Why is every movie that I really love so damn hard to find on DVD? Why must they be so annoyingly obscure?
I have a hankering to open a bottle of wine and watch Barfly this weekend, but every online link I've found so far has been dead and none of the local video stores carry it.
See, this is why Blockbuster sucks. They have five hundred copies of The Hannah Montana Movie and every big action piece of crap that Tom Cruise ever starred in, but not a Mickey Rourke flick made in 1987? None of the clerks have even heard of it? Come on!
In desperation I turned to Amazon figuring I'd just buy the DVD but that was not to be either. It's out of print now and selling for $250.
Sigh.
If you are rich and enjoy unconventional movies, then I highly recommend that you snap up a copy right this minute. (And then send it to me after you've watched it, okay?) You won't regret it.
Barfly is one of my all time favorite films. This movie just has everything. A quirky plot where nothing much happens, a cheerfully obnoxious drunken lout for a hero, lots of sly, lunatic humor, Mickey Rourke when he was hawt, numerous funny and profound lines that I find myself quoting over and over, good poetry, a raggedly glamorous Faye Dunaway throwing a beat down on dainty little Alice Krige in a very Dynasty moment, and the best performance of Frank Stallone's career.
Of course, this is the only Frank Stallone performance I've ever seen, but he really does a good job. His mustache is particularly outstanding.
Barfly was written by the boozer poet Charles Bukowski, and is one of those movies you either love or can't stand. Someone once sniffly told me he hated it because it's an unrealistic portrayal of alcoholics and he thought it glorified the life of a Skid Row bum.
Okay, I can see that point of view. Personally though, I'm glad there isn't a preachy message of repentance at the end and the characters all remain adamant drunks. Geez, it's a movie! If I want realism I'll go watch an episode of Intervention.
Here is one of the fight scenes between Mickey and Frank Stallone's mustache, featuring Frank's great line, "I'd hate to be you if I were me!"
Check out the blonde chick at 3.39. Now that's acting!
Have you seen this movie? If so, what did you think of it?
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Past, Present, And Future Avatars
My mom was complaining to me on the phone the other day about her wrinkles. She said she was considering getting some Botox, or maybe even a face lift.
"Why would you want to do that?" I asked her. "Don't you realize how lucky you are? Being an old lady is the ultimate disguise! You can get away with all kinds of stuff now. No one ever suspects the sweet old granny!"
She thought I was joking but nothing could be further from the truth. I really love old ladies and am really looking forward to becoming one myself. It seems like it will be very liberating, don't you think?
I mean, sheesh, there will be no messy periods to suffer through, no more worries about staying pretty and keeping my body firm and thin, and if you think I cuss a lot now, just wait until I no longer feel the need to conform to even the bare minimum of socially acceptable behavior. It will rock!
Who's gonna to mess with me? You? Sheeeeiiit.
When I'm old I will eat want I want, drink as much as I want, get loud and mouthy while stating my opinions (no one ever tells Grandma to shut up!), and keep busy by heckling and pestering the politicians I find loathsome. I'd enjoy that much more than playing bingo.
If weed is still illegal in thirty years, I will perform civil disobedience by growing pot plants in my backyard to share with other seniors. IMO marijuana keeps you spry. I mean, look at Willie Nelson. The man is in his 70's and still plays a zillion concerts a year even though he smokes more weed than Cheech and Chong put together.
If it is legal, maybe I'll open up a hemp bar like they have in Amsterdam. Hell, I wish I could do that right now! How dare the government deny me my right to practice capitalism! Jeez, you'd think the Republicans would be all for that, but no, they prefer the boners they get from trying to legislate morality. Maybe I'll just take my cane to Washington and beat down a few senators. Might as well spend my last years having fun before it's time to meet Jesus.
Hopefully I'll be a cute old lady with big saucer eyes and rosy pink cheeks, the better to fool them all. That way when I end up working as a WalMart greeter no one will ever believe that I am ripping off everything in the store that's not nailed down and selling it for discount out of the back of my truck. And when I hand customers a cart and say, "Welcome to WalMart, Lardass!" with a sweet smile, they'll figure they must be imagining things. Surely that darling little granny didn't just insult them, did she?
If called on it, I'll just act confused, maybe even cry if necessary. Heh heh.
Good Lord how I love Betty White. Isn't she the coolest chick ever? She was always my favorite of The Golden Girls. Look at her - all pretty and neatly coiffed and unafraid of splattering your brains all over her lovely camel coat.
Fuck those Red Hat clubs! I'm getting me a gun!
I really need to take shooting lessons because there is nothing cooler than an old babe who can handle a firearm like a pro. Just look at these pictures and tell me these broads aren't badass.
Where's my senior discount, bitch?
When I say get off my lawn, I ain't playing.
You know, I've always wanted to get a gun and shoot out a television screen for no reason just like Elvis was rumored to do every so often. Blowing away an entire wall of TV's would be even better, wouldn't it? Every time I pass by a Sears I imagine how sweet it would be to pull a giant handgun out of my purse and take down every TV set in the electronic section.
Of course, I'd never dare do anything like that now, but in thirty years? Hell yeah! That's when I can blame it all on senility.
No wonder they call them the golden years.
No my name ain't baby, it's Prunella. Miss Jones if you're nasty.
"Why would you want to do that?" I asked her. "Don't you realize how lucky you are? Being an old lady is the ultimate disguise! You can get away with all kinds of stuff now. No one ever suspects the sweet old granny!"
She thought I was joking but nothing could be further from the truth. I really love old ladies and am really looking forward to becoming one myself. It seems like it will be very liberating, don't you think?
I mean, sheesh, there will be no messy periods to suffer through, no more worries about staying pretty and keeping my body firm and thin, and if you think I cuss a lot now, just wait until I no longer feel the need to conform to even the bare minimum of socially acceptable behavior. It will rock!
Who's gonna to mess with me? You? Sheeeeiiit.
When I'm old I will eat want I want, drink as much as I want, get loud and mouthy while stating my opinions (no one ever tells Grandma to shut up!), and keep busy by heckling and pestering the politicians I find loathsome. I'd enjoy that much more than playing bingo.
If weed is still illegal in thirty years, I will perform civil disobedience by growing pot plants in my backyard to share with other seniors. IMO marijuana keeps you spry. I mean, look at Willie Nelson. The man is in his 70's and still plays a zillion concerts a year even though he smokes more weed than Cheech and Chong put together.
If it is legal, maybe I'll open up a hemp bar like they have in Amsterdam. Hell, I wish I could do that right now! How dare the government deny me my right to practice capitalism! Jeez, you'd think the Republicans would be all for that, but no, they prefer the boners they get from trying to legislate morality. Maybe I'll just take my cane to Washington and beat down a few senators. Might as well spend my last years having fun before it's time to meet Jesus.
Hopefully I'll be a cute old lady with big saucer eyes and rosy pink cheeks, the better to fool them all. That way when I end up working as a WalMart greeter no one will ever believe that I am ripping off everything in the store that's not nailed down and selling it for discount out of the back of my truck. And when I hand customers a cart and say, "Welcome to WalMart, Lardass!" with a sweet smile, they'll figure they must be imagining things. Surely that darling little granny didn't just insult them, did she?
If called on it, I'll just act confused, maybe even cry if necessary. Heh heh.
Good Lord how I love Betty White. Isn't she the coolest chick ever? She was always my favorite of The Golden Girls. Look at her - all pretty and neatly coiffed and unafraid of splattering your brains all over her lovely camel coat.
Fuck those Red Hat clubs! I'm getting me a gun!
I really need to take shooting lessons because there is nothing cooler than an old babe who can handle a firearm like a pro. Just look at these pictures and tell me these broads aren't badass.
Where's my senior discount, bitch?
When I say get off my lawn, I ain't playing.
You know, I've always wanted to get a gun and shoot out a television screen for no reason just like Elvis was rumored to do every so often. Blowing away an entire wall of TV's would be even better, wouldn't it? Every time I pass by a Sears I imagine how sweet it would be to pull a giant handgun out of my purse and take down every TV set in the electronic section.
Of course, I'd never dare do anything like that now, but in thirty years? Hell yeah! That's when I can blame it all on senility.
No wonder they call them the golden years.
No my name ain't baby, it's Prunella. Miss Jones if you're nasty.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
If I Could Be Like Mike...
Did you know that former Arkansas Governor (and God's favorite little soldier) Mike Huckabee is an amazing poet? Well, it's true. Click here to see just how amazing...ly bad he is.
It gave me a chuckle anyway, and inspired me to write a few horrible poems of my own about this matter. Here they are.
Hey Ho, Let's Go!
Oh GOP oh GOP
so very mad at Pelosi.
Republicans WILL NOT abide
lying liars who just might have lied
and for once I'm on their side.
We really should investigate
this Nancy Pelosi chick,
right after the war crimes trials
of Rumsfeld, Condie, W. and Dick!
Limericks Are Sinful
There once was a big douchebag named Mike
whom only Chuck Norris could like
although torture is fine
Nancy should resign
Waa waa go cry some more, bible thumper.
Huckabee Douchbuggeree
There was an old dork named Michael Huckabee
stuffed full of fail and lots of suck-a-ree
tried to impress Rush Limbaugh with poetic fuck-a-ree
poor old dumbass Huckabee the wanna-be.
Too much fun, I could do this all day. Bring on the investigation, GOP! Let's see exactly how much and when Nancy knew about the Bush administration's ordering of torture. Wheeee! I could probably get a chapbook out of all the poems it would inspire.
It gave me a chuckle anyway, and inspired me to write a few horrible poems of my own about this matter. Here they are.
Hey Ho, Let's Go!
Oh GOP oh GOP
so very mad at Pelosi.
Republicans WILL NOT abide
lying liars who just might have lied
and for once I'm on their side.
We really should investigate
this Nancy Pelosi chick,
right after the war crimes trials
of Rumsfeld, Condie, W. and Dick!
Limericks Are Sinful
There once was a big douchebag named Mike
whom only Chuck Norris could like
although torture is fine
Nancy should resign
Waa waa go cry some more, bible thumper.
Huckabee Douchbuggeree
There was an old dork named Michael Huckabee
stuffed full of fail and lots of suck-a-ree
tried to impress Rush Limbaugh with poetic fuck-a-ree
poor old dumbass Huckabee the wanna-be.
Too much fun, I could do this all day. Bring on the investigation, GOP! Let's see exactly how much and when Nancy knew about the Bush administration's ordering of torture. Wheeee! I could probably get a chapbook out of all the poems it would inspire.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Not This Story Again....
I don't know about you, but I am sick to death of hearing about and from Miss California, Carrie "the bible says gays are evil" Prejean.
"Oh noes! I didn't win a beauty pageant because the way I answered a question revealed my vapid ignorance and intolerant attitude. Therefore, my right to free speech was obviously violated. Waaa waaa."
Does anyone else find it ironic that she is whining (wrongly) about her First Amendment rights being denied because she said she is in favor of denying gays their right to marry?
And now she's on every news show and will probably end up getting a book deal out of the whole thing. Goddamn, I HATE the way this country rewards mediocrity.
Fuck you, Carrie Prejean! Perez Hilton was right, you ARE a stupid bitch, and I hate you for making me agree with Perez Hilton because he sucks too!
It figures that Sarah Palin would stick up for her. Sarah is another brainless former beauty pageant contestant with zero understanding of tolerance, respect and equality, who cries about being a victim of the mean old liberal media.
ATTENTION LIBERAL MEDIA: This bitch's 15 minutes of fame need to be over! Sarah Palin's have been over for ages. Can we please kick these two redneck, trailer trash idiots back to the obscurity they both so richly deserve? That's not too much to ask for, is it?
What and/or who are you sick of hearing about lately?
"Oh noes! I didn't win a beauty pageant because the way I answered a question revealed my vapid ignorance and intolerant attitude. Therefore, my right to free speech was obviously violated. Waaa waaa."
Does anyone else find it ironic that she is whining (wrongly) about her First Amendment rights being denied because she said she is in favor of denying gays their right to marry?
And now she's on every news show and will probably end up getting a book deal out of the whole thing. Goddamn, I HATE the way this country rewards mediocrity.
Fuck you, Carrie Prejean! Perez Hilton was right, you ARE a stupid bitch, and I hate you for making me agree with Perez Hilton because he sucks too!
It figures that Sarah Palin would stick up for her. Sarah is another brainless former beauty pageant contestant with zero understanding of tolerance, respect and equality, who cries about being a victim of the mean old liberal media.
ATTENTION LIBERAL MEDIA: This bitch's 15 minutes of fame need to be over! Sarah Palin's have been over for ages. Can we please kick these two redneck, trailer trash idiots back to the obscurity they both so richly deserve? That's not too much to ask for, is it?
What and/or who are you sick of hearing about lately?
Friday, May 15, 2009
I Like To Move It: The Virtual Lapdance
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Why I've Been MIA
I know what you've been thinking.
You've all been on the edge of your seats wondering, "Where in the world is Prunella Jones?" while humming that Carmen Sandiego song, right?
Okay, probably not. (Curse you!)
Where have I been, though? Was I out taking the virginity of all three of the Jonas Brothers?
Nah, I already did that back in January.
Actual photo of me with the Jonas Brothers, hours before I made them into men. Well, that is, I made two of them into men. The prettiest one turned out to be strictly dickly, unfortunately.
Was I out partying?
This hat is much more comfortable than it looks.
Usually that's a safe bet, but nope, not this week.
Well then, obviously I must have been hanging out in a creepy old hotel in Colorado with my twin sister, Mary Kate, wearing fabu ball gowns and practicing bulimia, right?
Actually, we are not bulimic! Bulimia is sooo yesterday. We are anorexic. Duh!
Surprisingly the answer is no. I haven't been feeling well enough to do anything much -well, besides play around with Blingee - I have been sick as shit. I think I may have even had (cue the scary music) THE SWINE FLU!
I'm not sure if I did or not since I didn't go to a doctor. But, damn, was I ever sick! Holy shit! I could barely get out of bed most of the week.
It started on Friday. I was feeling a little...off. Not bad, but not so good as usual. My energy was really low.
On Saturday I woke up with a sore throat, but I figured I could power through, so I swallowed a ton of Vitamin C, loaded my pockets with zinc lozenges, and went on to Earl's.
Attention Classy Earl's customers: I'd like to apologize for coughing in your faces like that. Hopefully all the alcohol you guys were guzzling killed any flu germs that may have drifted your way.
Also, to the Asian gentleman with the Buddy Holly glasses: I was just joking when I said that my spitting a zinc lozenge on your lap cost extra. I did it accidentally while trying to suppress a cough and tried to play that off to cover my embarrassment. Thanks for the extra twenty though!
By Sunday morning I realized that I could be dying, so I took to my bed and stayed there. It really sucked.
I looked up the symptoms of Swine Flu on the CDC website. Basically, it's just the same as the regular flu, headache, fever, sore throat, lethargy, lack of appetite and coughing (lots and lots of coughing.) I also had a bit of runny nose and some nausea. It could have just been regular flu, I guess. If so, it was really hideous one. I hardly ever get sick usually, and when I do I'm able to shake it off after a day or two, but this - holy crap! This was horrible!
At one point I actually called a friend and asked her to get in touch with Dr. Kevorkian for me. He's out of jail now, right?
Anyway, I'm glad to be feeling better. Still not 100% but much, much better than yesterday. Hallelujah and praise almighty Xenu!
Bad as it was though, I gotta say I had some really amazing ideas while feverish. Super genius stuff! Like, it occurred to me that once we get this cloning stuff down pat, we should totally clone Jesus. Wouldn't that be cool? If we did that, we would - in essence - be becoming gods ourselves by bringing the messiah back to the world on our terms instead of waiting for God to get around to it. Can you imagine? The fundies would go apeshit! Especially when Jesus told them all to quit being such hypocritical cocks. Oh man, I would love that so much! I'd spend the end of days laughing my ass off.
"But Pru," you are probably thinking, "we'd need some of Jesus' DNA in order to clone him. We don't have any."
Yeah, I know. That bugged me too. Then it hit me. We could use The Shroud of Turin. If it's the real deal we should have no problem getting DNA from it. And if we can't, then that would prove once and for all it's a fake. Good idea, huh?
While in my feverish state, I also decided that we should clone Rasputin. Mostly because I was a history major and have always been intrigued by his hypnotic eyes and rags to riches to freaky death story.
Okay, that last part is a lie. I really want to clone Rasputin because he was rumored to have a twelve inch dick which he used to fuck the ladies of the Russian court all night long. Supposedly he could go for hours and hours. Therefore it is crucially important that we clone this guy. I need him to be my sex slave.
Not that I wouldn't welcome Jesus as a sex slave too. Of course, I'd love that! What girl wouldn't? But I figured he'd be too busy helping the sick and poor and casting the money changers from the temple and stuff. He probably wouldn't have enough time to get busy with me. :(
Anyway, one of them really needs to rise again, don't you agree? And by them, I mean either Jesus or Raputin's giant schlong.
I know what I'd vote for. Which would you pick?
So to summarize, the swine flu (or whatever it was) really, really sucked ass. I'm very glad I survived it. And, we need to ferry some of that stimulus money to a cloning program STAT!
How was your week?
You've all been on the edge of your seats wondering, "Where in the world is Prunella Jones?" while humming that Carmen Sandiego song, right?
Okay, probably not. (Curse you!)
Where have I been, though? Was I out taking the virginity of all three of the Jonas Brothers?
Nah, I already did that back in January.
Actual photo of me with the Jonas Brothers, hours before I made them into men. Well, that is, I made two of them into men. The prettiest one turned out to be strictly dickly, unfortunately.
Was I out partying?
This hat is much more comfortable than it looks.
Usually that's a safe bet, but nope, not this week.
Well then, obviously I must have been hanging out in a creepy old hotel in Colorado with my twin sister, Mary Kate, wearing fabu ball gowns and practicing bulimia, right?
Actually, we are not bulimic! Bulimia is sooo yesterday. We are anorexic. Duh!
Surprisingly the answer is no. I haven't been feeling well enough to do anything much -well, besides play around with Blingee - I have been sick as shit. I think I may have even had (cue the scary music) THE SWINE FLU!
I'm not sure if I did or not since I didn't go to a doctor. But, damn, was I ever sick! Holy shit! I could barely get out of bed most of the week.
It started on Friday. I was feeling a little...off. Not bad, but not so good as usual. My energy was really low.
On Saturday I woke up with a sore throat, but I figured I could power through, so I swallowed a ton of Vitamin C, loaded my pockets with zinc lozenges, and went on to Earl's.
Attention Classy Earl's customers: I'd like to apologize for coughing in your faces like that. Hopefully all the alcohol you guys were guzzling killed any flu germs that may have drifted your way.
Also, to the Asian gentleman with the Buddy Holly glasses: I was just joking when I said that my spitting a zinc lozenge on your lap cost extra. I did it accidentally while trying to suppress a cough and tried to play that off to cover my embarrassment. Thanks for the extra twenty though!
By Sunday morning I realized that I could be dying, so I took to my bed and stayed there. It really sucked.
I looked up the symptoms of Swine Flu on the CDC website. Basically, it's just the same as the regular flu, headache, fever, sore throat, lethargy, lack of appetite and coughing (lots and lots of coughing.) I also had a bit of runny nose and some nausea. It could have just been regular flu, I guess. If so, it was really hideous one. I hardly ever get sick usually, and when I do I'm able to shake it off after a day or two, but this - holy crap! This was horrible!
At one point I actually called a friend and asked her to get in touch with Dr. Kevorkian for me. He's out of jail now, right?
Anyway, I'm glad to be feeling better. Still not 100% but much, much better than yesterday. Hallelujah and praise almighty Xenu!
Bad as it was though, I gotta say I had some really amazing ideas while feverish. Super genius stuff! Like, it occurred to me that once we get this cloning stuff down pat, we should totally clone Jesus. Wouldn't that be cool? If we did that, we would - in essence - be becoming gods ourselves by bringing the messiah back to the world on our terms instead of waiting for God to get around to it. Can you imagine? The fundies would go apeshit! Especially when Jesus told them all to quit being such hypocritical cocks. Oh man, I would love that so much! I'd spend the end of days laughing my ass off.
"But Pru," you are probably thinking, "we'd need some of Jesus' DNA in order to clone him. We don't have any."
Yeah, I know. That bugged me too. Then it hit me. We could use The Shroud of Turin. If it's the real deal we should have no problem getting DNA from it. And if we can't, then that would prove once and for all it's a fake. Good idea, huh?
While in my feverish state, I also decided that we should clone Rasputin. Mostly because I was a history major and have always been intrigued by his hypnotic eyes and rags to riches to freaky death story.
Okay, that last part is a lie. I really want to clone Rasputin because he was rumored to have a twelve inch dick which he used to fuck the ladies of the Russian court all night long. Supposedly he could go for hours and hours. Therefore it is crucially important that we clone this guy. I need him to be my sex slave.
Not that I wouldn't welcome Jesus as a sex slave too. Of course, I'd love that! What girl wouldn't? But I figured he'd be too busy helping the sick and poor and casting the money changers from the temple and stuff. He probably wouldn't have enough time to get busy with me. :(
Anyway, one of them really needs to rise again, don't you agree? And by them, I mean either Jesus or Raputin's giant schlong.
I know what I'd vote for. Which would you pick?
So to summarize, the swine flu (or whatever it was) really, really sucked ass. I'm very glad I survived it. And, we need to ferry some of that stimulus money to a cloning program STAT!
How was your week?
Friday, May 08, 2009
Repressed Memories
Just out of curiosity, I decided to take Words suggestion and google the phrase "Buck up, little soldier" to see if it came from some place legitimate or if I'd made it up. Right away I found this poem:
Carry On
It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You’re glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You’re muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
Carry on! Carry on!
Things never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are week.
Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but -- you never can tell:
Carry on, old man! Carry on!
There are some who drift out in the deserts of doubt,
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labour with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.
Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry:
CARRY ON, MY SOUL! CARRY ON!
Robert W Serviceman
As soon as I read the first line, bells went off in my brain and I remembered that my dad had a framed copy of this poem hanging in the bathroom when I was a kid. Duh!
I don't know why I'd forgotten about it. My brother and I used to say that to each other all the time in our daily verbal abuse.
"Hey, guess what? Jesus hates your guts."
"That's okay, I'm still gonna greet life with a cheer. Jesus can just kiss my rear."
"That's right, buck up little soldier. Even though you're so stupid you make Jesus, and every other guy who sees you want to puke. Carry on anyway. Carry on, I say!"
"Yeah, I labor with zest and give of my best and you should too. Even though you are a balding dwarf elf who will die a virgin. Carry on! Carry on! "
"I may be unlucky, but I am never weak. I will carry on, though my sister is a freak. With a face that makes the angels shriek. Carry on!"
"Very good little soldier, fight the good fight and true. Though you look like a turtle and smell like a zoo. Damn, Jesus really must hate the heck out of you. Carry on!"
"Okay, who said the D word?!" my dad would shout. "I heard it! Both of you go to your rooms right now!"
How could I have forgotten that poem? It's probably had at least as big an influence on my own poetry as Dr. Seuss. I also liked the one that went "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one's mine..."
Jeez. No wonder I'm so bucked up.
Carry On
It’s easy to fight when everything’s right,
And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory;
It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.
It’s a different song when everything’s wrong,
When you’re feeling infernally mortal;
When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none,
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle:
Carry on! Carry on!
There isn’t much punch in your blow.
You’re glaring and staring and hitting out blind;
You’re muddy and bloody, but never you mind.
Carry on! Carry on!
You haven’t the ghost of a show.
It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath,
Carry on, my son! Carry on!
And so in the strife of the battle of life
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning;
It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave,
When the dawn of success is beginning.
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there’s the man of God’s choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing.
Carry on! Carry on!
Things never were looming so black.
But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak,
And though you’re unlucky you never are week.
Carry on! Carry on!
Brace up for another attack.
It’s looking like hell, but -- you never can tell:
Carry on, old man! Carry on!
There are some who drift out in the deserts of doubt,
And some who in brutishness wallow;
There are others, I know, who in piety go
Because of a Heaven to follow.
But to labour with zest, and to give of your best,
For the sweetness and joy of the giving;
To help folks along with a hand and a song;
Why, there’s the real sunshine of living.
Carry on! Carry on!
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here.
Carry on! Carry on!
Let the world be the better for you;
And at last when you die, let this be your cry:
CARRY ON, MY SOUL! CARRY ON!
Robert W Serviceman
As soon as I read the first line, bells went off in my brain and I remembered that my dad had a framed copy of this poem hanging in the bathroom when I was a kid. Duh!
I don't know why I'd forgotten about it. My brother and I used to say that to each other all the time in our daily verbal abuse.
"Hey, guess what? Jesus hates your guts."
"That's okay, I'm still gonna greet life with a cheer. Jesus can just kiss my rear."
"That's right, buck up little soldier. Even though you're so stupid you make Jesus, and every other guy who sees you want to puke. Carry on anyway. Carry on, I say!"
"Yeah, I labor with zest and give of my best and you should too. Even though you are a balding dwarf elf who will die a virgin. Carry on! Carry on! "
"I may be unlucky, but I am never weak. I will carry on, though my sister is a freak. With a face that makes the angels shriek. Carry on!"
"Very good little soldier, fight the good fight and true. Though you look like a turtle and smell like a zoo. Damn, Jesus really must hate the heck out of you. Carry on!"
"Okay, who said the D word?!" my dad would shout. "I heard it! Both of you go to your rooms right now!"
How could I have forgotten that poem? It's probably had at least as big an influence on my own poetry as Dr. Seuss. I also liked the one that went "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one's mine..."
Jeez. No wonder I'm so bucked up.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Q and A and TMI
Bill Stankus from Just A Moment Of Miscellany tagged me with this long questionnaire.
1. What are your current obsessions?
Lately I enjoy finding old pictures at the the thrift store and "improving" them by painting or gluing inappropriate stuff into the pic. Sort of like a 3D version of Blingee, I guess.
Like, I found this old photo of an angel watching over some kids on a bridge.
It's sweet, huh? But it would be much cooler if the angel was chasing the kids instead, don't you think? As soon as I can find a clear pic of one, I'm going to put a chainsaw in her hands and then alter her expression slightly to make her look insane and the kids more freaked out.
I'm also digging this gif of Christopher Walken. (Hats off to whoever made it.)
Whoa, psychedelic. Hopefully this isn't giving you a seizure.
It would be fun to make something similar. Perhaps one of me naked, holding a chainsaw and floating through space?
I like to do these "art projects" even though they are completely dumb. Hey, it keeps me off the streets!
2. Which items from your wardrobe do you wear most often?
Jeans, tee shirts, and my Jesus sandles are what I wear for hanging out at home. If I'm going out then it's nicer jeans, nicer tees and hawt shoes.
3. What's for dinner?
I don't know, what do you feel like cooking?
4. Last thing you bought?
Some L-lysine for my canker sore. It's much better today BTW.
5. What are you listening to?
A Ghost Is Born by Wilco. Love that band so much! Can't wait for their new album.
6. If you were a god/goddess who would you be?
Probably Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos and mischief. Heh heh.
7. Favorite holiday spots?
Anyplace I've never been to before.
8. Reading right now?
The Portable Obituary: How the Famous, Rich, and Powerful Really Died by Michael Largo. I'm a sucker for trivia books and anything morbid.
9. Four words to describe yourself.
Just four? That's hard. I'm really fascinating! Let's see....Dreamer, Slacker, Philosopher, and Dork.
10. Guilty pleasure?
Tons, but does it count if I don't really feel guilty about them?
11. Who or what makes or made you laugh until you’re weak?
Well, I love the show It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. The episode "Charlie Gets Molested" nearly made me pee my pants. I like outlandish, absurd type humor.
12. Who or what makes you so angry you could scream?
Joe the Plumber and Sarah Palin represent everything I hate about America. I would happily throw feces at them if I ever got the chance.
13. Planning to travel to next?
My mom is making go to my aunt's wedding anniversary party this summer. Since they live in Atlanta I'll be forced to drive through Georgia again - shudder - other than that no plans, but I'm open to anything. You never know.
14.Best thing you ate or drank lately?
It wasn't all that lately, but the best thing I ever ate was a deep fried Mars Bar. Damn, that was good! Also, if I were super rich, I swear I'd be fatter than Oprah from going to fabulous four star restaurants every single night, and being able to throw back the finest vodka and caviar whenever I felt like it (which would be often.)
15.When did you last get tipsy?
Probably last weekend.
16. Favorite ever film?
Rubin and Ed. I don't know why this movie is so obscure. I haven't been able to find a DVD of it, which sucks because it's so great. It's about an eccentric, unsociable, young man who is forced by his mother to make some friends before she'll return his stereo to him. He is joined on a trip through a desert by a pyramid-scheme salesman, as they search for a location to bury a frozen cat. Who wouldn't love that? Plus Crispin Glover, my all time fav actor, is in it.
17. Care to share some wisdom?
Sure. Unfortunately, I don't have any. Sorry. :(
18. If you could change one thing in your life what would it be?
I'd love to be stinking rich. (Sorry for stealing your answer, Bill.)
19. What are your blog turn-ons and turn-offs?
I enjoy clever posts and people who seem like they'd be a lot of fun to hang out with. Also, anyone who challenges me to look at the world a little differently. I'm forever getting crushes on various bloggers.
Turn-offs include people who use their blogs in place of therapists. Come on! I understand and all but it gets really dull. I get tired of saying "buck up, little soldier" constantly.
20. Favorite website?
Youtube.com. I go there several times a day, every day.
The End
Okay, I now hereby tag everyone who has not already done this one. You know who you are.
The rules are as follows: you've got to answer all the questions, change one and then add one.
1. What are your current obsessions?
Lately I enjoy finding old pictures at the the thrift store and "improving" them by painting or gluing inappropriate stuff into the pic. Sort of like a 3D version of Blingee, I guess.
Like, I found this old photo of an angel watching over some kids on a bridge.
It's sweet, huh? But it would be much cooler if the angel was chasing the kids instead, don't you think? As soon as I can find a clear pic of one, I'm going to put a chainsaw in her hands and then alter her expression slightly to make her look insane and the kids more freaked out.
I'm also digging this gif of Christopher Walken. (Hats off to whoever made it.)
Whoa, psychedelic. Hopefully this isn't giving you a seizure.
It would be fun to make something similar. Perhaps one of me naked, holding a chainsaw and floating through space?
I like to do these "art projects" even though they are completely dumb. Hey, it keeps me off the streets!
2. Which items from your wardrobe do you wear most often?
Jeans, tee shirts, and my Jesus sandles are what I wear for hanging out at home. If I'm going out then it's nicer jeans, nicer tees and hawt shoes.
3. What's for dinner?
I don't know, what do you feel like cooking?
4. Last thing you bought?
Some L-lysine for my canker sore. It's much better today BTW.
5. What are you listening to?
A Ghost Is Born by Wilco. Love that band so much! Can't wait for their new album.
6. If you were a god/goddess who would you be?
Probably Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos and mischief. Heh heh.
7. Favorite holiday spots?
Anyplace I've never been to before.
8. Reading right now?
The Portable Obituary: How the Famous, Rich, and Powerful Really Died by Michael Largo. I'm a sucker for trivia books and anything morbid.
9. Four words to describe yourself.
Just four? That's hard. I'm really fascinating! Let's see....Dreamer, Slacker, Philosopher, and Dork.
10. Guilty pleasure?
Tons, but does it count if I don't really feel guilty about them?
11. Who or what makes or made you laugh until you’re weak?
Well, I love the show It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. The episode "Charlie Gets Molested" nearly made me pee my pants. I like outlandish, absurd type humor.
12. Who or what makes you so angry you could scream?
Joe the Plumber and Sarah Palin represent everything I hate about America. I would happily throw feces at them if I ever got the chance.
13. Planning to travel to next?
My mom is making go to my aunt's wedding anniversary party this summer. Since they live in Atlanta I'll be forced to drive through Georgia again - shudder - other than that no plans, but I'm open to anything. You never know.
14.Best thing you ate or drank lately?
It wasn't all that lately, but the best thing I ever ate was a deep fried Mars Bar. Damn, that was good! Also, if I were super rich, I swear I'd be fatter than Oprah from going to fabulous four star restaurants every single night, and being able to throw back the finest vodka and caviar whenever I felt like it (which would be often.)
15.When did you last get tipsy?
Probably last weekend.
16. Favorite ever film?
Rubin and Ed. I don't know why this movie is so obscure. I haven't been able to find a DVD of it, which sucks because it's so great. It's about an eccentric, unsociable, young man who is forced by his mother to make some friends before she'll return his stereo to him. He is joined on a trip through a desert by a pyramid-scheme salesman, as they search for a location to bury a frozen cat. Who wouldn't love that? Plus Crispin Glover, my all time fav actor, is in it.
17. Care to share some wisdom?
Sure. Unfortunately, I don't have any. Sorry. :(
18. If you could change one thing in your life what would it be?
I'd love to be stinking rich. (Sorry for stealing your answer, Bill.)
19. What are your blog turn-ons and turn-offs?
I enjoy clever posts and people who seem like they'd be a lot of fun to hang out with. Also, anyone who challenges me to look at the world a little differently. I'm forever getting crushes on various bloggers.
Turn-offs include people who use their blogs in place of therapists. Come on! I understand and all but it gets really dull. I get tired of saying "buck up, little soldier" constantly.
20. Favorite website?
Youtube.com. I go there several times a day, every day.
The End
Okay, I now hereby tag everyone who has not already done this one. You know who you are.
The rules are as follows: you've got to answer all the questions, change one and then add one.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Ouch!
I have a giant canker sore in my mouth that hurts like hell. It's been brewing up for the last few days on the top right hand corner inside my upper lip. I took some Vitamin C last night hoping to quell the ulcer before it got explosive, but it must have been too late. This morning I woke up feeling like a nuclear bomb had gone off inside my mouth. My upper lip is so swollen it resembles Lisa Rhinna's hemorrhoidal trout pout. Gah! What can I do to get rid of this thing?
I googled home remedies for canker sores and here are the ones I've tried so far:
1. Put salt on it. It may burn a little, but that means its working.
Cool, I thought. I've got salt right here in the cabinet. Let me just rub a little on......Yeow! Who the hell suggested this one, Dick Cheney? It burned like a motherfucking fire from the depths of almighty hell. I had to rinse it off immediately, but even so it still throbbed for an hour afterward. Not recommended.
2. I've had an old family remedy of baking soda mixed with a little water to make a paste. Just dab a bit on and although it might sting for a minute, it shrinks and gets rid of the sore within 2 days.
This one didn't sting too bad, but it doesn't seem to have helped. Plus the baking soda paste keeps dissolving and oozing down my throat. Yucky.
3. Just dab some honey on your sore and boomb, it'll reduce the pain almost immediately and will heal the canker in as short as a day.
Nope. It is tasty however.
4. Gargle with Peroxide!
I don't have any. My mom has some Lysterine which would probably be about the same thing. I'd rather not try it though, because I suspect that will burn even worse than the salt.
5. Avoid eating potato chips!
Well, duh!
6. Apply a wet black teabag to the ulcer. The tannins relieve the pain.
I only have green tea, but I tried this and it does work a little bit.
7. Just take a little earwax from your ear and apply it to the canker sore. It's said to be a sure cure. It may have some antiseptic value, and it may protect the sore.
Ewwww. No.
8. Avoid stress.
Well, it's a bit late for that now. Besides, it's kindd of hard not to be stressed when a crazed and hulking Twilight fan wants to break your arm.
9. Swish some Milk of Magnesia around in your mouth several times a day. It coats the ulcer and relieves the pain.
I don't have any. I may go to the store for it in awhile though.
10. L-lysine. 3 tablets a day until the canker is gone. Works great!
Hmmmm...I did a little research on this one and it appears that it might be helpful. I'll look for it when I go to the grocery store.
It's been ages since I've had a canker sore and I've forgotten how much they truly suck. This is why morphine needs to be sold over the counter, dammit! Friggin busybody "just-say-no" "drugs are bad, mmkay" asshole politicians and their archaic drug laws! If I'm over 21 and can pay for it, it should be no one's business what I put into my body!
Okay, end of rant. Sorry, pain makes me pissy.
Since I can't get any morphine, do you have any suggestions to heal this sucker up quick and take away this mouth misery? What works for you?
I googled home remedies for canker sores and here are the ones I've tried so far:
1. Put salt on it. It may burn a little, but that means its working.
Cool, I thought. I've got salt right here in the cabinet. Let me just rub a little on......Yeow! Who the hell suggested this one, Dick Cheney? It burned like a motherfucking fire from the depths of almighty hell. I had to rinse it off immediately, but even so it still throbbed for an hour afterward. Not recommended.
2. I've had an old family remedy of baking soda mixed with a little water to make a paste. Just dab a bit on and although it might sting for a minute, it shrinks and gets rid of the sore within 2 days.
This one didn't sting too bad, but it doesn't seem to have helped. Plus the baking soda paste keeps dissolving and oozing down my throat. Yucky.
3. Just dab some honey on your sore and boomb, it'll reduce the pain almost immediately and will heal the canker in as short as a day.
Nope. It is tasty however.
4. Gargle with Peroxide!
I don't have any. My mom has some Lysterine which would probably be about the same thing. I'd rather not try it though, because I suspect that will burn even worse than the salt.
5. Avoid eating potato chips!
Well, duh!
6. Apply a wet black teabag to the ulcer. The tannins relieve the pain.
I only have green tea, but I tried this and it does work a little bit.
7. Just take a little earwax from your ear and apply it to the canker sore. It's said to be a sure cure. It may have some antiseptic value, and it may protect the sore.
Ewwww. No.
8. Avoid stress.
Well, it's a bit late for that now. Besides, it's kindd of hard not to be stressed when a crazed and hulking Twilight fan wants to break your arm.
9. Swish some Milk of Magnesia around in your mouth several times a day. It coats the ulcer and relieves the pain.
I don't have any. I may go to the store for it in awhile though.
10. L-lysine. 3 tablets a day until the canker is gone. Works great!
Hmmmm...I did a little research on this one and it appears that it might be helpful. I'll look for it when I go to the grocery store.
It's been ages since I've had a canker sore and I've forgotten how much they truly suck. This is why morphine needs to be sold over the counter, dammit! Friggin busybody "just-say-no" "drugs are bad, mmkay" asshole politicians and their archaic drug laws! If I'm over 21 and can pay for it, it should be no one's business what I put into my body!
Okay, end of rant. Sorry, pain makes me pissy.
Since I can't get any morphine, do you have any suggestions to heal this sucker up quick and take away this mouth misery? What works for you?
Monday, May 04, 2009
Bye Bye Boobie Barn, Hello Classy Earl's
Which do you want to hear first, the good news or bad news?
The Good News: I'm alive and well and haven't had my ass kicked.
The Bad News: Actually there isn't any bad news. I just like to be dramatic.
So, here is what happened. On Friday I actually went over to Hot Topic and contemplated the Twilight merchandise, looking for some cheap trinkets that might appease the Bella's, when I got a call from a friend telling me not to come in to work. Apparently Bella was already there, bragging about how her boyfriend had showed her how to break my arm with some sort of karate move and that he had filled the place with a bunch of redneck friends who were taking bets on who would win in our jello fight.
Well, that did it. There was no way I was going to show up for that! Thank goodness she called before I wasted my money on any "Team Edward" crap. Screw it! The Boobie Barn sucks anyway, and I am way too good for the place.
Out of curiosity I asked her how many people were betting I'd win. None, she answered, that's why they'd had just switched to betting on how long it would take Bella to kick my ass. Two minutes was the popular prediction.
I was strangely flattered by that. In reality it would probably be more like 15 seconds.
Since it looks like The Boobie Barn is off limits for a while but I still need to make some chedda, I swallowed my pride and headed back over to Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits.
Regular readers might remember that I used to dance there all the time, until my monkey, Tucksworth, snatched Earl's toupee off of his head and threw it at the buffet table. It landed in a pot of Egg Drop Soup and was ruined which made Earl livid (even though it forced him into getting a much nicer hair weave that looked a thousand times better IMO.) Click here for the full story if you're interested.
Anyway, after that altercation Earl made my life so miserable that I quit, but since hearing the place was under new management, it seemed like a good time to go back.
The Good News: Classy Earl's really IS much classier than The Boobie Barn. No jello wrestling, not so many frat boys, and the bathrooms are a lot cleaner. Also, I haven't noticed any Twilight freaks yet.
The Bad News: Lots more competition!
Unfortunately the place is loaded with gorgeous girls, quite a few of whom are actually good dancers. (Not that it matters since the customers don't really care about dancing, it's just a pride thing with me.) Will I be able to make bank here? Hmmmm...don't know yet. It was pretty easy to be a big fish in small pond full of skank, but now it looks like I'm really going to have to work it.
The Good News: This post is over so now I can go read your blogs and see how your weekends went.
The Bad News: This post was kinda disappointing. I know you were hoping to click over and hear details of how I shoved Bella's face into the jello and beaned her in the head with a hardback copy of Twilight. Believe me I wish that had happened (God, it would have been satisfying!) but there was no way I was going to take a chance on getting a nail broken, much less my arm.
I'll leave you with a picture of the cool jewelry box I found at the thrift store on Sunday for a dollar. Check out this hawt fighting chick.
She looks like she's ready to throw down, huh? I only wish I could kung fu some Bella's while wearing such a stylish outfit.
The Good News: I'm alive and well and haven't had my ass kicked.
The Bad News: Actually there isn't any bad news. I just like to be dramatic.
So, here is what happened. On Friday I actually went over to Hot Topic and contemplated the Twilight merchandise, looking for some cheap trinkets that might appease the Bella's, when I got a call from a friend telling me not to come in to work. Apparently Bella was already there, bragging about how her boyfriend had showed her how to break my arm with some sort of karate move and that he had filled the place with a bunch of redneck friends who were taking bets on who would win in our jello fight.
Well, that did it. There was no way I was going to show up for that! Thank goodness she called before I wasted my money on any "Team Edward" crap. Screw it! The Boobie Barn sucks anyway, and I am way too good for the place.
Out of curiosity I asked her how many people were betting I'd win. None, she answered, that's why they'd had just switched to betting on how long it would take Bella to kick my ass. Two minutes was the popular prediction.
I was strangely flattered by that. In reality it would probably be more like 15 seconds.
Since it looks like The Boobie Barn is off limits for a while but I still need to make some chedda, I swallowed my pride and headed back over to Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits.
Regular readers might remember that I used to dance there all the time, until my monkey, Tucksworth, snatched Earl's toupee off of his head and threw it at the buffet table. It landed in a pot of Egg Drop Soup and was ruined which made Earl livid (even though it forced him into getting a much nicer hair weave that looked a thousand times better IMO.) Click here for the full story if you're interested.
Anyway, after that altercation Earl made my life so miserable that I quit, but since hearing the place was under new management, it seemed like a good time to go back.
The Good News: Classy Earl's really IS much classier than The Boobie Barn. No jello wrestling, not so many frat boys, and the bathrooms are a lot cleaner. Also, I haven't noticed any Twilight freaks yet.
The Bad News: Lots more competition!
Unfortunately the place is loaded with gorgeous girls, quite a few of whom are actually good dancers. (Not that it matters since the customers don't really care about dancing, it's just a pride thing with me.) Will I be able to make bank here? Hmmmm...don't know yet. It was pretty easy to be a big fish in small pond full of skank, but now it looks like I'm really going to have to work it.
The Good News: This post is over so now I can go read your blogs and see how your weekends went.
The Bad News: This post was kinda disappointing. I know you were hoping to click over and hear details of how I shoved Bella's face into the jello and beaned her in the head with a hardback copy of Twilight. Believe me I wish that had happened (God, it would have been satisfying!) but there was no way I was going to take a chance on getting a nail broken, much less my arm.
I'll leave you with a picture of the cool jewelry box I found at the thrift store on Sunday for a dollar. Check out this hawt fighting chick.
She looks like she's ready to throw down, huh? I only wish I could kung fu some Bella's while wearing such a stylish outfit.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Mrs. Edward Cullen Is Going To Kick My Ass
Here is something I'd really like to know.
WHAT IS IT ABOUT TWILIGHT THAT MAKES ITS FANS SO INSANE?
I truly don't get it. It's just a dumb book (and movie) about a dorky sparkling vampire and the extremely dull girl he busts a nut over. I couldn't even finish reading the damn thing because it was so boring.
But the people who love it, really, really love it to the point where they are nearly demented and you'd better not slag their precious book or they will hurt you.
I've recently found this out the hard way. Mrs. Edward Cullen has promised to kill me this weekend.
Of course, it's my own fault. I should just keep my mouth closed. Why is that so hard to do?
I guess I'm just sick of it all. Twilightmania swept through The Boobie Barn a few months back when the movie came out and shows no signs of ever going away.
It's so crazy. The first thing that happened was that overnight nearly every girl wanted to change her stripper name to Bella.
Chicks who used to go by Diamond or Shiva or Raven all want to call themselves Bella now, so you have to listen to the DJ boom out "Everyone make some noise for the beautiful Bella!" about a hundred times a night.
Alice, Rosalie, and Esme have all become popular too, which never fails to make me giggle. I swear if you went by the names alone you'd assume these broads were senior citizens at a bingo parlor in Boca Raton, instead of exotic dancers who get naked every night.
Pale skin has become all the rage. I used to be one of the only chicks in the place who didn't slather herself with fake orange tan (at least not a whole lot) but now everyone wants to be as pale as possible and sparkling with enough body glitter to make Mariah Carey gouge her eyes out with jealousy.
And do you know how many times I have been forced to hear that song "Go All The Way Into The Twilight" since all the Bella's want to dance to it and make it their theme song?
I swear, I've about had it with this mess.
So last weekend when a Bella - formerly known as Candy - asked me, "Who do you think is hotter, Pru, Edward or Jacob?" I did a very bad thing and answered her honestly. I said I thought they both sucked and that Twilight was one of the most retarded books ever written and that I couldn't even finish reading the book because every chapter was lowering my IQ by ten points.
Wow, was that ever the wrong thing to do. I've never been terribly popular at The Boobie Barn, but now every Bella there (not to mention all the Alice's, Esme's, and Rosalie's) wants to kill me.
Seriously. I've been threatened with death.
The other day while sitting at the dressing table troweling on some makeup, I caught a Bella (who used to call herself Venom and I believe her real name is Twyla, so you have to admit that Bella is an improvement) glowering at me in a way that made me a little nervous. I ignored her though, till she came over and sat on the table right in front of me. It was obvious that she was super angry.
"What?" I asked, knowing that she wouldn't go away until she'd had her say.
"You know what, Pru? You ain't all that!" she hissed. "You walk around here like your shit don't stink, but you're no better than the rest of us."
I almost laughed at that, but she was really pissed off and this particular Bella is no one I want to mess with. She has a body like a high school wrestler, very wide shoulders with long muscular arms and no neck. In fact, she resembles the singer Pink quite a bit, except with more tattoos and much meaner. If she wanted to, she'd have no trouble beating the living shit out of me and it looked like she really wanted to.
Picture Pink here with sparkles and demented eyes and you've got Bella.
"You are mistaken about that," I said finally, striving for a light tone. "I'm perfectly aware that my shit stinks, I just don't care if it does."
Then I smiled at her as if to say, 'isn't all this silly? Let's be friends!'
"Want a piece of gum?" I offered.
She got right up in my face, so close I could count the nostril hairs around her nose ring.(7) "You and me this weekend in the jello pit. I am going to rip your hair out and kick your scrawny ass! Hope you enjoy the taste of that jello 'cause you are going to choke on it, bitch!"
Whoa. What do you say to something like that? It was all so dramatic and dumb, I had trouble taking it seriously.
"Oh, give me a break," I said. "Is this because I insulted Twilight? You want to kick my ass because I pointed out that a character in a book who is described as a sparkling, 100 year old virgin is not only not hot, he's completely ridiculous and sounds like a bipolar freak that most people would want a restraining order to keep away from? Really? This is what is making you so angry? Because I called Edward a pedophile doofus?"
"He's sexy and amazing!" she screamed. "He can be a little overprotective at times but that's only because he loves Bella so much!"
"Jesus!" I said. "It's a book! A badly written piece of crap book, not real life! And who cares anyway? Why don't we just agree to disagree and forget about it?"
She made a fist. "You're going down! I'm going to fucking kill you and that's a promise!"
Well.
Now that it's Friday I've got a sinking feeling in my stomach that I really may get my ass beat in tonight and it scares me. I can't fight anyone! Yes, I'm much taller then this chick, but I'm very fine boned and delicate with zero muscles and no arm strength whatsoever. She will kill me and I'm way too beautiful to die! Help!
What to do? What to do?
I've been thinking and thinking about this all morning. Do you think she'll buy it if I show up with a bunch of "Team Edward" merchandise and declare my new found love for Twilight or will that just piss her off more? Please advise.
WHAT IS IT ABOUT TWILIGHT THAT MAKES ITS FANS SO INSANE?
I truly don't get it. It's just a dumb book (and movie) about a dorky sparkling vampire and the extremely dull girl he busts a nut over. I couldn't even finish reading the damn thing because it was so boring.
But the people who love it, really, really love it to the point where they are nearly demented and you'd better not slag their precious book or they will hurt you.
I've recently found this out the hard way. Mrs. Edward Cullen has promised to kill me this weekend.
Of course, it's my own fault. I should just keep my mouth closed. Why is that so hard to do?
I guess I'm just sick of it all. Twilightmania swept through The Boobie Barn a few months back when the movie came out and shows no signs of ever going away.
It's so crazy. The first thing that happened was that overnight nearly every girl wanted to change her stripper name to Bella.
Chicks who used to go by Diamond or Shiva or Raven all want to call themselves Bella now, so you have to listen to the DJ boom out "Everyone make some noise for the beautiful Bella!" about a hundred times a night.
Alice, Rosalie, and Esme have all become popular too, which never fails to make me giggle. I swear if you went by the names alone you'd assume these broads were senior citizens at a bingo parlor in Boca Raton, instead of exotic dancers who get naked every night.
Pale skin has become all the rage. I used to be one of the only chicks in the place who didn't slather herself with fake orange tan (at least not a whole lot) but now everyone wants to be as pale as possible and sparkling with enough body glitter to make Mariah Carey gouge her eyes out with jealousy.
And do you know how many times I have been forced to hear that song "Go All The Way Into The Twilight" since all the Bella's want to dance to it and make it their theme song?
I swear, I've about had it with this mess.
So last weekend when a Bella - formerly known as Candy - asked me, "Who do you think is hotter, Pru, Edward or Jacob?" I did a very bad thing and answered her honestly. I said I thought they both sucked and that Twilight was one of the most retarded books ever written and that I couldn't even finish reading the book because every chapter was lowering my IQ by ten points.
Wow, was that ever the wrong thing to do. I've never been terribly popular at The Boobie Barn, but now every Bella there (not to mention all the Alice's, Esme's, and Rosalie's) wants to kill me.
Seriously. I've been threatened with death.
The other day while sitting at the dressing table troweling on some makeup, I caught a Bella (who used to call herself Venom and I believe her real name is Twyla, so you have to admit that Bella is an improvement) glowering at me in a way that made me a little nervous. I ignored her though, till she came over and sat on the table right in front of me. It was obvious that she was super angry.
"What?" I asked, knowing that she wouldn't go away until she'd had her say.
"You know what, Pru? You ain't all that!" she hissed. "You walk around here like your shit don't stink, but you're no better than the rest of us."
I almost laughed at that, but she was really pissed off and this particular Bella is no one I want to mess with. She has a body like a high school wrestler, very wide shoulders with long muscular arms and no neck. In fact, she resembles the singer Pink quite a bit, except with more tattoos and much meaner. If she wanted to, she'd have no trouble beating the living shit out of me and it looked like she really wanted to.
Picture Pink here with sparkles and demented eyes and you've got Bella.
"You are mistaken about that," I said finally, striving for a light tone. "I'm perfectly aware that my shit stinks, I just don't care if it does."
Then I smiled at her as if to say, 'isn't all this silly? Let's be friends!'
"Want a piece of gum?" I offered.
She got right up in my face, so close I could count the nostril hairs around her nose ring.(7) "You and me this weekend in the jello pit. I am going to rip your hair out and kick your scrawny ass! Hope you enjoy the taste of that jello 'cause you are going to choke on it, bitch!"
Whoa. What do you say to something like that? It was all so dramatic and dumb, I had trouble taking it seriously.
"Oh, give me a break," I said. "Is this because I insulted Twilight? You want to kick my ass because I pointed out that a character in a book who is described as a sparkling, 100 year old virgin is not only not hot, he's completely ridiculous and sounds like a bipolar freak that most people would want a restraining order to keep away from? Really? This is what is making you so angry? Because I called Edward a pedophile doofus?"
"He's sexy and amazing!" she screamed. "He can be a little overprotective at times but that's only because he loves Bella so much!"
"Jesus!" I said. "It's a book! A badly written piece of crap book, not real life! And who cares anyway? Why don't we just agree to disagree and forget about it?"
She made a fist. "You're going down! I'm going to fucking kill you and that's a promise!"
Well.
Now that it's Friday I've got a sinking feeling in my stomach that I really may get my ass beat in tonight and it scares me. I can't fight anyone! Yes, I'm much taller then this chick, but I'm very fine boned and delicate with zero muscles and no arm strength whatsoever. She will kill me and I'm way too beautiful to die! Help!
What to do? What to do?
I've been thinking and thinking about this all morning. Do you think she'll buy it if I show up with a bunch of "Team Edward" merchandise and declare my new found love for Twilight or will that just piss her off more? Please advise.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sweet Family Memories
Growing up, my brother and I were pretty good kids. We did as we were told, got decent grades, and didn't fight too much. At least, there was no physical fighting. We never hit each other or even had very many real disagreements, but we did enjoy verbally needling each other with the worst insults we could think of. We could (and did) do that all day long, much to my mom's chagrin.
Since cussing was forbidden in our house, we couldn't just call each other an "assbitch" or a "shitbrain" like most siblings do. We weren't even supposed to say "shut up" because my dad thought of that as swearing. So we were forced to be a little more creative, and looking back, my parents should have just let us cuss. Then they'd have probably been spared all the offensive crap we came up with instead, like blasphemy.
For some reason we got into the habit of constantly telling each other that Jesus hated the other one. Man, that was fun. I can't remember why it started. Probably because we both loathed church, particularly the Sunday school my mother dragged us to every week. I especially hated that class, and would spend the entire hour arguing with and haranging the teacher with all sorts of sacrilegious questions.
"Why should I worship God when he was such a jerk?" I'd rant. "I mean, look how he treated poor Job? And turning Lot's wife into a pilar of salt just for daring to gaze back at her home was way harsh. If you think about it, why should anyone fear the devil? He never killed anyone, unlike God who would happily smite entire villages just for not praising him enough. It seems to me that Satan was the unsung hero of the bible for being the only one who refused to put up with God's abuse of power!"
I'm sure that teacher detested me.
Anyway, my brother and I came to really enjoy trading blasphemous insults. One of our favorites was telling each other that Jesus hated him. This had the added bonus of upsetting our mother too.
"Hey, guess what? Jesus hates you."
"Jesus called. He left you a message," we'd say while sticking up a middle finger.
"Guess how much Jesus hates you?" Spread arms wide in crucifixion pose. "This much!"
Poor guy, probably doesn't find that joke too amusing.
My mom, who was quite the churchgoer back then, was horrified.
"Stop it right now!" she'd hiss at us, looking around nervously as though worried that God would strike someone dead for our heresy. "Don't say things like that!"
Naturally that just egged us on more.
We then took to making up songs about how much Jesus hated the other one, usually sung to the tune of whatever cheesy song was playing on the radio at that time. I've forgotten most of them, but I do remember one he sang about me that went like this:
Sung to the tune of "Sussudio" by Phil Collins
There's this girl with a flat behind
who's stupid all the time
p-p-pruudio oh oh
Now Jesus don't even know her name
but he hates her just the same
p-p-pruudio oh oh
I retaliated with this:
Sung to the tune of "We Built This City" by Starship
Well Jesus really hates you, especially your face
and God himself agrees, that you're a big disgrace
Knee deep in the hoopla, you make them want to puke
all three of them together - Father, Son, and Holy Spook!
But our hands down favorite thing to do was question each others paternal heritage, which we did constantly. We loved to speculate on what sort of disgusting mutant had raped our mother in order to produce such a freak. A typical exchange would usually go something like this:
"You have a butthole in your chin."
"So do you."
"No, mine is more of a handsome cleft. Yours is definitely a cavernous butthole, and it's also slightly off center, which points to especially low quality breeding. Your father was most likely a mouth-breathing carnie who raped mom at the county fair."
"Well, your father is obviously a dwarf. Or possibly an elf. Or maybe both. You were probably conceived from the sperm of a hundred little people when mom was gang banged at a munchkin convention. You are a dwarf elf and this is your theme song.
Slightly under 4 feet high
with a ruler for a nose and three glass eyes
so hideous he'll make you cry
it's Dwarf Elf! Dwarf Elf!" I'd sing.
