Spatulahead??

OK, I don't know how in the world Kevin (or whoever did it) accomplished it, but when I woke up this morning, there was music blaring in the den and my parents bedroom. And Kevin is in Mankato. So, unless he set some sort of timer, it probably wasn't him.

And it was ominous, creepy music. Like if the Exorcist was on a date with Bjork and instead of making sweet, sweet love, they decided to make bone-chilling music freakier than anorexic Lindsay Lohan.

The whole scene made me feel like I was in the House of Wax. And not the good House of Wax either, the House of Wax starring Paris Hilton. So it was like a nauseous kind of scared. But scared none the less.

I thought I'd turn around and Spatulahead would be there to lop my head off, in a fiendish attempt to attach my head on his shoulders, thus making the nickname Spatulahead obsolete, thuse going by his new nickname Johnny Bumphead.

So, in the end, what I'm saying is...it was freaky.

Plungocrisy...

Oh, I'm sure you've all been there. Willy getting stuck in the porcelain, no plunger on hand. A quick trip to the local Walgreen's, getting accused of using your sexiness to get a deal on said plunger. I mean, real run -of-the-mill stuff. But, since I didn't really have anything else to write about, here's how my trip to Walgreen's went last night:

After scouring the aisles, I finally found their "plunger section". And by section, I mean the only plunger in the store (who knew there was a run on plungers in the North Metro area). So, before Bilbo could steal the plunger, I lunged at it, swooped it up and sprinted it to the fron of the store, leaving tissue paper and Elmer's glue strewn everywhere in my wake.

I finally get to the front of the line and triumphantly gave Meghan, the cashier, the last plunger in the store. And here's our exchange:

Meghan: Looks me up and down warily, like a bouncer letting Richard Simmons into a strip club.
Brent: Smiles like an idot.
Meghan: Will this be it for you?
Brent: Yep, that'll do'er.
Meghan: Ugh...there's no price tag on here.
Brent: Sorry, it was the last one. It was $3.49 though.
Meghan: Hmm...I guess I'll have to believe you.
Brent: Yeah, I guess. Unless it's my big ruse to go to all the stores in the area, take off the price tags and then pay less when I get to the register, all in an attempt to sell the plunging end on the black market and use the stick ends for numchucks. Yep...what a devious plan.
Meghan: You're lucky you're cute, or I wouldn't take that sass mouth.
Brent: Looks around nervously
Brent: Ha ha. Yeah. Ummm...so...can I have my plunger?
Meghan: Sure, here you go. Don't do anything I wouldn't do with it.
Brent: Riiiight. Um...so good night then

And, as I left, the door opened for me. Because I'm beautiful. Well, actually because it was automatic, but if it hadn't been, it would have opened anyway (take that Family Guy...how does it feel? Does it burn??)

E-mail chain...

Brent: Sounds like a sweet little deal.
Alison: Yuh.
Brent: "Yuh's" are normally reserved for sarcasm...
Alison: I disagree. I think a"yuh" is also appropriate for something really obvious.
Brent: As the inventor and copywriter of "Yuh" I disagree and if you don't start using it in an appropriate manner, I will be forced to take legal action. Consider this your only warning...
Alison: Well as the inventor and copywriter of the spelling of "yuh" I disagree and have decided that you are no longer able to use the written form of "yuh". My apologies.
Brent: Well, there really isn't a written form if you're not allowed to use the verbal form. So, that makes your spelling moot. But, to avoid prosecution, I will change the spelling to the better choice of "Yuhh".
Alison: That is much too close to my cpoyrighted spelling...I am afraid I am going to have to pursue this matter in the courts.
Brent: Bring it on. I am well versed in legal mumbo-jumbo and will relish the opportunity to stick up for the small town businessman who has his idea trampled all over by the big, heartless corporation. You've met your match Tague...
Alison: You're a freak dude.
Brent: Yeah...you know this whole thing is going on the blog, right?
Alison: You mean you think people would find these e-mails entertaining? I find this highly doubtful.
Brent: You don't know my readership. Don't be all sassed out b/c (yep, just saved time) I'm so clever...
Alison: Clever...rrrright.
Brent: OK...you're waaaay out of line today. Not koshe with the Road Rules team...
Alison: Not koshe? I don't even know what that means.
Brent: I was saving time by shortening Kosher to Koshe, then I would have more free time to play with my Legos. Whheeeeee!!!
Alison: Were they giving out free crack at work or something?
Brent: Nothing is free in this life darlin'. Nothing....

The gimp offers little protection...

Now, the building I work at employs security guards, to feign interest in what is happening in the building, to stop people from smoking too close to the property and say hello as you grumble up to your cube in the morning. So, essentially, not a very hard job.

But, if you think of the true meaning of a security guard, they are there to...um...guard our security. And that's where I have a problem. One of the security guards at my building is about 108 and has a limp bigger than a cheetah on acid!

Now, I'm happy that the company is killing two birds with one stone, you know employing an elderly man and a handicapped individual. I think that's great. What I don't think is great is when I'm walking through the building and some Cher-himpersonator comes and assaults me and the guard can only rasp at them to "Stop, or I'll come over there" and then take 24 minutes to hobble the 8 feet that was between us.

I think if you're going to have a security guard, they should offer at least a smidge of security. I mean, there are some jobs that aren't right for some people. Sure, you could get away with putting Verne Troyer in the post against Shaq, but I wouldn't recommend it. You could also leave Dustin Diamond in charge of your kids, and while they'll come back scarred for life (you know what I'm talking about Diamond, you sick, sick bastard) they'll still be alive (albeit a shell of their former selves).

But those wouldn't be the ideal people for those jobs (for the record, the ideal people for those jobs are Manute Bol and Gary Coleman) just like having a 162 year old man with a debilitating limp isn't the ideal man to make sure the building is secure (the ideal person for that job is, again, Manute Bol)

So, building owned by the company that shall not be named, maybe you move this nice guy into a cushy corporate office and get someone down there who could actually lift up the 2 oz. can of mase you give them, instead of someone who I caught napping in his boxers...

The Nelson Kitchen - Volume 1 - Broccoli Burritos

Now, as many of you know, I'm known for my weird, quasi-healthy (but mostly just strange) eating habits. So, when I create something new to add to my collection of boring meals, I'm going to let you know, so those of you following my diet plan can give it a try. So, here goes...

Ingredients
- 6 egg whites
- 1 bag (4 cups) steamed broccoli
- half slice fat-free cheese
- 8 fish oil pills

Directions
- Put egg whites in frying pan (using Pam) and cook as if making over easy eggs. Flip the whole thing once halfway through cooking
- Steam bag of broccoli
- While cooking broccoli and eggs, swallow the 8 fish oil pills
- Put half slice of fat free cheese on the egg whites
- Pour bag of broccoli over top of cheese and eggs
- Fold eggs as if they were the tortilla of the burrito and the broccoli is the meat.

Nutrition Facts
- Carbs: 17 g
- Protein: 30.5 g
- Fat: 8 g
- Calories: 262

Vance and V's wedding...

All drones to the front of the spaceship for a special announcement. I repeat, all drones to the front of the vessel...

Ahhh...last night was the much anticipated event; Vance and V's wedding. There was dancing, flasks, stupendous drinking by Mr. Casey and, of course, mass consumption of magically delicious cake. Overall...an excellent time.

However, I mus apologize to anyone who I may have offended. Now, as many of you may not remember, I'm a bit of a baby. And, what happens when babies stay up too late? They get cranky (or kranky, if you will). Well, once it hits midnight, I strapped on (pun intended) my footsie pajamas and grabbed my binkie, because I was in for some krankiness. So, I apologize for anyone who I was upset with, because it was no one's fault but mine, because I just wanted to sleep.

So, yeah. To sum it up, it was a fun night, Demon ruled the dance floor and Brent is a big baby who gets cranky and takes it out on people.

Hoo-hah! That is all. All drones please return to your work stations and commence biogenesis...

Get your groove on Brian Harper...

