Uh-oh.

I have just drunkenly re-watched Say Anything. Although it pains me, I may have to defend Lloyd Dobler as presented in the first half of the, uh, as they say in Ireland, fil-um.

*Public Service Announcement/Warning: Saints are known to be prone to visions, right? Well, I'm prone to projecting friends of mine onto pop culture-y bits of flotsam. This, unfortunately, may indeed be one of them.

*Tsk* The Mayan Calendar Runs Out and the World Implodes 12/23/13* Anyway...

...so of course Whitney Houston will be dead before age 59.


*or if you prefer The X-Files, they went with 12/22/13. But that was sooo last century.

The Chavviest Chavs Who Ever Did Chav

The Banbury Massive. It's like a little piece of Southie in Oxfordshire.

Hayez Squad, however, appear to be an actual, existing outfit. Heh.

Poo-doggie

The Georgia General Assembly is sponsoring a bill to double the number of women's restrooms in public buildings, one reason being "due to gender differences in the need to use the restroom." Uh, yeah, whatever. Anyway, all this talk about personal evacuation means it's time for another story...

...a few General Assembly persons ago, and when I was still in possession of a tranny-tastic Georgia driver's license photo, my district's state House representative lived in my neighborhood. One of his kids had a habit for smearing poo on the deck of the community pool. The end.

And!

Icelander #4: this time it's something about bananas. And some bit about how Scottie Pippen looks like Stewie from Family Guy.

BrASS in Pocket

Mark Cuban wants to be the Magwitch to your Pip.

Yet I Highly Doubt Any of Them Were Born Before 1985

McFly is a poncey boyband dressed up in a DIY-garage pastiche. However, they have their own version of late '80s favorite Paperboy. Except you throw records instead of papers (hey, desperate times call for desperate measures).

Yeah-Yeah-Yeah...

...blah-blah ubiquitous retread, but it's this bit of exposition that earns a piping-hot cup of shut-the-fuck-up:

"Cathy Gurny of Scarsdale, N.Y., watches the show with her 9-year-old son, Harris, but she's worried Trump is corrupting him. For one thing, Harris now wants to be a real-estate mogul just like Trump. 'I tell him you don't have to be tough and aggressive like that,' says Gurny. She's also had to stop Harris from shouting 'You're fired!' at the nanny. 'He was scaring her,' she says."

New Jerzee

Meh.

Now if, say, Heatherette does a Bill T-shirt? I'm totally there.

270,000+ Icelanders Say...

...get blogging, bitches!

Yes, nearly every day for the past week, I've randomly come across blogs written in Icelandic. A testament to their national pride and identity in the written word? Being all flash with that 100% literacy rate and crazy-high standard of living? Who knows: until then, here are the first three in a surely sizeable list -

1. Sigurros.
2. Dundur og drasl i Danmark.
3. Stigur.

The Cross-Eyed High-Life

Experience motion sickness from the comfort of your cubicle.

Hmmmm... Toast?

Now, when I first saw the new Quiznos ads on TV, I thought, "Oh, good! The guys at Rathergood got themselves a big ol' American advertising campaign."

Except it appears that's not the case.

Plagiarism? Harmless homage? Complete oblivion on the part of Quiznos' ad agency to the existence (and occasional VH1 cameos) of Rathergood for the past two-ish years?

My Ticket's Validated...

...and it's for Gay Penguin. With Peabs as the VP.

This Just In:

Britney Spears' new tune is, indeed, a Transylvanian carney dressed as a Vegas hooker: right-click & open, like.

Hooray for the Disaffected Youth of Finland!

For they truly do know how to make their Flash music videos.

See? I Told You All Those McSweeney's Folks Were Full of Over-Inflated Crap.

*points and laughs* At least I have new ammo the next time I decide to get piss-faced at Afterwords.

Oh no! My Brother Looks Like Lex Luthor!

3rd from the front, with the vein popping out of his head. Insert all those wacky lines from Platoon, Full Metal Jacket, etc. [here].

But since this thing in Quantico is not the Navy, in Washington state, or near a factory teeming with townie whores, An Officer and a Gentleman might not work so well. Except if they start kick-boxing with some 'roid-ed up drill sargeant who then kicks 'em in the nuts. Or something like that. It'll probably happen.

Anyway, the point is, my brother can easily kick my ass. And probably yours, too.

Weekly ?-Bound Round-Up

Hey, if your last name is Yingling, I guess cheap beer would eventually be involved.

Prognosis: I think we've found a new member of the bar staff. (Now, if only La Devil would come out of retirement on this one... oh, yeah, and the AA Jesus-pilot guy, too.)

Lloyd Dobler Always Did Kinda Creep Me Out...

...and I'm always glad when Duckie gets shot down at the end of Pretty In Pink. Oh, and I hate, hate emo.

Turns out I have an innate survival-skill when it comes to these wastes-of-space know as "The Whimpster." (With a proper quiz, and everything! It must be scientific, like!)

For a Good Time, Call

Yearning for a piece of 1982? Want to re-enact that cloying, royalty-whoring Cingular commercial? Yes? Well, get bidding, then.

"So the brains of people deeply in love do not look like those of people experiencing strong emotions, but... like those of people snorting coke."

Aw, bless.

Talk Amongst Yourselves:

Pazz n Jop poll is out.

Apropos of That One Story...

... from a while back about how there was some study that concluded that people form significant relationships with other people who have IQs similar to one another (within 30 points, I believe), would the same hold true for, say, a message board?

Case in point: the plethora of boards one finds linked to each story that appears on Yahoo! And take, for example, this story about a Newfoundland winning Best In Show last night at Westminster. Or this French woman marrying her dead boyfriend. Amusing, even thought-provoking stories, to a certain extent; yet their accompanying boards do nothing to supplement the text for me...

*sigh*

Control Your TeMPeR

Oh, man. Hammer? Meet Nail. Now hit that head.

Peabs!

Peabs may indeed be some BoBo Von Blondie Wayne County fool, but whatever. You stick photos up of Bill Cosby, you get a spot in the "click 'n mix."

Holla!

And the Expeditious Return of "Please, Your Voice Was Not Made For Radio" (Or Whatever It Was I Called It):

Reading her biography, you think, "Hey, this Lisa Nurnberger sounds pretty cool." But see, "sounds" is the operative word. Figuratively, yeah. Literally? Her voice is god-awful painful. The hammer and the cochlea in my inner-ear say, "Man, fuck this," and I go temporarily deaf whenever Ms. Nurnberger hits the mic.

*Pssst*

This is also rumored to be the last U2 album, too. Which is a good thing.

Also? Steve Lillywhite is a good 2-3 inches shorter than me, and his face is a little leathery. And there's an old-hat whisper going around the Isles (as it's such) of Bono and Andrea Corr, with her having to go to the emergency room, for, um, a bit of too much [insert a certain senator for Pennsylvania here].

As you were.

Dead Horse, Yes;

but I'll speak for myself, thanks.

*cough* "Carlin had sued on behalf of 'all Americans'..."

Now, whether this is sloppy, vague word-order on the reporter's behalf, the fact remains: I'll speak for myself. I do not need a litigious proxy with far too much time on her hands and seeking "'the equivalent of some or all of one month's cable bill'" from a terrestrial broadcast.

Disclaimer:

This chick's not on the guest-list. And while PG (name re-branding, innit) likes the legroom to Europe, American Airlines doesn't exactly afford the same pedal/podiatric respect domestically.

Enough About Nurse Gollum...

...LobemanMan has unearthed the real Casa Bonita.

I'm, like, totally having my next birthday party there. Except not.

Charmingly, it sounds very reminiscent of Panama City, Panama, Gringo/Zonie-hotpot La Cascada, where I celebrated birthdays 6, 7, and 8. I found a piece of jewelry in my cake one time, but sadly, my birthday doesn't fall around Fat Tuesday and the plausibility of a king cake. My dad used to also uncover his own souvenirs from within his dinner selections, too. I recall him being quite unfazed; then again, his favorite food while we lived there was bucket-loads of ceviche he bought from the pirate-video store in Corundu.

My mother, of course, was always appalled. But she did admit she had a nice tan, though.

Good times.

Crinkle Cut: Ribbed For Her Pleasure

Ain't it fun when urban legends get dressed up as copy on a slow news day?

But regardless, if you can't afford it, why not just take it up a notch, then? Eh? *wink-nudge*


*crowd boos, throws requisite tomatoes*

Oddly Enough: DC 1, PHL 0

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The Minnesota of Africa

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And...

...I really am going to Hell now.

Weekly ?-Bound Round-Up:

Cecelia Ahern: you're fired. Like, ohmygosh, really.

Yeah... No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Gotta Pour My 1040 on the Curb, Yo

Master P nabbed for tax evasion. How very... um, white-collar suburban of him.

(With all due respect, one of my most favorite music videos is "Make Em Say Ugh." It just gets me all nostalgic for the 1992 smackdown-melee-extravaganza that started out as just another basketball game between the Zweibrucken and Karlsruhe American High Schools. Ask me about it some time. *wipes away tear*)

Breaker-Breaker

It's totally like a lost episode of BJ and the Bear.

Oh My God, Dude!

Insert South Park reference [here]:

"Rebeca shares blood vessels and arteries with her second head, which gets nourishment from what she eats. Although only partially developed, the mouth on her second head moves when Rebeca is being breast-fed. Tests indicate activity in the second brain."

*runs and hides, and books a choice table in Hell*

Zone Out Enough...

...and over-enunciate your "R"s, and you, too, will start to go Dutch.

Do Your Part:

Support the Pizza Party USA initiative.

The Man already knows where you live, anyway.

You Never See Richard Chamberlain and Richard Carpenter In the Same Room, Now Do You?

Today's song is Downey, CA, by Saint Etienne. Why, you might ask?

1. For obvious reasons, like.
2. The kids are back to mangle your "Please Hold" favorites (for the amnesiac, or those who actually turned off the television, please see this specific exhibit.)
3. Like most people, I am so totally uncool, I'm actually quite cool. Certainly for Saint Etienne; and likewise Karen Carpenter.

The money's in the basement, kids.

Once More, With Feeling:

Fuck you, Chuck Klosterman.

Form a Line, Laydeez:

Mother Popcorn!

Joke-Yahoo Personals could be the new joke-Amazon wishlists. Quite possibly, indeed. At least for the rest of the week.

Oh, No! They're On to Me!

*Cough*

"I am a crashing disaster. I spend most of my time rearranging paperclips, sending inane e-mails to my friends and making endless cups of PG Tips. I don't think I've done anything productive for years."
Anon, London, UK

Just switch that bit about the PG Tips with "downing loads of [namebrand soft drink]," flip the sides of the Atlantic, and there you go: you've found me out.

Although my favorite has to be Kevin from Hertford: "I'm not sure if I'm incompetent or lazy. I've been self employed for 6 years and have never made a profit. Generally I just sit around for most of the day. Wife has a good job though."