For Christmas this year, I got a soprano ukulele. This brings my total ukulele count up to TWO. Which is probably TWO MORE than what the average person has. My ukes are SHRED TASTIC. Sometimes I play it with my FACE because it adds this extra layer of shredly metal.

Anyway, reader Karl just sent me this! I’ve watched it, like, four times already. Not even joking. It is combination of sweet, sweet puppets, ukes, a melodica (which I also have, actually), and a random beach setting in Japan. All things lead to SWEET SWEET SHREDDING OF THE EARHOLES:

Dudes. My inbox is so totally awesome. Seriously, you WISH you had my inbox because it is so righteous. It is full of all kinds of crap. I mean real…garbage. Sometimes I can smell my inbox fom miles away because of all the hot trash in it.

Today I bring you audio clips!

That is from a friend or a stranger or maybe from someone who is pissed off. Maybe this person thought my dog shit on his lawn or something, except, of course, I don’t have a dog. Ha ha ha! A hilarious misunderstanding! Actually, funny story, I was living in this house with three other people, and this neighbor used to come and let her dog shit on our driveway and not clean it up. What a total bitch (both the neighbor and the dog).

OK, I guess that wasn’t funny.

But, you know what is funny? A neighbor (different one) used to come knocking on our door looking for syringes because he was dealing heroin in the neighborhood. The sad part is that my housemate actually had syringes.

OK, that wasn’t funny either.

Alright, this one’s funny: One of my housemates made a chore-wheel for us. A chore-wheel. We were, like, in our mid-twenties and thirties. It was humiliating. And, incidentally, we refused to do our chores. Humiliation is not a good motivator. That pissed him off. I guess that wasn’t funny either, more boo-hoo sad than ha-ha funny.

Incidentally, no joke, he was a captain. Like, of a boat. A ferry of some kind. But seriously, a captain. I thought that was sweet. I wanted to call him captain but he was like no, that’s OK. Please. No really. I mean it. Don’t call me captain. And then I was like well, what if I call you “Cap’n” like in Cap’n Crunch, and he did not find it funny. You know, maybe I am hard to live with.

Anyway, my office phone at work has this amazing feature that will email you a wav of a voicemail. It is like…a phone FROM THE FUTURE. It’s like the greatest thing that’s ever been invented. No. It is. Shut up. Anyway sometimes people leave me messages. Sometimes they end up on the blog.

This one’s from Butler.

That might be the most annoying thing ever. I was trying to loop it to make it extra annoying for you guys, but you are lucky I am not smart enough to figure it out.

Here’s another:

Translation: Uh…uhh…uhhhhh. Goddamn, I love my goddamn phone.

A friend called me in the middle of the day today. He called because he had some very important news to deliver.

He told me that his high-class call-girl-cousin-turned-model’s dad died. I felt bad and then realized, wait, you have a high-class call-girl-cousin-turned-model? Then I said, oh I’m so sorry, dude, you have my sympathies and then he told me to shut the fuck up because the real important news is that

IT IS THE TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF “U CAN’T TOUCH THIS.”

Yes. U can’t touch this. U really can’t. Sorry. I mean I know u want to touch it, but u just can’t. It’s just not possible. Mostly because I am so hot, therefore, u can’t touch this. I mean u can touch it, but then u’d get burned, so maybe it’s just best if u don’t touch it. Don’t take it the wrong way. Most people can’t touch this. Nor should they. So, just to review, u can’t touch this. Now, stop.

Hammertime.

Then he clarified that it’s the single’s twentieth anniversary, not the album. And then I was all, no derrr you asshat, the record is called “Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em” not “You Can’t Touch This.” What am I? An idiot? Bish, pleaze.

So in honor of the great MC Hammer who is busy melting his gold medallion of him wearing a gold medallion and his gold sledgehammer, baby I shall post something you cannot touch.

Dude that man is so…aerobic. He practically invented the Running Man. I mean have you ever seen anyone run in place like that? Now imagine if he were actually running! He’d be the Usain Bolt of hip-hop. Unstoppable. Also those pants are so effing street. Inside his pants there are actually other pants. Also there is the biggest set of balls you have ever seen. I mean it takes a real man to wear those pants, you feel me?

Remember when he tried to challenge Michael Jackson to a dance-off? I was like whoa, this guy is 2 legit 2 quit.

And that pretty much killed his career. Also, I heard he had a house in the San Fernando Valley, which is also kind of a dealbreaker. Though, Dr. Dre does live in the Valley too, but still. He’s Dr. Dre. He lived in COMPTON. To him the Valley is a nice part of town. But Hammer. He is so not street. I mean if you wore those pants in the CPT you’d get shot. You’d get shot with normal pants on too, but hammer pants? Might as well just paint a big target on your ass. Dr. Dre couldn’t even wear Hammer pants in the CPT and make it out alive. Seriously. U can’t touch this? Yes you can with a bullet. Just saying.

This might be the best song ever written ever in the history of music and songs and life in general. You are thinking, but wait, what about the Beatles or Led Zep or Hendrix or Pavement or Velvet Underground or like every important band ever like Sonic Youth or Counting Crows ha ha ha just kidding about Counting Crows barf in my mouth, and I’m here to tell you that this song is better than anything the Beatles ever wrote and after hearing this song your life will completely change and you will throw out all your Beatles jams and just have this one song on repeat forever for the rest of your life and people will ask you, hey do you want to hear this deep cut Morrissey track and you will say, no, because you already have all the music you need to hear for the rest of your life.

EAR EXPLOSION!

My co-worker just got a communist pig. A gift from China.

I love it.

It must be mine.

Oh god it must be mine.

OK everyone, I am alive. I apologize for being away. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to leave you like that. I didn’t mean to make you feel so sad and empty and alone. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I definitely didn’t want you to write all that poetry. I really didn’t want you to do that. Listen, I was sick. I wanted to die. I was in Austin. My time there was ruined in many ways. I lost a lot of weight. Through my nose. My stomach is still debating with me. It says, you want cheese and crackers? You sure that is a good idea? Because I’m going to be honest with you, I do not like cheese and crackers. I will make it painfully obvious to you about ten to fifteen minutes after eating it, but hey, you eat what you want. I’m not the boss of you. So go ahead. I dare you. And then I say, no YOU’RE the dick, stomach, and then I eat my cheese and I eat my crackers and then feel sad for ever living.

So what is my current mood?

DISCO.

That is my current mood. I am very much into this Hercules and Love Affair business. I thank Erin for this. I thank Erin for many things, but above all, I thank her for disco. All the other shit she’s done for me? Like help me or whatever? All that is totally stupid compared to the power of disco. So what I’m saying here is that if it’s not disco, I am not interested. I am now downloading all kinds of disco. Oh yes. Disco. I am not ashamed. I also want to be in a disco band. It will be named “Poetry about Friendship.” We will wear shiny pants. It will just be me and Aidan. He plays everything and looks good in shiny pants. Or maybe we will call ti “Shiny Pants.” But that seems totally excessive and obvious.

Thw first person to tell me who this is will get a sweet, sweet prize.

Pony is excluded from this contest.

BE A WINNER.

And by being a winner, you are also kind of the loser. In many ways, we are all the losers of this contest.

I’d like to introduce you to my new friend. It is a marmot. Which is like a lemming or a shrew. Except it’s a marmot. This one happens to live in the Swiss Alps, of Switzerland. You know, the country that looks like a melting scoop of ice cream, not to be confused with Sweden, the country that kind of looks like a flaccid penis-rod. When I was little I got Switzerland and Sweden confused. Listen, I’m not proud of that, but I just thought I should be honest and open about it. Give me a break, I was eight. On a slightly related note, there is a new Swiss restaurant in my neighborhood and from what I gather, it only serves schnitzel. For those of you who like schnitzel, this is your jam. For those of you who don’t, then it is like a big finger to you. The one between the index and the ring finger, if you have to ask. Anyway this restaurant happens to be in the space, I believe, that used to be a club where a girl got stabbed to death by the bouncer. Or maybe she was shot. I don’t remember. Either way now it is a Swiss restaurant, I think. Back to the story.

Aura and her sister Andrea gave this marmot to me. They were in Switzerland and they were like WAIT, WAIT DO YOU SEE THAT? WE HAVE TO GET IT FOR ANNIE. As you can see this marmot, which I have named Das Marmotten because I’m guessing that means The Marmot in Swiss German (Marco, am I right?), has an accordion. Please think about the last time you saw a marmot holding an accordion. Right, you have NEVER seen that! It’s magic, right? Magical shit happens in Switzerland I’m telling you. Anyway this marmot is not just any marmot, it also DOUBLES AS A KEYCHAIN. OH WHERE ARE MY KEYS I CANNOT FIND THEM IN MY BAG, OH LOOK HERE THEY ARE ATTACHED TO THIS MARMOT. Or maybe HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN MY KEYS IT HAS A GIGANTIC MARMOT ON IT. It’s bigger than my hand. There is no way in hell I would lose my keys.

But wait! Wait! There’s more! It PLAYS MUSIC. It plays beautiful, beautiful accordion music that is so beautiful. And now, with my iPhone, I can play it for you. Click here to listen. If you are at the office, I suggest you CRANK THAT SHIT TO 11 AND ROCK OUT. Dancing shoes are highly recommended.

Thanks Aura and Andrea!!!!!! Holy crap!

IF I DO NOT GET GEORGE MICHAEL OUT OF MY HEAD I’M GOING TO SHOOT MYSELF IN THE HEAD.