Your holiday weekend forecast
The holiday weekend has begun.
The
forecast here calls for
mostly hungover mornings this weekend with a
slight chance of vomiting. It'll be
partly drunk during the daylight hours,
turning mostly shitfaced in the evenings with heavy interludes of vodka and Jagermeister. Look for a stray Johnnie Walker Black. The outlook calls for 100% chance of a DUI.
Now, here's Bonzo with the sports.
More child wisdom: love, marriage, dating....
You know what I think about this love and marriage nonsense. Let's see what real kids had to say (quotes are actual):
Love and Marriage:
- "If falling in love is anything like learning how to spell, I don't want to do it. It takes too long." -- Glenn, age 7
- "On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date." -- Mike, 10
- "Most men are brainless, so you might have to try more than once to find a live one." -- Angie, age 10
- "A man and a woman promise to go through sickness and illness and diseases together." -- Marlon, age 10
How to tell if two people are married:
- "You might have to guess based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids." -- Derrick, age 8
Deciding who to marry:
- "You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming." -- Allan, age 10
What to do when a first date ends badly:
- "I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns." -- Craig, age 9
Titles of love songs you can sing to your beloved:
- "'You Are My Darling Even Though You Also Know My Sister.'" -- Larry, age 8
- "'How Do I Love Thee When You're Always Picking Your Nose?'" -- Arnold, age 10
- "'I Am In Love With You Most of the Time, But Don't Bother Me When I'm With My Friends.'" -- Bob, age 9
Sorry officer....I lost control of my training wheels
Now hiring
Ya know, for all their
prattle and propaganda about careers and
having fun while you work and all the other
nonsense they put on their tray liners to try to entice poor, young, inner city ESL types to apply so they can
mumble into the microphone while you're in the drive through forcing you to respond with "huh?" and "can you repeat my order?"-- {**deep breath**}--in fact, as you can tell by the sign, there's a certain amount of
disdain, a certain amount of nose-holding going on, when the higher ups doing the hiring are trying to get those people to work for them.
"Losers", at $6 an hour.
Another "happy marriage" goes the way of the buffalo
Remember
this?
The groom is
already filing for divorce. Less than 2 months into his "marriage". As predicted. As expected. Again, I'm right about this one thing, which is:
marriage is for idiots.
Now, this guy spent a
ton of time and money paying for his wedding and honeymoon and new furniture to help feminize his house a bit--you know, to make his wife "happy". Back when, he
used to like to spend his time and money at strip clubs but then found God and quit going. More's the pity, as based on my calculations had he stayed
godless and venal and disgusting and single, he would've had 1,000 lap dances at $10 a pop and 100 visits to the VIP room at $100 per....and been a lot happier.
Strip clubs are at the top of the chart when it comes to meeting real male/female expectations:- women think that all men are interested in is their bodies, and in a strip club, that's true.
- men know that all women are interested in is their money, and in a strip club that's also true.
It's
perfectly balanced congruency, and I wish my friend had remembered that before he went trolloping up the aisle, arm in arm with the new missus, the "I do's" echoing sadly behind him....
She traded her body for drugs and kicks!
Twelve Who Must Need To Require Bathe*
I spent part of the weekend looking at foreign films. I like all kinds of foreign films--not just the ones featuring, say,
Evelin in that epic picture "Budapest Booboolas." And I really like
foreign films subtitled by non-native English speakers. Examples, from Hong Kong chop-sockies:
- "I am damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way."
- "Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep."
- "A normal person wouldn't steal pituitaries."
- "How can you use my intestines as a gift?"
And my favorite: "You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken."
(
* "Twelve Who Must Need To Require Bathe": is the translated title of the Lee Marvin film "The Dirty Dozen")
R U An I'net Tuff Guy?
Happy birthday, Sean Connery
He's 77 today. Happy birthday, you dour old Scot, you. Women still get all moist where it counts when they think of Sir Sean, and with good reason. Even in death, he'll still be 95% better looking than every other guy who's still alive.
Way back when, as Bond, he'd order his vodka martinis
"shaken, not stirred"; today when he makes that remark it's probably
in reference to his colostomy bag.
He's famous for
hating air conditioning. One can only assume that's because if he gets in a cold room it feels to him like he's dying, with his extremities going numb and all. 'Cause he's that bloody old.
I kid because I love.
Your job blows?
You think your job sucks? Here, employees of the
antiperspirant division of Johnson & Johnson test the need for their product on burly bastards.
Gesundheit
Doctor says: Nigel's days are numbered!
The Nigel death watch begins! I went to the doctor yesterday and said "Doctor doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of..." and he stopped me right there. Told me that he was tired of me coming into his office and a) telling him how I, Nigel, was right about my health whereas he, doctor, was wrong; and b) singing my diagnosis a la
Robert Palmer "Bad Case of Loving You".
