That's Testacular!
I am not responisble for any actions, thoughts or opinons posted on the page. It is solely your responsibility for choosing to view them. I am a crazy college student with outragous ideas. Reading these articles may disturb you and could cause terrilbe boils to appear on your body. May God have mercy on your soul. Sincerely, Steve
April 29, 1999
You Want Shit? I'll Sell You Shit.
I got it! I don't know why no one has ever thought of this before!
Ok, the cure for baldness has been solved. First, we must ask
ourselves a question. What grows fast and needs to be cut every week
with a lawn mower? No, not aluminum foil. Grass! Ok, now, what do
people put on their lawns in order to make thier grass greener and grow
faster? No, not aluminum foil! Fertilizer. Ok, what is the cheapest,
most convienent fertilizer around? No damnit! Not aluminum foil!!!
Poop! So, putting 2 and 2 together I figured out that poop would make
a great fertilizer for hair! Yes, that's right, just rub poop on your
head once a day and you baldness problem will go away! If you don't
want to use your own poop, you can buy mine. It will make your hair
grow faster and healthier than ever before. I guarantee it.
(Actually my guarantee has no merit. It is just a useless gimick to
get you to buy my shit.)
April 16, 1999
Dream Weaver
Ok, my dreams suck. They are more twisted and retarded than my conscious mind can even think of. For example, when I was a child, I had a dream that I was crawling down a gray staircase inside of a museum. I saw a security guard with a flashlight and he shined it in my eyes. I woke up to find my brother shining a flashlight at me. What's so weird about that you ask? Well, the reason why I was in the museum was because I was looking for Michael Jackson! How retarded! Who in their right mind would look for any member of the Jackson family? Well, apparently my subconscious mind would.
Next, I had a dream where I was being chased by the inhumanoids (Remember those guys? They were 3 of them: one made of lava, one of bone, and I can't remember the third) and I jumped into a manhole. Suddenly, I saw myself in 2-D and was crawling through a tunnel like a video game. Hrmmm….
Last week, I had a dream that the icebergs from Africa were melting and the zebras and elephants were hitching a ride across the Atlantic Ocean. Upon hitting our shores, they melted and flooded the east coast. The zebras and elephants turned into giant plastic models and were spotted tumbling over the hills and mountains with the raging waters.
I also had a dream I was peeing in a toilet on the top floor of a hotel. The hotel was built on a volcano. Lo and behold, the volcano erupted and in mid-pee I had to dodge boulders and debris to make it to the roof. Note to stupid brain: Always run towards the nearest exit of the building during an eruption.
Last night I had a dream that my dad called me a "stupid F**k." I wonder how Freud would interpret all my dreams?
April 13, 1999
...cut off their tails with a carving knife...
Today in class we got to bleed mice. What is this you ask? Well, in layman's terms, it involves taking scissors and cutting off the mouse's freaking tail! This is great! My teachers in high school never even let us handle scissors let alone cutting off the tails of mice. Next week, we get to play Ozzie Osborne and bite their freaking heads off!
April 6, 1999
Dream a Little Dream
Something has been bugging me for quite some time now. Every time a dream is portrayed in a movie, the character walks around much like he would in real life. The only thing different is that a river of fog is apparent on the ground.
Now, this makes me wonder if I'm getting jipped. Do most people have these kind of dreams? I surely do not. Then again, my dreams are a little weird.
One time I was a green wire coathanger rolling across a lake at night. Another time I was a Wendy's plastic salad container. Is this a bad thing? Do my dreams represent my distorted mind or are they flashbacks of my former lives? Hopefully it's not the latter.
The next thing that bothers me is that apparently I am referred to as more than one person. One day, as I stood before my high school counselor, she said something along the lines of: "I hate it when a throng of people come to my door." I looked around and sure enough I was standing by myself. At first I disregarded her comment due to stress, but the thought of me being multiple persons resurfaced about 4 months ago.
As I waked through the left side of one of the many doorways into the campus cafeteria, a big dude saw me and muttered, "Why can't y'all use the right side?" I glanced around and sure enough I was alone again.
I thought about the meaning of y'all (which comes from a Southern dialect in which the words "you" and "all" have been combined in order to speed up delivery of sentences thus allowing more time to harvest tobacco and cotton) and concluded that I must appear to be more than one person. Since I have now been referred to as a group of people two distinct times I concluded that I am not just me-- I am we. From now on I will try to refer to myself as we.
Roll This and Smoke It
I’m sure everyone has encountered one bad invention or another in their
lifetime. There are crazy people who locked themselves in their basements for months
at a time to bring us such useless stuff as the automatic wiping toilet, solar
powered flashlight, blackhead remover gun, and the invisible dog walker have done
it again. These guys have come up with another one that maybe even tops the
charts for stupidity. What is this miraculous product you ask? Well, it’s non
other than the Nicatrol Inhaler.
The commercial portrays a young man rolling
down the street in his red convertible while sucking on a tampon-looking device,
as happy as can be. Yes, you too can look like you are sucking on a tampon! I
can see those suckers flying off the shelves faster than they can be restocked.
 Mmm, tamplicious!
This reminded me of a scene from the movie Kids, where Casper slurped tea from a
tampon. The implications of his actions are disturbing, but
I never thought that they would market a product designed to get the same results
from the general populous. I must admit that I have walked down that dreaded
tampon section in Walmart and pulled a box of the little white buggers off the
shelf for my girlfriend, but the day you see me opening the box and putting one
in my mouth is the day I grow wooden breasts!
April 2, 1999
Grab what!? With my what!?
Is opposable testicle right? Is that the correct form of opposable?
We are blessed with so many gifts in life that we end up taking
most of them for granted. Speech is the defining characteristic that
separates us from the apes. The pinkie toe enables us to walk without
falling down at every step. Hair keeps our heads warm in the winter and
blistering hot in the summer (well, except for Patrick Stewart).
Unfortunately, we were not blessed with a tiny, teeny-weenie,
inconspicuous, little addition to our ever so complex anatomy. All that
is missing is the opposable testicle.
Have you ever been sitting down on the crapper, reading a nice
article in the newspaper when all of a sudden you lose your grip and the
damn sports section falls to the floor? Sure, that’s happened to most
of us. Isn’t it a pain to lean forward, awkwardly balancing yourself
with one hand on that cold tiled floor and your legs flailed outward to
keep the cheeks separated lest they stick together? Just thinking of
that gives me the chills. If everyone had an opposable testicle, life
would be grand. All anyone would have to do to pick up that sports
section is to leisurely stand up, place your feet a little more than
shoulder width apart, squat down to about 2 inches off the floor, grasp
the paper between the scrotum and the opposable testicle, and simply
stand back up. You now have your newspaper suspended between your legs
and within arms reach! You’ll never have to place your hands on the
cold grimy tiled bathroom floor again. If only life were that simple.
Maybe we should all stop praying for success, money, chicks, beer, the
winning lottery ticket, that new Corvette, 400 lbs. of rat poison...
and maybe, just maybe, ask God for an opposable testicle.
We just might get one.
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