Turkey Lurkey time is over. I was picked up by my step-dad on Tuesday so that I could go to Ikea with him and load up mom's new living room. Evidently one of the fat ass cats that my parents have (the have 3 cats, 1 dog) likes to piss on the couch. So, my mom wants a washable couch from Ikea. She also wanted to design her own entertainment center...so she did and had us pick it up. Basically, they brought me home for the holidays not for family time, but for free manual labor.
So, we got home where we had to move the old couch and chair downstairs, bring in the new furniture, and assemble it. My step-dad is similar to Phillip...a lazy computer-geek perfectionist. Thus, every book shelf and shelf that we put up or hung had to be level, and if it wasn't level we took out the brackets and leveled it again. But since he's lazy, I had to hold it up while he assembled it. It took us two days to get everything set up.
Then the grandparents came over and we had turkey day. Afterwards, we watched Star Trek (TNG, of course, it's a family tradition.) We watched an episode none of us had seen before (shocking, I know.) About ten minutes in, my mother says, "He didn't get her pregnant, the other guy did, and the jewel wasn't stolen, it's a gift for betrothal." 12 minutes later, all ST:TNG does is confirm my mother's spoiler. OMG, thanks for ruining it, mom. You see, this is why I hate movies, because whenever I watched them at home, my mom would peek her head in and tell me the ending, whether or not she'd watched it before. It some scary power of hers. It's how she knew when I had done something bad, whether or not I told her and whether or not I was even home yet. There was the time she called Kevin's mom and told her to tell me to come home because she wanted to ground me for what I had just done...and I was still at Kevin's house! To this day, she still scares me and I still think she can see everything I do. She's like fucking Sauron's Tower. The burning eye! No eyelids, for she never blinks, just a whirlpool of fire being devoured by the void that is her pupil.
That's it, I'm tired. Thought I'd tell you. I think my next post will be a rant about ugly people in porn.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
A Post about Phillip
Phillip has gone missing for the moment. It always happens at least 3 times a year. The usual disappearance involves not answering the phone, scuttling off to some kin, and crotchety solitude of the highest order.
I his absence, I would like to recap all the things housed inside Phillip's ass.
1. An information Kiosk
-----How else are you going to get around? Phillip is so snippety about how you act inside his bum, that he has built an information kiosk where the receptionist inside sighs and scoffs at your every move. Entering Phillip's ass will give you long condescending stares about your smaller self that's just entered. Inside the information kiosk you can find...
2. Lost and Found
-----People lose a lot of things in Phillip's big A like their dignity, their self-esteem, and their hopes and dreams. You must give a detailed description of what you've lost to ever hope of getting it back. Expect sighs from the information kiosk guy during this process as well.
3. Produce Aisle Misters
-----Ever walk into a Kroger and hear "Kgchuw!" in the produce aisle and notice that suddenly, the carrots you were about to pick up are now getting dusted with water? Then you know about the produce aisle misters. Phillip had them installed in 1997 to keep his produce as fresh as possible. It's also great for keeping things like boudin balls nice and moist. All in all, this is what makes Phillip's bum a memorable stop on your welf to self destruction. Dont' forget to pick up commemerative shirts and buttons at the Phillip's A information kiosk on your way out.
Friday, November 21, 2008
I'm John Cusack
So, last night I went to a concert with a boy I met at Wild Mustang's last weekend. The concert wasn't actually his idea. His female friend was in love with this band called "Mates of State", a married couple who pay keyboard and drums together. As you can imagine, it was quite hipster. Thus
, since this boy was getting dragged along, he though he'd spread the misery to me. Actually, the performance wasn't all that bad. Their voices were okay and they played their instruments well. It was just the music. Ugh. Whimsical nonsensical words strung together on top of hipster keyboard organ and drums, on top of the fact that you can't actually hear the lyrics half the time equals I don't know what the fuck you're singing about and I hate the beat. The only good thing about was drinking and watching hipster white people hop awkwardly about in attempt to dance. Oh, and watching straight guys in impossibly tight pants with those scarves that are popular trying to pick up drunk hipsterettes. People call gay folks stereotypical, but god damn I called every person in that place before we even got there.At one point in the evening, this female friend said to me, "Do you know who you look like? You look like John Cusack."
Ladies and Gentlemen...that is a new one I haven't heard. At first, I didn't know how to take it. She assured me that if I were straight, that little fact could get me laid left and right. I'm still a little disturbed by it. John Cusack? The guy from "Say Anything"? (Ls and Gs, the "Say Anything"? is a perfect example of a rule of grammar long forgotten. If the content within the quotations does not contain a complete thought or sentence or verb, punctuation goes outside the quotation mark, not inside.)
