Useless information that could change your life

2009-03-03T12:11:00.000-08:00

There's something about Barry

Sorry, I saw this news article and had to comment.

Mall wants Manilow music to drive out unruly teens
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090303/ap_on_fe_st/as_odd_new_zealand_mall_rats

WELLINGTON, New Zealand – It'll be Barry Manilow versus the mall rats. The New Zealand city of Christchurch hopes that putting the American crooner's smooth and gentle tones into the mix of music to be broadcast through the central mall district can pacify unruly teens who congregate there_ or at least convince them to go elsewhere.

DT: I believe it will have the opposite effect. Unruly teens will riot at the GAP.

"The intention is to change the environment in a positive way ... so nobody feels threatened or intimidated," Central City Business Association manager Paul Lonsdale told The Associated Press. "I did not say Barry Manilow is a weapon of mass destruction."

DT: That's exactly what you're saying and I totally agree with you.

A group of several dozen young people regularly spread rubbish, spray graffiti, get intoxicated, use drugs, swear and intimidate patrons at the outdoor mall, he said.

DT: Why not be kind and considerate to the several thousand non-unruly young people and just tear gas the mall? I for one would take tear gas to the face then Manilow to the ears.

The city council, police and local property owners covering 410 businesses agree that "nice, easy listening" music like Manilow's "Can't Smile Without You," "Mandy" and other hits might change the behavior of loitering teens.

DT: Profits will go down as mall patrons slowly nod off between Sam Goody and Barnes and Noble.

But one 16-year-old told The Press newspaper that unfashionable music wouldn't deter them. "We would just bring a stereo and play it louder," Emma Belcher said.

DT: Oh god, double the Barry?

Lonsdale countered that the city would then hit them with anti-noise laws.

DT: Touche Douche! That'll learn 'em! So where a loitering ticket would not dissuade them, anti-noise would?

2009-03-01T17:47:00.000-08:00

All Dogs go to heaven. Then they eat shit.

Dogs love to eat things. I believe this is one of their top traits. Although it probably falls behind their tendency to sniff other dogs' asses and licking their own private regions but ahead of leg humping and rolling in shit. The thing about dogs is they don't really care what they eat, just as long as they eat. There is no distinction between what is edible and what is not edible. And what can be eaten and what should not be eaten and how much should be eaten.

Examples of non-edible objects:
flip flops, misc plastic wrappers on the sidewalk, head from a Jesus statue (I'm serious, this happened).

Examples of edible objects that should not be eaten:
cat crap, berries from some random tree, puke, garbage from the kitchen.

This leads into my next point about grass. I think somewhere way back in the evolutionary chain, a great dane and a Holstein mated. This would explain dogs affection for grass. I know dogs eat grass because it helps soothe an upset stomach. I understand this. However my dogs will eat it to the point where they either hurl or tufts start growing from their sphincter. It's very disturbing watching a dog rotate around in circles trying to pull grass from their ass. And yet, somewhat entertaining.

At least they don't get hairballs. And they clean up their own puke...

2009-02-27T17:10:00.000-08:00

5 Things Learned in February 2009

1.) Never sleep with your monkey, feed him fillet Mignon, or let him drink out of a long-stemmed wine glass. He may try to bite your friend's face off.

2.) Never forget to get your wife a card for Valentine's Day. But do sleep with her, feed her fillet Mignon, and let her drink out of a long-stemmed wine glass. Or she may try to bite your face off.

3.) Banks will spend stimulus money on bubble gum cards and candy, so don't give it to them.

4.) Paula Abdul needs American Idol. American Idol does not need Paula Abdul. Stop complaining.

5.) Winter is fucking cold.

2009-02-26T15:46:00.000-08:00

Back to Front

Okay, I recently realized that I still had this Blogspot and decided that I may try my hand at it once again.

Since my last post I:
have a new job
moved twice
now own a house
have two dogs
sister-in-law lives with us
had 43 haircuts
lost my goatee
and now have the NFL package

So, a lot of new things. Of course, because I never really talked about myself in any of these blogs you didn't really know any of what I was before I stopped posting anyway.

I'm going to try to post on here once in awhile. If only to leave a legacy behind that's more than the fact that I've drunk my weight in beer more than a thousand times over. Hopefully you enjoy it. If not you can always read Mad magazine or seomthing.

D.S. Trosdahl

2006-05-02T20:18:00.000-07:00

Up, up, and away!

What the hell has been happening to gas prices? You'd think half the oil wells around the world started pumping out tang instead of oil. I may have to go back to siphoning gas from my neighbor's car at this rate. Soon a gallon of gas will be comparable with an ounce of silver. This has got to stop.

Fortunately, I have a plan. It's quite simple, really. I've begun designing a car that runs on an alternative form of fuel. Pixie sticks. I've seen one quarter of a pixie stick keep a 7 year old boy active for a week. Why not a car? I'll call my new automobile the Pixilator and it will run on one pixie stick a day.

There will be some kinks that need to be worked out. Currently you have a fuel gauge on your vehicle. The Pixilator's fuel gauge won't work as it can bonk on a moment's notice. The Pixilator may not stop when you hit the brakes or even if you turn off the ignition. The Pixilator may become highly volitile or very emotional. Do not use the Pixilator when under the influence.

I'll let you know how it turns out. I'm sure Bush is shitting himself in fear of this new piece of technology. Mwa ha ha!

*D.S.Trosdahl~~

2006-04-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

The uselessness of Clint Howard

No name embodies pure, enriched apathy, quite like Clint Howard. The problem, besides his poor acting chops and a face that only Abe Vigoda could love, is that he pops up in movies you least expect. There he is, a sleezy imbecile in the Waterboy. Suddenly your watching Ice Cream Man, and there he is again, a sleezy imbecile killer. And again, during the Grinch. A sleezy, boot-licking, imbecile. The list is mind-numblingly long. Did you know he is the voice of Roo in Winnie the Pooh? God, another useless fact that you really didn't want to know about the most worthless actor in Hollywood.

Clint is the substance you find in the lint trap of your dryer. It's there, everyday, completely pointless, making you angry for no real reason.

So there's Ron, the better-looking (although that's like saying the Phantom of the Opera is better looking than Quazimoto), better actor (ditto), and the more talented brother. Ron made Clint. If not for Ron, Clint would be the creepy janitor in a Junior Highschool in Virginia somewhere. My brother-in-law is an actor, and a damn good one. My only hope is that one day, I can be the Clint to his Ron Howard. I'll have to work on some thinning hair, growing out my forehead, and developing the voice of an eel.

What did writing this blog teach me? Don't, whatever you do, watch The Dentist 2. *Full Body Shudder*

*D.S.Trosdahl~~

2006-04-19T11:20:00.000-07:00

God is too tired to smite.

