It's Funny Because The Punchline Is About Kids Getting Beat Up By An Old Dude

You remember that old movie about the kid who used to live in New Jersey but then his mom got this super awesome job offer that was totally kick ass but really not because she just got to be a waitress in California so they moved all the way there and he suddenly didn't have any friends and the friends he did make weren't really friends at all because they wanted to beat him up?

But suddenly out of nowhere this creepy old guy who is supposed to be the handy-man but doesn't do much of anything but judge saves him from getting gang beat by a bunch of kids ready to go off to college and it starts off a great friendship full of forced labour and a few karate chops along the way?

I think it was called The-Kid-Who-Kinda-New-Karate-And-Three-Hours-Later-He-Was-An-Expert Kid.

I recently watched the other one where the kids' mom gets a job in China so they go around the world only for him to make friends that want to beat him up because he's Will Smiths' son and suddenly a weird guy who is in charge of fixing things in apartment buildings shows up out of nowhere and saves him from getting gang beat by a bunch of angry ten year olds.

I think that one was called Jackie-Chan-Brutally-Rampages-Against-Little-Kids.

Basically it was funny because he beat up on ten year olds.

And basically this post was a thinly veiled "I didn't have anything to write about today so I just came up with this one and then all of a sudden I'm going to distract you with advertising my giveaway, again."

So why not enter my giveaway before Jackie Chan throat chops your ten year old?

Hey! Look At Me! I'm Giving Stuff Away!

I bet when you came to this here blog today you were all like "Wow, this looks totally awesome and different" and "Oh my god, did your blog loose weight?" or perhaps "Did your blog change it's hair colour?" and you know what? Screw you, my blog wasn't fat before. It was just a little big boned, that's all. It was baby fat that would eventually melt off and leave a beautiful, delicate, crassy swan in it's place to honk in your face about all the insults you used to secretly hurl at it in pre-swan days.

Despite calling my blog fat, all those questions are technically right. My blog got a make-over because I decided I was important and special enough to have a professionally designed blog and when I stumbled across April Showers Design on Twitter and I was all "Hey, you should totally design me a blog and I'll pay you in asshole family pets!" and when she shiftily came back with "Or cash?" I couldn't fault her for not wanting to have an asshole dog and BAM! I got this lovely blog designed.

And you know what a new blog design makes me want to do? It makes me want to give stuff away. FREE stuff, so that's even better. AmIright?

Thankfully my biggest whore, Erin, over at Blogging Is For Dorks, decided that she was going to be a Julia Roberts whore by being all benevolent and give me a free T-Shirt from her shop Dork Designs so I could give it away once my blog stopped being fat. Or big boned.

So you can have a chance to win this shirt but not the dude and short of not in that colour.



Want to enter to get a free shirt? Here's the rules:

1. Not be a whore.
2. OK, maybe you can possibly be a whore.
3. Be a follower of this here blog.
5. Leave a comment to enter into the draw.
6. Want to win a second entry? Follow me on Twitter at @tristachio
7. Want to win a third entry? Get other people to enter the contest and have them leave a comment below saying who sent them.

The draw for this T-shirt will be on July 8th because I like picking deadlines randomly on the calender. The winner will be selected randomly by a random generator or perhaps sticking tape to my dogs paw and having him step on the entries. Who knows, but either way it will be magical.

The Difference Between Male and Females' According To The Pilot

"Do you know what the difference between a man butt and a lady butt is? A man butt has a dink on the other side."

The Spirit Of The Buffalo Is Sorta A Dick

Remember the Tilt-a-Whirl? Yes? Everyone loves the Tilt-a-Whirl, right? I say fuck it. Right now I'm sitting in my house clinging to my kitchen table because the world keeps spinning right round baby, right round round and even though I want to spill my guts up all over the place and maybe hit the dog in the face with it, I can't get that stupid song out of my head and it was funny the first time  I mentally sang it but now it's pissing me off and I need help.

The room is all spinny-doo and I can't make it stop and when I told The Pilot last night that he's got to take care of me because if I throw up all I do is hysterically cry and project like Linda Blair and that it was his job to pretend to be my mom by cleaning it up and being my life long slave until I stop vomiting. His solution was promptly giving me a mop bucket to vomit it and huddle himself in the corner of the bed and pretend I wasn't there.

