Holiday Letter Writing

May God bless us, every one. Except for Lamby.

I'm kidding, of course. If anyone is deserving of God's blessing, it's Lamby. What, being Republican, and all.

Still kidding (except about Lamby being deserving).

But I digress.

Yes, unfortunately it is that time of year again. A time to empty your wallets so that they match your hearts. A time to stock up on booze as you anticipate the next invasion of humanoids whose DNA, alas, too closely resembles your own. A time to cruelly be reminded that brains don't always "run in the family". A time to curse Little Orphan Annie, Bruce Wayne, Oliver Twist and yes, even Tom Hanks' "Castaway" character, for their good fortune.

"Why so cynical, pug?" .... you may be wondering ... "What if you need a kidney (or liver) someday? After all, it's the circle of life. They drain you of it. Then help to extend it (and add to your guilt) via timely transplant.". Sorry gang, but for once I'm one step ahead of you. No family for the holidays means no need to drink heavily (okay, you caught me: no need to drink QUITE as heavily). Hence, no need for organ spares as a result.

But this post isn't about get-togethers with family (or even friends ... assuming any of you have REAL* [* bloggers don't count, since the reason most of us are here in the first place is because we're incapable of bonding with "real" people] ones). It's about AVOIDING (or better yet: REPELLING) them through the use of a time-tested pre-emptive measure: the "Holiday Letter".

My inspiration this time was an insert in last Saturday's paper, entitled "The List: A Manual For Holiday Shopping". Contained therein are several recipes* (* What? No "Reefer Brownies"? Bah! Humbug!), along with multiple articles chock full of great advice for Christmas-related tasks. And, to my surprise, there were a "few" advertisements as well. I have to give the Devil her due: it was extremely well-done. So much so, that I've read much of it already!

Anyhoo, one article in particular captured my interest. It addressed the sorely neglected topic of holiday form letters, and specifically: what NOT to include. But the problem I have is that their example featured a letter written by a ficticious* (* At least I HOPE they were ficticious, because these rich bastards went on 5-f*cking vacations and garnered 3-promotions between them during the past 12-months. Assh*les. At least I probably m*sturbated more. So stroke THIS, you jet setting, most-likely Hummer-owning, never use your brand new turn signal {so you KNOW that they work!], m*therf*ckers!) family.

But let's face it: most of us are middle-class (lower than that, for some of you) schmucks. Where is OUR "Holiday Letter" advice? Well, allow me. The following is my FICTICIOUS example form letter, with helpful criticism and advice in parathentheses.

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Happy Holidays!

(Way too enthusiastic. They will know you've upped your Prozac dosage.)

What a year 2006 was for the Smith family! We had our share of tragedies and triumphs.

(No one cares about your triumphs.)

Our son Paul turned 24 in February, and despite being the target of frequent gang rapes, he is hopeful that, as a model prisoner, he will qualify for early release.

(Way too specific. Instead, consider this alternative: "Our son Paul turned 24 in February. He is very popular with his peers, and seems to be the center of attention wherever he goes. He is very focused on an early graduation.")

Our daughter Priscilla turned 18 in July and we are optimistic that DUI's and drug abuse are finally out of her system. After several months of house arrest, including the wearing of a tracking monitor on her ankle, and frequent visits from her parole officer, she is slowly returning to reality.

(Again, there's no need to get explicit. People have short attention spans, so you need to keep it equally short and sweet. Try reworking it as follows: "Our daughter Priscilla turned 18 in July and we are looking forward to new horizons for her. We love having her around the house. Our baby is growing up. She enjoys fashionable and functional jewelry, and her best friend (who we always set out an extra plate for) is a perfect role model and is like a daughter to us.")

Peter still is an Account Manager with Toilet Cozies, Inc., despite his subpar performance and sexual harassment of clients. His chronic alcoholism appears to be under control, and we're relieved that the latest paternity test was negative. We knew the bitch was lying.

(Keep it light. Perhaps it would read better as follows: "Peter's tenacity in Sales is as strong as ever. We admire his ability to thrive under the most adverse conditions. Things are looking up for him these days.")

Pam's addictions to painkillers and compulsion for engaging in extra-marital affairs finally seem to be in the past. She goes to treatment twice a week, and we drive her everywhere she needs to go. Though she continues to be withdrawn and unrepentent, we remain hopeful that divorce can be avoided.

(Consider a wee bit of wordsmithing, such as: "Pam is currently pushing herself in a new direction. She's really getting into her adult coursework, and we are happy just to be along for the ride. Her present routine leaves little free time for family interaction, but of course love means never having to say you're sorry. We have each other, and that's what matters.")

In October, Peter made some ill-advised bets and ran afoul of the mob. His arm was broken as a warning, and Pam was forced (back) into prostitution in order to pay off some of the debt. Since there is no way we can possibly repay those animals, we have no choice but to take it on the lam and find safe haven somewhere. So we may be out of touch for quite some time.