So this Easter I started reflecting on a few things from the bible. One of the things I noticed is that God hasn't done any major smiting since the days of Moses. What happened? There are lots of good canidates out there, if one puts ones mind to it.

Al Qaida: I can see how this is a difficult one. Even God has trouble finding Osama bin Ladin. Perhaps a plague outbreak in the boondock areas of Aghanistan and Pakistan, if I may suggest?

My mailman: When you are a mailman, but you are too fat to get your ass out of the car to put a package on my front porch, you deserve to be smited.

Debt collecting companies: If there is a more sleazy, less rewarding occupation for all of mankind they both need to smiting.

That guy with the horrible Australian accent on the Outback Steakhouse Commercials: I feel bile enter my mouth now anytime someone mentions the word "steakhouse".

Greensboro, NC and surrounding area: Someone needs to drop some fire and brimstone on that place. Especially Kernersville. The place resembles my dog's anal cavity for some reason.

Whoever created clingwrap: God, that stuff pisses me off. "Let's create some plastic to keep food fresh. However, the dispenser will be a big, jagged blade that only cuts hands, not plastic. And so when the user tries to dispense a piece it will cling upon itself, creating a ball of plastic that will only partly cover the food." That person is godless.

My co-worker, Todd: He thinkes he's the smiter, but he shall be the one to be smotted, er smitten.

Maybe it's a good idea I don't have the power to smite. Wait a second. George W. has the football not too far from him...

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2006-02-23T10:44:00.000-08:00

Miami Vice President

Dick Cheney, sticking with the old Bush credo of "Shoot first, ask questions later", blasted a lawyer a couple of weeks ago. It is rumored that after the incident, the vice president rifled through Harry Whittington's coat pockets, searching in vain for weapons of mass destruction.

It was said that Mr. Whittington suffered a mild heart attack when one of the pellets struck his chest. I have to say, I would have a mild heart attack if I saw one of the Bush Adminstration holding any kind of a weapon.

What a stroke of genius! Let's send the vice president over to Afghanistan/Pakistan. Tell him he's looking for quail. He'll find Osama Bin Ladin in no time!

*D.S.Trosdahl~~

2006-02-16T07:31:00.000-08:00

Baby on (Dash) Board

Here comes the next stop in Britney Spears' transition from glowing pop-star, to white-trash queen. As if marrying loser-rapper-wannabe-trailer-boy Kevin Fedderline wasn't bad enough, you become the mother of his child. Next you hold said child on your lap as you drive from starbucks. In Britney's defense car seats are friggin' expensive. Not only that, but it looks very tacky in your 2006 Escalade.

Britney has released a statement through People Magazine explaining her actions. She says while her bodyguard was in Starbucks getting her a coffee, the paparazzi began to swarm her car while she took her son out of his car seat to wait for her coffee. When the bodyguard returned Britney feared for her child's safety and so drove away saying, "I instinctively took measures to get my baby and me out of harm's way."

So driving down the highway holding a coffee in one hand, the kid in the other, driving with your knees is a "measure to get my baby and me out of harm's way"? The lack of common sense of people sometimes scares me.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2006-02-10T12:10:00.001-08:00

5 Things learned January of 2006

1.) The first six cups of coffee are good. But there's something about that seventh or eighth cup that doesn't set well with the stomach.

2.) Holding a fart in is like holding your breath for a minute. It's not worth it. At some point your going to need to make up for all the breaths you didn't take.

3.) How many cop dramas and lawyer shows do you really need on TV at one time? Is it me or are there like 8 named CSI or Law and Order?

4.) Candy jewlery is gross. However, it's cheap. "Happy Valentine's Day honey!"

5.) If you are going to go postal, at least have the guts to shoot yourself first.

Bush sucks
*D.S.Trosdahl~~

2006-02-10T11:27:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Pay
Here it comes. That magically day of being overcharged for everything from flowers, to stuffed bears. How did this even become a holiday? "Well, St. Valentine died in prison, but he sent out cards to all his followers. To mark his death, let's sell over-priced cards and boxes of assorted chocolates!" F*ck corporate America!

What an awful day to be a kid, eh? Some of you more popular people may not remember back in third grade, when we had to build those valentine's day card holders, made from old reebok boxes, to hold all of our cards in. It kind of sucks when you only have three cards in that basturd, one from the teacher, one from mom, and the other says "To Stacy", so obviously someone mistook your box for one of the cheerleaders (don't cry Dan). F*ck corporate America!

How about highschool? Girls waiting for someone to ask them to the Valentine's Day dance because they don't want to go stag and boys getting rejected because they haven't got enough self-confidence to fill a peanut shell. F*ck corporat... Wait, that one isn't their fault. Oh well, f* corporate America and high school!

For the women: Guys will break up with you just before Valentine's Day to avoid having to buy presents, et al. F*ck corporate America!

I think they should change the name from Valentine's Day to National Obligatory Sex Day. Because If I'm going to buy all this stuff, then I want some sex. No excuses!

Oh yeah. F*ck corporate America! Bush sucks.
*D.S.Trosdahl~~

2006-02-03T12:57:00.000-08:00

The Super Blah
Did you hear that sound? It's the sound of advertisers everywhere groaning in discust.
This year's superbowl features the Pittsburg Steelers, the sixth seed in the AFC, versus the Seattle Seahawks the top seed in the NFC. The saddest part, Seattle, a city known better for its coffee and suicide rate than its sports' teams, is predicted by most to lose the superbowl.

Of course I'm a Viking fan. I'm 25. So, I've never been able to watch the superbowl with any personal feelings on the line. The superbowl is merely a reason for me to eat and drink way too much and wake up on a work day feeling like ass. Not only that, it's the only time during the entire year where I'd rather watch the advertisements instead of the game.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have some beer to drink and commercials to watch.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2006-01-28T19:58:00.000-08:00

Tiny tini's aren't tiny

Holy shit. My wife just made me a dirty martini. What a dirty martini is, for those of you that don't know, is taking a fifth of vodka, sprinkling a little olive juice in it, garnishing with a pair of olives and serving. I think my car can run a hundred miles on two of them. I swear my chest hair grew a couple of inches. Thank you Mrs. Trosdahl. You are the olive... I mean apple of my eye!

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2006-01-26T07:15:00.000-08:00

King Kloooooooong

I can’t believe this is my first post of 2006. I’m neglectful and it’s just not right. Anyhow, over the break I got a chance to see the much hyped, hugely anticipated King Kong. Whilst the special effects were good, and the action scenes were suspenseful, Peter Jackson needs to shut the f*ck up. Good God almighty! The thing stretched out like laffy taffy. I swear I needed ass replacement surgery by the end of it.

