Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night freezing– on the verge of being cryogenically frozen–only to notice the person sharing the bed with you, the one soundly sleeping, is wrapped in every last piece of blanketing, taunting you with their sleep smile?

At first, you might assume that the disappearing act of the blankets covering your body just might be an accident. Not wanting to make an issue of it, you try covering up with whatever scraps of blanket your bedmate might leave dangling.

The second time it happens, you might try to gently bring the issue to light. So, you lean in; softly nudge the cover culprit, and whisper, “Baby, can I have some blanket?” They may let some of the covers out of their sleepy death grip just long enough for you to get comfortable before they swipe them away again, but generally your pleas will just fall on deaf ears. The blanket-jacker is so consumed by their own urge to be in the middle of their cocoon of blanket solitude, they cannot hear your shivering cries.

After an endless series of all-night-long cover-wrestling matches, that make watching the UFC feel like the Teletubbies, the resentment has escalated. You can blame all you want, but the fact is: blanket hogging is a disease. It is the sort of disease that is enabled by denial; nobody wants to believe they have it. Contributing to its rapid spread is a lack of effective therapeutic measures; there is no clear-cut way of dealing with someone who hogs blankets like Kobe Bryant hogs a basketball. We have all tried in different ways to confront the problem, and all of our ideas have failed.

Some people try talking to the sheet charlatan about it, but find the route to be extremely frustrating. Since the bedding embezzler is asleep when they commit the crime, it can be hard for them to recognize their complicity when they are confronted. Some have tried to offer the blanket junkie pamphlets on 12 step programs for other addictions, but the chances of that helping are slim. According to websitestosupportmyargument.com, 94% of people who attend self-help meetings end up relapsing.

It once got so bad for me; that I tried leaving a fallow blanket on the side in preparation for the blanketeers strike, only to have it stolen from me like land from the Native Americans.

How about government intervention, you might be thinking. The fact is the government has spent millions of dollars not studying this problem, releasing instead statements saying, “There just is no effective way to properly treat the disease,” and “We hope that a solution can be found soon.”

I am here today with tentative good news: I believe a remedy has been found. As the foremost leading expert in the field of sleep snatching, I regret to inform you there is no cure for this puzzling disease, but my team has developed a long-term treatment strategy.

We at the comedyskills laboratories have dedicated the last three dog months to putting an end to this covers curse.

It gives me great pleasure to bring to you a sleep savior: the Burrito Blanket.

The Burrito Blanket is an overlay that allows your blanket burglar the freedom to wrap themselves up, yet leaves you enough blanket to get the rest you deserve. Imagine a blanket that allows you to sleep comfortably instead of lying awake shivering, contemplating strangling the cover crack-head.

The BB uses a sophisticated design, where one blanket hangs from the middle of another, creating a vector of covers. In the Philippines, it is referred to as the “T Blanket,” because when in use, the BB resembles a capitalized T. This design not only helps you soundly sleep, but also has revolutionized the way kids make forts all over the world.

Buy your Burrito Blanket today and we will throw in the one-of-a-kind Security Burrito Blanket. If you call in the next year, we will even throw in the Space Burrito Blanket, for all you space travelers.

We at comedyskills.com know that we can’t cure the disease of cover hogging, but are united in the pursuit to help treat it. The Burrito Blanket brings us one step closer to ameliorating the worst symptom of a disease that devastates so many sleeping arrangements. A bed divided against itself still can’t stand, but at least now it can warm the masses.

I guess the man in the mirror was the grim reaper. It was a surreal moment when I turned on the television and listened to reports that Michael Jackson was in a coma. I sat on the edge of my seat, watching; as his life was dangling in front of me like a baby from a 4^th story balcony.

I had just heard the news of Farrah Fawcett’s death 5 minutes earlier and was just finishing up mourning her, when they flashed the MJ headline. At first, I thought it might be another ploy by MJ to be in the spotlight once again. It seemed like every time we forgot about him, a new and strange story popped up. Like the time he told us he purchased the Elephant Man’s bones. Or the time he posed for a picture inside a hyperbaric oxygen chamber; claiming it is how he slowed the aging process. And, how can we forget about the kid who cried bad touchie? Whatever the random story was, whenever you started to forget about Michael Jackson, there he was on the news in some fresh, eccentric story.

Whatever MJ news happened in the past, this story seemed to have an eerie feeling to it. It felt strange for a few different reasons. Usually when you see a headline on the news about MJ, it seems to have some sort of humor associated with it. Like, Breaking news: The Lost Boys found in the basement of Neverland Ranch. Or Breaking news: Billy Jean played backwards, says; “I like 8 year olds.” However, this story lacked that little shot of humor that usually is associated with a MJ news worthy event. Instead, this bulletin read something I never thought I would see next to Michael Jackson’s name, “MJ in critical condition.” I was sincerely worried; because this was the first time I have ever heard of MJ’s life ever being in serious danger. Sure, he has had a few close calls. There was the time his hair caught on fire in a taping for a Pepsi commercial. Even more life endangering, was the time we watched him kiss Lisa Marie Prestley on stage  at  the MTV Video Music Awards. However scary and life endangering those  occurrences were, this was the first time you really felt like he might die.

