I've got it all figured out.



Tuesday, May 31, 2011

I hate the men's room.

The men’s room is a horrifying place.

When women visit a public washroom they often go in groups and spend an inordinate amount of time in there chatting, applying makeup and doing whatever else it is that women do in the ladies room. When a man has to use the men’s room, it’s like a mission behind enemy lines. Go it alone. Don’t be spotted. Touch as little as possible. Get in and out quickly and stay alive.

File Photo: Alternate Men’s Room sign

Men’s rooms are gross. That’s because men are gross. I’m in no way one of those obsessive compulsive clean freaks but after the things I’ve seen, I can fully understand why someone would do everything in their power to avoid public bathrooms all together. You want to know? You really want to know? Ok, I’ll tell you. But you’ve been warned. Where do I begin? Let’s start with…

Urinals

The urinal is about the only thing I’ll use in the men’s room. The stalls are just too scary (I’ll explain later.) There are essentially 2 types of urinals:

The high.

And the low.


Possibly the inspiration for Ah Ha’s, Hunting High & Low album.

Bonus: What’s that one guy doing with his ass?

The low type is the rarer of the two and by far the worst. Sure it makes it easier to aim so there’s less pee on the floor but unless you make sure to aim for that sweet spot somewhere in the middle, you’re going to get splash back on your feet or even worse on your pants. And the sweet spot on every one is different. I swear these things were designed by those carnys that run the ball in the peach basket scam game.

Step right up to the urinal! Don’t get piss on yourself and win a feathered roach clip or an Ah Ha decorative mirror!

Even with the high urinals you could still wind up with back splash as they tend to suddenly flush on their own when you’re in mid stream. Oh and sometimes they’re full of pubes!


I don’t know how this happens? Are there men out there that unzip and just start shedding like dogs? Or do they stand their finger combing their gorilla salad into the urinal while they whizz? I don’t even know why I’m asking these questions because frankly, I don’t want to know. And that’s another thing, this whole Willy Watcher bogeyman that everyone is afraid of. So many men think that someone is going to look at their junk when they’re taking a leak. You see them cupping their hand to hide it or forgoing the urinal all together and pissing in the stall. Some urinals even have little dividers.

These one’s feature smoked glass, allowing your penis to be well lit but still maintain its privacy.

I’m not sure if it’s feelings of male inadequacy (the money generated annually from products related to small wiener worry must run into the billions) or homophobia (you’d have to be a pretty hard up gay guy to resort to scoping wangs at the urinal) or both (I don’t even want to know about the inner turmoil of a homophobic man that’s worried some homo is going to think he has a small penis). But you know what? I don’t care. If someone is going to steal a glance at my junk while I pee, so be it. I won’t know because I won’t be looking at him. But try as you might, there are certain men in the men’s room that are pretty hard to unsee. Like the toddler pisser.


Now I’ve never seen the full on pants and underwear down variety of toddler pisser but I know someone that has. The worst I’ve seen is pants down with light blue Fruit of the Looms. It doesn’t sound as bad until I tell you I saw it about once a week at a place I used to work and the man looked a lot like Gene Shalit.


Worse than the toddler pisser though is the gunslinger. This is the guy that already has it out when he’s about 12 feet from the urinal. You zip up turn and BANG! I got hit with one of those a couple months ago and the guy was like 80.

I still get flash backs at the 7-11 counter.

But all that aside the urinals are still your safest bet. And it could be worse. In the UK a lot of places have those troughs.

I heard a story once about a boy lighting a paper boat on fire and sending it down one of these when everyone was lined up after a football match. Classic.

Or how about Bangkok?


Scary!

Speaking of scary, cue the voodoo jungle drums because it’s time for number  part 2…

The Stalls.


My advice to you is don’t. Just don’t. But sometimes when the lineup for the urinal is too long or you really have to go, a man’s gotta suck it up and be a man in the men’s room. And let me tell you, preparing to enter a men’s room stall is like a detective preparing to enter a murder scene. You hold your breath and pray it isn’t too bad.

File Photo: Too bad.

To those men that have no qualms about hankering down and dropping them off, see that handly thing up there to the left? That’s the flush. Use it. I don’t want to be greeted by that pile of bangers and mash you’ve so callously left to disintegrate in the bowl.

