I have no idea who compiled this, but it's utterly fucking brilliant.
Chuck Norris
When Chuck Norris has sex with a man, it is not because he is gay, but because he has run out of women.
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till."
After you ask, "Two seconds till what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.
Chuck Norris uses ribbed condoms inside out, so he gets the pleasure.
Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick related deaths have increased 13,000 percent.
There are no disabled people. Only people who have met Chuck Norris.
There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.
It was once believed that Chuck Norris actually lost a fight to a pirate, but that is a lie, created by Chuck Norris himself to lure more pirates to him.
Chuck Norris once lined up to kick the winning field goal of a high school football game. When the football went flat, he persuaded the referees to let him kick the field goal with a 3 month old child. Chuck roundhouse kicked the baby 60 yards through the uprights and then proceeded to bang every girl in the stadium.
When Chuck Norris's wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Don't worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, "Never question Chuck Norris."
Those aren't credits that roll after Walker Texas Ranger; it is actually a list of people that Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked in the face that day.
If you unscramble the letters in "Chuck Norris" you get "Huck corn, sir." That is why every fall, Chuck travels to Nebraska and burns the entire state down.
Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked someone so hard that his foot broke the speed of light, went back in time, and killed Amelia Earhart while she was flying over the Pacific Ocean.
Chuck Norris does not have AIDS but he gives it to people anyway.
Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.
When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face. He also requires no wagon, since he carries the oxen, axels, and buffalo meat on his back. He always makes it to Oregon before you.
Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.
Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.
Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.
Chuck Norris can make a woman climax by simply pointing at her and saying "booya".
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!"
The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
After much debate, President Truman decided to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima rather than the alternative of sending Chuck Norris. His reasoning? It was more "humane".
Chuck Norris often asks people to pull his finger. When they do, he roundhouses them in the abdomen. Then he farts.
Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.
Chuck Norris took my virginity, and he will sure as hell take yours. If you're thinking to yourself, "That's impossible, I already lost my virginity." then you are dead wrong.
Chuck Norris uses a live rattle snake for a condom.
Aliens do exist. They're just waiting for Chuck Norris to die before they attack.
Chuck Norris's girlfriend once asked him how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. He then shouted, "HOW DARE YOU RHYME IN THE PRESENCE OF CHUCK NORRIS!" and ripped out her throat. Holding his girlfriend's bloody throat in his hand he bellowed, "Don't f--k with Chuck!" Two years and five months later he realized the irony of this statement and laughed so hard that anyone within a hundred mile radius of the blast went deaf.
Chuck Norris appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch."
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
If you get any closer...
Kelly and I went to Toys R' Us to look for some Christmas presents for Jack and Aeryn; what happened was that we ended up leaving twenty minutes later with me in a royally foul mood. What could happen in a simple toy store you may ask?
The Human Enema. That's what. Worse, they were yuppies. Real honest-to-goodness BMW driving, trenchcoat sporting, soap opera named ones. If there's one thing I can not stand when I'm at the store, it's the human enema. For example, when I'm walking through the mall and some jerkoff walks so closely behind me I'd be unable to squeeze a fart out between us. Usually there's nobody on either side of me and no reason under the sun they couldn't simply walk around me if they're in that much of a hurry. But no, oh no, they'd much rather form a suction seal on my ass.
I was looking at one of those electronic writing toys that teach kids to spell; my niece could really benefit from one and I'd seen them on TV and wanted to check them out in person. I walked up to it, pressed two buttons and picked up the pen that came with it, and all of the sudden, out of nowhere comes 'Trinity' marching up behind me. Slinking is probably a better word, she just appeared in my peripheral vision. She was close. Very close. Just standing there silently in her trenchcoat, peering over my shoulder with exaggerated jerks of her neck, 'straining' to see around me.
I got pissed (go German temper!) and stepped away making a comment about not being able to focus when someone was crawling into my anus. I turned around and she spits off 'Oh, Devon, come see this!'