In my search for John Cusack picture, I found the two above. The first is a more recent photo. The second is a much younger John Cusack, who even though I supposedly look like him, he looks like Shia LeBouf. Odd.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I Just Fell in Love with Another Cynic
Uncoached.com
Whoever created this little blog can have me whenever they want. I'm serious, they can call me up right now, I could be in the middle of class I don't care, they can have me. They can whisper sweet demeaning nothings in my ear or just get it over quick and dirty and then write horrible things about me. I'm fine with all of it.
This person or people hunt down every little Guido name Vinny or Mikey or Sergio or what-the-fuck-else-ever-half-Italian-named boy from the "Shore" on MySpace and comment on them. Basically, my dream job has already been taken. And they admit things at the beginning like "Alright, you have a good body, but why the pink lip gloss?" Ugh, love it! P.S. I absolutely love the pic on top. Blown out gelled hair, orange tan, shaved legs, torn up manpris, jacket with no shirt underneath, shades, diamond stud earrings...and my fav part...the shore in the background and the boardwalk below. Omg, so Jersey!
Please check the Guido part out titled "The Myspace Toolbox" here:
http://www.uncoached.com/category/the-myspace-toolbox/
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Of Marriage and Georgienne
I know I have discussed American boys a lot, but I am "betrothed" to one boy, Mr. Georgienne. I think he is my soulmate. There's just one problem and the reason why we aren't together now: He's foreign. That's right, Alan enjoys only the most difficult of situations. He can't seem to get anything, no green card or student visa or anything. It's all too expensive a risk to basically play the lotto. There is an easier way, but it involves something that for now is impossible: marriage. You see, when you marry a foreigner, they sort of get your citizenship status. That is, they can live in the country with you. Sounds like a good plan, but there's a problem
You see, everyone keeps saying "you can get married in MA, that should be good enought for you." And true enough, I could, but there's just a tiny problem with it: They federal government doesn't recognize gay marriages and the federal government controls immigration, not the states. Thus, even if we were to marry in MA, Georgienne still couldn't live in the US on that.
This being my dilemma, i have actually paid a great deal of attention to the whole gay marriage issue in Cali and other states. It seems as though many people see the marriage issue like exercise, those that work out get the benefit of being healthy and looking good. And that if gays want to marry, they're going to have to work hard and build those relationship muscles. That's fine. Some people, however, think that gay people are amoebas and don't have muscles and therefore can't exercise and shouldn't be given the right to exercise. Even given the overwhelming evidence that we are not amoebas and we can have meaningful, healthy relationships, some people just don't want to give us the right to marry. It's damaging, I was going somewhere else with us, but I lost my point for the moment. I'm posting this, but it might get revised. I don't know. Just be scared that the "call boy" is thinking of serious relationships and marriage.
You see, everyone keeps saying "you can get married in MA, that should be good enought for you." And true enough, I could, but there's just a tiny problem with it: They federal government doesn't recognize gay marriages and the federal government controls immigration, not the states. Thus, even if we were to marry in MA, Georgienne still couldn't live in the US on that.
This being my dilemma, i have actually paid a great deal of attention to the whole gay marriage issue in Cali and other states. It seems as though many people see the marriage issue like exercise, those that work out get the benefit of being healthy and looking good. And that if gays want to marry, they're going to have to work hard and build those relationship muscles. That's fine. Some people, however, think that gay people are amoebas and don't have muscles and therefore can't exercise and shouldn't be given the right to exercise. Even given the overwhelming evidence that we are not amoebas and we can have meaningful, healthy relationships, some people just don't want to give us the right to marry. It's damaging, I was going somewhere else with us, but I lost my point for the moment. I'm posting this, but it might get revised. I don't know. Just be scared that the "call boy" is thinking of serious relationships and marriage.
A Recap of the 13th
Okay, so I'm starting to forget this shit, but I'll try my best to remember all the details:
Character:
Pretty/Beautiful (P/B): Loves black men. Friend of DDD and MKO. Always dancing...very well I might add. Incredibly fun, but finds himself left out b/c his phone is always one the fritz, he works two jobs, and he no longer has a car.
Last Thursday, I get a call from DDD's phone, but it wasn't him. Seems him and P/B were hanging out and P/B wanted me to join. I was cool with the idea, but Jawsh was gone for the week, so I didn't have a way of getting there. P/B said he would ask DDD to come pick me up. About an hour goes by and finally I get a call. Seems the get together is turning into me, P/B, DDD, MKO, and MKO's ex and good friend...oh, and don't forget our dear friend vodka.
