ape's blog: "ape's blog of joyful insanity"

actually, it was the other way around, but it makes me sound cooler if i imply that i won...

anyway, the other day it snowed out here in lovely wisconsin...and anyone who lives out here knows, when it snows, it's fun to drive around. soooo around 10 pm a few nights back, i decided to twirl my vehicle around in the snow and drive to a 24-hour wal-mart in the nearby city of burlington. upon my arrival, i felt hungry so i browsed the food area and stumbled across what i thought may have been the greatest thing i had ever seen in my life...



that's right, steven seagal's enegry drink. i was so sure of the quality of this beverage that i purchased both flavors; cherry charge, which probably tasted like cherry, and asian experience, which probably tasted like asians. i was so pleased...this wal-mart had given me boo berry cereal, and now it had given me an energy drink based off of a man who could kick chuck norris's butt in a fight.

yeah, i said it. chuck norris has nothing on seagal. chuck norris is so great he can slam a revolving door, eh? well, steven seagal is so great that he can slam his own career, which revolves around the same script with slightly different scenarios....take that chuck norris. 'top dog' ain't got nothin' on 'today you die'.

do you realize that nearly all of steven seagal's movies have a word meaning death in the title? there's a reason for it....he'll murder you like toomi would win a body odor contest; with ease.

anyway, back to the energy drinks....let's start off with cherry charge, since that's the one i drank first anyway. personally, i'd call it 'cherry chuck'....as in upchuck. i wanted to vomit the moment that vile liquid touched my soft, pouting lips. my firm, supple breasts bounced up and down as the liquid made me gingerly cough up the mixture onto my smooth, shapely theighs. the mixture then caressed my skin like a lover creeping itself up my skirt...and i screamed out, "take me now!!"....

....i was talking to the guy in the sky, of course...i wanted to die from the awful taste.....get your minds out of the gutter, ya pervs.

anyway, i thought maybe i had just imagined that it was gross....after all, it's steven seagal's energy drink; it's pretty much implied that it'd be every bit as good as his movies...unfortunately, it was every bit as good as one of his movies, so i poured out the satanic liquid on the road as i drove home.

i then decided to drink the asian experience beverage in an attempt to get the cherry vomit taste out of my mouth. as i drank that beverage, i instantly decided that i never wanted to experience asian culture again...and if that is what asians taste like, i'll be avoiding them if i ever go cannibal. if i was stabbed in the eye with an anchor, i'd be in less pain than what i felt when i drank that liquid of destruction. it was the flavor of cherry upchuck without the cherry....so i was simply left with upchuck...which is almost what that drink produced. needless to say, the asian experience got to experience the same fate as cherry upchuck.

now, feeling betrayed by what i thought was going to be great...i took a look at the cans and read the following words next to steven seagal's face itself, "a natural energy drink packed with vitamins and exotic botanicals." exotic botanicals? well, a botanical is something made from a plant...exotic is unusual...i think he's taking the manure used to fertilize plants and mixing that in with the recipe....'cause really a steaming pile of poo tastes better than those energy drinks...not that i'd be able to compare from experience, mind you....but if i could, i would tell you that aside from carbination, the two taste exactly the same.

in closing, steven seagal's lightning bolt energy drinks did, indeed, shock me. i was expecting a quality product from that squinty-eyed doofus...what i got was sadness....some nausea....but mostly sadness. steven seagal, like in his movies, won yet another fight by killing....except, this time, he killed my heart....

on friday at work, i was asked to come in early tonight to help start-up the machines and get things running all smoothly before folks got in to work tonight...i told them that i'd only do it if i got a my little pony out of it. little did i know that a pal from work, kelly, had my little pony fruit snacks and offered them to me after overhearing my demand. i immediately accepted because fruit snacks are radical...but....upon inspecting the package, i took a look at one of the ponies...and i thought to myself...by golly...these equines are hussies.

it's true...i mean take a look at this my little pony calendar, for example...



the ponies are like strippers or something...i mean, i have not once seen one of those ponies with clothing on....have you? no...those sinful beasts prance around with their nicely done hair, tattooes on their butts, and too much make-up on their faces...

