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Archive for September 2009

I Hate You, but Please Don’t Hate Me Back

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Humans, they’re weird and by weird, I mean they don’t make sense. The ego is not a hidden beast waiting in the shadows to pounce on your subconscious while you sleep. It is the scream of the wild, the elusive desire to kill, the wish of power that rings in your ears as you taste blood. What?


Make no mistake; in this life we’ve all had a fair amount of relationships. Be them platonic, be them romantic or be them somewhere in between leaving each person confused and slightly damaged.


I have had people come and go quite a bit in my life. (Is it me?) I have never had a reservation letting someone know that I didn’t/don’t like them. I’ve never felt bad for not liking someone or thinking badly or lowly of them. I’ve never thought it was wrong to dislike another person. “You can’t please all the people all the time and not everyone responds the same way to verbal violence.”


Now, when the news comes to me that someone whom I liked or revered as a friend utters words of discontent or rather strong language like, “You’re corrosive to life” or “The putrescence and squalor is revolting and poisoning” or “When I said I’ll see you later I meant like five, ten, fifteen years later… maybe never.” It hurts.


I want to feel free to hate whomever I choose, but be loved by all. Is that really too much to ask? It’s not like I want to be president or something.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster



—Riddle Me Rooster—


The answer to last weeks riddle was “One Cent”

CLT mentioned scent, but locked in with Cheetah, which spelled backwards is Hateehc, translated from Blovokian means, “the green smell” which is close enough. Congratulations CLT, you win a life supply of ‘Handy Bags’.


Tonight’s riddle:


Why did King Kong climb to the top of the Empire State Building?


Submit you’re answer as a comment for the chance to win fabulous make-believe prizes and come back next Sunday for the answer. Good luck!


Tell A Lot

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Fingers are amazing. Apparently they’re the only thing that separates us from amoeba. I like fingers ‘cause they’re so expressive. People can hold entire conversations with them, (which unfortunately doesn’t stop them from also talking). Fingers help us break through the language barrier. There are so many international signs and symbols that everyone understands, (except for those too uncivilized to understand and they are excused. Example: If you wear a loin cloth I don’t expect you to “call me” when I do the “finger phone” to my ear).

You can really tell a lot about a person by their finger gestures. I always judge men on how manly they are by one single hand gesture, being the finger “gun”.


If a guy does the “gun” symbol with his hand and only extends his first finger you can immediate assume the following, He is:



Afraid of spiders

Won’t help you change the brakes on your ’84 Ford F-150

Cheats on his taxes

Someone who will borrow your weed wacker and won’t return it until you go over and ask for it back


Now if a guy uses his first and middle finger, you can assume the following, He is:



Afraid of little dogs that bark incessantly


Wears leather pants on the weekend

Has never tasted, yet claims to love sushi


Don’t forget, if either of the finger “gun” wielders actually pulls the “thumb” trigger, this is an act of aggression and affords you the right to immediate start kicking his ass. IF they make a gun sound such as bang, boom, kapow, etc. you can kill him in self-defense.


If a woman gives you the finger “gun”, make no mistake, she has a penis.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster



—Riddle Me Rooster—


The answer to last weeks riddle was “Holes”

Claire is the only one who answered, except for CLT who is a week behind, (which is actually genius for always being right) so even though her answer was wrong is was witty, so chalk up another win for Claire.


Tonight’s riddle:


How much is a skunk worth?


Submit you’re answer as a comment for the chance to win fabulous make-believe prizes and come back next Sunday for the answer. Good luck!

Custom Coffins

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The other day I heard a commercial for customizing your coffin. You can get custom printed liners or go with existing logos, like the Yankees’ or the Raiders emblems. (I don’t know about College teams, so please stop calling me.) It took a moment for it to all sink in. I think it was three or four commercials past before I literally asked the Holy Ghost, WTF?


I couldn’t agree more with Al Czervik more when he said, “Two biggest wastes of real estate, golf courses and cemeteries.” I can’t think of anything more self serving and egocentric than a grave. Now add $50k for services and you’ve made it criminal.