(How about: As fall approached we realized it was time to tighten our belts. But at the same time it dawned on us that we were overdue for some time away. As such, we are making plans for an extended sabbatical so that we can travel and spend quality time with our friends. For those of you that we don't get to see, rest assured that you are in our thoughts, and we will be in touch real soon!")

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Love,

Peter, Pam, Paul and Priscilla

***


Happy Holidays, everybody!

I sincerely hope this exercise has been of value to you as you ruminate over your own holiday correspondence. And my apology if this form letter is precariously close to your own realities. All the best to you and yours this holiday season!

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Blonde Jokes

Hi all,

Last Friday morning on the way to work, I looked like much more of a moron than usual. How is that possible, some (okay, all) of you find yourselves wondering? Well, in order to explain, I first have to let you in on a dirty little secret: I listen to the local ESPN radio station during morning commutes. There. I said it. I'm not proud of this fact. But there you have it.

Anyway, on Friday morning they were doing blonde jokes (while I, on the other hand, was busy doing blonde women!). Callers could win a case of beer for the best jokes. Here are some of the better ones.


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Why did the blonde keep failing her driving test?

Every time the tester told her to park, she hopped into the backseat.

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Why did the blonde's house burn down?

When she called 911, and they asked her how to get there, she said, "Duh, in a fire truck!".

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A blonde gets on an airplane and - even though she only has a coach ticket - takes a seat in first-class.

It's a full flight, and the rightful owner of the first-class seat asks her to move.

The blonde says, "I'm a hot blonde, I always get everything I want, and I can sit wherever I please.".

So the stewardess is called. The blonde gives the same answer, and refuses to budge.

Finally, the Captain is summoned to the scene. He carefully assesses the situation, and then whispers something in the blonde's ear.

She promptly responds by quietly and calmly getting up and taking her assigned seat in coach.

Everyone is blown away. What did the Captain say to obtain her immediate compliance? Later on in private, the stewardess asks him.

The Captain says he simply told her that first-class wasn't going to Cincinnati.

***

On opposite sides of a river stand a blonde and a brunettte.

The brunette shouts to the blonde, "How do you get to the other side?".

The blonde replies, "Duh, you're ALREADY there!".

***

How does a blonde turn the light on after making love?

She opens the car door.




A group of blondes walks into a bar. They are high-fiving each other, chanting "Three years! Three years!".

During the next couple of hours, the boisterous group drinks champagne and periodically repeats the chant.

Intrigued, the barkeep comes over and asks them what they are celebrating.

One of the blondes joyfully explains how the group collaborated on and just completed a jigsaw puzzle.

The barkeep asks her why that's such a big deal, and cause for celebration.

To which, the blonde responds, "Duh, the box said "5 to 7 Years", and we did it in THREE.".

***

A blonde comes home from school and exclaims to her mom, "Today we were learning numbers, and I could count all the way to 20, while the rest of the class could barely make it to 10! Is that 'cuz I'm blonde? The mother says, "Sure, sweetie.".

The following day, the blonde comes home from school and exclaims to her mom, "Today we were learning our ABC's, and I could recite them all the way to "M", while the rest of the class could barely make it to "G"! Is that 'cuz I'm blonde? The mother says, "Sure, sweetie.".

The day after that, the blonde comes home from school and exclaims to her mom, "Today we were on the playground comparing our bodies, and mine was the curviest"! Is that 'cuz I'm blonde? The mother says, "No, sweetie, that's because you're 28".




How do you get a blonde to marry you?

Tell her she's preganant.


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Bonus Feature: Memorable Dan Quayle Quotes





I am not part of the problem. I am a Republican.

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I have made good judgements in the Past. I have made good judgements in the Future.

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People that are really very weird can get into sensitive positions and have a tremendous impact on history.

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Republicans understand the importance of bondage between a mother and child.

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The American people would not want to know of any misquotes that Dan Quayle may or may not make.

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The future will be better tomorrow.

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We don't want to go back to tomorrow, we want to go forward.

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We have a firm commitment to NATO, we are a *part* of NATO. We have a firm commitment to Europe. We are a *part* of Europe.

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We're all capable of mistakes, but I do not care to enlighten you on the mistakes we may or may not have made.

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Welcome to President Bush, Mrs. Bush, and my fellow astronauts.

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What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is.

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When I have been asked during these last weeks who caused the riots and the killing in L.A., my answer has been direct and simple: Who is to blame for the riots? The rioters are to blame. Who is to blame for the killings? The killers are to blame.

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[It's] time for the human race to enter the solar system.

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Verbosity leads to unclear, inarticulate things.

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One word sums up probably the responsibility of any vice president, and that one word is 'to be prepared'.

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Illegitimacy is something we should talk about in terms of not having it.

