Friday, July 29, 2005

The Biggest Prize of Them All

Worker #3116: Which do you think is bigger, the Nobel Prize, or the Stanley Cup?
Clown Coffee: Prize.
Worker #3116: Yeah, you're probably right.
Clown Coffee: ...
Worker #3116: ...
Clown Coffee: ...
Worker #3116: But I don't think you can drink out of the Nobel Prize.
Clown Coffee: Cup.

I Survived Lunch

There was a woman in the Hot Caff wearing an "I Survived Hurricane Charley" t-shirt.

Must get ready for work. Hmm...what to wear? What to wear?! Must look professional. It is important to keep up a respectable outward appearance. A successful business not only operates successfully, it also presents itself successfully. I know, this tacky t-shirt. And I'll tuck it into my shorts with a belt. Ta-da! Boardroom, here I come!

They say dress for the job you want, not for the job you have. But "trucker's girlfriend" isn't really a job, is it?

The Aristocrats

I would just like to point out that The Aristocrats, the documentary about "the dirtiest joke ever told," which opens today, was co-directed by none other than Paul Provenza...former host of Nickelodeon's Kid's Court.

It's like my brain sends out radio signals!

Forty minutes of uninterrupted thought, with NO commercials, and none of that RAP!

It's So Bad It's Almost Good But Actually Goes Back to Being Bad but Then, Somehow, Gets Good, That's How Bad It Is

You can't really explain Satan's Little Helper in the on-line diary format. My skill set and vocabulary are far too limited to really capture it. Basically, this little fat kid loves playing this video game that has graphics rendered in crayon. The game is called "Satan's Little Helper," and gameplay looks a lot like "Paperboy," except you're throwing people into hell instead of papers into windows. On Halloween the fat kid meets a murderer and pretends to be Satan's Helper and they go around killing people in the middle of the day, but no one thinks anything of it because it's Halloween, see, and then the fat kid's family thinks that Satan is his sister's boyfr--LOOK, I cannot explain this to you. It is beyond my powers. All I can say is that at one point they run down a pregnant woman, a baby, and a blind man with a shopping cart in the parking lot of a grocery store (which they call "the grocer"). Later, when Amanda Plummer is dying because Satan has taped her mouth shut, her daughter, who was dressed for a renaissance festival but is now wearing a chicken costume and high heels, tries to save her but can't get the tape off and in desperation calls out, "DOES ANYBODY HAVE NAILS?" Then Satan shoots himself in the hand and dresses up as Jesus and pretends the bullet hole is stigmata and the fat kid fucking believes him because he's such a retard.

Other notable dialogue:
"Hold on, I'm just going to go get the special cider mugs."
"Where did this blood come from? Are you telling me the truth, or did you touch daddy?"
"Hello, helicopter? I need you to turn around and save us."

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Some Babies Should Not Be Found

This morning, I saw the music video for Can I Live? by Nick Cannon (feat. Anthony Hamilton). Had I seen the video from the beginning, I would have heard the following lyrics:

Mommy I don't like this clinic
Hopefully you'll make the right decision
And don't go through with the Knife incision
But it's hard to make the right move
When you in high school


Since I didn't hear those lyrics, I didn't realize it was an anti-abortion screed until the part where all the unaborted fetuses are wearing shirts reading "Can I Live?" and forming a glorious sanctity-of-life chorus.

Nick Cannon hugs his mom at the end, grateful that she had the clear-eyed vision to know that every teenage pregnancy that goes unaborted will eventually grow up to have a mildly successful recording career. In fact, teenagers make the best parents, and all of them should have babies.

Brandi Swindell of a youth pro-life organization, GenLife, is very supportive of Cannon's work, and offered this chilling admonition to grown-ups: "No one knows what it's like to be open prey in your mother's womb unless you were born after 1973."

What is this? The Hunted?


Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Let Go and Let God Pull One Over on You

I like the current trend of reggae infused hip hop...who started it? Shaggy? I hate Shaggy Boombastic, but maybe I owe him an apology. Sorry, Shaggy, for all them times I hate you. But it wasn't him, anyway. I'll give it to Sean Paul, who I don't hate...but maybe it was Dizzee Rascal and The Streets? England's "Grime" and "Garage" scenes? Leave it to the Ricans, of course, to show up late to the party and change the CD and pretend like they own the place. Boo, reggaeton! I enjoy your beats but your ethos of domination by feigned-ignorance does not impress me!

Anyhow, I went to Jamaica once and there were guards at the hotel with machine guns. There were also signs that warned you about getting hit in the head with a coconut and dying. Deadbeat Père took me there with ex-Step Mom #3116. She would never let me drink Coke but one afternoon I was hanging out with some kid by the pool and he ordered a Coke and we split it. Then I was really self-conscious about not acting caffeinated in front of ex-Step Mom #3116...it was kind of like showing up to work drunk. I really thought I had pulled one over on her. Then my dad divorced her and she became a born-again Christian...so I guess Jesus pulled one over on her in the end.

Bombe Éclate!

Lance Armstrong: Surgery Survivor

Am I the only one who is confused about the whole Lance Armstrong as Cancer Hero storyline? From all the literature I have read as an adult male between the ages of 20 and 34 who is conscientious about his health and well-being, balls cancer is highly treatable and often does not even affect the sufferer's ability to reproduce. I'm not asking for balls cancer or wishing it upon anyone. Make no mistake: balls cancer is no joke. But if it's so easily treatable with limited post-op complications, where is the heroism and triumphant will? That he won so much races is impressive, and that he was able to pull his shit together enough to say "Hey, so what if I only have one ball? I'm going to get a specially-constructed one-ball bike that accommodates my disability and I'm going to ride," when so many others would simply hang up their gay little bicycle cap...that's certainly something to see as inspirational. But I'm not buying this whole "Lance Armstrong triumphantly beat cancer through sheer will and then went on to..." NO! Here is how the media should be reporting this story: "Lance Armstrong triumphantly had his ball removed by surgeons!"

What am I missing here? We all know what Lance is missing...

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Q & A on the Subject of This Week's Heat-Wave

Q: Hot enough for ya?
A: ...
Q: OUCH! You put your cigarette out in my eye!
A: Hot enough for ya? Asshole.
Q: Ouch! It really hurts!
A: Go fuck yourself.

Re: Superman is a Republican

Are Your Legs Tired? Because I've Been Chasing Your Vagina All Day

Page Six reports a mildly disgusting piece of salacious gossip this morning in which Bruce Willis is trading old pick-up lines poolside with some friends, and "uses" one of them on a college sophomore. It's not disgusting that he used the line on what I'm assuming is a 19-year-old, I mean, Bruce Willis will be Bruce Willis, and besides, he was supposedly just telling her, lightheartedly, what he would have tried before he swore off co-eds on his 75th birthday. What is disgusting is that the hotel staff didn't force that goddamn Crypt Keeper back into his cobweb covered blues rock coffin. Jesus Christ, I can smell his desiccated bald pate from here.

Anyhow, being a worldly man who wears only the finest Planet Hollywoood team jackets and solid gold studs in his sacky ears, Willis wouldn't be so crass as to use the perfectly functional but style-less, "I am Bruce Willis, I was in Die Hard," which probably would have worked fine. No, he went for the gadabout's gentle touch, the infallible iron-dick-in-a-velvet-condom approach of, "What are your plans for sex tonight?"

Here are some other super-classy and turbo-sophisticated potential pick-up lines for Bruce Willis:

I want to have sex with you later. What time is best for you?
When are we having sex? It has to sometime tonight?
Here's what I do know: that we're going to be having sex tonight. But here's what I still need to find out: where do you want me to cum on you?

UNFAIR!

Do you remember that old Nickelodeon show, Kid's Court? This morning I was reminiscing about the only episode I remember, which featured an overweight kid taking his mom before the "Honorable Judge O'Meter"—as it should be, the justice of Kid's Court was meted out by applause—for throwing out his collection of TV Guides. His mom wanted him to clean his room, but he always ignored her, so she decided to clean his room herself, and in so doing, threw out his collection, which he claimed included extremely rare issues. I think that was what cemented this landmark trial in my mind for life, because even when I was little I thought, Come on, fat kid, there's no such thing as an extremely rare issue of TV Guide. When I was thinking about the show this morning I realized that not only did I totally take the mom's side in this case, because I wouldn't want my fat kid wasting his time with a piece of shit like TV Guide either (because where there's fanaticism for empty-headed daytime-star puff pieces and exhaustive time-table scheduling, the fanaticism for donut eating and anti-social pipe bomb construction projects is not far behind), and more to the point, if I'm you're dad and I tell you to clean your room you fucking clean your room and there's no talking back either. I realized that I would probably take almost all of the parents' sides in every case ever presented before the Kid's Court. It's not so much that I'm getting old, as that I think kids are retarded. They need to go to school and get smarter. And shut up.

Anyhow, in doing some very basic research for this post, I found this aspect of Kid's Court that I did not remember:

"Kid's Court always closed with "sound-offs," when kids from the audience would tell what happened that was unfair to them, and then everyone in the audience would yell unfair."

Good job, Nickelodeon. Your breakthrough work in children's programming has done wonders for the self-entitlement industry.

Monday, July 25, 2005

Someone Is Robbed My BraiN!

I Am an Unequal Opportunity Everything

Mémé #3116: What are your plans for tonight?
Worker #3116: I'm going out with some friends.
Mémé #3116: No special date?
Worker #3116: No.
Mémé #3116: We were talking about it, and we decided that anyone who is [redacted]-years-old should really start thinking about marriage.
Worker #3116: Okay, I will think about marriage.
Mémé #3116: If you need help—
Worker #3116: Well...
Mémé #3116: I'm offering to be your romance manager.
Worker #3116: I'm kind of picky...
Mémé #3116: I don't charge much.
Worker #3116: Let me think about it.
Mémé #3116: Okay, well if you don't have anything else to say I'm getting off the phone with you.
Pépé #3116: Are you going to give her the job?
Worker #3116: I'll need to see a history of past successes.
Mémé #3116: You need to see a resumé.
Worker #3116: If she can prove that she's put together lasting marriages in the past, then I'll think about taking her on.
Pépé #3116: Good thinking. You can't just hire her.

Life's Lessons Painfully Learned

Things I have learned between 7/22-7/24/05:

1. It is a mistake to consider the after-party an actual party. It might be better to rename it the after-why-aren't-you-in-bed-yet-this-sucks.

2. If you watch Million Dollar Baby, you can see Steven Karp from Undeclared say nigger. Three times.

Geneology #3116

Lady: So these are your sons?
Herb #3116: Yes. Well, that one is my biological son, and Worker #3116 is my step-son. He was raised by wolves.
Worker #3116: I don't know if I would call it "raised".
Herb #3116: Right.
Worker #3116: I was around wolves.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Slang Death Watch

Entry: Grill
Posted: July 22, 2005
Source: Fresh Air with Terry Gross
Context: Thursday, July 21, Hearst Newspaper Syndicate reporter Helen Thomas is interviewed by guest interviewer Dave Davies.
Incident: "As more Americans have heard more of the BBC's broadcasts in the United States, some of them have noticed, um, that British reporters seem to really get in the face of their public officials, maybe a little bit more than American reporters do. They tend to be, if anything, perhaps overly civil. The President is asked a question, but then his answer is not interrupted, whereas British journalists are really more apt to get in somebody's grill. Have you noticed that difference?"

Did You Know That the Spanish Word "Fiesta" Actually Translates as "Surreal Racist Imagery" in English?

This morning, I saw this new Starburst commercial where this generic indie rock dude is sitting on the hood of his car with his generic indie rock sidekick and he says, "These new Starburst Bajas are like a fiesta in my mouth!" And then there is a shot inside his mouth of a Mariachi band (racial!) standing on his teeth playing some love song but then the teeth start to close and they jump onto the tongue, and one of them gets crushed, and another one gets washed away with his violin while his brother screams and cries because no one will save them. The Juice Is Loose.

