HOME I: HAPPY

IT'S NOT KARATE, BUT IT SURE IS KA-RAZY!

Do note.. this page started a long time ago. Some of this stuff, it logically follows, was also written a long time ago. Thus, the impression that you get of me very well might be one of what i might have been like about four years ago. I don't have that great of a reason to tell you that, but i felt inclined. Indulge me.

Anyway...

That's my picture up there. And yes, i know what you're thinking. "Jason," your critical mind blurts out. "That's such an old picture of you. It's in black and white, for christ's sake! The last time i saw something in black and white, it was an old picture of my grandmother in a bikini that i found accidentally, and i wanted to vomit." And to this i say, "Well, that's just some tough cookies, reader. I was having a great hair day when that picture was taken, so i'd like to flaunt it around. And by the way, your grandmother was really hot in the 1930's, so deal with it."

Hi. My name's Jason Feifer, and you've now entered my webpage. What exactly will this webpage do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's more pointless than.. well, think of something really pointless. It's more pointless than that.  You can't buy anything here, you can't sell anything here, and there are no fucking dancing hamsters. So, what exactly are you wasting your time here for, you ask? Well.. you're reading! Trust me, it's entertaining. (well, not just reading in general, because for all i know you could be reading War and Peace, and somehow i doubt that's very entertaining.. but, reading THIS, i hope, is better than War and Peace.. then again, so is vomiting)

My friend Kathyrn was bored and found this website that translates things between a few different languages. I fed the top paragraph to the translator, made it french, then made it english again. Then, for added fortune, i did the whole thing over in german. Here, thanks to modern technology, is what i came up with:

It is my picture there to the top side. And, I know which you " Jason think, " their blurts, which are critical in relation to spirit exterior ", which is a so old picture of you. It is in black one and in white one, in intéret from Christian! The last mark saw I to something in black one and in white one, was it an old picture of my grandmother in a bikini, which inadvertent I found and I wanted to vomit " and to this I, " well, who some hard Biskuite correct in the morning, reader legend. I had one day wonderful from the hair, in which this photo was taken, then would like I that around to display. And additionally, your grandmother formed really in the heat the thirties, thus for business with him ",

You may notice during your reading of this exquisite website that i don't normally capitalize my "i"s. There is a reason for this, although i don't really know what it is. But i am aware of it, and i do realize that if i were writing this for something more important than the general public's appreciation for fine rambling, i would need to capitalize them. Thank you, and goodnight!

Let me tell you about myself: Well, my first love is obviously sheep cloning. Me and my buddies get together every weekend and clone a couple sheep or, if we're really in the mood, a primate. It's great! You should try it some time. All you really need is a eye dropper and a British scientist. Usually you can pick those up in the nearest grocery store.. though, be careful.. that British scientist will cost ya around 10 bucks along with an order of fish and chips. Rip off, if you ask me.

I'd like now to explain my philosophy on plate dropping, as it truly is the great, universal equalizer. Plate drops in a restaurant? Everyone claps. Nowhere else will that ever happen. The whole place is in agreement that the prospect of a waiter/waitress dropping food everywhere is not only unfortunate for the waiter, but rather funny. If a plate was dropped simultaneously in every restaurant in the world.. for that one moment, we'd achieve world peace. Isn't that a lovely thought? Now, it would be funny if i could make a farting noise now. But i can't, so feel free to fart at your leisure. Farting's pretty funny too.

Stick your neck out and spell "I met."

Haha! You know, it loses some of it's humor by the fact that i can't see you do that, but if you send me a picture of you doing that, i promise to laugh!

Have you ever wondered why cops speed down the road like they have something important to do, but they really don't? Or maybe why they'll turn their sirens and obnoxious flashing lights on so that they can run through a red light at 2 in the morning, only to turn them back off as soon as they're through the intersection? That's because cops are smelly bastards. Just remember that, kids. Cops are all stinky goats!

