Author Archives: iasshole

Take Your Hand From the Box, Young Human, and Look at It

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Whoa, Schnapples, Mother’s Day is coming AGAIN. What, you still don’t have a present or a clue? Normally I’d just say, “Get with it, Jackass,” but not this time.

I am here to help you, my friends. The first step is to take this Very Special Quiz, created especially for you by the Offices of I, Asshole. And you know this is quality information, as it is presented by a person whose own mother has not spoken to her for a year-and-half. Mad qualifications, yo.

Anyway, this quiz will tell me something about your mother so I can make a recommendation, based on an alignment system found in the popular RPG Dungeons & Dragons. Why not, I tells ya. I set up age and gender (which were required questions) so they have zero affect on your results, so don’t worry about that. Answer whatever you like.

Once you have your results, be sure to come back tomorrow for a Very Special I, Asshole gift-buying guide. Because if you are not participating the the Capitalism machine, you are letting the Royalists win.

Oh, and I DON’T recommend this quiz software. They edit swears, so my website link is 404’d. BOO! Also, they tell you not to write in leetspeak, which is just generically dumb. And you can’t set up the quiz so if the results are very mixed you get a sort of non- or neutral result. I didn’t know they were censoring uneditable things until it was too late.

All that said, enjoy. Sorry about teh typos.

In Other News

The Onion also features a Mother’s Day Guide. Oh yes.

And if you get married in one of these weak-ass piles of corporate booshit, I will laugh at you. Sorry. Wait, NO I’m NOT. Count how many times the word “girls” is used on this website to refer to grown-assed women. And then count the number of instances of the word “women.” Yikes.

Also, snaps to Flea at One Good Thing—an article about sexualizing children’s toys, children, and Brooke Shields. via.

Pew! Pew!

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Regular readers know that I adore mi amore, Teh Macro. So I couldn’t resist when Halo sent me the link to lolbrarians. Unforch, I don’t know how to drive one of them LJ thingummies, so I’ll have to be content with posting it here. Props to the lolbrarians.

Modern Curses From Internet Brujaw

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1. You, the undersigned, are condemned to see every movie that Zach Braff will ever make, up to and including his cameo as Sprongler’s Dad in the 2020 remake of American Pie.

2. Every time you see an attractive man or woman, be they at a party or on the bus, you will be compelled to pull out your cell phone and frantically sniff it all over, as if it was the most delicious thing you have ever smelled, such as a succulent pastry, a baby’s head, or a fat stack of Abraham Lincolns. We’ll leave that one up to personal preference and heredity. If you do not own a cell phone, or are not carrying it on your person, a giant sparkle dildo will appear in your purse or hand immediately. (Hint: carry bail money.)

3. The cutest pants EVAH will totally never be in your size, anywhere. Except for palazzo pants. I condemn you to palazzo pants!

4. You are condemned to non-cancerous facial moles that spell things out like “Spork Lover” and “Put Peen Here.” The moles will change arrangement unpredictably, and you will never be able to make money off of this unexplainable phenomenon.

5. You now fart Phad Thai in public and glitter at home. Sure, you could stay home, but have you ever tried to completely get rid of glitter? Good luck with that one.

C’mon, Help Me Make It

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This morning I awoke to the sight of Companion wearing nothing but a backpack. His new one, all shiny and crinkly. So the crinkling woke me up.

“Ohelo,” I said, “I think you forgot YOUR CLOTHES.”

“I was trying not to wake you up,” he said lamely.

“So you shoved all your clothes into your shiny new backpack,” I said.

“Yeeah, that was the thought.”

“I think you need a few more levels of Sneak,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Hey, don’t go. Let’s have sex,” I said.

“REALLY? But I don’t know what time it is.”

“If only we had some way of determining the time…if only there was some sort of machine we could use…,” I said.

“Ha, ha,” he said.

We have tried, without any success, to have a clock in the bedroom. They either get devastated by Hurricane Strudel or disappear, or don’t work in the first place. Or they tick too loud. We wake up and it could be seven or it could be ten-thirty. Why not start every morning with a little excitement?

“I need to put the trash out,” Companion said.

“And if you go out you are guaranteed to awaken Naked Feral Dwarf,” I replied.

“Yes.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he said.

