Happy Daneday!

Hail Dane! Hail Dane! Danehead forever! The politics of never! Hail Dane! Hail Dane!

Today is the leader's birthday! The birthday of the leader! We carve a graven image for him! In the spirit of happiness and feverish sweating we bring it to you so you may grovel about the legend of the 27th birthday of the true owner of the Happy Fun Super Time page! Ah hah hah hah hah!

It's a Daneabration, and everyone's invited! But don't worry if you miss it, because the Magical Daneabration never really ends!


Wait, what?

Mechanical Dane ruined my life

I was thinking about Joel’s last post. There were only two girls that found Joel unattractive. That’d be a great night for me.

I wonder how many girls left the bar that night wondering why that smokin’ guy in the grey jacket never noticed their smiles and glances, their playful hair tosses and waves. All those depressed girls going home and writing posts on their blog about how they’re hideous and not cool. Joel’s probably turned thousands of ladies into unhappy women who will never leave their apartments because one guy, in a grey jacket, never made a move or even returned a little grin. Just raise your lips. Is that so hard Joel? Huh? Poor ladies.

Damn you by the way. One of those members of the opposite sex could have been my future wife. Why do you hate me so much? Everything you do is part of some grand scheme to make me miserable and my life horrible.

Remember, I had that one date in high school. One date! I could have been a ladies’ man, but no. You built a remote-control robot that looked like me in every way. Then, just before I went to pick her up, you knocked me out with your blackjack and sent mechanical Dane instead. I’m not sure exactly what you did, but there were some nasty stories flying around the school and I never had a romantic outing with any other girl during my impressionable high school years.

I lost what little confidence I had when approaching women. I turn bright red and stutter uncontrollably. I’m the loser not you. And to make matters worse, I don’t have a grey coat. You always have to rub your jacket in my face. “Look at my grey coat Dane! Don’t you like my grey coat? Your coat sucks. You suck. That’s why you’re single, DANE.”

I’m going to go cry. Are there any shoulders out there for me?



New subject

I was thinking about a new TV show. It’ll be the most popular ever and it’s totally original. I call it CSI: Lost. It’s about a group of criminologists who solve murders on an island their plane crashed on. No one from civilized society knows they’re still alive because they flew so far off their planned course during an horrible storm.

The island, which at first looks totally ordinary, will have ridiculous secrets and enough people and murders to keep this show running for ever.

The first episode will show the plane crash. The four main characters will discover a hidden, fully stocked crime lab and will begin to solve the mystery of why the plane crashed and who did it. I’m guessing there will be a molecule of DNA on bolt 6,799,547,223 that will break the case wide open. Of course, the four main characters will be of mixed race and be very attractive.

The show will contain several love triangles, a mysterious guy, pirate treasure, dinosaurs and hobbits for Joel. I’m thinking about giving some of the characters superpowers, but that seems a little far fetched. What do you all think?

Also…

I went and saw The Departed last night. It was a good movie until the end. Marky Mark kills Matt Damon. Yeah, I ruined it for you. Screw you. I don’t even like you. Who told you to read my blog?

I scored four times. Hell yeah!

I remember sitting at Joel’s apartment in Calgary. It was Joel, Logan, Rob and I and porn was playing on TV. Sometime during the movie watching Logan brought up the subject of size. Joel had the best answer. “Well compared to the porn stars, I’m a bit better than average.” That shut Logan up for the rest of the day. Come to think of it. I don’t think either of us has heard from him since.

I’m going to brag now. I scored four goals in my ball hockey game on Friday. We won 10-2.

I want to know why those retro hockey hats only come in boxes of bud light. Who the hell drinks bud light? What a stupid beer.

I’ll keep this post short, so I can go do some summersaults.

EWWWWWW!!!

Ha ha ha! So people, seriously, can you tell me why I bother? Huh? On the invitation from somebody in my class, I decided to head out to the bar tonight. Yep, supposedly, fun was apparently to be had. So I get introduced to her friends, and one of them glares at me like I'm the texture of dried shit, then turns away immediately. Oh well, right? I mean, you can't please everybody, huh?

