The Boy: Did you know some freight trains carry passengers?
Me: Yes. Those people are called hobos.
The Boy: Are they real?
Me: Yes. They live on trains. And eat beans from a can. And they have all their clothes in a red bandana tied to a stick.
The boy's eyes light up.
The Boy: I want to be a hobo when I grow up!
Me: You don't like beans.
The Boy: Oh yeah.
We need to talk about this whole Rainbow Party thing for a minute.
If you already know what it is, great. If you don't, let me bring you up to speed with this very typical conversation...
Person With News: Hey have you heard about these Rainbow Parties? Kids are having blow-job parties now. And the girls all wear different colored lipstick, so by the end all the guys are left with a rainbow.
Predictable Guy: "Where was that when I was in high school?!"
Fair enough. I was guilty of that response myself. But that's because I'm a dumbass. Allow me to think this through for you...
Let's say these parties really were around when I was in high school. You know what else was around in high school? My giant gut hanging over my giant pants. That's right. In high school I was the fat kid that you either ignored or goofed on. I wasn't invited to ANY parties! Let alone those that involved weiner-play.
But that's just me. If you happened to not have suffered from my particular childhood traumas, you should also bear in mind that these parties may not even exist at all. The whole thing may have started with a fictional book called "Rainbow Party" which was allegedly written to get young adults thinking about the ramifications of sex. (Or designed to push people's buttons and sell books.)
But just for fun, let's say I somehow did get a golden ticket to a mystical Rainbow Party. As the pent-up virginal high school nerd I was, allow me to realistically describe my rainbow to you--
Indigo and... DONE.
Rainbow: OVER.
"Thank you ladies... if you'd be kind enough to hand me those giant pants, I'll see myself out."
It's hard to believe, but The Sneeze turns 2 today!
I'd like to take a moment and look back at the very first post I put up 2 years ago...
June 28, 2003
When I was a kid I played with baseball cards. While other kids collected 'em, traded 'em, and saved 'em - I made stupid poo jokes with them.
I had a baseball card of a player named John Urrea. So with some ingenuity, scissors and another baseball player's card by the name of Dyar Miller- I made a new and improved card. By carefully cutting out Mr. Miller's name and gluing it onto Mr. Urrea's, I had given birth to the Major League's newest loose-boweled superstar- "Dyar Urrea."
Some time back my pal, Robert Berry of retroCRUSH, was kind enough to track down and give me one of the old John Urrea baseball cards. Well, I recently found a Dyar Miller and I can finally give birth once again to this legendary ball-player of my childhood.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is my utmost pleasure to give you... DYAR URREA 2005
Guys, thanks so much to everybody for your inspirational support of The Sneeze. It is truly appreciated!
And if you're the gift-giving type, the best present I can think of is that you simply pass along the site to everybody you've ever met in your entire life.
Open up your iTunes and take a look at the "Top 25 Most Played" playlist. What's the #1 song, and more importantly how many times have you relentlessly put it in your ears? (It's listed as the "playcount.")
Mine happens to be...
"Pot Kettle Black" by Wilco - 126 times.
The comment board is now closed.
Sometimes I have an idea for a post that's funny in my head, then I go to actually do it and the wheels fall off.
Case in point: My son plays with this weird SpongeBob Goooze toy. It's just a blob of goo that lives inside a squishy rubber SpongeBob. You squeeze out the goo, play with it and stuff it back in when you're done.
What I was obsessed with wasn't the Goooze, but the hideous rubber growth on SpongeBob's backside through which you get the goo out.
I hadn't seen my son playing with it in awhile, but I had the whole thing pretty much written in my head. Something like...
A few months ago there was a minor uproar when some people accused SpongeBob of being gay. It's all silly. He's a quirky asexual cartoon character. And if he is gay, that's his business.
But just out of curiosity, can someone explain what happened to his colon?
And also, what's that stuff leaking out of it?
All I had to do was take the pictures. That's when I realized the growth was really coming out of his back, and not out of his spongy ass at all. Needless to say, I was bummed.
Ironically, it was SpongeBob who had F'd me in the A. Thanks, Bobby.
I recently purchased this awesome block print from El Rey Del Art.
Check out more of his funky art here. And don't miss his kick-ass t-shirts over here!
Prison Wine
I'm simply not cut out for jail. Where I really shine is watching Tivo on a couch. As soon as you need me to survive a sharpened-spoon attack, (or even a regular spoon attack)-- I'm just not your guy.
Nevertheless, if I do ever end up in the big house, there's a chance I'll make it out alive as the prison brewmeister. I know this for I have read the 1994 book "You Are Going To Prison" by Jim Hogshire. (Well, I actually only skimmed through the book, so I'll probably be dead in a day and a half.)
The following book excerpt contains the prison wine recipe...
"Prison hooch can be made in your cell toilet (as long as you don't mind using other people's toilets or finding some other solution), or more often, in plastic trash bags. The recipe is simple: make a strong bag by double or triple-bagging some plastic trash bags and knotting the bottoms. Into this, pour warm water, some fruit or fruit juice, raisins or tomatoes, yeast, and as much sugar as you can get ahold of (or powdered drink mix). Now tie off the top of the bag, letting a tube of some kind protrude so the thing won't explode while it gives off carbon dioxide. Now hide the bag somewhere and wait at least three days. A week is enough.
One of the problems you have right away with making wine in prison is the difficulty getting yeast. It's a strictly forbidden item and you might not be able to get any. In this case you can improvise the by using slices of bread, preferably moldy (but not dry) and preferably inside a sock for easier straining.
If you choose to brew your wine in your cell, you'll need to hide it behind your bunk and do what you can to hide the smell. Burning cinnamon as incense is one way. Spraying deodorant around is another. Normal wine takes at least a month if not six weeks to make at all properly -- but in hell, this is all you get."
With that, I give you the longest, scrolliest, bandwidth destroyingest Steve, Don't Eat It to date. Phooey on you sobriety! I'm makin' some hooch!
I gave serious thought to whether the straining sock should be clean or not. I came to the conclusion that it shouldn't. In the spirit of Steve, Don't Eat It, I need to take it to the extreme! Plus, I was already wearing dirty socks and my clean ones were in the bedroom, like 20 feet away.
It's time for yet another delightful batch of jokes from the boy to you...
(featuring Invisi-Punchline™ technology!)(HIGHLIGHT ANSWERS TO REVEAL)
Q: "Why did the pickle go in his hot dog bun car?"
A: "Because he wanted to visit the wild!"
Q: "What's the difference between a shuttle and a satellite?"
A: "Launching a satellite is really really fun!"
Q: "What did 6 say into his cell phone?"
A: "Let me in my restaurant!"
You write, I read...
Dearest Steve,
Recently I purchased a "bear cookie jar" that contained Stauffer's Animal Crackers to use in the Nursery at my church.
Wednesday night during services I went to serve some of the crackers, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but some "anatomically correct" rhinos!!
I am not sure what the Animal Cracker authorities would say. Please advise.
Sincerely,
Karen,
First time caller, long time listener.
Karen,
I think the animal cracker people might suggest you start reading labels a little more carefully.
I took the liberty of digitally enlarging the photo of the jar you sent me. I realize it's a bit blurry, but if you look carefully I think you'll be able to make out what I'm referring to...
Hope this helps,
Steve
Dear Steve,
Wow, you've made the big time with that link from Mitchum deodorant. One day in June when I was 12 my mother came home with a stick of Mitchum for me (I smelled) but my grandmother was not having it in the house because she believed it was affiliated with the late actor Robert Mitchum.
Grandma informed me that ol' Bob Mitchum was a violent boozer and a drug addict, and his deodorant was banned, BANNED from the house. I was in awe that a simple anti-perspirant could get such a strong reaction from a woman who spent her days doing crossword puzzles and wishing my father dead, and I thought that a life of booze and fights would be cool. After mom discarded the offensive stick I fished it out of the trash and became the only kid on the block who had to hide his deodorant from his mom. Needless to say I did not get any tougher that summer, but I smelled ok.
Thanks,
Will
Will,
I think your grandmother was right. I can no longer enjoy my link from Mitchum deodorant. Thanks a lot.
Steve
I saw yesterday that the Freaky Franks section of The Sneeze was chosen as a site of the day by Mitchum Deodorant.
I think this is the beginning of big things for The Sneeze. All I need now is one link from a tech-savvy douche company, and I'll be unstoppable!
