The Latest: I may have a Super-Brained Genius Dog. Seriously.

He’s looking into your soul.

Just a few more updates regarding my ever-growing suspicion that my dog may be a freak of nature . . .

A few weeks ago at Oak Island he and I were taking a walk, just strolling down the beach. Spark was looking for a possible seagull, crab or sandpiper kill and I was checking out the . . . seashells. Yeah, that’s what I was doing. Anyway, as we’re walking we come upon a group of vacationers just finishing up a game of Bocci Ball. You know, the game where somebody throws a little white ball somewhere and everyone then tries to see who can come the closest to it with their Bocci Balls. So the group had completed the game and were back in their beach chairs after having put all the balls in a little circle in front of them. However, just as we were walking by the little white ball blew away and was rolling down the sand towards the ocean. One of the guys begins to chase it, but right then Sparky makes a dash for it and grabs it before it gets to the water. He then takes it past the guy, up to the group, and places it gently in the circle with the other balls, precisely where it had been before. After a few seconds of stunned silence the group begins a slow golf clap, shaking their heads as they do so.

As Sparky re-joined me, I just smiled, shrugged and walked on.

A couple of days later, just before I was going to depart Oak Island for the Outer Banks, my sister (I was staying in her beach house) told me if I wanted anything washed to throw it in a pile in the hallway and she’d take care of it before I left. I did so and walked down the beach to visit friends by myself. She told me later that Sparky then took my clothes, one by one, put them back in my room, and laid on them. He then proceeded to growl at anyone who tried to get them.

Dog does a quadruple backflip, keeps playing like it ain’t no thing.

 

Seriously, dogs are the best.

The Human Slingshot seems like a good idea.

 

You have to admit, this looks fun.

Is this a testament to the power of makeup or what?

Not the real lady. Still, behold the magic.

Torontosun – A group of tourists spent hours Saturday night looking for a missing woman near Iceland’s Eldgja canyon, only to find her among the search party.  The group was travelling through Iceland on a tour bus and stopped near the volcanic canyon in the southern highlands Saturday afternoon, reports the Icelandic news organization mbl.is. One of the women on the bus left to change her clothes and freshen up. When she came back, her busmates didn’t recognize her.Soon, there was word of a missing passenger. The woman didn’t recognize the description of herself, and joined in the search.About 50 people searched the terrain by vehicles and on foot. The coast guard was even readying a helicopter to help.But the search was called off at about 3 a.m., when it became clear the missing woman was, in fact, accounted for and searching for herself.

Get it? After she went in to “freshen up” nobody recognized her, even herself. I’m not sure I even understood that sentence. Musta been a helluva makeup job is all I’m sayin’.

Holy Mother of God! What the hell?

 

This recently discovered monster is officially called a Venezuelan Poodle Moth, but I prefer to affectionately call it the Flying Poodle Monkey-Bat Moth from Hell. Some seem to think it’s cute, although I cannot imagine why and wouldn’t pet this beast if you paid me. It looks to me like it would leap up, rip a vein out of my neck and kill me. Let the nightmares commence.

When asked how she’s lived so long, 116-year old woman gives greatest advice ever.

NYDailyNews – The world’s oldest living person reached another milestone Sunday when she celebrated her Sweet 116. Monroe, Georgia, woman Besse Cooper has become only the eighth person in the world — and the fourth American — verified to have turned that age, according to Guinness World Records. Cooper isn’t really sure why she’s lived so long, but has her theories, she told The Walton Tribune.“I mind my own business,” she said.

How many kinds of awesome is Besse Cooper? The answer is very very many. Her theory as to why she’s lived so long?

“I mind my own business.”

That just about says it all, doesn’t it? Perfect. I love Besse Cooper.

Coolest person ever.

More proof that cats are jerks.

 

A dog would never do this. Ever.

Fake Celebrity Is More Proof That People Are Idiots

Good God, man.

Mind blown.

Here Are The Greatest Moments In Sports History

Love it.

Rope Swing Mishaps. Who Ya Got?

Pick your fave from these five. After you laugh your ass off at these people, of course.

Underwater Astonishments. Wow.

 

The octopus beginning at 4:36 will absolutely amaze you.

Clearly, the internet at its finest.

 

Well done sir. Well done indeed.

Let’s name Miley’s new haircut!

Choose from the following options. You may vote on here by leaving a comment or on Facebook! Have fun kids!

A. The Flock of Seagulls 2012
B. The Olsen Triplet
C. The Career Killer
D. The Sandusky
E. The Drunken Mistake
F. The Pixie Slut
G. The Holy Mother of God, What the Hell Were You Thinking?
H. Make up your own!

Photobombs are the best.

 

Incidentally, the clown photobomb is terrifying.

 

Baby kangaroo and tiny squint-eyed wombat? Baby kangaroo and tiny squint-eyed wombat.

Yep, that’s a kangaroo and a wombat. But of course you knew that. Check ’em out.

Seriously, do I really look like this guy?

Well, it happened again yesterday. Somebody told me I looked like this guy. Over the past several years I’ve probably had 50 complete strangers tell me I looked like Sean Connery. Once in a bar in NC, a guy even sent me a martini with instructions for the bartender to tell me it was shaken, not stirred. Not even kidding. I’ve been stopped in zoos, grocery stores and restaurants among other places. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. On one hand the guy’s a movie star and played James Bond. On the other hand he’s 82-years old. Good God.

Whaddaya think? I gotta tell ya I simply do not see it. Not at all. Still, I’d like to know if anyone else sees it. It’s happened far too often to ignore. Watch this slideshow and give me your opinion.

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Well, hell, looking at that slideshow, maybe I DO look like him. Am I proud? Embarrassed? I’m so confused.

JIm Croce: “Lover’s Cross”

 

So I hope that you can find another who could take what I could not,

He’ll have to be a super guy or maybe a super god,

Cause I never was a much of a martyr before and I ain’t ’bout to start nuthin’ new,

And baby I can’t hang upon no lover’s cross for you.

Like trains? Not as much as this guy.

Harvesting My Friends List: How Farmville will get you shucked.

And honestly, of my 968 friends there are probably about 5% that are actually friends. I mean, really. Maybe even 3%. I swear I don’t know half of them from The Hillside Strangler. Anywho, that’s neither here nor there. Well, I suppose it is here and quite possibly there, depending on your perspective. I have no idea what I just said. On to the point of this blog. I officially have a new policy, and I am posting it for the world to see. From this point onward I shall unfriend, delete, defriend, unbuddy, shun, and punch in the back of the face any person who sends me an invitation to play a Facebook game.* Ya know why? Because I really hate it when I see that little number at the top of my Facebook page, think someone may have made a comment I’d be interested in, click on it, only to find a request to play Sparkletown or Bubble Witch or Fartville or something. Seriously, I’ve tried to block those damn things but they just keep coming. They’re like a horde of biting horseflies, just relentless and unstoppable. Therefore I shall cut them off at the source. I figure that’s a better alternative than kicking their ass to all the way back to Bubble Island.

So, let it be known, ’tis written in stone, eternally, forevermore and in perpetuity. No more games or you’re a goner.

Seriously, send me a game and I’ll shuck you up. Consider yourself warned.

*Before I get any emails from people wanting to know how to punch someone in the back of the face, you simply hit ’em real hard in the back of the head and you’ll get to the back of the face. It’s science.

Please, please fake it. An open letter.

No, no. You didn’t really think I’d write about that, did you? What I’d like to talk about is a subject that has been gnawing at me for quite some time.  I’ve touched on it in a previous blog, but since it’s still rearing its ugly head I’d like to revisit the subject in the form of an open letter.  Let us proceed:

Dear Asshat,

I know you are very proud of yourself because you “keep it real.” I’ve heard you mouth off several times only to follow up with the statement, “Hey, you know me man. I’m keepin’ it real. Just sayin’ what I feel.” You actually feel as if this is some badge of honor, something to be admired for, indeed, something that sets you apart from the rest of us “phonies.” So, let me get this straight so I understand what “keeping it real” means. It means that when a thought works its way into your wee mind, it just comes flying straight out of your mouth? And this makes you special why? Isn’t that the easy way out? Isn’t it more honorable to actually withhold those asinine thoughts inside your teeny tiny brain? You know, censor yourself a little? Show some restraint?

You know what I think? I think your brain is so miniscule you could put it in a flea’s ass and it would bounce around like a BB in a boxcar. Just keepin’ it real.

So, to reiterate (look it up), it’s doesn’t make you special to just blurt out whatever you’re thinking. That’s what 2-year olds do. It’s OK to fake it from time-to-time or you know, just hold it in. Guess what? It’s actually cooler, and in fact makes you a better person, to just stop, take a breath, and shut your piehole.

Sincerely,

Shoe

God, I feel much better now. Thank you and goodnight.