Sunday, June 30, 2002

Beating Off A Dead Horse

I have this neighbor who lives behind my house, and I don't wanna keep talking about this, but I gotta. This fucker is like 45 years old, and I saw his wife the other day, and she looks no less than 25. More likely in her early 20s. Godammit, that fucking asshole! Shit, when his wife was in first grade he was like 30! Jesus Christ, fate is now REALLY rubbing it in my face.

Speaking about rubbing it in my face, I got a call from my friend last night, inviting me to come to a bar his at. Since I never turn down an opportunity for drink, I went, and found out that this guy and another guy, a mutual friend, had picked up two chicks at the beach earlier that day, with the assistance of their dogs, and they needed someone to pimp their ass. So me and this other guy they called spent like 4 hours drinking, eating, smoking, and making these two stupid losers look good. So when we left, the cheerleading squad (me and the other guy) went home, and the other two guys left in one car with the chicks, so I thought that at least they would get some booty. But the fucking morons brought the chicks to the CHICKS' HOTEL, so they didn't get invited up, naturally. I mean, how many times do I have to tell them that they gotta take the chicks to a less hostile territory, like their apartments or another hotel? Idiots! Well, I just spoke to the guy who called me on the IM, and they're going out tonight again, this time clubbing. And since I hate dancing, I told them I'm not gonna going tonight.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I like the nice, slow, chick grinding herself to my crotch dance. But whenever a fast song comes up and I can't get off the dance floor fast enough, I look like a grizzly bear doing tricks at the circus. And I work best when I can talk, y'know. Not that proficient at staying quiet and looking handsome, due to my face. Best I can manage is to look cool, but then I don't look so cool when I gotta shout over the music. So I'm just gonna stay home tonight, all lonely and shit. Damn.

Saturday, June 29, 2002

Papa Don't Leech

Who wants to bet that Kelly Osborn ends up the same as Nancy Sinatra? No bet, I think.

And if there was ever a poster boy for getting kids off drugs, ain't Ozzy the man or what? Just drag his broken, shivering, stuttering ass into a roomful of junkies, and I swear every single one of them gonna be scared straight.

Friday, June 28, 2002

Drunken Stupor

A couple of nights ago, I had an opportunity to drink, and since I BE MANLY, I had to take full advantage of that, naturally. So I ended up drinking about 2/3 bottle of vodka plus about 6+ bottles of beer. I don't really know how much beer I drank, since I kinda lost track at the end of the 4th bottle. So suffice to say, saying that I was "drunk" is like the understatement of the century. And for some reason that I don't understand, whenever I get drunk, I get this incredible longing for some feminine attention, not to mention an irresistable urge to sing. So I really, REALLY wanted to go to either a tittie bar or a brothel, but for some reason I REALLY don't understand, I just came back home. Weird.

And it just occured to me. What's up with all those married guys and guys with girlfriends coming to tittie bars anyways? There supposed to get enough of it back home. Dog hog all the strippers, asshole. Leave them alone for lonely single guys like me, you bastards. I mean I kinda understand going to a nudie bar if you're married to a chick who's frigid, ugly, fat, and really old, like 30, but still, it's their fault that they married someone like that, and frankly, you reap what you sow, buddy, so stop intruding on my territory. You hear what I'm sayin', bub? *SNIKT*

Thursday, June 27, 2002

UnMANLY Moment

I saw this link on Tech TV, and for some reason, it kinda appeals to me. Definitely not MANLY, but what the hell.

Monday, June 24, 2002

I'll Be An Elephant's Uncle

If you already didn't know, I'm a movie buff. Not a geek or a nerd or elitist about it, but I like watching movies. Fun movies. So I went to the video store today, picked up a copy of Rollerball DVD, and noticed a poster of Corky Romano there for the first time. And it said on the top "From the producers of Waterboy". You know the movie is in trouble if it has to pimp by name-dropping a second-rate, stupid, gross-out comedy that was a very modest hit. At least with Waterboy, I liked the chick, Fairuza Balk, a Neve Campbell look-alike. Corky Romano would bring too much painful flashbacks of Mango. And I need that as much as I need frostbite on my toes.

