I'm Number 1! Whoot!

Mel the Dwarf has been trackin' my web slaps an' page peeps (er… some thin like that) since I was on my forced sabbatical. Sos Mel hooked up this search trackin' thingamagig to my site and found that I'm number 1 on several Google searches. Here are the top searches leading to my site based on actual search referrals by some seriously silly people.


Number 1 Google Searches
carnival folk
carnie games
carnie carnival
carnie pictures carnival
teenagers who are jerks
trainspotting ceiling baby (thanks Latigo)
girl buts
folk da gang (?)
carnie sarah polley (Hey! That's outta' 164 pages)


Other Google Searches
boobs and buts #2
whack-a-cat #2
carnival games, skee ball #3
carnie folk #4
carnival vs circus #4
dwarf phrases #5
circus freaks carnival #6
corndog batter #6
boobs ans ass #7
clowns eat children #8
carnie #9 (damn you Carnie Wilson)
skinny boobs #9

Sos if you're here to read the drunken ramblings of a carnie or jus looking for some skinny boobs I feel we can all agree that butt has two Ts. It's girl butts not girl buts and if you're looking for that you're going to be even more frustrated going to this site. Nothin' sadder than an illiterate deviate.

A Day In The Life O' A Carnie

Nows the time to confess, I've been back at Bader Boy Carnival Extravaganza and Hootenanny for about a week now. Eh, it was anticlimactic, sos I figured I'd just skip it. I caught up to the carnival in a frightening part o' Los Angeles an found Mel the Dwarf between deworming a goat an scrubbing down the fruit bats at the pettin' zoo. Alls I got was a "man nod" followed by some grumpy mumbling about always disappearing when there’s work ta' be done. Sweats just yelled at me for not finding a proper substitute for the "Whack 'em Cats" booth while I was on vacation then I comes to find out that Sanders had completely forgotten himself as my archenemies when he got promoted to the side show as the new Alligator Boy. Well at least my severed head in a pickle jar, Headly, seemed glad ta' see me. Eh, so I'm back now and trying to get back into my routine.

6:00am – Depending the debauchery from the night before I either wake and roll outta' Mel's spare bed in his trailer, my tent, the "Whack 'em Cats" booth or a tree.

6:05am – 7:00am – Wash up at the nearest gas station, creek or garden hose then a quick breakfast o' day-old corndogs and Orange Pow!® with Mel. Sweats usually makes his rounds assigning who's on puke patrol and stuck with the punishment of running the "Lost Kids Corral". Me and Mel are usually hiding in the "Bonking Badgers" game around this time.

7:00am – 8:00am – Repairs to rides, touch-ups to game booths, grounds clean-up and running around with a high pressure fire hose trying to knock the crouch stink off of the more pungent carnies.

8:00am – I stand before my booth taking in the mingling smells of fried food and diesel fuel with the sounds of popping balloons and air-breaks. I know my day's begun.

8:00am – 10:30am – Working the rubes, though at this time in the morning the only rubes available are elderly speed walkers and kids under the age of 12. Both have the uncanny ability ta' ignore you to the point o' wanting to hit them with some thing or if they do come up to my booth will only spend $2 and talk to ya’ until you want to shove sharp objects inta' your own ears.

10:30am – 11:00am – Playing "Slap and Gargle" with Mary-Lou.

11:00am – 12:00pm – Stuck at the "Lost Kids Corral".

12:00pm – 12:30pm – Having a Gyro power lunch with Mel and Bodo Diddles while Tina tends to my torn scalp and child bite wounds.

12:30pm – 1:00pm – Back to my booth to wrangle a few more rubes then restocking of Coors mirrors and oversized stuffed Scooby-Doo's.

1:00pm – 2:00pm – I'm watchin' my stories!

2:00pm – 3:00pm – Back to the booth to catch the mid-afternoon rush of surly teenagers ditching school and middle-aged businessmen taking their large breasted secretaries out for some platonic fun. If ya' press the right businessman you can keep him for hours trying to win a plastic lobster for Miss Jugs.

3:00pm – 3:30pm – Smoking.

3:30pm – 5:00pm – Daydreaming about beating up those jerks my 8th grade class, Sarah Polley, that bottle of hooch saved for later, Sarah Polley cooking me bacon, having a million dollars, Sarah Polley washing my hair, being shot in the shoulder while stopping a bank robbery that saves a bunch of peoples lives while Sarah Polley is watching, how many cigarettes I can fit in my mouth.

5:00pm – 10:00pm - Doing what I do best. Working the game on the rubes.

10:00pm – 10:30pm – Close up shop.

10:30pm – With a hard day behind me. Mel an I get gussied up to crash the underage parties and high school dances. Hey kid, you think you're impressing people by talking loudly about the party you're throwing with your folks outta' town, but as far as me and Mel are concerned it's just an open invitation.

I'm Freakin' Out Here

Okays, to really understand Gil The Carnie ya' have to understand what causes him to wake up screamin' frum a drunken' coma at 3 in the morning. I’ve made a list of da' creepiest things that I typically have ta claw off ma' body in my hallucination-tic booze-haze.

(Warning: If ya' can take pictures of creepy bugs and animals may I suggest DarthMoridin with his Star Wars fetish, Latigo who's probably talkin' about how manly it is to be kicked by a horse or look at John Bosco's funny pictures)

Aye-Aye



Look at it! Look at those fingers! *shudders* Waking up in cold sweats wit that on da' pillow next to ya'. Yeah, you’d scream like a little girl too.

Draco Lizard



Flying freakin' lizards! Nuf' said.

Tawney Frogmouth



I think it's a bird, but it's more like Jim Henson nightmare.

White Nosed Guenon



I love monkeys, but come on! It looks at ya' with those big sad eyes then it goes fer your throat.

Clowns



In my closet with a big knife, under my bed waiting ta' grab my ankle and on ma' ceiling when I’m lying in bed.

Stargazer Fish



Why God, why?!

Potato Bug



Sweet sunny carpet tacks! Arrrggggh! No seriously, arrrrgggh! I've had arguments wit Mel about how I'd rather have a cobra stuffed down the front o' my pants than have ta' have one of these bastards crawl on my arm. One more time, arrrrggggh!

Nows don't worry about me too much. When my little friends start gettin' me a little too freaked I likes ta' go to my happy place.

70’s Cartoons: Why Hippies Shouldn’t Interact Wit Children

Raised ba' hippy parents ands a product o' da' disco culture explains a lot 'bout ma' phobias and some o' ma' more bizarre traits, buts 1970’s cartoons are what’s warped ma' generation.

Da' Death O' Originality; We was da' first generation ta' see originality tied ta' a chair an's have it’s nose hair plucked out one bys one with cartoon rehashes o' old TV shows likes My Favorite Martians, Lassie, Star Trek, Emergency!, Jennie, Addams Family, New Adventures of Gilligan, Da' Brady Kids, Da' Osmonds, da da da. What, no pilot fer da' New Hawaii Five-O Cartoon Adventures where Steve McGarrett an' Danno Williams are teenagers ina' rock band an' they solve crimes wit their wisecrackin' pet marmot “Pickles” who always get dem' is sum wacky situation.

OH! Lets no ferget “Da' Same Shit in Space” abominations; Josie an' da' Pussycats In Space, Gilligan's Planet, Partridge Family: 2200 A.D., Yogi's Space Race, Happy Days Gang (okays sos dis' one was time traveling, buts close enough). Ma' favorite was Erik Estrada’s Galactic Romp Rangers.

Nows da' “What da' F*&K award” fer the most mental damage inflicted ona' entire generation o' 6 ta' 14 year olds has ta' go ta' Sid and Marty Krofft. Man, what's wrong wit these guys. Da' consensus at da' time musta' bin dat' kids during da' 70's musta' been hopped up on goof-balls, buts da' closest thin I had ta' drugs was Fruity Pebbles® an's I needed ta' devour at least 4 blows o' da' stuff befer I started ta' hallucinate. H.R. Pufnstuf, Lidsville, The Bugaloos; talkin' flutes, talkin' hats an' Billy Barty dressed in a demented bee costume are da' things nightmares are made o'. An thanks ta' The Krofft Supershow an' Electra Woman and Dyna Girl I nows have an unhealthy obsession wit woman in spandex. Well dat' an' da' Solid Gold dancers.

Okays, yeah, Sid an’ Marty “Don’t Eat The Brown Acid” Krofft did create da' kick-ass Bigfoot and Wildboy an' Land of the Lost, buts it doesn't make up fer da' creeping terror know as da' Bay City Rollers Show.

I cans honestly say dat' da' only truly good thin' ta' come outta' 70's children programming has ta' be Lancelot Link, Secret Chip. Trench coat wearin', banana throwin', secret agent monkeys, HELL YES!

Movies Not To See When Drunk

Whens yer' on da' road as much as a Carnie da' all night movie theater is a' second home. Da' first home bein' seedy nameless bars reekin' o' despair and cat pee. Nows as much as a Carnie loves movies he loves his hooch, buts mixin' da’ two cans lead ta' public embarrassment 'er possible night in da' poky.

The Shawshank Redemption – Okays sos da' “suds on da' roof” an' “Brooks was here” scenes wills give ya' da' man chokes where ya' gets a lump in yer chest an' clenched jaw wit quiverin' lower lip tryin' ta' fight back da' tears, buts that's nots da' finishin' move. Whens Morgan Freeman starts his “I hope to get across the boarder. I hope to see my friend again and shake his hand. I hope the pacific is as blue as in my dreams. I hope.” Bwah-haw-haw! *snork* Whaaaa! *sniffle* Followed by da' cold stares o' people leavin' da’ theater.

Braveheart – Yeah, lets jus' see ya' tryin' get past da' “Freedom!” scene wit a quart o' Wild Turkey in yer' gullet an' not snap inta' a screamin' fit o' “Why God, why! It soulda’ been me!” whilt violently shaking da’ guy in front o' ya’.

A Christmas Story – Dis movie jus' pushes all da' right buttons on how lousy every onea' yer Christmas' was an hows yer parents never surprised ya' wit an official Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-Shot Range Model Air Rifle wit a stock an' a compass. Watchin' dis movie under da' influence will lead ta' repeated kicks ta' da' seat in fronta' ya' an' hurlin' popcorn buckets wit large soda at da' screen. Forcible ejection frum da' theater is inevitable.

Stand By Me – Oh dis isn't jus' a one or two scene whimper movie, oh no dis' is 90 minutes o' no-holds-bard bawlin' public humiliation fest. Frum Teddy’s perpetual torment o' Vern fer “two for flinching” ta' Chris cryin' ta' Gordie about stealin' da' milk money an's when da' movies over an ya realize dat da' Chris Chambers actor, River Phoenix, is dead in real life dats when ya' drop ta' the theater floor in a big crybaby mess. Rollin' around in da' fetal position 'til da' lost Milk-Duds® an' candy wrappers adhere dem selves ta' yer face an hair. It'll be fine once ya' sober up an realize dat yer friends when ya' were 12 would typically chase ya' around da' school yard wit a stick wit dog-poop on da' end whilt callin' ya' bubble-butt really loud sos Stephanie Riceacher, who ya've had a crush on since da' 4th grade, can clearly hear. F*&kin' bastards.

Any movie wheres a retarded person gets wrongly accused o' sum thin an' is hurt, ostracized or killed – These movies are jus' screwed up. I means seriously, not cool at all. I don'ts care what Academy Award winner is playin' da' retard. NO! Bad!

The Crying Game – I jus' gots ta' say dat da' little surprise in dis' movie WILL induce projectile vomiting and an uncontrollable urge ta' see a hockey game immediately.

Bleu – Actually all foreign films should be avoided whilt drinking heavily. Double vision an' subtitles will lead ta' gross misinterpretations sos you’ll be cheerin' as ya' think da' hero jus' won over da' girl, buts in actuality it's da' hero's evil Siamese twin who's havin' forcible “relations” wit his own sister whilt the tormented gorilla watches frum a closed circuit T.V. Art house filmgoers are mean an' will throw empty bottles of wine an' apple slices at ya.

All movies staring Sarah Polley – Okays, sos dis' is a Gil T. Carnie exclusive, buts if ya' ever heard da' howls o' despair an' loneliness frum dis Carnie ya'd understand ma arrest record a little better.

Road to Badger Boy: Part 12

THE THING! (insert ominous music here): Ina’ desolate stretcha’ Arizona Interstate 10 highway, far frum rational human bein’s an’ effective roll-on deodorant lies “Da’ Mystery o’ da’ Dessert!” better knows as “The Thing!” Oooo. “Da’ Mystery o’ da’ Dessert” conveniently located ina gas station wit gift shop an’ a Dairy Queen®.

I first noticed da’ billboards fer’ The Thing! jus’ out sida’ New Mexico whilt desperately clutching da’ luggage rack o’ a speedin’ Durango. Nows as a disturbingly obsessive John Carpenter fan I gots all excited ats da’ prospect o’ seein’ a mutated dog-man-spider-monkey dat even da’ repeated peltin’ o’ high speed bugs in ma’ mouth an’ good eye couldn’t bring me down… much.

I’lls save ya’ da’ details o’ my disappointment whens I finally gots ta’ see The Thing!, buts I’lls jus’ say dat’ I was so disheartened I couldn’t finish ma’ Peanut Buster® Parfait and I’m a man who loves his Peanut Buster® Parfait. Nows it woulda’ been silly ta’ argue wit management fer ma’ $0.75 admission fee back sos I did. Afters da’ second hour o’ me wailing likea’ was givin’ birth ta’ a porcupine on fire an’ drvin’ off $2.25 in customers he finally gaves me a job. Carnie callin’ rubes ta’ see “Da Mystery o’ da’ Desert!”

Since dar’s no real town ta’ speak o’ an’ foot traffic in da’ middle of da’ desert is ona’ down-swing, I had ta’ take ma’ act ta’ da’ interstate an’ flag down rubes there. A real nice lady tooks dis’ snapshot o’ me sos ya’all can see how well I’d been doin’ at it.