Friday, March 30, 2007
Dude, where's my, um, my....zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Authorities were called to the home of Woody Harrelson when neighbors reported a large, strange smelling plume of smoke emanating from it's windows. Oddly enough, when contacted later for comments, residents were unable to recall filing the report but did ask repeatedly if reporters had andy Dorito's, Bugles, or Bacon.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A sphincter says Whatthefuck?
WorstPreviews.com
Russell Crowe is Sherlock Holmes
03-28-2007 (17:00:22)
According to StarPulse, Russell Crowe is being touted to star as Sherlock Holmes in a new movie based on Arthur Conan Doyle's legendary crime novels. The "Gladiator" star is an unusual choice for the role - but Hollywood bosses intend the new movie to "focus more on Holmes' physical attributes."A source tells British newspaper the Daily Express, "Unlike previous films this one is going to focus more on Holmes' physical attributes, including his talent for bare-knuckle and sword fighting, which were both mentioned in the original books."
Russell is the favorite for the role as it's felt he'll give the character the action-man-like qualities the part is going to require. He's also proved in past films that he can pull off a convincing British accent.
OK, I can pull off a British accent and hold a sword (by sword, I mean my immense penis). That doesn't mean any schmuck can play Sherlock Holmes. And '...focus on Holmes' physical attributes'.....Whatthefuck? In my humble opinion, Holmes was the epitome of brains over brawn. Deductive reasoning over brute force. Not, "Hey, how hard can you punch? Great! You're hired!".
I guess this means that if I get into a couple of bar fights I can audition for this role. Hollywood here I come!!
Fucking Hollywood idiots.
Labels:
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russell crowe,
sherlock holmes,
worstpreviews
Reverse Darwinism
New York Times
GERONIMO, Tex. — Levi Draher, 16, walked to the front of the Navarro High School gym in early March and picked up the microphone before a hushed audience of fellow teenagers.
Levi was found by his mother last Oct. 28, clinically dead, suspended on a rope he had slung across a bunk-bed frame. He had pushed his neck onto the rope, he told the rapt audience, aiming to achieve a surging rush as his brain was starved and then replenished with blood just before the point of unconsciousness.
“I did it because it felt good and I didn’t think I’d get caught,” said Levi, a slow-talking, sardonic skateboarder and hockey player from San Antonio. “Do I consider myself a miracle?” asked Levi, who told the students he had played the game three times before his accident. “Yes, I do.”
What. The. FUCK?!
No, you backwater, bottom feeding, knuckle dragger. You are not, by any stretch of the imagination a miracle. A miracle is a hand grenade landing at your feet and not exploding. A miracle is a bus hitting you at 40 mph and you survive without a scratch. A miracle is Perez Hilton not being crushed by a meteor.
You are evolution's version of "Punk'd". You intentionally choke yourself to get high, almost die and call yourself a miracle. Oh, did anyone catch the fact that this douchebag has done this three times before? Yeah, three times.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Fuck you Levi Draher. Your parents should be dragged out into the streat so they can watch you be hung to ensure you don't come back this time. Maybe your 18 year old dad will think twice before putting his seed inside the next uterus that stumbles out of a crack house at 4am.
By the way, if anyone is wondering what that dog is thinking:
Dog: I eat my own feces and I have a higher IQ than this fucktard.
Labels:
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texas
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Are you listening God? It's me, Anna.
Location: Heaven
Time: 14:16 PST
Anna: Oooooh, mah head. Whoa, where am I?
Voice: You're in Heaven, Anna.
Anna: Heaven? Are you sure? I mean...
Voice: Yes, yes, we think admissions had a clerical error . But until we resolve it, we're stuck, er, I mean you will remain here, Ms. Smith.
Anna: Well, alright. So, um, are you, like, God or some junk?
Voice: (Laughing) No, no. I'm Joe, God's P.A. He's over in admissions unleashing Holy Terror. I wouldn't wanna be in that office right now!!
Anna: Oh, alright. So what do I do now?
Joe: Well, we've got some time to kill...oops! Sorry about that.....
Anna: S'okay...
Joe: Why don't we chit chat a bit. Hey, are those real??
Anna: What, you don't know? Here *lifts shirt*
Joe: Ohhhhh, snap! I knew they were fake! St. Peter soooo owes me $20!
Anna: Whatever....so who's this Peter dude?
Joe: He's kinda like the second in command up here, the guys L-O-A-D-E-D.
Anna: Really? Is he single?
Joe: Why? What did you.....heyyyyyyy.
Anna: Ah'm Just askin'......
(Phone rings)
Joe: Hello? Oh, Hey Peter.....yup, you owe me man. Pay up, bitch! Hah!
Anna: (Ass)
Joe: Oh, they figured it out, huh? No shit?! Really? Sweeeeet. Alright, I'll let her know. Peace out, bro.
Anna: What's goin' on?
Joe: Well, it looks like they got that clerical error all figured out. Looks like Satan received our toner for the new copier and we got, well......you.
Anna: So what does that mean? Do I gotta go to hell?
Joe: Well, you aint gotta go home, but you got to get the hell outta here....I love saying that!!
Anna: Hey, wait....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Labels:
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The OC's big adventure
The Orange County Register
COSTA MESA – Police are looking for four men who beat a bicyclist and stole his bicycle tonight.
