My weird dreams

I'm not sure why, but for the past week and a half or so I've been having some weird dreams. Now everyone has odd dreams every now and then, but this is particularly odd in my case for two reasons. First, I never remember my dreams, and these have been both clear and vivid. Second, they're f-ing weird. I mean really weird. Here's a rundown of what's been going on in my head:

Optimus Primate- This one is a favorite. Everyone loves Transformers. Everyone loves primates. I had a dream last week about two warring factions of robots, except they all looked like Optimus Prime and had gorilla heads, hands, and feet. Even better, the two factions looked exactly the same and couldn't tell each other apart, so they were constantly killing the wrong gang members.

They were totally more intimidating in my dream

Army Men- Remember in Toy Story when the Army Men came to life? I dreamed that I was a member of the infantry unit in the Army Men Army. I don't know why. I distinctly remember being extremely frustrated that my feet were stuck together, as I was forced to waddle and couldn't run anywhere. Although I didn't take part in any battles in my dream, I'm sure I was a badass.

Hero Shark- This one is an odd coincidence in light of the earlier water slide post. This dream takes place in flooded subway tunnels. There are schools of barracuda chasing after people stuck in the tunnels. I am a shark. I don't want to attack the people, but somehow I'm in the tunnels, hate barracuda, and want to do something about it. The rest of the dream is me eating barracuda and saving people. Pretty sweet.

Worst Monster Ever- This dream was from last night. Some of you might remember Starship Troopers, the movie with the futuristic soldiers protecting the world from alien bug swarms bent on eating everyone. This dream takes place in a similar scenario. I'm a soldier in the army and I'm on the front lines of an invasion. There's the expected running around and shooting, but oddly I never see the alien until the very end of my dream. And thank goodness. Please keep in mind that the entire dream to this point was extremely realistic and high-tech looking. The aliens literally looked like this:

I present to you, dear readers, the... Octomoose?

This is not my poorly-drawn description, this is exactly what they looked like. 2-D and everything. At this point I woke up, but I'm fairly certain that my character in the dream was thinking something along the lines of "WTF?!?" Yeah, me too.

So there you have it- a small insight into the mind of yours truly. I'm so very sorry for you.

The most amazing news story of all time

Wow. Just wow. Normally I wouldn't report on real news, but this falls somewhere between amazing and legendary.

Let me frame this for you: did anyone see Jaws 3-D? No, I didn't think so. The basic premise of the movie is that the son of the cop/hero, Brody, in the first movie works at Sea World. A (new) 35-foot shark gets trapped in the park and wreaks havoc. Ridiculous, right? No, NOT ridiculous. Feast your eyes on this! For those who can't open the link, the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas has a water slide. Next to the water slide is a shark tank... What happens when an ambitious shark decides to make a break for it? He jumps the tank and hits the water slide. You read correctly. A *&$%#$ shark jumped onto a $%*#^@ water slide. And there are pictures:

Yes!


Double yes!

To all of you out there who think that sharks aren't awesome, consider yourself corrected. In the realm of the implausible, does this mean that nuclear bombs detonated in asteroids really could save the earth from destruction a la Armageddon? I'll let the photos above be the judge...

Clippers are a sound investment

I enjoy mocking the unfortunate. A lot. And apparently you like reading my mockery of the unfortunate. You're welcome. In the spirit of fairness, today I'd like to turn my passive-aggressive rage towards something of which we've all been a victim- terrible hair styles. Like you, I've been the victim a follicular faux pas once or twice in my lifetime. Here are some of my favorite (although I can't lay claim to ownership of all of these). I encourage you to share any horrifying stories from your dark and sinister pasts as well.

The mullet- One can only assume that unless you live under a rock, you know of the legendary mullet. Business in the front, party in the rear. Real men wear mullets. The mullet holds a special place in my heart because it was worn by the most skilled craftsman in television history. That's right- Angus (Mac) MacGyver. He disarmed a nuclear weapon with a paperclip. Oh, and did I mention that he turned a TV into a bomb? Yeah, that really happened...all thanks to the mullet. Some wonder if the mullet had magical powers back then- and the answer is yes.

