Pretty Ducked Up

I heard Ernie singing the "Rubber Duckie" song on Sesame Street this morning. I guess I had never paid close attention to the lyrics before, because in the second verse Ernie sings:


"Rubber Duckie, joy of joys
When I squeeze you, you make noise
Rubber Duckie you're my very best friend, it's true"


What about Bert?! Does he know about this??

I can just see poor Bert at home, making Ernie's bed with the TV on in the background. This song comes on while he's fluffing Ernie's pillow just so. Then Ernie happily confesses that after all this time a cheap rubber toy is actually his "very best friend," and Bert's little muppet world comes crashing down around him.

Later Bert desperately tries to figure out where he went wrong as he sits in the kitchen, sobbing and sipping chamomile tea. His felt cheeks soaked with tears.

Way to go, Ernie, you giggly orange prick.

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

The Search Engine That Cares

As a kid I was obsessed with the Guinness Book of World Records. It was the greatest. I would order it every year at school. I'll proudly admit, I didn't care much about the amazing feats of the record-holders, so much as I just liked gawking at the pictures of freaky people.

One image burned into my memory for life was the fat twins riding motorcycles.

Here they are. Billy and Benny McCrary. All 1300 pounds of them. They also went by the stage names Billy and Benny McGuire. Surely this allowed them to avoid recognition while not performing.

When I first tried searching for the above picture, I googled the phrase "World's Fattest Twins."

Good ol' Google served up a few links, but also gently tried to help me not be such a lame weirdo. It suggested that maybe I meant to be looking up other things, and that we could just chalk this up to a typo.

Thanks, Google. I appreciate it, but at this point you're too late to help me.

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

Human Ripeness Chart

I'm in my 30's, and things are not what they once were.

While I was staring at my face playing a fun new game called "Freckle or Cancer" I came to the conclusion that we are all just rotting fruit.

We go about our lives, have jobs, kids, do whatever it is we do-- but at the end of it all, I'm not sure there's much difference between us and that bowl of aging bananas sitting in your kitchen.

I've prepared the following Banana/Human Ripening Chart to help illustrate my point (and make myself feel even worse).



We all start off as babies, and bananas are no different. You've heard of a beginner or a novice described as being too "green?" Well, there you go.

There's really not much you can do with a banana at this age except keep it safe and wait. If for some reason you find bananas this age inviting, there's something wrong with you. If you find humans this age inviting, there's something extremely wrong with you.

Teenage Years

This banana is coming along nicely, but is still pretty immature. It's in that awkward stage, but its complexion is about to clear up and there's a very bright future ahead.


Here's a banana that's coming into its own. Firm and ready for action. What path will it take? A smoothie? A cereal topping? A sexual aid and then a cereal topping? So many possibilities. The world is this banana's oyster.

30's - 40's

This is a banana that's peaking. It is at the top of its game, but small brown spots are starting to appear on its skin. It tends to get bruises more easily now. These are the tell-tale signs of future demise.

50's - 60's

This banana is getting on in age, but is by no means useless. While it's not what it used to be, it is actually ideal for being around younger bananas to help them get ripe. Not unlike a teacher.

Old Age

Just like a sweet old lady, this banana isn't good for much more than a cake, or maybe some muffins.


We've reached our final destination. Hope you enjoyed the trip.

See you all in the compost heap.

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive


On the road to success, a strong vocabulary is an extremely valuable tool. Luckily dictionaries can also be fun if you use them to look up dirty words.

Now thanks to our old pal the Internet, we can actually hear professional voice-over people demonstrate the proper way to say them.

Please enjoy the following educational collection of audio links to the Merriam Webster online dictionary. (And while the thought of more than one vagina always sounded like a good idea to me, I had no clue the plural of vagina would be this entertaining.)











shit (1)

shit (2)

son of a bitch (1)

son of a bitch (2)



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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

i'm rewritin' it

The other day I bought lunch at McDonald's. My receipt was attached to the bag with a small sticker proudly proclaiming their latest slogan: "i'm lovin' it."

As I gnawed on a so-so fry, I wondered exactly who was lovin' what. Apparently I was lovin' McDonald's, I guess. I don't remember being consulted, but there it was in sticker-form. It was even trademarked, so I guess my lovin' must be heartfelt and true.

Granted, McDonald's and I have a history, but isn't this all a little presumptuous? And do they really need to be dragging the L word into it? They didn't even have the courtesy to say they were lovin' me back! (I won't lie. It stings.)

I thought I'd help Ronald out and whip up my own set of McStickers that cover a slightly larger emotional spectrum...

