Thursday, December 23, 2004

It's A Very Special Feliz Navidad Greeting From Worker #3116!

Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday=Weight Training and Cardio, Monday/Friday=Karate Class

Rarely is a horoscope so apt, although I wouldn't exactly call it "new":

"Everyone has heard all they need to know about your new exercise routine."

I Smell GOOOOOD!

I saw an ad on TV this morning for BOD body spray, and it got me thinking about how I've seen this product for a long time now, and they've got to be selling it because they're shelling out money for real ads on real television stations, which means that there are thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people who are picking up those plastic bottles with the spritzer gun nozzle and thinking "Hmmm, this smells GOOOOD! I should wear this this weekend. I'm going to smell GOOOOOD!" Well, I wish those losers just as much of a Merry Christmas as I'm wishing everyone else. I hope they got lots of bottles of BOD in their stockings.

Speaking of body sprays, have you seen the new commercial for AXE? It's actually pretty funny. It shows all these girls grinding up against various shiny metal objects (caressing a toaster, rubbing a frying pan over their bodies, pushing up against a sheet metal wall at a construction site). Then they show this guy putting on AXE but the can runs out so he throws the empty can in the recycling bin. Get it? There's AXE juice all over all the metal that gets used in other stuff. It gets really gross when you think about it for too long, though, because it means that the recycling process doesn't include any kind of cleaning or sterilization, and so those women are getting turned on by the AXE and rubbing themselves with appliances and whatever, but they're also rubbing up against old peanut butter and tomato sauce and bacon grease and the oil from a can of tuna and stuff like that.

This is a post that says basically that Worker #3116 has a deep-chested, wet cough, and a red, chapped nose, but otherwise he's back.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Morgan Freeman, Take Me Now!

When I got to work this morning, clutching my little Pharmacy Store bag of Cold Remedies (bag includes Fisherman Friend, Echinasha, honey, tea, and nose sprayz) in one hand, and pulling my collar tight with the other, I found that someone had put the MTV ULTIMATE MASHUPS PRESENTS JAY-Z VS. LINKIN PARK on my desk. This is no fever dream. Who would do this? WHO HAS DONE THIS?!

I'm in no mood to be fucked with. Last night I woke up over a million thousand times with the coughing, sneezing, wheezing, so I can't sleep no medicine. Why won't anyone take care of me? I'm literally dying here. You think I'm joking? In my hazy state of near-death last night I watched Bruce Almighty starring Jimminy Fucking Carrey and thought it "wasn't so bad". I saw Morgan Freeman playing GOD and declared it acceptable.

One more day of this and I quit it.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

No Comment (Freestyle Remix)

Eminem: Slim Shady World Uncut (2001)

This animated series gives rapper Eminem yet another outlet for his genius, this time as his alter ego, Slim Shady. His cartoon identity is even more fearless than he is, saying what he truly thinks and doing what he truly wants and setting the world ablaze. Watch him slap down some rhymes and riff on everything from unruly celebrities to living life under the blazing limelight. Extras include a lost episode, a making-of featurette and more.

Sick Day 2

I'm so sorry, babies.

Well, I've got bad news and I've got bad news. The bad news is that I'm sick, and I hate being sick, and if I hate something you better believe it's only a matter of time before YOU hate something, if only for the fact of having to hear about it all the time. The bad news is that Brother Russia is in town for the first time in two years and I'm sick. When Brother Russia is in town you want to offer up your a-game, but an a-game can't just be pulled out of thin air, especially when the thin air has a sore throat and is coughing up gobs of phlegm.

Anyhow, there are a few things that I would like to make veiled reference to in regards to the past few days so that they do not disappear into the abyss of lost time. I'm not going to spend a lot of time on these things, they are more for my benefit than yours, so feel free to skip them.

CroxxOverz was a great success. L'Hill and I made 6.50 each in tips, about a dollar and fifty of which came from that pituitary-case asshole who kept talking about Norwegian death metal, but who, when Moses asked him about some actual band, proved to have no idea what he was talking about. Nevertheless, a relatively successful night, despite the fact that I was feeling a little under the weather, and almost dropped that weird, angular bottle of VOX a couple times while trying out my new Cocktail-style bottle flipping.

Garfield: The Movie is a terrible movie, and Roger Ebert was seriously not on his meds the day that he said the casting of the movie was "inspired". That word would be better used in the context of "Garfield: The Movie will inspire you to violence." Mental Note in the form of a Diary Note for the future: Must find another pop-culture icon who hates Mondays and loves lasagna, because the basic premise of the "I Hate Mondays" party was good. Also, try not to be sick next time, it makes you no fun.

Monday, December 20, 2004

No Fun Day

I'm so sorry, babies.

Daddy's sick.

Friday, December 17, 2004

Welcome To My Diary, Now Get It Right

He keeps calling himself Coffee Clown now.

What Matters

Well, the "cat" is out of the "bag" where here "cat" is "internet diary" and "bag" is "now Clown Coffee knows about my internet diary." It is going to be very hard to write things about him but I have overcome greater obstacles including, but not limited to, disease.

But now for something about people who really matter, celebrities:

LOHAN-DUFF: A CRYING SHAME

THE catfight between Hilary Duff and Lindsay Lohan is back on. The teen queens declared their undying hatred for each other after they simultaneously dated Aaron Carter, but at last Friday's Z100 Jingle Ball, Duff took the feud up a notch when she got her boyfriend to make Lohan's little brother cry. Lohan, at the concert to introduce Destiny's Child, was with her brother Cody, 8, Cody's pal (also 8), her sister Ali, 10, and her mother, Dina. "Cody and his friend love Good Charlotte, who were playing, and they really wanted an autograph from the band," our source reports. But when the boys and a Universal publicist knocked on the dressing room door, there was Duff sitting on the lap of Good Charlotte band member Joel Madden, whom she's dating. Told that one boy was Lohan's brother, Duff whispered to Madden, who snapped: "Get me your mother!" When Dina got to the dressing room, Madden told her: "Until your daughter publicly apologizes to [Hilary], you're not getting any autographs!" According to our spy, "Cody started crying, he was so upset. Dina was just appalled." A rep for Lohan declined comment. A rep for Duff said, "Hilary was not even near Joel's dressing room all night."
(New York Post)

This simply proves that the only thing suckier than Good Charlotte's music is their personality. Come on, Good Charlotte, he is 8 years old. You are 9. Be a "man". When the relationship sours, though, and Good Charlotte thinks that Hilary Duff is a slut and a jerk, he's going to start sending everyone in Lohan's family all kinds of autographs. That will show Duff. She will be so shown.

Tangelo?

When someone in an office wants to ask you something, you can hear it coming a "mile" away. So when a woman's going up and down the halls asking everyone if they want a tangelo, you can just barely wonder whether you have time to look up tangelo in the dictionary because what the fuck is a tangelo? before she gets to you. But you don't have time and then she gets to your cubicle and is like "tangelo?" which you totally knew she was going to ask but you're unprepared, and then you're like "um, what the f is a tangelo?" And she's like, "You know, a tangerine-orange thing. They're good." You take one, and then she tells someone about how as she was leaving the house this morning her mother pointed at a bag of tangelos and said "get those out of here," and now she's just glad to be free of the tangelos, but something about this story gives you pause, because the woman is in her mid-thirties, and she should not see her mother in the morning, and her mother should no longer tell her what to do. When someone comes in late, she goes over to them and tells them that she had some tangelos, but the late person missed out. Now if some tangelo whatever the fuck from some woman who lives with her mom and her uncle offered at nine in the morning isn't incentive enough to get to work on time...

Last night in the locker room at the gym I saw a doo-rag on the floor. Poor doo-rag. I wanted to take it to the doo-rag "lost and found" but I knew that I'd never be able to see the door. It is invisible to whites.

Meanwhile, today is all about Christmas spirit. I have so much of it. You should see me! You should see my sweater! Fly Donner! Fly Blixen! Fly Juden!

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Scrooge McWorker #3116

Sorry, Steven, MORE ANTM SPOILER INSIDE!

I'm so tired of this whole holiday thing already, I just want it to be over. If you know the thing about me that I'm about to tell you, then you already know that I do not like special days. Special days are for garbage people to remind themselves that even if their life is a life of garbage, at least there's this special day once a year to make it seem, for twenty-four hours, like they lead non-garbage-based lives. Lies!

I remember Brother Russia once going on this rant about how everyone was far too dependent on paper napkins when there were perfectly good, unseen articles of clothing that could be used, and that he, for one, was not going to sit idly by while the paper napkin manufacturers of the world forced us under their domineering thumbs of excessive usage. When The Shark tried to contradict him with the argument that he could take paper napkins or leave them, Brother Russia said that he was going to amass a fortune in order to buy all of the paper napkin production facilities in the world and shut them down just so that The Shark would see exactly how blinded by his own addiction to paper napkins he had become. Brother Russia would keep all of the world's paper napkins in some hidden facility and never let The Shark have any no matter how much he banged on the door and cried with despair.

That is how I feel about these holdidaes. I want to amass a fortune so that I can buy Christmas and New Year's and put it in a locked storage facility and not let you have any of it. Hopefully, the fortune will be so large that I can also have a separate vault filled with gold coins and treasure in which I can go swimming.

AN ALL AMERICAN CONTEST

Whatever You Do, If Your Name Is Steven Don't Read This ANTM Spoiler!

Although I know who America's Next Top Model is, I'm not actually going to even write about it, because I realized last night after a long season of moderately pretty girls facing grueling obstacles (both phyiscal and emotional), as the whole thing came to its edge-of-your-couch conclusion, that who gives a fuck about America's Next Top Model. She's a whore. As Tyra Banks put it in last night's "most dramatic America's Next Top Model finale ever" (out of 3 possible, so, wow!), "this is so hard, guys." See how she's acting? That's how I am acting, like I care.

But I did think it would be funny to make my roommate not read this because he's all scared about finding out who won until he gets to watch the season finale on fucking VHS next week. Ha ha ha. Jokes is on him. VHS is for suckers! This is the funniest jokes of all time, not even a little bit dull at all.

This is my brain. This is my brain on bored.

Speaking of whores and winning big prizes, if you can name the first pornographic film I ever saw (on VHS) in Matt Bowen's basement during a sleepover party, which we happened to be watching at six in the morning when his mom yelled down at us that maybe we should go to sleep already, and which then somehow went missing somewhere between the VCR and Dorian Foerg's backpack during the total panic about Matt's mom opening the door right in the middle of a pornographic film which was not even on mute or anything, Dorian being the one who brought the video over, and who had already seen it a million times, and who also, earlier in the evening, kept repeating every single line from Terminator 2 as it was spoken on-screen, despite my protests to not ever having watched it before and therefore suffering the movie's absolutely being ruined by Dorian's line deliveries, which were flat, and more an exercise in memorization than actual passion for the dialogue of T2: Judgement Day, at which point we all freaked out because somehow we thought that we would all be blamed when Matt Bowen's mom found the missing tape, then you will win some kind of ironic prize relating to pornography. If I like you, I'll make the prize myself. Here's a hint: one scene involved a blow-job in a car moving through an automated car wash.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Fortune 500 Restroom Update!

Someone printed something out from the FOX News website to read in the bathroom and then threw it in the trash, so I took a look to see what it was and saw "Lohan" in the headline. Reactions:

First (pensive): It is sad when someone who obviously holds opposing political viewpoints to my own (FOX News) has such strong interest in something that I care deeply about ("Lohan").

Then (while making slight gas face): Reading gossip about Lindsay Lohan in the men's bathroom at your work is so low-class and gay even I wouldn't do it, why didn't he just bring the latest copy of Marie Claire in with him for pooporama 2004?

Finally (now I'm just pointing and laughing, becuase WTF?): Okay, I'm sorry, but as a daily purveyor of the nation's foremost gossip columns, I know for a fact that you don't need to print out any articles about Lindsay Lohan for "further investigation." All pertinent and "interesting" information can be gleaned by simply scanning the news item for approximately five to twenty seconds. It's either about a) her partying with Collin Ferrell this weekend after the taping of SNL, or b) some ludicrous complaint her father, Michael Lohan, is making in the lower courts.

Where Are You Registered? Crazyland?

I think that we all get a little tired of the brash consumerism of the holidays. We're pretty well educated, for the most part, and we understand that heartfelt sentiment doesn't come in a box. So, it's nice to see that at a time of ruthless self-interest, at least one happy couple has decided that sharing in their joy doesn't have to mean sharing in the exploits of a capitalist monster. That's right, this year, why not help some fucking animals when two comic strip characters get married what the fuck, this is the craziest, stupidest, shittiest thing I have ever seen and I stand in awe of it forever.

Yeah, looks like you all fucking forgot to tell me about this. Thanks a lot. Information Superhighway? More like Information Superwhydidn'tyoutellmeaboutthis?

Big Fat People Are So Crazy

Garden Variety Cheat?
A Harlem-based landscaper has sued Star Jones for reneging on a deal to promote his company in return for work he did gratis on her roof garden (dubbed by Jones her "Girlfriends' Garden" because her friends helped pay for it) in preparation for an Architectural Digest photo shoot. According to Dimitrios Gatanas, proprietor of Dimitri Nurseries, he had a written promise from Jones that his business would be credited for its work in the magazine. When no credit appeared, he sent along a bill for $7,189.20. Jones failed to pay, offering instead a plaque with her name on it for him to hang in his office. Gatanas declined to accept the View star's generous offer, quipping to The Smoking Gun, "What am I, a diner?"
(salon.com)

HA HA HA. From now on, whenever I ask anyone to do anything, or go to the store to buy something, I'm going to offer them a plaque with my name on it. "Thank you, sir, I believe this will cover it. Yes, yes that's my name. Mm-hmm. Yeah. It's, no, it's a plaque, you put it on your wall. So, are we cool?"