The bar closes. I make sure my friends are able to head home, and I begin the long trek back to my place. So I'm waiting at an intersection and a vehicle pulls up with a bunch of girls going WOOOOOO! One of the fellas says "So, do you want me bring this guy in the grey coat or what?" And of course, that would be me, the only guy nearby wearing a grey coat. The response? "EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" Oh yes, I feel pretty, oh so pretty. Am I really that repugnant? Am I really that disgusting? Crikeys, perhaps it would be for the best if I underwent some chemical castration of some kind. That way I would no longer be beholden to the female species for happiness and fulfillment. Perhaps... perhaps that's the only way I could find some peace. Yes, I'm just so fond of being the EWWWWWWWWW! and GROOOOOSSSS!!! guy. I mean really, what kind of satisfaction in life does one need beyond that? Knowing that all these people see me and go "Wow! It could be worse!" before they go home and hump their frat boy/glamour girl of the night. When I was younger I used to joke that my purpose in life was to serve as a bad example. Cripes! Who knew it would turn out to be true? Ha ha! HA HA HA!!! Naturally, the natural response to this was to buy a couple of cigars. Am I still a non-smoker? Hell, we'll see tomorrow.

Edited on October 14th: Yep, I still am. Damn, grape flavoured cigars suck. And I'm a bit of a whiny little turd when I drink, aren't I?

Punish You

I was going to do a "tipsy post" but I decided this much more awesome. See if you agree! And thanks for not commenting on my birthday post, cool guys. Dane wrote it, so there's no problem with him, but what the hell's the matter with the rest of you? Cripes! Dane, it's time for some rabbit punches and piledrivers...

The big 2-7

Today Joel turns 27.

On the weekend, the two of us met the party capital of Canada: Rocky Mountain House. Well, it became the capital when the two of us crossed the town limits.

We first headed to BPs for a few before heading to Duffers, the hot spot of the night and was it ever hot. HOT! HOT! HOT!

What amazes me is the conversation between the two of us. I don’t know why or really how, but by the end of the evening we’ve discussed who would win in a fight alien, zombie, bat ninjas or a one-arm, down syndrome T-rex. I still believe the ninjas would discover a way to take the dinosaur to the ground and spear it in the eye. You’re so wrong Joel.

I would think someone as old as Joel would talk about something much more intelligent and sophisticated. From me it’s understandable. I am 11 days younger, but the one time I bring up a serious subject Joel brings it back down to an immature level.

Dane: So Joel, who do you think is going to win the next US election? (I thought this question would get a intellectual conversation flowing, but no.)

Joel: I don’t know but the next president could be female.

He rambles on in his lunacy about how the democrats might nominate Hillary Clinton and the republicans, to counter, might put Condoleezza Rice up for prez.

This is where I nod off for a little bit and think about the best plan of action for those ninjas. I’m guessing a crafty trip rope followed by a quick strike from above. If what I learned from Jurassic Park and T-rexes can only see movement, the ninjas could stay really still until it’s time to attack. Then it’d be a flurry of throwing stars and smoke bombs.

I really don’t believe the massive beast would stand a chance.

As for a woman president, I don’t think that stands much of a chance either. Even with all of Joel’s case points, I don’t see it happening. It would be a nice change from what’s going on now though.

Happy birthday Joel!

New Dance

How odd! I was searching for ways to jazz up chicken noodle soup, seeing as I have two packets of the Lipton stuff kicking around my cupboards, and I inadvertently came across one of the latest crazes sweeping across the youth of America. One of the problems with getting older is getting used to the fact that knowledge of these trends no longer enter your mind through cultural osmosis. Instead, you uncover them by searching for recipes on the Internet. You know how I first realized that I am, in fact, getting older? When I stopped getting spam e-mails for porn and started getting spam e-mails for Viagra and the stock market.

So... the newest dance craze is in fact referred to as Chicken Noodle Soup. It's the latest in the line of club hits that make absolutely no sense, make people dance their asses off, and are a source of regret two months later. Why not head to the entry in the Urban Dictionary to find out more?

Chicken noodle soup!
Chicken noodle soup?
Chicken noodle soup!
With a soda on the side...?

Is it also time for Peanut Butter and Jelly? Nah, I think I'm going to stick with Da Dip. (French, preferably.) And while I slowly drink my Milkshake, I will ponder to myself, Who Let The Dogs Out? It Wasn't Me! And then I will realize, and Whoomp! There It Is!

If you'd like to see the music video and watch the signature dance in action, follow this to watch it on Youtube. And if you're so inclined, do a Youtubian search for "chicken noodle soup" and stare dumbfoundedly at the number of results. But don't forget one of the joys of viral media: If you have a video camera handy, you can participate! All y'all who do have your own camera better have your own Chicken Noodle Soup videos posted post-haste.

Y'know, screw jazzing up the packets of Lipton in my cupboard; I'll just eat it straight with a bottle of C-Plus. Pop culture has once again shown me the way.