You catch more bees with honey than you do by getting drunk and texting them real late at night.
Note: If it is a life or death situation and you HAVE to catch bees you should probably just do this.
Hello!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Read My Local Newspaper!
So as any good 'Merican should, I like to wake up and read my local 'pap' (said with the accent of a turn of the century newsboy). Anyhoozle, I like to start with the funnies/opinion section. So I read this today. It starts off talking about how some Mexican National was executed in San Antonio, and then it goes off on some tangent about Obama and the United Nations that invariably also goes into gun control, just like the ramblings of a crazy person would.
On any given day, there are at least a few articles criticizing Obama or the Democrats or the like. Whatever, politics. At least one of these is written by an insane person. Conspiracy theories are mainstream in this newspaper. Just for fun, read this letter." It starts off pretty normal, then - woo boy! I didn't cherry pick these, they appeared two days in a row. So there is that.
Barack Obama is to blame for Caylee Anthony, the NFL Lockout, my constipation, hippies, and internet pornography.
On any given day, there are at least a few articles criticizing Obama or the Democrats or the like. Whatever, politics. At least one of these is written by an insane person. Conspiracy theories are mainstream in this newspaper. Just for fun, read this letter." It starts off pretty normal, then - woo boy! I didn't cherry pick these, they appeared two days in a row. So there is that.
Barack Obama is to blame for Caylee Anthony, the NFL Lockout, my constipation, hippies, and internet pornography.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
How To Tell If You Are An Alien Part 2: Reader Response!
In April, I wrote about how to tell if you are an Alien, which you can read here. Suprisingly (or not so), several people have found the blog by typing something akin to 'how to tell if you are an alien' into Google (you would probably be surprised how many people find it by typing in Dirk Nowitzki smokes cigarettes). Anyhow, on my alien blog post, a person (or life form, I suppose) by the name of NYCGIRL - who I assume is connected to NYC somehow and a female - asked me several questions. I felt it would make sense to answer each question and turn it into a blog post. Her questions are in bold and my responses are below each question.
Does having a slightly turned-in fourth finger of each hand count? The fourth fingers of BOTH of my hands do, (so do those of all my relatives!)
Since you have relatives, you are probably not an alien. Aliens don't recognize blood relation as such, since the laying of massive eggs in a communal style makes it difficult to tell which baby alien is your progeny. This is of course, you meant to say "relatives" meaning not really relatives and thus makes it kind of a *wink wink* thing. Clever you.How about being interested in the occult and paranormal?
No, there are a lot of weird humans interested in this. Besides, aliens would just refer to this a 'science' and 'normal.'Being able to compose music on anything, given half an hour?
Woah, that is impressive! Even a package of after dinner mints? A collection of souvenir smashed pennies? Even if you just meant musical instruments, that is pretty damned impressive. That is like a super human power! You know who else have super human powers? Aliens.
Having the compassion of Mother Theresa at some times, and the ambition of Julius Caesar at others?
Aliens are known for their violent mood swings and inconsistent personality traits.
Liking "The Twilight Zone", "Alien Nation", and "Sweet Valley High", (because of the witty dialogue!)
Yes. Yes (but only if you wanted the Newcomers to kill everyone). Undecided.
Being unable to resist barbeque potato chips?
Try making (and eating) these. But seriously, are you really unable to resist barbecue potato chips? Do you sweat if you are unable to eat them? Are your fingers constantly stained from eating them? I watched this episode of a show where some lady was addicted to corn starch. She ate it constantly and it was super gross, and she was doing all this damage to herself by eating it. She ate like three boxes a day or something. That is way gross. If that is the way you are with barbecue potato chips, at least it is kind of excusable because barbecue potato chips are pretty good.Hmmm..maybe I'm just a super-intelligent Human, (sigh...and disappointment! : )
What is that at the end of this sentence? Some weird alien signal to all your friends to attack my home or something?
Anyhoo, thanks for taking the time to write to me, Alienface.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Cheap Things to Do On Summer Vacation
I am a Occupy-Your-Time-On-Summer-Vacation Expert. I will continue to provide you with Tips and Tricks for CHEAP summer vacation fun.
