Little Italian Man's Blog


The Holy Grail

I’ve discovered the holy grail of Chinese to English translations, in the form of an instruction manual for the Beautiful Star Innovative Hair Straightener, which is a real product manufactured in China. The entire manual is displayed for you below, in its pure, unmanipulated and undoctored state. From what I’ve read about mind-altering drugs, this manual may be the closest thing to achieving such a state without actually taking them.
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As you will see, punctuation, capitalization and spaces between words are entirely optional and may be sprinkled into the text to taste.
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The same holds true for breaks between words.
Just remember that to raise the temperature, press the Temperature rising key, and to lower the temperature simply press the Minus tempe rature.
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If anyone knows what more than three of these sentences mean, please contact me for your prize. Note that when one’s hair is thin it gets to choose its own temperature setting all by itself.
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I had mixed emotions about this page. On one hand, I appreciate the lofty philosophical goals of #5, but in #4 (which comes after #7) I was upset that I can’t use both hands to pull my hair tail. I was also distracted by recommendation #6, which feels like a very short poem abut too much hair.
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Do not use this product to beat or fall. They make a whole other product just for that.
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In a bizarre revelation, the first sentence implies that this product owes its very existence to the need to clean up other hair care products.
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In this glorious page, the appliance warranty takes the form of a letter addressed to the appliance itself. Reading onward one discovers an unfortunate man named Daniel who has been charged with the task of repairing every one of the defective products by himself. Further reading finds talk of scars, wars and something fantastical called ‘force majeure’. Well done. Bravo
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Lastly, the advantages of the hair straightener. Note how they’ve arbitrarily switched from using numbers to spelling the numbers out. My favorite is number four.
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Since reading this instruction manual I’ve purchased an entire box of Innovative Hair Straighteners and I suggest you do the same. I want to see this company grow and thrive. How else can we ever hope to see the instruction manual for the Beautiful Star luxury sport utility vehicle one day.
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Airplane Safety

I just returned home from a trip and thought I’d share the safety pamphlet from the airplane I was on:
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If you’ve recently woken from a coma which you’ve been in since 1995, you are prohibited from using such ubiquitous electronic devices as a portable TV, a big yellow AM/FM radio, a bulky cell phone with permanently extended antenna and a pager.
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In the event of an emergency, be sure to console your daughter, who is sobbing uncontrollably because you made her wear an awful powder-blue dress with puffy sleeves and Mary-Jane shoes.
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Try not to disturb people on the plane who are committing ungodly acts upon themselves.
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In the absence of a razor, your may use your baby’s head to shave your armpits.
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Your flabby, aerobically unfit, gynecomastic slug of a son will most likely need oxygen wether or not there is a sudden drop in cabin pressure.
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In the event of an external hazard, do not open the airplane door. Instead, summon the black-faced demon man, who will shoot laserbeams from its eyes to neutralize the danger.
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In the event of an emergency landing, try to stay around and help others, unlike the selfish woman in the bottom left corner who hightailed it out of there without thinking of others.
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In the event of a water landing, a common rule of thumb is that the happier you look, the quicker you’ll be rescued. This woman has been floating in the ocean for eight days now.
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In an emergency, place your baby in a life jacket, then grab onto one of the straps and spin him like a top.
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Inflate his life jacket until it’s so tight he starts to tremble.
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Then drop him in the ocean alone in the dark and watch him slowly drift away as he dreams of bright yellow lightbulbs.
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I hope you found this to be informative. Next time you fly, follow these instructions exactly as I’ve laid them out to ensure a safe and enjoyable travel experience.
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The Angry Sandwich Man

The man who makes sandwiches at my work cafeteria is very impatient . He insists that you give him your whole fixings wish list all at once. If you don’t he gets angry and yells at you. Unfortunately, he also suffers from short term memory loss, thus leading to the following actual conversation:

Me: I’ll have tuna, in a wrap, with lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: Tuna in a wrap, that’s it?
Me: With lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: (Adds lettuce and tomato) That’s all you want?
Me: Oil and vinegar, to go, with no chips or pretzels.
Angry sandwich man: (Adds oil and vinegar) Chips or pretzels?
Me: Neither. To go.
Angry sandwich man: You want this for here, right?
Me: Yes. Thank you.
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Another Boring Saturday

Just a typical boring Saturday for me: cleaning the bathroom, a trip to the car wash, and, as usual, two women in evening gowns, standing on opposing ends of a bar counter, furiously playing Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir on hot pink electric violins. I’m thinking of hiring them to accompany me and herald my arrival every time I walk into a bar.

