"Can you make a sound to distract the nurse
Before I take a ride in the long black hearse
I don't want to die in the hospital
You gotta take me back outside"- Conor Oberst
The cold winds of death swirl around me. Every year there are more funerals, more health scares, more accidents. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being sorry for your loss. I'm sick of funeral homes. I feel that sickness. They're all so pristine and try to be so cozy for us, to make us forget that the corpse of someone we cared about is at the other end of the room. Maybe a nice peppermint hard candy will get the foul taste of mourning out of my mouth. And, sometimes, they have coupons laid out. They want your "future business" and will give you a discounted rate for being a loyal customer. If that's the way they want it, then fine...but I don't want anyone giving me the "caring for the deceased is a noble profession" bullshit or telling me what they do has anything to do with religious faith. They would just as soon throw your body in the river, if there was any money in it.
My uncle has been sick and I'm being told that he's probably gonna die within the coming year. It starts all over again; another person in and out of the hospital, another last Christmas with a loved one. My mom is a wreck. I never know what to do with this shit. I can't talk to people who are sad. Explaining any sadness you may have to a person losing someone they were actually really close to just seems kind of petty and thoughtless to me. Empathy doesn't make them feel any better.
The only person who's death I am equipped to deal with is me. And, these things make me think about it a lot. My dad was telling me what happens a lot of the time is that the doctor will give a person medication to numb the pain and they will fall asleep and just pass quietly. I'm not like most people. Anyone who's ever known me or read what I write probably knows that. I have a fear of dying in my sleep. It's one of the things I really don't like thinking about. I want to die with my boots on. Technically, I don't have boots. I guess I'll go buy some boots, wear them, and then die with them on. I don't understand the mentality of what seems the majority of people who say they want to die in their sleep. That's what you want? Cause I'm not too sure there's anything after this life and I don't accept not wanting to know it's over. That's sad. I want to live it. I want to be aware, to have final thoughts, one last monologue, an epitaph for my own existence....even if it's only to myself. I want all my favorite memories to pass before me and be able to have a realization that it was all worth getting hit by a bus, in the end. Sleep doesn't cut it. Sleeping isn't living and it's no way to die. It's the easy way out, for theological whackjobs and the philosophically bankrupt.
Being shot in the stomach and dying slowly on the pavement is the way for me. It's a poetically apt end. Your life is literally running out, right into the streets. And, I could give a big, hollywood western style speech to those around me, gasping, holding on for dear life, asking them to tell someone I love them and so on. That's beautiful to me. That's why I'm becoming progressively gangster and will soon be getting into the crack game. I figure, in these tough economic times, the best investments are glocks and rocks.
But, anyway, I guess that's just the way it is. You think about your own death but it's the other people leaving that fucks you up. Losing someone....even if they don't die actually....a falling out with a good friend, a breakup, meeting someone amazing and then never seeing them again....these things are probably worse. You have to live that death, monotonously, over and over, side by side with all the other deaths that loiter in your thoughts. I miss people who live down the street. I miss people that I still talk to. It seems a lot more pleasant to sleep through life, rather than dying. But sleeping is for suckers either way.
You're gonna have to let it all go someday anyway, it could be any day, and beautiful pieces of your world are breaking off all the time, so why would you ever want to sleep? Why would you want any moment at all, let alone the last, to go to waste? Thinking that way, you're missing things before you even miss them. What you're really missing is the point.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
2 Stroke Penalty
I've been thinking about this Tiger Woods situation. I never figured I'd see his life in the public eye like this. But really, I've never thought about Tiger Woods, for any reason. So, I'd say that's a sufficient explanation. Looking at his background and the mentality I presume he has about himself, it's not really surprising to me that he cheated on his wife now. But I don't see that as the story. Men cheat all the time. The angle I'm looking at is what exactly the motives are of these women who sleep with famous married men. I find that very interesting and troubling.
I know you're saying "Hey, why are you singling out the girls, you chauvinistic ne'er do well!?". Well, person that can't let me get into making a point, when's the last time you heard of some random schmuck off the street sneaking around having hot, drugged up sex with Halle Berry? You can say celebrity women just don't cheat as much and that could be very true. However, with the knowledge I have of the male brain, I'd say it could be happening everyday. If Halle Berry had an affair with a guy, he'd just be happy to be having an affair with Halle Berry. Telling people would be stupid. It could fuck up your having sex with Halle Berry plans. I wouldn't tell anyone, personally. ("Anthony, why would Halle Berry have an affair with you?". That's a question I get a lot, in my everyday life. I don't know. But Tiger was married to a Swedish supermodel and cheated with some weird looking bitch who was on the show Tool Academy, so there's some kind of precedent here, I think.) The most a guy would use the situation for is to be able to hold it over his best friends' heads forever. That's accomplishment, to a dude. Your friend gets on your case about something like "Man, you totally pussied out last night" and you're like "Yeah, maybe, but I also remember that time I pussied out Halle Berry." That doesn't even really make any sense, it's a real grammatically abstract thing to say, but he'll understand....and he'll be pissed....cause you just won. Having trump cards to play is important to guys. We enjoy the little things.
These women seem to be up to something more sinister. It's like they hope he gets caught. They want the recognition of it, from people they don't know. They want to be a ho celebrity. Tiger admits he's had transgressions and, all of a sudden, like 3 girls come out like "Hey, I had sex with him. Look over here. I'd love to damage his reputation, for some tv exposure.". From my estimation, all these girls look like the kind of girls who growing up they were told they were princesses and they were special but now they're 26 and don't fit the bill. They haven't done anything, have no skills, people don't take them seriously cause they have this fucked up perception of themselves, so....they go out and do something to get some acknowledgement. They figure "Tiger Woods could treat me like a princess.". But then Tiger Woods treats her like a prostitute, like the pimp he is(Tiger Woods is an immaculate pimp name if I've ever heard one), and then she decides to use him to make herself famous so she can make a bunch of money and finally get her jewel encrusted tiara. (By the way, I didn't even think this theory through beforehand at all but it's making so much sense to me right now.)
What I'm saying is that it's really bad parenting. It's bad parenting on both ends. I'm not letting Tiger off the hook either. We caught him by the toe and we're not gonna let him go. He cheated a bunch of times and that's douchey, any way you slice it. But growing up, he probably did nothing but golf, he was pushed in that direction, and he never learned how to be a human being....just a golfing machine. If people took the job of parenting more seriously and taught their children to have good, personal beliefs and the ability to respect themselves and others, there would be less of this. Don't fill your daughter's head with thoughts of being a princess either...unless she is, of course....real princesses usually turn out to be pretty nice people actually. So, teach your children to be good. If you don't have children but you know someone with children, teach their children. If you don't know anyone with children, steal one from someone who looks like a fuckhead. We don't want them growing up and filling a poor Swedish supermodel with sadness.
P.S. Another lesson I find in this story is that arrogance never pays. This motherfucker leaves a message on a girl's phone like "Hey, this is Tiger. My wife is suspicious. Take your name off your voicemail.". No, cause that could never come back to haunt you. It was probably one of the million other guys named after a jungle cat. You should've left your address and social security number too. Fucking asshole.
I know you're saying "Hey, why are you singling out the girls, you chauvinistic ne'er do well!?". Well, person that can't let me get into making a point, when's the last time you heard of some random schmuck off the street sneaking around having hot, drugged up sex with Halle Berry? You can say celebrity women just don't cheat as much and that could be very true. However, with the knowledge I have of the male brain, I'd say it could be happening everyday. If Halle Berry had an affair with a guy, he'd just be happy to be having an affair with Halle Berry. Telling people would be stupid. It could fuck up your having sex with Halle Berry plans. I wouldn't tell anyone, personally. ("Anthony, why would Halle Berry have an affair with you?". That's a question I get a lot, in my everyday life. I don't know. But Tiger was married to a Swedish supermodel and cheated with some weird looking bitch who was on the show Tool Academy, so there's some kind of precedent here, I think.) The most a guy would use the situation for is to be able to hold it over his best friends' heads forever. That's accomplishment, to a dude. Your friend gets on your case about something like "Man, you totally pussied out last night" and you're like "Yeah, maybe, but I also remember that time I pussied out Halle Berry." That doesn't even really make any sense, it's a real grammatically abstract thing to say, but he'll understand....and he'll be pissed....cause you just won. Having trump cards to play is important to guys. We enjoy the little things.
These women seem to be up to something more sinister. It's like they hope he gets caught. They want the recognition of it, from people they don't know. They want to be a ho celebrity. Tiger admits he's had transgressions and, all of a sudden, like 3 girls come out like "Hey, I had sex with him. Look over here. I'd love to damage his reputation, for some tv exposure.". From my estimation, all these girls look like the kind of girls who growing up they were told they were princesses and they were special but now they're 26 and don't fit the bill. They haven't done anything, have no skills, people don't take them seriously cause they have this fucked up perception of themselves, so....they go out and do something to get some acknowledgement. They figure "Tiger Woods could treat me like a princess.". But then Tiger Woods treats her like a prostitute, like the pimp he is(Tiger Woods is an immaculate pimp name if I've ever heard one), and then she decides to use him to make herself famous so she can make a bunch of money and finally get her jewel encrusted tiara. (By the way, I didn't even think this theory through beforehand at all but it's making so much sense to me right now.)
What I'm saying is that it's really bad parenting. It's bad parenting on both ends. I'm not letting Tiger off the hook either. We caught him by the toe and we're not gonna let him go. He cheated a bunch of times and that's douchey, any way you slice it. But growing up, he probably did nothing but golf, he was pushed in that direction, and he never learned how to be a human being....just a golfing machine. If people took the job of parenting more seriously and taught their children to have good, personal beliefs and the ability to respect themselves and others, there would be less of this. Don't fill your daughter's head with thoughts of being a princess either...unless she is, of course....real princesses usually turn out to be pretty nice people actually. So, teach your children to be good. If you don't have children but you know someone with children, teach their children. If you don't know anyone with children, steal one from someone who looks like a fuckhead. We don't want them growing up and filling a poor Swedish supermodel with sadness.
P.S. Another lesson I find in this story is that arrogance never pays. This motherfucker leaves a message on a girl's phone like "Hey, this is Tiger. My wife is suspicious. Take your name off your voicemail.". No, cause that could never come back to haunt you. It was probably one of the million other guys named after a jungle cat. You should've left your address and social security number too. Fucking asshole.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Drinking It All In
I hate nicknames. I've always hated them. I like calling things what they are. I think there's a certain respect associated with calling you Joe, Megan, Alex Mack, Mr. T., whatever your name may be. Nicknames, in my estimation, are given either to those you love or those you love to mock the existance of. People who are incredibly average don't usually have nicknames. Sure, their friends might call them by their last name or an abbreviated version of their name...or maybe even a play on words, with their name...something like "Nate Dogg" or "A-Dogg" or "Ker-Bear" or other animal related handles...but nothing spectacular. I don't like that either. That actually goes against everything I stand for. If someone is nice and they introduce themselves with their last name, I'll oblige them. That's their choice. But I don't like it. Anytime I call someone by any kind of nickname, it's laced with irony....cause I'm just postmodern like that...and I don't like people telling me what to do.
A working environment is a hotbed for nicknaming. You can go from Dan to "Buttfuck Princess" within days, depending on who you're around. I worked with a "Porkchop", a guy named "Muscles" cause he would get mad, flex, and walk out, on a regular basis....I, myself, actually unceremoniously christened a kid "Tower of Power" cause two different girls tried having sex with him and he couldn't get an erection. It was too great a thought for even me to pass up. This kid Mike was the king of nicknames though. Everyone made fun of him so often he must have 17 nicknames. I can't even remember most of them. "Final Fantasy" and "Poopdick" come to mind. I once said to him that his mother was a blowup doll and his father was a frankenstein, but that's not necessarily a nickname....more of a statement of fact.
I got that job cause a good friend of mine, at the time, worked there. So, the one day I was working, washing dishes, and then it happened. I was taking my good old time with it and my friend called me "Slow Juice". Now, it's almost 6 years later and I'm still not even really sure what that means....but it stuck. Partially, cause it flows off the tongue pretty easily but, mostly, cause a loudmouthed egomaniac who was there wouldn't ever let it go. So, I had to live with it. I did something unexpected though, which was I got really great at everything, faster than everyone else, and it was decided to drop the "slow". I had, in a way, conquered my pathetic, mocking nickname.
Time went on, I eventually quit, but here's the problem: I still know some people from that time that call me "Juice". And, sure, I long ago came up with O.J. Simpson related jokes for it and it's a lot of fun but when I meet their friends, they'll invariably refer to me by that ridiculous name. Now, personally, for instance, if I'm being introduced to a cute girl I don't really want their first impression of me to be "the guy named after a fruit's nectar". I would rather get dysentery or maybe put my dick in a toaster, honestly. So, then I have to work up to that level of humanity where I can be called Anthony or Tony. It's doing nothing but causing me grief.
I understand where it's coming from though. People want to connect with other people, they enjoy humor and acknowledgement, and those are the feelings it's rooted in. So, even though I don't want to call you "Tornado", or "Big Daddy", or "Skunk Pussy", I accept it. It might improve another guy's shitty day. Sometimes, you dislike something but it makes other people happy and you let it go. You have to pick your battles.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is legalize weed, prostitution, and gay marriage.