Sit in a lawn chair in your front lawn. Blow kisses at the cars that drive by.
Plan elaborate camping/hiking/adventure trips. Do this while you sit on your couch in your sweat pants eating potato chips. Never go on any of them.
Go to all the thrift stores in your town. At each one, buy something for a dollar or less. When you get home rank them not by value, but by smell.
Dress up in the clothes of your significant other or parent. Stand in front of the mirror and say annoying stuff like, "Shouldn't you take a shower today?"and "Don't you think it is inappropriate to drink a 12 pack of beer before lunch?"
Monday, June 27, 2011
Bad Television Show Concepts
Its been a while since I posted. Education conferences and traveling has got in the way. I now have more free time... Yay!
So the other day, I tried to think of some of the worst concepts for television series. This is what I came up with. If you can think of any better, leave them in the comments below.
A woman explains different ways to part your hair and demonstrates it on several of those large mannequin heads.
A guy goes around to different doors and guesses if it will creak when he opens it. He then opens it to see if he is right.
Pictures from famous events in history are shown. Two kids point at different people's butts, make fart noises, and laugh uncontrollably for a half an hour.
A guy goes around to different doors and guesses if it will creak when he opens it. He then opens it to see if he is right.
Pictures from famous events in history are shown. Two kids point at different people's butts, make fart noises, and laugh uncontrollably for a half an hour.
Follow Erik on Twitter.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Jackknife by Jeff Donnelly and Erik Randall
Christmas is my favorite holiday. Who doesn’t love getting presents? I’ve been trying to get my birthday on the national calendar for years, but until that happens Christmas is my favorite. The months leading up to Christmas I am constantly dreaming of what commercial goods I will receive in celebration of Santa Claus' birthday. But, this last Christmas was among the most awesome. I received a jackknife.
My Jackknife came in an army green pouch made of that material that only a jackknife can justify. The manufacturers don’t mess around, the pouch comes standard with a Velcro seal, and the knife itself has every gadget a Man could ever need. They even thought ahead and added a flashlight. Have I used it yet? Heck no, son! But, I am ready for anything!
I’ve run through the scenario a thousand times in my head. I’m just sitting there in my Chevy Love pickup, while my buddy runs into a Circle K to fetch us two Thirstbusters, Oh, man what I wouldn’t do for that Thirstbuster right now. It's so hot the heat waves formed a union and are suing the Miami Heat for mis-representation and I am trying to figure out why I’m sitting in this non-air conditioned chevy love! Then someone that obviously means me harm begins his approach toward me. I already know what he is thinking, “Hey, that guy must have air conditioning, screw robbing this Circle K … easy target!” Well pal, you thought wrong.
My assailant approaches. Despite the fact that he says nothing, I know he means business. Not like negotiating business, like fighting business. Maybe its one of those gang initiation things you are always getting mass emails about. I hate those things, like the one about hypodermic needles in seat cushions. No time to think, it's GO time.
As he approaches, I pull the Jackknife out of the glove compartment as casual as James Bond. Not, the new Bond - but like Pierce Brosnan. And not the last Bond movie Pierce was in. That one sucked. Anyway, I step out of the vehicle, looking as tough as a guy wearing Birkenstocks, plaid shorts, and an Amish-style neck beard can look. Without warning, he tries to roundhouse kick me. He thinks I am looking for a punch, so I will never expect a kick. What an idiot! I spin quickly to the side, cunningly dodging his kick. I give him my toughest Dirty Harry look, which just so happens to be the face I make when I try to add numbers together and I have to carry. My angry math face doesn’t deter the attacker. Instead he one-ups me with his angry multiple division face. It looks like he is even trying to divide decimals when it is obvious his math skills cannot go beyond the 4th grade! He pulls off his shirt to show his steroid-laden muscles and a tattoo of a pirate flag on his chest! Really pal - did you once work at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride? A crowd starts to gather – a few old people, random children, and a few good looking women in bikinis carrying 18x24” cardboard signs with numbers. No one intervenes, and the crowd is hungry for blood.