DDD and P/B come and pick me up. Let me remind you that everytime I've been on the phone, it's been DDD's number but P/B's voice. I get in the car (on the phone with Phillip at the time. Phillips is basically at these events.) I start talking to P/B we have fun gossiping and DDD interjects to the effect of "you guys are leaving me out of the conversation." DDD has not talked until now. Anyjew, we get to the place, start drinking and P/B and I play DDR while DDD goes and showers. MKO and his ex return from a night at club Opera. They've already been drinking. DDD now starts to consume a lot. (The rest of us do, too and P/B ends up flashing his pee pee at us...all on camera.) DDD gets trashed and holds my hand, but not b/c he likes me. He justs need help standing up. Drinking and debauchery ensue and soon I do the good old Alan thing and get tired. I tell DDD "I'm starting to crash." He stumbles off and returns with a pillow and blanket and places me and the provisions on the couch. I, drunkenly, ask "Why can't I stay in the bed?" to which he replies, "Because P/B is sleeping with me."
P/B gets this confused look but continues to dance. I crash...
Only to wake up to hot tranny mess. DDD is crying on my stomach, kneeling next to the couch on the floor. WTF? I inquire what is wrong and he says "I was puking and MKO wouldn't help me!" Note: everyone is asleep, including MKO. I further inquire why he did not seek either P/B (who is in his bed) or me for assistance. "That would be rude." he responds.
He pushes me deep into the couch and lays next to me where he continues to sob and say he is a worthless human being for some hours. I keep dozing in and out, muttering comforting phrases that after having several tragic friends have become a mantra I say whenever I hear someone sob. DDD then gets angry, slams doors and does the whoe childish act becaues MKO didn't help him and leaves for court.
This is not the first time I've been sent to the couch. I went hom with DDD (just me and him) after he got upset at a party b/c MKO was there. I watched a movie with him, comforted him (on his bed!) and kept him company. After he was comforted, he dismissed me from the bed to the couch. This boy also only texts me when he is sad or alone and doesn't talk to me otherwise, even when he's too drunk to stand, he doesn't converse.
I later found out that the reason the P/B talked on DDD's phone was b/c P/B wanted me there, but DDD didn't want to come get me. Talk about a fucking slap in the face. I have realized that this boy basically uses me as a shoulder to cry, but otherwise has no interest in me. All contact between us that is not sob story related is initiated by me.
And another thing, why am I attracted to fucked up, sob story boys who have no interest in me?
Character:
Pretty/Beautiful (P/B): Loves black men. Friend of DDD and MKO. Always dancing...very well I might add. Incredibly fun, but finds himself left out b/c his phone is always one the fritz, he works two jobs, and he no longer has a car.
Last Thursday, I get a call from DDD's phone, but it wasn't him. Seems him and P/B were hanging out and P/B wanted me to join. I was cool with the idea, but Jawsh was gone for the week, so I didn't have a way of getting there. P/B said he would ask DDD to come pick me up. About an hour goes by and finally I get a call. Seems the get together is turning into me, P/B, DDD, MKO, and MKO's ex and good friend...oh, and don't forget our dear friend vodka.
DDD and P/B come and pick me up. Let me remind you that everytime I've been on the phone, it's been DDD's number but P/B's voice. I get in the car (on the phone with Phillip at the time. Phillips is basically at these events.) I start talking to P/B we have fun gossiping and DDD interjects to the effect of "you guys are leaving me out of the conversation." DDD has not talked until now. Anyjew, we get to the place, start drinking and P/B and I play DDR while DDD goes and showers. MKO and his ex return from a night at club Opera. They've already been drinking. DDD now starts to consume a lot. (The rest of us do, too and P/B ends up flashing his pee pee at us...all on camera.) DDD gets trashed and holds my hand, but not b/c he likes me. He justs need help standing up. Drinking and debauchery ensue and soon I do the good old Alan thing and get tired. I tell DDD "I'm starting to crash." He stumbles off and returns with a pillow and blanket and places me and the provisions on the couch. I, drunkenly, ask "Why can't I stay in the bed?" to which he replies, "Because P/B is sleeping with me."
P/B gets this confused look but continues to dance. I crash...
Only to wake up to hot tranny mess. DDD is crying on my stomach, kneeling next to the couch on the floor. WTF? I inquire what is wrong and he says "I was puking and MKO wouldn't help me!" Note: everyone is asleep, including MKO. I further inquire why he did not seek either P/B (who is in his bed) or me for assistance. "That would be rude." he responds.
He pushes me deep into the couch and lays next to me where he continues to sob and say he is a worthless human being for some hours. I keep dozing in and out, muttering comforting phrases that after having several tragic friends have become a mantra I say whenever I hear someone sob. DDD then gets angry, slams doors and does the whoe childish act becaues MKO didn't help him and leaves for court.
This is not the first time I've been sent to the couch. I went hom with DDD (just me and him) after he got upset at a party b/c MKO was there. I watched a movie with him, comforted him (on his bed!) and kept him company. After he was comforted, he dismissed me from the bed to the couch. This boy also only texts me when he is sad or alone and doesn't talk to me otherwise, even when he's too drunk to stand, he doesn't converse.
I later found out that the reason the P/B talked on DDD's phone was b/c P/B wanted me there, but DDD didn't want to come get me. Talk about a fucking slap in the face. I have realized that this boy basically uses me as a shoulder to cry, but otherwise has no interest in me. All contact between us that is not sob story related is initiated by me.
