Tom Oatmeal

A Blog About Intercourse from a guy who doesn't get nervous about intercourse like his friend Ricky does.

63 notes

I’ve been recruited for a special task! Even though it looks easy, in fact, easier than the task I was doing before, I’m told that it’s very important and that I’m the only one who can do it.
The boss came in one day and announced that he needed a special helper for something really important! Then he held his hand up to his brow as if he were a pioneer gazing out into the distance of some foreign land. He turned left and then right and then stopped on me.
Then he frowned.
"I don’t know…" he said, doubtfully.
And that made me so nervous!
"No!" I shouted. "Please! Please trust me! I can do it!"
"Well…Hmm….Okay, what the hell! Let’s try it out!"
Again, the only thing I can definitively say about the task is that it’s really, really easy and I’d probably feel insulted if I didn’t know how incredibly important it is. Also, I would probably doubt that it’s incredibly important if I wasn’t constantly told that despite what I might suspect, it’s incredibly important.
In this new role, I am isolated from others and even our lunch shifts are staggered, but if the main boss, my dad, ever calls the office, the supervisor is able to confirm that indeed I do still work there.
It’s a special task and only I can do it. But I guess if I didn’t do it for say…a week or so, nobody would probably even notice. In fact, I know that’s true. I haven’t done anything for a full month now and sure enough, nobody has noticed.
Through the grate I can see their feet. When a shoelace dangles through, I am quick to chew it off and swallow it. It is merely a nuisance at this point, but in time, they will notice and the occurrences will be elevated to the status of a mystery worth solving.
And by god, I hope they solve it!

I’ve been recruited for a special task! Even though it looks easy, in fact, easier than the task I was doing before, I’m told that it’s very important and that I’m the only one who can do it.

The boss came in one day and announced that he needed a special helper for something really important! Then he held his hand up to his brow as if he were a pioneer gazing out into the distance of some foreign land. He turned left and then right and then stopped on me.

Then he frowned.

"I don’t know…" he said, doubtfully.

And that made me so nervous!

"No!" I shouted. "Please! Please trust me! I can do it!"

"Well…Hmm….Okay, what the hell! Let’s try it out!"

Again, the only thing I can definitively say about the task is that it’s really, really easy and I’d probably feel insulted if I didn’t know how incredibly important it is. Also, I would probably doubt that it’s incredibly important if I wasn’t constantly told that despite what I might suspect, it’s incredibly important.

In this new role, I am isolated from others and even our lunch shifts are staggered, but if the main boss, my dad, ever calls the office, the supervisor is able to confirm that indeed I do still work there.

It’s a special task and only I can do it. But I guess if I didn’t do it for say…a week or so, nobody would probably even notice. In fact, I know that’s true. I haven’t done anything for a full month now and sure enough, nobody has noticed.

Through the grate I can see their feet. When a shoelace dangles through, I am quick to chew it off and swallow it. It is merely a nuisance at this point, but in time, they will notice and the occurrences will be elevated to the status of a mystery worth solving.

And by god, I hope they solve it!

Filed under Office Team Management Skills business solutions Synergy

281 notes

True or False?
"Wig or Cotton Candy?" was a gameshow that took place in the summer of 1983. In it, a member of the audience was outfitted with either a wig or a nest of blonde cotton candy. Contestants would then guess between wig or cotton candy. As the show went on, the host would play with alternating distances and lighting to increase the game’s difficulty. The show ended when a dog ran on to set and chewed through an audience member’s wig and then scalp, which is crazy because you’d think the dog would be more attracted to the cotton candy. Some woman said that maybe the dog was fooled, but nope. He wanted that wig. I guess you never know with animals.
Answer: False

True or False?

"Wig or Cotton Candy?" was a gameshow that took place in the summer of 1983. In it, a member of the audience was outfitted with either a wig or a nest of blonde cotton candy. Contestants would then guess between wig or cotton candy. As the show went on, the host would play with alternating distances and lighting to increase the game’s difficulty. The show ended when a dog ran on to set and chewed through an audience member’s wig and then scalp, which is crazy because you’d think the dog would be more attracted to the cotton candy. Some woman said that maybe the dog was fooled, but nope. He wanted that wig. I guess you never know with animals.

