Here is my definitive list of "psycho-moves". What's a psycho-move you ask? Something so inherently strange and weird that merely performing the act puts you one step closer to clinically insanity. Ok, maybe not that drastic... but still pretty weird.
Drying Off In The Shower
The shower is where you go to get wet. Simple. If you were supposed to dry off in the shower, bath mats would not exist. Get your naked ass out of the shower and wipe yourself down over some nice fluffy fabric. This ain't prison. If it is prison, where to dry off post-shower should not be at the top of your 'concerns' list so skip to point number 2. For the rest of you dry-off-in-the-shower freaks, the bottom of your feet are never going to be completely dry unless you can hover mid-air like Dhalsim from Street Fighter #yogafire. Chances are high that you or someone else peed/farted/sharted/blew a snot rocket while they were showering earlier and you're just leaving your feet in there to marinate in a human goo farm. And if you're that intent on slipping and smashing your skull open while you try to dry off go for it. I'll just be out here not hemorrhaging brain juice.
Sock-shoe-sock-shoe
I mean come on. You're going to leave one foot completly exposed to the elements MUCH longer than it should be because you need to get the other one all nice and bundled up? That's insane. Would you do that to your kids? Both of them outside naked in a blizzard but you only take the time to dress one up to completion while the other freezes to death and weeps frozen tears of heartache? What if there was an emergency and some clown with a hacksaw started running at you. You need to BAIL yo! Much easier to run with only socks than one bare foot and one shoed foot... at least you're on an even keel. That's the difference between you and me... I plan for these kind of things.
Getting Completely Naked To Poop
Granted I get nervous wiping with long sleeves so I'll roll them up, but no chance am I stripping down to the b-day suit. Aside from the utter absurdity of it (especially in public restrooms) it's not practical since no matter what time of year it is your bathroom is always FREEZING cold. Unless you're part polar bear I don't see how being completely naked while dropping the Browns off is anything but pre-crime. Is there some part of our ancestral human DNA signaling us to poo in the buff? Do I lack this genetic code? AM I A MUTANT?!? "Yeah but cavemen shit naked so it's completely natural." Maybe, but cavemen are also dead now. Like all of them. ![]()
Eating Pizza Incorrectly
Let's establish a baseline; here is the correct way to eat pizza... Step 1: Remove slice from pie (implied if single slice purchased). Step 2: Holding pizza by the crust, enjoy pizza starting with the tip and working your way back (that's what she said). Step 3: Eat crust, or do not eat crust. Dip your crust in ranch dressing. Throw it out the window. Your choice. Step 4: Repeat steps 1-3 until you are satisfied with your lack of control. There you go people. If you want to get crazy with it and fold the pizza or stack multiple slices go for it... as long as you adhere to the key steps. Here are the ways in which I found out people 'enjoy' pizza and look like career criminals in the process. Crust First - You go through the hassle of ordering a pizza to your exact specifications and then spend the first few precious seconds starting with the part of the pizza that is least likely to be different from pizza to pizza both inter and intra-pizza shop?! It's like the people who eat 50 rolls and then complain that they're too full to eat their meals. Psycho stuff. 'Corn on the Cob' style - What's crazier than crust first? Corn on the cob style. Yes, I've heard MULTIPLE people tell me they eat it this way. It's exactly how it sounds. Start at the crust, work your way to the tip, rinse, and repeat. Like one of those old school typewriters. These people know how insane they look but do it regardless. Cray cray. With Fork And Knife - Only acceptable if you are under 24 months of age or English royalty. These my friends are the quiet type killers... slow... meticulous...plotting...overly-careful, nothing slips through the cracks, no evidence left behind. The 'Dexters' of pizza eating. Not Eating Pizza At All aka I Don't Like It - It's too late for you. You have left this mortal coil. Good luck in the afterlife. Tell Ledger I said "Suhhh dude". ![]()
Mouthing Someone's Words While They Speak
Leaping Christ in a pantsuit, just rip my face off and make a mask out of it already. Honorable Mention: People who try to finish your sentences before you do. ![]()
TV Volume Adjustments
There seems to be two main camps of psychosis when dealing with ears and televison: The volume can only be an even number... or if it has to follow a 'golden rule' (i.e. prime numbers only, multiples of 5 etc). Couple things. I have yet to find a TV that doesn't have odd numbered volume settings, so they clearly want to be used but you're choosing to not use them. You're number racist. I don't like racists. Others may argue that those who enjoy the random mathematical equation method of volume selection lean more on the intellectual side of the fence as opposed to psychotic side... like a boob-tube Rainman of sorts. Me? I just think they're show offs. "OH LOOK AT ME I KNOW MATH AND STUFF!" Boasting leads to hate, hate lead to anger, anger leads to pre-crime, pre-crime... leads to the ball pit at Chuck E' Cheese. Enjoy that volume on prime numbers only kiddie-diddler.
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A video! HUZZAH! This footage is of yours truly delivering the 20-ish minute penguin presentation given daily at the New England Aquariuim. Interested in learning more about the penguin exhibit/what I do/penguins/conservation/what people like to throw into the exhibit? You've come to the right place. Apologies in advance because this blog serves a rather small, yet unique market. It's my blog and I DEW WHAT I WAWNT! This one is for my Boston penguin peeps. I just celebrated my 7th year anniversary working with the penguins of the New England Aquarium. During this frozen-fish-filled fandango, I've realized there are tell-tale signs you're officially a penguin pro (either that or you've been working there too long). Even if you haven't spent a single minute with my feathered friends, I'm sure you'll appreciate some of the day-to-day shenanigans and situations I've found myself in. Without further ado, here are the 25 signs you're officially a purveyor of penguins at the New England Aquarium. 1) Getting new brushes/dooblebugs is just as awesome as getting presents on Christmas morning. 2) "Kissy-noises" make you want to punch baby pandas in the face. 3) You've been asked if the Virkon is gatorade/urine multiple times. 4) You've handled more fish than a waiter at Legal Seafoods. 5) Guano has found it's way into every crevice of your body. 6) You've wrestled with the vacuum hose like J'Lo in 'Anaconda'. 7) Pomona has swam directly into your chest, #zerospatialawareness (still love him though). 8) You've heard guests refer to the Little Blues as 'babies' so many times you're actually second guessing yourself and starting to think 'Maybe they're right and I'm wrong'. 9) You get the irresistable urge to destroy every selife stick you come across. 10) Fish scales magically appear on your forehead 6 days after you last handled anchovies. 11) You've tangled with 'hair level = Chewbacca' in the shower drain. 12) You understand why drinking coffee before going into the exhibit is a terrible life choice. 13) You've assured terrified visitors that the birds are not sick or dying, they're just molting. 14) Goodhope has snagged enough fish from you to feed an actual African penguin colony. 15) You call for Deco so much during feeds that guests think you're just saying 'echo' because you like to hear the word echo, echo. 16) You've been outside of the aquarium in the dead of winter/summer in a full wetsuit because of a fire drill. 17) You sing the spider-man/spider-pig theme song when climbing to the back of island 4. 18) You say a small prayer when you turn on the hose in the hopes that the last person to use it turned it off at the business end. 19) Alcove crackers start to look tempting. 20) If you had a nickel for every time someone asked you if the water was cold you'd be besties with Zuckerberg and Bill Gates. 21) You've blasted the radio in holding and twerked wearing hip-waders and boots two sizes too big for you. 22) You've tried to convince the staff to name a penguin "Elvis" and have searched the bowels of the internet to find an educational angle. 23) If you don't take at least 4 showers on any given day you feel disgusting. 24) Any water temperature above 55 degrees Celsius is for all intents-and-purposes a sauna. 25) You love penguins. Almost an unhealthy amount. Almost. Cue the squad... Truly inspirational moments are few and far between... but when they hit, they hit HARD! Not too long ago, Antonio Brown of the Pittsburgh Steelers had one of those touchdown celebrations that make you go... AWWW DAYYYYUM SON! Tonio popped dat ass. LIke Snoop says, if you score you go ahead and rub that shit in. He humped the hell out of the Redskin defense. Here's the footage... Still can't believe he got fined for that. The NFL is so damn sensitive nowadays I don't know if I'm watching football, soccer, or 'As the World Turns'. But that's another blog for another day. Nonethteless this got me thinking. For the amount of awesome touchdown celebrations that exist, there are just as many terrible awkward white-guy-ish poorly timed versions. I've done the legwork and scoured the interwebz for some of the worst. Apologies in advance, but the NFL is a real bitch about youtube videos. Some of the vidz you'll have to link over to youtube to watch. Fire Goodell. Carson Palmer hobbles his way in and spikes himself into the ground. QB hits himself in the dick, gets punched in the face, smashes opposing player. Giants D-man Boley drills innocent bystander in the face. Vernon Davis gets STUFFED by the goal post. Sammy Watkins pre's all over himself. Ref anally probes Cardinal endzone man-rodeo. Marion Barber showing us what a gymnast shouldn't do. Jacoby Jones forgoes celebration, opts for mild seizure. Not a TD but still LOL'd. Mid-air power hump blown ACL. Ladies and Gents, the whitest move of all time. The 'lawnmower'.
Allllllllll righty then gang...time for two truths and a lie! I'm going to give you a prompt followed by a brief description of what happened. Two of them are 100% completely true (scout's honor) and one is complete bullsharky. Can YOU guess which one is the lie?! Comment here, e-mail me your choice, text me, call me at work, carrier pigeon or slide into my DM's.
The power is YOURS!!!! ![]()
I have/had two different birth certificates.
Medical technology has come a long way since 1986, and along with it medical record keeping and patient record organization. For those of you who don't know... I am Victor Salvatore Dellisola IV. Note the roman numeral 'IV'. Yes, I am the 4th in a line of Victors traced back to the motherland of pizza, pasta and terrible fashion. Apparently this was a bit too much to handle for the employees of a Salt Lake City based hospital (name withheld to protect the innocent). On November 11, 1986 I, Victor S. Dellisola III was brought into this world. Victor S. Dellisola III was ready to shine his light on the world! Wait hold up... What?!? People can't be born TWICE (I mean physically, not 're-born' in the meta-physical sense). I was supposed to be number 4 not number 3! Number 3 already happened! Needless to say my dad was VERY confused. Best part is it made it through the various doctor/record-keeper signatures not realizing my dad had been born again while still very much alive. Almost made it 24 hours before my Mom was like "Uhhhhh, I definitely don't have two husbands one of whom is a day old." The hospital fixed it and I'm not sure the original exists now, but I'm still confused to this day. Was I supposed to be my Dad? Was he supposed to be me? If I have a son should I skip V and go straight to VI just to screw with everyone?
I helped the lead singer of Godsmack finish a poop.
So there I am dropping the Browns off at the Super Bowl in the local hockey rink. Good old Ristuccia Arena, (former) home of your Boston Bruins. Now I didn't play hockey so I must have been there to watch a friend play. It was either junior or senior year of high school. I'm sitting there taking care of business when someone walks in and starts pooping next to me. I finish up. Wipe. Flush. Wipe again because I had nachos and cheez-whiz. Flush again. Before I leave the mystery man in the stall next to me asks something to the effect of... "Hey dude, can I ask you a favor. Got any paper in the stall over there? Embarrassing but I'm clean out, sorry dude." "No problem man!" I said as I obtained his two-ply relief. "Thanks kid." said the mystery voice. I washed up and left the bathroom, but hung out around so I could catch a glimpse of the victim. Low and behold out walks Sully Erna, lead singer of Godsmack. It was unmistakably him. He might actually be an inch or two shorter than me, which is impressive. And the little star tattoo under his eye. Yep. Helped Sully take a dump. "I'm not the one who's so far away, when I feel the paper enter my A-e-a-e" -Godsmack-PooDoo
I got lost at a circus and rescued by a clown.
Ahh the local circus... a hellish landscape of sugar, tents, and tortured animals. My parents decided to take my brother and I to the Big Apple Circus for a family fun day. I have no idea how old I was but I was young... very young. Like formative year young when any amount of time alone with a clown was enough to scar you for life. We moved here in the early 90s after Dan Dell was born, so I'm guessing 5 or 6. So there I was at the show, inside the big ass tent. From what my parents tell me I took it upon myself to wander off in search of popcorn or quite possibly the nearest exit. Long story short I got mega lost. My mom and dad were freaking out. But it's totally OK because a circus clown saw a young crying child (me) and decided to take it upon himself to help me find my parents. HOORAY! I try not to use the F-word when blogging but I'm going to make an exception here... FUCK THAT SHIT. I remember flashes of this clown bringing be around from person to person trying to find my parents. And that face... that FACE! I'll never forget it. One of those sad hobo-ish clowns. nightmare fuel. A full trail of tears later I was reunited with my parents. But not after being dragged around the depths of circus HELL hand in hand with Bozo the Bum clown. ![]() |
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