A working environment is a hotbed for nicknaming. You can go from Dan to "Buttfuck Princess" within days, depending on who you're around. I worked with a "Porkchop", a guy named "Muscles" cause he would get mad, flex, and walk out, on a regular basis....I, myself, actually unceremoniously christened a kid "Tower of Power" cause two different girls tried having sex with him and he couldn't get an erection. It was too great a thought for even me to pass up. This kid Mike was the king of nicknames though. Everyone made fun of him so often he must have 17 nicknames. I can't even remember most of them. "Final Fantasy" and "Poopdick" come to mind. I once said to him that his mother was a blowup doll and his father was a frankenstein, but that's not necessarily a nickname....more of a statement of fact.
I got that job cause a good friend of mine, at the time, worked there. So, the one day I was working, washing dishes, and then it happened. I was taking my good old time with it and my friend called me "Slow Juice". Now, it's almost 6 years later and I'm still not even really sure what that means....but it stuck. Partially, cause it flows off the tongue pretty easily but, mostly, cause a loudmouthed egomaniac who was there wouldn't ever let it go. So, I had to live with it. I did something unexpected though, which was I got really great at everything, faster than everyone else, and it was decided to drop the "slow". I had, in a way, conquered my pathetic, mocking nickname.
Time went on, I eventually quit, but here's the problem: I still know some people from that time that call me "Juice". And, sure, I long ago came up with O.J. Simpson related jokes for it and it's a lot of fun but when I meet their friends, they'll invariably refer to me by that ridiculous name. Now, personally, for instance, if I'm being introduced to a cute girl I don't really want their first impression of me to be "the guy named after a fruit's nectar". I would rather get dysentery or maybe put my dick in a toaster, honestly. So, then I have to work up to that level of humanity where I can be called Anthony or Tony. It's doing nothing but causing me grief.
I understand where it's coming from though. People want to connect with other people, they enjoy humor and acknowledgement, and those are the feelings it's rooted in. So, even though I don't want to call you "Tornado", or "Big Daddy", or "Skunk Pussy", I accept it. It might improve another guy's shitty day. Sometimes, you dislike something but it makes other people happy and you let it go. You have to pick your battles.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is legalize weed, prostitution, and gay marriage.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
It Is What It Is, Baby
I feel like I need to warn you of something. My friendship is not unconditional. There is one big rule. If you want to continue being my friend, don't have a baby. That's not a part of the plan, ok? I'm not trying to go hang out some place where there's a baby; they cry, they do disgusting things, they interrupt our conversation, their asses challenge your senses to fights, they're fucking assholes. "Oh, he doesn't know any better", I hear you saying, in the future. Well, who cares? What he feels about what he's doing is irrelevant. He's just a stupid baby. That's why I blame you, for bringing him home. I believe they call that irreconcilable differences. You don't mind being annoyed constantly and I am against it. It's ok. We can agree to disagree...but don't expect me to be coming over for stew anytime soon.
We can hang out again, at some point. I'll say once the kid is like 14 years old. So, you'll get some time to think about what you've done and realize I was right. If you have any more kids, in the meantime, that could complicate things. You might never see me, for the rest of your life. I'm just saying, keep me in mind when you're getting down.
Another problem with having babies is inevitably you become the asshole. The kids start off as the assholes but, at some point, you become the mom or dad that embarrasses and annoys your child so much they entertain thoughts about what a bottle of sleeping pills tastes like. And, watching that, as an outsider, is as difficult as dealing with a baby. Seeing someone who was your friend think they're being cool and making a jackass out of themselves in front of children....it's just heartbreaking. Go ahead, say "That won't be me. Me and my kids will be pals". You're halfway to disaster, friend. The only way to be pals with your kids is to smoke weed with them. And then, they'll just turn out to be mentally defective deadbeats.
So, in conclusion, having a baby not only ruins your life and our friendship but, more than likely, it will ruin the baby's life before it's ever born. I mean...we're friends....do you think someone who's friends with me would be a fit parent? It's laughable really. Just smarten up and leave those eggs unfertilized. I will throw you an enjoyment of living shower.
We can hang out again, at some point. I'll say once the kid is like 14 years old. So, you'll get some time to think about what you've done and realize I was right. If you have any more kids, in the meantime, that could complicate things. You might never see me, for the rest of your life. I'm just saying, keep me in mind when you're getting down.
Another problem with having babies is inevitably you become the asshole. The kids start off as the assholes but, at some point, you become the mom or dad that embarrasses and annoys your child so much they entertain thoughts about what a bottle of sleeping pills tastes like. And, watching that, as an outsider, is as difficult as dealing with a baby. Seeing someone who was your friend think they're being cool and making a jackass out of themselves in front of children....it's just heartbreaking. Go ahead, say "That won't be me. Me and my kids will be pals". You're halfway to disaster, friend. The only way to be pals with your kids is to smoke weed with them. And then, they'll just turn out to be mentally defective deadbeats.
So, in conclusion, having a baby not only ruins your life and our friendship but, more than likely, it will ruin the baby's life before it's ever born. I mean...we're friends....do you think someone who's friends with me would be a fit parent? It's laughable really. Just smarten up and leave those eggs unfertilized. I will throw you an enjoyment of living shower.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I Can't Believe Those Boobs
Ok, there was this big ordeal I was reading about a couple days ago involving Meghan McCain, hot daughter of Arizona's senator/oldest living man, John McCain. She took a picture of herself reading a book, in a tanktop, and posted it on Twitter. The fact that she has quite large breasts lead to the fact that you noticed them. Now, apparently, this outraged people? I've seen breasts in tanktops many times, in my life, and I have never once been outraged. I assure you. If you are, then I think you have deep rooted problems with rage, in general. Maybe a nun hit you with a book or maybe your mom's breasts liked to drink whiskey and knock you around. I don't know. But I'm getting away from the point. I was actually outraged, myself, at one part of this story. She actually apologized. I assume some man in a suit came to her that night and told her if she loved her dog, she needs to say she's sorry or something shady like that. He probably ended the conversation with "Oh, hey, by the way....nice breasts.". But the idea that this is something someone needed to apologize for is astonishing to me. I don't agree with it. If I become famous, I will not apologize for any dumb shit. I'll tell the public I'm sorry they're assholes, if anything, if something like this pops up.
But seriously, I have decided to compile a list of things that I actually would apologize for and genuinely be sorry about, should I become famous. And, here it is:
1. Accidentally shooting people
2. If I somehow ruin a hockey game
3. Tripping and dropping a brick on your baby
4. Being in a movie that really sucks
5. Getting wasted and freeing dangerous animals from the zoo
6. Starting a hotel fire
7. Driving a car into a mall and running over a teenage girl's shopping bags
8. Having sex with Amy Winehouse in public (setting a bad example)
9. Taking my pants off on Nickelodeon
10. Burning you with coffee
11. Melting America's candy supply with a series of bad decisions, involving a laser
12. The Jay Leno Show(Not really my place, but someone has to)
13. Referring to something as "Phat"
14. Dating Jennifer Aniston, just because it was my turn
15. Letting my wife name my child after a fruit, vegetable, or motor vehicle
16. Failing to enjoy lovely breasts in a tanktop
I was gonna say something about interrupting Taylor Swift....but no.....you don't do that. You love Taylor Swift and make Taylor Swift feel good and never hurt her.
But seriously, I have decided to compile a list of things that I actually would apologize for and genuinely be sorry about, should I become famous. And, here it is:
1. Accidentally shooting people
2. If I somehow ruin a hockey game
3. Tripping and dropping a brick on your baby
4. Being in a movie that really sucks
5. Getting wasted and freeing dangerous animals from the zoo
6. Starting a hotel fire
7. Driving a car into a mall and running over a teenage girl's shopping bags
8. Having sex with Amy Winehouse in public (setting a bad example)
9. Taking my pants off on Nickelodeon
10. Burning you with coffee
11. Melting America's candy supply with a series of bad decisions, involving a laser
12. The Jay Leno Show(Not really my place, but someone has to)
13. Referring to something as "Phat"
14. Dating Jennifer Aniston, just because it was my turn
15. Letting my wife name my child after a fruit, vegetable, or motor vehicle
16. Failing to enjoy lovely breasts in a tanktop
I was gonna say something about interrupting Taylor Swift....but no.....you don't do that. You love Taylor Swift and make Taylor Swift feel good and never hurt her.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Flat Out Films
There are a lot of movies in the world. So, I'm gonna watch them and recap them quickly so you don't have to. No thanks necessary. Here's my take on a Bruce Lee classic:
Fist Of Fury
There are a bunch of racist japs who think they're better than all the chinks and they kill this one chink but then this other one doesn't like their dumb jap faces so he tells them their business, with his fist.....in a furious way. Then, he's arrested and killed. The end.
Fist Of Fury
There are a bunch of racist japs who think they're better than all the chinks and they kill this one chink but then this other one doesn't like their dumb jap faces so he tells them their business, with his fist.....in a furious way. Then, he's arrested and killed. The end.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Bible: Revised
Recently, it's been discovered that when all those folks got together to write The Bible they had gotten blasted on Miller High Life and Jonah may have brought a fair amount of ecstasy and possibly some mescaline. So, in an attempt to enlighten people with the truth, I will be rewriting the stories as they happened, before those party animals had their say. Some stories weren't actual events at all but metaphors for inside jokes or gossip they had heard. For instance, Moses "talking to a burning bush" meant that he got syphilis, from a cheap hooker. In a state of delirium, he thought he was talking to God. But the first thing I am going to tackle is the story of Noah and the flood.
First of all, Noah himself told this story and he was a known exaggerator. He was also a sailing enthusiast and a narcissist and wanted everyone to know he made the best boats, which was a lie....he really wasn't that good. What it was, actually...there was this girl...her name was Candy and Noah was trying to show off, he wanted to impress her. He had gotten tired of his wife and Candy caught his eye. She was the daughter of a herdsman, with a wild streak. One summer break, she went to Cancun and got a dragon tattoo on the side of her ribcage.
Anyway, what really happened was it only rained for like 4 days. There was a flood but hardly anyone died. Maybe like 3 people. The only confirmed death was a guy named Vladimir Jackson. (Consequently, the town created the drink The Black Russian, in his honor.) But Noah built a pontoon boat and got his family on it. While they were getting ready two dogs jumped on board. That's where the animal thing, came into play. They were big ass dogs but I don't know how anyone could've believed there were any buffalo on there. That was all a bunch of bullshit. Do you know how many kinds of animals there are? And, where was he gonna get an alligator, in the middle east, let alone two? And, why would an alligator even need to get on a boat? And, there was no rainbow over a mountain or anything either. The writers added that later to go with the whole God theme of the book. So, anyway, Noah, his family, and two stray dogs sailed around for a few days, grilling burgers and drinking and he made up some other stuff to try and cheat on his wife. He was unsuccessful(Candy had jungle fever) but people seemed to like the story.
Oh, and another thing, they said Noah was like 600 years old. I don't know what they were on then. That's just ridiculous, right? He was 52.
Thanks for reading. Join me next time, when I: Debunk the story of Adam and Eve, explain just how hot Mary Magdalene was, and anger christians to a point where they might spontaneously combust.
First of all, Noah himself told this story and he was a known exaggerator. He was also a sailing enthusiast and a narcissist and wanted everyone to know he made the best boats, which was a lie....he really wasn't that good. What it was, actually...there was this girl...her name was Candy and Noah was trying to show off, he wanted to impress her. He had gotten tired of his wife and Candy caught his eye. She was the daughter of a herdsman, with a wild streak. One summer break, she went to Cancun and got a dragon tattoo on the side of her ribcage.
Anyway, what really happened was it only rained for like 4 days. There was a flood but hardly anyone died. Maybe like 3 people. The only confirmed death was a guy named Vladimir Jackson. (Consequently, the town created the drink The Black Russian, in his honor.) But Noah built a pontoon boat and got his family on it. While they were getting ready two dogs jumped on board. That's where the animal thing, came into play. They were big ass dogs but I don't know how anyone could've believed there were any buffalo on there. That was all a bunch of bullshit. Do you know how many kinds of animals there are? And, where was he gonna get an alligator, in the middle east, let alone two? And, why would an alligator even need to get on a boat? And, there was no rainbow over a mountain or anything either. The writers added that later to go with the whole God theme of the book. So, anyway, Noah, his family, and two stray dogs sailed around for a few days, grilling burgers and drinking and he made up some other stuff to try and cheat on his wife. He was unsuccessful(Candy had jungle fever) but people seemed to like the story.
Oh, and another thing, they said Noah was like 600 years old. I don't know what they were on then. That's just ridiculous, right? He was 52.
Thanks for reading. Join me next time, when I: Debunk the story of Adam and Eve, explain just how hot Mary Magdalene was, and anger christians to a point where they might spontaneously combust.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Metaphor In Progress
Masturbation is really sad and depressing. It's kind of like if you were wandering through the desert, dying, and you suddenly see a giant, beautiful hotel and you start running towards it. Then, you're in front of it and you can't even contain yourself, you're so happy. But, when you walk through the door, you realize it's a sticky, hooker motel, the air conditioning is broken, and all the employees and the phone are dead. Then, you're like "What was I thinking coming to the desert, in the first place? It was a terrible idea.". It's kind of like that. Maybe.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Always The Rains Subside/A Brighter Day Is Near
It was inevitable. As much as I thought positively and said I wouldn't have to go to jury duty, I was always gonna end up there; I was always gonna end up sitting in a room, clawing my face off, in boredom. Luckily, my face is still attached....and here is the story of how:
I woke up at 5:30, in the morning. This, mind you, is the time I usually go to sleep. So, me and justice were already starting off on the wrong foot. I prepared myself for the day the right way: I ate frosted flakes and a slice of pizza. It was explained to me that there would probably be traffic and I'd have to get through security, so I left real early. Let me say, that 3 minutes or so of traffic really killed me. I end up at this god forsaken courthouse an hour early. There wasn't a single soul at the entrance. Thus, security consisted of me walking right through a metal detector. I thought "Wow, this is really going super great. I'm so early for this thing I hate. All the others are probably so jealous, in this fictional depiction of them and how they feel I'm creating." I just found a chair, in the lobby, and chilled for half an hour.
