Reviewing of the play

I want to look back on another past blog and add a little update. This blog is a classic. One of my personal favorites and a definitive benchmark of our times. Well it made me laugh so screw the rest of you. Its the good ole sex tape blog. I was thinking more about this the other day and decided that maybe I shouldn't have spoken so harshly against the sex tapes. Possibly Recorded Fornication has its merits (other then blackmail, delicious delicious blackmail) Maybe the tapes could be used like films from football teams. It is customary for teams to exchange film a week before the game to see what the other team has to offer. I think this could be a useful tool in the bedroom arena too (possibly kitchen stadium, backseat superdome, or even the Airplane Bathroom Memorial Park. Also I said tool in that sentence) Seeing film on a partner before hand could help you prepare for the unexpected. Lets face it some people make funny faces (clown make up is just wrong) do odd things, make funny noises, or have strange scars in the shape of 19th century vice presidents. Going in knowing this would save a lot of embarrassing questions. (like I didn't know you had a third nipple, or a sixth nipple, How exactly did you get a burn there, and my personal favorite Do you think it will grow back?) Now when you make the tape you would really want to be putting out your A game. So even if your first time with a new partner is a little under par you could point to the tape and say you were having an off week and after another week of practice you would bring a whole different team. Well just keep these arguments in mind if you are planning to make a sex tape. And feel free to send an advanced copy to Jonathan Hawkins. All proceeds from the sale of your private tape will go to Jonathan Hawkins, or the Jon Hawkins general awesomeness scholarship fund.

Gentlemen BEHOLD! Again

I am fairly sure I have spoken on the power of cheese before, but now I am ready to sing it's praises once again. Cheese has the amazing binding powers (not only of the colon, but it can bind other good foods together.) But the other day I was contemplating the amazing power of cheese to make normally inedible foods, well positively eatable. For example French Onion Soup. Basically sour water and old onions, possibly with a chunk of ancient bread floating in it. Yum. To make it edible you just need an inch of melted cheese on top. In this instance the cheese acts as a buffer between your mouth and old onion water. Also Nachos are junk without cheese. OHHHH boy, warm tortilla chips, sign me up (www.warmtortillachiplover.com, the photo gallery is definitely worth a look.)

Shower time

First off I love using other peoples showers. For whatever reason showering in a new place is always fun for me. I get to see all the cool shit people have in there. Bath Poofs, Dandruff shampoos, Anti Crab medicines. Well this weekend I was visiting a good friend of mine in Pittsburgh and I had the pleasure of seeing a new shower. now I say shower because the bath tub that you stand in was entirely unsuitable for a bath. (unless you were dying yourself the color of mildew, which by the way is in this season) I am not trying to say anything bad about this person or their cleaning habits, don't get me wrong a shared shower with college men has every right to be that way. It says so in the constitution (Thomas Jefferson was the first writer of man laws). But I got to see a lot of cool stuff, like hair mayonnaise. I know black people had different hair then I do, and you can't wash it with the same shampoo, but Mayonnaise? REALLY? Regardless of what it does, I couldn't use a condiment in the shower. (other then Franks Red Hot, that stuff makes everything better) Also I saw a shower poof, well thats not true, because guys don't have those, its called a Lather Builder when a guy uses it. I like the name Lather Builder. It sounds like there is construction involved, possibly even 2X4's. And my favorite thing of all about a shared shower is everyone has their own face wash, all the same brand, just strategically located in close proximity with his shampoo and soap. Regardless of soap segregation, lather builders, and shower condiments, I think a persons shower curtain says a lot about them. Some people say the eyes are the window to the soul, well they are not smart, and they smell, because infact the shower curtain is. You can see a love of rubber ducks, exotic fishes, or know some one is plain as hell from the all white ones. The Cloth shower curtains show a person not concerned with mildew and attracted to soaking wet fabric. The heavy duty ones are from people who are afraid of psycho like attacks. So in summary, next time I am in your house, I will be judging you just by your shower

Let me stare deep into your eyes

This weekend I had the distinct displeasure of visiting one of my arch nemises. The EyeBall Doctor. Its not that I hate the actual doctor. No, doctor Korn is a cool guy and all, its just the whole procedure that bothers me so much. First off you have to do all the little tests before the doctor will even see you. You have the one where they blow on your eyeball, that they claim is to detect glocoma. I am fairly sure its just because people make a funny face when they get air blown at their eyes. your eyes close real tight and your whole face contracts and the best part is that you have to do it again. Its like a little kid getting shocked from a socket, then just trying the same fork in the 2nd plug of the outlet. After the eye ball blowing (yes that one is actually a sexual favor, and if you have to ask, you can't afford it) you get to look at a cactus. Well your supposed to look at the end of the road as it focuses in and out. The test is designed to get an aproximate precription for your eyes. but really it just shows you a cactus on a blank desert road and sees how long you can try not to look at it. Its a simple fact that cactuses are more interesting then the vanishing point of a desert road. (In fact cactuses are more intresting then a lot of stuff, next time you are bored at class, at work, visiting relatives, watching a bad movie, or doing homework just compare the experience to cactus watching, I think you will be pleasanty surprised.) After the test of your ability to not look at desert flora,you move into the actual doctors office. This is where I move from slightly annoyed to terrorified. Its always dark in the office and sometimes there is soft music in the backround. Already that is sending me the wrong signals. The scented candles and massage oils didn't help either. And the first thing he does is straddle a stool directly infront of you and places a giant piece of metal infront of your eyes that has the ability to make you see incrediably clearly, or not at all. Then the fun starts. He starts flipping lenses at a fraction of light speed and asks your opinion on them, Better or Worse. 1 or 2, on and on this goes until you are too confused to know anymore. You asked for them to be repeated and then you just guess after a while. Well this time I got a 3rd option that I don't remember having before. I can now respond "same". Shit! I was planning on just guessing and having a 50 50 chance of getting it right, now my odds are down to 33.crazy decimal that knows no end. I don't like those odds, mostly because I like my decimals to stop after a respectable distance. After all this, he pulls off that machine and then looks at your eyes with a flashlight for a few minutes. I figure this is when he is going to make his move, temporarily blinding you, and leaning close enough to notice my deodorant brand (I know some of you are shocked, but yes I do wear it.) Then he slides away, apparently satisfied. and tells you that your prescription hasn't changed. WHAT! all that for no change, you better lie to me after all that, change some decimals around. make up a disease or something.
Well anyways I am the proud owner of glasses again and can now see and possibly drive somewhat more safely.

This blog has a disclamer.

If you are above the age of 13 (mentally), find the topic of poop offensive, consider yourself mature, or have chronic dermatosis; you may not want to contiue reading this blog. (If you have dermatosis, theres nothing this blog can do for you. Medicated Gold Bond Powder is your only hope)

With further ado I present the poop blog:

A blog so childish I actually wrote it in those thick crayons you got in kindergarden

A blog so smelly that if you have recently invented something to smell the internet with, you would have to turn it off, or at least down

A blog challengeing the length of my average readers patience with overblown introductions.

FURTHER ADO!

Now without further ado, here it is

Recently I took what could quite possibly be the best poop I have taken in a long time, It lasted about 15 pages (The quantum value of a poop is measured in the amount you can read) and yeilded quite an impressive load. But after I finished I had a large problem, I had seen the poop and it was good, but no one else had seen the poop, so you could all think I was just very sick and making this up. Well I am very sick, but this is a true poop. I needed a witness to this masterpiece of waste. I needed a friend good enough to have admire the poop and vouch for it, if the question arrises. I have such a freind, but he was 300 miles away, and while it looked like a good poop I wasn't letting it ferment for a few hours. I think we all need to look into our lives and find those special people who can be our waste witnesses.
Another important poop topic that I have been wondering about is what is the correct size for a stool sample. I have heard many comedians talking about making a urine sample at the doctor, but how much poop do you fork over. (wow, never say fork over in a poop blog) And for that matter how do they expect me to poop on command when I have trouble peeing when some one is whistling in the backround. Is it a take home test? And if it is does it include one of those aquarium nets to help with the extraction of the sample. (extraction out of the toilet bowl, god I all I ask for is a little maturity when talking about poop) And if you do take it home do you have to keep it cold or does shit keep? Now I am wondering the shelf life of a turd, (consider that it is already as bad as it's going to get, also don't put poop on shelves, it's not good for decorating and it won't match your carpet, unless....)
At work the other day I went to use the bathroom and was shocked to find someones shit stewing in the bowl. I know sometimes I forget to flush, but have the common curtesy to do it in a public place. We are not all your poop wittnessing buddies. If I go into a public bathroom and find some floaters and sinkers, I specificly don't wittness it, because that pooper is not the kind of person I want to vouch for later. I look the other way and kick the flusher. But this forgotten poop made me wonder who was pooping at the plant. We only have one bathroom with one toilet, and from what I distictly tried not to witness that was at least a 2 chapter dump. I don't know about the rest of the world, but I don't like pooping at work. People are knocking on the door, asking you questions, trying to get you to buy girl scout cookies for their kids. I need some piece and quiet when I drop to kosby kids. I want to have a good book, maybe a drink of water, and turn up the shower to create the Steamy poop. The excuse is to let the shower heat up, but I think it makes the most relaxing bowel situation this side of the brown note.
And last and certainly least I want to thank anyone who made it this far and is still trying to laugh, thank you for being able to think poop is funny like I do