Now some movies can last a day and a half and you don’t even realize/care... King Kong was not one of these. It reminded me a lot of Lord of the Rings Return of the King. Pete had to have dozens of those, slow motion, close up, reaction shots. You know the ones I’m talking about. They happen every time Naomi Watts’s character so much as sneezes, we have to have a close up look at the monkey’s face. He holds the shots for way to f*cking long, making you and everyone else in the theatre uncomfortable to the point of squirming.

Peter Jackson did us no favors during the course of this movie, seeming to not cut anything… Except for one of the most important parts. How in the living hell did a rickety ass freighter carry a several ton monkey across the Indian and Atlantic oceans to New York City? After we see Kong hit with two big assed bottles of chloroform and not even slow down, Jack Black’s character hits him with one bottle that magically knocks him out almost instantaneously. The scene then shifts to New York. What the hell happened? I want to know how they transported this guy to the other side of the world on a ship that had been hit with rocks and the crew was dumping anything that wasn’t bolted down into the ocean to conserve weight.

Other Points of interest:

*Jack Black needs to stick with comedy. He has the dramatic acting chops of Bozo the Clown. “It was beauty that killed the beast.” What better way to end a three hour, tortuous movie then with the cheesiest line I have ever heard uttered on film.

*At the end of the movie, we’re gearing up for the big battle between Kong and the airplanes. Suddenly Kong is ice-skating? Jesus. Can’t we just end the movie already? By this time I want the army to kill Kong, to put me out of my misery.

*Colin Hanks sighting. Not just anyone can make it in the movie industry… Unless your dad’s name is Tom Hanks.

*So dinosaurs huh? Looks like they stole one of Lost’s plotlines for this season (Scratch off Matthew Fox fighting raptors).

I'm going to take a bottle of sleeping pills and lay down for a while.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-12-12T19:07:00.000-08:00

Bubble Boy

Today during a press conference George W. Bush claimed "I don't feel like I'm in a bubble." After this statement his mother, Barbara, came out to put his goulashes on him.

Bush went on to inform the American people that he does know what's in the news. "Every morning I look at the newspaper," Bush told NBC. "I can't say I've read every single article in the newspaper. But, I definitely know what's in the news." He added, "That darn Garfield gets into all sorts of trouble, heh. Sometimes I feel like Family Circus is my life!"

This is our president. Shielded from fundamentally sound ideas by the puppet master, Vice President Dick Cheney, our leader goofs his way from one political debacle to the next. Good lord almighty! His approval rating sits at 39% on the CNN/USA Today Gallup poll from last month. Thirty-nine percent! That's like Texas, and five other "red" neck states and that's it.

Okay, I’ll admit though I voted for him, I wasn’t a huge fan of John Kerry. I think I would have rather voted for Jim Carrey, but there’s no way in God’s green earth that he could have done a worse job than Bush Co. The economy is crap, we have no exit strategy in Iraq (because the minute we leave the government is going to collapse and all out civil war will ensue), he is sending all of our jobs to India, he hasn’t captured Osama bin Ladin, and he wants to tear up some of the most pristine areas of Alaska to drill for oil.

Just look at any picture of him and you have to question whether there is any actual thoughts traversing his mind. He looks like a Brazilian Pygmy for Christ sake! Please, please, next election think of this before you elect Jeb Bush to the presidency!

"Bubbles? I love those things. Dick will blow them and I will pop them. Heh, we're a good team!"

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-12-04T15:23:00.000-08:00

Don't Squeeze the Charmin

What the hell is with toilet paper. In 2005 we can't come up with an easy way of getting that first sheet? Do we need different colored t.p.? Could Charmin please find a better ad campaign? To start with, let's go somewhere no one wants to go, a Dan scenerio.

I'm sitting on the toilet, look over and realize that my wife has used up all the t.p. I curse a couple of times and hobble over to get a new roll. I hobble back and have to stare at it for several moments while I try to figure out where the "beginning" is. That's really the key, which sheet is the official "beginning". Frustrated I choose a sheet to be the "beginning". Now's the part where I get several levels of sheets and so I'm not sure which is the "beginning". I generally swear again, and take an entire wad and go from there.

Too graphic? Tell that to Charmin. And while your at it, what the f@ck is with those Charmin bear commercials by the way? I don't want to imagine the shit that is created by a cartoon bear that size. I also don't want to see that disgusting look of satsifaction after it uses Charmin toilet paper. Ugh.

If you are already in the Charmin office complaining about the first two points (good for you, I didn't realize this blog had that kind of power over you) let them know we don't want black toilet paper. Apparently black toilet paper is the rage in Japan. There's a lot of things wrong with this idea, but in the appearance of good taste (ha! not in this blog), I shall refrain from naming them and allow you to draw your own conclusions.

Man, after this post I feel dirty. I'm going for a shower.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-12-03T10:29:00.000-08:00

5 Things Learned: November 2005

1.) When a bar of soap has dissolved into one of those skinny shavings, fight that cheap basturd inside your consciousness and buy a new bar. If you don't want to "waste" it, feel free to collect a dozen of them and attach them to a small string, making a Deodorant bracelet or necklace out of them.

2.) Childproof is to Child what unguarded bank vault is to a robber.

3.) Someone should really tell Superman to put his underwear on first.

4.) George W Bush has plagiarized the Curious George series just by living.

5.) Thanksgiving for two means leftovers for a week and a half.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-12-01T19:40:00.000-08:00

Please try this at home

Okay, so I've been out awhile. I know all my writing fans out there (all two of them) have been disappointed with the long wait. Call it a Turkey Day hangover. But it gave me plenty of time to think of something that has really bothered me over the past couple of months. Commercials.

The commercials I'm thinking of involve automobiles. There are two in particular that make me want to find the creative genius behind them, and strangle him with a stero cord.

The first commercial, I think is Ford (it could be Chevy, either way, its asinine), involves a lengthy explanation of how strong the bolts that hold the bed of the pickup to its body or something, I generally start to lose interest and fade in-and-out of consciousness when I realize which ad is on. Then the truck is hoisted, ass end up, by a crane attached by just one of those bolts. Impressive. But then the most annoying thing happens. A little scientist-looking dude seems to step underneath the truck, hanging by a cord. First off, you can tell he isn't directly under it, he's actually standing behind it (Ford/Chevy isn't about to risk an impressive lawsuit over this commercial). Secondly, a little message pops up at the bottom of the screen that informs you, the home viewer, who are most likely middle to lower class, not to try this at home. Let that sink in for a second. Okay, are you officially dumbed down? Like who in the living Christ has a goddamn crane sitting in his garage? Not on a $1000 a month mortgage you don't.

