Friday, December 26, 2008

My Predictions For 2009

  1. Jesus will not show up, again, in 2009. However his cousin Ernie will come to Earth and give to mankind the gift of an all new type of french fry. Christianity will be safe from nay-sayers for another thousand years.
  2. Aliens will finally make themselves known. At first we will greet them with open arms, but by the end of the year they will reveal themselves to be more annoying than our one uncle at the xmas party this year who kept talking about his new job and how much more money he makes now. In December we will pretend that we forgot to text our alien "friends" before going to the bar with everyone else.
  3. Being forced to ditch his Blackberry, Barack Obama will have a device created especially for him. It will historically known as the first half-blackberry in the White House.
  4. Amy Winehouse will overdose on drugs and die. The media will take, and publish, photos of her corpse for weeks before anyone notices that she is dead.
  5. There will be some big storms that will kill people who do not leave when the police order them to evacuate. The news will report on a saddened nation, when in reality, the nation is pretty happy to be rid of it's genetic drift.
  6. Your toothbrush will be obsolete. There will be a new toothbrush with a bit of plastic on it that does something your old brush could never have done. Holy shit were you dumb for buying that piece of crap. You should buy this new toothbrush. It's the best ever!!!
  7. KISS vocalist Paul Stanley will come out of the closet and admit that he is gay. KISS fans everywhere will be shocked. Elton John will remind the world he was once married to a woman too.
  8. The world will rise up as a united people and track down, and hen kill, the handful of people who actually buy hard-on pills because a SPAM email message told them to do so.
  9. Apple will release a new phone called the f-uPhone. It will work just like a regular iPhone only it will be able to detect whenever someone calls you from a non-Apple phone and instead of putting them through to you it will berate them for being second-class citizens.
  10. The most popular diet craze of 2009 will be having your jaw broken every time you mention that you need to go on a diet. So, on January 1st, when you have convincingly lied to yourself about getting in shape, the first person you mention this fact to will punch you so hard in the face that you will have to eat Jell-o through a straw. Right around the time you get you jaw unwired it will be time to trim up for swimsuit season, earning you another broken jaw, which should carry you right through to Thanksgiving.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Mr. McFeely

Six months ago I was trying to figure out what I wanted to be for Halloween this year. Over the years I have not had very many stand-out costumes, so this year I really wanted to wear something that nobody else would think of, and I also wanted to be someone that everyone at the party would recognize. I had several ideas, some I may even use some day, but late one night while falling asleep it hit me, Mr. McFeely.


I mean think about it - not only could I pull that off, but it would be comfortable, people would recognize me and as a bonus the name "McFeely" opened me up for a few perverted jokes right?

The costume was a hit. Almost everyone seemed to love the it. A few were too young perhaps to really identify with the character the way I could, but it didn't matter. McFeely was a winner!

Flash forward to this past Saturday... I was out Christmas shopping with the wife. As we walked past the bookstore I saw a sign up for some local sports writer selling yet-another-Pittsburgh-sports-book. (One of my favorite things to see are these guys out for a book signing only to find out that next to nobody cares to meet them or have them sign a book.) So, when I noticed there were a few people crowded around the table I was a little confused... that was until my wife said, "Look, it's Mr. McFeely."

I felt like a dork but I had to stand in line. I dressed up as this guy for Halloween and god dammit I was gonna shake his hand and tell him that he was a hit at my party. When my turn came he looked up at me and. I don't know if it was him, or if it were all the memories pouring back in my head, but I swear to god I felt like a little kid again.

He seemed geniunely happy to meet me. He loved hearing about how I chose to be him this year and insisted we take a picture of the two of us together. He looked at the picture on my iPhone, said we needed a better one and Jamie took a second picture. He asked me to email him pictures of me in my Mr. McFeely costume. He was just one of the warmest, coolest guys you could ever imagine. He didn't even really ask me to buy his children's book, but I did and he signed it for me. I walked into the bookstore, allowing the people behind me to have their time alone with a legend.
But it didn't end there. I was listening to people all over the bookstore talking about this moment in their lives, their voices just filled with excitment. Couples were exchanging childhood memories, and parents were talling their children how this old guy was cooler than Bratz and Ben 10.

