My brother is out of town for school stuff and staying with a friend.
Charlie: Tell me what's Spamalot? give details
Me: all i know is it's a musical based on some monty python shit. supposed to be good
Charlie: Awesome. what movie is it based on? thx
Me: holy grail
Me: why? are you going to see it? faggot.
Charlie: maybe i prefer maricon or jota
Me: yeah whatever, donut puncher
Charlie: Gay hosts are the best
Me: u got a mint on your pillow or something?
Charlie: no everything is neat & pretty. even the lassie dog
Me: be on the lookout for roofies. you know those gays are sneaky
Charlie: Pssh i have a high tolerance from taking "forgetmenows"
Me: oh yeah i forgot about that summer you interned for boy george
Monday, January 19, 2009
Oops
I'm not crazy about the woman who delivers our newspaper. She always slams it into our sliding glass door. I ran into her walking a dog once, and I couldn't get away from her for ten minutes. When she threw the paper against the door today, my brother and I happened to be right next to it. I looked through the door to see her strolling away, so I scowled, made my hands into guns and pretended to shoot her repeatedly "pew pew pew!" Of course she had to turn around exactly when I did that. I spun away and proceeded to laugh.
Palm, Meet Forehead
Becaues I don't have enough reasons to be unhappy, I started watching Gossip Girl. I was flabbergasted when I saw the below video in an episode.
Do real choirs do this shit? Fergie's "Glamorous" a capella is. . . interesting? I would personally love to see a choir give the same treatment to Akinyele's "Put It In Your Mouth." I'm actually really digging this guy's version:
This is the kind of music I liked as a kid. I bought and memorized Lil' Kim's Hard Core when I was 13. Somehow I don't think there were too many 13-year-olds who know every word to songs like "Fuck You" and "Big Momma Thang." I loved how the first track led right into "Big Momma Thang." It's a skit of a guy at a porn theater who gets a small popcorn and an extra large butter. He then proceeds to jerk it to Kim's movie using the butter, and right after he yells "Work it, bitch!" the track starts. Priceless.
Do real choirs do this shit? Fergie's "Glamorous" a capella is. . . interesting? I would personally love to see a choir give the same treatment to Akinyele's "Put It In Your Mouth." I'm actually really digging this guy's version:
This is the kind of music I liked as a kid. I bought and memorized Lil' Kim's Hard Core when I was 13. Somehow I don't think there were too many 13-year-olds who know every word to songs like "Fuck You" and "Big Momma Thang." I loved how the first track led right into "Big Momma Thang." It's a skit of a guy at a porn theater who gets a small popcorn and an extra large butter. He then proceeds to jerk it to Kim's movie using the butter, and right after he yells "Work it, bitch!" the track starts. Priceless.
Parenting
Yesterday I was at a meeting I like to go to on Sundays and there are several people who regularly bring their kids. It's not technically against any rules to bring children, and they usually don't bother me. Yesterday was the exception. They sat right in front of me playing gameboy. Loudly. The kid playing had headphones in. This prevented annoying game noises, but it made the kid talk all the louder because he couldn't hear himself. His mom started off nicely asking him to keep it down when he would say something out loud. But this was happening every 45 seconds, so she got pissed quickly. She threatened to take away the gameboy if he didn't keep quiet, but he called her bluff. If you're going to threaten your kids, mean what you say and follow through. Don't tell them you'll beat them like mixed-race stepchildren unless you actually will. She just smacked his leg when he got loud, apparently not wanting him to cause even more of a scene if she took away the game. Then you have to be prepared to snatch that shit right out of his hands, pick his crying ass up when he starts wailing, and take the little fucker outside. If you're considering having children, ask yourself this: '"Am I prepared to carry out whatever threats I make, regardless of the public shame and embarrassment?"
There was one thing that could have saved the situation: whispering. I've found that some people just don't fucking know how to do it. I don't get it. Are they incapable of it? Were they not taught by their parents? My brother doesn't know how to whisper. I like to talk through movies, but when I see one with Charlie, I try not to whisper anything, because I know the response will be in full volume attracting ire from all around us.
Today's lesson: whup a kid's ass if he steps out of line and teach the bastard how to whisper.
