A Smack on Amtrak

My transportation tragedy of sorts two Sundays ago, coupled with the possibility of terrible traffic on I-95, led me to purchase an Amtrak ticket home last Wednesday night. For most of the journey, I managed to maintain a delightful slumber, until I was rudely awakened by a woman yelling. I sat up in my seat and noticed that a few rows ahead of me, a woman in her thirties was turned around and yelling at a woman behind her. Apparently, the target of her verbal assault had smacked the enraged woman's child because, as she claimed, the child was making too much noise. Now, to be fair, I had neither heard the kid making noise, nor did I see the extent of the blow, but the mother of the child certainly felt that the contact was unwarranted, and was threatening to call the police. Since this happened right before arriving at 3oth Street Station in Philadelphia, I had to leave the train and did not find out how the story ended. However, today at work, a friend of mine who stayed on the train until NYC told me that the mother actually did call the police, who eventually made their way to Ms. Physical Contact and escorted her off the train.

Honestly, does the journey from between Philadelphia and DC bring out the child abuser in people? As I wrote Here , some people have no qualms about candidly discussing their abusive ways on the bus. However, it is now clear to me that others have no problem actually demonstrating their parental puching prowess on other people's children. You know, I used to think that public transportation brought out the best in people, but now... well, now I just don't know.

Is beauty only fur deep?

For the past 100,000 years or so, humans and canines have coexisted, living as man and his furry best friends. But it turned out that, over the years, certain litters yielded stronger, cuter or more useful dogs, and in order to further develop these traits, man actively bred these special dogs, while probably eating the less stellar pooches. This selective breeding culminated in the numerous types of dogs that people are familiar with today, and with most breeds, it is fairly easy to recognize the distinguishing trait. As their name implies, Golden and Labrador Retrievers are excellent at retrieving things. Back in the day, this meant fetching game, and today, this innate ability can be exploited for retrieving cold beers from the fridge, as well as helping the blind retrieve things, ( for example, more cold beer from the fridge). Bloodhounds were bred for their excellent sense of smell, and Dachshunds for their excellent sense of humor (they not only embrace the nickname "wiener dogs", but they actually came up with it, claimed a crazy homeless person I once ran from).

A (mostly) hairless Chinese Crested

However, while the reason for selecting certain characteristics in dogs, and developing certain breeds, is apparent for some types of our furry friends, in others, it is far from obvious, (at least, to me). Perhaps the most mystifying breed of all is the Chinese Crested, of which my dog Barclay is a member. For reasons unbeknownst to me, people purposely bred balding dogs to end up with a hairless breed that, in my opinion, comprises one of the least attractive breeds out there. Luckily for Barclay, he is a "Powder Puff" Chinese Crested, which means that, unlike his siblings, he was blessed with a full coat of fur, (there is one Powder Puff in every Chinese Crested litter). However, all of his unfortunate brothers and sisters were not so lucky; they all look like tiny, starving mutant horses. But hey, if you're in the market for an emaciated midget pony, perhaps you'll consider a Chinese Crested.

Barclay - Keepin' it real in a green bandanna

Sure, they ain't pretty, but they've got great personalities and make great pets. Barclay has a good temperament, and is very intelligent. In fact, he's not neutered, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to knock up some Chinese Crested bitch, (sorry, I couldn't resist the opportunity to use that term in its literal sense).

The inspiration for writing this entry stems from two sources: this cnn.com article, Ugly Dog which contains the picture of Sam, a dog who is hideous even by Chinese Crested standards, and from my return to my parents' house to see my dog Barclay, who I believe is on the opposite side of the Chinese Crested cuteness spectrum, (some people have even gone as far as to insist that Barclay is the Brad Pitt of Chinese Cresteds.

Sam - He had a great personality

I can sorta see the resemblance). However, while these two dogs have very different appearances, they do have one thing in common, (besides their breed): they both have, (or in the recently deceased Sam's case, had) owners that love them. After all, an owner's appreciation of his pet often transcends physical traits to find inner animal beauties that the rest of the world often cannot see.

Good for you, Mr. and Mrs. hairless Chinese Crested owners, for loving these dogs in spite of, (or maybe even, because of) their unusually bare bodies. But hey, if any of you change your mind, I hear that Rogaine works wonders...

What the F?!

Today's puzzle is very simple. Count the number of letter "f"s in the following sentence:

FINISHED FILES ARE THE RESULT OF YEARS OF SCIENTIFIC STUDY COMBINED WITH THE
EXPERIENCE OF YEARS.

