Kudos

LOL!!!

Karn on the Cob

This man needs an Emmy!


Whose Karn is it Anyway?

Yesterday, the 20th of April 2006, Rich Karn delivered about three minutes of the most excellent television since a certain robotic girl graced the screen.


SW = LOL

The Killinger family (returning champs) reached fast money for their second time and sent up the mom (brutal choice) and the super-creepy dad, Neil, who had gone second the day before and responded to being told he had his work cut out for him by telling Richard 'Don't worry, I've got very broad shoulders'. So the mom proceeds to bomb it, gets like 31 points, and then Neil comes out and looks surprisingly shaken by the situation, considering how broad his shoulders are and all.


Wide-load-bearing.

So the first question comes up, 'What part of a chihuahua is very small?', which mom got a fat zero on by saying 'face', which was creepy enough on its own. Neil would not be outdone, however, and proudly stated 'Its Peter!'. Well the place just goes bonkers, crowd flipping out, grandma looking like she's going to faint, Karn barely keeping his own shit together, though he does manage to get through it.


Consummate Pro.

So the time runs out, and there is a long awkward pause while the judges are trying to decide what they can get away with putting on the board, before they finally screw it and just go with 'Peter'. This, of coarse, sends the place on it's head all over again, and is followed by 'Peter' actually getting two points.

And then, Karn drops this bomb, which as far as I'm concerned should cement his legacy in the TV game-show host hall of fame:



"The number one answer was 'feet', but you know what they say about dogs with small feet".

Richard Karn - 2006.

There Goes The Neighborhood...

Looks like the Cook-Book
is finally on-line... Welcome to the Web Mr. Henny!

Portland Rocks!

Q: Why'd the lush move to Portland?
A: Cause he couldn't afford a place in Cognacopolis!

Serious though. I joke because I love.

I PORTLAND!

Portland is located in the proud state of Oregon (not just a delicious spaghetti sauce flavouring anymore folks, oh no! Now it's a full-blown state, and that's one bill away from a being a COUNTRY! Gad-Zooks!) and has a population of 37 million. Oregon is on the south-western tip of the USA, and is the home of such famous people as:


Whammo!


Wazzaaap!

and

Beverly Cleary, beloved children’s novelist and author of the Ramona Quimby books.

Moreover and heretofore, if it wasn't for Portland we wouldn't have such things as the Fosbury Flop, which looks like this:



The Fosbury shattered the record book and all but reinvented the sport of high-jump in 1968.

'And that's it', you say? 'Portland doesn't seem that awesome'...

Well no, I guess it wouldn't, considering you have yet to consider the fact that a little company called NIKE started not too far away in Beaverton, Oregon.

Yeah, that's right. That Nike. With the:



and the:



and the:



Yeah I know, Portland is seeming kind of amazing now isn't it? Thinking you spoke too soon? Portland agrees.

Portland doesn't even want me to tell you about:


The Captain William Clark Monument

Which just so happens to be sculpted by the same artist who created the Martin Luther King Jr. Monument, and depicts a Native American, Clark and his black slave York, who accompanied the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

Portland doesn't want you to know about the CWC Monument because Portland doesn't really want you to like it at this point. Portland thinks you're smug.

PORTLAND: Yeah, fuck you.
LEO: Whoah whoah there tough guy! Watch what you're saying to the Leo fanbase there Portland.
PORTLAND: Fuck you too bub, what have you done for me lately? I am a bloody state capital! I have been compared favorably to such world renowned cities as:


Houston!

and:


Nashville!

LEO: Oh please, this is getting pathetic.

LOL ADMIN: STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! I have made it clear that I love you both, so you are just going to have to find a way to get along.

LEO: Like what do you suggest?
PORTLAND: I don't know, it's your site Mr Movie Star.

LOL ADMIN: That's it!

Mi Casa, Su Casa

'B' is for Brain
'L' is for Address
'O' is for
'G' is for Grimy
'A' is for Assured
'S' is for Subway
'S' is for

I thought I would open today's blog with an unfinished acrostic I call 'BlogAss'. It's hard when there are two S's.


Rock Hard.

