Hobos Know How To Party

So, what are you doing for the new year?

Post by Bringing Funny Back.

I'm going to sleep so hard it'll seem like it's still 2012.

A Hobo Thanksgiving

Howdy and Happy Thanksgiving, folks. Jesus the hobo here. I realized I haven't written anything in a long while, not since my "techno hobo" post about the barcode and stuff. But it ain't for lack of inspiration.

Nope, as we're moving into the digital age with smartphones and whatnot, us hobos have gotta adapt too. I've been busy tinkering around with that techno stuff now, been designing an app for the smartphone that lets you listen in on scanner signals.

If you're in need of a scanner when riding the rails and you are in possession of a smartphone, you can download the application when it's available. I'm thinkin' of callin' it "Hobo Radio". I made it so you can set your location and it gives you many stations of railroads, police depar'ments, fire stations and much more. Just listening to it for a few minutes can get you information on which train is going where and whether or not you've been spotted by any suspecting eyes.

Anyway, I'm just rambling. Back to the subject!

It's Thanksgiving again. Most Thanksgivings for a hobo are pretty difficult. With no family to speak of, no warm house to lay your head, or a cozy fahr to brill yer meat over (no Hilton for the hobos, y'know), it's little wonder hobos gotta go huntin' if they want a nice meal and find a decent place to squat so's we can reminisce about all them thar things to be thankful for.

I'm pretty thankful, alright. Like for my small circle of hobo friends I call my "family". Every Thanksgiving we go cat hunting. Why cat hunting and not turkey or chicken hunting you ask? Well, cats are easier to find than turkeys, and hunting chickens usually pisses off chicken farmers who don't take too kindly to hobos in th' first place.

Many a hobo has been shot at or beaten by an angry chicken farmer. But at least we don't end up like the weasels, foxes, wolves or chicken hawks who dare to venture inside the chicken coops. No siree...we hobos stick to cats for Thanksgiving dinner. Strays mostly, because nobody misses them. Kind of like hobos and prostitutes. That's why serial killers murder our kind, 'cause they think nobody will miss us, or notice we're missing. That's another story for another day though.

So we caught ourselves a few strays yesterday. One of 'em was a little mangy, but I hadn't eaten for several days and I was famished, so I was ready to let the feast begin.

We settled inside an abandoned barn last night, after our cat huntin', and soon fell asleep. During my tossin' and a tumblin' I had a weird dream. A nightmare, really.

Fairly often 'round Thanksgiving time, or at the very least, times when my hobo family gathers to make a huge meal together, there's a comraderie that's like no other. This time in the dream, however, there was something about all of us going out and hunting cats that was different than them other times.

In the process of the hunt we killed many cats. More than usual, for whatever reason there was so many of 'em. And there was this fat-ass cat out in the area we were hunting, and again, for whatever reason, my kin decided to trap this particular cat and make it the centerpiece of our meal, because it was big and juicy. Made all our mouths water in the dream.

The next moment, we're all sitting at a huge table. I'm sitting 'tween my hobo clan. There was Groucho, Sleazy, Stumpy, Dopey, Raggedy Ann and Andy.

Groucho was grouchy which is why he was called that. Don't cross Groucho if'n you want t' keep your head. He takes no crap from nobody.

Then there's Sleazy, who's just that, sleazy. He spent most of his life on the street turning tricks with old men, but he's got a heart of gold.

Stumpy is a war veteran, fought in Vietnam or some shit, and he has no legs and is missing his left arm and his right eye. For all we know he could have lost them in a trash truck accident when he fell asleep in a dumpster, but you didn't hear that from me.

Dopey had used too many prescription drugs, so she's dopey all the time. She's just naturally high now and we have to look out for her or she can put herself in dangerous situations. One time we found her trying to snuggle up with a hibernatin' bear. That gave us all quite a start. So we try to not let her out of our sight.

Raggedy Ann and Andy are quite the pair, they look just like the fictional characters, and have been a couple for lord knows how many years.

So anyway, we're all preparing our kills for cooking. I'm watching as Raggedy Ann is holding down their cat and Andy shoves a stick in the cat's butt so he can roast it on a spit. A lot of air (or some other type of body gas) is released, and the entire cat caves in. It caved in flat like a deflated football to our surprise.

