Dear Ghost Hunters

Hello! If you're reading this README file, it's probably because you finally opened the ghost.zip attachment I emailed you about a billion times with the subject line 'Ghost Attached - Please Hunt It'. This also means you're a member of The Atlantic Paranormal Society, which is good, since that's who I was sending all these emails to.

This zipfile contains:

• This README file;
• One (1) ghost.

Your ghost has been selected randomly, and may be any of the following: Wandering Spirit, Lost Soul, Poltergeist, Dai-Oni, Warren Spector, Fruit-Flavored. It is pretty much up to you to figure out which one, because you're the experts, or so you say on your show. I don't know how long it takes to hunt ghosts, but if it's anything like Ghostbusters I pretty much expect a return email titled 'Bagged And Tagged' in about forty-six seconds.

One thing that is pretty important to note: at least one of the ghost varieties contains nuts. Please do not hunt this ghost if you have a peanut allergy. Also, some of the early zip files were pulling from the completely wrong place on my hard drive, so if your zip file contains a folder titled "NeighborsWeddingNight", you should delete it immediately. It, um, contains a virus.

If you're having problems seeing the ghost, try drinking an entire fifth of rum. Every time I do that, I can totally see tons of ghosts. Some of them will try to trick you by looking like your furniture, or your wife, or one of your children, but don't be fooled. Generally, I find that ghosts are vulnerable to the good old-fashioned sucker punch, unless they're the kind that looks like cops at your front door. Those ones have some kind of magical spirit spray that burns. Seriously. Don't touch them.

You are now fully informed on the care and feeding of your paranormal phenomenon. Should you have any questions, you can usually contact me in the drunk tank of the Clark County Detention Center, which is kind of my office. Thank you, and pleasant hunting.

You'd Better Just Download A New Browser For This One

Pretty much all week, we've been working on getting my extremely good friend X's blog up. I'm here before you today to say, Hell Yes, Mission Fucking Achieved. Starting this very moment you can see the blog is up over at open until nine, even though right now there's not much on there. Well, there's a quote from me, which is the best way to start pretty much anything, ever.

First of all, you're going to notice that the site is tremendously sexy. This is because Dooley is a deity among designers and you should all pretty much give him money to pretty up your sites and then remove your panties, right now.

Second of all, X is a fucking pimp. I've made some references about him earlier on my blog, calling him "The Christopher Columbus of penis". This is not a joke. I have shown up at his place, gone with him to buy slurpees at 7-11, and watched him convince a particularly hot clerk to come home with us. I don't know if he smells like diamonds and licorice or what, but none of us can wait to see what kind of things show up on his page. I'm practically dripping with excitement. So please, do yourself a favor: bookmark his page, then come back here and bookmark my page again, then maybe go have yourself a nice little snack. And then, you know. Bookmark my page again.

Up Is Down! Nothing Makes Sense!

Kerplunk:you always post totally random crap

[09:40am]teleolurian:but it's pure comedy gold

[09:40am]teleolurian:the magic leprechaun who borrowed my creativity said so

[09:40am]teleolurian:then he showed me his tiny leprechaun penis.

[09:40am]Missy:you only took 2 out of 3 pills yesterday

[09:41am]teleolurian:therefore i'm completely insane today

[09:41am]teleolurian:try and keep up

[09:41am]Missy:it is prolly true

[09:41am]Kerplunk:i wouldnt doubt it

[09:41am]teleolurian:i feel like i can race the wind while simultaneously seducing everyone, ever, with a combination of sonnets and yogurt

[09:42am]Missy:then yup

[09:42am]Missy:you are insane today

[09:42am]Missy:due to lack of enough brain meds

[09:42am]teleolurian:it's okay, i don't have any yogurt

[09:42am]Missy:well that is good

[09:42am]Missy:everyone in the office is safe then

[09:42am]teleolurian:not even FROgurt

[09:42am]teleolurian:which i hear is made of black people

Class Of Buffer Overflow

It seems like everybody who writes things on the internet has some kind of college degree, which annoys me because I've never seen the point in getting one. I graduated high school with a grade point average of negative seventy, learned how to write code, and got a job doing it. No degree necessary.

