I'm big in Japan

Don't ask me how we got on this topic, because I surely don't remember, but a little while ago my friend and I were talking about license plate frames we could make specifically for Japanese Americans.

- I'd rather be watching anime

- I'd rather be eating sushi

- I'd rather be catching Pokemon

- I'd rather be practicing Kenpo

- I'd rather be with my geisha

My ribs that show through t-shirts and these jeans I got for free

Here's another t-shirt idea that would probably make me some money if I weren't too lazy to follow through with it.

If the best is for the best then the best can be damned

Rural Murder and I saw a bumper sticker that read GOD ROCKS when he was in town. Nothing screams 'religion trying desperately to appeal to today's youth' louder than a bumper sticker that reads GOD ROCKS. I'm not saying this to be anti-religion. I'm saying this to be anti-stupid bumper sticker. I don't really get the appeal of bumper stickers anyway, but if you must deface your vehicle with something, go with something cool, not something lame.

Of course, then I got thinking, and if there are people who are willing to put these stupid bumper stickers on their vehicles, then people might be willing to put my stupid bumper stickers on their vehicles. All I have to do is come up with some stupid sayings, put them on a colored background, and voila, another get rich quick scheme.

Rural Murder's suggestion for the first one was:


Sticking with the religious theme, I thought of another one. That one would have read "Jesus Shaves" and would have had a picture of Christ shaving his beard, but that wasn't as original as I thought. I saw that exact idea both on bumper stickers and t-shirts when I googled it. So, I came up with this one instead:


Sure it's lame, but someone's bound to want to put it on their car.

Of course, there are a lot of people in this world who aren't religious, but like to mock religion. For those of you who fit this category and also read this blog, I've got just the bumper sticker for you:


But it doesn't even stop there. No, I've got two more for those who are just tired of looking at some of the stickers that other people put on their cars, and want to make a mockery of that.




Sure I haven't figured out the logistics of sales and marketing, or even how to make a bumper sticker for that matter, but this is bound to make me rich.

What's that you say? Bumper stickers only sell for a dollar or two apiece?
Oh. Nevermind.

I've got the hungries for your love, and I'm standin' in your welfare line

A few years ago, before I moved to Vegas, a couple of the guys I worked with and I came up with the perfect restaurant idea. We never got around to trying to open it, but I suppose it's never too late. We were going to call it The Little Hobo. The only food on the menu was going to be clam chowder (although we were going to call it clam chackle) and baked beans. The only drink would be whiskey. The food would be cooked over an open flame, of course, and served in the can it came in. Normally the customers would be expected to eat everything served to them, since portions would be small, but in the rare event that someone couldn't finish, we would wrap their leftovers in a bandana, and tie it to a stick.

Here's a model:



Our original plan was to have the restaurant in a shack, but I like the boxcar idea better. I think we should still see about opening up for business.

Goody two goody two goody goody two shoes

A while ago someone called me up with an idea for my blog. I told them they should just put it on their own blog, but the idea was a little dirty, and this person is clean and pure. I, however, am not clean and pure, so I decided to go with it. It's another money making scheme. This time it's about designing t-shirts.

Here's one I* came up with:

* And by I, of course I mean person who called me with the idea.

I can see you in the window of your favorite corner bar, but to reach you is just too far

Occasionally a person comes across an idea that is not their own, but is just too good to not try and pass it off as their own. Now is one of those times. I'm the one doing the swiping. Mostly* because this new item is going to be a big hit with frat boys everywhere, and thus has the potential to make me rich.

People, now is the time for you to open up your wallets so that you can purchase your very own pair of Poonoculars^TM! What exactly are Poonoculars^TM you ask? Poonoculars^TM are a very special brand of binoculars** which are used for the sole purpose of checking out women. Get yours today!

Once you've made your purchase, your life as a lecherous human being will be improved a hundredfold. You'll be able to take your Poonoculars^TM to the beach. Take them to the pool. Or to the high rise next to your neighborhood modeling agency. Hell, you can even take your Poonoculars^TM with you to work (this works especially well if you work on, or near, a college campus, or next door to a hospital full of naughty nurses). Just make sure that you don't leave your Poonoculars^TM out after hours or the custodians might be tempted to swipe them.***





* Also because the friend who brought me AIDS back from Mexico doesn't have a blog, so there's no other way to pass his hilarious term on to you.