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I believe we are on an irreversible trend toward more freedom and democracy - but that could change.

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Mars is essentially in the same orbit... Mars is somewhat the same distance from the Sun, which is very important. We have seen pictures where there are canals, we believe, and water. If there is water, that means there is oxygen. If oxygen, that means we can breathe.

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Murphy Brown is doing better than I am. At least she knows she still has a job next year.

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The Holocaust was an obscene period in our nation's history. I mean in this century's history. But we all lived in this century. I didn't live in this century.

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Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children.

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We're going to have the best-educated American people in the world.

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We are ready for any unforeseen event that may or may not occur.

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For NASA, space is still a high priority.

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Public speaking is very easy.

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I stand by all the misstatements that I've made.


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Geez, Quayle is an idiot. Does he ever think about what he says BEFORE he says it? - Yogi Berra

Geez, Pug is a doofus. Does he ever think about a post BEFORE he posts it? - Yogi Berra




I hoped you enjoyed these. I'm sure that some of you have more to share. I am sorry if I offended any natural blondes out there. Wait, who am I kidding? Natural blondes ... reading my blog? I should be so lucky. Just a warning, though. Anyone* (* females only this time, please) claiming to be a "natural" blonde will be required to submit to a physical exam in order to prove their status.

If THIS doesn't draw CrashTestComic out of hibernation, nothing will.

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Perspectives: Pop Culture

How do!

I chose "Perspectives" for the title of this installment for several reasons:

1) I'm already running out of post titles quicker than Planet Earth is running out of souls (okay, I exaggerated a tad ... how about, "it SEEMS like I am running out of post titles quicker than Planet Earth is running out of souls" ... better?);

2) I'm visualizing my post as being akin to one of those dreadful early Sunday morning talk shows about "community affairs";

3) I'm too lazy to think up a witty play on words.

But mostly, I suppose that I chose "Perspectives" because it probably does fit. At least as well as an off-the-rack suit from Target would. So here goes, with Perspectives on "Pop Culture".

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The first "perspective" (see how I nicely tied into my post title by "reinforcing" the "perspective" concept?) I have to share, was triggered by a visit to Dykesdog's blog after a couple of beers. Her latest post triggered an exorcism* comment (* as most of her submissions do) from yours truly. As I basked in the afterglow of my comment and went to grab a beer, I had a thought (when I DO have a thought, it's important that I let people know).

WHAT IF: they remade the original "The Exorcist" with - get this - Courtney Love as the mother? Picture the scene where the priests first visit the little girl, and then consult with "mom".

Priest to mom: "Lady, that's simple genetics. Don't waste our time!".




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The next perspective is of the Alanis Morissette "Ironic" video. During yet another moment of quiet and blissful introspection, a bizarre idea popped into my consciousness: what if annoying beotches COULD clone themselves for long car trips? How would this impact society? Sure, they'd have total supremacy over carpool/HOV lanes. And they'd no longer require any of US to accompany them. And of course, I suppose one COULD even stage orgies without the stigma or the implication of cheating. But is it worth the Quadraphonic PMS or having an entire set of women that one is eventually unable to understand or please? It's like the rain (of urine) on your wedding day.




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My final perspective is on the topic of pets; dogs and cats, specifically. Why is it that people are way ruder and more inconsiderate in conversations about pets, than they are about their own damned children (Disclaimer: by "damned children", I don't mean "possessed". Even though they well could be. "Damned" was only used for dramatic effect.)? When most folks are done droning on about their spawn, the vast majority of them will naturally inquire if you have any kids. If you are a woman, you may want to consider responding with a wink and "None that I know of". This tends to reduce the tedium to some extent.

But God have mercy in the event that you foolishly ask if they have any pets. By the time you're finally able to get them to shut the hell up, you shall know more about their lame-ass animal than you know about yourself. Using long-range binoculars you'll be able to efficiently identify one of their pet's stool samples from the same field that thousands of other animals have defacated upon. But will they ask if YOU have any pets? Hell no. Pricks. Screw them.



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State Naive (Not a Native)

Hi everybody!

FINALLY. A rare opportunity to sling a new post at you from behind the bars here at the zoo. At least I've been collecting random droppings hither and yon* (* I like that phrase so much, I had to use it for the second post in a row), for incorporation into this humble offering.

So without further ado, submitted for your mild entertainment are more "Random Musings".

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Observation #1: What is up with those friggin' "(YOUR STATE) NATIVE" bumper stickers? Were they all out of "FROM THE LOCAL STAGNANT GENE POOL" ones? Listen up, morons: if you cannot conclusively PROVE that your ancestors meandered their way across the Bering Strait Land Bridge, then you can take that sticker off of your damned bumper, and shove it up your ass. Perhaps I should send that weepy roadside Indian dude from the classic "Don't Litter" commercial over to do it for you. Then I'll shove some "native" Trilobite fossils with "SWAMP LOCAL" etched on them up there to keep you company, as you (and the other fossils) drunkenly reminisce about the good old days before unappreciative nomadic assholes like yours truly came to town to shit things up even further.