I was all set to blog you today about the 10,000th hit this delicious web-haven just received (more than twice as many as Pete Rose, BTW), when I realized there is something far more pressing I need to address. Did I find this new information on the computer? NO! How about on the web? NO! How about on ESPN.com? Hell, NO!

Where then, could I have found it?

Well friends, it was tucked inside...

The folds of my own brain!

I used something called 'Critical Thinking Skills' to facilitate this new information. I started with a thought:


I Love Ninja Turtles.

I then, and this is the part that uses Critical Thinking, let that thought turn into another thought:

I Want to Live With Them.

This second though then blossomed like a hot-house flower into a million micro-thoughts that settled in and around the folds of my brain, and formed a question:

WTF* Do Those Guys Live?

(*WTF stands for 'Where The Fuck', I'm in touch with the youth culture).

Really though, when they go down that hole where do they end up?



Do they sleep on the subway tracks? Keeping one ear on the rail so they might warn their fellow Turtles at the first sign of an approaching train? Does the hole teleport them in some fashion? Perhaps to somewhere in the desert? No, no , no and no!

When they dive down the hole they go to: CASA-BUNGA!



Casa Bunga is a place where the Turtles can relax and get away from the stress of battling thugs, goons and henchmen.

There is no hate at Casa Bunga. In fact, last time it was tested it was completely free of negativity, sarcasm, snideness, and mean. It is filled with only one emotional oxygen-substitute (Turtles breathe feelings): LOVE!



Casa Bunga is so pleasant that it actually floats 3 inches off the ground most days, and makes the Turtles feel so loved that they smile even when they are fighting (bad guys, never each other!)



So even though the Turtles may be out of the spotlight (for now) rest assured that they are not lying with their cute green faces pressed against grimy subway tracks in the underbelly of NYC.

Instead, they are laying out at Casa Bunga, soaking up the rays and laughing about their old crime-fighting days. And that is where you will find them, until they are called on again, which, I might mention, will be sooner than you think (believe me, I'm in touch with the youth culture).

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LOL ADMIN>

ANOTHER

Hello Helios!

'Where you been?' humans always ask me. 'Why don't you blog anymore?'. 'Blog you don't blog anymore' they say to me. The nerve!

Well helio-blogs, after wrapping the Olympics earlier this week, the truth is that I am a little tapped out. If I was a cashew nut I would be skinless and half digested by the roasting juices of your deep and unclean bowels. Or something.

But I wanted to write a blog today because it has been far too long, and if I didn't write something soon, I feared you might start visiting sites like this one, this one and this one instead of the mighty Salad Army, and we can't have that. Maybe the last one, but definitely not the first two. Fuck the first two!!!

LEO: So what is this post about Marto?

Good question Leonard. Fine question, the better question, however, is what isn't this blog about.

LEO: Oh fuck, here we go...

Chill, I'm only kidding. I wouldn't do that at such a critical and fragile time in my relationship with the helio-blogs. That would be unresponsible. What is unresponsible you say? Well chipmunks, I am glad you asked...

LEO: That's it, I'm leaving you.

Okay, no seriously, I'm kidding, relax. Someone is strung up pretty tight today. The real answer to your question is that this post is about:


HANDSHAKES!

LEO: What about them?

Well that's precisely my point Leo, what about them?

LEO: You're pushing it.

I'm serious, people shake hands every day, to close deals, be sporting, or say hello. But what do all those handshakes do. Or rather, what do they mean?

LEO: You've lost me.

Well consider this, friend. A shake is just a shake, and yet it is always more than a shake. For example, you can shake like this:



But that shake might mean something like this:



Or even this:



Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?

LEO: No, it doesn't.

Yeah, well, what about this shake?



And this one?



And this one!



And this one!



And this one!



LEO: What are you trying to prove?

Fine, forget it. There goes another.

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LOL ADMIN>

HI BUDDIES!

Hi my buddies!

Sorry about that last post. Pretty brutal, but I just couldn't resist. I wanted to not do it but I couldn't resist. My powers were weak for the preventing doing it, and I seriously just couldn't resist.

But you can all relax now, the mean, stupid post has gone away and in its place is this delicious post. If the old post was a fart, this post is like a happy fart, from the back end of a unicorn. Rainbowy.


