So…that happened.

It’s Friday, November 9th.  Last night, apparently, I went on a bit of a Twitter binge.  This usually happens when I watch the NHL playoffs (which may or may not happen next spring.  Don’t get me started) or U.S. Presidential Election-related stuff like debates or election-night coverage (which is thankfully over for another four years) or the Walking Dead.  Another time this phenomenon occurs is when I partake of some manner of booze.  Usually, the booze is simply a catalyst, acting in conjunction with the other events I’ve mentioned.  Sometimes, however…well, the booze just unlocks the crazy, and I take to Twitter to try to infect everyone that follows me.  Here, then, are some highlights from last evening’s Twitsplosion…

Okay, see that Tweet at the bottom? The one about the mayonnaise? Yeah, that’s how it all started. Also, there is a reference in there to me changing my avatar.  The old one looked like the offspring of The Governor and Wil Wheaton.  I changed it to the one you see now.  It’s more…me. you’ll also note some response from @WoMarty. That guy is my boss, BTW.  Good chap.

Some more responses.  Hey, great!  People are paying attention!  TO ME!! I LOVE ATTENTION!!!

The pic that I failed to expand in this screenshot is of me drinking Scotch.  Okay, we get it.  Turner likes Scotch.  Also, this marks the second time in this blog entry I’ve mentioned Wil Wheaton.  I long ago unfollowed Wil because he went on and on about the Big Bang Theory, a show he makes frequent guest-appearances on.  You may recall that I am not what you’d call a “huge fan” of that show.  Since then I’ve begun following him again, in part because he is sometimes the polar opposite of Adam Baldwin.  Adam and I used to get into spirited political discussions.  One night I gave him a royal beating in a debate we were carrying on via Twitter and the sumbitch blocked me. That’s how you know you’ve won the argument.  The other person takes their ball and goes home.

Apparently, when I drunk Tweet two things happen:  I forget how to spell and I start obsessing about body parts.  Okay, good.  Also, @jan31875 followed me, and it made me happy (I don’t know who that is, BTW.)

More interaction: @ajmotia (a lovely young lady whose last name is pronounced “mo-TEE-ya”) makes a joke about my old avatar.  Ha.  Then @RMRacing19 chimes in with concerns for my wife’s safety.  Russ is a lcoal Komet hockey fixture, NASCAR fan, and race care driver.  I will fucking END HIM if he doesn’t watch it.

I have deliberately left the conversation between myself and my old friend @brettyrocks hidden from your sight.  See, Brett is a big ol’ dirty, stinky hippie.  He’s also gay as they get.  I love Brett because he once wore his “100% Negro” shirt to work when Reverend Al Sharpton came to visit when we both worked at the alternative station 99X in New Bern, NC.  Oh, by the way…Brett is also very white. True story.  The suits were nervous about the non-PC shirt and Sharpton’s reaction to it, but to everyone’s surprise the good reverend absolutely loved it and even posed with  Brett for a picture.  Last night, however, Brett was describing sexual acts with gentlemen, and while I am all for guy-on-guy or girl-on-girl (okay, mainly girl-on-girl) action, I’m treating his Tweets as the language of Mordor and will not utter them here.  One more to wrap it up…

The guy named Sneed was a consultant when I worked in NC.  He was the mentor of my sworn enemy, so, yeah.  And that’s my foot.  I think I blacked out after that one.  I Tweeted a few pics last night, and one of them was of me eating my kitty cat, Keyser.  My good friend (and sometime drummer for the rock band Rains) @TheJoeSchultz reminded me that he, in fact, had posted a similar pic long before I did.  Giving credit where credit is due:

And finally, my boy @TikiBoundRay tried to unravel the mystery of the strange Tweets coming from my account…

Quite a detective, that guy.

Just the Facts.

