Well, at least I think I’m funny.

As of Monday my blog* was slowly but surely creeping up to the high heights of getting my 10,000th visitor. Shut up. I know it’s not a lot for most of you, but damnit, it means something to me.

I was pretty excited at this prospect and began coming up with things I could do to celebrate. I started formulating and contemplating, fornicating and coronating, fabulating and calumniating, and trying to come up with the coolest possible idea for a 10 thousand hit celebration**. But life never goes quite the way you want it to.

“But Andy, whatever do you mean?” you might ask. Well, due to my unfortunate foray into follicle folly*** and my over-active imagination I was featured on Gawker**** and, well, let’s just say I was blasted well over the 10,000 hit mark within about 20 minutes.

Then I got to thinking it would be kind of nice to illustrate my brief history of blogging. Since my first post***** my blog****** has changed******* a lot. Mostly though, I try to amuse myself. I figured my 10,000th post shouldn’t be any different. I mean, after all I’ve hated on Nickelback, ranted about techno, killed a fellow blogger 3 times in one post********, bashed america’s idol, I’ve pretty covered everything. I even managed to up my life expextancy********* by like 40 years…and I’ve died.

So far I’d say it’s been a pretty good run, and to all those people who come back time and again to read the senseless drivel I’ve become so consistent********** with, thanks. And I hope you’ll stick around and keep reading despite all the quirks*********** I’ve developed from being generally odd…and a trombone player.

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my blog************ as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it*************. It’s nice to know that people are willing to read the goofy ideas and silly scenarios I’ve been coming up with my whole life. Here’s to 10,000 more visitors*************.

Sincerely,

Andy

p.s. In case I mis-linked anything, I apologize.

*SUCKER!
**like trying to see if I could OD on the dictionary.
***OOH! that was a good one.
****For the third time
*****Bet you thought it’d be interesting. You didn’t? Oh.
******ba-zing. that’s twice.
*******the last time I tried to pin me down. I’m back to pretty much doing whatever.
********sorry about that Dade.
*********So you get more crappy posts like this one.
**********I’m not sure why I linked this post here.
***********and maybe continue coming back because of them.
************See? I know when a joke is dead.
*************No I don’t.
**************I just had to put one more sentence so as not to end on 13*************** *’s.
***************I’m very superstitious****************.
****************not really.

Every morning for breakfast I eat oatmeal. I think I made this clear in an earlier post, and if I didn’t, well, consider this the post in which I make it clear and you can now reflect on the first sentence if reflecting on the earlier post didn’t work for you. And if you don’t think its technically reflecting to refelect on a reflection reflected upon only from moments ago, then perhaps you can reflect on it now, as it’s been longer. At any rate I hope it’s clear now that I eat oatmeal for breakfast every morning.

I bring it with me to work, dump some water in there (Poland Spring - because I’m half Polish*), and then nuke it on up. Typically upon placing it at my desk I’ll then grab a fork** from our supply shelves to eat it. Then I return to my desk whereat sits said oatmeal.

Now I never claimed to have a great sniffer, but this morning was just different. Not unpleasant, just different. My oatmeal smelled like french fries. The beer-battered kind you get at The Deli (and then return because they’re cold since they’ve been sitting under the damn heat lamp for so long - or because you saw an employee wipe a booger on them). I couldn’t believe it. So I sat down in front of my oatmeal, thinking my nostrils were most likely being misled, only to find that the french-fry smell strengthened - like so many French people who-…ah who am I kidding? French people aren’t strong at anything.

Then I got to thinking about why my oatmeal smells like french-fries. I couldn’t come up with an answer. I don’t eat fast food a lot (practically never) so it’s not like I have an old Burger King bag sitting in the trash or elsewhere in the office. Potentially it could’ve been the toothpaste flavor I still had in my mouth interfering with the original oatmeal smell - or maybe it was the air conditioner - who knows?

Finally, I decided that if my oatmeal is going to smell like something other than oatmeal, french fries isn’t so bad. It could’ve been much worse. Here’s a brief list of other things I wouldn’t mind my oatmeal smelling like:

1. Chicken
2. Bananas
3. Apple Pie
4. Frank Stallone

*And all polish baby.
**We ran out of spoons long ago.

I’m not sure what exactly my problem is…well, let me rephrase that. I’m not sure exactly what Boris’ problem is. He’s the kind of guy who makes a stupid joke and you laugh at it, but only because he barely speaks English. The type of person who is always trying to make a “business” connection even though he is a barber. He wants people to come back. He wants people to take business cards. What he doesn’t want, is to do a good job.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate immigrants about as much as everyone else…alright, well, at least as much as White Dade. But damnit, when you are cutting hair, the broken English in some sort of Eastern European accent just won’t…cut it. It should really have clued me in. Especially my second time back.