oh, and their faces! look at their noses....it's so obviously they've had surgery to decrease the size of their nasal cavities. i have never seen a horse with a nose that small....they did it to seduce people. those little trollops. if you doubt that their goal is to seduce us, then why exactly do they put out calendars? and you know what? pinkie pie should have been miss december in that calendar, not miss june......dang it....save the best for last.



oh, and look at this product...you know what this is promoting, don't you? that's right...it's a subliminal message telling you to sleep with those little strumpets. yeah, they may be floozies, but they're masters of psychology...and they'll do what it takes to sell their bodies to lonely men.

but were they always like this? no....at one time, they were clean girls...take a look at this episode from the 80's....look at how wholesome they are...



i suppose that's how they went downhill...this tear-filled episode showed me almost immediately that those ponies were curious little gals and that they gave into peer pressure rather easily...that weakness probably made it easy for them to become those little harlots later on in life.

and i stand corrected, that pony with the southern accent in the episode wore clothing and shoes...so perhaps there is at least one pony with decency amongst those little tramps...or maybe it's really just a man pretending to be a woman...after all, if a man pretended to be a woman while naked, he'd easily be found out....perhaps it's this southern man-woman that used peer pressure to turn those innocent ponies with the tattooed butts to the slutty jezebels that they turn out to be later on in life.

the biggest proof that these ponies are the trollops that i claim them to be is at the official my little pony website, which can be accessed by clicking here. on this site they pomote "live stage shows." oh, i SO told you people!! those ponies are strippers, galloping around all naked-like. they're profligate ponies...that's what they are. and they're promoting pinky pie in it...my sweet pinky pie...they've gotten her into this whole mess....i'll never forgive them!! live stage shows....i'm onto their filth. they can't fool me...i know what they're doing to pinky pie. those filthy beasts.

they also promote "tea parties" on that site....oh, is that what they're calling it these days? back in my day, we called 'em orgies. i dunno about you folks, but i don't wish to see hot pony-on-pony action...especially not with those michael jackson nose-jobs they sport...call me crazy, but i like my equines natural...uh, not that i like horses in that way...

these stuck-up little floozies have also caused some of the ponies shunned by their little "beautiful people" group to go on a rampage and take out their anger on the rest of society...take a look at this real-life example...



how sad....it's sad when the lust for popularity can turn something so innocent into something so vile...these ponies turned to making people suffer for their unhappiness...and their unhappiness was caused by the arrogance of the my little pony trollops...except for pinky pie....i refuse to believe that pinky pie, my adorable pinky pie, is one of those harlots...those jezebels. i mean, just look at this video with her in it...



NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!.....it can't be....in that leaf.....no......they finally....went and did it!......dang you!!! dang you all to heck!!!

...i can't deal with this anymore...i'm a wreck....pinky pie is one of them now....it's as if they destroyed my one last ounce of hope in the world...i feel so emotionally and spiritually drained, i...i made a visual of what this compares to...



...yes...it's as if i was told that my home no longer exists....my poor, sweet pinky pie...what's become of you....why have you become a floozy?...i'm sorry...i can't write anymore....i need to be alone.....bye, folks....

alright...a girls gone wild commercial just played on my television screen...and, i must tell you, i feel like attacking someone with some crude farming implements. now, these commercials tend to anger me to begin with...but this one in particular angered me right off the bat.

you see, they started this one off with a single sentance that made me want to grab some tapioca pudding, squeeze some jalepeno juice into the mixture, then proceed to smear the little recipe in the eyes of the idiots who made the girls gone wild product. what sentance could have possibly angered me to that point, you ask? this one...

"most guys would go to the end of the earth to see real naked girls."

....what?

first off, there is no end of the earth...we live on a round planet...'tis not a flat land like folks believed back in 500 a.d. so, it's my humble opinion that these girls gone wild folks need to pull their craniums out of their anuses and take a look at some books...the kinds that you don't have to turn ninety degrees to view a picture.

next, the emphasis on the term "real" when referring to girls...are there really such a thing as fake girls? by real do they mean that it's not guys dressed in drag? no....can't be. oh, i get it....by real, they mean that the girls don't have any surgery done to themselves....i get it. yeah, that's what they mean....though, much like their "end of the earth" comment, i bet they have no idea what they're talking about....especially since all it takes is a google search to find naked pictures of anyone or anything...and might i say, thanks to google, i've seen how provocative alf can be...that furry lethario should be in playgirl magazine.

