October 31, 2005

How to Halloween

Oy vey, this weekend was a steel cage death match between me and common sense. The winner, as always, was the state of Texas. Rather than launch into a whole recap, I'll just post a link to the photos later tonight/tomorrow along with my vulgar, yet ironic commentary. Deal? Deal.

Okay, it's Halloween. How about some Do's and Don'ts for the Trick or Treaters who will be gracing the Powell household?

DO say thank you after I have dispensed the candy.
DON'T say anything to your parents if I run out of candy and start handing out allergy medication.
DO ring the door bell and wait patiently until I answer.
DON'T blow the situation out of proportion if I leap to the conclusion that you're a maurading band of highwaymen and answer the door suddenly with a blow torch and a can of 409.
DO dress like your favorite Star Wars character.
DON'T actually take your Mark Hammill impression too far, as I may or may not be dodging a subpeona from him.
DO offer to perform some household chores if I give you a particularly sweet distribution of candy.
DON'T draw any unreasonable conclusions from the contents of my underwear drawer, as my neighbor just recently asked me to house his collection of Matlock erotic fan fiction.

It's that simple! Happy Halloween, you candy eatin' chumps.

Posted by Cody at 6:57 PM

October 27, 2005

Astros 0, Powell 0

The Astros lost the World Series, just as I expected. I expected this because I bet on them. As every casino in Vegas knows, the only sure bet is that I am terrible at predicting outcomes. A quick example: I got up midway through Old Yeller so I could put $50 on the dog to live. And then, when it died, I got up again to put $50 on it coming back to life. And then, when the movie was over and the credits rolled, I bet double or nothing the dog had been played by Freddie Prinze, Jr. There was a lot of history to overcome with this bet.

That's not to say that I just sat idly by, and watched the whole thing go down in flames. No way, man. Before game one, I sent Roger Clemens a text message that read: "Bad news, dood. i bet on ur team." And Roger being Roger, responded with: "lol. i win ur money back. ttyl." Well guess what, Roger? The only time you'll ttyl to me is NEXT SEASON! The Curse of Powell is nothing to laugh at. If you do choose to laugh at it, make it seem like you're coughing; don't just flaunt it with an lol. I don't even know why these guys are in my cell phone if they're going to ignore every curse related text message I send them.

So, I lost. To make matters worse, I lost to the ladyfriend. That's the stinger right there. I'm used to being put in my place by friends, family, coworkers, and derelicts that I meet in the railyard, but not her. We were a team of equals. Now, we're still equals, one is just a little more equal in the financial department and has taken to calling the other "Bitch ass loser". Still, equals.

Posted by Cody at 6:20 PM

October 25, 2005


Let's not discuss how much time I spent on that.

Posted by Cody at 7:05 PM

October 24, 2005

Trick or Treating with Rik Smits

First, let's get some procedural business out of the way: Sunday entries are now an iffy affair. If Sunday rolls around and I haven't updated but you want to read something with that ol' Powell flair, I encourage you to check out the archives. After all, there are only like 550 other entries on this site. I don't have time to get my oil changed or my hair cut or to fix myself a meal that doesn't consist of rotten gravy and pencil lead, but by God, I have time to write 550 entries for the confused old Korean women who make up my web constituency.

Now then, Halloween is approaching. To me, this means three things. First, I need a crapload of pennies to give to the trick or treaters. Yeah, candy is good and all, but are these kids going to learn about inflation and fiscal responsibility from a little box of Whoppers? (And if so, why aren't these Whoppers running the Federal Reserve?) Second, someone needs to lend me a little kid or maybe just a little panda that looks like a kid so I can go trick or treating. It doesn't have to look like me or anything. Also, I'd prefer a kid smaller than me; I apologize to any young people in Austin with pituitary gland disorders, but I'm going to have a hard time taking the best candy for myself if the kid looks like the Shaquille O'Neal (or even Rik Smits).

Third, I need to get on the ball when it comes to a good name for the Halloween/Star Wars party in Waco on Saturday. I can usually be counted on to name things excellently, but I'm just not seeing a winner here. Return of the Jedi-o-latern? The Empire Strikes For Candy? An Evening with Luke Spooktacularwalker? I just don't know here. If anyone has a good idea, please let me know.

Posted by Cody at 6:22 PM

October 20, 2005

Secretary of Tickle Fights

I went to the Optometrist at lunch today to get my eyes scoped. On the way back, my phone began to rang. I picked it up to check the caller id (that's right, I'm a screener), and the display read, no lie, PRESIDENT BUSH. I immediately swerved off the road. Was the President really calling me, or did the Optometrist just drug me up with hallucinogens? Was I so drugged up on these hallucinogens that I was actually still in the Optometrist's office, forced to unknowingly engage in some sort of kinky, eye doctor shenanigans? There was only one way to figure it out; I answered the phone.


"Cody Powell, please hold for the President of the United States," a voice said. I pumped my fist. If the Optometrist wanted to enslave me in his BDSM dungeon, he'd have to try some other visit.

A moment later, the President came on the phone. "Cody? It's GW. What do you say, pardner?"

"Oh, hello. Why are you calling me? Did the terrorists kill my pets or something?"

I heard him sigh. "Listen, Cody, I'll get right to the point. I want to appoint you to something. I don't care what, but the more important the post, the better. Here in the Oval Office, we get a Wanted poster with your picture on it."

"I don't understand."

"You watch the news, don't you? You know I'm a bit liberal with my federal appointments, as long as the appointee and I are in cahoots. Me and you are in cahoots, compadre," he said, puncuating the sentence with a deafening yeehaw.

"We're in cahoots? I don't know you and I didn't even vote for you," I told him.

"Yeah, but you didn't vote for Kerry either AND I have it on good authority that one of your coworkers went to school with the twins. Now is that cahoots or is that cahoots?"

I shook my head and groaned. "You got me. We're in cahoots, I guess. Where do you want me?"

"Yessiree!" he yelled. I heard him put the phone down and whisper, "We got him, Karl!" Then he was back on the line. "If my latest pick for the Supreme Court doesn't work, you're next."

"There's a problem with that," I told him, "I'm not even a lawyer."

"I got a record here from the CIA that says you bought the Law and Order video game from Best Buy in the winter of 2002. I can't ask for more credentials than that."

"And if that falls through?" I asked.

"If that falls through... hmm... Secretary of... Veterans Affairs? I don't know if that's real or not, so we may have to make that department. I wouldn't get too worked up about the actual post; no matter where we put you, you'll be doing pretty much the same thing."

"What's that?"

I heard the President stifle a giggle. "Tickle fights with Dick Cheney," he said, erupting into guffaws.

I buried my hand in my hands. A trip to the Optometrist's sexual fantasyland would've been better than this. "When do I start?"

"I've got Air Force One in your driveway right now," he said. "Park your sweat suits, cowboy hat, and a hell of a lot of Neosporin. Cheney's a clawer, particularly when you're tickling him."

Posted by Cody at 6:17 PM

October 19, 2005

I'm Working on My Form Tonight

Thanks to the considerable largesse of the Round Rock ISD, I got added to someone's family plan at the gym last night. That's right, I'm a gym member. When you're riding in on the coattails of the public school system, just how swanky can the gym be? Well, allow me to flaunt it. You know how normally in gym locker rooms, you can't help but see someone's naked butt? I didn't have that problem last night, because all of the naked butts were covered by complimentary gold plated underwear. There are no water fountains for refreshment, but a water hose that sprays gallons and gallons of Dom Perignon. This place is so swanky, their Dom hose doesn't even have a knob with which to turn it off! Ooh la la, I must say.

No matter how swanky the gym is, it doesn't make the process of getting ripped any easier. And by ripped, I mean RIZZIPPED. This time next month, I'll be walking down the streets in tatters because I busted out of my shirt, Incredible Hulk style. (Yes, I will paint myself green to play it up; that will be a hilarious bit for the sole benefit of my gym friends.)

To drop the idiocy here for a minute, I'm pretty sure I saw 15 separate Incredible Hulks last night when I walked through the weight room. Yes, I walked through without making eye contact. I just couldn't chance the possibility of making eye contact with one of those dudes and getting asked to spot him. I'd probably need an elaborate pulley system and a team of bison to spot some of those guys. And once I did spot them, they'd say, "Your turn, brah. Let it rip." I'd have to say, "How much you got on there? 350? Okay, take 290 off. I'm working on form tonight. You hear that everyone? I'm working on my form tonight!" And then as soon as I lifted the bar, I'd get a stinger in my side and start hollering.

The spot man would have to intervene, but not before I dropped the bar on my face. Meanwhile, all of his fellow Hulkamaniacs would only hear the ruckus. They'd begin to talk amongst themselves, saying, "You hear that guy shouting? That dude is serious about getting ripped." And you know what? They'd be right. Well, they'd be right-ish. I'm definitely serious about paying the membership fee.

Posted by Cody at 6:20 PM

October 18, 2005

I Want My Mask

Just because a store has a sign that prominently features a Mexican wrestler mask, it does not mean the store actually sells Mexican wrestler masks. I share all of this because there's a store in a strip mall near my house (183 and McNeil for folks in the 512) that boldly flaunts such a mask on its signage. In fact, the mask is so boldly flaunted, it obscures the name of the store. Whenever I drove by, I just thought that the entire store was devoted to Mexican wrestler masks and other awesome artifacts (shrunken heads, busts of John Wayne, etc.). I was sorely tempted at that point to send out an email to all family/friends/fellow Masons telling them that I'd found the store where all future gifts for me must be purchased. Luckily, I went to examine the store today at lunch before sending out that missive. Had I not, my home would be flooded with pan flute CDs and dumb ass wind chimes come December 25th.

This place is located very close to my favorite, super cheap Chinese place (Dynasty, if you're scoring at home). After lunch was done and my belly packed with sesame chicken, I walked across the parking lot. I stroleld to the front of the store with the Mexican wrestler mask and I peered inside. I saw... lots of bamboo. I stepped back and looked at the sign again to make sure I was in the right place. Once I verified that, I concluded that the excitement was getting to my brain. I was so jazzed about the store, my sensory system was overwhelmed and superimposing the image of bamboo on everything. It's called Bamboo Madness, I think, and it's very popular when waiting in line at the department store for Santa Claus.

I refused to take Bamboo Madness for an answer, though, so I opened the door and went inside. I was greeted by two middled aged Asian ladies.

"Can we help you?" one of the ladies said to me.

"Yes, actually. Where are your Mexican wrestler masks?" Midway through that sentence, I looked around the shop. It featured shelf after shelf of gifts aimed for other middle aged Asian ladies. There were silk lamp shades and bamboo coffee tables and fancy tea saucers, but curiously, no Mexican wrestler masks. I immediately recognized the earth-shattering idiocy of my question.

"Mexican WHAT?" one said, leaning forward with wide eyes.

"Wrestl... No, I mean, I'm here to ... check for weasels. Everything looks good here. If you see any, call the landlord or just smack 'em with a hammer." And then I hauled ass out of there.

When I hit the parking lot, I checked the sign again, and it's definitely a mask of some kind on it. It may not exactly be a Mexican wrestler mask; I need to take some vidcaps off Telemundo for comparison purposes. It's close enough to make that mistake, though.

Moral of the story: it may be a little unreasonable to assume that the store next to the Asian Grocery specializes in Mexican wrestler masks. Tread with caution before making the same mistake. However, if you happen to have an Asian grandmother, I know a great place to shop.

Posted by Cody at 6:33 PM

October 17, 2005

Whap You On The Butt

(This entry is really more tailored to the people I know who happen to live in Texas.)

Twelve days from now, the Waco PD will receive a call from a terrified house wife. "There's someone running around on my roof with no pants on!" "Can you describe the trespasser?" the operator will ask. "It looks like... Boba Fett," she'll say. It won't be me; I'll be face down in the dumpster a couple of blocks away, trying to protect my private parts from an army of humongous dumpster rats. But I will stop screeching for just a second and grin, because I will know then that the weekend was a success. It will only be for a second, though, since humongous dumpster rats don't believe in time-outs.

What the hell am I talking about? Well, on that night (October 29), a certain someone (my sister) has offered a certain someplace (her condo in Waco) up to three certain individuals (Tim, Adam, and I) to throw the world's greatest themed party ever (Halloween/Star Wars). Some might say we're pushing the envelope with the theme. It's already a Halloween party; why throw Star Wars into the mix? That's a toughie to answer, but I think I've figured it out. What if we planned it as a normal Halloween party, and then someone brought in a pinata of the Death Star? We'd just look idiotic.

Also, a combo party means so many options. If you want to dress up like Magilla Gorilla, you can; after all, it's a Halloween party. If you want to dress up like Princess Leia in the gold bikini, you can also do that. If you want to dress up like Magilla Gorilla and then put the gold bikini on over your gorilla fur, you have found another delightful possibility and truly embraced our baby. So, it's a Halloween party and it's also a Star Wars party. If you want to stick to the Halloween part, you are free to do so. However, if I whap you on the butt with a plastic light saber, you better answer the call.

Posted by Cody at 6:48 PM

October 13, 2005

Tally Me Ba-whatsits?

The weekend is coming and I'm ready for it to tally me banana. I have no idea what song's about, actually. Why do you need someone to tally your bananas for you? (I'm assuming this is some sort of banana plantation situation. (Note to self: in the future make a pun about a banana plantaintation)) If you can't tally your own bananas, you're either drunk or incompetent. In either case, there's no place for you at a banana plantation. And if you CAN tally your own bananas but your employer won't let you, then your employer clearly has trust issues. Quick, get those people to a ropes course!

One thing I'm almost scared to mention here is that rules for counting bananas could be different from regular counting. You may have to count in hexadecimal or measure by the banana bushel or something. In that case, I understand why you'd need a banana tallier; that's some pretty specific expertise. It wouldn't be cost efficient to train everyone in the ways of banana tallying. No, definitely save that one for the more ambitious types. Work hard and you go from banana picker to banana tallier. Work even harder and you go from banana tallier to tallier of talliers. See where this is going? I don't think you do, because once you hit that rank, you start your own plantation!

I just checked the actual lyrics for the song and I have a lot more questions now. For one thing, this guy is saying that when day light comes, he wants to go home. Why is he picking bananas in the middle of the night? I thought that was the first rule of fruit picking: pick during daylight. There's also a line in there that goes, "Hide the deadly black tarantula". Exactly what in the hell is going on at this place? They're picking bananas at night amidst a bunch of poisonous spiders, and then they're not allowed to count what they picked. It sounds like the type of banana picking that goes on in a Lebanese POW camp. If Harry Belafonte ever comes up to you and asks if you want a job out in the fresh air, run.

Posted by Cody at 6:35 PM

October 12, 2005

Fantasy Grocery Store

There's a problem with fantasy sports: they're all heavily reliant on sporting activities. Some of us wish we could profit from not just the performance of athletes, but anyone in any situation. For me, this includes the employees at the grocery store down the street. In case anyone wants to start a league with me, here are my introductory notes for our player draft.

Albino cashier - definite first round pick. You don't want him if he's operating the cash register (not his fault, blame the lack of pigment), but if he's running a samples stand, your opponent better just forget about it. He's very personable, he gets a lot of walk-bys due to his appearance, and he almost always is distribuing some sort of dairy product (always a great performer in the fall).

Surly shopping cart handler - only take him if you need a backup for this position. He very rarely brings his A game anymore, thanks to a drinking problem/custody battle combo. Be wary of starting him in a rain storm; he has a bad habit of whanging the carts into Escalades when it's slick.

Bald pharmacist - a must have. Great intangibles, plus customers like the fact that he smokes a corncob pipe.

Perfume counter lady - get her while she's cheap. She had a subpar summer thanks to a bad, self-applied perm, but sources say she's got it straightened out and she's been studying up on her Estee Lauders. Need I mentioned they just received a new shipment of Liz Taylor knock-offs?

Pharmacist's aide with the hook nose - third rounder, at best. He has a bad habit of slipping the Viagra into his smock when no one is watching. I don't know if he sells them or takes them on his lunch break, but you certainly don't get points for it.

Bag girl with the WWJD bracelet - yikes. We're all fans, but don't draft her until she resolves her contract dispute.

Posted by Cody at 7:22 PM

October 11, 2005

An Open Letter to My Former Landlady

Dear Former Landlady,

I was shocked and dismayed when you called to tell me that you'd sold the house I rent from you. Okay, I wasn't shocked; the For Sale sign had been up for months. I guessed the feeling was more along the lines of slightly surprised and perhaps a little intrigued. Isn't the real estate market super hot right now? If you can't sell place like this one, then it's clearly haunted, booby trapped, or a breeding ground for Legionnaire's Disease. This brings me to an important question: do I need more health insurance? What about dismemberment/ghost insurance? (Do you have a guy for this? Have him call me.)

Also, it's not a house that you just sold, it's a duplex. Perhaps the contracts for duplexes and threeplexes (triplexes? triceroplexes?) are particularly onerous. You know, not everyone is in the market for a duplex. It's like 3/4 of a house. You get all of the bad parts of a house (the yard, taking out the trash, racoons in the attic) with the bad parts of an aparment (sharing walls, lack of personal space, possibility of neighbors drilling a spy hole in the wall). That's a hard sell to make.

Or perhaps the neighbors had something to do with it. You are an honest woman, Former Landlady. I have no doubt you told all prospective buyers that one side of the duplex was occupied by death metal enthusiasts with a burgeoning interest in spoiled Indian food and a hatred for lawn care. Seriously, I've lived here for months and I still don't know what occurs on the other side of my living room wall. It could be a men's bathhouse, it could be a maquiladora, it could be a meth lab; all I know is, it's loud and stinky. I have a hard time reconciling the fact I even know people like that; I must commend you for having the courage to actually engage in business with them.

Alas, do not let all of this obscure the fact that this little place, the heartlamp you owned and I paid to rent, has switched hands. Well, not hands really, since I didn't see you lying on the floor of the bathroom when the toilet exploded or antyhing. That was Pepe or whatever the property manager's name is. He's pretty good, and he's not scared of direct contact with sewage. (Also, I have hands and I live there.) It's definitely changed wallets or bank books or whatever it is the landlords of the world use to organize their properties. Let's call it a property folder. Yes, it's changed property folders indeed, and with it, it has lost a little bit of its soul.

The lost soul won't show up in the rent check or the muffled lyrics about cannibalism that bleeds through my walls. It'll show up in... I'm not really sure. Maybe in the sheer duplexity of this dwelling? Probably in the air conditioning, since you were always very good about having that fixed. And definitely in the ducts, which were expected regularly. So, from me, the air conditioning, and the ducts, thank you. And for not throwing me out when you learned about my pot bellied pig, I also thank you.

Sincerely Yours,
Cody Wayne Maxwell Powell

Posted by Cody at 7:34 PM

October 10, 2005

The Cornbread Chronicles

One of my friends is in advertising. Recently, we were corresponding via email and I decided that I, the author of a scandalously unpopular website, would help him, the advertising professional, with an idea for a commercial. Unfortunately, the idea drifted a little bit from my original vision.

He pulled the dagger from the heart of the hyena and watched the black blood dribble into the sand. Raising to his feet, Mumjumbe noticed a thin curl of smoke coming from the chimney of his hut. He walked across the savannah to the doorway of his home. He peered through and saw his wife standing before a fire.

"Woman, I have killed the hyena; the village is safe. What is this fire for?"

"It is cornbread. I've made it to celebrate your triumph," she said.

Mumjumbe laughed boisterously. "Sunny Valley Brand Cornbread! This truly is a celebration!"

She lowered her head and looked at her feet. Quietly, she mumbled, "Mumjumbe, we're out of Sunny Valley Brand Cornbread. I'm sorry. I've failed you as a wife."

Mumjumbe stopped laughing. "No, it is I who am sorry. I am sorry for killing the murderous hyena. I should've merely captured him, and then thrown him in here with you and your inferior cornbread."

(Then a graphic appears on the screen: Happy Valley Cornbread... Anything else means dishonor.)

Posted by Cody at 6:33 PM

October 6, 2005

Fantasy Transactions

My fantasy football league is starting to heat up. Recently, we've been making a lot of trades. Well, maybe not making them, but proposing them.

Trade Message for Cooksey's Revenge
Cheech Marin's Mustache has requested a trade with you.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning

Trade Message for Cheech Marin's Mustache
Cooksey's Revenge has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning

Trade Message for CR
Cheech Marin's Mustache has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman

Trade Message for CMM
CR has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens, ham sandwiches for Life
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman

Trade Message for CR
CMM has requested clarification on trade.
CMM's comment: what kind of ham?

Trade Message for CMM
CR has responded to your request for information.
CR's response: let's go with honey baked

Trade Message for CR
CMM has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens, ham sandwiches for life
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman, one house-broken siberian husky

Trade Message for CMM
CR has requested clarification on trade.
CR's comment: age of the husky?

Trade Message for CR
CMM has responded to your request for information.
CMM's response: if it's not a puppy, I walk

Trade Message for CMM
CR has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens, ham sandwiches for life
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman, one house-broken siberian husky

Trade Message for CR
CMM has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens, ham sandwiches for life, ride in the Popemobile
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman, one house-broken siberian husky

Trade Message for CMM
CR has requested clarification on trade.
CR's comment: the actual popemobile or a replica? Is the pope included?

Trade Message for CR
CMM has responded to your request for information.
CMM's response: actual popemobile. I'll settle for a Cardinal.

Trade Message for CMM
CR has rejected the terms of your trade and requested different players.
Cheech Marin's Mustache player(s): Dante Culpepper, Terrell Owens, ham sandwiches for life, ride in the Popemobile
in exchange for
Cooksey's Revenge player(s): Peyton Manning, Batman, one house-broken siberian husky, Sebastian Janikowski

Trade Message for CR
Cheech Marin's Mustache has accepted the terms of your trade.

Posted by Cody at 6:30 PM

October 5, 2005

Apprentice: Goulash

Judging from the TV Guide, we are literally just a few weeks away from a new show on NBC called Apprentice: Goulash. In the event they come calling, here's a brief sketch for the show.

Idea: A gang of diverse, attractive people compete in a reality show hosted by America's once and future king of hard-to-follow web content, Cody Powell. The grand prize? A highly coveted job at Goulash World Headquarters, preparing pot pies for visiting dignitaries, testing Cody's dental hygiene products for poison, and serving as the night guard for the moonshine still. The job won't just be handed to them, though; they'll have to earn it. Through a variety of tests ranging from "Bring Me a Lock of Cheech Marin's Hair" to "See How Long You Can Be Tickled Before You Pee", the contestants are narrowed down one by one. We won't say what happens to our group of finalists to determine the winner, but a bison, a cattle prod, and a jar of rancid pickles figure prominently.

Preferred Contestants:
1) Momo - a streetwise, older Italian man, Momo don't take no guff off nobody. He works hard, he plays hard, and he hates minorities. Also, he's a severe bedwetter.
2) Sharlene - a delicate Southern belle, Sharlene is out to prove that she's more than just a pretty face. She demands to be recognized for the merits of her work, not the way she fills out a tank top. Also, she's a glue huffer.
3) D Qwan - straight out of the inner city, D Qwan is bringing the flavor to our competition. He's been in jail for the last 3 years for lighting his girlfriend's son on fire, but he's found the Lord and he wants to get his life back on track. First stop? Winning Apprentice: Goulash. Second stop? Banging Sharlene.
4) Mirela - after a rough upbringing in Eastern Europe, Rita will do whatever it takes to taste the spoils of fame and fortune. We're guessing by anything, it includes sex, liquor, and wire fraud. Also, she's a rhino poacher.

Audience: Lesbians, aged 65 - 75.

Posted by Cody at 7:54 PM

October 4, 2005

Cannibals, Neo Nazis, and Shakira

I know this sounds like a strange recommendation considering the source, but if you get Showtime, you really should watch Barbershop: the Series. You're probably wondering just what questions the film series (including Beauty Shop) left unanswered. Well, plenty. For one, can I watch this show and not feel vaguely uneasy, as the world's biggest caucasian? The answer to that is a resounding yes. Not only can I watch it comfortably, but I watch it enthusiastically, since it's very funny. I know it's a strange declaration, but I think that Barbershop is the funniest show on tv right now. Also, since it's on Showtime, you can watch it like two hundred times a week. Then you get to watch the same Dolph Lundgren movie afterwards. All in all, a winner. (Note to producers of Barbershop: if I'm going to use my bully pulpit to plug you, I expect something similar. Let's talk cameo.)

In other news, my email address has been mysteriously added to the Arabs Against Discrimination email list. I'm getting daily updates from these people, presumably under the guise that I am an Arab (false) who happens to be against discrimination (also false). It sounds odd, but there are many good times to discriminate. For example, I would not let a cannibal be my roommate. The same goes for Neo Nazis and Shakira. To me, that's good discrimination. I would put that right on the application: "If you're a cannibal, Neo Nazi, or Shakira, then get the hell out of here."

Now, if another email list started up called Anglos For Good Discrimination, it'd be another story. I see that list going awry pretty quickly, though. That just seems like a search string the KKK would be likely to plug into Google. Very quickly, our discussions would turn from how smart it'd be to keep kleptomaniacs from working retail jobs to how we must cleanse the earth of the scum people, or something like that. Really, I don't want to explain to the KKK about good discrimination vs. bad discrimination; I'd just have to leave the list. My name would still be all over this KKK affiliated distribution, though. That seems like it'd set a red flag off for future employers/federal agents/freedom fighters. So, I guess where I'm going with this, is that I'm not joining any lists either for or against discrimination. Unless it's an email list against pro/con discrimination email lists.

Posted by Cody at 5:44 PM

October 3, 2005

Make A Wish

Ohh Lawdy, what a day of work! I could go on and on about this, but I'd rather talk about a banner that I saw at Best Buy over the weekend. I made the trip there on Saturday as I usually do, for the express purpose of sniffing the leather office chairs. Unlike most visits, I wasn't even near the office furniture selection when I got blown away. No, it was right by the door. There, I saw a large banner that read, "Welcome Vanessa and the Make A Wish Foundation!"

I can think of two possibilities, both of which are incredibly depressing. First, the Make A Wish Foundation could've gone downhill very quickly. A few years ago, they were taking kids to batting practice with the Yankees, and now they're taking them down to the mini-mall to watch the big TV's for a little while. If that's the case, they should rename it from the Make A Wish Foundation to the Kill An Hour Or Two Foundation.

The second possibility, and this one is even worse than the first, is that the foundation is still doing really well, but that poor girl just filled out the application wrong. Imagine she's filling it out, and really, there are only two questions. The first is, "How did you find out about our foundation?" And the second is, "Where does your dream take place?" The kid's probably on medication or something, and maybe a little woozy at times. When dad comes home with this neat flyer from his trip to the mall, you couple that excitement with the meds and you get a little mix-up. How did you find out about our foundation? Britney Spears' house. Where does your dream take place? Best Buy. Ahhhh, that's so close! They may as well give her one of the TVs for that one.

Posted by Cody at 6:12 PM

October 2, 2005

Scare Tactics

I wonder if it's possible that during each and every NFL game, the players get together in the huddle and discuss who's allowed to do well on the next play, based on the fantasy football ownership for that player. I see it going something like this.

Player 1: Alright, the next play should be a pass.

Player 2: Great, throw it to me. I'll be open.

Player 3: Hang on a sec. I think Cody Powell owns you in his league.

Player 2: Damn it. Did he start me?

Player 3: I think so.

Player 1: You may just want to sit the rest of the game out on the bench. And I wouldn't get too excited about next week, either.

Player 2: Wait, I can still get the ball and fumble, right? Screw it, I'm staying in.

Wahoo, it's a sparse Sunday entry! Sunday entries are generally sparse not because I am lazy, but because of how devoutly I observe the Sabbath. That and the lazy thing. It's very difficult to do entries on the weekend because it's nothing but whimsy time. At work, I'm supposed to be thinking about important work stuff, which invariably leads to five hundred words on how scared I am of elves. But at home, I spend most of my time already thinking about the scare tactics of elves, so there's really no need for an outlet. Okay, I hope that satisfied you. We'll talk again tomorrow.

Posted by Cody at 8:55 PM