I know it looks stupid, but I bet most of you still get it wrong. Give it a shot, and if you're brave enough, post your "f" count.

A Vishissionary

A face only your mother could love

Today's "Rap Song by a White Guy Sampling a Tim Burton Movie Theme Song" is Vishel Juice by Vishiss. If you thought the Beetlejuice theme song was a hot jam, you should try listening to it with a white guy laying down some dope rhymes on top. Check it out; it's fresh. Fo' shizzle, bizzle!

Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car

Here is the story about a man and his plan.

The man is me. The plan was mine. Everything went to hell. The End.

That was the simplified version, for those who don’t like reading long blog entries. For those who have more time, here was my day on Sunday, in more detail:

I woke up early with the anticipation of meeting up with my friends in Baltimore, Maryland. Matt managed to get his hands on four tickets to the Ravens-Steelers game, (which was to be played at 1 pm), and although I’m not a fan of either team, I thought it would be nice to meet up with everyone. Being in DC sans car, I needed to find an efficient way to get to Baltimore. One option was to take several metro connections to either Amtrak or the Chinatown bus, which would then drop me off somewhere in Baltimore, and would require me to then either take a taxi or get picked up once in the city. At the time, that seemed like a hassle and a big waste of time, as I would constantly be waiting on public transportation to take me each leg of the trip. Instead, I decided that a simpler plan would be to rent a car, and that would take me directly from DC to Baltimore and back. No problem, I thought. Easy as pie. Piece of cake.

I went to a rental office near my place, and rented a car for only $22.00 for a full day. It seemed like such a bargain. And I sure like bargains. Until I saw the car.

The car that I had rented was a very large and very old silver Ford Crown Victoria (Ford built the first Crown Victoria in 1955. I think what I rented might have been that car). I got inside and was immediately overwhelmed by the stench of old people. I then noticed there was no gas in the tank, so the first thing I had to do was navigate this boat to the nearest gas station, where I ended up paying more for gas than I did to rent the damn thing. Next, I made my way to the highway, where I kept getting distracted by the drone of a pack of motorcycles that seemed to be following me very closely. Turns out, the sound that I was hearing wasn’t a pack of motorcycles, but the car that I was driving. Some lesser men might have turned the car around at this point. Some smarter men might have done the same. Not me. I thought, “The car is old. Old cars make weird noises. Everything is as it should be.” Eventually, the noise went away, and away I went, to Baltimore, my neighbor to the north.

Somehow, I managed to make it to downtown Baltimore, and about five blocks from the stadium, the car died. After frantically tried to restart it, it became apparent that I wasn’t going to resurrect the car myself, and so I tried calling the rental company to find out what I should do. Of course, they wouldn’t answer. As I continued to futilely call their office, passing cars did not take too well to me sitting in my deceased rental making calls on my cell phone. Instead of extending a helping hand, they extending me a middle finger, (or two). This was somewhat frustrating.

Eventually, Alex showed up and helped me push the car off the main road. He hopped in the car, put it in neutral, while I pushed, and he managed to get the car started. By this point, Matt and Ana Lauren had found us, and so I jumped in their car and we started following Alex as he slowly lumbered off. Despite the fact that he was moving at 5 mph, we somehow managed to lose him. Eventually, we found him trying to parallel park the car. The thing is, the car had died again, so he and some bystanders were trying to manually parallel park the car by pushing it, (if you think trying to parallel park a car in the normal way is hard, trying doing it without power steering and without the help of the engine to move it). After it became apparent that the car wasn’t going to fit, we moved it across the street, where we noticed it was next to a fire hydrant. Not wanting it to get towed, we pushed it into an alley and stuck a note under the windshield wiper that said: “Car engine dead. Will have towed later. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Not knowing what else to do, we went to the game.

While the game was entertaining, I must admit, I was slightly preoccupied. During half time I happened to glance over the rental agreement that I had signed, and on the back, in almost illegibly small type, it said that, were the car to fail, I was responsible for towing it back to DC. However, when we eventually returned to where we left the car, I no longer had to worry about towing the car, because someone had done it for me. Oops.

I managed to write down the towing company’s number after borrowing a pen from a resident in the building adjacent to the alleyway. Apparently, this lender of the pen WENT to Penn and Ana Lauren knew him. He seemed like a nice guy, (I guess I’ll overlook the fact that he was probably the guy that had my car towed). I then went to the train station and took a train back to DC.