I will now make an unbelievably broad statement, and then majestically back it up: The evolution of man revolves around toilet paper. I realized this in the bathroom, surprisingly enough. You see, back in the days of Captain Caveman (and son), what did the people of the times use to wipe themselves after a relieving waste removal? Probably nothing. This, i could imagine, would create quite an itch back there. And, if you've got a nagging itch in your behind, what do you do? You walk kinda hunched over so that your butt isn't as tight, therefore relieving the itch. Well, with no toilet paper at all, these people were probably walkin' around pretty hunched over, apparently very occupied with their itching asses, probably to the point where if felt as if Dante's Inferno was in their pants. Hence, the hunched over backs, and therefore the smaller bodies. Most likely, these hunched over backs allowed less blood to get into their brains, thus making them less intelligent and encouraging them to go beat up elephants with small sticks. Someone, however, then discovered leaves. Ahh, the relief of leaves. Of course, it doesn't do a thorough job, and there's still a campfire going on inside your buttock. But, a campfire doesn't itch nearly as much as Satan’s abode does, and therefore these people were eventually able to ease up a little bit on the hunching. As time went on, people developed better and better toilet paper, leading to smaller and smaller itching, which lead to less and less hunching, which naturally lead to more intelligent people, which would lead once again to better toilet paper. Finally, we get mass-produced fluffy toilet paper with a cute little teddy bear as their logo. Ahh, the relief after thousands of years of backside itching. Finally, we get to stand up straight. Man has evolved from this hunched-up body to homo-sapiens. Upright man? No. Clean Butt-Man. The human race has evolved around toilet paper, ladies and gentlemen. Don't ever forget that.

So i get a call the other day, and they ask for Lynn. And, since there's nobody living in my house named Lynn (in fact, i don't even know anyone named Lynn), i could safely assume that this person had the wrong number. "Umm.. i think you have the wrong number," i say. Not cleared up in the matter, she asks, "Oh.. is this (she then proceeds to tell me my phone number)?" "Yes, yes it is." "Oh, then i do have the wrong number. Thanks!" WHAT? Can you tell me how she KNOWS the wrong number she called? Wouldn't she have not dialed the number since she KNEW it was the wrong number? What's wrong with this lady? This isn't the first time this has happened to me, either. This happens a lot! If you know the wrong number, don't dial it. It's wrong. It's that simple. Maybe phones should come with handy little instruction cards on how to properly call someone if you know their number.. Dial THAT number. Not the slight variation of it.

I've been noticing this a lot when i sit in the back seat of a car, but only recently had i pinpointed what it is: I look bad in rear-view mirrors. I'm not sure how this low level of aesthetics is acquired, but somehow when i look at myself in the rear-view mirror of a car, i look terrible. Downright revolting, i might say. What an odd phenomenon. I could go into specifics, but i doubt you want to really read about how i find myself hideous at times, but alas.. there it is. I look bad in rear-view mirrors. Keep them away from me.

Say i sit down to have a meal. I never really contemplated WHY i do this, but i always seem to eat everything first, and then drink. I don't do the common bite-drink-bite-drink thing. For example, at lunch in high school i had two slices of pizza and a drink. I'd eat the two slices without touching my drink, and then i'd drink the drink. My companions, however, would waver between pizza and drink. They had quite a problem with me not conforming to their back-and-forth ways of eating, and every excuse i came up with was violently shot down as quickly as i came up with it. Keep in mind, i don't consciously follow this pattern, so i had felt no need to justify myself until these damn communists i call friends found it threatening to their regular eating routine. If you're like me, stand up for yourself. Throw a little food. Drink their drinks. Get naked!

Well, that might not solve things, but i guarantee getting naked would switch topics.

I like white socks. Sure, i look at people with colored socks portraying some cartoon character and say, "Hey, those are nifty socks!" But i don't really want those socks on my feet. I want my nice white socks. But what's crazy is that my white socks have this awful habit of disappearing and never returning. I've bought so many pairs of white socks that it's embarrassing. And what's even more disturbing is that my colored socks (which my parents give me and i just let them sit in my drawer and rot.. well, if socks could rot, these would) never disappear, and so when my white socks take a sabbatical from existence, i have to wear my stupid colored socks. Last week i wore turquoise socks. Do you think i like wearing turquoise socks? My parents say, "Well, since your pants are colored (i don't wear jeans.. they're annoying), white socks look ridiculous!," but they fail to realize that so do turquoise socks. Oh, the never ending battle to just have white socks!

Think of a slut you know. Now I'm going to insult her...

What a slut!!

So, while we're nowhere near the topic.. what the hell is Retsyn? If somebody could explain this to me, i'd be just thrilled. They say it in every Certs commercial. "Certs.. with retsyn". So everyone goes "OOooo!! Retsyn!" But, when it comes down to it.. what the HELL is retsyn? Does anybody know? Nobody does! I bet it doesn't even exist. Certs? There's no retsyn in there! Somebody should tell them. Boy, will they feel stupid. (Oh.. i went to the Certs webpage and they actually had a page devoted to explaining what retsyn is.. except, it DIDN'T EXPLAIN A DAMN THING! See for yourself: Certs)

Another thing i've been trying to figure out is the correct way to eat Pie a la Mode. For those who don't speak Foreign-Language-turned-English-while-managing-not-to-translate, that's Pie with ice cream on it. Why does that get it's own name? I have no idea. If you stick ice cream on a pile of carrots, it doesn't become Carrots a la Mode. And eating a bowl of ice cream doesn't constitute you eating a bowl of a la mode, so, as you can see, even the name confuses me. But then you come to the question of, what do you eat first? If you eat the ice cream first, then you're just left with pie and nothing cold and refreshing to wash it down, which is what i'd imagine the ice cream is for, because no beverage seems good to follow up pie of any kind. Yet, if you eat the pie first, the ice cream will be melted into a stupid pool on your plate which, if you choose, can only be consumed by licking the plate, which always results in a chinful of dripping post-ice cream. So, it would only seem natural to eat them both at the same time, but this requires unbelievable rationing, because there's always plenty less ice cream than there is pie, and you can't just go cutting the ice cream into little bits and placing them on your individual forkfuls of pie. Ice cream doesn't do that, and even if you manage it, that takes too much planning. So, what DO you do when eating pie a la mode? Personally, i try to just not think about it, and hope everything works itself out.. which it obviously never does, or else i wouldn't be writing this. Any thoughts on the subject would be much appreciated.

Are there living rooms in funeral parlors?

If i blew my nose, and then threw the tissue in the garbage, what are the chances of anybody taking that tissue out of the garbage and eating it? "Slim," you might say. Well, faithful reader, you're absolutely wrong. My dog does this. She did it today, in fact. It was horribly gross. I mean, i have this picture of her chompin' on my snot. Ugh.

Me and my friend were in the bookstore the other day, and i ran into something that in my wildest imagination i wouldn't have thought to exist: An alphabetical list of every porno, with summaries. Summaries, i tell you! Sure, some of the summaries were like "Jane and Rick meet in a bar, go home, and screw," but some of them were really descript! A whole page was sometimes dedicated to reviewing one of these things. Somewhere along the lines, someone forgot to inform the book-making people that when someone watches a porno, they're not watching it for the plot. If they want plot, they watch "Pulp Fiction." If they want sex, they watch "More Than A Mouthful." But, someone actually sat down and watched these things, took notes, and wrote a book. It's a frightening world out there, folks.

So, i'm sitting at a red light, and there's a cop in the next lane. We're both about 2 cars back, and there's nobody coming down the street so basically we're sitting at a red light for nothing. So, the first guy in line all of a sudden bolts through the red light! What does the cop do? He sits there like a big idiot. This guy runs red lights in front of a cop and nothing happens, and i get a $40 fine for not paying 30 cents at a toll. Further proof, ladies and gentlemen, that cops are smelly goats.

Let's quickly go over what a lemon is good for, and then what a lemon is bad for.Good for: Making funny faces. Bad for: WATER!! Come on, now! Restaurants slip this little slice of lemon in my water like i want that taste in there! I ask for water, i want that non-descript liquid that is 30% less-effective in quenching thirst than Gatorade.  (That's from their commercial claims. Where they picked up that little ditty i have no idea, and i'm not at all associated with the beverage company.. but hey, a little numerical data doesn't hurt anyone!) I don't want watered-down lemonaid. If i wanted that, i would have asked for lemonaid with extra water! I've actually started asking restaurants specifically for "water without lemon." I mean, i don't like being the stickler, but once that lemon is in there, the entire glass of water is ruined. That taste spreads faster than the black plague. It tastes like the plague, too. Please, if you happen to be a restaurant reading this, get rid of those lemons! Save them for the lemonaid. Or for making funny faces.

If i sit in a movie for too long in a bad position, my butt falls asleep. I hate when this happens. How am i supposed to regain circulation of the buttock without looking like i enjoy fondling my own backside? I can't find an answer to this. I think every seat in movie theaters should have built-in butt massagers. Ooo..that would be the life. Maybe i can just find someone to just massage my butt for two hours.

For a great feeling, try this: Get into your shower on a cold day. This makes for the water to feel especially warm, since the air feels especially cold when you get out from under the blankets you've been under for the last 8 hours and find yourself wearing socks and underwear. Anyway, so you're sitting in the shower getting all nice and warm. Now, get out of the shower (turn the water off first. i'm not trying to evoke any environmental hazards here) and march around your house without drying off. If there's someone inside the house, you might just want to put a towel on, otherwise they might get a little weirded out. Feel how cold and awful that is. You can barely even walk, and instead are reduced to a strange waddle. Now, get back into the shower. That water feels extra toasty now, doesn't it? Now, ladies and gentlemen.. that's a great feeling. Sure, marching around the house may turn your feet blue, but hey, it's all worth it when you get back in there. (In case you were curious, i don't really do this without cause, but today i noticed that i was lacking conditioner. Of course, this was noticed while i was already in the shower. So, i had to march across the house to get some, and then realized this nice little ditty. And there you have it.)

That does an awful job of leading me into something i like to call "The Sit-Com Syndrome." Basically, you've got a person who doesn't really have a highly-tuned sense of humor. So, they watch sit-coms and hear these awful jokes. And they know they're awful jokes, but they also know they're not too funny themselves. And then they hear the laugh-track. And they think to themselves "well, this isn't funny, but everyone's laughing. Obviously, this is funny, and i'm just missing something." So, they memorize this type of humorless humor, and go out into the real world. Now, this same thing is going on with a whole bunch of people, and these people all hang out together (because when it comes down to it, why do people hang out together? it's based on their sense of humor. unless they're all sluts), and they make a joke like the sit-com. Everyone laughs. Is it funny? Of course not, but everyone is under the impression that it is funny because they saw the same thing on a sit-com, and so they laugh like it's really funny. It's the sit-com syndrome, folks. Stop watching sit-coms. They're rotting your head. And your sense of humor.

We were playing Skee-Ball in the arcade a couple days ago and my friend put a token in the slot to play.. no response. So, we naturally called the guy over to help us, which he did. Then we thanked the guy and went about our Skee-Balling. But it dawned on me.. we were helped by the guy. When in a crisis situation (loss of token) we immediately told ourselves to "call the guy." The guy helps. Whereas, the man keeps you down. The man knocks you on the floor, and the guy comes and picks you up. The guy even gives you a free token every now and then. Damn the man, thank the guy. Isn't that kind of bizarre?

Driving can be quite the boring activity. Sure, it's nice to be able to go here and there without a care (and comb your hair, and see a bear, and meet Ric Flair, and sing like Cher, watch some paper tear, eat a hamburger rare, pull a horse's mare, scream "it's not fair!", play Double Dare, breathe in fresh air, visit a lion's lair, talk to a girl named Clair, make the radio blare, cause a big scare, and just sit and stare) but after a while you need more entertainment than just the radio. So, what i've done is i've developed a game i like to call "Change Lanes And Try Not To Run Over Any Reflectors." (or, CLATNTROAR" for short) The name is pretty self explanatory. If i don't hit a reflector, i can keep driving with the knowledge that i'm the best player of CLATNTROAR ever, and if i hit a reflector, then i have to violently swerve into oncoming traffic. No, just kidding. I don't really do that. But i do say something along the lines of "Doh!" You should try it one day. It's fun.

Would you enjoy something that told you exactly what to think, exactly what to buy, exactly what to accept into your life and exactly what to reject? Even what to call these things, like "this is cool" and "this sucks?" Would you like something like this constantly brainwashing you and the ones you love? Because every time you turn on MTV, that's what you're inviting into your home.

So, this shaven monkey (now, keep in mind.. this isn't just any monkey, this is a shaven monkey. In case that isn't grammatically correct, shaven is, to me, the adjective version of shave, but shaved monkey sounds bad. So, it's shaven) walks into a restaurant and sits down next to a nun. So, the nun looks at the shaven monkey and says, "Hey, Monkey! Monkey monkey monkey!" And so the monkey jumps on top on the nuns head and screams "I am not a monkey!." So the nun orders some orange juice. The end.

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