Man. Mullet. Hero.

Fictional. Still loves mullets.

Frosted tips- Yes, I am guilty of this one. Go ahead and laugh, I've had years to get over it. No one really knows where frosted tips originated, but it is generally believed that it was invented by the same guy who invented the polyester suit- Stephen Hawking. Most people have no idea that in addition to theoretical cosmology and quantum gravity, Stephen has written numerous articles on the scientific implications of bleaching 20% of your hair's length.

Yes, this is how he rolls.

Island braids- hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. You went on vacation and decided that weaving multicolored plastic beads into your hair would be a good idea. For the love of god, please pay attention- if you are over the age of 13, you should know better. This hairstyle makes you look like the illegitimate child of Rick James.

I must add a caveat here. Bonus points will be awarded for any bald people daring enough to try the island braid.

The curse of the camera strikes again

The rat tail- This "style" is a personal favorite of mine. The unholy union of a ponytail and a mullet, the rat tail is perhaps the dirtiest looking hairstyle of the 1980s. And that's saying a lot. It was also far more prevalent in middle class America due to its seemingly non-threatening appearance. Parents assumed that because it didn't require a hair tie or blow drying that it was a passable style. Little did they know...

I can't afford to cut all of the hair on my head. What to do?

The Brooklyn blowout- This style is theorized to be the downfall of humanity. The borough produced one of man's greatest and most terrible feats in the blowout. For those not familiar with this look, grab a paperclip, walk to the nearest wall outlet, electrocute yourself, then get a fake tan and wax your eyebrows. This is how the blowout must be worn. More than a style, it is a way of life. A horrible, horrible way of life.

Don't adjust your monitors, they really are orange.

Honorable mentions: The Hi-top Fade, Beehive, Mohawk, and Perm.

The list goes on and on, but let's hear what you have to say. What are your favorites?

Zombies- misunderstood community members?

The topic of zombies in society is a hotly contested one. While many believe that they are dangerous flesh eating monsters, it has been proven that they can be incorporated quite effectively into society. We see them every day- former presidential candidates, lead singers of 60's-era rock bands, mail carriers, etc. Despite this, the majority of us still hold the prejudice that they are merely undead denizens of the earth, casually plodding around our neighborhoods in search of dinner. Untrue. Well, mostly untrue. They do like dinner, but who doesn't? Zombies help us in limitless ways.

Let's face it, the world is full of stupid people. While anyone reading this blog is clearly in danger of electrocution by intentionally sticking a paper clip into an electrical outlet, there are people even worse off. Enter the zombies. Here are some hard facts: zombies are slow moving, they don't know how to open doors, and they bump into stuff all the time. These three facts prove that anyone caught and subsequently eaten by a zombie EXHIBITS WORSE BEHAVIOR THAN THAT! Do you really want these people walking the streets and potentially breeding? Me either. We owe a big "thank you!" to our putrid friends.

How many times during the day do you think that a monkey could do your job? Probably all of you who are monkeys. Those that are human might think so too, but nothing ever changes despite our collective whining. We still come to work and complain. Well no longer! Zombies are perfect contributors to the workforce. We can make them do dumb jobs like picking up litter or performing neurosurgery (because who knows brains like zombies?) and put our living time to better use.

Bob from accounting smells a little, but he balances a ledger like nobody's business

One last thing. All of this talk of zombies being unable to articulate sentences just because they're dead is ridiculous. George Bush can't either, and he's alive.

That better not be Merlot...

Before we go waving our accusatory fingers at whomever ate the dog, let's try to prevent our irrational fear of our formerly-breathing compatriots from getting the better of us. Zombies are people too... just not living ones.

Things that should never come out of a can

Like most of you, I will eat pretty much anything that comes from a can. I'm not sure if it's the highly durable container or delicate flavor of metal, but I'm glad that the can caught on. However, there are things I would never want to see come out of a can. Some are food, some are edible but not food, and others are not appropriate for cylindrical storage. Here are five:

1. Gary Busey- For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Busey, he is truly terrifying. Don't believe me? Just find yourself a copy of the short-lived "I'm with Busey" TV show, a homage to the man, myth, legend, and possible devil incarnate. This harbinger of doom has far too much coke-induced rambling to be restricted to the small confines of a can. It just isn't meant to be. Check him out in action and then tell me he should be in a can...I think not.
   
   
2. Eggs- I'm not sure what it is about the idea of eggs in a can that grosses me out. Maybe it's the thought of all of those little guys being forced to share space when they used to have their own protein based condos. Perhaps it's the sound pouring eggs out of a can would make. Or maybe it's because EGGS IN A CAN WOULD BE DISGUSTING.
   
   
3. Giraffes- There are so many reasons why giraffes should never come in cans. First off, giraffes are far too large to fit in them. Second, building a can large enough to accommodate a giraffe would sap valuable natural resources and engineering manpower. Clearly not an efficient use of time.
   
   
   
   Proof positive that this is a ludicrous combination
   
   
4. Magnets- After exhaustive research and numerous conversations with leaders in the scientific community, it was decided that magnets in a can would be far too dangerous an undertaking for mankind. Ever see movies where the premise is that creating a rip in the time-space continuum would cause irreparable damage to the universe? Yeah, that would happen. And the last thing we need is another Jean Claude Van Damme movie about it.
   
   
   
   He can't be stopped, so don't get him started
   
   
5. Anything starting with the letter "Q"- I dare you to find one thing. Just one. Q is officially the least supportive letter of the can packing movement.
   

4 Useless Things

It occurred to me this morning that there are tons and tons of useless inventions that have somehow managed to cling to life for far too long. Ridiculous inventors have been sitting around in their lairs for years (like those guys who have bubbling beakers of green liquid and electrical current jumping from place to place for no apparent reason in their basements). Today I intend to blow this conspiracy wide open by exposing some of the perpetrators of this elaborate ruse. I present to you, my loyal reader(s?), the worst inventions of all time:

1. The Boomerang

Child: Mommy, I want something completely useless from the fair. Something potentially dangerous, but mostly purposeless.
Mom: Hmmm, let's see if they have a boomerang stand.
Child: Yay! A wooden toy/weapon that I'll never use, perfect!

Secret's out, boomerang. You suck.

The premise behind this stupid thing is awesome enough- it was originally used by Aborigines as a weapon to hunt small and mid-sized creatures. Then? Kick-ass. Now? Waste of time. No one has a giant field in which to throw a boomerang. More importantly, no one takes the time to learn to throw it properly because, when thrown correctly, it comes back and KILLS YOU. I hate this thing.

2. The Moustache

I may catch some flak on this one, but I genuinely believe that the moustache is perhaps man's biggest waste of time. Hear me out, Yosemite Sam. The moustache has many nicknames- Flavor Saver, Misplaced Eyebrow, Sure Sign That You Lack Common Sense- and seems like a counter-intuitive design. No one has ever voiced concern that their upper lip is particularly cold and there should be a way of manipulating human evolution to correct this. Further, growing facial hair is a luxury for the lazy. Shaving everything else and then styling the 'stache is MORE work, thereby contradicting what grizzly patriots have been fighting for since the dawn of time.

This face, and this shirt, were both socially acceptable in the 80's.

Let's take a look at what human ruin the moustache has wrought. Joseph Stalin. Adolf Hitler. Hulk Hogan. The Village People. The list of terror goes on and on. Let this serve as a warning to lip caterpillars everywhere: your evil will no longer be tolerated.

3. Furbies

This is a bit of a throwback, but one that has stuck in my mind since the first time I saw one of these little bastards. Here's the premise- an animatronic freak show designed to interact with users based on voice commands. Here's the problem, or rather, the huge list of problems. First, the thing looks like the unholy union of an owl and an abominable snowman. The eerily large eyes and deformed body convey a jumble of genetic coding found exclusively in the depths of West Virginia.

Under all that fur it looks a lot like the Terminator. How odd...

Second, it never stops talking. Despite your best efforts to kill it, the batteries seem to last forever. Here's a true story: I used to run a video game store, one that carried a particularly large selection of toys during the holiday season. Guess what item spontaneously turned on during the second week of November and didn't shut up for a month and a half? You guessed it. We were eventually forced to (and yes, we really did this) drown it in the sink to get it to stop making periodic dumb noises throughout the day.