This then reminded me of when I was on the N/R in Astoria and a Mariachi band came through and this gawking white couple was enthralled by the leader of the band who was playing a massive guitar--think that level of Super Mario Brothers when you get transported to that world where everything is HUGE!--and the woman went up to him after they'd finished playing and was like "What do you call that? Your instrument, what is that called?" The man looked at her like she was a fucking retard. "Guitaro," he said, and got off the train.

Close Your Eyes and the Adventure Begins

Last night, my dream had two aspects to it:

1. Terrorists were using Game Boys as GPS units to synchronize their next bombing. Me and my cousin Danny were supposed to walk around and find the terrorists and "take them down." After we were walking around for a long time and were really sweaty and the sun was setting, Danny turned to me and said, "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? You knew we weren't going to find them." I nodded, and felt glad that my cynicism had proven me right, AGAIN, but I was also sad because this meant the terrorists were still out there, plotting, and playing Tetris. Then we went to Mémé's house for Thanksgiving dinner.

2. 50 Cent.

Other People's Magic

Clown Coffee: Judge John Roberts's children are adopted.
Worker #3116: Really?
Clown Coffee: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/07/21/AR2005072102500_2.html
Worker #3116: Well, that explains your concern from the other day.
Clown Coffee: What's that?
Worker #3116: You said the kids looked too young to have parents in their fifties.
Clown Coffee: Well, yeah, but I figured they had pulled that rabbit out of a hat.
Worker #3116: They did, it was just someone else's hat.
Clown Coffee: Hats are cool.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

You're a Good Girl, Judge John Roberts

I would like to issue a formal apology for yesterday's criticism of the Human Rights Watch's attempts to force the senate into a more thorough examination of Judge John Roberts's position on gay rights, and his qualifications to sit as a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. Disturbing new developments have made it clear that we must raise awareness about the potentially dangerous psychology of a man who on the surface appears to be completely normal, but who is clearly anything but. Normal. Send money everywhere now.

Please take careful note of the caption that accompanied this photo in today's New York Times:


Judge Roberts in the front row, second from the right, in a La Lumiere drama club photo. During his junior year, he played Peppermint Patty in the production of "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown."


Who played Marcie? That black dude?



I need an adult.

Are You Gonna Go My Racial-Metaphor-as-Told-Through-Eames-Chairs-and-Nu-Shag Way?

There's an article in today's New York Times about stars of song and screen who turn their massive fortunes and gender-playful attentions to architecture and interior design. It touches lightly on the whole Brad Pitt-as-guardian-of-the-sacred-keep-of-60s-modern thing, but mostly the article talks about Lenny Kravitz, who decided that he was no longer satisfied creating supremely shitty "funk rock" and that he now wanted to "funkify" the home environment, primarily in zebra print.

It's really a fascinating article, if you're into mulattoes with bloated egos who like to compare their beaded-curtain-tinkering to Tom Ford ("I'll bump into women on the Upper East Side who might not know me for my music, but they know me for my style," he said. Women like Dawn Mello, the fashion industry doyenne. "She said since Tom Ford, my eye is the best eye she's ever seen," he said. "She also kept asking me, 'Are you sure you're straight?'"), or who like to be mock-dismissive of a "compliment" ("I've become a reference, which I think is hysterical.") that was actually intended as a derisive word-snort, as in "Oh, those velour drapes with the gold foil leopard leaping out of a pile of syringes is soooo Kravitz!"

Anyhow, speaking of mulattoes, this was my favorite part of the article: "I love big monochromatic statements," he said. "Especially black and white," an aesthetic inclination whose racial relevance is not lost on him, "since my mother was black and my father white." Ha ha ha. He apparently shares the same aesthetic inclination as the legendary mullato of song and couch, McCullen, who likes to make bold statements by keeping some of his dirty clothes on the floor, and some of them on the back of a chair.

Biracial? More like biradical!

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Retard Training Camp

Yesterday, I walk into the locker room and there is a man sitting on a bench, legs crossed, calmly reading a book, WITH NO CLOTHES ON HIS BODY. He was still in pretty much the same spot (and definitely in the same state of undress) when I had finished changing and left, but I think maybe he scooted over a little to let someone get to their locker. I'm still at a loss to imagine what was going on in his mind..."Sure is nice to just have some peace and quiet to get through Harry Potter and the Mulatto Prince. Just me, a good book, and the warming breeze of the automatic hands dryer that the totally aghast guy in the spandex bike shorts is using to dry his hair." When I told McCullen about this man he suggested that maybe he was waiting for someone...to do what, come dress him?

Two other people I have seen at the gym in the past week:

1. A guy wearing a shirt that said "I Only Drink Beer on Days That End in 'Y'" going into a step-aerobics class.

2. A morbidly obese forty-year old walking slow circles around the track in a "Vote for Pedro" tee-shirt.

Have you guessed what's so special about my gym yet? I'll give you one final clue: the parking lot is filled with short-busses, and everyone likes to wear their Special Olympics medals while they "make their muscles get big I like soup."

The Real World Is Boring, and I LOVE That About It

I remember predicting to McCullen that this was going to be a particularly "racy" and "dull" season of Realer World: Texplosin! because the roommates were going to be so bored. I'm being proven right on a weekly basis. You can just tell that Austin is one of the most boring cities ever, and it doesn't help living in a windowless warehouse painted in garish dayglo colors. If I were one of the cast members, I think I would ask to have my contract torn up, or to be held over until the next season of Roadest Rules. Even living in an RV with preening, self-important emotional retards would be better than their current set-up, with its wall-to-wall carpeting, dessicated social/cultural life, and potential for bodily injury (see: Eye-Face). They don't even have a dining-room table.

We are about four weeks in and all that happened last night was Hemp Shell and Brick Brain (the blond frat-boy about whom Eye-Face gushed, "He's your typical frat guy, and I LOVE that about him") got as many phone numbers as they could every night that they went out, put them in a drawer in the kitchen that they cleverly named "the Groupie Drawer," and then unsuccessfully tried to get laid with a bevvy of women who were much more interested in the prospect of seeing themselves on MTV than catching the !CLAP! from a couple of dudes whose idea of courtship is jointly pitching in on a Polaroid camera so they can remember whose face goes with which number. Color Austin unimpressed.