"Oh yeah," he'd counter. "is that what the voices are telling you today? It's so sad to watch your mental deterioration as the schizophrenia slowly overtakes your brain. It's inevitable, you know, since mom was raped by that demented guy who covers himself in tin foil and impregnated with you. Soon you'll be joining your real father down at the supermarket parking lot, babbling to everyone who walks by about how the CIA developed killer bees in a lab while trying to assassinate Castro. You are already starting to grow some bitchin hobo whiskers just like your pop. And once he makes you your own tin foil hat you'll be the spitting image of him."
If my dad happened to overhear one of these exchanges he would get upset. Although not, as you might think, at the suggestion that he wasn't our father, or that his wife had been gang raped by various trolls and lunatics. Instead he would be pissed off at the cussing.
"Did you just say the B word?" he'd yell. "Go to your room right now!"
My parents got used to these daily exchanges, I guess. We never really got in that much trouble for them. Except for this one day when we drove our mother over the brink.
I can't remember what we said that set her off. I'd like to think it was the time I told my brother that the real reason Jesus hated him was because God came down from Heaven one day after getting drunk on sacrificial wine and raped our mother while disguised as Phil Collins. And because God's sperm had been contaminated with Phil Collin's DNA, the resulting child - my brother - was a dwarfy idiot with bad musical taste and a propensity towards early balding, whom the angels referred to as Jesus 2: Electric Boogaloo.
"Look Jesus," they'd elbow him and smirk. "Here comes your retarded brother lil' Jesus "Shabba Doo" Shrimpstone. Wow, you must be so embarrassed to be related to that spaz!"
I'd like to think it was that one that drove our mother over the edge, but I can't really remember if it was or not. But lemme tell you, I'll never forget what happened next.
My mom, who must have been in the laundry room, came charging into the kitchen where we were washing the dishes while taunting one another, screaming angrily at the top of her lungs.
"Stop it! Stop it at once! I can't stand it anymore!" she shouted, her face the color of a tomato. "You children are horrible! Absolutely horrible!"
Then she snatched up a damp dish towel and began flogging us with it while screaming about how horrible we were.
That was a bit surprising because she'd never smacked us before, but not really alarming. The wet towel slaps didn't hurt much. No, the really alarming part was that she did all of this while not wearing any pants! No underwear either, just totally naked on the bottom. She was wearing a shirt, though.
I guess she'd been doing laundry and thrown her pants and undies in? Whatever the reason, it was really disconcerting to have her yelling and smacking us with towels while her furburger was totally on display. We were pretty shocked.
And when I say furburger, I mean it literally. It was obvious that my mom didn't believe in using a razor down there. Her bush was positively sasquatchian.
(I know sasquatchian is not a real word. I just made it up to try to describe the hairiness of my mom's pubes. It did kinda look like she had Bigfoot in a head lock.)
My poor brother didn't know where to look. "Mommy, please put on some pants!" he pleaded, while trying to shield his eyes.
By that time she was in a frenzy and kept whipping us with the towel and yelling that we needed to be taught a lesson, and she was going to tell our dad to beat us with a belt when he got home.
Like I said, it was shocking. My mom was usually pretty modest. Not that she'd freak out if you saw her undressed, but she was never one to walk around naked or anything, especially not in front of my brother. We just stood there open mouthed and gaping, unable to believe what was happening.
Then, just as she began winding down, the absurdity of the situation struck me and I started laughing my ass off, which made my brother lose it too. Our laughter fired mom up again and she grabbed another dish towel so she could double flog us as we rolled around on the floor laughing.
"How....dare....you....disrespectful....horrible...." she panted in between whippings. I honestly tried to stop and get a hold of myself, but every time I looked up and saw that giant bush in between her petite little legs staring me in the face, I lost it again and cackled even louder. My brother laughed silently, shoulders shaking and shaking until he hiccuped.
"That's it!" My mom finally screamed. "Get out of my house, both of you! Get out now! I don't want to see you again until you learn some respect for God!" With that she threw the towels at us and stalked off. We got up to leave, but the sight of her angry little bare ass wiggling as she marched up the stairs set us off yet again. By the time we made it outside to the driveway we were clutching our stomachs in pain.
You know how it feels when you laugh so hard you kinda strain your stomach muscles? And it starts to hurt really bad, but even then you can't stop laughing? That's the kind of pain I'm talking about.
We spent the rest of the day outside on the grass, blaming each other for driving mom insane and bursting into fits of uncontrollable giggling that nearly made us gag, until she called us in for dinner. My mother seemed to be over it by then and never referred to the incident again.
If you ask her about it now, she claims not to remember ever doing anything like that and claims I'm making it all up. I know I didn't hallucinate this, though, because anytime I feel like needling my brother all I have to do is hum a few bars of the Primus song "Winona's Big Brown Beaver" while he's taking a drink. He ends up spitting and choking every time.
My mom has never understood why we nicknamed her Winona. She thinks this song is dumb.
Since cussing was forbidden in our house, we couldn't just call each other an "assbitch" or a "shitbrain" like most siblings do. We weren't even supposed to say "shut up" because my dad thought of that as swearing. So we were forced to be a little more creative, and looking back, my parents should have just let us cuss. Then they'd have probably been spared all the offensive crap we came up with instead, like blasphemy.
For some reason we got into the habit of constantly telling each other that Jesus hated the other one. Man, that was fun. I can't remember why it started. Probably because we both loathed church, particularly the Sunday school my mother dragged us to every week. I especially hated that class, and would spend the entire hour arguing with and haranging the teacher with all sorts of sacrilegious questions.
"Why should I worship God when he was such a jerk?" I'd rant. "I mean, look how he treated poor Job? And turning Lot's wife into a pilar of salt just for daring to gaze back at her home was way harsh. If you think about it, why should anyone fear the devil? He never killed anyone, unlike God who would happily smite entire villages just for not praising him enough. It seems to me that Satan was the unsung hero of the bible for being the only one who refused to put up with God's abuse of power!"
I'm sure that teacher detested me.
Anyway, my brother and I came to really enjoy trading blasphemous insults. One of our favorites was telling each other that Jesus hated him. This had the added bonus of upsetting our mother too.
"Hey, guess what? Jesus hates you."
"Jesus called. He left you a message," we'd say while sticking up a middle finger.
"Guess how much Jesus hates you?" Spread arms wide in crucifixion pose. "This much!"
Poor guy, probably doesn't find that joke too amusing.
My mom, who was quite the churchgoer back then, was horrified.
"Stop it right now!" she'd hiss at us, looking around nervously as though worried that God would strike someone dead for our heresy. "Don't say things like that!"
Naturally that just egged us on more.
We then took to making up songs about how much Jesus hated the other one, usually sung to the tune of whatever cheesy song was playing on the radio at that time. I've forgotten most of them, but I do remember one he sang about me that went like this:
Sung to the tune of "Sussudio" by Phil Collins
There's this girl with a flat behind
who's stupid all the time
p-p-pruudio oh oh
Now Jesus don't even know her name
but he hates her just the same
p-p-pruudio oh oh
I retaliated with this:
Sung to the tune of "We Built This City" by Starship
Well Jesus really hates you, especially your face
and God himself agrees, that you're a big disgrace
Knee deep in the hoopla, you make them want to puke
all three of them together - Father, Son, and Holy Spook!
But our hands down favorite thing to do was question each others paternal heritage, which we did constantly. We loved to speculate on what sort of disgusting mutant had raped our mother in order to produce such a freak. A typical exchange would usually go something like this:
"You have a butthole in your chin."
"So do you."
"No, mine is more of a handsome cleft. Yours is definitely a cavernous butthole, and it's also slightly off center, which points to especially low quality breeding. Your father was most likely a mouth-breathing carnie who raped mom at the county fair."
"Well, your father is obviously a dwarf. Or possibly an elf. Or maybe both. You were probably conceived from the sperm of a hundred little people when mom was gang banged at a munchkin convention. You are a dwarf elf and this is your theme song.
Slightly under 4 feet high
with a ruler for a nose and three glass eyes
so hideous he'll make you cry
it's Dwarf Elf! Dwarf Elf!" I'd sing.
"Oh yeah," he'd counter. "is that what the voices are telling you today? It's so sad to watch your mental deterioration as the schizophrenia slowly overtakes your brain. It's inevitable, you know, since mom was raped by that demented guy who covers himself in tin foil and impregnated with you. Soon you'll be joining your real father down at the supermarket parking lot, babbling to everyone who walks by about how the CIA developed killer bees in a lab while trying to assassinate Castro. You are already starting to grow some bitchin hobo whiskers just like your pop. And once he makes you your own tin foil hat you'll be the spitting image of him."
If my dad happened to overhear one of these exchanges he would get upset. Although not, as you might think, at the suggestion that he wasn't our father, or that his wife had been gang raped by various trolls and lunatics. Instead he would be pissed off at the cussing.
"Did you just say the B word?" he'd yell. "Go to your room right now!"
My parents got used to these daily exchanges, I guess. We never really got in that much trouble for them. Except for this one day when we drove our mother over the brink.
I can't remember what we said that set her off. I'd like to think it was the time I told my brother that the real reason Jesus hated him was because God came down from Heaven one day after getting drunk on sacrificial wine and raped our mother while disguised as Phil Collins. And because God's sperm had been contaminated with Phil Collin's DNA, the resulting child - my brother - was a dwarfy idiot with bad musical taste and a propensity towards early balding, whom the angels referred to as Jesus 2: Electric Boogaloo.
"Look Jesus," they'd elbow him and smirk. "Here comes your retarded brother lil' Jesus "Shabba Doo" Shrimpstone. Wow, you must be so embarrassed to be related to that spaz!"
I'd like to think it was that one that drove our mother over the edge, but I can't really remember if it was or not. But lemme tell you, I'll never forget what happened next.
My mom, who must have been in the laundry room, came charging into the kitchen where we were washing the dishes while taunting one another, screaming angrily at the top of her lungs.
"Stop it! Stop it at once! I can't stand it anymore!" she shouted, her face the color of a tomato. "You children are horrible! Absolutely horrible!"
Then she snatched up a damp dish towel and began flogging us with it while screaming about how horrible we were.
That was a bit surprising because she'd never smacked us before, but not really alarming. The wet towel slaps didn't hurt much. No, the really alarming part was that she did all of this while not wearing any pants! No underwear either, just totally naked on the bottom. She was wearing a shirt, though.
I guess she'd been doing laundry and thrown her pants and undies in? Whatever the reason, it was really disconcerting to have her yelling and smacking us with towels while her furburger was totally on display. We were pretty shocked.
And when I say furburger, I mean it literally. It was obvious that my mom didn't believe in using a razor down there. Her bush was positively sasquatchian.
(I know sasquatchian is not a real word. I just made it up to try to describe the hairiness of my mom's pubes. It did kinda look like she had Bigfoot in a head lock.)
My poor brother didn't know where to look. "Mommy, please put on some pants!" he pleaded, while trying to shield his eyes.
By that time she was in a frenzy and kept whipping us with the towel and yelling that we needed to be taught a lesson, and she was going to tell our dad to beat us with a belt when he got home.
Like I said, it was shocking. My mom was usually pretty modest. Not that she'd freak out if you saw her undressed, but she was never one to walk around naked or anything, especially not in front of my brother. We just stood there open mouthed and gaping, unable to believe what was happening.
Then, just as she began winding down, the absurdity of the situation struck me and I started laughing my ass off, which made my brother lose it too. Our laughter fired mom up again and she grabbed another dish towel so she could double flog us as we rolled around on the floor laughing.
"How....dare....you....disrespectful....horrible...." she panted in between whippings. I honestly tried to stop and get a hold of myself, but every time I looked up and saw that giant bush in between her petite little legs staring me in the face, I lost it again and cackled even louder. My brother laughed silently, shoulders shaking and shaking until he hiccuped.
"That's it!" My mom finally screamed. "Get out of my house, both of you! Get out now! I don't want to see you again until you learn some respect for God!" With that she threw the towels at us and stalked off. We got up to leave, but the sight of her angry little bare ass wiggling as she marched up the stairs set us off yet again. By the time we made it outside to the driveway we were clutching our stomachs in pain.
You know how it feels when you laugh so hard you kinda strain your stomach muscles? And it starts to hurt really bad, but even then you can't stop laughing? That's the kind of pain I'm talking about.
We spent the rest of the day outside on the grass, blaming each other for driving mom insane and bursting into fits of uncontrollable giggling that nearly made us gag, until she called us in for dinner. My mother seemed to be over it by then and never referred to the incident again.
If you ask her about it now, she claims not to remember ever doing anything like that and claims I'm making it all up. I know I didn't hallucinate this, though, because anytime I feel like needling my brother all I have to do is hum a few bars of the Primus song "Winona's Big Brown Beaver" while he's taking a drink. He ends up spitting and choking every time.
My mom has never understood why we nicknamed her Winona. She thinks this song is dumb.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Chicken Fight!
Did you see this? Gawd, Sean Hannity is such a sad little whore. It's so easy for him to offer to be waterboarded for charity when he knows there's not a chance in hell of it happening. Even if it did, you know they'd go super easy on him and he'd smugly announce that waterboarding was no worse than the log ride at Disneyland.
Anyway, I don't really want to see Sean waterboarded, much as he deserves it. I don't sanction torture (unlike the Bush administration). I sure wouldn't mind seeing a good fair fight, though. Especially if it was for a good cause.
So, here is my idea. Let's put Sean up against a couple of chickens. He can have some razorblades attached to his feet just to make everything nice and fair. Then put him in the ring with the chickens and let them go at it. Keith Olbermann can donate a $1000 to charity for every second that Hannity lasts. It could then be broadcast live on every news network.
Genius, huh! I predict some lucky charity would make about $10,000 before the chickens tore Sean a new ass and he ran away crying.
You know what would make this even better? If Rush Limbaugh went next. I'd empty my savings account to see that fat windbag - red-faced and blubbering with terror - trying to girlslap a couple of very pissed off chickens. I'd record the fight so that I could put it up on Youtube and keep putting it back up the very minute Fox News got it deleted.
What a shame this will never, ever happen. Rush would be too much of a wuss to even get in the ring. Oh, he'd talk big about it for weeks beforehand, but when it came time to actually start the fight, he'd whine about his hemorrhoids or something and produce a doctor's note to get out of it. Then he'd get back on the radio and claim that the chickens were Obama-loving Muslim Socialists anyway and his moronic fans would applaud and the Republican party would bow and kiss his hemorrhoid-laden ass some more.
Squawk, squawk, squawk! That's all these turds ever do. Go fight some chickens, Sean. Let's see what you got, tough guy.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Shameful Secret
I was just watching a few minutes of the clip below when it occurred to me that Levi Johnston (Bristol Palin's baby daddy) is a total *DRILF.
#Douchey Redneck I'd Like to Fuck
I'm really ashamed to admit this. I usually can't stand rednecks, guys who wear not-stashes, brainless Ashton Kutcher types, and anything even remotely connected to Sarah Palin (she makes me nauseous). However, young Levi is looking pretty bohunky with those bedroom eyes. Hubba hubba. I sure wouldn't mind climbing on top of him for a few hours of fun.
Although, he'd have to wear two condoms since his sperm have proven to be very good swimmers. And promise not to talk at all before, during, or after.
If those conditions were met then... oh yeah! Yee-haw! I'd ride 'em like a cowgirl!
Ugh, I think I just made myself a bit queasy.
Do you have a shameful secret you're willing to admit to? Tell me!
#Douchey Redneck I'd Like to Fuck
I'm really ashamed to admit this. I usually can't stand rednecks, guys who wear not-stashes, brainless Ashton Kutcher types, and anything even remotely connected to Sarah Palin (she makes me nauseous). However, young Levi is looking pretty bohunky with those bedroom eyes. Hubba hubba. I sure wouldn't mind climbing on top of him for a few hours of fun.
Although, he'd have to wear two condoms since his sperm have proven to be very good swimmers. And promise not to talk at all before, during, or after.
If those conditions were met then... oh yeah! Yee-haw! I'd ride 'em like a cowgirl!
Ugh, I think I just made myself a bit queasy.
Do you have a shameful secret you're willing to admit to? Tell me!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Check It Out
Attention Citizens!
Look what I just spotted at the grocery store yesterday. Chocolate covered prunes! Oh, they call them "dried plums" but they are prunes all right. Talk about a laxative! I ate a couple of handfuls of these after dinner (they taste pretty good) and went to bed, only to awaken in the middle of the night with an urgent need to drop a mighty deuce. They are basically a better tasting version of chocolate flavored Ex-Lax. So if you find yourself in need of a good cleansing pick up a bag of these babies. I imagine a cup of coffee alongside them would make the ultimate colon blow.
There, that was my public service announcement for the week. I knew you'd want to know.
And for all those who've been asking for it, here is your artsy nude pic of the week.
I finally got bored with the photoshop program but Blingee never gets old!
Look what I just spotted at the grocery store yesterday. Chocolate covered prunes! Oh, they call them "dried plums" but they are prunes all right. Talk about a laxative! I ate a couple of handfuls of these after dinner (they taste pretty good) and went to bed, only to awaken in the middle of the night with an urgent need to drop a mighty deuce. They are basically a better tasting version of chocolate flavored Ex-Lax. So if you find yourself in need of a good cleansing pick up a bag of these babies. I imagine a cup of coffee alongside them would make the ultimate colon blow.
There, that was my public service announcement for the week. I knew you'd want to know.
And for all those who've been asking for it, here is your artsy nude pic of the week.
I finally got bored with the photoshop program but Blingee never gets old!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Who Is Dr. Zibbs? The Interview
Who is Dr. Zibbs?
I mean, apart from all the obvious stuff. Of course, everybody knows he's a world famous, wildly popular blogger, creator of the award winning That Blue Yak, and the internet's current "It Boy". But who is he really? I was recently given the chance to find out when he granted me one of his rare interviews.
I wasn't sure what to expect. I've never interviewed anyone famous before.
Oh sure, there was that one time I talked to Britney Spears's hair weave specialist, but that wasn't such a big deal. Plus, I've heard all the rumors going around about Dr. Zibbs and they are kinda freaky. You know the ones, about how he's really a 400 year old vampire/werewolf hybrid, who spent 200 of those years chained up in the basement of lunatic asylum. And how he supposedly penned Men Without Hats one big hit song, "Safety Dance." I've even heard that he once worked for Stevie Nicks blowing cocaine up her ass with a straw after she ruined her nostrils, and that he has 14 wives and 60 children in 49 different states. So needless to say, I was a bit intimidated.
Meeting the man did nothing to set me at ease. We made arrangements for him to stop by my house last night, which he did, roaring up the street at midnight in a rusty Ford Mustang filled with giggling blond co-eds and a guy in a bear suit, and driving over my bitchfaced neighbor's trash can in the process. It was one heck of an entrance.
"Sorry 'bout that," he shrugged, as he plopped down on my couch and gave me a killer grin.
Physically he wasn't at all what I was expecting. I mean, he had a hook for an eye! And another for a hand! And he was dressed in a clown suit! Apart from all that though, he was kinda hawt in a handsome, possible serial killer sort of way. I suppose I was thinking of that when I started the interview off with a really dumb question. (His answers are italicized.)
"So, Dr. Zibbs....um are you a serial killer?"
Uhhhhh....hmmmm," he thought for a minute. "Exactly how spread out do the killing have to be to make it a true serial killing? And what if victims weren't important?"
I wasn't sure how to answer so I just stared. He stared back. It was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking and the dog scratching her fleas. I decided to let that one go.
"Okay then, next question. What is your birth date and astrological sign? Do you check your horoscope daily even if you think it's bullshit?"
"My birthdate is January 8. I never look at horoscopes because it's BS and boring."
I was still slightly nervous so I made a dumb joke for the next question.
"Are those Bugle Boy Jeans you're wearing?"
"Why no," he seemed puzzled. "They're clown pants."
I blushed. "Sorry, nevermind. So, aliens exist and have been to our planet - yes or no?"
"I will say no because there is zero evidence other than the UFO image in that one pyramid," he said, then sat back and let out a belch so loud it sounded like a gunshot and made my dog jump.
By then I was starting to relax and get into the interview.
"If you could switch lives with a blogger for one day, who would it be and why?"
"Cameron because I saw a picture of his wife and she looked pretty cute. I'm not sure why he took it down."
"Maybe because dudes like you were skeeving on her?" I offered. Dr. Zibbs gave me a half smile that might have been amusement, or possibly gas since he belched again.
"If you were a pirate what would your name be?"
"Peggy "the parrot whisperer" McBeard.
"Have you ever worn a Fu Manchu mustache?"
"NO. I shave everyday. I grew a goatie once and a bit of it on the chin came in grey. Plus, it's hard to eat without getting food caught in it."
"Which finger do you use to pick your nose? Are you a righty or a lefty?" D'oh, too late, I remembered the hook hand.
Dr. Zibbs held up the hook, which gleamed wickedly in the lamplight. "I only use sanitized medical instruments," he sniffed.
"What is the secret of your success?"
"Being fabulous but I'm going to stop using that term because I think it might mean gay."
"I know you are a fan of Twitter. If you had to summarize your life in 140 characters or less, what would you say?"
"Creator and Taker of lives and souls," he chuckled and let out another gunshot loud burp. My dog, who had drifted off to sleep by his feet was so startled that she jumped up, barked, and farted at the same time.
"Ha ha, good dog!" Dr. Zibbs cackled and stood up. "We've done ten questions, right? Time for me to motor."
"Wait!" I cried. "I feel like we are just getting started here. You don't reveal much. Can I ask ten more?"
"Sorry baby," he grinned. "I intentionally don't reveal too much. But if there's anything else you want to know just ask me. I may or may not tell you but...." then he winked (with his good eye, not the hook one) slapped me on the ass, and was gone.
From my window I watched him climb back into the chick filled car. The guy in the bear suit waved and blew me a kiss as Dr. Zibbs gunned the motor and backed over my bitchfaced neighbor's trash can again - spraying garbage all over her otherwise perfect lawn - and then raced off into the night.
So, who is Dr. Zibbs? I, for one, still have no idea. And he likes it that way.
I mean, apart from all the obvious stuff. Of course, everybody knows he's a world famous, wildly popular blogger, creator of the award winning That Blue Yak, and the internet's current "It Boy". But who is he really? I was recently given the chance to find out when he granted me one of his rare interviews.
I wasn't sure what to expect. I've never interviewed anyone famous before.
Oh sure, there was that one time I talked to Britney Spears's hair weave specialist, but that wasn't such a big deal. Plus, I've heard all the rumors going around about Dr. Zibbs and they are kinda freaky. You know the ones, about how he's really a 400 year old vampire/werewolf hybrid, who spent 200 of those years chained up in the basement of lunatic asylum. And how he supposedly penned Men Without Hats one big hit song, "Safety Dance." I've even heard that he once worked for Stevie Nicks blowing cocaine up her ass with a straw after she ruined her nostrils, and that he has 14 wives and 60 children in 49 different states. So needless to say, I was a bit intimidated.
Meeting the man did nothing to set me at ease. We made arrangements for him to stop by my house last night, which he did, roaring up the street at midnight in a rusty Ford Mustang filled with giggling blond co-eds and a guy in a bear suit, and driving over my bitchfaced neighbor's trash can in the process. It was one heck of an entrance.
"Sorry 'bout that," he shrugged, as he plopped down on my couch and gave me a killer grin.
Physically he wasn't at all what I was expecting. I mean, he had a hook for an eye! And another for a hand! And he was dressed in a clown suit! Apart from all that though, he was kinda hawt in a handsome, possible serial killer sort of way. I suppose I was thinking of that when I started the interview off with a really dumb question. (His answers are italicized.)
"So, Dr. Zibbs....um are you a serial killer?"
Uhhhhh....hmmmm," he thought for a minute. "Exactly how spread out do the killing have to be to make it a true serial killing? And what if victims weren't important?"
I wasn't sure how to answer so I just stared. He stared back. It was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking and the dog scratching her fleas. I decided to let that one go.
"Okay then, next question. What is your birth date and astrological sign? Do you check your horoscope daily even if you think it's bullshit?"
"My birthdate is January 8. I never look at horoscopes because it's BS and boring."
I was still slightly nervous so I made a dumb joke for the next question.
"Are those Bugle Boy Jeans you're wearing?"
"Why no," he seemed puzzled. "They're clown pants."
I blushed. "Sorry, nevermind. So, aliens exist and have been to our planet - yes or no?"
"I will say no because there is zero evidence other than the UFO image in that one pyramid," he said, then sat back and let out a belch so loud it sounded like a gunshot and made my dog jump.
By then I was starting to relax and get into the interview.
"If you could switch lives with a blogger for one day, who would it be and why?"
"Cameron because I saw a picture of his wife and she looked pretty cute. I'm not sure why he took it down."
"Maybe because dudes like you were skeeving on her?" I offered. Dr. Zibbs gave me a half smile that might have been amusement, or possibly gas since he belched again.
"If you were a pirate what would your name be?"
"Peggy "the parrot whisperer" McBeard.
"Have you ever worn a Fu Manchu mustache?"
"NO. I shave everyday. I grew a goatie once and a bit of it on the chin came in grey. Plus, it's hard to eat without getting food caught in it."
"Which finger do you use to pick your nose? Are you a righty or a lefty?" D'oh, too late, I remembered the hook hand.
Dr. Zibbs held up the hook, which gleamed wickedly in the lamplight. "I only use sanitized medical instruments," he sniffed.
"What is the secret of your success?"
"Being fabulous but I'm going to stop using that term because I think it might mean gay."
"I know you are a fan of Twitter. If you had to summarize your life in 140 characters or less, what would you say?"
"Creator and Taker of lives and souls," he chuckled and let out another gunshot loud burp. My dog, who had drifted off to sleep by his feet was so startled that she jumped up, barked, and farted at the same time.
"Ha ha, good dog!" Dr. Zibbs cackled and stood up. "We've done ten questions, right? Time for me to motor."
"Wait!" I cried. "I feel like we are just getting started here. You don't reveal much. Can I ask ten more?"
"Sorry baby," he grinned. "I intentionally don't reveal too much. But if there's anything else you want to know just ask me. I may or may not tell you but...." then he winked (with his good eye, not the hook one) slapped me on the ass, and was gone.
From my window I watched him climb back into the chick filled car. The guy in the bear suit waved and blew me a kiss as Dr. Zibbs gunned the motor and backed over my bitchfaced neighbor's trash can again - spraying garbage all over her otherwise perfect lawn - and then raced off into the night.
So, who is Dr. Zibbs? I, for one, still have no idea. And he likes it that way.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Vacay Over
I'm back now. Did you even miss me?
I meant to write a long post describing my vacation in detail, but I'm feeling too lazy so instead I just made a up a handy score chart for rating the experience.
Hilton Head Vacation Score Chart
Rated 1 - 10 with 10 = the best
Beach - 9
Hotel - 8
Weather - 6 (very chilly, but it did warm up nicely on my last day)
Restaurants - 8 (good seafood)
Alcohol - 10
Companionship - 10+ (I met up with a very handsome and mysterious man from my past and we boinked like bunnies)
Tacky Souvenirs - 3 (couldn't find any super tacky ones, dangit)
Drive There - 2
Drive Home - (-)14
All in all, it was a nice little vacation apart from the drive there and back. And that mostly only sucked because of the fucking state of Georgia. Fucking Georgia kicked my ass!
Attention all residents and lovers of Georgia. I am now about to slag on your state in a rather harsh way. Read no further if this will inflame you.
Georgia is a big ass state. And the thing is, it's really boring to drive through. There is nothing there except for trees. Why do they bother with speed limits? You should be able to go a hundred mph in order to get through it as fast as possible. Instead they have speed limits that go from 55 to 65 to 70 seemingly with no other intent then to be able to ticket drivers. I saw more cops holding radar guns while traveling through Georgia then I've ever seen in my life.
Plus they have very few rest stops and two I did pass were closed. For someone who likes to stop and pee every 60 miles or so it was torture. Sure, I could pull off the freeway into one of the numerous little shithole towns scattered here and there, but I was reluctant because I noticed a curious thing. Most all of these exits had railroad crossing arms at the entrance and again at the spot to get back on the freeway. Why? To block travelers from coming in....or leaving?
In my overheated imagination I became convinced that these little towns were full of crazed and horny albino pinheads lying in wait for women driving alone. As soon as one pulled over into one of their crappy gas stations, they would then give the signal.
"Close the gates, Cleteus! We got us a woman what ain't related to us! Hee haw! Geh geh geh!"
I vowed to avoid these places, but 200 hundred miles later I was desperate for a pee so I had to stop at one. I called my mom first though and told her the name of the town just in case I was never heard from again, so they'd know where to look.
I swear, I could practically hear the banjos playing as I got out of the car. The first thing I noticed when entering the store was a large, hand lettered sign on the ladies room door that said, "Restrooms for paying customers ONLY!" The second thing I noticed was that the word "customers" was misspelled. And the third thing was that the mean hillbilly at the cash register talking to what looked to be the town whore and possibly his sister (the had the same missing teef) was glaring at me, so I couldn't just sneak into the bathroom.
Grudgingly I bought an overpriced bottle of water and then made sure to splash the seat when I finally peed. It wasn't hard to do considering there was no toilet paper. Fucking Georgia!
On the way home, I found that a few portions of 75N were closed down to one lane so they could do some sort of roadwork. Basically it took three and a half hours to go 80 miles. I spent the entire time making up poems about how much Georgia sucks. Here are a couple of examples:
Fuck You Georgia!
I hate this state so bad
Your fucked up traffic is making me quite mad
Screw you, Georgia!
This state's a piece of shit
no one should ever visit
(if you do bring a toilet kit).
Georgia sucks, this is quite true
If it were a band, it'd be Blink 182
If I lived here I'd have to sniff glue
every single day
instead of monthly like I usually do.
There once was a hawt girl named Pru
stuck in traffic while trying to drive through
this hideous state
making her quite irate
said Pru to Georgia, "Fuck you!"
I thought that I should never see
so many toothless hillbillies
even more so than Tennessee
Four out of five dentists agree
the only thing to do in Georgia is flee.
Well, there are many more since I was stuck for so long but I think you get the picture.
In conclusion I'd like to say, Hilton Head Island is lovely, go visit sometime if you can. But avoid going through Georgia as it sucks ass. That is all.
I meant to write a long post describing my vacation in detail, but I'm feeling too lazy so instead I just made a up a handy score chart for rating the experience.
Hilton Head Vacation Score Chart
Rated 1 - 10 with 10 = the best
Beach - 9
Hotel - 8
Weather - 6 (very chilly, but it did warm up nicely on my last day)
Restaurants - 8 (good seafood)
Alcohol - 10
Companionship - 10+ (I met up with a very handsome and mysterious man from my past and we boinked like bunnies)
Tacky Souvenirs - 3 (couldn't find any super tacky ones, dangit)
Drive There - 2
Drive Home - (-)14
All in all, it was a nice little vacation apart from the drive there and back. And that mostly only sucked because of the fucking state of Georgia. Fucking Georgia kicked my ass!
Attention all residents and lovers of Georgia. I am now about to slag on your state in a rather harsh way. Read no further if this will inflame you.
Georgia is a big ass state. And the thing is, it's really boring to drive through. There is nothing there except for trees. Why do they bother with speed limits? You should be able to go a hundred mph in order to get through it as fast as possible. Instead they have speed limits that go from 55 to 65 to 70 seemingly with no other intent then to be able to ticket drivers. I saw more cops holding radar guns while traveling through Georgia then I've ever seen in my life.
Plus they have very few rest stops and two I did pass were closed. For someone who likes to stop and pee every 60 miles or so it was torture. Sure, I could pull off the freeway into one of the numerous little shithole towns scattered here and there, but I was reluctant because I noticed a curious thing. Most all of these exits had railroad crossing arms at the entrance and again at the spot to get back on the freeway. Why? To block travelers from coming in....or leaving?
In my overheated imagination I became convinced that these little towns were full of crazed and horny albino pinheads lying in wait for women driving alone. As soon as one pulled over into one of their crappy gas stations, they would then give the signal.
"Close the gates, Cleteus! We got us a woman what ain't related to us! Hee haw! Geh geh geh!"
I vowed to avoid these places, but 200 hundred miles later I was desperate for a pee so I had to stop at one. I called my mom first though and told her the name of the town just in case I was never heard from again, so they'd know where to look.
I swear, I could practically hear the banjos playing as I got out of the car. The first thing I noticed when entering the store was a large, hand lettered sign on the ladies room door that said, "Restrooms for paying customers ONLY!" The second thing I noticed was that the word "customers" was misspelled. And the third thing was that the mean hillbilly at the cash register talking to what looked to be the town whore and possibly his sister (the had the same missing teef) was glaring at me, so I couldn't just sneak into the bathroom.
Grudgingly I bought an overpriced bottle of water and then made sure to splash the seat when I finally peed. It wasn't hard to do considering there was no toilet paper. Fucking Georgia!
On the way home, I found that a few portions of 75N were closed down to one lane so they could do some sort of roadwork. Basically it took three and a half hours to go 80 miles. I spent the entire time making up poems about how much Georgia sucks. Here are a couple of examples:
Fuck You Georgia!
I hate this state so bad
Your fucked up traffic is making me quite mad
Screw you, Georgia!
This state's a piece of shit
no one should ever visit
(if you do bring a toilet kit).
Georgia sucks, this is quite true
If it were a band, it'd be Blink 182
If I lived here I'd have to sniff glue
every single day
instead of monthly like I usually do.
There once was a hawt girl named Pru
stuck in traffic while trying to drive through
this hideous state
making her quite irate
said Pru to Georgia, "Fuck you!"
I thought that I should never see
so many toothless hillbillies
even more so than Tennessee
Four out of five dentists agree
the only thing to do in Georgia is flee.
Well, there are many more since I was stuck for so long but I think you get the picture.
In conclusion I'd like to say, Hilton Head Island is lovely, go visit sometime if you can. But avoid going through Georgia as it sucks ass. That is all.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Hilton Head Update
There are so many things to like about Hilton Head Island. Beautiful scenery, a great beach, tons of really good restaurants, AND the local Piggly Wiggly is dedicated to making sure everyone can find the butt wipes. Who couldn't get behind a place like this?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Road Trip!
I packed up my bikini and headed to Hilton Head Island yesterday. Oy, what a drive that was! It took nine hours. I've got plenty to tell you about, but right now the beach is calling...
Later!
Later!
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