A message from the Pretzel Council

After a long exhausting day, try a pretzel massage. Heat up a pretzel in the microwave and feel the warm dough and salt erase all the problems of your day.

a pretzel massage

I Hate Me, Pt. 116,881

30 Seconds Over Foodtown

Another long day and I figured I’d get some cold cuts at Foodtown for dinner. It was a little after nine and the deli department was pretty empty. There were two customers and three people behind the counter, this shouldn’t take long. The first customer, a woman was ordering a bunch of stuff but not all at once. It was excruciating, every time I thought she was finished “mmm…….and…a half pound of boiled ham” Okay, that looks like the end, wait, no. “mmmmmm……how about…..mmmm….a quarter pound of…….(OF WHAT!!!)…mmm…Jarlsberg….and of course I want some salads”. She was completely making it up as she was going along, no rhyme or reason. This went on for about ten minutes, meanwhile the other customer was this guy who wanted to chat with the deli guy, “Whoa… that’s a great price for the Boars Head chedder, I’ll take half a pound…but stack it so it doesn’t stick together….Do you guys have a secret trick for stacking cheese so it doesn’t stick?…Man, that’s a good price….Hey…hey how much are you slicing there buddy, I only want half a pound (The deli guy weighs it, it comes in at about a quarter pound)…You know that looks like a lot more…I would have taken it…if it was over though…I love that cheese….You know what I want next… six slices of the Liverwurst…cut ‘em thick….but not too thick…” It went on and on, meanwhile the third deli guy saw I was waiting for a while and he comes up. I kind of know this guy from going there so much, so I figured I’d get sorted, “Hey, it’s the Jacks Music man, how are you doin’”, “Well I’m just waiting to get served.” , “What are you gettin’? The usual? Quarter pound of roast beef, right.”, “yeah, that’s great. Thanks.” Okay, here we go. He grabs the roast beef, takes it out of the wrapping and points to the guy who’s helping the talkative douche. “Yeah, he’ll take care of you when he’s done.” Yeah, I fucking know he’ll take care of me when he’s done, but he’ll never be done. Of course, I manage a small, tight smile, “….oh…okay…” I finally get my stuff and pick up the rest of what I need and head to the check out. My two nemeses were at the regular checkout, with their thousands of pounds of sliced deli goods and salads, they’d be there all night. Luckily the 10 items or less aisle was open, alright. Well, there’s nobody there, I wait and I look over at the courtesy desk and I see two teenage shlubs yakkin’ it up and I’m thinking if either one of those two motherfuckers is supposed to be ringing me up, I’m gonna…and I realize I’m not gonna do a goddamn thing, I’m gonna pay for my food and curse them under my breath. I start to stare/glare at the courtesy desk, the power of my glare will move them. Eventually, one of them sees me and ambles over. I give him my best angry “Whatthefuck?” look and he stammers,”Sorry….I was buying gum” and then shows me a stack of 5 packs of Trident. That was an answer I wasn’t expecting, I paid and shuffled out

Yaz birth control pills explained

(A&P Press, Kelly Stinnett)
(Montvale N.J.) Bayer pharmaceuticals bending to government pressure has released a statement explaining how their YAZ birth control pill works. The official statement which is a 10 page document can be broken down into a few understandable points:

* Boston Red Sox star and Hall of Famer (elected 1989) Carl “Yaz” Yastrzemski is multiply cloned and is shrunk down to approx. 1/100,000th of his original size.

* Thousands of “lil Yaz’s” are put into pills, armed with tiny baseball bats.

* After the YAZ contraceptive pill is taken, the microscopic Yaz’s burst free from their pills and form perimeters around unfertilized eggs.

* When sperm attempts to gain access to the egg they are attacked by thousands of bat wielding tiny Yaz’s

* Yaz’s success rate is 99% when taken according to instructions.

this yaz...

...is made from this Yaz

I Like Records 33

Drunk guy comes up to the counter and buys a DVD of Hurt Locker

Drunk-I gotta buy this fucker again, I bought one yesterday and it was a fuckin’ blueberry

Me-Do you mean Blu-Ray?

Drunk-Yeah..yeah a blueberry disc…doesn’t fuckin’ work in my player

Me-…I think you mean Blu-Ray

Drunk…what the fuck is that?…

Me-Forget it, I guess you need to get a blueberry player then.

