Ang Twittered about this commercial she saw a little while ago. Lock up your griddle and throw away your Batter Blaster, cuz it's the Pancake Puffs pan, people! Pancakes used to be flat and boring, but now they're round and exciting like fluffy, bouncing boobs slathered in maple syrup. Pancake Puffs can be filled with meatballs, cheese, pepperoni, seafood, or even injected with hot, viscous poo! Replace pancake batter with eggs, and you can make omelet balls. Replace balls with testicles, and you are eating eggy nutsacks! Pancake Puffs are the perfect treat for people who enjoy eating pretty much anything, like Legos and pride. Pancake Puffs, Pancake Puffs, PANCAKE PUFFS!!!


Image from www.pancakepuffs.com

A few weeks ago, Alexis alerted me to a product called Just a Drop that claimed to strip the nasty monkey stank off the most eye-watering of your pucker-searing log jams. Now I'm highly dubious of a product that purports to attach itself to my ass mist and turn it into a fog of floral champagne water, but as a scientist*, I need to test things directly using the scientific method before making any conclusions. All tests follow the products directions, which instruct the user to put a few drops in the toilet prior to unloading the delivery.

But before we get to the testing, let's look at the marketing strategy for Just a Drop. Their logo is a calming, light blue color accented with a green drop and a green, sweeping underline. I would surmise this simple, borderline pastel palette is meant to evoke images of nature, blue water and green plants, as part its claim to be a completely natural product, a highly concentrated plant extract. Or maybe the blue is to remind you of a toilet that has one of those hockey pucks leaking a slow, steady cloud of blue thunder into the flush water, and at any minute, the Lady in the Water could swim up through the toilet hole and splash faerie-enchanted commode slop onto your swinging ruck sack.



Just a Drop's website gets one huge strike against it right off the bat. Unless you're YouTube, setting a page on your site, especially the front page, to automatically play a video with sound is just bad nettiquette. The video starts with several people proclaiming that "there is nothing better than leaving a bathroom odor-free." Even finding true love, blinding headboard-splattering orgasms, winning 250 million dollars, and doubling the size of your penis combined are not better than leaving a bathroom odor-free. Near the end of the video the slogan "The New Way To Use The Bathroom" appears. So what, you stand on the tank and shit behind the bowl?

The testimonial page on the website offers up the expected exuberant reviews of people who have used the product. These include:

“My 4 year old daughter religiously uses it. For her it works so well that I find myself checking to make sure she’s made a bowel movement. I never smell anything when she comes out of the bathroom!”

Alexis Dawes, Editor “No More Smelly House”

Be sure to click on the link Ms Dawes website. She doesn't devote as much vertical space to poop as I do, but she gives it a college try. I do have some concern for her daughter, however. How is her mommy checking that she's made a bowel movement? Does she force her child to leave her dukes unflushed so that they may be inspected, bagged, and submitted into evidence? Some sort of CAT scan, digital probe, or MRI? But it's ok to check. At that age, my mom was lucky if I hadn't left it behind the easy chair or on a lamp cord at Grandma's house.

“OH MY GOD!!! We have had such a problem at work with people doing #2’s in the shared bathroom. The smell would linger out, and you can smell it in your office. YOUR product is AWESOME!!!

Arpita G., Flushing, NY

Ok, this one has to be fake. FLUSHING, NEW YORK??? C'mon! And she makes it sound like they have an epidemic of people pooping in her workplace. "We've had such a problem at work with people doing #2's in the shared bathroom." Did you want them to hold it until they got home? Leave it in the photocopier? Shit in the wastebasket by their desk?

“I had bariatric surgery a few years back and bathroom odor continues to be a problem for me. Your product has significantly decreased my distress and discomfort using the restroom at work. Just a Drop is the only thing strong enough to bottle and reduce the offensiveness. Thank you for making a tool to address these gastrointestinal challenges faced by me and my counterparts!!”

Sondra N., Baton Rouge, LA

"Just a Drop is the only thing strong enough to bottle and reduce the offensiveness." Why is this chick trying to bottle her offensiveness? Maybe she plans on selling her bottles of offensiveness at Wal-Mart. They sell a lot of things that offend me, like racism and unfair labor practices.

Controlled Testing

NOTE: All analysis of dumps will be based on the Afterglide Fecal Threat Level scale.