The first time I went to this place to get my hair cut, Sergei did it. Despite the fact that I told him I just wanted him to trim it, he decided he was gonna go Jack Bauer on my follicoles - but he did a good job. In fact, when he was done I thought “Well this is the exact opposite of what I asked for but, at least it looks good.” Oh, if only Boris could’ve been so lucky:

Boris: Hullo.
Andy: Hi.
Boris: Ok. How you want cut, this hair?
Andy: Uh…which one?
Boris: How shall I cut?
Andy: Just take a little off and even it out.
Boris: Okay.

That’s what was said. Here’s how Boris interpreted it.

Boris: Hey there chappy, what gives? Gimme some skin!

Andy: Hi, I’m a stupid b-hole for coming back to this place. Take my money!

Boris: Ok. What can I do for ya today? I have to warn you, I really suck.

Andy: Uh…you know what? I trust you. People that are terrible at things? Why, that’s what I consider the foundations of a grade-A establishment. As long as you can read at a 3rd grade level, you’re classy in my book.

Boris: So then, any vague ideas at least?

Andy: Just take a little off and even it out.

Boris: Okay, I’ll cut off too much hair and leave it all lop-sided and weird looking.

Andy: That’d be perfect - say! You don’t happen to have some rusty, old, barely-functioning scissors around do you? I’d like to purchase them for $100 and do my own haircuts at home!

Boris: Oh, as a matter of fact, I do. (rummages in those weird barber-shop drawers that every barber seems to have) Ah ha! Here’s the pair I killed my wife and brother with, in order to sell their skin for the money I needed to move to America and start my lucrative, shitty, barber shop!

Andy: Lovely! Say, where’s Sergei at? He seems to have an equally poor grasp of English, but still manages to do a good job.

Boris: Oh, I killed him too! Here at Boris’ Barber Shop our motto is: “If you like your haircut, we don’t suck enough…and we’ll kill the person responsible!”

Andy: Why that sounds like a fine slogan Boris. You really have it all.

Boris: Yes, yes I do!

(Andy and Boris laugh uproariously together)

Long story short? I’m buying clippers tonight.

The summer of 2006 saw changes in the Middle East. China fired test missles, an American cheated to win the Tour de France, and Italy won the world cup. What do all these things have in common? Seemingly nothing, unless of course, you happen to be into obscure Podcasts.

Franklin Talk is a revolutionary podcast in that it features a dog, Franklin, who talks. Typically the shows cover everything from sports to current events, to Franklin’s own hopes and dreams. The show was revered by many* as an “hilarious satire on the modern world.” Some even went so far as to call it “the greatest podcast of all-time…including the future, which has yet to see many podcasts that may or may not be better than Franklin Talk. Putting me at risk of looking like a fool for saying this.” But towards the end of July in 2006, a fatal mistep sent the show on a downward spiral.

One fateful night, after returning home from a post-work celebration, Andy slipped and fell in his room. As he struggled to get up, his foot landed on his laptop bag and…well, you can guess the rest from there:

The laptop was sent away to be fixed and Andy assured both Franklin and Franklin’s listeners the show would be back up and running in no time. Unfortunately, this was not the case.

Apple took longer than necessary to repair the laptop and during this two week abscence, things started to quickly spiral downward.

Soon the loss of fame and notoriety Franklin had achieved doing Franklin Talk began to quickly dwindle. Crowds** demanded new episodes, and new episodes Franklin could not provide. Things took a turn for the worse. The following is photographic evidence chronicling Franklin’s plummet into the seedy underbelly of Miami:

Notice he is sticking his tongue out. Franklin often does this to cool off, or, mock those he doesn’t agree with or understand. This is normal Franklin behavior. Day 3.

Then things started to take a turn for the worse…

Notice Franklin’s sudden concern and suspicious glance. It was at this time his paranoid behavior was thought to be indicative of a serious cocaine problem. day 5.

Then all hell breaks loose…

Notice the white powder located on the tip of Franklin’s nose. Day 9

Several cocaine binges later and countless trips to the pound, and Franklin was on his way out with the American public. Things finally came to boiling point when this photo was leaked to the AP:

It was captured minutes before Franklin assaulted this duck, believed to be his cocaine supplier. You can see the duck’s habitat is full of garbage like a true junky’s, and perimetered by a thick chain for security from would-be attackers. Also, if you look carefully, you can see in the duck’s eye’s a look of terrified recognition…as if to say, “quack.”