On the Twitter recently (@turnerwatson) I’ve seen a lot of so-called “facts”  Many of these Tweets are not, in fact, actually based in any sort of reality.  In response, I started Tweeting what I call “Turner Watson Facts, or #twfacts for short.  Yes, I know that it looks like either “Twitter Facts” or even worse “Twat Facts” but goddammit, that’s not the point.  Most of what I post under that hashtag is completely made up.  I’ve assembled some of them here, along with some ones from my little iPod notepad PLUS as an added bonus, there are some real honest-to-goodness facts sprinkled in to keep you guessing.  It’s like a big Easter Egg hunt, but without a crazy duck following you around trying to eat you. That’s an “Adventure” joke, by the way.  See?  An Easter Egg inside of an Easter Egg in a blog that casually mentions Easter Eggs!  It’s the INCEPTION BLOG!!!

FACTS:

White Midwestern kids love Bob Marley 73% more than actual Jamaicans.

The current railway gauge used in the US and Europe is actually based on the width of Roman chariots.  Roads, and eventually railways, were measured using the ruts made by chariots that spanned the Roman Empire.  In Asia, the railway gauge is different, so railway travelers entering parts of Russia from Europe must actually switch trains.

Scientists have proven that it is 82% more difficult to get out of bed on a Saturday morning when surrounded by purring housecats.  This rate doubles in Winter.

Ladies reading this post just fell in love.

Leonard Cohen wrote “The Safety Dance” and intended to record it himself, but thought that the tone was too somber.

Eating too much granola can give you a granuloma.

The original name of “Special K” cereal was “Bowl O’ Scabs” due to its high iron content.

Yep. Enjoy your breakfast!

In the 1800’s most swim caps were made of whale foreskin.

During the Great Depression, “Peanut Brittle” was temporarily replaced with “Flea-Nut Brittle” (Flea nuts were cheap and abundant.)

The multi-layer space suits worn by the astronauts to the moon weighed 180 pounds on earth, but thirty pounds on the moon due to the lower gravity.

A moon that is “growing full” is known as a “waxing moon.”  A moon transitioning to “new” is called a “waning moon.”  A moon shot over the shoulder in a bathroom mirror is called “Scarlett Johanssoning.”

You're welcome, ladies. And fellas. Enjoy your breakfast!

The sexual term “fisting” was coined by mistake.  “Penthouse Letters” simply misspelled “fishing.”

It was physically impossible for John Belushi to ice skate, so his part in “Slap Shot” was handed to Paul Newman.

In August of 1972, a girl totally said “Bloody Mary” into a darkened mirror, and was, like, totally never heard from again.

Clearance Sale! EVERYTHING MUST GO!!

Just looking through my notes as I prepare the next “themed” blog and realized there’s some stuff that I wanted to include in other posts, but for whatever reason did not.  So ima dump it in herrrr and if you like it, great.  It’s like that box of 50%-off stuff at the front of the Goodwill store.  Think about that: it’s stuff nobody wanted, so they gave it to Goodwill.  And then Goodwill couldn’t get rid of it.  Dayum.  So, yeah…this one’s going to be sort of catch-as-catch-can. (I’M SO GODDAM FUNNY!!)

You know what I realized about penises the other day?  We often see large male members as a symbol of male dominance.  You hear it all the time “Oh, they’re just arguing over who has the biggest dick.  Soon they’ll get over it and grab some beers.”  Corporate promotion, sports teams…it’s all about the junk.  But here’s the flaw in that logic.  The dominant male in a tribe/group was the one that got to lay down wit all the ladies back in tha day, y’all.  And in so doing, he passed his genetic code on to multiple offspring. To the victor goes the spoils, bitch!  Aw, yeah!  Okay then: the most dominant, powerful males had kids that resembled them, yes?  If that’s the case, then you could argue that whatever size his pork sword was, his offspring would share a similar set of dimensions?  And further, that would be the most common type of penis, as those are the genes that exponentially get spread around, correct?  Then I put it to you that the dominant males did NOT have giant peckers. They COULDN’T have, as  BIG MAN MEAT would then be the standard, rather than the exception.  Yep, our forefathers were hung like fruit flies.  Their intellect and cunning, along with the ability to network socially (um, before Facebook like) were factors in their leadership, and as a result their offspring were smarter, etc and so the primitive brain was overtaken by the bigger, faster model and voila!  We’re using tools, building houses, and planting crops!  All thanks to small-prick-itis!!  Likewise, men with huge, engorged, throbbing tools are more like cro-magnons. Simple.  Animalistic.  And yes, chicks would still rather bang them.  Sorry.  Something about it feeling better or whatever.