but really, that shouldn't anger me to the point of violence, should it? no...probably not....but, truth be told, there is a deeper meaning for me to be angered by the girls gone wild commercial. you see....this is diffficult for me to say....girls gone wild....girls gone wild murdered one of my enjoyments in life; late night infomercial watching.

there used to be a time where i could turn on television at 3 in the morning and watch in delight at a man cutting shoes with knives, cleaning stovetops with a machine that farts steam, and seeing how many salmon can fit in a rotating cooking device after you set it and forget it. but now...now it's difficult to find anything like that....i can't even watch obese people try out an ab machine these days....it's all girls gone wild or other similar products.

is it so hard to teach these girls to cook prior to having them prove how stupid they are when they're too drunk to realize that a camera crew is taking advantage of them? i mean, come on...at least have them sell some out-of-print coins or something...i'd settle for sports cards....can you just imagine how great those dumb girls gone wild infomercials would be if they sold sports cards? it could be as great as this...




they could talk while stretching their s's and swim in piles of cards and dump stuff over....see? they're already drunk, so none of those things will be a problem....it's a perfect match...and then, perhaps, the whole girls gone wild garbage won't be quite as worthless as it is now.

in closing, if i had the ability to use witchcraft, i'd turn all of the girls gone wild people into lemmings...




...then squeal with joy as i watch them hurl themselves off of a cliff. bye.

pancakes...some people find them to be elegant, delightful, fluffy pieces of morning gourmet pleasantness....when they think of pancakes, they think of warm, lovely goodness covered in tasty maple syrup....when i think of pancakes, however, all i see is death.

you see, friends, pancakes are a deceptive group of creatures. their fluffiness makes them seem harmless...but they're very deadly...very, very deadly. i've seen one snap an old woman's neck before...no lie. anyway, it's not hard to see how deadly pancakes are when you notice that they very much resemble these creatures...



that's right....pancakes and stingrays are one and the same. need proof? the proof is right here...



that's right....stingrays float around in the watery wilderness with butter and maple syrup on their backs. that's photographic proof right there....not photoshopped, not touched up...nothing. stingrays equal pancakes...plain and simple.

stingrays, of course, are like the grim reapers of the animal kingdom...about six-hundred and seventy-three gajillion people die each year from stingray and/or pancake related deaths....actually, let's not say stingray and/or pancake....they're the same, so let us create a term the unify the two together as one....i'm thinking panrays....or stingcakes....yeah...stingcakes. stay away from those stingcakes.

of course, mr. steve irwin perished recently from a stingcake death. people say it was unprovoked...i, however, think otherwise....mr. irwin may not have physically provoked the stingcake, however, the stingcake was jealous of the crocodile hunter. a stingcake jealous of an australian madman, you say? indeed, i do say...and let me explain why i say it.

steve irwin often said "crikey." crikey, of course, is australian for the term "radical." if you don't believe me, go say crikey to some australians...they'll think you're the most bodatious fellow in the world. now, since stingcakes have bad hearing, "crikey" sounds a little like "crackle." i know you're thinking, "what does 'crackle' have to do with anything?" silly, stupid person, it has to do with everything. you see, steve irwin slightly resembles the rice krispies elf idiot known as "crackle." take a gander and see for yourself.



the weirdo hair is enough for me to mistake the two...think of what a stingcake might think with their tiny, death consumed brains. so, obviously, the stingcake thought that mr. irwin was crackle and instantly became jealous because rice krispies is a breakfast more popular than stingcakes are...so in a fit of rage, the grim reaper of the animal kingdom and the breakfast menu murdered our beloved crocodile hunter...leading me to forever associate death with pancakes...and pancakes with death.

steve irwin's death caused sadness around the world...but none were sadder than the ihop owners across the nation when pancake sales plumeted after the croc hunter's untimely death. nobody wants pancakes when they're just waiting to murder anyone who looks like a breakfast cereal mascot...i know i don't...and i also know who the next victim of the stingcakes will be...



that's right -- streisand. her uncanny resemblance to toucan sam will not go unnoticed by the stingcake community...and i bet that some day soon, we'll hear of a pancake-related death involving barbara streisand.

you may call me mad....well, i call you a stupid head. so, stick that in your hat and call it macaroni. as for me, i'm going to stick my skull atop a pillow....for it is time to sleep. taa taa.