The second commercial is one for Jeep. This one literally makes me pull my hair out. My wife will ask what I'm doing and I'll tell her I couldn't help it, the commercial and all. She just smiles and makes a mental note to up my meds. Anyhow, this commercial simply involves a jeep supposedly driving at the bottom of the ocean. The kids in the back seat stare out through the sun roof pointing out which sharks and fish are their favorites. The Jeep emerges and another one of those messages appears. It says something about "Dramitization, Jeep is not used for this kind of activity, do not try at home".

Why do we even have these messages on either commercial? This fact has been stated about stupid, lawsuit driven messages before, but I will restate in one word. Darwin. Let’s let Darwin have his way. We’ll be better off without these people. And maybe, just maybe, the writers behind these heinous commercials will have a truck drop on their collective heads while standing at the ocean floor, ridding us of stupid car commercials once and for all. Amen.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-11-08T10:39:00.000-08:00

K.entucky F.ried C.rap

KFC's new ad campaign has gotten on my nerves. So much so, it's time to vent a little. In their most recent commercial a middle-aged, balding man is eating his lunch. A woman walks in and starts heckling him. Apparently he's literally a rocket scientist and he spent $8 at a casual sit-down type restaurant, whilst she went to fancy schmancy KFC and got a meal for $4. She then laughs all condescendingly at him because he's the rocket scientist and he should have known better. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Skank.

First of all, if we're going based on quality of food, anyone can dunk a rat in a fat fryer and call it chicken. If I want chicken that tastes like homemade (my wife, by the way, makes a damn fine chicken) I won't be going to KFC. Secondly, in the ad it clearly states, “Beverage not included”. Which means, tack on another buck twenty-five. If tax is also not included, we’re now up near $6.

So take that KFC! And if you ever, ever laugh at me condescendingly again I’ll shove your face in that fat fryer! All right Chili’s, TGIFriday’s, and Rockola, I expect some compensation for standing up for you. I’ll have my people talk to your people.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-11-03T18:18:00.000-08:00

Talentless in Louisiana

Oh god. Did anybody hear Kevin Federline's first attempts at becoming a mainstream Rap Artist? Didn't think so. I get the feeling you will continue not to hear much. Here's a bit of what he has to offer.

"Back then, they called me K-Fed, but you can call me Daddy instead."

"My prediction is that y'all gonna hate on the style we create, straight 2008."

Please make him stop. We're talking about a guy that will be considered the Aaron Carter of the rap world. The Pauly Shore of the acting community. The proverbial Tom Arnold of comedians. This guy's fifteen minutes have already come and gone. The only reason you still see him is the fact that he's grasping Britney's coat tails so hard the Paparazzi can't get a clean shot of her without him. If anyone buys this crappy album, called "the truth", coming out next year, each of them should be methodically shot. The Truth? The Truth is Kevin the amount of space you've taken up in this blog is more than you are worth. DTroz out.

Isn't that the guy that use to sleep in the dumpster outside my old apartment?
*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-11-01T19:21:00.000-08:00

What, me worry?

Ever feel like you are part of some large-scale psychological experiment? Like everyone you know is a control subject and you are the test subject? I get that a lot. I'll be at work, checking my cubicle for the hidden cameras, searching my co-workers for "wires", etc. It's like I'm in the book 1984, waiting for Big Brother's minions to carry me away one day, leaving my cube vacant, as if no one was ever there...

Am I paranoid or is the janitor making notes about me behind my back? Is it my imagination or does my boss go through my stuff when I'm not around? Where the hell is this blog going? Point, I need a point and fast. Oh yeah paranoia. Good, sweet paranoia.

Why is it that whenever a cop (even the local po po) pulls behind me, I get the distinct impression they’re going to pull me over? I'll be driving 37 in a 35 zone and I'll drop down to 34, just in case. What the hell is that?

When I go to a fast food place I wonder if any of my meal ended up on the floor at any one point during its creation. The 5-second rule be damned. Or did some snotty fifteen year old foul it up some other way (please, let your imaginations wander)?

I swear that my tire is going to blow, the check engine light is going to come on, or my car is going to die whenever I drive somewhere. I turn the radio down. Did my car just make a clunking sound, or did I go over a bump? Is that smoky smell coming from my Focus, or the polluted red neck wreck of a truck in front of me?

Was that noise down stairs caused by my two cats trying to kill each other or a burglar? Was that just the stupid nut tree dropping shit on my car or some shit head nut job stealing the CDs out of my car?

Time to submerge myself inside the bubble, go to sleep, and think happy thoughts.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-26T16:37:00.000-07:00

Anal Probes down; Alien tourism on the decline

The number of alien sightings in our country has dropped well below the national average the past several years. Some fear gas prices in Alpha Centuri have caused lower interstellar travel. Others claim the instability in the Middle East have kept many aliens away. But I know the true reason… Aliens have already learned enough about us and are bored.

How sad is that? Human beings have been around for at least 10,000 years (depending on your various religious affiliations) developing different cultures, literature, and art. And in about sixty years of anal probing, extraterrestrial life is done with us. I for one feel violated.

What does that mean to me? Well, it makes me think we’re the Steve Eurkel of the galaxy; the George W. of politics, if you will. Earth is like that guy at work that you are forced to invite to your party, because you invited everyone else. But he’s uninteresting and no one has anything in common with him, so they choose to ignore him. Yeah, that’s us.

So the question is; what can we do? Well, for starters, most people who get abducted by aliens are unshaven, unshod, redneck hillbillies. It actually surprises me slightly that aliens kept coming back to anal probe these people for six decades. So I say we need to give them someone new, fun, and interesting to study. Rachel McAdams should be probed. There are others, but I won’t name them here as my wife may decide to scalp me and sell the top of my head on E-Bay, but you get the picture. Even if we can give them someone whose most recent shower was not a drizzle last week, perhaps we can generate new interest in our species.

We have an Earth Day, why not a Mars Day? Let everyone dress up as their favorite off-worlder (I’ve always been partial to Alf), show some Alien pride. Let’s not have a parade however. People may get confused as to which Pride Day they are at…

I mentioned in a previous blog that I would like to speed up our technological advances. What better way then ask species who fly through space on a daily basis? So put on that old E.T. t-shirt that’s getting moldy in your attic, put on that tin foil hat (as in Signs), and let’s phone home!

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

Meteorology: Writers needed

If America is going to improve, it has to happen one small piece at a time. I believe my suggestions could do a lot of good to reaching that end. For instance, forecasting hurricanes could use some improvements.