Doc has absolutely NO sense of humor.
Anyhow, I'm a mess and he made it clear that
if I didn't shape up well then by God
I was shipping out. Specifically:
- Too bloody fat. 335 pounds.
- Cholesterol best expressed exponentially. Like, 9 to the 7th power or something like that.
- Blood pressure more like a professional bowling score ("300") over some other high number.
- Warts everywhere
- Skin tags growing everywhere
With
my luck here's what will happen. I'll get all back in shape and looking
luscious, and then with all my
newly won friends (the people who'll start hanging around me because I'll be good looking and, hence, popular) I'll start enjoying life, including having fun with them. And I'll be
at a party at someone's house and they'll say:
"let's play charades"! GOODY! And it will be while I'm up there, giving clues, that I'll suffer my long awaited heart attack. It would really suck to have a
heart attack while you were playing charades....don't you think?
The wisdom of childhood
Have one--go ahead!
Monday...
Some days you're the bug; some days you're the windshield.
Have a thrilling, super-charged, anxiety-attack-inducing day! I know I will.
This CANNOT be for real....right?
I don't know what to make of this site:
Bullet Proof Baby. Type in the url and a video begins that's a product "test" of a bullet-proof stroller. It features a
baby being put into the stroller--then, mom proceeds to
shoot the shit out of it with a machine gun. Baby emerges unharmed. Someone wanna call the Child Protection authorities, maybe?
This site offers all kinds of bullet-proof baby items including the charming
"My First Riot Helmet" pictured above left. btw, it's "sold out".
As far as the weapons go, I am the world's biggest 2nd Amendment fan. I love guns and own a ton of them and, for example, think
Sigarms is the coolest goddamm company in the world. I think private ownership of weapons serves a real purpose.
But the use of weapons on this bullet proof baby site was too much for even me (to say nothing of the legality of owning and firing a machine gun? Last I checked that's a federal no-no).
A little help? Is this real? What do you think of it?
Those Sams' Club people are just DYING to get in here...
Pepperoni, sausage, and extra tits for me
Winnipeg is a goddamm cold place. Year around, it never gets above -10 celsius. That sucks. And when it's that cold, you tend to stay inside. A lot.
What to do, what to do? How about bumping uglies? Sure, that's fun, but every now and then you need some outside, er, stimulation. Enter a new venture, right to your door:
Porno Pizza. Order a pie and get an
eyeful of "pie" right there with the pizza. That's right, the owner of Porno Pizza loads up each delivery box with
cheese, dough, your favorite toppings, and
wankably wonderful content! Franchises available soon--sign me up!
Pay attention to the flight attendant
Someone sent me these and I'm just not quite sure what to make of them. They appear to be from some kind of... gay in-flight emergency instruction card? I don't know...anyone got any idea?
Regardless, it'd be funny as hell to
print some of these things up and then, on your next flight, stick 'em in with the regular emergency instructions.
Click on them to read the text more clearly.
Rustoleum stops rust
Wedding invitations blow dead hippos
What the hell is it with the bloody wedding invitations lately? Here comes yet
another one, and
goddammit I'm not going. I'm notoriously anti-social, hate going out, and think
marriage is pure b.s. -- and I've got a long history
documenting my particular loathing for the institution.
Here, and
here, plus
here,
here,
here, and let's not forget my most recent spew,
here. Doesn't someone in the know warn them about me? Apparently not.
I think perhaps the reason I get invited is after
13 or 14 champagne cocktails mixed with
Heileman's Old Style, it doesn't take much audience encouragement to get me up on a table where I launch into my
Vic Damone imitation, tuxedo tie loosened and askew, pants unzipped, arms akimbo, singing "Cincinnati Dancing Pig" (#11 on the 1950 Billboard Chart for our Vic). There's lil 'ol me, left, in the spotlight.
I am the life of the party. Yessir. But I'm still not going to this wedding. No way.
Nigel's guide to free time well spent
 | ...And... |  |
My top TV tube death wish list members
TV host and game show impresario
Merv Griffin died at the weekend. Griffin made mega millions as the creator of "Jeopardy" and "Wheel of Fortune". With
Merv having bought his final vowel, it occurred to me: he was
one of the good guys in TV. How come
none of the BAD guys are dying? So, here's my list of those TV twats I'd wish would meet a
horrible and painful death in a blazing car wreck:
Bill Maher. Sanctimonious unfunny unamusing common ugly twit who's half right half the time but isn't willing to concede the times he's not. Pete Townshend wishes he had his nose. Sorry he's not dead.
