Hello there Mr. Sprinkle.
How are you today?
It’s time for you to tinkle.
Don’t make a messy spray.

Don’t pee on the floor here.
There’s no real need to rush.
Smells from stalls cause fear.
But don’t forget to flush.

It’s usually best to be the first one out of the bathroom right after singing it.  Also, try to do it when VIPs are in there.

Last week I went on a rant about dim bulbs that run out in a panic at the last minute buying every food and snow removal item in a tri-state area.  This week I decided instead of doing my usual smug, “why are you stupid?”, semi-funny grumbling about these people I decided to put these people’s self-imposed plight to good use.  In the true American way, I’m turning Snowmageddon into Monty’sageddonpaidyo!

Monday night I went to Target, Giant, Lowes, Safeway and Shopper’s Food Ghetto and purchased $14,769.43 worth of snow shovels, sleds, salt, bread, milk, toilet paper, and diapers.  Today, I took my packed SUV to the local strip mall where throngs of panic stricken people were leaving stores empty handed. 

 ”Why, oh why god, have you forsaken our consumerism?  Will you not send us an angel of snow survival to help us?”, they pleaded into the now snowing sky.

That was my cue.  I flung open my tailgate and shouted, “All the crap you coulda/shoulda bought three days ago and could go a few days without now on sale for 250% the original cost!”

“A miracle! A blessing!” , they cried.

No.  Just me, baby.  Just me.

In 12 minutes I made $45, 000 , was given 3 children, and become the new owner of a nearby silver mine.  I was really only in it for the cash, but having a silver mine and three kids to work it for me was easily worth the 5 gallons of milk and a  handful of salt.

Before you say, “Monty, you’re horrible.” wait… it gets better.

After selling out of all my wares I decided to go around to the all the stores that were packed to the gills with people buying all their last minute crap and rushing around in a panic stricken state.  I decided to tie up cashier lines by purchasing large amounts of totally non-essential items.  At Target, I bought a bicycle, a 24 pack of tube socks, an assortment of car air fresheners, 3 mops, a bathrobe, and all the gum I could carry.  The people behind me looked irked that I was delaying their journey.  Sure, all that stuff was expensive, but it was funny. 

And I returned it all before I left.

I went next door to the Giant, where there was open hand-to-hand combat going on over the last roll of toilet paper, and did the same thing.  I bought 37 bottles of BBQ sauce, 2 buckets, a bag of charcoal, a birthday cake for someone named “Jim” and, again, all the gum I could carry.  This time the cashier asked me if I was having a big birthday BBQ this weekend and wouldn’t the snow ruin it.  I responded, “What snow?”  The cashier summoned someone to help me take the bags to my car… by way of the return counter.

I hope Jim gets his cake though.  I tasted it and it was delicious.  I know, I know… not cool, but I smeared the icing around so you can’t even tell I took a bite.  Plus, the chewing gum wad I used to plug the hole I made is kinda like a prize! 

Today can’t be all play and no work, so I need to go get started on snow removal.  I’ve water-proofed a few dozen large calibur firework shells left over from the 4th of July that I’m going to let get buried in the snow.  While the chumps are breaking their backs shoveling or breaking their wallets buying snowblowers, I’ll be sitting on my porch with a martini and a zippo detonating snow hither and yon in the most exciting and colorful snow removal ever. 

Be careful out there this weekend people.  In the words of the FAC in “Apocalypse Now!”:

“Tell your people to get back and keep their heads down.  This is gonna be a big one.”

I enjoy video games.  I tend to enjoy strategic or thought provoking games like SimCity, Civilization, and Leisure Suit Larry 5.  Every now and then I hop on the ol’ PS3 and play me some shoot ‘em up bang bang games.  For me the real joy in such a game isn’t getting the most kills, the biggest weapons, the most dramatic way to make a head fly off… no… for me it’s all about messing with the heads of the other players in the game.  It’s the best stress reliever ever.

I’m currently playing a game called Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.  It’s probably the most popular of its genre right now.  I usually log in for a multiplayer game which means that for the next hour or so, me and a dozen other people will be connected online in this game with the purpose of killing each other.  Well, they are… I’m there to mess with them.  I’ve also got a wireless headset so I can talk to my new friends.  Boy do they love that.

Most of the guys (and it’s a pretty testosterone filled world there) have handles like “BIGKILL45″ or “DEATH_DROPPER” or “I_TAKE-(THIS)WAY2-SERIOUSLY!!!”.  They pride themselves on their otherwise completely useless skill of mashing a button.  My handle is “8yr_old_girl”.  It always makes me giggle to watch the status messages go by saying things like “BILLY_NUKE_PANTS” was killed by “8yr_old_girl”.  That in and of itself is almost worth the price of admission.  Sony has a voice modulator (I have yet to see a legitimate use for it, but who cares) that allows me to pitch up my voice a few octaves so I sound like a kid. 

I don’t do much damage in the game.  I’m actually fairly good at it, but usually I just hide in a closet somewhere on the map.  I’ll sit there the whole time and wait until the highest ranking bad guy wanders by or the guy who has been talking the most trash and then I jump out and kill them with a pointed stick.  In gamer terms it’s called “camping” and it often makes some players angry… especially the one who just got knifed by an 8yr_old_girl  giggling “tickle, tickle!”.  Without fail, that little number starts the chatting in the game lobby between battles.

“Hey “8yr_old_girl”, are you really an 8 year old girl?  Because you suck!”

“Hey “[Waffen SS]-CODWM2G0D!”, are you really a cod looking for a White Male to Go on Date?  Because you also suck!  And you got tickled to death.”

“I’m not a cod!”

“Don’t be ashamed of who you are, fish boy. Be proud.  Swim upstream.  Make spawn.  Interspecies spawn apparently.”

“Shut up!  You’re not a girl, are you?”

“Sure I am.  But I’m really 28.  Wanna hook up?”

“Really?”

“Ew gross, no you freaking pedophile!”

At that point either the other players are laughing too hard to continue or the next battle starts. 

The other night I ran afoul of an entire guild of people with too much spare time who were boasting about how many times they’d beaten the game that week.  I got bored with their conversation and turned on my CD player and loaded up a wonderful mix of tunes I’d made.  I took off my headset and hung it over the speaker so the mic would broadcast my music instead of my voice.  For the next 60 minutes,  Call of Duty’s battles were soundtracked by REO Speedwagon, Yanni, Kenny G, Steve Winwood, and a compilation of what I call “Hot Latin Tracks”.

“TEAM DEATHMATCH – BEGIN!”

“And I can’t fight this feeling anymore

“He’s over here, he’s over here! Cover the flag!”

I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for

“We’re being dominated!  Take those positions! *BOOM*

It’s time to bring this ship into the shore

“Sniper! Sniper in the cave!  Someone hit ‘em with a flashbang!”

And throw away the oars, forever

“For the love of god, 8yr_old_girl turn it off!”

‘Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore”

-DARK_DANNY has left the game

-[NIL]BootyMaster has left the game

-[NIL]MCHammerstein has left the game

-[SS]Dick_Cheney has joined the game

[SS]Dick_Cheney: “Is this music a new feature?”

Boy oh boy do I laugh.

Tickle, Tickle!