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Previously on wwbd...
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Ye Olden Archive
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What the hell did you say yesterday?
02/21/02 04:11 PM PST
It's all about name recognition, baby!
I've been thinking... if I was going to form a band, I would need a really snappy name
that people would remember. While a great number of very cool band names are still untaken
("schizophrenic shishkabob" is a great possible name!), why create a new name
when you can leech off of what's already out there.
Use other bands names, and use their name recognition! That's my motto!
Thus comes the ultimate name for a band:
Rage Against the Nine Inch Korn Hole
Now that has selling power, baby!
02/20/02 03:33 PM PST
After long though and carefull deliberation, I've come up with what may the ultimate
way for men to quit smoking and never start again.
I call it "Helping Hummers".
The idea is simple. All you have to do is quit smoking. Every time you get a craving
for a cigarette, a beautiful woman performs fellatio on you. You forget about your
craving for nicotine, you're not irritable, and you begin to associate not smoking with
pleasure. The Plan is perfect!
So... as I'm quitting now, I need several female volunteers to do a proof of concept on
my theory. If you are between the ages of 18 and 45 with an eye for detail, are reliable and dependable,
and have outstanding written and oral
skills, please email us today by clicking here!
02/19/02 01:31 PM PST
I just wanted to share a couple of thoughts with you, my loyal viewing public.
Thought #1: Nicrorette tastes like orange flavored ass!
Yeah, that's right... I'm weak! I admit it! I can't do this thing cold turkey and need
something to take off the edge. Of course, Nicorette doesn't do much, but if you
chew it fast enough, it causes such a burning sensation in your esophagus that the
last think you're thinking about is a cigarette (throat on fire! throat on fire!).
And before you go off on me that I'm using it wrong, I know all about the "bite and park"
technique, so why don't you just bite me and park it someplace else, bizzach!
Thought #2: Hi, my name is Colin.
I'll just be glad when my brain starts functioning properly again (this walking in a fog, breaking
out into sudden sweats, and shaking crap has got to end sometime).
02/19/02 10:17 AM PST
So much for updating this weekend.
I've come to the conclusion that I hate everyone and everything. Of course, that could just be
my reaction from the lack of nicotine in my system.
This whole quitting smoking thing is a bitch. I thought I was ready, I thought I was prepared,
I thought I was tougher than this monkey.
Man... was I wrong.
This is hard... damn hard.
On another note, there were two exciting developments over the weekend:
I got my motorcycle out of storage and terrorized the town all weekend long (it's hard to smoke when you're wearing a helmet).
Martha Stewart died in my bathroom. At least that's what it looks like after a trip to the Big K (K stands for "kaput").
We made the main bathroom in my home "girlie-o-riffic". Now I'm gonna feel funny when I poop in there.
02/15/02 08:39 AM PST
This weekend is a long one for me (3 days), and I have big plans... I'm going to do something I've
wanted to do for a long time now...
I'm putting out my last cigarette.
I'll post updates for the 3 or 4 of you each day who come to this site while searching for bestiality
porn (you know who you are) on my progress. I expect to be grumpy, mean, and sarcastic as hell.
Perfect for the website!
What would be really cool, is if I could shove a camera down my esophagus and take pictures of the
progress that my lungs make over time. But as my webcam and digital camera aren't exactly arthroscopic,
and I'm not that sadistic, it's not going to happen.
In other news...
I finally found
forward controls
for my
motorcycle.
They are a thing of beauty (and
damn well should be for the low, low price of $613!) Combine those with the
mini foot-boards
and
seat
that I want to put on the bike, and I'm into it over $1,200.
I'm putting in my order in 2 weeks.
<insert happy dance here>
02/14/02 08:31 AM PST
I should have purchased stock in FTD.
Ah yes, Valentines day. The day that men and women everywhere go absolutely psycho on the flower, chocolate, and jewelery
industry. The day where one must prove their love by paying insane amounts of money for a floral arrangement that
will simply die in a few days, much like the love that you are trying to profess.
Remember when you were a kid? Valentines day meant preparing cards for the whole class. You walked around the
room placing them in shoe-boxes decorated with paper hearts. If you were lucky, someone gave you those crappy
little peppermint hearts inscribed with romantic phrases like "Be Mine" and "Too Hot".
Like all holidays in this country, this one too has been commercialized beyond belief. The new meaning of Valentines
day is "if you don't spend a fortune, you don't love them". And you better have it delivered where they work, so
everyone can see how much they are loved.
Like the sheep that I am, I spent a small fortune on flowers and chocolates. "Baaaaaa"
02/12/02 03:01 PM PST
Gather 'round, little childrens... because it's...
True Story Time!
I work in a cubicle. It's my fortress of solitude, my sacred place, the one location at work where
I can be alone and do what needs to be done.
Yesterday, what I needed to do was release some flatulence.
So I did.
About 30 seconds later, some guy who I've only seen a few times in my last year and a half comes
walking to my cube and says...
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Man... do you smell that?".
"Um... no", I reply.
"Dude... I could smell it from down the hall.. it's everywhere!"
"Um... I don't smell anything" <insert me turning red>
"Are you sure? It smells good!"
"Wha...?"
"It smells like strawberries"
"!"
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It turns out that Robyn had some potpourri going about 4 cubes away (and yes,
it was strawberry). Either it was pure coincidence, or her cube was downwind
of me and she felt the need to "freshen up" the atmosphere.
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