Test #1:
Subject: Jeremy Q. Afterglide.
Environment: A freshly cleaned, single stall office bathroom.
Time: Early morning.
Fuel: Previous evening -- Chicken breast with mixed vegetables and black beans, Old Dutch tortilla chips and black bean salsa. That morning -- Large Caribou skim mocha, no whip with a blackberry white chocolate scone.

Dump analysis: Level Cobalt Picture Window. Firm, minimally impacted. Grease factor skirted the upper edge of the allowable levels for CPW classification. Expected stink factor was moderate.

Result: Environment continued to smell solely of mild florals with no poop smell detected. Extremely successful test.



Test #2:
Subject: Ronny Gunz.
Environment: The infamous Stall Two, which had already sustained multiple hot grease attacks from the sales department.
Time: Mid-morning.
Fuel: That morning -- McDonald's breakfast burrito value meal and a bacon egg and cheese biscuit, corn chips.

Dump analysis: Based on subject's description of the grease factor, I rated the dump a Level Mercenary Swamp Cooler. Well-defined edges, moderate grease factor. Expected stink factor was rank.

Result: Subject felt the floral Just a Drop smell was too strong. Very brief and very mild poop smells were detected intermittently. Highly successful test, though subject did not care for the odor of the product itself.



Test #3:
Subject: Jameson.
Environment: Single-stall, locked, clean bathroom.
Time: Mid-afternoon.
Fuel: 3 to 4-star pad thai at Spice Thai Cuisine in Savage.

Dump analysis: Based on subject's description, I rated the dump a Level Mercenary Swamp Cooler, an ideally textured poop. Expected stink factor was moderate.

Result: Subject did not smell poop at any time throughout or after the evacuation process. As with test subject #2, this subject did not care for the smell of the product itself. He found it "overbearing."



Test #4:
Subject: Jeremy Q. Afterglide.
Environment: Stall Two.
Time: Mid-afternoon.
Fuel: 5-star, aka "challenging" gaeng dang (curry) at Spice Thai Cuisine in Savage. Additional heaping spoonful of spice oil added from the spice tray, essentially making it 6-star curry.

Dump analysis: As mentioned above, the subject purposely added extra spice to his curry in order to test the outer limits of his colon and the product. In keeping with the test subject's usual experience with hot curry, the dump inflamed his sphincter with prejudice. Radiant heat seared the hairs from the subject's crack. Dump started out at a Level Paladin Manna Broken Windshield, with a high grease factor, but quickly progressed to a nightmarish Level Duex Duex Beach Towel and continued to quiver in the water after impact. Expected stink factor was akin to a punch to the face with a jagged, broken brick.

Result: At no time throughout this hot, painful dump was the smell of feces detected. Nothing. Not so much as a fleeting whiff. Stratospherically successful test.

Overall Impressions
Based on personal experiences and subject accounts, I deem Just a Drop to live up to its promises by actually covering up the smell of the nastiest of shits. I would highly recommend it to those who are often embarrassed by leaving fly-attracting piles of malodorous cookie dough in shared toilet facilities.

Just a Drop
Available in stores in Canada, but in the US, it's only available through www.justadrop.net.

• $14.99 for enough drops for 800 dumps (2 bottles at 400 uses each).
• $12.99 for 36 single-use travel packets (2 jars of 18 packets).
• $21.99 for both of the above ordered in the "Daily Use & Travel Kit."

*I'm not a scientist, but I'm telling you that I'm a scientist so you'll think I'm a scientist.

In the early morning hours, over my lunch break, and after work on Thursday, I drove all over the south metro's craft stores, toy stores, and dollar stores looking for bags of babies. Plastic babies, that is. I wanted to find small, inexpensive plastic babies in bulk. This is related to a (hopefully) fun activity that will be occurring on my 32nd birthday, which is tomorrow. At the excellent suggestion of an employee at Toys R Us in Burnsville, I stopped at a party supply store after work.

Luckily there is a Party America store in Eagan about 10 minutes from my house. I searched nearly every aisle and came up empty. I was about ready to leave, when I spotted the baby shower section. As I entered the aisle, I immediately spotted little bags full of tiny inch-tall plastic babies. Perfect!! Better yet, they were very reasonably priced. On one hook, there were bags of little white babies, and on the hook below it were little black babies. Sweet! I definitely wanted some of both. I grabbed a few bags of white babies, and as I bent down farther to retrieve the black babies, I noticed there was a sticker over the price indicating that the black babies were on clearance. "Hey, folks. So nobody wants these black babies, so we're going to cut the price by 30%" Uhhhmmm... thanks, I guess?

