. . . . . . . The Daily Blarf

Thursday, January 05, 2006

DISCLAIMER: this is a very negative-sounding post. please disregard and enjoy.

RINGO: the dog too cute to kill

yes, he has a name now. after thousands of suggestions in the comments section, and hundreds more mailing their entries, and dozens of women showing up at my door with names and hopes of scoring a date with me, i finally settled on a name--with sarah's help.

his name is Ringo.

his middle name is unofficially Dingo. his last name, nonexistent. sarah and i made it official when we got one of those shrinky-dink nametags for his birthday, which, as you remember, is the day after mine--december 17th.

amy liu scored a "d'oh!" by suggesting the great name Riley, but suggesting it too late for consideration.

i walked into my bedroom the other night to find Ringo sprawled out on my bed with his feet up in air, tongue hanging out, snoozing... he awoke, looked at me, wagged his tail and gave me a shit eating grin. what a little little bastard.


and in continuation of the "Ben's Celebrity Look-a-Like Series":

the latest accusation from the guys at work is that i look like Steve Carell from the "40 year old virgin". it goes on & on. who will they think of next? maybe i should move back to the old spikey hairstyle to put the ki-bash to this one. but i dunno, steve is a good-looking guy... from a man's point of view, that is.


and then there's my hate affair with Shirley Temple:

recently i discussed with sarah my *HATE* for Shirley Temple--the sickeningly sweet songs, overpowering cutesy-ness, and the "i'm so cute it hurts so good" bullshit. this wasn't worth mentioning until irony struck when i went back to my old barber for the first time in months. i was sitting there in the chair when a Shirley Temple movie ad came on and my barber said, "oh, i just love Shirley Temple!" i almost barfed all over the hair apron.

an evil Welch's pitchman pitchkid

in that same vein, i also hate the Welch's grape juice ads that use Temple-esque children. those ads make me want to send a nasty letter to Welch's. there's nothing i hate more than a kid who think's he's all that and more. kinda like the kids you see on Star Search.


and a note from the Grinch Department:

didn't get a christmas card from me this year? don't worry, it wasn't by mistake. no, the mailman didn't fudge up. no, the dog didn't eat your card (he's done alot, but he hasn't done that.) no, it's much simplier than that...


yep, that's right. i've sent them out for several years now, but this year i said to hell with it. for one thing, i have endured ridicule from mark for being a single white male who sends christmas cards (he says that's what married people do, not single guys.) just because of that, i was sure to send him a card every year to make him uncomfortable as a person could possibly be after getting a christmas card from a single white guy.

another reason is i've also gotten little to no response from anyone after sending the damn things, aside from a few people who send cards back who were clearly caught off guard and tried to return the favor to avoid looking like christmas dicks. but the true sentiment was obviously lacking, so they still looked like christmas dicks.

so who's the christmas dick this year? ME! and i loved every second of it.

and guess who sent me one of the only christmas cards i got this year? the irony runs thick and deep here--Mark did. but his excuse is he got married this summer, so it's not weird for him to send one. the other senders were Kat and Alex--thanks, you two, but don't expect one back. Merry Christmas from the blarf. --that's all you get.


on to other things....

the christmas spirit slapped me silly when i plowed the driveway for the first time using dad's plow truck. it's been a few years since i've used a plow, plus dad's tires are bald, so it didn't take much for me to slide the truck off the driveway and end up about 4 inches from the corner of the garage--on the first pass. i blame it on the bald tires and the frozen ruts that made me slide off the drive. regardless of the cause, it still sucked. i had to have dan come down and help a brotha out...of the snow, that is.

more about snow....

i've begun a second job as a ski instructor. actually, i was still considered a "candidate" up until a week ago, but they imply that anyone should be able to make it, and i am just that--anyone. so i made it. i won't really make much money doing it, but i get to ski for free all season--nifty. and what's niftier is skiing with my cell phone and bluetooth wireless earpiece. i get bored while talking on the phone, so combining it with skiing takes the phone conversation figity-ness and puts it to good use. but with the earpiece under your hat, people look at you weird though when you get on the ski lift while talking to yourself. ah well. what do i care?


and then there's Wetwerks...

...who just opened for Bon Jovi at the Pepsi arena in front of 13,000 people. sweet. good luck, seth. that's awesome. you can find Wetwerks on iTunes, or click on the Wetwerks link on my sidebar.


nothing new from Bug the Goat this time--he's milking sick leave, doing super secret goat stuff, or some lazy goat shit like that. damn Local Goat Union #765 is all over me lately; can't do nothing about it.

that's it for now. good riddance to 2005; may 2006 not suck quite as bad.