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Cat In Things

Because my Scientific Journal articles are apparently too wordy, here’s some pictures of my cat in various things. Included are cat in sink, cat in small basket and cat in front trunk.

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Sponsor

Todays entries are sponsored by this paving company. There is nothing funny about the services they provide. Nothing at all.

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So please give them your patronage, and get ready for the most satisfying hot rubber crack filling that your driveway ramp is willing to endure.

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The Palisades

On the west side of the lower Hudson River lies a line of steep cliffs called the Palisades. They form the scenic backdrop for every trip taken across the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. I’ve thought about walking their trails for a long time. This Saturday I finally did. I hope you enjoy this photoessay of my walk through the Palisades Interstate Park.

This is a cup of iced coffee at the start of the trip. My instructions were simple: “Put whatever you want in it, as long as it looks like the clouds of Jupiter.”

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The trail began in Fort Lee, New Jersey. There’s a lot of nature in Fort Lee, as you can see by the location of the trailblazes.

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On the pedestrian overpass, toward the more scenic part of the trail.

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The first full view of the George Washington Bridge.

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Things got more rustic at this point. You better get used to pictures of leaves, ‘cause I got a whole boat-load of ‘em.

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Not far from the start of the trail, we stopped at the home of Bilbo Baggins.

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You want leaf pics? I got em right here.

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And mushroom pics.

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And a picture of this pole that someone named Nancy.

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Here’s a gate. If anyone knows its name let me know.

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What’s that, you say? More leaf pictures? All you had to do was ask.

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The nicest part of the whole experience was how far removed we felt from the rest of civilization.

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Did somebody say leaves? I got your leaf pics right here!

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This was a broken window pane from a park bathroom. A bit of beauty in urban decay.*

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This was a feminine hygiene dispenser in the same bathroom. It was last used by Martha Washington.*

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A view of the bridge on the return trail.

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Graffiti on a park bench.

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The bridge near a pylon.

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As we got ready to leave, we wished the bridge good luck on its upcoming audition for the role of Dinobot in the next Transformers movie. *

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In case you missed them the first time around - leaves.

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I hope you enjoyed the scenery.

*Photo courtesy of @pathologicalartist.

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Keep Pressing

I came across the least clean soap dispenser in the state of New Jersey on the bathroom wall of a nearby medical facility. It was the dirtiest thing in the bathroom, and quite possibly the entire world. Perhaps it was crafted by the same people who gave us the M&M dispenser in my earlier entry.

In case you’re wondering, I did not keep pressing. Taking this photograph was as close as I was willing to get to it.
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A Lumbersexual Awakening.

A lumbersexual is a metrosexual who has adopted a rugged fashion style, with elements often borrowed from a lumberjack such as a well-groomed beard, flannel shirt and outdoor accessories. I didn’t coin this term, but I sure wish I did.

At first, when I told my friend at work I thought he was a lumbersexual, he was in denial. But he quickly came around. In fact, now he’s intensely proud of his lumbersexuality. In the days which followed his awakening, his girlfriend captured the essence of his being in a series of photographs, all of which I will now make fun of:

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In this photo he reveals a stoic determination, despite his functional alcoholism. Alternatively, looks a lot like a liquor ad from the back of a SkyMall Magazine.

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Remind me again why you need an axe? You live in northern New Jersey. Last I checked there were 43 trees left in the entire state. In all likelihood the background was photoshopped from a 1983 Sears studio portrait. By the way, do you even have a fireplace?

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Oh, there he goes, brooding all over the place.

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You know the trees are behind you, right?

A big thanks to my lumbersexual friend and his girlfriend, two great people who are very good sports.

I’ll see you at the next beard-sculpting, with a glass of bourbon in my hand.

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Killer B’s

The other day, this was a lunch item in the cafeteria:

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Naturally, I assumed that the caterers got a kickback every time they use a word that starts with B. This would most neatly explain the dessert item it was paired with:

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I ordered it, of course. It sounded so tasty. Not bad, a little dry perhaps. But frankly, I didn’t understand the need for all that violence. Did you know you’re that not allowed to bring food into the trauma bay? Life’s little lessons.

B well.

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Somebody Oughta Tell The Guy At This QuickCheck He Needs A More Clever Hiding Place For His Coke

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For the record:

A) It was actually in front of a Panera’s but I thought QuickCheck sounded better.

B) I had a whole elaborate story set for this picture which had little or nothing to do with poorly hidden drugs, but at the end of the day I was tired, and coke won.

C) Yes, I know it doesn’t look exactly like coke, but hiding rock salt just wasn’t as funny. I could be wrong, though.