While that was happening, they're talking about something, I can't remember what they were saying. But it might have been "BLARGHEDY BLERGHEDY BLAR!" Maybe it had something to do with their deflated cat, but it's probably unimportant.

Suddenly the deflated cat jumped to life and struggled to get off the stick and almost got away, when Groucho grabbed a cleaver and chopped off all it's legs. Horrific scene for anyone to witness in real life, but just as horrible in a dream. I'm all for humane treatment of animals, even when ya gotta eat and have to kill it.

The odd thing was there was no blood when Groucho cut that deflated cat's legs off. As a matter of fact, it looked like the nubs where the cat's legs were had completely healed over as quickly as they had been chopped off.

The cat struggled to move and to run away, but it only managed to fall over. Pretty soon it inflated and floated off the table into the sky and flew away. I stared in awe at what just happened, not realizing it was a dream 'n all.

Around this time, I realized that the entire family is in the middle of discussing Andy and Raggedy Ann's marriage and how her first marriage was just a marriage of convenience. At first, they just got a civil union, but later on decided to get really married...whatever that is. Raggedy Ann then went on to say that she married her current husband, Andy, because it seemed like it was meant to be, but now that the cat they caught was causing a scene it made her have her doubts.

Raggedy Ann blamed Andy for the problem. Andy blamed her for being raggedy. Groucho blamed them both for not making sure the cat was dead before they started to prepare it. Stumpy was hitting both the cat and Dopey with an umbrella. Sleazy was running off into the woods cryin'. Everybody was a hollerin' and a screamin'.

They was all arguin' and a arguin'. Back 'n forth and back n' forth they went. I couldn't believe how badly our Thanksgiving was turnin' out. We became a typical dysfunctional family in that moment. It all made me sick to my stomach, and frankly, it ruined my appetite and my desire for any kind of family gathering ever again.

And then I woke up with a start.

Now I'm not much in believing a dream has any specific meaning, if dreams have any meaning at all. Having a dream about humpin' your dog doesn't mean you forgot to take the trash out last Tuesday. It just means that during REM sleep your synapses fire in a specific yet random pattern and trigger a series of nonspecific visions that have no basis in reality.

Or maybe they're just the brain's way of working out your troubles so ya don't go batshit insane. I got no idea. I'm a hobo and I've yet to see anything, one way or the other, to the contrary.

But that's the last time I ever sniff glue right before bedtime or eat another cat again. I'mma stick to eatin' vegetables and roadkill. And at least the family is still together for now. Happy Thanksgiving.

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

I didn't do it.

Jesus The Hobo Enters The Digital Age!

Hola, howdy, and hi. It's Jesus The Hobo. You might remember me. I'm the guy who urinates in your bushes once a week? Anyway, I've been working hard on this project (not really), finally raised enough money (begged for it all) and come up with a QR Code for people to use.

What's a QR Code, you ask? QR Codes are two-dimensional barcodes that are easily scanned using any modern mobile phone. This code will then be converted (also called "dequrified") into a piece of interactive text and/or a weblink. For instance, you walk around in the city and notice a poster for an event that seems interesting. You take out your mobile phone, scan the QR Code and you instantly get more information and a link to a website where you can purchase your tickets. You don't have to type or remember anything. It's just that simple.

Now you can follow me on your mobile devices. How cool is that? Just scan this handy QR code into your smartphone and you'll get all the hobo action you could ever want. Let the mayhem begin!

disclaimer: I claim no responsibility for the following disclaimer. I claim no responsibility for damage to your mobile devices. I claim nothing. It's not my fault, and don't blame anybody I know or work for either. This product is meant for debauchery purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons or opinions, living or dead is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate this. For every credibility gap, there is a gullibility fill. Anything you download can and will be used against you. Any opinions expressed are my own, and generally unpopular with others. Apply smileys liberally throughout the above as needed. If that doesn't help, take two Valium and call your analyst in the morning. Any disclaimer issued by me is subject to change without notice...and frankly, I don't need a disclaimer - I own this damn thing.

Big Bird is a Hobo

Collecting unemployment or a new career as a door-to-door bird seed salesman -- either way, sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.  -  Jesus

The Death of a Culture

Aug. 22, 1920 - June 5, 2012

 You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just give them a Kindle. =P

If you're not a part of the solution, there's good money to be made in prolonging the problem.

There is a joke about dead horses going around .... entitled ... "Beating a Dead Horse."

(click to enlarge)

From the American Indian Group (the Dakotas), there is a tribal wisdom that when you discover you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.


However, the corporate strategy often tries other strategies with dead horses including the following:


1. Buying a stronger whip

2. Changing riders

3. Say things like, "This is the way we have always ridden this horse"

4. Appointing a committee to study the horse

5. Arranging to visit other sites to see how they ride dead horses

6. Increasing the standards to ride dead horses

7. Appointing a tiger team to revive the dead horses

8. Creating a training session to increase our riding ability

9. Comparing the state of dead horses in todays environment

10. Change the requirements declaring that "This horse is not dead"

11. Hire contractors to ride the dead horse

12. Harnessing several dead horses together for increased speed

13. Declaring that "No horse is too dead to beat"

14. Providing additional funding to increase the horse's performance

15. Do a cost analysis study to see if contractors can ride it cheaper

16. Purchase a product to make dead horses run faster

17. Declare the horse is "better, faster and cheaper" dead

18. Form a quality circle to find uses for dead horses

19. Revisit the performance requirements for horses

20. Say that horse was procured with cost as an independent variable



In summary:

1. Acquire dead horse

2. ????

3. PROFIT

Cool Things I Post on Facebook Since I'm Such a Pimp

Der Übermensch is pretty frickin cool. Although the value of shaving your balls with a tuna can lid should not be underrated. You never know when that skill may come in handy.

Still, I think I should probably have included my 'likes' for First Aid For Dummies and Eunuchs Anonymous pages in that screenshot.

But first I must shave my balls with a tuna can lid. After absorbing tip #391, I believe my knowledge on the complex subject is quite thorough now.

During the intermission, here's a dog raping a cat to porn music:

Adoption Stains

Facebook captcha FAILs

Darn those orphans and their adoption stains!

Now I see why those adoption stains were such a problem.
But at least they found a solution!

Cooler Things I'd Post on My Facebook Wall if I Made Uber-pretentious Arty Films that Nobody Understands

Change. Got any?

I want to make uber-pretentious arty films that nobody understands, and describe them in a more unimaginably incomprehensible way.

As examples, my artist statement will be so outrageously turgid to read that it would take a team of interpreters from Interpreter Institute at Interpretville to interpret the mess out of it; throw a Vinnie Barbarino at an Elaine Benes and mix in a one-legged monkey on Pixy Sticks and you’ve got your understanding of my gibberish.

I will name drop at least two artists no one's ever heard of, discuss their two vastly differing styles at length, and then claim I occupy the space between those two artists. Where there was once a void is where I now reside, bringing light where there was only darkness.

As a stab at, and to further alienate my audience, I will claim no one understands my ingenuity and that they are dumber, sadder, and less complete for it.

Catchphrases such as "I'm so misunderstood!" or "You people will never understand my genius!" will be used frequently. For good measure I will throw in words like “transcendent” and “evocative” at key points.

Then it’s time to talk about how “freeing” my art is, and how I wish everyone could be as “free” as me with all my “freedom.” I will show real disdain for anyone who doesn’t want to do it, or doesn’t take my art seriously enough to fully realize their center.

Also, get real familiar with the phrase "...but what it’s really about is...” It’s a great way to blow my terrible and/or cliche plot way out of proportion, and is pretentious music to anyone’s ears.

Let’s try it together, “My protagonist is a mime in the 50’s who cries butterscotch and solves crimes, but what it’s really about is a girl’s journey into womanhood.” Or how about, “My book is a revealing look at drug smuggling across the Canadian border, but what it’s really about is the dichotomy between post-industrial colonialism and urban new multinationalism.”

Finally, I shall also insolently declare that I hate fame.

The audience sees only the crap on display as art, but for the artist to be able to produce such works of cow plop, the artist has to make many sacrifices. Art involves none of these qualities: discipline, courage, faith, pure heart, and love. IN FACT, what is needed to produce art is: alcohol, cannabis, pizza, apathy, procrastination, incompetence, and a large helping of general fuckery.


...kind of like this guy:
http://www.carlosdengler.com/


Oh, what happened to you, Carlos?

New super-addictive drug "T-Party" discovered; millions of users already addicted

Above: User snorting "T-Palin," a purified version of "T-Party"

As a hobo, I encounter many-an addictive substance on a daily basis, many of which have spent a decent amount of time hidden in my rectum. Of all these substances, however, none are as potent as "T-Party," a new super-addictive drug invented by Republicans and fed to an under-educated populace over-eager for a simplification of our ever-more complicated world, a world-view free of global-warming, national-debt and other compound-hyphenated-nouns.

The largest supplier of "T-Party" is "Fox News." While they have always been infamous for their conservative slant, yellow journalism and spreading lies, the creation and distribution of "T-Party" amongst the American public transformed the organization from an annoying source of faux-news into the most prominent drug cartel in the United States. Their most recent breakthrough is a derivative of T-Party called "T-Palin," which has further indoctrinated millions of elderly Medicare recipients into accepting a world view that Government-Run Health Insurance is unconstitutional, despite the fact that 99% of seniors over the age of 65 voluntarily participate in Medicare, the single largest health insurance institution...run by the government.

Probably my worst photoshop ever, but hey, I'm a hobo and the librarian is watching me closely to make sure I don't steal this computer...which I intend to do just as soon as my friend "Slippery Pete" creates a diversion by smearing extra-crunchy peanut butter on his nude body and screaming "Who wants to try my FREE shit?!" 

Derived from the chemical compound "Aristocratic Nucleic Acid" produced by Rush Limbaux's testicles, "T-Party" or "T-Rex" as it is known on the streets/bars that serve you beer-in-a-can, has already claimed the rational capacity of millions of people in the U.S. If you suspect a loved one of being addicted to T-Party, the following warning signs are helpful in getting them help: A sudden, uncontrollable love of Professional Wrestling; Referring to "Glenn Beck" as an "intellectual"; Using the word "News" when referring to "Fox News" programs; Holding contradicting political opinions, such as "Get Government out of Medicare" or "Eliminate the Deficit of $400 billion by making $60 billion in cuts."

If, after evaluating these symptoms, you suspect a loved on of being addicted to T-Party, please call our national hotline and one of our trained Philosophy major will work with you on a 12-step reason-based treatment to re-integrate your loved one into objective reality.

This is a nude photo of  Sarah Palin. This isn't related to my metaphor of Republican propaganda as a drug, in as much as I just want to remind everyone how much of a stupid and unqualified moron Sarah Palin is.

"Turtles All The Way Down"

Hey folks! Having problems staying awake in your 12-hour day of drudgery for pennies on the dollar just to watch your fat cat corporate bosses get rich off the fruits of your labor?


Well you're in luck!


Considering that our friendly, socially aware, and morally conscious federal government has decided to cut spending on fighting methamphetamine production--YOU can score a few tons of the crap to keep you up for weeks--For nothing but your entire lifetime income!


Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Ahhh...isn't the American Dream just grand?


May this not be the fate of all Daryl Krogen's nationwide from this day forward.

Source

Contrary To Popular Belief, I Am Not Charlie Sheen.

I am not Charlie Sheen.
Although, I do have what has been called "tiger's blood".

In my spare time I blog, I mountain bike, I play guitar. I am a migrant worker. A day laborer. When weather permits, I even beg for spare change.

I have been known to remodel huts located in small villages within the Amazon Basin on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention.

Occasionally, just for fun, I tread water for two days in a row in piranha infested waters.

I once read War and Peace, Atlas Shrugged, and an entire volume of encyclopedias in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening.

I am an abstract analyst, a concrete artist, and a ruthless bookie.

I don't perspire.

I can swallow live bullets, fart, and take out the eyebrows on a mosquito at 400 yards on a windy day.

I am one of those warlock Vatican assassins people only hear or dream about.

But I am not Charlie Sheen, I am Jesus the hobo.

Cooler Things I'd Post On My Friends Facebook Wall If I Had Friends

"Hey, Alex!

Long time, no -see- poke. I've just been surfing couches and stuff. Hanging out at my social networking buddies homes all year long..picking my toenails on their kitchen counters..pooping in their closets..peeing in their refrigerators..sneezing on their pillows..and soiling their bath towels.

So when can I come and visit you in Italy?!"

Cooler Things I'd Post in My Facebook Status if I was Rich:

"Amadeus and wine...muscato and Mozart ... nice, peaceful evening alone at the mansion. ♥"

Money From The Homeless

(click to view larger versions of the images)

courtesy of Random Dick — the Dick Tracy Continuity Randomizer: Where Dick Tracy values continuity even less than the so-called Rights of the Accused. Can you find any differences between a regular Dick Tracy strip and a random collection of panels? Find out!

brought to you by
another asinine guest post by Static at krapsody.com
a maverick in the world of Hobo Blogging.

Dynamic Inertia IS Revolutionary and Arousing!!!

Ladies, listen up: 

Are your arms and shoulders saggy, flabby, and out of shape? 

Isn't that the one area you girls haven't found a solution for? 

Well now you have. 

You can jack off Jesus!! 

Giving tug jobs to Jesus in just under 2 minutes a day can strengthen, tone, and sculpt your arms in ways you never knew before!!! 

An...d! the best part is it's absolutely FREE...why pay $19.95 for the Shake Weight® when you get the same effects when you whack Jesus' crotch cannon?! 

**Notice: honkin' Jesus' Bobo is a revolutionary new way to shape and tone your arms, shoulders and chest and it is designed specifically for women. 

To start today, meet me at Ponders Corner at 7 o'clock tonight..first come - first served! Over 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,001 served!!!

brought to you by

another asinine guest post by Static at krapsody.com

 ....chances are you girls haven't found a solution for MEN yet either. And men are like Commercials. You can't believe a word they say.

 

We're Homeless Goddammit

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Let me introduce you to our plight.
We are considered the lowest common denominator.
We sleep on your inner city sidewalks. We rely on your infrequent charity.
We weep behind abandoned buildings. We survive on the generosity of a select few.

We are the homeless goddammit, and we are no longer willing to be ignored!



I find it to be a complete dichotomy that Republican and Democrat House Members and candidates of the USA can raise millions of dollars in contributions in such a short time to fund a resistance for/or against health care reform, for/or against a war in foreign "terror"tories, for/or against other obscene and ludicrous agendas that only serve plutocrats.

The capitalist class comprises those who own and control the means of production, the tools, land, factories, and money to invest. Capitalism thrives on the weakest members of it's society. It capitalizes upon and exploits their labors, the working class sells it labor because they have no other means to earn a livelihood.

Slavery has a new definition, a deceptive word that is called employment. And if you don't have that (whatever the reason being) even if through no fault of your own, you don't deserve rights reserved (to varying degrees) for those who do.

It's leaders encourage ugly shout-fests, and almost all politicians do not themselves exactly rant, but they do distort the same, and sometimes they lie...all for the sake of The Almighty Dollar.

But little to none of the same efforts are made for the homeless, the elderly, the mentally ill, or the terminally ill who require cures for their illness and prostration, nor for people suffering worldwide from famine, genocide, and yes, more disease.



We are disposable people. We might as well be invisible.

But without us, your system would not exist.

This is my response in a public setting to the ridiculous and contemptible tactics world leaders propagate, by encouraging its citizens to consume beyond their means, collecting debt that can never be repaid, and the system grows and maintains this status quo that only serves to alienate its slaves from one another.

By using and harnessing the power of the internets (while freedom of speech is still accepted, and is legal practice, and the web is still largely unregulated) I have since thought that I might not be harsh enough on the denizens of America.

Now you can reinforce the message I give and send an even stronger one.

Stop admiring your diamond rings, and gas sucking SUVs parked in your driveways if you are still lucky enough to own a home. Put down your remote controls. Hang up your newest 'As seen on TV' products, and answer the call.

With the media closely watching both parties' third quarter fundraising totals, nothing would put fear in the hearts of extremists who are propagating nonsense about our world, if we stop paying attention to the subversive tactics and propaganda meant to distract people from looking at the real issues.

The issues being our fellow man, woman, and child. Your neighbor, your waiter, your taxi driver, your convenience store clerk. And those left to fend for themselves, for one reason or another, without food, shelter, security, rights, and in essence devoid of freedoms you take for granted daily.



Show your support for humanity. If every person donated pennies on the dollar to the charity of their choice, imagine how much money could be raised?

