August 27, 2010
Small Waist, Big Attitude
Lexington at 24th this morning. Me- brown hair, black shirt, European sunglasses. You- super hot, super fit, wearing a red shirt with white pants. Chinese, maybe. Or Pakistani. You were crossing the street. I was in my Jag. I offered you money to pee on me. You ripped the hood ornament off my Jag. Can I have it back? They're super expensive.
You- beige trenchcoat and brown briefcase. Me- sweatpants and messy hair. I looked gross but you smiled at me anyway as you got in your car. You told me you'd pick up the kids after school and meet me at my parents' place. You also said that you hoped "that today is going to be one of the good days". What does that mean? You're mysterious, crazy stranger.
I was in line at the MacDonald's near the elementary school. You were in the playground in the ball room wearing pink, fitted Dora the Explorer overalls. I asked you what you were drinking. You said root beer. I was about to get you a 50 cent refill when your grenade of a mother comes up and tells me she's going to phone the police. I ask her what her problem is and she says that I "need to stop hitting on a six year old". Just so you know, you could totally pass for eight.
Saw you crying and throwing up in the alley beside Sky Bar last night. Why were you so sad and sick? I asked you if you had any change. You called me a disgusting bum and cried and threw up more. I stole your purse and posted this message with your iPhone. Want it back? Meet me under the bridge over the ravine. Bring liquor and that smile.
We were both reading the finance section on the subway around 6 pm yesterday. Or rather I was looking over your shoulder as you read. Your hair smelled of avocado. You were getting off before me and I didn't have anything witty to say so I exposed myself to you. It'll be a funny story for our kids. Well, our adopted kids. I'm sterile.
August 18, 2010
You're having a few friends over for cocktails. Everyone is getting along well and you're getting lots of compliments on your new carpet, but not so many that you suspect that someone told everyone about it beforehand. The only thing getting more compliments than the carpet is your pair of slutty man jeans which, to your extreme pleasure, are fitting particularly sluttishly. You start to ask your friend Bill how his yurt is coming along when he interrupts you by asking where you keep your tungsten. You're about to tell him that you keep it with your DVDs like everybody else but by that time he's already reciting protocols and throwing people through windows. Your friend Bill has been replaced by a cyborg and your cocktail party is ruined.
Cyborgs are an unfortunate fact of everyday existence, like Snookie or anal bleaching. But life goes on. You need a way to sniff out these machines without being too obvious about it. You can't do blood tests because blood is icky and in this economy who can afford a home metal detector? The following techniques will help you distinguish the men and women from the machines:
Wine Pairings- If there is one thing that cyborgs always have difficulty with, it's wine selection. Faced with a complicated combination of appetizers and game meats, their heads will literally explode. So when you doubt the humanity of a dinner guest, just slide the wine menu across the table and ask whether they think the Spanish Albariño is a good match for the open-fire-grilled sablefish and Chinese cabbage. The moment you sense hesitation or see a light smoke coming from their ears, drive a length of aluminum through their chest. Then throw out a catch phrase like "Cheque please" or "Everyone stop screaming." Tonight dessert's special will be victory, served cold.
Plasma Screens- Cyborgs are gay for plasma screens. And if it's a gay cyborg then it's straight for plasma screens. Be wary of any unusual compliments or questions that you receive: "Oh, what a lovely new Samsung. May I join with it?" or "That's great resolution! What flavour plasma did you opt for?" When you begin hearing comments like these, just respond politely and reach for the taser.
Early Springsteen- Cyborgs cannot for the non-organic life of them identify the early works of Bruce Springsteen. "Spirit in the Night" or "Lost in the Flood" do not compute with them. I personally always have pre-"Born to Run" Springsteen playing just to weed out the bastards. If someone comes in and can't identify the track, they get Ol' Terminator Finger in the eye. No questions.
Sarcasm- Otherwise known as "Jewish Latin", sarcasm is imperceptible to cyborgs. It takes humans years of awkward family functions, broken relationships, and professional blunders to properly master the art. The machines can't learn it. But neither can French-Canadians, so be careful.
"Wings"- The engineer who pioneered these monsters initially designed them to boost the ratings of the '90s sitcom by creating a mass following and keeping it on the air. A program ran in their subroutine which made them find the show hilarious. The beings achieved sentience in May 1997 and Wings was canceled shortly thereafter. But the subroutine remained. As such, it's always wise to have a copy of Season 7 on hand. Right beside a high caliber handgun.
Now go sharpen up a piece of aluminum and buy a copy of "Greetings from Ashbury Park, N.J." because things are about to get hilariously violent.
August 3, 2010
A. The Grapevine
B. Monkey Bicycle
C. The Big Jewel
D. Doo Wop Gold
E. Yankee Pot Roast
F. Albino Blacksheep
G. The Walrus
Humour Website: B, C, F
Revolting Sex Act: A, D, G
Note- The Walrus is a Canadian general interest print publication (not a humour website) as well as the term for sticking one's penis through a fish and sexing someone. Thanks for playing!