Jack Cafferty. The CNN Situation Room's lugubrious walking snot-rag and resident Trosky-ite cynic can't make up his mind if he's a Commie or a Socialist or just an Irish drunk. Too bad he's not dead.
Sean Hannity. Pretty-boy winner of the Sperm Olympics whose self-righteous right wing one-note-Johnny twaddle is so tiresome, he makes Alan Colmes palatable. Sean, you'd be a great dead American.
Walter Cronkite. Please die already. Bastard responsible for losing us the Vietnam War. How come this oily heap of shit is still breathing? Walter can't do us all a favor and hold his breath till his lungs implode? Not dead yet and more's the pity.
And the biggest digballs of them all:
Bill O'Reilly. Why this plantars wart eating shower of shit hasn't self-immolated in potato vodka yet is a mystery to the rest of humanity. His gutless egotistical aggrandizing blowhardiness is astonishing to behold. Hope you catch it heading into work on the L.I.E, Bill,
just like Harry Chapin.
Now, back to your regularly scheduled program already in progress.
Driving behind my next realtor
Driving behind a Lexus GS 430 today with a sticker on it proclaiming:
"I'd love to be your realtor". Woman driving, very professional looking. And the first thing that occurred to was, of course you'd love to be my realtor: you need more
6.5% commissions to help with the Lexus payments.
Of course, she was on her goddamm
cell phone doing whatever it is that realtors do on the phone, which is mostly cajole, lie, and obfuscate,
so natch, she's all over the bloody road. A veritable menace on four wheels.
Lane averaging was occurring. See, sugar tits, you might love to be my realtor, but
I'd love to be your driving instructor. The
Nigel School of Safe Driving, which consists of two primary lessons:
- Hang up the phone, and
- Buff my scrotum.
Bisset and Bullit and Julia Ormond
While visiting family in Michigan,
I forced my young nephews to watch Bullit with me. Ostensibly for the undeniably great car chase, but my real, secret reason was to introduce them to the
heterosexual fantasy wonder that is
Jacqueline Bisset (pictured, right). In Bullit she's wandering around for much of the time wearing a man's dress shirt, and that's all.
Grrrrrrr. She was only
23 goddamm years old when she filmed this movie--and for my money, all these years later, she's
still a walking wet dream.
I met her once, over 20 years ago, back in my radio days, when she was promoting
some dumb movie she made with Rob Lowe. Standing in front of her, I acted like a drooling idiot (no surprise). One good thing from that day: having the foresight to
wear reinforced underwear,
so the stains washed out, eventually. Took a couple loads of Tide to clean up completely, if I remember correctly..
Which brings me to another actress who's
bothered me in a groinicular way for a long time. She's similar to the goddess Bisset:
British, dark haired, breathtakingly beautiful. We're talking:
Julia Ormond (at left...sigh). What the hell happened to her career? If it's over, well, hell, why can't she come visit me? Specifically, my bedroom? Why not? I mean...really. Julia, consider yourself invited: we could snack
on packets of beef jerky and I've a really
cool lava lamp I can show you, plus my collection of previously live stuff now encased in formaldehyde filled jars. We could even
cut each other's hair using my Flo-bee. Fun!
Baby, seriously--how can you resist?
Illiteracy in line at the Publix
In line at the
local grocery store and my purchase of today's New York Times caused some confusion for the young check-out girl: "A dollar and twenty-five for this? Man! I don't know; guess it's because
I don't read none of the papers." I asked her to repeat herself and she said: "
I ain't about readin' none of these papers and so it seems expensive to me. "
Now, you know me. The
friendly and supportive rejoinders were just on the tip of my tongue. Here's a selection of some I considered unleashing:
- "Don't read none" and "ain't about readin' none." Apparently you never got on the train at the "No Child Left Behind" station?
- Doing play-by-play commentary on customer's purchases, are we, now? Great. I'll return the favor; just bring your manager over and I'll let him/her in on how I feel about the job you're doing.
- While I certainly appreciate your opinion about my purchase, you illiterate little twat, I doubt you'd be willing to hear what I had to say about the shit you buy. Using food stamps, too, are we, yes?
- Perhaps, instead of you "ain't about readin' none of these papers", you picked one up and with the assistance of your first grade level McGuffey Reader actually made it through the front page--well, perhaps then you'd have a job other than check-out girl at the local choke and puke.
But, dear shlubbies, I controlled myself. I thanked her for her extraordinary work, and will undoubtedly be seeing more of her in the future at
her new job at the State Department of Motor Vehicles, drivers license renewal division.
Michigan Sucks...
Just wanted
all you Michiganites to know, in advance, that I won't be your most favorite person over the next few posts.
OK?