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Observation #2: I don't know about your neck(s) of the woods, but here in the "Great Southwest" we had new voting machines to contend with on Tuesday. It took me 2+ hours of waiting in line to cast my vote. Surprisingly I didn't mind, though. For reasons I won't go into (any further than I've done in various comments), it felt great to see so many people as determined and passionate as I was. Plus I was able to check out my neighbors in close proximity without actually having to talk to (most of) them. I could see which ladies were potentially "doable", and which guys were assholish enough for me to walk my dogs on their lawns. Anyway, the new machines were electronic (imagine that! hoooo doggies!) and way cool. They could've only impressed me more if Pac Man characters came onscreen (complete with sound effects) to "eat" any votes for Republican candidates. I was pleasantly surprised that far fewer of my neighbors behaved like "Natives"* (* see previous paragraph) than I expected.




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Observation #3: My voting place was at a local church. For those of you who have "known" me for awhile, you're likely wondering if I burst into flames upon entry. Amazingly I did not. Although the pea* (* that's the one spelled with an "a") soup did start to come up a bit; probably acid reflux due to suspected Republicans being present. A back wall in the room containing the voting machines had an interesting mural. On a flat black background, there was a lone fireman viewed from the back, with a wall of flames in front of him. This was an earnest and sincerely touching tribute, apparently in response to 9/11. I thought it was neat. But then, I started to wonder: what if there was an ACTUAL fire in the church? What if there was a real firefighter in there, trying to work toward an exit, perhaps attempting to follow the figure on the wall? People, you need to think things through.




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I hope you enjoyed this installment. I will TRY to post more often.

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Random Musings

Howdy folks,

I have a few yeasty ideas fermenting, but need a bit more time in order to distill them into the high quality feature-length posts that you've come to expect from yours truly. So in the interim I would like introduce a concept that is brand new to the world of blogging. I call it (drum roll please) ... "Random Musings". Think of this revolutionary format as a couple* (* this time, just to give you a "taste") of "mini-posts" in one convenient offering.

So here goes.

You've probably been wondering what exciting and mystical new adventures and experiences I've encountered during the past two weeks (and if I've been alive to enjoy them). During which time, I've managed to extrude only two new posts. Well wonder no more! Today I will share some truly amazing observations from the "Great Southwest" version of The Odyssey.

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Observation #1: Tightly focused business concepts may be viable in today's "boom" economy.

This morning I was snugly ensconced* (* love that word, BTW) in stop-and-go traffic, when I noticed a white commercial van for a company called, "Dryer Vent Specialists". Needless to say, I was enthralled (I am "cat-like", that way). Who knew that the seemingly trivial and oft-overlooked world of dryer venting could produce a vertical market worthy of at least one commercial van roaming hither and yon, tending to its needs? Certainly not this pug.

Makes me wonder if there are other mechanical orifices that could justify other start-ups. Other than ductwork cleaning, of course, which is already taken. Ditto for chimneys.

How about tail pipes? I already know a whole bunch of folks I'd like to see sucking on one. Why not hire them to perform this task as part of their job description, and therefore benefit in no less than TWO ways?

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Observation #2: It pays to pay close attention to radio commercials.

I've been getting more into radio commercials lately as a form of mental exercise in order to combat the effects of automotive solitary confinement. I evaluate them against a proprietary multi-layered assessment model and once the various metrics are carefully weighed and tallied, assign a grade which I almost immediately forget.

But there was a commercial today that I vowed to remember for this post. It was for Wrangler Jeans, with the tag line, "Wrangler Jeans: the official jeans of Dale Earnhardt, Jr.". This got me to thinking, what if I HADN'T paid such close attention? Quite possibly I would've missed the "Jr." at the end of Dale Earnhardt, and assumed that Dale Earnhardt Sr. (who I'm guessing didn't go by "Sr." until "Jr." was born) was the official endorser of Wrangler Jeans.

Then I wondered what THIS incorrect assumption would imply. That he was buried in a pair of Wranglers? Frankly, this scenario would creep me out. A decomposing body in a pair of Wranglers would leave me hesitant - at best - to run to WalMart in order to snap up a pair, despite my love of "Forensic Files" and "Psychic Detectives".

Or rather, like the deity that many NASCAR fans project him to be, did he rise from the dead in order to shill for one last staple from redneck culture (Obligatory Disclaimer: I own approximately 5-pairs of Wrangler Jeans, enough to outfit the entire starting unit of the Memphis Grizzlies if they ever go line dancing)?

It's a moot point for this particular radio LISTENER, as I conclusively know that his SON is the Wrangler Jeans official endorser.

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Stay tuned for future "Random Musings", and thanks for watching!

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This Just In - Working Sucks!

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Hello everyone,

A thousand pardons for taking so damned long to pinch out a new post. The least I can do is subject you all to an excruciatingly long and dull explanation. So here goes.

I am now over a week into my new job. And for the first time in quite a while, I am being forced to consistently earn my pay. Now I understand what one or two of you go through on rare occasions. Holy crap! Work totally bites. There's virtually no time for me to masturbate at my desk, let alone blog* (* the "other" form of gratification with the "other" white meat ... the whites of your eyes!).


I've been run ragged. Is it normal to experience "burn out" after only 8-days in a new job?

I travel quite a bit, but it's all driving, which I don't mind nearly as much as flying. And the new slavemasters really seem to like me. Which is nice, but totally unnecessary, since I'm still under the influence of "New Employee Stockholm Syndrome". I praise memos, send out "great idea" emails, and remain attentive in meetings. The exceptionally kind treatment (I get TWO helpings of gruel, plus one "courtesy reacharound" per day) appears to be making the other prisoners both jealous and surly.

I'm beginning to suspect that they are plotting to throw this particular pug and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat down the nearest well until I can be sold to Egyptian slave traders. Hating me because of my beauty and innocence is an ugly thing. Bastards.


I work with many different accounts, and as a result I meet a wide spectrum of interesting people. But unfortunately so far there have been no offers of sex. However the new compensation plan is due by December, so there is hope on the horizon.

I appreciate everyone who stayed in touch by continuing to comment on my previous post. Moving forward I'll try to be more regular in my posting, commenting and even my bowel movements. I know that some of you are wondering if there's much difference between the three.



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Decoding the Signals

Hello everyone,

Though I do strive for variety in my posts, a trend has become blatantly apparent. One that threatens to morph me into a dreaded "advice columnist". The cruelly elusive hope of interacting with other humans (?) in a romantic context is of great appeal to some (okay, all) of you. So why not borrow from a "Kinks" album title and "give the people what they want"? At least for one more post.

So here goes. For now. I hope you find this helpful. And if not, keep your chins up and remember that self-pleasure has a lot of the same guilt without the expense, emotional investment or need for restraining order.

It’s no secret that the language of love isn't always the most, well, direct. Or socially acceptable, for that matter. That’s why so many single people spend hours analyzing emails from dates trying to figure out if “Please leave me alone” is a brush-off, or wondering whether that invitation of “I’ll make dinner for you” indicates a desire to share a whole lot more than a favorite keilbasa recipe. So how can you figure out the real message? Since I care so very damned much for every one of you, I shall decode eight common lines so you’ll spend less time scratching your head, armpits or nether regions and more time spreading the love.

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Line: “I’d love to stay out, but I have to get up really early tomorrow.”

What it means: “The prospect of waking up early is infinitely more appealing than pissing away any more of my evening with you."

Of course, if it’s 2 a.m. or your date follows up with, “But let’s get together soon — how does February 29th sound?”, the fact that he or she wants to end the date is no big deal. Unless last year was leap year. Or if it's March. But if the night is young or your date mentions an aversion to staying out late in the middle of, say, greeting you at the start of the date, that’s not a good sign. Your date may sense there’s no connection and may be contemplating a fake seizure in order "pop the escape hatch". At least look at the upside: This person’s also freeing you from a situation that’s not going anywhere, so just enjoy your dinner, then pretend you're going to the restroom and skedaddle out back so it doesn't set you back monetarily.

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Line: “I had such a good time with you.”

What it means: The use of past tense indicates that the good time was fleeting at best, and has since elapsed. Your date senses that your ability to entertain is not sustainable, and if he or she cuts it short now, there's the possibility of sex with the usual backup.

You may have to carefully consider if it's your lot in life to be the "warm up act". Every great baseball team has to have a good set-up man. A batter who sacrifices the runner over to 3rd base, or a pitcher who guides the game through the doldrums of the middle innings. Take solace in the fact that at least you're on the team.



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Line: “I’m just not ready for a relationship.”

What it means: “I’m just not ready for a relationship. With you."

It’s hard when someone you like tells you he or she’s not in a place to seriously date anyone. But it also makes you hope that the problem is timing, not your lack of a "desirable" personality. If you can just be patient, you think, things could percolate, right? Wrong. Don’t be fooled — when this person does meet someone who has that spark, he or she will indeed be ready for a relationship. It doesn't matter if the "spark" is Ted Bundy or Courtney Love. As long as it's not you.

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Line: “I’d love to meet up, but I’m just really busy with work right now.”

What it means: Since being "busy" at work is a voluntary condition, and is rare for most of us, this line is the equivalent of telling someone that you're "married to the sea". Even if you both live in Nebraska. Take the hint and move on. Or join the Navy and search for his or her ship at the rail every night.


Of course, this person could very well have a full schedule that week. But if he or she doesn’t offer any alternative dates to hang out, what you’re really being told is that this person would rather work than hang out with you.