I proceeded to the front to check out, and the blond cashier warned me, "Just so you know, since these [holding up a bag of black babies] are clearance items, you can't return them. You can return these [holds up white babies] though." I indicated that was fine, paid for my purchase, and walked out the door, pondering the social implications of saving $5 because some racist motherfuckers weren't willing to take in helpless little black babies stuffed into a plastic bag.

Yesterday Max and Eda Cherry asked us if we wanted to meet up at Unique Thrift Store on Rice St in St Paul. We're almost always up for a good thrift store run, so we cleaned ourselves up by dabbing our bodies with moist sponges and hopped in the car, windows open, wind in our hair. As you may have seen in yesterday's post, I discovered a Mr Magoo doll whose cane needed rearranging. By quickly tucking the handle of his cane under his shirt, I gave the lucky Magoo a lengthy deer penis. As you can see, he really enjoyed having it sucked by this disembodied head's pouty lips.

"Ohhh! Ahhhuhhhhhh... that's nice!"


If touching means learning, then I am the smartest man in the world. But enough with the animal talking, get to the animal touching.


Max purchased this massage device that you attach to the hand to make it vibrate. It's called a Super Douglas Vibrator. He immediately disappeared into a back room and emerged 2 hours later drenched in sweat.


It was also Max who discovered one of the most disgusting things I have ever laid my eyes on. He summoned me over to the end of a shelf on the far end of the store, telling me about an apparently unwashed breast pump he found. Neither of us knew the full extent of the horror.

Max laughed as he pulled the cup of the pump out of its case. This cell photo doesn't show it very well, but it's covered in white, milky dried splotches.


We got more than we bargained for, however, when I decided to probe the contents of the case further and pulled out one of the bottles. "HUNNGHHHHH!!!! NO!" At the bottom of the filthy bottles was a pool of dark, rotten breast milk. Max quietly walked away to be sick in private, while I gagged aloud. I knew I had to get a photo though, so I braved it long enough to snap a couple of blurry shots, then collapsed in a pile of tears and churning nausea.


There are so many questions raised by this breast pump. Wouldn't the people donating it at least rinse it out with warm water or maybe some Hi-C? Did the thrift store employees even open this fucking thing before they set it out on the shelf to be sold to an unsuspecting member of the public? And if they did open it, did they see this mess and not want to deal with it? If so, wouldn't you just throw the damned thing away? Or perhaps breast milk cheese has a high market value. But this isn't even cheese; it's slimy black mold with a milky core. God help us all.

Moblog: Unique in St Paul

Yesterday Ang announced that she wanted to go to Valu Thrift Store at Sun Ray in St Paul. I had hoped to just sit on my ass all day, but considering I found a lovable little guy called Shelf Chimp at Unique, their sister store in Burnsville, I couldn't possibly say no to tagging along. Alas, there was nothing as spectacular as Shelf Chimp, but there were plenty of smaller curiosities.

One shelf was full of creams, perfumes, ointments, shampoos, perms, and makeup. The labels seemed to indicate that they had either been discontinued by the manufacturer and unloaded onto various thrift stores or that someone found a bunch of products that expired circa Mork & Mindy and decided to endanger one or two people by giving it away rather than endanger the environment at large by throwing it away.

Impact Volume Retention Perm's label says "For looks that demand attention." For hair so high that potential johns can see you from three blocks away. Warning: not for use on public hair. 70s bush is one thing, but no one wants Spanish Inquisition bush.


On the topmost shelf, there were about a half-dozen or so flowery bottles of Breast Friend brand Premenstrual Breast Creme, which apparently was manufactured for a company based in Woodbury, MN. Apparently this product "Encourages regular Breast Care."


The side label:
The Breast Friend line of products is the only one specifically formulated to promote breast self-examinations and breast care.

Breast Friend Premenstrual Creme encourages women of all ages to develop a routine of regular breast care.

How does it do that? By just having this statement on the box? "You've been encouraged!" Or does constantly buying this cream and developing a routine of slathering it on their breasts help women make a mental connection between the cream and the self-exam?

A portion of the profits from the sale of this product will benefit Breast Cancer Research and Breast Cancer Awareness Programs.

I'm not implying this company's intentions weren't good -- and given that my mom is a breast cancer survivor, this is a subject of concern to me -- but these kind of statements on products claiming to give money to a cause are irksome. "A portion" can pretty much mean whatever they want it to mean. Twenty-five percent? Ten percent? One-sixth of a percent? If you're committed to a cause, give us a concrete value.

