i'm torn between black ice and pitch bling

OK, so I'm the Thomas Edison of bad ideas, but this time, I have a money-making scheme that can prove fools. You know how there are reverse-trends when something gets too popular, like when disco got replaced by heavy 80's metal, or European men started wearing capri pants because Americans were so tall? Well dude, what would you pay to get in on the first anti-bling? It emits bling-cancellation frequencies, like a pair of expensive headphones. When you wear my bling, you shine LESS. It is like wearing a black hole so powerful, it bends the rules of cool.

That's right, I have invented ninja-bling. Ninjas can't go sacrificing all that stealth they worked so hard for. Like, say Ryu, the feared Dragon-assassin of Osaka, wanted to kill a guy and look awesome at the same time, but got his bling all tied up in his shuriken, and then his target noticed his ice winking from his hiding-place in the shadows. That would be a pretty bad spot for a senior-ranking ninja. I HAVE JUST SOLVED THAT PROBLEM.

If you want a position in my company, please send me a resume. Be advised -- you must have at least 5 years of bling experience or a doctorate in Dre.



dick tracy is no longer a cool pop culture reference

OK, so to recap: I owe the mob big because my pet ghost borrowed money from a well-known loanshark to buy himself a platinum chain to raise his spirits (no pun intended) after he thought I rejected him by accidentally washing him down the drain. This took some time to get out from Marley using the ouija board. It's like having a conversation with a kid who stutters -- you spend half the time mentally completing his sentence while he struggles to say "nobody cares about me."

So, what can I do besides go about my day just like normal, only with slightly more kevlar? I convinced Marley to give me back the bling so I could return it, so now I just have to come up with the interest on the down payment. What I really hate about these loansharks is that their payment schedule sucks -- they want it all at once, or they break your knees. If I can buy a BowFlex for a only Jackson-a-month and no money down, I should be given more than a couple of weeks to pay off Flattop Jones.



100 posts -- sweet!

I was cleaning out the refrigerator today, and I was wondering -- isn't "Carys" an inappropriate name for a sugar-free syrup?



99 problems but a bitch ain't one

Let me give you some advice: don't ever put a ghost in a washing machine. They tend to go missing-sock on you for a week or two, and then they come back, only for some reason they owe money to the Mob. That's right, I just received a visit from a man with an aluminum bat who really hates kneecaps. No worries -- mine are still there, but they've suffered some emotional trauma.

It looks like Oedipus is going to have to put his guard dog skills to use -- this is a big step up from all the ham hocks carved into busts of John Wayne Gacy that we've been practicing on.



died in the woolite

Marley is back! Ten days after I accidentally washed him down the drain when I stuck him in the washing machine, he showed up at the front door dressed in a soggy paper bag, cold and shaking like a baby held by an invisible British au pair. I ran and got him a nice fuzzy towel to drape over himself, and brought him inside. Oedipus puppy-pranced over, tail wagging, and got right to sniffing the air where, if he had a body, Marley's butt would be. It reminded me of a beautiful end-of-Homeward-Bound-type moment, right down to Michael J. Fox inexplicably showing up and shouting "Turkey!" while running through my house.

I called the cops. That shit was not cool.