The summer heat has been getting me seriously down and I think it's probably been showing in my recent blog rants. What Tower of Hubris needs is a serious dose of fun and bonhomie. Therefore, I plan on buying myself one of these!* Think of all the joyful comaraderie! Who's with me, kids? I'm not joking around, here--I actually desperately need to own one of these!
Yippidy dee! Whippidy dang doodle!
(By the way, that link was sent to me by my friend and yours, the lovely Jodi. Go visit her.)
* as soon as I sell my recently completed teleplay, based on the life and times of my hero.
Thursday, August 15, 2002
From the �I�M A ROMANTIC� file:
I broke up with my last girlfriend because she was going on vacation. Well, I should clarify where she was to be vacationing: she had scheduled a two-week trip to Barcelona and Madrid. Needless to say, I called it quits two days before she left.
Now I�m not a particularly jealous person�I�m relatively secure with myself and if I�m in a relationship, I don�t spend all of my time worrying that my girlfriend is off sleeping with other men. But I�m also not an idiot. The truth is, no relationship is so secure that it can withstand a woman spending two weeks by herself in Spain.
It�s just a simple fact, gentlemen: any pre-menopausal American woman who spends more than four days in Europe will eventually fuck someone.
Period.
Sorry, fellas�you can�t compete with an entire continent.
And I�m not saying that women go on vacation, let their guards down and things �just happen�. No, on some level, sex is one of the reasons women go to Europe in the first place. I�m sure it�s not always a conscious thing, but I guarantee you: when a woman sits down to plan her fantasy trip to Europe, whether or not she writes it into her day planner, �getting laid� is on the agenda.
�First, I�ll go visit the Sistine Chapel, and then I�ll sit and drink espresso at some little caf� down a cobblestone street, and then I�ll bring �Umberto the Gondolier� back to my youth hostel and fuck the holy shit out of him.�
Now, allow me to make this clear: I'm not juding women, here. Hardly. When an American woman goes to Europe, all she�s doing is thinking the way a man does all the time. Trust me, ladies--when I plan out the way I want a day to go, it always includes getting laid. And I�m not talking about the days I�m backpacking through the Swiss countryside here, I'm talking about any run-of-the-mill afternoon.
�Well, let�s see. I have to go drop off the dry cleaning, then I�ll swing by Kmart and pick up a couple of extension cords and a new cartridge for my printer, and then, hopefully, I�ll fuck someone�or something.�
Needless to say, things don�t usually go according to that plan, but it�s still part of my thought process. But women aren�t free to think like that�they have to contend with societal double standards that men aren't subject to, simple as that. So when a women gets to leave the continental United States for more than a few says, it�s like she�s living on �Sexual Bonus Time� and can get freaky without being judged for it. And even better, it's Europe, so she can project some bullshit poetic framework onto the whole thing.
�Sure, I blew three guys in two hours. But I was on the Eurorail! What was I going to do, come off like some rude American? I�m not slutty; I�m worldly! I�ll never forget sweet Mattias, Rolf and Allexandro�they were all so, so tender.�
So just a word of advice, guys: if your girlfriend is going to Europe and you�re not going to be there to watch over her every single second of every day, do yourself a favor and break up with her now, before things get ugly. Save yourself some humiliation, because it�s gonna happen�nothing you can do about it.
Now if you�re married and your wife is going to Europe without you, I�m not saying you necessarily need to go get a divorce. But while she�s gone, you might as well start getting some papers drawn up, just in case. That way, when she comes home and she's holding an icepack to her genitals, you can get that that legal separation ball rolling 'tout de suite'.
Just trying to help, folks.
I broke up with my last girlfriend because she was going on vacation. Well, I should clarify where she was to be vacationing: she had scheduled a two-week trip to Barcelona and Madrid. Needless to say, I called it quits two days before she left.
Now I�m not a particularly jealous person�I�m relatively secure with myself and if I�m in a relationship, I don�t spend all of my time worrying that my girlfriend is off sleeping with other men. But I�m also not an idiot. The truth is, no relationship is so secure that it can withstand a woman spending two weeks by herself in Spain.
It�s just a simple fact, gentlemen: any pre-menopausal American woman who spends more than four days in Europe will eventually fuck someone.
Period.
Sorry, fellas�you can�t compete with an entire continent.
And I�m not saying that women go on vacation, let their guards down and things �just happen�. No, on some level, sex is one of the reasons women go to Europe in the first place. I�m sure it�s not always a conscious thing, but I guarantee you: when a woman sits down to plan her fantasy trip to Europe, whether or not she writes it into her day planner, �getting laid� is on the agenda.
�First, I�ll go visit the Sistine Chapel, and then I�ll sit and drink espresso at some little caf� down a cobblestone street, and then I�ll bring �Umberto the Gondolier� back to my youth hostel and fuck the holy shit out of him.�
Now, allow me to make this clear: I'm not juding women, here. Hardly. When an American woman goes to Europe, all she�s doing is thinking the way a man does all the time. Trust me, ladies--when I plan out the way I want a day to go, it always includes getting laid. And I�m not talking about the days I�m backpacking through the Swiss countryside here, I'm talking about any run-of-the-mill afternoon.
�Well, let�s see. I have to go drop off the dry cleaning, then I�ll swing by Kmart and pick up a couple of extension cords and a new cartridge for my printer, and then, hopefully, I�ll fuck someone�or something.�
Needless to say, things don�t usually go according to that plan, but it�s still part of my thought process. But women aren�t free to think like that�they have to contend with societal double standards that men aren't subject to, simple as that. So when a women gets to leave the continental United States for more than a few says, it�s like she�s living on �Sexual Bonus Time� and can get freaky without being judged for it. And even better, it's Europe, so she can project some bullshit poetic framework onto the whole thing.