I vant to suck your blog.

A few days ago I was watching the history channel very late at night, (it was at that odd hour between Futurama, and the reruns of the daily show) and I happened to watch a show about modern day vampires. They talked about people who drink blood, people who feed off the physic aura of others, and about the vampire club scene in major cities. But they didn't talk about the most prolefic and possibly most successful cult of vampires. The blood bank. I can't imagine anyone more persistent about getting my life juices. Don't get me wrong, I am all for donating blood, it is a good way to help and you could save a life. But for some reason the blood bank felt that I wasn't giving enough so they called me twice a day every day for over 2 months. Unlike normal vampires crosses, garlic, and wooden steaks through the heart don't stop them. (the wood in the heart slows them down for sure though) No the only preventative measure is to tattoo yourself regularly, or visit africa, or take prescription meds, or get Herpes. So the last time the blood bank called I told them that I would be leaving for my new job as a tattoo artist in the congo, where my many life partners could finally share needles and unprotected sex without uncle sam and the local authorities breathing down my neck. And since then, no more calls. I might be under investigation under the patriot act but who isn't these days. (Wow a Patriot Act Joke, it's been almost a week since you've heard one of those right? Wrong the Patriot Act is no joke you terrorist.)

Also this is probably the worst title I have ever used, and I appologize to everyone who had to see it.

Great New Look, Same Horrible Aftertaste

As I am sure all of my incredablly loyal* readers have noticed the Super Happy Fun Time Blog has recently undergone some minor changes. If you didn't notice then you have deeply hurt my feelings. (Jon's feelings include: Hungry, Aggitated, Sleepy, Bloated, Gassy, and sometimes Enthralled.) These sweeping changes include new fonts all about the place, And a sublte enlargement of the title. Yeah that's right, I found about natural title enhancement, and now I just take this pill 3 times a day, and BOOM. Lets just say I use bold now. Also a nifty new record of all the old posts. you can have them sorted by year and month. (Sorting ideas that were rejected include # of misspelllings, Number of mentions of Breasts, Comment quality, Comment Quantity, # of misspelllings, and # of times I repeat bad jokes). SO I hope you all can appreciate the new flavor that is the Super Happy Fun Time Blog. Wow that is a stupid title, maybe I should enhance it some more.

*By loyal I mean you check it once a season to make sure I am not dead. My definition of loyalty is kinda low

If any one says anything about a "cool job" I will cut them into cubes and make 22 pound people bags