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… all I knew was, the toilet paper roll was dead, and anyone could’ve done it.

The morning started off like so many others before it - the sun harassing me through dirty half-open venetian blinds, an empty bottle of cheap hooch on the nightstand; the kinda morning that makes you wish you could just skip to the next night.

I was just about to roll out of bed to face the day when I spotted it on the carpet in front of the doorway - cut up like the roof of your mouth after eating Captain Crunch cereal. I didn’t know how long it had been there. All I knew was, the toilet paper roll was dead and anyone could’ve done it:

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Who did this? And why? Would they be back? Every question only made three more. It was time to start looking for clues.

A day’s worth of investigating led to an important break. Apparently, it started with a kidnapping:

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After two more sleepless nights, I finally found the scene of the murder - in the hallway right around the corner. It was more grizzly than the steak sandwich I ordered at Appleby’s for dinner that night:

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But I was still no closer to finding my killer, and I was getting desperate. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I shook down the plant in the hallway, but the only dirt he spilled was potting soil:

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Two days of grueling field-work, a few more empty bottles of booze, a mutilated roll of Sharman toilet paper and a traumatized houseplant. I had no killer and I had lost hope of ever finding him. It was enough to make a grown man cry.

Maybe I’m out of my mind, but sometimes I could swear he was watching me, waiting for me to make my next move. Like I said, maybe I’m out of mind.

But at the end of the day, at least I had my trustworthy cat by my side.

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Updates

I’d like to take this opportunity to update you on a few of my favorite website entries over the past month:

From ‘One Man’s Junk Is Another Man’s Art’

Who can forget that charming owl sculpture which helped launch my website so many moons ago. You’ll be excited to learn that the artist’s friend, also in elementary school, was non too keen on being left out of the spotlight. Here is her original drawing, of either a person holding up two turkey legs over a little christmas tree, or the tanned, unshaven legs of an insane person, whose anus dangles precariously over a writhing, malformed artichoke. You decide which. I already have.

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From ‘These M&Ms Died In Vain’

A revisit to the car wash has taught me that nothing lasts forever. The M&M machine is gone and in its place is this…ungodly creation. Note how some of the tongue orbs are nauseated by their own cheapness. Incidentally, I’ve never paid a dime to tug anyone’s tongue before, and I don’t intend to start now.
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From ‘A Santa For Thanksgiving'

The real-life Gary Gobble is far less iconic than the one I made up.
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Also, I’d you to meet Pete, a family friend from Long Island and all-around good guy. When Pete imbibes his favorite drink, coincidentally Wild Turkey, he turns into Goofy Pete. Here’s Pete in a sombrero.
It wasn’t a theme party.
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From ‘Pooding’

If you liked Pooding, you’re really going to love Weeding. I know I do. Technically, one begets the other.
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From ‘Dinosaur Cake’

Yesterday the headless dinosaur cake escaped its confines and ran out of the house to freedom, leaving behind part of its fluorescent reptile skin in the process.
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Gentle Encouragment

I would like to thank last month’s rotating students for leaving a bag of bagels for us on the last day of their rotation, as a token of appreciation. They were delicious. In the future, however, might I recommend using a different phrase to encourage us to help ourselves?

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Dinosaur Cake

In honor of my recent birthday, one my relatives, who will remain nameless, baked me a cake. Recalling my love for dinosaurs as a child, she decided to bake it in the shape of a dinosaur. It was a truly delicious cake. Mind you, a better one than I could ever bake. The cake design was based on one available from bettycrocker.com, as seen in this image from their website:

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Yes, it was a mouthwateringly delicious cake. But as for the finished product…something got a bit lost in translation. To be fair, she didn’t have any hershey’s kisses on hand, and…well, have a look yourself:
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True, one could argue that its overall contours are indeed vaguely faithful to the original. But to me it doesn't resemble a dinosaur so much as the offspring of a syphilis-riddled giraffe and lamb-chop the sock puppet. In place of its tail, the poor creature appears to be getting violated from the rear by an inordinately large banana, also riddled with syphilis. It is also in need of an orthodontist. Lastly, for some reason, the constellation Orion is visible in the organism’s torso. Truly a delicious cake, though.

I decided that the only humane thing to do was a quick euthanasia. But after I cut into it, a magical transformation happened:
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It appears that by severing its head and part of the tail/banana off, it actually looks more like a dinosaur than it ever did before, albeit now facing the other direction. A medical miracle, if I ever saw one.

I kept the head for myself, lovingly placed it in a jar of formaldehyde and mailed it to the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia.
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Damn good cake, though.
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