Devon had on a nice buton up shirt tucked into his designer jeans. His metrosexual ensemble was completed by a pair of $500 italian leather shoes and a matching jacket which he carried flung waiter-style over his arm. For some unknown reason, it just popped into my head that they must have a BMW. I even made a comment to Kelly to this effect.
A few minutes and several frustrating encounters with 'Trinity' and Devon later, we left. As we got to the car, what was parked next to us? A black BMW with sport rims. I'm sure they managed to fit the Power-Wheels ride-on Hummer in the backseat so they could take it home and appease the materialistic demands of their yuppie spawn on Materialismas.
The Human Enema. That's what. Worse, they were yuppies. Real honest-to-goodness BMW driving, trenchcoat sporting, soap opera named ones. If there's one thing I can not stand when I'm at the store, it's the human enema. For example, when I'm walking through the mall and some jerkoff walks so closely behind me I'd be unable to squeeze a fart out between us. Usually there's nobody on either side of me and no reason under the sun they couldn't simply walk around me if they're in that much of a hurry. But no, oh no, they'd much rather form a suction seal on my ass.
I was looking at one of those electronic writing toys that teach kids to spell; my niece could really benefit from one and I'd seen them on TV and wanted to check them out in person. I walked up to it, pressed two buttons and picked up the pen that came with it, and all of the sudden, out of nowhere comes 'Trinity' marching up behind me. Slinking is probably a better word, she just appeared in my peripheral vision. She was close. Very close. Just standing there silently in her trenchcoat, peering over my shoulder with exaggerated jerks of her neck, 'straining' to see around me.
I got pissed (go German temper!) and stepped away making a comment about not being able to focus when someone was crawling into my anus. I turned around and she spits off 'Oh, Devon, come see this!'
Devon had on a nice buton up shirt tucked into his designer jeans. His metrosexual ensemble was completed by a pair of $500 italian leather shoes and a matching jacket which he carried flung waiter-style over his arm. For some unknown reason, it just popped into my head that they must have a BMW. I even made a comment to Kelly to this effect.
A few minutes and several frustrating encounters with 'Trinity' and Devon later, we left. As we got to the car, what was parked next to us? A black BMW with sport rims. I'm sure they managed to fit the Power-Wheels ride-on Hummer in the backseat so they could take it home and appease the materialistic demands of their yuppie spawn on Materialismas.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
B to the Izzo T to tha CH
I haven't had an anti-in law moment in a while now, and evidently I was overdue. I sometimes wonder if God created my Mother In Law specifically to be my arch-nemesis. She's my Lex Luthor, I swear to God. Every thought that somehow sparks in her head has not only the qualitative features of feces, but also the aroma. I seriously wonder if she's even aware of the near-infinite degree of utter arrogance she posesses. I could rant about this for hours, days even. But, I'll spare you the chance reader the full brunt of the story.
Here's the latest entry. Jack was upstairs playing for a bit and decided he wanted to get out his little play tunnel and crawl around in the living room quietly. She suddenly demands (!!???) he put it away. Why? 'I can't stand kids playing after 8 pm.'
I stood in the doorway, the smile on my face from watching my son play slowly fading as a feeling of 'What in the fuck did I just hear come out of her mouth?' washed over me like a wave of fresh bullshit. I've learned over the years to not bother attempting to respond. It's wasted breath. I'd have a better response rate trying to convince corpses to get up and do the cha-cha-cha.
i just grabbed Jack, gave him lots of love, and took him to bed. Not to placate her, but to get him the hell out of her unholy sight. He doesn't need to be exposed to that, and neither do I. I turned to Kelly, and said simply, "I'm going downstairs." I took Jack to bed and came downstairs to vent. I wonder if she realizes that every time she's around and says something stupid I leave. My God I wish someone would give her some kind of anti-bitch pil. She makes my skin crawl, and this is only the latest mild example of why.
Here's the latest entry. Jack was upstairs playing for a bit and decided he wanted to get out his little play tunnel and crawl around in the living room quietly. She suddenly demands (!!???) he put it away. Why? 'I can't stand kids playing after 8 pm.'