Horrorscopes

If I treated people in my life the way my horoscope treats me, I would be even less popular than I already am. Jesus F-ing Christ.

Worker #3116 at work: Boss, I think you'll find that when I work the work often gets done right on time. But even if it doesn't, relax. There's going to be more to come around the bend. This might just be the perfect time for you to take a quiet evening at home with that special someone and put the ego to bed early. Got it, chief?

Worker #3116 at home: Mom, you may have done a lot for me in the past, but if there's one thing that is certain in this world, it's change. Seems like everything that was roses is coming up coal. If there was ever a time to nip a nasty relationship in the bud, it's now. Don't burn tomorrow the bridges you can burn today, capice?

Worker #3116 at the bar: Friend, what ever happened to enthusiasm? Motivation? You're waiting for things to come to you, but guess what, the world is still spinning! Why not spin with it for awhile! I'm telling you to buy the next round.

Worker #3116 alone in his room, as always: Worker #3116, you are the shining center of attention. Your dynamic magnetism draws others to you like moths to a flame. Beware, like Icarus to the sun, you can fall prey to your own ambitions. Nevertheless, expect the phone to start ringing on the 8th, and not stop until the 23rd. Expect it, but it won't.

Inaccurate Metaphor of the Day: Hollow Tips Make Niggas Dissappear Like Houdini

Yo Homeskilletz,

I know that I've already touched upon rappers' unneccessary attempts to remain at the cutting edge of gadget technology in their vidoes, but this morning's viewing of The Game's "How We Do" (featuring 50 Cent) was a new low. It starts in some shitty hotel room or shitty apartment, I don't know, but this guy is sleeping in his bed, and there's crap all over the place, and on the table, next to his Sidekick II or who knows what, there is one of those new Limited Edition i-pods. Now, I know that the black ipod with the red wheel looks kind of cool, and it's obviously new, and VERY LIMITED EDITION, but it's also got the signatures of Bono and The Edge laser-etched into the back, and it comes pre-loaded with U2's entire back catalog, so it's like "Well, well, well, looks like The Game wanted to hear 'Achtung Baby' before going to sleep last night." I wonder if he drank any vitamin water while he was listening to it?

Also, poor Hype Williams. No one in the hip-hop community has suffered the devastating effects of their own rap-moniker to the degree that Hype Williams has, with the possible exception of Eazy-E.

Meanwhile, back in the world of the white middle-class...

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

You Heard Me, An International Cookie Festival

So I'm all like, how could my day get any better than it already is just sitting around basking in the glories of God's grace? "Well, how does an International Cookie Festival in the conference room sound?" my work asked me. Uh, pretty gay, was my obvious reply.

Clown Coffee: How does New Zealand taste? Ohh, not so good.
Worker #3116: That's why they're not the Cookie Capital of the World.
Clown Coffee: No, they sure aren't. Who is? Deutschland?
Worker #3116: Oh come on. They can't even make bread.
Clown Coffee: Swiss? Swissland? Oh, I think this one's from Mehico! Olé! Ugh. Are you even trying Mexico? Don't you have sugar down there?
Worker #3116: Ha ha.
Clown Coffee: Mmmm, this one's good. It reminds me of that pizza we just ate. Why...why aren't you eating your cookies? I thought we were going to have a cookie party.
Worker #3116: I don't think I can have a cookie party so soon after our pizza party.
Clown Coffee: So you're calling me a pig.
Worker #3116: I'm just saying, maybe I could have a cookie party right after a pizza party if I was a big fucking fat ass like you are.
Clown Coffee: OHH!
Worker #3116: Zing.

Resolutions For a New Year Resolutions

A lot of people have been calling me really late at night, after my bedtime, all in a panic about the New Year. "What's my resolutions going be?" they ask in their best pidgin. "Worker #3116 is help. Need resolutions for a New Year resolutions." Well, immigrants, here are a few suggestions. And now stop calling me:

-Gain 500 pounds
-Smoke more expensive cigarettes
-Fix that thing what need fixing
-Stop telling everyone about your Brazilian all the time, because you're not really impressing anyone
-Be nicer to retards
-Become white (if you are not white), or at least get so many white friends that you fool yourself into forgetting about your lesser race
-Tell your loved ones that you love them without "couching" it in "sarcasm"
-Gain 600 pounds

Pyjamas Are What You Wear On The Outside Because Lack Of Respect Is What You Feel On The Inside

The thing about blading your foot is that it's really, really hard. Basically, the idea behind it is that when you are performing your sidekick, you need to turn your foot, which naturally wants to push flat-of-the-foot out—like stomping sideways—so that it is the very edge of your foot that is striking your target. By minimizing the surface area of the strike, you are maximizing the force of the strike. But to blade your foot, you have to tilt it so that the flat-of-the-foot is parallel to the floor, and you have to pull your toes toward your body, all while your leg is extended up towards someone's head (that's assuming you can get your leg that high, which you can't). I do not like you blading-the-foot, I do not like you in a box, I do not like you with a fox.

Eventually, though, I will get very good at blading my foot, and then when I kick you it will be like a knife kicking you. So you better not eat all the latkes at the Channukah party. And seriously, everyone knows this, but you get your shit dressed up when you know you're going to see me. You do not wear your pajamas. What do you think I am, some kind of fucking asshole who doesn't know the difference between respect and getting his face peed on? Because I'm not that kind of asshole. I'm the kind of asshole who beats other assholes up!

And that's my point.

Monday, December 13, 2004

Explosification

Oh, I forgot: If, in the future, you are going to invite me to a Hannukah party and dreidel is planned as one of the evening events, please make sure that something besides Valarium Root supplements and Tums are available as the ante. And, when you do finally find some pennies to play with, keep them in a traditional "change jar" or "piggy bank" rather than a plastic bag marked "For Medical Waste Only" that's filled with hair.

Thanks in advance.

Introducing Worker "Cougar" #3116

Now that John "Cougar" Mellencamp has realized that he is a thousand years old and gone for the more age appropriate, pussified John Mellencamp, I guess "Cougar" is once again available as a professional moniker. This is basically a post about how Worker #3116 called dibs.

You Wanted It, So Just Shut Up!

I started writing this post about how basically Worker #3116 is kind of depressed, and I was trying to trace it back to watching Amityville Horror with on Friday, but it really wasn't gelling, so I just deleted it. There was a joke about how Old Navy makes poor quality clothes for poor financially people, and I even made some very serious comments about the way I have been feeling, and it's like SNOOZE ALERT!

Anyway, I definitely recommend Amityville Horror if you enjoy watching two hours of boring loose ends that never achieve resolution. The best part is when the people knock down a brick wall and hear the devil's voice explain to them that they have just opened a portal to hell and then two seconds later it cuts to...the next afternoon! "Yawn, I'm tired. We're not going to solve this whole portal-to-hell thing in one night, better to just hit the ol' hay and try again in the morning." In fact, don't expect to hear anymore about the portal to hell in the basement, that storyline is no longer useful. Wait, what's that giant demon dog in the upstairs window? Oops, he's gone, and amazingly unexplained!! There's about a million more of these, but I'm boring myself just thinking about it. Flies! Jody! Hell sludge!

If being bored and slightly annoyed by Amityville Horror is wrong, I don't know how to be right!

All in all, my weekend recap is relatively unexplosive. I'd like to tell that it was nice to see her, and that her full-body sweatsuit is hottt. Then I would like to tell my girlfriend that drinking blackberry Manishevitz out of a styrofoam cup to wash down the taco pizza you are eating is very excellent. Good job, you did it!

Friday, December 10, 2004

Fuck You, And Fuck Your Big, Puffy Vagina

Dear girls,

Get your shit together. No more craziness from you.

Like,
Worker #3116

Nina #3116

So, my new celebrity crush(es) is Nina Sky. Duh. There was a video on last night for the Alchemist feat. Nina Sky song "SONG SONG SONG!" or whatever it's called, and Nina Sky was just standing on, like, some dock or something, not super dressed up, but still totally hot. They are the rich man's FannyPack. The rest of you bums can have those two clowns from the FannyPack. Maybe you guys can do homework together!

Anyway, I thought everyone might like to learn a little something about my new wifes:

At first sight, the fact that these two songbirds are identical twins weighs heavily on the eyes. However, let us put that detail away for a moment. Natalie and Nicole Albino are not only two heavenly attractive young women, they are singers; true singers with cohesive melodies that are a strong as their sisterly bond. But it doesn’t stop there. This multi-talented duo known as Nina Sky, Nina equaling a portion of each of their names and Sky representing their shared aspirations, are also instrumentalists and songwriters. Now back to the twin thing, these two beautifully blended voices are undoubtedly better than one.

Nina Sky grew up in the multi-cultural borough of Queens in New York City. As they tell it, their early childhood and teen years were spent taking in magnitudes of music from several different genres. "My stepfather was a DJ, so he always played a lot of music," says Nicole. "In the morning, he’d play rock music and then he’d go into some Miles Davis and then he’d play Madonna. He’d play everything!" The musical influence that Natalie and Nicole’s stepfather had impressed upon them was a great gift in hindsight. Growing up in such a harmonious home that effortlessly mingled various sounds, the two sisters quickly began to draw from that impact when composing their own music. "From when we were little we knew we wanted to do this," Natalie offers. "My mother even told us that when we started talking we would sing."

As Natalie and Nicole’s raw talent matured, the family supported the twins’ passion and drive to become professional singers. Subsequently, Nina Sky’s musical interests expanded. Nicole learned how to DJ from her stepfather and began playing the guitar and drums. The girls hooked up with the production team The Jettsonz approximately four years ago and began on the journey to stardom. "We auditioned, did showcases, and worked within a group of girls, and then we worked as a duo," explains Nicole. "In 2004, The Jettsonz introduced us to Cipha Sounds who suggested we write to the Coolie Dance Riddim," explains Natalie about their connection with renowned New York City DJ Cipha Sounds who co-produced the joint. Cipha had quickly recognized the fountain of talent buried in this well and supported the young women in their endeavors. They recorded a demo of the warm weather, rump shaking, party-starting hit record "Move Ya Body" and brought it to Eddie O’Loughlin, President of Next Plateau Entertainment, who offered a contract to Nina Sky on the spot. When the record was completed, it reacted immediately, infiltrating airways as one of the most added records at rhythm and urban radio.

After Nina Sky signed with Next Plateau/Universal Records, they immediately began recording their self-titled debut album. "We are very proud of the way our album came out. It is very personal to us. We self-titled it for that reason. It really represents who Nina Sky is," says Nicole. The album is a combination of R&B songs heavily influenced by hip-hop, classic rock and throwback tunes, produced by Elijah Wells and Lionel Bermingham of the Jettsonz and Cipha Sounds and J. Landlord, co-owners of Jack Move Inc. and written, in conjunction, by both of the sisters. Nina Sky’s deliciously light and ethereal vocals make their songs even more aurally enticing as they often tell the female side of the story.

One of the many stand out tracks from the album, "Your Time," is a smoothed out, rhythmic jam that illuminates Nina Sky’s sexy vocals over a mid tempo melody. Showing that the most important element of a relationship is spending time, the chorus goes: "Should I move on and find someone better?/Should I sit down and write you a letter?/You bought me gifts and a diamond ring/But all I really want is just one thing/Your Time."

Mixing things up a bit, Nina Sky also addresses common issues like the loss of a cherished friendship. "There is a song on the album called 'Surely Missed' that’s about losing your best friend," says Natalie of the slow tempo ballad she penned. "I never experienced that personally but I have friends who have gone through that and seeing how emotional they were, it inspired me to write something for them."

Nina Sky collaborated with R&B legend Betty Wright to write the song "You Deserve," on which she also appears as a guest vocalist. And in the delightful vein of their flagship single "Move Ya Body" Nina Sky knows how to keep the party going, with songs like "Turnin’ Me On," an upbeat percussion heavy dance tune and the two hip-hop inspired track "In a Dream" and "Holla Back..."

In early 2005, Nina Sky were married to Worker #3116, and it was truly awesome. "We've never done anything like this," says Nathalie. "But we're really looking forward to our totally amazing life with Worker #3116, who is only slightly hotter than we are [combined], so there's none of that harsh tension you get sometimes in a marriage when someone's, like, way hotter," Nicole added. Their sophmore album, tentatively titled "Nina #3116," which they've already begun writing with Timbaland and Sean Paul, is dedicated to their new husband, and said to be their most powerful, introspective work yet.

Nina Sky has already proven to be a duo worthy of national recognition with just one sweltering hot record. Delve into their self-titled debut this summer and they will surely double that listening pleasure.

Nina #3116

So, my new celebrity crush(es) is Nina Sky. Duh. There was a video on last night for the Alchemist feat. Nina Sky song "SONG SONG SONG!" or whatever it's called, and Nina Sky was just standing on, like, some dock or something, not super dressed up, but still totally hot. They are the rich man's FannyPack. The rest of you bums can have those two clowns from the FannyPack. Maybe you guys can do homework together!

Anyway, I thought everyone might like to learn a little something about my new wifes:

At first sight, the fact that these two songbirds are identical twins weighs heavily on the eyes. However, let us put that detail away for a moment. Natalie and Nicole Albino are not only two heavenly attractive young women, they are singers; true singers with cohesive melodies that are a strong as their sisterly bond. But it doesn’t stop there. This multi-talented duo known as Nina Sky, Nina equaling a portion of each of their names and Sky representing their shared aspirations, are also instrumentalists and songwriters. Now back to the twin thing, these two beautifully blended voices are undoubtedly better than one.

Nina Sky grew up in the multi-cultural borough of Queens in New York City. As they tell it, their early childhood and teen years were spent taking in magnitudes of music from several different genres. "My stepfather was a DJ, so he always played a lot of music,: says Nicole. "In the morning, he’d play rock music and then he’d go into some Miles Davis and then he’d play Madonna. He’d play everything!" The musical influence that Natalie and Nicole’s stepfather had impressed upon them was a great gift in hindsight. Growing up in such a harmonious home that effortlessly mingled various sounds, the two sisters quickly began to draw from that impact when composing their own music. "From when we were little we knew we wanted to do this," Natalie offers. "My mother even told us that when we started talking we would sing."

As Natalie and Nicole’s raw talent matured, the family supported the twins’ passion and drive to become professional singers. Subsequently, Nina Sky’s musical interests expanded. Nicole learned how to DJ from her stepfather and began playing the guitar and drums. The girls hooked up with the production team The Jettsonz approximately four years ago and began on the journey to stardom. "We auditioned, did showcases, and worked within a group of girls, and then we worked as a duo," explains Nicole. "In 2004, The Jettsonz introduced us to Cipha Sounds who suggested we write to the Coolie Dance Riddim," explains Natalie about their connection with renowned New York City DJ Cipha Sounds who co-produced the joint. Cipha had quickly recognized the fountain of talent buried in this well and supported the young women in their endeavors. They recorded a demo of the warm weather, rump shaking, party-starting hit record "Move Ya Body" and brought it to Eddie O’Loughlin, President of Next Plateau Entertainment, who offered a contract to Nina Sky on the spot. When the record was completed, it reacted immediately, infiltrating airways as one of the most added records at rhythm and urban radio.

After Nina Sky signed with Next Plateau/Universal Records, they immediately began recording their self-titled debut album. "We are very proud of the way our album came out. It is very personal to us. We self-titled it for that reason. It really represents who Nina Sky is," says Nicole. The album is a combination of R&B songs heavily influenced by hip-hop, classic rock and throwback tunes, produced by Elijah Wells and Lionel Bermingham of the Jettsonz and Cipha Sounds and J. Landlord, co-owners of Jack Move Inc. and written, in conjunction, by both of the sisters. Nina Sky’s deliciously light and ethereal vocals make their songs even more aurally enticing as they often tell the female side of the story.

One of the many stand out tracks from the album, "Your Time," is a smoothed out, rhythmic jam that illuminates Nina Sky’s sexy vocals over a mid tempo melody. Showing that the most important element of a relationship is spending time, the chorus goes: "Should I move on and find someone better?/Should I sit down and write you a letter?/You bought me gifts and a diamond ring/But all I really want is just one thing/Your Time."

Mixing things up a bit, Nina Sky also addresses common issues like the loss of a cherished friendship. "There is a song on the album called 'Surely Missed' that’s about losing your best friend," says Natalie of the slow tempo ballad she penned. "I never experienced that personally but I have friends who have gone through that and seeing how emotional they were, it inspired me to write something for them."

Nina Sky collaborated with R&B legend Betty Wright to write the song "You Deserve," on which she also appears as a guest vocalist. And in the delightful vein of their flagship single "Move Ya Body" Nina Sky knows how to keep the party going, with songs like "Turnin’ Me On," an upbeat percussion heavy dance tune and the two hip-hop inspired track "In a Dream" and "Holla Back..."

In early 2005, Nina Sky were married to Worker #3116, and it was truly awesome. "We've never done anything like this," says Nathalie. "But we're really looking forward to our totally amazing life with Worker #3116, who is only slightly hotter than we are [combined], so there's none of that harsh tension you get sometimes in a marriage when someone's, like, way hotter," Nicole added. Their sophmore album, tentatively titled "Nina #3116," which they've already begun writing with Timbaland and Sean Paul, is dedicated to their new husband, and said to be their most powerful, introspective work yet.

Nina Sky has already proven to be a duo worthy of national recognition with just one sweltering hot record. Delve into their self-titled debut this summer and they will surely double that listening pleasure.

And Then Time Opened Up And All The Dinosaurs Came Back To Life!

When I got to work this morning, I had a flashing red light on my phone. Message time!

[Operator]: "You have one new message. To listen to your message pre--"
[Worker #3116]: "Hey, it's me. Um...you need to, like, leave yourself some kind of note or reminder to remember to get your Swiffer Sweeper from your parents' house tonight. [Indeterminate yelling in background] That was McCullen. He says hello. Anyway, I hope you're having a really great day at work. Byeeeeeeeeee!
[McCullen yelling in background]: Byeeeeee!
*click*
[Operator]: "To save this message, press 2. To delete this message pre--"

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Madonna Coffee

Guess who's getting all into Kabbalah all of a fucking sudden?

Read This Thing That I Wrote About This Thing Someone Else Wrote About The Guy Who Killed Pantera

I was just reading this A.P. wire report about the guy who shot Pantera, and it said "A gunman charged onstage at a packed nightclub and opened fire on the band and crowd, killing top heavy metal guitarist 'Dimebag' Darrell Abbott and three other people before a police officer shot him to death, authorities and witnesses said." What I realized about this sentence was that I really like the expression "shot him to death." It's kind of like saying "I read this thing that someone wrote," or "I got sick with a disease that's bad for you." I know that you can shoot someone without killing them, of course I know that. And, in thinking about it, I realized that I couldn't find a better, more succinct way of expressing what that expression expresses. But I still thought that it was funny, unlike the family members of the people who died, because when you're grieving for a loved one, food don't taste as good. Food, here, is a metaphor for laughter.

Byeeeeeee, Pantera.

Summer College

Brother #3116: Oh, I get it.
Worker #3116: What?
Brother #3116: The numbers correspond to the meal, not...not like what you get in the meal. I got confused, like "I can get 26 enchiladas but only 2 tacos?!"
Worker #3116: You have one semester to get caught up to where you need to be, otherwise you're going to have to go to Remedial College.

Apparently, McCullen Is Friends With Times Columnist Maureen Dowd

Re: Donald Rumsfeld.

"How did this dangerous chucklehead keep his job?"
(New York Times)

Hey, McCullen, you should invite her to orkut, you stupid maururu.

Good Morning, I Am Gross

The Babysitters' Club downstairs has this little German weiner dog that apparently shits all over the yard without ever being asked to clean up after himself because today I got to work and found shit all over the bottom of my shoe, and I only wear these shoes between my house and the car and between the car and work. Granted, I put them on in my room this morning, where all of my secrets are kept out in the open, but none of my secrets have anything to do with dogs or shit or dog's shit. Anyhow, I've just been wiping the dog shit into the carpets all around the office, and people keep checking their shoes, and I'm like "ha ha made you look!"

This is a disgusting post that basically says that Worker #3116 stepped in dog shit this morning and was embarrassed.

It's really the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of the world, though. As Clown Coffee would say, "this is worse than Hitler," because I'm really just obsessed with whether or not anyone can tell. I went outside and tried to clean my shoe, and did a pretty decent job, but not perfect, no one is perfect, and I would like to go outside again but I can't keep walking through the lobby and acting like I forgot something in my car. I'm just pulverized by this new thing. And I am going to fucking kill that dog the next time that I see it. The Babysitters' Club is always doing asshole stuff, like parking in my spot and not taking out their trash, which, in case you don't know what babysitters do, IS FULL OF DIAPERS. Sometimes raccoons get into the trash, though, and they eat some of the diapers and leave the rest strewn all over the street, and I just wait, knowing that one day the Babysitters' Club babysitters are going to get there and think, "God damn it, the god damn raccoons got into the diapers again!"

Marijuana Cigarettes Are My Favorite Brand of Cigarettes

I have been so high for one minute.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Dirty Snoops!

This, from my horoscope:

"If others don't respect your privacy, you may have to resort to physically hiding things."

I appreciate this, because most of the things that I'd rather people didn't know/talk about are just miscellaneous stuff I've currently got sitting on the floor of my room. Well, I'm just going to put those away as soon as I get home, Mr. Jerks!

Will Work For Hollywood

When is Hollywood going to get its act together and combine my two favorite movie themes into some kind of SUPERMOVIE that is the BEST MOVIE EVER MADE? Look, I'm telling you this for free, Hollywood, please make something that combines the eroticism of gourmet food with how a cold and callous business man relearns the true beauty of life through his time spent with a retarded person. Think Like Chocolate for Rain Man or Eat, Drink, Man, Rain Man.

DO IT!

Scenes From My Life As Metaphors For The Year That Is Ending And The Year That Is Still To Come

2004:

When I arrived in Switzerland, it was a cold, gray, rainy Sunday in October. All of the stores were closed, and the streets were virtually empty. I decided to walk around and see what this place was all about, so I took my walkman, and the third volume of a mix-tape trilogy Brother Russia had made for my trip. Walking through the center of town, with absolutely no one else around, and listening to Colors and the Kids*, I started crying, thinking that there could not be a sadder place in the whole world than inside my head.

2005:

I saw this Bollywood video at 5 Star Punjabi, in Long Island City, this one time, which featured a man dressed up in a very snappy suit, singing some crazy song while he danced down the street, backed by a whole gang of other guys in snappy suits and maybe some ladies in short dresses or something. Anyhow, he danced and sang all the way to this brown** Lincoln Continental and then he popped open the trunk and it was filled with ice and bottles of champagne and he just started passing them out and everyone popped open their bottles and there was foam everywhere!

*Song heard at this moment was actually Taking People, as the mix-tape trilogy was made in the summer of 1998, and Moon Pix was not released until September 22 of that year. Sentimentally, though, Colors and the Kids just feels like a more appropriate song for this memory.

**I am not positive that the Lincoln Continental was brown. It may have been another color. I am positive that I was eating Chicken Tikka Masala at the time, and that I have yet to find a Chicken Tikka Masala anywhere that is better (or even as good) as the Chicken Tikka Masala at 5 Star Punjabi.

Eight Glorious Nights!

I know what I want for Chanukah, and it's not wearing any clothes.

Covered in Shame and Confusion

There's something I've been sort of wanting to say for about two weeks, but out of "professional jealousy" (or, as it is less commonly known, "regular jealousy"), I've been avoiding talking about it, which is also funny because I have no claim on this real-life Ricky Schroeder's profession. But has anyone seen the new Spike Jonze-directed video for Ludacris's Get Back? It features Ludacris with these cartoonishly massive arms, like Hulk arms, doing the kinds of things that you would expect someone with cartoonishly massive arms to do. All in all, it's actually a far cry from Jonze's best videos. The first "act" takes place in a bathroom and it's far too long, and after awhile the video seems to lose its steam and drag on forever as the conceit of the cartoonishly massive arms becomes accepted and thereby uninteresting, which is too bad considering it is one of Ludacris's better songs. Nevertheless, there are two moments of pure absolute genius in this video. When I first saw it, I missed the very beginning with the little title credits in the corner, but even so I knew it was Jonze, and not because of the arms, which any Roman Coppolla could think of, but because of two very specific details. The first occurs when Ludacris is walking down the street through throngs of club goers, surrounded by his fat backup dancers who wear these fat pink Chanel dresses and throw people out of Ludacris's way, because they're super strong from all that extra fat on their bodies. But the moment of absolute genius comes when Ludacris stops to yell "Get Back!" at a pair of boots. They don't even show the girl wearing the boots, they just show Ludacris yelling at the boots and then a close-up of the boots. The second amazing detail is when Ludacris is rapping in front of a gas station, where all the fat back-up dancers have parked their four-wheelers in a line. It is a relatively typical "rapper rapping in front of a semi-dynamically arranged, but otherwise static background" sequence, with the big arms waving, except that if you look closely, one of his cartoonishly massive hands is holding a Slurpee. I can't wait for Adaptation 2: Curse of the Black Pearl.

So, McCullen and I have come up with three possible themes for our New Year's Eve party, and can I just mention how happy I got yesterday when I remembered that 2004 is the Worst Year Ever and it's almost over? 2005 is going to be a little bit better! Anyhow, the themes are as follows:

You Know How My Face Gets
What Happens in Cabo, Stays in Cabo
How Dare Them

The theme that was roundly rejected was McCullen's "J'accuse!" theme, in which everyone sat around in black and white and no one was allowed to speak unless it was to shout "J'accuse!" across the room. The reason, of course, that this theme was rejected is that I want people other than just fags to come to our party.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Temporary

Don't bother going to the library to check out Billboard Top Hits for the years 1981-1987 or Billboard Top Hits: 1989. You will find that they are already on-loan.

In a similar note: who the fuck checked out Billboard Top Hits: 1988? You are an asshole person.

Why I Am Not A Famous Children's Author

Four best friends leave home to go camping in the woods. While they are there, they discover a dead body. Later, the police explain to them that it is a whore who got murdered and dumped in the creek where they were fishing. One of the boys eventually grows up to own his very own whore, a dream he'd held ever since that camping trip so long ago.

A boil on a fat man's back just keeps getting worse and worse. The boil has no friends, and he thinks it's because he's so big, not realizing that getting big and painful is just what boils do. And, of course, that boils are inherently friendless.

In a magical land where unicorns and fairies and stuff like that live, a young wizard is surprised to discover that his only talent is making anyone, including himself, instantaneously orgasm. At the young age that he discovers this spell, he does not quite understand its true power. But eventually, when he grows older, he does, and that is when he stops leaving the house. His mother constantly nags him to get a real wizarding job, but she is not a wizard herself, and so does not understand his gift. The wizard, who is so slovenly, always tells her that she has no idea what she is talking about. Finally, exasperated, she screams "So show me!" and that's when things really start to get weird.

Pray With Me For The Secular Soul Of Karate Teacher #3116

My favorite karate teacher is always inviting me to church, and I'm like, "Um, apparently you haven't noticed my controlling interest in the world monetary markets and my near stranglehold on the media?" Then I'm all, like, "Dude!" and I do this thing where I use my index finger to trace my gigantic, bony nose. If that doesn't work, I put two fingers up behind my head and wiggle them to indicate the horns that I cover with my devious, wiry hair. But last night, before he invited me to church, something happened that may have really soured our relationship. He was like, "Have you read this book, Treason by Ann Coulter?" And I was like..."Um, no." And he was like, "What do you think of her?" And I was all, "I don't really like her very much, sir." And he was all, "Oops! Okay, we'll just put that away then." Then there was this really long awkward silence. Now, what he didn't know was that last week he had me run and put something in his locker, and I saw the book in there then, too, but I told myself that maybe a friend was making him read it, or maybe he found it on top of a dead homeless person with a note attached telling him to give it to the woman what which loved [the homeless person] during his life. I knew it. I knew it all along, I just, I don't know...I figured he probably contributed to the Tragic Events of 11/2, and I was willing to accept that, but there's something about reading Ann Coulter books that...okay, let me put it this way, it's like if you voted for Bush then you might still just be a recreational drinker, but if you read Ann Coulter books, you're the guy who gets so drunk at a party that all your friends are embarrassed and you end up trying to hit on your sister before giving her a black-eye. He's still my favorite teacher, but when the student becomes the master we are going to have to have a talk.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Fan-dan-go?

They say love changes a man, and I'm here to tell you that this is true. Her name is Asia. She is a negress. She works in talent and event promotions. She is moving to Orlando in January. She loves her job. She wears backless silk shirts. She'd never been to that bar before, either. We have a lot in common, for example we both love my tan H&M winter visor and my beard. And you know what they say about dark berries and juice.

So, goodbye IAmJamieSabuda. You are so crazy. I hope that when you weld a six-foot long sword to your car and inadvertently cut people down on the sidewalk, that your "Pedestrian Beware" defense gets you off the hook. I hope that people in VT are as willing and able to buy you beer and doritos and pickles and whatever the fuck else you're always making everyone buy you here. I hope your dream kitchen becomes a reality kitchen. Relax!

Meanwhile, here's a fun little fact: one night, after a very heated D&D campaign, Macy Gray fucked the shit out of Bjork and they gave birth to a beautiful little white girl that they named Joanna Newsom and then they sent her off on a voyage of the seas!

Who do you think I get for Secret Semite? I bet it's FirstLastAlways! Maybe I can rescue that "Wage Slave" tee-shirt McCullen found from the trash. I'll have to dye it black, though.

Friday, December 03, 2004

Comparison Shopping/Marriage

One thing that I really HATE is when you meet some totally boring (and usually ugly) person at some piece of shit party and maybe you've got a friend in common so the a-hole you're meeting right then is like, "Oh man, you've probably heard about how I'm really CRAZY! Ha ha ha!" And it's like, "No, not crazy, superboring! And ugly!" Anyhow, that begins to describe my reaction to this hot celebrity gossip from Hollywood, USA!

"Vincent Gallo will appear in Mark Wahlberg's HBO show Entourage playing—what else?—an eccentric indie movie director. Says Wahlberg, 'It's gonna be crazy.'"
(salon.com)

Comparison Shopping/Marriage

Late-20's-aged women of my office, I've got something to say!

This one time, I was at the grocery store and I wanted 60 watt lightbulbs, but it seemed like they were out of them. So I went to one of the stockers in the canned vegetables aisle and told him that I wanted 60 watt lightbulbs but couldn't find any. So he went to look with me at the lightbulb section, which I'd already totally gone through. Then he called a manager over, who also looked through the lightbulbs, and then the manager said she would check in the back to see if maybe they'd come in but they just hadn't been shelved yet. So she was gone for, like, ten minutes, and I went and got some other stuff in my basket, like a frozen pizza, and some canned crushed tomatoes for pasta sauce, and 2% milk, which is the kind of milk I drink to get strong. Finally, she came back and said that there weren't any in the back, and she'd talked with the inventory manager who said that lightbulbs usually come in on Mondays, so if I wanted to check back then they'd probably have some in stock. I then went to the checkout and bought the items I've already mentioned, along with some eggs, four Danon yogurts, and a small head of boston lettuce for sandwich making, small because I don't need that much lettuce.

Did you find this story interesting? That is because it is slightly more interesting than your stories about how great it is now that you're married.

Deposit

Lloyd Banks has clearly overdrawn at the S.T.M. (Simile Transaction Machine):

"Got my dick hard as a missile"
(later)
"My heart's colder then ya sandwich meat"
(Karma by Lloyd Banks)

Granted, when I was listening to this song last night I had to admit that, indeed, a missile is pretty hard because it's made out of solid metal, and that yes, if you keep it in the fridge, sandwich meat can become very cold. But come on, Mr. Banks, this is just getting silly.

Regardless, I must give credit where credit is due. So bravo, sir, on the following:

"N i pop in a listerine strip before you get all up on a bitch face"

I think I know what you're trying to say about someone who's dealing harshly with you—that's what "get[ting] all up on a bitch face" would be, right, like someone yelling, like a female yelling?—and I definitely relate to needing a listerine strip in moments of high stress with a member of the opposite sex. That is no time for bad breath. Yuck! You've captured the essence of the human drama in your floetry.

Subjects: I Am Worker #3116. Everything Is Worker #3116. The Control Worker #3116.

Once again, IAmJamieSabuda is moving. This is his last weekend before he leaves. So last night I was talking with him on the phone, and somehow, like a magician with just one, useless spell, he makes everything so complicated. Someone needs to give that guy a Sparks to calm him down. Anyhow, this is a little bit like how it went:

Worker #3116: Well, I'd really like to see you this weekend before you leave.
IAmJamieSabuda: I know, me too.
Worker #3116: So...let's hang out.
IAmJamieSabuda: Alright, well, are you free on Friday and Saturday?
Worker #3116: Totally.
IAmJamieSabuda: Okay, well, maybe I'll just come over on Friday.
Worker #3116: Okay.
IAmJamieSabuda: FUCK! Wait, I think there's something going on on Friday.
Worker #3116: That's fine, we can just come meet up with you.
IAmJamieSabuda: Shit, I totally forgot.
Worker #3116: It's fine.
IAmJamieSabuda: FUCK! I think there's something going on on Saturday!
Worker #3116: Why don't you just decide what you want to do, since it's your last weekend, and then call me and tell me what you're doing, and I will do that thing too.
IAmJamieSabuda: GOD DAMN IT!
Worker #3116: Okay, so call me tomorrow.
IAmJamieSabuda: I'll call you. JESUS CHRIST!

Do you know how sometimes a particular album just bores you and bores you and bores you until one day it sounds totally different and absolutely necessary? That is what has happened this week with M83's Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts. Jesus Christ, that thing fucking killed me every time I heard it, but now it fucking KILLS me, do you see the difference? Still, I can't help but feel like this album is just a poor man's Everything Is Wrong for my generation. (NOTE: the expression "for my generation" means that this is a generalized comparison, so don't start being all like, "But Worker #3116, Everything Is Wrong has generic black lady vocal overdubs and still smells like 4 Bears Waterpark!" I'm just saying, is all.)

Big ups to OK Tiger for bringing over The Control Room last night. Fun time Thursdays FOREVER! YAY! SARCASM!

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Drop It Like It's Hottt

It may take a village to raise a child, but it only takes a child-sized bomb to raze a village.

Your Time Has Passed, Why Can't You Hear That?

Dear Le Tigre,

Please le don't le make le music anylemore.

C'est over.

Also:

Polyphonic Spree+Mercury Rev=Arcade Fire

Neutral Milk Hotel *hearts* The Decembrists

Ha's

I'm working on a new laugh. It should be ready by the next time you fall down.

The Miseducation of Worker #3116

I'd rather die than have a black person read my diary.
Get it?
It's like the reverse of reverse-racism.

Director's Commentary:

Ha ha. Lauryn Hill is the funnest. I wonder how her child, Zion-The-Black-Culture's-Intellectual/Spiritual-Equivalent-Of-Naming-Your-Child-Apple is doing?

Peepsa! Peepsa! Peepsa!

'Sup peeps!

I had a girlfriend once who started every email or phone call with "sup!" Guess where she is now! In the garbage!

Anyhow, I was in a really foul mood last night, so it's a good thing you didn't cross me or you'd be so dead. Even Mom #3116, who I saw at dinner, told me I was really annoying. Guess where she is now! At work! But guess where she is in my heart! Maybe I'll be in a better mood today, but I f-ing doubt it. I so f-ing doubt it, totally.

Whatevs.

Can we talk just for a second about how depressing this winter has been ALREADY. It's not even winter yet. What's up with that, God? I'm just so pulverized by this new thing.

Peace what, peeps!

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Clown Kike

Clown Coffee said he wants to change his last name to Kike because it sounds very strong and assured.

I'm nervous to tell him that it's an anti-semitic epithet. He just looks so happy!

I've Got A New One

Stevil likes his coffee the way he likes his women: he doesn't like coffee.

This works for some other people, too, McCullen.

Take Me Home, To A Hole In My Tree Where I Store Nuts For Winter. Get It?

Have you heard the new hit from Terror Squad (TERROR SQUUAAAAAD!), "Take Me Home"? It's very very sexy, with supersexy lines like:

"Yous a big girl, eat it up, now tell ya friend to hold your hair while you eatin' up"

"I know you hear them breathin like you been possessed by a demon"

"3 in the mornin and actin indecent"

But, now that you're turned way on, listen to the chorus:

She wanna take me home, lay me up inside her home
She wanna turn me on, breakfast in the mornin'
She said "Daddy let me take ya home, papi let me take ya home"
And I said "Mami you can take me home if you let the whole crew get on" (bitch)


That part in the third line, that part in quotations, "Daddy...home," that's supposed to be the super hot girl that you can't wait to, like, totally do it with all the time...except, IT'S SUNG IN A CHIPMUNK VOICE. You nasty, Fat Joe.

I Like My Coffee The Way I Like My Women: In Bed

Yesterday at the gym I was doing the deltoid machine and just trying to think up coffee jokes, like, "A gangster likes his coffee the way he likes his women, iced." That's the only one I came up with, though, because I was interrupted by this girl who was like "Aren't you Worker #3116?" and I was like "Yeah, oh, hey, how's it going?" And then she was like "I just got back from teaching English in France, I'm looking for a job, this gym is nice, BLAH BLAH BLAH." I'm like, "Look, you know how some people feel bad when they run into people they used to kind of know because they can't remember their name, and not remembering their name is rude? Well, clearly we're in that type of situation, except it's not so much that I feel bad as that I feel BORED. Stop talking to me!" Then I was all, like, SIT UPS! SIT UPS! SIT UPS! until she got the point.

Deadbeat Père Update: Deadbeat Père called me last night, once again turning off his caller i.d. Why does he think this is such a great trick? No one else does it, so it's not like I don't know who's calling. But the poor guy has been calling once a week since September, so I begrudgingly answered the phone. That is why it was so "cute" (read: retarded) when he was like, "Well, now that I've reopened the lines of communicati—" Stop right there! You didn't open shit. I'm the one who's been ignoring your calls, dumbass. Ha ha. Whatever. It reminds me of dinner with my family last week when my brother saw that I was wearing the chain wallet that Peter Hamtramack gave me (you know, the one he designed at his famous design job) and my brother was like "What is that?" and I was like "It's a chain wallet," and he was like, "You're wearing a chain wallet?" and I was like, "Yeah, man, it's the '90s, chain wallets are totally in again," and he was like, "That is so unfair, if I had worn that you would have made so much fun of me and made me feel so bad about it," and I shook my head and looked hard at him before saying, "All these years and you still don't get it! I make the rules, not you. I'm in charge."

Also, did anyone watch the Real World: Philasmellphia last night? What is up with Shavonda a) being afraid of retarded kids, and b) thinking that it is acceptable to be afraid of retarded kids because everyone has irrational fears. They're retarded, and they're seven, and she's like "It still makes me feel uncomfortable, but I'm trying to conquer my fear," because some retarded kid was mean to her once when she was little and so she thinks that kids with CEREBRAL PALSY are inherently mean. This is so crazy, it is the craziest. She did not make herself look like any less of a horrible fucking bitch when she then went on to say "This morning we have to do the thing I hate most in the world, which is wake up early. I mean, it's a good cause and all, it's nice that we're doing it, but it fucking sucks that we have to get up early." I'm no big proponent of public service because I don't like helping people, but even I am capable of getting out of bed one morning in my luxurious televised life without throwing a tantrum about it.

You retarded kids, you be nicer! I will help you when I feel like getting up is when I say!