Thursday, November 22, 2007

Turkey Neck Penis

It simply has to be done. How can you remove the neck from the inside of the turkey and not make a pretend penis out of it? Amaze your wife! Surprise your neighbors! Be the center of attention at your family's Thanksgiving dinner! Mrs.Bison captured this year's neck for posterity. Bison daughter simply rolled her eyes and apparently wishes she was related to someone else.



I'll leave the final word to Mike, a fellow Brit from my old home town: "Why not go all the way, stick some feathers up your arse?"

Happy Thanksgiving!


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Crap No-one Needs, #8

Diamonds

Yes it's that time of year again. You're bombarded with incessant radio and TV commercials aimed to get you to buy diamonds for your loved one this Christmas. After all, they are the true measure of your love aren't they? Well maybe precious stones look nice but the diamond business is one huge fucking rip-off. For a start who decided that you should spend two months of salary on an engagement ring? It's just a way to force you to pony up for a stone way more expensive than you need so that you won't look like a cheap-arse. Plus it locks you into buying a diamond rather than the hundreds of attractive alternatives. (One of my friends bought his fiancee a beautiful pearl-amethyst ring because she didn't want a boring diamond, but that doesn't help the diamond industry does it?)

It's not over then, though. Now you have to buy a three-stone ring; it's supposed to symbolize past, present and future, but it's just a clever way to make you buy an extra ring, only this time with three stones in it (for greed, shallowness and stupidity). Then you've got diamond stud earrings and the three-stone necklace, before you get suckered into the eternity ring - this time with stones all the fucking way around. Now, just in case you didn't get hosed enough on the way up, you're expected to "upgrade" your engagement ring to an even bigger stone, just so that you can show what an enormous penis you have and your wife can keep up with her vacuous friends.

One estimate is that 800 million stones come out of the ground every year. Fucking things have to go somewhere don't they? Now you know what all those different rings are about! If you're planning to buy diamonds, better grease yourself up; you're going to get screwed...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Monday, November 19, 2007

Spouse Wisdom

Comment from Mrs.Bison on being told about a friend's plans to travel to large quantities of family over Thanksgiving:

"Thank fuck we haven't got to do that shit."

Now that's what I call a spouse!

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Mutton Daggers Win!

Newsflash - the Over-30s 6-a-side men's indoor soccer team formerly known as Mutton Daggers (now renamed because we had shirts printed and people didn't want to explain the reference to family members) has finally won its division, following a grueling eight week session culminating in an historic seven goal victory Friday night.

As a consequence we were awarded four buckets of beer (which I did not drink as I was driving) and the possibility of promotion to a higher class of teams (where we might expect to get our arse handed to us with some frequency). On waking yesterday I was also rewarded with the feeling of being a turtle stranded on its back, unable to move without pain in places that I had not previously realized I possessed. It proved impossible to get out of bed without several involuntary emissions of phrases like "fucking hell".

Having just been to the Bodyworlds exhibition where they show all the plastinated corpses (great fun!) I have a better than usual idea of what the painful parts look like under the skin. What's more, those people may have been dead for a while but they certainly looked in better shape than some of us on the field on Friday...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Perfect Arse

Last week I was working out as usual, little realizing that this was to be a special day at my gym. On this day, Tuesday 13 November, a girl with a perfect arse came to visit. To be fair I think she's been in before but I wasn't close enough to appreciate quite how perfect her arse was. And I'm not the kind of bloke to "wander over" for some spurious reason, just to get a better look. This time, however, she planted herself on the bench next to mine, arrayed in spray-on black leggings that were specially designed so that you could view from every angle and reach the unavoidable conclusion that she did, indeed, possess a perfect arse. Not just a good arse, of which nature has provided many millions, or even a great arse, but one with dimensions that could not be improved in any way.

It's not that I'm ever going to see it in all its glory, and I know that "perfect arse syndrome" is a temporary state, soon banished by age, junk food and too much time sitting on it. But at least I can tell any grandchildren with which I may be blessed later that I saw one once. I suppose it's a bit like seeing a rare spotted owl - it's not like you can take it home and eat it, and it wouldn't taste good if you could, but you feel you need to tell someone that you saw it. Consider yourselves told...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Monday, November 12, 2007

Valued Customer

My gym membership is about to expire and some genius at their corporate finance department just called me to offer me an extension. I am entitled to renew at $99 a year for ever, but because I am such a valued customer they offered me a year and three months for $99. Would I like to sign up? No, I'll just do it when I go to the gym tomorrow. "I'm sorry but this offer isn't available at the gym." Oh really? I'm such a valued customer that you piss me off by calling me at home to sell me another year of membership but not so valued that you will extend me the courtesy of renewing at my gym with a live human being, rather than over the phone with someone who could be a fucking scam artist as far as I can tell?

I don't give my credit card over the phone to strangers. It's basic financial self-preservation. And what the fuck is in it for them trying to sell me direct anyway?

So, in the spirit of reasoned discourse, and just to clarify any misunderstanding:

24 HOUR FITNESS HAS A CORPORATE OFFICE FULL OF BRAIN-DEAD COCKSUCKERS AND I WOULDN'T TRUST THEM TO WIPE THEIR OWN ARSES, MUCH LESS RUN MY CREDIT CARD. FUCKERS.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Big Boob Day

Thursday was big boob day in my gym. That is to say several attractive women with substantial upper assets had decided to work out at the same time. I mention it merely because I noticed - compared with some of the crap people put in blogs this observation almost counts as profound. Today by contrast was girls-with-tight-shorts day, which I have to say I prefer to big boob day. Pete did notice one woman with large artificial breasts and an overdone "Barbie" hairstyle when we were doing leg curls, but she was clearly an outlyer today.

I did mention to Pete that "Barbie" had no arse, and that immediately disqualified her from ever being attractive. Women should have woman's arse - if they have a man's arse it's disturbing, no matter what else is surgically enhanced. In fact, I suggested that Barbie might once have had a penis. After all, she was wearing workout gloves, so no way to check for "man-hands", and the breasts were clearly aftermarket. Without the hair I could see her as a man. Pete dismissed my opinion, but I think I had him worried...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Important Tradition

One of the top news stories in St.Louis tonight was the upcoming ordination of two old women as Catholic priests. This is apparently causing controversy because Catholics don't beleive in the ordination of women; it's a breach of canon law. They even wheeled out a priest on the news to talk about why this was such a terrible thing.

Now I'm not Catholic but I can understand the importance of long-held tradition in the church, and the difficulties caused by women as priests. After all, it seems to be required that priests bugger the altar boys - how can you expect a woman priest to step up and sodomize anyone if they don't have a penis? Obviously an important and challenging theological issue...

Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Don't Tuck It In

I try not to look around me in the gym changing room; you never know when you might glance up and inadvertently catch sight of some wrinkly old bastard dragging his scrotum along the ground. This can scar you for life - just look straight ahead at your locker instead. Nevertheless I noticed some bloke the other day standing there with his vest tucked in his Y front underpants. Now I don't care how trendy your shirt, tie or jacket might be, if you tuck your vest in your Y fronts you have earned admisssion to the "dick of the month" club, possibly with your own reserved parking space.

How can you expect any woman to take you seriously if you disrobe and, part way through the process, you're standing there with your vest tucked in like you're five? Have some self-respect. And Y fronts? Even a Nebraska middle school teacher wouldn't go for that...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Sunday, November 4, 2007

First Engage Brain...

What is it with teenage girls that causes their brains to become completely disengaged from their mouths? You listen to a group of them talking and it's like the sound of an engine revving when the car's not in gear - noisy but pointless. I was out for lunch the other day - I was going to try Cheeburger Cheeburger because the name suggested that it sold burgers and it would be somewhere I hadn't eaten before. However, on entering the premises and seeing a cluster of crappy, tightly packed tables, filled with mommies and noisy kids, we turned and got the fuck out of there. I think I'd rather stick pins in my balls than eat at a place like that.

Anyway, we went for a pizza instead, and at the table behind us was a group of said teenage girls. I'm not sure what age they were - it's hard to tell since a lot of corn-fed midwestern girls look pretty much the same from the ages of fourteen to nineteen - but they weren't in school so I suppose they could have been college age. But to listen to their conversation (and believe me, we didn't have a choice) you'd assume they were about twelve, with a mental age of, maybe, seven. Every other word was "like". "You know, like, when you, like, listen to them talk, and, like, I mean you won't believe what he said to me and I said, like, anyway and she said...."

If they were at college it was apparently to get a degree in basket weaving or something similar. I had always assumed that this dumbness was a temporary affliction, perhaps brought on by a surge in hormones, but now I fear it's permanent. Before long they'll be yapping about booster seats and pre-schools at Bunco evenings. As a father I can only hope that the affliction is hereditary and not contagious.


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Lesbian Trash Can


The above is part of a survey on the trash collection service that The Daily Mail reported was sent out to UK residents in the city of Leeds by the local council. Laudable as it is that the UK local authorities are so keen to hear what residents might have to say about the quality of the services they receive, you have to wonder whether the responses of Rastafarian lesbians really require special attention. The certified rampant dickhead at Leeds city council responsible for this was quoted in the Mail:

"Many people do identify themselves with these particular groups and do want to know their voices are being listened to by the council. If some of the electorate don't believe we are, we want to know. All this data is confidential and will be used only for statistical purposes."

So it's statistically important that an equal number of Gay Men of No Religion, living in a Civil Partnership are satisfied with their trash collection service in Leeds? What utter twats the people of Leeds have elected...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Anyone For A J.Arthur?

I don't usually scan the list of new businesses starting up in St.Louis but one caught my eye today: J.Arthur's Salon, allegedly a beauty salon. Those of you who follow this site will have noted already the reference to a J.Arthur, a British slang term for the male physical act of self-pleasure, but READ HERE if you need more explanation.

I say allegedly a beauty salon, because this could be the beginning of a great franchise business opportunity. What if you could just drop in and get a hand shandy at lunch time, or stop off on the way home from work for a little "manual relief" to take the edge off the day? What would the inside look like? Would it be chairs like a barbershop? Would the woman (it better be a woman!) drape a cape over you before taking things in hand? Maybe you could flick through an appropriate magazine while you wait. I'm guessing that bringing coffee would be a bad idea - too much risk of first degree penis burns.

It reminds me of the old joke about the guy who goes into the bar and the sign says:

Cheese Sandwiches $5
Ham Sandwiches $6
Hand Job $20

There's a waitress behind the bar so the guy asks "Are you the person who gives the hand jobs?" She says "Yes I am." To which he replies "Well go and wash your hands, I'd like a a cheese sandwich."


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison