Pun Intended
Written by Bamboo Forest


Photo by funkdooby

I have an odd passion that you’ve probably never heard of.

I endearingly call it ‘splitting the defense’.

Have you ever been walking and you noticed a couple holding hands approaching and you unintentionally forced them to dehand while you walked in between them?

If you’ve done the above, you’ve effectively split the defense.

While most folk don’t do this intentionally, I frequently invest long afternoons pursuing this scenario because I derive incalculable joy from it.

To enhance my enjoyment of this hobby even more, I often utter the words “booya baby” as I’m walking between the couple that dehanded because of my trajectory.

Now I’m not the kind of guy looking for a fight which is why I say these words in a low tone of voice, slowly, just loud enough for there to be a good shot the couple hears it, but not loud enough they’re certain I uttered anything.

To say I experience delight uttering these words while passing between a couple is a huge understatement.

When I’m feeling really gutsy and going for glory and I’m spending my afternoon at a mall or a country fair, I’ll actually seek out the same couple multiple times over an entire day.

Yes… I’ve split the defense as much as three or four times on the same couple in one afternoon and I’m so skilled at it, that while they probably think it’s fishy, it’s almost impossible they could reach the conclusion that I was doing it intentionally.

I’m that good at it.

I’m pretty sure some folk are going to criticize my hobby saying it’s creepy, but they’re probably the kind of folk that don’t get much exercise.

Do you have any idea how much walking I do over  the course of eight hours when my entire focus is seeing how many couples I can split the defense on?

It’s downright exhausting yet immeasurably rewarding as well.

P.S. – Some have asked if I’d engage this hobby if I had a girlfriend and the answer is of course I would. You don’t stop doing things you love as soon as you get into a relationship, know what I mean?

June 29th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest

There will be a new post 48 hours from now if I receive 10 comments within the next 48 hours.

If I don’t receive those 10 comments I’ll take it that no one cares about the PI Universe anymore — and I’ll shut this blog down.

The clock’s ticking.

No, I’m not kidding.

Yours,

Bamboo Forest

P.S. — Some like everything in writing, so here it is for you peeps obsessed with legality:

 

June 27th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest

After publishing this post I got an email from a woman, let’s call her Sally.

Forget that, her name is Arlene; I won’t reveal her last name.

She writes:

“I’m a preschool teacher from Des Moines and I really love the stuff you and your brother do even though it’s at times a bit racy and adult oriented.

But I had no choice but to unsubscribe when I saw a picture of marijuana at the end of your latest post.

Considering the bizarre nature of the stuff you and your brother write on, I should have known you’re both heavy drug users.

I also think it’s pretty sick that you dress this blog up with a flying whale, a floating octopus and colorful fish with wings among other childish things luring young unsuspecting children onto your site. You then proceed with promoting drugs to your young audience by posting a photograph of marijuana at the end of a blog post.

I have my limits and this is just sick. I’m done with your blog.

Sincerely,

Arlene “

My response

When you assume anything you make an ass out of YOU and ME.

And you, Arlene, have most certainly made an ass out of you and me.

That was NOT drugs; it was Japanese sencha; green tea that I love and drink daily.

Because I can see how that picture could have been misinterpreted as marijuana I’m going to try not to write copious amounts of angry expletives.

As a result of your email I decided to delete the photograph you thought exhibited drugs out of fear that others may unsubscribe by mistakenly believing that picture was anything but what it actually was:

GREEN F*CKING TEA

I’ve never claimed this blog’s meant for kids, Arlene. However, I can see how having a flying whale as a mascot and other magical creatures could give the impression this blog’s geared toward children.

However, nothing could be further from the truth.

What can I say? Looks can be deceiving.

For the record, you should be at least 14 years of age to read the Pun Intended blog. If you’re under that age I recommend you only subscribe to assist us with our social proof, but don’t read anything we publish because it might cause behavioral problems and we can’t be held responsible for outbursts at school and mental instability within the family.

At the conclusion of this post I’ve posted the original photograph that Arlene claimed was displaying drugs.

And to reiterate, in that photo it’s JAPANESE GREEN TEA FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I was born in Japan and, yes, I drink a lot of this stuff.

That wooden thing you see under the tea? That’s a wooden tea scoop (chami) made from Japanese cherry tree bark.

And in case you’re wondering, the tea was consumed with my friend Yuki (sup buddy!!!) after the photo was taken and indeed made me HAPPY.

It’s f*cking amazing that I get accused of promoting drugs by merely trying to be artistic on my blog. If displaying a little tea at the end of my post creates such ridiculous accusations, what would happen if a photo of fun dip was inserted at the end of my post? God only knows.

What the hell’s this world coming to?

The only drugs I do are prescription drugs, Arlene, that my psychiatrist gives me to help me keep my life on an even playing field as he says.

Let’s not assume things when we don’t have all the facts, OK?

My reputation means something to me, so please don’t go around screwing it up.

Is that too much to ask?

Yours truly,

Bamboo Forest… Lover of tea and will never apologize for it (EVER).

Original Photograph (It’s TEA people)

March 14th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest

There’s little doubt that when you close the door in preparation to poo poo you’ve placed yourself in a refuge sheltered from the hectic outside world.

Really… when else do you feel as secure? It’s like being back in the mother’s womb, except with more self-awareness.

Do you dim the lights as I do?

Perhaps you heat essential oils to enhance the ambience, further.

Regardless of how you spend these precious moments tucked away from the hustle and bustle of your busy life, one question remains: What kind of toilet paper do you use?

Do you use Scott’s because it’s cheap, and the roll seems like it could wind around the globe multiple times?

Perhaps you use Charmin because you love the idea that an adorable talking teddy has spent the afternoon cuddling with your toilet paper at the park prior to your using it.

Or, like others, you prefer Angel Soft because the idea that a little baby only minutes ago turned your TP into a robe is downright charming.

Regardless of the brand you use, the most luxurious toilet paper doesn’t come from trees.

Whenever I run out of toilet paper, I do what you do, with my shorts around my ankles I hobble to the kitchen, tear off a paper towel, and return to the John with a grin knowing I’ve just cheated fate.

But last Saturday, not only was I out of toilet paper, but paper towels too.

I was so SOL.

I sat there on the toilet in deep thought like a scientist contemplating a metaphysical conundrum, wondering how I could resolve this dilemma without ruining a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, and then it struck me:

My roommate has a loaf of wonder bread and has gleefully ignored my incessant pleas that it’s absolutely unhealthy and not befitting the name bread.

There’s got to be a better use for that stuff than eating it, you know?

I wondered if a couple slices of wonder bread could wipe away my remnants, effectively wiping away my dilemma.

Consider… when you’re making a P&J sandwich, peanut butter spreads beautifully onto white fluff. If Wonder Bread can take peanut butter with ease, surely it could handle some feces spread.

I hobbled to the kitchen, grabbed the wonder bread package from the pantry knowing I was doing my roomie a huge favor, hobbled back, opened it up, took a slice out, and gracefully wiped my behind as if this action was being scored by a panel of judges for style (I was super graceful).

After the wipe concluded I took a careful look at the bread and a howl of elation erupted from me realizing how well it worked. My howl was like the screams of jubilation from mission control when Apollo 13 successfully landed. Not only did I discover a new use for bread, but this was the softest “toilet paper” I’ve ever experienced. It absorbed the remnants beautifully, and easily solved my uncomfortable dilemma. If Brazil is so brazen to use sugar cane to fuel cars, then I’ll sure as hell take the liberty to use bread for TP.

Can I get an amen?

If you ever get a chance to visit me for tea and nature calls, you’ll notice that instead of toilet paper hanging on the wall, I got a bundle of wonder bread packages beside my toilet.

Edible toilet paper never felt so good.

p.s. – you’re always welcome to have tea with me

 

March 11th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest


Photo by c’est la Viva

February 14th was turning out to be the best Valentine’s of my life.

I had a ridiculously hot date.

She was perfect without a single blemish.

And the best part, she loved hearing me talk. I could yap for hours and the only expression her face would elicit was a beautiful smile that was seemingly permanent.

I made Sheila and I a reservation at Kagaya restaurant for our Valentine’s dinner.

Walking in the maitre d’ greeted me with a bright smile, but glanced over at my date and gave an expression like he just chocked on a piece of raw salmon that unexpectedly manifested in his throat.

Excuse me sir, what the hell is that?

Sir, that’s my date… what does it look like, I said irritated.

I’m sorry sir, but we don’t allow mannequins on the premises. If you want to eat here, you’ll have to leave it outside in your trunk.

Blood started rushing up my body like I was a volcano moments before erupting and flattening a small, helpless village.

Just before erupting, I glanced over at my Sheila looking at her innocent soft face and emerald eyes which made my heart turn to jello and then decided not to do something I’d regret. I didn’t want to embarrass her on this special night, and I don’t have the best track record when it comes to the fuzz.

Gathering my composure I said to the maitre d’, Look… this is my date, I made a reservation, and if you want Shirley and me to leave you’re going to have to take us out by your bare hands because we aren’t budging.

He didn’t say a word and I could tell the seriousness on my face left an impression on him.

* * *

Maitre d’ calls the owner not knowing what to do

Sir, yeah, we got a situation here… there’s a man with a mannequin claiming “she’s” his lover. He wants to eat dinner with her.

Does he have money to pay for her?

Yes, all 75 dollars.

Let him in.

But sir…

Let him in Staniel! Stick him in the corner.

Look, I’ve got a mortgage to pay and oil’s going through the f*cking roof. And please, don’t call me while I’m taking time in the tub and enjoying a cigar with your petty crap for crying out loud!

Call me again with a nothing problem and you’re outta here. You got that?!

Yes sir.

* * *
I noticed the maitre d’ hang up the phone. He looked at me and Sheila as if he was just told he had to kick his own mother in the stomach and said begrudgingly, “please follow me sir.”

I and Sheila walked through this dimly lit restaurant… Amazingly, it was as if every table we passed couldn’t help but look at us. I knew Sheila was gorgeous, but never in my life did I have a woman who literally caused not only both sexes to turn heads, but even small children too.

As we sat down, he asked me what I wanted. I ordered the assorted tempura with the sushi boat.

He didn’t ask Sheila what she wanted, which I expected, since this guy’s demonstrated he’s an absolute ass with zero manners, probably abused as a child.

I cleared my throat and said, “Sheila will have the ramen noodles and grilled snapper.”

I and Sheila sat there sipping our tea lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes as if we were the only two people in the universe.

I started telling her my hopes and dreams over our candle lit dinner… How I recently became a contributing author for Daily Blog Tips. She was really impressed with that.

I also told her how my site Tick Tock Timer was currently ranked sixth on Google for my desired search phrase ,online timer, and that impressed her so much she just sat there speechless looking lovingly into my eyes as if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

We were simply made for each other.

Just as the waiter was bringing our food to the table two cops busted onto the scene. Because of my history with the fuzz… I kept my head down and just tried to eat my food, not attracting attention to myself. But as if I was abducted as a little boy by aliens and had a fuzz magnet implanted into my left butt cheek, the two coppers came my way and stopped at my table.

Hi, are you Bamboo Forest?

umm… Yes.

You’re under arrest.

I roared, THIS IS AMERICA… YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME… I’M BAMBOO FOREST!…

I then quickly buried my head into my hands, devastated, having the greatest night of my life get destroyed because of two men dressed in blue who wanted to wreck a perfect thing.

Sir, if you want to eat dinner with a mannequin you’re perfectly welcome to do so even though we think it’s sick and you’re mentally deranged.

But this mannequin is the property of Dillards, you stole it, we have you on the security camera and you’re under arrest.

In fact, you’ve stolen 12 mannequins in the past month alone.

Someone alerted us that the mannequin bandit that’s been showing on the news from security cameras was here.

We’re taking you in.

He then went onto give me my Miranda warning which I could have told the copper backwards after a round of drinks.

All I could do was burry my head in my hands feeling like I’ve been cursed never to have success with love.

Truth is, this was utter nonsense.

How could anyone equate the search for love with theft?!

And besides, I knew in my heart that Sheila was my soul mate… the others were too short. That no other woman could ever give me what she did. And, to be perfectly honest, that no other woman could ever be the kind of mother that I knew she would be to the kids I dreamed of having with her.

My heart felt like it was teared apart like a pizza pie from a pack of hungry frat kids at 3 A.M. on a Saturday night. I concluded I’m just not made for love.

I decided to plead insanity even though you know just as well as I that there’s no way in hell I’m insane. I mean, I’m a life coach for crying out loud.

