zesticle.com

before choosey moms can choose jif, they have to choose someone with whom they will fornicate (otherwise, they’re just regular chicks buying peanut butter)

zesty — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 02:02:04 +0000

It’s Valentine’s Day and romance is in the air. Rather than go on a lame rant about how Valentine’s Day sucks and is a fake holiday created by greeting card companies to drum up business between Christmas and Easter and that if you love someone you should be sweet to them throughout the year instead of needing a special day to do that, I will instead take this opportunity to offer advice to the single readers out there who would like to have someone special to spend next Valentine’s Day with. Most of these tips apply to guys and gals alike, but if there are exceptions to this rule, I will be sure to note them.

Meeting People

Try joining clubs that focus on the things you’re interested in; other people you will meet there are going to have at least one thing in common with you. Hopefully that thing you have in common isn’t a relative.
If TV and movies are any indication, there is a decent chance that you will meet your soulmate by saving their life just before they get hit by a car or something. The next time you’re out walking and see an attractive stranger, shove them out of the way of any perceived threat that’s handy, no matter how small. Make it sound like they were in much more danger than they actually were. Always have cash when you do this, as they will want to go get coffee or the most time-appropriate meal with you at that very moment. Even if they already had other plans!
Assuming you go out in public on a semi-regular schedule, you are bound to see at least one person a day that you’re attracted to. Don’t be shy about talking to them! Walk up to them and introduce yourself. If they seem cold or annoyed, that is probably just their way of dealing with their own shyness. Do them a favor and don’t let them hide from this opportunity.
Don’t be afraid to go after the significant others of your friends, especially if you think they might not be completely satisfied in the relationship (you will usually know about this from things your friend has told you about said relationship). If you both like your friend, chances are good that you’ll like each other.
People are attracted to confident people. Always walk around with a smug look on your face and look derisively at others. People eat that kind of thing up.

The First Date
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i’m not really coming out of retirement, but it has been awhile

zesty — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 02:48:08 +0000

Who missed me? Just wanted to post this, but I will write more later in the week.

Fuck you, Patriots. I could go on and on with that theme, but I’ll let the kids at Kissing Suzy Kolber do it for me.

See you kids in a couple days!

the only thing that can stop me dead in my tracks is the ancient art of “swift kicks to the groin”

zesty — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 18:03:00 +0000

The other day I was listening to Breaking Benjamin’s first CD on my way into work and got this song stuck in my head. Listening to the lyrics, it’s clearly inspired by The Wizard of Oz, which is also why the video I just linked to is just clips of that movie with the song dubbed over it.

Anywho, I had the song stuck in my head and wanted to hear it again at work, so I pulled up that video. I have seen TWoO many times (mostly when I was a kid, since it was on one of the networks every year and it seemed like I always had to watch it), but it wasn’t until I watched this video that I realized how lame the Wicked Witch of the West is. And that, my friends, brings us to the topic of today’s post: Fictional Characters With Lame-Ass Weaknesses.

The Wicked Witch of the West

This chick has a lot going for her. She can apparently teleport, she can fly, she can throw fireballs like she was straight out of Street Fighter II, and best of all, she has an army of flying monkeys at her disposal. The problem is that you can take her down with a Dixie cup full of H₂O. That also means that even though there are probably a ton of freaks on the internet who would voluntarily remove a testicle for a chance to punch the ticket of someone who’s completely green (and I don’t mean a virgin), she hasn’t had a shower in EVER, which should be a huge turnoff to anyone.

And from a biological perspective, her water vulnerability makes no sense at all. Even allowing for the fact that she’s not completely human, her cells would still be mostly composed of water. How can you be killed by something that makes up the vast majority of your mass? Let’s also not forget that her abilities to do evil deeds in scary conditions are severely hampered by this condition. I don’t know about you, but when I think about witches (or any other monsters), it conjures images of dark and stormy nights. Not for this one, though! Night work, even on clear nights, might be out of the question; I’d bet that if she’s out and about and the temperature drops below the dewpoint, she’s in trouble. Evil beings who can be killed with a SuperSoaker are not that intimidating.