And as I was lying there, it suddenly hit me as to why I was feeling so sick and gross and you know what I found out? The Spirit of the Buffalo is sort of a dick. A giant dick.

I know they were hunted close to extinction once by Settlers and possibly my ancestors and yeah, I know, that was totally an asshole move but they couldn't help it that Buffalo were tasty back then. So, as I see it, I shouldn't be punished when I get to eat a Buffalo burger at work the other day because we were celebrating some type of national day and they were handing out Buffalo meat filled things like they were going out of style. And I love meat -- even more so meat that was once close to being extinction.

It was a delicious burger and I bragged all about how I was going to single handed bring back the extinction of Buffalo because they were so god damn tasty and the Buffalo Spirit is all "Bitch, pleaaassseee!" and gave me food poisoning.

Asshole Spirit. If you weren't a spirit I'd eat you too.

So now I am stuck at home feeling like crap with a boyfriend who is on Vomit-Alert-Five and is prepared to jump off the balcony to avoid vomit clean up and a dog who thinks it's totally awesome super fun to spin around in circles in front of me at high speed as if he is laughing at me and showing off his superior spin skills.

He's probably friends with that asshole buffalo.

Motherhood Skills, Awesome?

Me: I'm going to have my kids knowing french from Toddlerhood, it's easier for them to learn at that age.

Co-Worker: Maybe I will teach a dog and a monkey Japanese.

Me: You are going to teach your dog Japanese?

CW: hahaahhaahhah, yessssss

Me: I'm also going to do that Baby Sign Language

CW: you are going to be a fab mom. can you be my mom?

Me: Yes, I can be your mom.

CW: yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Me: Now learn baby sign language or I'm going to cut you.

CW: mommm you are such a whore, daddy told me to tell you that

Me: Yeah, well you've ruined my life! Having to raise you and let my life go by! I wish I late termed aborted you

CW: mom but you cant its too late. I will ruin your life even moreee

Me: That's why it is my life's most bitter regret, that I didn't have the doctor scrape  your face out of my hypothetical cooter

CW: omgggggggggggggggggggggg! hahahahahahhahahaha. our father who art in heaven......

Me: So maybe you should think twice before mentioning your daddy. Who, might I add, was a dinosaur.

CW: hahahahahahah, daddy said that you have a penis

Me: Man, I would be the worst single mother in the world. lol

CW: hahahahahhahhahahaahhahaha

Me: And yes, I have a bigger penis than your daddy ever did. That's why he left.

CW: how big mom?

Me: Five feet three inches. I've got to tape it around my leg and waist.

CW: hahahhahaahaaaahahaahahaahaha. how did you have me mom?

Me: Outta my butt vagina. It was a difficult birth, for sure.

CW: awww mommmm you are some amazing. how did you get me out of your front butt

Me: It was my back butt dear. My front was taken up by my five foot dink

CW: ohhhh mom I'm confused...I don't know if I have a front butt of a backbutt

Me: I can't help you on that. I never checked, ever. I pretended those parts didn't exist.

CW: how did you bathe me, didn't you change my pampers?

Me: I hosed you out back in your clothes. Or threw you in the washing machine

CW: mommmmmmmmmmm you are funny now tell the truth do I have any brothers and sisters

Me: I wont lie to you Tatatink (Your real name), you did have siblings. Three of them. But it was a cold hard winter and they died. I forgot them outside after their bath. That's why I washed you in the washing machine in the winter. So it never happened again. Ever.

Me: Took me three winters to learn my lesson.

Me: That's why you were born. Because your three older siblings died.

CW: lolololololololol

And Suddenly, The World Seemed A Little Bit Less Bright

When I was younger, it was my dream to be an Anthropologist and spend my time digging through the world of ancient civilizations and being the person who discovered the secrets of those who’s mysterious communities shaped the world. Without ever watching Indiana Jones (Or, at least, not watching any of it until I had watched them as an adult) I wanted to be like him. I wanted to have daring adventures, street market fights and eventually find out that aliens are hiding in ancient ruins and not even pull a “what the fuck just happened?” face and take it like a boss.

It was my dream life and I ate up anything that had to do with the subject. I was completely prepared to dive head first into it as my major in university and perhaps maybe one day work towards being a doctor who didn’t have to cut into people (but I could if I really, really wanted too and maybe only in third world countries) but still get to be pompous and demand everyone call me doctor.

It wasn’t until I got into high school that I was hit by a revelation and inspiration to not only change my chosen career path but really, truly, honestly believe that I could do something that would make a difference. I didn’t have to have daring adventures or street market fights or eventually find aliens hiding in ancient ruins and not bother to pull a “what the fuck just happened?” face.

I was inspired to become a teacher. I was inspired that I could make a difference in someone’s life and that would be worth more than discovering anything about a people that are long gone.

Last night, the person who inspired that drive in me passed away. Mrs. Herzog possibly had the best job at my high school because she wasn’t only the drama teacher but she was the creative writing teacher too. After taking one of her drama classes in grade eight my drive shifted and changed because she was such a remarkable woman that I wanted to be able to do what she did for me. I wanted to be able to touch the life of a child without even knowing I did it.

It only took first hour of that first class for me to be hooked. With her help I managed to weasel my way to finishing all the drama classes the school offered by the time I was in grade 10. I loved them and I loved her teaching style. It was the class I always impatient to start and the class I was always saddened to see finished.

I don’t think she ever knew how much she had touched my life unknowingly and in the wake of her passing, it makes me feel as if I missed an opportunity to let her know just how amazing of a person she really was. I wish I could go back and gush my heart out about how when I’m finally in a classroom in front of a gaggle of children, it’s her teaching that I want to bring forward.

I hope she knew what type of legacy she was leaving behind – not only in the lives of her two sons but in the lives of every student that was lucky enough to have her for a teacher. Or any student that was lucky enough to have her personally teach them the Time Warp.

Mrs. Herzog, where ever you are, break a leg.

My Sixth Grade Milkshake Brought All The Boys To The Yard

Recently, as I decided that I was going to be an awesome girlfriend and proactive members of society and avoid being forcefully put on that Hoarders show, I went through a lot of the boxes and bags that is filling our second bedroom and looking as if a clutter monster had sex with himself and ejaculated all over my floor.

Or perhaps I was hiding in there to avoid boredom and it was a change to escape from the dog because I’m pretty sure I’ve got him convinced that the room is haunted because every time he goes into it I throw things at him while hiding behind the door and screeching like a banshee the whole time until he runs out and takes cover under the kitchen table for a good hour.

I’m pretty sure this makes me the bestest dog trainer in the history of dog trainers because you don’t need some fancy Ceaser Milan certificate to train dogs. You just need to be bored enough not to care if what you are doing is borderline psychologically damaging to your animal.

After I briefly pondered the ethical implications of making my dog scared of ghosts and the bedroom, I realized that I was pretty awesome and didn’t have to worry about that and started rooting through boxes. I found books, and old books, and stupid things that I forgot I had and creepy things I wish I didn’t have and then I found a box of keepsakes my mom had given me like when I was five. Or eighteen.

Inside of it was stuff I had done in Elementary school because it’s only natural that the stuff I did in High school wasn’t important enough to put into a cardboard box and this only tells me that my mom thought I peaked in grade six.

Right at the bottom was a handmade grade six yearbook that my teacher, Mrs. J, had made us as we “graduated onto bigger and better things” such as you know, the 7^th grade, but since my mom figured I peaked already she didn’t save any of these later years. Because of the peak, you see.

I was really touched at first that I found this and started reading all the farewells that were written to me because I was moving at the end of the school year and now I’m highly suspicious that our family move wasn’t because “Dad got a better job offer” but “You’ve made it as far as you could go in this school and we’re going to take you out of province and keep you out of school but SURPRISE! It’s apparently against the law to keep you out of school so we are just going to ignore your whole high school career because we don’t care.”  

And then it hit me.  In a flowery, flattering way that she figured would completely go over the head of a ten year old but jokes on her and me I grew up and learned how to read between the lines and realize that she was totally calling me a slut.

“I’ll always be amazed at your unique ability to befriend every single boy in class this year.”

Very funny, Mrs. J, you got me. If I wasn’t still ten I wouldn’t have realized how much you hated me so god damn much. Was it because I made friends with all the boys and you didn’t? Was it because my milkshake brought all the boys to the yard and your milk shake only had one real eyeball and the other was fake and I was the only kid in class who laughed when it fell out and rolled on the ground?  Because I wouldn’t want that milkshake either.

Just because the boys in class always had the best lunches doesn’t make me a slut. If anything it totally made me a user because I’d only be the bestest best friends with the kid who’s mom packed him the best sandwich and treats because, really, if you don’t have the best lunch on the playground you might as well go kill yourself because no one will like you and your mom probably hates you because she backed your shitty lunch that wouldn’t get you a sixth grade girlfriend.

You are lucky, Mrs. J, that there is no such things as a 6^th Class Reunion because just to be a vindictive dick I’d show up dressed like a prostitute only to claim it was your inspiration comment that turned me to the lucrative life of a whore because I was so damn good at making all the boys my friends.

Actually, it probably didn’t help that I was the only sixth grader in my school with giant boobs.

Maybe my mom was right. I totally peaked in sixth grade.

Fuck.

I Haven't Posted In A Bit So Here Is A Picture Of My Dog

He's on a turtle LIKE A BOSS!

How Can I Not Feel Accomplished About This?

Checking out the keywords that were searched into Google to find your blog is kind of like checking out the wreckage of a car accident. Or train collision. Or watching an episode of Jersey Shore. It's something you just can't not turn away from and have to watch in vivid detail as people die around you.

The keywords used to google my blog, though? They are sort of like if I was standing in line to get into the change rooms of a crowded public pool and a dirty old man in a speedo walks up to me and lovingly strokes my lips while his tongue quivered as he licked his lips and whispered "You've got a pretty mouth." and then walked away after honking the tit of the person next to you.

Need evidence? Of course you do. Of the keywords. Not the creepy old speedo guy touching lips. I'm still trying to block that mental image.

1." Bill Cosby Drunk" because it's only natural to want to know what Bill Cosby is like when he's drunk so I can only imagine the disappointment that followed when they realized it was just a video of me drunk and talking about how Bill Cosby fucked everything up by wearing a sweat.

2. "Grandpa Whore Makes Grandma Film" this one? Yeah, this one I can't even explain. I googled it myself just to see how it would be connected to my blog and you know what I found? Hundreds and hundreds of pages of old person porn. I could literally feel my ovaries mutating as I kept clicking through the search pages to find my blog and only to give up and figure just because I said my grandma would be killed for being old and using the world whore in the post I was subjected to the fact that grandpa is a whore who makes naughty films of grandma.

3. "Can I Fuck You Mom In Ass?" No, no you can't. Because she's dead. Or alive. I'm not really sure which category she falls into but you can't fuck her in ass, Borat.

4." Sounds Of Shit Dropping In Toilet" because this one perfectly sums up everything about my blog. It's the sound of shit hitting the water in a toilet. An empty toilet, might I add, because it's more of a dull plunk then the soothing sounds of a poop splash.

5. "Judgemental Asshole" Uh, duuuuhhhh. That's why I have a blog. So I can be Judgemental. And an asshole. I need an asshole to poop into a toilet, of course.

Introducing Tristachio: The Most Interesting Blogger In The World

 I will let the video speak for itself. Because it's awesome. And I've got a beard.




This video post is part of 20SB’s Vlog Day and the topic is “Introduce Yourself”…anyone can participate! Details are here.

The Power Of Science Makes Me A Dick; Meth Makes Me A Genius.

Co-Worker: Omg! Did you know that many states in the USA it is legal to marry your first cousin and only legal in one state for gays to get married? Insane!

Me: My first cousins are doorknobs, I won’t marry them. Did you know in the Appalachian Mountains you can be your own Grandpa?

Co-Worker: That is sick, my cousins and I are as close as my bros and sister.

Me: In some countries they can marry as long as they can't have kids.

Co-Worker: Wwww, I don’t think that is right unless our earth needs to be populated and that is surely not the case, we are over populated.

Me: We are highly under populated so that's why I am going to force you to have twenty children that will have twenty children

that will have fifty children.

Co-Worker: Hahahahaahahahahhahaa

Me: Like that Alien Queen from Aliens.

Co-Worker: I don’t even want one.

Me: You will shit 'em out like ants.

Me: From your butt.

Co-Worker: hahahahahhahahaah, grossss

Me: and you will develope a mouth within a mouth.

Me: and be BFF's with Sigorny Weaver.

Co-Worker: oh lorddddddd

Me: Or Frenemies

Co-Worker: lolololol, what an imagination you have!

Me: Basically I'm going to recreate those movies with you as the test subject.

Me: with the power of SCIENCE!.

Me: And meth.

Me: Lots and lots of meth.

Ride That Never Ended But Did Or How My Vacation Went Pt.2

Part One can be found here!

I'm pretty sure where I left off was talking about the gnomes that I bought my mom. You know those ones that I felt would probably slaughter her before even trying to make her flowers beautiful or have a sappy romance with each other because they would be too busy killing her? Yeah, apparently everyone wanted to see these gnomes so I'm all "Fine, I'll put a picture of them up because you are all a bunch of whiners but don't hate on me when I went to my phone and the only pictures of them I could find are somewhat blurry because I was so damn excited when I bought them and it wasn't at all that The Pilot started to drive even after I was all No! Stop! I'm taking a picture, why is this car moving?" and here is the picture.

I hope you are happy that you forced me to post pictures of those terrible gnomes. They are even prepared for murder what with that saw and shovel. If my mom ends up dead because of these gnomes I have no one to blame but my readership. Or the gnomes.

When I forced The Pilot up out of bed at an ungodly hour that would have made baby angels cry and people to get punched in the face we got up in the morning bright eyed and bushy tailed we decided that it was best to hit the road stupid early because that way we wouldn't waste all day on the road and get that much more time to spend at the cabin! Oh boy, that was such an awesome idea! Not.

All it served to do was make sure both of us were stupid cranky and The Pilot was even more cranky because I made him drive what with me being so tired I'd probably drive us into a tree or a moose just so I could to prove a point about not letting me drive early in the morning.

That meant off to Jasper National park we went! And since it was stupid early in the morning I forgot to have the conversation with The Pilot that we were not stopping for every. single. animal. ever! Last time we went through the park it took three extra hours because ohmyfuckinggod this place just has animals everywhere and they Must! All! Be! Photographed! and I refused to go through that again. Ever.

We stopped several times on this trip to take pictures of a billion fucking elks that all looked the same except for that one elk that had a radio collar on it and I called him "Herpy-Derpy" because all the other elk were like "Dude, you are a complete loser and we don't want to hang out with you because you dress stupid." and had to stand alone all by himself because he was an outcast. Shortly afterwards we saw "Herpy-Derpy 2.0" because he had a radio collar with an antenna and was also eating a paper bag. Classy fucking elk right there, I tell you what.

Then I mentioned that I had to go piss super bad and perhaps The Pilot would be kind enough to turn around so we can go back to the rest stop we just literally drove by two seconds ago and he gave me a giant moving speech about how our trip is about "moving forward" and we should "never turn back" because we should always look towards "the future" and it was very impassioned and somewhat bull shitty because when we saw a bear five minutes later on a hill and drove by it? The Pilot totally pulled a U-Turn on the highway so he could go back and take a picture of it. it was like we were playing "Animal Spotting Bingo" and that was the last animal he needed to win. While I had to sit with a full bladder for another forty-five minutes.

And then we bickered. And then he made me drive. And then I almost got us killed! Fun times!

The Ride That Never Ended But Did Or My Family Vacation Pt.1

Whenever someone speaks the words "Hey, let's all get together in a small cabin that is the perfect size for a retired couple but when you cram it full of other people it's not such a great size anymore and everyone has to sleep like two feet from the other person so if you fart in your sleep? Well, you're probably farting in someones face. Why are we getting together? Because it's FISHING DERBY WEEKEND!" and then suddenly you've planned a trip to go to a fishing derby and spend two days driving in a vehicle with a dog that will absolutely hate you for life because when he gets into the truck he automatically thinks it's "Ohmyfuckinggawd! It's dog park time!" when in reality he'll never see that place for almost two weeks. So when he realizes that we "tricked him" he takes it upon himself to be that moody toddler in the back seat that totally needs attention but wants to pretend he doesn't even like your face.

Since we live so stupidly far away from my parents and the rest of my family, basically, it was going to end up being a two day drive just to get where we needed to go and you know what? Driving more then one day sucks balls. Don't get me wrong, I love road trips, but this time was just horrible. To start off with there have been massive amount of wild fires in my area so for the past two weeks I have been forced to breath in smoke and ash into my precious princess lungs to the point that both The Pilot and I felt like crap starting off. It was the idea of fresh air that really spurred on this trip.

Not for my family. Or the chance to win Five Grand in this fishing derby. Fresh air. Oh, and the ability to purchase fireworks. Because of the fire ban. We could only get fireworks out in British Columbia.

We staggered our trip by deciding to stop in Hinton, AB because it was just outside of Jasper, AB and it would leave only six hours left to drive and stopping after ten hours seemed like the perfect idea.

The drive to Hinton was sprinkled with conversations about the equipment on the side of the road basically being "rape machines" because neither The Pilot or I knew what they did and his choice of them being tools of evil seemed to fit perfectly into whatever I wanted to believe.

It was during this portion of the trip that The Pilot started spewing some of the most memorable quotes I have ever heard come out of this mans beautiful mouth and weird, and odd times.

My favorite one? We were driving down the highway after an over extended period of silence and he blurts out, rather empathetically, "If an eagle ever flew down and snatched Baby Bowie, I would be so pissed. I would never be OK with that. Ever." and it's like fuck, there goes my idea of adopting Bowie out to an Eagle so I wouldn't have to listen to him huffing and puffing and sighing in the back seat in such a way I know he's calling both of us an asshole. The asshole.

When we did get to Hinton we were settled in a hotel room with too beds and because I'm dating a giant child he spent most of the time jumping back and forth between the two beds as the dog leaped happily along with him to the point that I wanted to shoot myself because I was sitting on the bed watching television and I don't need to be plowed over by my boyfriend and dog while I'm trying to watch Holmes Inspection, god dammit.

I also purchased my mother some garden gnomes for her garden as a belated Mothers' Day gift. Why gnomes? Because I had watched Gnomeo & Juliet before we left and my mother got a green house as a gift from my dad so I decided that she needed some gnomes to help her plants grow and hopefully, maybe I could catch them playing out a tragically hip romance in the garden.

Instead, I could only find two gnomes that looked like they would murder my mother and chop her into little pieces and throw her into the lake rather than have a tragically interesting romance under the cover of darkness.

Somehow, I'm more proud of those murderous gnomes than I would have been of those love bird gnomes.

I Bet My Plane Will Change It's Mind & Crash Itself Because It Doesn't Want To Fly Anymore Too

You know, I had big plans for this week on this blog and it basically all revolved around re-telling stories that happened at my parents cabin while I was on vacation and boy-howdy are they some fantastic stories that would have knocked your socks off but then work had to do something that totally knocked my socks off and not in a good way and all my plans went out that window.

Well, sort of out the window. I sit in a cubicle so I don’t really have windows.

After spending my first day back at work yesterday after being on vacation I go through my 300 or so emails and find all these confusing emails that basically tell me that I have to have my ass sitting on a plane seat June 1^st on my way to Calgary, Alberta for training. Oh, and I’ve got to do a lot of pre-work to be prepared for this training. Awesome!

But then, as soon as I get excited that I’m going to Calgary, bitches, a flurry of activity happens and the powers that be decided that No, I’m not going to Calgary and if my ass in on that plane that has already been paid for and tickets have already been booked then somebody is going to get their backdoor busted in.

But wait! Shortly after that is said I’m told that I better be on that plane and have everything ready because I am going to Calgary but before I can even get my head around that I’m suddenly not going to Calgary and I should just turf any effort I put into being prepared for this training.

But wait! Before I can even think about not doing any of the pre-work, I am told that yes I’m going to Calgary and that’s the last thing ever being said about it and hey, guess what? In two weeks I Get! To! Go! Back!

It was as if my work was suffering from Bi-Polar disorder and couldn’t make up it’s mind about what it wanted and now suddenly I guess I am going to Calgary and for another day my re-telling of those really funny stories that will totally rock your socks off will have to be put on hold until sometime tomorrow, but hey, for consolation here is a picture of me rocking the worlds’ hottest beard.