After I was done texting half the people I know, about my misery, I headed upstairs to room 318. Room 318 is pretty ominous. It almost sounds like a bad horror movie. And, when you're walking to it, it's quite distinctive...in that all the other doors look nice and room 318's door looks like it's where you would enter to check the pipes. The first area inside I believe would've been described as a sardine can. I found some of my fellow, salty, fishy, potential juror friends there. There was a leather couch...but no one was sitting on it. I found that peculiar. I guess those are the kind of people that get picked for a jury; people who would sit on a plastic chair, instead of a leather couch. Also, people who bring things to read read the worst stuff. I forgot to bring a book, so I was just sitting there and would continue to for longer than I'd like to talk about. However, I was entertained by looking at the hottest girl in the history of jury duty. Things were looking up, when I saw her. Well, not my eyes really...but other things. I enjoyed watching this slacker try to chat her up and it going nowhere. Poor Kara Something Or Other. As I'm writing this, she's probably still at jury duty.
Anyway, we all got moved into the actual jury room. It was kind of big and filled with light but it still somehow had a claustrophobic feel about it. I sat behind said slacker and Kara. By the way, she smelled just incredible. I don't mean to harp on the hot girl but it really stuck out to me how amazing she smelled. She was like a field of fruit trees and wildflowers. There really was an interesting cross section of people there, at any rate. One kid wore shorts, despite the repeated reminders through every step of the process that you couldn't wear shorts. So, the idiot population was well represented. If you wear shorts and a backpack to court, you should really just go to jail, no matter the situation. After a while, there was a murderer there too. Oops, I mean...a guy that's innocent until proven guilty, looked perfectly nice, and didn't shoot anyone, to the best of my knowledge.
A woman came in the room, after a brief period. Then, a judge, who basically reiterated the same stuff the woman said. Then, we got to fill out a questionnaire about our experiences and feelings on certain things. It combined all the tediousness of paperwork with all the excitement of talking to a pencil sharpener. At the bottom, you had to give your signature and swear it was all true and it said they could prosecute you for false answers. I thought that was strange since most of the questions were about my thoughts. Apparently, Minority Report is coming true. I hope I can get one of those cool, bald girls that see the future.
The lawyers for that first homocide trial came up and they were selecting 35 names, at random, to pick the jury from. There was a close call cause another guy named Anthony was there and I had a slight heart attack when they said his name. But I made it through. All of us unwanted folks, went over to the lounge. I sat there for an hour and a half; I ate a snickers bar cause I thought I would be there a while and that's what I heard snickers are for(verdict: I'm not sure snickers are actually for anything); I read an article about Sarah Palin and thought about how dumb her kids' names are; I listened to an old woman talking to another old woman about being on a boat and how her daughter performs dances with a poodle. I really really wish I could remember the website she said that had videos of that. Like I really really wish. Real hard. And I wish that that took place on a boat.
After that hour and a half, it seemed like time for lunch. The lady in charge said all the people who's names were called could go to lunch and everyone else needed to stay. We were hungry and upset. But when we sat down, she told us that the rest of the cases were cancelled and we could go home. A couple of people literally yelled out in excitement. I couldn't believe it. I was spared. I donated my 9 dollar salary to some sick kids or poor kids or something and was on my way, the undisputed champion of court.
In the morning, when I was walking into the courthouse, it was gloomy and storming and when I left, the sun was shining and a comfortable breeze was flowing through the city. Forget all the other junk I just wrote. I think THAT pretty much sums up my day.
I woke up at 5:30, in the morning. This, mind you, is the time I usually go to sleep. So, me and justice were already starting off on the wrong foot. I prepared myself for the day the right way: I ate frosted flakes and a slice of pizza. It was explained to me that there would probably be traffic and I'd have to get through security, so I left real early. Let me say, that 3 minutes or so of traffic really killed me. I end up at this god forsaken courthouse an hour early. There wasn't a single soul at the entrance. Thus, security consisted of me walking right through a metal detector. I thought "Wow, this is really going super great. I'm so early for this thing I hate. All the others are probably so jealous, in this fictional depiction of them and how they feel I'm creating." I just found a chair, in the lobby, and chilled for half an hour.
After I was done texting half the people I know, about my misery, I headed upstairs to room 318. Room 318 is pretty ominous. It almost sounds like a bad horror movie. And, when you're walking to it, it's quite distinctive...in that all the other doors look nice and room 318's door looks like it's where you would enter to check the pipes. The first area inside I believe would've been described as a sardine can. I found some of my fellow, salty, fishy, potential juror friends there. There was a leather couch...but no one was sitting on it. I found that peculiar. I guess those are the kind of people that get picked for a jury; people who would sit on a plastic chair, instead of a leather couch. Also, people who bring things to read read the worst stuff. I forgot to bring a book, so I was just sitting there and would continue to for longer than I'd like to talk about. However, I was entertained by looking at the hottest girl in the history of jury duty. Things were looking up, when I saw her. Well, not my eyes really...but other things. I enjoyed watching this slacker try to chat her up and it going nowhere. Poor Kara Something Or Other. As I'm writing this, she's probably still at jury duty.
Anyway, we all got moved into the actual jury room. It was kind of big and filled with light but it still somehow had a claustrophobic feel about it. I sat behind said slacker and Kara. By the way, she smelled just incredible. I don't mean to harp on the hot girl but it really stuck out to me how amazing she smelled. She was like a field of fruit trees and wildflowers. There really was an interesting cross section of people there, at any rate. One kid wore shorts, despite the repeated reminders through every step of the process that you couldn't wear shorts. So, the idiot population was well represented. If you wear shorts and a backpack to court, you should really just go to jail, no matter the situation. After a while, there was a murderer there too. Oops, I mean...a guy that's innocent until proven guilty, looked perfectly nice, and didn't shoot anyone, to the best of my knowledge.
A woman came in the room, after a brief period. Then, a judge, who basically reiterated the same stuff the woman said. Then, we got to fill out a questionnaire about our experiences and feelings on certain things. It combined all the tediousness of paperwork with all the excitement of talking to a pencil sharpener. At the bottom, you had to give your signature and swear it was all true and it said they could prosecute you for false answers. I thought that was strange since most of the questions were about my thoughts. Apparently, Minority Report is coming true. I hope I can get one of those cool, bald girls that see the future.
The lawyers for that first homocide trial came up and they were selecting 35 names, at random, to pick the jury from. There was a close call cause another guy named Anthony was there and I had a slight heart attack when they said his name. But I made it through. All of us unwanted folks, went over to the lounge. I sat there for an hour and a half; I ate a snickers bar cause I thought I would be there a while and that's what I heard snickers are for(verdict: I'm not sure snickers are actually for anything); I read an article about Sarah Palin and thought about how dumb her kids' names are; I listened to an old woman talking to another old woman about being on a boat and how her daughter performs dances with a poodle. I really really wish I could remember the website she said that had videos of that. Like I really really wish. Real hard. And I wish that that took place on a boat.
After that hour and a half, it seemed like time for lunch. The lady in charge said all the people who's names were called could go to lunch and everyone else needed to stay. We were hungry and upset. But when we sat down, she told us that the rest of the cases were cancelled and we could go home. A couple of people literally yelled out in excitement. I couldn't believe it. I was spared. I donated my 9 dollar salary to some sick kids or poor kids or something and was on my way, the undisputed champion of court.
In the morning, when I was walking into the courthouse, it was gloomy and storming and when I left, the sun was shining and a comfortable breeze was flowing through the city. Forget all the other junk I just wrote. I think THAT pretty much sums up my day.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Life Goes On....Sometimes
I don't do drugs. However, I've known and hung out with a lot of people who have and do. Sometimes, I talk about this, to other people. It's like some kind of new new journalism, where the characters and situations aren't interesting and no one learns anything about themselves or anything else. My life is basically like taking notes on The Real World Cancun. Side Story: The other night, I turned on the tv and a guy on Real World Cancun was giving a girl advice about what kind of guy to date. He went on to say that him and his friend basically go out to clubs with their dicks out and they have to beat off the women. The truth probably is they have to beat off each other and if you are ever in a position where such a person is giving you advice, my advice is that you jump off an overpass. Anyhoo, I was thinking my life is pretty boring and I was thinking about how Billy Mays did cocaine. Can you imagine being at a party and Billy Mays shows up with an 8-ball? Next day, you get to call everyone you know and say "Guess what happened last night?" and then, they guess....but, you know what? They're wrong. Cause you did coke with Billy Fucking Mays. Best story ever. So, you know, if Billy Mays can snort drugs and be the most successful pitchman in history....why not me? Why does my life need to suck? Maybe I'll start small...have a wine cooler....find an old case of Zima. Then, I'll get trashed on rum and girls who feel bad about themselves will sleep with me, in their cars, cause I fronted them some weed. It all works in phases and stages. And, it all ends with me being on tv. I could be a pitchman but I'd rather not. I'd like to be on something like Gossip Girl. I wouldn't have to be any good, people would know who I am, and I could be that Billy Mays story for some teenage extras. The awesome circle of life continues. I finally realized what Elton John was singing about, in that lion movie. He was a huge cokehead. It's all so obvious now. So, tomorrow, I'm looking for an apartment with a "drug den" feel and nice wooden floors and someone with a cat tranquilizer connection. After that, you write the book. It's gonna be a good one.
Honestly, none of that is gonna happen...except maybe the Gossip Girl part. I'm just looking for answers and typing out loud. You only get so much time. Maybe I should think of more things the way I think about doing coke with Billy Mays and existence would be more enjoyable...or not. But if I keep waking up, I need to fill all this time with something and it damn sure shouldn't be thinking of witty things to say on Twitter. It could have to do with playing Scrabble on Facebook but it's definitely not Twitter. So, I raise my glass of milk and say "Here's to waking up. It's the best thing a guy can ever do.".
Honestly, none of that is gonna happen...except maybe the Gossip Girl part. I'm just looking for answers and typing out loud. You only get so much time. Maybe I should think of more things the way I think about doing coke with Billy Mays and existence would be more enjoyable...or not. But if I keep waking up, I need to fill all this time with something and it damn sure shouldn't be thinking of witty things to say on Twitter. It could have to do with playing Scrabble on Facebook but it's definitely not Twitter. So, I raise my glass of milk and say "Here's to waking up. It's the best thing a guy can ever do.".
Monday, July 13, 2009
My Strawberry Lemonade Girl
Today, I had a waitress that said one of the strangest things a waitress has ever said to me. When we were done, she said "Come back and visit.". Who says that? That's like something your distant relative says after you meet them for the first time. I don't think me and Christy were related due to such factors as I liked her and she wasn't a jagoff. Like...did she mean that though? Does she actually want us to come back and visit? Cause she was super cute and I'm up for it. I'd visit her all day. But when she said that, I just started laughing....cause I thought "What if I did? What if I just came back to "visit"?". You know, "Hey, is Christy here. I was in the neighborhood and just thought I'd come by to visit, maybe talk about the baseball game. I brought some fruit salad, if you guys want any fruit salad." What a weird situation. Maybe my mind takes things in ways they weren't intended but it was just strange and then Pete gave her a 20 dollar tip. So, I guess the moral of the story is maybe you should be a little more cute and strange. It might get easier to pay those bills.
I could go on to tell you about our trip to Wal-Mart but I don't have the time to describe all the grotesque, half-human/half-rodent people I viewed there. That place is the home of God's spare parts. I didn't even want to keep my eyes open. I got by on daydreams of all my future visits to Christy and the life we will have together, the two of us and our scottish terrier, Johnny Cash. We sure did love our future little man in black.
I could go on to tell you about our trip to Wal-Mart but I don't have the time to describe all the grotesque, half-human/half-rodent people I viewed there. That place is the home of God's spare parts. I didn't even want to keep my eyes open. I got by on daydreams of all my future visits to Christy and the life we will have together, the two of us and our scottish terrier, Johnny Cash. We sure did love our future little man in black.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
A Sloppy Mess
I've been wanting to write something but I haven't been able to pin down a good subject. There have been all these celebrity deaths recently. I loved Michael Jackson and I could probably write a super long essay about my feelings on him....but would anyone really care? Karl Malden died too. He was 97. I wasn't completely taken aback, by that one. That got me thinking though that there was a time where you could be an ordinary looking dude, in fact, perhaps even kind of fucked up looking and you could still be a movie star. Those kind of guys always had a brilliant thing about them too. This new crop of young, pretty boy actors is a joke. Zac Efron, Robert Pattinson, these guys can barely act like they're breathing and that probably even takes really good direction. Chace Crawford? That sounds like a gay law firm. He's apparently gonna be the star of the new Footloose. Kevin Bacon looks like a rodent. You can't replace him like that. Shia Labeouf almost has that rodent everyman quality, except for the fact that he seems like an asshole and he isn't any good.
