God Emperor of parlor tricks

I thought I knew a zippo trick or two. Turns out two is exactly how many I know.


But this guy has had me burning my hands all afternoon. (embed is disabled for some reason)

between the frequent burning and repeated needle stabbings I got from mending my clothes (read: crudely sewing back together) I feel like I've been through the gom jabbar.



Now excuse me while I get wasted on spice.

We call it "BTiLC", Bitches.

Look, I've had to take some time off of this to donate some time to my new obsession. (see below)
We can't all be multi-taskers . . .
You can find out a little bit more about what I find far more interesting than this blog here.
As you can see, it doesn't take much.


funny how the looming prospect of a test makes me post here again. Must be some strange psychosomatic connection. Or procrastination . . . whichever.

Children of a Lesser Blog

I'm thinking of starting this up again.

Or starting a new blog all by my lonesome. But that sounds like way more work than I can handle.

And in case you're curious, yes, I realize I'm talking to myself right now.

American Idle

So now that I'm officially Oliver Babbles, A.A., B.G.S., J.D., I decided the best thing to do would be to move back into my dad's basement. But have no fears, this domicile is strictly temporary. I should be leaving the sunflower state and heading west in approximately four weeks. Or four years, we'll see how it goes.

I got a letter from an uncle with a small check and a letter instructing me to "buy furs and goods for your excursion on the Oregon Trail."

This weekend I had to go visit my extended family. My ancient grandma told my pretty cousin meg that her hair "looks like the dog's." Normally this would call for a high five and another wine cooler for grandma, but it was my turn next. And as those of you who have seen my appearance lately already know, I'm not exactly a looker these days.

Her critique of me was pretty tame, though. "You need a trim." I know, boring.

Okay, that's enough "Dear Diary" for now. This post is over. Please hold your applause.

And your breath.

Until you die.

Last minute christmas present, and two other things

First:
best music review I've read in a while.


Second:
Someone go buy this.




Third:
World's worst Terry stop.

This feels wrong...

...but here goes.





Yes, it's a baby funeral you can laugh at.

I don't know what else to say, except that when I die you all can laugh at mine. And I want the Lilly Kane video Logan made to play at it.

It's not the New York Post, but it is A Post.

In an effort to punish those that continue to keep coming to this site, I've posted a bunch of things that I find amusing/annoying/silly/etc.

what; it's finals week(s). Who has time for a real post

Like kissing cousins, but cats.

What's the deal with martial arts? It's not art, and who's Marshal?

This is what's right with the world

Lassie's secret helper

British graffiti; it says "good morning lemmings"

It should read "prevents" instead of "stops," but whatever

I second this

kids are so damned clever sometimes

The importance of proper outline formatting

Hello, McFly

The four tanks are us; the guy is you.

...AND TO ALL A GOOD NITE!!!!!

Adventures in trying to find my own blog...

...while on a public computer.

I can never remember the url to this place, so I usually just google words that I think will bring up the site.

Tonite, while taking the scenic route here, I stumbled across these gems:

• Oliver babbles
• something on technorati that looks mildly familiar.
• This blog which, last spring, offered "a kind 'thank you' to Oliver Babbles for his gentle reminder to me to do the right thing." Yes, they're talking about me.

And oh, just in case this post was too boring for you, how about some fish shoes?


Not into seafood? Perhaps rat shoes are more your style?

So you think you can date?

It's November; you're lonely, single, and desperate. You know that when you go back home for Christmas you're going to run into some of your old friends. You know the ones; the ones you can't stand to be around anymore. And you know they're going to ask you...

"How ya' been, what are ya' up to these days?"

But your job sucks. Your apartment sucks. Your friends suck. Your lovelife is non-existent. And know that after so-and-so asks you about your pathetic life, she's going to show you her big stupid diamond engagement ring.

This cannot happen. Again. We all remember your crying session from last year after you ran into that pimply girl who sat behind you in English class at the grocery store, the one who's pretty, rich, and happy now. How could that have happened? She was soooo pimply.

You must have a relationship by Christmas; or at least something that you can fake as a relationship.

So, in a moment of wine-induced strength you take that first step. Like Indiana Jones when he had to step onto the invisible bridge at the end of Last Crusade (spoiler alert: there's an invisible bridge).

You set up an online dating profile.

And before you know it, you've got five suitors filling up your inbox.

But there's only enough time in your schedule to go on two dates before the holidays; so pick two fellers to accompany you on a wild nite on the town...


Below, I've placed five personal ad profiles; some taken from a popular dating website, and some from the FBI's most wanted list. All the information is straight from the respective web site (I changed the wording only, never the content).

Step 1. pretend you're a pathetic girl (if you aren't one already)
Step 2. for each suitor, pretend you're the age that would date him
Step 3. pick two hunky beaus to buy you dinner
Step 4. try not to pick an axe murderer

Contestant No. 1
HistoryBuff_in_the_buff_420_69

Contestant number 1 is in his later years, seeking an older female to share his interests with. He is an avid reader who prefers historical nonfiction. He can often be found in the local library, or traveling to famous American historic sites. He enjoys walking, either in the park or at one of the nearby beaches. Extensively traveled throughout North America and Europe.

Contestant No. 2
NiceGuy_LastPlace_420_69

Contestant number 2 loves going out to dinner and catching a movie, going to book stores, coffee shops, garage sales, taking short road trips, and traveling. Also enjoys playing new golf courses around the country.

Contestant No. 3
Self/motivated_self/starter_420_69

Contestant number three is an eager self starter that has had to work for everything he has. He enjoys spending time on the lake, or just a night in with close friends.

Contestant No. 4
Bi_Party_Guy_420_69

This fine gentlemen is fluent in French has a Master's Degree in International Finance. He spends his time golfing, snowboarding, and clubbing. He's into fast cars, fast women, and curious boys. Serious inquiries only, please.

Contestant No. 5
Rowdyboy_420_69

Our final contestant is a good ole' boy who is a former fireman and current respiratory therapist. He likes to spend his time outdoors, whether it be hunting, fishing, or horseback riding with a special someone.



Answer key

"Hit a Worker, $10,000" *

*actual sign I saw on the Interstate in Oklahoma.

Yes, normally the word "fine" is up there somewhere, but apparently in the land of red dirt brevity is king. My first thought after seeing it, other than "damn, I wish I could get a picture of that, was "But what if I don't wanna hit a worker? Is there any other way I can get the money?" And my second thought was "Miles Roby would give me ten points for this."

On a related note, I saw these two seemingly unrelated news items (see photo below) in two separate papers today. Intentional? perhaps. Hilarious? definitely.

Buy me this

James Bond villain watch collection

I'm no James Bond junkie, so I'm torn on what I think of these. On the one hand, I really like the idea, on the other, I feel like sort of a poser- almost everything I know about James Bond I learned from Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64.

But anyway, here are my favorites (I don't have pictures, you'll have to check the site):

Thunderball
A View to a Kill
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
The Spy Who Loved Me (jaws's watch)
Licensed to Kill

We be clubbin' Halloween nite: Idaho Style

Meet Lori Brutsche-Ely (via mug shot).




On October 31st, fearing that her Halloween nite was ending without the proper amount of excitement, she went around The Mint Club (Twin Falls, ID) "stealing beer from other patrons, exposing herself to the band, trying to start fights and refusing to leave the establishment."

And oh yeah, she kicked the bouncer in the groin on her way out of the club (she was going outside to piss; don't worry, she was coming back in).

Later, after being arrested, she bit the officer putting her into the holding cell, requiring him to get a tetanus shot.

She's like the Hannibal Lector of the Gem State.

Doesn't this make you feel pathetic about what you did with your devil's nite?

For one moment, I was afraid we had a rival blog...

Two Guys, Two Girls, Two Bottles, Two Bouncers


Luckily, before I dispatched Dan Dorrity to discuss the matter with them, I realized that it's just the title of a news story from Budapest.

Crisis averted.

Don't know where it comes from...

...but it's the greatest thing in the world.


PUPPYCAM

Michael Crichton: author, scientist, dead person

A short summary of his achievements as told by wikipedia...

-harvard undergrad (prick)

-harvard med school (that goes double)

-apparently TIME thought Jurassic Park II was going to be a good movie

-once, as an experiment to test the objectivity of an asshole english professor, turned in a George Orwell essay as his own; the teacher gave him a B-

-married five times, divorced four

-published one story under 6 different titles (Jurassic Park I & II, The Andromeda Strain, Congo, Sphere, WestWorld)

-created TV's hit show ER (but only wrote 3 episodes)

-cowrote the best movie to have a flying cow sequence and use the word "rue" with his wife (Twister)

--he was once named to People's 50 most beautiful people (1992)

-in 'Next' he named a character named "Mick Crowley." The character is a Yale graduate and a D.C. based political columnist. "Crowley" was portrayed as a child molester with a small penis. This is a not-so-subtle slight of Michael Crowley, who is also a Yale graduate, and a senior editor of The New Republic, a left-leaning Washington D.C.-based political magazine. In March 2006, the real Crowley had written an article strongly critical of Crichton for his stance on global warming in State of Fear. The small penis thing is interesting; it has to do with libel protection.

-in December of 1994 'ER' was the number one TV show, 'Disclosure' was the number one paperback and the number one movie (by box office gross)

-a dinosaur has been named after him

-wikipedia page had some errors and I had to edit part of it

- I feel like a mega-nerd

my presidential elction post

Normally when a black guy looks at me and says something about "change" I step over him and pretend he doesn't exist.

But last week when this happened, instead of ignoring the bum, I went downtown to my local polling place and helped the guy get employment.

Now let's see if he can hold a job for more than four years.

Inconceivable.

This week I learned two things, both of minor interest to me, let alone you, but my will to procrastinate has reached new heights.

1) In reference to International Trade -
T & A does not mean what you think it means.
This class would be far more exciting if it did.

2) I would never have survived the Tang Dynasty.
(think China, not astronauts)
I draw your attention to Article 462: All cases of those who drift aimlessly to other places are punished by ten blows with the light stick (think bamboo, not some Star Wars predecessor) for the first ten days . . . with a maximum punishment of one hundred blows with the heavy stick.

that is all.

Mine is blogs!!!!

And people telling me what theirs are.

If we don't learn from our past, then what?

I think all of us of a certain age should browse through this list of movie posters from 1985 and, well, ...I don't know. I had a storm of emotions.

http://www.impawards.com/1985/standard.html

Mad Men boring spoiler alert

I was trying to catch up on Mad Men and only made it to episode 10 because I couldn't get over how much this guy kept reminding me of a certain presidential candidate.


He plays Betty's father Greg, who's just recently had a stroke and keeps mistaking her for his dead wife. He even sort of fondles her once at the dinner table. I'm not sure if he really bears a striking resemblance to John McCain or if it's just that he's old, white and senile.

I was hoping I could petition for a last minute ballot change. Truthfully, I'm not sure anyone would even notice:

The boring, boring VP debate

McCain/Palin as mavericks?

fuck that.

sounds pussy to me.

I'm voting for the same candidates I have in every election since 1876

It's half of a love/hate relationship

Guess which half.

I made a terrible mistake in 2001. Well, I made many terrible mistakes in 2001, but I'm only going to talk about one right now.

I subscribed to Spin magazine. I fell for some sort of "two years for $10" type of deal. Ugh. And, because I'm a moron, I resubscribed a few years later under the same deal. But soon after I learned my lesson, and never gave them another cent. Which is why it's so surprising that now, 3 years after my subscription ended, they still send me magazines (often along with those annoying "hurry! this may be your last issue!" letters).

It's like Spin is an alley cat that I fed once and now won't leave me alone.

I'll spare you (and myself) an in-depth discussion of why it's a terrible magazine, and instead just give one example.

In the latest issue they reviewed 57 new albums using a star rating system:

1 star: poor
2 stars: fair
3 stars: good
4 stars: excellent
5 stars: classic

And of those 57 reviews, 46 are rated between 2.5 and 3.5 stars. That's 80%. One page from the review section has 11 ratings on it, and every single one is either 3 stars or 3.5 stars.

What's the point of reviewing music if almost every album gets the same score?

Anyway, I'm bored with this already.

go away

Case File 227: Porn, misery

I thought passiveaggressivenotes.com was pretty good


But this is pretty fucking fantastic.

Bonding through Fraud and Hate Crime

It's widely known that I dislike the other clowns at my clown college, which is why what I'm about to say is so surprising: I made two new best friends yesterday.

Yes, two new and amazing friends. In one day. Two friends, one day, just like that website with the girls and the cup.

Here's the thing: They don't know that we're best friends yet. And they probably never will, because I'm not entirely sure who my new best friends are, but I'll tell you what I do know.

Friend 1:
Yesterday I was at the library in my study carol when I noticed that I didn't have as much leg room as I'd like (I really need to stretch out if I"m going to be expected to learn), and I wanted to move the study carol behind mine back so I could steal some space. But before I did, I went to the list to see whose it was (we had to sign up for them last week and the sheet is still there).

I didn't recognize the names, but before I could go back to adversely possessing their leg room, I scanned the list. Each study carol is supposed to have 3 people in it, even though most only have two (which means any random serial killer can sign up for the 3rd spot and ruin your semester).

In an effort to keep the goofballs away, the students at one carol filled in a fake name on their carol's 3rd line: Art Vandelay!

Friend 2:
After this amazing experience I decided I was too amped up to continue studying, so I was going to go home and watch Full House on dvd. While walking up to my car in the lot I noticed that the car next to mine was covered with stupid stickers. And hidden amongst the "Republicans for Voldemort" and the "Wal-Mart: Low wages/low morals" was a stick-on emblem of a dinosaur eating a jesus fish. The same one I have on my car, but that isn't why we're friends.

A piece of it was broken off by some hoodlum in the same spot that mine's broken!!! i was like omg and could have died right there

September is the new February

I won't lie.
My life is pretty much mundane nothingness filled with intervals where I have to attend an institution of higher learning. And when I say "have to", I mean that I chose to do so rather than enter the working force otherwise known as the "Real World."

and so with the advent of classes, I find I have something to complain about again.

into evidence, I offer the following notes from class today:

India will export one unit of steel and get 1/3 a pair of mens pants.
and from this India gets an extra 2/15 of a pair of pants (instead of 1/5 a
pair of pants they got under Autarky). = India is better off because they
have more of a pair of pants.

and that, kids. . . is the fun and fantastic world of international trade and finance. Trying to make sure all the countries of the world have as close to a full pair of pants as they can. I never knew.
Adam Smith? Who needs him! (unless he can explain better the term "autarky", which until I have a better understanding of, will continue to insert into random conversations as often as I can.)

so until next time: autarky, autarky, autarky.

Four Second Movie Review: IRON MAN

+

=

And the verdict...

The Summer Semi-Hiatus is almost over

just a little FYI from your friendly neighborhood blarging squad.

Hey, Avenue...

Did you forget to mention you got a new job shilling Yahoo! mail?

17 second video of a giant dead anaconda found...

...outside some building in south america.

Movie Review Triple Feature: Early Nineties Edition

Singles (1992)
synopsis:
A group of twenty-somethings search for love in the big city in this cameron crowe written and directed romantic comedy (spoiler alert: it's neither romantic nor comedic).

review in a nutshell:
Awful. Truly awful. Its irritability factor is off the chart; they should have called it Shingles- at least that way viewers would know what they were in for.

Watching this movie is like taking a telephone call from a.v.e. (which is basically him reading a blog post to you while you try to think of an excuse to hang up); it's listening to a bunch of people you don't really care for tell you about things you don't really care about, while all the while they're convinced they're telling you the most interesting/important thing ever.

brief commentary on the "twenty-somethings":
While there aren't quite twenty of them, the main characters certainly are something (major prickfaces). Think back to a pretentious coworker (but just your run-of-the-mill boring pretentious, not the oddly fascinating pretentious where the person isn't aware of it). Watching this movie is like being trapped with that person in the break room for 95 minutes.



Barton Fink (1991)
synopsis:
Barton Fink is a semi-successful serious New York playwright hired to write a B movie script for 1940s Hollywood. I guess I should say that the film takes place in 1941; this isn't a time-traveling movie (although adding a flux capacitor and hoverboards wouldn't have hurt).

Fink is supposed to be writing the story while he's staying in a shady hotel, but instead develops a serious case of shingles. Sorry, I meant writer's block. He's torn because he wants to write "art for the common man", yet he's supposed to be writing a schlock wrestling movie.

review in a nutshell:
Watching a movie about writer's block is just as boring as it sounds. There's some stupid symbolism (which is both a cheap substitute for actual plot and a poor trade for the entertainment no longer in the picture) that I choose not to go into because it's too boring, and some strange, but ultimately disappointing, plot devices (yawn).

even writing about this movie is uninteresting:
It's long, it's bland, it's a letdown (insert your own joke here). Anyone who says they like this movie is only saying that because they think they're supposed to. Or they're stupid.




Jungle Fever (1991)
synopsis:
Professional black guy (black guy who's an architect, not a guy who's job is being black) and his Itialian secretary have an affair (re: he bones her on his silly architect desk in what has to be the most awkward at-work porking session I've seen since Moronica sent me a link to "Trainyard Skanks 4" (trains don't need to be steered; you won't believe how the engineers occupy their time on the rails).

The story follows what happens with each of their lives once their tryst becomes public knowledge.

Other issues this movie attempts (but laughably fails) to tackle:

-The architect's wife's issues with being a light-skinned black woman
-The architect's relationship with his religious and racist father
-The architect's relationship with his crackhead Brother
-The Brother's relationship with their father
-The architect's relationship with his best friend (who leaked the affair)
-The architect's workplace relationship with his white bosses
-The Italian girl's relationship with her racist father and brothers
-The Italian girl's boyfriend's relationship with his own father
-The Italian girl's boyfriend's relationship with her brothers who hate him
-The Italian girl's relationship with her best friends (who also leaked the affair)
-The Italian girl's boyfriend's relationship a black girl he wants to date
-The Italian girl's boyfriend's relationship with his racist friends
-The architect's relationship with his daughter


review in a nutshell:
A real snoozer filled with unlikable characters being assholes to each other.

one more thing:
So bad it doesn't even deserve me writing a third section about it.

In sum: based on these films, the early 90s sucked. And if people actually acted like the characters in these movies... Thank god I was too busy playing Super Mario 3 to notice.

here goes nothing . . .

I don't have much, but what I've got you can have:

I've been banished to a small South Dakotan town for most of July. . . this sort of setting does not generate the kind of material I'd prefer to blog about. But, honestly, who am I kidding. . . nobody reads this anyway.

When you cross the border into Eastern South Dakota (and eeeeeeverybody knows that East River drulz and West River rulz) you get greeted by two billboards that pretty much sum up time spent crossing the state. 1) the billboard that tells you to eat meat. Seriously, that's all it says. "Eat Meat" in big Red Letters. and 2) the how far away you are from Wall Drug sign. Wall Drug is the waste-of-space town that SD likes to pretend it a holdover from the good ol' days of cowboys and ten foot tall kelly green brontosaurus statues with blinking red eyes. Wha? I don't get it either, but if you want to see both, apparently this is where you come. And there are signs as far away as Greenland and Africa to entice tourists to visit. Ugh.

And when I arrived safe on the Eastern border, I was greeted by the "WELCOME VETTERS" sign gracing the highway exit. Glory, Glory . . . I didn't miss the wonder that is the Corvette Rally. If you can call a group of James Spader (circa Pretty in Pink) wannabe, Creed blaring, personalized license plate sporting ego-maniacs a "Rally".

Perhaps not enough to keep anyone reading this -- but what if I could promise a follow up of girl-on-girl streetfighting and a trip to Deadwood? eh? eh?

If you've got a better idea I'd loooove to hear it.

In a measure of desperation, I'm about to do something really horrifying and give one of our sometimes-commentors a temporary submit button. Except I don't think it really counts as giving if you have to beg them to take it. Maybe I could ring the bell and leave it on A.V.E.'s doorstep. Or bribe Slogan Echoes to take it. I should start making a list of obscene sexual favors now.

Do any of you readers masochistic shut-ins have any suggestions? For guest bloggers I mean, not sexual favors.

An open letter to my fellow bloggers

Where the fuck are you.
I'd have better luck getting this broad to blog:




Babbles? I know you're bored out of your skull hanging out with Cruella's dogs all day and trying to devise new ways of killing yourself. Do you think, maybe, you could post once or twice while you're gone? No?

Moronica Bars. I know where you are. I know what you're doing riiiiiiight now. And it's more fun than blogging, but that doesn't let you off the hook. You are in fact still on the hook. The blogging hook. And if you refuse to blog, could you at least come help me dig this pond? Babbles started it and then fell into a black hole somewhere.

Gal. I feel like you're my best hope. I'm pretty sure you're on the edge of a serious comeback. And you were at least partially responsible for starting this whole thing, so dust your keyboard off and let's see some fucking BLOGGING ACTION!

OK, everybody, on three!


One...

Two...

...

(guys?)

Better him than me...

Babbles is in Colorado visiting Cruella DeBoner for... like... the next year or something. I'd say that means we'll be Babbleless, but I'm guessing he's bored already so we'll probably be hearing from him with stunning frequency. (Do they have the interwebs in hell?)

I think he thinks there will be a lot of this:






When really I'm pretty sure it's going to look a lot more like this:


And this:



And this:


Too harsh? She once choked me in her living room. Until I turned blue. In front of about 6 people (none of whom stopped her--thanks, mom and dad.)

Here's a hint, Babbles: If she goes for the throat, put your finger in your nose and pretend to try to wipe it on her. She'll be too busy barfing to maim you.