alright...i mentioned in the previous blog that i might go into deeper detail as to why i think stabbing babies in the face is wrong....well, i'm in a writing mood right now, so that detail will happen at this very moment, dawg.

now, to understand why i believe that stabbing children in the face is wrong, you first must understand that when i was a baby, i too was stabbed. no, i wasn't stabbed in the face, but as i was stabbed in the top of my skull by the dang doctor as i was being born. true story. folks who know me are well aware of the bald spot atop my skull where i was stabbed.

this stabbing, which apparently seemed harmless at the time, my mind got twisted like a towel made of limes being rung out. yeah, that's right....my mind is like a citrus cloth that soaks up the filth that develops in the society we live in.....and then that filth gets cleansed in my limey goodness.

but anyway, getting stabbed near the brain had those apparently benificial effects...plus, the fact that my hair smells like palmolive is great, too...however, when you're stabbed in the face, that's a whole nother story. you see, the top of your skull is like a citrus....and fruit doesn't bleed...but your face....now, your face is like a large steak....it bleeds.

on top of the bleeding, which is probably unwanted....unless you're a weirdo who doesn't like a fully-cooked steak, in which case you embrace the blood....anyway, on top of that all, you've got a big problem if you get stabbed in the face...when someone stabs a steak, it usually means they want to eat said steak....so, if a baby were to be stabbed in the face, that's like that baby was claimed as edible property for the person with the knife. and, of course, when you eat a baby, you're promoting cannibalism....unless you're a chimpanzee, squirrel, or oxen....you know, animals who have learned how to use tools to get what they want...like a dead baby.

even if it is an animal that learned to use tools doing the stabbing, it still doesn't make it right, though....because if we allow animals to stab babies in the face....what next? women? men? bea arthur? oh, good guy in the sky no! i will never let anyone ever harm miss bea...EVER.

so, to all of you pro-stabbing babies in the face jerkfaces, listen to me and listen to me good....you might think that stabbing babies in the face is fun now....but think of the long-term damage....we could lose the single-most influential person in the history of the dang world, bea arthur, if this baby face stabbing continues on....so...forget the children.....think of bea...because bea arthur is our future...and it's time to end this blog in song...

ahem...

i believe that bea arthur is our future
teach her well and let her lead the way
show her all the beauty that she pocesses inside
give her a sense of pride to make it easier
let bea's laughter remind us of how it used to be.

everybody searching for a hero
people need someone to look up to
i never found anyone to fulfill my needs
a lonely place to be
so i learned to depend on me

i decided long ago
never to walk in anyone's shadows
if i fail, if i succeed
at least i will live as i believe
no matter what they take from me
they can't take away my lovely bea...

i've had a few folks come up to me and ask me adivce on how to make their life's less "smelly." well, you see, folks....the answer is simple...and below i describe it in wonderful, metaphorical detail...enjoy.

life can sometimes smell bad, like ripe diapers in summertime. how does life manage to get such a stench? it's simple. sometimes people like you and me forget to give our life a shower and use our built-in soaps on it. so we sit through life as all of the dirt and filth of failures, embarrassments, and just plain stupid things we do begins to go all stagnant on our life's body.

you see, our life is a cripple. it's paralyzed from the neck down. therefore, we must constantly take care of our life, otherwise it's gonna have brown skidmarks in it's underwear. it's our duty to keep our life's underwear clean, as well as making sure that our life itself is clean.

if we decide to stop taking care of our life, it will not be pleasant. life's horrible stench will once again pass though your nasal cavity and trigger you to do something that you'll regret, like streaking down downtown seattle. or, the stench may also remind you of the other stenches, bringing back bad memories.

however, if you can find a special non-stench soap in yourself (the best brand is called "the brain") then you have a good possibility of countering these evil deeds brought upon you by the horrible stench. in order to use the brain brand of soap, you must also learn how to properly use it. the brain itself is worthless until you stick the cleaning power onto it. this cleaning power is referred to as "knowledge." with this "knowledge" attached to your bar of brain soap, you have a good chance of preventing any kind of stenches that life can throw at you.

but, there's always a catch. you see, our bodies also have another brand of soap, called our "heart." knowledge cannot attach itself to this bar of soap. Instead, when using this soap, one must attach a cleaning power known as "love." the downside of "love" is that some of the stenches in life are immune to "love's" cleaning power and it can ultimately make the stench even stronger. this brand of soap can often be very helpful in cleaning your life, but if used too much, and without the brain brand as well, it can cause your life you have very bad and lingering gas.

some guys have a third brand of soap, referred to as the "weewee" brand. unfortunately, too many guys use this soap exclusively and it causes their life to smell worse than my sister's feet…which trust me, is a horrible, horrible stench. the soap by itself already doesn't smell all that good, and just slightly smells better than the stenches of life. the weewee's cleaning power is effected by "dirty thoughts" that attach themselves to it. as the name implies, the "dirty thoughts" are already pretty filthy and although they do pick up the dirt of the stenches, they also leave behind their own filth, which can ultimately lead to an even worse stench. this brand of soap should never be used, as the soap's fumes are toxic and can be dangerous to breathe in. i have witnessed several of my friends who have used this soap on many occasions and it only caused a severe stench that nearly made them pass out. so, i repeat, never use this brand of soap.

life can often smell, like the fart from a limburger cheese, so use your brain soap to clean up that stench. on certain occasions, you can use your heart brand of soap, however it's best to not use either brand exclusively or it may backfire on you. and, of course, stay away from the weewee soap, it will lead your life to smelling like you just took a swim in a port-a-potty. and that's not a good thing…that's a smelly thing.

hopefully, that clears things up...and while weewee soap doesn't apply to girls when you base stuff on stereotypes, i know for a fact that there are plenty of females who use that soap like a crazed albino uses sun screen outdoors. so....really, that should help everyone out....all genders....all ethnics....all species.....all other stuff. yup. now excuse me, i must watch the thrilling conclusion to the movie "junior." i hope arnold schwartzenegger gives birth to a little boy...i really do.

go arnold!!

that, my friends, is a face of anger...a face of an ostrich. these creatures are bizarre little sideshows of nature...a large bird with a long neck and a small, angry lookin' face. what exactly makes these creatures tick? why do they always look so angry? i'll tell you why they always look so angry...i'll tell you good. if you are one of the few who can't see the anger and hate in the face of an ostrich, then you are either blind, a fool, or a blind fool. ostriches are devoured by anger. they're somewhat like feathered pinatas...except instead of delicious candy, the little jerkfaces are filled with hate. i dunno about you, but in my opinion hate isn't nearly as delicious as candy. oddly enough, though, pinatas are part of the reason why ostriches are so angry, i think. you see, friends, in the olden days, back in milan, italy, where ostriches once roamed freely, children would capture the ostriches, string them up, and hang them slightly above the ground...they would then grab bats, metal poles, and prosthetic limbs and pumel the ostrich until it dropped something neat such as a plastic comb, gel shoe insoles, or a kirby pucket baseball card from 1988...which at that time was well into the future. but anyway, this lack of respect from those greasy italian children made the ostriches soured and it was one of the reasons that plastered that bitter-looking scowl on their faces for all eternity...oh, but that was only part of what caused this intense anger in the ostrich community... you see, the name "ostrich" itself, which we humans have used to name them, is another reason that those feathered fiends are never happy. ostrich comes from the french word "ostray." ostray comes from the irish surname of "o'stray." o'stray, of course, translated from english to english, means "no brain." that fact that their skulls are so small doesn't help them argue their intelligence...after all, that cranium of theirs, if turned into a lovely bowl, could probably only hold like a third of a serving of chocolate pudding...that's not a lot of brain power. ostriches know that they only have a third of a serving of chocolate pudding intelligence...and when you're stupid and you know you're stupid, that leads to anger...lots and lots of anger. that's called self-awareness. thanks, dr. phil. anyway, like the word "awareness," ostrich has five consonants in the word. cooincidence? i think not. now, i know that there's a few folks out there who still doubt the anger of the ostrich. well, i've got more proof. there's a catchy phrase for anger...it's called "ruffled your feathers." this phrases, of course, originates from ostriches. y'see, at the turn of the 20th century, the ostriches grew angry when folks began, for no good reason, to grind this stuff... ...into the feathers of the unhappy bird. oddly enough, this fad grew in popularity rather quickly, and before you knew it, everyone was doing it...and they had dubbed it "ruffling feathers." the fad might not be fashionable or cool anymore, mainly due to jerks like peta who hate to see potato chips go to waste since the potatoes were once living creatures...however, the memories that our ancestors have of grinding potato chips into the feathers of an angry ostrich....those memories will live on in our hearts forever...much like the hatred will live on in the hearts of those dang ostriches. i could continue to list more reasons...like how they looks like old, balding men...and how it's easy to see one sporting a combover and working at target...but i won't. i could describe how i believe that every ostrich is angry because they were all a mall santa at one point in their lives....but i won't do that, either. my point has been proven. i have no need to continue my explanation. those flightless fiends are evil, angry creatures whom deserve to have their feathers ruffled. i don't believe i need to say anything more than that. if you believe i do, then i believe that you smell rather badly.....so there. bye.

when you put midgets in a commercial for a product....that product will sell. i don't care what it is....you could be selling unsteralized needles laced with every std known to mankind...but if there's a midget selling it, i'll buy it. i came into this particular situation when i gazed upon this commercial for the first time...



midgets selling hamburgers?....meat to cheese? no veggies? well, golly...sign me up! so, i went to burger king and had a stacker...i had me a quad on my first trip....after i finished it, i felt kinda sick...the oils and greases from the burger felt like they all rushed to my pores...my face felt like a sponge filled with oil....and as i sat in that restaurant feeling ill, only one thought entered my mind....i wanted to make an octi-stack.

i trained for weeks, friends....slowly building up my tolerance for these midget-made burgers...and finally, i attempted the octi-stack one day. oh, it was a battle, my friends....a hard-fought battle of battleness. but i emerged victorious...upon my victory, i slammed my hands on the table at the restaraunt and yelled out, "who's the king now?!?!" oh, for that one moment, it was a glorious, glorious day for little ol' apey...

....that is, it was until the dang cashier, who heard the commotion, came running over to see if anything was wrong. i explained that i had just finished an octi-stack, and so she looked at me as if mocking me and crushed my victory in one sentance: "some guy came in here and did a ten-stack before."

had there been stairs at this burger king, i may have thrown that dang cashier down them for spoiling my moment....but...instead i created a new goal in my mind...."if someone did ten, i'll do twelve," i thought to myself as my face dangled over the toilet in my queasy state. some say i was queasy from the octi-stack....i say i was queasy from that cashier.

anyway, the next weekend, i attempted the twelver...twelve burger patties stacked one atop another....twelve layers of goodness.....twelve years taken off of my life for consuming it. i decided to video tape this event to prove that i am, in fact, the burger king...and video tape it while wearing dinosaur footie pajamas that were too small for me just to show i could. the result was the video that you shall see below.

and a warning, this is a poorly made video. i didn't attempt to synch music or any of that poop. i just tried to get it out because certain folks (you know who you are) have been harassing me about it for a while....when i have time, i'll go back and do a good edit, but until then...you folks can deal with this one...but yup...here's the battle i fought that day...in a musical montage...





that was fantastic, wasn't it? it clearly shows the three stages of heck i went through while eating that abomination. it's like, in many ways, a wrestling match. it started off with me, the face, taking it to the burger, the heel. but, after a while, the burger cheats its way to being in control...i try to do several combacks by consuming part of the burger...but before i can fully get my eating momentum back, the burger gives a low-blow to my stomach and back down to the canvas i go. and, of course, at the end i hulk up and show that burger who's boss like only a poor hulk hogan impersonation can...i then lose my mind and gain a lot of intensity by screaming, yelling, and hitting myself in the chest to psyche myself up enough to finish the burger.

in the end, however.....unlike my times in the professional wresling ring, i was not the one who jobbed...it was the twelve-stack from burger king that fell to my might. however, in classic heel faction, after our battle, the stacker brutally attacked a certain area of my body and i was later on the toilet in a scene similar to the one seen with harry dunn in dumb and dumber. not good times.

anyway, friends...i could go on and on about this epic battle....but i'm tired and wish to sleep....so, take care, friends.

...and for the record...if anyone eats a twelver, video tapes it, and sends it to me on here in order to challenge my burger king crown, i may attempt a sixteen-stack just to prove that i am, in fact, the true burger king. yup.....okay, i go now. bye.