Archive for February, 2008

Oh, Jim Davis

Sunday, February 24th, 2008

After lolfing about Garfield Minus Garfield I was reminded of Lasagna Cat. Now, I found Lasagna Cat on the interwarbs a while ago, but it deserves a bloggin none the less. They are loving tributes to Jim Davis for his tireless work making America laugh every day.

Actually, they’re more like tripped-out bizzaro creations that can only described with the letters W, T and F.

Observe:

And a few more of my faaaaavorites:

Final Fantasy / Garfield mashup
Awww, poor Jon
Nightmare inducing

Can’t think of a decent title to string these two things together.

Wednesday, February 20th, 2008

Today, as anybody with half-a-brain knows, was the total lunar eclipse. I went out and took a bunch of pictures… they didn’t turn out *that* great, but I put a couple up on Flickr that were halfway decent.

teh m00n

DA MEWN

Also, on a (very) sad note… the family dog, Chewy (or Chewie, we spelled it both ways) passed away today. He fell ill with a blood disorder over the past few days and didn’t make it… it was really quite sudden. I’m glad I got good pictures of him last summer. Here’s one of my favorites.

Hi Chewy!

Sweet Zombie Jesus

Monday, February 18th, 2008

Alright, television. I don’t like you and you sure as hell don’t like me. How do I know this? There is a show on at this VERY minute (probably not while you are reading this, but while I’m writing it happens to be true…) that is infuriating beyond belief.

I’m looking at you, NBC, and your hell-spawn of MY DAD IS BETTER THAN YOUR DAD. I don’t even know if that’s the correct title. I’m too angry to look it up. The reason why Karf told me that I’m blogging quite furiously right now… The reason why this show will eventually destroy all that is good and decent about mankind… THEY ARE ASKING QUESTIONS THAT NOBODY AT HOME CAN POSSIBLY ANSWER.

Unless you happen to know these kids and their insipid parents, there is no possible way you can use your brain while watching this mess. They are asking the dads questions about their own offspring. How the crap am I supposed to know what Junior’s favorite number is? Why do I give two flying craps? I don’t! Shut up, television! I hate you! I don’t know what the kid’s favorite saying is. I’d guess “LOL” but that was obviously incorrect. Dad knew the answer. And guess what… SO DID HIS KID.

And the coup de grace… the kid actually SMILED when the moron emcee read off the correct answer. All Dad had to do was look at his little monster to see what the answer was. Dad could be neglectful and ignore his kid all day but it won’t matter ’cause he can cheat his way to victory on MY DAD IS BETTER THAN YOUR DAD.

I’m calming down a little bit because it’s 9:02 and the danger has passed. Although, I do want to mention one more thing about this: the music. Yes, we’re talking Who Wants To Be The Weakest Link vs. 100 SUSPENSE-O-THON standard score that is all-too-depressingly familiar to the awful prime time game show circuit.

“For $10,000: What is your son’s……… favorite food?” (synth orchestra sweep)

“Is it A: Alaph-bits” (cymbal brush)
“B: French toast”(dee-dee-dee)
“C: Pizza rolls” (kid giggles nervously)
“D:  Cookies” (drum roll begins to build)

“Uhh… gee… I dunno… D? Cookies?” (music builds to a crescendo)

“Do you want to lock in your answer?” Yes. They have to lock in their answers.

“Yes. My son likes cookies. D.” All the while the kid is shaking his head and looking at the floor. Music breaks.

“Sorry. It was  C. Pizza Rolls.” (Awwwwww….)

Thanks Dad. You are the definition of fail. I don’t even care if that other dad is better than you. For all I care, I am an orphan.

Walkin

Saturday, February 9th, 2008

Turns out I’m pretty awful at keeping a blogoblogoblog updated and fresh. Oh well. I wandered around downtown today with my camera and found a random assortment of interesting things.

For example: english muffins under the Higgins bridge:

Muffin, english

Also found was a person wearing a green hat, minus the person:

Hats off

Oh man, this was such an exciting walk that I can barely contain myself.