Wicked Witch of the West - YOU SUCK.

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webcomic week goes out with a dry heave and collective eyeroll

zesty — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 20:44:28 +0000

I hope everyone enjoyed webcomic week and it’s steady stream of low-brow humor. Things will get back to normal next week.

oh boy, i thought this tasted kinda funny…

zesty — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 15:32:43 +0000

it turns out i can write just a few sentences and still take up as much space on a page as several paragraphs

zesty — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 16:28:08 +0000

my ability to work in nearly any medium surprises even me sometimes

zesty — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 20:01:34 +0000

eat your heart out, japanese william shakespeare. unless you have some ramen, in which case you should eat that. ramen is awesome.

zesty — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 18:57:24 +0000

With no offense intended to anyone out there who considers themselves a poet and writes lots of little poems about love or betrayal or their cat in a flowery little journal, I don’t consider poetry to be poetry unless it rhymes. No rhymes = creative writing (and not necessarily all that creative).

The only exception I give to that personal rule, and I don’t know why, so don’t ask me to elaborate, is haiku. They’re short and sweet and rigidly structured, not unlike a Lego woman. With that in mind, and because I can’t think of anything else to blog about today, I’m gonna bust out some freestyle non-rhymes. Nod yo’ heads if you feelin’ me.

First, some overly-simplified education. A haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables. The first line has five syllables, the second has seven, and the third has five. They came from Japan, as did the Nintendo Wii, although the two are unrelated. Here’s a quick sample I just made up:

This is a haiku;
It is not the first i’ve done,
nor is it the best.

I think you get the point. There was obviously no emotion or creativity put into that one, so let’s try something else. Something that speaks about my life.

Stuck in my office,
trying to write funny posts
helps to keep me sane.

Dudes, I friggin’ rock at haiku. Writing posts… well, that’s another story. I know what you’re thinking: “More, Zesty, more more MOAR!” Calm down, little ones, and stand aside. I’m opening the gates to Culturetown, USA.

“Hey, move it!” he said
to the fat chick in his way.
“I can’t see the game.”

“Move it?” she replied.
“You paid for this lapdance, dude.”
“Commercial’s over.”

She got up, hand out,
and demanded thirty bucks.
“Half a dance, fifteen.”

“Thirty bucks, my friend,
or they’ll take it out your ass.”
“Who will?” he asked her.

“Them big-ass bouncers,
the bald motherfuckers with
the big-ass muscles.”

“Oh, those bouncers. Hmm…”
He produced a black wallet
and paid the woman.

He noticed later
he had given her forty
but did not complain.

He’d get home tonight
with nary a blackened eye;
good deal for ten bucks.

Wow. WOW. I’ve always been one of those people who says they don’t know what art is but they know what they like. That, ladies and gentlemen is art. Soak it up.

Last one for the day, or I’m gonna have to start charging you guys. My goodness. This last one is about one of the worst people who has ever lived, so it might be a little dark. I say “might” because I haven’t written it yet and am not sure how it will turn out, but it is coming from a dark place.

Mothers, hide your kids;
pure evil walks among us.
Its name: Tom Brady

An ass-chinned demon,
spat from hell into Boston
to spawn with models.

Swallower of souls,
defiling all that is pure,
taints the NFL.

Powerful stuff. I hope you enjoyed it; maybe we can do it again sometime. In the meantime, leave your comments in haiku form.

an open letter from the guy in that ‘all i wanna do is make love to you’ song to ann wilson (lead singer of heart)

zesty — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 20:35:24 +0000

Ann-

Hey, long time no see. Remember me? I’m the guy you sang about in your All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You song a few years back. Okay so it has been… let’s see, Wikipedia says that song came out in 1990, so… 17 years. Wait, is that right? Has it really been that long? Jesus.

How’ve you been? Good? I hope so. I guess. Actually, I don’t really care; that’s sort of what I’m writing you about.

