One of My Dreams Is Coming True

14 Jun

My posts about fatties are getting torn apart in Jezebel comments, in a thread about a Hugo “let me take a break from preaching sanctimonious feminist boilerplate to try to kill my girlfriend and fuck a couple of my nineteen year old students” Schwyzer article no less.  Sadly the discussion is now in their “groupthink” area which is un-trafficked, but the ladies do not disappoint:

http://jezebel.com/groupthink/forum?comment=50609638

And you know, they are not wrong.  I am an asshole. I am a “Piece. Of. Shit.” with three periods.  I am a “sad little loser.”  I deserve to have my “balls shrivel up and fall off.”  I am “wrapped in a muscle suit of hate.”  A muscle suit, of hate. Continue reading →

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Celebrity Sighting: Busta Rhymes

13 Jun

From 2005:

I saw Busta Rhymes in the gym. He was with a whole crew. They stopped the regular gym music and put on… a fucking Busta Rhymes record, the one where he says “If you really wanna party with me/ Put your hands where my eyes can see.” The entourage was rocking out to it, and Busta started repeating the lyrics to them in weird primitive English, like: “it say: ‘put yo’ hands where my eyes can see!’” But speaking, not rapping. And they would laugh uproariously for some reason.

That’s how I want to travel someday- with a cadre of jewel-encrusted black men the size of tyrannosaurs, who laugh whenever I speak like it was the funniest fucking thing they ever heard.

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Protected: Inflatable Pig

12 Jun

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Delicioustacos, the President Urgently Needs Your Help

11 Jun

Fuck you, President Barack Obama.

And First Lady Michelle Obama, and Vice President Joe Biden, and fuck you Anne Marie Habershaw, and David Axelrod; fuck you Jim Messina, fuck you Mary Jane Stevenson; eat a fucking dick Julianna “Cock Destroyer” Smoot; choke on my balls Stephanie “Turd” Cutter; fuck youleta, Katherine Archuleta; Rufuckyou* Rufus Gifford, and on and on and on to all the dozens of jerkoffs who email me CONSTANTLY, EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY begging for money for Barack Obama.  A president whom I voted for and supported, but of course, my fucking VOTE doesn’t mean shit since I live in California and unless you actually skullfucked a baby on TV there is no way you’re not carrying this state.  So who gives a shit how I vote.  No, fuckface, your vote means nothing.  We need your motherfucking MONEY.

Fuck all of you because every five god damn minutes I look at my blackberry and see the red asterisk of a new incoming email and I think it’s a new comment on my blog or correspondence from a friend and instead it’s you god damn panhandlers finding some new excuse to hit me up for cash.  If I donate three dollars I get a chance to have dinner with George Clooney,  which– if I’m having dinner with George that’s work for me; I better be getting paid.  Or: RED ALERT! Mitt Romney has outraised Obama for the first time, in fact the first time Barack has been outfunded by an opponent since 2007– well shit, that second part is news to me; I thought you guys were the fucking underdogs.  Are you telling me you had MORE money than the Republicans this whole time? Fuck off then. Look where that got you. I should be marrying my male bride at the Satanic church before retiring home to my mountain of free insurance and unemployment payments by now. Continue reading →

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Dating in LA: Pros

11 Jun

Here is the real problem with “dating in LA.”  I hate even typing that phrase.  “dating in LA.”  Which, everyone says it over and over again that “it’s hard to meet someone in LA.”  Yes, it is hard to meet someone in LA if you are stupid, ugly, annoying, old and fat.  It is perhaps not as hard to meet someone in Mobile, Alabama even if you have one or more of these qualities because once you find someone and they find you, you are sticking together because what the fuck else can you get.

But it is “hard to meet someone in LA” even if you are a six foot one employed white male with 9 per cent body fat and a decent tan and a full head of hair that even has some cool, like, the perfect very slight amount of graying going on, and a reasonably strong jawline, and an IQ three and one half standard deviations above the norm, which is supposedly valued, and a sense of humor probably also three and one half standard deviations above the norm, and good skills and knowledge w/r/t art, and music, and other disciplines that chicks are supposedly interested in and want to discuss.  And a face that, while, no, you are not George Clooney, is litotically “not unattractive,” which is all that everyone except a vanishingly small percentage of the population can hope for. Continue reading →

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Article Review: Cat Fancy: The Cat That Changed Debbie Gibson’s Life

10 Jun

CAT FANCY: THE CAT THAT CHANGED DEBBIE GIBSON’S LIFE
From CAT FANCY, August 2010. Print Edition found in the waiting room of Angelus Pet Hospital of Glendale, CA., as your correspondent waited to get his male Domestic Medium Hair “Bud” his annual vaccinations.

Summary:

“Deborah” Gibson, which she insists on being called, and is thusly referred to in the actual article even though the cover says “Debbie,”* found a newborn kitten outside of a Miami concert hall. The beast was ill and badly injured. Years later “Gleason” and “Deborah” are inseparable, thanks in part to the mothering done early on by Gibson’s cocker spaniel.

Now Gleason enjoys laying on the piano as Gibson plays whatever musical ideas she is pursuing in a misguided attempt to reattain cultural relevance. Aside from his tendency to lay directly in front of her sheet music, this habit is a pleasure to both Gibson and her furry friend.

Analysis: Continue reading →

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Protected: If You Fat Chicks

10 Jun

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Girls

10 Jun

Her: So whatever happened with that girl?

Me: Which one?

Her: …

Me: I mean, whoever it is, I can tell you: nothing.

Me: I fucked her, or I didn’t fuck her, and now I don’t speak to her anymore.

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Eulogy for a Lizard

9 Jun

A couple weeks ago I came home and there was a lizard in the hallway.  Little one– one of the brown lizards that are always crawling on the walls of my apartment building.  I tried to catch him; scoop him up with a pizza delivery menu, because I figured my cat would get him and torture him to death.  But he was too quick.  He scampered under my dresser.  Which, OK.  If he’s fast enough to get away from me, maybe he’s fast enough to get away from the cat.  Now I have a lizard in my house.

I saw him a couple times after that– he’d come out into the bathroom where there are spiders and silverfish and moths and stuff, presumably to hunt. I liked this idea, of having a lizard in my house.  I liked that there were adequate insects in the place to feed him.  He was part of the household. You know.  Doing an important task.  Taking care of harmful pests. Continue reading →

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Protected: Hey Kids: You Should Make Your Own Crack to Smoke at Home! It’s Easy and Fun

8 Jun

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