Okay, this theory needs some work.

While I’m appealing to your baser instincts, may I also propose a replacement for the time-honored tradition of “The Handshake?”  Handsakes are unsanitary.  Plus, you always run into one of two types of people:  the “I have a MASSIVELY STRONG GRIP, WHICH IS A SIGN OF MY SUPERIOR MANHOOD AND NOTHING AT ALL TO DO WITH MY PENIS AND NO, PAL, I’M SURE NO NANCY-BOY AND I’LL LET YOU KNOW ALL ABOUT IT AS I STARE INTO YOUR EYES TO GAUGE YOUR REACTION TO MY SUPERIOR CRUSHING ABILITY!!” person and the “my hand is really a dead lake trout wrapped in a soggy Kleenex” corpse-grip person.  Fffffuuuuu…

Anyway, I propose to introduce the Assgrab as the new way of greeting friends and strangers (remember, a stranger is a friend whose ass you’ve yet to grab!)  And here are some reasons why:

1) It IS more sanitary, unless neither of you is wearing pants.

2) It is one hell of an ice breaker.  Seriously, all pretense is gone when you have a handfull of someone else’s glutes.

3) In a business sense, it literally lets you feel out the competition.  “Oooo, his ass is flabby.  A soft desk-job guy.  But that could also mean he’s in the IT department or is busy coding all day.  Might be a hidden asset.” (I really resisted making an “ass-et” joke there.  Oh, crap, I did it anyway.) “Hmm…her ass is rock-hard, and she’s not even flexing.  I’ll bet she’s a no-nonsense slave driver.  I need people like that on my team.”  See?  It would also encourage fitness!  No one wants to be seen as soft or pliable.  Added bonus?  Chaps without pants would be considered acceptible Casual Friday attire.

Oh, crap...it's the boss. Look busy!

I have two boys.  I keep them entertained with my iPod.  Yes, I have an Android phone.  I also have an LG Optimus which I got to replace my old phone which was destroyed at a rockabilly show.  That’s how I roll. Let’s move on. This explains why sometimes my Tweets are fubar. I have a friend (we’ll call him “Kyle”) who works for an online retailer/geek culture social hangout place (we’ll call it “J!NX.“)  Anyway, “Kyle” loves to bust my chops about how terrible I am at Tweeting.  Like, literally.  It’s not the content (okay, sometimes it’s the content) but more stuff like the iPod correcting “shit” as “shot” and so on.  It’s tough constantly switching between two different OS’s, especially when you’re got two kids fighting over who gets to play “Angry Birds Rio.”

I should really be charging for this shit.

Anyway, I use my iPod a lot for dicking around at home or wherever there’s WiFi. This is why I delete my history often.  My kids don’t need to accidentally experience “My Friend’s Hot Mom” when they’re trying to watch “Adventure Time” clips. That’s another reason why I download crap games: keep my litle bastards off the web.  When you get an iPod or iPhone or iPad (or similar Windows or Android-based items!) one of the first things that happens to your mind is  a desire to GRAB EVERYTHING YOU CAN FROM THE APP STORE!!  It’s like being at Food Lion before a hurricane, fer crissakes…pulling stuff off the virtual shelves that you’ll NEVER need, and prolly won’t even use after the first week.  I  had a “Steel Drums of Tobago” app.  When you tapped the little steel drums, it made, um, steel drum music.  But I don’t know how to play the steel drums,  so it sounded like a fucking mouse crawling around with a cowbell tied to one of its hind legs. BING! BUNG!  BING! BING! BONG-BING!

See? What's not to get?

There was another app called, I believe, “Shark Tank.”  It was like a mini-aquarium with some CG sharks swimming around.  You could feed them chum.  You could, for some reason, shock them with a cattle-prod. You could turn the Jaws-like theme music off. That was it.  Seriously, I HAD THIS ON MY iPOD!!  Of course, this was a couple of years ago when literally 75% of apps in the App Store were designed to make your phone sound like a shotgun or lightsaber.  We’ve moved beyond that.  We’re more productive than that.  We’re better than that, and so are our mobile devices.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must accept this invitation to play “Hangin’ With Friends.”

