questions...

Today, I got a mass email from a friend. She was bored and asked a bunch of random questions figuring getting a bunch of random answers from people will lead to entertainment. Here are the questions and my answers in reversed order. It's funniest in this order. 

3. Why do they sterilize needles before lethal injections? 

-They are actually "sterilizing" those needles with more poison

2. If Barbie is so popular why do you have to buy her friends?

-Dumb sluts are used to having other people spend money on them

1. What is the speed of dark?

-Carl Lewis

wow...

Last night, I'm pretty sure I said the least intelligent thing anyone has ever said while watching Jeopardy. 

"That chick is stacked!"

To be fair she was. That was one broad broad. Any girls still reading this want to meet up for drinks?

alcohol...

St. Patrick's day has come and gone. Prescription drugs have vanished. There's nothing left now except count down the days when I (Fox) can drink alcohol again. It's 16 more for all those counting. You would think that 100 days of sobriety would be an easy thing but it's not. Mostly because I have been trying to sabotage myself from my earlier days of drinking. Last week I remembered this one time where my plan of getting black out drunk backfired after I accidentally locked myself out of a hotel room in the process but that's another story altogether. I was thinking at how my sober self misses that lovable scamp, drunk me. He's like a delightful little sprite bringing fun and smiles to all. About 6 months ago he went to a music festival and obviously bought beer. Miraculously, he did not finish all of them and decided it would be a good idea to bring them home by packing them in the outer pocket of his suitcase. Since he was probably drunk when he packed them, sober me clearly forgot about them, mostly because drunk me drinks a lot and kills brain cells then sober me can no longer remember anything. Sober me found these beers in said suitcase conveniently at the end of this trip while returning home. They had already been on an airplane once and luckily did not explode. They flew once again for the sake of hilarity and also have not exploded yet. See how much fun drunk me can be sometimes?

Great Moments in Irish History

This is the untold story about how Ireland became significant. It all started with 3 guys who were part of Bell Atlantics "FAVE 5" promo. TXTing wasn't popular then because it was hard with rotary phones, but hip kids in Ireland were all over it like goats on Céide Fields.

September 1976

Mullen: yo, bono, r u busy?
Bono: no, wadup?
Mullen: c we need a name for the band!
Bono: but we sux
Edge: i m so gay!
Mullen: shut it edge.
Bono: let's go nameless
Edge: U r so lame Mullsy
Bono: next name wins
Mullen: U2 Edge!
---end transmission---

diary...

day 3.

While writing an email I started drooling unknowingly. Later, a girl six years younger and several inches shorter than I asked who would win if we got in a fist fight. I told her I would. She said she couldn't believe that I would hit a younger and much smaller girl. I told her she forgot she was talking to a goddamn goon on steroids. I no longer refer to them as "home runs", they are now known to me exclusively as "dingers". 

number of weights lighted: 31

number of dingers hit: 22

steroids...

Since that dwarf gave me the ability to take steroids I may as well write about it, no? Here goes

day 1. 

It's funny because I am the one taking steroids yet everyone else seems to be grumpy. Douglas asked if he could call me C-Rod but I told him I prefer C-ambi or Canada M. (arkmcqwire) Fox because I dislike hispanic people. This may or may not have something to do with a wedding I went to over the weekend where I was the only person in attendance without an understanding of the spanish language. 

I watched a few episodes of Eastbound and Down and predicted what was going to happen, naturally, because I am on steroids and so is the main character on that show. I took some drowsy cough medicine but steroids helped me stay awake. 

number of weights lifted: 1

number of home runs hit: 0

day 2. 

While defecating I decided to punch myself in the leg as hard as I fucking could. Three punches later and I felt nothing but greatness. Steroids are awesome. 

number of weights lifted: 4

number of home runs hit: 8

Who let the dogs in...

Before our time on this planet, humans did things that today seem absolutely asinine. For example, during the days of the Incas, if someone had a migraine headache a doctor would drill a hole in their head to let the demons out. In ancient Rome, before the days of Roto-Rooter, the poor would sit at the floor seats of the Colosseum so that at breaks, when everyone would piss off the side of the structure, those less well off got...well...shit on. And if you ever had to fake attention during a history class you know that the people in Salem, MA were always paranoid of witches (and losing high school football to Marblehead). So I often wonder what people 1000 or more years from now will point out as the most bizarre thing us crazy 2009ers did.

And I think it is simple - dogs.

Think about it for a second. Animals in the house.

Why is this ok? I really don't get it. At what point did it become ok to hold an animal, let it lick your face, rub its fresh feces stained nostrils on yours, and all the while you laugh and use baby voices to coax it out of shitting or pissing more on the floor? I'm not a germ freak. Or an animal hater. I'm really fine with animals doing their thing on their time and in their place.

But why dogs? Why is it understood that some animals you shouldn't have in your house, but dogs are fine? SPCA would have you believe that it is because they are domesitcated creatures. Well last time we held living creatures to do things that weren't natural we called it slavery, and it didn't end well.

