Saints On A Plane

I usually do not get many takers for the middle seat next to me on airplanes. Maybe I look intimidating, maybe I stink, maybe people take one look and think “fat bastard, no way am I sitting there”, maybe it’s the joke plastic dog turd that I place strategically on the seat next to me to ward off would be invaders of my space. I don't know, but whatever the reason, I'm not complaining.
For those who don’t know, Southwest Airlines do not have assigned seating, fine if you are one of the first on board, horrid if you are one of the last. I make sure I am always one of the first and usually get lucky with two seats to myself. Every now and again though, on a full flight I am forced to try and make myself small so that somebody can squeeze into the unlucky middle seat. Yesterday, it was an elderly Hispanic woman who smelled like she had recently taken a bath in pine sol floor cleaner, shake ‘n’ vac and a whole bottle of highly concentrated ‘Eau De Auld Lass’ perfume. The shit she was wearing had to be toxic, it made my eyes water and my nostrils itch. If Bin Laden got his hands on a bottle of this stuff who knows what damage he could do.

So she gets settled in and after rooting around in her ridiculously oversized handbag for a while, pulls out a tatty paperback entitled “The Miracles of The Saints”. She immediately turns to the index and I notice that several words have been highlighted, one of which was “skin rashes.”

Now I have never claimed to be a good catholic, to do so would have been a lie and would therefore have nudged me a little bit closer to hell. I stopped going to church when I was about 10 and never paid attention in Religion class at school (although I wish I had), and so only know very little about the saints and the various causes to which they are patrons. I know all I need to know to get by in a casual conversation about St. Christopher, St. Francis and St. Patrick, should I ever find myself in that position. If the conversation was to turn to even a slightly more obscure saint, I may as well get my coat.

So, sitting next to this overpoweringly perfumed old lady turned out to be an edumacation as I tried to read her book without her noticing. I learned that St. Jude is the patron saint of impossible causes. I learned that St. Bernadine of Sienna is the patron saint of people with respiratory problems. Naturally this aroused my interest and has led me to research further. What surprises me most is that many saints patronize multiple causes. I did not know this. I also learned that the patron saint of skin rashes, amongst many other things is St. Anthony the Abbot. In fact I learned that no fewer than 5 saints patronize skin rashes, so if you have a skin rash you are somewhat spoiled for choice when it comes to choosing a saint to pray to. You can pick from Anthony the Abbott, George, Marculf, Peregrine Laziosi or Roch. A tough choice! It can be hard to think about anything else though when you have an irritating rash that won’t stop itching can’t it? So to assist those of you who may be afflicted, I am happy to provide you with a quick rundown on the candidates….

• Anthony the Abbott – Also the patron saint of Swineherds, Basket Weavers and Amputees. Lived alone in an abandoned fort in the desert for 20 years. Was a good fried of St. Paul the Hermit and is often depicted with a pig which he used to rub against when his rash acted up. Marks out of 10 – 5
• George – Also the patron saint of England, Syphilis, Leprosy and Boy Scouts. A popular saint, supposedly killed a sheep eating dragon but was tortured and beheaded by Palestinians. May have been homosexual, often depicted holding a huge lance. Marks out of 10 – 3.

Swallow My Lance...Filthy Animal

• Marculf – Also the patron saint of Scrofulous Diseases and Hot Pockets. Little is known about Marculf but apparently if you touch his relics your scrofula will go away. Invented microwaveable pastry snacks and founded the Hooters chain of restaurants. Marks out of 10 – 7.
• Peregrine Laziosi – Also patron saint of AIDS sufferers and open sores. Got into a fight with St. Philip Benzini after spilling his pint and calling him a queer. So-called hard man who claimed to have cancer of the foot but it got better all of a sudden the night before they were due to amputate it…soft bastard. Marks out of 10 - 5.
• Roch – Also patron saint of Diseased Cattle, Knee Problems, Tile Makers and Dogs. Supposedly born with a birth mark shaped like Elvis on his chest. Caught the plague and went into the forest to die where he made friends with a dog after eating a big red mushroom with white spots on it. Was arrested and jailed in France for being a spy. Often depicted with a dog licking his “plague spot”. Marks out of 10 - 6.

Come on lad...Give it a quick lick. Good boy....

Hopefully this helps make your choice easier. I know many of the regular readers of LB suffer from a nasty rash every now and again, if praying to your choice of saint from above doesn't work for you, try applying some spray on "I Can't Believe Its Not Butter". If that doesn't work either, take a leaf out of Roch's book and have the dog lick it off.

Taxi's

Up until a few weeks ago I had never been in a taxi in the States. I don't know why I found this mind numbingly boring fact interesting, but it seemed odd that in 12 years I had never had the need for one. I have been very lucky in many respects, owning my own transportation is one of them. I had been in airport shuttles, which are kind of the same but with less pressure and stress. There are usually other people on board with you and it's easy to start up a conversation to pass the time, unless they are non English speaking types, in which case it's becomes more of a game.

So, I'm now working up in Northern California. As I live in LA, this involves weekly air travel and taxi rides. I have to say that the standard of hackney carriages in San Jose is woeful, every single one I get in stinks and many scare the shit out of me, the drivers are, perhaps unsurprisingly horrible and are possibly the source of the smells that seem have been absorbed by the headliner in every last vehicle. I usually like the smell of curry, as you know, but there is a time and a place for it. The backseat of an 89 Crown Victoria is not the one.

Monday morning. I get into a cab, not one of my own choosing though, you are directed to the first one in line by an airport employee, presumably to avoid fighting between cabbies. To disapprove of the chosen vehicle or it's driver is probably more trouble than it is worth so I just get in. Immediately the smell is like a punch, full in the face. A mixture of cabbage, socks and old bologna. A faded magic tree swings from the rear view mirror, it's pine fresh scent long since spent. I try to lower the window for fresh air but it's either broken or locked and I immediately start to feel ill. I give the driver my location and ask him how his morning is so far. "Very good, very good" he says. I decide to offer an observation on the weather, "A bit nippy this morning" I say. "Very good, very good" he answers again. "How is traffic?" I ask. "Very good, very good"......fuck! I give up.
As we approach the freeway entrance, someone cuts along the right side of the cab and makes a left without stopping, he bangs on the horn and yells "You are fucking cowboy!!" then he turns to me and repeats for the sake of clarification, "Fucking cowboy!!". I notice that his turban is not on straight, I am surprised and curious, I always thought that they took great care when applying turbans. I have never noticed a crooked turban on anyone before, but it was early on a Monday morning so I suppose he could be forgiven.
We get on the freeway and as we speed up I notice for the first time that he has a semi violent twitch which seemed to occur every 20-30 seconds and which caused him to pull the cab to the left every time one hit. Coupled with the smell, now amplified because he had the heater on full blast, the sudden lurches to the left were causing me to feel extremely car sick. How can they let this fucker drive a cab? I ask him if he could open a window, the fucker opens his window like two inches and tells me "broken...it is broken....will not go more down." Great....

Luckily, being a holiday for much of the country, traffic was light and the horror only lasted 15 minutes before we arrived at the office. Swallowing big gulps of fresh air I got out of the cab and shakily handed over the fare...."keep the change mate" I tell him, "have a good one, drive safely". "Very good, very good" I hear him saying as I slammed the door shut and on legs like snapped candles ,walked towards the building. I would be passing on breakfast....

A Room With A View

.....of the freeway.

Living in a hotel sucks. It's not a bad hotel, but it's not great. It's a Best Western which I found out today are all independantly owned and operated. Generally speaking that could be translated into 'some are okay, some are shite'. Happily this one falls under okay. The name however is slightly misleading.

I feel like Alan Partridge. I feel like dismantling things just to pass the time. I miss the missus, the kid and even the dog ( who still has not been forgiven for shitting all over my beanbag). Some of the good points and saving graces of this place are:

• Close proximity to the freeway.
• Close proximity to a shithole Mexican restaraunt.
• Even closer proximity to a curry house (on the fuckin' premises no less - SCORE!!!)
• Close proximity to a liquor store and a fridge in the room in which to store beer.
• A fitness center (as yet unused)
• Free cornflakes in the morning although the label on the dispenser claims they are Kelloggs but they are obviously not.
• Super powerful fans in the bathrooms, needed due to the Indian.

Flicking through the channels I notice that there is no porn channel available. I can imagine how disappointing it would be if I was into that kind of thing. Luckily, if I were into that kind of thing I could buy myself a fine art magazine round at the liquor store while buying my beer, but that isn't me. There is something desperately lonely about buying a 6 pack and a jazzmag at the same time. It really makes a statement about the state of your life. I don't think I could do it, I would have to take a good long look at myself in the mirror if I found myself in that position. No, a sixer and a copy of Womens World is the way to go. Much less guilt....

I have already filled out the comment card they leave in the room. This week's comment, "In no way am I responsible for the stain on the underside of the mattress - it was like that when I got here." Last week's - "It wasn't me who put boogers in the cornflakes."

Christ I'm bored.....

Put Yer Tits Back For The Lads....

There was a time when the NHS was the envy of the world, or so we were told as kids. Things have changed a lot since then, a population explosion of asylum seekers and immigrants, cuts in funding, rises in the cost of health care etc. Nowadays in the UK, if you have the money, you are okay, you can get whatever ails you sorted out relatively quickly and with only minor medical malpractice. If you happen to be a jobless male who suffers from gynecomastia - or manboobs - you are shit out of luck.

Love The Picture Of The Kid

Lee Jardine, aged 23 from Mansfield, Nottinghamshire claims that he has become a prisoner in his own home after suffering from moobs for the last 10 years. He tried to get the NHS to do a breast reduction on the taxpayers coin but they told him to fuck off as it would cost between 5,000 and 9,000 quid.

Mr.Jardine claims that because of his NGT's, he can't get a job and that just to leave the house he has to have several layers of clothes on and a belt tied around his chest.

"People that sort of know me will call me names. You don't know what strangers are thinking when they look at you. I don't know whether they think I have breasts or not." He also added "I got bullied at school but then I stopped going so that solved that."

Bollocks. He could get the cash if he really had too. He's obviously not that shy as he just got 'em out for the local paper, and now they are on the internet. If he was going to do that, he should have had the missus take some pictures of him in her bra and undies, set up a tranny website and charge punters to look at him. He really didn't think this through very well. He would have had the money in no time.

Apparently the NHS told him they would do the op if he lost some weight and got down to 11 1/2 stone. He currently weighs 14 stone and isn't willing to put the work in to meet their demands either, the lazy twat. He says that he doesn't believe them.
His girlfriend, Diane Cassidy aged 19 and mother of their 2 year old son (do the math) is standing by her man and claims to like him for his personality (yeah, his depressed, paranoid personality) and not his looks. "He could be 60 stone and I would still love him. It's not the looks that count" she said. How awkward was their first date? Notice that she refers to his weight, not his having tits.

She also added "I can't go out for a walk or do anything like go for a swim or go to the beach because people come up and say stuff about Lee." Go to the beach? There are no fuckin' beaches in Mansfield love and given that he is out of work and unable to pay for having his tits deflated you can't be affording to go anywhere near a beach anyway, can you? If yer off on a walk and anyone says owt, tell 'em to fuck off. Which is what he should do. Just scream "YEAH....I'VE GOT WOMENS TITS....SO FUCKIN' WHAT? YOU WANT TO LICK 'EM? DO YOU? DO YOU?" at his taunters. It might not give them food for thought and start to question their own sexuality because strictly speaking, they are after all, tits and the natural urge of every man when confronted by a tit is to lick the nipple, is it not?

Personal preference for tits - I'm not fussy, I like 'em all, small and perky or big swinging udders, it matters not unless they are on some ugly fucking bloke like this lad, in which case I will pass.

Undercover Jew

Inmate fighting for kosher meals

ST. LOUIS - A Missouri inmate once labeled a white supremacist is fighting for his right to be served kosher meals in prison.

Norman Lee Toler, serving a 10-year sentence for statutory rape, insists he is Jewish despite guards at an Illinois penitentiary catching him with photos of Adolf Hitler and white supremacist literature. He also has several white supremacist tattoos, including a fresh "SS," the name of a Nazi unit.

Toler argued in federal court that his soul will be in jeopardy if he is forced to eat nonkosher food.

In the lawsuit, Toler said prison officials repeatedly denied his requests for kosher food, violating federal law and his constitutional right of religious expression.

Missouri Department of Corrections spokesman Brian Hauswirth said the state might have to change the policy for verifying inmates' religious preferences - they currently do it by checking a box - if Toler wins the case.

They should give it to him, just the nasty stuff though. See how soon he gets sick of a diet consisting solely of Gefilte Fish, Borscht and Matzo Ball Soup with the smell of bacon wafting in from the prison kitchen.

Jewish Porn - Cheap & Edible

Enough!!!

When will this shite end?

I don't watch much network TV, especially quiz and reality shows, I don't have the time nor the desire. I am proud to say that I have never actually seen many of the most popular shows on telly. I enjoy participating in conversations about who really should have won Dancing With The Stars, I throw names in there of people who weren't even on the show. I ask the others if they laughed as much as I did when so and so ripped their pants or when you caught a quick glimpse of Martha Stewarts beaver when she did the splits. I'm not saying I'm a cut above, well okay maybe I am, but it's just not my thing. I don't enjoy them. I would rather watch an Oprah marathon than Big Brother or Survivor. Truth be told, I would rather be blind than see either.

That's a bit extreme. I don't want to be blind. Having womens tits described to me is just not an acceptable substitute for seeing them for myself. A life without porn is like a life without.....there is no comparison. I have three wishes, I don't want to burn to death, I don't want to drown and I would easily prefer deafness over blindness. They can fix deafness these days, or so I hear.

So, I just got through watching The Simpsons with the kid. Great episode, the one where Smithers goes on holiday and Homer takes over from him as Burns' assistant. As the titles rolled, I put her to bed, tucked her in and gave her a kiss. Mrs. W is out on the town somewhere, no doubt doing lines of coke off a rent boy's arse in some seedy motel room, so it is a rare night of peace and quiet for yours truly. I don't often get "me time", time where I can relax, put on the nipple clamps and offer up my sacrificial fluids to the weather girl on Channel 9. Tonight was one of those rare nights, so as I closed the kids bedroom door and slid across the deadbolt, you can imagine my excitement and anticipation of the pleasure to come.

I made my way back out into the living room where I was dismayed to see the face of stupidfuckinidiot Jeff Fuckin' Foxworthy no less. I'm not a fan of Foxworthy or any of those so called "Blue Collar Comedians". Fuckin' millionaire hypocrites that they are, did you know that Foxworthy has his own brand of beef jerky now? What's next? Larry The Cable Guy Lard? Bastards....

I have never seen "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader". So you can imagine my shock and subsequent "deflation" at the sight of Shiteworthy (wearing glasses, to make him seem smarter than a fuckin' 5th grader no doubt) introducing none other than Billy Bush.

(left to right) Not Funny, Slightly Amusing

Yet Another Beady Eyed Twat - Not Clever or Funny (runs in the family)

I had only seen Billy Bush once before, I think it was the Oscars preshow or the Golden Globes or something last year, so I was vaguely aware of him being a presenter on ET or some such shite and I remember thinking what a cunt he was then. What I didn't know was that he was Prez G.W. Bush's cousin. When you know this and see the fucker, you can see the resemblance and it makes you hate him even more. I didn't leave the TV on long enough to find out if he was in fact smarter than a 5th grader or even G.W for that matter. I think it's safe to assume that it was a tie on both counts.

Finding blood in your cack - More laughs than a

barrel of Blue Collar Comedians

I'm so fuckin' mad I could write an angry letter to Rupert Murdoch....probably won't though. I'm too shitfaced so I'm going to bed.

Sincerely,
Disgusted in Los Angeles

Disgraceful....

What sick kind of person would be giving tainted vodka to mongs? I can understand them not giving them the good vodka, as that would be a waste.....

Tainted vodka kills 11 in Mongolia New Year's celebrations

ULAN BATOR, Mongolia (AP) -- At least 11 people died and another 21 were hospitalized for drinking tainted vodka during New Year's Eve celebrations in Mongolia's capital, a government official said Tuesday.

An emergency has also been announced for Baganuur district of Ulan Bator where the deaths happened, city governor's office announced.

That means all shops were closed and further celebrations were banned, said Ganbold Khurlee, an official in the office. New Year's Day is also a holiday in Mongolia - a largely poor, landlocked country sandwiched between China and Russia.

He said tests showed that the vodka was made with methanol spirits normally used for nonfood purposes like cleaning.

"Relevant government agencies have determined that various vodkas produced by this company contained up to 30 percent methanol spirits," he said.

New Year's celebrations where vodka is widely consumed is a holdover from the days when Mongolia was a satellite state of the Soviet Union.