Let’s start with hurricane naming. If you tell me that Stan is coming over to visit, even if I’ve never met this person, it doesn’t exactly strike fear into the core of my being. Hurricane names are awful. From Ophelia, which sounds like a Shakespearan shemale, to Pablo, a little Mexican waiter, hurricane-naming conventions could definitely stand for some modifications. First of all, more dangerous sounding names need to be implemented to force residents to evacuate. Can you imagine Hurricane Vinny coming to break your kneecaps? How about Hurricane Tyrone? That’s not a brother you want to piss off. There are others such as Hurricane Herpes or Hurricane Mad Cow, that make me want to pack up and move inland. If worst comes to worst we can break out some of the truly horrendous-sounding names, like Hurricane N’sync or Hurricane Ricky Martin.

Not only do hurricane names need to change, but also their system of gauging a hurricane’s strength needs to be different. Category 5 sounds like something I marked on my taxes last year. Let’s come up with something a little more imaginative and descriptive:

Category Lights Out (Category 1) – Meaning, if this hurricane is bearing down, prepare to lose your power.

Category Treehouse (Category 2) – any trees in your front lawn will now reside inside your living room.

Category Volvo (Category 3) – The storm can blow a station wagon through your front door.

Category Ass water (Category 4) – Your house will be submerged in sewage.

Category Moving Day (Category 5) – Your current residence is about to change addresses, so you might as well also.

Something else that needs to change is to remove idiots from the weather channel from the beachheads. If the city or state government is advocating evacuation, would someone tell those dumbshit weather reports that they are not doing a very good job of leading by example? Cripes. Not only that but even our beloved Al Roker (mentioned in a previous blog) tried to get swept to sea during Hurricane Wilma (before stomach stapling this would have been an impossible task!).

Let’s get these changes instituted as soon as possible. Something that is several hundred miles wide and travels as fast as I can jog should never catch a city or state “unawares”. America is a big place; I’ll spread my wisdom as fast as I can.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-21T20:22:00.000-07:00

My Cat Needs Weight Watchers

My wife and I have two cats. They have the Laurel and Hardy thing going on. One is skinny the other is a solid black morbidly obese feline. I’m talking friggin’ huge. Think Sally Struthers. Marlon Brando. Old Elvis. I think you’re getting the picture. So here’s the deal. He’s a massive glob of fur and fat, and yet, I don’t feed him all that much. He doesn’t like treats, and for the most part he leaves people food strictly alone. Which begs the question, why is he so goddamn fat?

Inactivity is probably part of it. I don’t think I’ve seen a living being move so little since that woman on What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?. Occasionally he’ll get up and chase the smaller cat around. Perhaps climb our steps to feed on dry cat food. That’s about it.

There is the possibility that after we go to bed at night, he goes into the fridge and fixes himself some leftover fried chicken and a Miller Highlife, I’m not sure. I need to figure this out before PETA starts camping out outside my house, protesting that I’m over-feeding my cat.

I think he’s starting to take my verbal abuse to heart though. Every so often he’ll start puking for no apparent reason. I gather he’s semi bulimic. If that doesn’t work I guess I’ll just get him to lose weight the old fashioned way. Mix in a bunch of diet pills with a slim fast shake and make him snort some coke. Watch the pounds melt off!

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-20T12:44:00.000-07:00

Five Things Learned – October 2005,

1. A watch that states it’s water resistant up to 100 meters actually means it is water resistant outside of 100 meters from water.

2. A death sentence equals 20 years of life.

3. Tax Refunds aren’t free money. It’s money the Government borrowed from you and is finally paying you back a year later.

4. Children age four times faster than adults.

5. Dust is made up of mostly dead skin cells. So I’ve decided to gather enough dust to form a corpse.

Oh, it ended weird.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-16T17:11:00.000-07:00

A Roker leash

Al Roker, if you are reading this blog I will do anything, absolutely anything for just one favor. I will tattoo your name on my chest and prance down Times Square screaming your praises. I will bookmark the Today show on my TV for the rest of the century. Hell, I’ll break into other people’s houses and bookmark the Today show on their TVs for the rest of the century. Just please, please, don’t go through with your reality show!

There are already plenty of useless reality shows on television (Martha Stewart Apprentice, Biggest Loser, etc). Do we really need one about dogs? That’s right; Al has created a show that has hidden cameras to catch dogs being disobedient, and then he has some hard ass animal trainer whip them into shape. My first question is why are the cameras hidden? The damn dog doesn’t know the difference. Second of all, who the @#%^ cares if someone else’s dog is being disobedient? As long as it’s shitting on their floor and not mine, I could give a rat’s ass.

This is more reality madness that must be stopped! What next? Cat’s on the rampage!? Teaching Birds how to talk? Come on Al. If you won’t do it for me, please, do it for the children.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-13T20:35:00.000-07:00

Cry me a Rivers

Joan and Melissa Rivers; this pair definitely need a blog dedicated just for them. If the inane, useless crap that comes out of Joan’s mouth on the red carpet isn’t enough, cutting over to her inane, useless, clone of a daughter is worse. Aack, and what the hell happened to Joan’s face? At some point you stop and let nature take its course. Her head looks like it is made of laffy taffy. The Crypt Keeper called, he wants his look back Joan.

The two Rivers can be seen on the TV Guide channel hosting red carpet events. I don’t know or care much about any of the award shows and only watch them when my wife turns it on. But what I do see makes me want to turn to that Oxi-Clean infomercial instead. Joan Rivers critiquing stars on their style points is like Mumar Quadifi preaching to Jesus about morality. And her daughter **Full body shiver**. Melissa Rivers looks like a science experiment that went wrong. As in the Island of Dr. Moreau. I get the feeling she’s going to pop out a baby girl soon and then we’ll have another seventy years worth of tasteless remarks about fashion… And that will still be Joan Rivers!

Is that Captain Stubing giving Joan Rivers a copy of his new book, "Save your Face, Kill a Plastic Surgeon"?

Okay, I give up, which one is Joan?

Melissa Rivers; meandering in her mother’s facesteps.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-10-08T20:12:00.000-07:00

Salaried employees

This blows. Over the past week I’ve had to work sixty-five (65) hours. I received pay for forty of those hours. Not only that, but after I went home I dreamed about work. That’s just not right. Plus, I’m also on call for my company every third week. The week before I got called on a Production problem at 3 in the morning. Come on!

I’ve determined that my company owes me about twenty hours worth of wages a day for this entire week. I’d go on strike, but they’d just replace me when some guy from Pakistan that speaks no English and works for minimum wage. Hell, they’ll probably do that anyway when they try to outsource my job there. Therefore, I’ve decided to go postal. But because I don’t own a gun, I’ll have to use a shovel instead. It may be slow, but it’ll get the job done.

I’ll send you a post card from Prison.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

I Need a Plumber.

I walk out to my mailbox with a sense of dread, every time. There’s this overpowering sense of destitute that washes over me as I close in on my destination. Fear grips my heart like icicles hanging from my aorta. I open my mail box and there it is. Crap.

I don’t know about your mail, but if I’m not missing my guess, you get crap too. A lot of it. All over. This has been happening as long as mail has been delivered. Not only that, but it has begun to spill out into new technology. As if we don’t see enough crap on TV, or listening to it on the radio, there it is, waiting on your computer monitor and in your mailbox. We must do something, and fast.

Let’s start by categorizing the crap in your mail. You’ve got your useless magazines. The ones that you didn’t ask for, that have things you would never buy inside of them, and flowers on the front of them. Lots of flowers. Pink ones. They are usually about home decorating, ethnic shopping, or urban architecture. I’d rather read the religious pamphlets some cult-like church stuck in my box than those magazines. At least the pamphlets make me chuckle. Ah Scientology. Heh heh heh.

Up next are the AOL installation CDs I get once a month. This is the worst advertising campaign I’ve ever seen. Like if they keep sending me their CDs, at some point I’m going to say, “What the hell? Why not just shove this circular thing in my computer and see what chaos could ensue.” What we really need to do, instead of just tossing them, is to give them new jobs. Get some use out of the crap. Coasters are an old tradition. Skeet shooting can be fun. Also, and my personal favorite, use a half dozen of them to put under that chair or stool in your house (you know the one) that one of the legs is shorter than the other.

The best crap is other people’s mail crap. This is when some dumbass company can’t figure out that John Thompson doesn’t live in your rental house anymore and four years later still keep sending him mail. You know its crap when it says on it “For John Thompson or current resident of 123 Sesame Street.” Yeah, so now I have mail sloppy seconds. I don’t think so, Scooter.

Then you get your computer crap. Ads for penis enlarging, naked girls, and monetary scams, you know the drill. My favorite is the letter from General Aji Magi Boombagi’s son, Bart. Apparently the general keeled over whilst pillaging some East African village and the only way his son Bart can collect his $2,000,000,000 of inheritance money is to split it with you. But first you must send him 9 easy payments of $5,000. And then half of the inheritance money is yours. Sounds like no strings attached, where do I sign up Chief? Yahoo mail does a pretty good job of diverting this Spam (email crap) to your bulk folder. However, other types exist that aren’t so easily foiled.

The worst emails are the ones you get from your demi-friends. These are the people you met in college, or at some old job, that you really don’t talk to, but accidentally made the mistake of giving them your email address and they forward junk to you. They add you to their Address Book of horror and then email half the Western Hemisphere annoying religious chain mail, urban legends (did you know Elvis isn’t dead? He’s sitting in a tube of formaldehyde waiting for someone to find a cure for obesity), and those excruciating snow ball fights. That’s when someone creates an ASCII picture of a snowball and tell you that you’ve been hit by a snowball and you need to send it to everyone you know within thirty-eight seconds or you’ll be hit by a Greyhound Bus and the IRS will take all your worldly goods and sell your wife and children into slavery in Saudi Arabia (I get a lot of email crap). I’m tempted to freeze some water in the shape of a bowling ball, find out where the ass lives and smash his skull with my snowball.

So, please, stop sending crap. Don’t add to the problem when you can be apart of the solution. Don’t buy shit from ads you find in your mailbox. And for the love of God, don’t send Bart any money. His real name is Bill and he owns Microsoft.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-27T19:58:00.000-07:00

Dude, where’s my wife?

Okay, I’ve decided to start a new segment in the early life of my blog site. Every so often, when warranted, I will do a blog on strange happenings in Hollyweird. It will encompass all of entertainment, be it movies, music, and television. So my first of many to come has to start with…

Well everybody, you’ve been Punked! That’s right, Ashton Kutcher has reportedly married long time crush Demi Moore. What started as a nice little publicity stunt has become a full-blown publicity marriage. I’d like to go on the record as saying I have no problem with their relationship. I just like putting these things in perspective: Ashton was 12 when Demi starred in Ghost and her eldest daughter Rumer (17) is almost in his date range (if he squints).

Here are a couple of other strange things associated with this marriage. Bruce Willis has been a big fan of the newly weds, going to several functions with them including their wedding… I don’t know about you, but I think I would be a touch nervous about a woman whose ex-husband really loves seeing you with his former wife. Especially Bruce Willis. The guy’s eyes look they could pierce through Kevlar. Good luck Ashton. Also, Demi and Bruce’s three daughters refer to Ashton as their MOD (My Other Dad). This is creepy because he’s playing a character on That 70’s show who is just out of high school.

Here’s to a long blissful fourteen months of marriage. Prediction time, they will announce their divorce on Nov. 26th of 2006.

"Oh Ashton! Can you even buy beer?"

He kind of looks like one of her kids in this shot, doesn't he?

"I'll kill him."

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-26T11:35:00.000-07:00

2005 – an Earth Odyssey

After a week of anticipation... My next post.

Where the hell is my jet pack? This is the year 2005 people! I need my flying car, my transporting machine, and a toaster that will not blacken my toast. So I ask you, honestly, where are they?

Cars have actually taken a step back in appearance. Year after year, automobiles had become more and more streamlined, giving them a more “futuristic” look. Then came the Honda Element. This piece of crap looks like a friggin’ box on wheels, setting the automotive trend back about twenty years.

And the space shuttle? Tell me that it doesn’t look like a tiny moth clinging to a gigantic turd. Our space ships should be going light speed and shooting lasers by now. The International space station looks like something I constructed out of Lincoln logs when I was 6.

This is the future! What gives? Okay, granted, shooting a laser into someone’s eye to make him or her see better is quite the advancement. Also, 95 year old men getting erections (a.k.a. Viagara) is also a modern miracle (although very disgusting and not a good thing. Can you imagine a 95-year-old father?). But it’s not enough.

I’m going back to sleep. Someone please tell me when my Levitating boots are ready. Thanks.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-19T16:07:00.000-07:00

Pick and Save me from this hell

My favorite part of going to the supermarket is that wait at the check out counter. But before that happens you have to pick a lane. It really doesn’t matter which lane you pick, you know it’s going to be the slow one either way. Most likely there is at least one extremely old person in line or someone who does all of their grocery shopping once a month (think weird hillbilly folk from Deliverance). If you find a lane that does not have either of these types of people, chances are the ATM machine will be locked up, the receipt dispenser will be jammed or the check-out person will be talking on a cell phone, completely ignoring your presence. I think grocery stores need to change a few things.

First of all, their layouts leave something to be desired. If there are two doors, they should both lead into the store. However (and I think they do this because of the five-finger discount), I in veritably always come in the side closest to the check out counters so I either have to walk all the way back across the store, or scoot through one of the check out openings. I always feel like such a tard when I do that.

Why can’t the milk and eggs section be closest to the registers? Yeah I know, they figure if it’s at the opposite end of the store I will probably see something I like (spaghetti O’s, Cinnamon toast crunch, etc) and will buy it. I, for one, am not 5. I possess the will power to say “no” to beef jerky and donut holes so please just move the eggs and milk closer to the register.

While they’re at it, it would be nice if at least one store would think about how their parking is lined up. The stores I go to have those annoying one-way roads that everyone ignores anyway. All the spaces are lined up at an angle. I understand that it’s easy for most people to simply pull into and out of a spot like that easier than one that is perpendicular to the store. Unfortunately too many ass clowns go down the wrong way and end up taking three parking places when they try to park. Also, it would be nice if they put a few more of those cart oasis things out there. It feels like I have to push that M-F cart three blocks before I can find a place to dump it. By that time I might as well have just pushed the damn thing home and walked back for my car.

However, no matter how annoying the trip to the grocery store is, I will keep going to super markets as much as I can to avoid the trip to the imperialistic Walmart, or as I like to call it: Hell’s bathroom. So Food Lion, I guess you’ve got me by the short hairs on that one. Maybe I could grow my own food…

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-18T19:39:00.000-07:00

Stay off the grass!

My wife and I live on the outskirts of a small town. Our street isn’t what you’d call a major thoroughfare; however we get more than our fair share of guests.

A year ago an older lady came to our door. For this story we will call her Dorothy. Dorothy said she tried to call her friend (she will be Blanche), who lives on the same street as us and there was no answer. This worried Dorothy to the point of jumping into her car and driving to see her friend. However, she didn’t know exactly where her friend lived. She knew the house and street number but didn’t see it on her way. Dorothy tried calling her friend from our house, but getting no answer decided to follow my advice and drive back down the road to where I told her I thought it was. The next day I drove by the house she was talking about and the number was clearly marked on the side. I sure hope Dorothy remembered where she lived with her Sicilian mother and Rose Nylin.

We were grilling outside on a nice summer evening when a van pulled into our driveway. A man and woman walked over to us and after sniffing our food asked us if we wanted a demonstration of a vacuum cleaner they were selling. I tried to tell them that we have so little carpet, that the way I keep it clean is to scrub our fat cat over the floor, collecting whatever dirt and grime are there, and then beating him like a rug outside. They said it worked just as well on hard wood floors and then proceeded to take out a damn dust buster. Good God! Not long ago we had another guy trying to sell the same type of dust buster… Hell, it might have been the same dust buster. I sure hope nobody bought one of those pieces of crap.

Not long ago our neighbor boy ran over to our house and asked to use our phone because his grandma had just been robbed. I called the police for him. Apparently some woman had pulled into their driveway with an over-heated car. They had grabbed water and poured it on the engine to cool it down. Then the women pushed the grandma to the floor, grabbed her checkbook and ran out of the house.

About two weeks ago a teenage girl came to our telling a story that was obviously memorized about how her and her family was stranded from Georgia. They simply appeared to be panhandling their way through NC.

A while ago the owner of the house across the street (she rents it out) came over to my house with a flyer. Apparently the woman’s nephew was moving into the house and he was starting up a lawn mowing business (I have an enormous lawn and I wouldn’t want to think about how much it would cost for someone to mow it for me). What really struck me about the woman were her teeth. Actually it was her lack of teeth. It made it extremely hard to understand the words that were coming out of her hole of a mouth. I politely took the flyer, nodded several times, closed the door, and then deposited it into my disposable safety deposit box.

On multiple occasions I’ve had Baptist, Methodist, and Jehovah Witnesses at my door. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got an inverted cross on my roof or something and I’m just a beacon for reformers. I don't sacrafice live chickens (although I will eat KFC on occassion) and I don't howl at the moon so back the f#$% off!

These are the kind of things I expect to see if I lived in a city. The thing is I live a mile from the town itself, and it’s not a big town. So I guess the only answer is buy a great dane and leave him on my porch. I have a feeling I won't be getting as many visitors.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

Ninja me this.

So, you and your girlfriend are walking to the park for a picnic. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and the pair of you is just enjoying each others company. Suddenly a dozen men dressed in black designer pajamas drop from a nearby tree and start vainly trying to beat your face in. Has this ever happened to you? I get it all the time. The problem is there just aren’t enough ninja movies out there these days.

Over the past three decades a decline in ninja movies has seen an increase in unemployed ninjas and it’s only getting worse. There was a brief comeback for them during the 90s with 3 Ninjas, 3 Ninjas Kick Back, 3 Ninjas Knuckle Up, and of course, 3 Ninjas at High Noon. But Jackie Chan’s recent announcement that he’s retiring from action movies, I’m assuming to do comedic children’s cartoons, along with the off-shoring of many ninja movies to Asia (as in Sleeping Tiger, Hidden Dragon) has seen the swelling of non-working ninjas. They’re every where now days. From beach parties to office meetings, you just can’t escape them.

Washington hasn’t been completely blind to what’s been going on. Taking time out from a busy day of pretending to care about the Hurricane Katrina disaster, Bush was quoted as saying, “Yeah, ninjas. Those crazy dudes with the masks over their heads, heh heh. I know’s ‘em. The government is going to do their part, but the American citizens have to pitch in as well. I mean, I’m your president, not your leader. Heh heh.”

Recently several hundred tried to enter into the multiple branches of the military, but most were excused off-hand. “They attack one-on-one, even when there are twenty of them in a room,” stated former Secretary of State Colin Powell. “How could this possibly help our military forces in Iraq?”

All hope is not lost. “They definitely have the moves,” said Lars Oelinger, choreographer and author of the new play on Broadway, Men have curves too. “Some of them even have some talent. We’ll ship these men in by the truck load and see what they’re made of!” There’s talk of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 4 movie, with Vanilla Ice (Rob Van Winkle) coming back to do the soundtrack to extend a career that should have totally faded by 1994.

Recently, a number of little-known celebrities attempted to have a telethon for this just cause. Headed by Lyle Lovitz and Bob Dylan, the telethon netted five dollars and twenty-seven cents; along with four boxes of diapers and a dozen bottles of water.

So you see; some people are doing your part. You have to do yours. If you see any of these poor souls out on the street, do them a favor. Kick each one’s ass individually. They’ll thank you for it later.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-14T17:57:00.000-07:00

Monkey See

Have you ever stopped to think about how closely related to primates we are? I have. We’re about two strands of DNA (in certain cases even less) away from eating our own poop and picking bugs out of our co-workers hair.

