Ryan says: For some reason, now I have that South Park episode with Mr. Garrison trying to get fired for being gay going through my head.
Jody says: isn't it Mrs. Garrison now?
Ryan says: Mrs. Garrison the lesbian who likes to scissor, yes.
Ryan says: Man, they sure have had fun with THAT character.
Jody says: oh fuck...that episode made me laugh so freakin' hard
Jody says: "GOOD SCISSORING"
Ryan says: The part that got me was Mrs. Garrison's fight with bull dyke in the lesbian bar, with the brief attempt at angry scissoring.
Ryan says: That show has had me laughing consistently for over a decade, as hard as that is to believe.
Jody says: and it all started with Mr. Hanky
Ryan says: I actually had the original Jesus Vs. Santa South Park pilot downloaded on my first PC back in 1997.
Jody says: oh..oh...and the one where they were sniffing cat pee/asses...remember that one???
Ryan says: They were "cheesing," thank you very much.
Jody says: oh, come on
Ryan says: Because it was "Fon to Du."
Jody says: LOL
Jody says: is that why you have two cats?
Ryan says: Two BIG MALE cats.
Jody says: i figured as much
Ryan says: Man, that episode was so full of awesome, it almost brings me to tears every time.
Jody says: i know...
Jody says: the shit those guys come up with
Ryan says: The daughter's AWESOME BEWBAGE.
Ryan says: Parker and Stone simply CAN'T be coming up with all that on their own.
Jody says: if they are...i want whatever they're having
Jody says: cuz that stuff's gold
Ryan says: I absolutely loved how they weren't able to show the daughter's boobs, but boobs and nipples were EVERYWHERE.
Ryan says: I read online comments from people who hate/don't get South Park, and I can barely believe what I'm reading.
Ryan says: What it must be like to live in a humor vacuum.
Jody says: well, your brother doesn't like it either cuz he's got your dad's sense of humor but he just doesn't watch it...who cares.
Ryan says: What the hell happened to me?
Jody says: I
Jody says: DON'T
Jody says: KNOW
Ryan says: That kind of humor is about the best thing in the world.
Jody says: i can't remember the details but that episode about Hilary Clinton's vagina...
Jody says: wasn't something living in there?
Ryan says: No. The terrorists snuck a snuke up her snizz.
Jody says: thats right
Ryan says: And some guy tried to crawl up her snizz to defuse the snuke.
Jody says: that's what i was thinking of
Ryan says: And it was a most unpleasant experience for him.
Ryan says: As one would suspect.
A VERY IMPORTANT UPDATE FROM KEITH: Mrs. Garrison is back to being Mr. Garrison. There was an episode a few months ago where Garrison got a lab to grow him a new penis on the back of a rat, which of course got loose and was running all over town.
People would be sitting in a restaurant, and suddenly a penis would run across the floor. All the women would end up on the tables, doing the fear dance, and shrieking, "Eek! A penis!"
Naturally, the episode is called "Eek! A Penis!".
With all the twitter about Twitter, I figured I should try Twitter. Not sure how I'll end up using it, if it all. But, dadgumit! I gots to stay up-to-date in the geek realm, dontcha know?
Hope Chastity fidgeted restlessly in her chair. Home for the summer after her junior year of college, she had grown quickly bored of the familiar lifestyle of her hometown routine. The house and family that had once meant everything to her felt somehow smaller, almost quaint, compared to the wide and wild world she now knew was out there, waiting for her.
Oh, Hope had blossomed handsomely over the short few years since graduating high school. Gone were the braces and Coke bottle glasses that had so defined her and made her the source of endless ridicule and whispered, over-the-shoulder laughter from the schoolmates she had once foolishly considered her friends.
No, Hope had indeed become a woman in recent years, although she was only just now starting to realize and appreciate the fond and salacious glances she was now earning from men, both young and old. It was with a coy acknowledgement that she returned the longing leers of the boys who once thought of her only as an object of feminine potential gone awry. Now, with her feminine potential now realized in nearly all its glory, Hope was becoming bolder, more confident.
And with good reason. The gawky, uncertain frame of Hope's youth had been replaced by a slender, athletic and graceful body, adorned with the most fabulous set of womanly globes ever granted by the hand of God. Having traded in her glasses for Lasik surgery and her braces having granted her a smile worthy of a Colgate commercial, Hope had transformed into a woman who could turn the heads of men and women alike.
She had yet, however, to experience the intimate love of either.
As she sat amidst the still-packed boxes scattered around her childhood room, Hope found herself looking out over the lawn, still carefully tended, as it had been for the last several years, by Zutroy, the immigrant lad her family had taken in when Hope was still a young girl.