Sigh.

To my readers who stick with me no matter what happens in my life… even when injustices rain upon me like a hail storm from hell, I salute you.

To the haters out there? Keep coming to PI, I really need the traffic, and don’t mind your hate filled mind.

Yours truly,

Bamboo Forest

 

 

 

March 1st, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest


Photo by s_w_ellis

So many things have transpired since my last blog post. The adventures I’ve been on will shock and delight you.

Between being a contributing author for Daily Blog Tips, going in and out of court, and doing my required community service, I’ve simply lacked time lately.

And to be honest, sometimes I don’t feel my writing ability can adequately convey the happenings of my life (yes I’m fishing for compliments; leave them in the comment section).

It recently hit me that just because I can’t write stories like Stephen King or Sol Stein doesn’t mean I should let my life experiences collect dust in Google docs not being seen by anyone, except maybe for the government that spies on me.

It’s time to dust those puppies off, polish them off, and share them with the world.

The most recent “incident” that happened to me was on Valentine’s Day (which is why I’ve been in court and busy doing community service).

After this incident some people have called me a pervert. Some have even been so brazen to call me insane when we all know I only plead insanity when I believe I can get a better sentence from it.

You’re my loyal readers and I know with certainty that no matter what I tell you, you’ll support me, won’t judge me, and definitely won’t consider me a pervert, Heaven forbid.

Since I trust you, my dear readers, and know with certainty that you got my back, I’m going to share with you what happen to me on Valentines, this Tuesday.

You probably don’t want to miss it.

Your lover,

Bamboo Forest

February 27th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest


Photo by ilovemypit

Ever since me and my brother started our new site, Spicy Tornado, and I’ve been drawing illustrations for it, I’ve kind of lost sight of writing copy.

To be perfectly honest, drafting blog posts is a royal pain in the butt. Anyone who runs a blog can attest to this.

But then one day, out of left field, I received an email from Daniel Scocco of DailyBlogTips, asking me if I wanted to write a weekly post for his blog since he’s currently swamped with other projects.

Reading his offer I was filled with euphoria like a light bulb that’s been off for years and then spontaneously turns on and emits light throughout the universe.

Like the goof ball that I am, I replied to his email with “YES!” in size 80 font and then ran out the door skipping and jumping like a 5 year old who’s just been told by his parents he’s going on a 2 week vacation to Disney Land.

I skipped all the way to the local Whole Foods, and because of my euphoric mood, I started skipping down each aisles singing “We will, we will, rock you! “ while everyone looked at me like I was on drugs, which of course I was, but my drug of choice is called LIFE.

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I was oblivious to the world until a security guard approached me and told me that I can’t “run” in the store. Apparently this doofus doesn’t know the difference between skipping and running. What an ass.

I happen to be standing near a sampling of cheeses when he approached, and so I ignored him for a few moments, took the prongs, and started piling tons of cheese into my hand and then shoved the pile in my mouth…  I looked back at the security guard while chewing a baseball size pile of cheese and said “Yes sensei.” I then left this place that apparently has no love for the great opportunity I had just been given!

Just goes to show you, haters are everywhere.

As you probably know, DailyBlogTips is one of the biggest blogs in the world weighing in at 53,000 subscribers.

So getting this opportunity to do a weekly post for this blog has really reignited my excitement for writing copy… which is why I’m writing for Pun Intended again even though I’ve never made a bloody cent from it.

I’ve already written four posts for Daniel since he’s given me this great opportunity. But for old time’s sake, I’ll give a link below of every guest post I’ve ever written for Daniel of DailyBlogTips.

Bamboo Forest is back in action. Can you say awesome?

Bamboo Forest hitting the mic on DailyBlogTips (Booya Baby!)

How to Instantly Kill Laziness and Boost Blogging Productivity

5 Reasons Online Collaborations Can Help You Beat Out The Competition

6 Blogging Mistakes You Might Not Have Considered

3 Ways to Make Your Writing Clearer and More Engaging

6 Ways to be Kind to Your Readers

3 Crucial Elements of Well-Written Blog Posts


Photo by klwatts

January 28th, 2011
Written by Bamboo Forest


Photo by twodolla

I take a toothpick at the end of a good meal like the best of ‘em. That, however, doesn’t demonstrate they have any use. Far from it.

