Category Archives: Humor

Natty's not so sure about the new hibiscus plant

A new hibiscus flower blossomed overnight. From Natty’s reaction, you would’ve thought an alien had landed in the yard.

Part 1:

Part 2:

(This moment brought to you by the iPhone 3Gs video camera.)

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I've had it up to here, Canada.

“A flying micro-robot has been developed by researchers at the University of Waterloo in Ontario. The micro-robot has pincers which can be opened by heating them with a laser. When the laser is turned off, the pincers cool and close.” – ZDNet.com

Ok you better listen up Canada and you better listen good. I am not ok with this. If there’s one thing the world does NOT need right now, it’s tiny flying robots with pincers and lasers.

I’ve had it. As if we don’t already have enough to worry about.

I mean, Jesus H. Christ. I thought the pirates were bad. With everything else going on, it was like, hey. What could possibly make things worse? Oh, of course. Pirates.

But now, no? Now we have to worry about paperclip-sized robots flying around, pinching us and shooting us with lasers?

Do you hear me Canada? I can not handle this crap from you right now. This is really bad timing.

We’ve got the recession thing. We’ve got the Swine Flu. We’ve got the Middle East. We’ve got Kim Jong friggin’ Il over there acting like a heavily armed Tom Cruise. And now you? With the robots and the flying and the lasers? What’s next? Invisible lions? Toilet sharks? Insult-comic ninjas that beat you up and put you down simultaneously?

You were supposed to be the polite one, Canada. The one with the bacon and the syrup and the leaves. But, yeah. I guess it makes sense now. It’s always the quiet ones who end up inventing the flying robots.

And what’s the deal with those pincers? Huh, Ontario? What kind of crazy sonofabitch decided that the lasers weren’t good enough? That the tiny flying robots also needed the ability to pinch people and maybe give them purple nurples.

I thought we were friends, Canada. But friends don’t secretly build tiny laser-shooting robots behind friends’ backs.

And Washington: WTF? How did this slip through the cracks? That’s right. I’m looking at you, CIA. How did we not catch this? Did you not notice the booming international black market for tiny pincers and Lilliputian lasers? The shipment-upon-shipment of itty-bitty Fedex boxes crossing the Canadian border?

And speaking of the border: Sarah Palin, turn around. You’ve been keeping an eye on the wrong neighbor.

Maybe our government missed it because we’ve been so worried about Cuba. We’ve been patrolling the waters because the Cubans might sneak into Florida and apply for a job. But as far as I know, none of those jobs involve shooting us with lasers!

Meanwhile, Canada’s up there cackling and perfecting the teeny wings.

This is bad. This is really bad. Has anyone called the Pentagon? Are we even vaguely prepared for flying robots? Last I checked, we’ve got a whole bunch of really expensive weapons that are all really really really big. I don’t think the stealth bomber is going to be a whole lot of help in fighting an enemy the size of a sugar packet.

Dammit Canada. I am so angry at you right now.

Ok, listen up Washington DC. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Forget the economy. Forget the Swine Flu. Forget the pirates. And forget the pistachios. I want the Canadian border closed, I want 4 million square miles of giant mosquito netting stretched from Michigan to Mexico and I want all that leftover stimulus money redirected to arm our citizens with laser-proof flyswatters.

Seriously.

This is getting ridiculous already.

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The One

I’ve also published this essay on CollegeHumor.com. So if you’d prefer to read it on a dark background, you can see it here.

The One.
by Brian Eden

“I fell in love. It was a great thing to be in love. I was a complete idiot in love. I always say getting married was a ball. I had a blast getting married. Loved it so much I got married six or seven times or whatever it was.” – Kid Rock

“And now, Kid Rock would like to share some vows that he has written himself.”
– Minister

1. Lisa. What can I say. You’ve been the rock behind Kid Rock. You make me happier than [expletive]. These past two months have been the bomb. The A-bomb. And the casualty is my heart. You take my heart and make it beat like techno. I guess what I’m saying is, I’m an idiot for you, Lisa. I want you by my side forever.

Length of marriage: 3 months.

2. Bambi, this is real, girl. I look into your eyes and you know what I see? I see forever. You and me. Kids. A family. All that [expletive]. I’m in love with you, Bambi. I’m an idiot. I want to take you around the world. Disney World. Disney Land. Euro Disney. I want you to be my Minnie Mouse. And I’ll be your Mickey. Cause, oh Mickey you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey. Hey Mickey. You know what I’m sayin?

Length of marriage: 4 days, 3 hours.

3. Verushka, you’re more than just a soul mate. You’re my future. My love for you is like your English vocabulary. It grows bigger every day. I love the way you turn to me in the morning. And you look into my eyes and you say, “You daddy happy happy chicken monkey ok?” And, [expletive]. I love that. Because I am happy happy chicken monkey. And I want to be happy happy chicken monkey with you forever, Verushka. I’m an idiot.

Length of marriage: 1 year 11 days.

4. Dana, Dana, Dana. I know you think I’m just saying this cause I’m [expletive] drunk and we just met in the Cracker Barrel bathroom an hour ago. But when I get drunk, it makes me honest. And I’m an idiot for you. So let me tell you this [expletive] cause I’m bein’ honest. I. Love. You. Elvis as my witness. You listening, Elvis? (Puts hand on Elvis Impersonator’s shoulder) I love you. (confused for a moment, then looks at Dana) I love you like a rock. You know. Like Paul Simon. (singing) I looooove you like a rock. (vomits) Come here I wanna kiss you.

Length of marriage: 5 years.

5. (or 6). Pamela. They always say the 3rd time’s a charm. But I say [expletive] that. I’ve been married like 4 or 5 times or whatever it was. And, baby, this time is the charm. The 5th or 6th  time. Cause you and me are [expletive] perfect together. We go together like Cool Ranch and Doritos. I remember the first time I ever saw you, it was love at first sight. The way you rescued that chick with that Hasselhoff mother[expletive]. Pamela, before you, I was drowning. And you came and gave me mouth to mouth. And then you gave me mouth to [expletive]. I’m in love with you Pamela. I’m an idiot.

Length of marriage: 3 months, 24 days

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Honesty and vanity

Spotted Sunday on Pratt Street.

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Technology is great.

There are now over 25,000 iPhone apps.

Over 100 of those allow your iPhone to make farting sounds.

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Food for thought

At chicken weddings, do they do the people dance?

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Brian Eden performs at the Baltimore 510 Reading Series

Somehow I managed to sucker my way into the lineup of three featured readers at the Baltimore 510 Reading Series.

The 510 is Baltimore’s only dedicated fiction reading series and typically features extremely talented writers who have been published and then translated in a variety of countries like Sheepronesia and Koalastan.

On November 15, they lowered the bar and included me.

I read two essays, “A brief and unpleasant run-in with my ex” and “Fear the laundry.”

Here are videos from the performance. Enjoy.

A brief and unpleasant run-in with my ex:

Fear the laundry:

(Special thanks to Craig Strydom for filming the event.)

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An Inspired Feat of Interior Design Genius.

As I was going through some files the other day, I came across these breathtaking shots of my old bathroom in Fells Point.

The room featured a modern design aesthetic that can only be described as “Charmin Chic.”

It was a thing to behold.

Here’s to you, Toilet Paper Bathroom. May you someday live again in glory.

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Monday observation

It’s a fine line between “Town Crier” and “Crazy Person Who Talks To Himself In Tongues.”

The difference?

An audience.

Neither can white men.

Seen in the men’s room in Frazier’s on the Avenue. Hampden, Baltimore.

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