�Sure, I blew three guys in two hours. But I was on the Eurorail! What was I going to do, come off like some rude American? I�m not slutty; I�m worldly! I�ll never forget sweet Mattias, Rolf and Allexandro�they were all so, so tender.�
So just a word of advice, guys: if your girlfriend is going to Europe and you�re not going to be there to watch over her every single second of every day, do yourself a favor and break up with her now, before things get ugly. Save yourself some humiliation, because it�s gonna happen�nothing you can do about it.
Now if you�re married and your wife is going to Europe without you, I�m not saying you necessarily need to go get a divorce. But while she�s gone, you might as well start getting some papers drawn up, just in case. That way, when she comes home and she's holding an icepack to her genitals, you can get that that legal separation ball rolling 'tout de suite'.
Just trying to help, folks.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Do yourself a favor and peruse this for a little while. And, just so you know, my birthday is in April.
(My thanks to Ms. Susie for exposing me to this very important website.)
(My thanks to Ms. Susie for exposing me to this very important website.)
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Hey.
You.
Middle aged Latina woman on the subway platform. Stop fucking judging me. Yeah. That's right, don't play dumb with me. Just. Stop.
Yes, I'm aware that I'm currently pacing up and down the platform like a homicidal maniac, occasionally punching concrete pillars with my open fist and screaming "GODFUCKINGCOCKMOTHERSUCKFUCKINGCOCKFUCKER" through my clenched teeth, but I don't need your condescending looks, okay? Is that clear, middle-aged Latina woman?
Stop chuckling to yourself. Stop. I can see you chuckling to yourself! Do you think I can't see you?
Like you're so fucking perfect? What, you've never spent 40 minutes in the middle of the night waiting for the L, mistakenly sat down on a train headed in the wrong direction, not noticed until you were in fucking Bushwick because you were too busy playing Tetris on your palm pilot, scrambled off the train at the next stop, desperately sprinted up the stairs across the street and back down to the other side of the platform, only to see the train heading back to Manhattan just leaving the station? Like you've never had that happen to you?
NEVER? Not even once? What are you, some fucking golden child? That's just just just...I mean, come on!
God. Fffffuck. Cock.
FUCK!
You.
Middle aged Latina woman on the subway platform. Stop fucking judging me. Yeah. That's right, don't play dumb with me. Just. Stop.
Yes, I'm aware that I'm currently pacing up and down the platform like a homicidal maniac, occasionally punching concrete pillars with my open fist and screaming "GODFUCKINGCOCKMOTHERSUCKFUCKINGCOCKFUCKER" through my clenched teeth, but I don't need your condescending looks, okay? Is that clear, middle-aged Latina woman?
Stop chuckling to yourself. Stop. I can see you chuckling to yourself! Do you think I can't see you?
Like you're so fucking perfect? What, you've never spent 40 minutes in the middle of the night waiting for the L, mistakenly sat down on a train headed in the wrong direction, not noticed until you were in fucking Bushwick because you were too busy playing Tetris on your palm pilot, scrambled off the train at the next stop, desperately sprinted up the stairs across the street and back down to the other side of the platform, only to see the train heading back to Manhattan just leaving the station? Like you've never had that happen to you?
NEVER? Not even once? What are you, some fucking golden child? That's just just just...I mean, come on!
God. Fffffuck. Cock.
FUCK!
Monday, August 12, 2002
TERM OF THE DAY: Preemptive Anecdotal Sabatoge
I went to a party last night and ended up getting cornered by a complete asswipe for the majority of the evening. The kind of guy who locks his tractor beam gaze onto you and spends hours regaling you with 'hilarious' anecdotes, most of which revolve drunken adventures he's had (usually with a 'cousin' or 'best friend from home'), stories you're quite sure he recycles from social event to social event. No less than three times over the course of an hour did this fucker perpetrate the truly heinous act known as 'Preemptive Anecdotal Sabatoge'.
Here's how it works:
You're trying your best to make pleasant chitchat with some boorish prick, consisting mostly of nodding your head and maintaining enough distance from his face that you're not constantly breathing in the stale Dorito smell that's escaping from his constantly-moving lips. Eventually, the asswipe says something that reminds you of a personal anecdote. So, at the proper moment, you say something simple, like:
"That reminds me, I went to Coney Island a couple of weeks ago, and--"
At this point, Mr. Interesting immediately butts back in, bellowing: "OH, I'VE GOT A STORY ABOUT CONEY ISLAND!". A story which, by the tone of his voice, must be more interesting than whatever you were about to say. And then, as if being incredibly magnanimous, he adds "...but you go ahead."
But do you even want to continue, at this poing? Knowing as you do that your little story now serves no other purpose than to give this asshole time to gather up steam? Why fucking bother?
Nevertheless, you start recounting your trip to Coney Island, suddenly feeling this ridiculous pressure to be interesting. Out of petty defiance (you'll show him who has a story to tell!), you begin exagerrating the particulars of your Coney Island anecdote, eventually making shit up altogether. No longer is this a simple conversational tidbit about seeing some girl throw up on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Nope, it's now an epic tale of sex, intrigue, betrayal...even murder. You feel like an idiot, but you are not going to let this...fuckface think he can tell a more interesting anecdote than you! Fuck that! And FUCK HIM!
