humor Archives - Page 3 of 11

Sandwich Fixins #9

March 26, 2013

When I can’t stand the clutter in the fridge, I bring you another serving of sandwich fixins.

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What’s the warranty on an exorcism?

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I’m sad that Hugo Chavez’ body was too decomposed to be preserved and displayed like Lenin. It means no one will ever be able to break into his glass casket and dress him in crotchless panties.

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Why do pickles say “Refrigerate After Opening?”

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People who love pigeons should be forced to feed them worms and grubs. Do they
just assume the birds prefer stale bread, with all those carbs and
gluten? Why isn’t PETA on this?

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Could Lois Lane get cancer from Superman’s X-ray vision?

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If tombstones are our final caption, I’d like mine to read “Ask me
about alternative medicine.” Or maybe “Incurable romantic.” I also like
“This isn’t my gum.” I can’t decide. Maybe I could pay people to let me
carve things onto their dead loved ones’ gravestones. That could work.

Fixins Archive:
Sandwich Fixins #8
Sandwich Fixins #7
Sandwich Fixins #6

Great Gifts for Alcoholics!

December 19, 2012

Looking for a great gift for the alcoholic in your life? It can be hard to find something new for that special someone who’s tasted everything from Purell to paint thinner. Take things up a notch with Magick Sandwich’s guide to tasty vodkas. They’re the classiest Christmas gifts yet to come with a screw top.

Chances are, you know someone who’s forsaken food in favor of booze. Now, he can have both. We’ve discussed the joys of bacon vodka here, so let us now extol the virtues of Alaska Distillery’s Smoked Salmon vodka. It’s a little taste of the Pacific Northwest with what’s sure to be an even more distinctive flavor on the way back up.

Smirnoff Espresso vodka is eye-opener, hair-of-the-dog and morning joe all rolled into one. Brought to you by the master of liver killing libations, Smirnoff shows mercy by disguising its usual vodka tang. The same could be accomplished with Starbucks’ coffee grounds salvaged from a Dumpster. But that would be harder to wrap.

Is your buddy bloated from too much 7- Eleven wine? With its dietetic fruit flavor and implied protection from scurvy, Belvedere Pink Grapefruit vodka is an excellent choice. It shows you care about his bleeding gums but not enough to let him into your house.

For those with a sweet tooth—though not necessarily an actual tooth—we recommend Cupcake vodka, in flavors like Devil’s Food and Frosting. Pinnacle Cotton Candy vodka, conjuring images of the county fair midway, is a yummy choice, too, unless it reminds him of the time he got turned down for a job as a carny because he was too dirty.

Your best choice of all may be Medea vodka. Though it boasts no interesting flavor, its bottle has a scrolling LED display on which you can program your most heartfelt message, such as, “We really think you should get some help.” No intervention necessary!

We hope this helps with your last-minute holiday shopping. Bottoms up!

More gifts:
Last-Minute Gifts – Wine Warning

More Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

December 16, 2012

It’s that time of year again. Are you wondering what to get for your loved ones to show you really care? Avoid the Walmart scrum and spread Christmas cheer this season with Magick Sandwich’s sure-to-please holiday gift list!

First, for the friend whose dog makes sweet love to your pant leg as soon as you step in the door, we recommend Hot Doll, the first sex toy for dogs. Its legs boast a “no slide” system and its cone is made from “the same materials used by veterinarians.”

Yes, the cone is exactly what you think it is and yes, it makes your vet sound kinky. It’s also washable, which will make picking up dog poop a joy by comparison. Stylish in black or white, this puppy will set you back 159 euros plus shipping. Did I mention it’s made in France? Of course, it is.

For the aunt who wears leggings because they’re “slimming” and who hasn’t seen south of her own border in umpteen pounds, we suggest the Cuchini Camel Toe Solution. It fits inside her drawers to shore up her sagging nethers. Her inseam will thank you.

If you’d like to see the before and after photos, you’ll have to visit the site. Showing a doggy
sex toy is one thing, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Standards must be maintained. A bacon merkin, on the other hand? Good clean fun.

Distract the coworker who gets preachy about your lunch with What Would Jesus Eat?: The Ultimate Program for Eating Well, Feeling Great and Living Longer. (Spoiler alert: He’s not a fan of processed white bread but He does recommend non-fat cream cheese.)

Along with its companion cookbook, no doubt straight from the savior’s test kitchen, it’s the perfect gift for the believer who wonders, “Are these fishes sourced locally?”

Finally, give that special someone languishing on an organ donor list the gift of a life-sized plush organ from the folks at iheartguts.com.

