Hello from the Womb: Mr Bitter Jr Says Hello

Day … I’m not sure what day it is. I don’t have a calendar in here. What I do know is that I’ve got no ears so please, Dad, stop trying to talk to me. Can’t hear a thing.
What can I tell you? I’m really excited about the whole birth thing. It’s pretty wet in here, what with all the amniotic fluid and such. I’m urinating now (sorry mom). Pretty cool. Can’t wait till I start pooping. I’m feeling kinda bloated. It is pretty relaxing, just floating here. Like to put my feet up and have a good stretch. Not crazy about the food, though. Mom keeps eating pickles with peanut butter. What, are you out of bread? I’m curious about what it’s like out there in the big dry. Can’t really imagine what it must be like to be surrounded by dry stuff. Anyway, every so often I’ll drop you guys a line to let you know how I’m doing and wonder at the forming of my little limbs and organs. I'll also pass judgment on what’s going on outside . See you soon.

Introducing Mr Bitter Jr.

I know I’ve said it before but this time I meant it. I wont abandon you again. I know it’s been awhile. A long while. But I do have a good excuse. I’ve been very busy trying to reproduce. That’s right. Procreate. It took awhile and involved the declarative: “The penis goes where?” But we sorted it out.
My wife and I are very confident that with global warming and the receding ice caps and the soon to be accessible oil deposits sitting under those receding ice caps that there will be more than enough fossil fuels to see little “Mr Bitter Jr” through to at least his twenties. By that time most of his body parts will have been replaced by cybernetics and computer chips making his need for clean oxygen and food nothing more than a quaint memory. He will be king of the new robot army and will lead the fight against the invading alien hordes come to steal away our now poisonous - and to the aliens, irresistibly delicious - seas. And all the while continuing to write this blog long after I have shuffled off my mortal coil, fighting against the first wave of those alien invaders. So by way of introduction, the fetus of my future child, Mr Bitter Jr, will be writing this blog. He/she/robotic killing machine will keep you posted on all things amniotic and pre-natal. Don’t miss his/her/future king of the world’s navel eye view of our wacky, soon to be invaded planet.
Here is a picture of Mr Bitter Jr. He has my glowing spine, doesn't he?

Ass Model to Replace Face With Ass

Men’s magazine model Vida Guerro, known mostly for her shapely gluteus maximus, has announced she will have her famous derrière grafted to her face.
“No one recognized my face anyway,” Guerro told Mr. Bitter prior to her operation. “ I would show up to photo shoots and people would look at me and ask me who I was. I’d have to turn around, drop my pants and pull my undies into my ass crack.“
Guerro’s portfolio consists mostly of shots taken from behind, her buttocks well oiled and lifted subtly hint at her possible enjoyment of anal sex. Guerro’s head is usually turned back, with a “Look at my ass!” expression on her face. Most of her fans seem unable to recognize her solely by her facial features, hence her need for the face/ass replacement operation.
Mr. Bitter placed Guerro’s face in a photo line up with other popular models. Subscribers to FHM and Maxim where unable to identify Guerro. We then repeated the experiment but replaced the pictures of the models faces with pictures of their asses. Only one of the subscribers failed to identify Guerro. Most of the men then quickly excused themselves from the room and rushed to the toilets.
Guerro’s doctor says she will still be able to eat and breath by spreading apart the “cheeks” of her new face and inserting a feeding tube. Her vision apparatus has been replaced by bat sonar.

Why Is This Guy Taking A Poo?

Find out at Soccer Dude. Link to your left ... or is that right? Or click this link here if the instructions above are too confusing: http://mrbitterwc2006.blogspot.com/

HAVE YOU RECENTLY BEEN STUNG BY ONE OF THESE GUYS ON AN AIRPLANE

With news today that another airline passenger has been stung by a scorpion, I just want to say what we're probably all thinking: GET THOSE MUTHERFUCKING SCORPIONS OFF THOSE MUTHERFUCKING PLANES!