For that matter, it seems like an awful lot of people I know get degrees they never use. My fiancee has a degree in robotology, but she never makes any robots, unless crocheted chickens are the new technology hotness and I just didn't know about it. Her sister has been going to college for fifteen years to learn how to have babies, even though she already has like seven and they're only ninety-nine cents at the Walgreens. Suzanne, my French neighbor, picked up a degree in Humanities or some shit back in the seventies, but all she does is drink wine and paint pictures of sad men holding tiny dogs.

Sometimes, Suzanne paints pictures of fields of flowers, which are beautiful like a Romanian hooker. Her real talents lie in art, not in the crazy sociology stuff she learned in Paris. Likewise, I see people with doctorates in English, even though you can't ever learn English all the way, because there's new words like googled and sippycup getting added all the time. This is because English is flexible, like a Romanian hooker. In fact, the only person on my block who doesn't have a degree in something besides me is that idiot Jimmy, because he's too fucking stupid to go to college. All he does is tell that dumb no soap radio joke, which he's beaten to death, like a Romanian hooker.

I'm certain that some people do useful things with their degrees, but I have yet to know someone who got a degree in one field and then actually got a job in that field. People are strange that way.

Your Mission, Should You Choose To Accept It

Agent, this is an important time in your career. Indeed, this is a monumental occasion for all of us at Google. We trust you will undertake this mission in order to further our goals of confusing the hell out of bloggers, partly because it will keep them from uniting and rising up against us in some kind of shitty revolution (like any of those blogging fatasses out there know how to stand up and, you know, get some fucking exercise). Mostly, we like to confuse the bloggers because we find it very funny, on the order of watching infinite monkeys get hit in the crotch with infinite footballs. And let me tell you, we've seen this. Because we're fucking Google. We were gonna post it to YouTube, but then we decided not to. Just because.

Anyways, agent, we have a complex mission with many parts for you. If you somehow lose this document, like, by saving it in your Windows Live!!! Mail or something, you can always find another copy by googling for "pedophobia". Nobody ever searches for that word, ever. We're not even sure that it actually exists.

The first thing we need you to do is go to Petite Pretties and get Operative Midget Elvis, who has been there, partying, for an extremely long time. Like, so long that he can apparently claim all the dancers as wives under common law. On the way back from the strip club, we require you to stop by Green Valley Grocery and get exactly 8 of those mega-burritos. Wait, what? Sorry. Exactly nine mega-burritos, the ones in the foil wraps. Then return Midget Elvis to us. You'll have to ride up the elevator with him, because he can't reach the button. Also, he probably couldn't carry nine extremely large burritos by himself. According to the description on the package, they are, and I quote, "Deceptively Tremendous".

When you arrive, you will receive the custom virus. Find some prurient material on the videodisc Operative Midget Elvis will bring, and create an infected movie. Post this movie to YouTube; it will eventually have to be taken down but by then, every YouTube-cloning site will have "saved" the video. Once it does, the mission will be complete: all major browsers will render all blogs with spamblog-like partial text, and the blogosphere will lose credibility overnight. Except the ones that are mostly whining and pictures of jailbait in various stages of undress, because nobody reads those for the words anyways. Ahem. According to the monkeys.
And the monkeys are always right.

Search Terms That Hit Home

I have always, always wanted to do this, ever since the interweb was a tiny thing and I was a fanciful little girl. Here goes:

how to text dirty
Erm... think dirty things. Then text them to someone. Need help? Try "I would appreciate the opportunity to get carnal with your sister/mother/significant other". Note the rhyming of 'mother' and 'other'. The rhyming is key, for it lulls them into a false sense of security.

how to kill yourself with tylenol
Please pay close attention: you can't use normal Tylenol. You have to use Tylenol IVs. The IV stands for "Star Trek IV".

mcrib
God bless the McRib.

tag teaming sex
I bet this guy was really disappointed. Either that, or really... satisfied.

"hot women" realtor
This is a pretty specific fetish. "Let me show you the house"... I can see where someone might get off on that one.

"pills to overdose on" suicide
TYLENOL. FOUR.

