Into the Garbage Chute

The Invention of Titties

James Schlarmann — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 20:28:15 +0000

The world moved around at quite a slower pace before 1942, when titties were invented. Most of us didn’t even know there was a void in our lives that only titties would one day fill. You could say that titties found us as much as we found titties.

You see, in 1942 there were all kinds of things going on that today might seem silly or old fashioned. But there just wasn’t a titty to be seen in all of the world. Scholars had first postulated the possibility of titties back in 1841 at the Institute of Things and Such, but none had any clue where or how to begin to fashion titties out of thin air.

Then, in late 1941 Dr. Phillip McGill discovered that when he added a chemical known as “titties” to an empty beaker, the result was something about like this:

Dr. McGill's first primitive "titties" c. 1941

Dr. McGill knew he had something very close to what we’ve come to know as titties. But it was his laboratory assistant Billy William Willingham who finally broke the code. He suggested that Dr. McGill swirl the beaker three times counter-clockwise while adding the titties chemical. The result would change the world forever.

McGill Titties Mk II c.1942

For the next twenty years, titties remained pretty much the same. Slight variations of the size and roundness of the glass enclosing the precious titties would change with the in vogue fashions at the time. But for the most part titties were the same up until 1964 when Professor Scott Rambo discovered something amazing.

Professor Rambo found that if one were to take the traditional glass titty and turn it on a 34-degree angle towards the sun, a new type of titty could be seen in the reflection. Using advanced techniques for the tiem, Prof. Rambo was able to harness the reflect titty and gave the world the Rambo Companion Titties in 1968, after four hard years of testing.

Rambo Companion Titties c.1968

For the next forty years titties looked exactly the same. They even inspired a water gun manufacturing company to change up their traditional design in favor of one that looked a lot like titties, right down to the orange nozzle and pump handle.

As we all know, titties made one final structural change in 2010, when the United Nations past Resolution #154A. It was a resolution that required all foreign and domestic titties to hold certain standards of construction and design. The result of the resolution was the titties we know and love today.

Modern cleavage. c.2011

Asking For A Friend

James Schlarmann — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 19:49:35 +0000

How many times it acceptable to masturbate during the day? Six? Eight? Fourteen? I’m asking for a friend. See, he gets turned by watching old sitcom opening credits. I’m not sure why this friend is so turned on by sitcom opening credits. Maybe it’s the fact that he thinks Lisa Bonet and Alyssa Milano (when she was around 17 or 18, not younger you sick perverts. My friend is not a grossy-gross) are totally fucking stacked. I don’t know though, because I’m asking for a friend.

Oh, also, is it okay to save the pubic hairs you shave off your pubic area in a Tupperware bowl in your linen closet. I’m again asking for a friend whose wife says that it’s “disgusting” and that she’ll divorce him “in a heartbeat” if he doesn’t stop shaving his pubes and putting them into Tupperware containers in the linen closet. But that’s totally fine, right?

One more question, for a friend, if you don’t mind? Is it okay that my friend has all of the pictures from Vanna White’s May 1987 Playboy pictorial framed and hung up in his nine-year-old’s rumpus room? Sub question, is it okay for my friend to refer to the shed out back on his kid’s rumpus room? Especially if he never bothered to take the oil soaked rags and broken bike chains out of it?

If my friends enjoys being pissed on while watching Major League Soccer games that’s totally fine too right? He’s really curious about this one because it got him kicked out of a local sports bar last week and I really want those fuckers to pay! He does too. My friend. I’m asking for him. Not for me, remember.

While I’ve got you here, can you answer one more question for my friend? Should his urine and feces look and smell like cotton candy? I mean straight-up cotton candy. Blue. Well, baby blue really. Is it medically possible to turn into confections? Should my friend see a doctor or just count his blessings?

5 Ways To Know The Lady In Your Life Wants To Have Sex (Maybe Even With You!)

James Schlarmann — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 17:59:13 +0000

Like so many men, I’m baffled by the wiles of my wife. I never know when she’s feeling randy, or if I’m better off just taking a Tylenol PM and going to bed. Then one summer in 2009 I decided to do a scientific study.

What I did was I placed 300 tiny cameras in my house so that I’d have footage of my wife from every angle so that I could later track down the tapes recorded the nights of our sexual congress. Then I could study each tape with attention placed on every detail of her body language, speech and so on.

I needed to know how to tell that my wife was needing some kind of sensual release. This was the only way to ensure I wasn’t emabarrassed by making a sexual advance that would only be rebuffed. I have spectacular news to report.

Below are five signs that the lady in your life is ready to have sex (and maybe even with you!). These are all backed up by my scientific method. You’re welcome.

Swollen glands, resulting in a slightly husky-sounding voice

Incessant farting, to the point that vomiting nearly occurs.

Sudden urge to eat taffy.

An uncontrollable urge to Square Dance

A massive erection or “boner”

You know what?

Yeah, now that I look at it, this is actually my list of ways that I know I want to have sex. Sorry folks. Carry on.

5 Things You Don’t Know About Me

James Schlarmann — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 19:53:49 +0000

Look, if we’re going to do this thing, you and me, we’re going to have to get to know each other on an uncomfortably personal level. We’re going to have to feel each other’s heat in every imaginable way. We’re going to have to explore each other in ways neither one of us is really okay with.

Shh. Don’t say another word. Let me just get a few bits of knowledge into that head of yours, okay? You need to know some things about me, if we’re going to have this relationship. It’s vital; it’s necessary. Just please, have a seat. Give me your attention.

There are five things that you just absolutely have to know about me, before we get into this.

#1. I have really, incredibly terrible farts early in the morning. We’re talking the kind of farts that could wake the dead while simultaneously killing everyone within a two-mile radius of my asshole. STINKY.

#2. I use the word “Cunt” a lot. Some people say it’s gratuitous. I think they’re just being cunts about it. But since I know there are sensitivities out of my control, I should warn you. Hopefully you’re not a cunt, and it won’t be an issue, Cunt.

#3. I’ll never shave my pubes off. Ever. A man’s pubic bush is his pride, in small curly hair form. Conversely though, I will require you to shave yours off. All of them. In fact, I’ll pay for you to have a Brazilian, if that’s what it takes to make you “Clean Clean.”

#4. I don’t really like the smell of cinnamon. It’s like too cinnamony, if you know what I mean? Like too much cinnamon.

#5. During hockey season, you can pretty much count on being on your own. I’m really a big fan of the Columbus Blue Jackets, and goddamnit I have to see every minute of every game. Don’t be mad, just except it.

So if you think you can be okay with all of these things, I’d be more than happy to be your dentist.

Black. Cherry. Bomb. BOOM!

James Schlarmann — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 06:22:33 +0000

I am a 31-year-old man. I have lived on this planet long enough to have now outlived several famous musicians. I’m now old enough to have not been trusted back in the 1960s. I’m only nine years younger than John Lennon was when he was fucking murdered.

And yet…

I am now just becoming fully aware of my vantage point in life…which is perfect time for this juncture I face in my life. You see, as I try to become a trusted resource in this lifetime for a valid and needed opinion on any subject whether as a journalist, musician, or any other creative media artist, I need to know who in the holy fuck I am.

I’m getting there. To that precipice.

But anticipation building is not healthy right now. So instead I just have to keep digging into my thoughts as deeply as I can so that I can only export the honesty. If it’s not honest, if it’s not genuine, it’s just more noise.

I apologize if you read this.

And Into the Garbage Chute we go. (Hack!)

A Classic “Car Song” Updated For Modern Times

James Schlarmann — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 16:59:52 +0000

Recently an old friend of mine said that they found themselves bored on a long car ride. This got me to thinking that there’s a whole genre of music out there that has stayed pretty much untouched and untapped for decades, if not close to a century. Car Songs are a staple of any family on the go. Whether you’re singing about wheels on a bus or flies in your buttermilk, these songs help pass the time with melodies that circle back onto each other and seemingly unending verses.

Perhaps the best example of that style of song is the classic “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” But that song has many flaws, not the least of which is its disgusting encouragement of underage drinking. The next of course is that it’s simply old and outdated. We don’t keep our beers on the wall anymore, like they did back when the song was written in 1963 by Jerry Garcia and a young Edgar Allan Poe*.

So I have taken it upon myself to update this old track with some new, hip lyrical content that should have all the kids singing, and no one will ever be bored in a car ride again.

“99 Obsolete Technological Advancements on the Wall
99 Obsolete Technological Advancements
You take one and do extensive Research and Development
Create a new product based on the old product
And put it out on the market with a substantially higher price tag
and label it with a slightly different model number
98 Obsolete Technological Advancements On the Wall…”

*in no way does Into the Garbage Chute have any way of confirming this is true or not, but it seems to be the most widely accepted version of the song’s origin.

24 Hours To Live

James Schlarmann — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 16:56:51 +0000

If I was given a diagnosis by a doctor that meant I only had one day to live, what would I do? The answer may seem difficult to come up with, if you have no sense of what is important in life. After all, if you have a strong sense of what really, truly matters then the answer to this hypothetical question is of course:

INVENT A NEW RELIGION

Think about it! On the way out of this existence, you can claim to have been told by God, Buddah, Xenu, Allah or That Guy Who Said You Should Have Tons of Wife So He Could Get Tons of Pussy that there is a new path unto him. You can start dictating new rules of living, and tell everyone that you had get these new instructions on life into the hands of your people before you were called up to Heaven or whatever kick-ass version of it you’d make up…I myself would call it “Boobies Town” and everywhere you went there’d be boobies.

Just picture the satisfaction you’d have in your heart, knowing that as your own cosmically insignificant existence came to an end, you’d be causing hysteria, confusion and delusion among the people you leave behind, the assholes who weren’t given just one more day to live. If you have to go, at least you can make as many people’s lives as possible fucked up on your journey towards the big sleep.

And if you’re going to take my advice, as of course you should, and know you will, then might I also suggest you appoint me as the Chancellor of Bleu Cheese? I just really, really, really, really, really love Bleu Cheese. I love it so much I spell “blue” in French when I talk about it.

My duties as Chancellor would include deciding on a theme for the annual “Bleu Cheese and Group Sex Appreciation Parade.” I’d also be in charge of punishing people who don’t enjoy a good bleu cheese crumble in their cranberry and spinach salads. Oh and everyone would have to show me their butts when they enter a room…everyone.

Not wanting to be incapable of compromise, if you don’t decide to create a new religion and make me the Chancellor of Bleu Cheese (fuck you!), then I have one other suggestion for what you can do with your last day on Earth:

BUY ME A BURRITO

An Update On My 2011 New Year’s Resolutions

James Schlarmann — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 16:08:32 +0000

Last year I made some New Year’s Resolutions. Usually I try to avoid them, but I really felt like 2011 was going to be my year to make big changes in my life, all with one goal in mind: improving my quality of life, and the quality of life of all those around me. So here now is an update on my 2011 New Year’s Resolutions.

Resolution #1: “I will stop farting right before I get in the car and then blame it on Global Warming.”

Update: I still totally do this. In fact, I’ve ramped it up quite a bit and now I also like to just shit in my pants and blame it on Global Warming.

Resolution #2: “I will stop pretending to be from Switzerland just so I can tell people, ‘Hey, you can Swiss my ass!’”

Update: I have totally stopped using this classic line and have instead started to pretend I’m from Russia so I can say, “Keep that up and I’ll be Russian…out the door!”

Resolution #3: “I will write a novel about a man, a goat and six pints of urine between them.”

Update: Of course I completed this one. It should be published sometime after I die.

Resolution #4: “Develop a $2000 a day addiction to Hometown Buffet. Check myself into rehab. Wake up on the beach in Florida, furiously masturbating to an episode of ‘How I Met Your Mother.’”

Update: I was able to furiously masturbate to “HIMYM” many, many times in the past year, but alas I just couldn’t bring myself to eat at Hometown Buffet, because that is gross and inappropriate.

Resolution #5: “Find a cure for death.”

Update: Finished this one up months ago. Pretty stoked to be immortal now.

5 Phrases That Are Never Sexy

James Schlarmann — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 18:25:28 +0000

We all need a little help from time to time, especially in the bedroom (where a lot of the fucking happens). Sure, maybe you know how to behave at a laundromat (where even more fucking happens), and maybe you know how to order a sandwich from your local delicatessen (surprisingly not a lot of fucking goes on at the deli, despite the abundance of phallic meats). But we all need help in the bedroom to make sure we say and do the right things.

Well, I should take that back. I don’t need any help. If there’s anything the woman I’ve sexed with could tell you, it’s that I’m really, really good at it. Maybe not at the parts that involve any kind of manipulation of genitalia (Eww!), but I sure do talk a good talk. In fact, I’d say my bedroom talk is so good that that she looked a little disappointed from the sex we had when compared to the sexy talk I was putting down on her.

Okay, so you’re no Cyrano de Bergerac . Luckily for you, I have mad skills in the area of making women moist with anticipation. See? That turn of phrase right there should be more than enough for you. However, since you’re already here and the title of this advice column includes the number “five,” I’ll give you some help.

These are five phrases that you should avoid at all costs when trying to land that sweet, sweet poon (techincal term). These are phrases that mean an immediate “Game Over” if you happen to utter them while pitching that woo. As always, you’re very welcome, Harold.

#5. “Oh man, I wish you could feel how tingly my balls are right now!”

#4. “Is that really the most you can do?”

#3. “I love you.”

#2. “They don’t call it that because you taint supposed to lick it!”

#1. “Oh my god so much semen is going to spew out from the head of my penis when I’m done, which was about thirty seconds ago…seriously you should stop now.”

48 Things I Love To Say (or Shout) While Having Sex With My Sex Partner

James Schlarmann — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 19:55:53 +0000

Yipeeeeee!
Holy shit! This is some awesome sex we’re having right now!
Booby-Titties!
Wow, this is turning out really great for my cock.
Seriously though, it was kinda weird when Tom Cruise and Penelope Cruz dated, right?!
How lucky are YOU right now?!
Oh damn dawg, you’re pussy’s gooooooodddddddd!
Can you believe how underrated “Club Dread” is? It’s like the least-loved Broken Lizard movie, but yet has some really, really solid laughs!
And, GOO!
My balls really rest nicely on your taint, don’t they?
Dude, I’m sorry, but I can’t totally believe it’s not butter.
You gotta get guac, sour cream and cheese on your carne asada burritos. It’s a fucking mandate.
I mean, their last names are fucking exactly the same except her’s is the Spanish version.
Sorry about that.
Do you think there’s a God? Is there in fact a central-figure in the Universe who is in charge?
I’m really bad at tongue-twisters, by the way.
I mean, seriously! If they’d gotten married she’d have been Penelope Cruz-Cruise.
Sorry for farting so much.
I just feel so bad for Demi Moore, don’t you?
(sung to the tune of “I’m Walkin’”) Well I’m fuckin’, yes indeed, I’m fuckin’, your puss-ee, I’m fuckin’…
I have to say, I’m really enjoying this. Thank you so, so much.
Bo-ner! Bo-ner! Bo-ner!
I can’t wait to finish this so I can go play some Xbox!
I feel like Cap’n Crunch right now. Want me to get you a bowl?
Do you follow Steve Martin on Twitter? You totally should! Such good stuff!
I think we should get a dog.
Mmm. Nuh-nah-nuh-nahhhh!
I swear, after I cum, I’m going to be so gosh darned happy!
Is it weird that I can really feel my left ball right now?
YES! I just love the way your genitalia feels!
(Singing) The touch, the feel, of cotton. The fabric of our lives.
Yeah, I’m sexing you so good right now! Aren’t I? Just sexing the crap out of you right now! Yeah! Sex!
I still haven’t found anything for that rash, by the way.
Is that all you’re going to do?
Is that all you can do?
Why are you doing so much?
Quit it!
Slow down!
Ouchie!
Ffffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccccckkkkkkkking you.
Why do they call them “Job Creators” anyway? The only jobs they create are the hand variety from their high-priced hookers.
That last one was political.
Maybe unnecessarily so.
I think my favorite G.I. Joe was probably Duke.
Again, really sorry I keep farting.
Boy, this kinda is gross if you just stop and think about it. Me putting this thing inside you. Like, I don’t know for sure of course, but I have to imagine that feels pretty weird, having something put inside you.
I swear, I can remember who won the 1994 World Series MVP, but I can’t remember how to get inside your vagina without a little help.
So do you want to stick something in me then, make it even?