** The idea's obviously been around for a while. I have a friend who used to have a third floor apartment right above his complex's swimming pool, so he kept a pair on the living room window sill. But the terminology wasn't right for mass marketing. Until now.

*** Because after all, custodians like to ogle women too.

Money's not concerned with the sick amongst the pure

Lately I've been thinking about what I would do if I were ever to become rich enough to just waste as much as I want. I'm not talking about becoming a professional athlete kind of rich, I'm talking about becoming a Saudi prince kind of rich. I haven't worked out the details of how exactly I'm going to do that (it could be tricky since my parents aren't royalty), but I've decided on one thing I'll do when I get to that point.

I could opt to buy myself a big gas guzzling SUV like an H2, but that's been done by just about every rapper and professional athlete in the U. S. You might suggest that I go one step further and get the stretch limo version of such an SUV, but it turns out that it's too easy to get shot in one of those.

Besides, I need something that's going to set me apart from all the common rich folk. I could go with something like a toilet made of solid gold. Alas, that too has already been done (years ago in fact). Furthermore, once you actually have the solid gold toilet, you're pretty much done wasting your money.

No, to fully demonstrate my opulence, I need something that constantly needs to be replaced. So, I've decided that I'll just use molecular grade water for all my physical needs. Not only will I drink it, but I'll also use it for showering, brushing my teeth, doing laundry, washing my cars (I will have an entire fleet of those too), etc. At a price of $28 per gallon, everyone would marvel at my lavishness, and my superiority over everyone else would be fully demonstrated.

Hey Pig Piggy Pig Pig Pig

I've come up with another plan to make myself filthy rich. While this idea probably won't generate as much income as the Tweaker-on-the-Go Meth Kit (described here, and seen here), it's bound to bring in more than I'm making right now. After all, with this idea I'm going to take the fashion world by storm. I have to admit that I shouldn't take full credit for this idea, since I'm basically just stealing it from one of the craziest guys I've ever worked with (crazy in a good way), but I'm totally keeping all the money to myself.

What is this grand idea you ask? I'm going to design a pig purse.

I mean, why not? They've done it with armadillos, bullfrogs, lizards, snakes and other animals. I don't see why pigs should be exempt.

So, here is the preliminary drawing. Done in MS Paint so obviously it's not as good as it would have been had I used my "skills of an artist" but good enough for now:

I'm especially pleased with the zipper that goes along the abdomen. Of course, that will come in many colors (gold, silver, black, etc.) and each purse will be unique because each will be made of an entirely different hollowed out (i.e. gutted) fetal pig. Some will be pink, others black, some white with black spots, or stripes. You name it, the possibilities are endless. Plus, since each one is so unique, we'll be able to charge more money for each one.

Here's a photo of the first prototype, modeled by my lovely assistant (it'll look much better with a zipper installed):

Just ego tripping

I've always said that I'd rather be rich than famous. If you're rich and famous, then you have to deal with a bunch of people wanting financial favors from you just because they married your great-aunt's brother-in-law's third granddaughter's second cousin twice removed. That and the paparazzi. Those guys seem like a real pain in the ass.

Anyway, there are a few circumstances where it would be good to be famous, even if one wasn't necessarily rich. One that comes to mind right away would be crowd surfing in a giant plastic bubble as Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips does here:

Unfortunately, I didn't take this picture, a girl I know did. I've never seen The Flaming Lips perform live, but I hear that they put on an awesome show. I told her that I was jealous of her for getting to see them in concert, and that I'd really like to crowd surf in a giant bubble, but alas, I don't have the fan base for it. She offered to be my fan base, but crowd surfing by definition requires more than one person (hence, the reason why fame would be beneficial). When I pointed that out to her, she came up with the following:

"I have a solution. It involves lots of drugs and alcohol. But I promise it'll give you the illusion of having a fan base!! And when you crowd surf into that group of 5 yr olds at the zoo, having the "I was high" defense will be totally valid."

Now I just need to get my hands on one of them plastic bubbles.

