Things You Don't See Every Day

I remember the time my 70 year old boss dressed up like a Hostess Twinkie and shuffled about in front of the grocery store where I worked.  The adults that walked by, looked at him, bewildered.  It was hot enough to fry a bacon and turd sandwich that day.  The kids seemed to enjoy the show as they danced and laughed around him.  So gleeful were they, I thought they were going to take a bite out of his costume.

I didn't know who, exactly, was in that costume because I had just arrived for my shift that afternoon.  I figured it was one of the younger guys.  I thought this because this costume didn't look like the type that had a fan or any type of cooling system built inside like some costumes you see people wearing at amusement parks.  In fact, it looked handmade.  I didn't know an old guy was inside it.

Not long after doing his little promotional shuffle, entertaining the crowd, "The Boss Man" became tired.  When I walked into the stock room, he was in the middle of taking off his costume.  I was shocked to see that he was shirtless and he had his big ol' fat floppy old man boobies hangin' out while the rest of his torso was covered in a yellow foam material.  He was wearing a pair of little white boots, too.

I laughed to myself, imagining what the reactions of all would be if he were to walk outside the store like he was in his half-dressed present state.  Maybe he would boost Twinkie sales with some of the elderly, half- blind ladies in town.  Who knows?

Almost immediately, I turned and walked out the stock room door, sharing what I had just seen with a few other co-workers.  I'm nice that way.

Speaking of things you don't see every day...  

Remember those "Baby On Board" signs that were so prevalent a decade ago?

Dancing pig with no back legs.

Did he just tell a lie?

It looks like a delicate procedure.

He looks lost.  He should ask for directions.

You should watch this for something you really don't see much of these days.

Rat Pageant and World Naked Bike Rides

Frustrated subway workers, in New York, are attempting to draw attention to what they say is a rat infestation and are offering a free monthly transport pass to anybody who's got the guts and/or stomach to snap o a good pic of one of these furry, razor-sharped teethed, underground doll babies.

Hairy Potter.  He'll wave his furry wand if you want him to strike a seductive pose for the contest.  Just ask him nicely.
   

Though the furry darlings of the vermin community have been known to bite riders, in the past, present, and most likely, future, folks are encouraged to snap pictures of their favorite rat buddy. They can be sent to ratfreesubways.com.  When I visited the site, I saw that they were showing a video of a rat carrying off a pizza.  I witnessed one take off with a goat once.

What's next?

Somebody making out with a rat?

Did I see a little tongue action going on?    Golly.

Speaking of drawing attention, as mentioned above, I thought of something else.  People will, of course, express themselves in ways that draw attention, with the intention of desperately wanting that attention- like these gals here...

Actually, she's a lawyer.  Who knows how many cases she's won?

Lady, it gets hot down there.  Sometimes we just have to let our hairy, beet-red nutsacks hang out every so often.  As men, we understand you gals have your "lady days" with your menstrual periods and such- where you temporarily go insane with mood swings so severe, we're afraid to sleep beside you at night for fear you'll secretly throw out our old favorite cassette tapes or cut out our testicles and use them as earrings.   Just let us guys have our day in the shade or right out in the open and let us expose our  man apples, proudly, for all to see and gaze upon.  If we should draw attention to thine eye, don't throw darts at our wrinkled bags of jizz whiz.  Instead, applaud our display of dignity and pride with great gusto!     

Sometime people just want attention because it's a pathetic cry for help.  Help that perhaps only a therapist or close friend or mate can provide.  Sometimes it's acted out, in various ways, for petty shock value.  And then we have people who draw attention to themselves for a very worthy cause.  Take, for instance, World Naked Bike Rides.  In summary, World Naked Bike Riding events take place all around the world.  People will show their causes, ideas and concerns about pollution, the effects and greed of big oil corporations and more, by riding naked through city streets around the world.

Now that's the kind of attention draw I can get behind.  But not too closely behind.  Some good folks don't know their "behinds" stink because of poor sense of smell.  Who will stand up, with optional gas mask and dare to create a charity or cause for those folks?

Here are a few pics from London's World Naked Bike Ride:

It's good to know the British  police are there to cover the attendees for security reasons.  

Everyone is welcome to engage in the jaunty, admirable event.

Here, we see supporters, riders and spectators in San Francisco's World Naked Bike Ride event.

"Look, Bobby!  A man with wild tiger disguise, not doing a very good job of concealing he has been blessed with the  conscious of a true animal lover, supporter and eco-friendly gentleperson."

  Either that or he's just your average naked dude, out for a pleasant Sunday afternoon bicycle ride.  Who knows?  Just don't grab that chopstick, guys and gals!

And thus, we, or rather, I, alone, at Psycho Carnival, conclude our informative, somewhat jocular, tongue-in-buttcheek posting.  Have a wonderfully expressive day!  And why not ride a bike, take pictures of beautiful subway rats, afterwards, and then paint your naked, sagging ass blue for a change of pace?