On the another side of the label comes this:
DIRECTIONS: Apply an ample amount of creme to each breast using a slow circular motion. Repeat as often as desired. Wash hands immediately after use.

Should you notice any changes in the breast before or during your menstrual cycle, complete a thorough breast self-exam after your menstrual cycle is completed using Breast Friend Shower Gel or Moisturizing Lotion. If you detect any abnormalities contact your physician immediately.

Breast Friend is not a substitute for an annual medical examination by a physician. It is recommended that you have annual mammograms. Use of this product will not prevent the development of or guarantee the discovery of any abnormalities.

Then why use it? How it is of more value than regular moisturizing lotion or a cooling cream? I'm willing to bet most women who saw this product on store shelves or wherever it was sold asked themselves those very questions and left it where they found it.

CAUTION: Avoid the vaginal area. Adult use only. For external use only. Keep out of reach of children. Wash hands after application. Avoid eye contact.

First, I will NEVER avoid the vaginal area. And why avoid eye contact? Is it because of the shame brought on by using such a silly-ass product? I also have grave concerns over a topical cream where women are instructed to rub it all over their breasts but repeatedly warned to get the shit off of their hands as soon as possible after they're done.

"My little angel, would you help mommy apply her Breast Friend?"


"Intrstd Chipmunk iz Intrstd"


Barbie looked lonely, so I gave her a friend.

Last summer, my workhorse of a Maytag dishwasher, the only original kitchen appliance that came with the house that I haven't replaced, finally died an excruciating death. Initially I noticed that the dishes on the bottom rack weren't getting very clean. Then one day I fired it up and came back later to find it had leaked a couple of gallons of soapy water onto my floor. I opened the door to find that the water wasn't draining. I tore down the inside of the dishwasher, cleaned all of the parts, including the filter, and ran another load. Water on the floor again. Motherfucker! I checked the drain hose -- clear as a bell.

After a couple of weeks of dicking around with it, I finally got sick of having a dishwasher full of stagnant water and poured in an entire bottle of Drano. A day later, the trapped water ripe with the stench of rotting food remained. I poured in two entire bottles of Drano, fully aware that this couldn't possibly be very good for the dishwasher, but I knew I'd rather buy a new one than pay $100, $200, or even more to fix one that was likely more than 20 years old. Unfortunately, it appeared the former option was going to be forced upon me, as the motor on the dishwasher eventually died entirely. I surmise it was from straining to push the sprayer through a tub filled with acidic water.

The old dishwasher. It suffered greatly, but it is finally out of its misery.


After removing the dishwasher, I discovered a delicious sample of the carpet which apparently had originally covered the kitchen floor. This is carpet different than the wool carpet that was in the kitchen when I moved in. Thick wool carpet trapping every particle and splash of food. Wool carpet that steam cleaning only brightened the gray by one shade. Wool carpet that was gritty with sand, salt, and dirt no matter how much I vacuumed it.

I also found an entire piece of whole wheat toast I must have accidentally dropped between the fridge and dishwasher a few years ago.


This shit is straight out of the 70's.


Aw yeah... a quarter century of dust, hair, and dropped food.


Cobwebby!


Why do I keep licking this? WHY? Ungh-nunghhhh *sob*


I've only used the new dishwasher once, but it's about a 1/10th as loud as the old one. You could barely carry on a conversation in the living room while it was running. Plus it's more energy and water efficient. I can stuff a dead hooker in it, pour in 2 tablespoons of Cascade, and after running the Pot and Pan Scrubber cycle, POOF! What dead hooker, officer?

I received a catalog in the mail today. Everything in it is the opposite of my personal style. Because it's different than what I like, I am entitled to make fun of it.


This hat is just so bad I don't know what else I could say about it to drive the point home. I think you get it.


These look like something your little sister put together out of strips off a pillow case and her bedazzler to be like one of the big girls. Fail.


Gold Lame. I don't feel like I need to describe to you the target demographic of these stylish looks. You're looking at this and you're thinking, "I know someone who wears this shit, and they love it." Yeah, I know you do. We all do. You're even filing away mental notes for Christmas.


Just in case the bridal shop doesn't carry the the level of ugly you had your heart set on.


She reluctantly agreed to model this hat and immediately felt guilty. She was only capable of completing the shoot with this look on her face.


Forget sweat pants... This is the new look of "giving up on life."


Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? She's at your mom's store modeling clothes.


The three tier wedding cake. It's not even a good cake, either. The frosting is too sugary and the bride & groom at the top are ashamed to even be there.