In the spirit of this blog, I’d like to coin a new term. For those people who exhibit a few too many baboon-like traits, may I offer you, the “mankeys”. Don’t tell me you don’t know these people. On more than one occasion I have been one. A person goes mankey when they forget the “civilized” part of being human and act on pure animal instincts instead. Dealing with Sprint’s customer service line will do that to you. I’ve started screeching at the phone so loud that my wife had to coax me away from it using a banana and a National Geographic with a picture of a female ape on the front. Not a pretty picture.

Could monkeys ever rule the world ala Planet of the Apes? I’ve often pondered that. I say no, and only because primates, for the most part, show no real ambitions in life other than to scratch themselves, eat, and look for females. Or, in other words, act like a single man. I don’t think monkeys were put in cages in zoos. I believe the zoos built the cages around them and they just don’t give a damn.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have absolutely no inhibitions what so ever? To just spend all day, hanging from a tree, throwing shit at passing pedestrians? Sure, the bright red ass could get on your nerves once in a while. I’m also assuming the taste of fleas isn’t the best. But one day, that will be my life. So if you see a naked, pale man tumble by with poop in one hand and a national geographic in the other, hooting like there’s no tomorrow, don’t panic. Just know that Dan Trosdahl went mankey for life.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-13T19:37:00.000-07:00

Don't Spoiler my day.

There are certain things a car needs to operate. An engine is usually a big help. A car is quite useless without gas, or a steering wheel. However there are a multitude of things that are put onto cars which they do not need.

One of these things is hubcaps. No, I'm not referring to the standard fare that comes directly from the plant. I'm talking about the bling bling ones that blind you as wait at a red light. You know the ones; they generally cost more than the car itself. The particularly annoying ones roll when the car has come to a stop. This gives it the illusion that the wheels are still turning. That's nice. Hey Chief, why don't you forget about the caps and instead do something about that piece of crap muffler that's dragging under your car, throwing sparks, and sounding like a Harley?

Decals are nice too. Lightning bolts or racing stripes along the sides are a favorite of many of the locals down here in North Carolina. Here's a tip. Get a car that actually looks fast for starters. Painting speed lines on a 1990 Toyota truck does not mean it's going to win in the Auto Truck series this year.

How about bumper stickers? Those can be fun too, in moderation. Why do some people feel the need to plaster eighty-five of them to the back of their pea green station wagon? Generally they have some kind of religious undertone to them; some passage in Isiah or something. Or their kid was special boy of the day fifty times at school. Tell you what, when your kid graduates from JuCo go ahead and splurge on "My kid is an honor student" stickers. But no one wants to know how proud you are of your pre-schooler for only pooping in the corner twice one week at school. Also, the election was over a year ago. Please rip those crappy political adds of your automobiles. Jesus! No one was going to vote for Ralph Nader anyway.

Would you please stop customizing your license plates? How many times have I seen VETTE69 on the plates for a Corvette? No shit sherlock, I know what a corvette looks like. I'd rather see it say COMPENS8 or IMPOTENT instead. You don't need to express your individuality on your car. Trust me, with that face you are definately an individual that no one will copy.

Lastly, and one of the banes of my existence, is the spoiler. Now, I have one on my Ford Focus. It's fairly descrete and gives my car a certain charm. But what I've seen increasingly are people bolting giant spoilers to the trunks of their car. It looks like they strapped a damn airplane fin to their vehicle. I'm not very good with physics and I suppose a spoiler must help make your vehicle more aerodynamic. However, bolting a Cessna onto your Honda Civic has got to be one of the most retarded things you could do to your automobile. I'm not sure if it's insanely ghetto or incredibly redneck. Probably a bit of both. So please do me a favor. Think before you paint, strap on, bolt, or stick something to your car.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-12T16:51:00.000-07:00

It’s Liquid. It’s Ice. It’s crap!

I’m sure that all of you have been exposed to those inane Ice Breakers commercials. You know the ones I’m talking about. If you don’t because you’ve been self deprecating yourself from television, here’s a recap of the two commercials I’m talking about.

First up are Jessica Simpson and her snotty sister Ashely. The pair is staying at a plush resort with Ashely sucking on said Ice Breakers. The entire time Jessica is rambling on about it being “liquid or ice?” Now, I’ll stare at Jessica Simpson as long as the next man. But her whiny voice begins to drain on me after a while. Is Nick Lachey an incredibly lucky man or is he a man crying for help?

The next commercial features two sisters who should not be on TV. At all. Period. They are Hillary Duff and her sister Haylie. One has the voice of a donkey; the other has its face. They are staying at a swank hotel arguing over whether Ice Breakers are liquid or ice. This is the kind of argument your kids have in the back seat about whose game boy is whose. It takes about three seconds for this to become unbearable causing the father to swerve violently off the road and shout every foul-mouthed word he can think of.

My biggest fear is that the Judds will reunite and write a song about which one it is, liquid or ice. For the love of God, please stop this madness from spreading! Have a tic-tac instead.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~

2005-09-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

The ABC's of 'X'

I set up this blog to discuss the really important issues of our time. Such as articles that slip through the cracks, hard-hitting human interest stories that don't make prime time, tid-bits that just haven't been discussed enough. I shall start with the letter 'X'.

What is the point of 'X'? Of all of the letters in the alphabet, it has got to be the most useless of them all. Sort of like a mascot at a baseball game or the nipples on a man. Let’s check the facts shall we?

List every word you can think of that starts with "X". Yeah, all three of them. Notice a pattern? That’s right; they could all be replaced with the letter "Z". As in, "that zylophone is out of tune" or “My zenophobia is acting up again”.

How about words like Eckcellent and Eckscrement? Is X being biased against ‘C’ and ‘K’? They work well together as a team and ‘X’ couldn’t handle that because the only letter it seems to work with is ‘E’ and nobody likes him. ‘E’ is like that guy you see on the street who seems familiar, but you don’t remember his name, so you avoid eye contact with him, as to avoid an awkward conversation.

Also, without ‘X’, we would have twenty-five letters in the alphabet. Isn’t that a nice number? Easy for the children to remember, but still more than the Hawaiian alphabet which seems like your saying the same words over and over again. Besides, who even remembers where it is in the alphabet? Somewhere after ‘W’. Or is it before ‘W’? Who knows?

Finally are the religious implications of the letter ‘X’. What does the ‘X’ stand for in X-mas? That’s right, our Lord and Savior. He has been replaced by this blasphemous letter. Next thing you know the ‘X’ will be replaced by a big fat jolly man and we can name it what the candy and toy companies have been waiting for years to call it, Santamas.

So do the world a favor and never speak of the letter ecks again. Necks time we will go into the letter cue and why it also should never be used in a sentence. Or a cuestion.

*D.S. Trosdahl~~