Khan's Secret Middle East Report Leaked to Me

We here at Mr. Bitter have obtained, through thoroughly sordid means, a copy of the report former Liberal Wajid Khan penned for the Harper government on the Middle East. Khan accepted a role as an adviser to the Conservatives on the Middle East while still a member of the Liberal caucus. Many Liberals at the time expressed concerns that Mr. Khan's work for the Conservatives would put him in conflict with his party. Mr. Khan stressed that his work was of a non-partisan nature and that his report would be made public for all to read. It now appears, since his defection to the Harper cabinet, that the report will not be officially released. (After how thoroughly morally offended Harper was at the defection of Belinda Stronach to the Liberals to now have two such defectors in his ranks – Khan and Vancouver MP and naturalist Ralph Waldo Emerson- well I bet it's all he can do to just look at them…)
But unofficially, here it is. The official unofficial Khan report on the Middle East:

(The report as it came to us was still in its infancy. Most of the report was written in point form and in red crayon. There were coffee stains on nearly every page. )

Enjoying a latte here while sitting in the Liberal cabinet. I wonder what the Conservative caucus room looks like? Hope it smells better than this place. Honestly, someone keeps letting 'em rip. Ignatieff keeps giggling to himself. I bet it's him but I don't want to say anything. If someone uses the ancient parlimentary tradtion of "he who smelt it" I'm done for.

It does smell much better in the Conservative caucus room. Who would have thought Westerners could smell so nice. Like oil mixed with moral outrage and freshly killed bear or some endangered animal. Who thought homophobes could smell so nice. And only a few of these guys refused to remove their cowboy hats. Tell ya what. If Harper offers me the job of advisor on the Middle East, I'll jump at it!

Ok. I'm out in the field doing my big report on the Middle East. Sitting here in a lovely café in the Syrian capitol of Damascus. Latte's are excellent. Not too much to report. There's a Hezbollah recruiter over there. Love those scarves.

I'm Tehran now. Theses guys really now how to make a first rate latte. They could teach my local Starbuck's barista a thing or two. Got an invite to some big convention they're having over here about the Holocaust. Maybe I'll check it out. No sign of any nuclear weapons but will keep my eyes peeled.

Looks like my Ipod battery has finally died. Wonder if they have a Best Buy here in the Ramallah?

You know, I've had a lot of time to think about my self and what I really believe in as a Muslim living in the West. I firmly believe with all my soul that I'm not sure I like geeks. In fact, and I believe Mohamed may be with me on this one, I hate geeks. Oh, let's see who we've elected as our new party leader… Dion! That geek! What does he carry around with him in that backpack of his? Old issues of Harpers? He makes a mean latte, though.

I've made a momentous decision here in the hot, steamy city of Islamabad. I've thought it through and I know it goes against everything I believe in, everything my constituents believe in and, yes, even what my god teaches me but here it is: I'm having the Iced latte.

OK, last stop is Khandahar, Afghanistan. Our boys look OK. The green uniforms are a nice contrast against the desert background. Maybe I’ll pop into Tim Horton’s for a latte … Jesus that must have been the worst coffee I’ve every tasted. Call that a cappuccino? More like a cappa-crappo! I’m outta here.

Just going back over this report and I realized how screwed I am. All I did was talk about coffee for 1500 pages. And how am I going to explain those expense reports? $150,000 for coffee and Persian hookers? There’s only one thing I can do to save my beautiful, coffee fueled legs. Defect. To another country. No wait, that’s a bit extreme. I’ll just defect to the Tories. They’re desperate. They’ll take anyone. Even Jack Layton. I’ll defect and all I’ll ask for in return is that this report never sees the light of day. That and a latte maker for the condo. Khan, you’re a genius!

Ding Dong The Former American Ally is Dead

The one question I've been asked more than any other in the last few months, besides "Who are you and what are you doing here?" has been "So, how's married life treatin' ya?"
I know this is simply a replacement question/greeting for such previous classics as: "How's work?" or "How are your testicles currently hanging in relation to the relative stress levels of your daily existence?" And I further know (wow, I seem to know a lot today!) this is all part of the function of recognizing and greeting people that we do every day. What we're really saying is "I recognize you. I think I might even like you and value you as a friend/acquaintance/ possible future partner in copulation (I only use the subtext of the later now when greeting my wife) and I want to acknowledge that even though I don't really have anything particular to say to you at this moment I still recognize and value to a certain degree our relationship. Whatever form that may presently take. But I'm sure if this conversation continues we may in fact end up discussing any manner of topics from Battlestar Galactica to Broken Social Scene to human on donkey sex." It's all about subtext people. Read some Pinter and you'll understand.
I bring this up because over the past few weeks I've done quite a bit of socializing with friends, family and co-workers. As have we all, I hope. It's just something I've noticed. Something, say, that I experienced several times on New Year's Eve. This is my fairly lame attempt to segue into my topic for today: the New Year.
I'm not big on New Years. I'm not small on it either. I just don't really care as much as I used to. And no, I don't want to sit at home watching movies and wincing as the cat kneads my thighs into an over-pricked pincushion. But I'm not going to pay $100 to get into some overcrowded club with a bunch of strangers drinking overpriced drinks all night. I'm in the small house party phase of my life. I attended two parties on New Years. One featured a Nintendo Wii and one didn't. I'm obsessed with this device. I mention it at every opportunity, which leaves some people bewildered and sometimes angry. Though now that I've purchased the new Zelda game for my Gamecube the urgency has lessened somewhat. I've been broadly hinting to the wife that we can't possibly live without it. Yet here I am in week one of 2007 and I'm Wii-less!
But 2006 did end with a hanging and you can't say that about a lot of years. Unless you live in a country where they hang people all the time, in which case you might be lucky if you could say the same thing at the end of every week. This is just my round about way of saying I'm not going to compile a list of bests and worsts of the year. New Years is arbitrary and the changing of the year doesn't really follow any natural flow of seasons. For obvious reasons this is a year I wont soon forget. (Arsenal came within 15 minutes of winning the Champions League! Oh, and I got married …) But I really can't remember what Cds I bought or movies I saw that merit being listed in order of their greatness from 1-10. I did see some great films this year (Children of Men, Volver) and hear some great tunes (Diableros and … many others). This was also the year that many of the people in this find land of ours thought Steven Harper would make a great PM. Maybe it was some type of National Neuroses. Or those Westerners are getting all uppity with all their newfound wealth. Well when the tar sands dry of and are just sands, where will they be? Well we'll all probably be under ten-feet of water by then. Perhaps people just wanted a less scandal-tainted party in power. Let's face it, as scandals go it was pretty Mickey Mouse. Maybe this year a MP will be involved in some pervert sex/murder cover up. Ok, there it is: my grand prediction for 2007: MP IN PERVERT SEX/MURDER COVER UP. Can't wait to see that on the cover of the Globe and Mail.
Anyway, I don't know how many people will be hung this year. I hope it's a few as psooible. Though the next time someone asks me how it's hanging, it may give me pause.

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

Put away those soggy hanky’s, faithful readers, I have returned. Where have I been, you ask? Well the last thing I remember is finding a half eaten green onion salad in a dumpster behind a Taco Bell. Come on, we’ve all been there. How could I possibly resist?
Actually, I got married. The thing about getting married is that people seem to run out of things to say to you. All I hear these days is: “How’s married life treatin’ ya?”
Well, since my wife and I lived together for a year before getting married I can say, with all the embellishment I can muster … pretty much the same. Oh, I have a ring on my finger, which is weird, as I have never really worn rings in my life. Had my ear pierced once when I was a teenager. Wore a dangling peace earring for some reason. The piercing got infected. I took it out.
I'm still struggling a bit with the new married lingo: "This is my girlfriend - I mean wife." Although my wife says I could easily remedy this issue by simply using her name. Oh, and I seem to love her more and more each day. Which I'm told may be something I have to live with my entire life.
(I’m following the Arsenal game on the BBC website and watching the Chelsea v Newcastle game as I write this. That’s probably why it feels like I’ve been writing for hours)

Anyway, I plan on taking my muse-buffering mental fiber so as to make my writing more regular. Now that I’ve passed all the remnants of that green onion salad and large bits of my colon.

FYI: Wigan 0-Arsenal 1, Chelsea 1- Newcastle 0