Random Thursdays

I brought sexy back years ago, but you never heard me bitching about it.

Tuesday morning linebacking

Did you see the game last night? You didn't see the game??!! Unbelievable! Un-FUCK-I-N-G-believable!!!

You sorry piece of shit, you missed the most amazing shit I've ever seen! It was INCREDIBLE! But you missed it. What the hell were you doing? Was there a gay pride parade in town or something, you gaywad? Just kidding. Shut the fuck up; I'm not homophobic, you are!

Just tell me: Do you like pussy? DO YOU LOVE PUSSY??!!! YES!! My man LOOOVES PUSSY!!! Dude, there was so much pussy on the screen I thought I was gonna hump my plasma tv in front of my girlfriend!

No, but seriously, those girls are hot. I hooked up with a cheerleader once after a Yankees game, and she was so fine - had a tight little ass and everything. Yeah baseball has cheerleaders, dipshit! Who do you think drives the cart and shoots the t-shirts out of the cannons? Jesus! Why do I even talk to you?

I can't believe you missed it! They had fireworks and a fucking laser show that spelled out their names, and there were these huge crazy dogs that kept running in circles and fucking with the crowd! People were freaking out, but the commentators said they were robots from Sony, or something like that, so it was ok.

My cousin was there! She called me while they were playing, because she knows how much I'm into them, but I couldn't really hear anything because it was so loud, and there's like that twenty second delay shit, so I just watched it on tv. But I was so goddamn jealous of her...I'm gonna kick her ass when she comes up next week. Oh, you should come out with us! I know you got a thing for her. Too bad she's not gay like you - ha ha!!

No, but she says they were supposed to only play for like 15 minutes, but they kept trying to go longer because the crowd was way into it, and the stadium officials had to threaten to sue them to get them to stop...

What do you mean, 'What am I talking about?' The game! U2 was on Monday Night Football last night! U-Fucking-2!!! Yeah, man! I know you love U2! I heard you singing them while you were in the john last week. BONO, DUDE!!! Fucking sweet.

What was the score? I don't know. I hate football.

Now I REALLY wish I had a treadmill

Ok Go's "Here it Goes Again" is my favorite music video. Ever.

Not that desperate yet...

Job No: 2006-0614H
Job Title: Lab Technician/ Curator's Asst.
Department: Office of Medical Education
Grade/Level: (07 ) $ 12.81 -- $ 16.66
Date Posted: September 07, 2006
Assist the Curator in the set up and breakdown of the six Gross Anatomy Labs. This involves moving 48 embalmed cadavers into position on the tables in the labs. Assists with removing the cadavers from the lab and preparing them for cremation. He keeps the labs clean during class time. This involves monitoring student activity with the cadaver dissections and cleaning up fluids that come out of the cadavers when the students are making cuts. This also involves cleaning the labs after class in preparation for the next class. This position requires a High school diploma, 2-3 years experience in a funeral home or similar facility moving and caring for human cadavers in a professional and respectful manner. Individual must be neat, reliable, and possess good verbal and written communication and customer service skills for dealing with the students, faculty and staff. Must be able to handle multiple tasks concurrently; attention to timeliness, accuracy and neatness.

My own Plans

That piercing sound in your ear isn't a physical affliction you're suffering - it's my neighbor. He's a cute little Latino kid, about three years old. We don't know his name. We call him Screamy.

At first, we were afraid we'd have to call the cops for domestic abuse, but we've learned that it's just his mode of communication. When we pass him on the stairs, he waves and screams us a friendly "HI!".

Lately, things have been quieter. Maybe it's because his brothers and sisters are in school now and aren't stimulating him to the point of verbal fits, maybe his mother slips a mickey into his apple juice. Maybe it's because I've started blaring music during the day - "Death Cab for Cutie".

I think they get the message.

Staring at yourself in the mirror might make your crotch hurt

Let me explain...

One day, while I was still in San Diego, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of my closet door. I can't explain why, but at that moment, I was struck by the sheer asianness of my face.
Hey, Bruce Lee! Do a karate chop!
I did. It was impressive.
Hey, Jackie Chan! Do a high kick!
That was a mistake. Thinking myself more spry than I actually was, I aimed a kick at where I thought my invisible opponent's head might be and immediately tore my inner thigh muscle. That was a long time ago (over a year at this point), and it hasn't been the same since.

My gymnastics instructor gave me some advice on rehabilitating it some months back. I was originally too embarrassed to ask her about it outright, but she got the idea when I kept rubbing my groin, grimacing, and looking at her hopefully during stretches. She thought it'd be a good idea to build up the muscle that had been damaged - the ideal means for this being the Lever Seated Hip Adduction (a.k.a. the glorified Thigh Master machine girls are always using at the gym).

I tried it out the other day, and I was really good at it. Whoever had used it before me must've been way weak, because I slapped forty more pounds to the stack and still pounded out an insane number of reps.

Now, as I lay dying, ice packs strapped around my legs like misplaced floaties, my final wish is for Suzanne Somers' head on a platter. I'll hollow it out, fill it with Advil and make it into my own super, collector's edition Pez dispenser.

Hey, Chow Yun-Fat! What the hell is wrong with you?!!

Don't Stop Cyber-Bullyin'Hold on to the Feelin' Streetlight People

Twice yesterday I heard Journey's Don't Stop Believing - once while sitting in the car at the Korean grocery store and the other time at a new friend's housewarming party. Every time I hear it come on the radio, I immediately start laughing maniacally and then try to sing along. Big, silly grin on my face. I don't what it is about this song that provokes such a reaction in me. Perhaps all those 80's spoof movies have conditioned to make fun of it even though I really take such not-so-secret delight in it. I Googled the lyrics to try to see if I could find the answer within them, but they didn't reveal the mystery of my crazed laughing fits. However, I found from several reviews written about the song that it holds deep meaning for many people, most of whom haven't hit puberty yet.

Here is a sample (with snide little editorial remarks from me in blue):

i think this is a great song and teaches us a leason that you shold never stop believing. Brilliant, kid.
and when the white sox pick this song i figued hey, im 11 im a sox fan and have NO clue what this song is but ive been a sox fan all my life which is not much because like i said im 11 but now its one of my favorite songs and the sox never stoped believing,i think it is really great .so listen to it and think about it.and to all you cubs and astro fans out there i have to say...LOSERS!the cubs havent won a sereis in 98 years!!!!!!! Little asshole! Learn how to spell. Sereiously.

There are other, more heartfelt reviews out there, but this mullet-headed, grammatically-retarded little glue sniffer may have clued me in to the answer to my mystery. The sheer cheesiness of the lyrics can only hold appeal for the prepubescent. Couple them with wailing guitar licks, and it's no wonder little runts start rolling in the aisles. I remember being similarly struck with paroxysms of delight by Bette Midler's From a Distance. IT'S SO DEEP! Now when I hear songs that touched me there during my formative years, I usually get embarrassed and silently curse that emotional little moron I used to be. It's why I can't listen to the Cranberries anymore. We (or maybe just I) don't like to be reminded of all the hormonally-driven feelings we used to have. Thank God I never heard Journey until after college! And that's the reason for the laughter: it's a dodged bullet. Every time I hear the song, some hidden part of me understands how close I came to having yet another crippling memory association, and like many near-death experiencers, I go into shock. When I listen to it, I can't help but cherish life a little bit more.

Someday, that little Sox fan might mature into a Wrigley lover, and he'll understand what it is I'm talking about. When that day comes, I hope he mines this page from the depths of the internet. Because if he does, I want him to know that


WHITE SOX SUCK! CUBS RUUUULLLE #1!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The DrewMamasburg Address

One score and six years ago some lady brought forth on this continent a new person, conceived in a 7-Eleven storeroom, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are morsels.

Now we are engaged in a great big hullabaloo, celebrating the improbable event that such a blight on humanity could so long endure. We have come to dedicate a portion of this blog to wish blessings upon him. The jury's still out on whether it is fitting and proper that we should do this.

Because in a larger sense he is all that is wrong with the world. From his annoying habit of stomping around, destroying our communities, to his disdain for our pure air, which he befouls with his unholy odors -- we would be more blessed to be rid of him once and for all. Yet we must sing...we must give gifts...we must feed cakes and sweet ice cream treats to this buffoon of a douche, because he's not really all that bad. After all, there was that one time he lent me his calculator and then there were all those rides he gave us to the bowling alley, where he didst lay down many gutter balls to our grand amusement. Dance, monkeyboy. Dance.

So raise a glass and pray that he might continue to grace us with the presence of his impossibly large hands and feet and the hilarious stumblings they cause him. Pray that he stick to his guns, that all those Phi Delt bodies laid waste upon the hallowed IM football fields would not have been in vain, that...well... maybe not the whole dislike of chocolate thing, for that is messed up, and he should repent of that leaning. Let him, instead, always work so that such a sumptuous and beautiful snack of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

September 8, 2006