A Reference For the 27-and-Older Readership

I've never gotten used to the sight of all-black squirrels, especially the ones who have fallen victim to Calamity Jane and her "Mr. Wizard" science kit experiments.  

Bangers, Mash and Boxer Briefs

Wolfgang has left 1Prime for the weekend, departing for the distant land of Dickinson where the Market Cross beacons to the weary traveler and the campus police overcompensate for perceived inadequacies in their trousers.   I'm soldiering onward alone for the rest of the weekend and pants are strictly optional.

I heard Helga screaming bloody murder into her cell phone last night, but I was too preoccupied with two game sevens in the NHL, two NBA playoff games AND the season finale of "Hell's Kitchen" to give a flying fuck about how the new girlfriend of Helga's "man" didn't start "shit" in the elevator of the courthouse, choosing to wait until Helga was exiting the elevator to "man up and talk shit."

WTFN: The Lost Archives (Part II)

Most of these LOST (not to be confused with last night's outrageous finale) posts were taken on Wednesday, April 22nd ("Lyttle Women") when The Neighbors were listening to music (and dancing if you could call it that) on the porch.

During one song (that I didn't recognize), Calamity Jane made the following statement:

"I, Calamity Jane, harbour an intense and seething dislike for this particular musical composition and think badly upon any who would enjoy such commonplace piffle; if I had my druthers, the so-called "artist" would be promptly defenestrated to the fullest extent."

Actually she said:

"I don't like this song. La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la --" until Helga finally told her to stop.

Snow Day (Like As In "Cocaine")

While flossing after eating carrots, as I'm apt to do, I heard the plaintive whine of the Little Girls in the drive way.  It's a little after 1 pm on a school day, so I can't imagine what sort of jibber-jabber would result in their early dismissal on a Thursday.

In my elementary school experience (roughly thirty years ago), the only way you could shown the gate during the day would if be if the Little Girls were dealing blow to the Truancy Officer or giving a steady supply of handjobs to Chet the Librarian's Assistant for an advanced copy of Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets.

To be fair to Chet, Calamity Jane's "Facebook of Sex" profile did erroneously make her out to be 13.

New Species Spotted Next Door!

While seated at my desk, I glanced out the window to see a full-grown Flat-Brimmed Platypus in the driveway!!

Originally discovered to inhabit urban areas, the Flat-Brimmed Platypus (terriblus hip-hopus stylus) has recently migrated to more suburban areas like shopping malls and skate parks.  This migration happens to parallel the pattern anthropologists have noted amongst Honda Civics with Large Exhaust Pipes (Ruinedus Familyus Sedanus).  

Known for uncurved baseball-style caps, the Flat-Brimmed Platypus also favours baggy trousers, oversized graphic tee-style shirts and a propensity for unemployment.  Do not be afraid to provoke the Flat-Brimmed Platypus - though it may protest loudly, its bark is truly worse than its bite.

The good folks over at Fuck You, Penguin would have a field day with this beast.

Guaranteed To Make Your Neighbors Say "WTF?"

Hnk just passed this along from Craiggerslist:

Delivery Guy with a Funny Adult Delivery Twist
Will deliver pizzas, flowers or messages for you, and when they come to the door to answer, my pants will accidentally drop or your other suggestions..to give them a laugh and a delivery they won't soon forget!

This guy will Deliver Pizza, Flowers etc. & Ooops - will strip or whatever you wish. Fall Down at Delivery! Guy next door type, not a rockstar or musclehead, late 30's but attractive!) late 30's/early 40's (so very believable) available to play a memorable joke deliveryman on your friends. 

Throw in a spinning bow tie and a water-squirting flower in your lapel and you're hired to make contact!

A Chip Off The Ol' Block(head)

(josho's note: This post was composed by "Bon" Jodi from the second floor of 1Prime)

So Greg and I were sitting out on our porch commenting on how well the hops were growing when we heard our neighbor's children playing outside. BTW, who IS their mother? Helga? Misty? Five Drinks? 

Regardless, Greg commented on the fact that it's good the kiddos don't spend hours watching tv and are often outside playing, to which I agreed. One point for the neighbors. But I couldn't help thinking about mothers and the influence they have on us as children ...and then, of course, I immediately felt sorry for the little girls and almost wished I had a reason to call DCS. 

Also, it reminded me that just the other day I had heard the kids yelling at the dog just like their mother, minus the swearing. It's only a matter of time before the kids start to exhibit more and more white trash symptoms. One can only dread that day.

WTFN: The Lost Archives (Part I)

By “The Lost Archives,” I mean that I found a piece of paper in the mountains of debris on my desk that has some notes from a couple of weeks ago. Since the neighbors are currently being Boo Radleys, I will revisit some previous stories. Join me as I take a trip down Memory Lane (run montage of Helga whining at her kids in slow motion in lots of different poses).

One side of notes refers to the day that Helga was outside listening to her iPod speakers (Wednesday, April 22nd – “Lyttle Women”). However, the comment actually refers to events that had happened even earlier than that (Sunday, April 19th’s post “Home Entertainment Center” and the follow up on Monday, April 20th entitled, “The Beginning Of The End”). If you can somehow follow all that malarkey you must have received high marks in reading comprehension. Or you live your life in a very non-linear fashion.

On this day, Rat-A-Tat (at this point he did not have a name) remarked to Helga, “Why doesn’t anybody bother you guys…” I assume that he was making reference to how Sam (our 3rd floor neighbor) had gone down to tell him to stop blasting music from his truck only a few days previous to this time. Even if Helga’s puny iSpeakers could’ve matched the volume of a TRUCK with a SUBWOOFER, the rest of the neighborhood’s metaphysical eardrums were still ringing from a few days previous. I think they could do with some awareness classes. The following are all offered locally:

Quashing Douchebaggery: How You Can Help
Awareness Of Others (Honors)
Life: Stop Wasting It
Drinks That Don’t Involve Liquor
Civilization & America: Almost Nationwide
Society Hates You
Vehicle Awareness: Things Your Car Can Do Besides Play Music
Cigarettes: New Research Shows They Aren’t Good For You

Alright, they kind of became newspaper headlines toward the end, but you get the idea.