I couldn't help but think that Santa Claus was downstairs for the little kids and Mr. McFeely was up here for the adults who did not always remember that they were still children to somebody.

Yes, Nathaniel, there really is a Mr. McFeely.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Outing Pittgirl - Full Name and Pictures

As many of you know, Pittgirl quit posting her amazingly popular blog, The Burgh Blog. Why? Because she found out that if someone searched hard enough that they could piece together enough clues and find out who she was - which could then endanger her job, and likely force her to water down her articles into the low-end pablum you see in print media today. (Oh my god you can really save money with coupons? Do we need to see that fucking story again???)

Then I thought to myself, "She quit so what do we have to lose?" In thinking further I also remembered that she never bought me a single beer, so fuck it. Since I like a good puzzle I thought I would put on my Sherlock Cap and sleuth out the info before City Paper decided to turn it into another shitty cover story with a lame pun inspired headline. "Cyberspaced! We ID The Anonymous Blogger"

I knew the first thing that I had to do was to go through her entire archive of posts and to pick apart every detail on her personal life that I could find. Unfortunately, she took down every post on the site... so I have to go with what the genius "legit" press is saying about her. Reading every article that I could find, I managed to dig up some key facts. 1 - Pittgirl is a she. 2 - Pittgirl hates pidgeons. 3 - Pittgirl loves Pittsburgh. 4 - Pittgirl wrote blogs about stuff and then quit. 5 - Pittgirl had a more fans than Bubba's Shitty Morning Show on B94 (tm). Really, who the fuck listens to that moron?

Ok - Let's stick with facts 1. Pittgirl is a female. Being female I can deduce that her name is unlikely to be Bruce, Timmy or Arthur. Applying some higher thinking than most men, and applying Occam's Razor, I have come to the conclusion that her first name is Rachel. Why Rachel you may ask? Because Friend's was a really popular show and most chicks I know want to be, if they had a choice of the 3 females on that show, Rachel.

Now I need to worry about the last name... Pittgirl lives in Pittsburgh. That rules out nice sounding last names like McDermot, Jeremy and Obama. No, if she's a true Pittsburgher her last name has to be something fucked up like Wizenjowski. In fact, after a solid 5 minutes of medatation and consulting my Magic 8 Ball - I'm positive her last name really is Wizenjowski.

Rachel Ray Wizenjowski.

I don't need any more of the facts now do I?

What I do need, however, is a picture!

Thank you google image search. One quick search, letting google correct my spelling, and scolling down 1/2 a page, I found the face of Pittgirl!!!



Not the pretties girl, I admit, but what did you expect of a nerd girl yinzer? Cummon, look at that face! Can't you see it grinning evilly as it directs a foot towards a pidgeon? I can. It's pretty fucking scary actually.

Ok, seriously, I mostly wrote this blog to fuck with the idiots out there who are actually going to search for info that they now lknow is out there. With any luck I just entertained a few friends and fucked with a bunch of retards that needed fucking with. You shitmules should be ashamed of yourselves.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I hates me the winter...

My good friend Art recently posted a blog... http://pheh.wordpress.com/2008/10/28/the-weather-may-be-frightful that got my brain ticking.

I fucking hate winter. I hate the cold. I hate cold fingers, cold ears, a cold nose and shivering. I really fucking hate fucking shivering. I hate going to bed at night in my chilly little bedroom and taking my cloths off and shivering for 5 minutes under the covers to pay for the 3 seconds I spent naked without clothes or blankets.

I hate shoveling my walk. I hate digging my car out from the snow. I really hate digging my car out from the snow that the plow guy humorously piled up over top of my hood. HE HE YOU FUCKING PRICK!