I, at one point, was watching Princess Protection Program, on the Disney Channel. That was exciting. It was just the kind of mindless entertainment that kids need to be raised on, starring some nice hispanic girls. I like your ethnic diversity, disney channel. You cover everything from white, to slightly asian, to "can pass for white". Speaking of which, on Twitter, Miley Cyrus was complaining about continuity errors in Cape Fear. First off, where does she get the balls? Second, if Miley Cyrus is all about pointing out continuity errors, how is she a christian?
Sarah Palin is stepping down as governor of Alaska. I guess she needs a bunch of time off after the grueling process of not doing or knowing anything. In related news, Alaskan wildlife will be extinct in two weeks and Sarah Palin is pregnant again. Her new daughter will be named Dirt and should be pregnant by next fall.
In sports, the USA tried to pretend it was good at soccer and I still love Serena Williams.
It's the 4th of July. Everyone better blow some shit up and put copious amounts of hotdogs in themselves. It's why America exists. Don't sass America. Not on it's special day. But seriously, have a great America Day. It's really nice of China to keep sponsoring this event each year.
I, at one point, was watching Princess Protection Program, on the Disney Channel. That was exciting. It was just the kind of mindless entertainment that kids need to be raised on, starring some nice hispanic girls. I like your ethnic diversity, disney channel. You cover everything from white, to slightly asian, to "can pass for white". Speaking of which, on Twitter, Miley Cyrus was complaining about continuity errors in Cape Fear. First off, where does she get the balls? Second, if Miley Cyrus is all about pointing out continuity errors, how is she a christian?
Sarah Palin is stepping down as governor of Alaska. I guess she needs a bunch of time off after the grueling process of not doing or knowing anything. In related news, Alaskan wildlife will be extinct in two weeks and Sarah Palin is pregnant again. Her new daughter will be named Dirt and should be pregnant by next fall.
In sports, the USA tried to pretend it was good at soccer and I still love Serena Williams.
It's the 4th of July. Everyone better blow some shit up and put copious amounts of hotdogs in themselves. It's why America exists. Don't sass America. Not on it's special day. But seriously, have a great America Day. It's really nice of China to keep sponsoring this event each year.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
How's Your Life Going? You Know....Orgy-Wise?
I was thinking about orgies. Without any prior orgy experience, I think it would be incredibly difficult to organize a successful group sex endeavor. This is the genius of the ancient romans; their orgy engineering skills. My guess is sometimes they probably cheated and used children or their relatives cause they were insane people but nonetheless, mad props to ancient rome.
I mean, if you go around asking people you know if they want to take part in an orgy they would think you are completely ridiculous. Either that, or there'll be all kinds of conditions and rules. I don't know why all the people you know are such sticks in the mud, but that's how it goes. I could probably get a couple creeps I know involved, and maybe convince one more, and I could always give Lady Gaga a call and she'd be down, but that's such a ramshackle structure, for an orgy. You would almost need to go and seek out orgy veterans, who know all the "ins and outs" of it. Cause if you set aside the idea of your friends and acquaintances and just say.....post an ad in the city paper, I feel like you would get a room full of dudes holding their dicks, waiting for the playboy bunnies to show up. It takes a lot of mental gymnastics to set this shit up, before the physical gymnastics get going, in the slightest.
Let's say you even convince some friends, people on the street, some girl you met at a bookstore that's clearly on ecstasy, that doesn't even mean it's going down. An orgy is something that sounds good on paper, like "Oh, Anthony, what a fresh, exciting idea. You're really spicing up my life right now."but then, get a bunch of strangers or acquaintances together in a room and ask them to start having sex and watch the awkwardness commence. These people might hate each other, not be attracted to anyone there, not have done their homework you clearly assigned(your friend Ron thinks Daisy Chain is just an indie rock band, from Detroit). These are serious concerns. Well, they are hilarious to me but serious, if you are very solemn in your questing for triple penetration, which I'm sure most of you are.
My way of thinking is that an orgy is something you should just leave as fantasy. If you make it happen, you can have that pride of accomplishment, but then what? What's next, in your life? What's harder than being a regular, everyday person putting together an orgy that leaves everyone saying "I'm pleased as punch."? Are you gonna bring peace to the middle east? Breed pandas for a living? Successfully recreate the bank heist from Die Hard With A Vengeance? Are you gonna take over for Willy Wonka, as head of the chocolate factory? Learn all the dialects of the Chinese language? Those are your choices. It's your choice to make. But honestly, I don't even know why you brought up orgies, in the first place. Did you want to get it on with me? Till the break of dawn with me? Till the early morn', turn your life into a porn? I can draw up a blueprint for a two-way, by next week....let's make it 7-10 business days. Maybe I'll talk to you first. Maybe. You know, I don't want to make it seem like this blog was all about sex.
Hahaha, this blog is ridiculous. I just read it back to myself and noticed that. But feel free to give me your opinions. Maybe you're like "Hey, man, it's not that hard.". And, I'll write you back and say "I bet that's what they said.".
I mean, if you go around asking people you know if they want to take part in an orgy they would think you are completely ridiculous. Either that, or there'll be all kinds of conditions and rules. I don't know why all the people you know are such sticks in the mud, but that's how it goes. I could probably get a couple creeps I know involved, and maybe convince one more, and I could always give Lady Gaga a call and she'd be down, but that's such a ramshackle structure, for an orgy. You would almost need to go and seek out orgy veterans, who know all the "ins and outs" of it. Cause if you set aside the idea of your friends and acquaintances and just say.....post an ad in the city paper, I feel like you would get a room full of dudes holding their dicks, waiting for the playboy bunnies to show up. It takes a lot of mental gymnastics to set this shit up, before the physical gymnastics get going, in the slightest.
Let's say you even convince some friends, people on the street, some girl you met at a bookstore that's clearly on ecstasy, that doesn't even mean it's going down. An orgy is something that sounds good on paper, like "Oh, Anthony, what a fresh, exciting idea. You're really spicing up my life right now."but then, get a bunch of strangers or acquaintances together in a room and ask them to start having sex and watch the awkwardness commence. These people might hate each other, not be attracted to anyone there, not have done their homework you clearly assigned(your friend Ron thinks Daisy Chain is just an indie rock band, from Detroit). These are serious concerns. Well, they are hilarious to me but serious, if you are very solemn in your questing for triple penetration, which I'm sure most of you are.
My way of thinking is that an orgy is something you should just leave as fantasy. If you make it happen, you can have that pride of accomplishment, but then what? What's next, in your life? What's harder than being a regular, everyday person putting together an orgy that leaves everyone saying "I'm pleased as punch."? Are you gonna bring peace to the middle east? Breed pandas for a living? Successfully recreate the bank heist from Die Hard With A Vengeance? Are you gonna take over for Willy Wonka, as head of the chocolate factory? Learn all the dialects of the Chinese language? Those are your choices. It's your choice to make. But honestly, I don't even know why you brought up orgies, in the first place. Did you want to get it on with me? Till the break of dawn with me? Till the early morn', turn your life into a porn? I can draw up a blueprint for a two-way, by next week....let's make it 7-10 business days. Maybe I'll talk to you first. Maybe. You know, I don't want to make it seem like this blog was all about sex.
Hahaha, this blog is ridiculous. I just read it back to myself and noticed that. But feel free to give me your opinions. Maybe you're like "Hey, man, it's not that hard.". And, I'll write you back and say "I bet that's what they said.".
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Dear God
If I was meeting a girl, for the first time, and, before I shook her hand, I put ribbed condoms on all of my fingers, do you think she would say "It's my pleasure."?
Friday, May 15, 2009
Thing I Got From Kathleen, Who Got It From Michelle. Reliable Sources Say That "Michelle Is Amazing!".
What is your current obsession? Hockey Playoffs. When it's playoff time, I watch like every game, no matter who is playing. The fever has taken over my life.
What is your weirdest obsession? I have this OCD thing about bathrooms. Or my love of waitresses.
What are you wearing today? White Hard Rock T-Shirt, Jeans, Black Telecaster Hoodie I wear like everyday.
What’s for dinner today? Spaghetti. Bruce Springsteen.
What are you looking forward to today? Bruce Springsteen. He will tell me all about the glory days and thunder roads and make me feel like I too was born to run.
What would you like to learn to do? Build a death-laser. Maybe play the piano.
What’s the last thing you bought? Uh....a burger and fries. Haha. I haven't bought anything legitimate in a long time.
What are you listening to right now? "The Seldom Seen Kid" By: Elbow. It has that badass song from Burn After Reading on it. The rest of it is sweet too.
What is your favorite weather? Raining Blood. Clearly. I also like Tsunamis cause they have a cool name and whenever it's like 70 and partly cloudy.
What is your most challenging goal right now? To start my life as a real human being.
What do you think about the person who tagged you? Kathleen? I think the world of Kathleen. She's incredible! As far as I'm concerned, she is the reason the internet exists.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be? This is a rough one for me. I like Spain, Portugal, the south of France, that whole western european area. New York and Austin seem amazing and Canada is nice all over.
What would you like to have in your hands right now? Lots and lots of money. Is there another answer to this? A genie lamp?
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? I would go to Los Angeles and thank Kathleen for this great survey. Ha.
Which language do you want to learn? Spanish. I always have. I took it in high school but my teachers were more concerned with yelling and being fools than showing me how to speak spanish so all I know is how to find a hooker, a parrot, or a hooker with a parrot.
What do you look for in a friend? Uh...not a douche. I guess there's no real rhyme or reason to my group of friends other than that. They just have to be kind of smart and not piss me off too much.
Who do you want to meet in person? Everybody. God. Not like I want to meet God, I was using God as an interjection. Right now? Charlie Kaufman.
What’s your favorite type of music? Good music. I was just listening to Iron and Wine. That guy is good. Have I ever told you how much I like him? Ask me. You'll get a speech about the brilliance of the Woman King EP. You'd probably get a speech about any musician though. Ha.
What’s the favorite piece of clothing in your own closet? I don't keep clothing in my closet. I use the doorknob to hold my Telecaster Hoodie that I had mentioned previously. So, that's pretty good.
What is your dream job? Writing and directing film. Also, making music.
Any favorite models? Obviously, Tyra. Ha, but for real, Paulina Porizkova because she is married to Ric Ocasek and he looks like a combination of a zombie and a turkey.
If you were given a pinata, what would you want it to be filled with? Blood Diamonds!
Favorite designers? I don't know. Marc Jacobs? I hear good things.
What’s your must have for the summer season? Lemonade.
Do you admire anyone’s style? Russell Brand. He is committed to looking ridiculous.
Describe your personal style? Lazy guy that wears old t-shirts and jeans that are not stylish at all. Needs help. Could be homeless. Actually, I have a pretty good sense of style. I just don't use it cause I'm the lazy guy.
What is one of your favorite books? Pimp: The Story Of My Life. People might laugh when I say that, but read it. It's a great book.
What is one of your favorite films? Almost Famous...the director's cut of it. It's like 3 hours long but I didn't want it to end. "And you can tell Rolling Stone Magazine my last words were....I'm on drugs!!"
Who is your favorite comedian/comedic actor? Right now, I will say Dave Chappelle.
The rules:1. Respond and rework: answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your own invention, add one more question of your own.
2. Tag eight other people. I don't know 8 people that read my blog. Matt. Do it. maybe you'll be better at it than commenting.
What is your weirdest obsession? I have this OCD thing about bathrooms. Or my love of waitresses.
What are you wearing today? White Hard Rock T-Shirt, Jeans, Black Telecaster Hoodie I wear like everyday.
What’s for dinner today? Spaghetti. Bruce Springsteen.
What are you looking forward to today? Bruce Springsteen. He will tell me all about the glory days and thunder roads and make me feel like I too was born to run.
What would you like to learn to do? Build a death-laser. Maybe play the piano.
What’s the last thing you bought? Uh....a burger and fries. Haha. I haven't bought anything legitimate in a long time.
What are you listening to right now? "The Seldom Seen Kid" By: Elbow. It has that badass song from Burn After Reading on it. The rest of it is sweet too.
What is your favorite weather? Raining Blood. Clearly. I also like Tsunamis cause they have a cool name and whenever it's like 70 and partly cloudy.
What is your most challenging goal right now? To start my life as a real human being.
What do you think about the person who tagged you? Kathleen? I think the world of Kathleen. She's incredible! As far as I'm concerned, she is the reason the internet exists.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be? This is a rough one for me. I like Spain, Portugal, the south of France, that whole western european area. New York and Austin seem amazing and Canada is nice all over.
What would you like to have in your hands right now? Lots and lots of money. Is there another answer to this? A genie lamp?
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? I would go to Los Angeles and thank Kathleen for this great survey. Ha.
Which language do you want to learn? Spanish. I always have. I took it in high school but my teachers were more concerned with yelling and being fools than showing me how to speak spanish so all I know is how to find a hooker, a parrot, or a hooker with a parrot.
What do you look for in a friend? Uh...not a douche. I guess there's no real rhyme or reason to my group of friends other than that. They just have to be kind of smart and not piss me off too much.
Who do you want to meet in person? Everybody. God. Not like I want to meet God, I was using God as an interjection. Right now? Charlie Kaufman.
