Category Archives: jazzy

Win an entire Ham

I’m working on becoming famous.

I read an article by Kevin Rose that said I need to have a contest for my Twitter to become famous. I have no opinions about a man with the name of a flower as his surname. I do hate roses though.

The contest will go like this. The good part is that if you win I will send you a 15lb ham in the mail. A 15lb ham can feed 26 people.

Here’s how you will win:

Whoever retweets what I say the most from today until March 12th will win the ham.

Here’s an example that I just made up. It was easy to make up. It will be easy for you to win if you do this more than anyone else:

“Called 311. Nancy answered with her sultry voice. I asked for the nearest podiatrist – @otto”

Here’s a bonus part. When you win, I will be more famous than I am now, which means you will also become more famous than you are now. I cannot send that part in the mail though.

Who am I?

Many people have asked me this question: “Who are you, Otto”.

I will tell you. I am Otto. I recognize now that most people in this world are not like me. I do not cry for these people.

I was born in Holchamspitze Austria. I was raised to not be concerned with riches and wealth just like most people are raised to not be concerned about ducks and cormorants. That is a way of saying I am wealthy from old country riches. I am the single heir to a long chain of wealthy people who have died. There are people who send me money. If I want something, it is mine. If I were still in Austria I wouldn’t say these things, but I’m in America, and I have learned that in America you must let people know that you have riches.

I live with no humans. I’m an expert of many things. I had a flashy career of sewing balloons for the Macy’s parades in Manhattan. I did it for the love of balloons. I love balloons.

I have a lot of animals. Some are helper animals. Some are companions. I also have some plants. I mention them sometimes.

I’ve only had one haircut in my entire life. It was for my hair suit. You can read about that.

I ride a rascal because I’m rotund. When I’m not on the rascal I lean against my leaning dog. I have conditions a lot. I’ve been in several comas. I have folds that need powdering to reduce the illegal odors.

I used to fight with my neighbor Doug (he made me angrier than Hitler), but I moved to San Francisco recently and have no neighbors. I bought a huge warehouse. The downstairs part is boarded up and looks like Mexico. The upstairs part is my house, all of it. I have an elevator with a sofa in it.

I have a new goal. I want to be famous. But I don’t want to use money. It’s my first worthwhile goal in 9 years.

I don’t know how I will be famous.

Olive Garden & My Leaning Dog

I wrote a letter to Olive Garden again. This time they responded in just a few days. My mouth is watering! After you read this exchange you’ll want to eat at Olive Garden.

Dear Olive Garden Italian Food Store,

My name is Otto Chogenbaakner. You might remember me from when I wrote you a letter on real paper a decade ago. I told you that I love breadsticks and mentioned my condition that produces odors that are offensive and illegal in some provinces and about Benjamin, my ficus tree. I can’t remember what happened after that because of frequent fainting and insobriety.

I LOVE breadsticks, and I love Olive Garden noodles and sauces. I have two very important questions that are actively burning in my bosom:

I still have the odor. If you remember, the odors start in my folds. My assistant Hu doesn’t speak any language as far as I can tell, but she knows exactly what to do about my folds. Every other night Hu bursts into my new flat in San Francisco, America, and begins wailing and awful haunting chattery wailing sound. She always finds me and subdues me with fast motions and strikes me mercilessly. Then she powders my folds with Gold Bond Medicated Powder. Then I nap. When I wake up she’s gone, but always she has left the devil Gordon Ramsey on my TV flat display. He is a devil this Gordon. Maybe you’ve met him?

I have a new condition that found me in Reno that requires that I have my leaning dog with me at all times. This is what I want to talk about.

If I don’t have my leaning dog to lean upon I spin around the room like one of those fire toys children throw around on July the 4th of July day in Texas. This part isn’t funny: I sound and smell like those fire blossoms when I’m not able to lean against Despertado Burro, my leaning dog. But I don’t produce flames!

Despertado Burro is the name given to him by his Mexican parents in Mexico. In Spanish, it means Stalwart Mexican Mountain Beast. You know what it means in Italian. He was purchased in Mexico and because he’s a dog he didn’t need a passport.

My first question: what day would be good for me to bring my leaning dog and his handlers in so that we might partake of your breadsticks and perfect noodles?

Despertado Burro requires vegetable matter. My assistant Hu will want to comfort the dog by sitting on his back and covering his eyes. Hu is at least 80 years old. I will lean against him. I ask that you don’t be alarmed if Hu whips stripes into his flanks – sometimes it’s the only way to distract him from his job of allowing me to lean up to his left side. Do not be alarmed if his pants fall off. That’s Hu’s job. Do not be alarmed if Hu falls asleep. Do not be alarmed if you see Hu’s designated areas. She is supernatural.

I have no idea who his handlers are, but they will catch his fecal matter and his expressions of urine. He’d like to order the Caesar salad. The handlers and my assistant Hu are to be ignored.

My second question: do your Olive Garden Italian Family Homestyle Food Establishments provide tours of the olive garden? I am not fond of olives in particular, nor of gardens, but I’m what you might call a professional Web Logger, and have an intense desire to talk about your garden on my Web Log.

I thank you. I cannot wait for the endless breadsticks and tarts. Please answer as soon as you can. I could rent out the entire restaurant!

Otto. Otto Chogenbaakner.
Profession Web Logger

Phoebe responded so quickly!

Mr. Chogenbaakner:

The Olive Garden family of restaurants, as you are certainly aware, receive countless emails and phone calls praising our dining experience. We strive to respond to each customer – surely you understand that it’s impossible to remember every letter, especially one from ten years ago.

Please allow me to answer your questions about dining at a local Olive Garden Restaurant.

We do allow trained helper dogs and some horses provided they are muzzled, and provided that you carry with you the proper training certification paperwork.

To be specific: full size horses, burros, donkeys, or mules are not allowed. Miniature horses such as a Shetland that have undergone proper work animal training are acceptable, as are dogs with the same training.

We ask that you do not feed your work animal while in the restaurant. We will not allow you to feed your dog an Olive Garden salad.

Regarding your second question – the name Olive Garden was inspired by the olive gardens of Tuscany in Italy. We even established the Olive Garden Culinary Institute of Tuscany in 1999, a cooking school teaching our team members the art of preparing authentic Italian food.

I hope I can assistance you again soon.

Phoebe Stanson
Customer Service Advocate

Naked lady and my new cast and house

I arrived in the world’s biggest city, New York last week. A lot has happened since thing.

First, I was in my electric rascal scooter at the airport when I thought I saw a sidewinder snake on the carpet. I was so scared out of my wits and looking down and didn’t see that I was about to crash into a greasy little man giving out idiotic magazines about Satan and how he’d rip you in half with beavers or whatever the words really were and about Jesus, and I cursed him.

I yelled this, so I made all the words using the biggest letters I could find: “HEY YOU FILTHY LITTLE VOLUNTEER! I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU OR YOU COULD HAVE BEEN BIT BY THAT VIPER!”. He said to me: “I’m sorry mam.” I don’t know how you spell mam, but it’s like man with an m on the end.

Then he gave me $10.00 and said “get yourself a meal”. So I had some Cinnabon.

A lot of things happened after that, but I keep those secret.

Later, I arrived at the Waldorf Estonia where what happened was so horrible that I will need to write it tomorrow. So tired lately. And I hate this business center.

Offensive Words About Cat Poo

I have a brain that’s pretty good. I won’t lie. Which is how I figured out how to speak English by eating at sit down restaurants and from nurses and from my job as a balloon maker for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. If you have ever beheld a massive flying snoopy shape then you saw the fruit of my loom.

So when my neighbor Doug says to me “your cat pood in my garden again” I tell him that the poop is his cousin. It sounds horrible but it’s factual. My cells are made of dirt, and cat poo is made of dirt and Doug and his 100 year old mother (he bathes her in the front yard) will be all dirt any moment.

This is when I lifted up my shirt and tried to show Doug and his mom the dirt in my navel, but then he slapped me in the face.