Yesterday morning, I called the towing company. They told me I owed $240 in cash, and there would be a charge of $8.00 a day for each day it was there. So, if you are keeping track, my brilliant plan has now cost me: $20 to rent, $26 in gas, $40 for a train ticket home, and on top, it would take at least another $240 just to get the car out of the lot so I could then tow it back to DC, (which would probably be another few hundred) and THEN, according to the rental agreement, I would have to pay more to have it fixed. I then tried to call the rental company, and the operator let me know that the number was disconnected.

So, basically, I don’t plan on paying for anything more in this fiasco. Last night, I went to the lot where I rented the car, and slid the keys in the drop-box. Let them deal with their bargain buggy. I think I got what I paid for, but I don’t think I should have to pay for what I got.

If I’m sued, I really hope the judge agrees.

Is this seat taken?

So I've busy and haven't had a chance to post much, but I figure I can at least throw a puzzle out there. Here it is:

You are going to get on an airplane because you are flying to Laos for a fun weekend getaway. You are the 100th person in line to board a 100 seat jet. However, it seems the first person in line is a crazy old person. That's right, she is crazy AND old, which of course can only mean trouble. When she boards the plane, being crazy and old, she will not necessarily sit in her assigned seat; rather, she will sit anywhere she damn well pleases. Everyone else is not crazy and old, so they will try and sit in their assigned seat, unless someone else is already in it, and then they will randomly choose another seat. So let's say the crazy old woman chooses seat 45. Then that person will randomly choose another seat, perhaps seat 97. Then that person will randomly choose another seat, and the insanity continues. My question is this: how likely is it that you will end up in your assigned seat?

A Bird in the Hand

My mom does not like Bush. But she does like Bush jokes. The picture below, (click on it for a larger version) and movie link are courtesy of her.

The resemblance is uncanny

If you want to see more pictures, try:

http://www.bushorchimp.com/

If you want to hear our president speak, try:

Bush Talk American Real Good

Mom, thanks for the funny material. And for giving birth to me. My mom is the best.

Sex Offending

Don't scroll down.












Stop scrolling down.











I'm warning you!











Too late!

It's Brian Peppers!

So take a guess: is the picture above of a real person or is it a mask/digitally altered photograph. Take a guess and then go here for the answer. Knowledge is power.

Fore!

Using exactly four "4"s and a combination of operators/symbols found on a traditional keyboard, (e.g. +,-,/,*,(,), etc.)you should be able to punch in an equation into google and get back every number from 1 to 100. For example, if you wanted to get the value of "1", you would type into google "44/44" and that will return 1. So will "4/4 + 4 - 4". Note that I used exactly four fours in both equations. All operators and symbols will be one character, (so don't try things like "log"), except I'll allow you to use "sqrt( )" too. Using these rules, can you:

1. Make the values from 1 - 20?
2. Get the value 71?

Part 1 is easy. Part 2, not as easy. If you hate math, sorry to have wasted your precious time.

Green With Envy

If you look carefully, you'll notice a green torso

My office building has an infestation. An infestation of military personnel. Every day, I encounter a multitude of these annoyances in the elevator, but unlike your typical pest, (e.g. cockroach), you cannot stamp on these, (you are liable to get shot if you try it). Instead, you have to stand quietly as they talk about military nonsense and get on and get off on every single floor between your starting floor and your destination floor.

How do I know that they are members of the military, you ask? Well, it’s easy, I say. They wear full-body, green camouflaged suits. Apparently, while troops are in combat, they must don these outfits in support. In my humble opinion, I think wearing green camouflage in an office building is just silly. If you want to blend in to your surroundings, wearing green and brown outfits against the typical drab colors of an urban office landscape does not hide anything. They should try white camouflage, or maybe just staple some printer paper on top of their current army fatigues. In fact, I would volunteer my stapler and some paper if they would stand there and let me staple it to them.

I mean, why green? I sure hope it’s not the color our troops in Iraq are using. Nothing would be easier than shooting at troops wearing green in a pale brown desert. All the opposing forces would have to do would be to look for new clusters of trees or previously unknown oases and shoot at them. Since I’m fairly confident our troops are sporting the beige look, why aren’t these office warriors doing the same? Well whatever. If they want to be silly and wear the green, fine, but they’d better not expect me to pretend that I can’t see their torsos. Unless of course, they ask nicely. Or wave their guns around. I’m a sucker for both.