And another thing, why am I attracted to fucked up, sob story boys who have no interest in me?
Monday, November 17, 2008
List of Characters
To start the post off, here is a comment I made while roomie was supergluing the tile he threw at me back on to the floor.
Roomie: "You know these tiles are peel n' stick."
Me: "That's fucking great. We pay $1100 a month and our kitchen floor is basically a set of press-on nails."
Sice Vita. Now, the list. I will give you the code name, abbreviation that will be used, a few hints as to who they are, and a description.
Roommate (Roomie): as in the person that I pay rent with and live with. From the very south of Georgia. Raised spoiled rich, still is, but is at least slowly learning how to use things. Has already mastered the washing machine and the dryer. Says things like "mash the remote"
Roomie's Boy (RB): as in the person my roomie is seeing or dating or flirting with, etc. RB or RB0 is the current one, we'll subtitle "stick and sweet" for those of you that have seen the Halloween picture. Current boy is incredibly quiet. Thus, not much to write about. RB's in general will work like dates. RB0 is the current one, any after will have a positive integer (a.d.). Those before him will be referred to with a negative integer (b.c).
Dot Dot Dash (DDD): This one is about as coded as they get (God, I'm hilarious.) A skinny semi-Phillip boy from the same town and is currently the roommate of Mary-Kate. Loves computer games and has a huge anti-social streak. His social ineptitude is only a problem when he has issues with someone else, as he doesn't know how to effectively have complex emotions about someone. They just make him fucking batshit crazy. I thought he was cute for about two weeks, until I realized I was just another shoulder for him to cry on and nothing else. Not even a friend.
Sugar Daddy (SD): Do you really need a definition. An old man I chill with. He doesn't actually give me cold hard cash. I keep him company and cook. He buys the food and occasionally gifts (like for my birthday.) Old men are attracted to me like a fucking magnet, so I just said, if you can't beat 'em, charge 'em.
Mary-Kate (MKO): Right now, the boy who sleeps in my bed occasionally, but nothing happens. I've had a lot of boys like that. He's funny, but lacks a lot of motivation. Not in the Phillip was of lacking motivation. Think stoner-esque. I wore his capri pants for Halloween (huge clue). He a real "beam" of sunshine sometimes, but also can have a lot of drama around him. Encourage roomie to drink more.
Patel ######## (Patel): You can tell form the name a little about this one. Obviously goes to Ga. Tech and is obviously some sort of engineer (biological, chemical, efficiency...) Of course, loves the sciences and those that are involved with the sciences.
Georgienne: Mah boo! I really can't say much about this one because of his situation, location, and the fact that he appears in no pictures, not even as a friend on FB. I actually have a lot of friends that are not my friend on FB, even when they have accounts. It's called "some subsets of friends don't want to be associated with the gay because of their location and culture." Otherwise known as "although my friends aren't homophobic, their relatives and friends are, meaning even association creates problems for them that they shouldn't have to face and I'm sorry if anyone ever has any pain due to the subset of people I fuck."
There are others, as they come up, I will give an intro like this one.
A Most Vivid Dream
I know I haven't really posted about my tranny-licious weekend yet. I have to package it for writing first and let hindsight help me in a few of the situations. I also have to write a guide to code-names, much like the beginning of my thesis, which consists of names of reagents (people), their abbreviations, and their characteristics. First, I must write you of this dream I had, because it was so real, I woke up this morning thinking it had actually happened.
The dream starts off with Phillip and I travelling in I don't really remember where. The details are fading from my memory as I type. We're being Phillip and Alan as usual, laughing, judging, eating. We are in some country where my languages are of no use and neither are my international contacts. It's all up to Phillip and the thousands of language bits he has accumulated over the years. i don't think Phillip can say "hello" in Farsi, but he can probably say "I was once married to a tranny prostitute." War breaks out and Phillp and I are quickly thrown into "Omg, wtf, tranny" chaos. We begin running and make it to the border, cross it and are somehow in Sakartvelo. My territory. I instantly call up some contacts. We stay in Tbilisi about a day and quickly move our way up Georgia until we hit Poti.
We catch a boat to the Crimea and welcome ourselves to Ukraine. Evidenly Ukraine is in utter chaos as well and we, as hated Americans, find ourselves moving slowly through towns by cautiously running through old, maze-like buildings. This part of the dream was like an FPS, where you have several types of guns and can blow people away with napalm, but can't use that same napalm to bust open a wooden door. That is, everydoor Phillip and I came to was locked and we had to find a way to open it. We couldn't just kick in these doors, there were puzzles. I'm always confused by this. It's as though trees one day took the whole "Only you can prevent forest fires" slogan to heart and became fire resistant. I'm sure the headline that day read "Sparks Fly as Nature Decides It Is No Longer Flammable: Boy Scouts, Campers Panic". With wood no longer burning, a whole new industry arises, as trannies would now have to sell their old busted wigs as kindling. You know nothing in those weaves in natural. I like that idea, it's a great way to recycle and keep trannies fresh. I digress. Phillip and I finally make it through Ukraine. Instead of heading West, though, Phillip and I find ourselves in St. Petersburg.