The bicyclist was riding on Placentia Avenue near 16th Street about 9:15 p.m. when the four men attacked him and stole his silver and red Beach Cruiser, Costa Mesa police Sgt. Matt Grimmond said.
The man was taken to Hoag Memorial Hospital in Newport Beach with a cut to his face and abdomen pain, Grimmond said. The group of men were last seen with the bicycle headed west on 16th.
One of the assailants was said to be wearing a tight fitting gray suit, red bowtie, and blush. When the victim began screaming insults as they rode away, he heard the suit wearing assailant yell,
"I know you are, but what am I?"
Monday, March 26, 2007
The Parenting Trap
I haven't put much thought into this one as it was inspired just this morning by two fellow bloggers: TK and Chez. Chez's (?) blog about his relationship with his wife inspired TK's blog about his relationship with his parents which, naturally, inspired me to blog about my experience BEING a parent. It makes perfect sense once you slam your head onto your desk five or six times. Try it.
Let me recap for you real quick style. I have two daughters ages 11 and 9 that, as of two years ago, live with me full time. They came to live with myself and my fiance by way of a court decision involving their mother. I'll go into that some other time.
Prior to my daughters living with me, they visited with me every other weekend and on holidays. This is the way it was for several years. Needless to say, it took a bit of adjusting on my part to dealing with them on a daily basis. Not to mention the stress it put on, and continues to, my relationship with my fiance. She has never had kids before, and I only had them on weekends.
I'm going to skip delving into these aspects of our relationships in lieu of discussing the concept of parenthood. Again, I'll go into the former topic at a later time.
There are parents (and non parents) out there that will tell you that being a parent is all about self sacrifice. That now your entire reason for being is to provide for the care, and well being of this tiny creature that you brought screaming into this world. Forget about your own wants and needs, your dreams, your desires. All that takes a back seat to diapers, Underoo's, and college tuition. At one point in my life, I agreed with them
They're wrong. On some levels.
Through my daily dose of parenthood, and with an enlightened perspective on my own mothers maternal habits, and a much needed Chuck Norris style metaphorical roundhouse to the head from my fiance, I've come to a realization. Parenthood is not all about a constant nurturing, coddling, and protecting your child from the big bad world. It is in my opinion, the process of preparing your child for separation. The separation of them from you, their umbilical cord for the last 16 years (yeah, 16 , people). I've seen the folly of parents that continue to be the safety net for their children. Although I doubt you can rightfully refer to a 30 year old as a "child". Always being there to catch them when they fall, pick them back up, and put $20 in their pocket. It's the psychological equivalent of hamstringing someone.
For a while, I was hamstrung. I know this now, looking back at my early teenage years. My mother, recently come back into my life after a drug related absence to retake her parental duties. She was fantastic. She bought me whatever my brother and I wanted, made sure we had nice things, and a nice place to live. I never wanted for anything. Including motivation. Why should you work towards something when it can be handed to you if you whine long enough? Sure, I got a job when I was a teenager. Someone had to fund my underage drinking.
I think at some point she realized what she was doing was hurting me as much as it helped. Handouts became fewer and far between and rent was mandatory. She focused more on my independence and self sufficiency. For this I will be forever grateful.
Now, back to the chi'rens.
We (by that I mean my fiance and I) focus on teaching my daughters independence, and self sufficiency as a way of life. To be a strong, independent, and productive person. We've removed television from our home as an impetus for reading, discussion, and creativity. On a side note, I cannot begin to tell you what a boon to my life my she (Kristine) has been. There are people in this world that just have a way of touching your life in such a manner as to expose your previous existence as inconsequential, and empty. Kristine is the epitome of this. I weep for the emptiness and banality of my life prior to meeting her. If not for her, I would have lost all hope for a better life. Not just for myself, but for my daughters. I marvel at the changes and progress they have made since knowing her.
There is, however, another part of parenthood that had eluded me up to a point. For a long time, I had lost myself in the endeavor of parenthood. I was existing only to continue my existence so that I could provide for my daughters. The quality of my life was non evident. I simply continued to draw breath so that I might continue to draw a paycheck. What was I doing? What is the point of any of this? Maybe I should just end it now, I mean, I'm insured so I'm worth more them dead than alive, right? These were thoughts I entertained on a regular basis. Then I met Kristine. She has taught me the value of expanding my own horizons, encouraged my dreams, and at the same time kept me grounded and sane.
Yes, a parent can and should be selfish from time to time. Your children don't own you, and you don't own them. Both are there for the mutual enrichment of the life of the other. How can you teach your child about the wide world outside of your home when you are a burnt out husk of a person? What joy can you take in teaching them, when you haven't felt joy in your own life? Parents are the windows through which a child sees the world. What kind of world view will they have if the window is clouded with sorrow, and regret. Worse, what if there is nothing outside the window? What if all your child sees is a barren existence spent slaving away at thankless jobs and demeaning relationships?
A parent owes it to themselves and their children to be the person they want their child to be, not just preach to them the virtues of being worldly and good. Too many parents see their children as a means to correct the mistakes their own parents made and are at peace with that. Teach them to be more by being more yourself.
Alright, I'm spent. If you have any issues with the comments or opinions expressed by the auther of this blog, you may leave your comments at the sound of the beep..................................