Some of the organs available are the testicle, ovary, gallbladder, lung, prostate, and spleen. Maybe while Uncle Roy clutches this adorable, festively colored plush liver, he’ll think about taking better care of his next one. If he gets one. If not, you can always re-gift it to one of the other hopeless drunks in your family. Do they sell in bulk?

Well, that’s all for now. Click here for more gift ideas. While you’re at it, see our advice on gifts for depressed and/or lonely friends, bacon lovers and drunkards. Remember: Don’t wait for their birthdays. They may be dead by then.™

More gift-giving know-how:
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition
Great Gifts for Depressed Friends!
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

Tales from the Waiting Room – Laughing at Cancer

July 1, 2012

First one mammogram, then another mammogram plus ultrasound, then biopsies. That’s how I spent the last two weeks of May. I got to know the radiology office better than I’d ever wanted to. On June 1st, I received my diagnosis of breast cancer. I needed an MRI to look for more tumors but couldn’t schedule it until my insurance company authorized it.

Once United Healthcare was sufficiently convinced that a malignancy justified further diagnostic testing, I had the MRI done on June 6th. Then I got a call that I needed a second MRI. The first had “lit up” as if there were multiple growths on both sides but they were pretty confident this was due to hormones, and the images would be “quieter” the following week. I hoped so since my mother had a bilateral mastectomy five years ago for multiple tumors.

On June 12th, I found myself once again in the same waiting room. As before it was nearly full of people, mostly women, in some stage of fear, worry or, worst of all, resignation. Some were drinking contrast dye from a cooler marked DO NOT DRINK. From their involuntary cries of disgust, I gleaned it might be the same barium I drank for a G.I. test 18 years ago. It tasted like moldy drywall. This begs the question: with all the advancements in technology, including the digitally assisted mammography that caught my cancer early, why can’t someone make a contrast solution that tastes better?

While I waited to have the test that would tell me if I had a little cancer or a lot, a news program playing on the wall-mounted TV caught my eye. Someone had shot a guy who was writing a book called Kindness in America. Was this a joke? The report continued: he was hitchhiking across the U.S. gathering stories for his memoir about the kindness of Americans when a drunk man in Montana rolled down the window of his truck and shot him. For no reason.

I cracked up. In my defense, the story also stated that the guy had only been hit in the arm and was okay. I reasoned that getting shot would help him get a book deal. He’d need to find a way to turn it into a positive experience. He had certainly cheered me up in a rather grim setting.

Update: It turns out that the guy shot himself to get publicity. Perhaps he was affording emergency room staff the opportunity to display kindness by treating him?

Back on planet Waiting Room, I hear my name called. The nurse recognizes me and helps me with the sticky safe lock in the changing room; the phlebotomist remembers which vein she stuck the needle in for the contrast-dye IV catheter (no taste, yay!); and the doctor remembers the classic rock radio station (104.3) I favor from last time.

I ask him if people freak out about MRIs because of the TV show House. He sighs. “All the time,” he says. He’d seen an episode once where green sparks were flying out and had to stop watching because it was so inaccurate. He says it’s too bad because he hears it’s a good show. I tell him the show’s over and people were always having seizures during MRIs, and someone vomited blood in almost every episode, so maybe he hasn’t missed much. He puts the headphones on me, and as the bed rolls me inside, the radio plays Pink Floyd’s Welcome to the Machine. Perfect.

Good News. Really.

June 16, 2012

A couple weeks ago, I got the news that, like one in eight women in America, I have breast cancer. Thanks to digital mammography and excellent doctors, I’m going to be fine. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.

Considering my posts about vaginas and fart filters, it’s strange that I find this difficult to discuss. Writing about a breast shouldn’t make me feel shy. In this case, though, I am the owner of the body part that’s gone on the fritz. I have a titanium clip in there, soon to be joined by a radioactive seed for precise tumor location. I’ve dubbed it Robo-boob.

I wasn’t going to address this at all since I write an allegedly humorous blog and this tends to be pretty dramatic stuff. But here goes. I’m going to have a lumpectomy on July 3rd. (Thieves be warned. My house is staffed with attack cats.) If the excision has clear margins, meaning the entire growth has been removed, I will begin radiation a month later.

I’m not very worried about the surgery. I’ll be having “twilight sleep”–the good stuff that Michael Jackson favored. I have been assured that, unlike Michael, I will continue breathing on my own. The idea of radiation is scarier to me. Luckily, it’s not the kind that will turn me into Godzilla, the Hulk or a giant spider. Phew.

Unfortunately, my insurance won’t cover a scooter. No handicapped parking either. I did get a binder from Mt. Sinai Hospital to keep track of appointments, post-op instructions etc. But I saw some women walking around with reusable grocery bags emblazoned with the pink ribbon on them, so I’m hoping for more swag. Gotta find a silver lining to this thing.

I know that prayer is a comfort to people and makes them feel less powerless. But when someone says, “I’m praying for you,” what I hear is, “You are so screwed that only a deity you don’t believe in can save you now.” As far as I’m concerned, everyone except my surgeon is helpless in this situation. There will no Tebowing in the OR, let’s put it that way–at least while I’m awake.

A proliferation of cancerous cells will not result in a conversion experience for me. That seems like a faulty basis on which to start (or stop) believing. So, while I love my Christian friends for caring, I respectfully ask them to understand it does not make me feel better to hear about it and to please keep it to themselves. Surely I can’t be the first person to feel this way?

I’d like to address a few popular sayings/beliefs trotted out regarding cancer.

Everything happens for a reason. Yes, the reason is cancer. Is it because I paid the gas bill late or didn’t send a Christmas card?

[She] is fighting a battle with cancer. My chest is not a war zone. I prefer to say I’m having a slap fight with cancer. Sounds less ominous and it’s a nice visual, too.

Here’s an email from Johns Hopkins about breast cancer. It’s a hoax that’s been circulating since 2008. The person who wrote this should be flogged.

This [alternative therapy] really works. Ever meet someone who cured cancer by drinking his own pee? Probably not. Want to talk to Steve Jobs about the miracle macrobiotic cure he did for months before agreeing to conventional treatment? Oh, that’s right, you can’t: he’s dead.

I should point out that I am not saying I’m an expert. Having cancer doesn’t make you an expert any more than having your driver’s license makes you a Formula One racer. But I don’t think I’m so unique that no one else has had these thoughts. Bullshit artists like Louise Hay have made a lot of money getting people to think they have all the answers, which brings me to my final thought for those who would easily pass judgment on someone like me:

Negativity causes cancer. If you believe that, why don’t you have cancer, too?

Christmas Gifting 101: A Visual Aid

December 22, 2011

You’re in that mad, last-minute scramble to find a present for that special someone. When it comes to gift-giving, a scarf is always a safe choice, right? Not always. Behold:

In your frenzy to get out of the store, don’t forget to pay attention to what you’re buying. Unless she wants to look like her nipples sucked a lemon or saw their own shadow and retreated for six more weeks of winter, put this back on the clearance pile. If she’s into that sort of thing, go ahead and get it. I’m sure Freud would have an opinion on this. But he’s dead and anyway, sometimes a scarf is just a scarf.

Last Minute Gifts – Wine Warning

December 21, 2011

Over here at Magick Sandwich, we’ve finished our Christmas shopping. Since we never stop spending on ourselves, the holidays are just a convenient cover story. Much like an alcoholic who rationalizes drinking on special occasions, for a shopper every day is a special occasion.

Speaking of addiction and Christmas, you might be thinking of giving the last-minute gift of a bottle of vino. After all, Jesus, guest of honor, turned water into wine. Since you can’t, you’ll need a credit card and a little help from FedEx.

With only four days till Christmas, you need to make haste. But take a moment to learn about the art of wine shipping. Did you know there are certain states that do not allow it? Montana, South Dakota, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania are a few.

The grape of wrath?

The “dry state” of Utah I can understand, although I’ve known quite a few Mormon drunkards, believe you me. But New Jersey? Why would it deny its citizens a bit of relief? Luckily, you can help fight this injustice at freethegrapes.org, a national grass roots coalition of wine lovers, wineries and retailers fighting the powerful wine wholesalers’ lobby. Those bastards!

Don’t get sidetracked by this cause, worthy though it may be. For now, you need to concentrate on your wino friends who live in one of the 39 states protected by direct shipping legislation. There are many distributors online, some of whom will package bottles nicely so as to remind your recipient of its heart-healthy benefits while de-emphasizing its cirrhotic effects on the liver.

When choosing your gift, don’t forget to read the fine print. I was perusing wine.woot.com this morning and saw a 2 pack of 2003 Keller Estate Sparkling Brut. How can you go wrong with a 2 pack? So classy and only $49.99. But then I saw this:

What? Am I supposed to call Glenn and tell him to stay sober all day so he can sign for the package? His inability to do so only proves that this is the perfect gift for him! What if Nancy’s been huffing paint? Will the FedEx guy be able to tell the difference between high and drunk? What qualifies him to judge? This is human-rights abuse, pure and simple.

Looks like it’s going to be another year of clean piss in Christmas mugs for my parolee friends and festively wrapped syringes for the junkies. Maybe you’re thinking I should get a better class of friends but it isn’t easy to find people happy to get cheap wine. When everything you drink has a screw top, you appreciate a good cork now and then.

More gift ideas:
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

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