A fifth of vodka and a bottle of pills and some cheap thrills to keep me wonderin' how I'm still afloat

Ok, so the image thing is finally working again. Here's my idea, so Johnson & Johnson, if you're reading this let me know what you think. I think it could be a big seller.


Oh, and here's a text message my daughter just sent me:

Tag! You're mine! Today is national CLAIM A RETARD DAY and you're my retard!

Thanks kiddo. I needed that.

Give in to the failure that's inside you

For those of you who haven't been checking in, or don't read the comments, I didn't pass my comps. Of course, they're too nice to come out and say that I "failed." Instead, they're putting their decision "in suspension" until I revise everything and we meet again in a few months, but that's just a nice way of saying "you're a dumbfuck." So much for my earlier statement that "one way or another it's going to be over with tomorrow." Obviously I'm upset about it. Not upset enough to go suck on a shotgun lollipop (I learned a long time ago that I wouldn't have the balls to end it all even if I wanted to), but upset enough that I'm posting this at an ungodly hour because I've got nothing else to do but sleep, and that's just not going to happen. Not right now anyway.

One thing that really bothers me about it is that I did know the answers to some of the questions they were asking, it's just that I couldn't think of them when they were asking them. It's a problem with me. I'm never very good at reacting to things when I'm put on the spot because my brain just kind of shuts down any time I demand information from it. (I go through the same thing when playing at trivia night. Sure, I can sing you all the lyrics to a Skid Row song that I haven't heard since I was 14 (and frankly, am quite embarrassed that I ever listened to such crappy music), but if you ask me the title of the album, and need to know it RIGHT THEN, I'm not the guy to come through.) In fact, it occurred to me that I was more nervous standing in front of my committee trying to answer questions than I was the time I was trespassing in northern Nevada and a guy came out with a loaded shotgun in one hand and a beer in the other.

The other thing that kills me is my pride. I didn't go to work yesterday, and probably won't on Monday. Everyone knows that I took my comps, so that means that everyone's going to be asking me how it went, and I'm going to have to explain to them that I'm the only fucking grad student in the recent history of our department to not pass his comprehensive exams. And that says a LOT because there are some really stupid people around here (note - if you're reading this, you're probably not included in that statement). I just didn't think I was one of them until now.

On another note, one of my friends was coming down with a cold the other day, so on our way back to the office from lunch he asked if I'd mind stopping at CVS so he could buy some cold medicine. Since all it required was that I turn into a parking lot right then I did, because I'm cool like that.

When we walked in the door he said "I'll take one of all the ingredients necessary to make meth."

Me: "Well, I guarantee at least one person in this store would be able to tell you what those are."

Just then a woman with greasy hair, sunken cheeks, and sores all over her face walked by.

Me: "In fact, just look in that lady's basket and buy one of everything that she's getting. That ought to do it."

Why am I bringing this up? Because, in the event that this whole Ph D thing doesn't work out (a prospect that's looking more and more likely as time goes on) I've devised a back up plan that should make me filthy rich. I'm going to start marketing the tweaker-on-the-go meth pack, just grab one box off the shelf for all your meth cooking needs.

(It's my way of heeding the words of King Missile "Failure doesn't want to fuck you. Failure wants you to fuck it.")

(Unfortunately, the site is acting up again, so you'll have to wait until it's working properly to see a picture of my new idea)

Come on, come on, listen to the money talk

I was talking to my brother on the phone yesterday (he made it home alive after all) and was taking a look at my bank account information online at the same time. I noticed that they've been charging me a $10 service fee on my savings account for the past three months.

Me: I guess I need to check this a little more regularly. Do you think I can take care of this at any branch, or does it have to be my own?
Him: You could do it at any branch, in fact, you could probably just call a banker and take care of it.
Me: I think I will. I'll tell them that I'd rather take my money and put it in a coffee can than pay them $10 a month to hold it for me.

I called them. I found out it was because it was a money market account and my balance had dropped below a certain level. I downgraded to a regular savings account instead. Call me crazy, but the $0.51 a month interest wasn't worth paying a $10 a month fee in order to keep getting it.

If I had a million dollars I'd buy you a green dress, but not a real green dress that's cruel

It sucks being poor. I know it goes with the territory of being a grad student, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant. I'd just like to be able to see something I want and buy it, regardless of price.