I remember when my brother died; we burned him and threw the ashes in his wife’s face. I think my dad might have whispered, “sorry” or something.


Why does everyone have to customize everything they own? I walked by a subordinates computer last week and the command line was bright, neon-green for fvck sakes!


Having special hubcaps on your car doesn’t make you unique. Changing factory settings on your phone doesn’t make you special. Rearranging the icons on your iPod doesn’t make you an individual.


Don’t forget, “Everyone’s special in their own way”. Whatever!


If I was an undertaker, and I got a die-hard, (literally) Yankees’ fan asking for a Yankees’ themed casket, I’d cover it in Red Sox memorabilia.


What can I say, I’m a people person.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster



—Riddle Me Rooster—


The answer to last weeks riddle was “Cheetah”

Claire actually gave the answer in her response, (exactly ten words before typing “I give up”. Well, I don’t believe in quitting, so Claire, good news, you have your trophy back.


Tonight’s riddle:


What can you put in a box that makes it lighter?


Submit you’re answer as a comment for the chance to win fabulous make-believe prizes and come back next Sunday for the answer. Good luck!

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

September 14, 2009 at 4:21 am

Labor Day Passout

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Happy Labor Day! I’m not sure what Labor Day is about or what the proper words are to express the honor, which is displayed in the form of joy that we all share in not working on Monday, (except those working on construction projects and the majority of those in retail sales).


Is Labor Day synonymous with drinking? I have several friends that would tell me yes, but then again they’d say that drinking is synonymous with the sun coming up. So what’s that tell you?


This weekend I hung out with some of those old friends of mine. When I say old friends, I mean the kind that are so old that when you’re together you do nothing more than remind each other of all the ridiculous and crazy stuff you have on each other, ‘cause you can’t possibly remember yourself. For some reason drinking stories always seem to surface and be the most in abundance.


I’m not a drinker. I’m what alcoholics call “sober” or what teenagers call “a pussy”. I don’t have medical evidence to back it up, but I’m fairly certain that I have an allergy to alcohol, because most of the time when I consume it, it comes back up.


There are a lot of wonderful stories starring yours truly, a lot of passing out in the neighbor’s lawn, on the porch, in closets, in the trunk of my own car, etc. As such, there are also a lot of disgusting stories with me having the major role in “Vomit Gone Wild”. Some examples would be vomiting in bed, in cars, on my shoes, on other people and in the punch bowl and grandma’s 87th birthday party. They’re all wonderful, but there was one story that seemed to sparkle just a little brighter than the rest.


I was told of the time that I was drinking at a friend’s tiny apartment. When I say tiny, I’m talking 100 square feet tiny. The bathroom door opened inwards to an incredibly small bathroom. So small in fact that the door didn’t even fully open as it was stopped by the sink cabinet.


Apparently, as the story goes, we were all sitting around drinking on Labor Day Eve, celebrating the fact we didn’t have to get up early and once again I consumed passed my limit. I got up and went into the bathroom to spend a little quality time with the toilet. After purging the demons from my body I got up to leave and passed out. My friends, whom I sure were extremely concerned, came to the bathroom to investigate the “thump”. When they tried to open the door they were unsuccessful as I had managed to lose consciousness between the door and the sink. No matter how hard they tried to open the door they couldn’t because of my pesky breathing corpse being the world’s largest door stop.


At first it was rather funny to them all, until the urge to urinate became prevalent. After trying to revive me by ramming and kicking the door, screaming at me and squeezing a hand through and shooting me with a water gun, they gave up and took turns peeing in the kitchen sink for the remainder of the evening. Not too shabby.


Do you have a better story than that? Let’s hear it and all laugh.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster



—Riddle Me Rooster—


The answer to last weeks riddle was “At lunch it goes back for seconds”

No one guessed, so I’ll be taking myself to the bar for drinks.


Tonight’s riddle:


What animal should you never play cards with?


Submit you’re answer as a comment for the chance to win fabulous make-believe prizes and come back next Sunday for the answer. Good luck!