Let me get straight to the point here because I've got to change my diaper. I really fucking hate summer. I hate its heat, I hate its humidity and I especially hate how it taunts my reflective flesh covering. But this summer is the biggest steaming shitsack ever, even bigger than my diaper. Allow me to continue verbally abusing you with 3 reasons why:
1. The Phillies have been ruining my summer by doing an excellent job of playing shitty baseball. They have managed to be in last place in their division, and their collective shittiness has been swept into more bins than I care to think about. It's SO BAD that we fans recently whizzed in jubilation over sweeping the Brewers. The fucking Brewers who are tied with the Phillies in baseball shittiness. Fucking hell. But it could be worse, it could be football season already.
2. I am so fucking sick of people talking about boycotting Chick-Fil-A. I don't give a flaming cunt about what you believe in or who you support, EVERYONE should have started boycotting Chick-Fil-A years ago because their food IS BAD FOR YOU, ESPECIALLY if you are Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Tom Cruise, gay, lesbian, man, woman, child, a Christian Tom Cruise, and a lesbian gay.
3. Because it's summer here that means it's not December and that means I can't see The Hobbit. Instead, I have to my choice of regurgitated bile (The "Amazing" Spiderman) and a very sexy man talking like a troll with emphysema (The Dark Knight Rises) to get my epic fantasy on. And The Watch? I'd rather watch a broken watch for 2 hours than see Ben Stiller continue down Adam Sandler Avenue.
So there you go. Hope everyone's having a great summer so far!
7.11.2012
London please call me back!
Is everyone having a nice summer so far? You must be if you are not a Phillies fan. Up until recently, I was having the usual summer experience -- wiping the sweat from my knees, drinking iced maple syrup, and hunting spray-tanned sea serpents at the Jersey Shore.
It all started last week when I had to flee Philadelphia because the Sun broke into my apartment, beat me with my own sweat glands, and drank all my beer. I managed to escape just before it started to spit humidity balls into my hair by jumping onto my American-TARDIS I always keep in my cheap-laughs closet for such emergencies. (Previously used to travel to the Planet Gettysburg).
 |
| Good for escaping life-threatening danger & a convenient way to get from West Philly to Biff's Pleasure Paradise |
I telepathically told TARDIS by screaming to take me somewhere the sun wouldn't find me, and where I could hide under an umbrella at all times for further protection and secrecy. Immediately, it transported me through time, space, and ultimately a glowing cock-ring portal to deliver me unto a land called "London."
 |
| Welcome to London! |
After being ejaculated through the portal and regaining blood-flow from the prolonged journey, I was pleased to see this London was indeed a land the Sun does not visit often. I decided to hideout here for a few days since I figured the Suncunt would hopefully drop its sweaty balls on some other town that I don't live in by then.
My first plan was to find a local resident who could help me quickly get acclimated/drunk. Luckily I didn't have to go far to find a police officer, or as they say in London a "sith lord" who was able to point me in the right direction.
 |
| "Welcome to London, you fat, bearded bitch" |
He directed me to the bloated purple cow behind him for further instructions on how to make the most of my stay in London, and advised me to avoid the large inflatable pink tauntaun down the road.
The strong udder juice from the purple cow combined with the cock-ring portal aftershock proved to be a bad idea in that it made me do a really shit job of painting lines in the street, but I was relieved later to find out it didn't matter that I did it wrong since no one drives on the right part of the street anyway.
 |
| Not the good kind of white lines |
I was really enjoying my time in London. Everyone was so friendly and always willing to lend a hand, even hold back your hair while you vomit up excess purple udder juice while they are poppin' a squat at the same time.
 |
| Like, OMG, I like use the SAME tampons! |
While using one of these royal thrones--just to update Facebook and play Angry Birds of course--a London woman on the toilet next to me told me I should definitely get "Vajazzled" or as the kids now call it, "The Queen's Jubilee" if I wanted to be able to use the most exclusive public duo-toilets in London.
 |
| Hollywood Bikini includes 3 free taint Botox treatments |
After I got all vajazzy, I decided to hit the town again and fuel up on some more London juice. I found a cozy little pub perfectly hidden in a swath of rain-swollen clouds. Luckily earlier that day I purchased a traditional potato jacket, as sometimes London get tater-tot hail. But after settling down for my first bushel of ale I noticed in horror that the Sun had sent a not-so-sectret detective to find me. Nice try Mr. Bloke-man, but I see through your camouflage!
The Sun was clever, but not clever enough. After slugging several ale bushels down my neck, I quietly escaped through a trap-door in the floor and used a former orc tunnel that ultimately leads to the Misty Mountains to safely return to the smial I was being let to rent.
By this time, my vacation was coming to a close and the affects of living in the future were starting to wear me down. I decided to just spend the rest of my last night quietly in my room. Little did I know that I would also solve one of the greatest London mysteries I am making up. At first I thought the sinks in this town were designed to frustrate instead of wash, but then when turning on my TV for my relaxing night in, I realized they aren't sinks AT ALL...
...they are, in fact, bath tubs for the tiny race of people who work in TVs to very subtly communicate the dialogue in scenes for deaf TV viewers. I felt really stupid for not figuring that out in the first place!
Well sadly, it was time for me to go back to Philadelphia to buy more beer for my fridge. I wanted to stay in this magical Londontown longer...soak up more beautiful rain, bask in outdoor temperatures that don't make me cranky, slurp udder juice, and show some vajazz in the sharing-is-caring ladies room. Hopefully someday soon I can return and explore more of this wondrous metropolis....if I'm allowed back....
6.27.2012
(Insert something to read here please)
Let me just begin by saying this should be the end because what follows will insult your well-developed abilities to look at words and enjoy pretending to know what they mean (some people refer to this as "reading" or "showing off how smart they are").
Simply put, this crusty pile of word bile is not worth looking at because I have nothing for you to look at. I swear this on the made up words I think I am typing right now. But I am determined to attempt to fill this page with pre-selected words since you paid to be here (you DID send $49.99 to my PayPal account, correct?)
I've never had this problem before for this long...Maybe I used up all the words. Maybe I am lazy and Pop Up Video is on. But most likely my word bowels are backed up by my brain cheese. As I'm sitting here shoving Senokots in my ears, I am reminded of a brilliantly talented author who in the real world was a community college English teacher tell me that when you have nothing to write, or to use the term he invented during a book signing in his mind "writer's block, you should just kick that block right in the taint and just write, Write, WRITE!
What a cuntard. I kicked his taint instead.
But maybe I should try his advice...oh wait that's what I've been doing so far. FUCK! Triple roundhouse drop-kick!!!
So frustrating.
Anyhoohaadoodahh, maybe it's time to just quit, and sell this so-called bloggity blog blog on eBay or feed it to a breeder pig.
Oh by the way, if you were lucky enough to read this instead of watching the EURO 2012, you're welcome.
Simply put, this crusty pile of word bile is not worth looking at because I have nothing for you to look at. I swear this on the made up words I think I am typing right now. But I am determined to attempt to fill this page with pre-selected words since you paid to be here (you DID send $49.99 to my PayPal account, correct?)
I've never had this problem before for this long...Maybe I used up all the words. Maybe I am lazy and Pop Up Video is on. But most likely my word bowels are backed up by my brain cheese. As I'm sitting here shoving Senokots in my ears, I am reminded of a brilliantly talented author who in the real world was a community college English teacher tell me that when you have nothing to write, or to use the term he invented during a book signing in his mind "writer's block, you should just kick that block right in the taint and just write, Write, WRITE!
What a cuntard. I kicked his taint instead.
But maybe I should try his advice...oh wait that's what I've been doing so far. FUCK! Triple roundhouse drop-kick!!!
So frustrating.
Anyhoohaadoodahh, maybe it's time to just quit, and sell this so-called bloggity blog blog on eBay or feed it to a breeder pig.
Oh by the way, if you were lucky enough to read this instead of watching the EURO 2012, you're welcome.
2.29.2012
"It was today, it's died away and now it is forever gone.."
Over the years, I've been blessed with many opportunities to meet some of my favorite artists, but nothing compares with the experience of your first...In May 1988, Davy Jones made an appearance at the Cherry Hill Mall, and this 10 year old starstruck nerd with a VERY BAD perm somehow managed to have him sign a copy of More of the Monkees which was handed down to me by my mother and easily one of the albums that truly changed my life. This album made me want to listen to more albums by The Monkees and other bands; it spurred my music appetite which I still enjoy trying to satisfy to this day.
Davy Jones had an amazing voice that just smacked with honesty and made you really believe in a love song. He was funny as fuck and appeared to never take himself too seriously. All in all, he always put stars in my eyes.
 |
| Davy Jones appearance or mullet convention? |
Davy Jones had an amazing voice that just smacked with honesty and made you really believe in a love song. He was funny as fuck and appeared to never take himself too seriously. All in all, he always put stars in my eyes.
 |
Thank you Davy for letting me always sing along with you....you always have and always will be part of the soundtrack of my life.
"Early Morning Blues & Greens"
by Diane Hilderbrand & Jack Keller
A distant nightbird mocks the sun,
I wake as I have always done,
To freshly-scented sycamore,
And cold, bare feet on hardwood floor.
My steaming coffee warms my face,
I'm disappointed in the taste,
But, there's a peace the early brings
The morning world of growing things.
I feel the moments hurry on,
It was today, it's died away,
And now it is forever gone.
And I will drink my coffee slow,
And I will watch my shadow grow,
And disappear in firelight,
And sleep alone again tonight.
I wake as I have always done,
To freshly-scented sycamore,
And cold, bare feet on hardwood floor.
My steaming coffee warms my face,
I'm disappointed in the taste,
But, there's a peace the early brings
The morning world of growing things.
I feel the moments hurry on,
It was today, it's died away,
And now it is forever gone.
And I will drink my coffee slow,
And I will watch my shadow grow,
And disappear in firelight,
And sleep alone again tonight.
2.17.2012
Shoot this up your Intertubes. Look smart.
What the Funk and Wagnalls is up with all these memes being posted on Facebook? More importantly, what the FUCK is the point of a meme?? My mom, my friends, and I all know what I do, which is of course spend my days downloading prog porn (I just received my Director's Cut BluRay "Slutty Larks Tongues in Asspic") and napping in my bed of Peanut Chews wrappers. There is only 1 picture for all that and it ain't pretty.
I think it would be more valuable to post something that truly informs and educates the astute Facebookers of the world, such as they are -- thought-provoking and insightful findings of evidence-based research with meaningful outcomes and statistical significance. Not this memememe horseshit. Fortunately, I have decided to do this for you, so you can stop crying now.
Below is the result of 5 seconds of intensive research and 5 hours of trying to figure out how to make a chart in PowerPoint, and is the a first in a series of data reports that you can to share up your Intertubes. You're welcome.
I think it would be more valuable to post something that truly informs and educates the astute Facebookers of the world, such as they are -- thought-provoking and insightful findings of evidence-based research with meaningful outcomes and statistical significance. Not this memememe horseshit. Fortunately, I have decided to do this for you, so you can stop crying now.
Below is the result of 5 seconds of intensive research and 5 hours of trying to figure out how to make a chart in PowerPoint, and is the a first in a series of data reports that you can to share up your Intertubes. You're welcome.
 |
| n=everyone on Facebook |
1.28.2012
My C Dropped
The following is a true story.
Maybe.
The other night, God was either pissing down or crying down rain all over the city of Philadelphia, most likely due to seeing all of the Joe Paterno tributes flooding his Facebook newsfeed.
In a strange coincidence, I live in said Philadelphia which--in another strange coincidence--is one of the oldest cities in America, and I happen to live inside one of the oldest buildings in this city. It was built during the days we were being sodomized (or was it colonized? I always get those 2 words mixed up!) by the British Empire, so all buildings were made out of pheasant bones and trifle.
Pheasant bones are strong, but they don't last forever, so the weakened condition of my shelter combined with the torrent of God piss pouring out of the sky made my bedroom ceiling weep like someone being colonized with a Toad-in-the-Hole.
In fact, piss damage has been increasing in my ceiling since I've moved in and this was the wiz that finally incinerated it. I was devastated, and since I am a woman who lives alone and happened to have ovulated approximately 48 seconds before this leak occurred, I too wept along with my ceiling into the arms of one of my Pillow Pets. I am just one woman against a giant flood of oppressive cloud wee-wee juice from above -- what could I do???
But like the Sodomists of early America, I knew I had to fight back using the resources I had. I had no maize and tobacco crops to shove into the ceiling's gaping crevice, but I did have this:
My defensive move worked, and I was so proud of myself I celebrated with sweatpants, "Dirty Dancing" and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. But alas, like at the Battle of Brandywine, when the Hobbits of Britain defeated our Amish Sprites, this was a very heavy flow of abuse and not even the wings of Stayfree® could free me from this raging storm.
So I did what any solider woman living alone in America would do in such a situation -- I put an empty Chinese food takeout container underneath the leak, stuck a tampon in each ear to drown out the drip noise, and went to bed.
I am happy to report that the sky has dried up and I can now go back to using tampons to plug-up mouse holes in the baseboards.
I hope it doesn't rain again for awhile, but if it does I will be ready.
Like some bell says, we must always "proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the single-living inhabitants of shoddy housing thereof."
Maybe.
The other night, God was either pissing down or crying down rain all over the city of Philadelphia, most likely due to seeing all of the Joe Paterno tributes flooding his Facebook newsfeed.
In a strange coincidence, I live in said Philadelphia which--in another strange coincidence--is one of the oldest cities in America, and I happen to live inside one of the oldest buildings in this city. It was built during the days we were being sodomized (or was it colonized? I always get those 2 words mixed up!) by the British Empire, so all buildings were made out of pheasant bones and trifle.
Pheasant bones are strong, but they don't last forever, so the weakened condition of my shelter combined with the torrent of God piss pouring out of the sky made my bedroom ceiling weep like someone being colonized with a Toad-in-the-Hole.
In fact, piss damage has been increasing in my ceiling since I've moved in and this was the wiz that finally incinerated it. I was devastated, and since I am a woman who lives alone and happened to have ovulated approximately 48 seconds before this leak occurred, I too wept along with my ceiling into the arms of one of my Pillow Pets. I am just one woman against a giant flood of oppressive cloud wee-wee juice from above -- what could I do???
But like the Sodomists of early America, I knew I had to fight back using the resources I had. I had no maize and tobacco crops to shove into the ceiling's gaping crevice, but I did have this:
 |
| The wings of Freedom! |
My defensive move worked, and I was so proud of myself I celebrated with sweatpants, "Dirty Dancing" and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. But alas, like at the Battle of Brandywine, when the Hobbits of Britain defeated our Amish Sprites, this was a very heavy flow of abuse and not even the wings of Stayfree® could free me from this raging storm.
So I did what any solider woman living alone in America would do in such a situation -- I put an empty Chinese food takeout container underneath the leak, stuck a tampon in each ear to drown out the drip noise, and went to bed.
I am happy to report that the sky has dried up and I can now go back to using tampons to plug-up mouse holes in the baseboards.
I hope it doesn't rain again for awhile, but if it does I will be ready.
Like some bell says, we must always "proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the single-living inhabitants of shoddy housing thereof."
10.16.2011
Going Dutch With Myself
In 2 weeks I will be starting a new job; a HUGE change after being employed at another company, who for 9 years, were kind enough to keep me despite my contributions to the shared company iTunes folder and abuse of "company-all" e-mail privileges.
9 years is a long time and I'm pretty nervous about leaving the comforts of an office I've been settling down in (read: converting a file cabinet into a shoe closet) for so long. And on top of the usual and customary "will I be good at my new job/will my new co-workers like me/will I be the one known as the-asshole-who-burned-the-popcorn-in-the-microwave?" first-day-fretting, my first day is in Belgium. The one in Europe.
I will be spending my first day + another 6 weeks in Belgium learning my new company's ways while fooling them into thinking I'm not a toolbox and have NOTHING to do with the Harold and Kumar movies. A lot of people who I've told about this are very happy for me because they are hoping I will return to America with diamonds that taste like waffles for them, but I have been very quick to remind them I am not there to shop and galavant around the country -- I am there to work. And insult the locals with my poor attempts at Dutch street slang.
Even though I will be there working, I am still looking forward to the new experience and hopefully having some time to play tourist. The only thing I am NOT looking forward to is running into fucking Gargamel and his skank Azrael. They better not even THINK about trying to turn me into gold, I am tragically pale enough already.
And I will FREAK OUT if I see just ONE of those blue jackwagon Smurfs crawling through my bathtub drain, leaving their blueberry-scented droppings all over the place, and boring me with their incessant small-talk.
But luckily I'll be distracted by getting lost everywhere I go, being paranoid that everyone is making fun of me behind my back in Dutch, and maintaining my daily Chimay intake.
Regardless of what happens, I will be sure to keep you posted, or most likely, just warn you to as when I'm coming back.
9 years is a long time and I'm pretty nervous about leaving the comforts of an office I've been settling down in (read: converting a file cabinet into a shoe closet) for so long. And on top of the usual and customary "will I be good at my new job/will my new co-workers like me/will I be the one known as the-asshole-who-burned-the-popcorn-in-the-microwave?" first-day-fretting, my first day is in Belgium. The one in Europe.
I will be spending my first day + another 6 weeks in Belgium learning my new company's ways while fooling them into thinking I'm not a toolbox and have NOTHING to do with the Harold and Kumar movies. A lot of people who I've told about this are very happy for me because they are hoping I will return to America with diamonds that taste like waffles for them, but I have been very quick to remind them I am not there to shop and galavant around the country -- I am there to work. And insult the locals with my poor attempts at Dutch street slang.
Even though I will be there working, I am still looking forward to the new experience and hopefully having some time to play tourist. The only thing I am NOT looking forward to is running into fucking Gargamel and his skank Azrael. They better not even THINK about trying to turn me into gold, I am tragically pale enough already.
 |
| Der Creepster |
And I will FREAK OUT if I see just ONE of those blue jackwagon Smurfs crawling through my bathtub drain, leaving their blueberry-scented droppings all over the place, and boring me with their incessant small-talk.
 |
| What a cunt |
But luckily I'll be distracted by getting lost everywhere I go, being paranoid that everyone is making fun of me behind my back in Dutch, and maintaining my daily Chimay intake.
Regardless of what happens, I will be sure to keep you posted, or most likely, just warn you to as when I'm coming back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)