Writing Your Letters So You Don’t Have To

If you’re like a lot of parents, you probably can’t be assed to help your kids write their yearly letters to Santa. Well thankfully for you, help has arrived in the form of
The Santa Letter Generator.

Just click that link, select your options, hit submit, and you’ve got a nice little note to mail off to the North Pole.

Here’s an example of this excelent resource at work. This is the letter I’ll be sending off just as soon as I’m sober enough to hit the post office.

Dear Obese Trespassing Altruist,

This year, I have been a very passive aggressive little advertising tampon. I have compulsively pillaged, and I have rarely helped my mommy’s “special friend” with their pyramid schemes. And I always say thank you, which makes me seem like I care, and so I deserve lots of age-inappropriate pants this year!

Please bring all this stuff for me and the people in my life: For my mommy, please bring the onset of menopause. For my daddy, please bring a new topaz-studded ass plug. For my little brother, please bring fingernail polish. For my hampster, please bring non-surgical sterilization. Oh – and for my mail man, please bring some work ethic.

Now about me! Please bring me all of the Spongebob Squarepants beer coozies, and front row tickets to GWAR – plus backstage passes so I can get airborne Chlamydia! Oh, and please don’t forget to bring my amputee Afghan orphan. But if you can’t, just remember that more than anything Santa, what I really really want is just $1,000,000!

Anyway, I hope you like the cognac I left out for you.

Breathlessly,

Steve

PS: Please say Merry Christmas to the baby Jesus.

PPS: Oh yeah, and remember Matt? He has been a really selfish weener all year long and doesn’t deserve any Christmas presents. So please don’t forget to put ebola in their stocking. Thanks!

Another One Of Those Search Result Thingies

I thought for a while that I was going to have to mothball this bit because the weirdos and perverts that make it possible had gotten way too repetitive to make it worth my time to write it up or yours to bother reading it. But at long last, the old hit counter search request bit that still has no official name is back and smaller than ever. Yes, I said smaller. When I said that people were getting repetitive, I wasn’t kidding. We have more search hits these days, but even though you’d think that would be a blessing, it isn’t. Well actually in a sense it is, because it means more site visits for us, but in the context of what we’re dealing with here, all it means is that more people than ever before are discovering the Comet while trying to discover everything there is to know about the penis of Randy Orton. But wading through the endless number of people looking for that paid off today since I found 3 that caught my eye and are worth sharing. So, uh, here they are and stuff.

10 Dec, Fri, 22:59:29
Yahoo:
Ways To Crush Your Own Testicles In Your Own Home

Anybody who’s been reading the site for a little while and has a really good memory will know exactly why this is so funny. for the other 98% of you, I’ll explain it.

Generally when I pull this stuff up I have to ask myself 2 questions. Why the hell would somebody look for that and how the hell did they find it here? Ok, so question 1 is still completely valid, but this time, I’ve got a good solid answer for question 2.

Back in August I posted a link to an article written by some freak detailing 12 ways to crush your own testicles in your own home. Sadly, or happily if you happen to be a testicle, it appears that the site has been taken offline so I can’t link it again. Don’t feel bad about not getting to read it though, this thing was brutal. So brutal that I had to read it in sittings, pausing after every couple descriptions to get up and make sure that my nuts were still there. It was that bad. I’m cringing just thinking about it. And hey, it must be cold in here because my nipples are starting to…oh never mind, it’s just my balls trying to climb to safety. Perhaps we should move on.

13 Dec, Mon, 09:35:27
MSN Search:
elemementary math quiz

Maybe it’s not my place to say anything, but perhaps before we worry about the math we should work on the spelling a little bit first. Or maybe this guy’s keyboard just has a stuttering problem, in which case I apologize.

And what search result thingie would be complete without yet another twist on the one that started it all? Not this one, that’s what one.

13 Dec, Mon, 03:39:18
Yahoo:
Randy Orton’s apartment

I guess they figure the odds are pretty good that if they’re ever going to find his penis, that his apartment would be a good place to look.

And just like that, we’re done. Hopefully I can do one of these again soon, they’re fun. But until then it’s back to whatever else we do around here, and back to watching, waiting and hoping.

If He Won’t Plug It, I Will

For those of you who miss Matt, and I know some of you do, I’ve got something for you. He came out of hiding and wrote a new column over on
Salty Ham
all about his feelings on the situation in the NHL and what really bothers him about it.

And before you pass it off as another know it all blathering on and on about his 7 step plan to fix the broken league, forget it, that’s not what this is. It’s actually a really good read, at least I thought so if that counts for anything.

you can read the column
here.

Oh and one more thing. To avoid another round of “what’s up with Matt” questions, yes I still talk to him, yes he’s doing well, and no I don’t know when he’ll post here again. If you want more information than that, you can feel free to
ask him yourself.

More later.

Til Booze And Furniture Do Us Part

This might just be the best wedding story ever.

Scott McKie and Victoria Anderson were looking forward to a life of wedded bliss as they tied the knot. But an hour and a half – and a series of drunken assaults – later, divorce was looming fast.

The tale of what has been billed one of Britain’s least successful marriages ever ended with 23-year-old McKie being dragged from his own wedding reception by police, newspapers reported.

According to the reports, the happy marriage lasted for all of 90 minutes before Anderson, enraged at a drunken toast to the bridesmaids by her new husband at their reception, violently hit him over the head with an ashtray.

He responded by taking a hat-stand at the pub in a suburb of Manchester, northwest England, where the party was taking place, and hurling it towards the bar “like a javelin”, according to witnesses.

Police were called and McKie headbutted one officer and punched another before being dragged to the cells, at which point 40-year-old Anderson cancelled their honeymoon and began divorce proceedings.

The sorry tale was recounted at Manchester Crown Court, where McKie pleaded guilty to a series of charges including attempted wounding and assault, receiving a community service punishment.

McKie’s lawyer told the court that everyone involved had been “very, very drunk at the time”.

“They had only been together for two or three months before the wedding,” McKie’s father told the Daily Mirror newspaper.

“It was a big mistake.”

Culinary Double Standard

Sorry about the lack of updates this week, but things have been a nice combination of busy and boring which doesn’t really work out so well when it comes to thinking up topics worth posting about. But while all of you were sitting here waiting for one of us to say something, I was out getting my Christmas shopping almost done. Yea me, not that you care. Well maybe you do, but for the life of me I’m not sure why you would. Oh well, what people like to read is a whole other post for another time. For now, let’s talk about food.

The other day when I was out at the mall, I ate at
New York Fries.
I haven’t eaten there in years and Carin had a craving for the stuff so I figured what the hell, I might as well eat there too even though fries dipped in garlic sauce isn’t your traditional first meal of the day.

So I’m sitting at the table, dipping my fries in garlic sauce and carrying on a pleasant conversation when a thought strikes me. Why is it that French fries are only a meal some of the time? Think about it. When you’re at home and you’re deciding what to have for dinner, you never decide that you’re going to cook up some fries and leave it at that. there’s always something with the fries. Sometimes it’s fish and chips, other times it’s burgers and fries or hotdogs and fries. But whatever you have with the fries, the point is that there’s something with them. the fries are never a standalone meal at home. But when you’re out somewhere and you see a chip wagon or a New York Fries, you’re more than happy to pay somebody to give you nothing but fries and call it a meal. Why is that? Why do the rules change depending on where you are? Do fries just taste better on their own when you have to pay 3 bucks for a box of them? And why only with fries? Seriously, I can’t think of another food that works that way. If you went out someplace and somebody was trying to sell you a box of green beans or a bowl of mashed potatoes you’d probably think the guy was nuts and start looking around for the nearest French fry stand so you could get a decent meal. Come on, you know you would, because so would I. We all would. And why? I don’t know, I’m still trying to come up with a good answer for that. I’m also trying to figure out how it is that I’ve managed to spend 25 years on this planet and not give serious thought to this until now, even though I’ve eaten the French fry meal a million times. And you know what? Even though it bugs me now and I think it’s really weird, I’ll probably do it a million more. I guess I just like tormenting myself or something.

Which File Extension Are You

I don’t know what frightens me more, the fact that somebody created this quiz, or the fact that I took the time to take it. Actually no, what really scares me is that it’s not really that far off.

And if you’re wondering what I am, here’s what the site has to say.

You are .doc You change from year to year, just to make things tough on your competition. Only your creator really has a handle on you.