I hate those ugly grey days when everything, and I mean everything, is grey and shitty and bland and boring.

But Art reminded me that as a kid winter was something else, wasn't it?

I mean first off, when I was a kid I'd pray for snow. I wasn't even picky about the god I'd pray too either. I'm sure I made up a snow god and prayed to him and offered him human sacrifice if only he could make it snow long enough so that a) school would get canceled and b) I could build snow tunnels all over the neighborhood like some secret underground military base.

The first prayer was sometimes answered! Not often enough for me, but on occasion we could get a 5 day weekend. What did we do with our 5 days off? We played out in the snow... all day, every day. If we weren't sledding down Sullivan's back yard, we were building snow forts and planning snow battles.

I remember one winter I was determined to build an igloo. Of course the snow wasn't good enough for the kind of igloo you see on TV, but it was good enough to roll up 4 massive snowman-base sized balls, push them near each other and then pack in the empty space until it looked like an igloo. The rest of the day was spent hollowing out the giant snow dome... and you know, once it was done, it was actually pretty damn warm in side. (So warm in fact, I made another one a few years later and my GF at the time (you read about her) and I can now say we had sex in an igloo.)

However I still remember there was something about the snow in my childhood that I really hated...


It was this particular brand of snow boot that looked a lot like the one above, only there were no laces - just this weird metal clasps that rarely stayed closed. The insulation wasn't furry looking, in fact, it looked a lot like old carpet padding. They weren't really waterproof either, so I had to first put my feet into bread bags and then into the boot.

Those things sucked sooo bad that when moon boots came out, I thought they were a gift from the Snow God. "You have suffered long enough Young Nathaniel, here - Moon Boots!"

But even with the sucky boots - it was a good time.... just a blur of memories.

The neighbors small pond freezing over, 3 of us barely fitting on it to "skate" in our sneakers, until Brian Stoddard pushed me and I broke the ice with my face. Which was fine because when I got home Buck Rogers had a new episode on that night anyway.

Coming home at like 10:00 at night and noticing the absolute silence. No birds. No cars anywhere. No kids out playing and screaming. Nobody in the world but me.

My brothers and I helping to push cars up Riverhill Rd where a fire hydrant was leaking and freezing out on to the road. When my brother started to collect tips from the people we helped, I remembered his grabbing the monkey wrench from my dads tools earlier in the evening.

Leaving the first foot print somewhere... or better yet leaving tracks that would confuse people by walking backwards in my own tracks, or jumping back into an area where there was no snow to leave tracks in.

That smell... sometimes the smell of nothing. Sometimes the smell of wood fireplaces, sometimes the smell of coal. Ya know, this is something most people don't even know they miss, but coming home the other day someone must have had a coal fired stove and I caught a whiff and remember that's how ALL winters used to smell before they closed up every factory in the Mon Valley.

But hey - we get older don't we? Soon the snow becomes a reason your parents won't take you to the mall to hang out with your buddies, or the threat of snow becomes the reason you can't borrow the car. Snow becomes a hindrance and more and more of your friends would rather stay in alone rather than get together and play a game of AD&D over some hot chocolate.

Maybe I don't hate winter as much as I hate being an adult.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Dead Friends

Oddly enough I'd thought about my dead friends on three different occasions today and for totally different reasons. I'm talking about the really dead friends and not the people who only show up in your life when it's not too hard on them... Listed in no particular order.

Chuck - He was really one of the good ones - just a great guy to be around, talk to and joke with. He was, I think, the first friend I had who faced the unknown. It hit me fairly hard because Chuck wasn't much older than me.

Mike AKA Fast Fingers - I used to talk to this guy all the time on the phone back when I was exploring phone systems and hacking. He was really a smart guy who taught me what it was to live with a handicap. Mike was blind and in no way did it ever change who he was... well not until Diabetes took him.

