New Feature

I'm creating a new feature for the site called Stupid Yet Somehow Amazing Websites. SYSAW will unearth some of the richest nuggets from the steaming compost pile of the interweb. Tonight's SYSAW is The Source for Youth Ministry's Slang Dictionary. It's happened to all of us. You pick up the phone and hear your little boy or girl talking about badunkadunks or hoopties, and have no idea what the hell they are talking about. Is your teenager smoking crack and whoring themselves out in the alley behind the Planned Parenthood or have they just watched too many reruns of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air? Now you can find out. With detailed definitions for such obscure street lingo as "da bomb" and "homey," the Slang Dictionary is a valuable tool for decoding the mystifying world of urban slang. Thanks to Slang Dictionary, if you hear little Johnny talk about being "baked," you'll know: he's not talking about the sunny weather outside. You'll have him off the "grass" (look it up!) and at a place that can help him in no time.

Mind your manners, bitch

It may surprise my readers to learn this, but in addition to being one of the hottest unpublished and completely unknown authors in the greater Lake Worth area, I am also an authority on second millennium etiquette issues. Having been raised in the South, I have a keen sense of what is rude and what is less rude but possibly still offensive enough to get you shot by your hillbilly neighbor on your front porch while dipping.
That's why it amazes me that people still don't know how to properly deal with a cellular phone. It's not like they're new or anything. Zack Morris had one when we were still collectively pleading for Hammer not to hurt 'em. Here are four rules that can help you avoid being a serial cellphone abuser:
1. Do not have lengthy conversations on your cellphone while competing in a sport or game. I am including pictures of two of my friends defiling the sanctity of both Texas Hold 'Em Poker and Cricket (darts) with their unholy cellphone perversion.
2. Do not call someone to meet, live and in person, and then talk on your cellphone while they sit there with their thumb up their butt wondering how hard it would be to bludgeon you to death with your own cellphone. This should be obvious, but I'm going to point it out anyway.
3. Do not turn your ring up too loud. My brother-in-law Nick, a pretty serious cellphone abuser himself, brought this up the other day. People have these super advanced cellphones with subwoofers and shit that are so loud you can feel the fillings in your teeth rattle when they go off in the movie theater. Everyone in the elevator does not need to know that you rep Lil Jon fo life. Seriously.
4. Text messaging is lame. Come on people. We don't need an entire generation of old people hooked on Celebrex and bitching about their arthritis five decades from now just because they were too lazy to call someone. I've known people that have racked up three hundred dollars in text message fees at a nickel a text message. That is insane. Also, I hate the word "texin'".
That's it for now, sportsfans. I'll be back soon with a new feature, Stupid Yet Somehow Amazing Websites.

The Second Most Important Blog Post in Human History

So part of the reason this malformed fetus of a blog was born was to publicize my work. I, like most college graduates with no job, am an aspiring writer. What sets me apart from them, however, is that I am a man of action. I understand from people I know who are actually published that a key to the whole things is making friends with people in the publishing industry. Therefore, I would like to put my money where my mouth is. Here goes: if any of you, the Blog-reading public who work in the publishing industry send me a letter (an actual letter in an envelope) on the letterhead of a company that prints fiction, I will take two (2) actual American one dollar bills and put them in an envelope addressed to you. I am serious. Two dollars. You don't have to print my stories. You don't have to pledge your undying love for me. All you have to do is send me a letter on publishing company letterhead that says, "Hey, Claes. You have an odd name. I want to be your friend." Please send your letters to 601 13th Ave N, Lake Worth FL, 33460. If you want to you may also send a picture, which I will use to immortalize you in the great Vallhalla that is Claes Vegas. This guy did it, and look how happy he is. All his deepest wishes and desires have been granted, and all for the price of one envelope, a sheet of letterhead and a US Postage Stamp. Just think about it, is all I'm saying.

The Only Blog Post in the History of the Universe That Has Ever Really Mattered

This is my first ever blog entry. If you are reading this, you must feel much like Jonathan and Martha Kent must have felt when they found the infant Superman in his smashed otherworldly escape pod. Or possibly more awed than that even. I don't know.
The primary purpose of this blog is to get more results when I google myself. Also to force my lunatic ravings on anyone foolish enough to search the infamous words Claes and blog together. Sort of like writing 666 in the sand, ritually sacrificing a manatee and saying Jesse Helms ten times fast. Demons and shit. That's what you'll be getting here: raving shitty demons.
I do have allies in the blog world. My brother for one. He is not a demon, as far as I know, so if you are religious or something, he would probably be marginally safer. He is an agnostic though. So either way, watch out.
In any case, creating a blog as cosmically significant as this one will no doubt turn out to be is hard work, so I must cut this dispatch short. Stay tuned for more.