"he looks all strange"
I am so touched.

ambien fuck
It's called, "Not remembering exactly what happened but saying it was great anyways".

are moths scary
moths are seriously scary and they want to fly in your ears to lay their eggs so as to become legion. Their fur points backwards so you can never, ever pull them out.

fantastic simile
I can totally help with this. Try the following gems:

• The bomb went off. The explosion was like the muffled boom when Charles Le Gros detonated in his coffin.
• She was huge. Like a midget giant that weighed the same as a normal giant.
• The ants came swarming in, like your mom comes swarming in whenever I put out the ho food. (Ooh! Burn!)

guide to fuck in vegas
Erm... most women who live here feel they need to compete with the strippers, even though the strippers are all either whores or pregnant college girls. You can pretty much get whatever you want as long as you carry a few bennies in your wallet and don't have very high standards.

how to kill yourself with an oven

1. Drop it on yourself
2. Put it on broil and climb in
3. Climb in, then seal it airtight and suffocate yourself
4. Offer a hitman an oven if he'll shoot you
5. Paint it gold, then huff the leftover paint
6. Fill it full of Tylenol IV, then eat all the pills out of it until your body stops working

fucking on lunesta
Even worse than Ambien.

its 6 am and i'm all messed up
This came from my IP, so theoretically, it could have been any girl stupid enough to go to a bar with me while I had all the Ambien and Lunesta in reserve.

miget elvis impersonators
First of all, it's "midget", capisce? Second, midget Elvis isn't an impersonator. Midget Elvis is a lifestyle.

mr. belvedere sex slang
...I think I'm actually speechless.

my personal album asian girl
If you really want asian girls, try Disneyland. There's so much samurai skank there you can pretty much spend all day catching up on your ninja nookie on the Pinocchio ride (nobody would even notice. That ride is seriously creepy).

How The Magic Happens

Of course, I'm aware that I'm smarter, funnier, and more sexually attractive than about two hundred percent of the internet. The point is, without my totally awesome and yet crippling brain disease, I'd probably be just like everybody else out there (except the attractive part, that comes from stuffing socks down my pants). It annoys me that in this day and age, almost all the blogs I read are glorified linkdumps, offering up somebody's halfhearted opinion about somebody else's carefully gathered content. In such a cluttered mess, finding the original post is like playing "Who's Got The Button?".

Now, I'm not sure why anybody reads my blog, since it's pretty much just me being massively conceited and talking about how my life is awesomer than Superman's. Every post can pretty much be reduced to the following:

"Something happened to me, or maybe someone else. Everyone but me is stupid. I'm married, or maybe I'm not, since I use the words 'wife' and 'girlfriend' interchangeably. I have done so many drugs in the past year that it would take an aircraft carrier to actually deliver them to my house. Damn hell ass fuck. I have a huge drinking problem and I hit girls. Regardless of this, women invent new modes of travel just to come over to my house and blow me."

Still, I haven't yet been banned from the internet as hate speech. Therefore, since in a perfect world every blog would be as funny as mine and every blog writer would be drop dead gorgeous and waiting for me on my doorstep, here's a few things I try to keep in mind for every post.

• Whenever any idea crosses your mind, expand on it to try and generate content. It doesn't matter if you just suddenly think, "I bet scientific research would conclude that all frogs smell like ass" - indeed, that's pretty typical of the things I consider sharing with the rest of you. If I can find a way to make it obscene or at the very least distasteful, I've got something to go on. (This post began with me thinking about how mindblowingly amazing I am).
• Every time I post, I try to come up with a brand new, fantastic simile. You could say something like, "girls really like me". Yeah. Real clever, Hemingway. Instead, you could say, "women cut off and sell their feet just to hobble over to my apartment". Maybe even "chicks usually jump me like the CIA on an Egyptian tourist". Just the thought of all those footless Egyptians make me want to grow a beanstalk. Click the link. I'm not talking about a plant.
  
• Sometimes something happens to you that's fantastic, but the events around it are gay. The secret is to lie. That's not what I do, because nothing boring ever happens to me ever, but if the rest of you would just take the time to make up a more interesting reason why you were at the erotic bakery when suddenly the manager turned into an octopus, I'd be far more inclined to read about it. After all, the internet isn't about you. It's about me.
  