The men’s room daily lunch special.

But honestly that’s the least of your worries. There can be poo on the floor, poo on the seat, poo smeared on the walls. Anything goes in there. Men’s room stalls offer up that public anonymity that let disgusting people be disgusting. The men’s room stall is like a prototype for the modern internet comments section. This reminds me of the one lighter side of entering a stall, the  bathroom graffiti. Sure you get your usual suspects. You know, so and so sucks dick, so and so is a slut, the odd racist comment and crude depictions of the female anatomy. But sometimes you come across some real gems. Here are a few of my favorites:

Show me that smile again! (surrounded by music notes)
- In the stall of the now closed Tap bar in the Annex


Free cowboy hats.
- Below the seat cover dispenser, don’t remember where.


A detailed drawing depicting a man with 3 dicks and sperm with wavy lines coming out of them. The caption underneath read, Man of the future.
- Burlington Leon’s men’s room.


Welcome to a dumping experience.
- I want to say the El Mocambo but I’m not sure.


Here be Ghoulies.
- Stall in the Skillet Zellers restaurant, Applebly Mall Burlington circa mid 80s.
That last one always scared me as a kid because I was afraid of monsters in the toilet after seeing Ghoulies.



But you don’t have to enter the men’s room stall to live in fear of it, oh no. Much like the urinals there are a few special types of stall users that can bring the experience to you. Like the J. Edger Pooper. Legend has it that J. Edger Hoover the infamous head of the FBI used to like to hold meetings in the men’s room while he was taking a shit.

By the looks of him, those were looooong meetings.

Now with the never ending use of the cell phone, Poopers can pay homage to Hoover by conducting their own meetings while on the can. And if you’re in the men’s room you get to overhear every word of it. If you listen carefully you can hear the audible strain and lowering of tone in the voice as he dispatches a particularly vicious dead otter into the bowl. Or worse yet is the assassin. You think you're alone in the men’s room until you hear the faintest of shuffles or catch the reflection of feet in the men’s room mirror as you wash your hands.


The assassin doesn’t make a sound while anyone is in ear shot. But don’t linger by the door on your way out. For as soon as he feels he’s alone, he’ll let loose mercilessly. But worst of all is the Dumb and Dumper. He just doesn’t care. He’ll burst through the men’s room door and head for the stall at full hustle. (This is top speed for the D & D.) Your final warning might be an inarticulate below or a revolting declaration (Something along the lines of, I gotta shit large!) before he just unloads.


This type of man epitomizes the horror that is the men’s room experience.

And that’s it. I’m done. I’ve dwelled on this for far to long. Smell you later. Hopefully not in the men’s room.

P.S. An honorable mention goes to the drunk guy that pisses in the bathroom sink instead of waiting in line. You truly are a retched human being.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0040


I was reading the other day that every dog’s nose is different and you can identify a dog by its nose print!

We’ll no more when we get your crotch down to the lab and dust it for prints.

Maybe they should start a database of dog nose prints. You could get your dog’s nose print on file with the vet and then you wouldn’t have to get your dog micro-chipped or tattooed.

Lost: 2 yo white Pitbull named Mayhem. Looks like this. Has matching tattoo of my head on its belly also surrounded flames. Note: Actual dog’s head not on fire.

The shelters would have a little device that scans the dog’s nose and runs the scan through a database and presto, you get your dog back. I think it’s a good idea. But then again I think these are a good idea too:


Pro: They allow for better control of my peanut butter intake.
Con: Mutton doesn’t get to lick the knife.

Hey, speaking of licking, did you know that every tongue is different too. It’s true. Every tongue has a distinctive pattern just like a finger print. I wonder if a tongue print has ever helped solve a crime. We could ask McGruff but he’s busy sniffing some guy’s crotch or eating his own logs or something, so let’s ask the Magic Internet.

Question 40: Has a tongue print ever been used as evidence in a criminal trial?



Magic Internet Answer: There is no known record of a tongue print or impression being used as evidence in a criminal investigation. There have been many cases in which saliva and the DNA contained within has been used to convict a suspect and a few cases where teeth have been matched to bite marks on victims but no tongues.

Oh well. How many criminals are going to go around leaving tongue prints anyway? And can you imagine having to go down to a police station and lick the same pad as all those other criminals!
Shudder.

Although I don’t think this guy would have a problem with that.



Smell ya later folks.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Macho Man Randy Savage November 15, 1952 – May 20, 2011 R.I.P.



Ooooooh Yeeeeeeah! Ooooooh Nooooooo!

Randal Mario Poffo better known as Macho Man Randy Savage died this morning after suffering a heart attack while driving that caused him to veer off the road into a tree. This was confirmed by his brother Lanny Poffo.

Better known as the The Genius.

As I’ve said before I was never a huge wrestling fan, more of a casual admirer. All major WWF matches and Slams were big topics of discussion in the school yard so I had to at least keep up with current events. I don’t recall how I felt about Macho Man in his hay day. I assume I disliked him as he was often portrayed as the villain. But 25 years later I just can’t get enough of him. Those Slim Jim commercials:


You know kids, it’s just a school play. You don’t have to be in it. And who knew biting into a Slim Jim makes things explode?

Except maybe your heart!

Ouch, too soon Gilbert. His talk show interviews:



And best of all, his pre-match interviews:


I am in love with this clip and I will never get tired of it.

Look Randy. I don’t know if you were crazy, or on drugs or just an amazing actor but one thing you will always be is damn entertaining. You’ll be missed and never forgotten. Ooooooooh Yeeeeeeeah!!!



Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0039.



You know what I’ve been thinking about lately? Burials at sea.  Last week when I heard that Osama Bin Laden was buried at sea it reminded me that I used to have a big fascination with this practice. It all started after I saw  James Bond's funeral in You Only Live Twice.


How fucking cool is that?! He even had a fully functioning office on a submarine! Complete with hat rack! After I saw that movie I’d take this plastic toy mummy into the bath with me and pretend it was Bond faking his own death.

I’m pretty sure it was this one out of the 1970 Secret’s of the Mummy’s Tomb G.I. Joe play set.

Bond would solemnly slide of the edge of the tub into his watery grave somewhere down around my junk only to be stealthily retrieved by my Actionman SAS Frogman that I got from John Menzies in Scotland.

 
Exhibit A: Actionman SAS Frogman.

 
Exhibit B: John Menzies

Saddly, unlike agent 007, both are no longer with us. I guess Bond got a burial at sea because he was supposed to have been in the Royal Navy. But it’s not a bad gig when you think about it. They just stick you in the ocean and then the fish eat you, very environmentally friendly. And maybe when Richard Branson gets his Virgin deep sea tours thing going,

 
It looks like a cross between an old Fischer Price toy and a Lindt chocolate bar

your skeleton can wave at everyone like one of those fish tank ornaments.


What are the rules for being buried at sea? Are there any? I thought the ocean was like no man’s land where you can gamble, shoot fireworks, and put Freon in your car’s AC. Do you have to contact anyone? It seems kind of weird just going out there and dumping a body without telling anyone. Magic Internet. Up periscope!

Question 39: Are there any laws for burials at sea?



Magic Internet Answer: There are a number of laws keeping an individual from merely dumping a human body in the ocean. Human remains present a sanitation and public health risk so most countries have strict laws governing their transportation. The body will have to be properly embalmed or at least in a sealed casket and a copy of a death certificate must travel with the body.

 
Or you could go the cheaper and more hilarious route of just purchasing a pair of sunglasses.

Once you are sea bound there are further laws governing the disposal of human remains at sea. And keep in mind that when you are in international waters you are to obey the laws of your vessel’s home country. In Canada, burial at sea is covered under the Environmental Protection Act and a permit must be applied for at least 8 weeks in advance. 

8 weeks! I’d hate to be in that line up.

Most funeral homes that deal with burials at sea apply for the permit yearly in advance so that they do not have to wait 8 weeks before burial. A fee of $2500 must also be paid to the Receiver General for the permit. The body will also require a medical certificate stating that it is free of any disease that may become waterborne and a notification of the intent to bury at sea must be made in a local news paper.

Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be allowed to Twitter it soon.

Sup Bros! I’m dead. LOL

The deceased must also be identified with a permanent identification tag that includes the phone number of the funeral home in case the body resurfaces or is dragged up by fishing vessels.

Hey, this one’s wearing Grandad’s wedding ring!