Drunk-…fuck that…

a true warrior

I was reading about Scottie Pippen and the new class of the NBA Hall of Fame and I came upon this quote:
“(Patrick)Ewing was the (NBA’s) first true warrior” from an article in Slam magazine, “The New Top 50”

Japan,around the year 1590 a.d.
Patrick Ewing: What the hell happened, where am I?

Sasiko Kojiro (famous samurai): I have summoned you here from the future, you are known as a true warrior there and I want to see this for myself.

Ewing: uh..

Kojiro: what is your specialty? Tanto(small knife), a Yari (spear)?

Ewing: I’m good at blocking shots…I scored a lot of points..

Kojiro: mmmm…so with your blocking shots and points you’ve never lost?

Ewing: No, I’ve lost a lot, the worst was in ’95 and the uh…finger roll…

Kojiro: Finger roll? Is that some sort of food made from your enemies fingers?

Ewing: Food? No…no.. it was a shot that I missed.

Kojiro: So you were defeated…many times you say. Why did you not perform seppuku (ritual suicide)? You are a warrior, you lost honor. What sort of Bushido…what sort of rules do you modern warriors live by?

Ewing:…uh… Well the union has a collective bargaining agreement..and uh..

Kojiro: …collective what….It matters not…I am saddened and revolted by what the future calls a warrior…Draw your weapon.


I’m not really sure when this happened, I think it was mid to late ’90’s. It was the ass end of a european tour, there was maybe two weeks left and I had a bad toothache. I thought I could tough it out until I got home by eating aspirin like candy but when we got to Berlin it was brutal. We had a day off and a hotel in Munich the next day so I decided to go to a dentist. The hotel recommended a nearby dentist, my only criteria was that he spoke some english. The hotel staff must have misunderstood “some” english with “absolutely no” english, because once at the office the only way to describe my tooth problem was through mime and interpretive dance. After it was established that I had a bad tooth I was led into the examination room. Now every dentist I’ve been to at home keep all the shiny, pointy, sharp things well hidden until you’re sedated. In Germany it was different, rows and rows of pain inflicting tools were lined up, it would be too easy to make a “paging Dr. Mengele” joke here so I’ll go with the movie Marathon Man (“Is it safe?”) for a reference. When the dentist showed up I tried tell indicate which tooth was bad by pointing and wincing, it didn’t work so he employed a miniature tooth mallet and tapped on each tooth. Tap…tap…tap…Aaugh! and then the only word we both understood during my visit, “Kaput”. Yes, my tooth was kaput. As I was waiting for a novacaine shot I looked up and realized there was to be no navacaine as he was there with tooth pliers and he was ready for business. It all happened pretty quick, some wrestling, a sickly cracking noise and it was all over. He then put a styrofoam cube were the tooth was, collected 80 DM (I think it was about $50) and gave me a small vial of clove oil (another Marathon Man reference). I mumbled a protest of “Aren’t you going to stitch up where the tooth was?” which because of the styrofoam in my mouth sounded like “Armfoo gona stish uh air tu foof uz”. Of course It didn’t matter as he didn’t speak english or my new made up language, I was given a sad smile and sent on my way. I was rid of the horrible tooth pain but I was kind of dizzy and i went back to the hotel and fell asleep. I slept for a really long time and woke up the next morning. My bed looked like a murder scene, my pillow and the corner of the bed were covered in blood. I freaked out and ran to the bathroom, the right side of my face was matted with blood but I didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. I took a shower and I looked as human as I get. My bed was a mess, I found an unattended housekeeping cart and stole sheets and pillow cases. Flipped over my mattress, packed the bloody stuff in my luggage and checked out quickly, swearing to never go to another german dentist again.

If Marv Albert called Good Friday

“Jesus putting a move on Peter…goes to the net…and De-Nied! by Peter…Jesus who’s had a pretty hot hand dribbles left…and with a step…goes to the net..aaannd De-Nied again by Peter…Peter is on fire tonight…and he’s in Jesus’s face….Jesus….slowing things down a bit showing his full repertoire of moves…goes to the baseline….and Re-Jected by Peter…He’s denied Jesus three times…There’s the cock crow and it’s all over.”