What’s your favorite type of music? Good music. I was just listening to Iron and Wine. That guy is good. Have I ever told you how much I like him? Ask me. You'll get a speech about the brilliance of the Woman King EP. You'd probably get a speech about any musician though. Ha.
What’s the favorite piece of clothing in your own closet? I don't keep clothing in my closet. I use the doorknob to hold my Telecaster Hoodie that I had mentioned previously. So, that's pretty good.
What is your dream job? Writing and directing film. Also, making music.
Any favorite models? Obviously, Tyra. Ha, but for real, Paulina Porizkova because she is married to Ric Ocasek and he looks like a combination of a zombie and a turkey.
If you were given a pinata, what would you want it to be filled with? Blood Diamonds!
Favorite designers? I don't know. Marc Jacobs? I hear good things.
What’s your must have for the summer season? Lemonade.
Do you admire anyone’s style? Russell Brand. He is committed to looking ridiculous.
Describe your personal style? Lazy guy that wears old t-shirts and jeans that are not stylish at all. Needs help. Could be homeless. Actually, I have a pretty good sense of style. I just don't use it cause I'm the lazy guy.
What is one of your favorite books? Pimp: The Story Of My Life. People might laugh when I say that, but read it. It's a great book.
What is one of your favorite films? Almost Famous...the director's cut of it. It's like 3 hours long but I didn't want it to end. "And you can tell Rolling Stone Magazine my last words were....I'm on drugs!!"
Who is your favorite comedian/comedic actor? Right now, I will say Dave Chappelle.
The rules:1. Respond and rework: answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your own invention, add one more question of your own.
2. Tag eight other people. I don't know 8 people that read my blog. Matt. Do it. maybe you'll be better at it than commenting.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Public Has Not Spoken
Ok, so, just to refresh your memory about what's going on here; in the last post, I wanted you, the readers, to decide what my new list would be about. I left it up to the people to vote for a topic. There were 4 choices; A-D. In the ensuing 3 comments, I got votes for "Not B", "Either A or C", and "C, if you're ready to do that one, or B, but really I want to hear about VH1 Celebreality.". We've learned a valuable lesson here. You are fools. You somehow figured out how to break an idea. But I guess the general "consensus" and the one I've decided to do, whether you like it or not, is C: Things That I Think About When I Masturbate. So, without further ado, here is that same list I just spoke of.
Things That I Think About When I Masturbate
3. The People Who Read My Blog. They are the hottest group of people I have ever pandered to.
4. David Duchovny. Self-explanatory. Obviously.
5. European Architecture.
6. The Record Collections Of Contemporary Porn Stars. Way more interesting than their films. They like Joy Division and Sonic Youth. Pretentious porn stars. So ironic.
8. Michelle Obama. I mean she's America's Sleeveless Sweetheart. But I must note that when I do this I hold my hand over my heart and sing the national anthem....out of respect.
9. "Flight Of The Bumblebee" by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. Well, that one time friction set my crotch on fire.
10. The Future. The future, Conan? That's right, Mr. T; all the way to the year 2000. By that, I, of course, mean the children....but in a time they haven't lived in yet. It's all very sci-fi and ahead of it's touching yourself time.
11. Uh....this is harder than I thought. Haha...harder than I thought. Uh...Titties.
12. Myself. Cause I feel like I could be "The One", if I just get to know myself better.
13. Giant, Far Away Waterfalls. It just seems appropriate. Note: this thought also works if you're having trouble peeing or if you hate your job.
14. Tennis. Beautiful game.
15. Things On My To-Do List. You know, life doesn't stop for your penis. I'm not some kind of irresponsible freak, right? Right.
16. Good Grammar. So hot.
17. My mind's tellin' me NO!! But my BODY........my BODY's tellin'me YES!!!
18. Terrible Looking Middle-Aged Women At Wal-Mart With Like 7 Kids. Now, you might say something like "Ew, Anthony, that's real nasty.". I would say "Exactly, darling.". Sometimes I need to calm myself and slow it down. The wang is not a powertool, friends. A lot of people say they "beat their dicks" but I don't like that. A little tenderness and romance never hurt a relationship.
19. How I Should Go To Sleep After This. Yeah, sleep....that would be nice.
20. The Old Guy That Was Walking Around My Neighborhood Selling Discount Subscriptions To The Newspaper. I think of that guy and how good I feel that my life hasn't become that depressing yet. I mean what's the commission on that? Like a nickel?
21. That Time I Was At Magee Women's Hospital. What a great place to pick up chicks. Then, I think about how I think calling women "chicks" is funny. I mean think about it. "I need to take my wife to the chick hospital today."
22. Should I Get A Twitter? I don't know. It seems dumb. "What are you doing right now?". Do I have to tweet "masturbating"? I wonder. What's to keep me from lying?
23. The Grand Slamwich. It's basically the best sandwich ever. But no mayo. Who wants mayo on their breakfast? And, thinking about mayo during autoerotic activities? That's weird. Just think about the meat.
24. A lot of times my mind will just wander and I'll think of different wonders of the world; UFOs, The Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Ron Howard's really hot daughter......Where do they all come from? Can they really be real? It's hard to say.
25. Halle Berry. She's fine. Haha, silly popular rap music. Usually, my masturbation has a more ethereal indie-folk sensibility but sometimes you are so right.
Things That I Think About When I Masturbate
1. Polar Bears.
2. The Next Karate Kid. The sexual tension between Pat Morita and Hilary Swank is incredible.
3. The People Who Read My Blog. They are the hottest group of people I have ever pandered to.
4. David Duchovny. Self-explanatory. Obviously.
5. European Architecture.
6. The Record Collections Of Contemporary Porn Stars. Way more interesting than their films. They like Joy Division and Sonic Youth. Pretentious porn stars. So ironic.
7. Irony.
8. Michelle Obama. I mean she's America's Sleeveless Sweetheart. But I must note that when I do this I hold my hand over my heart and sing the national anthem....out of respect.
9. "Flight Of The Bumblebee" by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. Well, that one time friction set my crotch on fire.
10. The Future. The future, Conan? That's right, Mr. T; all the way to the year 2000. By that, I, of course, mean the children....but in a time they haven't lived in yet. It's all very sci-fi and ahead of it's touching yourself time.
11. Uh....this is harder than I thought. Haha...harder than I thought. Uh...Titties.
12. Myself. Cause I feel like I could be "The One", if I just get to know myself better.
13. Giant, Far Away Waterfalls. It just seems appropriate. Note: this thought also works if you're having trouble peeing or if you hate your job.
14. Tennis. Beautiful game.
15. Things On My To-Do List. You know, life doesn't stop for your penis. I'm not some kind of irresponsible freak, right? Right.
16. Good Grammar. So hot.
17. My mind's tellin' me NO!! But my BODY........my BODY's tellin'me YES!!!
18. Terrible Looking Middle-Aged Women At Wal-Mart With Like 7 Kids. Now, you might say something like "Ew, Anthony, that's real nasty.". I would say "Exactly, darling.". Sometimes I need to calm myself and slow it down. The wang is not a powertool, friends. A lot of people say they "beat their dicks" but I don't like that. A little tenderness and romance never hurt a relationship.
19. How I Should Go To Sleep After This. Yeah, sleep....that would be nice.
20. The Old Guy That Was Walking Around My Neighborhood Selling Discount Subscriptions To The Newspaper. I think of that guy and how good I feel that my life hasn't become that depressing yet. I mean what's the commission on that? Like a nickel?
21. That Time I Was At Magee Women's Hospital. What a great place to pick up chicks. Then, I think about how I think calling women "chicks" is funny. I mean think about it. "I need to take my wife to the chick hospital today."
22. Should I Get A Twitter? I don't know. It seems dumb. "What are you doing right now?". Do I have to tweet "masturbating"? I wonder. What's to keep me from lying?
23. The Grand Slamwich. It's basically the best sandwich ever. But no mayo. Who wants mayo on their breakfast? And, thinking about mayo during autoerotic activities? That's weird. Just think about the meat.
24. A lot of times my mind will just wander and I'll think of different wonders of the world; UFOs, The Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Ron Howard's really hot daughter......Where do they all come from? Can they really be real? It's hard to say.
25. Halle Berry. She's fine. Haha, silly popular rap music. Usually, my masturbation has a more ethereal indie-folk sensibility but sometimes you are so right.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Democracy At It's Finest
So, I think I should write a new blog. I kind of want to make a list of some sort, where I list things and give reasoning why they're on the list.
Do you, as blog readers, want me to make a list of
A) Things That I Want
B) Things That I Hate Right Now
C) Things That I Think About When I Masturbate
D) My Favorite Cartoons
Rock this vote, people. I don't want to sway you but I already have things prepared for C. I've been working on that list, as we speak. I'm just kidding.....Am I?......Maybe. Yeah, I am. "Wait, what does he mean by "I am"? Did he switch what he was talking about?". Alright, you guys make sure you're registered and get to work. I'll be thinking of you. ; )
Do you, as blog readers, want me to make a list of
A) Things That I Want
B) Things That I Hate Right Now
C) Things That I Think About When I Masturbate
D) My Favorite Cartoons
Rock this vote, people. I don't want to sway you but I already have things prepared for C. I've been working on that list, as we speak. I'm just kidding.....Am I?......Maybe. Yeah, I am. "Wait, what does he mean by "I am"? Did he switch what he was talking about?". Alright, you guys make sure you're registered and get to work. I'll be thinking of you. ; )
Friday, April 10, 2009
Last Time I Checked
This week I've listened to nothing but Avant Garde Jazz and the music from The Wiz. I was contemplating combining the two into some sort of Avant Garde Jizz. It would be far out. Handling my jizz would be an ambitious undertaking for anyone. I would win the Down Beat reader's poll for Jizz of the Year. I haven't made this jizz, as of yet. I just need to lock myself in a room with a few other people and bang it out.
Now, Avant Garde Jazz and The Wiz, aside from being two things that have made me go insane, they are a part of another list, as well. That would be Things I Love About America. They are purely American inventions. No one else would be strange enough to make them and call them artistic endeavors. As much as I enjoy them, they are, in a way, kind of just excuses to be ridiculous. But people made money off of them and that's the American way.
However, for all of these great things that have happened in America, there has to be a counterbalance. So, last week, I'm just minding my own business and, in the mail, comes a letter for me and it is telling me that I have to renew my driver's license. So, apparently, I am to ruin my day and go out of my way to the DMV and pay them.....pay them?....I'm supposed to pay them 30 dollars for this "service". Who invented this system? The devil. That's who.
What exactly is wrong with my license every 4 years that I need a new one anyway? Is it going to explode? No, because I've known criminals driving with expired licenses. It stays the same. These are questions that no one really thinks about. They blindly accept them as "the way it is" and pay their 30 dollars and get their "service" right up their ass and they forget it and move on and then they're pissed whenever they have to do it again in another 4 years. And, another thing, they don't accept cash. Whatever happened to cash? Last time I checked, paper money was the accepted currency here. You can't even pay the people at the DMV either. You have to send them a check ahead of time. I don't have checks! Who do they think I am? Bill Gates? Last time I checked, this was America; land of the free, home of the kentucky fried chicken; life and liberty and all that jazz. Do you know what liberty means? "The freedom to think or act without being constrained by necessity or force". Apparently, there's not a dictionary at the DMV. I'm sick of this government stifling me. They want nothing more than to hold me back. I'm gonna become successful making jizz. And, then I can throw it right in their faces.
Now, Avant Garde Jazz and The Wiz, aside from being two things that have made me go insane, they are a part of another list, as well. That would be Things I Love About America. They are purely American inventions. No one else would be strange enough to make them and call them artistic endeavors. As much as I enjoy them, they are, in a way, kind of just excuses to be ridiculous. But people made money off of them and that's the American way.
However, for all of these great things that have happened in America, there has to be a counterbalance. So, last week, I'm just minding my own business and, in the mail, comes a letter for me and it is telling me that I have to renew my driver's license. So, apparently, I am to ruin my day and go out of my way to the DMV and pay them.....pay them?....I'm supposed to pay them 30 dollars for this "service". Who invented this system? The devil. That's who.
What exactly is wrong with my license every 4 years that I need a new one anyway? Is it going to explode? No, because I've known criminals driving with expired licenses. It stays the same. These are questions that no one really thinks about. They blindly accept them as "the way it is" and pay their 30 dollars and get their "service" right up their ass and they forget it and move on and then they're pissed whenever they have to do it again in another 4 years. And, another thing, they don't accept cash. Whatever happened to cash? Last time I checked, paper money was the accepted currency here. You can't even pay the people at the DMV either. You have to send them a check ahead of time. I don't have checks! Who do they think I am? Bill Gates? Last time I checked, this was America; land of the free, home of the kentucky fried chicken; life and liberty and all that jazz. Do you know what liberty means? "The freedom to think or act without being constrained by necessity or force". Apparently, there's not a dictionary at the DMV. I'm sick of this government stifling me. They want nothing more than to hold me back. I'm gonna become successful making jizz. And, then I can throw it right in their faces.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Short Letters
Dear Hot Asian Girls,
What's the deal with you and cars? Like if I put a honda with a hood scoop in my driveway, you seem genetically obligated to come sit on it. I've been trying to figure out this correlation for a long time. Let's get together and get to the bottom of this. We can go see Fast and Furious.
