and sullied its image. You could never ever use it in a design without offending 95% of the planet. (The non-offended 5% would have to include neo-nazis and those no-bra jungle tribes). So that cool swastika shape is lost, to be forever associated with the grand pooh-bahs of evil. But if you look around, you can still see swastikas everywhere. I don't know if it's actually true, but read about the legend of the Swastika forest:

[from Cynical-C blog, one of my favorites]

Other places you might not expect to find swastikas:

• Your birthday party.
• Your gramma's house.
• Your mailbox on valentine's day.

2005-08-03T21:02:00.000-05:00

cool billboards, already on server

One of a kind.

2005-08-03T20:53:00.000-05:00

This video has seen all sides of the internet. It's been around the block more than a few times. But I love it and I wanted to store it on my server so I could watch it for always no matter where I am. I figure I may as well share it. Right click to download.

One of a kind. (1 MB)

Now, with more funny!

2005-08-03T19:55:00.000-05:00

The awful new Shoebox greeting card commercial actually promises "new, funnier Shoebox greeting cards". They make it sound like it's as easy as adding more stuffing to an Oreo. Now, with more funny! If it was that easy to be funnier, why didn't they do it years ago. Was it a trend thing? Were lame greeting cards all the rage last year? So that must mean being unfunny isn't "in" anymore. Being unfunny must have had a long run at the top, though, because I honestly haven't read a truly funny greeting card in years.

Unrelatedly, I bought some new Listerine Teeth Whitening Pre-Brush Rinse. In my head, it was the best idea ever: whiten your teeth with a one-minute minty fresh rinse! Not so much. Sure, there's a trace of mint somewhere in there, but even more prominent is the taste of sea water, peroxide, and just a hint of pickle. Not to mention the strange sudsy action, which makes it akin to gargling handsoap. Anyway, it's not getting the planetdan stamp of approval.

It's not the heat, it's the stupidity.

2005-08-01T21:20:00.000-05:00

I know that the title to this post is the worst pun ever, but it was like 95 degrees by 9am today. I swear to god that all this heat has totally retarded my brain processes. I honestly stood by the keycard-accessible back entrance of my work this morning and tried to deactivate the card reader with my car remote for like 30 seconds before I realized that building doors cannot be opened with car key remotes. I stood there, all sweaty and slackjawed, just pushing the unlock button over and over again, waiting for the familiar click-clack of the unlocking mechanism, until out of frustration I finally thought "What the fuh, why won't this op..." and then suddenly I snapped back into reality for long enough to get out my card key. If it gets any hotter, I'm going to have to start pinning my name and phone number to my shirt like in the first grade. I hate the hot.

Since it's supposed to be in the 90s tomorrow, too, I better make myself a reminder:

Sexy Dance

2005-07-31T01:05:00.000-05:00

For some reason, I think this is laugh-out-loud funny (although perhaps not exactly suitable for work): click here.

I'm ten seconds away from photoshopping my own face onto that animation.

Update: Ok, so I had to do it, although I really wish I hadn't.

9 to 5

2005-08-01T12:38:00.000-05:00

I made myself a T-shirt this weekend featuring the whole clan from 9 to 5. I don't know why, I just did. I get a happy wave of nostalgia every time they play 9 to 5 on the television, so I figured why not make it into a shirt and wear the happy around all day long?

So I wore it out on Saturday night, and I was impressed that my friend Trevor recognized the image from twenty paces away. But that's where the recognition stopped. One person asked if it was "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas". On the way to the bathroom, another random person asked "Hey, is that Klute?" Now, I've never seen Klute but I can bet that Dolly and Dabney aren't in it. Whatever, as long as I know what it is, that's all that matters.

But what I really want to do is buy some cheap colored T's at Target, then create a whole set of absurd T-shirts featuring something ridiculous or pointless, like my big face, and then sneak them back into Target (with the price tags still on), and slip them onto a store rack as if they are regular merchandise. It'd be an interesting social experiment to check back daily to see if they've been purchased or removed, and maybe if I'm really lucky even see one being worn on the street someday. Heck, half the people who purchase those Che Guevara T-shirts don't know who he is anyway, so why can't it be my beeming face instead?

I can't work out how to get the Target hangers I would need for the quick switcharoo, though. Hmmm.

Some stuffs.

2005-07-28T13:04:00.000-05:00

Stuff I've been wanting to post for a while but keep fergettin:

1. Although I Like a Good George W. Bush Joke as Much as the Next Guy, Some of Them Seem Gratuitous and Mean-Spirited. [thanks joe]

2. More creepy andriod abominations. [thank you rebecca]

3. That dog again.

Mind = Blown

2005-07-28T14:15:00.000-05:00

Presurfer had a link to some visual illusions involving our perception of color being based just as much on the surrounding colors than the color itself. This practical demonstration of that concept actually made me gasp a little because I'm easily amused. See the two shapes below? Even though the center cross section of one shape looks grayish-blue and the other looks yellow, each shape is actually the exact same hue. Roll over the image to mask it off and see for yourself:

Wheeeeeee!

The Food Chain

2005-07-26T16:15:00.000-05:00

I live in Minnesota, which is called the Land of 10,000 Lakes (even though there are actually over 15,000 - apparently we just don't like to brag). More specifically, I live in Minneapolis, which is called the City of Lakes. There are probably at least 100 lakes within a 15 minute drive from my house. But you won't catch dan swimming in a lake. No way. This photo, recently taken by my coworker's friend, is just one reason why:

(click for larger)

Another reason is urine. But that's a whole different story.

Mysterious Japanese Babies

2005-07-26T15:57:00.000-05:00

I was looking through some old files on my server last night, trying to organize the behind-the-scenes clutter explosion that is the backbone of planetdan, and I found this mysterious collage of japanese baby photos. I have no idea where it came from or how it got on my server, but they sure are damned cute.

This one in particular makes me laugh:

Their blinding cuteness has made me temporarily ignore the genuinely creepy fact that this file materialized out of thin air. Maybe it's like that movie The Ring, only with cute baby pics instead of a nine inch nails video. I'll be dead in seven days. I just don't know it yet. Go ahead, look at all of them, if you dare.

Pareidolia

2005-07-25T20:18:00.000-05:00

Seeing the Virgin Mary in grilled cheese sandwiches and satan in the smoke of the Twin Towers is incredibly lame, in my opinion. People see faces in everything: the devil's face in Canadian money, jesus in outer space, and there's twelvity billion more examples. But why does it always gotta be religious? It's a natural human tendency - hardwired into us at birth - to seek out familiar patterns, especially faces. Although I admit that seeing these creepy fireworks or an ominous hovering baby face over your house might be a little disconcerting:

There was even a tiny chocolate dancer stain on my very own t-shirt the other day when I got careless with some dessert served by K-mack. Could have been jesus, I guess.

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