For this reason also the burial must be in at least 200 meters of water and be at least 3 nautical miles from land. It is also recommended that the coffin be made of wood or steel and be of a sufficient size to hold the body plus at least 90 kilograms of additional weight to hold down the body.

Finally! A use for my old gold weights.

It is also recommended that you drill at least 12 holes at least 2 centimeters in diameter to allow for quick flooding of the casket and to allow gases to escape during decomposition. Then all that is left is to say some words of good bye and commit the body to its watery grave.

Not exactly how I picture my funeral ,



but thanks Magic Internet.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Ask the Magic Internet a Stupid Question No. 0038



(Doff of the hat to the Weird Dudes.)

Everyone is talking about the super dog that helped capture Osama Bin Laden.

My dog Mutton is related to a super dog. His name is Puff Daddy. Here’s a video of him showing off his special skills at the Calgary Stampede.

 Let’s see that Navy SEAL dog go through Bin Laden’s legs 3 times while he’s walking. 

But seriously, these navy SEAL dogs are pretty amazing. They get their fangs replaced by titanium teeth so they can bit through body armor! 

Like Jaws from James Bond!

 
Sexy time ladies. 

And the dogs wear body armor too. They get it from this crazy company called K9 Storm.

I wonder if they have dog body armor that can resist bites from those stupid little weepy eyed old lady dogs that are such antisocial shut ins that they bark at and attack any dog they come in contact with during their 10 minute once a month walk?

 
I watch 6 hours of Coronation Street and eat 8 Peek Freans a day. I kill you! I kill you!

Hey do you think the Navy SEALs had to pick up the dog’s poop?

 
Special agent Sparky’s bending one in Osama’s cabbage patch. Cover me fire team Bravo. I’m going in.

Or maybe the dog wears a tactical diaper.

 They probably just blow it up like they did that helicopter. So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. They can’t make a dog wear a diaper. Look at that poor dog up there. That constitutes a war crime. And besides, Navy SEALs don’t wear underwear either. Isn’t that where the whole phrase going commando comes from? What is with that phrase anyway? I remember reading in a book once that the SAS would take off all their clothes when it started raining and store them in their bergens so they wouldn’t get wet and they’d just march around in the nude. Can you imagine being set upon by a nude SAS team?!

 Limited Edition Rainy Night Raid Action Man! (Shame covering trench coat sold separately.)

But is there any real truth to the going commando phrase? Or was it just a throwaway line from Friends that became a valid excuse for not wearing underwear? Lock and load Magic Internet. You’re going in.

Question 38: What is the origin of the phrase going commando?

 (Hmm. Arnold wore underwear in Commando. A rare oversight from the film’s research department perhaps?)

Magic Internet Answer:  The true origins of the phrase going commando remains unclear. Some believe that it stems from the phrase going regimental which refers to Scottish soldiers wearing nothing under their kilts.

 
Around 26% of all romance novel material also stems from this.

Although the phrase going commando did not appear in print until 1985 it began creeping into the American college campus vernacular around 1974. This date may have significance in the phrase’s origin as it marks the wind down of the Vietnam War with many young soldiers returning to America having worn no underwear in the jungle for better ventilation. The mid 70s also marks the upswing of America’s macho lothario culture.

 
This picture pretty much sums up that whole time period.

Many young men may have chosen to go commando in order to emulate some of the adult film stars that were on the rise during that time. They may have felt that to be sans underwear meant that they were ready for action, yet another phrase with a military origin.

 
Hi, I’m Marky Mark. I played one of those 70s porn guys in Boogie Nights after I became famous for wearing underwear and singing Come on! Come on! Ironic, huh? Come on! Come on!

Going commando eventually became a phrase used by the common public after it was mentioned by the character Joey in the hit sitcom Friends. So what was once a military necessity which then became an unhygienic practice believed to increase one’s preparation for sexual activity is now printed on t-shirts to be worn by witless individuals.

 And used to sell Mars bars.


 And the name of a popular children’s video game sequel.

 Hurray for stupid! Thanks Magic Internet and a special thanks to Matt LeBlanc for bringing going commando to the attention of the idiot masses. Here’s his equally idiotic Heinz Ketchup ad from back in the day.


You know who else likes ketchup?

 
Justin Timberlake when he plays a 70s adult film star! 

 
What a coincidence, huh? Come on! Come on!