The More You Know Mascot. At least she's pretty.


Just minutes before the Titanic sank. When I woke up this morning I was really shocked to learn that my time machine malfunctioned and not only brought me back into the 1912, but it broke through to a whole other dimension. This is what would happen if the style then sucked really hard.


Denim and Rhinestones. Isn't that a country song? Shit. Nothing says modern woman like an ankle length denim skirt with rhinestones. Don't pass by without laying your eyes upon the fashionable accessories that grace the page. Midnight Velvet ain't shit if ain't classy.


If I can provide any piece of fashion advice that would apply to everyone, it's color, color, color! And not just color, but monotone color. Pick one and cover yourself in it. This girl's only mistake is not wearing green earrings and a green necklace. She looks incomplete and I won't stand for it.

I never knew that reading about a dishwasher could be so hot. All this talk of biscuit-on-biscuit action is proppin' up my wand. Click the photo for full size view.

This afternoon I stumbled upon this diamond in the internet rough. At first, it was totally obvious this guy didn't even have a deck of cards to be short a couple, but after reading it over and over again, his true mission became clear.

Here are a couple of my favorite excerpts:

More advanced than Star Trek technology! - While the show had some influence on ideas and the direction technology should go, it's still important to point out that most of the technology on the show was, um, not real.

Alex Chiu knows what causes you to age and hereby discovered a great solution to stop you from aging. - But as far as I can tell they have left out Alex's age and if he's been using his own product. But the testimonials are fantastic.

You will one day reach PHYSICAL PERFECTION!! It is strong enough to change the shape of your facial bones. - So they can change the shape of your actual bones but do they have guidelines? How do they know what to change my bones to? (heh bones)

It doesn't matter what handicap you have. This stuff burns through everything! - HOLY SHIT. THAT IS NOT A HANDICAP THAT IS MY LIVER. I guess some could argue the liver handicaps your ability to drink as much as you'd like.

Gorgeouspil is the only savior of Earth - Well, why didn't you just say so in the beginning instead of starting out with all those CRAZY things?

The biggest enemy of mother nature is human. We humans reached the top of the food chain and kept multiplying until no end. Stopping humans from multiphying is the only feasible way of saving mother nature. - So, humans are the biggest enemy to mother nature but instead of allowing us to kill ourselves off (because you know we're headed that way) you suggest we all live forever. We should consult with mother nature first.

Then, you get the bottom of the page. This is where you realize what his true mission in life is, and I back him 100%. (it's kind of long, but oh so totally worth it)

And Gorgeouspil can stop humans from multiplying! So spreading the usage of Gorgeouspil can save the environment. Here's why:

[here he explains in crazy talk that souls can't live in old bodies and need new ones to go on...]

So people who take Gorgeouspil don't want kids. A person who takes Gorgeouspil likes to concentrate his soul within his own body and does not wish to scatter his soul on to other bodies. So making babies is not desirable for people who take Gorgeouspil. Gorgeouspil allows a person to achieve unlimited beauty and unlimited youth. Meanwhile, it stops humans from unnecessary reproductions of more human beings.

Help bring this new technology to light. For the sake of mother nature, for the sake of millions of innocent animals, for the sake of your own future. Don't blindly let the unnecessary reproductions of more human beings ruin our home. Spread the word about Gorgeouspil.

As an immortal you have a duty to protect our planet. Let the spreading of words be your first mission.

DING DING DING! This shit makes you sterile or barren! He is doing the world a great service! If you're stupid enough to believe magnetic rings on your fingers and toes can make you immortal, at least you won't be reproducing any time soon.

Sterilizing the stupid. Thank you, Alex Chui.

Unless it's blatantly useless flamebait, I almost invariably regret it when I delete a negative comment. Today I received and impulsively deleted the following comment on my Bottom Buddy post:

"I am the mother of a mentally and physically handicapped child. She can go to the toilet by herself but her arms are too short to reach her anal opening to clean herself. Thus she either has to have someone available to wipe for her or she messes up her panties. This product that you make such fun of is exactly what she needs to become more independent. I hope none of you ever have to face the challenges of having a handicapped child (or aging). I am just about worn out from nearly 19 years of parenting a 'toddler'. Anything that makes our lives better or easier is welcome in our home."

