I am 31 (but I read at a 34 year-old level) (that joke always slays me). If I recall Cecil’s column correctly, this means I’m 141 in dog years. Which I mention because I’m 1/3 poodle (on my mother’s side).
I was born in Santana, Macapa, Brazil (don’t ask me why). For the first year of my life, I was raised by wild Amazonian boars.
My childhood was much like Frank McCourt’s: 47 brothers and sisters in a studio apartment and dad was always drunk. In the winter, we’d huddle together and fart for warmth. Once, my brothers Tito and Jermaine tried to teach me to swim by throwing me in the deep end of the pool. Only we were so poor we couldn’t afford a pool, so it was really just a puddle on the sidewalk. I don’t know if they’re still alive.
This one time, I saved an infant boy from a burning building. But after all that exertion I got hungry, so I ate him. Coroner’s report: killed in the fire. Awwww yeaah.
In high school my nickname was “Stinky”. This was because I rarely bathed.
For my ten-year high school reunion I told everybody I was the millionaire inventor of Fruit Roll ups, then spent the evening licking people’s plates from the trash cans.
I have two sons, Disjointed and Tenacious, 7 and 11, who don’t so much resemble boys as they do large mahogany bookcases. OK, so they actually are bookcases. That doesn’t mean I love them any less.
I better go now before I get fired. I’ll try to update you more later. Any questions?
When may I come visit you and your family?
Yes.
Was that blotter, or microdot?
Did you always want to be a Philosopher-King when you grew up, or did you accident into it?
How do you feel about treehouses?
What is your favorite song?
Do you know anything about astronomy?
Where is the best place you have ever traveled?
Would you read me a bedtime story?
What is one thing that someone has said to you that still hurts your feelings or pisses you off?
Do you believe in ghosts?
Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
Have you ever had a mullet or dated someone who did?
Would you have gone to the prom with me in High School? Would you crash a prom with me now?
How did you get to be so cool?
Manservant Hecubus: You didn’t think I was serious in that other thread, do you? I was just gently ribbing you. It’s always about good-natured fun here at the SDMB. Don’t take it personally.
But seriously, stay away from us, you monster.
Jack Batty, I’m afraid I don’t quite get your post. Must be some counter-culture allusion I’m not “hip” on, to speak to you in your own parlance. What are you, some kinda hopped-up beatnik or something? Anyone with half a brain knows it was acid I took. Keep away from me with your designer “microdot” drugs, all right Mr. Rave Culture?
magdalene, to answer your questions in the order they were posed:
Oh, I accidented into it. I was just the court jester until I accidentally staged a coup in which I accidentally overthrew the old Philosopher-King in an accidental orgy of blood and destruction.
First, I get them loosened up with a few drinks. Then I tell them how special they are, and - oh, wait, that’s how I feel up treehouses. Actually, I quite like them; I think they’ll be the impetus for the next great real estate boom in this country. I remember fondly the time in my youth when my friends Millhouse and Martin would come over to sleep in the treehouse so we could all be with Radioactive Man issue #1, or the time my sister Lisa and I stayed up telling ghost stories…excuse me, I’m getting a little choked up.
Depends on what mood I’m in. “Celebrated Summer” by Husker Du has been on the list for about 15 years now; “Perfect Circle” by R.E.M. or “Tonight We Fly” by the Divine Comedy when I’m feeling wistful; Something off Rubber Soul for my more all-around emorional purposes - ah who am I kidding? It’s “The Macarena”.
I don’t know too much about astronomy, other than the fact that I’m a Taurus and we’re supposed to be stubborn. I refuse to believe that’s true, though.
Seriously for once, the best place I’ve ever traveled would probably be a tie between London or Amsterdam (Paris would be up there too, probably). Also, I enjoy going to Wal-Mart, 'cause they greet you with a smile.
Yes. Yes I would. Would “Naked Lunch” be all right with you?
I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, although I think Coldfire got a little testy with me once. Coldy, why must you hurt the ones you love?
No, but I believe in Heaven when I meet people like you (feel free to use that one, all you barroom lotharios).
No, because my house is made of straw (that’s the one he couldn’t get into, right?).
Ye Gods no! The mullet is the single greatest atrocity visited upon humankind sincethe advent of Low-Fat Spam. I don’t want to say that everyone with a mullet is automatically evil; I’ve met some very nice rednecks in my time. I would say, however, that, without fail, every single person I’ve met with a mullet has been dumb as a turkey sandwich with extra mayo. Urgh! A mullet? I’d rather puke up ice cream! (Just kidding, all of you with mullets! Except the part about you being stupid.)
Yes and yes and yes again I’m assuming your third question would have had something to do with skipping the prom to go make out, right?)
