All you need is a can of Comet and a scrub brush

Hundreds of my readers have asked me for home cleaning tips, to which I’ve replied what, do you think I’m a maid or something? Indeed, a man needs a maid.

Here in the western world, we live in an age of fancy cleaning products and high-tech tools. But I’m not buying into it. That’s just me. I’m not about to tell my readers what to do. They’re well-educated, ethical, hard-working, and smart enough to make up their own minds.

However, today I will tell you what you can accomplish with a can of Comet cleaner and a simple scrub brush, better known as the Tidy Twosome. In total, you’ll spend about 3 bucks. Whether you’re a student on a budget, damn near broke, a Luddite, or an incompetent fuck-up, you will come to appreciate the rewards of what I call “smart cleaning”.

First, buy a can of Comet that contains bleach. This way, when you’ve finished hacking apart raw chicken on your cutting board, you can clean the board off and disinfect it.

My kitchen sink is porcelain and easily scuffed and stained by the bottoms of steel bowls and frying pans. These days, I no longer have panic attacks about the appearance of my sink. Not since I discovered the one-two knockout punch of Comet and a scrub brush.

The toilet bowl. Nasty job, but hey, if you’re the only one using it, who cares, right? It’s kinda like drinking straight from the olive oil bottle. Whose germs are you gonna catch? Yours! But do make sure to use a different brush, one designed for cleaning toilet bowls.

Finally, a disclaimer. Always wear yellow gloves when cleaning. Eye protection is also recommended.

Looking for work as the official graphic designer for pig flu

Official logo of swine flu

If I don’t give a crap about street cred, do I automatically have street cred?

Like, how does the street cred thing work?

Somebody explain it to me please.

Possibly the best song / music video EVER

I’m not lying.

Thousands of my loyal readers have asked my opinion of popular music. I won’t lie. I have no idea what’s popular. But I know what’s good. And this is so good it hurts.

From 1988. The band Stump. The song is called “Buffalo”.

Cut me a cheque then, if it’s so good for everybody

I’ve heard a lot of talk, maybe too much talk, about how good the 2010 Winter Sporting Competitions Between Countries will be for the residents of the Canadian province that is hosting it. Particularly after the Competitions are over and the package tourists and jet setters have flown home. And after the homeless bums have returned to their cardboard boxes just outside downtown.

Talk talk talk. I’m tired of jive talk. I want action. I want to see results and tokens of goodwill. That’s what these Winter Sporting Competitions are about, right?

I propose that the host Canadian province, British Columbia (BC), cut every resident a royalty cheque after the Competitions are over and the cash registers have stopped cha-chinging.

It would be similar to what Alaska does with oil revenues. Each year, the state mails out a big fat cheque, a symbol of cooperative capitalism, to Alaska residents. Surely, British Columbia could do the same. It could demonstrate, through decisive action, that the 2010 Winter Sporting Competitions Between Countries were indeed good for its residents. The proof is always in the big fat cheque.

Swine Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Swine Flew. When pigs fly.

Guess I was a bit overextended with my prediction back in Mayo that this bit of nasty news would drop off the media radar faster than Farrah Fawcett’s death. Man, was I hasty with that prediction. Now I feel underutilized!

Around my town, everyone’s got swine flu fever! No, not fever due to having contracted swine flu; fever as in excitement! Like Pac-Man fever!

Aw, to hell with it. It’s time to eat crow and pay the Rowdy Roddy Piper. I’m getting two shots today, even if the lineups stretch around the bloody block.

Pinball: vastly underrated?

I think pinball is a vastly underrated sport. I’m calling it a sport because if golf can be a sport then so can pinball.

Convinced of spider powers

Two days ago my friend Rick–I call him the Rickster–almost stepped into the path of an oncoming bus. But he didn’t. He pulled back at the last moment, almost as if he sensed a large steel mass was approaching at a speed and with a force that would’ve made tomato paste of poor old Rick.

Why did Rick hesitate in crossing the street? God? Angels? The Devil? Barrack Obama? Spidey sense? Who the fuck knows.

All I know is that we got right drunk afterwards to celebrate Rick’s slippage from the clutches of an early death.

Gonna have to side with Kate on this one

I disagree with those pricks who’re siding with Jon. Kate has got the most to lose and I believe she is a decent mother who wants to do the right thing.

Milk it

A couple hundred of my loyal readers have asked what my secret is to making perfect coconut curry.
That’s easy, I told them.
First, if you can’t get fresh coconut milk, buy it in the Tetra-Paks. Look for the 100% preservative-free brands (yes, they exist).
Then, when the Pak’s been emptied into your saucepan, swish some water around the inside of the container to milk (ha ha) every last bit of God’s Tropical Goodness from those layered tinfoil walls. Add to saucepan.
Finally, don’t believe that jive turkey shit about adding fucking soybean oil to your curry paste. Just don’t do it.