Third, someone decided to make accessories that kids simply HAD to have. Here's a prime example:

I'd rather slam my face in a car door than read this.

The worst part of the Furbie epidemic is the fact that it opened the door for a number of annoying robotic pets. I'm sure that at the core of this whole economic disaster is a Tickle Me Elmo laughing his furry red ass off.

4. The two-dollar bill and other equally pointless units of currency

Oh two-dollar bill, I can't imagine why you were ever removed from circulation. Maybe it was the fact that NO ONE NEEDS YOU...EVER. Carrying two one-dollar bills in not an inconvenience. In fact, it's a pleasure because I know that I can get anything on the McDonald's dollar menu and have change left over. The two-dollar bill was a waste of a perfectly good political figure in Thomas Jefferson, and should have been used for someone dumb like President William Howard Taft instead:

"I was as useless as the bill I should have been printed on." -WHT

Beyond the immensely stupid $2 bill, we have the $.50 piece. Now I'll give this one a little slack because I liked Kennedy, but why does it have to be the size of a frisbee? Two quarters is far more manageable and won't leave your pocket swaying like a sack of marbles, either. What else could this coin be used for? Paper weight? Coaster? Manhole cover? All of the above.

Shown 1/3 actual size

Also receiving an honorable mention in this list is the nickel. The dime is twice your value and half your size. You're not as bad as the half-dollar, but you're still a waste of valuable uranium.

So there are some of the things I find to be completely useless. What are some of yours and why?

Agitator's Gone Global

The Daily Agitator's crack team of interweb experts has uncovered an astounding find. Apparently, The Curmudgeon's blog has been viewed in both Germany and the Netherlands. "By whom" do you ask? Beats me. I get lost three blocks from home.

Nevertheless, if you are out there freund and vriend, I don't know how you found me, but you'd better not try to sell me pharmaceuticals or tell me I won an anonymous internet lottery. I've learned from my 3rd and 4th mistakes. If, however, you come in goodwill, I wonder if your people are as messed up as the ones already reading the hopeless meanderings of this blog. I sincerely hope not- for all of our sakes.

"There's only one blog I read, and that's [insert name here]."

Here's the next challenge, people, so pay attention! The Daily Agitator needs to be represented on at least five of the nine, ten, or however many continents there are on this planet. Call it brazen, foolhardy, or egomaniacal. I call it destiny. If we work together- and by that I mean you work for me in exchange for nothing- we can do this. Email those random connections you have in Argentina! Instant Message that ex-boyfriend in Australia! Pester your old college friends via inexpensive text message or calls during off-peak hours in any other country that starts and ends with an "A" (Angola? Albania? So many to choose from)! We can discover how many countries and continents a poorly written, completely self-indulgent blog can reach. Yes we can!

Oh internet, how do I love thee?

I was sitting in my living room yesterday letting my mind wander. Normally this would last until the end of a commercial break or the microwave beeps, but for some reason I had a prolonged period of reflection. Clearly this is not a good scenario for someone like me, as someone like you can attest to. Between ADD and an overactive imagination, my mind tends to travel in some strange directions if left unchecked.

On this particular afternoon, the subject of the aforementioned reflection drifted to my intense love for the internet. Now many of us feel an affinity for all things digital. We love our digital cameras, our satellite radios, fancy internet-capable phones, laptops, hi-speed connections- you get the point. But for me, this is more than a mere marriage of convenience. I truly love the internet. Let me give you a few examples of how the internet has changed my life for the better (and sometimes worse, and mostly not at all, but that ruins the sentiment of this post so just go with it).

Digg.com: Oh Digg, how in the world did I gather random and sometimes purely false news before you existed? You amass such an abundance of random information that, on occasion, I lose myself for hours in your 12-point font embrace. Your community is populated by nerds like me, aching for acceptance through smarmy 1-paragraph synopses intended to draw attention to the exciting bit of info they've dug up while avoiding excel spreadsheets. You may be wrought with falsehoods and regurgitated babble that I read three months ago from another poster, but my adoration is boundless. You complete me.

