Segway: The Leader in Personal Lameness

This is the best shot I could get from my bike of a Segway tour rolling across the Platte River:

You've seen it before -- an older fellow wearing brightly-colored football team-themed pajama pants, a button down silk shirt, and a Bell helmet from the 90's leading a herd of Segway virgins to his sacred, secluded tent site to become his spiritual wives. Don't do it. Don't take the Segway tour. Just don't.

But in case you were wondering, Segway has a whole shitstorm of vehicles. You can get the regular Segway, or the turf Segway, or the golf Segway, or you can stick to the American favorite, the lawnmower Segway, which is just like a Segway, but a riding lawnmower. That last one comes with a beer cooler.

Segway calls itself "the leader in personal, green transportation," which I think Nike may have something to say about. Segway would contest because if you lean too far forward on your Nike Free Runs (a shoe, or a well-cushioned laxative?), you will fall on your face, but if you lean too far forward on your Segway, you will look retarded at a different angle.

Mormon Wives or a Roll of Smarties?

You decide:

Scab Friday Super Preview

Just like the time when I was seven and tried to ride my banana-seated bike without hands and stand up at the same time, or the time when I was a famous French actor and urinated in front of my fellow passengers on an airplane (but less like that time), things got ugly yesterday.

Newsletter

A new U.S. poet laureate has been named. He's not a great poet, but he knows a bunch of words that rhyme with "double A credit rating".

Six people were struck by lightning at Sea World Tuesday. Turns out the novelty harpoon hats were a bad idea for a lot of reasons.

Bono is encouraging Americans to donate to help ease the famine in Somalia. The irony is that Bono would raise more money if he encouraged people to donate to help ease the Bono.

A new study finds that women are more likely to gain weight after they get married, while men are more likely to gain weight after a divorce. In other words, along with the house, the cars and the kids, everybody gets their fair share of fat in the end.

Presidential candidate Rick Perry says he does not believe in manmade global warming. And he especially doesn't believe that two manmade global warmings should be able to marry.

President Obama spent the weekend on Martha's Vineyard. And, yeah, he did get some sand in his jobs plan.

The demand for water will increase five times by 2050. No thanks to "Jersey Shore", which makes everyone want to take an extra long shower after every episode.

Lady Gaga has been hired to reinterpret Santa's workshop for Macy's in New York this year. Kids who show up wearing reindeer meat get first dibs at Santa's lap.

Glenn Beck hosted a rally in Israel. It's exactly what so many people want to see -- Glenn Beck traveling to the suicide vests.

Moammar Gadhafi is refusing to surrender. But just wait until Libyan rebels pull out their secret weapon -- a tickle attack.

Lady Gaga's been practicing her surfing skills. It's not the surfing she's interested it -- it's getting some use out of the chum dress.

A 1957 Ferrari sold at an auction Saturday for $16.4 million, the highest amount ever paid for any car at auction. As opposed to the lowest amount ever paid for any car at auction, which was for a classic that Gerard Depardieu peed in.

A spill of frozen bull semen temporarily shut down a U.S. interstate highway in Arizona during the morning rush hour Tuesday. The most embarrassing part was having to go back to those good-looking, college-educated bulls and asking for another donation.

Former Vice President Dick Cheney has a new memoir out. And there are some pretty shocking things in it -- like, did you know that, in order to get it to talk, Cheney once waterboarded a piece of pie?

IKEA Turds

I moseyed through all 67,459 acres of the new IKEA this morning with Momso, and I must say, it was not how I like to do my shoppin'. We drove through miles of traffic cones and sweaty guys with flags, wedged into one of a gabillion stackable, we-love-small-spaces parking slots, then got right into the log jam of flesh and bones and pushed our way through the whole store like a too-big turd. Did you know that 492 people can fit into a 395 square foot IKEA example room? It's true -- you just hang a few in the closet, stack a few in cute little stackable boxes, stuff a few into the under-the-bed storage area, and you're all set. 492 people. One tiny room. I want to make another turd reference, but I shall resist.

We walked out empty-handed, but slick with other peoples' sweat. Not in the sexy way. In the way that makes you throw up a little in your mouth.

I saw a lot of this:

No, that is not a papasan that will look nice in your neatly-organized living room full of Swedish furniture. It is an ass the size of American Furniture Warehouse blocking your little turd path to the parking lot. And it will play some serious D. Move to the left? AFW ass moves to the left. Spin move to the right? AFW ass puts a hurt on. You will not get around AFW ass, so get used to looking at the wall of Poang chairs before you for at least the next five minutes. Then look at AFW ass until it moves to children's furniture where you will spend another ten to fifteen minutes thinking that these things would look nice in your house if you were a breeder and you wanted your kid to sleep under a giant fake leaf.

Which your kid might like. Or it could give her nightmares about a giant, or the creepy teacher at school turning her into some sort of a delicious lettuce wrap.

Rorschach Test

What is it?

Probably a clown smoking a cigar, but maybe a tank being driven by a raindrop.

Scab Friday

Mountain biking makes you bleed.

What Kind of Dog Will You Be Today?

There are basically two kinds of dog you can be in this world.

You can be the dog who plays the piano,

or you can be the dog who whines at an eggshell in a bucket.

What kind of a dog will you be today?