I stood in the doorway, the smile on my face from watching my son play slowly fading as a feeling of 'What in the fuck did I just hear come out of her mouth?' washed over me like a wave of fresh bullshit. I've learned over the years to not bother attempting to respond. It's wasted breath. I'd have a better response rate trying to convince corpses to get up and do the cha-cha-cha.
i just grabbed Jack, gave him lots of love, and took him to bed. Not to placate her, but to get him the hell out of her unholy sight. He doesn't need to be exposed to that, and neither do I. I turned to Kelly, and said simply, "I'm going downstairs." I took Jack to bed and came downstairs to vent. I wonder if she realizes that every time she's around and says something stupid I leave. My God I wish someone would give her some kind of anti-bitch pil. She makes my skin crawl, and this is only the latest mild example of why.
Television is the Antichrist
We're sitting here in the living room watching kids TV shows. More precisely, Kelly is sleeping on the couch, Jack is watching Blue's Clues, and I'm sitting here with the computer on my lap. Now that I've successfully managed to illustrate the situation, I've got a few thoughts on TV.
While I was selling cars, I virtually never watched TV. I lost track of Battlestar Galactica, which was my favorite show at the time, and now I really couldn't care whether I pick back up with it or not. It's a little odd to actually be home so much and get to watch so much TV. I forgot exactly how little I really liked it to begin with.
Jack loves Blue's Clues, the Wiggles, Dora the Explorer and Go Diego Go. I've watched about 700 episodes of each, and I can still tolerate them. Dora and Diego are a little creepy with their oversized eyes. I think they wait for the parents watching the show to look away so they can do something obscene. They also get into these situations where they want the kids watching to shout out a word, so they'll say something like "You have to say backpack. Say backpack!" That in and of itself is quite harmless, but it's the unnaturally long pause they then take while staring unflinchingly at my son. He stares back. They seem to wait about 5 seconds too long for the kids to actually respond. Maybe I'm just being weird, but it creeps me out.
All in all the kids shows seem to be pretty good. I wish I could say the same for the stuff Kelly watches, but I just can't. I love her to death, but she's an avid watcher of 7th Heaven. There I said it. I married a 7th Heaven fan. Every week, it's virtually the same setup. One of the kids says or does something, or avoids saying or doing something, which causes some colossal misunderstanding amongst the rest of the family. Hilarity ensues. (Not really, but that's the intent.) Then at the end of the episode, there's a big preachy resolution and the kid gets in some sort of minor trouble for causing the whole shenanigan. All of this set to acoustic guitar riffs.
It's either that or some show about people buying a house, remodeling a house, remodeling a yard, building a house for poor people, cleaning out a house, having a fashion makeover or a baby. In and of themselves, the shows aren't THAT bad...well, some of them are. What really drives me insane is the fact that they deem it necessary to play about 15 of them in a row.
Ugh. Yes, I hate TV.
While I was selling cars, I virtually never watched TV. I lost track of Battlestar Galactica, which was my favorite show at the time, and now I really couldn't care whether I pick back up with it or not. It's a little odd to actually be home so much and get to watch so much TV. I forgot exactly how little I really liked it to begin with.
Jack loves Blue's Clues, the Wiggles, Dora the Explorer and Go Diego Go. I've watched about 700 episodes of each, and I can still tolerate them. Dora and Diego are a little creepy with their oversized eyes. I think they wait for the parents watching the show to look away so they can do something obscene. They also get into these situations where they want the kids watching to shout out a word, so they'll say something like "You have to say backpack. Say backpack!" That in and of itself is quite harmless, but it's the unnaturally long pause they then take while staring unflinchingly at my son. He stares back. They seem to wait about 5 seconds too long for the kids to actually respond. Maybe I'm just being weird, but it creeps me out.
