No Wonder the Globetrotters Were on Gilligan's Island!

I'm not a very tall man. I'm 5'9" on a good day. But at least I know that I'll probably live to be pretty old. Tall people, on the other hand, all must die in basketball accidents, from falling when somebody asked them to reach something, or from state-mandated execution for murder when they finally tire of being asked "Do you play basketball?" or "Can you get that down for me?" because you hardly ever see tall old people.

And when you do see a tall old person, it's almost like seeing a witch. You get a weird feeling in your stomach and you know that, as soon as possible, you have to burn them at the stake or stone them to death (with stones!). In fact, Shaquille O'Neal is an eighth level sorcerer in the black arts (or, maybe I'm making a racist joke about rap).

With the recent "death" of basketball legend George Mikan, it has become obvious to me that tall people don't actually die, but, instead, they are sent to an island where they have to play basketball against robots made of coconuts for eternity.

Interesting thought of the day:
The least popular of all flavored jellies is Smucker's DNA Delight composed entirely of a cornucopia of semen from ethnicities from around the world.

Like a Fat Girl Drinking a Diet Coke!

There are certain things in this world that you always see. The title of this article, for example, is something that's unavoidable. If you see a fat girl drinking something, you've got an 83% chance of it being a Diet Coke (7% chance of it being a shake, 10% pure melted butter--these are the ones that know they're not fooling anybody).

Another thing I always see and it bugs me more than I can possibly describe in words, heiroglyphics, or my award-winning mime act, is the girl driving the Volkswagon Jetta with her High School Graduation tassle hanging from the rear view mirror, slightly covered by the Community College parking pass for the school that she's attending until she gets her clothing line off the ground. She's the same girl who has the Tinkerbell sticker on her back window and the license plate frame that references something about being a princess ("I'm the Princess, that's why!" or "Daddy's Little Princess" or "Princess on Board" or "DVDA Princess"). She giggles a lot and right now she's seeing this guy who is "totally hot" because he wears bracelets with studs on them and he dyes his hair jet black. She has definitely shown her boobs to other people while she was drunk and she will make out with another chick if enough guys are watching. She is pretty sure that she's the best looking one of her friends but she would never admit it outright. Instead, she buys the same outfit that one of her friends has and tells that friend how many compliments she got while wearing it. "Oh, I didn't know you had this same thing. Weird!" She says slapping her friend on the arm.

Touche, annoying girl. Touche.

Interesting thought of the day:
People who fall under the Astrological sign Cancer, have a higher chance of getting cancer than those who fall under any other sign. Also, those who believe in Astrology have a 100% chance of being complete fucking idiots.

Hack And Splash!

Earlier this week, a girl diagnosed with "mermaid syndrome" had her legs separated from one another by doctors with the help of a singing lobster and a Sea Witch.

Doctors have overstepped their bounds now. Just because something doesn't look like what you're used to, that's no reason to make it conform.

How do you think unicorns became extinct? All of the medieval people who were busy fighting dragons, wizards, and their insatiable thirst for incest removed their horns because they thought that these horses had unicorn syndrome (not knowing what magic and wonders unicorns were capable of--like the ability to figure out if your son was gay)! The same thing happened to centaurs and Robocop.

Interesting thought of the day:
In an emergency, a Mexican person's blood can double as hot sauce.

Hit Me Baby One More Time (Then Pee in My Butt)!

In an effort to completely gross out every person who ever thought she was attractive, Britney Spears has announced via syphillis-infected carrier pigeon or whatever, that she thinks that her pregnant sex is best.

For a while, Christina Aguilera held the crown of the skankiest of the pop singers (it's an actual crown given out by the tabloids fashioned out of used condoms, cans of Miller High Life, and aborted fetuses), but ever since Britney Spears hooked up with somebody else's baby's daddy, she has fast become that girl that you all knew in school who you heard banged the entire football team in one session just to see if she could do it without her vagina exploding.

By the way, if I wasn't supposed to keep my tingly arm straight as much as possible, I would Photoshop a picture of that crown on Britney Spears' head. So if somebody else wants to do that, feel free.

Speaking of my tingly fingers, it's doing better today, but it wasn't this morning around 4 a.m. I woke up and my left palm, pinky, and half of my ring finger were tingling up a storm (Tingling up a Storm was Milli Vanilli's follow-up to Blame It On the Rain after their lip-synching fiasco). I was so freaked out by it, I got up from bed, turned on my computer and wanted to make sure I didn't have prostate cancer or anything like that. So, after I took the computer out of my ass after having it check my prostate, I went to google and learned that it's just a compressed nerve in my elbow. My funny bone is sitting weird right now and that's why I need to keep my arm straight, so that it falls back in place. If these entries haven't been funny, now you know why (because I'm not funny!).

On a lighter note, it turns out that "In Many Parts of the World, AIDS Is Winning." This is good news for fans of AIDS. The San Antonio Spurs are expected to face off against AIDS in the NBA Finals beginning next Friday.

Interesting thought of the day:
Condoleeza Rice has taken it upon herself to put an end to the war between Coke and Pepsi. Shasta, upon hearing this, has sanctioned the use of suicide bombers to ensure this doesn't happen.

The One Month Spectacular!!

Thus begins the non-stop blogathon brought to you by Johnson & Johnson Baby Shampoo and the new gum Splatz! (the only gum with a surprise filling inside every time--it could be watermelon, pudding, or bull jizz!)

It's been a couple of weeks since I've written and I need to stop being so damn lazy. So, as payback, I'm forcing myself to write something here every day for the next month straight. This will go until July 2, not for just four weeks. Four weeks isn't a month; February is like the adopted Korean brother of the rest of the months that they have to treat nice because he was born with one leg on backwards.

Here's some fun news! Starting last night, I started to get this tingling in my pinky and ring finger on my left hand. I looked it up, and it looks like I have some sort of ulna nerve business going on that's contributed to me sitting on my doughy ass all day and playing online poker. So I need to start sitting better or my fingers will tingle themselves to death; tragically, tingled to death is the exact same way that silent film actor Fatty Arbuckle was killed.

Eyeballs McGee was recently fined and sentenced to 120 hours of community service for saying that people kidnapped her when, in reality, she ran away from her own wedding. Her community service will consist of modeling giant novelty sunglasses for the underpriveleged and using her sonar to detect illegal aliens with the Minute Men patrolling the U.S.-Mexico border.

In other news, Denise Richards delivered a baby fathered by soon-to-be-ex-husband Charlie Sheen (known man-about-town). Not surprisingly, it turns out that Denise was not the mother, but, instead, blood tests revealed that it was a prostitute from Santa Ana named Mandii. The 6 pound, 10 ounce baby girl, Emilia is doing fine and is expected to take on a different last name from father and sister, Sam, in order to pursue a career based on her own merits.

Interesting thought of the day:
In the Catholic Religion, Saint Bernard is the Patron Saint of beastiality.