October 2007 Archives

A Perfect Machine

Hi Steve,

I've been reading regularly for a couple years it feels like. And some "moons" ago you posted a picture you took in a bathroom of someone's crafty graffiti. I can't remember when the post appeared, but I do know someone changed the name of a "sturdy" baby diaper changer to "turdy." I found that so hilarious, and it's just stuck with me. And today, when I used the facilities at my school, Rutgers University, I noticed some graffiti on the hand dryer. Do enjoy.


Thanks, Liz. I'm confident scientists around the globe are working on just such a device as I type.

Ending World Hunger = Good.
Ending World Hunger with Bacon Machine = Fucking Fantastic.

(And here's the diaper changing station post that had such a positive impact on your life.)

Happy Halloween, guys!

The Advil Taste Test Challenge

Everyone knows Advil is not candy and should only be taken as directed, but you know what people don't talk enough about? How delicious it is.

Whenever I've taken Advil, I've been aware of a second or two of fleeting sweetness, but then I'd swallow them and it was gone. That sweetness is there because they are literally candy-coated. They are the M&Ms of pain relievers. Or the Skittles of pain relievers. (Or the Reese's Pieces of pain relievers if you're E.T. and enjoy a 25-year-old reference.)

I was curious just how much sweetness is on there, so Nikki, Anthony and I conducted a little taste test. We each sucked on an Advil while I timed us with a stopwatch.

The sweetness lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. At least 45 seconds.

Interestingly, we found there were 4 stages in the Advil Flavor Spectrum:

1) Lightly sweet (Approx. 45 seconds)
I wouldn't call it a flavor, but it's definitely sweet and candy-like. Mind you, they don't put this on the blue gel caps. I'm only talking about the Advil pictured above.

2) Bananas (Approx. 11 seconds)
Here's a curious turn. Around the 45-second mark the flavor morphed into something I'd call bananas. And no, I'm not getting all Stefani on you, it literally tasted vaguely like bananas. This quickly gave way to...

3) Chalky and flavorless (Approx. 8 seconds)
In the outfield of baseball stadiums, there is a path of dirt between the grass and the wall. This is called the "warning track." It's there as a signal to sprinting players that something bad is about to happen - they are about to become one with the wall. When Advil goes chalky and flavorless, this is the warning track, because you're about to be dealt...

4) Horrendous, taste-bud-destroying bitterness that left me with the inability to taste anything for about 20 minutes. (I would imagine this is the rest of the Advil.) As enjoyable as the outer coating may be, this part is far far worse.

I salute the Advil people for quietly providing this tasty coating, but NEVER calling attention to it. Like the subliminal arrow in the FedEx logo, that's the move. Unlike Tylenol's new mint-flavored "Cool Caplets" which come liberally dipped in the worst flavor of all: Trying Too Hard.

But someday we'll probably give these a test suck, too.

WARNING: ADVIL IS NOT CANDY AND SHOULD ONLY BE TAKEN AS DIRECTED. Don't be a dumbass and eat a bunch of Advil.

(Attempted) Mapping of the Band

UPDATE: The intended Tree Brains map in this post was a bust.

Instead, please enjoy this drawing of a duck on my leg.

For the uninitiated, awhile back I thought we should all form a band. We could have a cool name and a cool logo and the best part was: anybody anywhere could be in the band regardless of musical ability because we would NEVER actually play. We would simply be a band in theory.

As far as names go, many people suggested "The Tree Brains" -- inspired by the brain-like fungus that grows on every year on the tree in my front yard.

Harnessing the questionable power of 2-year-old technology, I thought we could try a Frappr map for everybody in the band check in.

From what I remember, the responsiveness of these maps may degrade as more people join, but we can give it a shot.

Feel free to claim your instrument and/or function in the band in the "Shout Out" box. (As far as the email address goes, I'd probably put in a fake one.) Also, more than one person can claim the same instrument. There really are no rules in our theoretical band.

The Humpkin

Lucas writes...

Hi Steve,

In the spirit of the season, and in general celebration of strange feats of nature (i.e. 'the tree brain'), I thought I would send you a few pictures of a pumpkin my father found in his patch recently.

Never one to rise above sophomoric humor (thank god), he quickly pointed out the natural, way too easy phallic resemblance...assuming, of course, the phallus in question was afflicted with our old friend, elephantiasis.

