I'm very indecisive

So I went back and forth, trying numerous different hosts, and I eventually decided that Google's Blogger, while it had a lot going for it, didn't offer several key features (like it couldn't make my posts funnier). For that reason, I would like to direct you to my better, more featureful blog:

thekc.wordpress.com

Are you sure it's not spam?

Every day I clear out to my Gmail spam filter, although not once have I ever found a message that Google erroneously captured. I guess I check it simply out of the eternal optimism that some gorgeous, brilliant woman might be e-mailing me and it would be just my luck that the message would end up in the spam-box and my chance at eternal happiness would be automatically deleted after 30 days. Needless to say, I've never seen that message in my spam filter either.

The other day, as I was skimming through my spam-box, I saw an e-mail from "Agamemnon," who was very concerned about my love-making abilities. Google marked this as spam, but I wasn't sure why. Is it that hard to believe that a hero of Greek Mythology would e-mail me to inform me of ways that I can ensure that my significant other is thoroughly satisfied? After all, Agamemnon was killed by his wife (who was clearly very dissatisfied), so he would appear to be an expert on the matter.

As good as it gets

". . . Give up now. You'll always suck."

TKC: Did the guy who wrote this fortune stop taking his prozac? "It doesn't matter?" I've never before had a fortune cookie before that made me want to throw myself off a bridge, which (to be honest) is just the way I want to feel after every meal.

Debate tips

". . . People take you more seriously when you're sober, upright, and standing on your own feet."

I'll take a double shot of Ensure on the rocks

". . . Now you can talk about your colonoscopies and hemorrhoid treatments."

TKC: Granted, I don't know anything about that myself - I'm in my mid-twenties. So I'm basing this on my parents' experiences. And based on what I've heard, I'm praying doctors come up with something new in the next 30 years so doctors can check my colon without making me turn my innards into a waterslide.

Breathe in, breathe out

A few nights ago I was watching my dirty pleasure: Top Chef. During a commercial break, an ad appeared for a revolutionary new asthma medication. I'm not a doctor, so I couldn't tell you what made this drug so amazing other than that it soothed a woman who suffered from lungs that glowed bright red and were visible through her chest. After taking this amazing new pharmaceutical, her lungs were still visible through her chest, but they no longer throbbed bright red. I guess it's just a pill, not a miracle.

I've never seen anyone with this glowing-lung problem (they must wear heavy clothes to hide the shame), but apparently it's a serious condition worthy of a new high-priced medicine.

Now I suffer from my fair share of ailments, and maybe I'm just in the minority here, but I usually take my medical advice from my doctor, not actors. However, I admit that I enjoy watching pharma-ads. I think I like imagining someone with exploding diarrhea yelling "but at least my cholesterol is 5 points lower" as he sprints off to the restroom. And who isn't amused by the thought of a four-hour erection needing medical attention?

While the occasional exploding bowel is certainly funny (because I have the maturity of a 12-year old) the glowing-lung ad was notable in that it mentioned only one side effect: "In some clinical trials a few users experienced death." Isn't this great news? Instead of the usual litany of side-effects ruining your day, if you take this drug you'll have to worry about only one! Progress just can't be stopped!

That they've cut the number of side-effects from 28,000 to 1 is really the best feature of this new drug, but they hardly draw attention to it at all. So to that end, I've decided to write a new ad for them:

*Wheeze, Wheeze*
When fighting off your asthma symptoms, there's nothing worse than adding insult to injury with dizziness or nausea. Sometimes the ability to breathe just isn't worth the agony of indigestion. Thanks to Morbidxol PM, you no longer have to choose between breathing and a life free of side effects like constipation, erectile dysfunction, or crippling dry mouth.

[Cut to woman boxing in a gym] "When I'm in the ring, I can't afford to have asthma knock me out. But sometimes a really bad case of dry mouth or vaginal itching just makes me want to die. Then I switched to Morbidxol PM, and now I don't need to choose. You see, using the same technology that allowed them to mix fast-acting with long-lasting, scientists have now found a way to condense all side-effects into one."

Morbidxol PM has only one side-effect: death. So now you never need to worry about anal leakage ruining your business dinner or suddenly gaining weight a week before your wedding; those side effects are things of the past.

[Cut back to woman at gym] "I can now breathe easy knowing the worst that can happen is that I die. And that peace of mind is worth it."

[Fast talking voice] Morbidxol PM is not for everyone. People who enjoy life or dry mouth should not take Morbidxol PM. In some clinical trials, patients experienced long and painful deaths. Such reactions were rare. Ask your doctor if Morbidxol PM is right for you.

Houston, we've got a problem...

". . . And then Mrs. Armstrong suggested that Neil might find a trip to Hawaii to be more relaxing and enjoyable."

Friendship: A gift to bear

". . . After eating your friend, maybe the bear will be full before he reaches you."

TKC: Sorry, I guess this was a grizzly post.

TKCx2: And sorry for the above, that was just unbearable.

For the man who has everything

" . . . Your STD test results are coming back, and the news is all positive."

New Fox Show

Last night, David Cook won out in American Idol, leaving millions of Americans with absolutely nothing to vote on. Clearly, a new show is needed.

So I was thinking, after John McCain was forced to reject pastor John Hagee's endorsement and Barack Obama had to deal with the Rev. Wright incident, perhaps Fox could seize the moment with a well-timed new reality show. Fox could feed the masses' need to vote contestants off reality shows by placing Hagee, Wright, and other religious luminaries into a house together. Think, Big Brother -- but with more God and less hooking up by the pool.

Like any good reality show, the contestants would do challenges each week. For example, they could see how many circumcisions they can do in an hour ("Sorry, John, you did 38, but we have to take off points for the ones where you cut off too much."). Or the YouTube Sermon Spectacular, where they see who can get more hits for saying the most outrageous things on YouTube. The winner of the challenge would be "saved" for the week; the losers would risk "damnation." Each week viewers would vote a rabbi, priest, minister, reverend or imam off the show.

They could call it American Idolater.

Title-ating news

One of my devoted readers ok, fine, the only friend of mine to whom I've mentioned this little blog experiment (and thus my only reader), remarked to me that the title of the blog, The Kooky Cookie, is corrupting the minds of the thousands of young kids.

Before I get to my corrupting influences, let me first explain how TKC was christened. My search for a title was simple: I wanted a name that somehow captured the essence of this blog - a unique combination of edible treats and the fact that I have a bizarre enough sense of humor to find this whole idea amusing. So I debated the Funky Fortune or perhaps the Comical Cookie. Despite their alliterative qualities, neither name held much appeal to me. And they shouldn't hold appeal for you for the simple reason that they suck. After much consternation, Kooky Cookie came to me like an unexpected bite into a red pepper hiding in a Kung Pao chicken. It was appealing because if you say it fast it sounds like Cookie Cookie or Kooky Kooky depending on which variant of English you prefer. Sadly, Kooky Cookie was taken, so I had to settle for The Kooky Cookie. TKC was born.

Now that you understand the innocent and humble beginnings of this blog's title, let's return to my corrupting influences. My friend remarked, "isn't your title a double, or even triple entendre?" Umm, what? So I quickly ran over to the Urban Dictionary and it turns out that cookie and kookie, but not kooky, do indeed have less than desirable anatomical meanings.

So do I rename the blog? Perhaps give it a name with no meaning at all, like Xyburt? Or do I keep it and hope that people will realize that my blog is not called The Kooky Vagina? If the title is good enough for a rather perky looking UK-based cookie catering business, it surely can be good enough for me. Besides, this blog is totally innocent; who doesn't like nibbling on sweet, tasty cookies? Umm... you know what I mean, I hope.

Just in case, though, my thousands of young readers should stop reading right now. What? I don't have any? Problem solved.

Tip your waiters

". . .  It can't serve you any worse than we did tonight."

What a kiss!

". . . But so do dementors."

Yes, I know the explanatory link providing a definition of dementors is probably totally unnecessary unless you've been living in a cave for the past decade; I just felt that the Harry Potter Lexicon needed some lovin'.

WWTYD? (What would the Yakuza do?)

". . . Except getting Uma Thurman to like you."

All the news that's fit to print

". . . Because your doctors can't bear to tell you the truth."

Now with 25% more action

". . . Demand that someone else do something."

Someone loves you

". . . And it's your Mom.  You will die alone."

A journey of 1000 posts begins with a single step

For quite some time, the idea of blogging has intrigued me.  As I've read others' blogs, I've thought "I may not be able to do this well, but I could do it."  Holding me back though was nagging self doubt.  What would I write about?  Would it be interesting?  Would anyone read it?  Could I do it consistently?  Would my boss find out and fire me?

Given these questions, I chose to just fret on the sidelines.  I spent my time watching others succeed and fail, while I simply aged.  Then one day, over a rather awful egg foo yong, I opened a fortune cookie and read "Behind every dark cloud lies a brite sun."  I had no clue what it meant, but it spoke to me.  Behind the poorly spelled fortune was not a bright/brite sun, but a message: blog about fortune cookies.

As Confucius once said, "A good blog can be made of nothing but fortunes and humor, but making fortunes requires more than blogs and humor - you also need pictures of kittens."  Since I don't intend to pay off my school loans using this blog, instead I'm just going to post fortunes I get from cookies and offer my own unique spin.

There is an off chance that I may also blog about my work (except I'm governed by a confidentiality agreement), politics (except I have relatives in politics who may wish I was governed by a confidentiality agreement), my love life (except it sucks and I wish it was governed by a confidentiality agreement), and my thoughts on life (except those would put you to sleep).  Or maybe I'll just stick to fortunes.  Who knows what I'll do?  Other than a fortune of course...