Comical

This guy has a sick sense of humor, so obviously, I thought I'd recommend his stuff. Here are a few samples, (click on the comic to see a larger version):



Sorry to all turtle, grandpa, and kitty lovers if I have offended you.

What Dreams May Come

Yesterday, I had a dream that I was going down a waterslide with Jimmy Carter, and I remember thinking in the dream, "This is unusual. I'm on a waterslide with Jimmy Carter. Maybe I'll write about it in my blog." Well, turns out it was just a dream, but it has inspired me to create this post, which I aim to fill up with one sentence summaries of my dreams, (the ones that I can remember).

• 11/26/2004 - Out in a field during a rainstorm, and tornadoes are spawning everywhere. (This is a common reoccuring dream I have, but this is the first time I've had it in a while).
• 11/08/2004 - Ryan and the guys from Miamia Vice practices shooting rocket launchers at a suspended cooked chicken.
• 11/05/2004 - Ryan and Jimmy Carter share some quality time together going down a giant water slide.

Stay tuned for more random and pointless dreams...

Whip it, whip it good.

When returning from Philadelphia to DC via Greyhound bus earlier today, I had the pleasure of sitting in front of two women who decided to talk very loudly for the entire 3 hour trip. For most of the ride, I managed to drown them out with music or ignore them; however, when they started talking about beating their kids, I couldn’t help but listen.

The first woman started reminiscing about the beatings with laughter in her voice. It seems that whenever her children anticipate a thrashing, they put on many layers of clothing to soften the blow. Of course, she’d always catch them trying to protect themselves, and would make them then strip down so that nothing would come between her fists of fury and their skin. She and the other woman had to admit, their children’s futile attempts to protect themselves sure were cute.

She then started giving examples. One time, she had to beat her kids for “stealing.” It turns out that when she said “stealing”, she meant that one of her kids ate some stuffing before it was served at dinner time. Although she didn’t see her kids actually commit this heinous crime, she gathered them together, threatened to call the police, have them fingerprinted to determine the culprit, and send them all to jail. The kids were so frightened that they could actually go to jail for “stealing” some food before it was officially served that one confessed, and then the woman took the child, in tears, and beat him. Are you taking notes? Eating stuffing before it’s handed to you = getting the stuffing beaten out of you.

The other woman, chuckling at the first woman’s stories, then piped in with her own adventures. Apparently, she was mad at her kids for not keeping the house clean so she told them all they would be sent to foster homes. She made them pack their bags, put on their coats and lined them up at the door. Apparently, the kids were all in tears, and one of the 6 year olds handed her mother a picture of the two of them and said, “Don’t forget me”. I was pretty moved by that imagery, but not the women: they just kept on laughing. Apparently, physically and emotionally abusing children makes for some great laughs. Well, I wasn’t laughing, (and in fact, I was pretty mortified), but maybe my problem was that I just didn’t get it, or maybe I “had to be there.” Yeah, that’s probably it….

My Hat Is Off To You, Sir

Today's puzzle:

Four guys are in prison. Let's call them prisoners. The guard in charge of watching them decides to play a game with them. He puts one of the prisoners in one cell, and the other three in an adjacent cell. He then lines up the three in the one cell so that they are all facing the same direction. Next, he then takes four beanies, (two white and two black) and randomly puts them on all of their heads. The guy in the back of the three person line can see the color of the two beanies in front of him, (but not his own), the guy in the middle of the line can see the color of the guy in front of him, (but neither his own nor the guy behind him), and the guy at the front of the three person line, and the solo prisoner in the other cell, cannot see anyone's beany. The guard then tells them there are two white beanies and two black beanies, and if anyone can guess the color of his beany within the hour, he can go free, but if he guesses incorrecly, he will be shot. They are allowed to answer in any order, (as soon as they know, they can shout it out). If they say anything other than black or white within the hour, they will also be shot, (so no cheating). They only have 1 year left in jail, so assume that unless they know for sure, they won't guess, (they'd prefer to stay in jail for a year rather than get shot). Sooooooo...assuming they are all logical people, who, if anyone, will ALWAYS go free, (not matter what the distribution of hats is). The correct answer could range from no one to everyone. Good luck.