For example, there are a couple of books that I have to keep checking out from the library. They both contain a lot of information pertaining to my research, and I think I end up checking them out at least twice a year. As a grad student I'm allowed to check things out for an entire semester, so these books spend more time in my possession than they do the library's.

The other day as I was returning from the library with said books in hand I thought to myself, "Self, you ought to look into just buying these instead of checking them out all the time."

"You know what Self? That's a good idea. I think I'll go look them up online and see if I can get them for a good price."

Book #1 = $253.39
Book #2 = $153.36

I guess the 'get them for a good price' thing is out of the question.

Now that'd be more like it

While I was hanging out at my brother-in-law's flying service, he took me out and showed me a private jet that belonged to one of his customers. Now, I know you have to have a lot of money in order to own a jet in the first place, but this guy must have had a lot of money. Not only was the jet worth about $6.5 million, but the reason that it was parked out where I was able to take a look at it was because the guy couldn't park it in the hangar because that space was taken up by the 10 Lexus automobiles that he was giving as Christmas gifts. I can't even imagine having enough cash to be able to drop half a million on Christmas.

I meant to talk about this some time ago, but had limited internet access while I was gone for Christmas and didn't think about it until now. It goes along with a post by 'flies without wings,' or more accurately, one of the comments about that blog entry. Specifically that people don't tend to appreciate things as much if they have everything handed to them. I jokingly commented that I would love it if things were handed to me (ok - half jokingly) and that I was in the market for a sugar mama that could do just that.

I'm actually quite proud of the fact that I've made it to where I am today, but I'll be a lot more proud when I actually reach my next milestone (ie: graduate and get a real job). Let's just say that I've worked for a sufficient amount of time that I will still appreciate what I have even if someone comes along and starts handing me everything. Any potential sugar mamas that may be reading out there feel free to contact me.

Rockin' the Suburbs?

I really enjoy music. I just don't enjoy most of the music that you hear on the radio these days. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I'm pretty sure that most of the music out there sucks. That's not to say that there aren't good bands putting out music, it's just that it's hard to find them because they don't get much air time.

I envy rock stars. I spent a lot of time as a teenager dreaming about becoming a rock star. The money would certainly be nice, as would having women throw themselves at you (that would be really nice). But even without that, I think that it would be an amazing feeling to take the stage while a crowd of thousands of people starts screaming. I suppose the same would go for being a star athlete, but I've always known that I didn't have that kind of talent.

When I was in elementary school my mom had us join the chorus, and then would ask us to sing any time we were around other family members. I think there are still some tape recordings floating around my parents' house somewhere, and they would always tell us how good we sounded (I know it's good to try and build up your kids' self esteem, but I was definitely lied to in this case). After this kind of attention, I actually started to believe that I could carry a tune and used to come up with scenarios in which some record producer would be on vacation and overhear me singing as I stocked the cooler at work (or something like that). I just knew that I would be offered a record deal on the spot. It's pretty funny to think about now.

What I'm getting at is that I can understand why thousands of people would line up for tryouts to get their chance at being a pop star. But that doesn't make it right that American Idol is now getting ready to begin ANOTHER season. I hate that show. I hate almost all of the reality shows on t.v. now, but this one is especially bad. Maybe it's because I can just choose not to watch the others, but with this one, once a season is over I am forced to listen to another crappy set of songs playing on the radio FOR THE NEXT YEAR OR SO. I personally think that it should take more than just the talent to sing to make it as a star. I'm not as impressed when someone is just belting out the words that others have written for them as I am when someone, whose voice may not be the best, is singing something that they have had the talent to write themselves. I'd much rather listen to someone who is singing about something they wrote while drawing upon their own experiences and feelings than someone who is singing something written because a group of people in a boardroom sat around and tried to come up with something that would sell. I don't think I'm alone in having this attitude, but it seems like people who think like me on this are getting to be more and more of a minority.

I'm just really thankful for some of the internet radio stations, or for my friends which subscribe to satellite radio from SIRIUS. There is good music out there, and places like that make it easier to find. I'll definitely subscribe to one of those once I have a real job and can afford some of the 'finer' things in life. I can hardly wait.