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I take it back. Science is NOT your friend. [24 Feb 2005|06:04am] [ mood | cranky ] [ music | She blinded me with science - Thomas Dolby ] [Disclaimer: My vocabulary contains words your obese, visting Aunt Lois might find offensive] Do you guys know what the word smegma means? Sure you do! Smegma is "a sebaceous secretion, especially the cheesy secretion that collects under the prepuce or around the clitoris." Boy howdy! What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a word created by some great scientific mind of the century no doubt, entirely because we as a species are too goddamn lazy to clean our own genitals with any amount of consistency. Here, how about I stop cleaning my ass, and when I create some sort of special new assgoo we can call in the doctors and research scientists to snap photos and name it. I am betting on Shizgmu. Several dictionaries actually use the phrase "cheesy secretion" in the definition of smegma by the way, presumably with the intention of causing me to vomit Cracklin' Oat Bran all over my cat. THANKS A LOT SCIENCE, YOU ASSHOLE. 2 deathbed confessions|any last words?

J for Jib! [19 Sep 2004|06:25am] [ mood | okay ] [ music | none ] In lieu of my usual pedestrian posts, this entry will detail a series of experiments conducted to determine whether or not I can actually be funny without the aid of cussing or graphic descriptions of violence/having sex with paper mache women. As I am experiencing my usual 6:15 am writer's block, I will turn to a dictionary for random words to jump start the ol' humor engine. Random Word Number 1: Gentian... Um... L-ladies and gentian! HAHA--Shit this sucks. What the hell does gentian mean. I wish I were smarter. And taller. Taller would be sweet. I mean, sure, I'm 6'2" now, but if I was like 12 feet tall and I was waiting in line or something I could just walk OVER people! [Exception 38P: "Swearing." EXPERIMENT FAILED] Random Word Number 2: Hey! Someone tore a page out of my dictionary! It jumps from "jew" straight to "jockey." If there's one thing I hate It's people removing pages from the J section of my dictionaries! Where are you Jib? WHERE ARE YOU?! jib1    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (j'b) n. 1. Nautical. A triangular sail stretching from the foretopmast head to the jib boom and in small craft to the bowsprit or the bow. 2. a. The arm of a mechanical crane. b. The boom of a derrick. [Exception 53D: "Dictionary entries are not humorous." EXPERIMENT FAILED] Random Word Number 3: Ultrasonic. My sister had one of those "Ultrasonic" toothbrushes and even though it's supposed to automate brushing, she doesn't use it because it's "too much work." Seriously. She keeps the fancy toothbrush on her sink for show and then secretly uses a brush she bought for like a dollar while cowering wide-eyed in the closet so nobody finds out... Also she eats her own feces. Is this funny yet? [Exception 98K: "That's the best you got? Toothbrush anecdotes?" EXPERIMENT FAILED] CONCLUSION: 0.5% Humorous RATING: "Desperate for attention" POSSIBLE SOLUTION(S): Destruction of frontal lobe via pen through the eye/Suicide 7 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Rejected Penthouse Forum Letters Vol. 1 [10 Sep 2004|04:15am] [ mood | restless ] [ music | none ] Dear Penthouse Forum, Sometimes I soak your magazine in the perfume I found in my grandma's dresser that one time I robbed her while she was in a diabetic coma, and once it's fully saturated, I punch a hole through it into which I later stick my penis. I imagine I am making sweet love to a soggy paper-mache hispanic lady that smells an awful lot like my grandmother. Sincerely, Chris Benson 5 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Blind people don't "get" fireworks [01 Sep 2004|01:58am] [ mood | Moody ] [ music | Shhh! ] Once upon a midnight dreary, There I pondered weak and weary. What I pondered is of no real significance. Suffice it to say it involved naked ladies, a matador costume, and those fireworks that you light and they spin and go zzzZZZZZEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWHOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo... Man, I love those... I am taking a sign language class and so far it's going pretty well. My plan of pretending I am blind to get an automatic A or suing the school for discrimination has, thus far, gone off without a hitch. Sure, I was kicked out of the class and then beaten for hours by actual blind people, but as of this very moment I am 100% hitch-free. 9 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Hello. [27 Aug 2004|06:13pm] [ mood | posthumous ] [ music | something jingly jangly ] This is me updating my LiveJournal with as little originality as possible. I am so busy having sex with your mother, it's all I can do to even get online anymore, let alone actually write things. You should be happy you're getting this, ingrate. 9 deathbed confessions|any last words?

For me?! You shouldn't have! [27 Jun 2004|06:12am] [ mood | go to hell ] [ music | none ] You know what the internet needs more of? Other than my acerbic wit and pictures of me tilting my head slightly to the left while staring vacantly at the wall. That's right, email reviews. Honestly, I think the internet would be a far less sticky place if people would just take the time every once in a while to critique various pieces of email that I've been too lazy to delete from my inbox. Let's get started shall we? [Author's note: the following emails have not been altered from their original form] Our first email this early morning was sent by my good friend Samantha (anthapqwaqepzqxx@bbtec.net), with a subject that simply screams "Dear Christ read me!" FWD: confidently efforts lightly bench seats With my curiosity piqued to the point of simultaneous aneurism/orgasm upon first reading the title, it was all I could do to keep my hands steady enough to open this wonderful little nugget of internet communication and read: JIm2, let me announce for you our Latest galeries. "Well goddamn Samantha," I thought to myself, "Hurry up and tell me already! The suspense! It's causing me great physical discomfort!" How c0Ol is that pu&sy under that _mini_ sk1rt? You'll never know unless you click here now if you think. And get the real view! Let me tell you, I clicked the hell out of this email. I clicked so hard my index finger cramped up and I had to give it an hour-an-a-half long rubdown, but as there was no actual link included in the email, I was unable to actually accomplish anything Good prompt global plus from Samantha or your acquaintance and associate Kevin Drake. You either registered to free Internet resource lately or someone entered your address for you. To remove send any email here: aurora61@online.com.ua It took me a long time to decide who to get my good prompt global plus from, but I ended up going with Kevin Drake as he is both my acquaintance and associate. strangers came attention pages companionable disturb telling ink spirits proudest furiously persists tracked gate minute wished skin else creep results thirsty doing steadily vague change distressing amateur reposing bell presentiment gentleman breaking Oh, Samantha. Your insane nonsensical conclusions get me every time. Email number two was a bit of a surprise as I had not been expecting to hear from Bev Hartshorn again after the "NAkid Gayz" fiasco of '99. At least this one started out a bit more promisingly: Poussy squirts! uca! But the contents of the email turned out, like before, to be a bitter disappointment. SJ2288888888 SecXX To stop receiving this publicity, click here I clicked there as instructed though I'm not sure how definitively I facilitated the cessation of the aforementioned publicity reception, because once again THERE WAS NO LINK THERE YOU FUCKING SPAMBOTS! GODDAMN MOTHERFU-- ...That's all for now kids. Join me next time when I'll be drinking scotch and masturbating to reruns of Trading Spaces™. Check your local listings for showtimes. 8 deathbed confessions|any last words?

And my mouth tastes like garbage, did I mention? [20 Jun 2004|06:48pm] [ mood | blah ] [ music | The pounding in my head ] Thanks to the party in denver that I stayed at for way too long, I just woke up with a rather large headache, and I am missing my cell phone. If anyone is trying to get in touch with me, you're going to have to do it through the magic of the Inter Net for a while. 6 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Okay, I lied. [18 Jun 2004|12:33am] [ mood | still good ] [ music | Stabbin' Granny - Jewel ] Or did I...? Or didn't I not...? any last words?

The Last [18 Jun 2004|12:07am] [ mood | clothed ] [ music | none ] This is, by far, the last post I will ever write. 3 deathbed confessions|any last words?

The Best [08 Jun 2004|11:38pm] [ mood | naked ] [ music | none ] This is, by far, the best post I have ever written. 7 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Man-dishwasher [02 Jun 2004|10:35pm] [ mood | weary ] [ music | none ] It was a dark and horny night. Professor McCockington had just settled down in his deliciously overstuffed leather reading chair, a thick mahogany smoking pipe held firmly between his manly man-lips, when suddenly-- I've got this theory about humor. I think virtually every word in the english language can be made several times funnier by adding the prefix "man" to it. Once proper safety precautions have been taken, and parental approval has been received if those reading this are under the age of 21, I suggest trying it for yourselves at home. Take an ordinary everyday word like "fiddle," add man to it, and presto-chango, you've got yourself a punchline. in two noteworthy developments, my ex took my kitty, Shu, and I am now going to CU. Relevant to the latter is the fact that I am in film studies 101 or some such. It's 3 hours a day, and in it I will hopefully be watching a lot of movies. Today we saw the first two films ever made and then Rear Window. I had my phone on silent, but for some reason it decided to alert the class that it was 3:30 several very loud times. Then I had to leave class early to go to a doctor's appointment. All in all I'm pretty sure I made a good impression on everyone in the class. Oh yeah, I also tripped on the way out. Smooth. Finally, I would like to point out to my new teacher that, even though it may not have been tactful for that guy in the third row to point out that the lady in the movie was fat, his statement wasn't "sexist" in any way whatsoever. You moron. I think one of my greatest pet peeves is when idiots get their hands on a perfectly good ideology. Case in point: Doctor Barlowe the feminist. God help you if you make the mistake of calling her Mrs Barlowe, like i did, because thats sexist! 1 deathbed confession|any last words?

Rhymes with sticky [29 May 2004|02:37pm] [ mood | awake ] [ music | none ] VIcky: I have to go to the bathroom. Me: So go. Vicky: I think I only have to go pee. Me: What, is it like a mystery? Vicky: No, I-- Me: The butler did it! My sister got her bachelors and is now living and possibly only peeing in boulder for a while. Congrats Vicky! 2 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Call me Mrs. Brad Pitt [29 May 2004|12:25am] [ mood | tired ] [ music | None ] Is it gay to constantly be having sex with sailors? Because if it is, I am like really really gay. Like stephen hawking in a pink wheelchair made out of penises gay. I'm so gay, the other gay guys make fun of me during recess. I don't even have bones in my wrist, just a highly flexible cartilage. My girlfriend and I were having a verbal disagreement the other night and I was suddenly struck with the realization that I don't have a girlfriend. So, once my argument with the sofa concluded, I headed out on the town to meet me up one o' them lady-folk. I spotted a woman on the side of the road, carrying a bag of groceries. She looked nice enough, so I thought I'd approach her and try my luck with a pick-up line. The line I ended up using, "Hey, look out!" might have been more effective had I not been crushing her body against the guardrail with my chevy at the time. Oh well, live and learn, but not necessarily in that order. I saw the movie Troy recently. Thoughts I had about several of the actors in the movie are as follows: 1: Brad Pitt is great. 2: They should invent an operation called an "Ear job," so Eric Bana can have one. 3: Orlando Bloom's performance in the movie made the phrase "gay paris" (pronounced pair-ee) stick in my head the whole night. 7 deathbed confessions|any last words?

We just figured out Blues Clues [19 May 2004|06:27pm] [ mood | annoyed ] [ music | 'Cuz we are really smart! ] Dear neighbors, Turn down the goddamn accordion music, or at least listen to another song. It's like chinese water torture hearing the same repetitive crap all day. Who am I? I'm the guy that's personally asked you to turn it down several times, as you feign not being able to understand a lick of english, and called the cops to have them ask you at least 40, and yet you never bother actually doing it. I know having one of the seven grown men that live in that tiny apartment get off his giant ass and turn the knob ever so slightly to the left would be very difficult, but I implore you to reconsider. Apparently, in the country you hail from, radios are only made with one volume setting: LOOK AT US WE OWN A RADIO! I feel I should warn you that from now on, whenever I hear that goddamn bass beat seeping through the wall in my bedroom, I'm going to listen to the theme song from Blue's Clues™ so loudly that my goddamn inner ears are going to hemorrhage. Enjoy. any last words?

Diggity [18 May 2004|12:07pm] [ mood | P.I.M.P. ] [ music | Ice ice baby - Vanilla Ice ] Salutations, Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Carl, and I am, as evidenced by my Live Journal avatar, a "Tru Thug." The peculiar contortions of my fingers, in said picture, make it clear that I am a memeber on permanent basis of the great Vanilla Ice's entourage, 4EVA. Being as cool as It is obvious that I am, one might wonder why I chose to act as the purveyor of posts in a journal originally written by the very uncool recently deceased. The answer is simple: I am a fictional character. This may come as a shock to those reading this, being as it is that most fictional characters are not self-aware, but rest assured, this journal's posts will suffer no lack of quality due to my not existing in the classical sense of the word. Word. Stay tuned for my next post, or I will regrettably be forced to bus' a cap. [Editors note: Carl's picture has been removed due to mass protest. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder but ugly's in Carl's face] 5 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Yo. [17 May 2004|04:51pm] [ mood | ballin' ] [ music | East Siiiiide! ] Word to your collective mothers. 2 deathbed confessions|any last words?

This post confused me, and I wrote it. [17 May 2004|03:39pm] [ mood | deceased ] [ music | Go figure. ] My apologies for not updating my journal since finding that lump on my neck, but I've got a pretty good excuse. Turns out I died from cancer of the neck. Now, you're saying to yourself, since I'm obviously not there to ask, "But Chris, how can you update your livejournal if you're dead? It doesn't make sense!" To that I reply, "It is grammatically incorrect to start a sentence with 'but'." It's easier than you would think to write a livejournal post from beyond the grave. All it takes is a bit of determination and a guy, with access to my account, pretending to be me, since I'm dead. So, who did I choose to be my appropriately entitled ghost writer? That, shall remain a mystery for the ages. One that your children's children's children will-- Aw, screw it. It's Carl. 8 deathbed confessions|any last words?

More of what you love: Cancer! [11 May 2004|08:08am] [ mood | meh ] [ music | None ] As this is my second consecutive post about cancer, I was going to do something to make it a bit more entertaining to read, like swearing a lot, but i've recently been informed that my journal is most popular among devout catholic soccer moms age 35-50, so I'm going to keep the fucking profanity to a minimum. The lump on my neck is larger today. In samoan culture, this is a sign that the upcoming harvest season will be fruitful, but for me, it's a sign that I should be making an appointment with one of those medicine... guys. You know, the ones that sell vicodin out of the back of their vans. Hopefully, I haven't acquired any serious life-threatening ailments, like scurvy, me hearty! Furthermore, Arrrr! I am working out everyday, doin' the whole fitness thing, weights and whatnot, and I am, right now, the most fit I've ever been in my entire life, excluding, of course, that brief stint I did as a rickshaw runner, so what better time to get cancer and die? I'd probably find it more humorous if I wasn't actually considering it a possibility. Well, I did say I wanted a change in my life, though I was leaning more towards winning the lottery and dating a female. My family has this annoying habit of contracting cancer. My grandfather, uncles, aunts, and mother like 18 times. She just called me the other day to tell me she has a mass on her cheek. She had tongue cancer, did I tell you? Who gets tongue cancer? Was she hiding a sliver of uranium ore under her tongue for years? Or was it the trillions of cigarettes she smoked every damn day? The world may never know. 2 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Oh, cruel fate! [10 May 2004|07:20am] [ mood | resigned ] [ music | none ] Well folks, it's been nice knowing you. Well, maybe not all of you, but certainly a few of you. I've had a great run here on planet earth as that guy you hang out with every once in a while, but apparently, the powers that be have decided that I've outlived my usefulness, whatever that may have entailed. I certainly never meant to do anything constructive. During a routine bout of self-flagellation with a wet tube-sock, I noticed a lump on my back, somewhere near where my neck and shoulder meet up. I can only assume it's cancer. I mean, in theory, it could possibly be a swollen lymph node or an irregular muscle knot, but you never hear of such things on the news, therefore they couldn't possibly be as common as cancer. My name is Chris, I am a hypochondriac. 3 deathbed confessions|any last words?

Boredumb [05 May 2004|12:14am] [ mood | geeky ] [ music | None ] Man, everyone's livejournal is funny these days. It's so passe. According to LiveJournal Trends Weekly, boring is the new funny. Therefore, from now on, my livejournal will be nothing but incredibly tedious anecdotes, starting now. I went to Target today and bought these weight things so i can lift them and gradually increase my muscle mass. So far it's working. Soon I will have the build of female superstar fake-wresting champion China, who, by-the-way, is a fly honey-- No, sorry, thats too interesting and possibly vaguely humorous. This is harder than I had anticipated. Let me try again. I'll have to be honest with you, China is really gross. Having sex with her would be like screwing a sweaty, baritone, brick wall-- Damnit! Okay, maybe this would be simpler if I established some ground rules first. Um, okay, I guess I should avoid using adjectives or descriptive words of any kind. I should also make the entire post one huge rambling sentence. Anything else? I suppose I could misspell most of the words in the post too, just for the hell of it. It couldn't hurt. Okay, I think I'm good to go. The other day i ws going up to the stoer and i brougt my cell phone but i think it was dead and then i saw my frend carl and we were tlaking and he wants me to go over to his hous after i went to the get groceries and my exgurlfriend calld me and i got sad for a wile and then i was better wehn i watched telvision it was good i saw rerun of MASH klinger dressed lik a girl it wuz funny Ah, that's the stuff... 3 deathbed confessions|any last words?

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