Aw shucks, now I’m blushing. But it could just be that mild case of the Ebola I picked up. I think I’m actually more of a geek, although a pretty damn cool one, if I may be so immodest (and I may). But I’m no Arthur Fonzarelli. Still, if you ask me, the secret to being cool is: never be afraid to appear retarded. People tend to respect it, actually.
Whew, I’m drained. I think I’ll go take a bath and try to think up more memories to share. Buenos Nachos!
Oh yeah, and I often write the second half of my posts in bold-faced type for aesthetic reasons, just like e.e. cummings.
People, please! It’s getting deafening in here with all the shouts of “More! More!” (or is that “Whore! Whore!” - I’ve got a bit of an ear infection thanks to the Ebola). All right, you dragged it out of me. Here are some more fabulous factoids from the never-ending Tootsie Roll Pop that is my life:
When walking down busy city streets I am ever watchful for my natural enemy, the Giant Squid, as I’m well aware that they often disguise themselves as CPAs with comb-overs. Forewarned!
As some of you undoubtedly know, I originated the role of “Sanford And Son”'s Aunt Esther on Broadway, but was criminally overlooked when it came time to cast the sitcom. Lick me, Hollywood, you soulless commodity machine.
Back when we were poor, I once got so hungry that I actually ate a McDonald’s Big Mac. Life is tragedy.
I once knew an autistic kid that would go absolutely apecrap whenever anyone uttered the word “poopy” (this is actually true). Naturally, I found many new ways to drop it into casual conversation. Oh, and this kid lost me a truckload of money in Vegas when I discovered that he couldn’t count cards worth a damn. What kind of autism is that?
I’m not one to hold a grudge, unless of course I hate you. And the odds aren’t stacked in your favor, believe me.
Can I borrow $20?
My Crip name is T-Dog, which is short for “MCAT”, which I failed miserably.
Most days I’d rather have my nostrils sewn shut than go in to work. Unfortunately, they don’t hand out checks for sewing your nostrils shut, so it’s a lose-lose situation.
I’d better go before they threaten to fire me yet again. Thanks for playing.
Your friend in Christ,
Woody
Why do my threads always wither on the vine and die? Is it because I’m not flirty enough or didn’t mention oral sex in the title? Do I not give and give to you people, asking nothing in return but a little acknowledgement (and perhaps brown-nosing)? I am a human being with feelings, after all, despite the fact that I was raised by boars. If you cut me, do I not fart?If you spank me, do I not giggle?
Fine. I’ll keep bumping it up until I get at least six different posters’ responses. Right now I’ve got four (including me). This is just sad.
And can you bring some with you to SLO? I could use it after the week I’ve had.
You know, I had been delighted with this glimpse into your personal history and all your current goings-on, thinking to myself “Why, you’ve wasted your life. Just look what little woody has experienced in his 31 years…”
Until.
I would never eat a Big Mac.
“Quack, quack, starving, quack, didn’t want to eat another baby…”
There is no justification for it. Beast.
And I’m glad we got married last week.
You people scare me.
Maybe I just need another beer.
Rasa, I did indeed bring some to SLO with me. However, I ended up giving it all to virtee, 'cause he captivated me with his sweet bedroom eyes. I swear, it was like I was hypnotized by that big snake in “The Jungle Book”.
[sub]Hey virtee - call me![/sub]
katie, darling, I think you left out the adjective “Sexy” before that “Beast” comment. I won’t hold it against you, but please try to remember to hit the “preview” button in the future. Oh, and could we keep this whole marriage business on the under for now? It might hinder my chances of scoring with virtee. You know you’re still my first love, though.
[sub]Hey virtee - call me![/sub]
Beeble - Yeah, right. You need more beer.
So, to continue with my goal of supplanting Jack Batty as the board’s reigning attention whore, I herewith offer more insights into the Glory That Is Me for your edification/disgust/spiritual sustenance:
Although I was in the service during 'Nam, I was not “in the shit”. This is because I was in the postal service.
If I had to list my most attractive physical feature, I guess I’d pick my pancreas. Or my spleen. Possibly my kidneys.Whatever,I’ll be the most popular cadaver at the organ harvest.
I need some new excuses for when I call into work. I think my boss is getting suspicious after that last “emergency visit to the gynecologist” caper. Even after I brought him in the souvenir vial of ova. Fascist.
Speaking of whom, I’ve just been caught again. Yeah, Steve, this is a personal call! Oh well, better go listen to him yap about my “obligations to the company” and “proper time management” and whatever other B.S. Stephen Covey drivel he’s apt to spout off on. I love you all.
e.e. cummings, folks - fabulous poet.
This is actually the funniest thing I’ve read in a long time on this board.