But I didn’t have time to slap him back in the face. The delivery driver arrived with three new computer keyboards for me and it was time to seal them from the elements using rubber cement. I have a body fluid control disorder. I need three keyboards and they need to be covered in rubber cement because they won’t last long if I don’t do it.

So I covered my teeth in rubber cement too to try it out. The brush felt like getting licked in the mouth by wild coyotes, which happened to me once, but I’ll tell it another time. Wild!

After it dried, I sent an email to the Elmer’s Glue Factory:

Dear Glue Chefs and Cheftesses!

My name is Otto. Otto Chogenbaakner is my first and last name. I have a few questions about the Rubber Cement product that you must squeeze out of a tube into little jars during the night shifts.

Where do you get the bristles for the exquisite brushes in the jars? Did you know that your factory workers are sneaking brushes into your jars of glue?

I was once very lost and drank a lot of really bad fluids and found myself in the desert. I walked for days without seeing any human beings. I found a pack of saltine crackers though. One night I decided to do what human beings do at night – sleep! Can you blame me? I mean really, who wouldn’t?

Well, I had a dream about goats that spoke Spanish, and they had ten foot tongues and when they spoke to me their tongues travelled across a pit filled with beetles and their tongues headed right for my throat, except my smiling teeth blocked them.

Then I woke up, and there was a pack of coyotes licking me on my teeth! Wild! I vomited a little pile of saltines right there and earned their respect until I was rescued by a throng of lesbians in a jeep who gave me a haircut and some Powerade.

Did you know that when you use Rubber Cement on your teeth that it feels exactly like coyotes waking you up from a thrilling dream?

I can picture using my imagination an entire array of trapped coyotes who have been bred to keep licking. Under their cage is a little door, and out pops a rubber cement brush. A night crew man takes the brush, brushes his teeth with it, then leans over to the coyote’s wagging tongue and lets the coyote lick his teeth. Without a doubt the crew man yells out “PASS” if they feel the same, and “REJECT” if they don’t. Do you do that?

Do you use animals to make your glue, the sticky part? Some animals have very sticky drool. Oxen.

Do you have bulk sizes I can purchase? I can afford whatever you have, and if you have enough I’ll take three pallets for a project I’m thinking about.

Can you please send me a catalog and some samples?

Otto. Otto Chogenbaakner.

Stick around!

I didn’t expect a reply so quickly, but I got one, in less than an hour! From Drew.

Dear Mr. Chogenbakner,

We’re pleased that you are so enthusiastic about Elmer’s Rubber Cement. We’re sending you a sampler package that includes our new Elmer’s Nano Glue, as well as a registration form to join our Glue Crew – we think you’ll be pleased with Elmer’s Nano Glue just as much as you will be with our innovative Elmer’s Glue Recycling Program.

Now, to answer your specific questions:

“Where do you get the bristles for the exquisite brushes in the jars? Did you know that your factory workers are sneaking brushes into your jars of glue?”

The bristles in the 4oz Elmer’s Rubber Cement Jars are made from synthetic nylon strands. We include the brush as a courtesy for our customers.

“Did you know that when you use Rubber Cement on your teeth that it feels exactly like coyotes waking you up from a thrilling dream?”

This is the first time we’ve had anyone mention that – namely because it’s probably not very healthy. While relatively safe, swallowing rubber cement could cause severe stomach upset, vomiting or diarrhea. The adhesive should also be used in a well ventilated area because of the possible hazard of inhaling the evaporative agents in the adhesive. I would strongly suggest that you don’t apply Elmer’s Rubber Cement to your teeth or any other part of your body.

“Do you use animals to make your glue, the sticky part? Some animals have very sticky drool. Oxen.”

No animals are used to make Elmer’s Rubber Cement.

“Do you have bulk sizes I can purchase? I can afford whatever you have, and if you have enough I’ll take three pallets for a project I’m thinking about.”

I’ve included in your sample pack our 2008 Industrial Adhesives Catalog – you should be able to find what you’re looking for there at any quantity. I’ve CC’d one of our corporate account sales persons who will follow up with a more specific email response to your question about bulk sales of Elmer’s Rubber Cement.