"So I ended up having to, um, stab the guy in the throat with my pocket knife. It was pretty fucked up," you hear yourself saying.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, perhaps), you eventually realizes that it matters not a lick what kind of horseshit is coming out of your mouth, because Mr. Interesting isn't actually listening. His eyes are dancing around in their sockets as he privately goes over what he is sure will be The Best Anecdote Ever. His mouth is locked in an anticipatory grin and his head is twitching up and down like a Parkinson's sufferer, a not-so-subtle way of saying "Please hurry this up so I can blow your mind!"
Out of pure spite, you drag your story out for as long as human possibly, never daring to pause, lest Mr. Interesting interpret it as an invitation to commence mindblowage. Finally, once you've exhausted all possible alternatives, you punctuate your anecdote with some jarring nonsequitor that would seemingly make it impossible for Fuckface to launch into his saga, such as:
"By the way, and did I mention that I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma this morning?"
Mr. Interesting misses not a beat.
"Totally, dude. SO THIS ONE TIME, I WAS AT CONEY ISLAND WITH MY COUSIN AND WE GOT SO FUCKING WASTED!!!"
Sigh.
That, my freinds, is 'Preemptive Anecdotal Sabatoge'.
Saturday, August 10, 2002
Listen, about yesterday...
What can I say? Someone told me you'd all been reading someone else's blog and, well, I just snapped. But I'm going to make it up to you, babies. I'm going to buy you all the things you deserve--the fancy cars, the fur coats, the jewelry, you name it.
But in the meantime, enjoy another installment of...
Celebrity Morning Pages!
(If you're unfamiliar with this running thread, click on the 'Archives' link and check out the entries for 4/10/02 and 7/23/02.)
TODAY'S CONTRIBUTOR: Sarah Jessica Parker, thespian
Perhaps no show on television deals with the issues facing the average New Yorker like HBO�s �Sex and the City�. And no woman has done more to elevate her entire gender than actress and role model Sarah Jessica Parker. But there�s more to Sarah than classic beauty and killer outfits�she�s also happily married to actor Matthew Broderick, with whom she�s expecting her first child. Luckily, she still had time to give us this brief glimpse into her world. Enjoy.
Yesterday a horribly unattractive girl came up to me to ask for an autograph. That wasn�t the bad part, although I DO wish fans would at the very least put on some makeup before approaching me. But here�s the thing�she said that people were always telling her she looked like me! I was so furious. I mean, this girl was horrid! And this is like the fifth time this has happened! Why do unattractive people all think they look like me? Sometimes I worry that all of the low class girls who ask me for my autograph see me as some sort of conduit between them and all of my beautiful and legitimate friends. Not to be a bitch, but that really offends me! I mean, I�m a legitimate Hollywood sex symbol! Yeah, I know my nose is slightly large, but that just gives me character! Access Hollywood said so just last month! If I hear �offbeat good looks� one more time I�m going to pummel someone with my bony, brittle fists! I�m unique, and therefore desirable! How many times is E! going to have to profile me before homely, "normal" women accept that I�m not one of them? Maybe I need to wear more eyeshadow. You can never go wrong with eyeshadow. Or maybe I need to lose some weight. This whole pregnancy thing is wreaking havoc with my figure (by the way, I think Matthew is starting to catch on that it isn�t his�must remember to give Adrian Zmed his boxers back). Anyway, like I was saying, being pregnant is a bummer. Yesterday I weighed myself and I was almost 94 pounds! 94! I feel like such a fatty! I can barely see the veins in forearms! I feel like all those ugly people who sit around in two star restaurants eating red meat! Disgusting! I better get a colonic tomorrow. We�re shooting a scene at Moomba today. Moomba is soooooooo over. Not that I care about things like that�you know, trendy lounges and expensive clothes and all that. That�s just the character I play on the show. After all, I�m a serious actress, trained in the theatre. But if I WAS that kind of person, I wouldn�t be caught DEAD at Moomba! What is this, 1998? Why can�t we shoot the scene at Bungalow 8? It�s not like I couldn�t have called Amy Sacco and made it happen. That reminds me, I have to find a way to Nicky and Paris Hilton on the show. Those girls are so cool and down to earth! Ok, I�m going to go now. I have a busy day today. I have to stop by D&G for this week�s free outfits, swing over to Kenneth Cole for my free shoes and then I have an appointment to get the palms of my hands liposucted. Maybe afterward, I�ll walk around Chelsea and let a few gay men validate me. TTFN!
What can I say? Someone told me you'd all been reading someone else's blog and, well, I just snapped. But I'm going to make it up to you, babies. I'm going to buy you all the things you deserve--the fancy cars, the fur coats, the jewelry, you name it.
But in the meantime, enjoy another installment of...
Celebrity Morning Pages!
(If you're unfamiliar with this running thread, click on the 'Archives' link and check out the entries for 4/10/02 and 7/23/02.)
TODAY'S CONTRIBUTOR: Sarah Jessica Parker, thespian
Perhaps no show on television deals with the issues facing the average New Yorker like HBO�s �Sex and the City�. And no woman has done more to elevate her entire gender than actress and role model Sarah Jessica Parker. But there�s more to Sarah than classic beauty and killer outfits�she�s also happily married to actor Matthew Broderick, with whom she�s expecting her first child. Luckily, she still had time to give us this brief glimpse into her world. Enjoy.