Ron - What can I say about Ron. Ron is the reason I can never be a racist. Ron is the reason I look for the best in everyone. Ron also is a fairly often inspiration to not talk in a negative way about anyone - even when they deserve it. Rob was an amazing influence on my life for as little as we actually saw each other.

Amy - Amy was a funeral home director who paled around with us local nerds. She showed us her home and she showed us the business and she and I got close for a while... when my dad died I went to her to find out what to expect and see if we should trust our local funeral home people. She made it a lot easier on me... she died herself not even 10 years after she started her business.

Rat - Like Mike, I knew Rat well but never actually met him. He is the reason I bothered to read Abbie Hoffman, he's a big reason I try to think of things in fun-value, and he is the reason I know it's ok to try and stay young. Rat and I talked several times after he found out he had cancer and then one day I realized I hadn't heard from him in a while. I did some research and finally found friends of his on MySpace who told me how amazingly well he went out. Until the very end he made plans for the next day.

I just wanted to step back and thank those who have been with me all this time, even if not in body and maybe get you to think about your dead friends as well.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Are You Hot?


I found this ad on Myspace today...



I am not hot. In fact I think guys who say that they are hot are actually using some sort of gay code for closeted individuals to secretly identify themselves to other potential homosexuals. [[standard 'not that there is anything wrong with that' disclaimer]]

But here is the thing. Suppose I was a fairly good looking single male interested in meeting real people. I've met some fake people and I have to tell you that, unlike fake boobs, the novelty of hanging out with fake people wears thin after a few weeks. You're like, "Hey, pass me the sports section" and they are like, well, they are like - not there. They aren't real. If you ask them to pitch in on a keg of beer, you get zero dollars. Fake people suck.

Right there - the ad has me. I prefer real people.

But there is more, I can also meet people near me. That's just awesome because people who aren't near me are harder to meet. I mean yeah I could possibly make semi-regular trips Toronto to hang out with my new real person but I would be far less likely to go to Lichtenstein every weekend.

So hey this site seems pretty cool. Meeting real-unfake people that are near-not far away.

And yet, even pretending I'm single I don't want to click on the ad.

What could it be? What is stopping me from clickely clicking that innocent, simply worded, advertisement that promises so very much?

Oh there it is - THAT CHICK IS FUCKING ULGY.

"Hi my name is Tammy, and I prefer white trailer homes to brown trailer homes. I wear hoop earings so I have a place to rest my feet shild servicing the local pool hall player who can afford to buy me the most drinks. Budweiser only. I play pool too and can shoot an entire game without every taking the cigarette out of my mouth. I like walks on the beach and mowing the lawn in a tube top. I was once told I was hot by a guy with a camera and he convinced me to model. I think I should have shaved my puss-puss a little more carefully that day but I like the pictures anyway. Too bad the bruises on my legs and back show up in all of them. I like that Earl show because it's sooo true!"

Is that really the kind of girl you want to represent your dating site? Maybe. I suppose. Maybe the typical myspacian is into crabs, warts and herpes. I don't know. What I do know is that if I ever find myself single and looking for a real nearby friend, I'm not clicking on any ads that look like that.

(P.S. Bravo to the guy who made the ad. He must have spent minutes with MS Paint to do something of that quality!)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

My First Sex Acts

This one is a bit, umm personal... I like Tucker Max stories, and while I can't say this is influenced by him I like to read his stuff because it reminds me of myself when I was young... take this story for instance:

Believe it or not I was not always married. In fact I was not always in my 30's either... in fact there was a point in my life was I was 15 years old and beginning the first of my long term relationships.

She was an awesome girlfriend. She put up with so much crap over the nearly 4 years we were together that if I could go back in time to 1986, and shoe myself right in the taint for all the shit I was about to put her through, I would. You betcha.

We met in front of McDonald's, exchanged numbers at Sheetz and a few hours later we were making out in front of a used car lot that has closed, and opened and closed again several times over. I'm not sure which one of those items is a metaphor for our relationship, but I'd like to think that the term "Special Sauce" is in there somewhere. (Keep Reading...)

After 2 days of seeing each other I finally convinced her to take her pants off for me. She was playing the typical teenage hard-to-get game and even with my limited experience, I was able to outsmart her.

ME: "Hey can I ummm see your bush?" (Classy guy right?)
HER: "What? No. I'm not that kind of girl."
ME: "No no, I know you aren't, but you are my girlfriend and I've always wondered what blonde public hair looks like."
HER: "Well... ok. But you can't touch."
ME: "I promise."

Here is my advice to all teenage lovers out there. Guys, when a girl takes her pants off in front of you, you can always do more than just look. Gals, if a guy says "I promise" remember that the phrase you just heard is actually an incomplete sentence and you have no idea what you were just promised.

Example:

Girlfriend: "Tell me that you will never cheat on me!"
Boyfriend: "I promise!"
Inside Voice of Boyfriend: "I promise to tell you that I will never cheat on you."

That, was another conversation that my girlfriend and I had, but I'll save that for another day when I don't have anything topical to blog about.

That was the first time we had oral sex. Or rather, that's the first time I gave her oral sex. Remember, she wasn't that kinda girl. It took me 2 full weeks to work my way all the way into her pants... Which is unfair to say because she wasn't wearing any pants that night. She was sleeping out on the back porch with her Liz - who just happened to be dating my friend Kirk. So what were we to do while Kirk and Liz were in the same double-wide sleeping bag as us having sex? Liz WAS that kind of girl... goddamn Kirk.

An interesting thing about a guy is that when he first starts nailing a girl, he is just so happy to be getting some that he will go week or months before even hinting that maybe they should mix it up a little and try some new positions or non-standard sex acts.

My first deviant suggestion was titty fuck.

Why titty fuck? Because I saw it in a porno. It looked kinda fun, and so far I had not succeeded on getting my spooge anywhere near her mouth, face or hair. I figured that this was the perfect end-run since the old BJ was way too obvious a tactic.

(Why do guys want to get spooge in those places? Because girl's who "aren't like that" don't want spooge anywhere near those areas. No other reason is necessary. They say no, we make it a target.)

So with a little convincing my girlfriend agrees to go with the titty fuck. I think my line of logic was... "It'll feel really good and there is no way I can get you pregnant!"

The only problem was that she was a small B cup.


(not her)
Not that there is anything wrong with B cups.

I honestly did not know how hard it would be for her to push her boobs together close enough for there to be enough boob meat to touch my wiener. God bless her though, she tried. She even did the hand over top of of the wiener trick to keep it down in the valley of her non cleavage. About 2 minutes later we just gave up and I was monkey jerking it with the exit hole pointed right at her face.

I made mime-like motions for her to open her mouth and she wasn't going for it. I don't know why I didn't just tell her, in words, to open up... maybe I thought that was just crude or something. I don't know. But an even shorter while later I was ruining what had to be one of the cutest blonde 80's feathered haircuts ever worn by a girl in the Mon Valley.

She didn't even break up with me. I told you, she was awesome.

So about a year later we have done all the fun sex things that teens do, except one. The dirty hole.

I know what you are thinking. It was my idea. But I assure you that it was not. Or at least it wasn't my idea at the time that it actually happened. I was not the guy to bring it up. I'm positive I asked her several times if I could put my bologna in her turd cutter and I'm positive that each and every time I asked she said I could just fuck off and die instead.

(After a year of dating me, kind and innocent girls tend to be a little more foul-mouthed.)

We were laying in bed reading porn ads. (I used to steal them from my brother as it was hard to get your hands on real porn when you were 16 and the internet wasn't invented yet.) She was looking at the section of videos that specialized in anal sex. Each video tape had a little picture of a little woman getting a big dick shoved in her pooper. I guess that when she looked at those pictures, instead of seeing faces filled with pain, she saw girls having a great time!