There was one thing that could have saved the situation: whispering. I've found that some people just don't fucking know how to do it. I don't get it. Are they incapable of it? Were they not taught by their parents? My brother doesn't know how to whisper. I like to talk through movies, but when I see one with Charlie, I try not to whisper anything, because I know the response will be in full volume attracting ire from all around us.
Today's lesson: whup a kid's ass if he steps out of line and teach the bastard how to whisper.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Cock Of Love Bus
Yes, it's that time again. The slutty ladies on the Rock of Love Bus have inspired me to share their antics. They all head to my hometown of Champaign, Illinois, but none of the episode really takes place their. Bret takes his buxom brood to an ice arena to square off against the University of Illinois women's hockey club. Emphasis on the S in Illinois, because that's how Bret ignorantly rolls. The arena is in Danville, Illinois, about 40 miles away. And the strip club he takes them to is also not in Champaign.
During the hockey challenge, one of the skanks, Melissa, falls and thinks she popped an implant. Later that night, the cameras caught her talking on a cell phone she's not supposed to have. Presumably she's speaking to her boyfriend/fiance/whatever and she's talking all sorts of shit about Bret's hair extensions and how old he looks. She says that she doesn't even like him as a person. Ha. The next morning she saw a doctor and found out her boob is leaking, and she tore tendons in her arm. Boo hoo. Then when Bret confronts her about the phone call, she straight up denies it all, saying she never even called anyone. If six bitches are telling you some other bitch did this and that, who are you going to believe? The six, right? Which is kind of scary, because it's generally true in situations like that the group is telling the truth and the individual is bullshitting. BUT a group could come together and decide whatever they want and accuse an individual. Sucky. Like the Salem witchcraft trial or those evil children against poor Michael Jackson.
That one bitch needs to stop talking. You know, that one. She takes every opportunity to say "I'm a retired model." Is that supposed to be impressive? You know what it means, honey? It means you USED to be pretty, but now you're too busted for people to want to look at you. You're not doing yourself any favors by constantly reminding people that at one point, long ago you were attractive. So was Cloris Leachman.
The alleged porn star Brittaney cause some shit this week. While she was out on the date with Bret, the other girls in her bus smelled something like piss emanating from her bunk. They investigated and found food stashed under her blankets. Not only that, but in Brittaney's stuff they found all the dirty socks the girls had just worn for the ice skating challenge. WTF, mate? I'm wondering what her deal is. Is she so hard up for money that she needs to steal socks? Does she have a foot fetish (holy shit, note to self: foot fetish post to come later)? Is she planning to sell them on Ebay? They showed her in a confessional interview defending her actions. She said she asked the people at the ice rink who provided the socks if she could have them "and they very much said yes." She seems like some day she's going to go bunnyboiler on some dude's unfortch ass.
At elimination, token black girl Natasha is wearing a pink bustier and I swear her areolae are showing without an image blurring. Yes, that is a proper pluralization of areola. Pronounced "air-ee-oh-lee," bitches. In the end, Sockstealer got the boot. Bret said he paid a lot of good money for the best European hair extensions. At least he can joke about it, because on my life his shit ain't real. It's acrylic like WHOA.
I Just Prefer To Win
I was thinking this morning about how I get super competitive for things that should be insignificant. In particular, any form of a game in which I am pitted against others. Monopoly never really counted because it was so boring that we always quit before anyone loses all his money. My in-town cousins, my brother, and I loved to play Pictionary. The teams were always me and Terese vs. Charlie and Peter. My team won 99% of the time, and we had fun doing it. Because we were so good, our enemies constantly tried to cheat, and though we mostly caught them, it still made us extremely angry. This quality transferred to years later when I would occasionally play with housemates in Chicago. Damn. Markers were thrown, chairs were kicked, blood was spilled. Those games got rough. When I win, I'm not unusually happy. It's because I retain this fucked up mentality from childhood that if I'm performing as I should, it should be perfect, and I punish myself for any fuckups. I lived with a girl who also got rather competitive over Pictionary. We were both the best players, so our friends usually kept us on separate teams. Though this was most fair, it ensured stupendous fights and days of seething silence.