The shirtless man spits a huge wad of snot and saliva to the battleground. It makes a bat-ting sound like in cartoons, then he swings at me with a right cross. I duck it, and do one of those get-a-load-of-this-guy faces while parading around the ring. The crowd laughs. Its time for the grand finale: I reach into my pocket, and grab the knife. Just as I make the transfer, here comes that big dumb idiot swinging the putter he just stole from the back of my truck. As he comes down to try to pop me on the head I dart to the side and plunge the blade into his spleen. He drops - I’ve stunned him. He looks at me confused, and then looks at his side. Falling to his knees, he sits there for like three seconds, before finally falling directly on his face. The crowd bursts into a golf clap which progresses into a game winning home run roar.
My buddy rushes over, and we do one of those jumping in the air high fives. I pull my knife out of the guys’ side, wipe it clean and tuck it away in the belt holster. Oh yeah, it came with a holster. My buddy is still standing over the dude’s body in shock. “It’s about time you get here with my damn Thirstbuster!” I say loudly, making sure the bikini girls hear me. I snatch the drink and escort my buddy to the Chevy Love. As I drive away, I wave to the crowd and the beautiful girls blow me kisses.
When my friend finally gets over the shock, he asks what happened. “Not much… I had a JackKnife, he didn’t.” We both laugh and high five again as I burnout of the Circle K.
Follow Jeff Donnelly and Erik Randall on Twitter.
My Jackknife came in an army green pouch made of that material that only a jackknife can justify. The manufacturers don’t mess around, the pouch comes standard with a Velcro seal, and the knife itself has every gadget a Man could ever need. They even thought ahead and added a flashlight. Have I used it yet? Heck no, son! But, I am ready for anything!
I’ve run through the scenario a thousand times in my head. I’m just sitting there in my Chevy Love pickup, while my buddy runs into a Circle K to fetch us two Thirstbusters, Oh, man what I wouldn’t do for that Thirstbuster right now. It's so hot the heat waves formed a union and are suing the Miami Heat for mis-representation and I am trying to figure out why I’m sitting in this non-air conditioned chevy love! Then someone that obviously means me harm begins his approach toward me. I already know what he is thinking, “Hey, that guy must have air conditioning, screw robbing this Circle K … easy target!” Well pal, you thought wrong.
My assailant approaches. Despite the fact that he says nothing, I know he means business. Not like negotiating business, like fighting business. Maybe its one of those gang initiation things you are always getting mass emails about. I hate those things, like the one about hypodermic needles in seat cushions. No time to think, it's GO time.
As he approaches, I pull the Jackknife out of the glove compartment as casual as James Bond. Not, the new Bond - but like Pierce Brosnan. And not the last Bond movie Pierce was in. That one sucked. Anyway, I step out of the vehicle, looking as tough as a guy wearing Birkenstocks, plaid shorts, and an Amish-style neck beard can look. Without warning, he tries to roundhouse kick me. He thinks I am looking for a punch, so I will never expect a kick. What an idiot! I spin quickly to the side, cunningly dodging his kick. I give him my toughest Dirty Harry look, which just so happens to be the face I make when I try to add numbers together and I have to carry. My angry math face doesn’t deter the attacker. Instead he one-ups me with his angry multiple division face. It looks like he is even trying to divide decimals when it is obvious his math skills cannot go beyond the 4th grade! He pulls off his shirt to show his steroid-laden muscles and a tattoo of a pirate flag on his chest! Really pal - did you once work at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride? A crowd starts to gather – a few old people, random children, and a few good looking women in bikinis carrying 18x24” cardboard signs with numbers. No one intervenes, and the crowd is hungry for blood.
The shirtless man spits a huge wad of snot and saliva to the battleground. It makes a bat-ting sound like in cartoons, then he swings at me with a right cross. I duck it, and do one of those get-a-load-of-this-guy faces while parading around the ring. The crowd laughs. Its time for the grand finale: I reach into my pocket, and grab the knife. Just as I make the transfer, here comes that big dumb idiot swinging the putter he just stole from the back of my truck. As he comes down to try to pop me on the head I dart to the side and plunge the blade into his spleen. He drops - I’ve stunned him. He looks at me confused, and then looks at his side. Falling to his knees, he sits there for like three seconds, before finally falling directly on his face. The crowd bursts into a golf clap which progresses into a game winning home run roar.