The tangential story line was about Iraqi Jane, who tried to sleep with this bouncer, but when it turned out he had a girlfriend she made a disparaging comment about the size of his penis, and went home to call her boyfriend. I've realized in the past two RW seasons that I'd be very interested in watching a show called The Real World Watches the Real World in which cameras tape the reactions of cast members' loved ones as they see the debauched and ultimately offensive behavior that their friends/children/lovers performed for a national audience with what seems to be zero self-awareness. You cannot get a bigger voyeuristic thrill than watching a boyfriend reliving a phone conversation that he took to be a loving gesture of solitary loneliness and affectionate attachment on the part of his girlfriend, only to discover that in reality it was a self-pitying attempt to make up for the stunning rejection of being told "no fucky for you tonight" by a dude she'd known for a week and a half.

Wow, MTV. The Real World is almost as boring as the real world.

Awesome!

The result of a Google Images search for "awesome":

You Choose Your Battles Always

I got an email this morning from the Human Rights Watch urging me to take immediate action in the Judge John Roberts nomination campaign by giving HRW some money so they could force congress to find out whether or not Roberts is supportive of gay rights.

Look, homos, I'm as supportive of the delegislation of anal sex as the next guy, but can you please stop wasting my time? Do you really think that George W. Bush is going to nominate someone to the Supreme Court who is vocal about his SUPPORT for gay rights? The fact that he nominated a candidate who doesn't have any public stance on the issue should be taken as a potential indication that he'll maybe in a dream take your side, but no amount of money spent on direct mail, cable advertising, grassroots mobilization, and petition drives is going to change the fact that George W. Bush is an asshole who is most likely going to put another asshole on the bench. It's time to move on, orgs. Put your money towards something useful, like starving refugees, prisoner abuse, or the imprisonment of Karl Rove.

There is an old saying that goes "Choose your battles wisely." The operative word is "wisely," not "always."

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

The Canon

The Canon

Monday, July 18, 2005

Loving to Love the Womens of the World!!!!!!!!

All Is Questions Answered


Inside you will find how to:

• choose the most productive virtual dating sites
• download and use instant-messaging services
• create a profile no woman can resist
• use e-mail and instant messages to win her heart
• get a visa and passport if she lives outside the U.S.

From chapter 1, "The Decision," page 11: "First, you must decide what type of woman you want, including her physical and personality characteristics. Of course, many different types of women are available; your job is to pick those who will best suit you, in terms of morals and character as well as looks. You should also consider such things as accent, age, hair color, eye color, and even cultural background. This has to be something that you alone decide. Then, you are going to target these specific types of women, who can easily be searched for on any dating site found on the Internet."

From the section on winning her heart, page 43: "Here's a small part of a conversation where I won over an eighteen-year-old girl within a week. Yes, you can do it, too! It's really not that difficult, but you have to be smooth and watch what you're saying. I told you before: You want to be unlike anyone she has ever met before.

Me (2:30:42 PM): You're adorable
Her (2:30:49 PM): am I really?
Me (2:30:59 PM): yes I think you're a very special woman
Me (2:31:03 PM): why you ask me
Me (2:31:08 PM): I told u you were
Me (2:31:09 PM): hehe
Her (2:31:24 PM): hehe thank you I think you are very good-looking
Me (2:31:34 PM): Thank you baby
Me (2:31:46 PM): but I must admit I think you're also very beautiful
Her (2:32:09 PM): hehe thank you so what kind of trips do you take?
Me (2:32:20 PM): really anything baby
Me (2:32:31 PM): like I'm going to cedar point this month
Me (2:32:35 PM): no biggie
Me (2:32:44 PM): but also on labor day I'm going to Texas
Me (2:32:53 PM): I like to travel and I want to go to Edmonton in Sept. also
Me (2:33:07 PM): they have the biggest mall in the world there
Her (2:33:16 PM): I love malls
Me (2:33:21 PM): no way
Me (2:33:27 PM): I love walking hand in hand
Me (2:33:40 PM): and watching u try on clothes and model for me
Me (2:33:41 PM): hehe
Me (2:33:49 PM): and of course you can buy whatever you want
Me (2:33:51 PM): lol
Her (2:33:56 PM): hehe whatever I want?
Me (2:34:03 PM): of course I don't care
Me (2:34:12 PM): it's my job to spoil u crazy
Me (2:34:13 PM): haha
Her (2:34:24 PM): hehe wow i like soo how old are you?
Me (2:34:36 PM): I thought I told u haha
Me (2:34:38 PM): 38
Her (2:34:50 PM): thats cool not too bad
Me (2:35:13 PM): aw thanku cutie

From the section on instant-messaging, page 70: "Above the text box is a button labeled 'environment'; here you can select a background for your text messages or maybe play a game. There are many to choose from and you should try them all. The one I most frequently used was the 'falling hearts' environment; it was very romantic and set the mood for our conversations. But of course the first one you will have is your basic white background, and as time goes on and you win her over, use the falling hearts. It works great for creating an in-love atmosphere."

From the section on visas, page 79: "As I stated before, it is very difficult for any woman who is young and attractive to get a visa to the U.S. And as I have also told you in the previous chapters, this is because of the huge number of women who would come over here and never leave; they want to escape their country and come to the land of the free. Could you imagine how this would disrupt our already out-of-balance status with marriages and the family unit? I mean, if hundreds and thousands of young, beautiful women entered here every day searching for a husband, what a mess that would be for the economy, not to mention the current marriages that are in danger now of failing."

Also available in gay.

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Today Is Saturday's Day After Tomorrow, So, Monday

Everyone does things that they'd rather other people didn't know about. Mistakes. Petty cruelties. LOVERS. We are none of us without our secrets. Even I, Worker #3116, have a few skeletons in the closet, including my newest one, Saturday's viewing of The Day After Tomorrow.

I am weak. I am a bad person.

My favorite thing in TDAT was at the very end when the President of the United States, who used to be the Vice President but then the President got killed by a blizzard, gives his first big address to the people of America about how we triumphantly destroyed weather. Glossing over the millions of people who died and the fact that the Northern Hemisphere is buried under ice, effectively ending Western Civilization, he announces with great joy that Jake Gyllenhaal and Dennis Quaid have survived. Yay! Does he announce this on CNN? No. FOX News? No. Any of the big three major networks? Of course not. THE WEATHER CHANNEL. Ha ha. Ha ha, indeed.

Also, what was up with Jake Gyllenhaal's mom putting her own life in grave danger by waiting in the storm for an ambulance to come save that cancer baby? Like, all these people are dying, and the world as we know it is over, and from now on resources are going to be very scarce, but you've got to save some cancer baby who's not even going to live that long anyway? And where are his parents? Oh, they abandoned him because he was too much trouble, but you want to bring him to Mexico. You are making me so angry, Mrs. Gylenhaal.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Live Every Day as if It Is Your Last...Day...

It's funny how you can waste so much time worrying about something that may never happen, like wasting your youth concerned about getting old, or pinching pennies only to get hit by a truck without ever enjoying the money you saved.

Or, as in my case, you might get taken out by a case of terminal ear cancer, and it's like Stage 1 Hypertension what?

Why is getting hit by a truck the only surprise death anyone ever worries about? No one's ever like, "Live your life to the fullest because you never know when the end is coming. You might be flying high one day, and the next come down with a mysterious case of spinal meningitis that takes you out in a matter of weeks." Or "Enjoy it now, buddy, because who knows if you're going to get hit by a large plate of window paneling that detaches itself from the side of a skyscraper that was built in a rush to try and ease the concerns of antsy investors." I've never heard about ear cancer until I became afflicted. Just trucks. Stay the fuck away from trucks and you'll live forever.

Les Sketchy Liaisons

So, I was watching this documentary with McCullen last night called What the &#!*$# Do We Know?, which deals with quantum physics, quantum mechanics, perception, reality, etc. At one point this black child on a basketball court was explaining to the deaf pollster from the West Wing all about basic high school physics, most importantly how there is more empty space in matter than actual matter, and how nothing ever actually touches anything else because the electrons repel each other. It was at this point that McCullen said "So, since nothing ever touches anything else, why don't you not touch my dick with your mouth."

It was just a few hours later that we decided to write an adapatation of Les Liasons Dangereuses set in a trailer park, titled Sketchy Liaisons. Nothing says entertainment like high-stakes psychological games of sexual intrigue and domination, and extreme poverty.

"Hey, man, mah mama's gone, so if y'all wanna come over, I got some beer n' shit. What's that? Fuck yeah, it's cold. I want to destroy y'all's mind. What's that? I said I want to luhv you fer yer mind, girl, and I don't give two shits yer mah cousin."

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Julia Stiles, Still Alive!

JULIA Stiles was dissed by an angry cashier Monday night. A tired and "cranky-looking" Stiles went to Whole Foods in the Village, our source says. "Clearly she was irritated by the long lines, and as she passed a bunch of tellers to walk up to her checkout counter, the checkout girl shouted, 'Hi Julia!'" Stiles, who was slightly sunburned and with a "tall man," "shot her a death stare and spat out a short 'hi.' "Her unenthusiastic response prompted the huffy checkout girl to snap, "Whatever. You stank. Your dance movie was corny."
(New York Post)

Any reference to Save the Last Dance is hilarious, but when it's thrown right back in Julia Stiles's face, it's like shooting her in a barrel. Was that the last movie she was in? Whatever happened to Julia Stiles's career? How can she afford to eat at Whole Foods? Also...in a rare moment of confession: I saw Save the Last Dance, but I can't for the life of me remember why. Still, at least I only saw it once, which I can't say for the movie Powder, which I have seen in its entirety at least four times.

I like the part where the bullies think he's gay and beat him up, but really he's just admiring their perfect, not disgustingly-white-because-they-were-struck-by-lightning-and-now-can-harness-the-power-of-electro-magnetic-force-fields bodies. Powder was a fag.

Drunky Bastille Day!

French Revolution

1 oz. brandy
2 oz. framboise
3 oz. Champagne

Mix ingredients in a flute. Garnish with a lemon twist. Stir with severed limb.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

I'm because this is awesome / I was like wow how strange everything just bang

I'm writing 2 apologize 2 everyone 4 all tha times I wrote about dreams in my diary. I guess I thought that they were awesome dreams, and that this was a good place 2 write about awesome dreams, but what I didn't realize is that the YM forums r the place 2 write awesome dreams.

I had a dream that I was over at my friends house and he was my b/f in my dream and anyways. We were watching t.v. in his room and he is holding me in his arms so gently and lovingly. The movie gets scary and I put my face in his chest and it gets quiet and I hear his heart beat and he hears me crying. He says baby ut;s ok u can watch the movie now. I said no baby I wanna listen to ure heart beat. He's says first watch this part in the movie w/ me cause it has something I want to do w/ u in it. As we watch the movie he starts to gently kiss me allover. He says baby u r so beautiful and just to cute.He's like u don't know how bad I want to rip ure clothes off of u and explore u.He turns the t.v. off and candels light the room up and I'm like omg Justin this is beautiful he's like I would only do it for u baby. He's like I have another suprise for u but ure gonna have to get up. So he pulls the covers back and the bed is filled w/ roses. I start crying and he is like why r u crying I'm because this is awesome. So he starts crying and he just hold me close and he's like k I have one more suprise for u but u'll have to give me time and u can guess the rest from there.

Actually the dream that u read kinda gets sad cause were in his room and blah blah and were in the middle of what we r doing and we hear the door crack open and it's his mom. Thank God this is a dream so anyways Then his mom just walks away and we hear here crying. So we finish and then we go take a shower and go talk to her. By this time she is pissed.She was like Justin I can't believe you did that i mean i know ure going to and i kinda thought thats what u were doing but to walk in and see you two doing this really hurts me. But be glad it was me and not ure dad or anyone else.Justin u don't know how sad that makes me So he gives his mom a hug and he is crying and he's like sorry mom but it's been done. What do u want me to do. She say there's nothing u can do just pray god didn't let u get her pregnant.

It's kinda weird because the day after I had my dream I had to go to the store and he was working and he never makes eye contact or talks to me first cause he is so shy. Well sundayis when i had at went to the store and he did talk to me first he was like Hi Erin and he looked straight at me. he just smiled at me.

I had been crying before that because my mom and i had gotten into it.He looked at me like whats wrong but he didn't ask. I was like wow how strange everything just bang .

After the first part of dream it ended w/ his mom telling him that he needs to ask God he didn't let him get pregnant. Well the dream jumps a month and I am pregnant and we tell our parents they r like k w/e u did it. Then it jumps 5 months and I have the baby it's born premature and it's very tiny. It was born in the suv. lol (that last part is a inside joke between me and my ashley) But anyways thats where the baby was born in my dream.

(litlbigblueeyes)

Karl Rove's Defense in the Valerie Plame Case

"One, she was a hoor. Two, she hit me."

Karl Rove, More Like Karl Asshole

He even LOOKS like a worm. Squiggle squiggle!

Free Karl

Eye Face, Hemp Shell, Fuck Head, and Iraqi Jane

The only real "surprise" on last night's The Realer World was that pretty much everyone in the house is in full support of the Iraq war except for the black guy who wears the hemp-and-shell necklace. Eye-Face even went so far, during an argument, as to say "They killed 4,000 innocent people on American soil and you don't think we have any reason for being over there?!!!" I was like, um, hey, Eye-Face, your brain is dumb because it has a piece of your skull in it. What made the whole thing painfully frustrating, though, was that, to date, not one single intelligent person has ever actually lived in a RW house, so while I would say that I side more with Hemp Shell in terms of opposing the war--at least the run-up to it, our supposed reasons for being there, and the intense obfuscation by the administration about our current goals, etc--I couldn't really get into his side of the argument either. It seemed to me that his position was less one of opposition to the war on political or ideological grounds, so much as antagonistic opposition to the housemate who had served as a military nurse in the war on the grounds that she's slightly overweight and probably has some self-esteem issues and he figured she'd be easy to push around. Even I had to cringe when he told her that she hadn't really been in the war so she didn't know what she was talking about. "I mean, you were just giving people food and medicine." Later, when he was eating lunch with Fuck Head (Eye-Face's blond love interest, who spends most of her screen time drunk, in American Apparel boy-shorts for girls, saying stuff like "I just wannna fuuuuucckkkkkk!" because, one must assume, her entire family is dead and she has no one to impress anymore) and Fuck Head was telling him that she really couldn't believe he would say something like that to Iraqi Jane, he tried to hold his ground with this awesome comment: "I mean, okay, she was closer to the war than we were, but she wasn't in it." You mean she was closer geographically, LIKE IN FUCKING IRAQ? He did eventually admit that what he said was wrong, and that he would apologize because he was a "man." Apparently, the way men apologize is to write a note on the back of an envelope and leave it on your bed, and then hide under the covers until you come in and say that you really appreciate the note because apologizing "hurts your pride". Iraqi Jane is really big on pride and things that hurt pride.

So realer.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Less Celebrity Gossip, More Celebrity Errands

I'm giving up on the celebrity gossip of Page Six, etc. When I say I'm giving up on it, I just mean that I'm going to keep reading it, but that I have something else about celebrity gossip that I want to talk about:

Gawker Stalker.

This is my new favorite celebrity gossip because it is so fucking boring, but at the same time so...awesome. "Mick Jagger eats lunch. I know because I SAW IT HAPPEN." That's the epitome of Gawker Stalker. "I saw Leonardo DiCaprio crossing the street in Chelsea. He was dressed kind of funny, but it was him." I also like how they'll slip in people like Mo Rocca. Mo Rocca? COME ON! Anyone who appears as a frequent contributor to NPR's Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! does not a celebrity make. With Gawker Stalker, though, you'll never have some snippy publicist denying that Mark Wahlberg bought a pound of baby russet potatoes at Dean and Deluca while drinking an iced coffee. NEVER. Their powers do not work here.

I've Had This Conversation Every Year Since College

Worker #3116: I hate working.
Clown Coffee: I know. It's dumb!
Worker #3116: I need a lot of money, so that I don't have to work anymore.
Clown Coffee: You could marry an old woman with a lot of money.
Worker #3116: Okay. Wait, do I have to spend a lot of time with her?
Clown Coffee: Some. She's very lonely.
Worker #3116: Okay.
Clown Coffee: It's okay, you could still work here.
Worker #3116: Where would she live?
Clown Coffee: Connecticut.
Worker #3116: So I wouldn't have to see her every day?
Clown Coffee: No.
Worker #3116: Like, say, once every six months?
Clown Coffee: Sure.
Worker #3116: How long does she live for?
Clown Coffee: Two years. Her name is Myrtle. Myrtle #3116.
Worker #3116: Ha ha.
Clown Coffee: She would regale you with stories of the Depression.
Worker #3116: ...
Clown Coffee: Or you could come up with an idea that no one else has had yet and sell it.
Worker #3116: That's what I've been trying to do, but I've been too busy to think about it.
Clown Coffee: Maybe it's my dream about being able to pick up WiFi in your head.
Worker #3116: ...
Clown Coffee: Why can't you figure that out?
Worker #3116: ...
Clown Coffee: You could steal a lot of money. That's the easiest.
Worker #3116: No, that's hard.
Clown Coffee: Getting away with it is hard, but the stealing part is easy.
Worker #3116: Do you have to do a lot of planning to get away with it, or do you just fly by the seat of your pants?
Clown Coffee: Well, you have to have a getaway car.

Prrrrrrrrr! Prrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The blacks keep getting smacked in the face this morning.

First, on TV, there was the ad for Green Dot, the pre-paid Mastercard. It featured "man-on-the-street" interviews testifying to the intrinsic importance of having a credit card, and then to the particular magic of Green Dot, which is available at Walgreens. With two momentary exceptions, every single person interviewed was black, including the cut-to Green Dot representative, who was basically the black Snapple Lady. It should be noted that there were two white people interviewed, but they were not allowed to finish their sentences, and they were clearly thrown in so that no one would complain that the advertisers were unfairly characterizing the black population as hopelessly debt ridden, etc. I think one of the white guys said "If you go to a hotel--" and then was cut off so that this man in Mobb Deep circa 1998 wear could shout "You gots to get you a credit card, baby!" Now, I'm not necessarily opposed to Green Dot on its surface. It certainly can't be any more predatory on the poor than the financiers of extended-credit credit cards who routinely encourage those already mired in debt to apply for new cards with wider limits to reap interest off of. At the same time, I did find the totally not veiled at all implication that this was a card for the ghetto to be distasteful. Moreover, I'm sure there must be some kind of catch to Green Dot that was not mentioned in the ad, like a 50 percent commission taken off the top of each card, for example. Anyhow, my favorite part was when the same Mobb Deep guy said "My time is too valuable to spend half the day paying bills." First of all, this man was not convincing me of the value of his time, as his interview gave the impression that he wasn't stopped on his way to or from anywhere, so much as he figured he'd kick it with the cameraman because he was going to be on that corner all day anyhow. But what I really liked about it was the use of the definite article "the," which implied that he spends half of every single day paying bills, as opposed to either the possessive pronoun "my" or the indefinite article "a" which would allow for some milder interpretations. In any case, this man has a lot of bills.

Then, on the NPRs, they talked about this new medicine coming out this month, which is the first medication ever created for one specific race, in this case, the race of black. It's a heart medication, and apparently "black cardiologists" support its release. What bothered me about this story was that rather than being some kind of ground-breaking phenomenon that does something crazy to black hearts that no one knew about, it's just the combination of two generic drugs. The two generic drugs cost about $0.25 each, while the new Tropicana Twister drug will cost $1.80 each, and you need anywhere from three to five a day. The drug company tried to temper the obvious outrageousness of their new product's price point by claiming that they will be giving the drug to poor people for free, but I'm quite certain that buried deep in the legalese of this social contract is the stipulation that the definition of poor is "an annual salary of no higher than $3.75."

Monday, July 11, 2005

Honesty Time

Reposted from e-mail received July 9, 2005

From: mccullen@gmail.com
To: worker3116@gmail.com
Date: Jul 9, 2005 8:04 PM
Subject: Honesty Time

i have realized that there is a side to me that not everyone sees.
This "secret" side of me is very different from my public persona.
Actually, it's a little difficult to explain, so maybe i should just
let you read these, the lyrics to my favorite song. I think this
artist's words say all the things that i cannot.


Friday, July 08, 2005

The Adviceicist

Good Advice

I heard a new Lil' Kim song on the radio yesterday, I guess in celebration of her jail sentence or something. Anyhow, it's your typical "People be talkin' about me and they need to shut up!" song. Right at the end, though, there was a guy doing some spoken word, which is getting a little too common in contemporary race music if you ask me, but anyhow, he said: "Why don't you stop thinking about her and focus on yourself for a minute? Ain't that depressing? See, that's why no one talks about you. Cuz there ain't nothin' to talk about."

I thought that was funny, but it got really funny right at the end, during the fade out, when the DJ was already talking about some shitty body-shots party in some crappy club, when the Poetry Slammer in the song said "You should just punch yourself in the mouth."

Meta Memory

Did you ever have to write a story for a class in high school? There was always some kid who would begin with "I have to write this story, and I don't know what to write about. So I'm just sitting at this desk, trying to think of some stupid thing." It was like David Foster Wallace for the retarded and perpetually annoying set. More importantly, it basically proved that no one should ever do anything "meta" ever again, because "meta" in its purest form sucks so bad that you hate that kid forever and write about him in your online diary and are like, fuck, I fucking hate that kid.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

You Know Ted Demme Created Yo! MTV Raps, Right?

TINSELTOWN party princess Amanda Scheer-Demme was hauled out of her Tropicana club in handcuffs and charged with repeated noise violations after her irate neighbors called the cops. The club queen widow of director Ted Demme also had all of her turntables confiscated by the LAPD last week. After posting bail, she returned to the club the next day with new turntables and cranked up the music with friends Tobey Maguire, Eve, Jake Gyllenhaal and Kirsten Dunst. Some say rival nightlifer Pantera Sarah might have called the cops on Amanda to make way for her own Cabana Club, which opens this week just a few blocks from the Tropicana.
(New York Post)

I only repost this because I want to have a constant reminder of my goal to someday in life complain, "The LAPD confiscated all my turntables!"

This Morning Zoo

DJ 1: Don't tell me we're goin' down in some water. I don't want to hear that.
Woman DJ: You know what? If your plane is crashing to the ground, all that stuff they tell you don't mean nothin', you ain't gonna remember it, you gonna be praisin' the lord. "Help me, oh sweet Jesus!"
DJ 2: I'M GRABBIN' THAT MASK!

***


DJ 1: So, Lil' Kim's going to jail for one year.
DJ 2: Man, all these beautiful women are goin' to jail...with money!
DJ 1: You think Lil' Kim's beautiful?
DJ 2: She cute! She look like a little lion.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Untitled

Teal: ovarian cancer
Orange: leukemia
Lavender: cancer awareness
Purple: pancreatic cancer
Pink: breast cancer
Green: lymphoma
Light blue: prostate cancer
Royal blue: colon cancer
Yellow: childhood cancers
Burgundy: multiple myeloma

Olympics Are Going to London and Hopefully Staying There

This is how I felt upon hearing that we weren't going to have to hear about the fucking olympics anymore. Because, you know, it's just the fucking olympics and no one really gives a shit where they're held. No one except these jackasses.

It's Just the Fucking Olympics, Jesus Christ!

The Supreme Cour, Snadra Conners and Stuff!?

From: worker3116@gmail.com
To: spaceham@gmail.com
Date: Jul 5, 2005 3:54 PM
Subject: supreme cour


i have a feeling maybe lots of people already ask you this, but what do you think about the supreme cour?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: spaceham@gmail.com
To: worker3116@gmail.com
Date: Jul 5, 2005 3:58 PM
Subject: Re: supreme cour


I think it is a pretty sweet court! But nobody has ever asked me that question before.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: worker3116@gmail.com
To: spaceham@gmail.com
Date: Jul 5, 2005 3:59 PM
Subject: Re: supreme cour


COME ON MY OLD FRIEND FROM COLLEGE!!
I mean what do you think is going to be the nomination, and about Snadra Conners and stuff!?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: spaceham@gmail.com
To: worker3116@gmail.com
Date: Jul 5, 2005 4:06 PM
Subject: Re: supreme cour


Because a lady retired, it's going to be hard to put another white man on the court. The nominee is likely to be either a woman or a minority, or both.

The betting man's favorite is Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez. The President likes him and he is all hisapnic and shit. His two liabilities are that the far right does not like him (but I've not really been able to figure out why) and he is not a woman. It might be that with O'Connor leaving, he doesn't want to leave the Court with one lady. If that's the case, the womanly favorites I hear are Edith
Jones, Edith Clement, Priscilla Owen, and Judge Brown (who has the double plus minority bonus of being black). I don't know much about these people other than Brown is super pro-property rights. Also Judge Edith Jones is famous for affirming a guy's death sentence even though his lawyer slept through part of the trial. The rationale was that the defendant couldn't prove that the lawyer slept through any
important parts.

Other favorites are Judge Emilio Garza because he's conservative and hispanic (and the judge that I will be working for next year, but I don't think that's one of his stronger credentials).

Then there's a bunch of white men, who had a stronger chance if Rehnquist was the one who was going down.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: worker3116@gmail.com
To: spaceham@gmail.com
Date: Jul 5, 2005 4:10 PM
Subject: Re: supreme cour


got it!

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Love, Moustache

Worker #3116: We should go to the costume shop this week and get some fake mustaches for our party on Saturday.
McCullen: I've asked you to go to the costume shop with me and get fake mustaches for weeks and you have constantly refused me.
Worker #3116: That is because this is for a party involving a dramatic reading of Walker: Texas Ranger, not just you putting on a fake mustache before we go to the bar. [pause] Do you think there are people who can only achieve orgasm when wearing a fake moustache?
Generative Theme: Yes.
McCullen: Obviously. But I'm getting to the point now where as long as I know my fake moustache is in the room with me, I'm okay.
Generative Theme: You just have to see it?
McCullen: I just stick it on the wall, or have it poking out of my dresser.

[McCullen simulates having sex and pointing to the moustache, whispering, "This is for you."]

McCullen: We need to go to the costume shop to get more orgasm triggers.
Generative Theme: "Hi, I'm looking for your orgasm triggers."
Worker #3116: "You know, something that will make me cum faster when I see it."
McCullen: "Or instantly."
Generative Theme: "Okay. They're right over there, next to the wigs."

[Later: Burrito Store conversation.]

Worker #3116: I think they got worse, but now they're back to being pretty good.
McCullen: They need to drain their beans better.
Generative Theme: ...
Worker #3116: ...
McCullen: I'm going to make a sign that says "You need to drain your beans."
Generative Theme: ...
Worker #3116: You need to drain your beans?
McCullen: Yes.
Generative Theme: Ha ha ha.
Worker #3116: "To drain your beans better, call McCullen."
Generative Theme: Ha ha.
Worker #3116: Ha ha.
McCullen: I wouldn't sign it, I'd just stick a fake moustache to the bottom of the note.

My Life as American Apparel Ad

New for Summer: Light Cotton Casual Button Downs, $29.99
Original Track Jacket: $49.99
Meet Candice. Graff Tops, $27.99
Try Our Denim
American Apparel, Summer 2005 Catalog Available Now!


Hugs,
Dov Charney

Monday, July 04, 2005

Happy Birthday, USA!

Friday, July 01, 2005

Candyopolis

The new Harry Potter book is coming out in a couple weeks, Harry Potter 6: Magictime! or Harry Can Feel It Coming in the Air Tonight. With that in mind, here are a few predictions for flavors of those crazy Harry Potter brand jelly beans that will probably get mentioned in the book:

Fart
Glue
Huevos Rancheros con Chorizo

Skill Set

I realized this morning that I have been driving longer than I have been doing almost anything else. It is, in many respects, my most practiced skill. Considering that I will never drive professionally, this seems like a tremendous waste of my time and effort. Imagine if I had put all of the time I've spent behind the wheel towards learning something more practical, like sword-fighting or the fine art of the pastry chef. Maybe my life wouldn't BE SO SUCK.

Anyhow, imagine that you turn on the World Series between the Red Sox and the Yankees, which is on a time delay, and right before the game is to begin the announcer says "Wow, the Red Sox totally won that amazing game!" That's what it was like watching Arturo "Thunder" Gatti V. "Pretty Boy" Floyd Mayweather last night. McCullen and I sat slack-jawed on the couch as the announcers described how Mayweather demolished Gatti over the course of six rounds (of what was to be a 12 round fight) BEFORE THE FIGHT STARTED. The only consolation was that a) I expected Mayweather to win anyway, his fists are like lightning before the Thunder (get it?), and b) as soon as the fight started it was totally obvious who was going to win. At the end, Larry Merchant, one of the fight commentators, gets to enter the ring and show everyone how he can still kind of ask questions even when he's totally trashed.

"Misterrrrrrr Gattti. Ahem. (Cough). You said...oh....before...you said before fight, the fight, that youuuuuuuu wanted to, is this, hi, that you wanted to see how good you were. Howgoodareyoudoyouthinknow? (BIG SHIT EATING GRIN, LAUGHTER). You're not gay. Just kiss me. You're not gay. I'd die here on this couch with you."