I mostly wanted to let you know that I think you’re an exploitative whore. Wow, does it feel good to say that. I’ve been bottling that up for a long time, and I probably should have let it go years ago, but now it’s right there on the paper in black and white. My therapist suggested that I should write you this letter and not send it, just to help verbalize my feelings and give me a sense that I had finally told you how I felt, but I fully intend to shoot this your way as soon as I put my signature at the end.

If that last paragraph makes me sound angry, it’s because I am. Not because of the one-night stand, as I’m pretty much always down for some strange when I can get it. No, I’m mad because you had to go and write that terrible song about the whole thing. Let’s take a look, shall we?

It was a rainy night
When he came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat.
So I pulled up alongside
And I offered him a ride.
He accepted with a smile,
So we drove for a while.
I didnt ask him his name,
This lonely boy in the rain.

First of all, this makes me sound like a homeless guy or any other brand of transient you can come up with. I was in a Kroger parking lot (not standing by the road, whore!) and my car wouldn’t start. You were coming out of the store and were parked in the spot caddy-corner to mine and sat in your car watching me try (unsuccessfully) to start mine. For, like, five minutes. It was honestly a little creepy, you just sitting there staring at me, eating what looked like Pringles that I assumed you had just bought at the store. Chip after chip after chip into your mouth, and you not taking your eyes off me for a moment. Weird.

So I finally popped the hood and got out to see what was going on under there. I’m not sure why, really. I don’t know shit about cars, so as long as all the major pieces seemed to be present (they were), everything would seem A-OK to me. I was standing there in the rain, staring at mechanics that may as well have been for a UFO, when you started your car, pulled forward roughly five feet, and asked if I needed any help. Since it was the mid 80’s, I didn’t have a cell phone and I didn’t have any change for a pay phone, so I said, “sure.”

I should have known that any woman who volunteers to give a strange man in a dark parking lot a ride was going to be trouble, so I guess all of this is sort of my own fault. But it was raining and I didn’t feel like hoofing it home. I’m aware of that, so you can save it (not that you could write me back anyway, as you will notice I have not included a return address).
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hey, at least i am actually doing something productive at work for once

zesty — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 15:27:43 +0000

As the IT guy at my work, I am tasked with making sure all of the computers in the office are operating as smoothly and efficiently as possible (this would be easier if everyone weren’t using four yr old hardware, but whatever). In the mind of the office manager, one of the best ways to do this is to make sure everyone’s keyboards are squeaky clean. To facilitate this, she gave me three cans of airduster yesterday afternoon.

I am sure all of you who enjoy huffing things just had your eyes light up like a six yr old’s on Christmas morning (as long as said six year old’s parents aren’t poor) at the mention of all that airduster. Sorry to disappoint you, but I intend to only use this stuff in a safe and responsible manner.

Like turning it upside down before shooting it because it makes freezing cold stuff come out. Awesome!

Before I got too far into my Arctic hijinks this morning, I decided to give my keyboard a good dusting. This is because it has been incredibly filthy since I got it. I read recently that your average keyboard has four times as many germs as the toilet seat in the office bathroom. If that is true for the average keyboard, I am pretty sure that the keyboard here has more germs than the dumpster outside a free clinic.

I seriously wish I had my good camera here with me, you guys, so you could see everything that came out of my keyboard. It is pretty gross. Dirt, crumbs, small pieces of God-knows-what, and a positively frightening number of what are either eyelashes or eyebrow hairs. Those are pretty much parts of another person who used to work here, right underneath the tips of my previously unsuspecting fingertips. Maybe they had hepatitis or a lip fungus or something. I don’t have any idea. I got a little crazy with the air nozzle and some of that stuff went into my cup of water. I don’t think I will be finishing that, but I think I might have gotten dysentery just from writing that last sentence.

Since I need to do the same thing for the other keyboards in the office, I’ll be sure to bring my camera in and update this post with pictures of that. The first batch should be up tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, I am going to see how much of that nasty-ass water I can freeze with just a can of air, unless I can find a bug or something. “How’s it feel to be an extra in The Day After Tomorrow, a-hole? Muahahaha!”