Brain Trust

Continuing from the last train of thought, I saw the trailer to the Crocodile Hunter movie with that annoying Australian guy who's just begging to me eaten whole by an anaconda. I swear Hollywood is getting stupider than an elephant's ass. I thought they already learned their lesson with Paul Hogan. Just on the toes of the disaster that is Crocodile Dundee 3, I thought they woulda learned their lesson already. Anyways, I would think that that movie would make Spice World look like Citizen Kane, if you know what I mean.

In other news, some people have been wondering why I haven't been online that much recently, and I just wanna say I have found the joys of Kazaa and video sharing, even though it crams my hard drive with spyware.

Friday, June 21, 2002

Socialist Faux Pas

I just came back from the theater, and saw the trailer from K-19, a new Harrison Ford and Liam Neeson movie, where those two play Russian Submarine officers. And what got me groaning and grimacing was that why is it that they're speaking English, sure, but talk English in a truly horrendous Russian accent? I mean, at least hire better accent trainers or something, or don't use an accent at all. It's not really believe that Russian naval officers speak English when they're by themselves and only speak Russian when they're with foreigners to fuck with our minds anyways. Or do they? Hmmmmmmmmm. I smell a conspiracy! Everyone can converse in flawless English! Only the Americans have such troubles with the language! To others, it's a piece of cake!

Sorry. It's getting late, and lack of sleep always makes me a little silly. Or is it the lack of sleep? Am I right and just brainwashed to think that it's a silly idea caused by sleeplessness? I smell a conspiracy!

Thursday, June 20, 2002

Addictions, Shmaddictions

For work related purposes, I had to go to the loony bin again today and sit around watch a video about addictions, while getting paid for it. During the video they mentioned something about sex addiction, and as usual, the mere mention of sex grabbed my attention like a crack addict grabbing the pipe. The geek narrator was explaining what addiction is, how it takes over your life, how in itself becomes a relationship, you know, the usual Stuart Smalley bullshit. And honest, I don't have any of those qualities. After all, It's not like I wanna have sex all the time or anything like that. Only 3 or 4 times a day. So I'm not addicted or anything to sex, I swear. If I was, how would I have survived these past four years without going crazy?

Ok, I admit, crazy is relative...

Tuesday, June 18, 2002

Funny Pants And Small White Balls

I was watching the after game coverage of the U.S. Open, in which Tiger Woods kicked everyone's ass once again. And they were airing the interview segments in the recap program, with Sorry Garcia and Second Place Phil gnashing their teeth, sighing into the lectern, and generally looking at Tiger with daggers coming out of their eyes. I swear if someone handed those two a gun, it would have been tiger hunting season, they looked so bitter and pissed. That might even things up a bit, I think. Hand Second Place Phil a gun, and one bullet, have him take one shot at Tiger Woods' leg. THEN he might have a chance at winning. Maybe.

Image Is Everything, Taste Is Nothing

I was talking to my Honey earlier today, when the topic of how thin and good Madonna looks even after her childbirth came up. I'll be the first to admit that I was never a big fan of Madonna in the first place, never thought she was all that hot ever since her Material Girl years. It's all in personal trainers, weight lifting, heavy duty aerobics, private dieticians, and lipo suction. Did you ever look at her arms? The woman is buff! All muscles and sinews and stuff. And since she's getting on in years, in her 50s I believe, if she doesn't resort to body building and plastic surgery, she gonna be so saggy, she gonna be called the Baggy Girl, instead of the Material Girl.

Speaking of plastic surgery, am I the only one to notice how remarkably different she looks, just her face, now from 10 years ago? Not that there's anything wrong with a little nip and tuck here and there. Take J.Lo, for instance. Heh.

Monday, June 17, 2002

Table Manners

I bought a new desk last week, to use it as my new computer desk. So I was cleaning my old desk out, threw out a like two trashbag full of stuff, since I have a packrat mentality. Among the things thrown out were my collection of old porno magazines. Jesus fucking Christ, I was surprised to find like 15 year old copies of Hustler in among my porno. When I decide to keep something, I really keep something. I don't need any magazines anyways, that's what the internet if for. So aside from my adult manga, I threw away everything, in a thick shopping back, taped up, then placed inside a trash bag. Anyone lucky enough to tear through the four layers of plastic I wrapped it in gonna find a nice collection of goodies, I'm sure.

After all that work, I decided to keep the desk in the living room. Figures. Shit.

Friday, June 14, 2002

How Did They Know?

