Thursday, August 12, 2010

I'm a Bad, Bad Man

Brady brought the following Craigslist ad to my attention:



Ugh. The description of that guy is the definition of a shitty faggot. I felt I had to respond:



I am a bad person.

A Little More Personal (Raw)



Yes, that is a Lindsay Lohan reference. Get over it. I've kind of been going through it this week. I wanted to write a little something about observations I've made, but it feels weird to write something serious. So I will be peppering in cock jokes and whatnot.

Monday was a bad day. The worst I've had in a while. Which in the grand scheme of things, actually speaks to how well things have been going; the last few months have been pretty good. There was just a little drama. It was based on a misunderstanding, and I tried to make myself clear, but it didn't seem to work. I apologized anyway for how I had inadvertently hurt someone's feelings, but I never got the apology I was hoping for. It's okay though. It's a bump in the road, and it wasn't worth any more fighting. Shit happens. We're fine now, but things like that really affect me. I didn't even notice it until a day in, but I was bumming for a hot minute. When I get in a mood, it's apparently reflected in my current choice of music.

On Monday I just couldn't listen to the music I normally do when I walk around with my iPod. I also realize now that I was walking with my head down. It was some sad clown shit. Here are a few choice songs:









And then there's the queen of sadness. I don't care who you are, if you don't listen to this song and want to cry robot tears from your hard drive, you're a serial killer. It makes me emotional every time I listen. Turn the volume up, slut. Hear it, and really feel it; and you might have the same experience. It will be unique to you, but go through it, honey. Maybe it was the time your pimp killed a fellow ho and you were left alone on the stroll. Bitch, I don't know you.



I started feeling better after clearing the air Tuesday, and then confirming the cool that night. I was still listening to some sad shit, but yesterday got better. I had moved on to more angsty music.





A friend of mine appropriately described this song as "very Buffy-at-the-Bronze:"






Before this week, my recent soundtrack for the walk to work has consisted of (don't judge me) a mix of songs from the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-Long Blog, and Hairspray. This morning I was still on some classical strings music, but I was able to enjoy an upbeat song a little later. So I think I'm about back to normal. I'm just a sensitive bitch.

Here's the movie version that includes my girl Ricki Lake. Damn I used to watch the original Hairspray so much as a kid with my mom. It's her fault I'm. . . the way I am.

Because You Asked Me

Not really, but it's been a minute since you had some man-woman love. Please enjoy.

How Did They Do This So Quickly?

I'm sure you know all about the disgruntled Jet Blue employee who yelled over the intercom on a plane and then sashayed away in the most dramatic fashion he could. Of all the news stories I've seen about it, this is by far the best.



Don't these things take a long time to make? Even without voices, isn't Pixar working on shit like this for years? Of course only the Chinese could churn this out. I love it. What I'm not sure I love is the mincing half-naked boyfriend waiting at their apartment. Seriously? We don't know if fthis motherfucker has a boyfriend, or if he's even gay. His profession does not define his sexuality. Just kidding, of course it does. He might as well be professional cockjuggler. They're gay. They're ALL gay. They could have at least kept the stereotypes going and decorated his home. The inside of that place looked like a crack den.