I grew up spending a lot of time with a close family member with cerebral palsey, the effects of which prevent him from wiping at all without assistance. Try nearly 40 years of wiping someone's ass because they can't go to the toilet on their own. And even then, not once have I ever heard his parents complain or lose their sense of humor or irony. In fact, they were inspired to found what is now a multi-million dollar non-profit organization devoted to helping disabled people. So as a grown adult keenly aware of and sensitive to the needs of the physically and mentally challenged, I say, "But it's a stick you use to wipe poop off of your ass!!"

Having said that, since folks use this product, and I am not allowed to make fun if it, I respectfully withdraw my commentary; "it" being a stick you use to wipe poop off of your ass. I also hereby announce that I will no longer make fun of or even mention the following products and activities due to the fact they are used by people to make their lives easier:

Wheelchairs: I don't ever want to see a paraplegic being carted around in a Red Flyer tied to the bumper of a PT Cruiser ever again. Those were dark times. Dark times indeed.

Toilets: We'd have to shit ass-out through the window or squat behind the tool shed. Turds would drop from skyscrapers like a brown, moist hail of the depths of hell. Poopborne illnesses would run rampant!

Sweater vests: Certain people enjoy the warmth of a sweater without restricting the mobility of their arms. Hot, encumbered arms are no laughing matter, friends.

Vibrating eggs: Millions of anus to egg beater contact-related accidents are prevented each year.

Pooping: Can you imagine a nation full of people who are bulging at the waist, not because of over indulgence, but because they haven't crapped -- EVER? Sure, we Americans would look the same as we do now, but we'd have less McGriddle hanging from our schwa holes.

So from here on out, I will not make fun of or joke about any product ever again. My bad. Peace in the crease.

Quantitatively,

-Jeremy

P.S. Your horse seems to be riding a little high. You might want to take it to a farrier and get that checked out.

"I just love what you've shoved into my box!"Well, it's that time of year again, folks. It's finally time to review the best and worst of this year's holiday gift items. Whether you're looking for a tech toy for Dad or the latest fashion accessory for your girlfriend, I've got all the figurative poop on what's bright and what's shite.

Girlfriend or Wife

I've bought Ang a few nice things. But since she keeps a close eye on this blog, I can't really tell you what I got her. But I'll review the items in such a way that won't spoil the surprise.

Gift #1 - My only complaint is that this gift is too heavy. I pulled a groin muscle lifting it off of the store shelf. I can tell you that it's got a quality build, wasn't terribly damp, and that you eventually get used to the smell, particularly if you grew up on a farm or near an oil refinery. Overall I give this gift an A-.

Gift #2 - This one was a little difficult to find. In fact, I had to order it from overseas due to some legal issues surrounding getting caught buying or selling them in the United States. I tracked down a guy selling them online. I gave him my social security number and bank account number. It looks like he took a few thousand dollars out of my account as a deposit. I trust I'll get that back when the item arrives. I can't wait to see the look on Ang's face! B+

Gift #3 - Ronny sold me a couple pounds of this stuff. Kind of looks like oregano. For some reason, he put raw eggs in it. But he gave me a 25% discount and said I was "OK to buy." I'm not sure what that means, but it must be good shit. B+++

Mother

My mom, though she has verbally vowed to never visit my blog again, could be reading this, so again, I can't really tell you specifically what I bought her.

Gift #1 - This one looks pretty good. The box is classy (you could also say that about my girlfriend), and I think there is a button on it. I had to open it up to make some modifications to it, but I think Mom will appreciate that. It also came with a bale of hay. A+

Gift #2 - It's red and shaped like part of my anatomy. I tried to find a purple one to make it more realistic, but the gun shop wouldn't sell it to me. A+

Gift #3 - I bought this one in California. No eggs in this batch, but I was blacklisted from the buy list after I tugged on the dude's tunic. C+

Brother

My brother doesn't read my blog much, but just in case...

Gift #1 - I wasn't allowed to get just one of them, so I had to buy like 5, which is total bullshit. He's getting all of them. I just hope he has enough room in his pants.

Sister-in-law

She reads my blog for sure, so I can't say what it is.

Gift #1 - There was only one of them. There's some sort of button on it, but it didn't do anything when I pressed it (you could also say that about my girlfriend).

Step-dad

I'm still shopping for this gift, but I'm thinking of getting him a CD of trance music or maybe some lavender-scented hand lotion with lilac crystals to keep his hands moisturized when he's hunting deer. I'll bet he'd like that. A+ for my idea and F- for you if you don't agree.

