Corpse Roommate

I read on MSN the other day about a guy who lived for 10 years with a dead guy under his living room couch. Apparently the dead guy had been staying with him for a few months when he just keeled over one day, presumedly from sudden heart failure or something similarly unassuming.

When the undead guy saw that his friend had expired, he decided it was preferable to just turn the couch over on the corpse and leave it there indefinitely, rather than risk pissing off his landlord for taking in a boarder. I guess a dead boarder wasn't a problem. Mr. Undead apparently proceeded to continue his daily routines, including eating his dinner and watching Oprah with the corpse lying a few feet away. You'd think the blue feet sticking out from under the couch would have been distracting.

But that wasn't the weirdest part. The weirdest part was that, a few months in, two city officials showed up at Mr. Undead's apartment in response to complaints from neighbors about an offensive odor. Not one, but two, city officials who both examined the premises and not only failed to notice the corpse under the overturned couch, but determined that the stink was coming from the toilet. Nice going, fellas.

Boob-Quake Day?

I heard on the radio today that it was officially declared Boob-Quake Day. Apparently this new holiday is the result of a worldwide protest against some Iranian bozo who claims that women who don't dress modestly anger the gods-in-charge and, consequently, cause earthquakes.

As a result, women around the globe - or, at least, around the Harvard Coop - deliberately wore low-cut tops and no bras so that their boobs would hang out as a collective "f*ck you" directed at the aforementioned bozo.

I like the idea of various body parts linked to natural disasters and the combined results thereby being declared national holidays. How about Ass-Fire Day? Or Dick-Hurricane Day, which men would celebrate by blowing free in the wind. Or Thunder-Balls Day, perhaps in conjunction with Thunder-Thighs Day.

Bunker Hill Day sounds pretty boring now, doesn't it?

Space haiku

Spending bucks on space

hey, launch those phallic missiles

or just compare size

Drink your Tang through straws

eat those fake chocolate thingys

pee into a tube

If we spend enough

we can build new colonies

when we've f*cked up Earth

Thong Runs Amok

So a woman has been attacked by her underwear.  Personally, I've always been apprehensive about wearing underwear that sports any form of hard object near vital parts that could pop off, ricochet against said parts and disappear into the abyss.  Perhaps she was lucky it hit her in the eye.

Apparently, the injured woman is suing Victoria's Secret, where she bought the offending thong. I can't help but wonder if she considered the ramifications before arriving at that decision.  Did she not realize that, from this point on, her name will forever be associated with homicidal lingerie, and she will be the object of countless Jay Leno jokes and skits on Saturday Night Live?  What will happen the next time she interviews for a new job?  "Hey, aren't you the woman who sued Victoria's Secret for selling you homicidal underwear?"  Might be difficult for her to ever be taken seriously again.

Of course, it could have been worse.  At least it didn't get stuck in an orifice and have to be surgically removed.

More Haiku - In the Park

Flowers are blooming

drunk couple yelling curses
I hurry along.

Geese flock on the field

they come close to me, honking

Don't make eye contact.

High school football team

their coach shouts insults at them

sounds like an asshole

Couple making out
roll around in a blanket
I step over them.