Just because I haven't been blogging lately, doesn't mean I don't have shit to talk about. The wheels in Dyckerson's brain never stop turning, so I have amassed quite a backlog of miscellaneous thoughts and observations. Here are but a few:
There are no skinny Bridgets. Seriously, have you ever met a Bridget who wasn't a chunky monkey? I've known three or four in my lifetime, and they have all been fat fucks. Now I know what you're thinking. Hey Dyck, what about actress Bridget Bardot? OK, maybe when she was in her prime. But check this shit out:
That photo is pretty unbelievable, isn't it? I had my doubts too, but I found it on the Internets, so it must be real. No Bridget can escape the fat curse.
I frighten people. A few weeks ago, I was in need of some croutons and Lemon Pledge, so I went to the local grocer to do some shopping. I parked the Dyckmobile II in a handicapped spot* and proceeded to make my way across the parking lot and into the store. As I approached the door, out walked a mother carrying a couple of bags. At her side was a young child who looked to be around 4 or 5 years old. She glanced up at me, and without missing a beat, she grabbed the kid's arm and yanked him toward her. An overprotective parent, perhaps? I think not...because just last week the EXACT SAME THING happened again. Same setting, different woman and kid. And it ain't just the broads. The other day I was walking in the county park, minding my own business and enjoying nature's beauty. I was approaching this kid who was standing on the edge of the sidewalk and taunting a goose. Dad was standing about 10 feet away admiring the result of his sperm. He must have seen me coming, because I distinctly heard him say,"Come here, Corey! Come here!"
Now I assure you, I look and dress relatively normal. I have no unsightly growths on my person, nor am I disfigured in any way. Yet something about me makes people want to grab their children. What the fuck??! When I was a kid, my parents let me drink household cleaners and play in construction sites. Hell, once when I was six, I got a hold of my dad's keys and drove his Gremlin straight into the ditch. He thought it was hysterical. So what's the deal with all these uptight parents? I blame the media.
I'm a musical genius. Pick any love song that contains the word "heart" in the title. Now replace the word "heart" with the word "fart" and get ready for endless hilarity!!!
Unbreak My Fart - Toni Braxton
Achy Breaky Fart - Billy Ray Cyrus
The Fart Of The Matter - Don Henley
Fart To Fart - Chris Brown
My Fart Will Go On - Celine Dion
Fart Attack - NLT
Put A Little Love In Your Fart - Dolly Parton
Fart Full Of Soul - Chris Isaak
The Last Unbroken Fart - Patti Labelle
Broken Fart - Motion City Soundtrack
Sin In My Fart - Siouxsee And The Banshees
Pop! Goes My Fart - Hugh Grant
Fart Of Glass - Blondie
Fragile Fart - Westlife
Cold Hard Fart - Bon Jovi
You'll Be In My Fart - Usher
Here Is My Fart - Lionel Richie
Taking Back My Fart - Cher
Love's Got A Hold On My Fart - Steps
Where Is Your Fart - Kelly Clarkson
Listen To Your Fart - Roxette
One Determined Fart - Paulini
Hungry Fart - Bruce Springsteen
Straight From The Fart - Bryan Adams
Piece Of My Fart - Janice Joplin
Listen To Her Fart - Tom Petty & The Fartbreakers
My Fart Has A Mind Of Its Own - Connie Francis
Fartache Tonight - The Eagles
What Do I Do With My Fart? - The Eagles
Owner Of A Lonely Fart - Oasis
Sheer Fart Attack - Queen
Thunder In My Fart - Leo Sayer
Make up your own! Play along at your office Christmas party!!
Alan Alda has lost his fucking mind. I was recently on iTunes looking for a podcast that I could listen to while I walk in the park and frighten people. I've almost been a big fan of M*A*S*H, so I was intrigued by an audio podcast featuring the actor speaking to a group at a book signing. Great, I thought. He'll probably tell stories about all the wacky behind-the-scenes hijinks that took place on the M*A*S*H set! Well I thought wrong. Apparently Hawkeye had a near-death experience a few years ago and consequently gave up acting in favor of philosophy. So I listened for 45 minutes while he rambled on and on about what "now" is. "What is now?" asked Hawkeye. "Now only lasts for a few seconds. Then it's gone, and that now is in the past. Then there's a new now." I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea. And he said this with all the passion and enthusiasm he could muster.
At last, he opened up the floor to questions. Finally, I thought. Now we'll get some good M*A*S*H questions. No such luck. The first question: "How has your near-death experience affected your perception of 'now'?" Similar questions followed, and Alda ate them up like a bag of pork rinds. Eventually someone had the balls to ask a question about M*A*S*H, but by this time I was so groggy, I didn't even hear it. However, I can tell you that Hawkeye likes to refer to the series not as M*A*S*H, but as "The M*A*S*H Show."
Too bad that near-death experience wasn't a DEATH EXPERIENCE. Am I right peopld??!!
That's all I got for now. On the next Mighty Blog: My experience as a mall Santa!
* My busted arm is 98% healed, and I don't have a handicapped decal, but I'm not taking any chances.