Pffft.

LEO: Hey, Marto, let's get down to business.

Ahoy Leonardo! Hark I say! That is a grand idea! Today on the menu I have a poem for you about pizza. If you rearrange the letters in poem, you get mope. That's called this: IRONIC. Poem time!

Blood Meal

I'll have two large pizzas please
With chocolate chips and candied peas
With bamboo shoots and ginseng roots
And chopped and sautéed apple seeds.

Go light on the banana chips
Their hard, sharp edges cut my lips
Blood runs south from my aching mouth
And dangles from my fingertips.

Blood is pouring, gentle loss
Coats my plate, a tepid gloss
The crimson flow on blanched white dough
Mixes with the sauce.

My mouth is filled, a bloody feast
Human juice and tainted yeast
Warm and sour, drained of power
Fills my belly up, my beast.

Trickling poisons from the deep
Drying padding colors seep
Head is falling, darkness calling
Eyes fall closed and into sleep.

---

Whap, hope you liked it. In the words of this guy:


'Mmm, I love turtles!'

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LOL ADMIN>

secret bloggy-man

Hi Blogs,

I am on here for a secret, because even though I said I wasn't going to blog you I have something important that I want to blog you.

Meow meow. I want to blog you meow meow.



LOL ADMIN>

OUT OF ORDER

Hey Blugs,

Sorry for the slow-ass posting lately, I have been like this thing here:


A Slow Little Ass

The reason I haven't been around much is that, well, I've been posting on another site. And I think we should take some time apart. Yeah call me what you will, but we both know this hasn't been working. So let's stop pretending and do the grown-up thing, for both of us. And don't say shit about the other site, you haven't even seen it. It's beautiful.



For serious though, I am taking a little hiatus till just after the Olympics (end of Feb.), and when I get back this baby is going to cook. I am going to post about cooking babies. Every day. Yeah you could have thought of it, but you didn't, I did.

So thanks for being patient lately, and if you want to check out the other site you can find it here.

See You Soon Natalies, See You Sooooooooooon......

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LOL ADMIN>

Mr. Sensitive

Blargh! King Kong in 'King Kong' says: "Blaaaargh!"

Today I took a test called 'How Sensitive are You?'. It was a series of questions about all kinds of weird shit, and I guess at the end it would tell you how sensitive you are. I say 'I guess' because I didn't get to the end. I only got to the second question, and if there is one thing life has taught me it is this:

'There is no brass ring for a second place loser'.

It is a good thing I knew this already, otherwise I may have come to be fairly disappointed at not having a payoff at question two.

The reason, however, that I did not get past question two, is that the question sent me adrift in my own imagination and whimsy. They say euphoria is the marrow sucked from the bones of life's great surprises, and suck the bone I did!



Imagine my sweet surprise when I finished up question one ('what is your name?') and looked down at question two, bolded on the crisp page, staring up at me, wet eyes full of wonder:

WHAT DO YOUR NAME?

I felt like I was floating on air. Seriously one of the top five experiences of my life. Probably top three even. Honestly it could even crack into the top two, and may even have a shot at number one.



You know what? Fuck it! It is number one, the best thing that has ever happened to me. I just sat there staring at it, letting it roll around my mind, unravel it's long, prying tentacles into the darkest cavities and recesses of my body.

But to answer? Gad, where to begin. What, in fact, does do my name?

Clothing label makers from my summer camp once did my name. Printed up about 50 of them to attach to every sock and self-addressed envelope packed neatly in my suitcase. But that could not be it, that seems far too simple.



I suppose I could consult a group of interpretive dancers, and they could get all metaphysical and do my name. But that seems all too familiar.



And then it hit me, kind of like that epiphany that Robin Williams has in Good Will Hunting about how Will is just a kid and his mind might be rich with knowledge but he has no experience to back it up.

'What do your name?'.

Of course. So simple, right under my nose the whole time.

In the words of Bill Shakespeare:


'These are the ABC's of me baby!'

I DO ME.
I DO ME.
I DO ME.

LEO: He does him.

I DO ME.

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LOL ADMIN>