Where's Nitro?

My family is watching American Gladiators, which somehow, the powers that be have made even more ridiculous by making the challengers in this episode win their spot by some feat of amazing weight loss.
It's Oprah-tastic. At any moment I'm convinced the guy who builds houses is gonna show up with his whole crew and tell the audience what a hard life this particular challenger has had, but its okay because they've got a new three story lake-front villa now. And then I'm gonna have to watch the Gladiators cry.

You haven't watched television until you've seen a muscle bound Aryan-Nation posterchild named "Titan" cry.


Please, someone, tell me I'm adopted.

And why doesn't the coffee shop deliver?

It's 71 and sunny and I have a whole list of fun things I can do today (really--a list) and I can't get this fucking permafrown off my face long enough to go do any of it. Last night I worked late tattooing the twitchiest man alive with the dumbest tattoo I've done since I did that Taz holding a shotgun in one hand and a confederate flag in the other.

Then, when I went to the awesome dump of a bar with Kara I couldn't even play darts because somehow I lost my driver's license. A week ago. And just now realized it. And you know the probability of finding it is inversely proportionate to the length of time it's been missing so that thing is fucked.

Oh, but I almost forgot the good news. My MasterCard should be up for a promotion soon following its unusually hard work over the last couple of days buying all that internet crap for the guy in Oslo who stole my credit card number. Way to go, you silver piece of shit.

Beware teh Blogaissance

It's finals week again (yes, already), and you know what that means: I'm avoiding all responsibility and making blargs.

Check back this weekend for massive updates... if someone will open the gate for our four posters (or slide a laptop through).




Also,
this post is just to let our reader(s) know that at least one of the blahhgers still knows the url to this place.

In the meantime, try out a movie quiz.

WTF!EVIL!!!!1!

Today was a really long day at work--I did a portrait of a big, black, begrilled lesbian on her girlfriend while the two of them bickered in front of me and my client kept saying how nervous she was that it wasn't going to look good enough. So you know, no pressure there. It took me forever, so by the time I started on the EvilFlameyFaceThing I was running way behind and thought I'd take the cheater's route of looking up some easy internet reference for the facial expression.

When I unwittingly stumbled upon this:




...



I found it on some dude's family reunion website! They're PROUD of this little monster! Seriously, I'm going to have to call a priest to perform an exorcism on my fucking computer screen. I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT IT!

Kids are sort of creepy anyway. They have imaginary friends and have evil ceremonies in cornfields and see dead people and stuff. I don't want anything to do with them. Oh what, those are movies? Whatever. I hung out with a REAL one the other day and it kept slobbering and laughing and trying to break my stuff. So, you know... evil.

So what if it's plagiarized, it's a post goddamnit

Collection of stuff I saw on the interwebz tonite...

Famed DJ and convicted child molester Jonathan King singing a catchy (get it?) tune:



Website full of pictures of famous british women with gags photoshopped over their mouths (seriously):
http://www.dansdidnts.com/brit.html


Interesting anecdote about what a man would like to save from his house in the case of a housefire:

"I lived for years out of a single
backpack and I believe there's nothing I could
lose that would kill me. Losing journals and
diaries would be a bit of a drag, but I'm a
believer in stoicism and accepting that
whatever gives you pleasure could be taken away
at any time. Pleasure must be something inside.
That said, who doesn't like shiny trinkets? Ten
years ago I bought a Rolex. Now, everyone knows
that this - along with a Porsche - is a prime
symbol of the tosser. But wait a minute. It
cost me around £2000, which was exactly the
amount in my bank account. I emptied the
account on a whim, and at the time I didn't own
a house or a car or anything more than I could
fit in a 75 litre backpack. I did it because
James Bond wore one in the early films. Still
got it, though none of my colleagues knows and
I don't advertise the fact. I'm pretty much a
failure in life - I'm 36 and have never earned
more than 20 grand. I still owe my entire
student loan from 13 years ago. But I wear a
Rolex. The contradiction amuses me greatly. One
day it'll be stolen and I won't be able to
afford a new one. C'est la vie." (frankspencer)

Site that has a few examples of hidden pictures in music. Yes, that says what I want it to.
http://www.bastwood.com/aphex.php



I'm not sure if this game is fun or not, but I want to play with it later so I'm putting it up here.
Dinorun



Awesome bedroom paintjob (but stupid because it was a rented apartment)

Book review: The Brethren by John Grisham

Don't bother reading though the 1025 reader submitted reviews, I'll tell you what you need to know.

This book fucking rules. It's the greatest thing I've ever read. Shakespeare can go to hell. This book is the reason why English was created. This is the new Good Book. If Jesus were alive today, this is what he would be preaching. Letters were invented so they could align to form the words to form the sentences that appear in this book. Buy it. Rent it. Steal it. Whatever.

You must read it. The enjoyment you'll get out of this book can only be matched by... It can't be matched. Nothing will compare to the feeling you get from finishing this book. Nothing. Winning the lottery? No way. Ridding the world of AIDS? Fuck that.

This book is so good finishing it made me sad because then there's no more. It's like the greatest thing ever, in all of ever. Five stars, no doubt. Quit reading this silly blog and go buy it already. John Grisham is the new god.

I'm not going to tell you what it's about or the plot(spoiler alert), but I'll simply leave you with this: The Brethren by John Grisham is the greatest thing ever created by mortal man.

The REAL story.

Can we post "adult content" on this blog? Because there's no sense leaving out all the interesting parts. Like when Moronica found those lost hikers and agreed to take them back to town but only after Bars and Babbles took turns defiling them on the picnic table while the rest of us watched.

What? That doesn't sound likely? Well fuck you and your skepticism! Sure, what really went down was a lot of drinking and reading (including a fair amount of Nancy Friday, it would seem) and sitting around being assholes. But fortunately for us that's exactly the kind of shit we're into.