As far as the actual growth, I'm not sure what happened--if one fruit was pierced and sprouted into two, or if the two somehow fused together. In either case, I'm just pleased that the gourd gods blessed us with this great fertile gift.

Yours Truly,

P.S. I tried my best to photograph the fruit from a number of naturally explicit angles...including a close up of what I would classify as the fruit's taint region.

Thanks, Lucas. I'll have my wife send you her recipe for Pumpkin Taint Pie.

And on a personal note, I can't hear the word "elephantiasis" without thinking of this photo of the gentleman on the left.

A general rule of thumb: if it looks like you're riding a Hoppity Hop, and you're not, it's probably elephantiasis.

The Great Pizza Orientation Test

Regardless of your feelings about Domino's, the fact that you can order it online without having to talk to a human being is fantastic.

Type a little on your computer and magically a pizza shows up at your door. It's the closest thing we have to Star Trek's food replicator. Only it takes about 25 minutes to work. And the food delivery unit at my Domino's has a bad mustache.

But I also love the amount of control they give you. Beyond choosing your crust, each topping comes with your choice of "light," "normal," or "heavy." Just like tampons. (Am I right, ladies?)

But what I've become obsessed with is that when you only want a particular topping on half of your pizza, they make you specify WHICH HALF. LEFT or RIGHT.

I had ordered from them a few times but never paid attention to see if they got the halves correct. I was curious to see if it really would arrive the way I ordered it.

Last night I performed a test.

I placed my order, requesting PEPPERONI on the LEFT and MUSHROOMS on the RIGHT.

They also offer a "NONE" option on all toppings. It's even available on the "CHEESE" and "SAUCE" rows -- so just to be a dick, I also ordered a 6-inch individual "NONE" pizza with BEEF (on the left).

25 minutes later there was a dude at my door with food. (Someday that dude will be a robot with a bad mustache and my life will be perfect.)

It is flat-out sad how excited I was to open the boxes.

Did the Domino's food synthesizer honor the options I was forced to choose?


The dividing line was exactly 90 degrees up the middle, but mushrooms were on the left!

I realize it's all arbitrary and the options are presented for clarity, but if they're going to force me to make the choice, then they could at least give me what I wanted and put it in the box correctly.

And as far as the "NONE Pizza with Left Beef"...

It was close, but the whole pizza was so small and light it must have shifted during delivery. And the little beef pellets didn't have any sauce or cheese to hang on to, so a few lost their footing from the left half.

After we ate most of it I saw on the box that my satisfaction was "guaranteed," and that if I wasn't completely satisfied -- they would "make it right" or refund my money.

Unfortunately it was too late for me to call and request that someone come back to my house to rotate the pizzas and re-position my beef pellets.

I may be writing a letter to the president of Domino's this weekend.

Cause and Effect

If you have unprotected sex with a woman...

Someday your toilet paper will look like this.

Just a heads up.

Misplaced Frogs, Tiny Asses and Burning Pants

It's time for another edition of schoolyard jack-assery, culled from the fine children of our planet.

The Netherlands, France and Denmark, checking in...


Eén april
Kikker in je bil

English translation:

First of April,
frog in your butt.

Sent by: Masha


Grosse tête
Petit cul
Quand tu pète,
on te vois plus!

English translation:

Huge head
Tiny ass
When you fart,
you disappear!

Sent by: Jessica


Bennys bukser brændte
Børge råbte "Åh!"
Børge havde nemlig
Bennys bukser på

English translation:

Bennys pants were burning
Børge yelled "Oh!"
Because Børge was in fact
Wearing Benny's pants

Sent by: Kasper

Do you have a great obnoxious kid rhyme from outside the U.S.?
Send it here for the next update!

Just be sure to include:
1) The rhyme's originating country
2) The rhyme in the original language
3) The direct English translation

See all the rhymes here.

Lux Lux

Over on Facebook, Matthew drew this lux version of my son's "I (HEART) LUX" tattoo.

Thanks, Matt! (I'm assuming you drew this to take with you to the tattoo parlor?)

Fresh Ink

My son was excited to show me this tattoo he gave himself.

"What does it say?"

"I love lux!"

"What is lux??"


"What do you mean by luxury?"

"You know, LUXURY ITEMS. Flat screen TVs... cars with 17 seats... movie stars in their swimming pools."

I was going to lobby that he make it "I (HEART) DAD," but who am I kidding? I'm not even 1080p. I suck.

