Jeremy's Top Ten Reasons To Have Another Drink

10. A new fashion trend, Dick Cheney-skin boots.
9. Avocados are on sale 4 for $1.00.
8. Just got rid of the clap.
7. Angelina Jolie's dreams of collecting one child from each country foiled when South Africa tells her to bugger off.
6. Soda's all gone.
5. Your father never loved you.
4. Russell Crowe and Naomi Campbell have first annual telephone throw down. Both die from fatal dialing injuries.
3. You have the brew shakes.
2. God finally reveals himself to be real just so he can disassociate himself from George W Bush.
1. Two words: Breakdancing Jake

Haikus Of Kevin

I'm sure everyone knows how a haiku poem goes. But just in case. It's three lines. The first line is five syllables, the second is seven, and the third is five. That is the only criteria. Without further ado: The Haikus of Kevin.

Kevin's so smart, but
one day a computer will
kill him in his sleep.

You think that's funny?
Shut up and drink your last shot
of Disaronno.

Kevi Kevi Kev
<?php
echo 'Hello!';
?>
No, I don't have to.

Please read my rad friend
Kevin's Accidental Blog
right bloody here. NOW!

Simon Says, "Sack Down"

Sacking up is not working for me. I forgot I was such a wuss. I'm no man. I'm pathetic. So I thought I was back in the saddle, but I find my ass slipping right off of it. So yesterday was my first day back to work from my back injury. Well I sat and stood all day and my leg(the injury causes my leg to cramp like no other) and back were throbbing. I got home and laid in bed until 7:30am at which point I got up for work again. Not sleeping. No. I was in evil, black pain. I was thinking about going to the emergency room just to get the pain to stop. But I didn't. So here I am at work again sitting on my aching ass. Except this time, I'm deliriously tired. So there it is the terrible, pathetic truth. My own sack down. There is a big reason why the phrase "I wish I was dead" is hugely popular to me.

Time To Sack Up

Well after a very looonnnggg week, I am back in the saddle. Well with a heating pad in the saddle, but in the saddle nonetheless. I don't know how I managed it, but I somehow screwed my back up. On Sunday it was rather sore, but when I woke up Monday last week I couldn't sit or stand without white hot flashes of pain. It was horrible. I ended up staying in bed all week on a heating pad(my only comfort). I finally made it to the doctor's on Thursday when I could sit up without screaming. All I got was a prescription of muscle relaxers(which have been useless so far) and a doctor's note to prove to my work that I had indeed injured my back and wasn't relaxing poolside in a Vegas resort casino with a margarita in hand. That night I finally was able to sleep after four days of being forced to stay awake by Captain Pain In My Back. Which was a good thing. I used five sick days. FIVE!! What an amusing way to spend my last remaining sick time for the year. Plus not only did I break my streak of posting to my blog daily, I missed a whole week. Sorry about that.

So here's to you and here's to me. If ever we should disagree, here's to me.

Sunday Short

My day today can be described in one of my favorite sayings:

Some mornings it's just not worth gnawing through the leather straps.

Oh, That's So Retro!

Here are some TV themes from shows I watched when I was a kid.
Sorry I'm lazy.

Today's Special


Fraggle Rock


Ducktales


Small Wonder


Voltron


Alvin and the Chipmunks


And finally I started out on Sesame Street as Mallory and I were talking about recently. Here was one of my favorite Classic Sesame Street songs.

Lists, Glorious Lists. Free Trojan Virus Included ;)

So it seems you learn a little bit about me with each post. Some good and some bad. Here's another. I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to a certain degree. When I take an interest in something, I go whole hog. Well one thing I love is lists. I'm crazy for lists. I love to make lists. I love to read lists. I'm OBSESSED about lists. I'm so crazy. I realize this. I just remembered my last post was a list. SEE!!

"The doctor said my nose wouldn't bleed if I didn't put my finger up there."


Here's five cool list links
1. Rolling Stone's 25 greatest South Park moments in celebration of their 10th anniversary
2. AFI's top 100 films of all time
3. TV Guide's 50 Worst and Best TV Shows ever
4. American Institute of Architects 150 Favorite American Structures
5. Comedy Central's 100 Greatest Stand-ups of All Time

The Book of Lists is my favorite list source. It's simply orgasmic(If you're listopathic).

The Main Ingredient Is Spam

You know what I am sick of? SPAM! What the hell? It seems amazing to me how much spam I get. It comprises most of my inbox, but it's the same four or five emails everytime. I will list them for you.

1. need girl for sucky-sucky? (WHAT? No I don't! I have a mouth. I can drink my own sodas thank you very much.)

2. DO YOU WANT A BIGGER PENIS? (Duh. But what I want more is to stop hearing about your damn bargain-madness viagra sales.)

3. I'm the daughter of a dead Nigerian king. I'm filthy rich. I just can't get my hands on the dough. So if you give me all your bank account and personal information, I will transfer my money to your account and we'll split it. Okay? (Shit. How many Kings are in Africa anyway? There are a bunch of rich people in Africa. They just can't spend it apparently. How the hell did they get my email? Where did they find a computer in Africa?)

4. Take a survey to win two free NANO iPODS. (I hate you.)

5. Jeremy, this is your mom. Please come home. I miss you. (How did she figure out how to use email?)

This has got to stop.

P.S. I love my mum

Librarians That Punish Together, Stay Together.

So a guy walks into the library. He's clearly not the library-type. His long hair is wrapped up in a bandana, and he has dark sunglasses covering bloodshot eyes. His mouth is drawn into a tight, determined purse. Scents of cigarettes and body odor waft off his baggy clothes. His bright orange flip-flops slap lightly on the earthen tile. He makes his way to the librarian's desk. He stops in front and clears his throat. He pulls one side of his over coat open to reveal a bottle of silverfish. Silverfish, the library book's worst enemy. Lisa, the librarian, eyes the bottle and looks into his dark lenses.

"What are you planning on doing with those?", shes inquires coolly. "I'm going to take this place down.", he slowly responds. Lisa leans in closer and whispers. "Over my dead body." His eyebrows raise slightly above the rims of his sunglasses. He stutters mildly back at her, "I will. I'll open this bottle right now and start with section 400 of non-fiction. Language." "You fool.", she chides, "You aren't going anywhere near those bookshelves."

Sarah, sitting at a nearby table reading the latest Vogue, watches the exchange. She reaches into her purse for her nail clippers. Lisa taps her fingers on a copy of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. He slowly reaches for the bottle. Lisa grabs her laser scanner and points it at him, "You have to ask yourself. Do you feel lucky? Well do ya, punk?" His nose twitches. He snatches the vial of silverfish. "You illiterate bastard." , she mutters as she presses the button on the scanner. A laser flashes in his eye. He cries out and lunges forward at her. Sarah dashes to her feet and flips out the file in her clippers. She stabs the file into his arm. Lisa picks up her date stamper, swings her arm back and pitches a March 14, 2007 at his forehead. "What the..", he stammers noticing he is now being attacked by two women, "Who are you?" "I'm you're worst nightmare", Sarah grumbles at him. Sarah grabs her Prada heel off her foot and smacks him across the face. He starts to panic and drops the vial rolling it across the floor to the card catalog. Lisa picks up the container of silverfish and crams it down his throat. He chokes and dies on his own device. Lisa and Sarah stand over his corpse satisfied to save the books. "You shouldn't have screwed with my library.", she says shaking her finger at the body. "Look", Sarah says pointing to his mouth, "When you shoved that jar down his throat, it gave him two loose teeth." "That gives me an idea", Lisa announced.

Read about Lisa and Sarah's ideas here.

Die With A T

There comes a time in a person's life when they realize they are incredibly fat. Well my alarm is ringing loudly. I'm sure Finland can hear my alarm too.

Being fat is not always a great source of pleasure. Sometimes your friends ask you to go on a hike in the middle of the night to see the girl that haunts the lake and only an eighth of a mile into it you are almost willing to die right their on the spot so you don't have to go further. To make matters worse you're drunk and this whole ordeal is being videotaped with your enthusiastic consent. Then you lose a sandal in the woods and you have to crawl around in the poison oak to retrieve it. Oh sorry, I've digressed. Sometimes you go to the mall and of course the only things a really fat person can buy at the mall clothing-wise are shoes and socks. No fancy underwear for you, no favorite band or nostalgic cartoon t-shirts. You will not be wearing $200 Versace or Armani jeans. And trying to walk through those stores? Forget it. You feel like a monstrous combine, taking everything down off the racks and the shelves to your left and your right as your swollen abdomen rakes through the aisles. It's like playing virtual pinball. Malls are definitely for skinny people. Then there are amusement parks, airplanes, restaurant booths, seat belts, spelunking. I mean here I am, stereotypically American. Doing my best to stay chunky and watch lots of tv and how am I rewarded? By ridiculously high cholesterol levels, borderline agoraphobia, clothing made from building awnings, and an unriveled laziness to be sure.

It's now been three weeks exactly since I started my blog. That's 21 days. It takes 21 days to form a habit. I have formed a good habit(for once in my life). So I'm going to try it again and see if it's a fluke. That's right! The big four letter word despised by Garfield, Homer, and Supermodels everywhere. I don't know if I can do it. I've tried many times.

Maybe the 37th time's the charm.

I'll See Your Blog And Raise You A Whore

I must have way too much time on my hands. Since I've started blogging, I haven't missed a day. Okay I admit that sometimes my subject matter's lame, but I do it anyway. You know why? Because I never stick to anything! EVER!! So I have made a vow to stick to this. I do see problems in the future. Like when I go out of town and well, you know, being lazy. What am I saying here? I'm boring.

I played poker yesterday. I never play poker. I hate poker. This is my problem. I always want to stay in the game no matter how crappy my hand is. I could have a 2,4,5,7 an 8 all in different suits and I'd bet my mother's wheelchair on it. So I lose a lot. Once I did throw down the cards and say, "I fold, like a hooker you punched in the stomach because you wanted your money back to buy a Pepsi." I was proud of myself.

One small step for Jeremy one giant step for whoever's in the way.

The Alarm Clock Strikes Back

Daylight Savings Day is my least favorite day of the year. Spring ahead. Fall Behind. I long for fall behind. I kill for fall behind. That one marvelous day when you can say, "Screw you clock, I'm going to sleep another hour." Now the clock is getting revenge. From 1:59 straight to 3:00. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Now it's his turn to say, "You son of a bitch. This for hitting my snooze button so many times it's now a sn ze button. For throwing me against the wall on those fuzzy hungover mornings. Get up you douchebag!" It sits there with a menacing 3:00 flashing. It's two big open zeroes staring at you, daring you to pick it up and launch it across the room. What can you do? It's his day today.

Damn DST anyway! Come eight months, you're dead, you douchebag!

Glengarry GlenSnowman

When I was in high school we had dances. Strange you think? No, it's a fairly common practice throughout high schools everywhere. So you are probably familiar with dance royalty, i.e. Homecoming Queen, Prom King and Queen, etc. Well usually the type of people who win these monarchies are the snotty popular crowd. I've never cared for them. Every year at my school we had a Christmas dance. I forget what's it called. The Winter Festival, something like that. Well the royalty was all guys at this dance, which was an interesting change. They had several royal titles, like Mr. Scrooge and King Christmas. Well the nominations came out that year and there was my name. Jeremy Jacobson nominated for Mr. Snowman. There were three nominees for each category. In mine I was competing against Gerard King and Bretton Harvigsten(Who happened to be one of those bully jocks. This has nothing to do with the story. I just thought I'd point out what an asshole he was.) Well I was a little shocked til I realized we were all "portly". So I thought, "Oh I can see the student body presidency think up the nomination list now. "Let's see, who's really fat like a snowman?" "Jeremy broke a chair the other day he's so fat, so he's in" What jerks!"

Anyway. Before voting was to happen they held an assembly in which each group would compete in some event. Well the snowmen had an obstacle course. It was set up so that you had to put on a snowsuit and boots, get on a bicycle, ride it across the stage, get off, hulahoop a few times, then jump rope a few times and cross the line to finish. It was also timed. So I watch in the wings of the stage, the other competitors run through with relative ease. Then I get up to bat. I'm looking at the snowsuit on the ground and looking at my hot air balloon of a body knowing full well those pants aren't going to come up to my thighs. I was right. The timer called go. I crammed my leaning tower of Pisas into each pant leg and yanked them up mid thigh. I pulled them tight so they would stay on. My crotch came down to below my knees. I looked like a mammoth penguin. I tried to get the boots on but they wouldn't go on all the way either. I pick up the bike and try to throw my leg over the frame. This was a challenge. It took me a minute but I succeeded. Stopping was another story. I couldn't put my foot down to the ground and I ended up crashing. I got up and threw the hula hoop over my stomach. Here's another thing. If you don't have a waist, hula-hooping is rather difficult. I finished that and felt rather hurried to finish as I had wasted so much time thus far. I grabbed the jump rope and started jumping backwards for some reason. As I pounded the stage the snowsuit came down around my ankles. The whole audience roared with laughter. I tried to waddle to the finish line and I tripped and fell so I crawled. I passed the finish line and continued crawling off the stage. I could hear the crowd screaming and clapping. The timer forced me to go back out on stage for a standing ovation. So needless to say I won Mr. Snowman. And that's how I became one of those snotty, popular people. And it was the first(and only) time I ever kicked Bretton's ass. And that felt wicked awesome.

The New Holy Trinity?

In case you haven't heard. My favorite musical composer is Stephen Sondheim. Who wrote Sweeney Todd. Which will be made into a film. Which will star Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, and Sasha Baron Cohen. Who will all be directed by Tim Burton. Who also directed Vincent D'Onofrio in Ed Wood. Who was in JFK with Kevin Bacon. HA! Now if you've never heard of the musical Sweeney Todd, let me just say it's very good.

Here's the facts:
*It premiered on Broadway in 1979
*It won eight Tony Awards including Best Actress(Angela Lansbury), Best Actor(Len Cariou), and Best Musical.
*It's about some killers that bake their victims in meat pies. So...fun!

So are Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, and Helena Bonham Carter the new holy trinity. Just maybe. All I can say is I can't wait til December 2007 when it hits the big screens.

And I say this in the name of Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, and Helena Bonham Carter. Amen.

P.S. If you exist Lord, please don't strike me down.

It's Like How Many Babies Can You Fit In A Tire. It's A Zen Thing.

My salute to one of my favorite movies(Becca's great idea). If you need a new set of movie quotes to freshen your movie quoting repertoire, look no further than Waiting For Guffman. This familiar ensemble of actors is at their wicked best. This is when I fell in love with Catherine O'Hara and Parker Posey. I've never laughed harder at a movie than I did here. And you thought I was bad at Little Miss Sunshine. No, no this movie is a never ending box of Krispy Kremes(Eww, it sickens me to see the letter 'K' replacing words commonly spelled with a 'C'. But that's just me.). Alright here's a great quote:

Corky St. Clair(played perfectly by Christopher Guest): I think that the elements, as Dr. Watson said to Sherlock, "are coming together, sir." I was shopping for my wife, Bonnie (I buy most of her clothes). And Mrs. Pearl was in the same shop, and it just was an accident. Y'know, we started talking...about pantyhose. She was saying -- w-whatever, that's not the point of the story, but what the point is was that through this accidental meeting -- it's like, y'know, it's like a Hitchcock movie, where, you know, you're thrown into a rubber bag and put in the trunk of a car. You find people; you find them. Something... It - is it karma? Maybe. But we found him; that's the important thing -- and I got Bonnie a wonderful pantsuit.

So watch the movie or die!!

It Just Goes To Show, It's Always Something

A look back at one of my favorite comedienne's of all time. I miss her.

She was so damn funny!!

A Story From Grandma Stewart

When my oldest brother, Corey, was three or four, my uncle Jody wanted to treat him to a popcicle from the local market. Jody was a mere 6 or 7 year-old himself. He had a dollar or so, and he asked my grandma if he could buy two popcicles for my brother and him. She warned sternly, "Yes, that's fine, but do not spend anymore than that." Jody went to the market a few blocks away and came back with the popcicles. My grandmother, noticing his arrival, said, "Okay Jody, let's put the rest of the money away to save." My uncle looked down on the floor and shuffled his foot. "Jody? Where is the rest of your money?", she asked raising her voice a little. "I don't have it.", he whispered, his face heating up with fear. "Jody, what did I say? I said don't spend all your money. Now look what you've done. What did you buy?", she snapped at him." He spoke quietly with tears forming in his eyes, "There was a man with old, dirty clothes outside the store. He looked sad and had a sign that said 'need money for food'. So I gave him the rest of money." Well my grandma felt like such an ass. She told me that story not able to contain her own tears. Anyway now it's a story for you. Sometimes I think of this story and it makes me want to be a better person.