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Line: “So, gotten any other emails on Match.com lately?”

What it means: “Hopefully you have other potential victims that you can pursue.”

It's a subtle and convenient way of breaking things off while convincing your date that he or she may have "virtual" appeal to other strangers.

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Line: “So, want to meet for coffee?”

What it means: “Want to meet for a coffee and then have dinner if we like each other?" Though it most likely means, "I want to be as alert and vigilant as possible, so if you try any shit, I'll be ready for it. Plus we'll be in a public place with scalding coffee within ready reach."

It’s always smart to schedule a short, easy-to-end date when you’re first meeting a new person. This is why I recommend meeting at a bus stop. If you don't make a connection by the time the bus arrives, get on. If he or she follows you, get off. Continue this process until it becomes obvious to your date that the date has concluded. And hopefully, it will. Eventually.



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Line: “I’m meeting my friends for a drink — want to come?”

What it means: “I really like you and want to know if you get along with my pals. Plan on footing the entire bill if you REALLY want us to like you.”

It may sound like a casual invite, but what your date is saying is that he or she is totally comfortable being seen - after dark - with you as a couple, and is interested in how you’ll relate to his or her "orgy circle". Meeting the friends is an approval thing. Women want to see how he treats their friends, and men want to know if his friends like the girl. It may seem intimidating, but it should actually boost your ego: You’ve passed the first tests and are now on your way to becoming a full-time boyfriend or girlfriend—provided the buddies sign off. If you’re feeling just as positive about the relationship, say “Yes,” and start signing your way through the mountain of paperwork.

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Line: “Why don’t you come over and I’ll cook for you?”

What it means: “You may get lucky ... and NOT get indigestion.”

Cooking for a person is a show of intimacy in a couple of ways. The person is really inviting you into his or her life. Don't get too excited though. It doesn't mean you get to STAY. Someone’s apartment is their whole world, so they’re obviously comfortable enough to make an effort to trap you into it. Then, of course, there’s the fact that you’ll conveniently be just a few steps from the couch — and the bedroom — and the dumpster - later that night. If it’s a first or early date, this might actually be a bit too personal, especially if you’re not sure how you feel about your future together. Unless you're the average guy. In which case "the future" is not a consideration at all. But if you’re pretty sure you’re ready to explore things further, congratulations, tonight could be the night. So be prepared. Have your flashlight, rappelling gear, and protective devices at the ready.



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Southwestern advice columnist Puerileuwaite has written for his blog and "other" publications that so far refuse to acknowledge his contributions.

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Pick-up Lines

Hi all,

As "The Pug's Farewell Tour" winds down its final week, it's starting to feel long and tedious, just like The Judd's Farewell Tour(s) did.

You have been way too kind with your insightful(?) and numerous comments. The attention has been wonderful and fulfilling. So much so, that I no longer feel the need to ambush people with 45-minute monologues whenever they're foolhardy enough to ask me, "How's it goin'?".

Conversely I no longer have the desire to feign interest in the lives of any actual people that I know or meet during my occasional forays into the daylight. I've morphed into one of the "Sims", which couldn't have been possible without your participation. So thanks, I guess.

Since this is a rare week where I feel the compulsion to be CONSISTENTLY productive (don't worry, it'll pass), I don't have the time or energy to create another ingeniously clever original post. So, I did what comes natural. I stole from Crimson, another blogger. Don't worry, she's cool. So much, in fact, that she doesn't even know I exist. A beautiful woman cannot call you a creep until she crosses paths with you. This is why I prefer to take the path less traveled. The illusion of potential attraction remains intact.

Mention of this takes you back, doesn't it? Back to the days before you learned of my existence, when there was no need to REALLY question God's Plan.

Certainly who am I to offer justification for what the Supreme Being does? But perhaps, just perhaps, I can momentarily boost what little value I have, in the form of helpful knowledge for my female readers in dealing with us pigs, er, pugs.

Crimson's latest post offered the Top 10 Best and Worst Pick-up Lines. All I have to "contribute" are some optional responses to consider.


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Top 10 Best(?) Pick-up Lines:

10-- "I was wondering if you have a moment to spare for me to hit on you?"

Response: "I was wondering how you slipped past the velvet rope."

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9-- "What's a sexy woman like you doing in a dirty mind like mine?"

Response: "Research on effects of botched lobotomies. Thank you for participating. They have a cookie and some orange juice for you at the bar."

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8-- "Do you work for UPS? I could have sworn I saw you checking out my package."

Response: "Yes, I was checking out the whole package. I didn't know they accepted fruit shipments."

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7-- "Who's your friend?"

Response: "At this moment? Dr. Kevorkian, if he'll take my call."

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6-- "I'm new in town and can't find my way around; could I have directions to your place?"

Response: "Real men never ask for directions. You should emulate one."

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5-- "I may not be the best-looking guy in here, but I'm the only one talking to you."

Response: "I may not be the most virus-free chick here, but I'm the only one willing to sleep with you."

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4-- "You must be Jamaican, because Jamaican me crazy."

Response: "Well you must be Jamocha, because the repulsion is making me shake."

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3-- "What's your name?"


Response: "No, What is on first. I am heading home."

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2-- "See my friend over there? He wants to know if you think I'm cute."

Response: "That's not important. Why does he need the validation? What IS important is that HE thinks you're cute. It shouldn't matter what other people think if you two are in love."

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1-- "So what haven't you been told tonight?"

Response: "Beware of freaks asking stupid questions. That advice would have proven timely. I SO need to find a new fortune teller."


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Top 10 Worst Pick-up Lines:


10--"Hey, I was just thinking of you! Okay, I'm all cleaned up now though."

Response: "Well that's good. I was telling my friend when we arrived, 'Doesn't that loser look like he just shit himself?' "

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9-- "How would you like your eggs for breakfast: scrambled, boiled or fertilized?"

Response: "I am unable to have children, you thoughtless, insensitive prick."

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8-- "What do you say we go back to my place and do some math? Add the bed, subtract the clothes, divide the legs, and multiply!"

Response: "What do you say we add one bouncer boyfriend who pummels you out back, subtracts your wallet from your person, divides the money with yours truly, and multiplies with me in the back of your car?"

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7-- "You might as well sleep with me because I'm going to tell everybody we did it anyway."

Response: "You may as well write your suicide note now, because I'm going to tell everybody that's what happened."

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6-- "Hey babe, do you know that my bedroom is soundproof?"

Response: "Not airproof? What a pity."

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5-- "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought that was a Braille name tag."

Response: *Kicks oaf in the groin* "Mistakes happen. I thought those were soccer balls."

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4-- "I just want to tell you that you have a price to pay for being this cute, and I'm here to collect... your phone number, that is."

Response: "Sure! Got a pen? It's 1-800-4-A-TRANN(Y)"

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3-- "Did you know women are like parking spots? All the good ones are taken and the rest are handicapped. Which are you?"

Response: "I'm over the sewer grate, next to the fire hydrant, with all of the ashtray dumpings. And yet, despite my humble location, allowing a moped on me seems like such a waste."

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2-- "Can I buy you a drink or do you prefer the cash instead?"

Response: "Silly, you can't buy tampons with drinks."

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1-- "If you've lost your virginity, can I have the box it came in?"

Response: "Only if I can meet the man who took yours."


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Ladies, everything I do, I do it for you.

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Seed of Power

Some bloggers felt uneasy about Puerileuwaite's feeble come-on's. RevRee was warned about the Southwestern Blogger in September of 2006

By Reardon Pounding


In the summer of 2006, bloggers were warned to steer clear of a freshman blogger from the Southwestern U.S., who was already learning the sexual habits of commenters, dashing off notes, letters and e-mails to them, and asking them to join him for ice cream, according to Lamby, a current reader. When the naive commenters asked why, they were sternly reminded that he was a PUG! "Nuff said.


Leelee said that Puerileuwaite was known to be extraordinarily friendly in a way that made some of them uncomfortable. He would comment inappropriately on their blogs. He would lead them on, then back off, and then repeat the process. This both confused and titillated the bloggers.


Dykesdog provided a handwritten letter that Puerileuwaite had sent her, suggesting that they get together during the Republican National Convention in New York City in 2004. RNC's have long been rumored to be hotbeds of "anything goes" sexual liaisons involving cattle mutilations and tupperware parties.


"Puerileuwaite knew that he could get away with this type of behavior with his readers because they were "needy"," Fair Mayden (another loyal commenter) said. "and would meekly agree to anything in order to retain his attention".


The four-month blogger threatened to resign Friday after ABC News questioned him about sexually explicit electronic messages he had sent to multiple bloggers. Examples of such messages included, ""Let me show you the post I M working on", "I know U want it", Let me Spam all over you", "C U in Clown School", and others.


Puerileuwaite was popular with many bloggers. They come from all over the nation (and Canada, as you would expect, since blogging is now that "country's" third most popular pastime after hockey and curling) to share their semi-coherent ramblings with the Pug, despite his tepid interest.


A Canadian blogger by name of /t. is but one of the Pug's many Canuck followers. In a statement, /t. mentioned that he was not "burly" enough to be a LOGGER, unlike most Canadians. So he simply added a "b" to his job title and learned basic computer skills on his Commodore 64. The rest is history.

/t. with his good friend Little Lamb (in human form)

Bloggers' lives are tightly controlled. They seldom leave their homes and their computers are monitored. They never attend social functions and spend virtually all of their time alone. So when they do receive rare one-on-one attention, it is a big deal.


