America's 82nd State

Kansas is a great state, providing America and the rest of the world with wonderful commodities that enrich our lives. I thought our dear readers would be interested to know what Kansas' top exports are (in ascending order).

10. Spoons
9. Forks
8. Interestingly Enough, Knives
7. House Flies
6. Sasquatch
5. Blue Whales
4. Armenians
3. Peeing Calvin Stickers
2. Meth
1. Freedy Johnston

These are all fine products that Kansas makes possible. Next time you're passing through this great state of ours, won't you tip the Sasquatch cleaning your windshield? He's completed work release and really is making a contribution to society now. Unlike last year.

Number One Worst Kansas export:
Don Johnson

Jones Soda Holiday Pack Reviewed, as Suggested by Adam Jeffers

1. Brussel Sprout with Prociutto: Actually, not that bad, I'd heard tales of it and the horrors that await within. One thing you have to understand about me is I like cabbage. Part of the German heritage. Also, I get heartburn a lot and drink a lot of alka-seltzer. It tasted like cabbage, plain alka-seltzer and popcorn all mixed together. Not as bad as expected. Has a cigarette smoke after-taste which is kinda weird and gross, but nothing that Lora won't ingest. I ate a red pepper that comes in Kung Pow chicken on a dare. I'm xhardxcorex. I'm also stupid. It gave me a rash on my nose.

Wild Herb Stuffing: Tastes like rosemary, again, plain alka-seltzer, with a hint of caramel. Yeah, a little like dressing. I call it dressing. But stuffing also suffices, depending on what region you and your family are from. By the way, I call this stuff Jones Pop. Midwest represent. Mostly it tastes like salt and rosemary.

Slow Roasted Turkey and Gravy: Smelled more like turkey and gravy than tasted like turkey and gravey. It tasted like bullion and salt, but was still too sweet to be taken seriously as turkey and gravy pureed into a carbonated beverage. More gravy I say! Who can't get enough gravy? Certainly not me, and I weigh 300 pounds.

Pumpkin Pie de la Creme Fresca: Not bad. Really spicy though. More spice than pumpkin, which isn't bad. I mean, who consumes pumpkin in America without the pie? Not sure if the other flavor in there was supposed to be 'crust.' A bit caramely too. I think they added caramel to every flavor. So far. I mean, I'm typing each one of these as I drink them. I am that efficent. And Burton is being the Jones-Soda-man-slave right now fetching me my drinks. Snap, snap! Where's my other one, you indentured servant, YOU!

Cranberry with Orange Zest: The least impressive in originality. I mean, it tasted like cranberry juice and Sprite. Every girl who has had a urinary tract infection KNOWS what this tastes like. It's reminiscent of the UTI I acquired last winter where I was layed out on the couch all day in between trying to take care of my 18-month-old, drinking 64 ounces (I kid you not) of cranberry juice, taking Uristat every 4 hours and peeing orange urine with blood mixed in it. Ladies, all I have to say is hydrate, hydrate, hydrate and lay off the caffeine. Nothing's better than feeling like you've been kicked in your krunkin' bits for two days and then having that followed up by your period. But that's digressing.

Well, that wraps it up! Thanks for reading! Now don't feel like you're missing anything, because you're not, except maybe a stomach ache. And BRUSSEL SPROUT AFTERTASTE. I still have it!

Several Instances in Which an Ant Disguised as a Human Accidentally Reveals His Identity

While filling out an internet quiz:

1. How often do you see your crush?
Rarely or never

2. What's your ideal night out?
Dinner and a show

3. What is the sexiest part of your body?
My thorax


During a business meeting while wearing a fake mustache:

ANT

I think, as you can see from the October sales chart, that we are looking to have our best quarter since 2002. We're even doing extremely well in the Southwest, that's usually a dead spot for us. Ed will be up in a minute or so to give you all the full regional reports, so he can add a little to that.

{fake mustache falls off}

At the 1996 Summer Olympics, competing in the 100-meter sprint:

{Upon hearing the starting gun immediately begins wandering aimlessly because ants have no intrinsic polarity}

During dinner with a new girlfriend:

ANT

You know, um, I want you to know that I really like you. I think that, well, I mean, I'd like to see you more often like this, you know, I just think you're great. You're a really great girl, Emily.

EMILY

That's so sweet. I really like you too. My brothers are really protective of me, they pretty much scare off most of the guys I bring home, but they like you. Do you have any siblings?

ANT

Why yes, millions. Fuck.

While digging tunnels in an ant hill:

{Is unable to dig tunnels properly because of the cumbersome and enormous fake human costume he is wearing}

Tips for Living

Despite how good the dare payoff is (and I'm thinking a 10 speed Schwin bicyle, because that's what you owe me, Whitney) it is NEVER a good idea to drink acid. Bonus! They've got me on a catheter!

Industrial Age of Film, Made in the 1960's

So lately, I have been getting a lot of "You look like the mom from Mary Poppins!" And I think, the people who say that are really lame because everyone who is anyone, knows that her name was Mrs. Winifred Banks in the movie. I would've even accepted Mrs. Banks. Everyone KNOWS that Banks was the last name of the family, because at least one of the songs referenced the last name. You know, where the kids sing the end of their letter with "Jane and Michael...Banks." Cue adorableness. Anyway, I thought you all would like to see how much I resemble her. First, her.

Me

Okay, maybe you can't see it in those photos. Here we are side by side.

I'm on the right. I know it's at a different angle, but surely you can see the resemblance. Crazy that I even had that same dress. I mean, I like that movie, but it was purley accident that I happened to buy the same dress. Not THE dress worn in the movie, but one identical to it at a thrift shop when I was in my vintage clothing phase. And my stationary phase. And my floral couch phase. I can't believe I ever owned that dress. Who looks good in mustard yellow? I am rockin' that hairstyle though.

Beverage Review - Orange County Choppers Energy Drink

I tried to find a proper photo of the Orange County Choppers Energy Drink can, but the only stuff that came up was owned by BevNET. In the end, this photo of a girl/guy hermaphrodite pretty much sums up the drink. While points must be given for OCCED not tasting anything like Red Bull, equal points must be taken away for the Cherry Kool Aid marinated with batteries flavor they went with instead. I was also dissapointed that the can didn't have photos of the Hulk Hogan Mr. Handlebar Mustache owner guy and his son Paul "Pauly" Roundhead. They seem to glue their facial hair to every other OCC product, but instead the can just has some gay fire on it. Heated aluminum is dangerous guys, and any speculative alarmist would agree. Other than that, this is a straight up average energy drink. This would prove to be a useful accessory if you were on a chopper based spy mission of some sort.


Overall Score: 1 out of 6 Ghandi heads

Jumping Everest - Pages From a Journal

January 7: I began my preparations for the jump today. I am committed to a regimine of 36 sit ups and 50 push ups, as well as 24 leg downs and 47 squat quips. All this to keep my legs in shape. Jeremy thinks the task is impossible, but I keep assuring him. Mountains were made to be jumped, just as kangaroos were meant to be fought.

Feb. 9: I have taken my first practice jumps this past week. I have succesfully cleared a garbage can and a croquet mallot. Current regimine: 50 sit ups, 100 push ups, 100 ankle smacks, 100 calf danglers.

Feb. 28: Aunt May passed away last evening. I will be unable to attend the funeral as I will be training. As is customary I've sent a flower arrangement and foil balloon.

March 13: Smoking. No practice since last entry. Knee hurts.

Mar. 20: Recent interest in jump expedition from a natl. magazine. Jeremy has been talking about my attempt on his radio show. I have been concerned by how Jeremy keeps calling it the "funniest thing ever". He clearly doesn't understand the seriousness of the task at hand.

Mar. 27: Was on Jeremy's radio programme today. The studio was quite crowded. I was asked to participate in a fake game show. The other guests were a man with a bowel disorder and a tiny midget man. The show was called "Idiot Survivor". I successfully voted off the other two guests. Everyone laughed and said I was already a winner.

Viking Cookies

I don't know if anyone else has had these yet, but Ole Svernjorgensenn's Viking Cookies are incredible! Growing up in Oregon I was very familiar with Icelandic and common Nordic cookies and I missed them terribly when I moved to Kansas. The Ole Svernjorgensenn brand have all the traditional viking ingredients, like skull fragments, beard leavings, and battle axe shavings. I was so stuffed after eating 4 boxes of these that I barely had time to conquer Sweden...barely, but I still did manage to conquer them.

I May Have Underestimated My Aim

So, the other day we're out shooting at the space shuttles, like we often do, and during my turn I accidentally blew one up. Now, I'm no marksman, but I must say it was a pretty damn good shot.

Me and the other guys at Cape Canaveral always shoot soda cans off the fence during lunch. We go out behind the launchpad and use Jerry's pellet gun. By the way, Cokes make bigger explosions than Pepsis. I don't know why, but it must have to do with the sugar or something. Anyway, a lot of our misses end up dinging off the external fuel tank. We noticed that whenever they hit up high, near the payload doors, all these cools sparks and shit would fly out. Todd tried throwing some rocks up into it but it didn't do anything. Then on Monday we started shooting at this blue part that seemed to be making the sparks. Nobody could even come close, which makes sense considering we were shooting at an object only about 3 inches long that was about 200 feet above us. Todd bet me a Coke he'd hit it first but I fucking owned him, direct hit, won the Coke, and blew up the Discovery. That mother fucker was so pissed when I came into the burn unit demanding a 2 liter! I was just kidding, though, the bet was for a can.