Don't ask why or how, this is a dream, remember? The FPS haze disappears, and suddenly everything is brightly lit. Phillip and I are running through the crowded streets, trying to find the train station to hit up Moscow. Eventually, we find ourselves on the Trans-Siberian rail heading for Vladivostock. The train is lovely and Phillip and I are in Slav heaven. From there, we catch a boat to Japan and a flight to the US.
Two things I cannot stress enough about this dream:
1. It was so real. It had smells, sights, touch, sound. I felt things like fatigue, fear, et al.
2. It was Phillip and I together, running through the motherland is an apocalyptic destruction of society. Aka, although nightmare sounding, it was really a fantasy.
Thank You, Random Marta Bus Driver
Dear Marta Bus Driver,
Today I got on your bus, and it was already full, so I stood by the second door. You know the one I'm talking about. It's midway on the bus, before the steps to the upper level. Even the tiny Tbilisi gypsy busses have this second door. It's not some new fangled idea. I stood next to this door because there were not seats for me and I needed a place to stand. I did not do this because I had some agenda of being the first one off the bus. I didn't hate you then. I started hating you when we pulled into the bus round-about. The Cholitos/as began to swarm the second door, effectively squashing me against it. You stopped the bus and I heard the front door open, but the green light above the second door never turned on and the door did not open, even though the pressure behind me was mounting, as each cholito began to push harder in an attempt to leave the bus to ride the train. I yelled out to the crowd, "The door is closed." And then in broken Spanish, "La puerta no abra." You, Mr. Bus Driver, yelled "Use the front door, I don't want to open the back one. I heard the southbound train pull into the station as the pressure increased even more. I know my broken Spanish is not the best, but I thought my sentence was clear. Still the Cholita flood was not subsiding. Finally, the collective conscience of the crowd had an epiphany, and the front door was quickly used. As I walked by you, Mr. Bus Driver, I took mental notes on your appearance. Your image has been burned into my memory as the man who wouldn't ope the second door. I lept out of the bus, only to find that the train had already left the station. Five minutes ticked by and a southbound train did arrive, but never stopped. It was bound for "Out of Service", a popular station for Marta trains to head (an equally popular station for Marta busses is "Out of Service/Bus Barn".) After ten minutes of waiting, a fully operational southbound train rolled into the Lindbergh Center and I was on my way. You made me miss the train...for no good reason. I had no time to ask you why, as I still had a tiny glimpse of hope that I could make it through the "Breeze Gates", slide down the stairs, and be whisked away by the train in time. I should have, though. I should have asked. It's too late and now you are forever burned into my memory as "Mr. Bus Driver who hates Alan". I hope you can live with this.
Cordially,
Alan
i shouldn't post when this sleepy...
this rude, malicious lie of me having a sugar daddy is untrue. believe me, if i had someone willing to buy me shit, i would be shouting it from the rooftops. i'm too poor for shame.
lord. a lot has happened in the past few days, all of which i should blog about because it is mildly interesting. alas, i cannot remember now. the few things i have to mention of note.
this:
and just let me say how great this is. Paul Rudd steals the show. i will always love that man! this is what Alan and i refer to as 'the perfect Sunday.' God apparently makes Alan breakfast in bed. I get a cold snap and fabulous videos. in all honestly, Single Ladies is probably the best thing to come out in a while because it has spawned the best shit afterward.
to my few friends who won't leave me alone. i will not tell you my secret, stop asking. :D i can update you this much faithful readers, it is coming to fruition and i don't know if i want it to. we shall see. a few more days to fester... uh, progress, and i will make my big reveal.
i have found my love of graffiti on facebook again. next will be my love of paint. that sad love chart i made is woefully unrepresentative of my previous paint skills. or i should just get Photo Shop and be done with it. i will have to start my web comic soon, or i fear i will never start.
Also, i think i am finally motivated enough to kill my killer bust line. as fierce as these girls might be on any ho out there, i wish they did not love me so. thus, i am taking drastic measures to counteract them.. (so i guess the fried chicken and stuffing i had for dinner isn't a step in the right direction, but still.)
we're gonna see how this shit works out. that and my 1992 Cindy Crawford Shape Your Body video. yeah, i said video--not DVD. anyway, as of now, i weigh a disgusting 211. let's hope i can get back down to like 180 before Christmas time so the hateful fags in Atlanta won't burn me at the stake when i make my triumphant return...