This is what the Internal Revenue Service does. Only it takes involuntary donations. Yet, low income Americans allow the IRS to rob them of their tax dollars every year.

The middle class is not an exception, no matter how untouched and comfortable they think they are. They are just as much slaves to the system as everyone else under a greedy merciless regime who profit off the labor of the disadvantaged.

These same middle and low income citizens allow the Social Security system to rob them blind as they end up paying for someone else's retirement, for which the wealthy pay little or, in most cases, no tax towards whatsoever. Yet most say this system will be bankrupt before the pending retirement of 78 million baby boomers can collect.

The citizens don't see it, or recognize it, or they don't think their voices count.
But even worse, some don't seem to care. That's why we, the few, have to respond.

This is our make-or-break time for humanity. Please give generously, if not your donated time, or money, at the very least - your consideration, as thoughts carry power. And the power of positive thought is unstoppable.

Thank you.

~Jesus

This message brought to you by: We're Homeless Goddammit

Where it is the month of October. It is raining, and some nondescript average little town looks totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.

Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town. He enters the only hotel, lays a golden note on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one.

The hotel proprietor takes the golden note and runs to pay his debt to the butcher. The Butcher takes the golden note, and runs to pay his debt to the pig farmer.

The pig farmer takes the golden note, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of his feed and fuel. The supplier of feed and fuel takes the golden note and runs to pay his debt to the town’s prostitute that in these hard times, gave her “services” on credit.

The hooker runs to the hotel, and pays off her debt with the golden note to the hotel proprietor to pay for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there.

The hotel proprietor then lays the golden note back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.

At that moment, the rich tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes his golden note, after saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town.

No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Government is doing business……

I'm Julio, Goddamnit!

Hello there. For those of you who don't already know, I'm Julio. Much like Jesus, I am an illegal Mexican immigrant. My name contains five letters and begins with the letter "J" . There is where our similarities end (oh, and we both like buttsecks). Much UN-like Jesus, however, my home is made out of wood and drywall, not cardboard. I also sell t-shirts online, but that's ONLY because the court ordered me to 500 hours of community service.

500 hours of picking up cans off the side of the road, however, is not the way Julio "services" the community. So in addition to giving hand jobs at a local massage parlor, I also sell t-shirts online to support the homeless...and as an added bonus, each shirt comes with a FREE handjob (find me on Craigslist username freehandjob 2333 [freehandjob 1-2332 were taken])!

create & buy custom products at Zazzle

For MORE of my homeless exploits, you can find them at www.projectjulio.blogspot.com OR just visit these hobo-related links:

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/07/hobo-chic-and-accidental-sexiness.html

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/07/hobosapien-or-congratulations-youre.html

http://projectjulio.blogspot.com/2009/06/hoblogging-or-twittering-without-nest.html

My To-Do-List

Hi there.

So not eating for 8 days is totally rejuvenating....
and I've learned that sticking stuff up your bum can make you feel good!

Such as cups of coffee, peppermint tea, warm water, cold water -- puddle water from the street or alley way, wheat grass juice...

YOU name it.

My friend told me a great story about a well known DJ who likes to put other things up HIS bum.

Shampoo bottles, barbie dolls..yep, you name it.

So...must put that on the ‘list of things to do.’

Other things to do when finished juice fasting with enemas:

1) eat

2) maintain short term sobriety

3) finish nursery rhymes album (no wonder I'm homeless!)

4) learn to surf (couches)

5) learn about Hemingway and Havana

6) learn more about female ejaculation

7) give ten dollars a day to the homeless (I’m saving up for a house for myself...selfish!)

8) make a video blog

9) mani pedi

10) buy a house (see #7)

11) lick something salty

12) make more money to buy a house (panhandling) (see #7 and #10)

13) eat 80% raw or fresh meat as opposed to 100% rotten meat

14) kiss a girl/boy for the first time ever!

15) wink at an old old man (maybe he'll be rich!)

16) wear no undies (shucks, I do that anyway)

17) fart near a celebrity

18) fart on a celebrity

19) teach my dog Mandarin Chinese (imagine the price of tickets to see that?!)

20) hug a tree and then continue to put some other stuff up my bum.

There ya have it...hope to get it done before winter!