Good. Here we go: now, just how
retarded are you? What, the fact that the
US auto business is imploding hasn't registered yet? Apparently not: day after day comes stories in the goddamm
Lansing State Journal, beacon of journalism that it is, about how you know, Toyota and Honda and Nissan and Mazda suck and are evil, and how great GM and Ford and Chrysler really are, but hey, they're
just so bwaaah bwaaah misunderstood.Talk about living in the past.
I drive
Japanese cars, because they've been near totally reliable (except this last one, which got messed up once it was rebuilt after I hit a deer 2000 miles into ownership...since then, it's been squirrely...). That aside,
I've owned 4 "Big 3" brand cars over the years and not a single one was worth a crap. Saturn, Jeep, Oldsmobile, Pontiac. In each case, right off the lot, problems started--impossible to fix rattles and squeeks, failing systems, breakdowns for no reason. And don't get me started on dealership "service".
I'll never buy a GM Chrysler Ford product ever again, based on my experience with them.
Sorry, Michigan.
Vacation for a week--no posts till later
I'm off to do
dangerous things in exotic places. Like, say, trying to find good food in Michigan. For that you need a license, compass, and tetanus shots. But I'll give it my best.
By the by -- for the
Federal investigation of this Minneapolis business, they really should call on the one government official who's a real expert about
driving and bridges. Ted Kennedy. Just thought that he could add a little something to the effort. Reports have it that it was the Senator who recommended the
police wait at least 12 hours before going into the water and trying to
recover anyone from submerged cars. Again, he's had experience in this regard; it apparently worked out well for him 28 years ago.
Back in a week. God knows I'll miss you. Try to keep it together....I'm crying as I'm typing.
*Sob*
Success, pool-wise!
YES!My
nefarious plan is paying off!
BWAAAHAAAAHAAAHHAAAA!!!
I'm happy to report that yesterday afternoon, I actually had a
real, live (as opposed to a blow-up doll) girl in my pool. She is very attractive, surprise surprise. She looked scrumptious in her
little tiny bikini, and actually seemed to, um, enjoy her visit. Bonus points: she's a
redhead, which means
she's insane and will ultimately yield to my evil overlord bidding....eventually. For now,
I have to be content with her paddling around in the water, teasing me with those longgggg legs. Oh, the humanity.
Also, I need to be content with her not telling her husband about all this.
A weird anniversary
Today, August 2nd, is the
40th anniversary of me having my first ever cheeseburger. How many other people in the world can actually pinpoint the exact date they had their first cheeseburger?
I realize that sounds strange but bear with me: when I was young, my family moved all over the world. On
1 August, 1967, we moved to
Singapore (old Singapore photo, left). Stayed at the
Intercontinental Singapura (long gone). Anyhow, on day two,
2nd August, and by the pool at lunchtime,
I ordered a "cheeseburger". I had no idea what to expect; then again, I was a kid, and every damn thing I was experiencing, from the exotically gorgeous Asian waitresses to the snake charmers in the street to the one million percent humidity was all brand new to me.
This
cheeseburger thing was also new; my family never ate hamburgers, let alone cheeseburgers. We are from a part of the world where, at least back then, that kind of food was relatively unknown. So I can pinpoint the exact
circumstances, date, and time of my first cheeseburger.How about that?
The French are coming, the French are coming!
French President Nicolas Sarkozy is planning a two-week
lakeside vacation in bustling Wolfeboro, New Hampshire, beginning a few days from now. New Hampshireites are giddy with glee at the prospect of our pal Nic visiting, and are busy practicing tongue-kissing while stocking up on French fries and French toast at the same time.
I love the French. So does P.J. O'Rourke, whose classic 1976 "Unwanted Foreigners" essay characterized them as follows, and I quote:
"Sawed off sissies who eat snails and slugs and cheese that smells like people's feet. They fight with their feet and fuck with their faces. Utter cowards on the field of battle. They force their own children to drink wine. Good point about the French: invented the blowjob."
"Oh--oh--Alabama..."
On the road again, this time:
Alabama. State slogan: "Indoor plumbing for all by 2012!" Joke about Alabama: How come people go to movies in Alabama in groups of 18 or more? Because they see the sign saying 'Nobody admitted 17 and under.'
Since I've had a
dog theme around here lately (due to that asshole bastard piece of crap Vick) I thought it'd be fun to include a shot of some
'Bama hunting dogs, above right. They fit right in, don't they?
I like Alabama, but then again I'm white. I have African-American friends who've been pulled over and charged with "DWB" (Driving While Black). Not good. Some of the
prettiest women in the world live in Ala-Damn-Bama.
Toothless rednecks live in Alabama, too, I guess to balance it all out.
Q: What's the best thing to come out of Alabama? A: I-20
Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week. Try the veal. Don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses.
The holiday weekend has begun.