PS- Alan's shit makes no sense. i know who did what over the last few days and his post is so... wtf?? haha. good try Alan. i've found that being sassy with made-up names works best with a reference chart..
video source: thebeyoncenetwork.com obviously...
picture: copyright © 2008 Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease
lord. a lot has happened in the past few days, all of which i should blog about because it is mildly interesting. alas, i cannot remember now. the few things i have to mention of note.
this:
and just let me say how great this is. Paul Rudd steals the show. i will always love that man! this is what Alan and i refer to as 'the perfect Sunday.' God apparently makes Alan breakfast in bed. I get a cold snap and fabulous videos. in all honestly, Single Ladies is probably the best thing to come out in a while because it has spawned the best shit afterward.
to my few friends who won't leave me alone. i will not tell you my secret, stop asking. :D i can update you this much faithful readers, it is coming to fruition and i don't know if i want it to. we shall see. a few more days to fester... uh, progress, and i will make my big reveal.
i have found my love of graffiti on facebook again. next will be my love of paint. that sad love chart i made is woefully unrepresentative of my previous paint skills. or i should just get Photo Shop and be done with it. i will have to start my web comic soon, or i fear i will never start.
Also, i think i am finally motivated enough to kill my killer bust line. as fierce as these girls might be on any ho out there, i wish they did not love me so. thus, i am taking drastic measures to counteract them.. (so i guess the fried chicken and stuffing i had for dinner isn't a step in the right direction, but still.)
we're gonna see how this shit works out. that and my 1992 Cindy Crawford Shape Your Body video. yeah, i said video--not DVD. anyway, as of now, i weigh a disgusting 211. let's hope i can get back down to like 180 before Christmas time so the hateful fags in Atlanta won't burn me at the stake when i make my triumphant return...PS- Alan's shit makes no sense. i know who did what over the last few days and his post is so... wtf?? haha. good try Alan. i've found that being sassy with made-up names works best with a reference chart..
video source: thebeyoncenetwork.com obviously...
picture: copyright © 2008 Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease
Sunday, November 16, 2008
I Can't Find Cameras with My Eyes
Ugh, my night last night was a mess. I need to catch up on posting, so I thought I would type this little one and then type a big one at work tomorrow. Anyjoo, back to the topic. Roomie, friends, and I went to a big lez birthday party last night. I swear that lez is a cuter boy than me. We bought a handle of vodka and made our way. There was a cute German boy there, whose first words to me were that he "loved daniel to death, but daniel doesn't love him back." I responded with, "That's tragically cute. My name is Alan." Well, the night dissolved into my roomie and I playing "chug chug pass" until what was left of the handle was gone. We then played "circle of death". Of course, I did what I always do when I get incredibly drunk...I went to bed...wherever I wanted. Luckily, I fell asleep on one of those couch futon thingies. When they woke me up to leave, JS Jr. had to drive us home because roomie had a ton of absinthe and vodka and rum and gin. When we got home, he proceeded to fall out of the car onto his head. I went to bed and woke up to find a linoleum tile on my chest. My roomie had ripped one up out of the kitchen and placed it on me. He had also broken the handle off the fridge (again), thrown his phone, cut JS Jr. on the back of the leg, and made tuna salad which he didn't eat. It was a fun wake-up. Had to drive back to dick-hater to get Josh's wallet, take JS Jr. back to the Commons, take roomie to work, buy him fags and then get them to him at work, drive roomie's boy home, take Mary-Kate to his apartment so he could get some stuff, pick roomie back up from work. On top of that I cooked and cleaned and made some apple tea. God, I'm amazing.
Oh, look at that shiner of a zit that's starting to form next to my nose. Awesome, not even cover-boy can cover it. Oh, and my eyes were really green. I need to keep track of my eye colors. They change with mood and action. My mom uses them to tell when I'm lying or done something bad.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Because everyone needs a secret bonus!
I don't know what's wrong with me, but fatigue (only in French of course) seems to fit. I must be turning into a cute panda, though the three toed sloth is more likely.
For those of you who are deeply concerned about my life and eventual Peace Corps-ness, I talked to my recruiter today. I will have a phone interview, so no trip to Dallas. Thank you baby Jesus, that would have been hard to pull of. There's not a lot of transport here in the bayou outside of 'gator skis.
I am a lover of weird ass music, and apparently the calliope. Beirut is amazing. More amazing than amazing. Gulag Orkestar is by far the most mood setting music I have ever heard (whatever that means); not that I know what mood it is, but lord, does it ever set that mood. Everyone should run out, listen to it, and romp around Europe in their heads with me.
To conclude my random post of no focus, I am in the process of forcing Alan to blog more about his crazy life. Because last night alone was golden, and it was thrown together last minute. Not even a full-on halfway house fête, one of which is going on as I type these words.
