Bathroom Monologue: Some Song About Ninjas

There’s a man who leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every job he takes
Another leap he makes
Odds are he won’t live to see Naruto
Secret… ASIAN Man
Secret… ASIAN Man
They’ve given you nunchucks
And taken away your glaive

(I've since been warned that someone else beat me to this parody. If you're out there, I just have to ask - what's wrong with you?)

“Physicians may use [a] placebo for diagnosis or treatment only if the patient is informed of and agrees to its use.” –American Medical Association

This week the National Rifle Association put forth a stern warning that rifles may only be used to shoot deer all the bullets are removed from the gun and dumped on the ground in front of the deer. Further, the deer must sign a waiver consenting to be shot by the empty gun. Empirical tests are currently being run to chart the effectiveness of “placebullets.”

Bathroom Monologue: Dwarfs on Stilts

Society said the stilts counted as cheating, but dwarfs weren’t fooled. If lithe elfs could wear corsets that hiked their diminutive boobs up to their eternal chins, they could wear lifts. Even the humans wore shoes, and if the shoes had heels, who were they to question an eight-foot dwarf?

For weeks the giant wee folk wandered around stores and asked strangers of other species, “How’s the weather down there?”

“Don’t worry. Maybe you’ll hit a growth spurt at your midlife crisis!”

“Sure, this is nice, but you have your advantages. When you trip, you have less of a way to fall!”

“Need to me reach that for you?”

They said that last one a lot. Within the first week there was nothing left on the top shelf of anything in any store, even stores where dwarfs had no interest. One dwarfish nun was so taken with the idea of taking things off the top shelf that she cleared out the upper tier of an entire sex toy shop.

She did penance by only wearing high heels that weekend.

Bathroom Monologue: I said it, thought nothing of it, and six hours later, burst into laughter

"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Interrupting cat."
"Interrupting cat wh--"
"MOOO!"
"Cats don't m-"
"MOOOOOO!"

Bathroom Monologue: “Love is such an old-fashioned word.”-Samari Smith’s away message

“Decapitation is such an old-fashioned word. I prefer cranial rearrangement, or body re-decorating. You may have seen my work on Flip This Corpse. This isn’t the dark ages. We aren’t tethered to old ethics or aesthetics. People these days know if they’re hip then they can’t just let their body parts grow wherever nature tells them to. You need legs on your shoulders and a neck coming out of your navel if you want to be on the cutting edge. And to get that looking? You need my cutting edge.”

Bathroom Monologue: Refried Griefers

There’s this one videogame habit called “griefing,” where players go to online games, partner up with strangers, and then purposefully play poorly, or play annoying sound effects through their microphones over and over again, or in some other way generally try to annoy the other players. Griefers are sometimes called the parasites of entertainment, leaching off normal players, but if they are parasites, then the Refried Griefer is the immune system.

Refried Griefers track the ISP numbers and find the identities of griefers, then steal their personal information like bank account info and social security numbers, empty all their savings and max out their credit cards.

On what do they spend this stolen money? One Oklahoma Refried Griefer spent a regular griefer’s life savings on a giant array of speakers to blast annoying sound effects into his apartment building.

A south Florida refried griefing unit used one griefer’s credit cards to pay for a fleet of street limos that were dispatched when the griefer went out driving, specifically ordered to drive in back, in front and at the sides of her car, and to do so slowly and erratically. It had something to do with the way she’d griefed on World of Warcraft. Something about “mounts.” I guess you’d have to play to get it.

Bathroom Monologue: Strife with Sandwiches

So you’re walking by this restaurant that half your friends have said serves the best ham sandwich. Your life is feeling empty and pointless right now so you go in and order one, but the waitress says they don’t serve any. You tell her you’ve heard they serve great ones, and she just smiles and nods. You’re there for fifteen minutes before you get up and leave out of frustration. As you exit, though, you pass a couple leaving who are talking.

“What a great ham sandwich.”

“Yes it was. Thank you for sharing your other half with me. I’m definitely ordering it next time.”

What the Hell? You almost go over to look at their empty plates to see the remains of this sandwich, but you’re already at the door. It’d be embarrassing.

That night you hear someone else praise the restaurant’s ham sandwich, so you head back to the restaurant the next day. You get a different waitress. You order the sandwich, she nods and heads off.

Huh. I guess the other one was ornery.

This waitress returns with a bowl of tomato soup and doesn’t even listen to your protests as she heads off to wait on another table. Infuriating! Almost as infuriating as when you leave and pass an entire party of people talking about how great their ham sandwiches were.

For forces beyond your ability to explain you return the next day. You sit in the same area as that party had, thinking maybe the waitress in this area will provide the sandwich. Maybe she makes them herself and you can only get them from her.

But no waitress shows up. Other people come and sit in the area and don’t even look for a server. In fact, they almost look full the moment they sit down. When one of them belches you lose your temper and go into another area to grab someone who works there and yell that you know there’s a ham sandwich somewhere in that back room and you’re damned well going to eat it.

Logic only kicks in at this moment, and they call the cops. You’re hauled out. You head over to your normal restaurant to cool off and order the grilled cheese sandwich, your favorite. It comes and is delicious. It soothes you right away.

But just as you’re finishing you see someone screaming at the front door about how he knows they don’t serve grilled cheese sandwiches and he’ll fucking kill them if they don’t admit that there’s no such thing.

Anyway, that’s my experience with other people’s religion.