A couple of months after moving into my new place, I found myself in a real pinch - my shower was being taken over by scummy soap snot. It totally engulffed my nice bar of soap and was getting all over my shampoo bottles. I seriously bet soap scum was the big idea behind The Blob!

I refused to go out and buy a soap holder for my shower - who really likes buying those silly things, and don’t we have enough stuff around as it is? I was pretty broke too.

But not broke enough to afford myself a nice piping hot cup of coffee from the local Cuban Bakery. They served their coffee in styrofoam cups - bad, bad, bad. So I began saving them thinking I’d do something with them someday. Indeed I did - I made myself a soap holder! I cut the bottom off the cup and cut two little slits in it for drainage, and shizzam, a soap holder.

I have been using this little invention for about eight months and miraculously there is absolutely NO soap scum at all! I have no idea how it happens, but I always have a nice fresh, scum free bar of soap with only the occasional curly hair intruder. And no soap scum underneath it! Incredible!

Now don’t go out and buy a 50 pack of styrofoam cups. Find one, save one you HAD to use, or borrow one from a friend. Simply cut the bottom off at about 2″ high, cut two 1/4″ slits in the very bottom and leave them hanging like little slides, put the big opening down first, and set your soap on the slitted side. Done. Now you can have one of the best inventions of the 21st century in your home.

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Everyday I post a new action! Check out today’s!

www.thecenterforimprovedliving.com

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I’ve got a busy busy day today. But for now, I’ll leave this awesome site with you, my little secret is now your little secret.

http://www.loadedtruck.com/truckpics/

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Hello, “JOSEPH.” I appreciate your eagerness to sell me nicotine patches and box fan, but this wasteful receipt is not helping.

What is the point? All those things on there - the date twice, weird equations, things to do, a “Finnegan’s Wake” passage. When has it been so ok for receipts to get so long? We need to stand up and fight for a shorter receipt. Item. Price. End. If you are interested, send me an e-mail at marc at ineedtostopsoon dot com and we can organize a national protest for a shorter receipt. How’s May 17th sound? I think that’s a Thursday.

Together we are a non-refundable purchase.

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italktotedkoppel.com
imnotjohndelorean.com

these names may mean nothing to you, but I’ve been obsessed with these two characters for most my life. Why? Why did anyone watch Dallas and Falconcrest back to back? It’s just that way (…my mom made me).

Here are the only attributes that come to mind when thinking about these guys.

ted koppel’s hair

and the coke filled doors of the dmc-12

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I’m making this for a show that I’m having in Italy this summer. Anyone know anything about fuses??

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My landlord passed and before the house went on the market Todd managed a way, and bought my building. Todd is the guy that yells at me about the leaves in my yard in the last episode. I think he’s totally lost his mind now. He is being sued by my friends down the street for a hate crime and he started taking improv classes.

Here’s the other episodes of Carroll ave:

#1 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvQZH1UowYQ
#2 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICC8z-vsQu4

I would have put the episode up today, but my big run-in with Todd happened last night and I need a second to edit the footage.

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this site is awesome!!!!!!! It’s my friend biz’s brainchild.

here is a sample I made. my dancing cell phone. i warn you it’s real dumb.

go try it - http://hellodeo.com/hello

—————
As a side, if you like really loud music and fast drumming, you have to go find the band lightning bolt! It was one of the craziest shows I’ve ever been to.

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An excerpt from Robot Boy’s autobiography:

In 1966, I had received a letter from the draft board informing me that I was going to Vietnam. I had been very content at MIT, counting the stars in the sky and deducing the feasibility of God. The US Government, however, saw use for me elsewhere – in the rice paddies of Southeast Asia. Alas, I was not a senator’s son’s robot nor did I have the vaccinations necessary to enter Canada. With no other option, I was immediately dispatched to a top secret Air Force base and flown under cover of darkness across the Pacific Ocean.

While en route, I received a phone call from President Johnson via my internal military band com-link. He said “Hey Robot Boy, you’re the only Goddam chance we’ve got out there against Communism. I want you to assassinate Ho Chi Minh. You do this and I’ll get you that female robot you’ve been asking for. Johnson out.” I will admit that the President’s offer was hard to refuse, but how would I gain access, let alone kill Ho Chi Minh? It had then occurred to me that Johnson believed that I was a killing machine rather than a counting machine. Little did he know, until this 26 hour flight, I had never left Cambridge. Before I could discuss this mistake with my military attaché, I was tossed off the back of the C-130 without a parachute. I was officially in “the shit.” Eight seconds later, I was captured.

My North Vietnamese captors took an immediate fondness of me, finding great use in my reflective aluminum frame to cook chicken. They were surprised to find that I could speak their language, but were incised when, after inserting a few hundred hao into my data slot, I would not sing their tribal songs. I had been mistaken for a jukebox. As a last-ditch effort, I recited pi to a million places to no avail. I was immediately moved to the American POW camp. This is where I met the beautiful Trung Nhi, sipping spring water from a lily. I suddenly found myself torn between completing my assassination mission and finding out about love. But that, as they say, is another story.

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