Goofus And Gallant

Derek	Teleolurian
Is suave	Washes his hair with Pert
Uses Noxzema	Showers weekly
Carries Rohypnol; shares	Carries Valium; doesn't
Is attractive; gets the ladies	Is scary; doesn't like being touched
Cooks Italian food	Cooks Italians
Has a diverse portfolio	Invests all his money in novelty backscratchers
Network Administrator	Pays hobos to urinate on the hot rail
Plays blackjack well	Plays the accordion badly
Will never leave you	Tells you he'll come over, then sleeps with your sister

The Liars Are Out En Masse

Derek is posting up a storm, if you live in some bizarro universe where "storm" means "a couple drops of rain". Luckily, that's exactly what 'storm' means here in Vegas.

He seems to be intent on feeding massive lies to the common consumer, so I have to take it upon myself as someone who knows the truth to inform everyone about the massive web of disinformation he's passing out. Let's see if we can clear up all the mistruths so that everybody can go back to minding their own business.

Lie #1: He Visited Kentucky

This is total nonsense. Derek is afraid of string ties. He once called me from a Halloween party where somebody had dressed up like the evil priest guy from The Gunslinger. He was in a closet, peeking out at the guy through the crack in the door, crying into a bra some chick gave him literally two seconds after he arrived (I don't know how he does this but I suspect he carries Rohypnol). There is no way he'd ever visit Kentucky, even though the company he works for has a massive building there, because he would have freaked out. I once ordered KFC and he had a grand mal seizure as soon as he smelled 10 out of the 11 herbs and spices.

Lie #2: He Reads Fiction

Yet another horrible lie. If you ever walk into his house, you'll notice a few things: first, that he keeps girl scouts in his garage; and second, that the only fictional books in his house are those New Ager books by guys named Rajesh that tell you to do things like "focus your chakra" and "visualize your chi". I have a vague suspicion that these books are actually literary pornography. I mean, I remember the last time I focused my chakra, and it was in this bar where you had to do it up against the door in the bathroom because there aren't any doorknobs.

Knowing this, it's bizarre that he would give you details that are the exact opposite of anything he would do ever. Trust me, the only "teen fiction" he knows anything about is listening to little girls tell him they're past the age of consent. On the other hand, he would totally read a book about antimatter, because this one time I didn't see him leave his bedroom for a week, and when I got bored and accidentally burst in I saw him building something I swear was an android version of Maya Angelou. I couldn't be sure, though, because I only got a glimpse before he threw a handful of moths at me, and that night I had a dream about a giant rabbit that eats skyscrapers.

Lie #3: Up Up Down Down B A B A Select Start

Derek would never have memorized the Konami code with the select button. Using the select button means you're going to play two player. Derek grew up in total isolation in a sensory deprivation tank while being fed nothing but royal jellybeans by an order of blind monks.

Lie #4: ZFS Is The Greatest Thing Ever

ZFS "will" be the greatest thing ever. Like, when today's cutting edge disk access technologies become the mainstream disk access technologies. Way too many people have drives way too pathetic to handle the mighty powers of ZFS. If you don't know what ZFS is, let me tell you that it's basically having a horde of tiny Ron Jeremy clones in your hard drive, taking care of it in that way that only scary porn stars can.

Now that we've uncovered the thread of blatant falsehoods, it's pretty darn obvious that he's telling you all of this because he wants you to think he's got something in common with you, the book-reading, Kentucky-loving, two-player-Contra-gaming, non-ZFS-knowing pink American everyman. And the reason he wants to do this, I suspect, has something to do with the pill bottle clinking in his pocket.

(trackback)

I Heard It On Slashdot

...but even though I helpfully first-posted that the article was a dupe of something from last week and that the submitter can't spell and that this isn't news anyways because #{big_company} always does #{action} (holy crap I should report stock trends), I received no karma for the transaction.

Can you spare a quarter?

That Mario Batali Dislikes Food Blogs

Link

Roommate: Dude, did you see what they said about Sandra Lee on this recipe review?

Mario: Dude, that is so not right. She's a nice person. A lot of people cook using prepared ingredients.

Roommate: There's tons of reviews like these.

Mario: I wish there were some sort of wifi asskicking one could deliver in these situations.