Zutroy, too, had inherited an enviable youthful frame. Years of solid, manual labor had transformed a sickly, anemic child, into a muscular, powerful young man, although he had largely gone unnoticed by the local women who thought of themselves as "above" his station in life.
In her restlessness and boredom, however, Hope had now noticed Zutroy; and Zutroy, although unbeknownst to Hope, had started to notice her years ago, realizing early on the fine woman she would eventually become. . . the woman she was today.
As she watched Zutroy toil in her parents' yard, her eyes transfixed by sinewy muscle and beaded sweat that seemed to ripple and glisten hypnotically in the noonday sun, Hope was gradually overcome by an overwhelming longing, a longing that eventually morphed into an audacious sense of purpose, a primal yearning.
Suddenly, Hope found herself standing, smoothing out the wrinkles in her Capri pants and checking her near flawless profile in the mirror, before skipping lightly out of her bedroom and down the stairs, intent on one purpose and one purpose only.
The only question remained: would Zutroy reward the audacity of Hope. . . ?
I really don't understand the whole "electronic eye" component of urinals and regular toilets. I mean, sure, I guess they're nice from a hygiene perspective, but it wasn't as if people were keeling over left and right from diseases picked up due to pulling a toilet handle.
As has been mentioned before in this corner of the InterWebs, I am now a married man. Generally-speaking, I've found married life is pretty much like regular life, with one very glaring annoyance: the wedding ring.
You see, while my wife just couldn't wait to sling a diamond ring upon her finger, about the last distraction I wanted in my life was a piece of jewelry upon my hand. I explained, in great detail, over and over again, why it's not a good idea for me to wear a ring.
Quite simply, any ring, on any of my fingers, is way too much of a temptation for my rampant, self-diagnosed adult ADD. I knew, from prior--short-lived--experience, that rings and I are not an ideal mix. For a brief week back during my college years, I tried wearing a decorative ring because one of my roommates wore one and I thought it looked. . . I don't know. . . cosmopolitan, or something.
Within minutes of putting on that ring, I was taking it off, flipping it like a coin, spinning it on tabletops and, my personal favorite, trying to "walk" it between the knuckles of my right hand, back and forth. As I said, that ring lasted about a week, before I dropped it while doing one of my "tricks" and it rolled into a storm drain. Thankfully, that life lesson about ring wearing only cost me about $100.
I tried to explain all this to my wife but, alas, come my wedding day, I found she had, indeed, purchased a wedding band; and then she had the audacity to look surprised when, five minutes after the ceremony, I was absentmindedly flipping the ring like a coin. Personally, I was a little surprised it took me until the next day to start "walking" the ring between my knuckles, back and forth.
"You'll get used to it," is a common refrain I've heard from countless friends and family members, regarding the wonders of ring wearing, but they never would have said that if they had seen the look on my wife's face the other day when she walked into the porch, only to see me spinning my ring on a tabletop and having it batted back to me by one of our cats.
On the one hand, I think she was happy I was playing with one of the cats, which are household animals I generally try to ignore, but on the other hand I think she was also pretty well horrified to realize she'd married a man who isn't mature enough to even wear a ring responsibly.
If anything, the ring has only become MORE of a distraction over time, especially as I get better and better at "walking" it across my knuckles, which I have to admit is starting to look like a pretty cool trick. I keep imagining myself in Las Vegas at a blackjack table, walking my ring back and forth across my knuckles as I debate whether to "hit" or "stand."
I wonder how many storm drains there are in Vegas. . .
Yesterday the. . . *sigh*. . . wife. . . and I went for a walk. Up the street about 10 houses along or so, we encountered a neighbor who was being followed diligently by a baby squirrel. Honest to Zeus, it was the cutest damned thing I've seen in ages.
Apparently, the neighbor couple was having breakfast that morning when this baby squirrel started climbing their sliding door screen, attempting to seek entry. They didn't want to encourage it, but at the same time they didn't want to banish it with a hose, either. So, they put out some breakfast scraps and some water, and that was EXACTLY the formula necessary for winning the heart of a baby squirrel.
Of course, even though the squirrel was bound and determined to maintain close contact with its new human overlords, the human overlords (ourselves included) weren't quite so willing to allow the squirrel to touch us, since we're not all that keen on rabies and such.
So, I used an empty Diet Pepsi bottle to "pet" the squirrel, which apparently delighted the squirrel to no end; it sprawled out on its back and playfully boxed at the bottle almost exactly like a cat.
Mere words cannot convey how ridiculously cute that squirrel really was. I'm going to walk by again tonight and try to get a picture.