A Fan,
Anthony
Dear Canada,
You are wonderful. You made hockey. You put hockey on your money. I can't think of anything better to put on your money. I feel like I should draw hockey over Abraham Lincoln on my money. Then it would seem like it was worth more. Haha, oh, United States economy! Also, I believe that per capita you have the most beautiful women in the world and there are large parts of you where people don't even live. Your Niagara Falls are way better than ours and you nearly cornered the market on the majestic moose. So, good job all around. I'll even let you slide for Nickelback.
Love,
Anthony
Dear Fads That Sweep The Globe,
Stop happening. I swear to god. You don't know how much you bother me. Why does every person in the world wear a middle eastern scarf now? Why are glittery vampires teenage girls' favorite thing? I thought you would have retired after the success of "Who Let The Dogs Out?" but no, you never stop. Go jump off a bridge. Wait....don't....cause then everyone will and that's all my mom needs is an oppurtunity to ask about what I'm gonna do since everyone jumped off a bridge. I can't win. I hate you.
Fuck Me,
Anthony
Dear Guy Going Door To Door Trying To Sell Discounted Newspaper Subscriptions To Me Today,
What did you do to deserve this fate? Whatever it was, you'd be better off if you were a child molester cause then, at least, you would be able to kill two birds with one stone.
Sad For Where Your Life Ended Up,
Anthony
Dear Overtly Gay Waiter Named BeeJay,
I'm sorry I laugh about you. I have to. I was just raised wrong, that's all. Your name is a sex joke. What did your parents expect from me? A Beejay serving me tonight? Let's get serious.
Customer,
Anthony
Dear Food,
We've had a turbulent relationship. I never really liked you that much. TV has changed my opinion of you. Anthony Bourdain, our mutual acquaintance, has done a lot for us. And, the Food Network's idea of combining you with breasts? A brilliant stroke. Let's get together, like tomorrow....so I don't die. Keeping me alive, that's what's sexy about you.
Until We Meet Again,
Anthony
What's the deal with you and cars? Like if I put a honda with a hood scoop in my driveway, you seem genetically obligated to come sit on it. I've been trying to figure out this correlation for a long time. Let's get together and get to the bottom of this. We can go see Fast and Furious.
A Fan,
Anthony
Dear Canada,
You are wonderful. You made hockey. You put hockey on your money. I can't think of anything better to put on your money. I feel like I should draw hockey over Abraham Lincoln on my money. Then it would seem like it was worth more. Haha, oh, United States economy! Also, I believe that per capita you have the most beautiful women in the world and there are large parts of you where people don't even live. Your Niagara Falls are way better than ours and you nearly cornered the market on the majestic moose. So, good job all around. I'll even let you slide for Nickelback.
Love,
Anthony
Dear Fads That Sweep The Globe,
Stop happening. I swear to god. You don't know how much you bother me. Why does every person in the world wear a middle eastern scarf now? Why are glittery vampires teenage girls' favorite thing? I thought you would have retired after the success of "Who Let The Dogs Out?" but no, you never stop. Go jump off a bridge. Wait....don't....cause then everyone will and that's all my mom needs is an oppurtunity to ask about what I'm gonna do since everyone jumped off a bridge. I can't win. I hate you.
Fuck Me,
Anthony
Dear Guy Going Door To Door Trying To Sell Discounted Newspaper Subscriptions To Me Today,
What did you do to deserve this fate? Whatever it was, you'd be better off if you were a child molester cause then, at least, you would be able to kill two birds with one stone.
Sad For Where Your Life Ended Up,
Anthony
Dear Overtly Gay Waiter Named BeeJay,
I'm sorry I laugh about you. I have to. I was just raised wrong, that's all. Your name is a sex joke. What did your parents expect from me? A Beejay serving me tonight? Let's get serious.
Customer,
Anthony
Dear Food,
We've had a turbulent relationship. I never really liked you that much. TV has changed my opinion of you. Anthony Bourdain, our mutual acquaintance, has done a lot for us. And, the Food Network's idea of combining you with breasts? A brilliant stroke. Let's get together, like tomorrow....so I don't die. Keeping me alive, that's what's sexy about you.
Until We Meet Again,
Anthony
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Something Fun I Learned Today
In America, sea turtles have universal healthcare and I do not. Isn't that fun?
Anyone wanna help me make a human sized shell? I will let you drive my boat that I will buy in the future to match the shoes that I will buy in the future. That sounds like a hypothetical deal to me. Hypothetically, I don't see how you could refuse. Parenthetically, (I was just told that peeing on a regular retriever to make it golden would be wrong. I say it's more of a moral gray area and an all around clever concept.)
Anyone wanna help me make a human sized shell? I will let you drive my boat that I will buy in the future to match the shoes that I will buy in the future. That sounds like a hypothetical deal to me. Hypothetically, I don't see how you could refuse. Parenthetically, (I was just told that peeing on a regular retriever to make it golden would be wrong. I say it's more of a moral gray area and an all around clever concept.)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
You Are What You Eat, If What You Eat Is A Fool
Listen, hot roast beef sandwich, I have some things I want to say to you. You are not a sandwich. If I have to eat you with a knife and fork, you are not a sandwich. If your bread is covered in exorbitant amounts of gravy so that it doesn't even stay in tact and I have a plate of roast beef and mush, sir, a sandwich you do not make. Who wants to eat that much gravy? I could have filled up a swimming pool and let the neighborhood children swim in this gravy, hot roast beef sandwich. You are a lie and a disgrace to the sandwich arts. Whoever named you should be brought up on charges. And, I see your buddy, hot turkey sandwich, over there too. You tell him I said to suck it. You're fucking fraudulent. Whenever Arby's makes more sense than you, you need to rethink what you're doing with yourself. They have a roast beef sandwich there. And guess what? It's fucking hot, when you pick it up with your hands. Bam! Sandwich. I'll wait a second, if you want to get a pen and pad and write these notes down. I would suggest it.
Maybe you could get a legal name change to like B. R. B. Gravy. It's classy, it rhymes, it explains what you are, I don't think you're gonna do much better. Maybe you could change your name to Zac. You're kind of like the Zac of sandwiches. I've never met or heard of a Zac I thought was cool. I don't think it exists. You need both a c and k/or h at the end of Zack or it throws a monkey wrench into the whole works of the Zack personality. It's like if I took away your gravy. Then, you would be a goddamned sandwich! What a preposterous scenario! Jackass. And, don't text me anymore. It's getting tiresome. Alright, we're through here.
Maybe you could get a legal name change to like B. R. B. Gravy. It's classy, it rhymes, it explains what you are, I don't think you're gonna do much better. Maybe you could change your name to Zac. You're kind of like the Zac of sandwiches. I've never met or heard of a Zac I thought was cool. I don't think it exists. You need both a c and k/or h at the end of Zack or it throws a monkey wrench into the whole works of the Zack personality. It's like if I took away your gravy. Then, you would be a goddamned sandwich! What a preposterous scenario! Jackass. And, don't text me anymore. It's getting tiresome. Alright, we're through here.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Cool Hand Tibbs Is My Hero!!
Ok, so, I have an idea! What we do is wait until Sidney Poitier dies......and then we combine him with Paul Newman into a reanimated Sidaul Poitiman.......and it will be the most charismatic zombie of all time........and horror movies will instantly become ten times more enjoyable. A zombie with a range like that....just think of the possibilities! Your brains would never be the same!
I should obviously run Hollywood. They've never come up with anything as good as that. Who's starring in their movies? Julia Roberts? No match for a combination Audrey/Katharine Hepburn. That's twice as much Hepburn as you need to be better than Julia Roberts.
Bonus idea: THC is a thing of the past. Smoke some THX and then you will be able to hear in digital surround sound. Totally dude.
I should obviously run Hollywood. They've never come up with anything as good as that. Who's starring in their movies? Julia Roberts? No match for a combination Audrey/Katharine Hepburn. That's twice as much Hepburn as you need to be better than Julia Roberts.
Bonus idea: THC is a thing of the past. Smoke some THX and then you will be able to hear in digital surround sound. Totally dude.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Short Letters: Celebrity Edition
Before I begin, I will say that I do know that it is strange to have a new edition of a premise before you ever actually did the original premise. This blog is groundbreaking. Deal with it, sucka. Normal short letters will be coming soon. Then, I would suppose some kind of Jerry Bruckheimer/Michael Bay produced, bullet-riddled, exploding house reimagining will follow.
Dear Jonas Brothers,
Listening to you is like cutting through my testicles with a spoon. Also, you all kind of look like muppets....creepy muppets that were never allowed on the show, cause you weirded out Rowlf.
Your Friend,
Anthony
Dear Jennifer Aniston,
Everyone is tired of you. You can take all the naked pictures and date all the John Mayers you want. You are still painfully lame and you can no longer stand next to David Schwimmer to make yourself seem interesting.
Love,
Anthony
Dear Michael Jackson,
Please build a time machine and kill yourelf in 1991. It would be best for everyone. Also, I'm kind of busy. If you could change the name and pass this on to O.J. Simpson, that would be great. Thanks.
Your #1 Fan,
Anthony
Dear Coolio,
I just read that you were arrested for having crack at the airport. Who brings their crack to the airport? Didn't that seem like a bad idea? Why didn't you just have your kids hold onto it or something?
An Interested Fan,
Anthony
Dear Lindsay Lohan,
Is a girl going out with you cause you got so skinny that you look like a fake penis? Also, fyi, I read the reasons you gave for why you're so thin. "Traveling and working a lot" is not a good code for excessive cocaine intake. It's so transparent.
Guy Who Bet That You Would Die,
Anthony
Dear Rihanna and Chris Brown,
What's your deal? Honestly. Who gets beat up by Chris Brown? And who bites a girl? In my mind, this sounds like you were taking part in some kind of greased retard battle royale. You should both go to jail.
The Prosecution,
Anthony
Dear Bridget From Girls Next Door,
I keep seeing ads for your new Travel Channel show. You have gone from wearing very little clothing on tv in just one place to wearing very little clothing on tv all over the world. Your skills know no bounds, there are no heights to which your almost naked body can not soar. I'm proud of you.
Boy Next Door...To Some Weird Guy Who's Probably Building A Bomb,
Anthony
Dear Miley Cyrus,
I am told you are very young. I would like to be your next inappropriately older boyfriend. Since I have a beard, you would look older cause there would be some hair on your vagina.
Next In Line,
Anthony
Did that one go too far? It may very well have gone too far.
Dear Jonas Brothers,
Listening to you is like cutting through my testicles with a spoon. Also, you all kind of look like muppets....creepy muppets that were never allowed on the show, cause you weirded out Rowlf.
Your Friend,
Anthony
Dear Jennifer Aniston,
Everyone is tired of you. You can take all the naked pictures and date all the John Mayers you want. You are still painfully lame and you can no longer stand next to David Schwimmer to make yourself seem interesting.
Love,
Anthony
Dear Michael Jackson,
Please build a time machine and kill yourelf in 1991. It would be best for everyone. Also, I'm kind of busy. If you could change the name and pass this on to O.J. Simpson, that would be great. Thanks.
Your #1 Fan,
Anthony
Dear Coolio,
I just read that you were arrested for having crack at the airport. Who brings their crack to the airport? Didn't that seem like a bad idea? Why didn't you just have your kids hold onto it or something?
An Interested Fan,
Anthony
Dear Lindsay Lohan,
Is a girl going out with you cause you got so skinny that you look like a fake penis? Also, fyi, I read the reasons you gave for why you're so thin. "Traveling and working a lot" is not a good code for excessive cocaine intake. It's so transparent.
Guy Who Bet That You Would Die,
Anthony
Dear Rihanna and Chris Brown,
What's your deal? Honestly. Who gets beat up by Chris Brown? And who bites a girl? In my mind, this sounds like you were taking part in some kind of greased retard battle royale. You should both go to jail.
The Prosecution,
Anthony
Dear Bridget From Girls Next Door,
I keep seeing ads for your new Travel Channel show. You have gone from wearing very little clothing on tv in just one place to wearing very little clothing on tv all over the world. Your skills know no bounds, there are no heights to which your almost naked body can not soar. I'm proud of you.
Boy Next Door...To Some Weird Guy Who's Probably Building A Bomb,
Anthony
Dear Miley Cyrus,
I am told you are very young. I would like to be your next inappropriately older boyfriend. Since I have a beard, you would look older cause there would be some hair on your vagina.
Next In Line,
Anthony
Did that one go too far? It may very well have gone too far.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Who The Fuck Wrote This Show? Jimmy Fallon?
So, here I sit, all hopped up on apple cider, little debbie's fudge rounds, and the hit singles of The Cult, reflecting on the first episode of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I have to say I was biased, from the start. I've never really liked Jimmy Fallon and thought this was a bad idea. However, given the guests he booked and the oppurtunity he was given to not suck, the way that he sucked is all the more disturbing and, in it's way, kind of impressive.
In the opening, Conan O'Brien says he doesn't want to go out to the audience and watch the show cause he's really got to get to packing up a box. I think that tells you all you really need to know.
The first thing I don't understand is that The Roots are his house band. I don't know if this is permanent. Well, after last night, I wouldn't be surprised if they cancelled the show today. But I don't know why Questlove and crew would subject themselves to such a thing. They are gods of hip-hop. This is so beneath them, it's insane. Black Thought singing to the news, saying "She added an amendment!" was probably the highlight of the show though.
