Why Is This Bluey's Favorite Commercial?

I love the Geico Cavemen themed commercials, but my favorite one is the airport commercial.

Maybe I am a racist and the only reason I like this commercial because it is the only politically correct way to express my racism, by acceptably picking on an extinct group of people.

Maybe I just love the Royksopp "Remind Me" jingle.

Maybe it's that goofy bowling shirt and old antique wooden tennis racket that he's carrying.

Maybe it's the utter disgust on his face upon seeing the poster insinuating that he and his cavemen brethren are a bunch of mindless drooling idiots.

While I don't exactly know why I laugh at it, I'm more apt to believe that people in general like to laugh at grossly generalized stereotypes of other groups of people.

Kinda like people referring me to as a filthy greasy spaghetti eating wop.

What does that say about human nature in general? I don't know exactly but what I do know is that I can't stop watching this commercial.

Are You Strong Enough To Shake My Hand?

Sheryl Crow has given nasty creedence to the Seinfeld line, "I don't have a square to spare".

Sheryl surmises that a brilliant idea to curb global warming includes limiting your use of toilet paper to one square after taking a dump. Although she did add the caveat that sometimes 2 or 3 squares could possibly be necessary in times of digestive distress. How mighty white of her.

Is she fucking kidding me? Last I checked, it was in Georgia Pacific and other companies best interests to replant their natural resources to insure having a prosperous future in the paper business. Sheryl makes some crazy argument that somehow deforestation is occurring due to us excessively wiping our asses.

In this world where the irresponsible use of paper products is rampant, is this necessarily the place to cut our paper use?

Do you really want those folks at the Jack-In-The-Box making hamburgers after using their mandated one square in the bathroom? Will people ever really shake hands again? It's always amazed me to see how many people leave the bathroom without washing their hands. Will this number decrease after decreasing their toilet paper supply? I wouldn't take that bet. Do we really want to go back to the unsanitary, diseased cholera days of yesteryear to curb global warming?

It's no wonder Lance Armstrong left her filthy ass.

Sheryl, do us a favor, shut the brain off and spare us of your "ideas" and stick to what you do best, obviously better than all the rest of us...wiping your ass. And for the love of God, please wash your hands before you sign autographs...yuch!

The Infectiousness of Radiohead

I know that I've already extolled the virtues of Radiohead and my love of their music but with YouTube, I can't help but stumble onto new and wonderful versions of their music that I haven't seen before.

And for whatever reason, I just can't get enough of it, it just creeps into my brain.

This first clip is Knives Out. This song just hops into my soul and rattles around. I love this video, which shows the beauty in the construction of such a simple song.

The second clip is a live version of Paranoid Android, which incidentally I first saw Radiohead perform as the opening band live at Star Lake Amphitheatre on August 27th, 1996. It was after The Bends album and yet to be released on OK Computer. This is the song that solidified my love of Radiohead after their perfect The Bends album.

I can't exactly explain why I love this band so much except to say that they cannot be categorized and that their music is free form and incredibly infectious to me.

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7YuhhRMO4Q

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzSXTMUe0Do

Atlanta Man Gets His Hole Wrecked!

Kari Lehtonen, Atlanta Thrashers' goaltender tried a new goaltening technique (see picture to right), in an effort to quell the New York Rangers potent offense.

The result? Kari is bleeding rectally after giving up 7 goals in Game 3 of the NHL's opening round of the Eastern Coference playoffs.

"Thankfully, Coach is letting me hide on the bench tonight", said a dejected Lehtonen.

Ilya Kovulchuk, Atlanta's premier forward described Lehtonen's demeanor in the locker room. "He was pretty down. I tried my best to score goals without my stick and my gloves off while fighting Sean Avery, but somehow I just couldn't get the puck in the net or backcheck".

"I'm fat and old and well worth the 1st, 2nd and 3rd round picks that Waddy gave up for me", said veteran Keith Tkachuk.

"Mommy!!! My vagina hurts and Marcel is kicking my ass!", girly boy Marian Hossa was overheard exclaiming.

Rumor has it, Johan Hedberg will be wearing a Depends undergarment under his equipment to hide the fact that he'll be shitting himself under the precision Ranger attack.

How long after tonight will Coach Hartley and GM Waddell keep their jobs? I'm guessing they both may be fired by tomorrow afternoon.

Gooooooooooo Rangers!!!!!!

To Future Psychos

Do us all a favor and put a bullet in your own fucking brains before you decide to kill innocent people.

Fucking Ass Cancer Giving Retards!

Jackass Fired! Racism/Sexism Finished!

Anybody who thinks that the firing of jackass extraordinaire, Don Imus, will make the world a better place is delusional.

Granted, the digging of Imus' hole was long overdue. I could never figure out who listened to him other than 70+ year olds. The only problem I have with his "nappy haired hos" comment he made, was that he directed it at a bunch of college kids. What could they have possibly done to Imus the Shriv to warrant such name calling other than that Imus is an old frustrated bastard? Why pick on a bunch of kids? Whenever you bully those who can't defend themselves, you get what you deserve as far as I'm concerned. Had he called Rosie O'Donnell a fat headed dyke, I'm sure Rosie would have fired back something even more horrible on The View. But Imus chose to cowardly pick on a bunch of kids. To me, that's a no-no. As far as the rascist/sexist overtones, who are we kidding? We hear this kind of shit every day without any repercussions.

Rap music and popular music in general is full of this crap. The Dave Chappelle Show and Sarah Silverman Program (both of which I love), are also full of this brand of racist/sexist humor. We see this type of subject matter appear on our popular movies and TV shows. To a certain extent we have to accept that the freedom of speech means that every once in awhile we are going to hear something that offends us. Does that mean that we should take to the streets and thump our chests at every offense? Christ, has anybody ever watched South Park? If there isn't something to offend everyone on that show, then I'm surprised. But these shows go on and find advertisers.

In my opinion, Imus was an easy target. Rabble rousing criminal, Al Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson saw someone who could get their faces back in the spotlight. They have acheived nothing more than to get an old man fired from his job. I could give a rat's ass about Imus, but let's see if the gruesome twosome go after the biggest perpetrators of racism and sexism...rap stars. Don't hold your fucking breath because these guys are shams, hell bent on their own self promotion under the guise of making the world a better place.

The Reverend Al and Jesse will continue their hypocritical idiot parade which will do nothing to solve societies ills. But, what do they care? They don't really give a shit about anybody but themselves.

So they brought down Don Imus, who will probably be dead in a year or two anyway. Way to go guys, I can feel that the world is a better place today! Can I get an Amen!

Austeoporosis's 14th Birthday!

No, I'm not celebrating 14 years of bone loss. Bone loss is no laughing matter. But today, my "step-daughter", Austeo turns 14.

Happy Birthday Austeo!

Austeo was spoiled rotten with a hot pink Ipod Nano and an acoustic guitar, rode the bull and danced the "Cotton Eyed Joe" at the Texas Outhouse with her "sistas", Loni, Bebis and Kitty.

Bluey's TV: The Sarah Silverman Program

The Sarah Silverman Show is the new Comedy Central show I am absolutely addicted to. This could quite possibly be one of the most un-PC shows ever to be made. And the best thing about it: the show has absolutely no noble purpose whatsoever! It is totally without any substantial merit. This show could be perceived as the stupidest shows of all time as well, and I would not argue one bit.

And because of this, I give it 5 stars! I love Sarah Silverman and her retarded humor, it's golden.

Some of my favorite quotes from the first season of the show:

Host: I’m sorry but there’s no smoking allowed here.
Sarah: Go tie your balls in a knot, breeder!