Friends

Mostly your friends shouldn't get gifts if you see them regularly because they get the gift of seeing you so much. I tried to convince Angie that was particularly true for a girlfriend, but then she rolled off of me and told me to go home. She wouldn't even let me collect my trousers and sweater vest first. I don't care: A+

Everyone else

Signed photos of me masturbating. Enough said. A++++++ and a sticky cuddle.

I know you're not supposed to say Christmas, but I'll say it. Christmas. JESUS! SANTA! RAINBOW BRITE! PANAMA HAT!

Are you still stuck for ideas on what to get for that fun-loving, mentally disturbed person in your life? I have all sorts of new products in my Zazzle store. And don't forget the original collection at CafePress.

Angie didn't much care for my Twittered idea for selling afterglide-branded vibrators. She got creeped out at the thought of other women masturbating while thinking of me (though she mentioned no problems with me coating a few dashboards at the thought of other women). Hey, it's not like I'm going to plaster a photo of my tongue on the end of the damn thing. Ladies gettin' their buzz on with my logo embedded 6 inches up their twat is just good marketing, baby. Unless the labels fall off, get stuck in there, and give them urinary tract infections and toxic shock syndrome. How the hell was I supposed to know the manufacturer would engrave the logo into a patina-prone plate of snatch-moistened copper? My private jet is waiting on the tarmac for word of the first lawsuit.

Maybe if Ang doesn't want me selling personal pleasure products, she won't mind if I relive my single days by desperately trying to get random chicks to manhandle my unsweetened yam. No cheating, mind you. I'd just awkwardly flirt up a storm in local bars, maybe talk the occasional peninsula cow into coming back to my special apartment outfitted with video cameras and laser measurement systems, get them to drop their beach blanket-sized panties, then browbeat them R. Lee Ermey-style. "Oh my GOD! You were going to sleep with ME? Let me grab my pad because I'm writing you a prescription for some standards, wrinkle tits." Then I'd tell them to get the fuck out and Ang would pop out of the closet to laugh hysterically at them. After the victim clomped out in tears, Ang and I would get freaky, completely high out of our gourds over the damaged we'd caused to another human being's threadbare soul. It would totally be the bone-ening.

Ed Kohler sent me a link to this fabulous product that everyone will be giving as a gift this Christmas. Here comes the Bottom Buddy. Bottom buddy is a real, honest-to-God product. Put the paper on the wand, give yourself the reach around, and wipe like there's no tomorrow.

Here is the product description of Bottom Buddy:

This toilet tissue holder is designed like no other, specifically allowing the user to apply pressure to properly clean the anal area. Notice the curve of the handle and the rounded edge on the head of the device.

Oh, I noticed the curve alright. Baby, I need that curve to hug and clean my anal area like no other wand can.

The soft, flexible head has 3 tulip-petal sections that easily pull back to allow you to insert and grip any toilet paper or pre-moistened wipe securely.

Ok, I need to stop reading this before I starch my trousers. You're offering to rub my anus with a spread-open tulip on a stick? Make it a spread eagle tiger lily, and you've got yourself a deal.

Once inserted the toilet tissue covers the rounded head.

Unnghhhhhh... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

A press of the button on the back of the handle engages a rod that pushes out the soiled tissue into the toilet bowl. No sticking, no touching, no mess.

I think you've engaged my rod.

The Bottom Buddy is 11" long and weighs 4 ounces. Travels easily in it's own travel pouch.

You can keep the travel pouch. I doubt I'll ever leave the house again after mine arrives.

Then there's the very similar product, EasyWipe.

The EasyWipe extends your reach for better cleaning of the anal or vaginal area after toileting. If you find reaching difficult, this ergonomic tool is easy to use and makes it easier to clean those hard to reach places.

After toileting? TOILETING??? Now I'll admit that I'm fuzzy as to whether that is a gerund or a present participle, but either way, please do not do that, or I'll toilet all over your toothbrush.

Insert one end of a folded length of toilet paper into the recess on the rounded head of the EasyWipe. Wrap the toilet paper around the head once and tuck the other end into the recess. Toilet Paper should not be wrapped over the recess, as that will inhibit the EasyWipe's ability to release soiled toilet paper.

I'm getting visions of the release mechanism failing, causing some poor old guy in the men's room at Denny's after dropping a Grand Slam to have to turn around and grab a handful of shitty toilet paper to get it off the stick. He touches the stall door handle on the way out, braces himself on the wall as he slowly carts his moribund ass to the sink, leaving a trail of shitty fingerprints as he goes.