Did you know that every restaurant on planet earth has toothpicks by the exit door? Did you also know that roughly 33% of all patrons take one, and the vast majority of those that do have no idea why they do?

It’s true.

While I’m not going to get into the whole conspiracy hub bub of the existence of toothpicks and the shadow governments behind their creation, I will point out that this is how the Illuminati funds much of their evil activities.

It’s pretty brilliant when you think about it. They’ve propped up a false necessity within world society for sharp wooden sticks at the end of a meal, and restaurants everywhere buy them by the boat loads.

Toothpicks are housed in one of three ways:

  • They’re plastic wrapped sitting in a square little box.
  • When the establishment wants to get cute, they’ll have this contraption thingy-ma-jig that dispenses the toothpick by turning a round little nob.
  • Other times you’ll have a jar with naked toothpicks. Definitely not hygienic; think of all the hands that have preceded yours in picking out a pick

Really, what the hell are toothpicks for? Once I was in a restaurant when a little boy stabbed his sister with one. If you can harm another human being with one of those things, why the hell would you stick it in your mouth? What gives? Is there something I’m missing?

And yet, acknowledging this, I still take the dastardly thing at the end of every meal and shove it in my mouth.

Often, I’ll put one in my mouth while fishing for another, placing it in my ear crevice to save for later. Why? Because I act like a real jack ass sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you should. It also doesn’t mean there’s any real purpose for toothpicks.

November 29th, 2010
Written by Flying LlamaFish

1. Hosting Thanksgiving sucks turkey testicles

Question: What could be better than having loved ones visit for a joyous meal?

Answer: Anything. Including, but not limited to, rubbing a cheese grater against your cheeks.

Hosting Turkey Day requires you slave away for 48+ hours to prepare a meal that’s inhaled in less than 45 minutes. And as far as spending quality time with your loved ones, you won’t. While they watch football, you’ll frantically struggle to keep your 18 dishes from burning down the house.

Once the feast ends, you’ll spend what’s left of your evening cleaning around the passed out, bloated bodies that line your floor.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention… you’re required to stick your hand up a turkey’s ass.

2. It triggers the onslaught of Christmas


Photo by s.ovett

Turkey Day represents the official beginning of the holiday season. Which means you’ll be forced to hear the same four Christmas songs on a continuous loop for six weeks. Which means you’ll contemplate suicide on Christmas Eve. Which means you’ll deal with your despair by lacing Santa’s cookies with laxatives.

3. The fake story of the first Thanksgiving

There’s nothing quite like celebrating past misdeeds with a fake feel-good story and a 12,000-calorie meal.

But seriously kids, the Pilgrims adored the Natives.

4. The beginning of nasty, frigid weather


Photo by al camardella

By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, it’s time to trade in the flip flops for frost bite.

5. Thanksgiving travel is hell


Photo by Cajun Metal

You know what sounds like a terrible idea? Traveling long distances to eat one meal with relatives you’d normally never go out of your way to see.

You know what sounds even worse? Doing it during the busiest travel time of the year.

If you’re flying to grandmother’s house, you can look forward to excruciating lines that only end once a TSA screener has put his hands down your pants to ensure you aren’t packing a grenade in your tighty-whities.

Or if getting groped isn’t your thing, you can opt for the body-scanning machine that takes nude photos of you while exposing you to a bounty of carcinogens that’ll kill you in 15-20 years.

6. Black Friday


Photo by t3rmin4t0rl

Honestly, I’d rather stick my arm up a turkey’s booty than wake up at 4 am to fight off barbarians for the last $3 toaster oven.

Unless you yearn for a fate similar to that of Mufasa, stay the hell away from the stampede that is Black Friday.

7. No presents. No costumes. No candy.

Instead we get this useless thingy:


November 23rd, 2010
Written by Flying LlamaFish

Bamboo Forest may not be right in the head.

Bamboo Forest may suffer from delusions of grandeur.

But, if you’re willing to take a leap of faith, Bamboo Forest may just be the man to make all your wildest Twitter dreams come true.

And in case you need proof that he’ll make your soul sing, here are a few of Bamboo Forest’s most classic tweets:

Please do the right thing and follow the self proclaimed “heavy weight blogger of the world.”

November 18th, 2010


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