Just 8 Minutes Left. Don't Lower the Knife, Yet.

Walking the streets of London, you occasionally see signs similar to this one. Police cameras are not a new concept to me. I wasn't surprised to see the signs. I was however intrigued by how they depict cameras. I know London is rich in tradition and sticking to their old ways, but perhaps their technology should be upgraded past the 1890's. In this fast paced world I would imagine it's hard to get the criminals to stand still for 10 minutes for the picture to take.

Don't Aim So High.

I mentioned in the previous post the phrase "mind the gap". While in London I probably heard this phrase appoximately 7563 times....on Monday. For those of you unaware, it is repeated over the PA in the tube (subway). A very pleasant British robot lady repeats it at every stop to remind us to watch our steps as we get on and off of the train. It's lovely.

What is not lovely is public restrooms in London. Not that they are dirty (usually just the opposite), and it's not necessarily the case in all of them, but there is a problem when utilizing the trough. Being a big sports fan, and having gone to many UT games, I am used to the idea of the trough. For those of you unfamiliar, rather than having several urinals, some establiments catering to larger crowds employ a large trough that you have to just go up to and pee. No privacy. I'm not sure but my guess is that trough technology is somewhat new to the UK. I come to this conclusion, simply because every time I was at one, I got peed on. Not directly, but I couldn't help but feel tiny little tinkle droplets hit the side of my arm whenever there was someone next to me. This would then lead me to have to scrub my arms down like an ER doctor when I washed my hands.

My solution?

Men of the UK. We understand the need for troughs in certain establishments. We Americans are happy to stand side by side with you and make water. Just a few suggestions, though. First, aim lower. Try to have your stream hit the point where the side and the bottom meet. Second, lower the pressure. I understand you want to hurry, so as not to miss part of the game. But you guys have to relax. You all have some violent streams. Stop forcing it and just allow it to come out naturally. I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourselves. My final solution, perhaps a PA annoucment. Much like when I get on the elevator and hear "mind the doors", or when I'm on the tube and hear "mind the gap", perhaps we could get the same lady with the pleasant voice to remind us to "mind your splatter."

You Talk Funny.

I just returned from jolly ol' England. I had a great time and would like to thank Deener, Kate, and all of Deener's new friends for making it a great time.

That said...the Brits talk funny. They got all these sayings for everyday things that are completely different from how we say them in the States.

Here are some examples:
Fag means "cigarette"
Flat means "apartment"
Lift means "elevator"
Elevator means "to kill a prostitute"
Washing up liquid means "dish washing detergent"
Dish washing detergent means "to kill a prostitute"
Toilet means "the whole rest room"
Restroom means "a place to rest after killing a prostitute"
Crisps means "Chips"
Chips means "french fries"
French fries means "to kill a French prostitute"
Mind the Gap means "watch your step"
Watch your step means "look at that prostitute, she needs a good killing"

So what have I learned? The English love their sayings. They also love dead prositutes. Who knew?

Plenty of other posts will come of the trip, but I just spent all day travelling and just want to use the restroom (American version) and go to bed.

Once in a Blue Moon.

Tomorrow I leave for England. I asked my friend Deener if they're was anything from the states that she missed and wanted me to bring. She asked if I could smuggle a couple of Blue Moons (that's my girl, only askin' for a brew.) However, I'm not going to do it. Reason #1: I don't have room in my suitcase. #2: Baggage handlers tend to just throw your luggage around (they should be called baggage throwers). I wouldn't want a bottle or two to break, covering my clothes with beer. Besides, my clothes will probably all smell of beer by the time we leave.

Sorry Deener, you'll just have to settle for some animal crackers.

British Throw Down

The journey across the pond will soon be upon us...well, um, upon me, not so much you. Unless "you" are Katie, (which is possible seeing as very few people even read this crap)and then also upon you, as well.

Anywho, back to my point. The trip is near and in trying to understand that which is British, I stumbled upon this vid of 2 English guys really throwin' down. Warning, this can get pretty graphic.

Damn Yankees

I'm sure you've all heard by now. New York Yankees' pitcher Cory Lidle crashed a plane into an apartment high rise in New York. Upon hearing the news, President Bush has called for the invasion of Yankee Stadium. Anyone found harboring or aiding Yankee players will be seen as the enemy.

Pip Pip

In just a little over a week I will be travelling to England with my friend Kate to visit our other friend Deener. I recently learned that they don't have peanut butter. How do you trust a nation without peanut butter.

Here are some other facts that I just learned about England that don't sit well with me:
1. They've never heard of orthodontia.
2. They do not use the word "the".
3. 3 men in downtown London go from home to home at night and steal little pieces of your soul.
4. No indoor plumbing.
5. Every single one of them has a tattoo of Alan Alda (TV's Hawkeye Pierce).
6. They call sausage "bangers", and they call pork chops "sperm dumpsters".
7. The Beatles actually aren't British. They were a band from New Jersey that the country of England hired to pretend they were British, so that England would seem cool.
8. If you can't swim, they push you into a pool. After you've drowned, they eat your heart.
9. You're not allowed to laugh between 3pm and 6:57pm.
10. They smell like cabbage and feet.

Screeeeech!

I'm a week late on this one (My friend Kate already mentioned it). But TV's Screech, otherwise known as Dustin Diamond (not related to the Beastie Boys' Mike Diamond), is in a sex tape. His manager is trying to find a distributor, given the name "Saved by the Smell." I'm not even offended by Screech screwing. I'm offended by the name. There are plenty of good porn titles that could have been used. Here's my list:

"Shaved by the Bell"

"Saved by the Tail"

"Saved by the Balls"

"Shaved by the Balls"

"I'm No Johnny Dakota"

"I'm So Excited!!!"

"Dustin Off My Diamonds"

Those are just the ones I've come up with......What are yours'?

You Say Pajama....

My friend is about to move into a new apartment. As a "house warming" he is talking about having a pajama party. Now, I like a theme party, but I dislike pajama parties. Don't get me wrong, I like a girl in her PJ's. But, when that occurs it's not a "Pajama party", it's a "Readjust Myself All Friggin' Night Long Party".

I just hope he has several throw pillows.

The Harmful Power of Little Dude.

Little dude is back...with a vengeance. Yes, he can dance, but he can also lay the smack down. Don't anger him. (Also don't crouch slightly so that he can climb up your tie) I'm on your side, Little Dude.

Seriously, I friggin' love midgets.

The Healing Power of Little Dude.

Sometimes I have a day that's not so good. I get a little down. I get a little out. But now I have a cure for the down-n-outs. I can simply watch this and I'm back to good. God I love midgets.

Who Rocks the Potty, That Rocks the Body?

The other night I was sound asleep. Actually, not only was I asleep, but I was having a great dream. I don't remember all of the details, but I do know it involved Gary Larson's The Far Side. Suddenly, I was ripped from my slumber by rumbles and grumbles in my tumbles. I left the warm confines of my bed to go make dirt. I was disappointed to find that I simply had a case of the devil's wind (that's right, for those of you who didn't know, the name of this blog is quite simply a fart joke. I stand by it.) Anyway, dispite my dissatifaction with the situation, I did find myself remembering the classic restroom poetry:

Here I sit, Broken Hearted. Came to sh**, but only farted.

Brilliant.
Here are some other classics.

Those who write on bathroom walls, Roll their sh** in tiny balls. Those who read these words of wit, eat those tiny balls of sh**.

In days of old, when knights were bold, and condoms weren't invented. They rapped their c**ks with dirty socks, and babies were prevented.

Here's plenty more.