All in all the kids shows seem to be pretty good. I wish I could say the same for the stuff Kelly watches, but I just can't. I love her to death, but she's an avid watcher of 7th Heaven. There I said it. I married a 7th Heaven fan. Every week, it's virtually the same setup. One of the kids says or does something, or avoids saying or doing something, which causes some colossal misunderstanding amongst the rest of the family. Hilarity ensues. (Not really, but that's the intent.) Then at the end of the episode, there's a big preachy resolution and the kid gets in some sort of minor trouble for causing the whole shenanigan. All of this set to acoustic guitar riffs.
It's either that or some show about people buying a house, remodeling a house, remodeling a yard, building a house for poor people, cleaning out a house, having a fashion makeover or a baby. In and of themselves, the shows aren't THAT bad...well, some of them are. What really drives me insane is the fact that they deem it necessary to play about 15 of them in a row.
Ugh. Yes, I hate TV.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Baked Apples, Cold Peaches, and Headbanging
The past two days I've been wringing my hands over what in the name of all things holy was causing my iBook to run at an obscenely high temperature even at idle. Just turning it on it spiked to over 170 degrees, which was a little un-nerving to say the very least. Jack accidentally broke my power brick, so I have to replace that as it is. Staring another repair in the face was making me sweat. Sure enough, a little peek under the hood revealed my stupid HP printer drivers were sucking up 98% of my CPU cycles. I quit the process and breathed a little easier when the temperature dropped over 30 degrees right off the bat. HP, get your shit together, seriously. I dropped my Compaq to go Apple, and I will gladly find another printer manufacturer. Carly really f*cked you guys up in more ways than I thought possible.
We took the kids to the park to play tonight, but it was particularly cold. We ended up bundling them up in the strollers and doing a quick lap of the park, and for some reason, I was the only one complaining. I'm the one who usually drives with the AC on even in winter. I'm always the one who is too hot, and I was shivering like a chihuahua on crack.
Speaking of hot, I've been expanding my digital music collection now that I've finally managed to wrestle my laptop away from Kelly. I finally fixed her PC and now she's spoiled by the bliss that is Mac. Ugh. That's an entirely seperate post. I just got the new CD by Demon Hunter, called The Triptych. These guys are awesome, it's Metal at the core, with plenty of melodic moments and actual singing woven in. You've got to hear it to understand. It's catchy as anything, and definitely a must listen. I 'm listening to it as I write this, and I've already hit repeat more than once on more than one track. It's that good.
We took the kids to the park to play tonight, but it was particularly cold. We ended up bundling them up in the strollers and doing a quick lap of the park, and for some reason, I was the only one complaining. I'm the one who usually drives with the AC on even in winter. I'm always the one who is too hot, and I was shivering like a chihuahua on crack.
Speaking of hot, I've been expanding my digital music collection now that I've finally managed to wrestle my laptop away from Kelly. I finally fixed her PC and now she's spoiled by the bliss that is Mac. Ugh. That's an entirely seperate post. I just got the new CD by Demon Hunter, called The Triptych. These guys are awesome, it's Metal at the core, with plenty of melodic moments and actual singing woven in. You've got to hear it to understand. It's catchy as anything, and definitely a must listen. I 'm listening to it as I write this, and I've already hit repeat more than once on more than one track. It's that good.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Do you do the Dew too?
Mountain Dew has done it. They've officially created the most addictive energy drink ever. For some reason this new 'MDX' soda has me completely hooked. It takes some wickedly powerful stuff to actually get me firing on all cylinders and this manages to do it. Only Red Bull (blech!) has been able to manage that herculean task up till now.
While sitting here sipping on it, I got the urge to look it up online, and came across the Death by Caffeine site. I love the calculator that tells you how much of the stuff you'd have to drink in order for it to literally kill you. Looks like my German genetics would let me down a full 195 bottles of the strangely anti-freeze looking brew before I kicked the bucket. Not only informative, but cool.
In completely unrelated news, somehow, Jack is actually taking a nap. I don't know what form of black magic is afoot here, but he's actually sleeping. For some reason he seems to have given that up recently. Oh well, the Terrible Twos are approaching, and I say bring em on.