Thank you continuing to make Elmer’s Products, Inc. an iconic brand.

Drew Stephan
Consumer Relations Manager
Elmer’s Products, Inc.

Exciting! I have to reply, but right now I’m exhausted and feel sick. I ate a tiny fresh pumpkin and my head is going to explode. I also filled Doug’s trash cans with delivered meat and hair. I’ll tell that story another time.

Hot Dogs that Just Appear

This morning I found a hot dog in the toilet. A real hot dog. My guess is maybe it was a Hormel hot dog, but it’s hard to tell at 6AM. I left the hot dog there and went back to bed.

When I woke up a few minutes ago I remembered to go check the hot dog. It’s gone.

A few days ago I found a real hot dog just the same like the one I saw in the toilet this morning stuck to the spines of my cactus plant from the great state of Arizona. I took that hot dog off my cactus. Hot dogs don’t end up on cactus plants in the wild, which is why I took it down, but I don’t know if they can occur in toilets or not which is why I left it alone.

When I was a child all we used to eat were hot dogs. We called them wieners but I know wiener is sort of naughty to say in these United States of America, so I call the hot dogs. We had hot dogs for breakfast, hot dogs for lunch, and hot dogs for dinner. I had hot dogs for afternoon snack as well after my harpsichord lessons.

Now, hot dogs appear in my home, and the ones I know shouldn’t be there I feed to the cats. The ones I see and don’t know if they should appear there, I leave alone. I’ve learned now that those hot dogs that just appear go away on their own.

Donald Trump’s Hair

I learned how to leave comments on other sites now, sites like mine. I don’t know if people read them, but I feel important when I can contribute to a conversation. It makes me feel less like I’m just a guy with a lot of cats and more like someone who should be wearing a silk shirt.

A long time ago I sent an email to Donald Trump because I thought he looked like an interesting person on television. Here’s what the email message said:

Hello Donald Trump, my name is Otto and I have and important compliment to give you.First of all, you never ever say anything bad about anyone. Me too. Even though you fire people, you still say things like “That was hard” or “The was the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Was it as tough as, say, hitting your thumb with a hammer two times in a row? Or maybe as tough as accidentally ironing your hand. Irons are very hot, and they can burn. But you do always show gratitude towards people and I bet that’s why you have a television show of your very own.

One big question I have is this. Well, first I need to preface the question with some comments so you can better understand where I’m coming from. My uncle (also named Otto) had a disease once when I was just child. He had such a bad disease that no one could go and see him. He used to be really skinny, like a bean pole, or even funnier, a stick. But after he had this disease and the city officials let him come out of his house he was enormous. He must have had a food eating disease because he was so gigantic he couldn’t get out of the house even though he had been stuck in it for so long. We needed Yugel’s pair of oxen to pull the side of his cabin down so we our village could whip him with traditional reeds and fibers pulled from the lake. This was to cleanse him.

My uncle, before he got sick, had hair that looks like yours I’m sorry to say. Wonderful hair, yes, but it looked very similar to yours, like the Golden Badgers of my youth.

I suggest you talk to your physician, and if he doesn’t prescribe you with some kind of medicine that makes you not eat a lot, you should fire him. I know, funny joke.

Otto Chogenbaakner

 

I got an email message back from a lady named Charles.

Dear Mr. Chogenbakner:Thank you for your concern about Mr. Trump’s hair.

As you’re probably aware, Mr. Trump receives a significant amount of email everyday, and hires people like myself to help answer questions regarding Mr. Trump.

I assure you that Mr. Trump is in perfect physical condition and that his hair is no indicator of his health.

Again, your concern for Mr. Trump is much appreciated.

Sincerely
Charles

 

Charles can go to hell. What is the point of email if you have people answering it for you. I bet she didn’t even talk to Donald Trump at all, and that she just said “this Otto person is surely crazy” and didn’t even think my story about my Uncle was true. Poor Donald. The Donald.