Directionless Ramblings by No One of Consequence

Posts tagged ‘humor’

Happy 420

So, 4:20 PM is when all the stoners are supposed to smoke it up. April 20th is like National Stoner Day.

To celebrate, I’ve enlisted the help of my very chillaxed looking Pillow Pet. Lookit that face!

It's a stoner, It's a frog. It's Stoner-Frog!

Not a real joint BTW. I don’t contribute to the delinquency of plush animals. And I’m not stupid like Michael Phelps. ;)

Also, for your entertainment, some vintage  Cheech and Chong!








Action Movies Are Not Supposed to Make You Cry

I love action movies. They’re awesome. Seriously. No finer form of cinematic entertainment exists. What’s not to like about any of the following thematic elements.

  • Diabolically intelligent sociopath (usually some sort of sexy foreigner) bent on blowing up the city for no other reason than to torture Our Hero

    Simon Gruber

    Pictured: Snape's Brother

  • Our Tortured Hero. Either an ex-cop, nearly fired cop, ex military, ex special forces, or regular guy who suddenly is forced to become a badass. He hates society. Hates authority. Is usually a drunk or has some other character flaw. He’s a smart ass, plays by his own rules. Has marital problems. The bad guy almost always goes after his family. He doesn’t shave.

    Pictured: Not John McClane, but it might as well be.

  • EXPLOSIONS Somethings always has to explode, whether it should or not. Cars without gas, fire hydrants, gas stations, somebody’s garage, a boat, a covered wagon, a random piece of forest, and my personal favorite: The Chrysler Building. That thing is always falling down!

    Pictured: The most hated building in New York

  • Annoying Sidekick. Usually a kid, younger person or black guy. This is the salt to Our Hero’s pepper. He’s an optimist while Our Hero is the gravest of cynics. He’s clean and fashionable while Our Hero is grungy and wears wife beaters. He listens to the coolest trendy pop music, Our Hero likes good old fashioned Rock and Roll. He recycles and has faith in the goodness of people, Our Hero throws beer cans out his car window to pop the homeless guy pushing a shopping cart. He’s a pathetic wimp who couldn’t stand up to a little girl kicking his shins. Our Hero doesn’t take shit from anybody. He’s got super ninja nerd powers, and Our Hero still can’t run a VCR. But, it doesn’t really matter how good he is there’s always something about this guy that makes you want Our Hero to smash his face in.

    Pictured: ANNOYING

  • Sexy Sidekick. Sometimes indistinguishable from the Annoying Sidekick due to his goodness. But he’s usually got a bad-ass side to back it up. He’s Our Hero’s right hand man. Best Friend from forever. Annoys the crap out of Our Hero, but they compliment each other. He’s often cleaner and sometimes better looking than Our Hero. He doesn’t always have to be sexy, though. The fact that he’s such a good friend will make him sexy in our hearts. He sticks with Our Hero no matter what. Keeps him from going totally darkside. Gets him up off his sorry ass and out saving the world. Gives him pep talks, and well placed snark. Takes away his scotch when necessary.

    Pictured:The only reason Jack O'Neill is still alive.

  • SEXY CARS. Sometimes exploding. Sometimes not. But we like it when they explode. Oh yes we do.

    Pictured: Sexiest Car on Television

One of my favorites is Con-Air. It’s got it all.

  • Diabolically Intelligent Sociopath. Check. Cyrus “The Virus” Grissom. Killed more men than cancer. Not really after Our Hero at first, but he fits the bill. All except for sexy. And foreign. You lose points for that John Malkovitch.

    Pictured: Not a sexy socio.

  • Our Tortured Hero. Cameron Poe. US Army Ranger sent to prison for using his deadly Ranger skills in a bar fight. He’s not really an anti-hero. More of a boy scout. But he’s got some serious anger issues, and he doesn’t shave.

    Pictured: The Best Nicolas Cage has ever looked.

  • Annoying Sidekick/Sexy Sidekick. Vince Larkin. He’s an annoying do-gooder, yet badass and not bad looking. He’s got some cojones. Why? Because he’s scared as shit, but does what needs to be done anyway. Plus he steals a car. Poe doesn’t know him, but he’s the only guy lending him a helping hand through the whole movie.

    Pictured: Nerd with a gun. Rawr.

  • Sexy Car. Oh yes. The AZZ KICKR Corvette. Yummy. Driven by a douchebag who doesn’t deserve it, but he gets his.

    Pictured: Chief Miles O'Brien's Car

Who can forget this scene.

Yes my friends. Con-Air has it all. Explosions. Good guys, bad guys. Hot cars. One-liners. Dead bodies falling from the sky to smash a car out on a Sunday drive. They crash a plane onto the Las Vegas strip. Excitement and adventure around every turn.

But then, after all the shoot-em-up, bare knuckle, Yippe-Ki-Yay-Motherfucker, action bad-assery. They hit you with this scene.

Whyyyyy? If I wanted to get all sappy I’d watch that movie where Patrick Swayze haunts Demi Moore or something. Not this Over the Top Action Extravaganza!

Pictured: NOT a sappy movie. No tears here.

Con-Air. The first movie to ever move me to tears. No lie.