Jimmy Fallon told some lame jokes, there was a terrible package about demographics, and then he started a segment where they play a "game". The "game" consisted of bringing 3 audience members down to the stage, having them lick something, and giving them ten dollars. It's way less interesting than you think. That's probably cause you can think of something to lick that isn't a photo copier. How about my ass, Jimmy Fallon? I have ten dollars just for you.
Now, let's talk about the guests. The lineup was Robert DeNiro, Justin Timberlake, and musical guest Van Morrison. I don't think Conan ever had such a good night of guests in 16 years. This leads me to what the biggest problem with the show is. Before given a talk show, apparently no one checked if Jimmy Fallon actually had the ability to talk to people. He stuttered, stumbled, rambled about himself, interrupted DeNiro on numerous occasions, and generally asked questions that seemed to be written by a lazy baby.
The Timberlake interview was basically all about how they did The Barry Gibb talk show together on SNL and how that was a lot of fun. It was like when two of your friends are talking about some supposedly great time they had with other people you don't know and you weren't there and it's totally not interesting to you or anyone else around and you wish they would either stop talking or be struck down by heat lightning. The only thing I got from that interview is that JT actually does a spot on Michael McDonald impression and that he would probably be a better host than Jimmy Fallon. Even the Michael McDonald impression was so esoteric that I don't think anyone cared except me though.
Van Morrison was alright. He's no spring chicken but it was ok.
The point is I hate Jimmy Fallon and his stupid face. If this is what we're gonna get, they might as well have let Carson Daly have the show. He's been a mediocre television host for years and years and that's better than sucking. Also, Jimmy Fallon's set looks stupid. I think they were trying to match it with his face.
Haha, ok, I'm done. I just wanted to rant. Oh, and congratulations to Craig Ferguson for now cornering the market at 12:30 am.
Someone please give me a late night talk show.
In the opening, Conan O'Brien says he doesn't want to go out to the audience and watch the show cause he's really got to get to packing up a box. I think that tells you all you really need to know.
The first thing I don't understand is that The Roots are his house band. I don't know if this is permanent. Well, after last night, I wouldn't be surprised if they cancelled the show today. But I don't know why Questlove and crew would subject themselves to such a thing. They are gods of hip-hop. This is so beneath them, it's insane. Black Thought singing to the news, saying "She added an amendment!" was probably the highlight of the show though.
Jimmy Fallon told some lame jokes, there was a terrible package about demographics, and then he started a segment where they play a "game". The "game" consisted of bringing 3 audience members down to the stage, having them lick something, and giving them ten dollars. It's way less interesting than you think. That's probably cause you can think of something to lick that isn't a photo copier. How about my ass, Jimmy Fallon? I have ten dollars just for you.
Now, let's talk about the guests. The lineup was Robert DeNiro, Justin Timberlake, and musical guest Van Morrison. I don't think Conan ever had such a good night of guests in 16 years. This leads me to what the biggest problem with the show is. Before given a talk show, apparently no one checked if Jimmy Fallon actually had the ability to talk to people. He stuttered, stumbled, rambled about himself, interrupted DeNiro on numerous occasions, and generally asked questions that seemed to be written by a lazy baby.
The Timberlake interview was basically all about how they did The Barry Gibb talk show together on SNL and how that was a lot of fun. It was like when two of your friends are talking about some supposedly great time they had with other people you don't know and you weren't there and it's totally not interesting to you or anyone else around and you wish they would either stop talking or be struck down by heat lightning. The only thing I got from that interview is that JT actually does a spot on Michael McDonald impression and that he would probably be a better host than Jimmy Fallon. Even the Michael McDonald impression was so esoteric that I don't think anyone cared except me though.
Van Morrison was alright. He's no spring chicken but it was ok.
The point is I hate Jimmy Fallon and his stupid face. If this is what we're gonna get, they might as well have let Carson Daly have the show. He's been a mediocre television host for years and years and that's better than sucking. Also, Jimmy Fallon's set looks stupid. I think they were trying to match it with his face.
Haha, ok, I'm done. I just wanted to rant. Oh, and congratulations to Craig Ferguson for now cornering the market at 12:30 am.
Someone please give me a late night talk show.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Lack Of Alec Guinness Here Is Stunning...Just Stunning
I was watching some of the Star Wars prequel trilogy, over the weekend, and here's what I realized: If you don't pay close enough attention, you might think you're watching gay porn. The writing is bad, on a level that you wouldn't think a big budget movie could be. Should I remind anyone of Jar Jar Binks? And what was with that kid yelling "Yippee!" all the goddamn time? The effects? I don't know who thought they were good but the original star wars looked better. And, they made that movie with like popsicle sticks, glue, and safety scissors. It's also kind of amazing how bad the performances are from people who are good actors. They really might as well have started putting it in each other's asses. I was honestly surprised they did not.
I love Natalie Portman, in a way I've never loved anyone else, but what was she thinking acting with Hayden Christensen? He is made of popsicle sticks, glue, and safety scissors. I liked Jar Jar Binks' performance better and he clearly had some type of mental disability. The only person who really got through any of this with their acting dignity in tact was Liam Neeson. But he only had to be in one of them, so that was an advantage. Also, he was Liam Neeson, at the time. That helps too.
Anyway, I just thought I'd say something about how bad these movies were. Another thing I realized though is that what George Lucas was able to accomplish is that even though these movies are not good at all, I sat there and watched them instead of doing something else. And....if he is a genius, that is the only reason why.
I love Natalie Portman, in a way I've never loved anyone else, but what was she thinking acting with Hayden Christensen? He is made of popsicle sticks, glue, and safety scissors. I liked Jar Jar Binks' performance better and he clearly had some type of mental disability. The only person who really got through any of this with their acting dignity in tact was Liam Neeson. But he only had to be in one of them, so that was an advantage. Also, he was Liam Neeson, at the time. That helps too.
Anyway, I just thought I'd say something about how bad these movies were. Another thing I realized though is that what George Lucas was able to accomplish is that even though these movies are not good at all, I sat there and watched them instead of doing something else. And....if he is a genius, that is the only reason why.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Dog Bless The USA Cable Network
The past two days I've been watching The Westminster dog show. My whole life, I've always loved the dog show. It's like a big party where dogs are people and women are horrible looking and wear tacky clothing. Let's just say there were a lot of cankles roaming around that floor. Some of the dogs, it looked like they were being walked by trees.......which I, personally, thought would be pretty helpful whenever they needed to piss. But these dogs don't piss. They're champions. They just metaphorically piss on the idea of losing. They have their trainers piss for them, so they may continue enjoying their stroll. But the point being, the people involved in the dog show wouldn't necessarily be entered into the human show, if you know what I mean.
Personally, I like the herding and working dogs. They put food on the table, for their families. They rescue people in snowstorms, lock up criminals, fight in armies, and supervise unruly sheep who have been sent to prison camps. Those damn poodles sit up in their fucking ivory tower, with their jewelry and their caviar, and get their hair cut by a frenchman and they think they're fucking special. Poodles can suck it. Give me a Sheepdog. Like that guy that was friends with Babe. Remember him? Good guy. Or a Great Dane. Scooby Doo was a Great Dane. He could fucking talk and solve mysteries. Poodles can suck it.
I have to say I was a little disappointed with a lot of the show this year. My favorites got knocked out. The Scottish terrier that won was like a total bitch. Haha, dog humor. But I loved the best in show winner. His name was Stump. He was a Sussex Spaniel. He was the underdog, so to speak. Stump was ten years old. He already had retired. Then, he got a terrible disease and almost died, was miraculously cured, and he came out of retirement five years later just for this one last shot at glory. The competition was a bunch of fierce, young winners. The feeling was that he was a long shot, counted out before judging even started, by all the dog pundits. I, however, thought he was the best since the moment I saw him. I didn't even know his story, at that point. I just saw him and wanted to pet him and tell him that he was a "good boy". So, he won and the crowd erupted with sheer joy. It was like all of the Rocky movies combined into one super Rocky movie. I actually believe a Sussex Spaniel could potentially write and star in a Rocky movie. If Stallone did it, it wouldn't be surprising.
So, now the dog party is over. The flashy jackets and casual shoes have been put away and now they'll just go back to trying to get the dogs to fuck. It must be a tough life. But I'm glad that rich people make pretty dogs, for me to look at. I've never had a dog of my own and never really wanted one. But I like when they visit my living room every year on tv. They can't attack me from there......and I get the feeling those dogs wouldn't attack me if they were really in my living room. I guess what I'm saying is teach your fucking dogs to sit down. I'm tired of being humped and scratched. My penis isn't for them. This is people penis.
Personally, I like the herding and working dogs. They put food on the table, for their families. They rescue people in snowstorms, lock up criminals, fight in armies, and supervise unruly sheep who have been sent to prison camps. Those damn poodles sit up in their fucking ivory tower, with their jewelry and their caviar, and get their hair cut by a frenchman and they think they're fucking special. Poodles can suck it. Give me a Sheepdog. Like that guy that was friends with Babe. Remember him? Good guy. Or a Great Dane. Scooby Doo was a Great Dane. He could fucking talk and solve mysteries. Poodles can suck it.
I have to say I was a little disappointed with a lot of the show this year. My favorites got knocked out. The Scottish terrier that won was like a total bitch. Haha, dog humor. But I loved the best in show winner. His name was Stump. He was a Sussex Spaniel. He was the underdog, so to speak. Stump was ten years old. He already had retired. Then, he got a terrible disease and almost died, was miraculously cured, and he came out of retirement five years later just for this one last shot at glory. The competition was a bunch of fierce, young winners. The feeling was that he was a long shot, counted out before judging even started, by all the dog pundits. I, however, thought he was the best since the moment I saw him. I didn't even know his story, at that point. I just saw him and wanted to pet him and tell him that he was a "good boy". So, he won and the crowd erupted with sheer joy. It was like all of the Rocky movies combined into one super Rocky movie. I actually believe a Sussex Spaniel could potentially write and star in a Rocky movie. If Stallone did it, it wouldn't be surprising.
So, now the dog party is over. The flashy jackets and casual shoes have been put away and now they'll just go back to trying to get the dogs to fuck. It must be a tough life. But I'm glad that rich people make pretty dogs, for me to look at. I've never had a dog of my own and never really wanted one. But I like when they visit my living room every year on tv. They can't attack me from there......and I get the feeling those dogs wouldn't attack me if they were really in my living room. I guess what I'm saying is teach your fucking dogs to sit down. I'm tired of being humped and scratched. My penis isn't for them. This is people penis.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
True Story
This is a new segment of the blog where I will tell you a true story, from my own life. Fun, right? I know.
So, the other night I was having dinner with my parents. It started innocently enough. ("Hey, here's a steak, have some potatoes.", etc...etc...) Then, after five or so minutes they just started yelling at me and telling me I need to get a job.
My mom told me that I have to because "everyone has to have a job."
I said "Why do I have to do what everyone is doing? If everyone jumps off a bridge, am I supposed to jump off a bridge?!".
Although I had clearly thoroughly outfoxed her using her own mom-logic, it somehow did not help my argument. You can't deal with these people. They have no ideology.
So, the other night I was having dinner with my parents. It started innocently enough. ("Hey, here's a steak, have some potatoes.", etc...etc...) Then, after five or so minutes they just started yelling at me and telling me I need to get a job.
My mom told me that I have to because "everyone has to have a job."
I said "Why do I have to do what everyone is doing? If everyone jumps off a bridge, am I supposed to jump off a bridge?!".
Although I had clearly thoroughly outfoxed her using her own mom-logic, it somehow did not help my argument. You can't deal with these people. They have no ideology.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
So, Do You Have Like......A Phone? Are There Numbers That Reach It? I'm Drunk.
I have an undying love for waitresses. There are two kinds of women I like; waitresses and singers. If you take me to a restaurant with singing waitresses, I'll bring an engagement ring. Actually, I like rich, famous women as well. I don't currently get to meet a lot of them though. My blog is not as popular as I would like.
I've been trying to pin down this waitress business for a long time. What is it that makes me like them? My first thought is that they have the amazing ability to bring me any food I want. That's quite an attractive trait. It's like they're my own personal Food Network show. I'm like "Hey, how about today we make some hamburgers with mushrooms, swiss, and bacon?" and they're like "Yeah, that all sounds great." and I can just ignore the middle part where a bunch of old drunks are making it.
Now, I can hear an argument some may have. "Hey, pal, maybe you just like good looking women." First of all, I'm not your pal. Second of all, you, sir or madam, are a fool. Why am I not writing about women that work at the bowling alley or at Best Buy? Perhaps there are just certain kinds of people that get into the profession. Maybe they are all masochists. Maybe I'm secretly a sadistic sexual deviant that gets off on the demeaning work of waiting tables. I don't think you can keep that secret from yourself though. So, I don't think that's it. That would be a terrible plight, huh? Just some guy trying to fondle yourself at Denny's. They kick you out, you can't even get your grand slam or orgasm, or whichever term you prefer.
Truth be told, I, most times, don't even engage my waitresses at all, aside from ordering and the usual formalities. They have an edge about them, they're jittery, it's like they could lose their minds, at any moment. You know what I mean? They've been there for hours, they're irritated, their boss is a son of a bitch that doesn't give them any thanks, the cooks are all assholes that put their dicks on the food, the table of kids in the corner was high on acid and tipped them with a cool looking rock they found in the parking lot, and creepy Joe sitting behind you thinks he's 25 years younger than he is and is trying to arrange a rendezvous, using lines he picked up from his son in high school.
I feel bad for them.
That could be part of it. They work really hard, and have to put up with a lot of bullshit, to provide me with happiness. It's kind of a living metaphor. It's almost like, just for that night or that day, we're in a beautiful relationship and the give and take of food and currency is really an exchange of love and appreciation. We don't have to say anything, we're just both there doing our part, for each other and for ourselves. It's a kind of harmony, made of half-smiles and working class dreams of escape, a love you wish were real and lasting. Springsteen ought to write a song about it.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just crazy. I'd like to think that's all true, that there's some beauty in the way I feel about waitresses or the way I feel about anything, for that matter. If you can see beauty in the mundane, possibly, it's easier to see the kind of beauty that matters.
This feeling for waitresses, of course, is all voided if they look like a frankenstein, zombie, or other corpse-ish figure. That's unpleasant. You have to keep some rules....even for things you love. I don't need the crypt keeper using witty quips and throwing to clips when I'm trying to get some extra napkins.
I've been trying to pin down this waitress business for a long time. What is it that makes me like them? My first thought is that they have the amazing ability to bring me any food I want. That's quite an attractive trait. It's like they're my own personal Food Network show. I'm like "Hey, how about today we make some hamburgers with mushrooms, swiss, and bacon?" and they're like "Yeah, that all sounds great." and I can just ignore the middle part where a bunch of old drunks are making it.
Now, I can hear an argument some may have. "Hey, pal, maybe you just like good looking women." First of all, I'm not your pal. Second of all, you, sir or madam, are a fool. Why am I not writing about women that work at the bowling alley or at Best Buy? Perhaps there are just certain kinds of people that get into the profession. Maybe they are all masochists. Maybe I'm secretly a sadistic sexual deviant that gets off on the demeaning work of waiting tables. I don't think you can keep that secret from yourself though. So, I don't think that's it. That would be a terrible plight, huh? Just some guy trying to fondle yourself at Denny's. They kick you out, you can't even get your grand slam or orgasm, or whichever term you prefer.
Truth be told, I, most times, don't even engage my waitresses at all, aside from ordering and the usual formalities. They have an edge about them, they're jittery, it's like they could lose their minds, at any moment. You know what I mean? They've been there for hours, they're irritated, their boss is a son of a bitch that doesn't give them any thanks, the cooks are all assholes that put their dicks on the food, the table of kids in the corner was high on acid and tipped them with a cool looking rock they found in the parking lot, and creepy Joe sitting behind you thinks he's 25 years younger than he is and is trying to arrange a rendezvous, using lines he picked up from his son in high school.
I feel bad for them.
That could be part of it. They work really hard, and have to put up with a lot of bullshit, to provide me with happiness. It's kind of a living metaphor. It's almost like, just for that night or that day, we're in a beautiful relationship and the give and take of food and currency is really an exchange of love and appreciation. We don't have to say anything, we're just both there doing our part, for each other and for ourselves. It's a kind of harmony, made of half-smiles and working class dreams of escape, a love you wish were real and lasting. Springsteen ought to write a song about it.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just crazy. I'd like to think that's all true, that there's some beauty in the way I feel about waitresses or the way I feel about anything, for that matter. If you can see beauty in the mundane, possibly, it's easier to see the kind of beauty that matters.
This feeling for waitresses, of course, is all voided if they look like a frankenstein, zombie, or other corpse-ish figure. That's unpleasant. You have to keep some rules....even for things you love. I don't need the crypt keeper using witty quips and throwing to clips when I'm trying to get some extra napkins.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Letter To The Academy Awards
Dear Academy Awards,
Please remove yourself from the holocaust's dick. It's getting old. Just get it over with and give Hitler an honorary award, for his contribution to cinema. If Kate Winslet as an illiterate Nazi is a better movie than The Dark Knight, then meat pie is my favorite pie and I don't like Hispanic women. And, don't be fooled. Those things are false. Blame every other pie in the world and Daisy Fuentes, if you must, but it won't change the truth. Maybe you should give awards to movies about other terrible things? Bombing the shit out of Japan perhaps? Oh, yeah, that's right, they don't like to make movies about that. Oh! Ending With A Message! In Your Face, America!
But seriously, give it a rest.
Love,
Anthony
Please remove yourself from the holocaust's dick. It's getting old. Just get it over with and give Hitler an honorary award, for his contribution to cinema. If Kate Winslet as an illiterate Nazi is a better movie than The Dark Knight, then meat pie is my favorite pie and I don't like Hispanic women. And, don't be fooled. Those things are false. Blame every other pie in the world and Daisy Fuentes, if you must, but it won't change the truth. Maybe you should give awards to movies about other terrible things? Bombing the shit out of Japan perhaps? Oh, yeah, that's right, they don't like to make movies about that. Oh! Ending With A Message! In Your Face, America!
But seriously, give it a rest.
Love,
Anthony
Thursday, January 29, 2009
And Scene: The Black Comedy Corner
Two guys are standing on the street discussing a date the one had the night before.
The guy says "Oh my god, man, she was a total cunt!".
As the words are being spoken, a young woman with a 4 year old daughter is passing and stops. "Hey, do you think you can watch your language? There are children around."
"What, she doesn't know what it means. She's alright."
The sweet little blonde angel says "Cunt!".
"You see what you did?!" the woman exclaims.
He says he'll fix it. The guy kneels down and says "Hey, sweetheart, now don't say that word or you're mommy will beat you and your daddy will be killed."
The woman is horrified, grabs her daughter and starts away angrily, saying "Her father was killed a month ago!"
As they walk away, the guy looks at the girl and says "See? It's already happening!"
And Scene.
That little girl grew up to be the best hooker you ever met.
This blog was brought to you by Bad Taste. Bad Taste, it can be found in any of your local Wal Mart establishments and your daughter's choice in men.
The guy says "Oh my god, man, she was a total cunt!".
As the words are being spoken, a young woman with a 4 year old daughter is passing and stops. "Hey, do you think you can watch your language? There are children around."
"What, she doesn't know what it means. She's alright."
The sweet little blonde angel says "Cunt!".
"You see what you did?!" the woman exclaims.
He says he'll fix it. The guy kneels down and says "Hey, sweetheart, now don't say that word or you're mommy will beat you and your daddy will be killed."
The woman is horrified, grabs her daughter and starts away angrily, saying "Her father was killed a month ago!"
As they walk away, the guy looks at the girl and says "See? It's already happening!"
And Scene.
That little girl grew up to be the best hooker you ever met.
This blog was brought to you by Bad Taste. Bad Taste, it can be found in any of your local Wal Mart establishments and your daughter's choice in men.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Party Like A Fireman: My Review Of The Wrestler
First order of business: Marisa Tomei's breasts. They receive a rating of one penis up. This is the highest rating I have been able to determine, for such things. The fact that it seemed scores of men were constantly turning down private dances from her stripper character stretched the limits of believability. That is, however, a minor detail in a majorly satisfying film.
So, I went out with a couple friends to the theater earlier. You could have basically skated down the road but we took a car and got there just fine. When we arrived, we found out it was discount night. It was 5 dollars for a show. I have to remember this, for the future. Anyhow, we were late. They stopped to get popcorn or something and I left them standing there cause I've been waiting to see this movie for like 5 months and I'll be damned if I miss a minute of it over refreshments.
Turns out we were still early, due to the practice movie theaters have adopted of showing an hour and a half of ads and previews before the show. The start time was 10:10, the movie was an hour and 45 minutes long, and we left the theater at 12:25. That math doesn't want to add up for me. I can't figure out why....but I digress.
The story centers around Randy "The Ram" Robinson(Mickey Rourke in a raw, heartfelt performance). He is a wrestler, as he says in the movie "it's all I do.". He once was a huge star but now is just a weekend warrior, an old man still trying to do the thing he loves even though it's beaten him to hell and kind of ruined his life. He currently lives in a trailer and works at a deli. You feel for this guy. You know, he's the little fuck up that could. You want him to succeed.
He has a daughter named Stephanie, played by a wonderful Evan Rachel Wood. Having just watched a movie where family members sleep with each other, I was ready for the sex to begin. She is gorgeous. Apparently, they decided to go the no incest route, which I can respect as well. Despite him not having sex with her, she still hates him. He has a heart attack and buys her a coat. It looks like she is a lesbian, now that I remember. That explains no sex with dad.....along with many other reasons I suppose. But anyway, the point is his lesbian daughter is estranged.
There's also a pseudo girlfriend for Randy, the above mentioned stripper, Marisa Tomei. She's in the same kind of situation as Randy and they both love 80s hair metal, which I think is hilarious and awesome, just like the music itself. I thought Tomei did a terrific job. Everyone in the movie really played their parts spot on. There are a lot of bit characters that add humor and a great sense of reality to it(I want to mention a random drunk girl that he has sex with in a bathroom).
The direction of Darren Aronofsky is smart and economical, nothing flashy, which fits the script perfectly. There are no monster refridgerators in this one. The look of the film is a grainy, low budget one, which really captures everything it's trying to show you.
In the end, I basically loved it. I don't think it's getting it's just due right now but it's destined to be looked back upon as a classic. It's a real, down to earth drama without pretense that Mickey Rourke takes to the stratosphere with his brilliant work. You should look out for this kid. He's a real up and comer. Pretty face too.
So, I went out with a couple friends to the theater earlier. You could have basically skated down the road but we took a car and got there just fine. When we arrived, we found out it was discount night. It was 5 dollars for a show. I have to remember this, for the future. Anyhow, we were late. They stopped to get popcorn or something and I left them standing there cause I've been waiting to see this movie for like 5 months and I'll be damned if I miss a minute of it over refreshments.
Turns out we were still early, due to the practice movie theaters have adopted of showing an hour and a half of ads and previews before the show. The start time was 10:10, the movie was an hour and 45 minutes long, and we left the theater at 12:25. That math doesn't want to add up for me. I can't figure out why....but I digress.
The story centers around Randy "The Ram" Robinson(Mickey Rourke in a raw, heartfelt performance). He is a wrestler, as he says in the movie "it's all I do.". He once was a huge star but now is just a weekend warrior, an old man still trying to do the thing he loves even though it's beaten him to hell and kind of ruined his life. He currently lives in a trailer and works at a deli. You feel for this guy. You know, he's the little fuck up that could. You want him to succeed.
He has a daughter named Stephanie, played by a wonderful Evan Rachel Wood. Having just watched a movie where family members sleep with each other, I was ready for the sex to begin. She is gorgeous. Apparently, they decided to go the no incest route, which I can respect as well. Despite him not having sex with her, she still hates him. He has a heart attack and buys her a coat. It looks like she is a lesbian, now that I remember. That explains no sex with dad.....along with many other reasons I suppose. But anyway, the point is his lesbian daughter is estranged.
There's also a pseudo girlfriend for Randy, the above mentioned stripper, Marisa Tomei. She's in the same kind of situation as Randy and they both love 80s hair metal, which I think is hilarious and awesome, just like the music itself. I thought Tomei did a terrific job. Everyone in the movie really played their parts spot on. There are a lot of bit characters that add humor and a great sense of reality to it(I want to mention a random drunk girl that he has sex with in a bathroom).
The direction of Darren Aronofsky is smart and economical, nothing flashy, which fits the script perfectly. There are no monster refridgerators in this one. The look of the film is a grainy, low budget one, which really captures everything it's trying to show you.
In the end, I basically loved it. I don't think it's getting it's just due right now but it's destined to be looked back upon as a classic. It's a real, down to earth drama without pretense that Mickey Rourke takes to the stratosphere with his brilliant work. You should look out for this kid. He's a real up and comer. Pretty face too.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Fruit Loop Pie? I'll Allow It.
Hey, everyone. This is my first post under the heading of Rabid Toucan Dance Party. I want to welcome everyone to the new blog. Feel free to follow it, set it as a favorite, leave comments about how you want to take off my pants, it's all good. This is gonna be the most intense avian dancing blog you've ever taken part in reading, for sure. Partly, cause I don't think anyone ever had the idea of toucans dancing before, except maybe Fruit Loops, but we can all look beyond that.
A quick musing: Shepherd's Pie and friends. The only time meat and pie should ever be that close to each other is when they are being used as sexual euphemism. Pie is a delicious food that should not be tampered with. Here are the things you can put in pie: fruit, meringue, chocolate, cream/custard, nuts, and whatever pumpkin is supposed to be. If you put nuts in pie and then cream, you are a pervert. You can top your pie with ice cream or whipped cream. These are the rules of pie....not to be confused with Pi, which can be lumped in with meat pie, on the "Go fuck yourself" list of pies. Numbers should end. So should meat being put in pie. This has been a public service announcement.
Thank you for reading. Go forth and eat. In Dessert We Trust. In Blog We Trust.
A quick musing: Shepherd's Pie and friends. The only time meat and pie should ever be that close to each other is when they are being used as sexual euphemism. Pie is a delicious food that should not be tampered with. Here are the things you can put in pie: fruit, meringue, chocolate, cream/custard, nuts, and whatever pumpkin is supposed to be. If you put nuts in pie and then cream, you are a pervert. You can top your pie with ice cream or whipped cream. These are the rules of pie....not to be confused with Pi, which can be lumped in with meat pie, on the "Go fuck yourself" list of pies. Numbers should end. So should meat being put in pie. This has been a public service announcement.
Thank you for reading. Go forth and eat. In Dessert We Trust. In Blog We Trust.
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