And I do have a question for you: are you ever afraid that antique furniture (the kind with clawed feet) will come alive at night after you go to bed and get you?
Thank you in advance for your consideration.
Are you, or have you at any time, been a member of the Commuter Party?
Have you stopped beating your wife?
Have you ever clipped your fingernail just a little too short, so that you actually catch a teeny bit of skin in the clippers, and even though it’s not bleeding it’s red and it hurts like a sonovabitch for the rest of the day? Why’d you do that?
Who’s your daddy?
Is that your real face?
Is there a time in your life that, when you reminisce about it, look back upon it, you begin screaming spastically? What was it?
Come here often?
magdalene, see what you’ve started? I’ll be fired for sure now (like I care).
Creaky, funny you should mention that. I actually own a few pieces of that type of furniture, and it doesn’t scare me at all. I’m not delusional, for Chrissakes. I know it can’t come get me while I’m sleeping. At least, not since I sawed all its hamstrings off.
MrVisible:
Are you, or have you at any time, been a member of the Commuter Party?
Commuter party? Oh, you mean those holier-than-thou suburban bastards who act like they’re cocks of the walk and think they’re better than the rest of us because they get their own lane (Lane Of Flaming Death! it should be called; slow down, ya damn hippies!) and and make ridiculous claims like they’re doing their part to “save the environment” and “reduce toxic emissions”? Are those the sanctimonious swine you’re referring to?
Yes, I’m a member of their party.
Have you stopped beating your wife?
Yes. I mean no. I mean…[voice of Inspector Clouseau’s little runt sidekick from the old “Pink Panther” cartoons] I don’t know what I mean. [VOIC’SLRSFTO"PP"C]
Have you ever clipped your fingernail just a little too short, so that you actually catch a teeny bit of skin in the clippers, and even though it’s not bleeding it’s red and it hurts like a sonovabitch for the rest of the day?
No, is it fun? Hand me the nail clippers! I wanna try! Mom, MrVisible’s hogging the nail clippers again! Just wait 'til I grow up. I’ll be rich and hire somebody from the Mafia to kill you! Stupidhead.
Why’d you do that?
Well, jeez, after you talked it up so much… hey wait, that wasn’t my finger! I’ve gotta stop keeping my hands down my pants for warmth and just invest in a space heater, and the frequency of little accidents like this will reduce dramatically, I’m sure. Then again, I just got some new silk boxers…
Who’s your daddy?
Puddin’ Taddy. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the saddy.
Is that your real face?
No, my real face is kept in a jar of rancid Creme de Minthe in a secret underground vault right next to Johnny Carson’s old “Tonight Show” tapes and Rue McLanahan’s brain (I know she’s not dead yet). My real face (whole head, actually) is much better looking than the one I’m currently stuck with. Unfortunately, it’s also the size of a plum, making me a target for bullies and hungry worms. I curse Jehovah daily.
Is there a time in your life that, when you reminisce about it, look back upon it, you begin screaming spastically? What was it?
What, now you need an excuse to start screaming spastically? I’m so gauche sometimes. Perhaps I need to peruse my “Miss Manners Book of Etiquette” more often. Ah well, C’est la pee.
Come here often?
No, usually I reserve that for the shower. I’m running out of industrial-strength monitor cleaner.
I trust you’re all satisfied?
Satisfied?
We will not be satisfied until this message board is all woodstockbitchybird all the time.
Or until we get free watermelon for every tank of gas.
Until our terms our met, I suggest you answer our questions and everything will remain copacetic.
When you wear your superman underroos. Do you pretend to be aquaman or robin?
Have you ever won a marathon?
Do you wear eyeglasses when you sleep in the morning?
If you had free access to a woodchipper, what would you do with it?
When you hear the term sloppy seconds, do you smile or frown or make rude donkey words?
Whats the distance between my head and the closest cabbage?
When you say e.e. cummings do you think of a fabulous poet with excellent command of the written word and a talent for imagery? Or do you think that would be a good name for a librarian porn star?
When 10 is mentioned whats your reaction?
What did you get for your birthday 3 years ago?
What did you get for my birthday 4 years ago?
Can you teach the world to sing?
Can you teach the dopers how to live the life? And how to get down with TMac?