Sarah: I'm a full-blooded dyke! And I say "dyke" because I'm like, taking the word back from The Man. Baby, I'm in it to win it. And when I say "it.", I mean "tit," and when I say "tit," I mean "your tit."
Tig: You better watch it. You're getting yourself way over your head.
Sarah: Hmmm, That's funny, 'cause that's where you're ankles are gonna be.

Sarah: If we can put a man on the moon, then we can put a man with AIDS on the moon. And then someday…we can put everyone with AIDS on the moon.

Sarah: (In a Public Service Announcement) Over 50 billion people get HIV everyday. That's one out of three people.

Nurse: Did you ever have a blood transfusion in the 80s?
Sarah: Yeah.
Nurse: (surprised) You did? You had a blood transfusion in the 80s?
Sarah: Oh! (laughs) No, I thought you said, "in Haiti"
Nurse: How long were you in Haiti?
Sarah: Uh...I don't know. That's kinda hard to say I was doing a lot of heroin at the time.

Homeless Man: Spare change?
Sarah: No.(Sarah begins singing again)
Homeless Man: You don't have any spare change?
Sarah: No, don't be a dick!

Sarah: (to a classroom full of kids) “I had to learn the hard way that it is not your sexual orientation, nor your color, or your religion or your race that gets you AIDS. It is your mouth, veins, tushy and vagina.”

Ghost: You must listen to me. This is important, Sarah! Please!
Sarah: Let me ask you something. If you're such a ghost then why don't you talk like (starts moaning like a ghost) this?
Ghost: That is a crude stereotype. Talking like that to a ghost would be like saying the "n word" to a black person.
Sarah: Oh really? Well interrupting a Jewish person while she's urinating is like saying the Holocaust never happened so I guess we're (starts moaning like a ghost) even.

Sarah: I learned so much today, Doug. I learned that orange cough syrup can make your car fly. And I learned that Laura needs a man in her life to feel good about herself. It's sad. Also I learned, whether you're gay, bisexual, it doesn't matter, you know? Because, at the end of the day they're both gross. But mostly I learned that elderly black women are wise beyond their years. But that younger black women are prostitutes.

Sarah: Laura, stop flirting. Like he's really going to be interested in some sex addict with a tiny vagina.

Sarah: Of course I’ll you move your furniture for a slice of pizza, I’m only human

Sarah: Wait, why wasn’t I invited?
Laura: Well, Natalie said you had some kind of emergency.
Sarah: Yeah, I stubbed my vagina.
Laura: You can stub it?
Sarah: I can, I don’t know about you.

Give the show a whirl. I think that it is an absolute howl. Where else can you get a farting contest that ends in Sarah shitting herself and then sleeping with God (who turns out to be black and an unsatisfying lover by the way).

The show won't cure cancer but is juvenile fun from bang to boom. Quite possibly a potential cancer cure!

Bluey Sidelined, Foul Play Suspected!

Yesterday, while racing my girls and Tay on a running track at twilight, I learned three things:

1. Never run at twilight without contacts in or glasses on.

2. When you turn 40, having footraces against your kids is probably not the smartest activity to be involved in.

3. There just is no trusting that middle daughter, Bebis, who was spotted shortly before race time, placing hurdles in her dad's lane.

Okay, that last point may be unsubstantiated, but never-the-less, I didn't see the hurdle and after I pulled up in a dead heat versus Loni, I went ass over head and broke my ankle.

Even though many evil sonsofbitches are requesting a video of said event to be posted to You Tube, I am emphatically stating that none exists, you heartless bastards.

Feel free to bring over hot meals, massage girls and a bottle to piss in because my stairs will be the death of me. Please bring massage girls after Tay's 9PM bedtime!

Bluey's Gals 3, Bluey and Tootie 2.

My Mom is in town this weekend and last night I took her and my girls to see the NY Rangers-Penguins game at the Mellon arena. Mom was starting to give me ear cancer from her incessant talking, so I figured a nice "quiet" Mellon Arena would give my tired ears a much deserved break.

And then something wonderful happened.

The Rangers score! 1-0 Rangers.

And again. Rangers score! 2-0. At this point my girls are bumming but positive that the Penguins will come back. My mom is thoroughly enjoying the game and my ears are starting the slow healing process.

Then the third period comes.

Now, at this point, you have to know something about my seats at the Mellon Arena. They are positioned right below the goal horn and when it blasts, it is quite deafening. But since the Penguins are getting their sorry asses shut out by King Henry, the horn has been silent.

Then comes the onslaught...Malkin....bbbbbwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Crosby....bbbbbbwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

And then in overtime, Colby "Fucking" Armstrong......bbbbbbwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Bluey's Gals go home elated, positively bouncing down the streets of Pittsburgh and Bluey goes home sad. The echo of the horns buzz in my brain for hours after the game but only provide background to Tootie's incessant buzz.

I love my Mom but she gives me cancer. I think just about anybody out there can appreciate that. Oh, and the Rangers give me cancer sometimes too. But I still love them as well.

Can Bud Selig Be A Bigger Jackass?

I am so fucking irate about the news posted yesterday about Major League Baseball signing an exclusive deal with DirectTV for the rights of the MLB Extra Innings package. The deal is backhanded and smacks of someone in the MLB offices (Selig or Dupay or both?) getting their pockets lined by DirectTV.

The deal is probably meaningless to those who still live in their hometown, but for anyone who is a transplant, this was a fucking stake to the heart of the baseball fan.

Being a New York City native and avid Mets fan, for years I had no option to watch the Mets play except for a game here or there when they were featured on ESPN, TBS or WGN. Then along comes the MLB Extra Innings package and I could watch any Met game of my choosing, as well as any other top matchup of the day. The package was carried by multiple carriers and available to just about anybody, no matter their cable/satelite package. I enjoyed it for the last two years.

Then, some knucklehead gets the bright idea that exclusivity to one cable/satelite company would be more beneficial to baseball and MLB signs a 700M deal with DirectTV to exclusively carry all the MLB games (along with MLB.com), and that DirectTV would also sponsor a new MLB channel including, I guess all the startup costs. Then they turn around and subsidize costs, passing them down the line to the DirectTV subscribers, who in turn will get the pleasure of having the new fledgling station on their cable system that everyone will pay for but only baseball fans will watch.

Bud Selig and the other cronies at MLB signed off on this without even considering a similar deal to the other companies. God only knows who backed the truck up and took kickbacks to agree to such a deal that so obviously screws us transplanted fans.

DirectTV estimates the amount of trnasplanted fans who are interested in this package to be unsubstantial. Those who are unwilling or due to geographical issues, unable to utilize a satelite signal to sign up with DirectTV I guess can go fuck themselves.

So, in other words, Bud Selig has told me to get DirectTV or go fuck myself.

And now he incurs the wrath of Bluey.

Bud, I hope you fucking die tonight and I hope it is a very painful death. Maybe getting caught in a woodchipper or falling into a well and breaking every bone in your body. There'd be enough water to ensure your survival for 10 days or so, but in a hell of a lot of pain. Hell, I'd throw down a Big Mac every other day if it would keep you alive and in pain for a few months. Then your skin would get so waterlogged that it would probably come off like Smucker's jelly and the bugs would probably feast on your decaying flesh. I'm sure your heart would give after a month or two but I wouldn't be that disappointed, since my cruelty only goes so far.

Now, I hear that John Kerry and other politicians are joining the fray. Believe me, they are not doing this out of the kindness of their hearts. Think about it. They are all transplanted baseball fans too, living in DC and forced to watch the pathetic Nationals if they lose their MLB packages.

I'm glad though to hear fans speak up about this, because this is bullshit.

I hope Al Qaeda bombs the MLB and DirectTV corporate office buildings. Hell, maybe I'd be willing to forward them the schematics. Fucking jackasses.

Is it any wonder that baseball has fallen to #2 in this country? You really don't have to look any further than the uneven salary structure to figure that one, but this TV deal shows you the true heart of MLB.

And they are not about the fans.

BS Poker: March 3, The Return Of Mr. Bubbles!

(Mama Meersky as seen in Art Studios playing deck circa 1954)

Fresh from his triumphant return from the hamdog residence in Awahoo, Mr. Bubbles was pimping out his oldest ho's for those in attendance to enjoy!

Those attending the festivities included:

The Swallowers: FNG, Officer Mehoff, Mrs. FNG and Choder (as Mayor McCheese of Swallower's Row, who enjoyed residential status but lived in an Upper St. Clair condo as his primary residence). Officer Mehoff and Mrs. FNG served as the King and Queen of the Row.

The Gaggers: Griffin (Grimace), Herr Gavo (The Hamburgler), Irish (Ronald McDonald) and Bluey. Herr Gavo and Cullster served as the Ivory throne rulers of team Gag. Meersky joined later and became what else? The Octagon or the Human Stop sign.

Tracer was also in attendance but refused to choose or preference between swallowing and gagging.

The gang enjoyed some Mineo's pizza, enjoyed Gavo's new short movie entitled "The Shaft", before quite possibly the strangest game of BS Poker broke out. The table divided right down the middle and became a battle between the Swallowers and the Gaggers. An absolute war broke out and continued according to a Mason-Dixon like feud. After about 3 hours of tense play, the table was mixed up and all roads led to a stop sign (Mr. Meersky).

The evening saw much drinking as even Bluey got drunk on sangria (with Choder and Mrs. FNG) and Mrs. FNG couldn't keep a chair under her towards the end of the evening.

The memorable quotes of the night (special thanks to Irish and Griffin, who compiled them):

"Jack's in the army so he's used to fucking guys" Irish?

"The Karma cut" Irish

"I know what a full house is motherfuckers ..." Mrs. FNG

"You should recognize this flag. It roamed around Germany quite a bit", FNG to Herr Gavo as he pointed to the American flag.

"It does not pay to gag on swallowers row", Bluey to Swallowers Row after a gag cost a resident a quarter.

"Jody is mayor gags-a-lot of the town of Swallowers row" Bluey

"There's nothing worse than swallow on swallow crime", Irish after the Swallowers started to eat their own in a series of betrayals.

"They are cheating and they're still losing..." Herr Gavo

"The trust tree has termites." Griffin

"And theres a beaver at the trunk (of the trust tree, reference to Mrs. FNG)" Bluey

"You can join one of us" Officer Mehoff to Griffin
What, so I can be in the majority of the losers?" Griffin

"Swallower's row has just become Windy Knob"

"I was in the woods with my brother that day" Officer Mehoff
"I bet you were!" Bluey

"(According to Meersky) The hooters chicks hit the wall before the deck was even printed" Bluey

"The beaver chased away the termites..., trust has been returned"

"I reinvest... I flush" Herr Gavo on his investments in Swallower's Row.

"He (Officer Mehoff) just ordered Choder to fall on the cock"

And then we brought out the 1954 Art Studios Granny Cards provided by the Octagon. Then all hell broke loose!

"Granny has a tranny" Herr Gavo

"You would squirt blood before you'd squirt semen, if you spanked off to these cards!" Bluey

"That's why the plastic is on there (pic of Bluey's kid)... so you can give her the money shot"

Irish was given a pair of jacks then says to Bluey "pair of sixes". When told by Officer Mehoff that a pair of sixes don't beat a pair of jacks, he gets confused.

Gavin fucks up a straight by "improving it" to 2 aces.

"Is this your first day?" Meersky to Herr Gavo on handing the cards to Bluey rather than Meersky on the deal.

"Is he really retarded? Officer Mehoff to Irish about Gavo.

"Look at Griffin over there...the little mother fucker"

Overall, a very tense but enjoyable night. BS Poker was played until around midnight at least until the festivities were brought down by an episode of "Cops: Skeevemont", and heads started getting cracked.

Now If I Could Only Play Crackdown On My Crackberry!

My name is Bluey.
I got a Crackberry.
I got a Crackberry, shiny and new.
I'm going to play me a whole lot of Crackdown
and check out my email too.

I got a Blackberry for work and boy is it convenient when you are out and about and want to stay in touch with email or need internet information. I've had it for three days and I'm already addicted to it. Now, while I'm playing Crackdown at home, I don't even need to get up from the couch to go upstairs to check my email. I hit pause and it's right there at my fingertips.

What can I say, I'm a major crackwhore every which way I turn. Having a full keyboard with big buttons to send email from the Crackberry is awesome, especially since I suffer from abnormally large digits.

Gotta go and get me a piece of the rock! I've gotta try blogging from the Crackberry next if it's possible.

It's Official: I'm A Crack"Whore"

Last night, Poppinfresh and I played Crackdown on his Xbox360. I think I have found my most favorite game ever.

The premise is that you are a genetically engineered cop that improves skills throughout the game until you are pretty much a Superman. Your task is to clean up the streets which is infested with gangs. Any collateral damage done to citizens in not only forgiven but encouraged.

You can scale tall buildings and open up a can of whoop ass by bludgeoning gang members with your weapons. It kills them even faster than shooting them. There is so much explosive shit to blow up that it is ridiculous in a beautiful way. Because the world is pretty much wide open, you are not led by the nose through the game (which is my biggest pet peeve). You are free to pretty much hunt for whatever bad guy you want whenever. It's basically one big sandbox. And unlike other games, there are a multitude of options for how to attack a hideout and many ways to destroy those inside and outside of it. It's very similar to GTA but everything is open for business right off the bat.

I feel like an artist with a blank canvas when I play this game. Needless to say, my copy is being delivered next week (my first purchase of an xbox360 game!). I have a feeling that I'll be playing this game as much as the crack hoe's go looking for some "rock". I'm addicted.

As I played it last night, there was a common theme I kept hearing from the police chief.

"Do not kill civilians!"

Then I'd turn around and kill one gang member and be instantly forgiven.

"Excellent work!"

Of course, killing only civilians will stunt your powering up, but hey, sometimes I don't like the way that fucking pedestrian is looking at me.

Awesome game! Highly recommended. Bluey gives it a 5 out of 5 stars!

Dig A Hole: She's Starting To Stink Too.

And I'm not talking solely about Anna Nicole Smith's rotting corpse.

I'm talking about the non-stop 24 hour a day news coverage of her, her family, and her 28 current lovers who claim to have helped create the noxious brew of semen in her that produced her daughter.

Dig a Hole on the whole 9 yards already! Is it any wonder that she's starting to stink? She probably smelled just as bad when she was alive.

I Propose New $5 Bills/Greeting Cards

Tay gets mad whenever I tell her that Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday perpetuated by greeting card/flower and jewelry companies to prey on women's relationship insecurities and to steal men's money.

The gist seems to be: the better the card, the bigger the gift, the more numerable the roses, the more love her man has for her. In fact, Valentine's Day, to me, seems like the best opportunity for a scoundrel to hoodwink his concubine for another year. Treat her like garbage for 355 days and then sweep in with the swag on February 14th and buy yourself another year.

Granted, that's a pretty cynical view but I really think that Valentine's day is a huge scam. You can make an argument that a man really gets little from this day except much anxiety over how his honey perceives his celebration of it. With that said, there has been a groundswell of support from men for Steak and a BJ day for men which is supposed to be a reciprocal holiday that grants men a nice steak dinner and a BJ from his honey to reward him for being such a wonderful partner.

But that's not even what I set out to talk about. Can someone tell me why a greeting card costs $5 in many stores? Nowhere else can you get so little value for $5 in cash. The average greeting card is probably worth about 10 cents and there was a time not long ago that you could get a nice card for a buck or two.
Now that they are $5 a pop, I propose that the US Treasury changes the five dollar bill in order to leave space on it for a greeting.

Face it. Wouldn't you much rather get a $5 bill from someone with a message on it than a $5 card that will be thrown away in a week, if not in five minutes after reading. Kids hate cards as well. Why do we bother? Let's put the rapists at Hallmark etc... out of business and stop the nonsense. Not to mention, we'd be saving countless trees.

Let's go back to making our own cards. Computers can pump one out in about a minute and it would be customized to fit your needs. But if you don't have the time, just write on a $5 bill and send it on to me. It's environmentally friendly and recycleable as I spend it. Hell, let's just create message space on all denominations and put greeting card companies out of business for good.

Plus, how funny would it be to read other people's greeting cards or to see if you actually get back one of your own card ten years later?

Whore With Big Jugs Dies

A slut who got famous by getting naked in Playboy and for riding an eighty year old man like Seabiscuit after marrying him for his money, died yesterday.

You've just experienced a "Bluey Obituary" where I write all that is needed to be said when an otherwise useless person officially becomes worm food. Enough said, re-read the headline if absolutely necessary.

C'mon Fatty, Slide Over A Smidge, Won't Ya?

My girls are real big into the movie "Titanic". Even though it is a real chick flick, I do enjoy watching the boat go down (Big surprise, huh?). I do have a variety of issues with the movie that annoy the hell out of me.

First of all, take a look at the picture on the right above. There's plenty of room for both of them on that floating piece of wood. Maybe if Rose would have skipped a few desserts, Jack would still be alive. Maybe not, but it would have given him a fighting chance anyway. Not that I mind Leonardo DiCaprio becoming fishfood in the movie but Mr. Cameron please, either make the raft smaller or let him die on top of the raft. The way it goes makes me believe that Rose was a self centered bitch who murdered Jack by not making room for him on that huge piece of wood.

Of course, my feelings are justified at the end of the movie when my blood pressure rockets through the roof as Rose, a shriveled up old hag (see photo on top left), takes a piece of history, the blue heart diamond, and tosses it into the sea. Fuck knows why she does this except maybe to prove that a woman's heart indeed, is as deep as the ocean.

When I watch this scene, I truly wish that I was on the boat standing behind her. I would run up to her, snatch the diamond, and then grab her by the ankles and whip her ass right over the railing before she knows what's even happening to her. Then I'd watch her sorry ass drown in the cold water much like the death she gave Jack.

Then I'd put that piece of jewelry where it belongs, in a god damned museum. As if two stupid people's 2 day love affair was worth one millionth of the value of an artifact supposedly crafted for Louis XIV or whatever fictional hogwash they make up in the movie.

A woman's heart is as deep as the ocean....please....to quote Lionel Barrymore, "sentimental hogwash!".

It Puts The Lotion In The Basket...

...Or Else It Gets The Hose Again.

Boy, does Tay get creeped out whenever I say that phrase around the house. Oh yeah, that and when I tuck my package in and play with my nipple rings.

Chicks! Go figure.

God Damned Global Warming!

With days like the last few, with temperatures soaring in the high single digits, I don't know how this world is going to survive a toasty 10 degrees when we finally get there. My tumors feel like ice cubes clanking inside a tea glass.

Al Gore and the rest of the enviro-wackos can kiss my ass. While I understand the fundamental tenets of global warming theory, I remain in the undecided corner with the majority of scientists who realize that such a theory is preposterous without a lot more information.

Try to convince the people who are dying out there that their main concern should be global warming. See if the homeless care about losing three feet of shoreline in West Palm Beach in the next 100 years due to water levels rising on the warming earth.

Hey nutjobs, remember when you cared more about people than baby seals, whales and earth's random climate change? Maybe, if it stays this cold, we can all move to Iraq, where it's warm and we can bask in the chocolate rivers and enjoy the children's gumdrop smiles.

Oops, I guess we can't do that. We're being forced to surrender Iraq to Al-Qaeda by the House and Senate. What a bunch of spineless bastards.

I guess we shouldn't worry about terrorists because global warming will kill us all in about ten thousand years! That's the real priority item.

Welcome To The Teens, Loni!

Ok, it's official. I have a teenager. Loni turned 13 today to much fanfare and celebration.

Loni has crossed over into Teenland and still remains a beautiful, caring and sweet human being. God knows where she got those traits. Obviously, not from Dad.

Happy Birthday Loni! I hope you enjoy your teens as much as the first 12 years.

Smoking Gun: The Magic Bullet Theory, Chapter 1

"Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand?
Alright. I'm goin down to shoot my old lady,
you know I caught her messin' 'round with another man."

It was a Saturday sometime this past fall. A beautiful day, sunny, with a nice breeze. Tay and I were sitting on her back deck enjoying the fresh air rousing us to wakefulness after sleeping in. We were chit-chatting when Tay mentioned that she had a paintball gun. She said she kept it loaded for self defense. I kinda chuckled at the notion of a paintball gun used for that purpose but, hey, it's really not that bad of an idea. She also said it was good for shoo-ing away stray dogs, especially when Petey is in heat.

"Go get it", I said. "I want to play with it". Tay obliged.

When I went to use it, it was jammed with paint, so I took it apart and cleaned it until it was in proper working order. Unfortunately, it was also out of CO2. So off to gander Mountain we went to replenish the CO2 and her ammunition.

When we returned, I started squeezing off rounds at propane tanks and tree trunks. I told her how I could not be trusted with a paintball gun because it was a situation similar to that of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame), who said while holding a croquet mallet during a "gentlemanly" game with Hobbes, "I can tell you the temptation to misuse these is awful." Needless to say, I'd pick out a knot in a tree trunk and pretend it was Tay's heiny while she was bent over gardening. I'd squeeze off a few rounds with deadly accuracy, painting the knot green with nary a miss.

Tay turns to me and says, "You've got issues".

"You're just figuring this out now?" I exclaimed.

"How about I take you around on the quad and you can shoot stuff?" Tay offered.

"Really?....

"Sure, let's go" Tay replied, "We'll take Shadow and Petey (her dogs) for a run".

Hot damn, I got the coolest girlfriend. So we mount the quad, loaded for bear. I'm hoping to "paint" a few deer while were out. Put the fear of God into them and maybe they'll actually survive the hunting season. Well, that was my warped justification anyway.

But after a few miles of tooling around, I didn't find much to shoot at, so we pulled over. Tay got off the quad and walked to a gate that housed some of the neighbor's bulls.

She climbed up the gate and leaned over the fence about 20 feet away from me. She was in an incredibly prone position with her gluteal area pointing towards the quad that I was sitting on.

(the sound of a gunshot echoes through the valley)

Tay is hit. Green paint oozes on her inner thigh. She climbs down the gate cursing. She turns around and....

Stay tuned for Chapter 2.

Eight Days in the Hole!

Ok, who the hell am I kidding? Taking a hiatus from talking about nonsense? It's impossible for me. So, after my eight days in non-blogging purgatory, I'm on the precipice of making my triumphant return.

Also, look for Bluey's World: Volume One, "My First 15 Months", which can be found at available bookstores near you (Viking Press).

And if you got hoodwinked by the previous sentence, you are way too gullible to be reading this particular blog.

Bluey's in the house...........again!

Bluey's World On Hiatus

Sorry to say that I'm going to have to take a sabbatical from Bluey's World.

I've got a lot on my plate these days. Thanks for listening over the past 14 months.

Bluey out!

Snakes On A Plane Doesn't Frighten Me!

However, Bitches On A Cellphone scares the bejesus out of me.

On three occasions this past week, yentas yakking on cellphones while driving almost killed other vehicles in front of me on the road. God knows what is so fucking important that it can't wait until they get home.

In one car, there was a thirty-something woman in tears, apparently arguing with her boyfriend/husband while cutting off a car on the entrance lane of the highway. The other two consisted of women in their own fucking world, not paying a lick of intention to the road and drifting in and out of their lanes. One decided to get in the left lane to pass a truck. The only problem was that the bitch was doing about 58 miles per hour and cut off a minivan full of kids that was tooling along in the left lane doing about 65-70. Apparently, she never bothered to check her rear view mirrors before she decided to pass.

I see at least one of these incidents weekly and sure enough, every time I see a near accident, it turns out to be a bitch on a cellphone, who is so goddamn absorbed in her own life, she doesn't have any spare time to consider the safety of others. Now, I'm sure this article seems incredibly sexist and callous. But, the fuck if I care, I see what I see. Maybe men's cellphone use in cars affect their driving less, how the hell do I know? The truth is that almost every time I see a moron swerving in lanes or cutting someone off or driving too slow to be safe, it turns out to be a chick on a cellphone.

Obviously, the bigger picture is that cell phone use should be banned on the roads but I'm calling a spade a spade. Every once in a while, I do see an unsafe male driver on the cell but the clear majority is perpetrated by women, who seemingly get so involved in their conversations, that they cease paying attention to the road whatsoever.

God, I wish I had a cowcatcher on the front of my Durango. I'd plow these bitches right off the road. They shouldn't be driving anyway. They should be home pregnant, preparing dinner for their man and wearing sexy underwear or preferably a NY Rangers jersey and nothing else.

Now how's that for sexist?

Happy 12th Birthday To My Daughter, Bebis!

Bebis turns 12 today. A shout out of monkey-goodness birthday wishes to my monkey loving progeny. It does make me bitter that she shares a birthday with the cocaine wrecked, meatloaf stuffed fat, dead, very limited talented, room temperatured, worm eaten Elvis Presley.

Oh well, everybody has a cross to bear.

Happy birthday, Bebis!!!!!!

Notre Dame Fighting Irish 6, Robert Morris Colonials 2.

Last night, Meersky and I attended the ND/RMU ice hockey game at the Mellon arena. It was the first Division I college hockey game I think I've ever been to. It was a pretty tight game for two periods until the Irish ran away with the game in the third period.

The event was also pretty well attended as a litle less than 4000 souls came out on a balmy 50 degree January evening.The thing that struck me though, only because I've never really got to see it firsthand, was all the Notre Dame fans at the game.

Let me be honest with you, I have a real axe to grind with Notre Dame poseurs. You know them. They have absolutely no ties to the team, never have stepped foot in South Bend, much less have ever been in Indiana in their lives. They may be Catholic and/or Irish or neither but their reasons for their absolute devotion to the team have no basis in any actual reality.

They are no better than NY Yankee fans that were born nowhere near New York City. They are called bandwagon jumpers. They hook onto winning teams much like a remora on a great white and enjoy the ride.And they are obnoxious about how great they think "their" team is. Usually when you question them about their allegiance to the school, you usually get some stupid answer in return.

How I fucking wish that one of them, just one of them, ever said "I only like them because they are traditionally winners and I am a hopeless retard that needs some sort of psuedo boost of pride to celebrate the fact that I am catholic or irish or that my mother's friend's sister's grandfather's roomate went to a great school like Notre Dame".

Last I checked, there were tons of Catholic Universities to root for if that is your thing (Boston College, Holy Cross, Villanova etc...). I guess none of the other catholic schools must be devout enough to warrant all these fans' devotion. If it's an Irish thing, I'm guessing that celebrating your ancestral history of alcoholism by drinking to excess at least once a year on St. Patrick's Day (who incidentally isn't even Irish), isn't enough to carry the pride through the year. Or the absolute worst: Notre Dame poseurs who are not Catholic, not Irish and have no ties whatsoever to the school.

These people make me sick when I have to listen to them.I have no problem with Notre Dame. They can't help that they've accumulated all these retarded fans. And as long as the cash registers keep ringing what do they care? Hell, none of their teams seem to be worth a damn for years now, but the money keeps pouring in. My hats off to them for selling people smoke.When I went to pull a picture off the net, I almost fell off my chair when I found the Jewish Irish fan club logo, apparently a group of rabid Irish fans in Israel, go figure!

I wouldn't be surprised at all if Osama Bin Ladin, GM of the New York Yankees, has a touchdown Jesus statue on his mahogany desk.

Bluey's 10 New Year's Resolutions:

10. Spend more time figuring out what the buttons do on my new Xbox360 wireless controller. (Where's the diamond?) Also, get my Xbox live account switched over so I can start the year fresh by irritating Supermonkey with fresh racial taunts.

9. Try to get back into double digits for the number of alcohol containing drinks consumed for the year. Woody's sip of champagne at midnight on New Year's eve only got him to nine for the year!

8. Use the word "smegma" more often in daily conversation. Smegma is a Bluey originated word from back in the day that referred to an offensive looking and smelling unidentified substance. Smegma is brought to you by the letter S.

Authors note: Apparently Bluey was full of hot air when he laid claim to the derivation of the word smegma. Please refer to the following Wikipedia link:(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smegma#Smegma_in_popular_culture

Thanks to Choder for pointing out this fallacy! Although, I'd argue against it, it's use in a Monty Python skit when I was three years old, pretty much voids any claim I can make. I still plan to use the word more but hope that the Monty Python troupe members that are still alive get ass cancer for stealing my pre-school material.

7. Finding an actual "Pigsknuckle Paradise" restaurant and taking my kids there as punishment for giving me cancer over the three of them never being able to settle on a restaurant.

6. Refusing to wash my hockey equipment until I am a walking open bottle of vinegar in the locker room, thereby forcing my hockey team to finally free up the #6 jersey for me (I currently wear #16, because some callous individual refuses to part with it).

5. Get a new dartboard for selecting stocks.

4. Spend less time with Tay, weaning her off the overdose of Vitamin R that I seemed to provide her in 2006. Allowing her to provide me with more home-cooked meals. This goes hand in hand with her resolution (not taking me for granted). This will put our relationship in my comfort zone of having a personal slave who caters to my every whim. (Yes!)

3. Invent a device that turns off my hearing for the times that I am visiting my mother. If I am unsuccessful, I may just be the first person to ever die from cochlea cancer.

2. Attach a snowplow blade to the front of my Durango, so that I can just plow "shrivs" and morons using cellphones in their cars, out of my way when I'm driving.

1. Put the same sort of computer answering service on my cellphone that the utilities companies have on their customer "help" lines. (If you really need to talk to Bluey, please press 9 now). This way I can go all of 2007 without taking any phone calls. I'm starting to use 200 minutes regularly each month and I'm not happy about it. At this rate, the radiowaves from my phone will give me brain cancer by 2014.

Happy New Year to all!

Hopefully we can all avoid getting cancer for at least one more year!

Make A Little Girl Cry This Christmas!

I don't know how many of you have ever experienced this sensation on Christmas, but in my case, it sure felt good.

I'm talking about my 9 year old daughter, Kitty, and she was bawling up a storm on Christmas day.


Under normal circumstances she'd probably be crying because of three reasons:

a) I just got finished beating her.
b) one of her sisters hid a jalapeno pepper under sour cream on a tortilla chip.
c) I made her cut the onions for the spaghetti sauce.

But today the selection was d) none of the above.

As my girls were unwrapping their presents each was ecstatic with everything they got which is normally the case. They are pretty easy to please. When Kitty opened up her "big" present and saw it was a musician's stool, her sister Bebis immediately said, "I bet your Christmas present is upstairs!". All three girls run for the stairs with Loni in the lead. Kitty wipes out before she gets to the stairs. Basically it was the function of new fuzzy Christmas socks and a newly cleaned hardwood floor. I pick Kitty off the ground and she suffered a mild scrape to her knee. Not too bad. But she was crying uncontrollably like someone just killed her. I take a look at it and kiss her booboo and tell her that it's not bad at all. She is unconsolable.When her crying finally starts to subside, I told her. "You'll be alright, it's not too bad". She turns to me and says as we near her bedroom, "That's not why I'm crying, Dad". Then she sees her new keyboard and stand all set up to go with her musician's stool.She starts bawling again as she starts playing the keyboard. I sit on her bed and watch her as she plays. I didn't realize that she was as good as she plays. I am fascinated as she bangs out a tune with both hands. I knew she was taking lessons but she always played at her Mom's house. I had no idea how far she had progressed. I just though that the keyboard would be a good gift to facilitate her playing more.

She turns to me and says, with tears in her eyes, "I'm crying because I love my present and I am so happy". She falls into my arms and gives me a huge hug. "Thank you Daddy!". I actually start to tear up.

When you are a parent, seeing the joy in your kids eyes is usually a daily occurence. To see a child so appreciative of a Christmas gift, that they actually start to cry is absolutely precious. I always thought that tears of joy were exclusively reserved for weddings. I guess I was wrong.

And so were most of you that chose multiple choice answer A to my test question. Shame on you.

Merry Christmas from Bluey and all his girls (Tay, Tootles, Loni, Bebis and Kitty)! Even though we spent almost half of Christmas day in the ER with a severely virus dehydrated Tootles, it was a very memorable and wonderful day together.

Epilogue: Tootles wakes up from her 14 hour sleep and finally enjoys her Christmas presents on Tuesday morning. She's A-OK. That's a nice little Christmas present for Tay and I, considering how bad Tootlecious was just a day earlier.

Blood Pressure Rising

I just got an Xbox360 this past Monday and started with a game that I thought would be right up my alley. My gameplay style tends to lean towards mindless brutal violence, especially towards the slow moving undead.

Strategy??? What the hell is that??? I'm all about dicing and chopping zombies into a million pieces with an endless assortment of items including a big honking industrial sized lawn mower.

Of course, every once in a while, I do like to follow the story and missions in games in between the rampant carnage.But "Dead Rising" doesn't allow for that. They have a system where the messages on the screen and the dialogue is so small, it is unreadable unless you have a 12 foot HD screen, I guess. I can't even follow the story if I tried, especially on my 29 inch screen.

How this title got past beta testers as is is unfuckingbelievable.

Someone should get shot for passing this game in QC tests. Better yet, let me use the scythe to stab their neck and pop their head off like a daisy. This game has a huge amount of potential for lovely carnage with it's multitude of bludgeoning weapons (you can pretty much use anything on the screen to fight zombies, including busting them in the head with their own severed arm). But, alas, the game gives just as much ass cancer as it does pleasure.

Is there any chance that Capcom will release a fixed version of the game? Probably not, and it's a real shame because this could have very well been my most favorite game ever.

Oh, and to my buddies on Xbox Live, Doc Bluey is coming soon. I'm just waiting for Griffin to come and hook my Xbox360 wireless and transfer my Xbox Live account from the old Xbox. So beware Jumpman, Supermonkey, Gromit, Tankboy et al..., because I'm coming soon to legislate. If I can only figure out what these damn buttons do.Star, dot, circle, double diamond...left trigger finger (but now there's two of em'). I'm so confused.

Aspinvaal Christmas Cookie Exchange Goes Awry!

Gingerbread men rounded up all thumbprint, sugar cookies and peanut butter balls in an effort to re-establish themselves as the master holiday cookie.

Local bakers Herr Gavo and Frau Kristabella were brought in for questioning by the local authorities.

"Oh My God...I May Have To Play Nice With Republicans After All!"

I never had much of an issue with Democrats taking over control of the House and the Senate this past election. I figured that it would give the Democrats a stage to showcase their ideas for America.

Then I listened to future House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi, congresswoman CA. She is one divisive bitch, not only, seemingly, in her own party but between parties. I actually sat through an interview with Barbara Walters this week with Pelosi. Barbara had her #1 on a list of 2006's influential people or some nonsense like that. Patrick Dempsey from Grey's Anatomy was #2 on the list (seemingly because he is "hot"). Anyway, if you hear Nancy talk, she is extremely full of herself and not exactly the person expected to bring much bipartisan support. Let's just say that she should be glad that the Democrats have a clear majority in the House and also the advantage in the Senate. Of course, she is a huge George Bush attacker, which is basically her right, but I don't think that the Speaker of the House should have such a belligerance to the sitting president. She basically feels that Bush is unqualified to be president but has backtracked a little in her recent semantics.

On the Barbara Walters show (is it too late for Bawbwa Wawa to get speech therapy at 84 years of age?), she said something on the lines of "who better to clean up the government than a grandmother?"

Of course that sounds all nice but once again, after hearing her talk for 5 minutes, I don't have any clear impression on what her ideas are except somehow traveling back in time and removing troops from Iraq in May of 2006. She's really good at tearing down Republicans though. She has a real gift for being a partisan bully. Of course, she doesn't have to play nice with Republicans after the landslide Democratic win in November.

Or does she? Now that Tim Johnson, Democratic Senator of South Dakota has suffered an anuerysm of sorts and is in critical condition, there is a real chance that the Republicans will regain control of the Senate if SD governor Mike Rounds appoints a Republican to replace Tim Johnson if Johnson cannot continue. All of a sudden, all of Nancy Pelosi's divisive bullshit comes home to roost. The Senate would be able to block any bill that comes out of the House.

Now don't get me wrong, I hope that Johnson makes a full recovery or that Mike Rounds appoints the next qualified democrat to replace Johnson. But it just goes to show that you reap what you sow and that bad karma given comes right back to you. Nancy Pelosi is a nasty egotist and the Dems should replace her with someone with a little more bipartisan sensibilities.

Polarizing Democrats and Republicans are the people we should be voting out of office. Nancy Pelosi is clearly one of these people on the Dem side.

Way to go Nance! It looks like you'll render yourself irrelevant before you even get started.

Here is another shining example of Nancy's prowess in her recent selection of a chairperson of the House Intelligence committee, as reported by the Wall Street Journal:

Pelosi's Intelligence Man - December 14, 2006; Page A20As Speaker-to-be Nancy Pelosi's choice to be the next Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, Texas Democrat Silvestre Reyes will share responsibility for the budgets and oversight of U.S. spy agencies, as well as receive regular briefings on classified intelligence. But it appears he first needs a remedial course on America's terrorist enemies.

In an interview with Congressional Quarterly, Mr. Reyes was unable to answer basic questions about the sectarian nature of both al Qaeda and Hezbollah. "Predominantly -- probably Shiite," he responded when asked about the strain of Islam that animates al Qaeda. The truth is that al Qaeda is composed of Sunni extremists who slaughter Iraqi Shiites on a daily basis. And when CQ's reporter turned to Hezbollah, Mr. Reyes said, "Why do you ask me these questions at five o'clock?" Perhaps because he's only had 23 years since the Iranian-backed Shiite terror group blew up the Beirut Marine barracks to figure that one out.

It's not as if House Democrats didn't have a qualified candidate for the Intelligence Committee chair. That would be California's Jane Harman, who served with distinction as ranking Member in the current Congress. But Ms. Pelosi thought Ms. Harman was too hawkish and not partisan enough in opposing Bush Administration policy.

So she floated the name of Florida's Alcee Hastings for the chairmanship, though a Democratic Congress had voted to impeach him as a federal judge. When that choice came under post-election criticism, Ms. Pelosi tried to mollify the Black Caucus for dumping Mr. Hastings by picking someone from the Hispanic Caucus, the untutored Mr. Reyes.

So it appears America will fight the next two years of the war on terror with an important Congressional post occupied by a man who has no grasp at all of the dynamics of the conflicts in Iraq, Lebanon and the broader Middle East. This isn't an auspicious start by Democrats who hoped to campaign in 2008 having established some credibility on national security.

Last Night's Dream

I was carting around my three daughters and bought fast food dinners for two of them and was looking to pick up a meal for the third when the person at the counter said that they had no change for a twenty. I found a bill changer but it only spit out three $1 bills. I was just on my way to yell at someone when Tay woke me up.

I said "Damn, Tay, I was just about to tear into someone's ass!" Tay asked me about my dream and she immediately started to psycho-analyze it. "Maybe it means that you have anxiety about paying for your daughters' college, weddings etc...". I was a little skeptical of that assessment and asked what the other dreams I had that night meant.

"What were they?" Tay innocently asked.

"In one dream, I was standing on the sidewalk and my girls, you and your daughter were hooking up hoses to my body and then started pumping individual bicycle pumps until I was entirely deflated", I said.

She frowned. "You idiot."

"In another dream, I was a big giant slug and the five of you were pouring cannisters of Morton's salt on me until I was shriveled to just about nothing. What could these dreams possibly mean?".

"You know, you're a real jerk".

"I know honey......I know".

Rock, Paper, Scissors, El Diablo and the Shocker!

Every once in a while, the staff of the Wall Street Journal show that they are not entirely stuffy and do have a sense of humor.

Last March, they ran one of my all-time favorite articles concerning "the grand sport of rock-paper-scissors". The article documented the pissing match between an upstart U.S.A Rock-Paper-Scissors league started by Hollywood producers and supported by Bud Light girls in local watering holes and the Toronto-based World RPS Society which has proclaimed itself as caretaker and the sole recognized "governing body of the sport".

I have included a link to the article but I think you need an online WSJ subscription to access the page.

Here are some of my favorite lines from the article:

For too long, adults who gather in clubs looking for competition have had only pool or darts to challenge them. Finally, there's a true sport where talent can be showcased.

The World and U.S. leagues agree that rock-paper-scissors is a game of strategy. "Selecting throws in advance helps prevent unconscious patterns from forming and can sometimes reduce the subconscious signals that give away the next throw," the World Society's Web site advises. Advanced players twitch fingers to confuse fist-watching foes, or delay unveiling a throw until the last possible instant.

The U.S. league asserts, "All cries of 'RPS is just random' disappear the moment one's opponent states, 'I dare you to open with rock, you sissy.'

The World Society describes two throws of scissors sandwiched around a paper as "an invasive and devious gambit." The U.S. league says a man who throws two papers then a rock has never kissed a girl.

The World Society deplores the U.S. league officiating as lax. "There doesn't seem to be any accountability or quality control," says Shawn Ring, 29, a World Society member in Philadelphia. At a recent U.S. league event, he claims a referee allowed a contestant to make a patently illegal vertical paper throw.

The U.S. league's Web site displays a video of the "Girls of RPS," scantily dressed women nicknamed Rock, Paper and Scissors, cavorting to pulsing music. The World Society posted a critique on its Web site saying the U.S. league had "chosen to go down that old tired and true route of hiring strippers for a cheese-fest" rather than celebrate women "who have actually played RPS.

The U.S. league shot back on its Web site that the World Society was sexist for implying that an attractive woman couldn't be good at rock-paper-scissors. "Brothers Graham and Doug Walker obviously know nothing of beautiful women, most likely because they've never actually spoken to one," the Web site declared.

Now, I've been playing RPS with my daughters for years and they are quite good at it, especially my 9 year old, Kitty. She regularly beats me in a two out of three game. Unfortunately, since I am a known Cheaty McCheaterson, I have made new hand signs to counter her traditional throws.

"El Diablo" (shown at top of article) is a throw in which, the devil splits rock, melts scissors and burns paper and is unbeatable.

I pretty much made it a habit to throw an assortment of hand gestures I continually make up such as "Crane", "Rake", "Gun", "Peace", "Loser" and many others in an attempt to cheat Kitty out of victory. I'd make confusing arguments as to what each was and why each beat her throw.

When Kitty got wise and started throwing El Diablo back at me, I countered with "Halo", which banishes El Diablo back to Hades. Unfortunately, Kitty argues that "Halo" is plugged by rock, covered by paper and cut by scissors. We're still continuing to argue that one out.

Needless to say, I think we should keep our alternative methods away from the prying ears of the World RPS Society, who would surely frown on our ammendments to the "grand game of rock, paper, scissors".

I'm just trying to figure out how to utilize "the Shocker" in a RPS game. For obvious reasons, I've refrained from throwing it in a game with my daughters.

URL for this article:http://online.wsj.com/article/SB114135380757088331.html

Weekend Warrior Championship: Black Ice 2, Oilers 1.

After playing in adult ice hockey leagues for the better part of 10 years or so, I felt like Ray Bourque last night as our Black Ice squad skated home with the championship in our C level league.


I have no delusions of greatness however, as I've been the part of mostly 1 and 2 win teams for the majority of my adult league tenure and I was starting to think that I was a "shleprock" to the teams I've played for, bringing bad juju or karma in some way. All of that disappeared last night as the Black Ice skated to old man glory. After being outskated in a scoreless first period, the Black Ice took control of the game in the second and came out with a 1-1 tie going into the third. Midway through the third period, we broke the tie and played solid defensively to preserve the victory 2-1.


Finally winning one of these things at 40 is sweet, especially with friends. Blue, the Black Ice founder and caretaker, and Meersky, playing in three adult leagues concurrently, played pivotal roles during the season. The Black Ice won in a multiple round shootout using all of their players in a tied semifinal game just to advance to the Final two weeks before. Meersky scored a shootout goal to keep the season alive in that game. Meersky also played the first games I've ever seen him play on defense.


Overall, a great effort by all, especially by our team MVP, our goaltender, Brian, who was spectacular all season and made unbelievably crazy saves last night. I'm glad to finally taste sweet victory!

"You're A Real Effing Petey!"

My girlfriend, Tay, has two dogs. One is a pit bull mix female named "Daisy" who reminds me of "Petey" from "The Little Rascals". Daisy is pretty much a sweet dog with a pleasant personality that Tay found abandoned in her driveway a few years ago. Daisy is pretty well behaved except for one aspect. She's an outside dog but she would sell her soul to the devil to get inside the house. She's been known to push open doors, jump through screens and run through your legs as you enter the house just to get inside for the few seconds before you grab her by her collar and haul her ass back outside.

Tay has another dog, a lab called "Shadow", who, when I met Tay should have been called "Nightmare". He regularly jumped up on anyone approaching the house and he was usually soaked or covered in mud when he did. The dog knows every waterhole on the property and regularly is a wet mess. Although we're starting to make progress with his behavior, it's Daisy who really grinds my fucking gears on a regular basis, not Shadow.



Because she looks like Petey, I started calling her that. I do it just to piss her off. Believe it or not, she seems to get an indignant look on her face when I call her Petey and it just stuck. I call her Petey all the time.



Of course, now that I call her Petey, the word Petey is associated with what a pain in the ass she can really be. Petey, in the Bluey dictionary, has become synonomous with "a real pain in the ass", hence the phrase "you're a real effing Petey!".



For example: When Tay and I returned from vacation in Naples, Fla, we we're both hauling our own bag from baggage to long term parking. Her bag was nice and new and had a pull out handle and wheels. Mine was an ancient piece of shit that I basically had to carry. It probably weighed about 100 pounds. After we walked the mile back to the exit where the car was, my arms were about to fall off. Tay was perfectly fine. Then Tay turns to me and says, "would you mind pulling the car out and picking me up here at the door, sweetie?". Needless to say, when I get to my vehicle, I write on the tailgate "Tay is a real Petey" with my finger. When I pull around to Tay, she is just about to lift the tailgate when she spots the message. I start laughing my ass off. Message received loud and clear.



So, if someone walks by you in the future and calls you a real fucking Petey some day, you'll know that you're being a real pain in the ass!

Bluey's Girls 3, Bluey 1.

I took my progeny to the Mellon Arena last night for the Pens-Rangers game.

Yes, the cartoonist was there again and produced the image of my girls that you see above (l. Bebis, c. Kitty and r. Loni).

Thank God, I didn't make any bets with the girls since they went home with the same smiles on their faces as their Penguins beat my beloved NY Rangers 3-1. My little pugilism lovers cheered the Thorburn-Hollweg fight and went nuts over Mark Recchi's 2 goals and Jordan Staal's goal. I had very little to cheer about outside of a Brendan Shanahan goal on a Penguin giveaway.

The girls also danced themselves onto the scoreboard screen late in the game. Truly a fun night!

Bluey On Vacation

Tay and I are going on vacation and we will be away for four days at an undisclosed location (damned papparazzi!).


Since I'm not the type of person who brings a computer along with me on vacation, especially the beach, Bluey's World will be in a holding pattern until my triumphant return next week. I'm sure I'll be filled with tales to tell of my trip and a whole new batch of people that give me cancer.


Enjoy the break my dear readers, you deserve it!

Congratulations To The Democrats!

No, I really do mean it.

Obviously the country wanted a change and you guys have promised "a new direction for America".

I'm really interested whether there are actually any ideas behind the new direction lip service or if the Democrats actually have some answers. I didn't hear many during the campaigning but maybe the party just wanted to keep them close to the vest. I was actually happy to see the Dems put up more social conservatives for election this year.

Anyways, good luck! Your 2008 success will depend heavily on your actions over the next two years!

"I'm Taking The Hammer Out Of Your Bony Hands, Kicking Out Your Left Knee, Dropping You To The Ground and Then Pimp Slapping Your Sorry Ass!"

(Don Felatio to Kay, Game 3, Lunch Money)

No, Don Felatio wasn't especially nice to his wife, Kay, during our first Games Night at the Bluey estate. The Don and Bluey put on a clinic on how to keep your pimp hand strong in Game 3 of Lunch Money, as they quickly disposed of their significant others, Kay and Tay, and left them unconscious. Bluey used the dreaded Poke In The Eye, to render Tay blind and vulnerable to a subsequent ass whooping.

The gals, however, had their way with Bluey in Game 1 with Kay dealing out a boatload of combo damage after choking Bluey's sorry ass. In Game 2, Kay and Tay demolished Bluey and the Don. Tay ended up winning the first two games, besting Kay in a pair of memorable game ending catfights...Meow!!!

Space Munchkin was also played simultaneously on the table with Colin being the first to reach level 20. He bested Griffin, FNG, and Tracer.

Earlier in the Evening, the whole lot played three plus games of Pitch Car with Meersky winning Race #1, FNG winning Race #2 (with an assist by Griffin and a major choke job by Bluey's "It's Just Physics"), and Griffin winning race #3 against Bluey's girls, who then claimed the game as their own as we cleared the main table.

Finally, the night ended in one giant game of Kill Dr. Lucky in which Dr. Lucky was able to avoid death for at least two hours and countless murder attempts by Tay, The Don, Kay, Poppinfresh, FNG, Griffin, Tracer and Bluey the card whore until Griffin was able to finally do him in with a rusty spoon, I think.

We chowed down on Mineo's Pizza and had a birthday cake and Reese's Ice Cream to celebrate Erie's 25th birthday (or at least the 10th or so anniversary of it!). Meersky returned to the party after a brief stint at his brother's house dressed as a priest. He almost immediately was discovered fondling FNG in the upstairs bathroom.

All in all, a very entertaining night and we're definitely going to have to plan another Games Night again real soon. Thanks to all for making the night an absolute blast!

Bluey's World: One Year Anniversary!

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog. One year ago today, I put the proverbial pen to paper and started spouting the most inane, dysfunctional and extremely masturbatory ideas and stories that my brain came up with on a weekly basis.

My plan is to continue until the well runs dry or I finally succumb to the ass cancer that people give me on a daily basis. (Especially from that oblivious cunt the other day who was standing in the middle of a busy road talking on her cellphone while me and Poppinfresh were driving to lunch, or the two referees at Bebis' basketball game last night who seemingly couldn't be bothered to actually ref a 11 year old girls basketball game).

I'm actually having fun with this medium and want to give thanks to my friends and family for giving me the fuel I need to keep it going. Thanks for all the positive feedback.

And for those who haven't got a mention in the blog yet, be careful of what you wish for. Your day is coming soon!

bluey

Futurama Raises A Question In My Head

I was watching an episode of Futurama yesterday where Bender sells his body and Richard Nixon's preserved head somehow acquires it and goes on the road for another run at the presidency.

I've been thinking about stem cell research recently and came up with the following question.

If you could keep your brain alive and functional using stem cells, would you consider chopping the head off a genetically matched child (utilizing cloning technology) and grown specifically for you to sew your own head onto thereby staying alive theoretically forever?

I guess a more aseptic way of saying this would be to transplant your brain into a clone of yourself.

Nonetheless, sooner or later, we are going to have the technology to keep people alive forever. Do we use technology to cheat death forever in the future at any cost?

We have cloning technology already. Assuming stem cell research or some other advanced research gives us the power to regenerate our own cells or prevent apoptosis (programmed cell death), the only technology left to complete the process is the brain transplant.

The last thing I want is a 576 year old person walking around perpetually bitter about something that happened to them 379 years ago. Maybe we'd have to invent a selective memory wipe as well.

I guess my point is that Bender's body should only be used for Bender's head, not Richard Nixon's, and when Bender is ready for the junkyard, we recycle him into a few cases of Mr. Pibb cans.

Hey, the worms gotta eat too, right?