Huh?

The book's open on the next milestone on Britney's rapid descent to hell. My money's on her carving the words, "Official fuck vessel of the lord" on her stomach with a Mach3.

It's either that or standing up in a courtroom claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's sprogette.

Coin in the Slot

It seems a brand new one dollar coin has been minted. I'm not entirely sure why... I don't know about you but my dollar notes generally work fine. Coins make your wallet heavier and psychologically make you feel like you have less money.

Plus let's face it, things are going to get a touch awkward in strip clubs, no?

Darwin Drinks Here

Some backwoods hick bartender threw a guy out of a bar for not being drunk enough.

Like designated drivers weren't hard enough to find. Like that poor, unfortunate, soda-drinking driver you had to bribe to fill the role isn't pissed off enough that he has to sit at the table with four insane, intoxicated baboons who think everything is hilarious, then drive them home afterwards.

If you're in a bar and you're the designated driver and you're drinking soda or juice, what's the big deal? Those drinks have bigger mark-ups most of the time than alcohol does anyway. Where else can you charge $2.75 for a Coke without someone punching you in the face?

The only time I'm interested in paying $2.75 for Coke is if I'm snorting it out of some hot, buff, boybo's navel.

Even then I'd have to think about it.

Brass Monkeys

Global warming can kiss my ass. There isn't a single brass testicle remaining on a primate in New York City. It was 6 degrees Fahrenheit when I left this morning with a wind chill factor of -10. I don't want to hear about your -40 in Canada or your -30F in Minnesota because that's what you expect in those godforsaken icy climes. This is New York City, for the love of God. We don't DO arctic cold, ok, so a wind chill of -10 is akin to making us swim naked in liquid nitrogen.

Wow...what an attractive image that is.

Groundhogwash

Call me cynical if you must, but the idea that a squirrel can predict weather for a whole year is a little much to expect of a furry rodent who only just about manages to stand upright. If a groundhog doesn't have a shadow you might want to check out the "Big Boys' Book of Demons and Otherworldly Beasts and Bastards" first for an explanation, before you start deciding this equates weather predicting. Allegedly, Adolf Hitler didn't have a shadow and look what happened to him! You won't find that information on the Internet either, so don't even try.

I have a much better idea for Groundhogs. The police could recruit them to carry little, tiny keyhole cameras implanted in their foreheads, so they could scurry around, recording drug dealers in the park, particularly the one in Washington Square Park who accosts me every night as I'm walking home, offering me some drug that sounds like an tropical disease. Or maybe he actually IS offering me a tropical disease? I'm almost tempted to find out.

Random Thought Thursday Part Deux

One phrase I have always wanted to use is: "I've got freckles on my schmekel!", however, I don't have a schmekel to my knowledge, nor am I Jewish.

I do have freckles.

Random Thought Thursday

I often wonder why someone wishing to commit suicide would choose to do it by jumping off a tall building. I mean taking pills would be peaceful. Shooting yourself in the head would be instantaneous and pretty much pain-free. Jumping off a building seems to have too many pitfalls. For example, it gives you at least a few seconds to actually contemplate what you're doing on the way down. If you've swallowed 50 Xanax tablets at least you have a window of time to have your stomach pumped before the inevitable happens. But if you jump off a building what happens if you're halfway down, the sidewalk is coming up fast and you suddenly decide that little blonde thing with the pouty lips might make life worth living after all?

Boy, are you going to feel stupid, 'though admittedly, not for long.