I know that's a shovel, but I wish it was me...

StumbleUpon: Where should I even begin? You're a toolbar add-on that lets me click a button to be teleported to random sites- with little to no regard for relevance or content. Could this possibly be tailored for anyone on this planet more than me? I think not. Sometimes you find me news sites, sometimes it's terrible flash games. Every now and then you think I have need for something like this:

Cirrus is full of itself, and Cumulonimbus has a bit of a drinking problem.

Now that I know about cloud formations I can feel that tiny void in my soul slowly filling. Despite everything, you are always there for me...until I update to a newer version of Firefox. Then you disappear for like two weeks, which sucks because I've read everything on Digg this morning and I have nothing to do now. But other than that, you've always been there for me since last August when I first discovered you.

Consumerist.com: Even though we've just met, there's a kindred spirit that I think we share. You love listing consumer complaints. I complain about pretty much everything. It's like we were together in a past life. Except that you're not a tangible object and I'm uncomfortably tangible. Anyway, you spend days at a time reminding us of how terrible Comcast, Verizon, WalMart, and so many other retailers are. You're so effective that I'm paralyzed with fear over where to buy anything from socks to computers. According to you, I could have polyesther in my computer or faulty wiring in my Fruit of the Looms. Or something.

Facebook and Myspace: Actually, I'd pretty much hate you two except that you give me birthday reminders and a place to store photos. I don't want to be a vampire, send fake gifts for $1, or rent an apartment from either of you, so knock it off.

Google: It's even fun to say your name. I love your mail, desktop, calendar, blog creator, toolbars, and so much more. I know I cheated on you once with Microsoft, but it was just a fling. There's a long road to earn back your trust, but I just can't live without your IM features and SPAM blocking so I'm willing to put in the time.

I miss your Halloween toolbar theme in the first week of November.

So there you have it- just some of the dozens of reasons that I love the internet. It can be a cruel mistress, or at least find you some websites that are into that type of thing.

AdSense lacks common sense

In a sad ploy to generate pocket change I decided it would be a good idea to sign up for Google AdSense. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a program that injects little Google-sponsored ads onto web pages (and in this case, blogs).

They look like this:

The basic idea is that if someone sees the ad and decides to click on it, I get a small financial reward. Easy, right? Here's the problem. I don't know if I've wronged someone over at AdSense or their system thinks this blog is deviant. For whatever reason, my sponsored links are an amalgamation of bizarre, and sometimes disturbing, material. I present to you:

Exhibit 1- You are diseased

What?!? Seriously? Lump in side of neck? Not even a whole sentence? What the hell! Who's going to come strolling along, click on this blog, read some hilarious and poignant material, then see an ad for neck lumps and be inextricably drawn to click on it? No one! I have five friends. None of them have lumps on their necks, nor are they going to suddenly discover one and rely on my stupid blog to find a cure. Dammit!

Exhibit 2- Learn English

Man, this keeps getting better and better. On a blog...is an ad to learn English. Google must have assumed that visitors accidentally stumble onto this site, and what's worse, can't even understand the garbled mess they see on the screen. Even better, the ad is written IN ENGLISH. You're killing me, Google.

Exhibit 3- Toilets

Ok, this has gone too far. It's one thing to assume that my readers are diseased and illiterate, but I draw the line at assuming they don't have a healthy supply of toilet partition hardware. We are not animals.

I'm not certain what will appear under this post, but I hope it's as completely useless as the other ads have been. To celebrate the futility of my decision to include ads on this blog, please feel free to submit a list of PG-rated words or topics in the comments section that you'd like me to test out. If I pick yours, chances are it will result in some kind of story or poem starring- you. You'll be famous.

What's wrong with executive bathrooms?

Let me preface this by saying this actually happened.

Yesterday the men's room on my floor was out of order, so I seized the opportunity to go up to the executive floor and check out their facilities. We all have the same vision of a white marble room, exhibit-hall sized, with soft music playing and the faint scent of sandlewood, right? Well let me tell you about the harsh realities of my executive men's room experience.

