why is Rhode a state, but not Long?

I don't know, but I'm obligated to explain it. It was a text message that I didn't answer sufficiently because the grocery store was about to close and I had to buy mayonaisse for my tuna sandwich that I was gonna make for dinner. When I got home, I had all sorts of plans to find some dope recipe on epicurious and cook something special for myself. Something like Olive Stuffed Chicken, which is great for carnivores. All you vegetarians out there are suckers. Olive Stuffed Chicken with Almonds is fantastic. I highly recommend it. Does this make me a traitor to my company for recommending a recipe from a competitor? Uh, I don't particularly care. I'd rather be a bike messenger than work at martha stewart.Everyone knows that. But if this does make me a traitor, then let me recommend another recipe: Paella for 45 Go for it.

So, Why is Rhode Island a state, but not Long Island? I've never wondered this. But someone has. And they texted it to me. And it got me thinking. Actually, it didn't really get me thinking. But I make these idle promises in jest, then actually follow through on them. Like "yeah, by tomorrow, I'll have a full explanation of why Rhode but not Long is a state."

My first assumption is that it has something to do with the fact that the 5 boroughs, back in the day when Martin Scorcese was recruiting Jack from the Titanic to be some kind of douche in some kind of overlong, overproduced movie about lame period gangs.....the five boroughs were 5 different cities. That's why I don't put New York New York on my return addresses anymore. I put BROOKLYN MOTHERFUCKER, New York on my return addresses. (I'm serious about that, actually. Well, no, I'm not serious about that, but i generally do capitalize BROOKLYN. And just for the fuck of it, I might start adding MOTHERFUCKER to it. Especially on things like resumes. That'll make 'em think, "shit, we should hire this guy or else he'll probably have us killed. ". And I could by the way). Anyway, this is all true. Wikipedia's Brooklyn entry says something about it. This clearly proves that Long Island was, uh.........uh... uh, shit. My theory didn't go much further than the whole 5 borough thing.OK, I'll start over.

According to my quick and extremely unscientific google searching, Long Island has a population of about 1.5 million people, and Rhode Island has a population of about 1.1million people. Maybe even less. Long Island - 1; Rhode Island - 0.

Rhode Island is 1545 Square Miles. Long Island is 1377 Square Miles, but the first google link compares it to the size of an iceberg, so it gets a point for that. Long Island - 2; Rhode Island 1.

In researching the zombie population of both islands...Hey wait the fuck up....Rhode Island isn't even a fucking island! What. The. Fuck. Have I been wasting my time here? This isn't funny. I'm serious. Rhode Island, you fucking lose. That's why you get statehood. Only losers become states. Long Island has more zombies anyway. Have you ever been to the fucking Hamptons? Just look at those people! They're all zombie Lizzie Grubmans, driving their SUV's backwards over other zombies lurching out of the clubs, drinking brains & champaigne.

So there you go. Rhode Island gets to be a state because it's retarted to name yourself "Island" when you're not an island at all. And there aren't enough zombies there. In related news, zombies are the new black. I can't believe the New York Times didnt' quote this blog.

My time machine

There are two things I expect for the future: Matter Transporters, so Haiku Harry can toss houseflies into everything he sends, and a time machine. Oh, and zombie killing farms.

I want a time machine. Not anything that can send me decades into the future or way back into the past so I can give myself little tips & advice as a teenager, like "Kiss Karen Taverna on the Ski Lift. You won't regret it". I always regretted not kissing Karen Taverna on the ski lift. I'd dress up in lots of layers & scarves & ski goggles of course, so teenage Ken doesn't recognize adult Ken and the space-time continuum shatters and I suddenly disappear. Anyway, I don't even want a time machine like that. I just want a short term time machine. A few minutes here, a few minutes there. And I want it to be triggered by my downstairs neighbors alarm clock. And every morning, when my downstairs neighbors alarm clock goes off, I want it to zap me 5 minutes into the future. That's all. Nothing fantastic. Just five minutes.

My downstairs' neighbors alarm plays a CD or something. The same song every day. It goes something like "dmmmm, da dmmm ddmmm dmmm dmmm DMMMmmmmmmm......DMMMMMMM, da-dm dm dm dm DMMMMMM", where "DMMMM, etc" = heavy , repetitive bass line. Every fucking morning. Same song. Just one song though, I've learned. I've learned that it's going to stop after 5 minutes and that I don't necessarily need to wake up every time. Just suffer through it and wait for my own alarm clock to go off 15 minutes later. Fuckers. All I want my time machine to do is reclaim those 5 minutes of morning for myself. It should be easy, I think. Scientists don't have to figure out much....just 5 minutes. Someone get on that, please.

girl scout cookies

Delicious, but deadly.

For serious. Within arms reach are one box each of Thin Mints, Peanut Butter Patties, Lemon Pastry Cremes, and Caramel deLites. It's hard to decide which is more delicous, though I'm partial to the Caramel deLites. Whichever way you look at it though, their temptation is deadly. Damn girlscouts probably put cocaine in their cookies to keep us coming back for more. Either that, or lots of sugar. Sugar might do it too. I've heard sugar's a big ingredient in cookies. And seeing as I've had a pretty vicious sweet tooth all my life, it might be an indication that the overabundance of sugar in these cute little cookies is what keeps me reaching to that shelf to my right where I've lined up my four boxes of cookies. Damn girl scouts. What did girl scouts ever teach any girl anyway? Valuable hunting skills for the apocalypse? I doubt it. Frankly, I don't know. I didn't even pay attention in Cub Scouts, so how am I supposed to know what the girl scouts learned? The Cub Scout motto was something about pledging your best to help the girl scouts get undressed. How old were we then? Like 8? Already the pressure to take advantage of girls was mounting. And unfortunately for me & those around my age, we went to school when grunge was the big thing, so all the chicks were wearing flannel & baggy pants. ....I still feel ripped off. Now, kids are giving blowjobs in study hall, constantly. Back in my day, I had to sneak into the rafters of the auditorium to beat off during study hall. Not like I did it regularly, but I just did it once or twice because, you know, I could. I know I'm not alone here, right?

Anyway, these girl scout cookies apparently make me think of masturbation. Then again, it's like 6 degrees of masturbation. Give me any topic, and within 6 leaps of logic, I can tie it into spanking the monkey.

More books in the kitchen

More interesting titles have been popping up in the pantry, resting on top of the microwave for nosy, speculative assholes like me to jump to conclusions about. Today's emotionally addled selections:

"I Do, But I Don't: how to walk down the aisle without losing your mind"

"Separated By Duty, United By Love: Married to the military (or something like that). "


I giggle cruelly to think of the train wreck of a woman who owns these books, and telepathically try to send messages to her future husband to keep his soldier ass in Iraq. The minefields & roadside bombs are less dangerous over there.

what I think is really in the girls' bathroom

I remain convinced that the girls' bathroom is nothing like the boys' bathroom. This is a long-held belief that is only fed by the several other mysteries of girls.

The girls bathroom has a garden in it. It's all pink and there are fluffy things. It smells like flowers because there are flowers growing in the garden, right next to the stream. There are rocks you can sit on and bathe your feet in the sparkling water. It's fresh water, straight from the mountains. It's really quite amazing that even though architecturally, you'd think the girls room is exactly the same size as the boys room, it has space for a lot more nice stuff. It's always sunny inside, and the grass is always green. The girls wear dresses and take naps on the hills. There aren't any stalls, because girls don't poop. Everyone knows that. The girls room is more for meditation than for going number one or number two.

Everyone knows that the boys room is covered with grafitti, and at least one of the urinals is always running. Plus, there's a bully inside who will steal your lunch money and go back under the bridge for the next billygoat to come along. There's running water in the girls room too, but it's from God. Ours comes from plumbing. If there's an area where grass isn't growing in the girls room, it's covered with flower petals.

The girls room is kept clean and well stocked by faeries who sing, give massages, and apply lotion to your skin.

That's what's in the girls room