Answer: False

40 notes

Anonymous asked: How did you meet Diane? And how did you propose? :)

We met at a time when it seemed like I was capable of better things. Fifteen years later her dad vanished and so at Denny’s, I hid the ring in her French Toast Slam while she was in the restroom. If her dad returns as a ghost, I hope he doesn’t remember what happened and I hope he’s funny like Bill Cosby.

32 notes

grattisfaction asked: Following you is an adventure

Thank you! I try to make it like an Indianapolis Jones adventure! Whippity-Whippity-Whip-Whip! 

203 notes

HOW TO MAKE A BREAD GUY
Step 1: Find the corpse of a grown man and wrap him in bread dough.
Step 2: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Step 3: Place the dough-wrapped corpse in the oven and bake for an hour.
Step 4: Ding! It’s ready! At his wake, stand the gigantic bread guy in the center of the room and watch as guests tear off pieces and dip them into little vats of ranch, jalapeno cheddar, or BBQ sauce.
TRY THIS! If you think the gradual reveal of a charred corpse might be too alarming for some guests, have the caterer carefully remove the skeleton from the bread guy’s anus so that he’s boneless. Enjoy!

HOW TO MAKE A BREAD GUY

Step 1: Find the corpse of a grown man and wrap him in bread dough.

Step 2: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Step 3: Place the dough-wrapped corpse in the oven and bake for an hour.

Step 4: Ding! It’s ready! At his wake, stand the gigantic bread guy in the center of the room and watch as guests tear off pieces and dip them into little vats of ranch, jalapeno cheddar, or BBQ sauce.

TRY THIS! If you think the gradual reveal of a charred corpse might be too alarming for some guests, have the caterer carefully remove the skeleton from the bread guy’s anus so that he’s boneless. Enjoy!

Filed under Recipes Food Network Catering Party Tips

198 notes

It’s a free seminar and so you decide that you have nothing to lose by going. Finance. Solutions. Financial solutions. Change. The guy is a good speaker and he shows a video about how YOU can get started. Great!
But then he mentions something about money. You’ve got to spend money to make money. Nobody moves and nobody makes eye contact. This man is crazy now and we hate him.
He begs for money. Just buy the starter kit! Just do the trial period! Money back guarantee! But nobody budges. Just wait it out. He’s been on his feet and shouting for a long time. It only makes sense that he will inevitably succumb to fatigue. And when he crumples into a heap, THAT is when the group will decide on whether they exit the auditorium or stomp the man to death. Either option is fine by you.
Hour four ticks by. The speaker is desperate. He pulls out a picture of his family and uses it to single out the man seated next to you.
"My family!" he screams. "My family needs this!"
But the man seated next to you pulls out a picture of HIS family! He holds it up. Picture fight!
The speaker wipes his brow and smiles at the challenge. He grabs both pictures and hands them to you.
"Here," he says. "YOU decide."
And isn’t that JUST your luck because, dear god, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING FOR HERE?!

It’s a free seminar and so you decide that you have nothing to lose by going. Finance. Solutions. Financial solutions. Change. The guy is a good speaker and he shows a video about how YOU can get started. Great!

But then he mentions something about money. You’ve got to spend money to make money. Nobody moves and nobody makes eye contact. This man is crazy now and we hate him.

He begs for money. Just buy the starter kit! Just do the trial period! Money back guarantee! But nobody budges. Just wait it out. He’s been on his feet and shouting for a long time. It only makes sense that he will inevitably succumb to fatigue. And when he crumples into a heap, THAT is when the group will decide on whether they exit the auditorium or stomp the man to death. Either option is fine by you.

Hour four ticks by. The speaker is desperate. He pulls out a picture of his family and uses it to single out the man seated next to you.

"My family!" he screams. "My family needs this!"

But the man seated next to you pulls out a picture of HIS family! He holds it up. Picture fight!

The speaker wipes his brow and smiles at the challenge. He grabs both pictures and hands them to you.

"Here," he says. "YOU decide."

And isn’t that JUST your luck because, dear god, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING FOR HERE?!

Filed under Finance Solutions Financial Solutions

97 notes

pleasurize asked: You don’t have to be a parent to understand the horror of walking into a room to discover that the baby crawled out of his crib and onto that pottery wheel you forgot to turn off. And while the baby is spinning around and around, the dog is sitting there all calm, like a person, gently using his paws to fashion the baby’s soft cartilage head into something a little more modern. It might be the classic tale of bad parenting, but let’s see where the dog is going with this. What is this about?

This is one of those cautionary tales that I wrote when I realized that some people are probably conflicted about who they need to love and support more: dogs or babies. I personally have neither so I think it helps me to remain a neutral party and to share an honest, analytical perspective.

I really do hope that helps and if it doesn’t, let’s not worry about it. I have a friend in town tomorrow and I need to focus on constructing a sound, manageable itinerary. 

12 notes

tarvinwashere asked: Will you have a Q & A at SXSW this year?

I’ll check back through my email to see if anyone from the festival requested it, but off the bat I don’t remember seeing anything.

520 notes

They built the world’s largest salad. The whole thing was set up in a park about an hour away from our home so my wife Diane convinced me that it might be fun to go see it.
"Deb and Gary are going this afternoon and so I thought we’d ride over there with them."
"Will there be any left?"
"Oh, it’s not to eat," said Diane. "It’s like an art piece. The Guinness World Records people will be there."
On the way over, I started to talk about a Cobb salad I had at this place near my office that was pretty big.
"I usually eat only about half of it."
"Well, I’m sure this one is much bigger than that," said Gary.
"Jesus Christ, Gary. I wasn’t implying that I thought the Cobb salad I had was bigger than this salad. It’s just that all of this giant salad business has me thinking about large salads I’ve had before. God!"
"It was a joke," said Gary. "Calm down."
But I could tell from the muscles in his face that Gary was lying. Deb quickly chimed in with a request to hear about more of the big salads I’d had, but I was over it. The mood had been ruined.
"Forget it," I said. "Let’s just get this thing over with."
The salad was huge. According to a series of laminated signs, we learned that all of the produce had come by way of donations from local farmers and then a college in New York had commissioned a handful of artists to construct a gigantic ceramic bowl to put everything in.
We took pictures and afterwards I bought a t-shirt at the gift shop. It was powder blue with a graphic of the gigantic salad pasted right on the front. On the back was the date and city.
In the car, Gary said that the salad on my t-shirt just looked like a regular-sized salad.
"Bullshit," I said. "It’s huge."
"Well maybe it’s huge because you know that it’s huge," said Diane. "But to someone who doesn’t know what it is, I can see how it looks like a regular salad."
I looked at it again and realized that they were right. How could I have allowed myself to be seduced by the context of such a limited reality? The only place a gigantic salad can truly exist is sitting there right in front of you! Even photos were a stretch. I stifled my anger and humiliation with short breaths and concentrated on the scenery so as not to rip the t-shirt in half in a blind rage.
Gary had made me look like a fool twice in a span of mere hours and I desperately needed to restore balance. That night, I sat in my study and replayed the day’s events in my mind. Surely, Gary had to have slipped up somewhere and said or done something dumb.
"Diane," I said. "Wake up."
"God, what time is it?"
"Remember when we first saw the salad? Remember what Gary said?"
"I don’t know."
"He said that the salad was so big, that he’d need a pitchfork to eat it! Remember?"
She thought about it. “I guess. I really don’t remember.”
"He did say it! Ha! What an idiot!"
I clapped my hands together.
"Because, Diane. The ingredients were standard-sized ingredients. It was only the salad itself that was huge."
"So."
"So why the pitchfork?! Does Gary suddenly have a gigantic head with such a gigantic mouth that a regular fork won’t do? God, he’s so stupid! Isn’t he stupid, Diane?"
"I don’t know what your problem is with Gary."
"I don’t have a problem with Gary! I just have a problem with an idiot who thinks that large portions automatically correlate with large utensils. I mean, Christ Diane! What an idiot!"
I could see that my wife wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t done yet.
"Why, that would be like thinking that…" I paused, a grin plastered to my face, and tried to think of a similar example containing both a large food item and another large utensil. But it wouldn’t come to me.
"It would be like what?" asked Diane.
"Nothing! I’ll think of it later."
In the early hours of the morning, Gary was awakened by an anonymous phone call from the payphone outside of a nearby liquor store.
"Hello?"
"If someone gave you a gigantic sundae, you’d probably try to eat it with a snow shovel!"
 Click.

 

They built the world’s largest salad. The whole thing was set up in a park about an hour away from our home so my wife Diane convinced me that it might be fun to go see it.

"Deb and Gary are going this afternoon and so I thought we’d ride over there with them."

"Will there be any left?"

"Oh, it’s not to eat," said Diane. "It’s like an art piece. The Guinness World Records people will be there."

On the way over, I started to talk about a Cobb salad I had at this place near my office that was pretty big.

"I usually eat only about half of it."

"Well, I’m sure this one is much bigger than that," said Gary.

"Jesus Christ, Gary. I wasn’t implying that I thought the Cobb salad I had was bigger than this salad. It’s just that all of this giant salad business has me thinking about large salads I’ve had before. God!"

"It was a joke," said Gary. "Calm down."

But I could tell from the muscles in his face that Gary was lying. Deb quickly chimed in with a request to hear about more of the big salads I’d had, but I was over it. The mood had been ruined.

"Forget it," I said. "Let’s just get this thing over with."

The salad was huge. According to a series of laminated signs, we learned that all of the produce had come by way of donations from local farmers and then a college in New York had commissioned a handful of artists to construct a gigantic ceramic bowl to put everything in.

We took pictures and afterwards I bought a t-shirt at the gift shop. It was powder blue with a graphic of the gigantic salad pasted right on the front. On the back was the date and city.

In the car, Gary said that the salad on my t-shirt just looked like a regular-sized salad.

"Bullshit," I said. "It’s huge."

"Well maybe it’s huge because you know that it’s huge," said Diane. "But to someone who doesn’t know what it is, I can see how it looks like a regular salad."

I looked at it again and realized that they were right. How could I have allowed myself to be seduced by the context of such a limited reality? The only place a gigantic salad can truly exist is sitting there right in front of you! Even photos were a stretch. I stifled my anger and humiliation with short breaths and concentrated on the scenery so as not to rip the t-shirt in half in a blind rage.

Gary had made me look like a fool twice in a span of mere hours and I desperately needed to restore balance. That night, I sat in my study and replayed the day’s events in my mind. Surely, Gary had to have slipped up somewhere and said or done something dumb.

"Diane," I said. "Wake up."

"God, what time is it?"

"Remember when we first saw the salad? Remember what Gary said?"

"I don’t know."

"He said that the salad was so big, that he’d need a pitchfork to eat it! Remember?"

She thought about it. “I guess. I really don’t remember.”

"He did say it! Ha! What an idiot!"

I clapped my hands together.

"Because, Diane. The ingredients were standard-sized ingredients. It was only the salad itself that was huge."

"So."

"So why the pitchfork?! Does Gary suddenly have a gigantic head with such a gigantic mouth that a regular fork won’t do? God, he’s so stupid! Isn’t he stupid, Diane?"

"I don’t know what your problem is with Gary."

"I don’t have a problem with Gary! I just have a problem with an idiot who thinks that large portions automatically correlate with large utensils. I mean, Christ Diane! What an idiot!"

I could see that my wife wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t done yet.

"Why, that would be like thinking that…" I paused, a grin plastered to my face, and tried to think of a similar example containing both a large food item and another large utensil. But it wouldn’t come to me.

"It would be like what?" asked Diane.

"Nothing! I’ll think of it later."

In the early hours of the morning, Gary was awakened by an anonymous phone call from the payphone outside of a nearby liquor store.

"Hello?"

"If someone gave you a gigantic sundae, you’d probably try to eat it with a snow shovel!"

 Click.

 

Filed under Salads Huge Salads Forks Cobb Salads Gary Deb Landmarks Bucket Lists Ceramic Bucket Lists

124 notes

vaxxscognitionvirus asked: Are you schizophrenic?

Thanks for asking! The short answer is no. The Doc said my gums are in great shape and that a fluoride rinse should help keep everything strong.