I have started working at ice company recently. It's called Home City Ice, and it's a large ice company with branches all over the Midwest and PA. Also producing ice is possibly the lamest thing ever. I am a logistcal technician. (I load trucks, with, you guessed it ICE, and because you guessed it, you get, you guessed it again some ice, wow you're a good guesser.) Basically my job is to get a truck from the lot, fill it with diesel fuel, back it into the docks, remove old ice from the back, load the truck for tomorrows run, return the truck to the lot, and then check it out to make sure there isn't any major problems. Basically I do this, get a truck from the lot, spill fuel allover myself, and sometimes wring out my shirt into the gas tank, reverse the truck at a large fraction of the speed of light into the the dock. (seriously for the first week I gave myself some wicked wiplash backing up trucks, I sued. the legal battle is getting ugly, apparently I know about some of the less moral things that I have done to the following organizations, FDA, Boy Scouts of America, OPEC, NAMBLA, Boy Scouts of Mexico, PETA, the NRA, Public Radio, Boy Scouts of Qatar. ) Then if the truck is pretty clean I load it up and send it home, but when the trucks come back dirty, then that is where I get aggitated. Most drivers are pretty good about cleaning up the messes in the backs of trucks, Empty bags of ice, pallets, the celofane from the pallet wrappings, all that jazz, anyways, some aren't and leave huge messes for me to clean up. Which isn't my job, (neither is covering my self in fuel, but what can I say, I like the smell) I talked to my managers about the messes, I talked to the drivers, and still nothing changed, so I talked to that little guy on my left shoulder. And he informed me about how to save some money on car insurance, and how to get the drivers back too. Now when I find trash in the backs of trucks, all that trash is moved to the cab of the truck, good luck driving with a cab full of empty ice bags. One driver left food in the back of his truck, I don't know why he was eating in the back of an ice truck, but apparently he thought it was such a good idea he left me half a sub so I could try, instead I moved it under his seat for a few days, and then placed it on the steering wheel with a note explaining to him the finer points of keeping his truck clean. ("This is your sandwich from last sunday! Don't leave shit in the back of your truck!") So far my personal war is working, casualties have been had on both sides, today I opened up a truck with a tipped skid of ice on it. (imagine a truck filled knee deep with snow, now imagine it in 7 pound bags, that's about the size of it) So now that driver has a pallet of ice without a celophane wrapper leaning against his back door, (Imagine an avalanche, now imagine it in 7 pound bags.)

Randomization

Just a few thoughts I have been kicking around.

What if Bigfoot the monster truck is actually driven by Bigfoot the monster, you only ever see the guy in a fire suit and a helmet, I am pretty sure its Sascwatch. No wonder why he's always so pissed off, Grave Digger keeps beating him. Also, do they still race monster trucks, and how do you in fact race monster trucks, do you get a time penalty for not destroying cars? Moving along, Fruit rollups are delicious, this I think we can all agree on. But they are really not that fruity when it comes down to it. I purpose we call them Froot Rollups to eliminate undue confusion with a real FrUIt product. And I like the look of Froot Rollups is good. (3 words with the double O in that last little gem of a sentence). And a new though for our unwanted distant cousin to the East. No not the Middle east, less east then that, yes New Jersey. How about if we just close our borders to it. Just erect a 30 foot fence around the entire thing, PA has a national guard, we should be protecting ourselves from the largest threat. Assholes. Also if they give us trouble, we can give them philly, no one really likes it anyways, and the people are moore like New Jersians any ways. (that double O thig is catchy). This one is for the catholics out there. Represent. Why did Paul write so many letters. The first reading is from the letter of Paul to the Corinthians. The 2nd Reading is from the letter from Paul to The Jersians. This makes me think that the apostles were set up like student councel, and Paul got shafted with the secretary job. Should have run for Treasurer, Always run for Treasurer.

The word Fancy is not a verb. It might have been long ago, but now it's not. I am sorry, I know of the many things I am*, I am by no means a wordsmith or grammactatitian, but fancy is just not a verb. It is an adjective. It is used to describe stuff with lace and sequins on it. (that's the websters definition, just so you know). No self respecting person can say "Do you fancy a drink?" Unless of course they are wearing a monacle and the drink in question is the finest vintage of a particularly good wine. So unless you stem from the late 19th century, or have a desperate need for a corrective lens in only one eye, then fancy can only be used to describe things, not show an enjoyment of things.

*Smelly, construction paper god, smarter then most warm bricks, generally odorific, squelchy, perpetual user of this thing*

*I wasn't making a footnote, I just can't spell that word. OH shit I was making a footnote.