I just realized Kelly and I aren't going to my parent's house for our customary Friday night pizza. It's my great-aunt's birthday, and we never RSVP'd since no one was available to watch Jack and Aeryn. Not a big deal though, we'll find something to get into. Hopefully Kelly can make a better meal for us tonight than the shameful excuse for chicken I tried to pass off as a meal last evening.
Revenge of the Mexicans
Here I go with the second post referencing something Mexican in under a week. This time the scourge of my existance is the delicacy known as the Taco. Historically, tacos and I have enjoyed a very comfortable relationship. I eat them, they make me happy, etcetera. Not this time. Oh no. This time, the tacos got mouthy with me. I ate them. Two of them. They left me alone for a few hours, evidently taking the time to plot the scope of the sneak attack they planned on my innards.
At 2 AM the other morning, I awoke with a sudden sense of unease. No nausea, just the knowledge that something was amiss. I drifted back to sleep and woke up again around 5. This time, though there was still no nausea, my spidey-sense told me something was up. Around 5 after 5, the first attack by the intestinal insurgents detonated suicide taco bombs at both the front and back doors to the Chris compound. The simultaneous nature of the attacks led Fox News to conclude it was Al-Qaeda. It was more like the Angry Dinner Liberation Front. Reeling from the onslaught of the attacks, I was rushed back to bed where I spent the entire remainder of the day sleeping off my nausea and fatigue in a pepto-bismol and phenergan induced coma. I think I'm going to cede this victory to the enemy. I'm pretty much done with Mexican food. I don't think I could ever enjoy it quite the same way. Not after this.
The flip side is, I ended up sleeping on the couch, remaining awake long enough to catch a few episodes of Star Trek The Next Generation on SpikeTV. Crap channel, good show. It's amazing that I'm still obsessed with it so many years after it's demise. Of course, I did start watching it when I was 10 years old so I effectively grew up with it.
Wow, way to almost lose my post Firefox. Good ol' Safari saves the day. Anyway, today was somewhat better; I still had the requisite 'blahs' but I think I'm pretty much better. I'm a horrible sick person so I'm sure Kelly's going to be thrilled.
I saw a funny commercial today for Burger King. Some guy is trying to light the grill and it won't start...then a stormtrooper from Star Wars walks up and pumps three laser rounds into the grill. The manager scolds him with 'What did I tell you about the blaster?" So he pumps another round in and struts off. Good stuff.
At 2 AM the other morning, I awoke with a sudden sense of unease. No nausea, just the knowledge that something was amiss. I drifted back to sleep and woke up again around 5. This time, though there was still no nausea, my spidey-sense told me something was up. Around 5 after 5, the first attack by the intestinal insurgents detonated suicide taco bombs at both the front and back doors to the Chris compound. The simultaneous nature of the attacks led Fox News to conclude it was Al-Qaeda. It was more like the Angry Dinner Liberation Front. Reeling from the onslaught of the attacks, I was rushed back to bed where I spent the entire remainder of the day sleeping off my nausea and fatigue in a pepto-bismol and phenergan induced coma. I think I'm going to cede this victory to the enemy. I'm pretty much done with Mexican food. I don't think I could ever enjoy it quite the same way. Not after this.
The flip side is, I ended up sleeping on the couch, remaining awake long enough to catch a few episodes of Star Trek The Next Generation on SpikeTV. Crap channel, good show. It's amazing that I'm still obsessed with it so many years after it's demise. Of course, I did start watching it when I was 10 years old so I effectively grew up with it.
Wow, way to almost lose my post Firefox. Good ol' Safari saves the day. Anyway, today was somewhat better; I still had the requisite 'blahs' but I think I'm pretty much better. I'm a horrible sick person so I'm sure Kelly's going to be thrilled.
I saw a funny commercial today for Burger King. Some guy is trying to light the grill and it won't start...then a stormtrooper from Star Wars walks up and pumps three laser rounds into the grill. The manager scolds him with 'What did I tell you about the blaster?" So he pumps another round in and struts off. Good stuff.
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