Drunk Friday Shopping, Metaphorical Titties

It turns out I only write on this thing when I'm at least a couple of beers into the day, which means A) the blog is probably pretty terrible, B) the blog probably has many grammatical errors, and C) I have some apologizing to do. But I have to say something else about Friday, so let's just get this over with.

My mom took me and Levi out for drinks Friday night to celebrate Levi's manly demolition of an old shed and fence and his rebuilding of a new fence. We headed to a little joint that happens to be about 100 yards from the new IKEA where I hear people are still parking miles away from so they can wait in long lines to buy Swedish shelf-organizing units and inexpensive meatballs. The meatballs I understand -- they're delicious and don't require assembly. I drank two beers, then my mom couldn't finish her post-margarita beer, so I took it, at which point she starting chanting with bang-on-the-table hand motions "Chug-a-lug! Chug-a-lug!" Does the woman who gave birth to you do that? It was eye-opening, to be sure, but I decided I was pretty okay with my mother encouraging my consumption of alcohol, plus I didn't want to know what kind of a grounding not chug-a-lugging would mean, so I chug-a-lugged my mom's beer. So we're done drinking and are all a little tipsy -- maybe from the beer, maybe from the blinding light of the IKEA sign -- and I have this terrible idea that we should all walk over to Ross and go drunk shopping. You know how ideas go when everyone's drunk. It's like a Michele Bachmann campaign speech -- every idea seems like a great idea. But because you're a little inebriated (by beer, by all the attention you're getting for flashing your big booby political ideas from your campaign bus), you forget that those periodicals you've been reading for all of these years aren't newspapers at all, but church bulletins, so your campaign speech is informative and inspirational only to the degree that knowing the Cure-the-Gays clinic has switched to Tuesday nights is informative and inspirational. By the way, the Cure-the-Gays clinic would never be allowed to switch nights. They get Wednesday night, and it stays Wednesday night forever. None of that Tuesday-curious bullshit. Am I right? So, yeah, great idea! Let's stumble over to the third world shopping nation that is Ross and buy stuff! And we did. Levi has like fifteen new shirts right now, and he hasn't had a new shirt since he was eight. And my mom bought a candle shaped like an elephant. Meanwhile I was in the petite section passed out under a pantsuit. So this was some serious drunkafied success. Thank you, beer, for your strange powers. And thank you, Michele Bachmann, for the metaphorical titties.

Drunk Friday

Druknk Friday replaces Scab Friday for ohly ah moment. Tonight levi and I got drunk with my mom ., then went to Ross where we bought Levi lot of button down shirts because he's into that kind of thing. We accidentally lost our dog twice, too, which makes me think maybe we drink too much. Gawd. And a smashed my finger under a rock we took from my mom. It's supposed to make the yard look prettier, but so far it's only made my finger look li\ke this:

I know it doesn't look that bad, but when you're mom-tipsy everything's more important like, so it was TERRIBLE. Did I mention we lost our dog twice? THis is why we have a dog and plants and not a child. I also wash the dishes and dust the piano, so it's not like I"m not taking care of nothing.

Sorry about this post.

Rorschach Test

Tell me, what does this sweat-blot look like to you?

An angel impaled by a paper airplane, obviously.

A Reason to Have a Kid?

Far as I can tell, there aren't a lot of good reasons to procreate other than for the fun of naming something other than a plant or a dog (Levi and I are thinking about getting two more terriers just so we can name them Rosencrantz and Guildenstern), and in order to play your own version of Conan O'Brian's "If They Mated". For example:

I always thought there were just those two reasons to have children. But this had me thinking there might be three reasons:

Until I remembered you could just make a big shark sleeping bag and put an adult in it.

Newsletter

Ben Roethlisberger got married. She's just his type -- blonde, thin, doesn't read the newspaper.

Former "The Price is Right" host Bob Barker has given $230,000 to house chimps in Louisiana. A couple thousand goes toward the habitat, the rest goes to monkey Plinko.

Robert Ettinger, the founder of the cryonics movement and of the Cryonics Institute, has died. Coming to an arena near you, Disney's Robert Ettinger on Ice.

It's hurricane season. You can tell because congress is boarding up its willingness to compromise.

We're just a year away from the Olympics in London. London's almost ready -- they just have to hire a few hundred thousand more Chinese drummers.

Congressman Wu's got himself a sex scandal. Too bad because after Congressman Wiener got in trouble, I had all of my money on Congressman Wang.

Walmart is now offering streaming video on its website. Which means they can move on to their next project -- virtual employee rights.

A lesbian at Dollywood was asked by an employee to turn her T-shirt reading "marriage is so gay" inside-out to avoid offending others. In fact, it offended everyone riding the coaster up Boob Mountain.

Jennifer Lopez is talking about her split from Marc Anthony. Sounds like the hardest part of the whole divorce will be deciding how to split up the booty.

Casey Anthony will be required to serve a year of probation for fraud charges. Sounds like somebody's trunk smelled like bad checks.

Dolly Parton says a fan once left a baby on her doorstep. Which I'm sure took a load off somebody's chest.

The U.S. has recovered $180 million in cocaine from a sunken submarine. Which means now Congress can either raise the debt ceiling again or Congress can raise the roof.

An ocean exploration team may have found a UFO on the ocean floor. It's either a UFO, or it's a URLS: Unidentified Red Lobster Special.

The U.S. is experiencing a heat wave. And here I thought only a sex scandal could make a congressman sweat.