Could you please carbon copy all of your responses to Marky Mark’s lawyer?
thanks a bunch.
pat
Do you like monkeys? How about pickels? Do you like pickles? Is it true you dress your cat up in a little sundress and call her ‘Mary’ and have special, secret tea parties? When someone talks to you, do you ever find yourself tilting your head and staring, like Nipper[sup]TM[/sup], the RCA dog? Would you get angry if I punched you in the butt?
pricciar, you donkey. Get up off your ratty-ass Salvation Army couch and stalk me like a man. You hella froggy, yo. If you knew anything about stalking, you’d realize it would have been much creepier to ask me these questions over the phone using a vocal synthesizer that made you sound like Harvey Firestein. The internet is just so impersonal when it comes to this sort of thing. Half the charm of violent psychotics is that they’re not afraid to add that human touch. You have much to learn, grasshopper. Still, I suppose I’ll deign to answer your questions, as my PR rep tells me it will boost my ratings in the polls to be seen as a benevolent dictator (which I bring up as a plug for the new Fox animated series I’m working on - “Dick Tater, King of the Spuds”. Check local listings.).So, without any further Apu:
When you wear your superman underroos. Do you pretend to be aquaman or robin?
Neither. You should know by now that the Superman underoos are for when I pretend to be Mary Kate and Ashley. When I wear the Papa Smurf underoos, I pretend to be Sonic the Hedgehog. If you happen upon me in the Speed Racer underoos, call me Ishmael. If I’m feeling oh-so-naughty, you may catch me in my Black Panther underoos pretending to be Ernest Borgnine. And were you to spy me in my Victoria’s Secret lingerie, chances are I’m once again in a state of blissful confusion about gender roles (or it’s Thursday).
Have you ever won a marathon?
Only the Marathon Of Love, baby. Ooh, that’s right, sweet thing. Right there.
But cereally, I only competed in one marathon in my life. It wasn’t your typical setup, though; I ran one mile a year for 24 years. In three-foot increments. Still, I didn’t see anybody in front of me, so I guess I did win after all. eat that, Jessie Owens!
Do you wear eyeglasses when you sleep in the morning?
Only at work. And they’re those eyeglasses with open eyes painted on the front, so it looks like I’m awake. People are so stupid.
If you had free access to a woodchipper, what would you do with it?
Ooooh, a woddchipper! Gosh, the possibilities both excite and frighten me! Let’s see: I could take it to meet my parents and tell them it was my new bride and we just got married in Vegas and try to hit them up for some nest-egg money. Then when they pointed out it was a woodchipper I could start bawling and scream, “You’ve never approved of my girlfriends! I hate you!” After which we could retire to the den (now that Greg’s moved out - yeah, real groovy bachelor pad, dumbass) and reminisce about my penis.
Or I could use it as a paperweight, and then watch people try to break their spines trying to lift it to get a piece of paper to wipe themselves with (I’ll be damned if I’m giving any money to the Satanic Charmin cabal - if rough, sharp-edged writing paper was good enough for Abe Lincoln, it’s good enough for me!). Oh, think of the madcap hilarity! “My spine! Please, call the paramedics!” Stop, you’re killing me over here!
Probably I’d just chip wood with it, though.
When you hear the term sloppy seconds, do you smile or frown or make rude donkey words?
Actually, I wag my vestigal tail and fart like a drunken baboon. OK, so I do that whenever anybody says anything.
Whats the distance between my head and the closest cabbage?
When you say e.e. cummings do you think of a fabulous poet with excellent command of the written word and a talent for imagery? Or do you think that would be a good name for a librarian porn star?
I don’t get it. What’s “e.e.” got to do with sex?
When 10 is mentioned whats your reaction?
Well, it was Bo Derek’s most challenging role, and who doesn’t simply adore the elfin Dudley Moore? But it’s no “Problem Child 2”.
What did you get for your birthday 3 years ago?
A bunch of “Get Well Soon” cards and a bag of Tostitos. Oh, and some first edition pieceacrap book entitled “The Canterbury Tales”. Speak English, mofos! I promptly burned it.
What did you get for my birthday 4 years ago?
The Gentleman’s Code prevents me from answering this, but I’ll give you a clue: the best goddamn blow job in the history of civilization. It’s up to you to figure it out from this morsel of coded information; I can say no more.
Can you teach the world to sing?
Yes. I sing like an angel. Or at least a dead person. But I’m still waiting for Afghanistan’s credit to clear up before I start giving lessons. There’s always one bad apple…
Can you teach the dopers how to live the life? And how to get down with TMac?
Man, why you gotta be hatin’? You bessa step off afore I serve you, bra. Don’t be gettin’ all up in my grill no more, trick, or you be assed out. Foo’.
Could you please carbon copy all of your responses to Marky Mark’s lawyer?
I certainly will. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you referring to his client by his old teenybopper moniker rather than his new Serious Actor handle of “George Clooney”. Yes, very pleased indeed. You just don’t know whose toes not to step on in this business, do you?
thanks a bunch.
What’s that supposed to mean? That I look like a dung beetle? Screw you, man. SCREW YOU!
Are you still have sex dreams about me?