Return of Whitey

So this "WhitePerson" knows I am not her friend, and seems to have found this blog, and yet she still does not know enough to not IM me. Oh well.

xWHITExPERSON4321 : yo ryan : yo xWHITExPERSON4321 : is this ryan?? ryan : yep ryan : is this demi? xWHITExPERSON4321 : yep xWHITExPERSON4321 : how do you know my name???? ryan : because you told me earlier xWHITExPERSON4321 : oh xWHITExPERSON4321 : haahhah xWHITExPERSON4321 : casue i thought i knew you xWHITExPERSON4321 : i thought you were matthew xWHITExPERSON4321 : cause his sn is *screen removed* xWHITExPERSON4321 : yeha xWHITExPERSON4321 : uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh xWHITExPERSON4321 : how old are you???? ryan : 23 xWHITExPERSON4321 : sweetness xWHITExPERSON4321 : i dont know why ryan : it sure is ryan : yeah i don't know either ryan : i'm guessing you are in ... ryan : 8th grade ryan : so you are probably ryan : 14 ? xWHITExPERSON4321 : yehs xWHITExPERSON4321 : how did you know that ryan : i'm psychic xWHITExPERSON4321 : no way ryan : and you live somewhere in the northwest US xWHITExPERSON4321 : are you on my myspace?? ryan : no ryan : are you? xWHITExPERSON4321 : no ryan : oh xWHITExPERSON4321 : are you a sealion? ryan : yep xWHITExPERSON4321 : AHHHHHHHH xWHITExPERSON4321 : do you like feather boas?? ryan : i do xWHITExPERSON4321 : heyyyyyyyyy xWHITExPERSON4321 : dude xWHITExPERSON4321 : dude xWHITExPERSON4321 : dude xWHITExPERSON4321 : dude xWHITExPERSON4321 : hey xWHITExPERSON4321 : i thought i knew you xWHITExPERSON4321 : but i dont xWHITExPERSON4321 : uhhhh xWHITExPERSON4321 : lol ryan : nope i live in washington dc xWHITExPERSON4321 : do you really look like a little kid? ryan : i don't have the hormones needed to make me get older ryan : so i look like i'm 4 xWHITExPERSON4321 : really? xWHITExPERSON4321 : are you serious? ryan : but i've been to college xWHITExPERSON4321 : wow xWHITExPERSON4321 : thats crazy man xWHITExPERSON4321 : but awesome ryan : it's ok xWHITExPERSON4321 : so like, do you have a job? ryan : yeah xWHITExPERSON4321 : thats cool xWHITExPERSON4321 : i gotta go man ryan : ok, take care xWHITExPERSON4321 : it was nice talking to ya xWHITExPERSON4321 : byeeeee ryan : bye bye xWHITExPERSON4321 signed off at 9:28:16 PM.

I Want Candy

Happy Halloween!

This past weekend, I realized something: For children, Halloween entails dressing up in costumes and trying to get candy. For adults, Halloween entails dressing up in costumes and trying to get laid.

On Saturday night, I lost count of how many scantily clad women I saw, each with a costume that was more revealing than the next. Many of these women probably wouldn't dream of showing so much skin on a regular Saturday night, but on Halloween weekend, they let it all hang out. It's as if it would be a fashion faux pas if the exposed skin to costume ratio was anything less than 1:1. The princesses and cheerleaders that use to comprise the fantasies of little girls have been replaced by the French maids and naughty nurses that comprise the fantasies of men. Don't get me wrong: this is not a plea to return to a simpler time; in fact, quite the opposite: times have changed for the better.

For example, I was riding on the subway when this hot woman in a Michael Jackson costume starting strutting around in her tight leather pants. I was enjoying her moves until she whipped out a cabbage patch doll and start doing terrible things to him, causing her performance to go from sexy to funny in 3 seconds flat. She wins points for entertaining me on two levels. Later, at a Halloween party, there was one girl dressed up as "Sex on the Beach", which basically meant she wore beach clothes, taped condoms to herself, and made out with lots of random guys. I actually overheard her say to some guy with whom she had just finished tongue wresting: "No, I can't go home with you, I don't even know you." She then proceeded to find some other guy who was willing to have his mouth explored. I felt bad for the original guy: he totally got suckered in by the false advertising.

Point is: Halloween has come to mean sweets for children, and sweet lovin' for adults. Parents take note: although the difference is subtle, do not mix this up, or you will end up bored for an evening, and your child will end up disturbed for a lifetime. Don't say I didn't warn you…