Monday, May 26, 2008

Bite Sized Thoughts 2

Inside the mind of celebrities: Courtney Love

Oh shiny stuff you got any druggs can i have some omg people justr dont get me at all you are all monsters i might need to have surgrey again as I dont look enuf of a freek yet theres alwayss room for improvment and oh is that prada i like prada i am classy you people need to shut the fuck upp i didnt kill kurt why would i do that he was my true luv and you suckas will never know luv like it so fuck you all sideways. i stripped in japan you know i no how life works and you suckas have no idea what its like to be me frances give momma her fuckin speedballs you lil fucknut.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Finn The Cat

I’ve been a little out of the loop lately blog wise. No updates or ridiculous pie charts or swearing profusely and calling people names. I’ve been a little down you see. A little bluer than my normal, rosy self.

You see, the other day – Sunday to be specific and late Sunday night to be completely accurate – I lost my baby Finn-the-Cat to an illness of the respiratory nature. She died in the taxi two blocks from the animal hospital. It was a hopelessly horrific thing to witness, especially when you are unable to do anything to help. She has had trouble breathing for a while now and been treated a lot recently to help her feel better.

I’m not a people person so much as an animal person. I can read about famines and floods and earthquakes and feel sympathy for people, but they don’t touch me like animals do. Losing my Finn-the-cat (that is her full name!) is the same as the loss of a person to me. For ten years she has ceremoniously grunted, shattered my crockery with gay abandon in an attempt to suggest to me that maybe I might like to feed her dinner, lay on my chest and purred when I went to sleep at night and attacked my ankles as I’ve walked through the living room in the dead of night on route to the bathroom. She has dispatched of rogue bugs, the occasional mouse and lots of cheese with admirable efficiency. She has sat on the feet of guests and slept on their beds at night. She’s protective you see. She used to chew my hair. Freaky cat.

On Sunday, while I was organizing some stuff I had in storage, she hindered my attempts at every turn by getting in the storage boxes and sitting on my clothing piles. Afterwards she cuddled with me on the bed while we procrastinated doing any more work because we’re a team you see. I work and she gets in my way, It’s an arrangement we have.

Then a few hours later she was gone, just like that.

She is beautiful. I say is, because she is. Not was. It sucks losing a friend of any species. But I wanted you to meet her, so here she is. My Finn-the-cat. An awesome force of nature.




Sunday, May 18, 2008

Bite Sized Thoughts

Inside the minds of celebrities.

Today: Gary Busey


"Hey I'm lookin' goooood! Hey baby nice ass, swing that sweet thang over here! Dang, let me tap that! Since when is gin cheaper than gasoline? Where's my hairdresser's phone number? I totally look great for a dude who drinks his bodyweight in Scotch every day...whoa my chompers are HUGE! Hey, I'm still relevant, ok? This Cover Girl Age Defying Foundation is da bomb! YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAA! Hook me up to a vodka IV! I wonder if Mickey Rourke and Nick Nolte wanna come over and part-ay?"

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The True Story of the American Civil War

Let’s get one thing straight. The American Civil War was long and included a list of battles as long as shit. Allow me to condense it into tasty, bite-sized morsels for you.

In 1860, Abraham Lincoln – he’s the tall, gangly dude with the beard and funny hat, who looked like Jimmy Stewart - was elected president, despite only managing to garner 40% of the popular vote. He was the guy who said, regarding slavery, "Government cannot endure permanently half slave, half free...", which pissed off a lot of people in the South, who immediately polished their muskets and rushed to the dry cleaners with their white robes and pointy white hats, all in a tizzy.

In the first few months of Lincoln’s presidency, South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana and Texas, all seceded from the Union, unhappy with all that Yankee claptrap about all people being equal, regardless of skin color and human beings not being permitted to “own” other human beings. I'm unclear what baseball had to do with anything however.

By spring of 1861 the South was so pissed off, their grits were going sour. Some French-named idiot, Pierre Beauregard, got a bee in his bonnet about something or other and dragged his Confederate derriere to Charleston, South Carolina where he opened fire with some big, scary cannons. At whom or what I don’t know, just pretend you’re with me, people. Anyway, somehow that started the Civil War.

It’s sort of ironic when you think about it, because the French are normally running away from wars, or surrendering in the first hour, so old Pierre was something of a rarity.

Lincoln, slightly alarmed by this rudeness, called a meeting of Congress and asked for 75,000 men to come and help kick some Confederate butt. This dude named Robert E. Lee, who held a high post in the U.S. Army, and who rode around in an orange 1970s’ car with a Confederate flag emblazoned on the roof (I can’t remember if he was the blonde or the brunette though…), was offered charge of the Union army. He spat on the ground and said, “Bite me, Abe!” or words to that effect, causing Lincoln to turn white and call for his mama.

Just after this, Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina seceded from the Union also, which left the Union holding only states where people had proper dental hygiene and professional hairdressers. This however, meant that the Confederacy held eleven states, all of dubious orthodontic merit, with a population of nine million people and four million slaves, who, as we all know, are not people at all.

Nine million people with mullets is a pretty scary concern for any attacking army.

Lincoln, getting ticked off with these shenanigans, unleashed a medieval ass whooping in the form of a blockade on Southern Ports, blocking supplies to the south for the rest of the war, causing people to eat their own grandmothers' ear lobes and wear clothing made from leaves. You might not read that anywhere else, because not everyone is as in the know as I am. Word!

In disgust, Robert E. Lee resigned his post in the U.S. army and ran away to Richmond, Virginia, where he had a little girl hissy-fit, before taking over command of the military and naval forces of Virginia for the Confederacy.

Meanwhile, Congress thought, “Oh shit!” and immediately called up 500,000 more men for the Union.

The Union army, headed by a huge Yankee, Irvin McDowell (must've been a pitcher I guess) got their asses handed to them on a platter at Bull Run, southwest of Washington D.C. and Abe replaced McDowell with George B. McClellan, whose head immediately swelled to the size of a large beach ball, with all the power he thought this meant he held over Congress, the president and the country. He was a little bit like Bill O’Reilly today, only with more guns and minus the designer ties.

For the next three years a whole lot of stuff happened. Frequent bloody battles were to the Civil War, what large lapels, armpit sweat, perms and disco were to 1977. In the war there was little dancing but the choreography was eerily similar…

On January 1, 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation went into effect. This was the declaration of freedom for the slaves in those Confederate states not held by the Union, and which people in the South didn’t care for one iota, mainly because it meant they’d have to either pay their slaves, or learn how to wash their own frigging dishes.

The same year Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address which lost me after the second line but which basically called upon people to continue kicking ass for the Union in honor of all the dead soldiers, whom he dedicated the Address to. He then buried all the dead soldiers in General Lee’s back garden and called it Arlington.

In 1864, Lincoln put Ulysses S. Grant in charge of the Union army. This was way before some other dude put him on the fifty dollar note. Grant decided to go after General Lee and some heavy scene went down in Richmond, but I fell asleep during that part in history class and all I can remember was some Confederate ass took a kicking and Lee surrendered like a Frenchman.

That was pretty much the beginning of the end for the Confederacy, since the North had effectively and spitefully cut them off from the vital supplies they needed to continue the war. The last Confederate army surrendered in 1865 in Indian (feathers not dots) Territory, giving the North its victory.

In April 1865 some asshole actor named John Wilkes Booth, who had a lithp lovey, took exception to Lincoln’s support for voting rights for blacks, crept up behind Lincoln in the Ford’s Theater in Washington and shot him in the back of the head. What a gentleman. Lincoln died the next day and as a consolation got his face printed on a five-dollar note, in a portrait that makes him look seasick for all eternity.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Today's Ejamacashunal Essay

You know what’s weird? Beefeaters!

No, I don’t mean Texans or rampant carnivores who like to tear the flank off a cow with their bare hands and teeth, I mean those guys who guard Buckingham Palace. They might even walk the corgis, because someone has to stop the royal dog poop from staining the antique Persian carpets.

Now I was under the impression that this was a beefeater right here:


However, no, he’s just a guy in a big, fey chapeau who stands emotionless at the Palace gates to scare off ne'er-do-wells and intruders who want to maybe touch the Queen's bottom or like...perverts who want to see Prince Charles.

We like to say things to these fur-hatted fellows, as they aren't allowed to respond or react to anything. You can taunt those guys all day long and insult their mothers and they won’t even be TEMPTED to make you into a kebab with their bayonets. Well they might be tempted, but they're not allowed to do it, so if you go to visit the Palace be sure to greet them with a hearty “FUCK YOU, Q-TIP HEAD!

No, honestly, they like it!

I don’t understand why it’s necessary to have such a large fur hat though. What does he keep in there and is it something useful like a bottle of gin? ( Beefeater Gin maybe?)

Also, what if that guy has to pee? Maybe he has an elaborate hidden system full of pulleys and secret chambers that direct his pee-pee into a convenient hot water bottle type contraption strapped to his leg?

I mean, it’s a thought, right? And even if this isn't true someone should market that pronto, because there's obviously a huge demand! Someone should open a Cafe Press store and sell them with the Queen's crest emblazoned on them. Because a royal pee vessel is superior to your ordinary, run of the mill pee vessel.

Incidentally, on second thoughts I'm totally patenting that so don't think about it.

This is actually a Beefeater here:

They’re totally gay looking. In fact they look like they are straight out of a “Blackadder” episode in their little lampshade hats and ruffly, frilly shirty things.

You can insult them too but they’re liable to strap you to a cannon ball and launch you at Scotland, so I don’t recommend it. Plus they might LOOK flaming, but they’re ex-military and won’t think twice about decapitating you if you even suggest their mom has a penis.

Friday, May 9, 2008

Haiku Friday

I'm feeling lazy and boring so it seems fitting that I present to you my Friday so far, in haiku:

Rain can bite my ass
Where is my precious sunshine?
Why is life so hard?

Grilled cheese for the win
Greasy, tasty and so good
Now who's on the phone?


You are strangely mad
Not in a good way either
Shove it up your ass

Hey man, don't feel blue!
You deserve a giant hug
Just come over here

Jesus Effing Christ
Vermont and New Hampshire suck
Which way round are they?


Monday, May 5, 2008

Who is Mike and Why Is His Booze Hard? Because I've Drunk a Lot of It and It's Pretty Soft!


Dear Mike:

I don't know who the hell you are but you know your shit when it comes to alcoholic goodness, let me tell you. Your Hard Lime in particular is a Guv'ner favourite - filled with tart yet sweet, sultry, citrusy sexiness and sass. Yes Sir, it puts a spring in my jaded old step that's for damn sure. Then I fell over cos things got all blurry after four bottles.

Not that I wish to pick favorites. Your Hard Cranberry also does the trick nicely in a pinch and I see you have a Hard Berry now too, you wicked, wicked boy. I will suck the neck of one of those pretty soon, I am certain.

I'm not a whore though. Sure, I've had dalliances in the past with Corona Light (flighty and only in it for the good times) and Labatt Ice (brooding and incomprehensible), Smirnoff Ice (confused as to its identity - is it vodka or is it a malty lemony drink or something else entirely, I couldn't take the anxiety or ambiguity) and even Scrumpy Jack cider, which used and abused me and made me dance to Bon Jovi IN PUBLIC. Well naturally, that was a fling that had to end.

Since I met you Mike and your Hard goodness (!) I know I never need stand alone amongst the Miller and Coors and substandard alco-pops ever again. I just wanted to say thank you. And that wasn't a burp it was merely the chair.

And your catch phrase there: "Cold, hard and refreshing"? You know what else is cold, hard and refreshing, Mike? ANNA NICOLE SMITH! (Well ok, two out of three ain't bad...)

Cheers!