My buddy rushes over, and we do one of those jumping in the air high fives. I pull my knife out of the guys’ side, wipe it clean and tuck it away in the belt holster. Oh yeah, it came with a holster. My buddy is still standing over the dude’s body in shock. “It’s about time you get here with my damn Thirstbuster!” I say loudly, making sure the bikini girls hear me. I snatch the drink and escort my buddy to the Chevy Love. As I drive away, I wave to the crowd and the beautiful girls blow me kisses.
When my friend finally gets over the shock, he asks what happened. “Not much… I had a JackKnife, he didn’t.” We both laugh and high five again as I burnout of the Circle K.
Follow Jeff Donnelly and Erik Randall on Twitter.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
From My Mom on My Birthday
Tomorrow is my birthday. For my birthday, my mom wrote this post. I love you Mom!
Erik showed a keen sense of humor at a very young age. He crawled around on the floor trying to bite my foot and then his Grandma's. Back and forth he went laughing. He was an amazing kid with a photographic memory because I gave him my work number once when he was only four and he remembered it a couple weeks later. His Grandma was taking care of him and Ali and she went into a diabetic coma. The strange thing was Erik asked me if he could call me at work sometime and he wanted to practice on our phone. He often surprised me by the things he was thinking about for his age. He got a teddy bear from the paramedics and they said he was very brave and smart.
He always loved to tell jokes that he made up and he would laugh so hard he would fall off his chair. He loved to wear hats and hated Halloween and haircuts. He was easy to potty train because he went in his diaper he just jerked it off and threw it on the floor and went about his business. He loved the Scooby doo cartoon and his favorite book was a Bert and Ernie book. The book went something like this: Bernie what did you do with the milk? I put it in the cookie jar. Ernie says what did you do with the cookies and Bert says I put them in the breadbox and on and on it goes. I read that book to Erik so many times a day that the pages fell apart.
His chore was talking the garbage cans in and out and he always left a trail of garbage. Once, when I didn't have his allowance ready he got really mad and threw his wallet at me. He was quite the saver. One time I asked him if we could use some of his money for something and I would pay him back and he very firmly said no.
We took a trip to the Children's Museum with some friends and when we got to the schoolroom that is where he wanted to play - not the fire station or the post office like most kids. He wanted to be at the chalkboard talking and writing and he asked me to sit in the classroom chair. He was the only kid in there and I was the only parent. That's when I asked him if he wanted to be a teacher when he grew up? I guess he did.
Love you Erik
Happy Birthday
Erik showed a keen sense of humor at a very young age. He crawled around on the floor trying to bite my foot and then his Grandma's. Back and forth he went laughing. He was an amazing kid with a photographic memory because I gave him my work number once when he was only four and he remembered it a couple weeks later. His Grandma was taking care of him and Ali and she went into a diabetic coma. The strange thing was Erik asked me if he could call me at work sometime and he wanted to practice on our phone. He often surprised me by the things he was thinking about for his age. He got a teddy bear from the paramedics and they said he was very brave and smart.
He always loved to tell jokes that he made up and he would laugh so hard he would fall off his chair. He loved to wear hats and hated Halloween and haircuts. He was easy to potty train because he went in his diaper he just jerked it off and threw it on the floor and went about his business. He loved the Scooby doo cartoon and his favorite book was a Bert and Ernie book. The book went something like this: Bernie what did you do with the milk? I put it in the cookie jar. Ernie says what did you do with the cookies and Bert says I put them in the breadbox and on and on it goes. I read that book to Erik so many times a day that the pages fell apart.
His chore was talking the garbage cans in and out and he always left a trail of garbage. Once, when I didn't have his allowance ready he got really mad and threw his wallet at me. He was quite the saver. One time I asked him if we could use some of his money for something and I would pay him back and he very firmly said no.
We took a trip to the Children's Museum with some friends and when we got to the schoolroom that is where he wanted to play - not the fire station or the post office like most kids. He wanted to be at the chalkboard talking and writing and he asked me to sit in the classroom chair. He was the only kid in there and I was the only parent. That's when I asked him if he wanted to be a teacher when he grew up? I guess he did.
Love you Erik
Happy Birthday
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)