Secret Bonus: I have been secretly naughty and refuse to tell anyone about the specifics of it. Yes, Alan, that includes you. Its not terribly secret and will probably get wrecked and make a mess as per usual, but nothing actually catastrophic this time. I just want to see where it goes. I'll be sure to blog the shit out of it then. /sigh. Good night my faithful following AKA my little brother..
For those of you who are deeply concerned about my life and eventual Peace Corps-ness, I talked to my recruiter today. I will have a phone interview, so no trip to Dallas. Thank you baby Jesus, that would have been hard to pull of. There's not a lot of transport here in the bayou outside of 'gator skis.
I am a lover of weird ass music, and apparently the calliope. Beirut is amazing. More amazing than amazing. Gulag Orkestar is by far the most mood setting music I have ever heard (whatever that means); not that I know what mood it is, but lord, does it ever set that mood. Everyone should run out, listen to it, and romp around Europe in their heads with me.
To conclude my random post of no focus, I am in the process of forcing Alan to blog more about his crazy life. Because last night alone was golden, and it was thrown together last minute. Not even a full-on halfway house fête, one of which is going on as I type these words.
Secret Bonus: I have been secretly naughty and refuse to tell anyone about the specifics of it. Yes, Alan, that includes you. Its not terribly secret and will probably get wrecked and make a mess as per usual, but nothing actually catastrophic this time. I just want to see where it goes. I'll be sure to blog the shit out of it then. /sigh. Good night my faithful following AKA my little brother..
Jakie-Poo and I Share the Same Fantasy
I was trolling the gossip blogs today during the on ice incubation of my Maxiprep (it's a procedure, not a period pad.) Anyjew, I was reading an interview with Jake Gyllenhaal and he had this to say:
"For all of the people who are massively interested out there, I've probably put on five pounds of muscle. [After the movie] I'm gonna get fat and I'm gonna be happy."
Wtf??? Jake and I have the same dream. Get fat and be happy. Phillp already beat me to half this equation, and now my lover is going to join him. Wait for me! I'm just a little muffin-topper right now, but bake me at 350 with 2 sticks of Paula Deen Grade Fat A butter and I promise I'll get Michael Moore huge. I'll be just like a souffle that never falls flat. I would still love pudgy Jakie-poo and would still let him top me for free. Here's a pic from the interview up above. And the one above that, for you people who didn't know, is the picture that I have (4' x 5') which I printed at the Digital Aquarium at G-State nearly 3 years ago to the tune of $20 (which my scholarship paid for...) I want to put it above my bed, but I'm afraid that my nightly customers might think I have a starcrush or something.
Oh, credit for the interview and pic
http://www.towleroad.com/2008/11/jake-gyllenhaal.html
Thursday, November 13, 2008
It's impossible to humiliate Alan
And the post below this is why.. He left shame behind him years ago.
Regardless, I thought it would be funny to show you his current butt-love triangles:
I'm so sad the result is such a small image. Sadly, blowing it up does nothing good to it. Bust out the magnifying glass and enjoy. So basically, Alan has a lot of hott mess going on. We'll see in the northern/northwestern quadrant a lot of delusional never-gonna-happen love. Then there's the strained southwestern quadrant, where he flexes his foreign policy muscle. Oh endless puns there.. sorry! Then there's the tragic one truth, but I will leave that be. I don't want Alan's attack trannies finding me and putting a stiletto in my chest as I sleep. Or even worse, making a scene during my monthly sojourn out the house to WalMark.
And I have to say, bitch better keep his hands off my Kevin, I mean. Hi... :D And our cholita loving silver fox... well, I think every man has a stake in him, unless they are all weirdly attracted to people who aren't Anderson Coop.... oops.
PS- This is neglecting all of Alan's state senator and representative 'patrons.' And all those late night business ventures. But I don't have the patience in paint to begin to cover those. Also, that sexcellent picture was made by me, by hand, in paint. Yes, I HAVE gone blind...
Regardless, I thought it would be funny to show you his current butt-love triangles:
I'm so sad the result is such a small image. Sadly, blowing it up does nothing good to it. Bust out the magnifying glass and enjoy. So basically, Alan has a lot of hott mess going on. We'll see in the northern/northwestern quadrant a lot of delusional never-gonna-happen love. Then there's the strained southwestern quadrant, where he flexes his foreign policy muscle. Oh endless puns there.. sorry! Then there's the tragic one truth, but I will leave that be. I don't want Alan's attack trannies finding me and putting a stiletto in my chest as I sleep. Or even worse, making a scene during my monthly sojourn out the house to WalMark.And I have to say, bitch better keep his hands off my Kevin, I mean. Hi... :D And our cholita loving silver fox... well, I think every man has a stake in him, unless they are all weirdly attracted to people who aren't Anderson Coop.... oops.
PS- This is neglecting all of Alan's state senator and representative 'patrons.' And all those late night business ventures. But I don't have the patience in paint to begin to cover those. Also, that sexcellent picture was made by me, by hand, in paint. Yes, I HAVE gone blind...