Yesterday a horribly unattractive girl came up to me to ask for an autograph. That wasn�t the bad part, although I DO wish fans would at the very least put on some makeup before approaching me. But here�s the thing�she said that people were always telling her she looked like me! I was so furious. I mean, this girl was horrid! And this is like the fifth time this has happened! Why do unattractive people all think they look like me? Sometimes I worry that all of the low class girls who ask me for my autograph see me as some sort of conduit between them and all of my beautiful and legitimate friends. Not to be a bitch, but that really offends me! I mean, I�m a legitimate Hollywood sex symbol! Yeah, I know my nose is slightly large, but that just gives me character! Access Hollywood said so just last month! If I hear �offbeat good looks� one more time I�m going to pummel someone with my bony, brittle fists! I�m unique, and therefore desirable! How many times is E! going to have to profile me before homely, "normal" women accept that I�m not one of them? Maybe I need to wear more eyeshadow. You can never go wrong with eyeshadow. Or maybe I need to lose some weight. This whole pregnancy thing is wreaking havoc with my figure (by the way, I think Matthew is starting to catch on that it isn�t his�must remember to give Adrian Zmed his boxers back). Anyway, like I was saying, being pregnant is a bummer. Yesterday I weighed myself and I was almost 94 pounds! 94! I feel like such a fatty! I can barely see the veins in forearms! I feel like all those ugly people who sit around in two star restaurants eating red meat! Disgusting! I better get a colonic tomorrow. We�re shooting a scene at Moomba today. Moomba is soooooooo over. Not that I care about things like that�you know, trendy lounges and expensive clothes and all that. That�s just the character I play on the show. After all, I�m a serious actress, trained in the theatre. But if I WAS that kind of person, I wouldn�t be caught DEAD at Moomba! What is this, 1998? Why can�t we shoot the scene at Bungalow 8? It�s not like I couldn�t have called Amy Sacco and made it happen. That reminds me, I have to find a way to Nicky and Paris Hilton on the show. Those girls are so cool and down to earth! Ok, I�m going to go now. I have a busy day today. I have to stop by D&G for this week�s free outfits, swing over to Kenneth Cole for my free shoes and then I have an appointment to get the palms of my hands liposucted. Maybe afterward, I�ll walk around Chelsea and let a few gay men validate me. TTFN!
Friday, August 09, 2002
Look at you. You should all be ashamed yourselves.
No, you don't get a blog entry today. You don't deserve one. Oh, don't play innocent with me, motherfreakers! You know what you did.
You sick bastards.
No, you'll have to go a full day without reading my delightfully whimsical prose. There'll be no wacky comedic 'list' for you today--no "Worst Songs to Publicly Play Air Guitar To"* and no "Things I'd Rather Do To Myself Than Sit Through Goldmember"**.
Sorry, no dice.
And no, it's not because I'm semi-drunk and need to be awake in less than six hours. This has nothing to do with that. It's because you guys fucked up. BIG TIME!
Hope you're happy with yourselves.
________________________
* But if I WAS going to compile this list, it would include "Escapade" by Janet Jackson, "Chains of Love" by Erasure, and "Ave Maria".
________________________
** But if I was going to compile THIS list, it might include stapling my applebag to the inside of my leg.
No, you don't get a blog entry today. You don't deserve one. Oh, don't play innocent with me, motherfreakers! You know what you did.
You sick bastards.
No, you'll have to go a full day without reading my delightfully whimsical prose. There'll be no wacky comedic 'list' for you today--no "Worst Songs to Publicly Play Air Guitar To"* and no "Things I'd Rather Do To Myself Than Sit Through Goldmember"**.
Sorry, no dice.
And no, it's not because I'm semi-drunk and need to be awake in less than six hours. This has nothing to do with that. It's because you guys fucked up. BIG TIME!
Hope you're happy with yourselves.
________________________
* But if I WAS going to compile this list, it would include "Escapade" by Janet Jackson, "Chains of Love" by Erasure, and "Ave Maria".
________________________
** But if I was going to compile THIS list, it might include stapling my applebag to the inside of my leg.
Thursday, August 08, 2002
Rejected titles for Movin' Out, the new Billy Joel musical:
Billy Joel Superstar
Phantom of the Incredibly Bland Opera
Dreck!
Bottle of Red, Bottle of Mediocrity
Captain Jack-Off
Billy Joel and the Amazing Technicolor Shitstain
You May Be Right (I May Be Sucky)
Piano Moron
Crapalot
The Longest Time
Billy Joel Superstar
Phantom of the Incredibly Bland Opera
Dreck!
Bottle of Red, Bottle of Mediocrity
Captain Jack-Off
Billy Joel and the Amazing Technicolor Shitstain
You May Be Right (I May Be Sucky)
Piano Moron
Crapalot
The Longest Time
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
I was considering asking a woman on a date last week, but I wanted to make sure that I'm worthy of a loving relationship. Therefore, I compiled a list of all the things I have to offer a woman. I think you can see that I am definitely Boyfriend Material.
1. I am a good listener
2. I have never murdered anyone (intentionally)
3. I am relatively punctual (because seriously, where else would I need to be?)
4. I own a Brita
5. I can show you how to steal food from a deli salad bar
6. I once ran three entire miles, back to back
7. I can name all five members of the band Ratt
8. I'm 75% sure I don't have Herpes
9. On second thought, maybe 65%
10. Well...definitely above 50%, that I promise you
Line up, ladies.
1. I am a good listener
2. I have never murdered anyone (intentionally)
3. I am relatively punctual (because seriously, where else would I need to be?)
4. I own a Brita
5. I can show you how to steal food from a deli salad bar
6. I once ran three entire miles, back to back
7. I can name all five members of the band Ratt
8. I'm 75% sure I don't have Herpes
9. On second thought, maybe 65%
10. Well...definitely above 50%, that I promise you
Line up, ladies.
Tuesday, August 06, 2002
Earlier today, I was chatting with a friend of mine, and she mentioned that she had spent the previous evening writing opening lines for novels she plans to one day write. Not to be outdone, I figure it's high time I start working on my magnum opus. Therefore, I have written ten prospective 'opening lines', which I now present to you, the reading public. Pick your favorite and, assuming there's any interest, I will use it as the opening literary salvo in a brand new short story to be posted on this site for the cultural enrichment of our great nation. Also, feel free to suggest a title, if you feel so inspired.
Now, the opening lines:
1. Time, like a nose during flu season, dripped onward.
2. I�ve said it before, and I�ll say it again: never trust a dildo salesman.
3. If there was one thing Sister Marjorie hated, it was homeless people.
4. From the moment I met Terrence Chu, I knew he would one day make Dungeons & Dragons history.
5. �If that�s not the murder weapon, I�ll molest a child,� declared Inspector Tippington.
6. Corrine was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman at the �Free Mumia Pie-Eating Contest and Texas Chili Bake-Off�.
7. Excusing herself from Lord Percival, Lady Brently retired to her private toilet and dropped a major deuce.
8. Morning found Sheriff Wurley sobbing into his International Male catalogue.
9. �Love is the answer to all questions,� the wise old shaman whispered to his John Stamos poster.
10. I still remember the day I decided to run for mayor of Boner City.
Now, the opening lines:
1. Time, like a nose during flu season, dripped onward.
2. I�ve said it before, and I�ll say it again: never trust a dildo salesman.
3. If there was one thing Sister Marjorie hated, it was homeless people.
4. From the moment I met Terrence Chu, I knew he would one day make Dungeons & Dragons history.
5. �If that�s not the murder weapon, I�ll molest a child,� declared Inspector Tippington.
6. Corrine was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman at the �Free Mumia Pie-Eating Contest and Texas Chili Bake-Off�.
7. Excusing herself from Lord Percival, Lady Brently retired to her private toilet and dropped a major deuce.
8. Morning found Sheriff Wurley sobbing into his International Male catalogue.
9. �Love is the answer to all questions,� the wise old shaman whispered to his John Stamos poster.
10. I still remember the day I decided to run for mayor of Boner City.
Monday, August 05, 2002
Sunday, August 04, 2002
Friday, August 02, 2002
WHAT MY FAVORITE ALBUM SAYS ABOUT ME, Part IV
* THE WALLFLOWERS "Bringing Down the Horse" -- In terms of mileage and reliability, there really is nothing like a Volvo.
* LEE GREENWOOD "God Bless the USA" -- Just give me a reason to go all 'hate crime' on your ass.
* PAPA ROACH "Lovehatetragedy" -- Mom, don't drop me off right in front, drive around the corner. Drive around the corner! Mom, don't be a dick!
* TERRENCE TRENT D'ARBY "Neither Fish Nor Flesh" -- I yearn to be ridiculed by black people and white people alike.
* DIXIE CHICKS "Wide Open Spaces" -- I may be a 43 year old high school algebra teacher, but I still enjoy a healthy dose of "sass"!
* YEAH YEAH YEAHS "Yeah Yeah Yeahs" -- I like to think of myself as post-everything.
* BOYZ II MEN "Legacy" -- I'm a sucker for closed eyes and clenched fists.
* THE BREEDERS "Title TK" -- Nothing has changed! I'm still 20! Lines in my face? What lines?! No, that's just because I was out late last night! Balding? Me?! No! Never! Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!
* V/A "Now That's What I Call Music Vol. 10" -- I do what I'm told.
* BOB DYLAN "Blood on the Tracks" -- I'm thinking of picking up Bob Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks".
P.S. If you're unfamiliar with this running thread and would like to read Parts I-III, click on the 'Archives' link to the left of these words and check out the entires for 5/23, 5/26 and 6/4.
* THE WALLFLOWERS "Bringing Down the Horse" -- In terms of mileage and reliability, there really is nothing like a Volvo.
* LEE GREENWOOD "God Bless the USA" -- Just give me a reason to go all 'hate crime' on your ass.
* PAPA ROACH "Lovehatetragedy" -- Mom, don't drop me off right in front, drive around the corner. Drive around the corner! Mom, don't be a dick!
* TERRENCE TRENT D'ARBY "Neither Fish Nor Flesh" -- I yearn to be ridiculed by black people and white people alike.
* DIXIE CHICKS "Wide Open Spaces" -- I may be a 43 year old high school algebra teacher, but I still enjoy a healthy dose of "sass"!
* YEAH YEAH YEAHS "Yeah Yeah Yeahs" -- I like to think of myself as post-everything.
* BOYZ II MEN "Legacy" -- I'm a sucker for closed eyes and clenched fists.
* THE BREEDERS "Title TK" -- Nothing has changed! I'm still 20! Lines in my face? What lines?! No, that's just because I was out late last night! Balding? Me?! No! Never! Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!
* V/A "Now That's What I Call Music Vol. 10" -- I do what I'm told.
* BOB DYLAN "Blood on the Tracks" -- I'm thinking of picking up Bob Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks".
P.S. If you're unfamiliar with this running thread and would like to read Parts I-III, click on the 'Archives' link to the left of these words and check out the entires for 5/23, 5/26 and 6/4.
Thursday, August 01, 2002
A unique investment opportunity!