My Exclusive Interview With Teen Wolf

(note: In order to gain permission to interview Teen Wolf several ground rules were laid down that we had to abide by. We agreed, at the request of Teen Wolf's representatives, not to ask questions pertaining to his being a werewolf, werewolf transformation, silver bullets, fur, basketball, any canine related inquries, or anything regarding the full moon. We felt it was more important to interview him on his terms, rather than not have any interview at all. Below is a complete transcript of our November 2nd meeting.


BP: Good evening Teen Wolf, wonderful to have you here.

TW: Yes, thank you as well.

BP: I'd like to begin by asking you about your recent sex tape controversy.

TW: (turns into werewolf, kills me)

My Dear, Those Aren't Wolverines

It was the start of the Summer Wolverine hunt last Frursday, but of course I was in no mood for the carnage. Only one week earlier I had learned of the death of my cousin, R. R. R. Holmes, by that damned Hoppem's Fever Flu. I do hope by my end the medical sciences will have stayed it's gaze. It was to late for Richard Richard Rodney Holmes, however, and another specter joined the ranks of Heaven's flutey choir of gayness. His passing was all the more bittersweet in happening just before the hunt. Oh how he loved to taunt the wolverines. Holmes and his "wicked chuck wand" which he would playfully use to lash about the eyes of the creatures! It was the type of fun only an infant would seem capable of.

In his formative years he had been a blue eyed genius of invention. Creations would come to him in flashes: the bicycle, the septocycle, the double bicycle, the non-flying single bicycle. Legal disputes would rob him of his most popular creations: the fork. While safety concerns would prevent the creation of others: the child mangling robot. These ideas would never define him. Nor would anything define him. Penniless from the lawyers, he spent the last 17 years of his life in my shed. I asked him to leave on many occasions, but, as was his want, he would urinate on my porch and steal my pumpkins. After a good while I thought it somewhat less than likely that he would ever harm me.

As I hear the wolverines purr I am brought back to this present. A bleaker existence in his absence, with all those horrible forks and bicycles causing such a rabble. I would like to think of him, not as a crazed, urinating man with a stick. Perhaps sitting next to Da Vinci and Edison and looking down on us. The three great minds, devising some sort of lighted, flying, wolverine-blinding transportation that only the future can understand. I will sleep little until that great dawn rises.

A Turning Point in My Virginal Life

A muskrat, a leprechaun, and a moldy jack o' lantern walk into a bar... Oh! That wasn't actually a joke, that was a hallucination I had whilst taking my daily morphine allotment. I get phantom's pains due to an accident I sustained. Well, not a proper accident, an accident implies involuntary participation. I had a leg sawed off in a shark's mouth one spring day for a lark, as school boys sometimes do. I suppose I could tell you a story...

It was the year 1783, and as you recall, that year is famous for the great Torcanedo which wiped out almost our entire town of North Hamptonshire. But my story begins in April, and Bernice (the name given the torcanedo by the North Hamptonshire Meteorology Institute) was nary a twinkle in her mother's eye.

I was skipping down the lane, wearing my back satchel, when I spotted a lad on crutches. He was missing a leg. I, being tired of skipping, thought a missing leg was the coolest fucking thing I had ever seen. He must be a babe magnet, I remember saying to myself. Out loud even, to which he replied, "What, mate?" So our lifelong friendship began. And by lifelong, I mean his life, for he died about a month later of Beanitis. A terrible disease in which the victim actually turns into a bean plant. Everyone knows England is full to the hilt with beans, so naturally, we cut him down and threw him on our bonfire.

That's neither here nor there. Although, if you've never heard a man turned into a bean plant scream, then you haven't really lived, have you? A missing leg, I was consumed with how I was to acquire a missing leg. Or rather how I was to no longer possess a leg. Yes, that's more accurate. Luckily for me Lenny Newmandmoss was walking his shark into the 1st National Bearded Lady Bank. Apparently he was applying for a loan, because sharks are very expensive and his was with child. Lenny's child. Suddenly a magnificent idea struck me! I would give the shark a treat and thus secure my spot as Northhamptonshire's most eligible bachelor.

My plan worked, and to this day, I get a lot of sweet puntang, let me tell you. As for the shark, she received a nasty case of indigestion. Who knew legs were so gassy? And as I hobble around town on my peg leg, with a beautiful wench on my arm, I pay homage to my fallen comrade as I wink at the stars. Beanie, you were a great friend.