Let me recap for you real quick style. I have two daughters ages 11 and 9 that, as of two years ago, live with me full time. They came to live with myself and my fiance by way of a court decision involving their mother. I'll go into that some other time.
Prior to my daughters living with me, they visited with me every other weekend and on holidays. This is the way it was for several years. Needless to say, it took a bit of adjusting on my part to dealing with them on a daily basis. Not to mention the stress it put on, and continues to, my relationship with my fiance. She has never had kids before, and I only had them on weekends.
I'm going to skip delving into these aspects of our relationships in lieu of discussing the concept of parenthood. Again, I'll go into the former topic at a later time.
There are parents (and non parents) out there that will tell you that being a parent is all about self sacrifice. That now your entire reason for being is to provide for the care, and well being of this tiny creature that you brought screaming into this world. Forget about your own wants and needs, your dreams, your desires. All that takes a back seat to diapers, Underoo's, and college tuition. At one point in my life, I agreed with them
They're wrong. On some levels.
Through my daily dose of parenthood, and with an enlightened perspective on my own mothers maternal habits, and a much needed Chuck Norris style metaphorical roundhouse to the head from my fiance, I've come to a realization. Parenthood is not all about a constant nurturing, coddling, and protecting your child from the big bad world. It is in my opinion, the process of preparing your child for separation. The separation of them from you, their umbilical cord for the last 16 years (yeah, 16 , people). I've seen the folly of parents that continue to be the safety net for their children. Although I doubt you can rightfully refer to a 30 year old as a "child". Always being there to catch them when they fall, pick them back up, and put $20 in their pocket. It's the psychological equivalent of hamstringing someone.
For a while, I was hamstrung. I know this now, looking back at my early teenage years. My mother, recently come back into my life after a drug related absence to retake her parental duties. She was fantastic. She bought me whatever my brother and I wanted, made sure we had nice things, and a nice place to live. I never wanted for anything. Including motivation. Why should you work towards something when it can be handed to you if you whine long enough? Sure, I got a job when I was a teenager. Someone had to fund my underage drinking.
I think at some point she realized what she was doing was hurting me as much as it helped. Handouts became fewer and far between and rent was mandatory. She focused more on my independence and self sufficiency. For this I will be forever grateful.
Now, back to the chi'rens.
We (by that I mean my fiance and I) focus on teaching my daughters independence, and self sufficiency as a way of life. To be a strong, independent, and productive person. We've removed television from our home as an impetus for reading, discussion, and creativity. On a side note, I cannot begin to tell you what a boon to my life my she (Kristine) has been. There are people in this world that just have a way of touching your life in such a manner as to expose your previous existence as inconsequential, and empty. Kristine is the epitome of this. I weep for the emptiness and banality of my life prior to meeting her. If not for her, I would have lost all hope for a better life. Not just for myself, but for my daughters. I marvel at the changes and progress they have made since knowing her.
There is, however, another part of parenthood that had eluded me up to a point. For a long time, I had lost myself in the endeavor of parenthood. I was existing only to continue my existence so that I could provide for my daughters. The quality of my life was non evident. I simply continued to draw breath so that I might continue to draw a paycheck. What was I doing? What is the point of any of this? Maybe I should just end it now, I mean, I'm insured so I'm worth more them dead than alive, right? These were thoughts I entertained on a regular basis. Then I met Kristine. She has taught me the value of expanding my own horizons, encouraged my dreams, and at the same time kept me grounded and sane.
Yes, a parent can and should be selfish from time to time. Your children don't own you, and you don't own them. Both are there for the mutual enrichment of the life of the other. How can you teach your child about the wide world outside of your home when you are a burnt out husk of a person? What joy can you take in teaching them, when you haven't felt joy in your own life? Parents are the windows through which a child sees the world. What kind of world view will they have if the window is clouded with sorrow, and regret. Worse, what if there is nothing outside the window? What if all your child sees is a barren existence spent slaving away at thankless jobs and demeaning relationships?
A parent owes it to themselves and their children to be the person they want their child to be, not just preach to them the virtues of being worldly and good. Too many parents see their children as a means to correct the mistakes their own parents made and are at peace with that. Teach them to be more by being more yourself.
Alright, I'm spent. If you have any issues with the comments or opinions expressed by the auther of this blog, you may leave your comments at the sound of the beep..................................
Labels:
custody,
daughters,
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single dad,
uncooked meat
Friday, March 23, 2007
I am Kratos, here me roar part II
You asked for it (didn't you?) so here it is: My full review for God Of War II for the PS2.
Let's start this off by saying that the day that the confirmation email from Gamefly came through that this game had shipped, I think I actually wet myself.
One of the big things that caught my attention was how the game went from start menu to in-game high- res cinematic. I thought that was pretty cool as opposed to a load screen. We are treated to some back story leading up to Kratos being the current God of War, which for most of us would be a win win situation, but not for our boy K-dog. He's just as pissed as ever, despite being flanked by two nubile pixel queens.