(If The Tree Brains ever made an album -- which we wouldn't, an exact copy of that tattoo wouldn't make a bad title and art. Here's a nice big pic of the tat for no other reason than I thought it looked cool.)

* * * * *

Will, from Be The Boy adds:

You should be happy that your son is only loving luxury items. I Heart Lux could mean that he loves Cramps singer Lux Interior.

Best Pathetic Vote Whore

Someone was kind enough to nominate The Sneeze for one of these awards.

My site was nominated for Best Humor Blog!

I don't expect to win, but I did think it would be nice to have more than the 8 votes that were there when I found it. If you have a few minutes to spare and wouldn't mind casting a vote, that would be swell.

Just click on the graphic to go to directly to the page.

If you vote for The Sneeze, I totally promise less homework, better food in the cafeteria and I will do everything in my power to make bacon our new school mascot.


Steve, Don't Eat It! - The Tree Brain

Over the last 4 years we've tracked the annual growth of fungus on the trees in front of my house, but the time for tracking was over. The time for chewing was here.

I was never interested in eating the Tree Brain because wild mushrooms can kill people. So I'm going to start off by saying: DO NOT EAT ANY MUSHROOMS YOU FIND GROWING IN THE WILD. I have no interest in being an accessory to your untimely death. Even if you think you've found a mushroom similar to mine, don't eat it. YOU WILL DIE. You'll be a dick and you'll die. So don't do it.

I'm serious. Pretend this is a PSA with a well-respected celebrity, such as -- I don't know... Jeremy Gelbwaks. And in the PSA he looks to camera and says "Hi, I'm TV's Jeremy Gelbwaks. You may know me better as the kid who was the first Chris Partridge on the Partridge Family. Don't eat mushrooms you find in the wild." And then off-camera we hear: "He's right." And, oh my God, it's BRIAN FORSTER, Chris Partridge #2! The two Chris's laugh, high-five and we're all a little bit safer.

That said, I totally ate the tree brain.

At some point a small residual nubbin finally did grow on the original tree. It seemed a waste to not do SOMETHING with it. And as much as I like writing this site for you guys, hot man on mushroom sex wasn't going to happen.

My wife has been the real force behind me not eating it over the years, but I caught her at just the right time. I reminded her that a professional mycologist had identified it and that I was well-read on all the potential pitfalls. It was still "young," it was not growing on a type of tree that could potentially make me ill (such as eucalyptus) and I was going to cook it thoroughly. I also found it hard to believe it would want to hurt me after all I've done for Tree Brain awareness.

I was 99.7% sure I'd be fine and I even made a deal with her that I'd just chew it and spit it out. Luckily, she was feeling sick and had a headache. I was given some vague "Do whatever you want," approval.

It really is heartwarming to know that my wife is devoted and loves me and doesn't want me to die. Unless her head hurts a little.

I tried to think of some perfect words to say before removing the brain. This was a historic moment and I wanted to come up with something fitting. Then my neighbors across the street drove up. I felt silly and hid behind my car until they went inside. Eventually I cut off the brain and ran back into my house. Historically.

It was weird to see it in my kitchen. I took a few pics like a geeky fanboy...

then unceremoniously hacked it to pieces.

The raw brain didn't smell like much of anything. If I was going to taste this thing, I didn't want to mask the flavor so I just went with a little olive oil.

The hunks got more intensely orange as they cooked down and soon it was go time. As I promised my wife, the plan was to chew it and spit it out. BUT IT WAS SO GODDAMN DELICIOUS IT HAD TO BE SWALLOWED. IT WAS THE BEST MUSHROOM I'VE EVER HAD.

I had read over and over that these Sulfur Shelf mushrooms (sometimes called "Chicken of the Woods") were supposed taste like chicken or even lemony chicken. But it didn't just "kind of" taste like lemony chicken. It was as if Willy Wonka branched out from chocolate to work on a lemony chicken mushroom and when he let you try it you'd be like, "Holy shit, this REALLY tastes like lemony chicken, Bill!" (Although it wouldn't kill you to treat Mr. Wonka with a little more respect.)

I waited awhile to see if I got sick. I didn't, so I went off zombie-style on the remaining brains. Even my wife, who was still feeling like crap, tried it and had to admit to its deliciousness.

Lest you doubt that the tree brain was consumed, I've decided to include an up close and personal picture of my sloppy food hole, chewing it up. I've always felt you didn't need to actually see these types of pix of food literally being mashed up in my mouth, but I figured on such a momentous occasion, it should be documented -- saliva, taste buds, 4 days of stubble and all.

I can't wait until next year. I will eat the shit out of that tree.

I have to say, it's weird to watch something grow for 4 years and then all of a sudden you're eating it. It really made me think... Maybe I should... EAT MY SON.

"Hi, I'm Jeremy Gelbwaks. Remember -- never eat your son."

But think about how tender he'll be, Jeremy Gelbwaks!

"Oh, he'd be tender for sure. But, Jeremy's right."

BRIAN FORSTER?! What are you doing here?!

"I'm here to say eating your kids is not cool."

"But-- I have a website, and-- Fine, whatever. I won't eat my son." Stupid Chris Partridges and their voice of reason.

(All Steve, Don't Eat It! posts can be found here.)

Birthday Thanks

Last Saturday was my birthday. I wanted to take a minute to thank all you nice internet people who took the time to send along such lovely birthday wishes.

For starters, thanks to Will and Nina for this awesome little birthday movie they sent...

Check out Will's site at betheboy.com and Nina's at theslackdaily.com.

I'd also like to thank you awesome Facebook graffiti wall people. Here's a bunch of nice, mostly tree brain themed ones...

Thanks, guys. You make aging a little less sucky. (I know the "Death of a Quarter" one isn't birthday themed, but it deserved to be included.)

Also, if, for whatever reason, you think we should be Facebook friends, you can find my profile here. (You might be interested to know I got in trouble with them a few weeks ago for using a fake last name and they shut off my account until I gave them a different last name. I said it was "Sneeds" which I thought sounded enough like Sneeze and just like that my account was back. It's nice to know how much safer we all are now after that exercise.)

Soft Rock

My friend, William, becomes engorged with anger every time he sees the following Viagra commercial...

I asked him to share his feelings...

The greatest generation may have left body parts strewn on the battlefields of Europe, but the baby boomers leave body parts, specifically their testicles, on the floor of a smoky old garage in a television commercial that strips away the last shred of dignity of their generation.

Five aging garage banders who, in their glory days won a battle of the bands at President Something High School with their kick-ass cover of “Rock and Roll All Nite,” pick up their axes once again, but the tune is different…

Got me a honey gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire…

Sounds good so far. Sure the guitarist/lead singer has a few pounds around the middle and lineless bifocals. But come on, he’s got him a honey. She’s gonna set his soul on fire. The rhythm guitarist takes up the lyric.

At the end of the day, I’m not gonna stray, ’cause she’s my hearts desire…

All right, this guy is clearly a bit of a pussy. What’s fidelity doing in a song about getting’ down and doin’ the wild thing? But, okay, but we’ve all settled down a bit. Let’s give him a pass… especially since the black guy with the salt and pepper hair is compin’ that piano so nice, and the bassist is slappin’ and singin’…

Now this lonesome toad is sick of the road, can’t wait (can’t wait) to go home…

Now the rhymes are getting bad and there’s an odd Waylon Jennings trucker motif coming in. But still, he wants to get home and get it on! Good for him. Here comes the chorus. Let’s rock this thing:

Viva Viagra! Viva Viagra! Viva, viva, Viagra!

What the fuck?! Viagra? And now they’re all getting in their rough, manly cars and driving home to their honeys? So they were all hanging out and playin’ the blues until their dicks got hard? Is that what they were all smiling to each other about – my dick doesn’t work, boys and neither does yours?

Okay, look. There might be a day when I need a little chemical enhancement to get my soul set on fire, but I’m sure not going to hit a dusty roadhouse, pop Viagra with my old gang and lay down tunes until we all pop trouser tents.


Thanks, William!

A Long Wait

I'm exhausted.

My 4-year-old climbed into my bed at 5:45 this morning. I kept trying to go back to sleep, but he was rolling around restless, laying down, sitting up and kicking me the whole time.

After 15 minutes, I couldn't take it anymore:

"What's the matter??"

"I'm waiting for Halloween."


I'm waiting for you to start college, but you don't see me in your bed kicking YOU in the balls, do you? It's OCTOBER 3RD.

I'm gonna start keeping a bag of Snickers in my nightstand. He's really cute, but I'm too tired for this.


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This page is an archive of entries from October 2007 listed from newest to oldest.

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