The commenters did, however, receive a lot of attention from Puerileuwaite. He attended one of their parties in a pants-less tuxedo. He wrote suggestively about them in bathroom stalls. He learned their interests and asked them about themselves. For many, it was welcome attention.

Jmeped had won a lunch with the pug with a rare, intelligently constructed comment. When she asked to go to Morton's steakhouse, Puerileuwaite replied that the two of them "will cruise in my BMW to Morton's". Instead, he took her to the nearest Captain D's in his severely damaged Ford Escort".


In the comments section of a recent post, Puerileuwaite praised his readers for their maturity. "Now, I know you have one more year of high school to conclude and that probably is some degree of relief or maybe, to those you feel like you are probably well equipped to enter your first year of college," he said. "Some of you, I think, in conversing with you, some are actually mature enough to enter college right away."


Willo Keays said that Puerileuwaite's attempts to socialize with other bloggers went beyond the ordinary. In the manner of "Eddie Haskell" from the classic "Leave It To Beaver" sitcom, he left a comment on her blog that unsuccessfully attempted to shamelessly suck up to her mother and sisters in order to win their affection.


K9, a moonshining blogger from the back woods, said that, "If Puerileuwaite took the time to eChat with you, that was a big deal. That was a huge deal."


Pud, who said she never heard about Puerileuwaite's advances, remarked that some of her blogmates may have been tempted to correspond with the Pug because they were eager to land future jobs as guest posters on his enormously popular blog. "I can see how a 16-year-old would be vulnerable to that. But us grown adults should have been more capable of seeing through his bullshit."


Dykesdog, a blogger whose younger brother also is a blogger, said: "I certainly warned my little brother, who stopped blogging last year and then returned. A few bloggers are a little too friendly to the newbies."


Crash Test Comic, who occasionally performs in clubs but refuses to let folks know the locations, dates and show times, swapped links (talk about a double-entendre) with Puerileuwaite a couple months ago. He said that numerous bloggers told him to be "very careful" of the Pug. Within weeks, Puerileuwaite learned his name and asked at least twice to adopt his suggestions for the name of Crash's next "comedy" tour. He stroked the Pug along, leading him to believe that he was a shoe-in "Name The Tour" contest winner. This angered the freshman blogger, who proceeded to exchange "Yo Mama" jokes with the "comic".


"It was an odd series of comments and replies," Crash said.

After he completed a recent "By Special Invite Only" blogger orgy, Puerileuwaite wrote thank you emails to all who participated. He received a reply from Party Girl almost immediately, suggesting that the two meet up during the Republican convention in San Diego.


Staff researcher Girl Goyle and research editor Malnurtured Snay contributed to this report.

© 2006 The Pug News Agency

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Career Opportunities - Part I

Hello everyone,

I can manage just a few paragraphs today to let you know I'm still alive and thinking of (most of) you.

I realize that some of you have been wondering, WTF? Do I EVER plan to post again? Well excuuuuuuse me for trying to get a life! I had no idea that blogging is creepily similar to that movie, "The Firm". Or maybe it's just like the "Hotel California", the way they* (* Lamby and /t., usually) stab at my blog with their "steely knives", but they just can't (totally) kill my zest for blogging.

(Though try, they do.)

Perhaps it's more akin to "The Devil's Advocate", where I'm granted modest blog popularity, just to have Heckle and Jeckle* (Lamby and /t., usually) descend, devour and devastate like crows on a field of prize winning corn.

(But I kid.)

Okay, since I'm currently "between ideas", I'll go with the truth for this post. I've been in the midst of career planning - a new concept I've wanted to try out for awhile now. And it has paid off. I'll be moving on to a better opportunity (Hurray for me! Hurray for everything!). So today I gave 2-weeks notice. I feel like 120 lbs.* (* about what Lamby weighs ... /t. weighs much less) has been removed from my shoulders!

(I am SO glad those two have a great sense of humor. Maybe not in their comments. But perhaps in their reactions to this post.)

Two weeks from today, I'll be starting my new job. I will meet a whole new bunch of coworkers who have no natural immunities to my bullshit. I'll be able to exclaim that "I'm on it!", with no one being the wiser. I'll also be able to confirm that "I'm all over it!", without them realizing until much too late that I was past it; not concerned with it.

Presently, my boss and the Business Office Beotch (just one of the "BOB"s) are the only one who know. The rest of the torture weasels will, as soon as they open their emails (to which I should have attached viruses ... oh well, live and learn).

Serves 'em right for leading me to believe I'd be handsomely rewarded for my efforts, just to find out they had no intention of doing so. Just like how CrashTestComic shined me on about being the front-runner in his "Name The Tour" contest, just to find out that he went with some totally obscure reference that none of us have ever heard of (Kubla Khan? WTF?!).

So how will they respond? Dull surprise? Outrage? Counter-offer? Sexual favors? To be continued ...

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