I Put the ‘TIT’ in Constitution

You might be wondering what on earth this title is about. All in good time. There’s a little bit of backstory first. This will be an insight into the inner workings of my mind. It will be awesome. Trust me.

So I’ve got one of those rubber wristband things. A couple actually.  “I <3 Ron Paul Champion of the Constitution” is one. I like the guy. I think he’s awesome. So sue me. The other is  “I <3 Boobies.” which everyone seems to have. I wonder why?  I’d like to make my own band thingies someday. With logos and sayings of my choosing. There’s a website that does that, but I think it deals in bulk. I only want one. Is that such a bad thing?


I was smushing the wristbands up and down, because that’s what I do when I’m bored. I fidget with things. Sometimes I chew on them (pen lids OM NOM NOM) if they’re chewy. I try not to chew on my wristbands though, (although they are perfectly chewy!) it tends to make them rip in half.

Er. I got lost again, so sorry.

While I was smushing them, I was amused by how the letters get fatter from stretching the rubber. I smushed along the word “Constitution” on my RP band, and had to chuckle, because I just now noticed that TIT is right in the middle of the word. Then I laughed some more, because right across from “TIT” on my right hand is “BOOBIES” on my left hand! How wonderful! I can put the two together!

It’s a perfect slogan. “I put the TIT in Constitution.”

But what does that even mean?

How do I implement it?

Then I thought about it for awhile. And I came up with a brilliant solution.

First off nobody wants to read The Constitution. It’s a dusty old document written by a bunch of stuffy old men who speak illegible old timey English. It’s boring. Too difficult to read.YAWN. Prawnserf.

Americans would rather looks at BEWBS than educate themselves ….


Wait a minute!!




Pictured: NOT my boobs. Close, but not them.

TA-DAH! Or should I say TA-TA! Now even politicians will read The Constitution. :D

I’m a genius. Have a great day.



Every Child’s Worst Nightmare

Since I realize I can, I’m doing another entry toTrifecta. 

Woke up at a ridiculous hour this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. I came up with this after having an excellent cup of coffee, and some perfect fried eggs. Not really relevant to the story at all, but breakfast is always nice.




My mother placed me on the fat man’s lap. His  face was covered in white whiskers and he wore glasses. His beady eyes sparkled. “Ho, Ho, Ho!” The camera shutter flashed. I peed.





This is fun.


Also, I’m dumb.

Stage Fright

I’ve come to the terrifying conclusion that I have absolutely nothing good to say. I’ve been surfing all the wonderful, amazing blogs out there. There’s tons of them. People blogging to their hearts content about all sorts of fascinating topics. Cooking Blogs, Writing Blogs, Social Commentary, Exotic Places, Arts, Crafts, Photography, Spoon of the Day, Eel Wrangling. (OK, I made those last two up. But I wonder….) I could browse around for hours!

And so many excellent writers. I peek at a blog because it looks interesting, and then I’m sucked in by the person’s writing style. Witty people, sarcastic people, grammar nazis (shut up red wiggle, I’m not capitalizing it), movie buffs, people reviewing books that I must now read. Each of them with their own unique voice and grasp of the English language.

At first I look at all these blogs and think to myself,  “hey, if they can do it, so can I. I have funny stories, I have opinions. Weird stuff happens to me sometimes. I like writing words!”  And I start taking notes of all the crazy, amazing, random thoughts I think throughout the day, hoping to make a post about one or several of them. Then everyone can laugh and cry and join me in my fantastic adventures.

Then I come home to my laptop. My brain is bubbling with ideas. I just have to tell the world! I saw a rabbit try to mount a squirrel! My cat learned to speak Spanish! Jason Statham just rode by my house on a bicycle! My Big Mac actually looked like what was in the advertisement photo! I start reading a few blogs here and there because I get sidetracked. Once again I’m amazed at all the awesome bloggers. But the effect is much more negative than before I thought I had an idea worth writing about.

Who do I think I am? I’ve got no business trying to equate myself to the likes of them. They have real exciting adventures. They’ve been writing for years, probably been published too! They went to school for the stuff they’re talking about. They have photography skills. They’re funny. They have vast, detailed knowledge of their subject matter, that shows in their concise and authoritative handling of the words and sentences, that they weave so effortlessly across the page.

Who am I to think any of them would want to look at the measly crud I spew forth. Seriously. I’m sure loads of people get perfect looking Big Macs. Somebody cooler than me probably has a cat that speaks Portuguese. Who wants to hear my stories? WHY DID I START A BLOG? I’m nobody. I’m not even Crew Man Number Six. I’m faceless nameless guy getting eaten by the monster before the main characters even show up. I’m the guy launched by an explosion followed by the George Lucas screaming sound effect. You know the one I’m talking about. It’s in Star Wars and Indiana Jones, and just about everything with somebody falling off a cliff, or getting eaten by crocodiles, or flying from an explosion. That really cheesy scream. Come on… you know… (looks it up) Ah! The Wilhelm Scream! That’s what it’s called! Yeah, that’s me, the guy that goes woooaugh! Who cares what he has to say?

~By the way, I’m not a guy, I just tend to use the gender associated with what I’m talking about. The term is not “Crew Lady Number Six” and I’m not saying “Crew Person”~

Aw fudgecicles.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah….