writing upside down

i want to write upside down, sideways, at an angle, and ...upside down!!

oh boy, oh boy. this year for my birthday, i want an Offical NASA Astronaut Space Pen!


they have all sorts of kinds. they come in all the colors of the moon and even one that is just all the colors of the rainbow. one can get them with little space shuttles on them. if an astronuat has enlisted, then that person can get one with a military ensignia. and for the religious astronaut in the family, there are ones with little gold crosses or the classic "john 3:16" on them. but wait, say you know a golfer, bowler, or trained medical professional astronaut. well, then there are pens with a golfer, a bowling ball getting a strike, and even one with the ever so popular medical ensignia. but if you're like me, an old west gunslinging astronaut on the lame, then you just love the ornate florentine designed pen that will certianly match those six shooters you pulled off that sherif in new el paso on mars.


alls i know is that by the end of february, i want to be writing upside down!

what animals!

holy shit!

i cannot believe what happen. tis morning i left to go to work and when i got to my car i noticed that the trunk was open. i thought to myself, you idiot, you must of forgot to close the trunk last night when you were looking around for that wig. (i do a comedy show every sunday) so like a fool, i quickly closed the trunk and looked arond to see if anyone noticed. i was actually embaressed.

i go to work and think nothing of it.

i get home tonight and think, you know i better just get those costume bags out of my trunk and take them inside. i park and go around to open the trunk. one problem. my key doesn't seem to be working. on closer inspection i realize that the key hole has been tampered with. in fact, it's all bent and messed up. i quickly open the trunk with the latch by the driver's side door and examine the contents of the trunk.

everything seems to be there, yet there is one thing missing. that's when it hit me, someone pryed open my trunk and stole one of my costume bags!
but of all the things to steal.

and now the contents of my trunk (please remeber i do a comedy show every week on sunday nights):

two garbage bags of clothing. still there.

my bag of golf clubs. still there.

a sledge hammer. still there.

an austrailian hat. still there.

a roll of newsprint. still there.

two sets of jumper cables. still there.

a leather coat that belongs to a friend of my. still there.

a bag of 12 wigs, 9 pairs of glasses, and two fake beards. still there.

a toy AK-47. still there.

one pair of dress shoes. still there.

and last, but least; the Goat from The Pretty Okay Ho-hum Spectacular on Ice!

although, the Goat's sharpe marker was missing!

what else was missing?

my other costume bag containing these items from last week's Spectacular:

my make-up that made me yellow.

my comb and hair product i used to slick down my hair.

my complete leatherbound version of "The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy Series" that i used as
my bible for the space wedding.

one fake mustache that josh didn't use.

my red jumpsuit.

but must destressing, the first CD i bought of Man ...or Astro-Man?. "Your Weight on the Moon"

i bought that CD at my first Man ..or Astro-Man? concert back in 1995. it was one of my favorites. i guess it nice to know that the last time i heard it was when it was being played as the pre-show music for our space themed comedy show.

what kills me though, is that that is all the crook or crooks decided to take. my golf clubs alone could probably bring a $80. that sledge hammer is pactically brand new. my friend's leather coat. a leather coat!

good grief- what passes as quility black market goods these days.

in the words of my good friend Danforth, after i told him of the break-in, "What Animals!"

i bet you did not know that

when i was growing up in nebraska, my family and i would watch "The Tonight Show". and i would hope that i could be on TV and be as funny as Johnny Carson.

my parents would say, "You know Chad, Johnny Carson is from a small town in Nebraska." "just like me!", i would reply. "That's right. So you never know."

as i got older, i started to go through that "too cool for anything" teenager phase. yet secertly, alone in my bedroom, i would stay up and watch "The Tonight Show". i would laugh and i would still dream of being like Johnny Carson.

now you don't have to know me very well to know that Steve Martin is one of my biggest influences and one of my foremost favorite comedians. but before Steve, there was Johnny Carson. my first favorite comedian and the first person who made me believe that chad fogland could do more with his little life than just shovel cow shit or grow corn out in the middle of nowhere.

Johnny Carson

1925 - 2005

Thank You, Mr. Johnny Carson.

*chad takes a golf swing*

on the road again

today i got my car back. it only took two weeks. the thing that made it tuff was the fact that i couldn't afford a rental. but man do my legs look great. but then again so does my car.

from this:


to this:


and yes, i did move to North Carolina. Nooooo! this isn't really a picture of MY car, but this is what it looks like now.

now, who wants to buy me gas?

Veruca

i'd like to take this moment to introduce to my cat.

her name is ...i'm sorry, i am a bit embarrassed, but her name is Veruca. i call her "V" for short. she is a feisty little creature who i rescued from an abandonment well over a year ago. in all honesty it hasn't always been the greatest relationship between the two of us. fighting fleas, ear mites and nasty claws and teeth. but i'm happy to say she's healthy and my apartment, although a bit tore up, is flea free.

i will admit she can be a sweetie at times, but in the time it takes you to think, "what a nice feline", she spins her head and starts to chew on that which pets her so lovingly. yes, pens and other random small objects disappear from time to time never to return. and yes, her scratching post had been torn to ribbons. this girl keeps her claws as sharp as needles. she has managed to rip up posters that hang on the wall, knocked out a window, spilled everything from water to soup, and almost lite herself on fire. Veruca is a menace, pure and simple.

and even though my good sense pleas with me to get rid of her, i could never get rid of this kid. why? because of things like this:

an old box that had a few books sent form home arrived. i took out the books and then procrastinated to take the box out to the trash; thus, veruca made it her new bed. and i would like to say that i put her like that, but i did not. that is actually the way she sleeps at times.

now i'm not saying my cat is better than yours, or that my cat is sooo smart or sooo special. in fact quite the contrary. i think my cat is a just an average retard with an attitude problem, and i love her.

pulling a fast one on Lucifer

now this doesn't happen everyday, but last night i got done doing a show and afterwards Satan came up to me. and looked me right in the eyes and said, "i own your soul!"

i replied with, "Ha! that's impossible. my soul is owned by a married woman who lives in Maine and she probably uses it to watch over her kids!"

...

you see, i meet a girl in college and i thought i was in love

...

but Ha! i outsmarted the devil. then i called my good friends Metallica and we're collaborating on hit song.

Return of the Spectacular on Ice!

www.theprettyokayho-humspectacularonice.com

got any cats?

it's friday night. and here i am sitting in my apartment eating chunky peanut butter with a spoon and drinking colt45.

i can't help but think to myself, "i wish i could find a mystical portal or transdimensional gateway to another land or time."

it might be prophesied in some tome somewhere that a stranger from another land shall come from the sky and save the kingdom from an evil horde that resides just outside the realm of the living. maybe i'm that guy.

who knows...

maybe i'm the guy who gets all the kids to start saying "got any cats?" when i influence Paul Fusco to pitch a new TV sitcom about a wisecracking alien when i'm magically transported to ancient 1986 los angeles, california.

who knows...

maybe i'm the guy who saves us all from "Troop Beverly Hills 2: the search for Phyllis Nefler's tiffany bracelet" by accidentaly speaking his mind during a board meeting at Weintraub Entertainment after being mistaken for the new head of the company when i stumble into the studio because i was following a studio truck that i thought contained the costumes to the first batman movie.

who knows...