It may just make your time on Earth just go that much smoother and stuff.  Later, friends!

The Holidays Are Over and The Joy of Putting Xmas Gifts Together

First of all, as if you can't tell by my latest posting, I survived Christmas Hell once again.  The one Christmas gathering my significant other and I hosted for her side of the family didn't cause me to flip out, fall down on my knees, sob openly and then get up, retrieve my flamethrower from under the bed, go back and set everyone on fire this time around.

I only had two instances where I had to leave a heavily populated room due to stress.  For me, a heavily populated room is anything over five or six people.  I feel like I'm trapped in a herd of insane, babbling bison in that situation.  I can't handle it.  One thing that sets me over the friggin' edge is when three people are talking to you at the same time about three extremely different topics.  My head is turning faster than a possessed girl in a 70's horror movie in order to focus and hear what each buffalo has to say.  For whatever reason, people have a tendency to pull this hilarious routine on me-  intentional or not.  Maybe they want me to pull out the flamethrower.  I must seem like someone who will calmly listen to the subject matter presented and, in turn, shoot wisdom out of every orifice for the talker's benefit or possibly cause the talker to laugh by spurting out an absurd or observational joke that may have something to do with what they're rambling about.

You say you made a macaroni and cheese dish with less flavor than Styrofoam cups covering a decrepit whore's wrinkly worn down nipples?

Well, I can't wait to try to digest that dish you made for our supposedly joyous Christmas meal without spitting it out and blinding your baby with unappetizing chunks of what you jokingly refer to as food.

It's all a pretty picture I paint, I know.

Then someone else may talk about trains and fishing lures.  I will attempt interest while also fantasize about fucking Mila Kunis deep in her tiny, puckered asshole.

Ta-dah!

Here's a joke I made up for ya that's both absurd and observational.  Best of all, it's an easy one to remember.

Question: What's the difference between a monetarily wealthy kid on Christmas morning and a poor kid, that same day, that lives in a run down apartment with a bunch of relatives that are also poor?

Answer: The wealthy kid will likely probably not give too much of a shit about what he gets when he opens his gifts because he already has everything without asking.  He might grow up, feeling entitled.  Maybe not.   Now the poor kid is likely just grateful that he has a big family that loves him.  He may envy the rich kid every so often but he ultimately knows what is important and what's not.  Does he feel entitled?  Hell, he's just trying to survive.  Living his life is all the gift he needs.

Spoiled girl secretly enters the room at night, then carefully binds mother and father's limbs while they slumber peacefully, dreaming of new things to acquire and gingerly scoops parent's eyes out with a spoon because she didn't get that latest technological piece of shit that will go out of style in a couple weeks and no longer make her friends green with envy.  Later, after the merry mayhem and profuse bloodshed and disemboweling of daddy, she'll get her own reality show, thanks to the hyperventilating, over publicized rabid press coverage.  A happy ending that will certainly appeal to today's wonderfully sane society.

It's not so much a joke but it's something I think people should think about.  I think the poverty stricken people around the world think the wealthy in America suck for a lot of reasons.  It's not completely envy.  Maybe not at all.  You tell me.  I wonder if they believe we're arrogant and entitled, too, to a greater degree.

The wife and I overdid the gift giving to each other this year.  Made all the Christmas gift givings in the past look a might tame.  TV.  Camera.  Exercise machine for me.  I put that together that today.  Jewelry.  A cool graphics tablet thingamajiggy that allows you to draw with a pen while your drawing shows up on the PC monitor.  I forget what else.  Too excessive.  In a way, it gave me a bad case of "the guilts."  Perhaps I shall shed these feelings of guilt, layer by layer, by distributing free bars of soap to the hobos under the bridge.  Sorry.  That isn't right.

I really wish the lady would have come, shipped in a special container with this item, when I ordered it.  She could have made me some delicious mac and cheese.  Darn it.

But, at the moment, I'm feeling kinda vulnerable and anxious now that I've said what we got this festive holiday season.  Don't rob me!  I'm nuts.  Who knows what type of funny rascally rabbit I'll pull out of my hat?  For real. Fair warning, my friends.  Group hug?  No?

I've figured out how this thing goes with that thing, for the most part.  I'm learning how to do new stuff that's normally a little above my intelligence capabilities.  But I'm still one hell of a guy, after all.  There are still hook ups and procedures I don't quite understand.  But I'm going to make a real attempt at being patient with understanding things and more patient with people- this year and beyond.  I'll try working on that.  No more Mr. Flamethrower Guy.  Unless I'm provoked.  :-D

Side Note: So far the comments I've been getting about the exercise machine suggest that I got it as a gift from a family member.  This is not the case.  My wife and I purchased it and had it delivered to myself to help lower my blood sugar and high blood pressure counts and more.  Thank you and have a rip-roaring day, damn it.