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive


Steve: omg
Steve: rofl
Steve: brb
Steve: omg
Lisa: ???
Steve: imho
Steve: gtg
Steve: tx
Steve: xoxo
Lisa: ????????????????????
Steve: OMG
Lisa: WHAT?!?!?!!!?!?
Steve: OMG!
Steve: BRB
Lisa: ????????????????????????
Steve: gtg
Steve: haha
Lisa: what the F?
Steve: i was just practicing my abbreviations
Lisa: you are such an idiot
Steve: OMG
Lisa: lol

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

Uncle Steve's LaffyTime Doodlefest

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

Taste the Rainbow of Frustration

It has been my experience that when a cute girl is flirting heavily with you and then she takes her shirt off, you are about to do sex.

This, however, is not the case at strip clubs and it's part of my problem with them.

I'm especially not a fan of the mostly-naked girls talking to the patrons. To me, engaging in a conversation with women and their nipples who are only interested in my money, is a weird and frustrating experience. I'm fully aware that they are doing this flirting to get more money. But when it's happening, all I can think about is that I know this flirting is fake, but they don't really know that I know the flirting is fake. And how dare they think I'm just a gullible idiot who doesn't understand the flirting is fake?

My friends say I'm overthinking. That it doesn't matter that it's fake. That I should just relax and enjoy it. That when you go to Disneyland and see Mickey Mouse walking around, you know he's not real either, but it's still good to see him.

That all makes sense, but I still feel like I'm going to a restaurant and paying to smell the steak. Luckily I love my wife and once you get married you're no longer attracted to any other woman anyway (especially Jessica Alba), so none of this is really an issue.

But what I'm really trying to say here is, I don't like the new Skittles Gum.

Skittles gum has perfectly replicated the Skittles experience. Except you can't eat them.

They are the same shape and size of real Skittles. The flavor is identical to real Skittles. And even though it's gum, the texture is still bizarrely close to real Skittles. The whole thing is like candy torture.

I tried convincing myself that they are brilliant. That they're the closest thing to an Everlasting Gobstopper, like Skittles that just last a really long time. Except that every two chews, all I want to do is swallow it.

I think when I want to "taste the rainbow" I'll stick to real Skittles. And not Skittles gum: the strippers of candy.

Here are more Reviews You Can Use.

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive

Tough Cookies

Cookie Monster is kind of a mess. He doesn't understand how pronouns work, he's got very poor social skills and a severe double-shot of lazy eye.

© 2006 Sesame Workshop.

But when it comes to cookies, he totally gets it. Cookies are fucking fantastic.

No matter what's going on, I'm up for a cookie. They're fun, they're always a treat and just about anytime of day I would like one in my mouth. They are the tits of food.

Cookies come in all kinds of flavors and shapes. Sometimes chewy, sometimes crunchy. They don't require a plate or a fork or a napkin. Even baking them is optional. Raw cookie dough is a gift most humans aren't worthy of. (Don't worry, all Sneeze readers are worthy. I checked.)

I bring all this up because I saw a Batman cookie jar the other day, and I know he'd be embarrassed by it.

Where exactly does "cookie jar" fit in with his war on evil in the name of his murdered parents? I'm not sure. (Although, I wouldn't blink an eye at a Robin the Boy Wonder jar filled to the top with lady fingers.)

There's tons of inappropriate merchandising and tie-ins out there, but it's the ones that bring together tough guys and pussy-ish items that are my favorites. And ironically, as much as cookies kick ass, they just aren't "tough". I don't care how huge you are, or how deep your voice is-- you can't intimidate me saying, "Gimme another snickerdoodle."

Even the word "cookie" itself isn't helping. If words went to school, "cookie" would have its head shoved in a toilet at least twice a week. In between Purple Nurples.

Despite all of this, I've learned there's a whole world of tough cookie jars out there. And these are just a few...

"Private First Class Biscotti, reporting for duty, SIR!"

This is actually John Wayne. Why is "The Duke" a vessel for sweet snacks baked with love? Because his real first name is Marion.

* * * * *

"I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!
And then I'll lift my torso
and make you eat Lorna Doones!!!"

FUN FACT: If you watch the Wizard of Oz while listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, you're probably high enough to eat a wicked witch full of cookies before it's over.

* * * * *

They say wrestling is fake.
This cookie jar is real... real embarrassing.

In its defense, it actually looks a lot like tough-guy Goldberg. But don't crack it over the head with a folding chair or your macaroons might go stale.

* * * * *

"I pity the fool who don't take a lemon bar out my head."

B. A. Baracus may have been afraid to fly, but apparently he wasn't afraid to put his image on any surface that would have it.

* * * * *

A Harley Davidson motorcycle jacket is the perfect thing to wear if you're an ass-kicking biker. Or a Pecan Sandie.

This may be the ultimate tough/sissy match-up I've seen. (Although I am, of course, not counting the Harley Davidson Teapot.)

Now, which one of you motherfuckers would like a nice cup of Earl Grey?

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By Steven • PermalinkThe Sneeze Archive