Those spammers must be hiring psychics now. Otherwise, how would they guess so accurately my current situation? Other than the clear urgent need for me to obtain this as soon as possible, the website itself is hilarious, anyways.

----- Original Message -----
From: "gkaros" <>
Cc: ;
Sent: Friday, June 14, 2002 2:00 PM
Subject: Hypnotize Women Into Bed ------------ DGRIAEZ

Fat, bald, ugly, frustrated, broke?
You can hypnotize women into bed!

It's so uncanny, it's almost scary.

Thursday, June 13, 2002

Geeks With Dicks

Can people stop giving all these dorks and nerds and geeks musical instruments? I mean come on, I'm catching up on my MTV viewing in the last few days, and there's so many dorky bands it pissed me off. Literally. What happened to all the cool bands and stuff from my youth? If a geek band works well, they can be great, like Weezer, but mostly they become like Moby or The Strokes or The Stripes or The Screwups or whatever. I mean, I like their music and all that, but still, they look like guys I used to kick their asses in high school. For once, I long to look at a rock band that actually looks like a rock band.

In other news, I met an old friend for the first time in almost a year at a market. Now, that's what I call a deadbeat friend. Well, he lives far away, at least 20 minutes by car, so that's practically end of the world here, but still, the guy can call occasionally. But noooooooooooooo. Anyways, as soon as he sees me, the first thing he says is that I'm looking more and more like my father. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. If that fuck wasn't 3 inches taller than me and 50 pounds heavier, and if I haven't seen him for almost a year, I would have kicked his ass for that. Another piece of evidence that I'm looking older and older everyday. Man, I wanna go hang myself with my dick now.

I'm So Ugly, Oh So Ugly...

A couple of months ago, I got me a haircut and today while driving home from work, I had the misfortune of looking at the rear view mirror and noticed my face. Big mistake. Aside from the fact that I look like Shrek without the cuddly cuteness thing going on, I looked old! Jesus fucking Christ, I'm being played by the gods right now, I don't have a fucking clue what I ever did to offend them. I mean, the last time I looked at my face some time last year, before the haircut, I was ugly, but I looked young. Looked like I was 19 or so, which is the proper way that I should look. Now I look like I'm at least 10 years older than that. What the fuck happened here?

To top it all off, while trying to start a piece of shit lawnmower, I accidentally punked out a bigass cactus tree. To get back at me for getting it's ass kicked, the cactus tree embedded 7 spines into my hand, all of which I was able to take out, except one. That mothefucker is so deep inside, and it's dissolving now, that there is no comfortable way I can see to take it out. Thing is though, as MANLY as I am, when it comes to anticipation of pain, I turn into the simpering village idiot. I mean, I don't like thinking about pain in all shape and form. So I accrued advice from a couple of people I know, a relative and a friend. My cousin, who I like to call Cousin Moroni, suggested that I should cut myself as wide as possible to take it out. *shudder* As if I couldn't think of that myself, that fucking retard. And my friend Susanna, who I like to call the Sex Kitten, suggested that I should go to the hospital to extract it. *shudder* I hate hospitals almost as much as taking it in the ass from a 7-foot tall prison cellmate named Bubba Joe. ALMOST.

Thursday, June 06, 2002

Keep Off The Grass

Since it's time now when the World Cup is starting, I feel this need that I need to watch them, actually any major sporting event, since after all, I BE MANLY! But no matter how much I try to enjoy it, I get this feeling that soccer, or football, as it's called in less civilized places, is nothing more than a bunch of grown men in shorts running on the grass. I know, I know. I've heard all the arguments about how it's a game of strategy, or how everyone has to work as one team, or how the players have to be highly skilled and incredibly physically fit as well. But still, with like just normally a maximum of 3 or 4 points combined in a whole 90 minute game, it's just nothing more than a bunch of grown men in shorts running on the grass.

I mean, come on. With all the running around and a general dearth of scores, at least they can be a little physical about it. They don't even have one punch thrown, and the most physical they get is like tripping each other, and the most pain I saw was when some poor guy got a ball kicked at him straight to his crotch. Ouch. But still, after all that, it's just nothing more than a bunch of grown men in shorts running on the grass.

Sunday, June 02, 2002

So True It Hurts

I ran across this on a recent lockergnome newsletter, and it amazingly describes my habits. Only thing is that I don't have to be drunk to do the things listed in this Flash cartoon. Otherwise, it's funny because it's true.