A lot of my friends assumed the same thing. Many of them assumed this  was  some sort of strange joke MJ was playing on all of us. I could tell that is  how they  felt, because I fielded texts from many of them with there best MJ  jokes. Brian  wrote, “He collapsed when he found out Frodo Baggins was to  small to ride the  rides at Neverland.” Jenny wrote, “I think when MJ wakes up  from his coma, there  should just be a bunch of 90 year old Men sitting in  his room naked. That way  when MJ wakes up he thinks he’s in hell.” Ben  added his best zinger; “He went  from the Jackson 5 to the Jackson barely  alive.” Tanya wrote, “If MJ dies and goes  to heaven, do you think god will be  smart enough to keep MJ from being around his little boy?” I probably got 20 texts in a matter of 5 minutes from my friends, trying to tell me there best MJ one liner. That is when I realized how big of a news story this was. Regardless of the validity of the story, this was the first time since 9/11 that so many of the people I associate with paid attention to anything in the news. It made me realize the magnitude of the story, and for that reason a lone, I was glued to my chair for the first time since I heard that N’Sync was breaking up.

Then, the fatal news broke. MJ was pronounced dead. This was a rare occurrence that only happens a half dozen times in one’s lifetime. The occurrence I am talking about is a moment the majority of the world witness’s at the same time. One of those moments in life, when everyone remembers exactly where he or she was when they heard the news. In my lifetime, they’re had only been a few of the moments where the whole world tuned in to see the outcome. There was the OJ verdict, 9/11 and the day Full House got canceled. Regardless of how you felt about him, there is no denying that everyone was tuning in.

I sat in my living room speechless. I almost could not wrap my mind around the  concept of MJ dying. I flipped the channel searching for something to take me  away from what was happening, but every channel showed people mourning  from all around the world. I watched people in Africa to New Zealand crying as they prayed for him. As I watched, I realized whom we had really lost; the biggest star in the world. His impact on people’s lives became even more apparent to me when my friends spoke about it. Texts and facebook posts were filled with an outpouring of emotions. The people who 15 minutes earlier were texting me their best MJ quips, were now writing about their pain. Brian wrote, “There is no sunshine when he’s gone.” Jenny posted, “I will always remember the time. Thanks Michael!” Everyone was feeling something. Even my neighbor, who goes out of her way not to talk to me, broke down and cried when discussing it with me.

I couldn’t think of someone other than MJ, whose death would affect so many in the same way. He was like the cousin; you are close to as a kid, but who you stop talking to when they lost their way. Regardless of what they had done later in life, you always remember them as that person you grew up with. MJ was just that someone, who touched us as children. He was like a musical pedophile. I have never seen one musician liked by so many people. MJ was the one artist, that whenever his music came on, you could see rednecks, hippies, gangsters and preppies alike, all singing a long. He transcended stereotypes with his music, and by they way he dressed told us to not take ourselves to seriously.

He was one of those people that defined so many of our childhoods. He was there with so many of our great memories. For me, I remember the first time I watched thriller, and had to watch it from behind the couch because I was so scared. Or the first time I tried to moonwalk and accidentally knocked over my grandpa’s urn. Then there was the time I lost a bet because I thought Michael Jackson played Skeletor in He-Man. He even worked his way into my adult life. There was the time I was high on acid and listened to Thriller while watching the Whiz to see if they synced up like Dark Side Of The Moon and The Wizard of Oz (which it doesn’t.)

I think it is amazing to see people remember a person not for their faults, but for the positive things they did in their life. Soon that will pass, and it will go back to the bad MJ jokes. In a week or so, the late night guys will be using MJ’S death in there opening monologues; with jokes like, “When asked who to blame for MJ’S death, Police said, “You can blame it on the boogie.” Or, “To symbolize his death the hospital has released 200 white gloves.”

In a way I am kind of hoping that this is one of MJ’S pranks. That maybe down the road, we will hear about a movie he is starring in with 2pac. However, until that day, I am not going to remember him as the person people called Wacko Jacko. Not the person who blew bubbles and looked like  ET’s stunt double. I am going to remember him for the person he was when  he captivated us all. An innocent, black, young adult, who had a huge heart  and who’s potential was endless. Thanks Michael Jackson for the memories.

I’ll start with something fairly obscure. Andy Richter was Conan O’Brien’s sidekick but he was destined for more. Andy Richter Control’s the Universe was a great showcase of not only his talents but so many others. Thankfully the creator and one of the stars are involved in Better off Ted which is currently struggling for air. It’s a great show which I fear is too wacky for the average Joe but right now ABC is airing six more episodes of the first season so please watch and support.

Speaking of too good for TV, there was once a show called Action which starred Jay Mohr as a ridiculous asshole of a movie producer and it was just glorious. It lasted only 13 episode but deserved a million and a review of it included the phrase - too good for TV. Jay Mohr can be hit and miss but in this show he was definitely batting over 400. The current piece of crap that he is in is something that I won’t even link to or name but if you get a chance to watch Action then please do.

You’ve likely heard about the following show by now but I was one of those cool people who got on the bandwagon early. There was once a TV show starring Seth Rogen, Jason Segal and James Franco that was produced by Judd Apatow. It’s a supergroup that could barely be assembled today but at the time it was called Freaks and Geeks. It was a great show and not just because it featured great performances but the writing was wonderous. It was granted 18 episodes but I’m sure the powers that be wish they could assemble the cast and crew for more right now.