Your place in history?, your call.

G-sus

I like Jesus as much as the next guy. I mean, I don't know Jesus, but I often times think of what he would do. And I know that if there is no Jesus, there is no peace. And if you know Jesus, you know peace. (and with Catholic girls, no Jesus means no piece) In general though, I can't help but think I am a bit hypocritical in my view of the man.

After John won 14 to 6 (John 14:6), Thomas said to Jesus "We don't know where we are going, so how can we know the way?", to which Jesus replied "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

After Terrell Owens beat the 49ers last November (TO 35:22), he said "I need the ball to win the game because I am the game."

So when T.O. took the podium in Buffalo this past weekend to announce his signing with the Bills, he first acknowledged his savior Jesus. Well who does Jesus thank when something good happens in his name?

I'm not saying he has to. I just think it is odd that we give Owens such a hard time for being soooo cocky, but in current terms, Jesus was pretty damn cocky and everyone seemingly goes along with him.

Just think about it the next time your favorite athelete gets "cocky", he may just be mirroring Jesus or NAS.

Alternika

If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. So the B&M design team took a stab at an alternate swastika. An "alternika" if you will.

health issues...

Today, for the first time in my adult life, I have left a doctors office feeling somewhat satisfied. I usually leave feeling quite angry, mostly because I hate doctors. Whenever I actually break down and decide to see one they tend to not really tell me anything I don't already know. Except for the one time I left with lube in my ass where I basically learned the definition of "violated" but that's another story altogether. Today's visit was like a dream. A very cute and friendly Nurse Practitioner  helped me out and actually fucking paid attention for once. After the check up, I wandered over to a desk where a dwarf handed me a prescription for steroids. Really. This really happened, and that's why this visit was like a dream. It was way better than those "you think this is really happening but you are actually just dreaming fool!" dreams I've had lately. Like the one when a cat broke into my room and walked on my face or the one where the office park on the edge of town built a Fuddrucker's. I drove by there a few days later and left pretty sad. Wasn't hungry at all, just in one of those "Hey look! Fuddrucker's!" moods we all sometimes get in. So yeah, hot chicks and steroids and dwarves, sounds like David Lynch film loosely revolving around baseball but no, it was just a damn routine doctors visit about why something inside my chest has been hurting for 2 months. Angry Isabella should make odds on potential conditions I may have. I'm putting $20 down on "torn rib cartilage". 

While waiting to get chest x-rays my mind wandered and wished the x-ray technician resembled Bishop or Ripley from the Alien series. The thought of some gut-wrenching creature just waiting to burst out of my ribcage and destroy human society somehow brightened my day. Sadly, this is where the dream would end as the one that helped me resembled Ellen Degeneres more than anyone in any Alien film. That probably isn't too far from my original wish as I think it is. And an old woman in the radiology waiting room said "We grew up in the 40's, we knew how to make our own jelly" and it made... 

perfect... 

sense.

Swasti-wha?

As an amateur typographer, logoligist and world historian specializing in the 1930s to the mid-40s, I'm often asked, "Angry Isabella, what is the most disappointing part of World War II to you?"

Well, the answer may surprise you, but my common response is grounded in the unfortunate decision of the Nazi Makerting Department (NMD) to utilize the "crooked cross" (aka "swastika") as their logo of choice. It is a clear and unfortunate misappropriation of a geometrically brilliant emblem. Forget the fact that the design is often misclassified as a hateful symbol, in its hay-day the SANSKRIT (as the kids called it) was used to symbolize good luck. While I think we can all agree that the jews may or may not have been the enemy and destroyer of the purity of blood (and on and on and on), we can all also agree that this symetrical symbol would be more revered today for its beauty than even the recycling triangular arrows if not for this unfortunate decision of the NMD.

In todays marketing rich environment, the "crooked-cross" naturally lends itself to semi-productive groups like 4-H, or Bell Helicopter. With Hindu roots meaning 'evolution', it's not difficult to imagine the listless Steve Jobs adopting the "hook cross" to replace the outdated "apple silhouette" (iSwastika anyone?) Minor league baseball would have a field day (get it?) with this logo once known as a "thundercross". [Does Swampscott have a team?]

What really gets my goat though is that the striking beauty of the sun wheel is in no way reflective of the Nazi ideals. It would be as if Greenpeace chose the Whammy from Press Your Luck for their uniform lapels...it just doesn't make sense. Perhaps before the main roll-out of the fresh angled swastika in the late 1930s, the NMD could have had a retreat to discuss other options...a concentration camp if you will.

But alas, what makes this period in our history most troubling, (aside from the 100 million deaths) is the fact that the ol' Allied powers couldn't come up with anything. No logo. No color scheme. No witty slogan. Even Wingdings had enough creatvie juices to churn out 3 font types. Damn you Shepard Fairey being born too late.