Take this picture for instance...


Look at that girl's face. Looks like that girl is having fun doesn't it? Now imagine that exact same smile on a girl with a giant cock in her ass? Now it looks like she is biting down hard to fight back some quality horror movie style screaming doesn't it?

(Another reason I bring up this board game is that Kirk and I worked at a toy store one winter and she was, by far, the hottest chick on a board game cover in that store. I think he once took the game into the bathroom during a break... Ok maybe that was me.)

Back to the anal sex...

My girlfriend paused in her porno perusing and looked up at me...

HER: "Do you wanna, ummm..."
ME: "What-havesex-yes." (I didn't use commas when asked about having sex.)
HER: "Yeah, sorta, I mean like different?"
ME: "Like what are you talking about?"
HER: "You know..."
ME: "Huh?"

It's amazing how stupid guys can sound when talking about sex with a girl... even if it's a girl that they have already drained gallons of cum in or on. I think the reason for this is that we don't want to spoil anything that she may have been offering! Like, what if we say the wrong thing (which we are good at) and she was just about to ask if she could invite her friend Allison over for a 3-some? Sorry but any real man will play dumb and let her spell it out when involved in conversations like this.

HER: "Like that thing you want to do..."
ME: "I want to do lots of things."
HER: "In the umm ahh butt..."

Natually I'm all for this? Why am I all for this? Because until that very day, she had banned me from putting my dong in her poop-basket and now it was more of a matter of pride than a matter of getting off. It's the same reason some douchbag risked his life to climb Mt. Everest. Nobody else had been there.

So I strip down nude, get behind her, and she stops me...

HER: "Do you have umm any lube?"
ME: "You have been having sex with me for over a year now. Have you ever seen any?"
HER: "No. Could we use butter?"
ME: "Hell yeah. If it's good enough for pankcakes, it's good enough for mudd flaps!"

I run down the stairs, grab the butter out of the fridge and run back up to my bedroom with stick in hand... actually a stick in both hands, only one was butter and the other was my penis.

I then proceeded to lube her asshole up with a stick of cold butter. I want you to read that sentence again because it's never been typed before and there is a reason why. Normal and sane people do not use butter on their asshole when they have sex. Being a teenager and not having any personal lubricant is no excuse either. But there I was - trying to melt butter onto her fart catcher so that I could violate it with less tearing.

Being the nice guy that I was, I put a little on myself too.

The next thing you know I'm trying to fit it in... I know it's not an easy thing for a girl to do and yes I was a bad boyfriend but I wasn't cruel. I was taking my time, just a little pressure at first, and then I hear her crying.

Oh god. What have I done to this precious little girl who asked me to butter up her asshole and follow it up with a cock chaser?

I ask her, "Are you ok baby? Why are you crying? Did I go too fast?"

"No," she says, "I just can't believe I'm doing this."

Did I mention that she was a blonde?

Monday, October 20, 2008

Fine... (a new start)

I've fucking hated MySpace's blog ever since the first day I joined the site. I remember I was curious about all that MySpace had to offer and being disappointed that most of the people on the site could only offer badly worded quizes about how they like grape jelly. As I built up my friends the content got better but the blogging got worse. The fucker was always down, or worse it would go down after I typed up a 20 page rant, and figured that clicking "save" actually meant it would save my shit.

No. It meant that, yet again, Tom is a moron.

Then they started really fucking it up. You can't post links. You can't post pictures if they don't like em. If you wanted to reply you have to go through the most annoying captcha system on earth and if you don't type it fast enough, it could change. Nevermind that p kind of looks like a b or a d because it's all bent up with a line through it. 0? FUCK!!!#@

So MySpace, you still have your uses. At least until all of my other friend migrate to Facebook or Blogger.

I can't wait for the day that you are talked about in the same sentences as Lycos, pets.com and go.com... "Remember when... Oh yeah, hehe, what were we thinking anyway?"