The Douche That Time Forgot: Part III
We continue our two-week trip down memory lane with another visit from a kindly guest, who has once again saved me from having to be clever in two places at once. Today's contributor is Jackson West, a rising star of Bay Area Blogdom who should probably be starring in cowboy movies with a name like that. Take it away, Tex:

WULAD is the funniest blog I read. In fact, it's probably funnier than blogs I don't read, but I wouldn't know, because I don't read them. Plus, Ian is an excellent jazz musician. How do I know? Because I actually took his advice and went to see him play at House of Shields, where, with the help of some friends, I embarrassed him in public and ate his cupcakes (which, like his blog and his jazz music, were good). [Editor's note: they were C-Baby's cupcakes, which are the sorts of things you people miss out on by not coming to my shows.]

My favorite bits on WULAD are Ian's "Top Excuses for Not Updating Blog," which I read because they might come in handy someday if anyone were to ever expect me to post regularly on my own, not very funny blog (for my larger, group effort blog, the other people are funnier than me anyway, so no one complains when I stop posting).

But there's a twist in this literary cocktail--a twist of 'the funny!' Because, you see, they are all written as though people have been blogging throughout the ages, before things like computers even existed. L to the O to the L, people! Of course, we all know that blogging started when people in cubicles got tired of doing any work at their highly paid dot-com jobs, and then really took off when they lost said jobs and had nothing better to do than rant about the poor quality of daytime television.

So, to repay the honor of being chosen to guest-blog here at WULAD, I've completely stolen Ian's idea, which is a grand comedy tradition (see: Robin Williams). Without any further ado, I bring you:

Top Excuses for Not Updating Blog
...as reported in Leningradist, July 7th, 1936.

• Home raided by KGB after posting an illegal MP3 of decadent capitalist swing music by Lionel Hampton
  
• Had to make a quick trip to Mexico, where I was not following Trotsky around trying to kill him with an ice pick
  
• Getting ready to move to Germany, where as a Jew I can live free from persecution
  
• Bandwidth is for shit ever since CadreCom merged with American Fascist Capitalist Pigdogs Online
  
• Little Sasha ratted me out for complaining about the crappy toilet paper at Stal-Mart
  
• Haven't been able to think straight after the drugs, sleep deprivation and beatings in preparation for my upcoming show trial
  
• After three days in line, I got some rancid sausage, which gave me the trots
  
• Volunteered to help the Spanish Republic beat back Franco, but was told they were doing fine
  
• Was on location as an extra in Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky
  
• New Russian Mini-Computer made with vacuum tubes and electromagnetic relays surprisingly ineffective
  
• Depressed ever since the upset by Kiev in the Motoball championships
  
• Went blind after Ilya and I drank that bottle of "Stoli Methanol"
  
• Got tired of the constant comment spam about "online Kyrgyz hold-em," "Emma Goldman nude," and "discount truth serum"
  
• Spent a week at the dacha with Paul Robeson and Charlie Chaplin

... More Top Excuses through history here, here, here, here, here and here.

The Douche That Time Forgot: Part II
As I continue to plumb the depths of human depravity over at The Spoonbender, we forge ahead on our two-week trip down memory lane with another fabulous guest contributor: this time it's Charges, reknowned pornography auteur and proprietor of her own entertaining website.

(Charges sent this to me with the preamble, "Hi Ian! Here is my thing. I hope it works out somehow." Oddly enough, this closely resembles the pick-up line I used in college! Ba dump, etc.)

Three days before this past Valentine's Day, WULAD gave me a gift that I graciously gave to my loved ones. Here is how it went:

From: Rollertrain
To: Gideon's Bible
Subject: OMIFUCKINGOD this is hilarious

dude, did you see what WULAD posted today? i've been reading it over and over for like 6 hours.

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: Coworker with Whom I Had a Passionate Affair that Ended in Rejection
Subject: This is what you did to my heart

I wanted to share with you the damage you did to my eternal core, except this time it's funny.

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: Coworker Who Has Been in Love with Me for 3 Years
Subject: Your agony is good for my ego

Does it feel something like this? You have that same grimace every time I say no.

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: Head of I.T. Department
Subject: I TOLD you that blogs can be cool

You say "everyone has a fucking blog," but you don't even know what blogs ARE. Asshole.

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: I.T. Grunt
Subject: My boss told me to tell you this

Please get me Photoshop 10 and a new laptop so I can do stuff like this during work hours. Thanks. [Editor's note: WULAD is never created during work hours. Ever.]

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: Boyfriend
Subject: 2gether 4ever

Breaking up with me will cause me actual physical harm, and possibly make me die. Can you imagine the guilt that would cripple you? Life will be much easier with me alive. Happy V-Day, baby!

- - - - -

From: Rollertrain
To: Spoonbender
Subject: Thanks for introducing me to WULAD!!!

It's the best blog ever!!! Also: Do you have his address? I'd like to send him some free porn for having the best blog ever. [Ed. Note: this is why C-Baby has said, "Stay away from that Charges girl."]

So here it is: the Best WULAD Post of All Time (in 2005): Unbreak My Heart!

Wrapped Up Like a Guest Blogga: Shan-Bear (Part II)
It's once again time to hand the cleverness reins over to our illustrious Far East correspondent, who as you read last week, has trekked across the globe to make the world a better place through the use of very complicated supersmart science stuff that you could never hope to comprehend. Let's begin!


Hi there kids,

...Well, this country continues to amuse. With the country-wide appreciation for the vodka, I felt like I needed to try some, so I did as much last night. While I'm generally a beer drinkin' gal and therefore not so much of a vodka connoisseur, in my humble opinion it was awful. First off, this so-called vodka we were drinking was made from wheat. Isn't vodka by definition made from potatoes? Again, I'm not an expert, but that's what I was taught in grade school. I just don't think that you can slap a "Chinggis" label on a bottle of ethyl alcohol and call it vodka. They sure do enjoy it here though.

So, usually, when I go out [doing supersmart science work] there are two people with me: 1, the guy who goes in the house with me and tells the family what we are doing and helps me measure the ger and weigh the fuel that we give them; and 2, the driver. Sunday we went to this ger, and I knew things were strange when, after Guy 1 went inside the gate, he had Guy 2 come into the ger with us. There was an older woman and two old guys, and the latter were drunk, and I don't mean just drunk, but F***ED UP. They were totally belligerent (it was 3 p.m., mind you), and every once in a while one of them would head towards me, but Guy 2 was standing between me and them and he would just puff up all big like and they would back off—I had my very own body guard. Then, when Guy 1 went to take the string down that had been holding up the monitors, one of the drunk guys started yelling at Guy 1 and then at me, and then the old lady grabbed the guy by the coat and threw him down on the bed and she started yelling at yelling at him even louder than he had been yelling. Then she turned to Guys 1 and 2 said some stuff and yelled at the drunk guys some more.

Of course, I speak no Mongolian (well, I am up to 3 words—the bad thing about being oft accompanied by a translator), but I was just imagining what this lady was saying:

"You good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch, you're drunk on a Sunday and these nice people come to our house and you act like a complete ass, embarrassing me and them. Why can't you stay sober for one goddamn day?!" Turns to Guys 1 & 2: "Do you see what I have to put up with? And not just him, he brings home his drunk friends to cause even more trouble. I'm too old for this shit." Back to drunk guy: "Stay there and shut up until these people leave. Then I'm really going to let you have it."

The kids are really cute though, and they are all completely enthralled by my computer... [but] the other day, I remembered something very important: it is super-fun to pop bubble wrap. So I gave some to two little girls at the last house. They were very happy. I probably will come home with unprotected equipment. Whatever.

... It's the "9 cold days." Or so I've been told. When we arrived, we were told that it was going to be cold for 9 days starting on Jan 18. But last week, I was told that the 9 cold days had arrived early. They are, in fact, cold. I can't wait until the 10th day.

I lost my hat in a taxi cab. It was the best hat ever—the one that had the facemask thingy that you could pull down to use as a neck warmer. But I've been surviving with my fleece cap that I wear back home and my actual neck warmer pulled over my face (which makes my neck cold). But the story of the lost cap is really quite funny. I had to go [do supersmart science stuff] right after I lost the cap, but [Coworker X] was on its trail: The doorman got the number of the cab, and the hotel people called every cab company to see which one had a cab by that number. They found it and reported the fact that I was missing my cap, and they said they would have the guy come by and give me my cap. [Coworker X] was told that, in case the cap wasn't returned, she should type a letter to the police describing the circumstances under which the hat was lost. She did so, and the letter reads:

"To Whom it May Concern:

Today I lost a hat in a taxi.
The taxi was a yellow car, license plate #2546 with a meter.
The taxi picked up two women between the Ghengis Khan Hotel and the Flower Hotel, about 14:15 today.
The taxi dropped us at the Ulaanbaatar Hotel.
The hat is black. It is a style that covers the whole face. It was left in the back seat.
Please help find this hat.

Thank you."

The hotel staff were unrelenting in the effort to recover my hat. They provided daily updates on the status, which didn't change between Saturday and Tuesday: basically, they guy hasn't been showing up in the mornings like he's supposed to, and even the taxi company was very interested in the guy coming back because he owed them money. I was starting to think the guy had skipped town with my hat. But the driver of taxi 2546 showed up for work yesterday, and I was reunited with my hat! I like that hat. A lot.

... I'm really bummed because I have yet to see a yak. I was seriously considering brining one home, but I hear they don't travel well. But they seem like such a practical pet. You can make yak butter and sweaters. I haven't worked out the details, but I haven't given up on the idea.

... It's confirmed: I have SARS. Well, "confirmed" might be the wrong word because everybody keeps telling me it's a head cold. But it's definitely respiratory, and it feels really, really severe. If they quarantine me, will you find some way to smuggle me cigarettes and porn?

See you soon,
Shan-golia

Wrapped Up Like A Guest Blogger: Roger Cedeño
Hi, everybody, I’m Roger Cedeño. You may know me from my days as the wacky, fun-loving right fielder of the New York Mets. But since it seems those days may be coming to an end, I’ve decided to try my hand at a few other trades, and WULAD’s board of directors was kind enough to give me a shot while I consider how to make use of the months of inactivity to come during which I will be earning five million dollars. Thanks, guys! Hope you enjoy the Beluga I sent over!

Now let me start off by saying that when I’m not dropping easy fly balls or driving recklessly, I always make it a point to chow down on as many PowerBars® as possible. Mmm, PowerBars®. They’re like a 95 m.p.h. fastball for your stomach. No, that's no good. Maybe a shot of tequila that doesn’t get you drunk and is made out of nuts and grains instead of whatever they use to make tequila. In any case, PowerBars® get my full endorsement until March 31, with renewal option at fifty grand per year. OK, thirty-five. Call me.

Anyway, I’m really here to inform and entertain in much the same manner as your usual WULAD editorial staff—I want my Ferrari back in the same condition I left it, bizotches—so I’ll start with a little round-up of current events:

According to Some Government Guy, the U.S. is under imminent threat of a terrorist attack, with Washington D.C. and New York as likely targets. Lucky for me, I’m wintering here in my native Venezuela. To all of you who booed me at Shea Stadium: Good luck with that, fellas! But seriously kids—terrorism is no laughing matter. And neither is my batting average! Ba-dump-BUMP! Stay in school.

Looks like Michael Jackson is having some problems with the law again. Having been there, I can only tell him to be strong, Bro, and don’t resist when they want to do the cavity search. It’s no fun driving a Maserati on a donut cushion! Also I have a demo tape, maybe you could pass it along. [Sings] “I’m an… OUT-fielder, GLOVE-wielder, SONG-stealer, don’t ya mess around with me..” What’s that? Copy-what Infringe-what of the what now? OK, never mind. Call me, though, Mike.

And I heard that Joe Namath told some sports-news chick that he wanted to do the quarterback-sneak back in her hotel room—hey editor dudes! I came up with that one! I told you it'd be a riot! Anyway, as Joe and I have both been professional athletes for New York teams ending in "-ets", I can say that the temptation is always there, although I've seen quite a drop-off since I became the laughingstock of the league. But the trick, Joe, is to wait until the camera's off, big guy. Then you can let the love... flow.

Lastly, those WULAD dudes—who best be taking good care of my car—would like me to remind you to check out the Bach Festival. You know, my soon-to-be former teammate Mike Piazza really likes that classical shit. Now I know what they say about him, but let me tell you, he never did anything like that around me, and I consider myself a handsome man, you know. And so what if he keeps a shirtless photo of Richard Marx in his locker? I told you the man loves music.

So that’s it for my first stint as guest blogger here at WULAD—if you like what you’ve read, be sure and let the management know, so they can present me with an offer that doesn’t insult my intelligence and the intelligence of my agent. I mean, let’s be reasonable, people—I know Giambi’s getting $2.5 over at his guest-bloggin’ gig, and I’m much funnier than him. Call me, though. Peace out.

Disclaimer: Parody, not really written by Cedeño, blah blah, any similarity with crappy outfielders living or dead coincidental and not affliliated with blah blah blah, etc.

Wrapped Up Like A Guest Commentator
Today, WULAD proudly presents the following contribution, from your friendly neighborhood Obstreperous Coworker:

SF Gate: Truly Unbiased Voice of the People
Here's my impression of a (shortened) unbiased article from SF Gate on police brutality:

"Cops don't be treatin' black people fair," said one man while chugging a forty and scratching his balls with a 357 Magnum. He would only identify himself as Short Fatty. Another woman we spoke to as she bought cigarettes and vodka for her underage daughter snapped, "the cops deserved to be lynched, them racist bastards."

But other residents from a nearby neighborhood disagree. Todd Wilmore had the kindness and decency to speak to us on his way to seminary school. "The police do an excellent job of protecting citizens from all walks of life. I am honored to live in a city that has the privilege of employing a police department that exemplifies courage, honor, and impeccable judgement."

"And remember," Obstrep adds, "if you go to Oakland, don't miss the plastic seat on the fence; you might get a pole up your ass."