Saturday, August 06, 2005

I put nads on all my action figures

This isn't that funny, but it's good for a chuckle:

Okay, I dunno about you, but the more I watch it, the funnier it gets.

Another satisfied customer

Yahoo search:

I want to kill my boyfriend

Okay, so it's mildly amusing that someone was so pissed at their boyfriend that they actually ran this search. What really got me, though, is that they got to my site from page 39 of the search results. Assuming that they went through pages 1-38, I'm really wondering what this guy did to get his SO so pissed off. Oh, and just fucking break up with him. I don't know much about relationships, but I do know that page 39 is not a sign of something that's gonna last.

Friday, August 05, 2005

Okay, so I'm back on totally fucked up goofy schedule. It's 7 AM, and when most people are starting it up, I'm shutting it down. And no, not because I was up all night beating off in chat rooms. Not this morning, at least. I was bloody productive at work, and soon I'm going to pass out and then get up for Friday without having to worry about work for the rest of the day. I'm either really stupid or a total genius. Either way, technically, I'm as hard as steel. And it's always nice to get in a good Star Trek joke when you're about ready to die.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Why does he keep doing that with his shoulders?

I'm shamelessly ripping off this link from ETP, who in turn ripped it off from Cake. You can thank me later when you can't get it out of your head, even if you don't know whether or not it's comprised of real words because you're an ignorant monolingual. Seriously, you can't tell me that isn't the best new song you've heard in awhile, and the best video you've seen in a long while. Considering the utter shit that's out there, that last statement was made with no sarcasm whatsoever. Okay, maybe a little.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Okay, so I've mentioned the sex-advice column Savage Love before. I've even linked this particular column in the past. But since I don't make a habit of re-linking things around here, I'll go for it -- just this once. Hey, Dan Savage is on vacation, so this is what they're currently running. It's worth it, anyway, for... All of it. This particular set of letters was my first exposure to Savage Love many many years ago, and it was a helluva a way to start.
Yahoo search:

fuck up the vagina

I don't think it's possible to fuck the vagina up -- any more, that is. That thing is already too complicated.

ETP, if you remember Dane Cook's line about cow tongues, post it in a comment. I surely would have put it here if I knew it off the top of my head.
Yahoo search:

fucking while cutting hair

This is simultaneously the funniest and scariest thing I've heard recently. I mean, seriously, I never even thought of combining sex with haircutting, to say nothing of it being something one could get turned on over. I just don't tend to mix scissors with sex. This brings us to why it's a fightenting prospect, which speaks for itself.

Sunday, July 31, 2005

So I've gotten quite a few hits in the past few days thanks to a link from this site. I figured it was worth a mention so that they can get one or two hits in exchange for the hundreds that they got me. I don't know about the quality of the 'blog since I'm too lazy to read it, but they do have this sub-page dedicated to naked women.

real wives who want to fuck

Well, if she's a real wife, then she doesn't want to fuck. From what I understand, that part of a woman dies when she gets married. If anyone cares to counter me, I think that BBC news is on.
Fuck you, asshole. I'll pay a 25% tax if someone sets up a site dedicated to sodomizing members of congress. You want money to fight child porn? Why don't you stop rubber-stamping worthless wars and use that money instead? I know, I know, it's not that simple. Well, it should be. Hey, if you want to stop child porn, just put me to work. Between the people who come to my weblog via search engines and the people I talk with on IRC -- many of whom, I'm guessing, have some bad shit on their hard drives -- I can probably be more effective in rounding people up than even Shaq.

My guess, though, is that they won't be too keen to hire someone who they're just waiting for to go and meet with a "girl" he met in a chat room. This would require me, of course, to both go back on my word (something I never do here) and walk into a trap of some sort, but damn, am I lonely. I'm sure the guys in prison will keep me company, though. No, if I went stupid and tried some shit like that, I'd just kill myself. And if I committed suicide, I'd make sure to do it like a man.

In some ways, I wish we could re-wind the 'Net back to 1995, when you actually could meet chicks online. Of course, the 'Net of old I'm talking about wasn't even the Internet, but good ol' BBSes. Hell yeah, motherfuckers, that was where it was at. You could not only meet girls, but you could meet ones that were actually hot. Sure, some (if not all) were kind of crazy, but they were the kind of crazy where they'd just break your heart and ruin your life, not the kind who would literally cut you into pieces and end your life.

Believe me, this is how it was back in the good ol' days. My hook up back then was a BBS called OneNet Boulder. It was via ONB that I met my first girlfriend. You're laughing? I'm not laughing. As alluded to above, she was indeed nuts, but she was also fucking hot. You're probably wanting to call "bullshit!" right now, but I wouldn't bullshit you guys like that. No, I bullshit you people in completely different ways, and you should know by now that I'm not prone to embellishing the details of my love life (or lack thereof, as it would be). If you still don't believe me just ask ETP. He'll back me up on this one, and he has good taste in women since I generally tend to agree with his choices. Oh, and you know that friend I mentioned in the coffee post? Met her the same way. Sure, I saw no hot action out of that relationship, but I did somehow manage to make a friend who has put up with my shit for a decade and still counting. Plus I have a really nice espresso machine now.

Alright, I know what your question is: "This girlfriend you had. You were what, 15 or 16 back then? So what was she, four?" No, shithead, things (both me and the online world) weren't as fucked up back then. You could meet non-killers and non-FBI types who were around your own age. Okay, she was about two years younger than me, but that's nowhere near bad. And if you're thinking that you have figured out some big pieces of Humbert's puzzle with the clues sprinkled throughout this post, you're probably right.
Okay, I've officially had it with all of the artificial drama over the space shuttle. Actually, I'd had it before the bloody thing even lifted off. Every day, it's some new bullshit where they're supposedly freaking out and saying "Oh no! Oh no! Will the shuttle be able to make it back safely? I CAN'T HANDLE THIS PRESSURE!!!!!" If you didn't know better, you really would think that the staff of mission control consists of Tweak and no one else. I'm just waiting for this headline on CNN: "Safety of shuttle's re-entry put in doubt after Discovery astronaut takes a space dump in his pants."

My favorite was last week when NASA "grounded" the shuttle fleet since some debris hit Discovery on lift-off. Because, you know, they were planning on another launch tomorrow, so it really does a lot to make this declaration. Maybe Tweak really is in charge, or maybe it's just bullshit PR.

At this point, I almost don't care if Discovery burns up like Columbia did. Okay, that's not entirely true -- I do have some feelings and sympathy. Feelings of hatred for the media and sympathy for myself, that is. You know the news people are just wetting themselves over the possibility of another shuttle burning up on re-entry. They feed off of this shit, and a "disaster" where all of seven people die is just what they need want at this point.

Look, people. I'm no expert on any of this, but we've had like 114 shuttle launches, and only two shuttles have been lost. We're taking these huge crafts and filling them with fuels whose job it is to launch said craft into outer fucking space. When you consider the risks involved, that's not a bad track record. I know that's no comfort to Challenger or Columbia, but still. Either NASA is decently good at shit, or they're decently lucky. And all this flap about debris and shit sticking out of the shuttle and blah blah blah? That happens with every goddamn shuttle launch, for Christ's fucking sake. It doesn't mean they're always immune from problems, but it doesn't mean certain doom, either. So shut the fuck up already.

That's... Really good coffee.

Pretension has reached new heights. Two weeks ago, I bought a stick of deodorant for $16. Sixteen dollars. For deodorant. Look, I've been struggling with deodorant decisions for months. I simply could not find one I'm happy with. No matter what I tried, everything would leave behind a white, flaky trail. And where would it leave it? Predominantly around the shifter and on the center console of my beloved Bimmer. I don't like it, when there's white flaky shit all over my shifter. So I tried various different brands to no avail. Yes, the car was influencing personal hygiene purchasing decisions. But still, personal hygiene standards had to be maintained. I was not only unhappy with the flaking situation, but I wasn't real thrilled with any of the deodorant scents out there, so I said fuck it; let's just get some Polo deodorant. I, of course, like rolling with The Power of the Horse™. I figured even if it makes a mess, at least I'll smell good. Because I'm going to get laid with green shit that comes out of a bottle.

You know what, though? Even if it's costly, it doesn't even flake off. The Horse is that good. I still don't understand why there are two separate products -- one a deodorant, the other an anti-perspirant. This is confusing since every commercial product has been both deodorant and anti-perspirant; I've never seen it as an either/or proposition. The bottom line is this: if you're willing to shell out good money for stuff, you're going to get fucked on top of it. Ha ha, you dumb fuck! You paid way too much for half a product! This is what the big time is all about.

However, this misadventure in not stinking doesn't compare to today's acquisition. As I said a few weeks back, I've been meaning to get a coffee maker for a long time. I have this friend who has been working at Starbucks since 1927, and I'm always telling her "Let me know when the really good coffee makers you guys sell go on sale." And every time they do go on sale, I'm like "Ehhhh... I really shouldn't be spending the money right now." I still shouldn't be spending the money, especially right now, but like with the deodorant I just said fuck it. And here's why.

Starbucks is phasing out their current top-of-the-line espresso maker, the Digital Italia, and coming out with something new. So the outgoing model is heavily discounted. On top of that, my friend gets a decent discount. So the DI, which sold for $1000, was available to me for less than $300. At that heavy of a discount, it's almost free. How could I pass that up? Especially since I'm not a big coffee drinker?

Well, I'd better be a big coffee drinker now, because I have the goddamn hardware to back up that title. Yes, I have a one-thousand dollar coffee robot sitting in my kitchen. And it is a robot. It grinds its own beans. It clicks and whirrs. It can be programmed. The top of it can be set to heat up in order to keep cups warm. It has a built-in milk steamer.

On top of that, my friend guided me to all sorts of accessories, like a milk thermometer and a milk steaming pitcher, along with all kinds of things like syrups and shit to add to the coffee. I have virtually no food in the house, but I have all kinds of crap for making coffee. Damn, do I ever have my priorities straight. But at least it does make good coffee. Once I got it hooked up, I immediately started testing it. I downed like four espresso shots as I was getting the settings right. A few hours later, I'd had the equivalent of eight espresso shots. One would think that I'd be bouncing off the walls by now, but I'm pretty immune to the effects of caffeine at this point, except under extreme circumstances. If I drink coffee that's too acidic or just too strong, it will upset my stomach. So yeah, I blew $300 for a machine that will make me nauseous. Like I said: priorities.

Back when I was in school, I worked for an optics group. No, we weren't a LensCrafters, I mean optics as in holography and lasers and shit. Anyway, the professor who led our group was a big coffee fanatic. Such a big coffee fanatic that we had a $500 espresso maker in our lab. Some mornings I would go in there, on an empty stomach, and down a double-shot to try and keep myself awake through my operating systems class. The end result being, of course, that I not only still fell asleep in class, but I got mad shakes by late morning and my stomach started eating itself.

The worst, though, was one night when I had put off doing a bunch of assignments, so I had five assignments -- including two papers -- due in the next 24 hours. So I stayed up all night in the Engineering Center in my office, downing espresso after espresso after quadruple espresso to keep awake. I got everything finished, but it wasn't pretty. Sometime around 2 or 3 AM, I was a fucking wreck. I was going out of my mind. Fidgety, unable to think straight, and just generally losing my shit. There have been times where I was blitzed out of my mind on alcohol but still more composed than I was that night on the bean.

The best product of this madness was one of the papers, which was for my bullshit psych class. I didn't care too much about it since it was extra credit, so I treated it as a sort of experiment. Kinda like a crime novel with no punctuation. But really, it was just a bunch of rambling nonsense. For some reason, I was writing about the Columbine massacre. I was ranting and raving, going through my enemies list... To this very day, I'm afraid to find the file and read what I wrote that night. No, I didn't actually lay out a manifesto to kill like Klebold and Harris did (seriously). I mean, I don't think I did, at least. It wasn't intentional if I did; no matter how fucked up I am, I'm not that fucked up, but holy hell did I drink a lot of coffee that night.

Alright, tangent over. But that's it. I'm a fucking moron, but I can make myself my own vanilla bullshit now. Except that I hate vanilla.