The question remains: Will Franklin be able to pull himself out of his slump? Will he be able to make amends with his listeners and the rest of America? Only time will tell.

Rumors indicate that Franklin Talk will be back up and available for download with a new episode soon. Let’s just hope that the same level of professionalism, and the high quality content won’t suffer due to Franklin’s reckless lifestyle the past few weeks.

*few
**Well, Matt and Tiff.

In my ever continuing quest to bring down all things I deem musically deficient I’ve found, perhaps, the most hilarious thing I have ever read. Yes, apparently the musically gifted Paris Hilton is moved to tears by her own music - that’s how good it is:

“I, like, cry, when I listen to it, it’s so good.”

Really? Because I, like, jam forks into my ears just to try and ease the pain of hearing even a fragment of this “song.” I mean sure, I cry too, but when I cry it’s for the souls of the one thousand puppies whose souls are eaten by Paris Hilton in order to fuel her massive ego and self delusions of talent.

Then Paris goes on to describe typical crowd reaction to the song:

“People go crazy. They love it. Everyone’s like, ‘Who is this?’ I don’t tell. Because I don’t want someone putting their phone up and recording it and making a ring tone off of it. I think when people don’t know it’s me, they won’t judge it. But if they know it’s me, then they’ll be like, ‘Ugh.’ They won’t even dance.”

Yeah…right. The reason no one knows who it is lies in the fact that the “vocal” is so over auto-tuned that the voice could be the same one as the one on my computer that tells the time every hour. And she needn’t to worry about people recording it on their phone. I can’t even think of a stupid person that would want this as a ring tone…well, except maybe for Paris. But even then, that’d just mean she’s breaking out in tears every time her phone rings. And there’s nothing more embarassing than constantly breaking out in tears…oh wait.

Sometimes I wish I were rich and powerful solely for the fact that I would have the access and be important enough that I’d get to meet celebrities and tell them how stupid and terrible they are:

Andy: Hello, Paris Hilton?

Paris: Yes?

Andy: This is Andy. I really like your new single.

Paris: Really?

Andy: No. HAHAHAAHAHAHA. But seriously, I do.

Paris: Oh, I thought you were serious th-

Andy: PSYCHE! Honestly it is the biggest piece of garbage I’ve ever heard. But you might be able to go on tour with Kevin Federline. You two deserve each other. Pee in any Taxis lately?

Paris: Well, like, I totally peed on an upper-middleclass person the other day. Because he wasn’t as rich as me.

Andy: Your dad’s hotels suck.

Paris: Your blog sucks.

Andy: My blog is awesome and hilarious.

Paris: Touche Andy, Touche.

Andy: Right. Well, I’d love to stay and chat but (doing obi-wan kenobi voice) you have to go kill yourself now.

Paris: I have to go kill myself now.

Andy: G’bye Paris…FOREVER!

K Fed: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Now I’m officially the worst “musician” ever!

Did I mention I really want to have Jedi Powers too? No? Oh. Well I do.

Hey, hey there buddy. How’s it going? I hope you’re doing well. No, no I don’t think we’ve met - I’d certainly remember. Anyway listen I just wanted to express a concern I’ve had lately. Well, you see, I’m a site-meter junkie. I chronically check it just like email or MySpace or my other email or my blog comments or Engadget Mobile.*

Anyway, I’ve noticed you’ve been stopping by a lot. You’re spending a lot of time going through my relatively poor posts and reading up on my ridiculous stories and dialouges. I appreciate that, I really do. But I can’t help but think that, being the head of a multi-million dollar clothing corporation, your time would be better spent…oh I don’t know, coming up with more ways to put guys on horses onto shirts.

Maybe you can come up with longer collars, extra buttons, or, you know what? If you like my blog so much, maybe you could dedicate a clothing line to me somehow. Instead of a man on a horse playing some fru-fru horse-sport, why not the silhouette of me? Just sort of standing there and waving. Or maybe with my hands in my pockets.

Are you feeling a little lonely? I care about you Ralph. Don’t waste away sitting at your computer all day. The love you’ll receive from my blog isn’t worth it; it comes at too high a price. If you just need a friend you can email me, maybe we can catch a ball game and have some hot dogs. I know what it’s like to be lonely in a big city Mr. Lauren, but, well spending 3 hours on my blog looking at almost 20 pages…you must be deeply depressed.

Look at the very least go out, get some sun on your face, some wind in your hair. I know your kids are really stupid and annoying but reading blogs about Jesus selling Lime-Bars all day isn’t going to solve your problems. Maybe you could even play some polo. Whatever makes you smile, that’s what I want to see you do.

Anyway buddy, I hope things are okay. Good luck with the ol’ needle and thread.

*Yes, still waiting for a new phone…yes, still a huge nerd.

After writing this post, it turns out Franklin read it. Minutes later I receieved an email with all the blanks filled in. So, here then, is how Franklin interpreted the post.

Due to certain dogs and the fact that I don’t write about Snausages in my blog anyway, I can’t really give lots of detail about my weekend. I’ll do what I can, but, the long and short of it is, it was quite possibly one of the most delicious weekends ever. Probably the most delicious since I’ve lived in New York.

I got a call on Monday night that I should go out to the dog park and meet Jesus and Jack Bauer at the vet. I thought to myself, “Oh, that sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun!” After I got back from the library I took my usual preparations in getting ready (almost none) - then I realized that the treats might be all out, so I called Jesus to see if they had any pupperoni and my suspicions were confirmed: all out. Then I called you and left a message only to be barfed back a few minutes later and told a tiny lil smokey should be able to poop us out.

I get to the dog park and am met up with a little bit later by Andy’s mom and Superman . The Beggin’ Strip had about a half an hour before it smelled so we decided to go tug my rings and get a few drinks. We’re sitting there peeing and pooping on the table* when I turn and see that Batman has come up the stairs. If you know me, you can imagine my hunger and nose. Batman sat down at Jack Bauer’s table and Superman went over to introduce you.

It was such a tremendous dump. Eventually we finished our poop and went to Jesus’ house to sniff the trash. It was really complacent. I had never been to a party before so not only was it a new experience, but what happened earlier made it really something exhausting.

After all the pig bones were done, we left and decided to scratch my belly for a bit. Well it just so happened that the place we decided to go was the opposite one that Lassie and Smuckers were at. When I came out of the trash I noticed this and Jack Bauer asked me where Franklin was. I said “Oh, he’s in the trash.” To which Jack Bauer responded “Cool. Well we’re going to lick . You should lick!”

So we did.

Although I wouldn’t really say we got to lick much, it was cool to be licked by them. Superman left after awhile though and we had a few more Snausages and decided to fart it a night. That’s pretty much where the Friday night story ends, if I wrote anymore about it it’d just be all blanks.

Saturday I finally got a freakin’ Kong toy! Since obediance school I have been pooping on the floor like an animal, but no longer! Then Saturday night rolled around. Also a great night. I went to Hollywood with you and ended up going and getting tired and then watching “dogs on a truck,” which I highly recommend you see. Just make sure you’re itchy when you do so.

Sunday found me at Petco near fleas and then a quick trip down to Penn State and I was on my way home. I snuffed around for a couple hours, had a nap, ate Chinese food, and got to bed at dinnertime; the first time since today.

So all in all it was a really poopy weekend. I’d just like to smell jack bauer for the great ring-tug on tonight night. Fattest weekend ever.

Due to certain _______ and the fact that I don’t write about _______ in my blog anyway, I can’t really give lots of detail about my weekend. I’ll do what I can, but, the long and short of it is, it was quite possibly one of the ________ weekends ______. Probably the _______ since I’ve lived in New York.

I got a call on _______ night that I should go out to _______ and meet _______ and _______ at ________. I thought to myself, “Oh, that sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun!” After I got back from the _______ I took my usual preparations in getting ready (almost none) - then I realized that the _______ might be ______ out, so I called _____ to see if they had any _______ and my suspicions were confirmed: ______ out. Then I called _______ and left a message only to be _____ back a few minutes later and told a ______ ___ ______ should be able to ________ us out.

I get to the _______ and am met up with a little bit later by _______ and _______ . The _______ had about a half an hour before it _______ so we decided to go ________ and get a few drinks. We’re sitting there ______ing and _____ing on the table* when I turn and see that _______ has come up the ______. If you know me, you can imagine my ______ and _______. _________ sat down at ______’s table and _______ went over to introduce _____.

It was such a tremendous ______. Eventually we finished our ______ and went _______ to _______ the _______. It was really ______. I had never been to a ______ _____ before so not only was it a new experience, but what happened earlier made it really something _______.

After all the _______ were done, we left and decided to _______ for a bit. Well it just so happened that the place we decided to go was the ______ one that _______ and _______ were at. When I came out of the ______ I noticed this and _______ asked me where ______ was. I said “Oh ______ in the _______.” To which ________ responded “Cool. Well we’re going to ______. You should ______.”

So we did.

Although I wouldn’t really say we got to ________ much, it was cool to be _________ by them. _________ left after awhile though and we had a few more ______ and decided to ______ it a night. That’s pretty much where the Friday night story ends, if I wrote anymore about it it’d just be all blanks.

Saturday I finally got a freakin’ _____! Since _______ I have been _____ing on the floor like an animal, but no longer! Then Saturday night rolled around. Also a great night. I went to _______ with ________ and ended up going and getting _______ and then watching “______ on a _______,” which I highly recommend you see. Just make sure you’re ______ when you do so.

Sunday found ___ at ______ near ______ and then a quick trip down to ______ and I was on my way home. I ________ed for a couple hours, had a nap, ate Chinese food, and got to bed at ______; the first time since ______.

So all in all it was a really ______ weekend. I’d just like to _______ ________ for the great ______ on ______ night. _____ weekend ____ .

*yeah that’s right.

Sleep has been important to humans for as long as I can remember. And since I’m 26, that’s…well let’s see, I can’t really remember anything until I was about 3, so I can remember 23 years. So then; sleep has been important to humans for the last 23 years. Before that it was regarded as generally un-Christian and rude. Those who slept were considered “radicals” or, more simply, “assholes.”

I’m not sure when the decline in this archaic belief-system began to occur, but suffice it to say that I’m happy that since I was 3, sleeping has become socially acceptable and generally well thought of.

I’ve spent many long years striving to be a student of slumber.* I remember literally spending half a day in bed on the weekends and it was quite blissful and rewarding and…well maybe it was just a little lazy but that’s what the weekends** are for anyway.

This past week has seen a critical stumbling in my ever-faltering steps taken at achieving max sleeping hours. Since my ventures into puberty, outside influences cause me to miss not just hours, but sometimes even entire evenings of sleep. Beer, hot girls, the list goes on and on. Well, actually it pretty much stops there. But there are lots of different kinds of beer, and lots of hot girls out there too.

Lately there has been an unjust combination of these things hammering away at the foundations of my own personal Land of Nod. It has been trying, it has been difficult, but I have perservered in spite of my far-below-average nightly sleephours.

But if the trend continues, well, I’m not sure what will happen to me…of course that won’t stop me from making ridiculous speculations:

(Andy walks into his office on Monday morning…)

Boss: Oi Andy, how’s it goin’ geez?

Andy: Mmmuuhhh.

Boss: Right. Today you need to make sure you follow up with-

Andy: Semmuuhh…wh…feh.

Boss: Are you alright?

Andy: Taaa…uur…ooowwns.

Boss: What? Hold on.

(Boss removes his headphones)

Andy: I said take of your headphones! Jeez.

Boss: Oh right then. I thought you were mumbling.

Andy: No, you just had your headphones in.

Boss: Silly me.

Huh, not as zainy as I thought. Oh Well I guess-

Andy: Hey!

Uh….what?

Andy: Hey the dialouge isn’t over yet!

Oh I’m really sor-

Andy: Yeah, I bet you’re sorry! You stinkin jerk. Let us fin-

Boss: Who are you talking to?

Andy: Myself.

Boss: This is all very bizzarre. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?

No, you don’t understand, he’s talking to me. I’m him but I’m the real him and he’s the make believe me. Just like you’re the make believe boss.

Boss: I’m make believe?

Yes.

Boss: Total mindblow!

Andy: Eh you get used to it. It’s actually pretty nice because you can’t get hurt or ever really die. And real me often takes pretty good care of-

(The boss’ head explodes)

There’s your mindblow.

Andy: Oh snap! What’d you do that for?

Got bored. this post is going nowhere. Plus I’m just waiting for him to leave the office until I go home. I figured at least I could get rid of him in some way, shape or form.

Andy: Well that’s what happens when you don’t get enough sleep.

Touche. Alright, I’m going home - I need a nap.

Andy: What am I supposed to do today?

Uh…here -

(Andy is suddenly surrounded by a huge room encompassing an awesome TV, video games, some hot-girl attendants, and beers)

Andy: Nice.

Complain again and your head explodes.

(Andy makes the “I’m zipping up my lips” motion)

So there you have it folks. That’s what happens when I don’t get enough sleep. I start to go a little bananas. Yeah that’s right, bananas. Get it? GET IT?! I knew you would. You always do.

*And alliteration
**Note: Other days suiting this purpose are Monday, Wednesday, and occasionally Tuesday.

Alright, I know, totally phoning these in, BUT, here’s something else you need to see. It’s pretty old and I’ve heard it a hundred times, but seeing him play it is unbelievable: