Saturday, July 30, 2011

This Post Is Mainly About Urination

Alright, so this post I am writing on a plane. Flying back to New Hampshire, as I mentioned in my last post. http://www.steveinevitable.com/2011/07/new-hampshire-bound.html

GUY WHO’S ALWAYS RIGHT
He referenced himself on his own blog! Baller!

That’s right. Anyway, I was waiting for the plane to take off, so I started looking through Sky Mall magazine. I love looking through that magazine. Reading that magazine on a plane has been the highlight of at least half of my trips. I think it’s the only magazine where I can be laughing my ass off at the ridiculousness on one page. Flip to the next, and genuinely say, “Oh, now that’s cool. I’m going to buy that.” You ever leaf through one of those things? It’s like listening to someone who is bipolar spew off ideas for products for an hour. Only you’re reading it. “Oh, a knife that melts away fingerprints from the handle? That’s interesting. Why would you want that? Oh, and a stuffed animal that hugs you back? That’s cool. Oh, and a silencer for a grenade? I don’t know how that will work...”

There’s always a few gems in that magazine. For instance, I think the product that has been in every Sky Mall magazine I’ve ever read and will continue to be in every one, is the indoor doggy dump station or whatever the funk it is. That strip of fake grass that dogs pee on. But you leave it in your house so the dog can go over and pee or poop whenever. You don’t have to walk it outside. Alright, I see the benefit, but how about the fact that now your dog thinks it’s cool to go potty in the house. I get the dog is supposed to only go on the grass, but that’s why the grass is outside. In case, he goes next to the grass. Outside that’s the road. Not a problem. Inside that’s your hardwood floor. Or in your shoes. Now you got a problem. And even if the dog is trained very well and only goes on the fake grass, cool. Now, he only goes on the fake grass in your house. IN YOUR HOUSE! That shit is gonna wreak! It’s in your house, man! We go in the house, but in a toilet. Then, we flush it far, far away from our noses. If you go piss in the corner of the room, rest assured, your house will start to smell like piss. Same if a dog goes in the house buddy. I don’t know, that thing makes little to no sense to me. Just take the dog outside. Do you live in a nuclear blast zone? Or Antarctica? Probably not. Venture outdoors, you’ll live. In fact, the experience might be life changing for your indoor ass.

Then, they got the temple and eye massager. The thing that looks like Cyclops’s eye guard. Alright, so if I put that thing on, when I take it off I gotta keep my eyes closed, right? Or else red beams shoot out everywhere and I destroy everything? No thanks. And they got the 40 inch foldable home photo studio thing. Made of that white papery junk they put behind models and what not to get the right lighting for the shot. Only this thing is 40 inches. So, now I can take all my professional photos of children and midgets and lamps at home! The example they show is of the lamp. Sweet! Taking fucking pictures of lamps! My life is awesome! My favorite things to do are also collect stamps, watch infomercials and eat blandcakes. Because I’m the least interesting man in the world. I probably once tasted Dos Equis and just went, “Yuck. No. Not for me.” And the only other examples I could think of for what to take a picture of in that 40 inch limit would be kids and midgets. Amazing hobbies I have.


This one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen in one of the Sky Mall magazines but I could see it being in one. I saw this on an infomercial, it’s the fake golf club that people piss into. Ever see it? So, basically the commercial gives you one of those, “Hate it when you’re golfing a full 18 holes, your midway through the course, and you gotta pee?” And the old guy looks like he can’t hold his shit if his life depended on it. So, they’re like, “You need this ridiculous product!” And it’s a fake golf club that you put with all the other clubs. It comes with an apron, that’s right, a little apron that goes over your crotchal region. So, what you’re supposed to do is line up in front of your golf ball like you’re ready to swing or putt or whatever, you put the damn apron on (because that looks natural), then you slide the fake golf club up under the apron. The top part apparently screws off for you to pee into. Now, I don’t know whether you put your winky up to the brim or if you insert it into the club, they don’t go into too much detail sadly, but then you’re supposed to pee in it. All the while maintaining the idea that you’re practicing your swing and getting ready to swing. Sizing up the course, measuring the distance. For however long it takes you to pee. Chances are if you decided you absolutely had to pee into this thing you must have had to go really bad. So, let’s assume you got a 25 second pee waiting to happen. I feel that’s generous. It could be more if you gotta go so bad. So 25 seconds of pee time, about 10 seconds for prep (unscrewing the cap, lining your shit up), 10 seconds to get over the weird situation you’re currently in and actually allow yourself to do this, and another 15 seconds for finishing off (shaking time and screwing the cap back on). Add that up. 60 seconds. One entire minute. One entire minute of you standing in front of your golf ball with this dumbass apron on lining up a shot with your club and then ONLY to decide, what? “Oh, this isn’t the club I want. Let me take this apron off and put this club away and grab a new one.” You don’t think that looks suspicious?! Come on! Get real golfers!

Anyway, I don’t know if that’s ever made it to Sky Mall magazine. I feel like it should some day. It’s right up there with the other products. It would probably be the leading selling product amongst all that other crap. But I’m not hating on the magazine. I love it. I’m glad they have it for my enjoyment. It always makes take off the best! And know what else? When I get off this plane I’m taking it with me. That’s right! Once I get a chance I am making a purchase. A hooded sweatshirt that has the body of a raptor on it and when you cross your arms over your chest gangster style like an OG, it creates the raptor’s head, mouth wide open, showcasing it’s razor sharp teeth, moments before it eats you alive. That shit ain’t like a six foot tall turkey! That’s a six foot tall killing machine! And I’ll be wearing it on my sweatshirt! Thank you Sky Mall magazine. For giving me the best sweatshirt ever! But then, I flip to the next page. Seriously? A video screen microscope? What’s the matter with regular eye piece? Too many fellow scientists coating it in ink and tricking you with the old, “Take a look at this mitochondria, Ned.” And then you get a black ring around your eye? Is that the problem? Come on guys! Let’s get serious here!

ME
(flipping page)
Ooh! An R2D2 that moves and speaks on it’s own!

GUY WHO’S ALWAYS RIGHT
It’s worth the two hundred dollars. Trust me!

And.....END SCENE.

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