Tweetin’ Ain’t Cheatin’

Quick blog time…nothing major to report, other than some of the blogs I follow have been absolutley dynamite lately.  Damn, there are some good writers out there.  Check out a few on the “Blog Roll” to the right of this page. BTW, “Blog Roll” is not only my favorite sushi, it’s also a fancy new way to say “links section.”

Recently a couple of people nominated me for something called the “Shorty Awards.”  At first I was offended, but as I like entering (and winning!) short-penis contests, I looked it up and found out it’s actually something completely different!  It’s a Twitter contest (?) and apparently everybody in the gorram ‘verse gets nominated.  I honestly don’t usually care much for this type of contest, and since I’m in the radio category with people like friggin’ Seacrest I don’t stand a chance in hell anyway.  But I figured since someone might want to vote anyway to strike a blow for the common man (boy, that sounds dirty) then they should be well-informed.  So here are some of my Tweets from the last couple of weeks.  After reading them you may choose not to vote after all…


I’m a badass. I order my pork chops “rare.”. Mmmm! Bloody pork!

Ima go down on my FleshLight tonight. Because I’m a gentleman.  (Ed. note: it was somewhat awkward trying to explain a Fleshlight to our 98.9 the Bear Rock Girl.)

I’m starting a movement to call the “landing strip” on a lady a “pusstache.” You heard it here first.

It occurs to me that 2012 Me could knock 1996 Me out with one punch. Fffffuuuu…

I should aim for that freakishly giraffe-like neck...

Ahhhh…I can FINALLY take my pants off in peace!!

@Jerrdog989 will be glad to know that the company has replaced the 30-grit sandpaper TP in the restrooms with an old Be-Dazzled llama pelt. (Ed. note: seriously, the paper in the “pooping” bathroom was like a cheese grater on your anus/taint area)

C’MON, REF! CALL THAT! FACEMASK ON LSU!! (Sorry. I have no plans to watch the game. Just wanted to feel included.) #tollride

Just took a box of Enzyte and six Viagra. Any ladies wanna play flagpole sitta?

Don’t do it! Don’t put your dick in there! (sorry…meant to type “cock.” Stupid auto-correct!)

Here’s a tip from Uncle Turner: instead of getting a fake tan, just roll around in a pile of Cheetos! Feel good about yourself!

Duckface + fake tan = fail.

Can’t seem to wake up, which is bad, since i’m tweeting in my sleep and my house is on fire.

Oh, dear. It seems I have inadvertantly stepped in some dub. (Ed. note: it was somewhat awkward explaining “dubstep” to my wife)

Wow…I just realized that today was the first day in forever that I WASN’T shufflin’.

I just gave myself an award. Bet you’re jealous.

Back in '06 I used the FUCK out of the web!

IT’S CHILI TIME!!! (Ed. note: it WAS chili time, and I devoured two bowls of it.  It was good.  That’s all I wanted to say about that)

“fast” food. Oh, that’s funny.

I wonder if any parents will choose not to take their kids to Cedar Point this year because it’s in Sandusky, OH…

It has always bothered me, BTW, that the Banana Splits song totally ripped off the hook from “Buffalo Soldier.” Yes, I’m serious.

Poop isn’t supposed to scream, is it? I think something is horribly wrong…

Ha! I feel so stupid. I keep writing “aztec” on my checks. (Ed. note: Mayan calendar joke alert)

I really dig Sublime. Too bad most of their fans are fucking stupid.

I’LL KICK YOUR DICK OFF, MOTHERFUCKER!

Sorry, everyone. That last tweet was to my youth pastor buddy.

Another million-dollar idea: capitalizing on the “whitening” craze with these new products: super-whitening coffee and cigarettes. (menthol)


There you go.  A primer, if you will, for my Twitter experience.  Was this a crass attempt to win a stupid award?  No.  This was a crass attempt to gain more Twitter followers.  HA!!  Seeya next time, suckaz!