Sunday, May 30, 2010

Making the Umlaut: A Practical Guide

Today, I constructed mankind's greatest achievement: a sandwich so amazing, so powerful, so flavorful; it wins hearts and breaks them. It's the Umlaut. And it's awesome.

My quest to assemble the Umlaut came not ten minutes ago. I was bored. I was also hungry, as I had not eaten lunch. I shambled into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and was met with the jar of peanut butter right next to the bottle of mustard "Huh," I think, "I remember the peanut butter and mustard sandwich." Ah, what a time that was. Just me, Murdurpyg, and sandwiches. Those thoughts floated about, collided with other things lurking about the depths of the Whirlpool Chrome refrigerator before me, door open in a way that would make Al Gore red in the face.

And that's when it struck me: I needed a sandwich. Not just any sandwich, a sandwich where "awesome" was not enough. It needed "aweXome." With a capital X.

From the fridge I yanked the following ingredients. It is vitally important you use them:

Plain yellow mustard

Chunky peanut butter (it must be chunky)

Jam, any flavor (cherry was used for this test)

Pickle relish

Hot sauce

Slicked chicken brest

Sliced ham

Two strips of fucking bacon. That's right. I went that far.

Step one: Take two pieces of bread. Apply large amounts of peanut butter to one slice, jelly to the other.

Step two: Microwave bacon. While this is happeneing, perform the other steps, but be sure to check on the bacon. I recommend microwaving the bacon for thirty second intervals, switching to fifteen seconds when it is closer to being done.

Step three: Add ham to peanut butter. Add mustard to ham. Add chicken to mustard.

Step four: Apply relish to chicken. Why this is a seperate step, I do not know. Bear with me here.

Step five: Add bacon to relish. Use only two strips, otherwise it could explode in a burst of pure awesome. If you survive, guitar solos performed by pirate ninjas and robots will forever haunt your dreams.

Step six: Apply liberal amounts of hot sauce to jelly (that means don't be a puss). Place jelly/hot sauce bread on top of bacon.

Step seven: Behold. Take picture with cell phone; add glory lines and a title lazily in MS Paint.

(I used GIMP, but whatever.)

Step eight: Eat it. Feel good about life. Ignore heart palpitations.

There it is, the only thing I will ever contribute to society. It is difficult to describe how the Umlaut tastes, but I'll try: imagine Epic Win and AweXome having sex in your mouth, they are both girls, and neither of them has an STD.

And I, uh, have nothing else to say I guess.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Llama Lament

As you know (I'm pretty much talking to the air in front of me at this point, but bear with me, imaginary reader), I use deviantArt under the name TheUltamate. Recently, there's been some craze about "Llama Badges."

What is this I don't even-

I wish I understood the concept behind this Llama Badge ordeal. Why? What is the bloody point of this? Just recently I got ten Llama Badges, so my llama was upgraded to "Super Llama," whatever the seven hells that means. I don't get it. WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS.

And I can see where this is going, too. These Llama Badges are going to turn into some lame status icon that only proves how "popular" you and your mediocre art are. Let's see:
Kris Wilson, one of the extremely funny artists for Cyanide and Happiness, has the "Ninja Llama," the fifth one.
Even though there has been no activity on her page since December 2007, Hail-NekoYasha (AKA Katide Tiedrich of Awkward Zombie) has the fourth highest, the Super Albino Llama.

There comes a point, where, believe it or not, tried and true Internet memes become (gasp!) not funny. For instance, if there was a clip of a doctor saying "Your white blood cell count is" and then it cuts in to have Vegeta say "It's" and then they splice in "under" and Vegeta continues to say "NINE THOUSAAAAAND," that would, wait, still actually be sort of funny.
I think I made a point, however mangled it may be.

I'm bored of ranting about this. Never before have I considered "Peggy Hill is down to her last pencil" to lose its luster, or I will eventually get over KroboProductions being suspended from YouTube.
I I'm going to go eat ice cream. Maybe I should actually find something to write about. But that's a whole different post.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Transformers 3 Might Not Suck

This is probably old news, but, hey, what do I care? This blog needs to at least pretend to look busy, so I'll babble incoherently about some random topic: Megan Fox was given the boot from Transformers 3.

This might be the only good thing Michael Bay has done so far. Really, I'm tired of his movies. The first Transformers was awesome because there were fighting giant robots. There's a general rule about giant robots: as long as they are not something stupid, like, I dunno, a flower robot (I am awful at creating something stupid at a moment's notice; do not judge me), giant robots are one of the seven awesomest things in existance (fire, guitars, aliens, robots, zombies, pirates, and ninjas; the creator of everything that ever was, is, and will be, the Fire Breathing Guitar Playing Alien Robot Zombie Pirate Ninja, is the awesomest thing ever, birthed Chuck Norris and Mr. T from some discarded belly button lint). Transformers 2 sucked because Michael Bay decided to have less giant robots beating the engine oil out of each other and more flat jokes and blatant racism.

To be fair, racism is really funny.

So what could Michael Bay possibly do to redeem himself? I'm thinking stop being a director forever, but here comes one of the next best things: Megan Fox is out of the picture.

I can hear you now. "Hey!" you say, "Megan Fox is hot!" I will not deny this. But it is also worth noting two things:
One: Megan Fox cannot act.
Two: Without Megan Fox, Shia LaBeouf's character will no longer be tied down by some dreary and cliché love interest. Hopefully he'll become less of a flat portrait because of this.

But! What if the movie sucks anyway (which is distinctly possible)? What if even giant robots shooting each other and a whole Manhattan city block smashing to the ground in a massive clusterfuck of awesome can't save this movie?
Well, we'll have no Megan Fox to ogle. It's a risky situation, folks, but it is one I feel we must roll the bones on and put our chips on the table and I am out of metaphors about gambling.

I swear I had better things to say.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Mic Check

I figured since I can't jolly well make journals on deviantArt anymore (for reasons I don't really want or care enough about to go into), I'd get one of these newfangled bloggin' doohickeys all the whippersnappers keep talking about with their saggy pants and their basketballs...why, if that little runny nosed monster steps on my lawn again, I'll shove that basketball right up his...!

I dazed for a minute there.

I'll lurk around here meaninglessly for a while, me thinks. Maybe I'll get around to actually doing something worthwhile with my time, but I might not; who knows. I'll probably post things pertaining to something important, like the latest blunder in society or something that strikes me as being insanely awesome. I'll rant and rave and probably compile a long list of the reasons I hate humanity. I'll probably post lyrics to the songs I write under a fledgling (that's being charitable; this bird is a freshly laid egg) project a friend and I have called Tötfleisch. Oh yes, there will be umlauts.