Oh, and there’s more to the Apatow legend: for some reason he was allowed to develop another show which contained the same great ideas but once again was too good for TV. This one was called Undeclared and starred some of the same people but despite being fantastic it didn’t make the cut. It shocks me a bit that with the success of the Judd Apatow brand that these shows haven’t garnered attempts to promote their existence on DVD. Oh well, I saw them and they’re great.

Another show that only got one measly season before getting the axe was The Middleman. I’ve only recently been introduced to this show but its level of wit was beyond compare. The dialogue was so beautiful that it restored my faith in the ability of networks to actually give intelligent comedy a chance. Of course, it was too much for audiences and I don’t think the fact that it aired on ‘ABC Family’ helped - there were many censored lines and it makes no sense to air it on a network with such a name.

I’ll be brief on this one since it’s a well-known example. The Ben Stiller Show aired before any of the cast members were famous and it kicked ass. Ben stiller has become a hack of late but in his early days he was fantastic - having a cast including Bob Odenkirk, Jeneane Garofalo, and Andy Dick made this show an incredible gem. Guess what, a head writer was Judd Apatow so if you haven’t seen the DVD you really should.

I’d love to hear you suggestions of shows that were canceled before their time. As we’ve seen from the ratings for American Idol the public has little regard for quality programming. Maybe someday.

Planning your next vacation can be hard. With so many places to see in the world, and such little time, it can be stressful to try and make the best decision. If you haven’t already considered cruising as an option for your next furlough, let me tell you some of the benefits of a cruise you might not be aware of.

- Always to tired to go to the after party? You don’t have to feel left out anymore, because on a cruise the after hours party begins at 8:00 p.m.

- Tired of getting nickel and dimed on your trips? On a ship, everything is free (except for a small fee on everything.)

- Want to be youthful? It’s the only place where being under 70 makes you feel young again.

- You get to go to places that no one else in the world even thinks about visiting. New cruises everyday are being added off the coast of Ethiopia.

- Love to have clean hands then cruising is for you. We have 5,072 hand sanitizing stations (one every 5 yards,) so you can keep those hands as clean as a baby’s bottom.

- Hate buying expensive drinks? Just add water to the hand sanitizer and you get Moonshine. Add a little Ketchup and you get a nice Merlot. Never spend a dime when you are drinking cruise booze.

- All cruises have a minimum of 4 funeral directors to choose from.

- In every bathroom is an adult diaper changing station.

- Don’t run around town trying to find the one thing you need. All the buffets on a cruise serve Metamucil.

- Hate holding that beer while you pee guys? All the bathrooms have Beer holders next to the urinal.

- Love eating? It’s the only place you can have dessert for breakfast, booze for brunch and have Adult Onset Diabetes before dinner.

- Tired of going to the gym and not being able to find a machine to work out on? All the exercise facilities on your ship will be completely empty and the machines untouched.

- Since cruises normally sail in international waters there are no penalties for driving drunk on your mobility scooters.

- Are you claustrophobic and want to overcome your phobia? What better way than having a bathroom in your cabin, no bigger than a mini cooper; specifically designed to help you conquer you fear.

- Having a hard time gaining weight? If so, you should know the average cruiser gains on average 8 pounds.

We hope that you take this information to heart and really think about what you read today when you are planning your next vacation. Remember, cruise ships are not just where old people go to be bored anymore.

This bulletin was brought to you by, the association to prevent people from cruising.

A lot of times missing a flight is completely out of one’s control. It is out of your power if your connecting flight was late, the people on the moving sidewalk were standing in your way, or the person in front of you happens to be the color that the terrorist alert was set to. I once missed a flight because the security guard had to check what exactly I was packing in my pants; which was 228.6 mm of heat. So many times you are not to blame for missing your transportation. I wish I shared that sentiment when I missed my cruise ship. The reason I could not share it is because it is incredibly hard to miss a cruise ship. Nothing was preventing me from missing my ship; I plainly lost track of time.

I imagine most people, when pulling up in their taxi to see their ship sailing away without them, would freak out like a cocaine-less Andy Dick. Instead, my reaction was to burst into laughter. I guess I responded that way because I had not fully realized that I was just abandoned. I kept waiting for the cruise director to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Surprise!” Like it was some joke they played on a passenger every trip. Like, I won a prize for being the most un-organized person on the ship. Of course there was no tap, but there was a prize. The prize was one night of freedom from my 2,000 all white, all old, and mostly fat cruising counterparts. Of course I say that in a pro; old-fat-white person way (can’t upset the fan base.) I relished in the idea of a night free of constant picture taking and loud boisterous arguments on if that was a whale or just a shadow. “What do you think cast the shadow?” One man said, not realizing how dumb of a statement that was. You get a lot of those dumb statements on a cruise ship. I heard one women refer to the natives of Alaska as, “Alaskamo’s.” My favorite is what her husband called them. I believe the term was, “Snow Mexicans.”

This is not the way I would choose to get freedom from my fellow cruisers. Much like the Iraqi’s, freedom was being forced upon me. However, I do enjoy the idea of being stranded, because it forces me to have to accomplish a mission. I imagined getting back on the boat and having a news conference to explain what happened, with a banner behind me that said, “A Mission Accomplished.” Then after the conference, everyone says, “I think the boat was better without that guy.” This newfound independence made me feel like I was watching a Laura Croft movie; at first it sounds great, but after, you wonder what the hell you were thinking.

So my fate was decided. I was stay in Juneau for the night. As I still  stood at the dock admiring my own stupidity, I thought about all the  other times I had been abandoned. There was the time my mom  abandoned me at a K-mart. Not in the literal sense, I just felt like she  was abandoning good mothering when she actually took me to a K-  mart. Or the time when I was 13, my oldest brother Kevin abandoned  me at the Salt Lake City Airport. I wanted a cigarette and he said, “If  you go and smoke I am leaving without you.” When I ignored his  threat and went to smoke he just disappeared with my ticket. I got  the last laugh, when I went to security and had them announce over the airport PA, “Kevin Baker, we have found your brother please report to airport security.” So to say the least, I had been groomed for the occasion.

Here are three things to do if you are ever stranded:

Step One: Figure out when you can leave, and do it!

Step Two: Find a place to stay, and rent it!

Step Three: Find a bar and Get drunk. However, make sure that does not cause you to forget about step one.

Step one was no problem. For $119 I was on the first flight to Skagway; where the cruise ship was stopping next. I don’t want to say the particular cruise line, but let’s just say it rhymes with Borewegian. Step two was a little harder. I had to walk around the town in search for an available hotel. It was really interesting seeing the town after all the cruise ships had left. All the characters came out. I kept waiting to see Sarah Palin and Todd stumble out of a bar and invite me over for a game of name that country. To my disappointment there were no celebrity sightings, and it saddened me that I had not seen any of these infamous Alaskamo’s.

I checked a few hotels and none were cheaper than $150. I have money, but I find something fundamentally wrong with paying so much money for a bed. For some people it makes sense. They need comfort and a sense of security, to be able to get a decent nights rest. As for me, all I need is a blanket. I can pretty much sleep anywhere. To save money in London, I took the subway to the airport every night, and slept at the baggage claim. In Maui, instead of the hostels, I simply slept on the beach. I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Along with identifying celebrity voices, and seeing midgets at far distances, it is one of my X-men abilities. Shelling out $150 for a place to lay my head for a few hours, even Jean Grey would laugh at. I needed to find something cheaper. So, I asked a guy who was trying to sell me a lighter for a dollar, if there was a hostel in town? He didn’t say a word and just pointed up the hill.

Up the hill I went. As I was walking, I passed a house that a woman had just walked out of. She was holding a Yoga mat and dressed like she was headed to work out. Our eyes met and she commented on my Descendents t-shirt. She said, “nice shirt. The Descendant’s are like the best punk band ever.” I laughed and awkwardly said, “They are one of them.” Without hearing a word I said, she walked right by me brushing my right shoulder. In a very demanding voice she said, “My name’s Laurie, walk me to yoga.” I stood there absorbing the strange request. As I was sorting out the randomness of this occurrence, she continued to walk up the hill. Without stopping she shouted, “Come on man. I am not trying to fuck you. I have a boyfriend. Hurry up, let’s go.” Her tone made it seem like I was inconveniencing her with my lack of sudden action. Whatever it was, it worked, because I moved like I was Kristie Alley chasing a Snickers bar. However, it was less of me accompanying her, as it was more of, me awkwardly following her as she raced ahead. Even though she held a distance of five body lengths, she still managed to make conversation. She told me about her bartending job and her love for punk music. Fortunately the awkwardness was cut short, when we reached her yoga studio. I asked, “Is this it?” Surprisingly out of breath considering we had only walked two blocks. Ignoring my words and more luckily my sarcasm, she went on to invite me to her house later. “Stop by anytime. You can go there now and hang if you want. My boyfriend is there, but don’t worry he is cool.” She said as she disappeared into the yoga studio. As I walked away, I wondered all sorts of things about my new friend Laurie. I wondered; does she just not like walking alone? Does she do this to every person she passes on her way to yoga? Does she just wait in her window waiting for someone to walk by? I knew my questions would go unanswered and I continued on my quest for the holy hostel. I continued to walk up the hill until the street came to a dead end. I stopped and asked a guy who was trying to sell me a barbeque skewer for $3.77 and he pointed (with the skewer) down this little path that led through some trees. I followed the path, which led me to a large house. It had a large porch in the front where a gutter punk couple was sitting.

Sam and Jeanie were from Denver, and welcomed me to the hostel. They took to me instantly, because I was wearing a Descendents t-shirt. Never before had this shirt gotten me so much attention. Was there some sort of Alaska-Descendents connection? We chatted on the porch for a while. They had only been in Juneau for 3 days and were giving me the 3 worthwhile spots to see in my 14 hours of furlough. They were staying here for the summer to find work and enjoy the 24 hours of sunshine. They told me about there horrid experience of sailing to Juneau from Seattle. They took a boat that transported vehicles to Alaska for people who were relocating there. 6 days of shaky seas and the disdain for their trip, made me decide not to tell them about the giant cruise ship I sailed in on. I didn’t want to ruin the first people I had met who weren’t selling me something or asking me to walk them somewhere. Finally someone who liked me for the clothes I wore.

The hostel was even cheaper than I was expecting. When the lady at the counter told me that it was $10, I stared at her in awkward silence like it was the first time I saw a women’s breasts. After getting the brief introduction to the hostel I realized why is was so cheap. To cut down on the cost of paying employees, everyone staying at the hostel had to leave from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. On top of the 9 hours you were not allowed to be there, you had to be back by 12 a.m. Or you were locked out. Not that being locked out in the warm sun is really that bad? They say that from June 21 to Dec 21^st Alaska loses 5 minutes of sunlight a day. So in reality Alaskan’s loose 5 minutes of happiness a day. Not only did they dictate the hours you could be there, they also had the guests do all the chores. My allotted task was to vacuum the stairs and mop the dining room.

In my book there is only one downfall about hostels, it is the people who do weird things in there sleep. You are always rolling the dice when you are sharing a room with 4-8 people. Sometimes, you get people who snore; some who talk in there sleep, and once in the middle of the night I even heard people having sex. I love waking up to sex, but only when I am having it. I don’t want to hear the sound of a hand slapping water unless I am the one slapping. My roommate for the evening was Rustam from Kyrgyzstan. Rustam was an extremely nice guy, who would soon be added to my list of people I would never share a room with again. I actually really liked him, until about 6:30 a.m. That was the time he decided to set his alarm for. I don’t get people who set their alarm an hour before they want to get up. I have no problem with people who get up early. Or, people who are making noise as they leave, but I do have a problem for someone hitting there snooze 8 times when they are sharing a room with strangers.

The main problem is not how many times he hit the snooze; it was how long the alarm lasted before he hit it. The alarm was not loud enough to wake him up, but was loud enough to wake up me, and the people in the room down the hall. Also, the alarm sound he chose was the most annoying thing I have heard since the first time I heard Celine Dion’s voice. I can deal with birds chirping or, a cool song, but his alarm made the sound of babies crying sound like ocean waves. It was one of those alarms that the longer it went, the louder it got. Before Rustam hit the snooze, the alarm would be going off for a good minute (which in official sleep time is the equivalent of 32 minutes.) Not only did it begin to get loud, after 30 seconds it added a voice saying something in some strange language. I imagined it was Kyrgyz and the voice was saying, “Get the fuck up you inconsiderate asshole.” Finally I sat up and in my politest voice said, “Hey dude, you got to turn that fucking thing off. Fuck…” He obliged, but not in the way I was hoping. I assumed after an hour of hitting the snooze button, and waking me up every 5 minutes, he would turn the alarm off. Instead he switched the alarm to what he thought was a more pleasant wake up call, a rooster crowing. The moment I heard the first cockadoodldoo I jumped from my bed and headed across the room. My intention was to take his phone and throwing it out the cracked window. Instead, Rustam rolled out of bed and apologized for waking me. Since I was standing there in my underwear looking as pissed as if I was Tom Cruise finding out scientology was just a ploy to get my money. I accepted his apology and went back to bed.

My sleep did not last long, because again I was woken up prematurely. This time however, it was the lady who checked me in inflicting the punishment. As she was shaking me she said, “Mr. Baker, you have not done your chores yet and you have to get out by 9.” I rolled my eyes and told her I would get right on it, which I did. I got out of bed, got my things together and when the lady wasn’t looking, slipped out the door and got right on getting the fuck out of there. I caught the first cab I saw, and instructed him to head to the airport. When we arrived at the Juneau International Airport, I had to ask the driver if this was the right place. I had to check because we were sitting in front of a building no bigger than a Radio Shack, and there were no planes in site. There was a long strip of land that resembled what an abstract artist might paint as a runway, but nothing that would hint to future archeologist that planes actually landed there.

The inside of it the airport didn’t inspire much hope in me either. I felt like I was on the set of Wings, which ironically was the name of my airline. I walked up to the counter and told them I had a reservation and they handed me a ticket. No asking for a name, no looking at ID, No asking if my bag had hazardous material, I guess they just give ticket to anyone who claims they made a reservation. The security was just as lackadaisical as the check in. Apparently, metal detector technology has not made it to Alaska yet. To be honest it was quite nice to not have to take my shoes off and put everything in a baggie. When I heard you were not allowed to bring 3 oz of liquid on a plane, I wondered what next? I thought, let’s just hope the terrorist’s don’t figure out a way to make urine dangerous. The frustrating thing about security screening is that every airport is different. There is no unified system to what they allow and don’t allow. For example, The Seattle airport allows me to have shaving cream, but when I go through Spokane; an airport the size of my middle nut, they freak out like I am secretly plotting to lather up the plane and shave it. Another time in Lisbon, they pulled my bag aside because I had some liquid that exceeded the amount allowed. When they opened the bag and found my axe body spray, they laughed and let me go. It was strange, like I was secretly shooting a commercial for axe. Regardless, of if other people were bringing on bombs that would crash and kill everyone on the plane it was nice for once to not have to throw out my toiletries.

When the flight was ready, the counter lady went around; from memory, and got all the passengers who were flying to Skagway. All 9 of us huddled up around the grey bearded pilot, like he was going to give us some sort of strategy we needed to stick to if we all wanted to survive. No real strategic maneuvers, all he said was, “Alright, we got a full flight. Be careful walking out on the runway there are a lot of holes and I don’t want you to twist an ankle.” I laughed out loud because he reminded of me of Santa Clause preparing his reindeer for the tough flight. We all got on the plane, and I was the last to board. As I was about to get on, Santa say’s to me, “I like you. I want you to be my co-pilot.” I said to him shocked, “Really?” The thought flashed through my head of having to land the plane on a glacier because someone took out the pilot with there nail clippers that they allowed due to the airport not having metal detectors. I was excited. When I got on the plane, I realized that the only seat available was the one sitting next to the pilot. Even though Santa was being nice in making me think I would actually assist him in the flight, I did not let that stop me from thinking I was the Neo of this flights matrix.

I have flown on a lot of small planes. I think this was the first plane I had been on where you can flick the pilot’s ear from the back seat. The co-pilot’s seat was comfy. So comfy, I fell right asleep when my ass hit it. Finally a sleep not interrupted from annoying alarms that make you want to punch nuns, or people shaking you trying to get you to do some mundane choir. I awoke to the sound of wheels hitting the gravel that paved the Skagway airport. My eyes opened to see my cruise ship sitting there, beckoning to me to come aboard. It was a nice way to wake up. Even though I had been gone less than 24 hours, I kind of missed the little thing on the cruise you take for granted; like the drink holders next to the urinals and the people on carts drinking around while drinking Franzia. The moment I walked on the ship I was greeted in the elevator by two middle aged folks who took the elevator up one floor and it made me glad to be back.

Due to a high volume of requests, the Comedy Skills team is making their services available to you. For a limited time, you can hire the CS crew to write you a hilarious, original, personalized outgoing message. Utilizing information gathered by our research team; from the Internet, we at comedy skills compile and provide you with the witty greeting you have been missing.

 Today, callers continue to grow more and more frustrated when they reach your machine. Not if you have the comedy skills custom message. Have your friends laugh every time you silence their calls. Lighten any mood with a fun greeting. In a time filled with an increasing amount of non-personal automated greetings, listen as your humorous and creative message brings cheer to your caller’s lives.  For the low low price of $25 you can have the coolest greeting around. Be the most popular non-answer today. Your friends won’t even be calling to talk to you anymore, instead just calling to laugh endlessly at your funny message.

Laughter is contagious and for only $25 you can start to infect. And, if you call today, the comedy skills team will even record the message for you, giving your callers the false sense that you actually know celebrities. 

I am happy to bring to you another Million Dollar Idea. I have been getting such great responses to these posts, that I have actually thought about thinking about patenting my MDI’s.  If one of these ideas ever hits, the first thing I am going to buy is a car that run’s on unicorn blood (they exist!)

 Today’s MDI might not only be the best, but certainly is the most practical. It came to me while I was as drunk. I was as drunk as that Jewish person caught on tape making anti-Mel Gibson remarks. Many great inventions have been created while under the influence of alcohol. Without booze, things like Motorized bar stools, beer pong and high school musical on ice would seize to exist. Even, 2 of Brittany Spears’s 3 kids have all been invented while drunk (3^rd you can blame that on coke.)

Many people have used alcohol to advance their own creativity. Think of where Johnny Cash would be today if he did not drink: probably dead! Do you think Johnny Cash would have been any good if he weren’t beating up his liver like it was a scene out of a Tina Turner documentary? My gut feeling tells me the same thing my magic eight ball app on my Iphone does, “Outlook not so good.” My point is; it should come as no shock to hear that alcohol is the catalyst for this MDI.

Here is the pitch:

There is a global epidemic sweeping the world and it affects all of us. This pandemic is so dangerous, it makes Malaria shrivel up and cough. It chops the limbs off of leprosy. It even makes swine flu look like a made up disease by the government to stimulate the economy so we don’t spend our money on spring break in Mexico. Yes my friends, I am talking about Drunk Dialing.

You might have heard of it, but might not be aware how it affects you. Have you ever had a few drinks and decided it was a good time to call your boss, your spouse, or your boss’s spouse and tell them something you should not tell them sober, let alone drunk? If you answered, “Yes;” Drunk Dialing might affect you. Have you ever been tanked and decided to call your ex to tell them you are sorry and want them back? Instead you get their machine and instead leave a 15-minute awkward message of non-cohesive blabber like you are Mike from swingers. If this has happened to you, then you might have the disease and not even know it. Aside from not being good for each other, and I found someone better, Madeupfacts.com credits Drunk Dialing as the #3 reason for breakups not given a second chance.

 This disease not only infects humans daily, it has mutated  into another deadly disease, Drunk Texting. Drunken  Texting is the SARS of the telephone. It is spreading rapidly,  and everyone blames it on the Chinese.

Today, this disease runs so ramped, the first thing people do when they wake up after a long night of drinking, is check their outgoing texts and calls from the night before.  In the medical profession, this morning after activity is often referred to as Booze Clues. Here are some of my own drunken texts, I have found the next morning.

1. To my friend, “Six seconds ago I was confused and now I am here”
2. To a girl I was interested in: “If you wer here, that wood make me shit”
3. Meant for Molly, “I want to be inside you.” Sent to my mom
4. One I received, “I am not sure, but I think a stripper squirted breast milk in my beer”
5. To my cousin, “I think wyr all gunna dy”
6. From my friend (female,) “I think Darth Vader is stalking me.”

I am such a notorious drunk dialer that once my friends took the phone from me, deeming me to drunk to be making phone calls. The funny thing is, they still made me drive them home.  Thanks to my friend’s; I realized I had a problem. I thought to myself that there had to be other people who shared this disease. I started searching for other people online and found that there is a whole website dedicated to drunk texters. Here is one of the best one from their site: “noo wooreez bout me. i am drancking sakee and i am goin to danse on a pole with my cab deriver jeezus. he sed i can deverginifry him. sexsexsex. loving you, barbie”

So today I present to you, a product that is the cure for this growing life ruinous; The Drunk Dial Phone. Utilizing today’s breathalyzing technology the Drunk Dial phone comes complete with a built in Breathalyzer that prevents you from using your phone if your blood alcohol level is over the legal limit.  We at the Institute for People After Beer Shouldn’t Telephone (PABST,) are committed to the philosophy; when you breathe everyone’s at ease. We want to make sure; when you see double, there’s no trouble. The Drunk Dial phone will save millions from what we at PABST call the, “Day after regret.” Think of a world cured of 4:00 a.m. booty calls from someone you have not talked to in 3 years. Or, phone calls where the drunken caller treats the phone like the louder they shout into it, the better you will understand them. Imagine a world free of having to explain to your mom why you texted her the night before, calling her a stupid swamp donkey. Or being fired for calling your boss and telling them you want to staple a burning spreadsheet to their face.

Listen to what others are saying about the Drunk Dial Phone:

“The drunk dial phone has saved me from embarrassing phone calls. If only this was invented 3 years ago, we would all be able to talk to our kids. ” Alec Baldwin

“This is probably the greatest invention since the telephone itself” Alexander Graham Bell

 We at PABST and comedy skills are dedicated to a brighter tomorrow or at least one you don’t have to waste apologizing. Don’t wait, Get the DD phone today and put your worries away. Now available on the I-Phone. 

Pain is the way your body tells you that something is bad - well then how come exercise hurts so much?

I know it’s not that funny but it’s fucking true. Incredibly, the part that currently hurts the most right now is my nipple - the right one to be specific. See, I sweat a fair bit and for some reason my nipples like to get erect while I’m running (don’t ask me why, ask my nipples). I’ve got a pretty nasty headache as well, I hydrate as much as I can but in my case this seems to be an unavoidable byproduct of running.

Why the hell am I subjecting myself to this you ask? Well, for the last many years I was thinner than my brother and now he’s been exercising a bundle (a half-marathon last year) and has become the skinny brother. This is something that I can’t live with. Also, when I edit the videos for this site that feature me I see that I’m not that svelte. Imagine spending hours and hours looking at yourself being a requirement for your hobby/profession - I don’t recommend a editing footage for a comedy video site to anorexics.

I’ve done a great deal of exercise in my day but the only times it doesn’t feel like torture was with the team sports. You can’t let the team down so you push yourself and don’t think so much about the pain. But why does it have to hurt so god damn much? Honestly, if searing my chest with a hot iron could burn calories and up my metabolism I’d prefer it to running.

I’m going to try and stick with it in hopes of it getting less painful. My asthma makes it a little tougher with the breathing and stuff (what a pussy I am, complaining about my ass-mar) but I can deal with it. I’ll even try and push through the nipple pain but it can last for days.

Sure this is strange for a post on a comedy website but I just can’t get over how weird it is to spend a bunch of time to go through this painful thing that’s supposed to be GOOD for me. I’ve got another way to lower my blood pressure - just cut my wrists a little bit. Surely a small leak will bring it down to something good over something okay.

I fully agree with the idea of “no rewards without effort” but should the effort always make you want to stop and apply ointment to your nipple? Is S&M really big in Kenya? If so I’ve never heard much about it but perhaps there’s a connection - and some of those dudes actually run without shoes.

This post reminds me of a line from one of my favourite new TV shows, Eastbound and Down:

“Taking part in this race is just like trying to see who is the best at exercising.”

Since starting to write this my nipple has calmed down a bit. It’s still awfully sensitive to the touch but without abrasion it doesn’t really hurt. Why the hell is it only the right one that hurts? If I die soon this ‘pain due to exercise’ question is going to be first on my list for god. Seriously dude, give us some bodies that actually enjoy being good to themselves. He’ll probably be against running anyway since most runs are done on Sundays. Well Yahweh, if you can make Dr. Ho’s device actually work I’ll make sure to never use it on the Lord’s day.

I am sort of a slang connoisseur. I am a student of the slang world. I love making up my own words and seeing other people use them also.

There are a lot of ways to go about making up your own slang. One popular way is to combine two words to make one. Some of my favorite slang words using this concept are:

Multislacking- Doing multiple slacker-esque things concurrently.

Technosexual- A person, male or female, who is so deeply enthralled with technology they discuss it with a level of passion that most people reserve for sex.

Molestache- A mustache molesters, pedophiles and dictators wear

Nonversation- The type of conversation held with another person when you really do not wish to talk to them. It consists of short and to the point replies, which do not add to the conversation and make it hard for the other person to continue.

Slacktivist- political activist who has been active in the past, but in the present mostly talks about politics, drinks beer, smoke’s weed, and has sex with other activists.

Sexsuade- To convince someone to agree to, accept, or do something, usually by using the promise of sex

Another teqnique that is popular is adding the word “Man” in front of everything. Like for example:

Manscaping- when a man grooms himself.

Manscara- what you say when you see a guy wearing mascara.

Manswer- is a very manly answer.

Mansectomy- A procedure for removing excess fat (man-boobs) from a male chest.

The great thing about slang is, you can make up words that sound cool, and just integrate them into your everyday dialogue. Then when people hear you say it, they are like man, “I need to get hip on today’s slang.” The cool thing is when you hear someone you know start using word you have invented. When I was 18, I lived in a house with 6 people in there mid 20’s, and one who was 40. Although a huge age difference, Martin was really cool. The only problem was that he was unfamiliar with the slang we all used. He was always asking us to give definitions to the weird words we used so regularly. One day me and the other people in there 20’s decided to come up with a word that we would all use, but use in different ways; to mess with Martin. The word we decided on was Crunk. Although now, according to the slang dictionary crunk means crazy and drunk, at the time it was a word that had not been used. So we set off on the crunk prank. We all used the word differently. When he would ask, “what it meant,” we would all give him a different answer. For me I told him, “You only use it to describe something that was disgusting.” My friend Terrin told him, “Crunk is someone who is a crusty punk.” And Megan told him, “It is something that is really exciting.” He generally seemed perplexed by this mysterious hybrid word that everyone used, but could be used in so many different ways. A few weeks went by and the use of the word seized. However, no one told Martin it was a joke. We only realized he didn’t know it was a joke until we had a party, and I overheard a drunk Martin; trying to fit in with all the younger people by throwing the word Crunk in most of his conversations. I did not want to tell him there, because honestly I was enjoying people look at him like he was Rain Man. It was like a MasterCard commercial because it was priceless. No one had the heart to tell him after the party. So today, Martin is probably still walking around the streets using out of context slang. 

Here are a few words I have invented:

Hallahdino- A brazialian Hallah

Badonkulars- when you see a badonkadonk butt, far away.

Strollonsticate- when you are leaving by way of walking.

Sloshy Slosh- when someone is having sex while you are in the room and you can hear it.

Rollonsticate- when you are leaving by way of driving

Spliggity Splow- A sound affect you make when presenting or receiving something

Mahallah- A Hawaiian hallah.

Frontedonupon- when someone front’s on you, and gets away with it.

Won Ton Bon Cron- when a food is exceptionally good. It can also be broken up into Won Ton or Bon Cron.

Ringading- Another sound affect you use when you are excited

What are some of your favorite slang words?  

I am in full support of someone who changes his or her name (legally.) There are plenty of reasons why you might want to change it. Religious reasons, you are wanted by the KGB, a sex change, or your parents are rich pseudo-intellectual antidisestablishmentarians and named you something ridiculous like Ranthanon, are all acceptable reasons to change your name. What I absolutely despise is when people change their name from a normal one, to a weird one. I call it a, “I want to be different” name change. A, “I want to be different” name change, is where a person just decides one day they want to go by a different name. For example: “My name is not Rick anymore, I am Salamander.” Or, “I am not Susie, I am Raven Willow.” When you hear that it makes you want to go, “Really? I changed my name too. My name is not Matt anymore, it’s you’re a douche bag.” Usually these arachnion’s don’t legally change their name, because deep down they know they are going to want to go back to their original name. Eventually they get to the point where they want to mate, and they realize the “Hi, I’m Siddhartha” line does not work. They find out that their pretentious “I want to be different” name; instead of intriguing people, instead makes people want to use a fork to put a fire out on their face.

 I had a friend (I am going to use a different name because he’s probably reading this) do the, “I want to be different” name change. It totally changed the dynamic of us hanging out. My buddies name was Jordan, which is not a unique name. In his defense, it is not common either. According to the 25 most popular names of the 80’s (when he was born) Jordan ranks 189th. One day, Jordan, out of the blue says to me, “Don’t call me Jordan anymore. My real name is Oparen! Jordan is dead to me.” He hadn’t changed his name legally; he just did the “I want to be different” name change because according to Jordan, Oparen was his “true name.” I did not know this about his new name, but apparently Oparen in Latin means, I need attention. I hated the sudden name change because I had been calling him Jordan for 5 years, and now he just decides that his true name is Oparen and expects everyone to call him that. The problem is, everyone did start calling him that, but me. We would all be out, and I would say, “Hey Jordan” and everyone would look at me like I just spit in a handicapped kids face.

 It got to the point where I stopped addressing him by his name period. Which made it weird when I would have to call his house; where other people lived. I always wondered if his family embraced this sudden name change. I would call and just combine the name like, “Is Jorparen there?” Usually this would get a laugh out of one of his family members and they would hand the phone to him. Finally, 5 years later, I decided I would start calling him Oparen. The first time I called him Oparen he said to me, “Oparen is not my name anymore. I am going back to my real name; Jordan.” I felt like I had just been punked. It seemed like it was a 5-year elaborate practical joke on me. Like I was in the non-dramatic sequel to that god-awful movie The Game.

Moral of this rant is, if you change your name; commit to it. Like the guy I knew who legally changed his name to Mister Ohhlala (true story.) If you don’t like your name then legally change it to something you like. Don’t flip flop like a democrat out of water. However, If you do come across someone who pulls the “I want to be different” name change on you, stab them to death with something very dull.