When the paper is soiled, press the release mechanism on the opposite end. This releases the used toilet paper into the toilet. The accordion style release mechanism can be pushed with a thumb, the palm of the hand, against your hip or the back of the toilet.

Or just keep the used toilet paper on the stick, burst out of the stall with your pants around your ankles, smack a toddler in the face with it, and yell "George Papadopoulos says hello!"

Easy Wipe Features:15" long and weighs 4.5 oz. ; Easy to clean (warm water and soap or a disinfecting wipe) ; Smooth rounded head for maximum comfort ; Travel case included ; Light, durable and strong ; Works with toilet paper or a pre-moistened wipe

I'm sorry, but length and weight are not features. Those are specifications.

The EasyWipe helps a person with reaching problems wipe themselves, eliminating the need for help from others.

Yet another heartless corporation out to deprive us of human contact. We're a culture of isolation. Television, the internet, and now EasyWipe. You bastards.

In brief bursts, I've spent the last few weeks clearing my house of clutter. The seven years in my humble home in Eagan have been the longest period of time I've spent at any residence since I moved away from the farm when I was 18. Living alone in my three-bedroom rambler, I haven't exactly been wanting for space, which hasn't given me much incentive to get rid of shit I don't need. Pay stubs from my minimum wage job in college, boxes from computer peripherals I threw away or sold years ago, gas station receipts from 1997 -- I have no fucking clue why I've hung onto any of it, and the growing collection disorganized boxes and chaotic piles of junk have made it nearly impossible to find the things I actually need when I need them. I'm tired of living in my own (non-biological) filth.

Phase I of Project Make Shit Go 'Way Now was to drag every overflowing box and drawer from my master bedroom and office and sort through every last scrap of paper and loose screw. That phase resulted in the disposal of an estimated 60 to 90 gallons of trash at the curb and 10 to 20 gallons of financial and other sensitive documents burned in the fire pit over beers and booze. The small percentage of items I wished or needed to keep were sorted into several piles in my living room. Financial documents, house-related documents and receipts, insurance and medical documents, photos and keepsakes, tools, computer parts, adapters, and cables, office items, and other assorted shit stayed in these piles for several weeks. The other day, I finally started putting these items into several stackable plastic drawers, folders, and other items purchased to aid in organizing my whatnotteries and bric-a-shit.

In addition to the trash, there are a lot of perfectly useful items for which I no longer have a need. These will all go to Goodwill. The most useless of these items are the boxes and boxes of toys I have collected over the years. Some I compulsively purchased, foolishly thinking they would increase in value. The following is a small but shameful sampling of unopened Star Wars toys that I took to Goodwill yesterday. Most of these items are worth exactly what I paid for them -- or far less-- in 1998 and 1999. These do not include the toys I opened and used for the purposes of interior decorating until I came to in a rush of snap maturity -- at age 27. Since then, these toys have accumulated dust in my closet.

Bear witness to my shame, bitches!

Somehow, they've taken my college nickname and turned it into a product. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Batter Blaster. Spray your batter right into the hotness. Stay tuned for the upcoming version for children, Baby Batter Blaster.

From the Product Information page:

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Do I need to refrigerate Batter Blaster?
A: No. Batter Blaster blasts out batter at a sticky, steaming 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit.

Q: Can the can/packaging be recycled?
A: Um... I guess, but I'd only recommend filling it with more batter. Any volunteers?

Q: What is the best way to cook Pancakes?
A: We're talking about hot, shooting batter here! We can talk about your breakfast questions after the press conference.

Q: Do I need to grease my pan/griddle/waffle iron with butter or oil?
A: You have some really goofy euphemisms for your penis there, dude.

Q: How do I know when to flip/turn my pancakes?
A: Oh! I get it! I'm sorry, man. Before I thought you were just talking about cooking actual pancakes. Your pet name for your girlfriend is apparently Pancakes. Why else would you have capitalized it? Then again, you reversed course and made it lowercase in this question. Whatever. Just pull out and roll her over.

Recipes

Money Shot Salad

6 oz. Batter Blaster
1 chick's face
$50 bill

Cover face liberally with batter, throw $50 on dresser. Drive home to wife.

Give him a preview of what's under the hood with this lovely, tasteful pink taco thong. Give one to your mom. Hell, give one to your granny. I don't fucking care. Just buy one. Daddy needs a new mortgage payment.

Stay tuned, as I'm creating a new Zazzle store with more products, more customization options, and even less class and dignity! Wear my figurative shit with shame, bitches!

Moblog: I like to think that I have a rather active bottom myself.