Videogames seem to bring out the worst in people. My brother and I played games like Street Fighter II when we were little, and we constantly threw the controllers and yelled at each other. I always chose the agile little female characters. Then the best 2d fighting game EVER came out (Marvel Vs. Capcom 2) and I could choose three bitches with which to wail on my brother. Now we play Halo 3; and though it's a little better, and we try to laugh it off, there's some pissiness from time to time. I remember the Nintendo 64. We used to play 007: Goldeneye, Super Smash Brothers, and Mario Kart 64. They caused massive fights. At university my friends and I would play Mario Party on the Gamecube after nights of partying, and it was mostly fun, but there times when tension was palpable. Now when I catch myself getting worked up, I remind myself that I play videogames to have fun. The problem is I still think it's most fun when I obliterate another player and teabag the corpse.
Videogames seem to bring out the worst in people. My brother and I played games like Street Fighter II when we were little, and we constantly threw the controllers and yelled at each other. I always chose the agile little female characters. Then the best 2d fighting game EVER came out (Marvel Vs. Capcom 2) and I could choose three bitches with which to wail on my brother. Now we play Halo 3; and though it's a little better, and we try to laugh it off, there's some pissiness from time to time. I remember the Nintendo 64. We used to play 007: Goldeneye, Super Smash Brothers, and Mario Kart 64. They caused massive fights. At university my friends and I would play Mario Party on the Gamecube after nights of partying, and it was mostly fun, but there times when tension was palpable. Now when I catch myself getting worked up, I remind myself that I play videogames to have fun. The problem is I still think it's most fun when I obliterate another player and teabag the corpse.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Real Life Donkey Punch
I was just watching a movie the other day about the accidental death of a girl from a DP. This is like the real version! "American on trial in 'sex game' death." At least the girl who got DPed in the movie was having consentual sex and died right away. This poor girl got a painful love poke, or love slice. That skeezy Italian dude probably boned the neck wound.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/01/16/italy.student.kercher.trial/index.html
From Alessio VinciCNN Rome Bureau Chief
ROME, Italy (CNN) -- An American woman and her Italian former boyfriend went on trial in Perugia Friday in the 2007 killing of a British exchange student, with reporters crowding the courtroom as proceedings began.
The cases of Amanda Knox, 21, and 24-year-old Raffaele Sollecito are expected to take months.
They are charged with murder and sexual assault in the November 2007 slaying of Knox's roommate, Meredith Kercher, who died in what prosecutors called a "drug-fueled sex game" with the couple and a third person, Rude Guede.
Guede was convicted of murder in October and sentenced to 30 years in prison. He is expected to be one of about 100 witnesses in the case.
Kercher was found dead in her bed, half-naked, with a knife wound to her neck. In court papers, prosecutors state that Sollecito held Kercher by her wrists while Knox poked at her with a knife and Guede sexually assaulted her.
Prosecutors say they have physical evidence placing the defendants at the scene, and that they gave investigators confusing and contradictory statements about their whereabouts the night Kercher died.
Knox first said she was at the house she shared with Kercher, then changed her story, according to court records.
Sollecito, meanwhile, said he was never at the house, but was at his apartment, watching a movie on his computer with Knox. Later, he told investigators he did not remember whether Knox was with him the entire night.
Defense lawyers are expecteed to argue that the physical evidence was tainted by sloppy police work.
The case will be heard by a panel of eight judges. The trial has drawn more than 140 journalists from 86 news outlets to the courthouse in Perugia, a university town about 185 km (115 miles) north of Rome.
The presiding judge in the case, Giancarlo Massei, barred cameras from the courtroom Friday morning after initial proceedings and said he could completely close portions of the trial dealing with the most graphic sexual assault allegations.
Kercher's family requested the trial be held entirely before closed doors, an option Italian law allows in cases dealing with sexual assault. Prosecutors argued that the case should be kept open, but not televised.
The number of reporters forced court officials to seat some of them at the defense table at the start of the case.
Massei said he would allow a closed-circuit television feed into the court's press room to let reporters who couldn't get a seat watch proceedings -- a feed that would be cut if the case is closed.
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