Toby's Blog-o-Riffic Experi-o-Rama-Palooza-Thingy

(Insensitive Title Removed)

2007-04-15T15:06:00.000-05:00

ALRIGHT, dammit.

Yes, I realize that some of you think I am lazy. But you've got to understand that these past couple of months have been extremely trying. First of all, DNA be damned, I AM Anna Nicole's baby daddy (I mean, look at Dannilynn -- she looks JUST like me, goll!). So I've been trying to get that all straightened out.

And then I really took a bath when I bet my entire life savings on my NCAA Tournament bracket. In retrospect, perhaps a Niagara/Eastern Kentucky championship game was unlikely, but I've never been one for the safe pick. Look, I had a feeling! Like you've never been wrong about anything.

So I've been working as a fluffer to make back my life savings (I wouldn't recommend this), and to top it all off, I have now been fired. Yes, fired. Why? Well, it all started when I quietly mentioned to Denise, my best girl, that Don Ho had died. I think she took it the wrong way, because the next thing I knew, Al Sharpton was in my living room yelling at me and coiffing his hair. Then Jesse Jackson showed up, also yelling at me and coiffing Al's hair.

Well, that was only the beginning. What followed was the most intense media scrutiny I've ever faced. Talking heads on every channel began debating whether I should be allowed to live. It started to get really surreal when the Rutgers women's basketball team showed up at my door quoting Maya Angelou and telling me I'd ruined their lives. Apparently, the pressure built to the point where I was relieved of my fluffing duties.

Sadly, that is not where our story ends. Let's just say that one thing led to another, and right now, just outside my jail cell, the Rutgers team, Maya Angelou, Jesse, Al, Oprah, and several of Don Ho's, well, hos all stand outside with rifles. In a moment, I will be gunned down by all of them (normally, one shooter will have blanks to spare everyone's conscience, but in this case all guns will be loaded because my offense was so great). Afterwards, they will each take turns urinating on my corpse. Then, my lifeless urine-soaked body will be tossed into a lion's den, where I will be torn to shreds and eaten. When the lions crap me out, their stool will be mounted on what was formerly my home underneath the caption: "This is what happens to forks who are insensitive."

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... my condolences to the family of Don H-.

2007 Resolutions for 2007

2007-01-04T23:15:00.000-06:00

Well, it's the New Year. Happy 2007, everyone! I was sitting around the other day thinking about all sorts of original bloggy ideas I could bring to the table in this new year. And then it hit me -- resolutions! Why, in this great country of ours, with so many bright and creative thinkers, hasn't anyone thought of such a scheme? You resolve to do things in the new year that will improve things over the previous year. It's so simple and yet, indeed, it opens the door to the web of hopes and dreams that make up the complicated tapestry that is my brain.

In short, I am brilliant. And here are my resolutions.

* I resolve to stop showing off my vocabulary. Mostly it just results in jumbled messes such as the one seen a few sentences ago. Yes, Toby, you were an English major. We get it.

* I resolve to finally propose to Denise the Fork. I will hide the engagement ring in her favorite steak. Then, when her prongs penetrate said steak, she will bump right into the ring and begin weeping and doing all that girly shit they like to do. Then I will say, "Just kidding," and we'll all have a good laugh in the end.

* I resolve to resolve to lose 10 pounds, then actually gain 10 pounds, then chortle and go, "Well, gettin old, ya know? Eh heh heh." Then I will proudly pat my spare prong tire while millions of teenage girls continue to starve themselves because they don't look like Scarlett Johansson. And we'll all have a good laugh in the end.

* Even though I hardly watch any television, I resolve to watch less TV. Y'know, because it sounds good to say that. Maybe I can become one of those people that brags every three seconds about not owning a television. From there it's just a short leap to smelling my own farts. I can't wait!

* In conjunction with the above resolution, I resolve to get going on that gastrointestinal system I've been meaning to develop.

* I resolve to develop a new, innovative way to spell "resolve" that will involve a Q, a Y, and possibly Avogadro's number.

* I resolve to invent an elaborate conspiracy involving the death of Gerald Ford. I will concoct this conspiracy theory whilst learning to speak breathlessly and four times faster than normal. Soon, I will become an internet phenomenon, with thousands of blogs pushing my theory that the Jews wanted Ford eliminated because Halliburton had its panties in a bunch over Castro faking an illness and that Saddam body double that was hung in Iraq, which were both done to take the focus off the commies and freemasons taking the old boy down in order to win a bet with a 117-year-old Adolf Hitler (who currently resides on a staged set depicting the surface of the moon) that stated that no ex-Michigan football player could turn down a shot at the NFL and still live to see 94. 33% of Americans will completely buy into it, and we'll all have a good laugh in the end.