In my fantasy exec bathroom the urinals are like black holes, with flushes so hard you better not stand near them for fear of losing your belt. Water cascades like a torrential downpour. Well not here. The weak dribble of water was eclipsed in disappointment by the sad gurgling sound of the drain fighting to avoid overflow. And no urinal cake! Where's my target?

What I was expecting

How I felt

Saddened, I decided to look into one of the stalls to see if there was a prodigious throne as I had envisioned. Again, a huge letdown. Not only was the toilet dark gray with a plastic seat, but the toilet paper appeared to be single ply. No gold leaf or anything! What the hell?!

Dejected and having seen enough, I moved to the sink to wash my hands. Here is where the story gets a little strange(r). This particular bathroom has the kind of soap dispenser that's mounted on the counter and has a motion sensor to dispense soap. The sink does the same thing, but oddly enough it dispenses water. When I put my hands under the faucet, the soap dispenser shot a glop of soap foam onto my forearm, nowhere near my hands. I stared in disbelief, then moved my forearm under the faucet to rinse off the soap glop. Big mistake. Another glop of soap foam hit me square on the shoulder. Damn it...

The Antichrist

Now I was pissed. I carefully washed my hands while standing as far away from the dispenser as possible, but to no avail. Every time I rinsed my hands, more soap shot onto my arm. It was a nightmare. Eventually I finished my handwashing and proceeded to the automatic paper towel dispenser. What could go wrong here? How about uncontrollable paper allocation? Paper began pouring off of the roll, quickly reaching the floor with no end in sight. Luckily I was quick-witted enough to turn off the lights, which in turn cut power to the machine. Great! Except now I'm in the dark. I fumbled around for a moment, found the six-foot stretch of matted paper and completed my adventure.

Twenty minutes after leaving on my escapade I returned to my desk. I sat down and prepared to complete a report on website traffic when one of my coworkers walked by and said hello. I glanced over and put my chin square in the middle of the forgotten soap glop on my shoulder. Come on!

What's the moral of the story? Executive bathrooms suck, and automated sanitation devices are the devil.

5 Things I Hate- part 1

As most of you know, there are many many many things that I hate. This will be an ongoing series outlining just some of those things. They are in no particular order because I just don't care enough to organize them.

1. Overly complicated charts

Please punch yourself in the face if you ever construct a chart like this:

No one will read this. Ever.

2. Spam emails that are not only annoying, but also employ poor grammar:

I hate your run-on sentences, Mr. Bonnie Botsford

of Schlumberger Technology Corp.

3. People who are way too conservative:

Come on people, spruce it up a little.

No one's going to notice you if you stay a wallflower.

4. People who use the word "snarky" like they invented it.

Ok seriously, the thesaurus has been around for like five years or maybe even more. You didn't invent anything in the English language- including trendy adjectives. Stop wearing black librarian glasses too.

If these define you as a person, log off the computer and go outside immediately.

5. People who make ridiculous lists for no apparent reason:

Come on dude, no one cares.

So that is the first installment of things I hate. No worries, there will be others. We all know how accepting of others I am...

Haiku of the day 10/17/2008

i miss childhood stars
where is steven q urkel?
he flips burgers now

No Thank You

My buddy Erik is walking in a fundraiser for Juvenile Diabetes. No, not to promote it. To stop it. What a jerk.

Being the humanitarian that I am, I made a modest donation to the cause (before I knew it was for prevention, of course). He insisted on sending a thank you note despite my browbeating and mockery to discourage such an act. This was his punishment for sending one anyway:

(See below for text, this is just for show)


What it says:

Attention:

The cover of this card has probably tricked your pea-sized brain into a false sense of warmth. Ha! I do not thank you for your thank you note. In fact, if your thank you note had a heart, I would rip it out of its chest and show it to you like that crazy priest in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Alas, it does not, so I am instead forced to crush yours.

I hope a small, sugar-intolerant child knocks you down during your walk and you scrape your knee terribly. And it hurts. And gets infected. And you get gangrene, which would normally smell like almond but yours smells way worse, like rotten almonds. And you cry, then look up to the heavens and curse me. And I will look down and laugh.

P.S.- you're a jerk and people pretend to like you but really don't. Like me.