Category Archives: random hilarity

To me, you look more like number two, if you know what I mean.

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I was relating this story earlier today, and I share it with you, gentle reader, so that you might derive some amusement from it as well.

There was a girl I knew in the dorms in college, named Katie.  (Note: this is not to be confused with kick-ass Katy whom I also knew in the dorms.  Different person.)  This story is about Katie with an “-ie”.  I don’t remember her last name.

I knew Katie my second year in college. 1991-1992. I lost track of her after that year but I remember her very well because she is in a few pictures I have of a dorm Xmas party where I am wearing– I will admit this to you because I like you– purple muscle pants.

Anyway, that year, my dad gave me a book at Xmas called “How to Shit in the Woods”.  He found that amusing.

Sometime a few months later, I was walking around the University Union and ran into Katie. She was sitting in one of the marginally comfy maroon couch/chair situations that are undoubtedly still there (and undoubtedly not since cleaned). She happened to be reading that exact book– “How to Shit in the Woods.” It turned out that she was actually reading it for a class of some sort.  Being that it was a rather obscure book, I was surprised and said “hey, I have that book too!”

The point here is this:

Sixteen years later, I still think of this girl every single time I take a crap.

And I wonder how she’d feel if she knew.

-mig.

Guard your children… for I am now officially “scary.”

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I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly scary person.  And you, gentle reader, probably know me enough to know that I’m better described by a lot of other words.  Some such words are more complimentary than others, but still, “scary” probably isn’t one that would first come to your mind.

Yet that’s how I came across to someone this weekend. I was out riding my bicycle through the mean streets of San Mateo, just kind of exploring around, seeing where bike trails go, etc.  It was a beautiful and blissful day, and I decided to do a lap around a playground and community pool that I’d come across.

For a public park on a sunny Sunday, it was quite empty.  On the playground were two kids, their parents at a picnic table not too far away.  I was just kind of pedaling slowly, not even really looking at them, and of course doing nothing threatening.  But as I passed on the bike path about 15 feet from them, the girl stated to the boy:

“That guy is scary.”

I’m quite sure her fear didn’t stem from my bicycle-related attire.  Nope, I’m pretty sure that this pronouncement was thanks to the Copycat Luke Littell Biker Mustache that I’ve been cultivating.

Now if only I could scare the kid neighbors’ bratty-ass friends away in the same manner…

VLV t-shirt slogans.

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VLV t-shirt slogans.

 

 

VLV t-shirt slogans.  This is what I’ve come up with after only a tiny bit of thought.  So by all means, please contribute to this list!  I can’t wait!

You win.  You are more rockabilly than I am.

Sorry, the cuffs on your jeans do not meet VLV requirements.

Whassamatta—too tough-guy to afford a wristband?

Trying not to look desperate

You are repulsive, but I’m drunk.

Trolling for skank

It’s okay, my car doesn’t run either

This is my car show dress.

My car is out of oil.  Can I wipe some off your hair?

Save the Orcabetties!

PBR:  still the one, since 2003

My other car is a Saturn

I chose this t-shirt because it matches my parasol

EAST LOUNGE CHOPPERS

I buy stuff from your vintage shop to resell at my vintage shop

 

How about that. Filed 12/17/05.

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A bit of solid gold from the “Police Blotter” in this morning’s San Mateo Daily Journal:

Civil Matters.  An uncertified mechanic was paid $300 to fix a woman’s vehicle on the 700 block of San Anselmo Avenue around 10:49pm Monday, Dec. 19. [ed. note from me:  this is not the time of day to go about car repairs.]  He took the vehicle apart and would only continue working on it in exchange for sex.

A little ponderance for the morning. Or: thanks for the tip, Hawkeye

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On AM news radio this morning:  “Coming up after the break, Alan Alda will tell us his new man-law that should never be broken:  never have your dog stuffed!”

The question-begging is more than obvious:  Alan Alda?  Man-laws?

In terms of being qualified to dish out man-laws, I’d say that he’s in the same category as Richard Simmons, Christopher Lowell, and the singer of the Spin Doctors.  Maybe we could put them all in a battle royale cage match with Julia Childs and see who wins.

And yes, I know that Julia Childs is dead.

True story. Filed 8/23/05.

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Anyway, about two weeks ago, I was driving down the street, on my way into work.  Some jackass in a Mustang (ed. note: those two things are often synonymous) kept racing/weaving/darting in and out of traffic, only to still get caught at the same lights that I was.

From the junebug-green Mustang, his stereo was thumping loudly and I tried to just ignore it.  But when he pulled up next to me, I was shocked.  I figured it would be Snoop, Sublime, 50 Cent, etc.  But no– what I thought I was hearing was something far different.

I slyly cracked the window to confirm that my ears weren’t deceiving me.  And yes, there it was– unmistakeably and at top volume–

Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts.”

I tell you, the joker ain’t the only fool…

-mig.

Confessions from a Starbucks. April 14, 2005.

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I’m here at a Starbucks in NYC, using their wireless internet. (There are about 40 Starbucks in lower Manhattan… it makes it very easy for me to get online.) It’s a very large store– the largest one I’ve seen– there are about 50 tables’ worth of people sitting down engaged in various activities. In the past couple hours of sitting here working on the computer, here’s what I’ve seen inside this store:

  • one guy who locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out, resulting in a hilarious shouting match through the door between him and the management. He wasn’t even a homeless person– he was a nicely-dressed, paying customer.
  • One old guy in a leather motorcycle jacket, slowly blowing up several balloons for no obvious reason.
  • The proverbial “guy talking to himself.” I have a feeling that in Manhattan, this is a rather standard thing to see.
  • Just now, some man came in, followed by three young girls. He held a light-up plastic sword aloft. They all slowly conducted their own parade through the store, then left.

The other day on the subway, I saw a bumfight and a guy playing bagpipes.

Thank you, universe, for the puppet show you’ve given me here in New York!

True story. February 1st, 2005.

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This morning on my way in to work, I found myself in the elevator with a guy who works on my floor, but in the other company’s office. He was a basic Silicon Valley type: middle-aged, scrawny, nerdy. Think: an affable version of Gates minus the multi-billions. Riding up the elevator, he nervously commented on the new carpeting job in the building– the grimy teal carpet had recently been replaced with new dark brown carpet. Which matches the brown marble walls much better. The color match was an improvement– because the combination of dark brown and teal, he nervously joked, “made me want to puke.” And as he shuffled off, I noticed that he was wearing pants and a jacket that were dark brown… and a teal-colored shirt.