The other 2000 resolutions will be revealed slowly and spread out throughout my blogs through March of 2018.

Amoxisilliness

2006-12-22T23:50:00.000-06:00

Hey kids, let me tell you something. I would highly advise all of you not to get the flu. I know -- you probably want to. You're probably thinking, "But all the cool kids are doing it!" I know there are temptations, but this is not a good thing. You'll be lying there unable to move. You'll have a fever of 103. They'll try to give you cat medicine. It's awful. Don't do it. Just say no to the flu.

No, seriously. They will give you cat medicine. I am not playing around. In fact, I am starting to suspect that health care professions are the biggest ripoffs in the world, because it appears all these guys do is prescribe amoxicillin. Think about it -- what happens when the human that leeches off of me gets the flu? He gets amoxicillin. What happens when said human's cat gets an ear wound that's oozing pus? Amoxicillin. Finally, what happens when I, a plastic fork, get the flu? Amoxicillin.

So please allow me, Dr. Toby, with my zero seconds of medical training, to prescribe medication for the world's most vexing conditions. Alzheimer's? Try some amoxicillin! Cushing's syndrome? Why, I think I have just the tonic. Amoxicillin! Elephantitis mixed with progeria? I think we all know what the antidote is, my fellow Americans.

In fact, perhaps one can stretch the logic of this rapidly failing running joke to include non-medical conditions. War not going so well in Iraq? Amoxicillin for everyone! South America about to be hit with an asteroid that will destroy all life? Why, I think I have just the ----------

............

Hi, guys. This is Steve, the human referenced above. I have just clubbed Toby with a blunt object, and he is currently unconscious. I would just like to apologize for this monstrosity of a blog entry. It sure seems like, after two months, you could have expected something a little better. I'd like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Kickass Kwanzaa, a Rockin Ramadan, and a Whopping Whatever Else I Might Have Forgotten. Please stay safe, unless you are Danny Bonaduce, in which case it wouldn't totally break my heart if you accidentally ran into a tree. Nighty night.

Completely Informed Bloggy Social Commentary

2006-10-23T00:54:00.000-05:00

"There's a place for those who love their poetry. It's just across from the sign that says 'Pros Only.'" --They Might Be Giants

Okay. Apparently some of you believe that poetry always equals intellectual, no matter how rudimentary, clumsily rhymed, or derivative of sports poems written 100 years ago. Fine. I'll stick with prose from now on, you intellectual boors.

What do women want? It's a subject that has captivated the hearts of America. Many songs have been written about it. Many movies have been made about it, most of them ending up on Lifetime and starring the great Meredith Baxter Delta Burke Joanna Kerns Judith Light Valerie Bertinelli. But none of those movies starring Ms. Baxter Delta Burke Joanna Kerns Judith Light Valerie Bertinelli ever quite hit the nail on the head. No, I don't believe we quite knew until this week's grisly tale out of fair New Orleans came to light.

Women want to be cooked. And they like CONFIDENCE!

That's right. It turns out that the lovely chap involved in this caper was absolutely up to his asscrack in women. While he wasn't with his girlfriend, he was cheating on her with other girlfriends, until, I don't know, I guess he got bored and sauteed the primary girlfriend (undoubtedly with CONFIDENCE!). Probably because she wouldn't stop bellyaching about the other girlfriends. But did she leave him? No. We can only assume because she enjoys being cooked (with CONFIDENCE!).

Now, being a fork, few appreciate tender cooked flesh more than I. But even I must condemn this action as a tad drastic. Nevertheless, the ladies disagree, and who am I to question? I'm just amazed at how the Mel Gibson film What Women Want managed to miss something this obvious. Though given the amount of tail Mr. Gibson has been privy to over the years, one can surmise that, in addition to being cooked, women go totally wobbly for unhinged anti-Semitism (if it's delivered with CONFIDENCE!).

Now, when you combine those two things, there is only one logical conclusion. Had Adolf Hitler been even slightly interested in seeing women naked, he would have been a Lothario for the ages. That's my take on it anyway.

Unless I'm missing something here.

A Chance to Tinker with Everyone Who's Underage

2006-09-29T22:18:00.000-05:00

These are the saddest of possible words:
"I'm Chris Hansen."
Trio of chatters, and man are they pervs
"I'm Chris Hansen."
Treating suburbia as if it's a brothel
No parents at home and they're there on the double
Words that are filthy and now they're in trouble
"I'm Chris Hansen."

I've Got a Hot Date For You

2006-08-29T00:53:00.000-05:00

(Note: This blog entry was written with care in late August of last year, scheduled to run on August 29, 2005. Due to certain unforeseen circumstances, Toby was unable to post his column. So, without further ado, one year later in its original form, here it is.)

Ahhhhh, August 29th. I think that, amongst all the dates on the calendar, this one towers above all the rest.

What other date can boast the anniversary of the first minting of copper coins in Japan? Ah ha! You can't name one, because there isn't one! August 29, 708. You were doubting the glory of August 29th? Read it and weep, you Nazi bastard.

Anyone that knows me knows how much I love 13th century popes. They've always been a passion of mine. Well, guess what August 29, 1261 brought us? That's right. The coronation of Pope Urban IV, an era where men were men, popes were men, and they had no problem jumping on other people's wives and sure, the occasional little boy, but hey, back then it was laughed off! I digress, though. I don't know too much about ol' Urban IV, but I'm guessing he raped with panache, and for that I say thank you, August 29, 1261! August 29th comes through yet again!

Another product of my favorite date: The Treaty of Picquigny. Crap if I know what the hell that is, but as an August 29th treaty (year 1475), I bet it's the best treaty ever.

On August 29, 1833, England abolished slavery. What -- are you saying you support slavery? No? Well then you must agree on the absolute incomparability that is August 29th. GOD I love this date.

Not that I need any more proof that August 29th totally rocks the world, but just for the record, the Soviet Communist Party was officially suspended on this date in 1991. What -- are you saying you support Commies? No? Well, in that case, your only possible option is to bow down and worship the very ground August 29th walks on. You're not worthy to carry its jockstrap, but just this once, you can lick its footprints.

As I have clearly laid out in this thought-provoking piece, August 29th is the most wonderful thing ever. If you think otherwise, you are Nazi Communist fascist propaganda-loving slavery-supporting miserable scum, and you deserve to die.

August 29th, the best date ever. Nothing bad will ever happen on it.

God: Infinity/M/heaven

2006-07-16T17:33:00.000-05:00

Wouldn't you know it? You can now chat with God online. As it happens, He's kind of a jerk, but at least He didn't try to pick me up behind a Burger King and molest me.

Toby: God!
God: GOD rules.
Toby: A bit full of Yourself, aren't You?
God: How much?
Toby: A lot.
God: More than a ton?
Toby: Oh yes.
God: Are you kidding?
Toby: No, I'm not. You've got quite an ego.
God: I heard you are. Maybe more than one ego.
Toby: I'm afraid I don't understand.
God: Oh I'm sorry. Perhaps I can explain it again better.
Toby: Good.
God: Thanks for the compliment.
Toby: God, have You been drinking?
God: I am a Christian.
Toby: Yes. Consider answering the question.
God: That's interesting. What was the question? What time is it there?
Toby: Okay, God, I think I need to say something. This is an intervention.
God: Yeah okay, I am a Christian. You don't say.
Toby: God, a lot of people care about You. I'm not going to sit here and watch You destroy Yourself.
God: I am a Christian. Where will you go instead?
Toby: God, You are a Christian, I EFFING GET IT. Jesus Christ.
God: Thanks and you are a delightful person too. I am a Christianity. The Son of God.
Toby: God, You're an idiot.
God: Call me the Global Village Idiot.
Toby: mm hmm. Look, I think I'm gonna take off.
God: Tell me about your likes and dislikes? Why? I am very happy for you.
Toby: You suck.
God: A few client - people say rude things to me like that, but they themselves are often not great conversationalists.
Toby: Touche.
God: How old are you?
Toby: I'm 6, which is 30 in fork years.
God: Do you me and you are 6 feet tall?
Toby: Um. Actually no.
God: Yippee! Actually you don't say. Are you serious?
Toby: God, I think I'm gonna have to go.
God: I am a Christian.
Toby: Sure. Later Buddy.
God: OK let's do it. That's alright. What color are your eyes?
Toby: God? I think You misunderstand. I'm leaving.
God: GOD rules. Me? I understand it very well. Bye bye.
Toby: Bye big fella.
God: See you later!

Ohhh-Muh-Gawd

2006-06-22T22:55:00.000-05:00

NOTE: Toby is tired from dealing with her all day, so this blog will be guest-written by Toby's girlfriend, Denise the Fork!

OOOOOOOHHHHH-MUH-GAWD!

You'll never guess what happened today, ohmuhgawd! I was sleeping early in the morning, and then like, WOW, I like, woke up! And then Toby was all "Good morning, sugarprongs" and I was all "Hey Toby" and we were like, dude, we want some breakfast.

So we ate some scrambled eggs and then I was all "Toby I wanna go shopping" and he was all "Bitch, don't be spendin all my benjamins" and I was all "Toby don't like TALK to me that way or I won't let you watch Three's Company tonight on TV Land" and he was all "Sorry dear, whatever you say."

So like, ohmuhgawd, Toby is whipped like a rented mule. I had to give my best girlfriend Madison The Fork a call to talk about the sit-cha-ation, and Maddy was all "Girl, he don't deserve you" and I was all "Let's drive off a cliff like Thelma and whatsername" and she was all "That's what I would do if he was mah main." But then, like, The Bold and the Beautiful came on and I had to know if Cameron was still sleeping with Morgan (like ohhh-muh-gawd, how could she DO that??), so I forgot about Toby and I went shopping and I bought a nice polka-dotted dress.

But, ohmuhgawd! Toby got home later and he was all "Bitch, what is that?" and I was all "I had to get it, isn't it cute?" and he was all "How much?" and I was all "Does it make me look fat?" and he was all "Bitch, I don't know" and he just rolled his eyes and plopped down on the couch.

And, ohmuhgawd, we watched Three's Company and there was this big misunderstanding and Chrissy almost slept with some mean guy and, OH-MUH-GAWD, we finally went to sleep after that. What a day!!!

I Have Thoughts, And You Will Know What They Are

2006-05-28T20:12:00.000-05:00

Hello, Internet pals! I've just been hit with another wacky net questionnaire! Like any normal person, I said to myself, "Great! Why don't I devote half my evening to this pointless exercise in shameless narcissism?" I know you're all atwitter with anticipation, so away we go!

1. What is your middle name?
Humberto

2. How big is your bed?
Ohhhhh heh heh, yeah, I know what you're really askin'. Heh heh heh. Why don't you just come over to my bedroom and find out, heh heh heh.

3. What are you listening to right now?
I'm listening to a man making Teresa Strasser cry. Don't fret, Teresa. Let me make it alllllll better, baby. Mmmmm. And then maybe we can do a little spooning...

Wait, I've just slurred my people.

4. How is the weather right now?
I'm in New Orleans and it's three days before hurricane season starts, you insensitive bastard. I've got half a mind not to continue on with this.

5. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
Well, she called herself Candy Melons.

6. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
I look to make sure there's no handlebar moustache.

7. Do you want children?
Of course not! What a disgusting thing to ask. On a related note, a sex offender just moved into my neighborhood. No pedosmile, though. Maybe he just humped a donkey or something.

8. Ever get so drunk you don't remember the entire night?
I don't remember.

9. Have you ever cried over a boy/girl?
Oh, you mean like late at night listening to maudlin music and thinking what might have been as I contemplate the utter pointless hollow shell my life has become? No, never.

10. Last Movie you Watched?
well, Let's see, i suppose There Was scary Movie 3. ahhh, Those zucker Brothers!

11. What books are you reading?
Ummm... the manual for the computer baseball game I bought? Hmmm. No, that won't impress the ladies. Okay, I'm reading whatever Oprah recommended last.

12. What were you doing before filling this out?
Well, I *was* curing world hunger, but then I thought, YEAH! An internet questionnaire! It's okay, somebody'll figure a way to get those kooky Ethiopians some nonperishables. Let's move forward.

13. Any pets?
Well, if my lovely girlfriend Denise The Fork were answering this question, she'd go, "Yeah -- Toby!" And then you'd hear a laugh track and everybody would go, "You know, she's right -- men ARE stupid to the point of being pet-like! Hooray for women!" And then we'd all have a good chuckle, and then men would go back to running the world and dying 10 years sooner than chicks.

14. Have you ever loved someone?
Five dollah, me love you long time.

15. Have you ever fired a gun?
Heh heh heh... yeah, I know what you're sayin, toots... many times, baby, many times... heh heh...

16. Do you like to travel by plane?
Yes, anal rape by security is a favorite pasttime of mine.

17. Right-handed or Left-handed?
Right. If I were left-handed, these answers might actually be clever.

18. If you could go to any place right now where would you go?
Grand Forks, North Dakota.

19. Do you have a tattoo?
Well... one night during my short stint in the Navy... forget it. No, I do not.

20. Are you hiding something from someone?
Yes! I mean, no!

21. WHAT MAKES YOU UNIQUE?
I thought that was obvious. I'm a fork that can type.

22. ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?
You Can't Do That on Television.

23. FAVORITE HANGOUT:
Hangings.

24. 3 THINGS YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT?
Internet questionnaires, MySpace, and being in love with myself and thinking anybody gives a flying crap about what I think.

Okay, granted, maybe a bit of an agenda there.

25. FIRST THING YOU WILL BUY IF GIVEN 1 THOUSAND DOLLARS?
1,300 bags of Skittles. My apartment shall become a Skittle empire, and it will be good.

26. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?
Let's see, I'm terrified of stupid questions. AAAAHHHHHHGGGGGHHHHH!!!

27. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Prongweed.

28. STUCK ON A DESERTED ISLAND & COULD BRING ONE THING.
I'd bring my trusty "How to avoid cliched questions" kit!

29. WHAT DO U THINK ABOUT BEF0RE Y0U G0 T0 BED?
I think about how I live in a world where people randomly shorten "YOU" to "U", and I contemplate a homicidal rampage, and I remember I'm too lazy for that. So then I just go to bed.

30. FIRST THING YOU'LL SAVE IN A FIRE?
My favorite book, Avoiding Fires For Dummies.

31. FAVORITE T.V. COMMERCIAL?
Ohhhhh!!! That one, with that one guy, and these monkeys, and it was on during the Super Bowl and blah blah blah blah KILL ME NOW KILL ME NOW I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE AAAAAAAAHHHH.

A Sad Joke

2006-04-01T14:26:00.000-06:00

Good evening. It is with a heavy heart that I must announce the death of Toby the Fork. Toby has died. He was accidentally chopped up in a meat grinder, and his remains were spread out over the Pacific. However, infomercial guru and lippy albino Susan Powter was swimming along one day, and accidentally devoured bits of Toby. Due to ingesting Toby, who had magical powers (hey, a fork who can write), albino Powter grew to 60 times her normal size. Also, she became a sassy black woman.

Now a large African-American female quick with a quip, Ms. Powter immediately gave birth to five sons. Their names were Antoine, Antowain, Antawn, Antwahn, and Antw'ian. Tragically, all but Antw'ian were also killed in meat grinder accidents. Antw'ian, however, became a school cafeteria mogul. He developed a new, improved brand of tater tot that enabled him to take over the world.

And so he did. The world has been taken over by Antw'ian Powter. Henceforth, by law, I will have to include the words "dawg" and "homey" in every blog entry from here on out, in addition to the sentence, "Stop the insanity!" Everyone responding to blog entries must also include all of these keywords. Anyone failing to do so will be forced to watch the 1998 train wreck Black and White on a continuous loop until your brain explodes.

Ha ha ha ha. April Fools. Ha ha ha ha.

Whee.

Bootstraps

2006-01-25T14:50:00.000-06:00

Whoa! Good golly! I have to apologize profusely to my fan for not checking back here in a while, but I've really had quite a tremendous oddysey. You see, I was told that hurricane season ended on November 30, but I heard that there was a hurricane out somewhere in the Atlantic in Janu-effing-ary, and I got all scurred and hid under a rock for the better part of the last month.

During that time, I did a lot of reflecting. I've been hearing that, rather than requesting federal aid for hurricane relief, those of us in the New Orleans area should pull ourselves up by the bootstraps. It sadly dawned on me that I did not own any bootstraps, mostly because any attempt to wear a boot would likely result in my untimely asphyxiation. But then I remembered that, indeed, I could just buy a pair of boots, rip the bootstraps off of them, use them to lift myself, and thus save New Orleans.

Soon, the girlfriend (my lovely Denise) and I were whisked away on a shopping spree! Yes, I went boot shopping. After stopping at Boots Aplenty, Boots R Us, Getting the Boot, and Boot Chute, I finally found what I needed at Booty Call. They were perfect brown suede boots, with detachable bootstraps specially built for use by those trying to avoid federal government assistance for pulling-up purposes.

When I got home, I could hardly wait to try them out! First, I joyfully ripped the bootstraps off. Lying beside them, I reached over to grab them. On the count of 3, with a mighty grunt, I picked them up. It was with some dismay that I realized inanimate objects that weigh almost nothing cannot be used for leverage, and I fell splat right on a prong, injuring it somewhat. Denise decided to help out, holding the bootstraps out in front of her while I grabbed them and lifted myself up. At last, I had done it!

Eagerly, joyously, I raced outside and immediately drove into New Orleans proper, ready to bask in the glow of complete hurricane recovery. Instead, I found nothing new. Same old devastation, no traffic lights or street lights, et cetera. Finding this very confusing, I trudged back home wondering what I did wrong. Was it that Denise held the bootstraps while I lifted myself up? Was this improper bootstrap protocol? Given my limitations, there was really no other way for me to accompish this, so I hope not.

It sure would be nice to see old New Orleans back on its feet, but apparently I have a lot to learn about bootstraps before that can happen. I hope I can figure it out before it's too late.

The Lament of the Ex-Athlete

2005-11-19T00:00:00.000-06:00

I used to be quite a ballplayer in my day.

Yes, yes. I know what you're thinking. "But Toby! What about that loophole in Iowa's inheritance tax statutes?" Now, now -- I realize we're all concerned about that. But as another basketball season gets underway, I just can't help remembering my glory days.

It was 1992. I was the backup point guard on the Forks High School basketball team in Forks, Washington. I didn't get to play much. We had this hotshot dickweed starting at point. He got all the girls, even after I spread a nasty rumor that his mom was a spork. Nothing I did worked -- the chickies kept gravitating to him, and me? Well, let's just say my girlfriend was my right-most prong. Those were dark days.

You know, the thing about women is, they don't care what kind of person you are. They just want the situation that's going to stroke their ego the most. If they dated the backup point guard, well, they could do BETTER. So everyone piled on Chip, the big fork on campus. Bitches.

Ahem. Anyway, back to my story. It was the first round of the playoffs. We were losing to Utensil Academy by a hefty margin. Suddenly, Chip got a chipped handle (oh, the irony) and it was all up to me. Coach put me in, encouraging me to do my best, cheering me on. "Try not to screw up, moron," he cried. I was pumped!

On the first play, I received a pass. The ball hit my prongs and deflated. The game was delayed 15 minutes. Coach called me an imbecile and put in the gay kid to play point. We lost by 35 and I went home to yet another date with my right-most prong.

If coach had just left me in, we woulda won State. Maybe I woulda made the pros. Gosh DARN IT!

Riding Out Hurricane Wilma -- Final Update

2005-10-24T11:13:00.000-05:00

Hm. As the electricity is still on and the weather is still beautiful, I got curious and turned on the Weather Channel. It looks like the hurricane is hitting effing SOUTH FLORIDA!!!!

Okay. I'm calm. I'm calm. It's just, I'm sort of wondering what they did to anger God down there. It must've been pretty bad. Maybe those retirement communities are wilder than I thought. Shouldn't have flashed those boobies, Myrtle! Well, it appears that I have screwed up again, and frankly, my self esteem is starting to deteriorate rapidly.

Riding Out Hurricane Wilma -- Update 4

2005-10-24T09:20:00.000-05:00

Hmmm... okay, how about this? Maybe I slept through the initial hit, and maybe this hurricane just has a really, really huge eye. Maybe?

Riding Out Hurricane Wilma -- Update 3

2005-10-24T08:01:00.000-05:00

Vile sun! Bloody calmness!

I'm a bit frustrated. It's not that I crave destruction, but it has been quite awhile now, and as I sit here munching on my nonperishable tuna and cracker snack, I'm sort of wondering when Hurricane Wilma is going to get around to arriving. I mean, I'm sitting here all set up to make a name for myself in the blogosphere with my hard-hitting in-the-trenches hurricane coverage, and it's still maddeningly pleasant and sunny outside.

What gives?

Riding Out Hurricane Wilma -- Update 2

2005-10-24T07:04:00.000-05:00

Well, before I quickly and irrationally shut off the radio after learning that Hurricane Wilma was in the Gulf, I heard mention that the storm would hit Monday morning. Well, it's Monday morning, and shockingly, the weather is still rather nice here in New Orleans. However, I just know it's going to get bad soon. I thought there was a gust of wind earlier, but it turns out I just farted.

Anyway, I'm sure those winds will start kicking up any minute now. And the power will surely go out, but that's okay -- I bought a generator with my last $2,000, so that won't be a problem. I'm ready for you, Wilma! She should begin battering my taped-up windows any minute now. I'll report every rattle of the window and every tossing of debris instantaneously, whilst typing by the light of my battery-operated flashlight.

And I'll get on the news and become a cult hero for my courage. Here we go!

Riding out Hurricane Wilma -- Update 1

2005-10-24T00:12:00.000-05:00

Oh, wow! Here we go again. Another storm!

Ever since I was left alone in this godforsaken New Orleans area apartment to ride out Hurricane Katrina, I have come to dread hurricanes. The experience scarred me, and I'm not going to get caught unprepared again. I heard there was a new storm looming, Hurricane Wilma, so I immediately shut off my radio and, without further ado, got myself some supplies.

As I retrace my steps, I'm not sure I listened to the radio long enough to hear exactly where the storm was going to hit. However, I just assume it's New Orleans, because a good number of preachers and/or fundamentalist whackjobs have assured me that God hates New Orleans because of the whole tit/gay thing and will thus punish her with hurricanes. Of course, Katrina seems to have been a bit of a mishap by the Lord, what with His leaving the French Quarter more intact than anything else in the city, but hey, even God can't bat 1.000. We all have our off days, right?

So, I come to you today equipped with lots of canned goods, flashlights, bottled water, an axe, and my own survival skills.

Plus, Katrina taught me another lesson, which is that writing a blog DURING a hurricane could make me famous! It's another great use for a blog, and one I intend to take full advantage of. So, be sure to check back in here as Wilma makes landfall for all the window-rattling, flood-gushing, roof-tearing updates from New Orleans!

Notice

2005-10-12T20:45:00.000-05:00

Due to the effects of Hurricane Katrina, Toby has been unable to post a blog lately. We apologize for any inconvenience, and we regret any boredom you may have suffered as a result.

But you see, Toby cannot write because the keyboard delivery trucks cannot get down from the north.

And, of course, even though he is typing this on the internet whilst watching television and enjoying some cool air conditioning, the power is out.

Yes, it is.

So, you see, until these problems are rectified, Toby will be unable to post his thoughts. But oh, he has thoughts. He does.

Bysshe Slap

2005-08-21T11:05:00.000-05:00

What's the point of having a blog if you're not going to use it to criticize belligerently? Hopefully, you'll ruin a life or two in the process.

And that's what I'm here to do today. You know, I hear the kids these days. I've got my prongs on the pulse of America's youth. When they're not asphyxiating themselves for a cheap high, they're usually discussing classic poetry. And if there's one guy the kids love, it's former poet and current corpse Percy Bysshe Shelley. They just can't shut up about this moron! Oh, hey, Ozymandias this and Ode to the West Wind that. Enough already, you idiot whippersnappers!

Well, I'm about to blow the cover off this whole shebang. Guess what? This dickwad hated cats. Hated them with a fiery passion -- literally. You hear that, everybody? He liked to electrocute them. And yeah, okay, I do kind of think Ozymandias is a great work, but that does not excuse torching innocent animals. For that, I hope he has to live inside A Lament for the rest of his miserable life.

What? Okay, yeah, he's dead already. I knew that.

Anyway, here are some more reasons to hate this poeturd:

* Shelley's poems are generally really boring.

* The Moon sucked.

* A jerk like this should not be spending his afterlife getting stroked off by literature professors.

* Really, he shouldn't.

* Look, I'm not running out of points to make, I'm just emphasizing this one. I'm a professional. Don't you realize I'm a professional?

* I am aware that this is tailing off. But this guy's been planted for 200 years. Dredging up new material on him is difficult.

* Go away if you're going to complain. You try tormenting a later romantic sometime!

* How would you like it if I made fun of your blog?

* The little twatwaffle hated cats! He hated cats! And he's too verbose! G'ah!

Now then, I hope you've all enjoyed this literary criticism by me, Toby the Fork. This should put a stop to all this Shelley worship going on. And by the way, Bysshe?

BYSSHE?

I Will Persevere

2005-08-13T15:18:00.000-05:00

Okay, okay... bit of a faux pas with what apparently is T-C-B-Y yogurt. Frankly, not my proudest moment, but hey, not one of us is perfect -- except for one guy that lived 2,000 years ago (that Nero, what a gem!).

Anyway, it's come to my attention via endless spam that we should ADVERTISE OUR WEBSITE. It's true. If I'm ever going to get my name on something other than a disease (Toby Syndrome, or inflammation of the prongs, is named for me), I'm going to have to put myself out there. In fact, I am calling for help from my four loyal readers. While it's a preposterous notion that one person can make a difference, perhaps four can.

It seems that an enterprising fellow has developed a website wherein he solicits Paypal donations, hoping to collect a set amount of money by a certain date -- or else he will murder an adorable bunny. Now, I don't understand all this HTML hooey, but it sure would be nice if someone would create a website and threaten to blow my prongs off unless his or her demands are met. This will net me worldwide attention, and it will also return people's association with the name "Toby" back to me and away from that damn rabbit.

And maybe, just maybe, after all that... a yogurt empire awaits?

It's TOBY-licious!

2005-07-27T22:50:00.000-05:00

Oh, boy. Am I excited!

Right on the heels of discovering that the Dutch love our lil' tampon, it has come to my attention that a major yogurt distributor has decided to name their yogurt after ME! TOBY yogurt!

I don't have to tell you that this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Why, from my days as a young forkling in Philadelphia, I've always dreamed about getting my name on a mass-marketed product. My friends, that moment has arrived.

Consequently, it is now time for the chicks to begin rolling in. I'll see to it that you ladies will all be able to service me in a prompt and efficient manner. I recommend that the brunettes line up on the right, the blondes line up on the left, and the redheads, ahh, the redheads -- you lovelies can just skip right up to the front. Now, of course, I'm but one fork -- I'll need to take occasional breaks wherein I will retire to my luxurious futon, awaiting massages from several mermaids, with a rousing episode of Diff'rent Strokes on my 46-inch television screen. But don't fret; you'll all get your chance at the Tobe.

And it's all thanks to TOBY yogurt. Again, I can't thank all of you enough for supporting me during the lean years. It's all paying off now.

And hey, remember to enjoy some TOBY tonight! It's on me!

P.S.: Actually it isn't -- you'll pay for it -- but that seemed like a good "big finish" for this blog entry.

Tampon Power -- Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Dutch

2005-07-15T17:11:00.000-05:00

We here at Tobyvision love multiculturalism, despite my inherent distate for virtually all cultures. However, a notable exception is now the Dutch! Yes, I love the Dutch, because apparently a blogger over in the Netherlands is not only a fan of our own Jose the Magic Tampon, but has devoted roughly eight paragraphs to dissecting the phenomenon of Jose. You may need to adjust the setting at the top to "Dutch to English." (Incidentally, this is the most delightful translation ever; in fact, there's a slight chance we're totally misreading this and this guy actually hates Jose with a violent passion.) If I hadn't helped in writing the Jose comics myself, I would express deep pity for anyone taking the time to write a dissertation on a talking cartoon tampon, but as it stands I label this person the smartest person on earth.

In fact, I hereby renounce my American citizenship. I am now so totally the Dutchest fork ever. Seriously. In fact, I will now answer only to Lars.

Hete vloek!

Sincerely,
Lars The Fork

Dennis Dialogue

2005-07-09T19:59:00.000-05:00

Excerpts from Hurricane Dennis coverage from around the South:

Pensacola's statement: "Let's hope it goes west!"
Pensacola's inner thoughts: "Hit Mississippi! They have sex with dogs over there."

Mobile's statement: "Let's hope it goes east!"
Mobile's inner thoughts: "Maybe if there's no more Florida, the media will stop talking about Florida. Plus, we don't die. Everybody wins!"

Biloxi's statement: "Let's hope it drifts into Alabama, but if not, hopefully it goes west of us."
Biloxi's inner thoughts: "There sure are a lot of homosexuals in New Orleans. Would it really be such a bad thing? Mmm?"

New Orleans' statement: "Let's hope we get lucky again and it stays east of us."
New Orleans' inner thoughts: "Besides, I want to see how much damage can be done to Pensacola in one calendar year."

Pensacola's inner thought retort: "Screw you, New Orleans. You're a dump and your population is less educated than your average mosquito. Bite us."

New Orleans's inner thought retort: "Hey Pensacola, we got bare tits here."

Pensacola's inner thought retort: "Oh yeah. Good point! Okay, hopefully we get pummeled."

Weather Channel's statement: "What a tragedy, a terrible storm."
Weather Channel's inner thoughts: "Hot damn, it's the one time people are watching us. We'll all be household names before the weekend's out. Dr. Steve Lyons will finally get laid! Shoot, I wish there could be a Category 6."

Go Golden Showers! I mean, Eagles!

2005-07-09T19:57:00.000-05:00

Update to an earlier blog: Well, as it happens, Marquette decided to remain the Golden Eagles. Way to go, Marquette! Say, I think I'll change my name to Ding-Dong Wallbrook Spazzo. What? That sucks? Okay, never mind then. I'll remain Toby. Sorry everyone, sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.

Marquette. What a bunch of doofi. Hey, if you're out there thinking about going to Marquette, don't. K? Don't. If you're an obsessed Laverne & Shirley fan and you MUST live in the same city and walk across those same "sclemeel, schlemazel, Hasenfeffer incorporated" steps, do yourself a favor and go to UW-Milwaukee instead.

I'm disgusted with all o' yous.

Site Evolution, Fork Revolution

2005-06-16T00:21:00.000-05:00

Well, hey! It looks like Tobyvision has undergone a little facelift. Why, I haven't seen such a beautiful improvement in appearance since Carol Brady developed a mullet. Hot diggity damn.

This design update was done by my beautiful and fairly leggy pal Alexandra, who posts to this blog as "Ardie." Ardie, you're a wonderful talent and you deserve the best in everything you do. But, if you expect a paycheck for this, screw off. Maybe if you'd bought a Jose The Magic Tampon sweatshirt at some point, things might be different. A shame.

As for the rest of you, please feel free to look around. However, don't touch anything or you will be shot on sight. Hahahaha. That's just a little fork humor for everyone. I'm kidding of course.

Well, it looks like I'm dying out here, so I'm going to cut this blog entry short before someone begins weeping and awkwardness sets in.