You're Welcome, Ladies!

Friends, sometimes the universe drops true love right in your lap. And sometimes the universe makes your stoned friends write a fake entry on Craigslist's infamous "Missed Connections" forum in order to fuck with you. Well, today, one of those two things has happened to me. My sister informed me that the following post was added to the Western Mass section of Missed Connections on the 21st of October:

Here is a link to the post so that you can better peruse the words of my soulmate/asshole friend.

Now, being a proud member of the Cartesian tradition of skepticism, I must consider both whether it is in fact I to whom this Craigslist post refers, and whether it was posted in earnest by a lonely lass or is instead the mischievous handiwork of one of my many, many dipshit "friends". Let's break this down, step by step.

So I made a delicious latte, eh? WRONG! I do work at Lenox Coffee, but the lattes that I make taste like a combination of chicory, disdain, and testicles (mine). This is my first reason for doubting the sincerity of this Craigslist post.

Ok, so I do have fucking STUNNING eyes, but I never "stand" behind the counter. My posture whilst at work is more akin to the lazed slouch of a male silverback gorilla kept in captivity, defeated yet feral. Also, sometimes I bend over to lap spilt half-and-half off of the floor mats. Rich in calcium. Good for the bones.

Yes, yes, I do also work at the Dream Away Lodge, a delightful bar and restaurant nestled in the remote woods of Becket, MA. But, and here's where my forensic psychological insight comes into play, only someone who is trying to pull the proverbial wool over my eyes would name-drop the Dream Away. So, my suspicion is now officially raised. If a random coffee shop babe actually wanted to get my attention, she'd no doubt emphasize the masculine curvature of my jaw or the impressive girth of the erection that perpetually sprouts from betwixt my thighs. The very mention of the Dream Away arouses a degree of suspicion in me. Could someone close to me perhaps be trying to lure me into a trap, be it of a humorous, anti-Semitic, or psycho-sexual nature?

Ok, let's clear something up right fucking now. Lenox Coffee's vanilla flavor shots are, indeed, quite saturated with sugar. But my general disposition while at work is far from sweet. This one time, I cock-punched a young, Asian tourist just for looking at me cross-ways. So this compliment is clearly fabricated.

Ummmm, I read EVERYTHING! Moby Dick? I read that shit! That weird Masonic tombstone in the graveyard in downtown Lenox? Yeah, I read that too. And the subtitles to the 2001 Mexican film "Y Tu Mama Tambien"? I don't care for wetback cinema. But I read pretty much anything else. Craigslist trickster, you've missed the mark big time!

So, little miss "Amazing Latte", I have one of two things to say to you. If you are in fact a single-and-ready-to-mingle babe who is attracted to my mind, body, and perma-boner, then I invite you to come back and visit me at the coffee shop. But this time, order a less faggy drink. And, if this Craigslist post was indeed perpetrated by a malicious acquaintance of mine, then I thank you for contributing to my internet celebrity. And maybe if you play your cards right, I'll give you a nice, fat shot of vanilla in your next latte (read: vanilla: dude sludge, latte: face).

UPDATE:

I have decided that, whether this romantic overture is in fact in earnest or is the nefarious ploy of one of my countless enemies, a reply was in order. I have sent the following response to the titillating post, and am eager to see what sort of response I receive. I will keep you updated regarding how this plays out. Has the love of my life just fallen into my lap? Or is one of the fuckers who works at the coffee shop with me trying to get a laugh at good ol' Andrew's expense? Only time will tell.

Train Baby

So here's something retarded that happened yesterday in India.

Long story short: A pregnant woman is riding on a train, the baby pops out while she's sitting on the toilet, and the newborn falls right through the toilet (way to go, Indian train toilet designers!) onto the tracks. Here's how it officially went down:

So, Indian train toilet baby, welcome to the world! Seeing as you were born while your mom was trying to take a crap and then you fell through the floor of a FUCKING SPEEDING TRAIN and onto the tracks while still dripping with amniotic fluid and mom turds, it's all up hill from here. If nothing else, this'll make a great story for you to tell on first dates. "Oh, you were born by C-section? Well I was crapped out of a fucking train's butthole!" Pure gold.

Can a Jew Catch Swine Flu?

I am sick as shit. Mr brain feels like it's trying to queef itself out of my eyes via my lower intestine. I'm going to visit my doctor tomorrow to see if I am afflicted by the dreaded Swine Flu, a disease that originated amongst these filthy beasts:

Apparently spreading from swine to humans first in Mexico and then making its way north, carried by the great busboy and landscaper migration of 2009, Swine Flu has been dubbed a pandemic by the media. But a question that has yet to be addressed is, "Can a Jew catch Swine Flu?" Wouldn't that kinda be like a Hindu getting Foot-and-Mouth disease, or a Muslim calling in sick with a hangover?

Let's find out together. If I am in fact carrying Swine Flu, then what's next for the Jews? Clam Migraines? Cheeseburger Herpes? Hitler Pox? Yeah, being a Jew is really hard. Except for the whole "controlling the media and instigating all of the world's wars" thing. That part is pretty sa-weet!

L'Chaim, L'Chaim, To Life! (or death, as the case may be)

Rape Tunnel

I was recently informed about the latest installation piece by artist Richard Winehouse. Entitled "Rape Tunnel", it takes the form of a long, darkened passageway constructed of wooden beams. This is what the Rape Tunnel looks like:

In keeping with the piece's title, Winehouse claims, in his artist's statement, that he will rape anyone who walks through it. This project comes in the wake of his previous piece, the "PUNCH-YOU-IN-THE-FACE TUNNEL", which resulted in a lawsuit when he broke a model's nose. Do you think I'm leading you on? How dare you!?! I outta rape-punch you for doubting my sincerity! Here's an article that lends legitimacy to my claims. Now, part of me respects Mr. Winehouse for pushing the boundaries of what is considered "art" in a climate in which it seems as though every boundary has already been pushed, ever avenue trodden down countless times. But another part of me concludes that he a rapist. So here are some less severe suggestions I have for Mr. Winehouse as he conceptualizes future artistic undertakings:

1) Owl Turds Tunnel: Same basic idea, except there's owl shit EVERYWHERE. You can finger the owls, but only if they consent.

2) Grape Tunnel: Fun for the whole family! White attire is not recommended.

3) Rape-Whistle Tunnel: An exuberant lesbian teaches art enthusiasts about rape prevention. Day-glo orange rape whistles are included in the entree fee.

4) Ape Tunnel: Ape boners fuckin' EVERYWHERE! Wear your rain poncho, cause shit gonna get CRAZY!

5) Crepe Tunnel: Come hungry, leave raped! (Title may be construed as misleading)

6) Cape Funnel: Dracula is here to PAR-TAY!

7) Rape Mirror: Can a person rape themselves? Only one way to find out! And that way is to cut a small hole cut into the mirror. And on the other side of that hole: party Dracula from idea 6!

So, am I sitting on the cutting fucking edge of artistic vision or what? While Mr. Winehouse is crouching in his tunnel, greasing up his wiener and hoping a fat dude doesn't walk in, I remain here, in the realm of the anonymous internet, greasing up my wiener and hoping that True Blood is on. Have a Rape-Tunnel-worthy day!