Saturday, January 30, 2010

Hot Egg, Cool Meat

I had a lot of assistants before Jeremy. First there was Sandra, then Ming, a Ph.D. candidate from MIT, followed by many others whose names and identities have mummified in my tiny, tiny mind along with the condiments with which I seasoned them.

Jeremy, still life, frightened

Jeremy is different. First, he is from Connecticut, which as you know is an entire state dedicated to housing dim-whits. Second, he is an indentured servant whose bus fare interest compounds hourly. Third, he is much, much faster than Tubba.

One of Jeremy's duties is to get me a hot sausage and egg sandwich every morning. It's wrapped in wax paper and I don't eat it until the paper has become completely saturated with grease and has melded in places with the cheese.

Jeremy lives in the guest bedroom, except when we have guests, when he must sleep in the closet (where he spends most of his time anyway). I trip over him to remind him of his place.

I admire his resilience because in my experience, these people are so much more pleasurable to break. Slowly, I wear him down. I introduce him to my afternoon pre-K class as my assistant (all of the other assistants are called "Nannies"). In public, when he tries to stop me from ankle-biting and candy stealing, I scream "go with you where? You're not my Host!"

But Jeremy has found ways to thwart me. He carries cheddar bunnies in his pockets. He purchases (and keeps in a safe deposit box) bi-yearly tickets to a live Rush Limbaugh taping, along with a whacking salami and decoy Oxycontin.

He just... gets me. He anticipates my needs. And that's really important in an assistant. Plus he brings home drunk co-eds on the weekend and those bitches be so f'ing easy to catch, as long as they don't wake up while you're hosing them down.

T-Bone out.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Now this is what I'm takin' about

Nough said.

Panda Attack... Spoils of war

Check this... (my bathroom tile)

Fat panda be plotting against me. A panda, eating a giant potato chip... or hugging a butt. Regardless, Tubba believes panda is an adequate source of sustenance. Iago! Iago!


Tubba Le-La (Dash not silent)

*Edit: Apparently, you people need to be hand held. Iago is a slang name commonly used to indicate a traitor. Tubba is like John Lennon... A generation not deserving.


Host and Host #2 took Tubba to Whole Foods in Cambridge. Tubba saw this...


Until it is explained to the counter, I'll assume what any rational person would: Chancellor Bismarck is conspiring to tip the balance of peace within the Euro continent, again.

Team Franco-Prussia...

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Tubba, Zen

These are the times that try Tubba's soul; times when Tubba must find his center. Much like Lincoln, I am tested. The iPad was announced today and much to my... utter disbelief it has no wall attachment. Tubba's five year plan hinged on being able to attach the iPad to any wall or flat surface, at a high level, and position myself upon it to then swoop down on prey. I suggested: iNest.

Maybe I got ahead of myself.... After all, I'm only 2' tall, thus the highest possible altitude I could position such a platform is 6" off the ground. I don't elevate my arms. Thus, much like Lincoln, I search for compromise, unicorns, and bitches to consume.

I long for purpose and for bacon. Mostly bacon. I called Stevie (Jobs), and told him I was going to consume him for insolence, but I used the safe word, which indicates how serious my threats are or are not. I been making threats since I was in kindergarten; he knows me.

I must use this time to reshape how I move forward...


Tubba T. Crosby, Secretary of Naval Affairs
27 January, 1883

"Inside" Intel on Apple's Newest Gadget

As the world holds its breath for Apple's announcement from Coppertonia, CA, Tubba has a few predictions about what we might see. In the interest of full disclosure, I need to tell you that this morning at about 4:00 PST, Tubba consumed Steve Jobs and absorbed all of his brain powers. I am now a robut.

1. Game-Changer
The most anticipated device of 2010 will no doubt acquiesce to my demands for a 'flocking' app that allows Tubba to track potential candidates for reality TV hit "Biggest Loser." Apple will tag and track any moving (or undulating) body over 350 pounds, and its proximity to condiment supply stores or Big Boy Restaurants (BBR and I have an agreement by which I refrain from consuming their CEO until 2013, and I use their salad bar to dress my meats). Sal really dropped the ball on that one.

2. Completely New Platform
To be successful where other netbooks have failed, Apple will need to provide a unique platform that truly bridges the utility of a laptop with the convenience of a smartphone. Tubba predicts that this new platform will provide a high ground from which Tubba can 'swoop' down on his prey, thereby endowing Tubba with the element of surprise. Bravo, Apple. Bravo.

3. Proximity Sensing Touch Screen
If you've ever seen the movie Highlander, which I co-wrote with Sir John C. Reilly, you no doubt observed the allegorical references to Tubba's life. Yes, there are rival tubbas laying in wait to consume me-- but Apple's new patent on the Proximity Sensing Touch Screen will allow Tubba to sense when rival tubbas are nearby, thwarting their attempts to consume me with Jackie Chanlike ninja skillz. Also my Host bought me bear mace.

4. And Jazz Hands...And Close.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

My Band

If you've ever been in a band as cool as mine, you know that it is absolutely necessary to have two things: authentic Antares Autotune and really cool t-shirts to throw out to fans.

I'm an entrepreneur. I can literally spell that word on the first or second try. And I am an authorized user on Host's emergency credit card. That makes me a business owner.

My band is a well-known internet phenomenon. It is an investment gold mine. And that is why you, fans, supporters, and middle-aged men who I met at Osh-Kosh message boards, should be OUTRAGED that Host is no longer letting me wear or sell my "Useless Eaters" t-shirts.

Instead, Host and Host #2 insist that I wear my suit, pictured left, which I HATE. It's LINEN. We live in BOSTON. It's SCRATCHY. It comes with a BEANIE. You feel me. OUTRAGE. Host says it's my fault because this is the only suit he could find in a size Toddler 2XL and no tailor will come near me because I scream "He touched me!" at them.

This is a broken world we live in.

They Go Right to my Hips

It is no secret that Tubba retains lawyers. I only need one, but I like the sense of competition that redundancy instills on them. Yes, redundancy.

Sal meets me every four days at the Boston Market on Mass Ave. We do this for the following reasons:

1. Just one tip I picked up in 'Nam.

2. I like to fit Boston Market into my life. It's a company with a little thing called values.

3. Four is the highest Tubba counts. Time is money.

4. The end. (See item #3, above)

By "values," I mean 'chicken;' by "every four days" I mean 'when I text the bitch, he shows,' and by "the end" I mean 'get me some mo f'ing cashew butter.'


Angora Haze

Ok, look. I may... MAY have eaten Jimmy Carter.

It was either Jimmy or a homeless man wearing a sweater. To be honest, usually old dudes are really stringy, but this one was really tender, and I just couldn't stop. So, this is full disclosure. My bad. Either way, I think that we can all agree that last night is in the past, and we should just move on from here. No hard feelings.

And I just want to say that when it was Ronald Regan, nobody seemed to care. Not even him.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Things I Invented

Host #2 is sick today.

Normally I would consume her but Host made meatballs and I burned my fingers on them while they were in the pan so I don't have much traction. Plus, Host #2 has school tomrrow and I LOVE rolling in the isles and moaning and fat breathing until they ask us to leave. They HATE it when I fat breathe.

Things I invented: cast iron pans, Hulu, Acorn Squash--I needed something for you hippies to eat so you stay away from my cereals and commodity meats-- the British saying 'biscut' instead of 'cookie' and your MOM.

This is My Nemesis

Kitten showed up about a year ago. He is free range.

I agreed to this on two conditions: first, that Kitten be allowed nowhere near my food safe, and second, that he would be consumed once he reached maturity. We're not running a charity here.

Did I occasionally feed Kitten a little extra after Host and Host #2 were asleep? Did I massage Kitten gently to achieve high quality marbling? Did I read Kitten countless recipes and ask how he'd be best prepared to give him some measure of control over his destiny? Did I take Kitten to see "Julie and Julia" to illustrate all that we learned?

But Host has ignored my efforts. Host tells me to leave Kitten alone. Kitten is part of the family. Now, Kitten and I are locked in an eternal death struggle, and I WILL BEST HIM!