Was It Something I Ate?

Oh dear God I've been sick. If vomiting was the new Broadway show, I just had 30 curtain calls. That's all I have to say.

To Hellbucks In A Gucci Handbasket

The good times are over. The country is going down the tubes. If I had been born in 1905, I would be dead right now and wouldn't have to be worrying about this. And it's not anyone's fault in particular. We are all to blame. First the people for wondering who the next Survivor, American Idol, Top Model, and Big Brother will be. For worrying what will happen to Meredith and McDreamy; Sawyer, Jack and Kate; That guy on 24 who keeps getting into predicaments. Too busy buying an even smaller iPod, cell phone and laptop. Filling up on energy drinks, double-tall Capuspressoes with extra skim fat milk, and super-size everything. Then the Media covering their crazy bitches Britney Spears, Anna Nicole Smith, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen and making sure their every move is documented to the smallest detail, even if they're dead. Did you know Courtney Love buys Always tampons, regular flow? Making sure we all know that Ann Coulter, Isaiah Washington, and Tim Hardaway hate the gays. That Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama got in a slap fight with David Geffen. Next up our lovely politicians. The Republicans making sure we are protected against married lesbians, evolution, and atheism. All the while hitting on teenage male pages. The Democrats just sitting there playing pattycake waiting for their pizza delivery. All of them flapping their wooden lips with corporate hands up their asses. Then there's the presidency. Dick and Bush. Cheney, the Leona Helmsley of the White House, with his remote control to Dubya the Robot. Georgie crying in the corner saying, "Please Master Cheney I'll send more troops. If you will stop slapping me on the head and calling me President Tush." Let's not forget the Corporations, the other house of Congress. Lining the politician's pocket so our teens can start smoking earlier, so we can have more sicknesses to cure with expensive new medicine, so we can start being charged for using the World Wide Web. This is why I'm half crazy. We're screwed people!! I sure as hell am no help either. I've supersized two thousand times too many. I can barely fit through my door. I'm too tired anyway. I'm gonna go grab a box of Twinkies. Oh my God! Cameron Diaz just bought a herion addicted kitten!!

When It Rains, It Pours

What a shitty day I've had. Everything has went wrong today. I HATE FROSTING CAKES!!! Screw it, I've writing March 3rd 2007 off. Oh yeah Happy Birthday, Samantha. My sister is 24 years old today. Quisiera estar muerto.

The Princess And The Penis

Once upon a time in a far away land lived a princess. She was named Tifany and she was the most popular princess in the entire world. Fergie(No not from the Black-Eyed Peas) had nothing on her. She was especially popular on 37th Street, a dimly lit back street featuring a smorgasbord of whores. Now she was not a scarlet woman herself, but spent time with the other tarts teaching them the arts and crafts. "Just because you are a hooker, there's no excuse not develop an enviable artisanship.", she was heard saying seven times or so. She taught them how to knit sexy thongs, how to toll-paint condom wrappers, how to scrapbook pictures(Becca's turning over in her grave at this point. Well if she was dead she would be)of them with their customers. And they became the finest streetwalkers to walk the streets. Ironically Tifany was gruesomely murdered by a particular call girl named Shameka Black with a crochet hook. Her intestines were skillfully chain-hooked and puff-stitched into a startlingly exquisite pot-holder. Police were baffled by Ms. Black's discriminating craftsmanship. Before she died Princess Tifany wrote about her work with the 37th Street harlots. Read about her work here.

I Wish I Was Dead

Voodoo Girl

by Tim Burton

Her skin is white cloth,
and she's all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.

She has a beautiful set
of hypno-disk eyes,
the ones that she uses
to hypnotize guys.

She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone get too close to her,

the pins stick farther in.

Read Becca's blog NOW!!!