Hooked on Facebook worked for me

Thankfully I missed out on the myspace craze. Unfortunately I am addicted to facebook. That goddamn website accounts for 14/23rds of my internet time. (the other time breaks down like this; 1/23rd on this example of poor grammar and waste of good internet, another 23rd on the Air Force website seeing what I am in trouble for now, and I use the other 7/23rds improving hand coordination and wrist strength.) I am glad that I can now know every little detail about everyone's lives. I can get up to the minute updates such as; Mark has added Fraggle Rock to his favorite TV shows, or Jenny is no longer a member of the "Inside Joke that no one else knows about" group. (I hear Jenny was not happy with the actions of said group at their annual conference this year in Boise). Also I thankful for the knowledge that Jim has tagged himself in 32 pictures, of well... Himself. Amazing. The only truly important feature of facebook is its power to grant official status to a relationship. I firmly believe that unless facebook notifies me with a line such as "Dwight and Jon are life partners" with a small heart next to it, then I don't believe it. Hell I'm not even sure my parents are really married, cause according to facebook they really don't even exist. (I bet they staged all those "wedding pictures" in the same studio where they faked the moon landing")

Whistles in the Wind

A few days ago while visiting one of my frequent haunts, the library (Mostly I wear a sheet with two eye holes and yell Boo at other students) I found the sudden and uncontrollable urge to use the restroom. A not too uncommon thing I might add. Anyways I entered the Potty and took up the traditional stance at the unrinal. Feet spread shoulder width apart, left hand securing bottom of fly* and right had doing the heavy lifting... Just go along with it, it helps my ego. Anyways as I was about to commence I heard a dreaded sound coming from outside the bathroom. Whistling. I thought "Wow I hope the whistler doesn't come in here, and what the hell is that stain on my pants, it looks like mustard" (it turns out it's yellow paint, and I need to get new jeans) Anyways the wistling kept getting closer and then I heard the door creak open. "Damn" I thought. I did the quick urinal math and realized he would have to be next to me. "Extra Damn". Now I am trying to stop thinking about the whistles and think about peeing, but then when he gets next to me, I start thinking "I wonder what that tune is? And why is he whistling while he pisses, surely the snow white dwarves didn't classify that as being work?" Then I thought about the 7 dwarves peeing, and how creeped out snow white would be living with 7 midgets. And then the final thought struck me. I was standing there looking fixidly at a wall with myself in my hand thinking about the living arrangements in a Disney movie. In the meantime the whistler had finished his business and began humming a tune while washing his hands.

* this is the traditional placement of the left hand, but there are many others including the classic drunk, where the left hand takes up station on the wall about eye level to act as another point of contant to keep the bathroom from spinning away and out of control. Very helpful when in a less then reputable bar bathroom with less then reputable balance

In oil

In my life I have made many poor judgements. Teaching Micheal Jackson to mix coke and wine, telling everyone in Pomeii that a little ash couldn't hurt and to stop whining, going to that Dave Mathews Band Concert (you know what you did to me Dave, and I will never ever forgive you), but by far the worst of all is one that is a fairly regular occurance. I have the unhealthy ability to select tuna in oil. I don't know why my hands are so good at fooling my brain that I am graspiing the "in Water" can, but no, I am really grabbing 6oz of shredded fish and 10w 30 weight. It really wouldn't be so bad if you could actually drain tuna in oil. but you can't, you might remove some oil (enough to grease a pan) but still more remains (about equal to amount needed to wax my car). And if you get any out into the sink, your drain becomes an Exxon Tanker accident. (poor little spoons, I only hope hot celebrities arrive soon so they can be cleaned) My real question I guess is why do all the tuna companies make tuna in oil? I have asked several people and no ever buys it on purpose. It's always some David Copperfield slight of hand that allows it into your cart. If only starkissed and bumblebee knew that no actually wants the "in oil" cans we might be free from their slimy grossness for ever.

Neverthewhat

I just wanted to post a quick few sentences of rage towards a gross missuse of the english language that I love and respect so dearly. It's just the grammar that bothers me most of the time, and the spelling, goddamn spelling. Anyways I was very disturbed to find one of my most hatiest words several times during a single days reading. NEVERTHELESS (yes surprisingly enough "nevertheless" appeared several times in both Penthouse letters and Better homes and gardens, what can I say, I appreciate a well thought out bedroom decor) Nevertheless is utter Bullshit. I've heard of compound words before, but this goes beyond that. This is 3 words. 3 whole words smashed together. muchlikethis andtherest ofthisblog. I am herby starting a campaign to eliminate nevertheless or conversely eliminate spaces between words. it's your choice, lose one ridiculous word, or that long thin thumb rest at the bottom of your keyboards