With so much volatility on Wall Street these days, many financial analysts are advising their clients to invest in the bond market. And they couldn't be more right--there's never been a better time to align yourself with the reassuring profitablity of bonds! And it is to this end that I am taking a cue from one of my heroes, David Bowie, and issuing my intellectual property to the general public. As of Monday, August 5th 2002, you can now buy into the comedic juggernaut that is my career in the form of FinneBonds. The way this works is that you buy a FinneBond and then you collect on all future monies earned by me, at a rate of 8.42%. Now, I really prefer a minimum investment of $6,000 (or to be accurate, MasterCard would prefer a minimum investment of $6,000), but I'm willing to consider anything. Say, for instance, you decide to buy me a beer. In one short year, it'll be as if you bought me 1.0842 beers! In two years, 1.1684 beers! I mean, can you see how great this is? This is an incredible financial opportunity for you! At rates like these, I must be insane!!
Or, if you�re a more cautious investor, you can just buy into an individual joke. And if that joke gets sold to a television show or a lazy politician, you collect! And something should know: my material is guaranteed to mature! That's right! You know that thing I wrote a few days ago about Natalie Merchant taking a dump? Well, that horseshit is guaranteed to mature! In five years, that joke will blossom into brilliant commentary on isolationism in a global economy! Yup, today's dick joke is tomorrow's bon mot!
You can't afford to let this opportunity pass you by, people. FinneBonds! FinneBonds! FinneBonds!!!
With so much volatility on Wall Street these days, many financial analysts are advising their clients to invest in the bond market. And they couldn't be more right--there's never been a better time to align yourself with the reassuring profitablity of bonds! And it is to this end that I am taking a cue from one of my heroes, David Bowie, and issuing my intellectual property to the general public. As of Monday, August 5th 2002, you can now buy into the comedic juggernaut that is my career in the form of FinneBonds. The way this works is that you buy a FinneBond and then you collect on all future monies earned by me, at a rate of 8.42%. Now, I really prefer a minimum investment of $6,000 (or to be accurate, MasterCard would prefer a minimum investment of $6,000), but I'm willing to consider anything. Say, for instance, you decide to buy me a beer. In one short year, it'll be as if you bought me 1.0842 beers! In two years, 1.1684 beers! I mean, can you see how great this is? This is an incredible financial opportunity for you! At rates like these, I must be insane!!
Or, if you�re a more cautious investor, you can just buy into an individual joke. And if that joke gets sold to a television show or a lazy politician, you collect! And something should know: my material is guaranteed to mature! That's right! You know that thing I wrote a few days ago about Natalie Merchant taking a dump? Well, that horseshit is guaranteed to mature! In five years, that joke will blossom into brilliant commentary on isolationism in a global economy! Yup, today's dick joke is tomorrow's bon mot!
You can't afford to let this opportunity pass you by, people. FinneBonds! FinneBonds! FinneBonds!!!
Wednesday, July 31, 2002
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
New Chatroom Shorthand!
We all know "LOL" (Laughing Out Loud) and "ROFL" (Rolling On Floor Laughing), but did you know that new acronyms have been created to further enhance your online social life? Check out these babies:
BFE! (Bleeding From Ears!)
ROFLWAPOSF! (Rolling On Floor Laughing While Also Putting Out Small Fire!)
JGY!!!! (Just Googled You!!!!)
DIH! (Dick In Hand!)
CSYVSBLE!!! (Considering Stalking You Via Subtle 'Buddy List' Espionage!!!)
LAAWOACTGWTRMOFP!! (Laughing As A Way Of Avoiding Coming To Grips With The Recent Murder Of My Parents!!)
ATCTOTIMCBTSOSASHYR!! (About To Change Tone Of This Instant Message Conversation By Typing Something Overtly Sexual And Seeing How You Respond!!)
PSIK! (Punching Self In Kidneys!)
IEYYWHYWMBNIKYGTEBICAISYRILNA9:03pmLDFDMAAITTDIBYFBYNIKIK WJFIKBFREOERIMIALCTMTAIMISAIBWAISMISCOWCTATSJTMYAICBTITM!!! (I Emailed You Yesterday...Why Haven't You Written Me Back? No, I Know You Got The Email Because I Checked And It Says You Read It Last Night At 9:03pm. Look, Don't Fucking Dick Me Around! All I'm Trying To Do Is Be Your Friend, But You're...No, I Know...I Know...We're Just Friends, I Know. But Friends Return Each Other's Emails, Right? I Mean Is A Little Consideration Too Much To Ask? I Mean...I'm Sorry. I'm Sorry. Am I Being Weird Again? I'm Sorry. Maybe I Should Come Over. We Can Talk About This. Seriously, Just Tell Me Your Address. I Can Be There In Twenty Minutes!!!)
TL!!!!! (Terribly Lonely!!!!!)
We all know "LOL" (Laughing Out Loud) and "ROFL" (Rolling On Floor Laughing), but did you know that new acronyms have been created to further enhance your online social life? Check out these babies:
BFE! (Bleeding From Ears!)
ROFLWAPOSF! (Rolling On Floor Laughing While Also Putting Out Small Fire!)
JGY!!!! (Just Googled You!!!!)
DIH! (Dick In Hand!)
CSYVSBLE!!! (Considering Stalking You Via Subtle 'Buddy List' Espionage!!!)
LAAWOACTGWTRMOFP!! (Laughing As A Way Of Avoiding Coming To Grips With The Recent Murder Of My Parents!!)
ATCTOTIMCBTSOSASHYR!! (About To Change Tone Of This Instant Message Conversation By Typing Something Overtly Sexual And Seeing How You Respond!!)
PSIK! (Punching Self In Kidneys!)
IEYYWHYWMBNIKYGTEBICAISYRILNA9:03pmLDFDMAAITTDIBYFBYNIKIK WJFIKBFREOERIMIALCTMTAIMISAIBWAISMISCOWCTATSJTMYAICBTITM!!! (I Emailed You Yesterday...Why Haven't You Written Me Back? No, I Know You Got The Email Because I Checked And It Says You Read It Last Night At 9:03pm. Look, Don't Fucking Dick Me Around! All I'm Trying To Do Is Be Your Friend, But You're...No, I Know...I Know...We're Just Friends, I Know. But Friends Return Each Other's Emails, Right? I Mean Is A Little Consideration Too Much To Ask? I Mean...I'm Sorry. I'm Sorry. Am I Being Weird Again? I'm Sorry. Maybe I Should Come Over. We Can Talk About This. Seriously, Just Tell Me Your Address. I Can Be There In Twenty Minutes!!!)
TL!!!!! (Terribly Lonely!!!!!)
Monday, July 29, 2002
A communiqu� from the National Department of Music Circulation, Enjoyment Division:
Pursuant to the Dennis DeYoung Act of 1997 (sponsored by Sen. Paul Simon, D--Illinois), the NDMC commissioned a blue ribbon fact-finding panel in the Fall of 1999 to look into the ever-growing problem of PMS (Pop Music Saturation). After collecting over 3000 pages of data and conducting extensive interviews with average Americans, the panel issued its official report to the NDMC earlier this month. After reading said report, the NDMC has determined that the Musithalumus Gland, the area of the human brain devoted to processing popular music nostalgia, is becoming dangerously overcrowded. Something must be done to make room for enjoyment of future pop artistry, most notably upcoming releases by Luther Vandross, Sugar Ray and the Dixie Chicks. Therefore, the NDMC will begin removing certain songs from the public arena, songs that may well have been popular in their time, but that have long since outlived their entertainment value. It is the opinion of the NDMC that these songs will be missed by absolutely no one and that their absence will create valuable brain space for future musical nostalgia.
As of Thursday, August 1st, 2002 at 12:01am, the following songs will be wiped clean from the AMS (American Mental Slate):
_______________________
"China Grove" by The Doobie Brothers
"The Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera"
"Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult
"I Adore Mi Amor" by Color Me Badd
"Up Where We Belong" by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes
"Lady" by Kenny Rogers
"My Dingaling" by Chuck Berry
"The Rum Tum Tugger" by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice
"Mercedes Boy" by Pebbles
"The Notre Dame Fight Song" (trad.)
"Mambo #5" by Lou Bega
"Light My Fire" by The Doors
"Girl, You'll be a Woman Soon" by Urge Overkill*
"Parents Just Don't Understand" by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince
Pachobel's "Canon"
"Joyride" by Roxette
"The Harlem Shuffle" by The Rolling Stones
"We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel
That piece of shit Michael Jackson song from a couple of months ago
_________________________
These songs will be removed from radio playlists, record stores, yard sales and personal music collections. Any attempt to play these songs in your own home will result in serious damage to your stereo system and possible federal prosecution.
Thank you for your cooperation.
* Only the Urge Overkill version popularized in the film Pulp Fiction and overplayed by every girl who went to college in the Nineties is marked for banishment. The Neil Diamond original will remain in circulation.
Pursuant to the Dennis DeYoung Act of 1997 (sponsored by Sen. Paul Simon, D--Illinois), the NDMC commissioned a blue ribbon fact-finding panel in the Fall of 1999 to look into the ever-growing problem of PMS (Pop Music Saturation). After collecting over 3000 pages of data and conducting extensive interviews with average Americans, the panel issued its official report to the NDMC earlier this month. After reading said report, the NDMC has determined that the Musithalumus Gland, the area of the human brain devoted to processing popular music nostalgia, is becoming dangerously overcrowded. Something must be done to make room for enjoyment of future pop artistry, most notably upcoming releases by Luther Vandross, Sugar Ray and the Dixie Chicks. Therefore, the NDMC will begin removing certain songs from the public arena, songs that may well have been popular in their time, but that have long since outlived their entertainment value. It is the opinion of the NDMC that these songs will be missed by absolutely no one and that their absence will create valuable brain space for future musical nostalgia.
As of Thursday, August 1st, 2002 at 12:01am, the following songs will be wiped clean from the AMS (American Mental Slate):
_______________________
"China Grove" by The Doobie Brothers
"The Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera"
"Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult
"I Adore Mi Amor" by Color Me Badd
"Up Where We Belong" by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes
"Lady" by Kenny Rogers
"My Dingaling" by Chuck Berry
"The Rum Tum Tugger" by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice
"Mercedes Boy" by Pebbles
"The Notre Dame Fight Song" (trad.)
"Mambo #5" by Lou Bega
"Light My Fire" by The Doors
"Girl, You'll be a Woman Soon" by Urge Overkill*
"Parents Just Don't Understand" by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince
Pachobel's "Canon"
"Joyride" by Roxette
"The Harlem Shuffle" by The Rolling Stones
"We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel
That piece of shit Michael Jackson song from a couple of months ago
_________________________
These songs will be removed from radio playlists, record stores, yard sales and personal music collections. Any attempt to play these songs in your own home will result in serious damage to your stereo system and possible federal prosecution.
Thank you for your cooperation.
* Only the Urge Overkill version popularized in the film Pulp Fiction and overplayed by every girl who went to college in the Nineties is marked for banishment. The Neil Diamond original will remain in circulation.
Saturday, July 27, 2002
Here's yet another installment of Celebrity Morning Pages. For those of you who don't know what this entails, scroll down and read the beginning of July 23rd's entry.
Today's morning pages have been submitteed by NHL superstar Eric Lindros. Throughout his illustrious nine year career with the Philadephia Flyers and New York Rangers, Lindros has been one of the NHL�s most durable players on the ice and its most charismatic figure off it. Despite having suffered a collapsed lung and six severe concussions over the course of two years, Lindros�s scintillating wit is still intact, which is more than evident in these ultra-personal writings.
�Team docter said I should try this. Said it would help with my concushinns. Is that how its spelled? I think its only got one N. At the end, I mean. Theres another N in the middle of the word, but Im not counting that one. Unless it isnt actually an N in the middle. Maybe there�s a diffrent way to spell the N sound, like when you write elephent. Youd think it was an F right? But its not. Its PH. Thats one of them crazy spelling things I always used to mess up before I baut myself a dickshinarry. I figure I have money for it right? It�s one of those cool red ones with the flecks on the side. My head hurts. Team docter says it should only be another six weeks before I am cleared to play. Hope my short term memery comes back by then. I think Id mess up the hockey somthing awful without it. What if coach told me to hit the puck far but I hit it short on accident? Or if I was suposed to skate realy fast but I forgot and skated slow? Id probobly lose the game. Id rather do the right play and win. Writing without stopping is hard. I hope this helps my concushin. Yep, thats definitly the way its spelled. I had solid food last night. I love solid food! Its really great!!! Solid food is my favorite of all foods except hamburgers which I love. I hope I can stop writing soon. My thumb and middle finger are still dislocaded so this hurts. Mabye I should out some ice on it. Maybe I should put a whole rink on it!!! Man I can�t believe I just thouht of that because I�m not even at practice. Maybe this morning pages thing will help me make jokes so I can be funny like Barry Melrose. I�m going to stop writing now thouh because theres blood coming out of my ear. Love Eric.�
Today's morning pages have been submitteed by NHL superstar Eric Lindros. Throughout his illustrious nine year career with the Philadephia Flyers and New York Rangers, Lindros has been one of the NHL�s most durable players on the ice and its most charismatic figure off it. Despite having suffered a collapsed lung and six severe concussions over the course of two years, Lindros�s scintillating wit is still intact, which is more than evident in these ultra-personal writings.
�Team docter said I should try this. Said it would help with my concushinns. Is that how its spelled? I think its only got one N. At the end, I mean. Theres another N in the middle of the word, but Im not counting that one. Unless it isnt actually an N in the middle. Maybe there�s a diffrent way to spell the N sound, like when you write elephent. Youd think it was an F right? But its not. Its PH. Thats one of them crazy spelling things I always used to mess up before I baut myself a dickshinarry. I figure I have money for it right? It�s one of those cool red ones with the flecks on the side. My head hurts. Team docter says it should only be another six weeks before I am cleared to play. Hope my short term memery comes back by then. I think Id mess up the hockey somthing awful without it. What if coach told me to hit the puck far but I hit it short on accident? Or if I was suposed to skate realy fast but I forgot and skated slow? Id probobly lose the game. Id rather do the right play and win. Writing without stopping is hard. I hope this helps my concushin. Yep, thats definitly the way its spelled. I had solid food last night. I love solid food! Its really great!!! Solid food is my favorite of all foods except hamburgers which I love. I hope I can stop writing soon. My thumb and middle finger are still dislocaded so this hurts. Mabye I should out some ice on it. Maybe I should put a whole rink on it!!! Man I can�t believe I just thouht of that because I�m not even at practice. Maybe this morning pages thing will help me make jokes so I can be funny like Barry Melrose. I�m going to stop writing now thouh because theres blood coming out of my ear. Love Eric.�
Friday, July 26, 2002
I truly hope Al Sharpton is humiliated by that 1983 FBI video that recently came to light. He must be mortified. Not so much because he was caught on tape discussing a drug deal, but because he was wearing a cowboy hat. Hot look, Reverand Al.
Yeah, I know this ain't much of an entry. Sorry, busy day.
Yeah, I know this ain't much of an entry. Sorry, busy day.
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Look, I realize that I'm probably only speaking to a few of you out there, but I just want to remind anyone who's listening: you do not like The White Stripes.
Seriously.
No, I'm not kidding. You think you like The White Stripes, but you don't. What you like is the idea of liking The White Stripes. You're not a music fan--you're a fan of indie rock culture. "They don't have a bass player!" How cool. "They're like brother and sister! Or a couple, or something!" Very cool, indeed. "They wear matching outfits and suck on purpose!" Of course. That's as cool as it gets. Cool cool cool fucking cool.
But just for a minute, in the privacy of this website, let's just be honest: they suck. It's difficult for a band to be utterly tuneless and yet also sound completely derivative, but The White Stripes achieve just that. No, don't argue--you know I'm right.
No.
No.
You're wrong.
Come on, you can admit it. No one's watching. I won't tell on you.
Let's not argue. Just remember: you're not fooling anyone. You do not like The White Stripes.
Seriously.
No, I'm not kidding. You think you like The White Stripes, but you don't. What you like is the idea of liking The White Stripes. You're not a music fan--you're a fan of indie rock culture. "They don't have a bass player!" How cool. "They're like brother and sister! Or a couple, or something!" Very cool, indeed. "They wear matching outfits and suck on purpose!" Of course. That's as cool as it gets. Cool cool cool fucking cool.
But just for a minute, in the privacy of this website, let's just be honest: they suck. It's difficult for a band to be utterly tuneless and yet also sound completely derivative, but The White Stripes achieve just that. No, don't argue--you know I'm right.
No.
No.
You're wrong.
Come on, you can admit it. No one's watching. I won't tell on you.
Let's not argue. Just remember: you're not fooling anyone. You do not like The White Stripes.
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