We really have to do something about the clock thing. Also the naked man wearing a backpack thing. I almost grabbed my Glock. Yo.

A Walk in the Park

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Sunday was a beautiful sunny day. The wife and I decided to play bocce in the park near our house. I was measuring and taking score, and wife was looking for a ball had “gotten away from her.” I noticed a small object in the air, near head height. Just as I was thinking: “what is that? That seems out of place.” WHAM!

It was a rock. Nailed me in the noggin, and dropped me like a stone. I sat up rubbing my forehead. I hear small squeaky giggling behind me. I feel two tiny hands deftly and unceremoniously grab my ears. POW! I start seeing stars again as a tiny knee, POW! Keeps drilling, POW! Me in the POW! base of the skull.

“I’m Doin’ it Mama! LOOK!” POW! More stars.

“You sure are baby!….Yer never gonna get it like that. Franny, you’ve got him by the ears.”

“Well this jerk’s got no hair.” POW! Extra vigor on that one, that really hurt.

I look up and through the stars I see bright pink hair…Pink hair…Franny….

“S.J.?” POW!

I get a sideways look, and a frown.

“S.J. It’s J.B.”

“Aww hell. Let him be Franny he’s got no money. You should hear about the piece of shit truck he drives.” The tiny hands are reluctant, but they let go of my ears. The stars clear. S.J. reaches down with one hand and hefts me to my feet by the scruff of my shirt. She’s at least 6’2″. She smiles and claps me on the back so hard it nearly sends me back to the ground.

“Franny didn’t hurt you much did she?” I shake my head rather uncertainly.

“You gotta start em young if you want to really train em up right.” She turns her head, and cups her hands over her mouth. “P!!!!” Her voice carries like rolling thunder. I see ‘companion’ across the park. He heads over with Strudel in his arms. We’re all introduced around. I introduce the wife, and shake little Franny’s hand. Strudel is cuter than a bug in person, but much biteier than you’d expect.

After a short conversation S.J. announces “Well, it was nice chatting with you two, but we’ve got more work to do. Isn’t that right Franny?” Little Franny picks up a rock and nods. “Besides, it’s gettin late and momma needs some love!”

Gardening with Our Dark Lord

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Yes, it’s that time again.

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This weekend we were busy beaver gardeners. We are trying to establish some more perennials in the front beds. There is a trellis over the front windows that supports a deciduous clematis that blooms for a month, and the rest of the time creates a bone-dry shady bed situation underneath. This is not so fun.

We also took over the other side of the yard. Last year at this time we were still adjusting to being moved and and whatnot, and then my neighbor’s mother and mother-in-law came to visit, and planted and unplanted things, seemingly at random. So we checked in with my neighbor and asked it we could plant her little porch box and pots, and she said to go for it. We have been racing to do this, because the word is that the mother-in-law’s coming back for her grandson’s first birthday. For a month. And she will be bored. DUN DUN DUN. I’m going medieval if she pulls anything up, is all I have to say.

I feel so sorry for my neighbor sometimes. Her mother-in-law, from thousands of miles away in Asia, is the boss of her. She told my neighbor she couldn’t travel with her boy, to see her mom, which is bullcrap, because it is a bad time to fly with him. So the MiL’s coming here, because my neighbor will “be all alone” during the birthday. And why will she be all alone? Because she is not allowed to travel. Nice.

I recently discovered, after knowing her for months, that she’s in a marriage that was arranged. That really blew my mind a little. We thought maybe we could socialize with them, but her husband isn’t very friendly. He laughed at Companion recently when he was out back cutting down branches from a completely overgrown laurel, I think because he thinks it’s weird for renters to be doing yard work. But now we have a ton more sunlight, so I will be laughing as I make myself sick on tomatoes this summer.

Whippet was over yesterday and I was showing her all the plants that we put in this weekend. We were having one of our wine therapy sessions, which keeps us from abandoning our families. I was moving from shadow to shadow like I always do, so I don’t get burned.

“You have to get some sun, you know!” Whippet said, waving her glass at me.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“Yes! You need some vitamin D. You can’t be a totally white goth. You’ll get MS!”

“I’ll just take pills,” I said.

In Other News

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On Sunday I made a spankypita for the first time. It turned out pretty well. It called for dill, but I think what I was missing was mint. Anyone have a good recipe with mint?

Before

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After
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