11.26.2007

le sigh #1

I still wish that things had "MADE IN TAIWAN" on the bottom of them.

le sigh

Things I am currently sick of

- The Bush Presidency: cos, c'mon, it's the most easy one I've got going here.
- The constant strip mining of our childhood in the sake of nostalgia: cos that's what nostalgia means, it means you're paying for shitty things in your childhood. You remember them at such a high point that you fail to realize you were six when you originally thought such things were so kick ass.
- Paris Hilton: I wouldn't do her, neither would you. Unless, of course, you were so desperate you'd fuck a hole in the ground. A hole in the ground lubed up and wrapped with barbwire.
- The PS3 "potential": when I was younger, 90% of time I had "not living up to potential" checkmarked somewhere in my report card. I never quite understood that. How was some kindergarten teacher able to predict my future performance?? With that said, please explain to me why I should pay $399(minimum) for a system that won't reach its' potential for another year or so? The 360 is about half way now, and I still wouldn't pay that much for it. I got it as a gift.
- The console war as a whole: competition is good, you fuckholes. Why would you want less systems in the market. That's what Sony wants. And judging from their past performance, they don't know what the fuck is going on, they just get lucky. See: Walkman, Discman, CD format.
- Moonbases: where the fuck are they??? I mean, what the fuck, guys?!? We went there in 19-goddamn-69. I'm no math major, but that was about 38 years ago. Now we have cell phones so small we can lose them in the change pocket of our jeans, but we don't have inflatable moon bases? Something is very, very, very wrong here.
- Drug laws: Stop kidding yourself. Just cos you are a United States Senator doesn't mean you can go to six different doctors for a Vicodin scrip. C'mon now. Rich doesn't mean above. And yeah, Vike's aren't grown by a bunch of hippies, but I guess if weed gave you a mil plus, you'd be a little more sympathetic.
- Blog posts that are fueled liquor/marijuana: You'd think I'd be over this by now. I mean, for fuck's sake, I'm 28 years old. This is junior high shit.

11.24.2007

Snickety SNACKT!

I'm pretty sure that I must possess some form of a healing factor. The reasoning behind this is: earlier today I started feeling shitty. Chills, muscle aches, a fever that spiked at about 104.3 or so, and just general malaise.
Now- I feel pretty good. The fever was 100-something last check, I can sit up without wanting to die, and I don't feel like I'm going to die of hypothermia without socks on. I tell yeah, they should just slap an adamantium skeleton in me, give me some claws, and then mentally fuck with me over the course of years, so as to turn me into a hyper-efficient death machine.
Yeah...

11.21.2007

Whuckah-chuckah!

Several things....

1. I have quit smoking. Yes. I have quit one of the few things that makes me feel calm, satisfied, and cool. I had to do it, though. I smoke about a pack a day, give or take, and the cash that was being spent on that shit is just better spent elsewhere. Primarily on weed. Or gas. Cos you know, those dune coons aren't making this shit any cheaper, despite their sitting on what analysts refer to as "a fucking shitload, man". But yeah, money is getting lean, so I'm trimming some fat.
And I figure if I'm making one step, I might as well make another. I'm going to call it "Josh's 10 Year Plan to Healthy Living". This is step one, the no smoking thing. Step two is going to be the elimination of caffeine, which is going to suck hard. Step three is cutting out un-needed sugars. And then I guess in between some of those steps, I'm going to introduce a gym to the whole aspect.

2. The actual typed out first draft for the much bandied about TV pilot is about half done. I know it shouldn't take that long to get it out, but I discovered in the process of writing it that I have a shitload of control freak issues I need to work out. There's tons of direction that I need to put in there, in terms of how lines need to be said, what people are doing, the mood of a scene I'm attempting for, etc., etc. There's more to it than just slapping lines down on paper and hoping that whomever you've got acting it out can interpret the meaning behind the scene. I decided to err on the side of caution and S-P-E-L-L it out.

3. This is the big one: my lovely wife, Banana Pants, and I are heavy with seed. Well, rather, she's heavy with seed. I just run to the store for one gallon(3.78 L) jars of pickles, ice cream, popcorn, and various other needs. More or less whatever she asks for at the time. And hey, the way I look at it...going to the store to pick this shit up is the easy part. It's not like I have to store some fetus inside me like a vending machine for nine mos.
All joking aside here, but it's usually easier for me to put this shit into, I guess "reality", by typing rather than saying. Despite my outgoing/extrovert/dickhead exterior, I'm not really comfortable talking about a lot of personal shit(provided it isn't my bowel or masturbatory habits), so it's hard for me. But this whole "being a dad" thing has me outright terrified. We could start with the whole initial year thing, or the toddler phase, or Jesus, the teenage phase. We could pick a starting point and go from any one of them. But shit, man, it's fucking scary, you know? It's one thing running my own life into the ground, cos at the end of the day I'm the only one that has to fall asleep with me. I'm the only one that has to live, long term, with my decisions.
Kids change all that shit. Something fierce.
For example: I joke a lot about not doing shit for the environment, cos I'm just going to fuck up this planet like my parents did for me. "Let them figure it out," I say to people that stare at me slack-jawed as I throw my waste oil down the storm drain. It's different when you have actual progeny following you into the world as opposed to the hypothetical variety. But it's not so much littering that has me worried, cos let's face it: how badly can you really fuck up 20 miles of blacktop with a piece of paper??
Honestly, I'm just worried that I'm going to end up like my father, and that I'm going to set into motion some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy(NOW STARRING CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!!!) where I try not to be my dad, and I end up being everything that he was. And then when my kid has a kid, they try to do the same thing(supposing that they're a male themselves), and they do what I did. Yeah, good times. It'll be just like reliving 1996 when my dad and I were about a 1/4 inch of drywall away from setting each other on fire. With our minds.
Like I said: good times.
But hey, I was (sort of)a psychology major in college. I know(sort of) about the mind and shit, how the brain works, and how that most men are destined to become their fathers. So I'm aware that I've got the deck stacked against me. And that's what freaks me out. Not that I'm not looking forward to beating the hell out of my child when I catch (hypothetically)him huffing spray paint in the garage, but I don't want to be that balding dude standing in his(again, hypothetically; please don't make me keep doing this) bedroom screaming at him about a C+ in some U.S. History class. I mean c'mon...everyone knows that U.S. History doesn't matter. We have cable television now, we don't need to know this shit anymore.

But I digress.....
To be honest, I'm going to spill something for you all here: I don't believe that one person can make a difference. I don't believe that one person is going to be standing on a street corner with a sign, and GW is going to think to himself, Shit...this war is fucked. I should stop this.
Not going to happen. At all. People don't change shit. Except!!!! Except other people. And as cynical and jaded as I am, I'm really an optimist and a romantic at heart. I want to believe the best in people. I want to believe that we can make a difference.
And I am going to make a difference. I'm going to have help, but I'm going to make a difference. And I'm going to do it through my kid.
If you ask me, that's far more impressive than swaying a presidential election or running a tax reform through Congress or whatever. But then again, maybe I'm biased.

P.S.- If this child is a girl, I will be going to jail in about 15 or 16 years. You can bet on it.

11.07.2007

It started so innocently...

So I was just looking for those resin figurines of anime figures taking a dump. They're hilarious, and yet fucking disgusting at the same time. I don't know why I was looking for them, it just popped into my head for some reason. I got home, drank a pot of coffee, and decided that I needed to look up pictures of figurines shitting into their hands and what not.
I couldn't find any. But I found something much, much better.

!!!!BE WARNED!!!!

There is a link I'm going to post, and there are some of you that might find it pretty fucked up. However, if you have suffered one too many head injuries, and/or weren't hugged enough as a child, you will probably find them hilarious. Basically, there's some future sex offender out there with too much time, fake blood, and toys on his hands, and he took it upon himself to stage horrific sexual scenes with these dolls. I never really wanted to see Barbie get fucked to death by a horse, but hey, I couldn't not look. And plus, there's just one image that cracks me up.




Yeah, he's choking her. It's fucking great, isn't it? Since this isn't really a porno blog, I put horrible black bars on the so-called "naughty bits". But yeah, the dude doll does have a penis. And yeah, at one point you see it flaccid. It's so great.

Go here and see for yourselves. But I warn you: It is graphic. And it is awful. But goddammah, is it hilarious sometimes.

P.S.- If you know where to find the poop dolls, let me know. I fucking want one.