Dirty: I was bored at work the other day, so I did some checking on how much money I'll possibly make on our employee stock program.
Nelly: Oh yeah?
Dirty: Yeah. I figured out that if it continues to do as well as it's done recently, by the time I retire, I'll have 230 million dollars.
Nelly: Hmmm...
Dirty: And that's without putting any more money in!
Nelly: So, what's the rate of return you were using to make these calculations.?
Dirty: Well, currently it's been doubling every seven months.
Nelly: Riiiiigghhht. So, anyhoo, can I be the manager when you buy the Twins?
Dirty: Of course.
Nelly: Sweet butter! Paging Brian Harper, paging Brian Harper, you have a call on the white courtesy phone. Brian Harper, the Twins need a DH on the white courtesy phone.

In this corner...

Fighting out of the blue corner, wearing the plaid trunks, is the one, the only, Jerry "The King" Lawlor! And his ooponent, fighting out of the red corner, wearing the Russian dressing is the world famous six-inch Subway Club on wheat!

This match is scheduled to go 12 rounds. Subway Club has declared this is a title match and has put his Super-Ultra-Potato-Middleweight-Intercontnental-Table-Mega-Hyper-Spork Belt on the line!!

Now, in the tradition of the WWE, this match has a catch. This is known as the Eat or Be Eaten match. The first wrestler to completely eat the other one, then wash it down with an ice cold Pepsi-Cola, Pepsi-Cola is the choice of a new generation, will get to wear the belt and get one night with the 12 wonder of the ancient world...CHYNA!!

The King...are you ready? Subway Club...are you ready? OK, tap gloves gentlemen and come out chompin'...

Softball season's starting, we'll party tonight...

Ahh...it's that time of year again. The sun is out, birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with them... as is my understanding. And by that, only two words come to mind...Are you ready for some softball??

So yes, by your opening of this e-mail, you have hereby confirmed that you are on the staff roster, or playing as an alternate, for the successful softball franchise Yarrr. We're not attractive (formerly known as More Cowbell).

Our first game is scheduled for Tuesday, April 25th at 6:00. The location is Bryn Mawr #9 (located here http://www.minneapolisparks.org/default.asp?PageID=4&parkid=253). I have never been there before, therefore, I don't know anything about fences, lights or access to young schoolchildren (sorry Dirty). I will bring schedules then.

I have not ordered T-Shirts, as I've become more and more uncreative recently and my latest thought was to have a picture of one eyed Willy wearing a turban...but I snapped myself out of that one. If everyone decides on T-Shirts, we can do that.

Since it looks like no T-shirts and we have 10 full time players, it's going to be $40 for everyone who signed up as a full-time player. You can give cash, checks, food stamps to me at the game.

We should probably have a practice sometime in the next couple of weeks before the first game so we can be well on our way to beating our stupid record from last year and hopefully mitigate the amounts of times we're shut out. I still can't believe we were actually shut out last year. So, we can set that up...I'm thinking the 22nd or 23rd. Let me know when works best.

If you're still reading this, I commend your patience, or deplore your lack of options of things to do with your life. You shall be richly rewarded. Here's a little something for the effort; there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed...you will receive total consciousness. So you've got that going for you...which is nice.

Devo, please print this out and give it to Carolyn to give to Denny.

The Nile ate my baby!!

My updates have been poor to sub-poor recently. There really is no excuse for this. I have not come down with the dreaded disease that causes Claphyllis. I have not lost my mind in a freak boking accident. Pure and simple, I have become as lazy as antelopes. Whether that means watching TV, driving here and yonder, to and fro and around we go; regardless, I have not had the mind to update my blog.

I have no worth as a person. If my lack of recent writing ability were a river, it would be the gandiose Nile...from the Pharoahs of Egypt to the mighty, mighty racism of South Africa, who doesn't love the Nile? I, for one, do not. Because I lost my baby to the Nile and I will never (NEVER!!) allow a river to swallow me whole again.

But I digress, that isn't the point of my entry, as I assume we all have gripes about the lousy Nile and all it's craptacular tributaries. Avast!

I pledge to you, that I will attempt to make updates more often, and whilst they may not be funny or entertaining, they will at minimum be strange and will make you wonder what kind of drugs I've been smoking (Lipitor).

So, you have that going for you, which is nice. Now...on to what we all came here for...hardcore nudity (attach naked picture of David Duchovny here)