Kratos can't keep his godly hands out of things so he comes down to earth to aid his Spartan troops in routing their current enemy. After dispensing some cowboy justice, Athena takes issue with this and shrinks him down to mortal size. This is what begins the obligatory "Tutorial" portion of the game, but those of you familiar the game, this will be old hat although Kratos does have some new attacks. Shorty after mini-sizing Kratos, Athena grants life to the Colossus of Rhodes, a giant statue straddling a harbor entrance. It's a game of cat and mouse from this point, with Kratos engaging and or evading the statue at various points. With all the at goes on in the game, this has got to be one of my favs. The scenes you are presented with throughout this (the first!) stage are beautiful. A sprawling city in flames, Kratos being flung across an entire city, naked chicks in a sauna.....sweetness abounds.
After defeating the Colossus is where the story kicks into high gear. Zeus betrays Kratos after the battle, killing him. In Hades, Kratos is rescued and brought back to life by Gaia, the Titan Earth Mother. She sends Kratos on a mission to find the Sister of Fate to gain control of time and go back to the moment Zeus killed him. Astride his flaming Pegasus (heehee), Kratos hits the road (so to speak).
There are quite a few levels and great moments between here and the end of the game, but I'll highlight my favorite moments(Bear with me as I did not take notes during my game play and I am doing this all from memory).
Battle with Perseus (did he just skewer Perseus on a damn hook?! Ouch.)
Euryale (um, you SERIOUSLY need a boob job)
Atlas (sucks to be you, man)
Steeds of time (Just. Fucking. Beautiful.)
Hey, that's the Kraken! (Where's that little clockwork owl? I wanna break it in half. Annoying fuck)
I would have liked to see more alternate weapon choices as there were only three:
The Barbarian Hammer (waaaaaaay too slow and lacks effective combos)
Spear of Destiny (I thought this one was a weird choice for this game, awkward combos and the lift attack leaves you waaaaaay vulnerable)
Sword of Olympus (looks cool, quick, but short reach)
Also, the recycling of the old magics from the original was disappointing. I mean, after all this time and they recycle Poseidon's rage and the Medusa Head magic? Come on guys.....I did like the Cronos Rage attack though. They really should have put Typhon's Rage as an alternate weapon though. If they would have decreased its power, it would make more sense. I all but forgot about for almost the entire game until I came across some annoying archers. As far as an effective weapon.......meh.
As other reviews have noted, some of the puzzles at first seem challenging, but can definitely elicit a resounding head slap once you figure them out. The most frustrating one I encountered was the one involving the bloated created with boobs all over it on the temple level. I kid you not, I probably went back and forth pulling levers and slowing time for about 15 minutes before stumbling on the solution. That kinda pissed me off. Plus, once you figure out the puzzle, the battle is pretty much done.
The final battle with Zeus is somewhat of a let down.....effective use of Cronos' Rage and some dodging will have Zeus on his back soon enough.
The end of GOW 2 definitely sets things up nicely for the 3rd part on the PS3. Kronos travels back in time to the battle of the Titans and the Gods where he teleports the remaining Titans to "present day" Olympus before they can be stopped. As Kratos rides Gaia up the face of Mount Olympus with the other Titans following, Zeus rallies the remaining Gods against Kratos and his new army.
That's it for my first full blown review, so I hope you dig it.
Labels:
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Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Operators are standing by
I'm working on posting a blog that will most likely be broken up into several postings. It will detail the past few years and what I've gone through in being given custody of my two daughters. It's a difficult piece to put down, as it tends to reopen old wounds. Once I've completed the first part, I will post it.
Friday, March 16, 2007
You won't like me when I'm angry
Angry responses give some people pleasure: study
Thu Mar 15, 2007 4:46PM EDT
Reuters
"NEW YORK (Reuters Life!) - Some people just love to tease and researchers think they have found out why.
They believe people who goad others to incite an angry response may have an unconscious need for power linked to high testosterone levels.
Testosterone is a male sex hormone that is also produced in women. Scientists at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor found that angry expressions are rewarding for some, which could explain why certain people like to tease others so much.
"Individuals who are high in testosterone, a hormone that is usually a biological marker of a need for dominance, love to do things that make other people at least fleetingly angry," said Professor Oliver Schultheiss, a co-author of the study."
No shit.
Half the garbage that flies out of my head fast enough to take the gloss of Paris Hilton's nose is said with 100% certainty that someone may/will /damn-well-better take offense at what I'm saying. My girlfriend can attest to this. I enjoy taking a position diametrically opposed to someones statement in order to see what facts or theories they support it with.
Then the fun starts.
Nothing like telling a Christian that you have a problem with a theory who's claim to fame is that it's based on a fables cobbled together in a book written by someone that didn't know jack shit. Flaming bushes that talk? The idea that it just so happened that two of every damn animal species on this planet were within walking distance of Noah's garage? Bullshit.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes I think your baby is ugly. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like someone took a Louisville Slugger made from the wood of the ugly tree and used your head for a pinata. What did you think you're kid was gonna look like?! Brad fuckin' Pitt?
What anger? Fuck off.
Thu Mar 15, 2007 4:46PM EDT
Reuters
"NEW YORK (Reuters Life!) - Some people just love to tease and researchers think they have found out why.
They believe people who goad others to incite an angry response may have an unconscious need for power linked to high testosterone levels.
Testosterone is a male sex hormone that is also produced in women. Scientists at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor found that angry expressions are rewarding for some, which could explain why certain people like to tease others so much.
"Individuals who are high in testosterone, a hormone that is usually a biological marker of a need for dominance, love to do things that make other people at least fleetingly angry," said Professor Oliver Schultheiss, a co-author of the study."
No shit.
Half the garbage that flies out of my head fast enough to take the gloss of Paris Hilton's nose is said with 100% certainty that someone may/will /damn-well-better take offense at what I'm saying. My girlfriend can attest to this. I enjoy taking a position diametrically opposed to someones statement in order to see what facts or theories they support it with.
Then the fun starts.
Nothing like telling a Christian that you have a problem with a theory who's claim to fame is that it's based on a fables cobbled together in a book written by someone that didn't know jack shit. Flaming bushes that talk? The idea that it just so happened that two of every damn animal species on this planet were within walking distance of Noah's garage? Bullshit.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes I think your baby is ugly. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like someone took a Louisville Slugger made from the wood of the ugly tree and used your head for a pinata. What did you think you're kid was gonna look like?! Brad fuckin' Pitt?
What anger? Fuck off.
I am Kratos, here me roar
So God of War II should be coming in today from Gamefly. I anticipate a long weekend of neglecting my children and house chores in lieu of chopping the limbs off of various mythological creatures..... Oh happy day!! I'll report back Monday with a review of it and what will most likely be the blog equivalent of sex on Ecstacy. It's gonna be messy, folks.
Oh, and I think my kids have some softball games or some junk going on too....crap!!!!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Fatal Overdose
AP-3/14/2007
Atlanta, Ga
Jerome Wilkins was found dead yesterday afternoon by local citizens on their way to church. After several attempts to awaken Mr. Wilkins, paramedics were called to the scene where they immediately attempted to revive him. After several failed attempts, medics declared Mr. Wilkins dead. The apparent cause was an overdose of what appeared to be fried chicken and watermelon. Police were promptly called to the scene, which they quickly formed a perimeter around to preserve the scene.
Police officer Sanders issued a statement later that evening to the gathered press, detailing "...an ongoing investigation into the cause of death...with a possible connection to an underground crime figures known only as 'The Colonel' and "Mickey D" ...." of Mr. Wilkins. Further investigation on the part of local press revealed 3 similar deaths. All seemed to take place within 3 miles of both a local eating establishment and a small fruit stand run by an Atlanta resident. When asked to make a statement, the owner of the fruit stand simply stated, "I'm providing a service to everyone, I haven't done anything illegal. If you want to see who's breakin' the law, ask the Colonel and Mickey D what they put in their fuckin' food!"
AP attempted to reach the management of the eating establishments known as "The Colonel's" and Clown Burger, but our calls and emails have yet to be returned.
The family of Jerome Wilkins is crying out for justice. Latonya Jackson, Wilkins live in girlfriend and mother of 2 of his 6 children, made her own statement to the press: "These defs have gawn on fo' too longs. My cousin Pookie OD'd a munf ago, and we still ain't know who did it. I tell you who did it, the Mutha Fuckin' Colonel, dat's who!" When asked to clarify who she believed this "Colonel" was, Latonya is quoted as saying "I've said too much to ya'lls already. I's dead."
A local man by the name of "Smokey" provided AP with this photo taken shortly before Mr. Wilkin's body was taken away by the coroner.
Friday, March 9, 2007
So close, yet so far.
Perez Hilton Evens Score in Paparazzi Lawsuit
Posted Mar 9th 2007 12:15PM by TMZ StaffFiled under: Celebrity Justice
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"Mario Lavandeira, aka Perez Hilton, won round two in his court battle with a major Hollywood photo agency yesterday, when a judge ruled that the Gossip Gangster can continue to run his website while the $7.5 million case is being decided....."
Crap. Short of his penis getting stuck in his own mouth, it looks like this whale is going to continue posting his particular brand of pointless drivel until they shut him down. If anyone knows of a legal fund I can contribute to to make sure this happens, please notify me immediately. God I need a drink.
Posted Mar 9th 2007 12:15PM by TMZ StaffFiled under: Celebrity Justice
.home-page-only {display:none;}
"Mario Lavandeira, aka Perez Hilton, won round two in his court battle with a major Hollywood photo agency yesterday, when a judge ruled that the Gossip Gangster can continue to run his website while the $7.5 million case is being decided....."
Crap. Short of his penis getting stuck in his own mouth, it looks like this whale is going to continue posting his particular brand of pointless drivel until they shut him down. If anyone knows of a legal fund I can contribute to to make sure this happens, please notify me immediately. God I need a drink.
The brighter side
For those of you that don't know me, I am the father of two beautiful girls, ages 11 (going on 18) and 9. Despite being birthed from the vaginal canal of Satan's lapdog, both of them are intelligent, funny, caring girls that I would do anything for (as is evidenced by my actually pausing the action on my PS2 to occasionally feed them). I, along with the best effing girlfriend in the world, recently registered them for the local girls fast pitch softball league.
They both have been doing great and thankfully both of their teams won their respective first games. To top it off, my youngest girls team won their second team by a landslide (something like 14 to 5). Unfortunately my oldest was away at Science Camp for the week, so she missed her second game. They will both be missing their games this weekend as this is their weekend with "The Crackhead of the Year" (their mom). Unfortunately, that's the nature of the beast as I am unable to force her to take them to the games which fall on her weekends. Their coaches are aware of, thought not entirely pleased by, the situation.
Oh well. I mean, it's not like I can or would hire a rather unscrupulous individual to facilitate a particularly grisly demise for her........
I'm just thankful for the joy and character building qualities that being enrolled in a team sport can provide. Already they are reaping the physical benefits as my youngest, who has trended towards the "husky" sizes in clothing, has slimmed down dramatically. Hopefully they can make a run at this for at least 2 seasons, and build some great memories.
They both have been doing great and thankfully both of their teams won their respective first games. To top it off, my youngest girls team won their second team by a landslide (something like 14 to 5). Unfortunately my oldest was away at Science Camp for the week, so she missed her second game. They will both be missing their games this weekend as this is their weekend with "The Crackhead of the Year" (their mom). Unfortunately, that's the nature of the beast as I am unable to force her to take them to the games which fall on her weekends. Their coaches are aware of, thought not entirely pleased by, the situation.
Oh well. I mean, it's not like I can or would hire a rather unscrupulous individual to facilitate a particularly grisly demise for her........
I'm just thankful for the joy and character building qualities that being enrolled in a team sport can provide. Already they are reaping the physical benefits as my youngest, who has trended towards the "husky" sizes in clothing, has slimmed down dramatically. Hopefully they can make a run at this for at least 2 seasons, and build some great memories.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
What we have here, is a failure to communicate
I needed a haircut. Badly. It looked like the bastard child of Cousin it had taken residence on my scalp. So I set out to where everyone with a budget and a complete disregard for the opinions of others would go. My local Great Clips establishment.
I know, I know. Asking for a decent haircut from one of these franchise blights on the landscape is like going to McDonald's and asking for a open face club sandwich on sourdough. They'll look at you like you have three heads.....and probably shoot you.
But is it really too much to ask to at least be able to communicate with the person that is holding a pair of extremely sharp trimming shears about three inches from my eye? Yeah I am completely aware: equal oppurtunity, great melting pot.
Fuck it.
I want a God Damn haircut, my way. Not "the best haircut I can get given the fact the I don't speak Cambodian". It gets to the point where sometimes I need a damn "safe" word just so they know when to stop. I resigned myself to the fact that under the circumstances (7PM at night, dressed like an extra from "The Big Lebowski, and my daughter in tow) I won't walk out of there looking like the Greek god I am.
I know, I know. Asking for a decent haircut from one of these franchise blights on the landscape is like going to McDonald's and asking for a open face club sandwich on sourdough. They'll look at you like you have three heads.....and probably shoot you.
But is it really too much to ask to at least be able to communicate with the person that is holding a pair of extremely sharp trimming shears about three inches from my eye? Yeah I am completely aware: equal oppurtunity, great melting pot.
Fuck it.
I want a God Damn haircut, my way. Not "the best haircut I can get given the fact the I don't speak Cambodian". It gets to the point where sometimes I need a damn "safe" word just so they know when to stop. I resigned myself to the fact that under the circumstances (7PM at night, dressed like an extra from "The Big Lebowski, and my daughter in tow) I won't walk out of there looking like the Greek god I am.
Labels:
bad hair day,
communication,
great clips,
haircut,
language barrier
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Tyler Perry must be stopped-Movie "review" of Daddy's Little Girls
Let met get some demographics out of the way first:
1. Member of a minority group (unless you live in California)
2. Single dad with custody of two daughters
3. I'm 30 (but a dashingly handsome 30, if I do say so myself)
4. I have not seen this movie (but based on his track record, I can describe the plot with my tongue tied behind my back)
5. My fiance owns the entire Tyler Perry affliction, er, I mean collection.
I think I speak with some authority when it comes to Tyler Perry. I was never a fan of his until my now fiance introduced me to the Madea character via the DVD of Madea's Family Reunion (the play). I can honestly say that I enjoyed the films comedic elements. It definitely smacks you over the head with a hot off the press copy of the Bible though. Nothing against organized religion, but I'll take my theology a la carte. I don't really need a spittoon full of "Amens" and "Praise the Lord"...I get it, they love them some Jeebus.
Where was I headed with this?
Oh yeah,....if you have seen one Tyler Perry play or film, you have pretty much seen them all. Black woman with low self esteem marries rich abusive black man, black man leaves/cheats on said black woman, black woman meets working class black Uber Christian with rock hard abs who wisks her away to a middle class life. You can sprinkle in some dysfunctional kids, cross dressing producers, and fugly co stars that can't act their way out of a paper bag, but it all turns out the same.
I have to admit, Tyler Perry hates him some successfull black men. Apparently the size of your bank account directly impacts the depravity in your soul. By my estimation Tyler Perry must keep a gaggle of retarded, starving Taiwanese children in his basement that he repeatedly assaults with copies of his plays as he proceeds to eat half of a meal and throws the rest into a garbage disposal. So, by all means, plunk down your hard earned money to see this film, but know this......for every ticket you buy Tyler Perry feeds a cute little bunny to rabid Koala bears.
1. Member of a minority group (unless you live in California)
2. Single dad with custody of two daughters
3. I'm 30 (but a dashingly handsome 30, if I do say so myself)
4. I have not seen this movie (but based on his track record, I can describe the plot with my tongue tied behind my back)
5. My fiance owns the entire Tyler Perry affliction, er, I mean collection.
I think I speak with some authority when it comes to Tyler Perry. I was never a fan of his until my now fiance introduced me to the Madea character via the DVD of Madea's Family Reunion (the play). I can honestly say that I enjoyed the films comedic elements. It definitely smacks you over the head with a hot off the press copy of the Bible though. Nothing against organized religion, but I'll take my theology a la carte. I don't really need a spittoon full of "Amens" and "Praise the Lord"...I get it, they love them some Jeebus.
Where was I headed with this?
Oh yeah,....if you have seen one Tyler Perry play or film, you have pretty much seen them all. Black woman with low self esteem marries rich abusive black man, black man leaves/cheats on said black woman, black woman meets working class black Uber Christian with rock hard abs who wisks her away to a middle class life. You can sprinkle in some dysfunctional kids, cross dressing producers, and fugly co stars that can't act their way out of a paper bag, but it all turns out the same.
I have to admit, Tyler Perry hates him some successfull black men. Apparently the size of your bank account directly impacts the depravity in your soul. By my estimation Tyler Perry must keep a gaggle of retarded, starving Taiwanese children in his basement that he repeatedly assaults with copies of his plays as he proceeds to eat half of a meal and throws the rest into a garbage disposal. So, by all means, plunk down your hard earned money to see this film, but know this......for every ticket you buy Tyler Perry feeds a cute little bunny to rabid Koala bears.
Labels:
blog,
daddy's little girls,
madea,
movie,
review,
tyler perry. film
Why haven't we figured it out?
I'll be honest. I used to frequent the Perez Hilton site in it's earlier days when there were actual pieces of inside information to be found there. Whether it was actual insider info or something he gleaned from another site, I don't know but there it was. Some little bit of priveledged info that gave you the feeling that YOU were the insider. You were part of that elite circle of celebrity. You could almost taste the food at Ivy and see the flashes from paparazzi cameras.
After a while though, something changed. Maybe my sensibilities became more refined. Perhaps there was a shift in my core beliefs. More likely I just realized what a colossal, juvenile douche bag this "star" fucking parasite was. The puerile drawings on pictures, calling someone a slut one week and "fabulous" the next. Somehow managing to say nothing at all about certain celeb's that he would regularly rip into before. It all just seemed to click one day, along with a profound sense of guilt for actually contributing to this thunder cunts hit count.
My fiance continues to frequent his site, though I have not. I don't hold it against her, and won't. It just isn't my cup of tea anymore. I've completely sworn off the site, and am proud to say I'm three months clean now. Everyday is a struggle though, but due mainly to the fact that I want to rip into him whenever he proclaims that the Olsen crack twins are " tres chic!" or "beautiful!" The self serving, attention whore that is Perez Hilton is truly a blight on American culture. It's celebrity for celebrity's sake. I would rather spend they day debating the directorial skills of Tyler Perry with an urban Christian church pastor than read another insipid "blog" from this blithering jizz monger.
After a while though, something changed. Maybe my sensibilities became more refined. Perhaps there was a shift in my core beliefs. More likely I just realized what a colossal, juvenile douche bag this "star" fucking parasite was. The puerile drawings on pictures, calling someone a slut one week and "fabulous" the next. Somehow managing to say nothing at all about certain celeb's that he would regularly rip into before. It all just seemed to click one day, along with a profound sense of guilt for actually contributing to this thunder cunts hit count.
My fiance continues to frequent his site, though I have not. I don't hold it against her, and won't. It just isn't my cup of tea anymore. I've completely sworn off the site, and am proud to say I'm three months clean now. Everyday is a struggle though, but due mainly to the fact that I want to rip into him whenever he proclaims that the Olsen crack twins are " tres chic!" or "beautiful!" The self serving, attention whore that is Perez Hilton is truly a blight on American culture. It's celebrity for celebrity's sake. I would rather spend they day debating the directorial skills of Tyler Perry with an urban Christian church pastor than read another insipid "blog" from this blithering jizz monger.
Labels:
blog,
blogger,
celebrity,
douchebag,
gossip,
mario lavandeira,
papparazi,
perez hilton
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Why me?
Every office has one. That fucktard guy that thinks he's the wittiest, edgiest mother fucker that God saw fit to put on this planet. He's sooooo irreverant and could cut a diamond in half with his rapier wit. And he sees fit to come by your desk everyday to spout the same God damn half witted remarks you heard yesterday....and the day before, and the day before that. It's all you can do to keep yourself from pinning him to the ground and burying your Swingline into his skull or perforating his tongue with your staple remover of death. Not to mention the fact that he looks like that weasely little character from the second Harry Potter movie. You know, the one that ran around the whole movie in a loincloth until Harry gave him a fucking sock. That guy.
Now imagine for some reason that this guy got the impression that you actually think he's funny (it's your own God damn fault for not ignoring his Instant Messages, douchebag). Yeah, so now he feels it's a great way to pass the day by trading barbs with you while your trying to actually get some fucking work done.
Oh, and he rides a motorcyle....the quintecential indicator of douchebagness. We get it, you're way cooler than the rest of us because you would look better as a long, bloody smear on the 55. Nice chaps, by the way. Do those come in Heterosexual?
Didn't your parents love you?
Why did they continue to allow you to draw breath after realizing that you were, well, YOU.
Now imagine for some reason that this guy got the impression that you actually think he's funny (it's your own God damn fault for not ignoring his Instant Messages, douchebag). Yeah, so now he feels it's a great way to pass the day by trading barbs with you while your trying to actually get some fucking work done.
Oh, and he rides a motorcyle....the quintecential indicator of douchebagness. We get it, you're way cooler than the rest of us because you would look better as a long, bloody smear on the 55. Nice chaps, by the way. Do those come in Heterosexual?
Didn't your parents love you?
Why did they continue to allow you to draw breath after realizing that you were, well, YOU.
How MySpace destroys lives
Ok, so it's Teusday night and I'm at home with my dog. Now I figure since I'm home everybody else must be home waiting for me to post some seriously introspective blog to occupy their time. Sorry, I just feel like making a list of dumb shit that annoys me. I've had my MySpace page for a while, and while I hate the bullshit bulletins from fake profiles telling me that I won 1 million dollars and a PS3, I can't dismiss the fact that it brought me together with the most wonderful girlfriend anyone could ever ask for. Now on to my list. Feel free to pass this along and add to it as you see fit...who knows? You just might win a gajillion dollars or a PS3. Or a can of Spam. Or all of your friends will delete you for passing on another bullshit list.......welcome to MySpace.
1. Guys that take pictures of their abs=Gay
2. People that use cartoon characters instead of their actual pictures = "Hey world! I'm fugly!
3. Sorry ladies, but the glittery pages with fairies flyin out your ass is only ok if your 16...but if you are 16 and have a MySpace, see #8.
4. People that give their pages names like "Pimp Daddy", "Seductress" or lame self absorbed bullshit like that. We all know you still live at home and work at Hot Topic.
5. People that use celebrity pics for their page. Hey, I don't think Pamela Anderson really wants me to get in on her lates get rich quick scheme.....sorry.
6. The bajillion chicks out there with Angelina Jolie layouts....save yourself the time: just get a flattop, buy some birkenstocks, put a pink triangle as your cursor and call it a day.
7. Anyone and everyone that has any kind of Raiders images on their pages. Wanna buy Pam Anderson's latest get rich quick scheme?
8. Gog damn 16 year old kids with MySpace pages! WTF are your parents doing letting you have a MySpace?! I'd find them and kick their asses but I would probably be busted for assaulting a minor.
9. If I see another God damn lowrider layout I'm calling immigration. Sorry, the pushed out wheels and gold rims went out in, oh, I don't know 1993?!
10. And Private profiles? For the love of baby jesus, you're not that cool......
11. Profiles with more graphics, slide shows, and embedded links than a Powerpoint presentation....If I want that I'll visit your mom's Yahoo! personals page.
12. I was going somewhere with that last one but I lost my train of thought....sorry.Good night folks...
1. Guys that take pictures of their abs=Gay
2. People that use cartoon characters instead of their actual pictures = "Hey world! I'm fugly!
3. Sorry ladies, but the glittery pages with fairies flyin out your ass is only ok if your 16...but if you are 16 and have a MySpace, see #8.
4. People that give their pages names like "Pimp Daddy", "Seductress" or lame self absorbed bullshit like that. We all know you still live at home and work at Hot Topic.
5. People that use celebrity pics for their page. Hey, I don't think Pamela Anderson really wants me to get in on her lates get rich quick scheme.....sorry.
6. The bajillion chicks out there with Angelina Jolie layouts....save yourself the time: just get a flattop, buy some birkenstocks, put a pink triangle as your cursor and call it a day.
7. Anyone and everyone that has any kind of Raiders images on their pages. Wanna buy Pam Anderson's latest get rich quick scheme?
8. Gog damn 16 year old kids with MySpace pages! WTF are your parents doing letting you have a MySpace?! I'd find them and kick their asses but I would probably be busted for assaulting a minor.
9. If I see another God damn lowrider layout I'm calling immigration. Sorry, the pushed out wheels and gold rims went out in, oh, I don't know 1993?!
10. And Private profiles? For the love of baby jesus, you're not that cool......
11. Profiles with more graphics, slide shows, and embedded links than a Powerpoint presentation....If I want that I'll visit your mom's Yahoo! personals page.
12. I was going somewhere with that last one but I lost my train of thought....sorry.Good night folks...
Labels:
friends,
friends list,
lists,
myspace,
myspace ruins lives,
profile
Too cheap for therapy
So, this is my first official blog site. I've commented hither and yon on other sites, most notably Pajiba and Deus Ex Malcontent. Both of these sites were my inspiration for this (thank you Chez, Dustin) . That and the fact that as stated, I am too cheap for therapy. Hopefully putting my thoughts down into written word will provide me with some type of cathartic release, or at the very least prevent me from taking a ball peen hammer to the heads of my co workers. Much of this will most likely be done in a stream of consciousness form, with some commentary and perhaps a movie review thrown in for shits and giggles. I hope those of you that stop by can accept this for what it is, a 30 year old guys attempt at some minor celebrity. Also, if you're reading this and your name is Mario Lavandeira....go fuck yourself.
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