Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Well, what I wanna know is, where's MY stuff?
Labels: balls in YOUR mouth sir, cryin' amazacrazy, douchebaggery, first-world problems, fuckyeahstevenslater, I really am sort of an asshole sometimes, unreasonable and probably ill-founded prejudices
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Cluckin' Chicken: The Personal Waterloo of Meat Consumption
GODDAMN, DO I LOVE ME SOME:
HAVE STRANGE UNSTOPPABLE WEAKNESS FOR, AT TIMES, LIKE MAYBE TWICE A YEAR:
Jack in the Box
CRAVE SPECIFIC ITEMS FROM, AT THREE-YEAR INTERVALS (APPROX.):
Long John Silver's (the crispy bits of fried coating, with malt vinegar)
KFC (chicken strips + biscuits + gravy)
WILL IF I MUST:
It's a total of maybe ten-twelve times in a year, eight of which are usually on trips back to the Olde Hometowne in Texass (steak finger baskets! DQ Dude! Frito burrito!); living where I do, there's not a lot of fast food in my path, and there's plenty of good eatin' on the cheap everywhere (not like NYC, but it'll do), plus I just can't really ... I don't know, I don't like it and I don't feel good about myself, my health, the planet, factory farming, obese five-year-olds, the high-fructose-corn-syrup lobby, shame spiral yada yada yada whenever I do indulge, so I just don't eat it much.
But this fucking video featuring the horrifying pink chemical offal mulch that shall become the Nugget, which you've probably all seen already ... jesus scratching CHRIST. It almost made a full vegetarian out of me, instantaneously. It's my "Cluckin' Chicken" (Mr. Gleemonex and Twelve will get that) -- the thing that makes one renounce meat and meat products forevermore on grounds that OMIGOD I'M GONNA PUKE.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
--"Pace yourself, Judy."
Hader is now in that awesome phase on SNL, where he's doing stuff that makes him laugh instead of pitching in wherever needed, and he usually fucking kills me -- but on the John Hamm ep, he did another Vincent Price Special, and y'all, Judy Garland was on it, shitfaced on pills & booze, and he tolerates it for awhile, then goes, as she's swallowing another handful of uppers/downers/screamers/laughers, "Pace yourself, Judy. It's only 7:30." And I DIED. And laughed my ass off. And died again. Laugh/die/revive/repeat. Since TWO WEEKS AGO I've been laughing about this line, y'all -- I typed it into Word, printed it out, and put it on my cube wall at work! "Pace yourself, Judy," I'll say to myself, then laugh out loud. "Pace yourself, Judy," I scribble in a notebook in a boring meeting, then try to cover the snarfling with a cough. "Pace yourself, Judy," I decide will be the name of my production company, then laugh/die/revive/repeat. And it keeps gettin funnier every time I think of it!
--Jesus Gets Around.
He's doin' 50 in a 65! This is the kind of thing that would probably annoy the shit out of my mom, but I can't get enough of it.
--This, which my friend posted on another friend's Facebook wall, in commiseration over a pear-related purse mishap: "I killed [my wife]'s Blackberry by putting in the same pocket as a pear a couple months ago. It squished around so much it got into the keyboard."
--The maniac German of a Spinning instructor who came up to me specially after class on Monday to tell me that "Dat vass excellent vork on de flats today. Very goot!"[very serious face, nod of Schrute-like approbation + clench of fist denoting contained but sincere enthusiasm]. Me, FTW!
Sunday, November 07, 2010
There's more to life than books, you know, but not much more.
Monday, November 01, 2010
Could you do the rest of us a favor and leave by the outfield? I mean ... they're gonna get you anyway ...
Nolan Ryan, do you want my advice for how to win a World Series? Do ya? Well, here it is: Quit palling around with the genocidal maniac George W. Bush and his lifesucking wife Laura.
GOD. Texas, man. Can't even watch BASEBALL without seeing those two walking advertisements for abortion. The Series has been huge fun -- I love me some Giants (my NL homeslices), and there's been all kinds of crazy awesome stuff happening in the games, but boy, does it chill the room forty degrees to see that funloving ex-First-Couple on my bigass teevee. Last night when we got home from trick-or-treating with the kid (she went as DJ Lance Rock, of course), Mr. Gleemonex and I watched the TiVoed Game Four, which was all kinds of rawk except for the part where Laura Bush -- ill-bred viper parked right in the good seats, wearing her everyday Nicholson-Joker face mask -- yawned on camera, mouth open wide like one of the goddamn Ewells, not even bothering to try to cover it with a polite hand, fillings countable in HD clarity for thirty full seconds … holy pitcher-dueling SHATNER do I loathe her.