My New Workout
Someone buy me some PVC pants and Carmen Electra Striptease. Holy fuck! I want to spin like that on a pole. Too bad I'm too much of a lazy Susan to spin and flex and lift and separate at the same time. This little gem of a video makes me think that I could not only be working the corner, I could be climbing the street posts and pussy poppin' too. In these economic hardships I need a new catch to attract more customers. Offering free "jalapeno poppers" with each romp isn't attracting the mens like it use to. A few nights working it like that at Swinging Richard's (figure out the pun, girls) and I'd have college and my Georgienne paid off. Plus the PVC pants. If you see me on the Martas greasing up one of the hand poles, you know what I be doing.
Obligatory
Today, everyone gets to read my obligatory "OMG!!!1! KEVIN PEREIRA is AMAZING and owns the interwebz post." Sorry but it had to happen. First, the eye candy:
Ok, so first off, I have to apologize you, dear media darling, for swiping this from the internet and not really knowing who to give credit to. Basically, it's all pretty and glossy, so I'm assuming its from a magazine spread or from your personal photos--you know for actory purposes. So credit goes to Kevin or whatever magazine/photographer who took this..
Second, not only is Kevin scorching hott, but his brain is at least as sexy! That man has a mind for wit and quip rivalled only by Alan and myself. Well, generally just Alan. I can hold my own from time to time though. Never have I heard a straight man use the word 'taint' so accurately and effectively. Though I have learned that internet nerds are never quite what they should be.
So, I have to plug Attack of the Show for its amazingness. Above and beyond even Kevin and Olivia, the show is just what I need to cope with my life here in the bayou. Don't worry Olivia, I love you too, and will feature you soon enough. Everyone watch Attack of the Show weeknights (LIVE!) at 6pm CT on G4! AMAZIN'!
Also, go check these two crazies blogs, which are sadly way more filled with awesomeness than this one is at the moment. Just give me a camera and let me vlog about WalMart bingo and I'll up the awesome ante on here in a hott second.
tl;dr: FUCK YES! It's Kevin Pereira! <3
kevinpereira.com
heyolivia.com
Ok, so first off, I have to apologize you, dear media darling, for swiping this from the internet and not really knowing who to give credit to. Basically, it's all pretty and glossy, so I'm assuming its from a magazine spread or from your personal photos--you know for actory purposes. So credit goes to Kevin or whatever magazine/photographer who took this..Second, not only is Kevin scorching hott, but his brain is at least as sexy! That man has a mind for wit and quip rivalled only by Alan and myself. Well, generally just Alan. I can hold my own from time to time though. Never have I heard a straight man use the word 'taint' so accurately and effectively. Though I have learned that internet nerds are never quite what they should be.
So, I have to plug Attack of the Show for its amazingness. Above and beyond even Kevin and Olivia, the show is just what I need to cope with my life here in the bayou. Don't worry Olivia, I love you too, and will feature you soon enough. Everyone watch Attack of the Show weeknights (LIVE!) at 6pm CT on G4! AMAZIN'!
Also, go check these two crazies blogs, which are sadly way more filled with awesomeness than this one is at the moment. Just give me a camera and let me vlog about WalMart bingo and I'll up the awesome ante on here in a hott second.
tl;dr: FUCK YES! It's Kevin Pereira! <3
kevinpereira.com
heyolivia.com
I'll be the First to Post this
I have to beat Phillip to a Web Comic Post. This is from cuddly-cyb.org
I love the name of the site. And I love the comics, because most of the time, they are nerdy.
Also, this comic might describe what my life may become. Find it here:
http://cuddly-cyb.org/comics/77.php
This is how my morning started! With this song! I've had the Dima Bilan album for a little while, but I haven't listened all the way through (because where I downloaded it from had all the names as junk...sometimes cyrillic and the internet don't get along) Anywho, I finally got all the correct titles placed on songs and started to listen and I'm in love. The song is called тоска (toska) and it means roughly "melancholy". It comes from his album против Правил (Protiv Pravil...aka Against the Rules) which, by the way, rocks. Give Toska a listen.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Too much G4
The city of Jennings no longer has my faith when it comes to providing me with crazy things like.. electricity. I forgot that America has an infrastructure problems when I lived in the suburbs, but I have been reminded. The power outage, which still has half the town lit up as brightly as the inside of Alan's cavernous manhole, killed my last post. Which is okay by me. I have something far more insane and interesting to talk about now.
My grandfather is totally insane. The man can't decide what he wants to be, a ranting republican or simply a ranting anarchist. He hates all of Washington, but saves special hate speech for Democrats. Barney Frank was just on C-SPAN1 talking, and my grandfather stated, with his voice of God pronouncement voice, that he should be run out of the Senate and that he is single-handedly responsible for financial crisis (you know, as a thing, not even just the American fall out). I hold my tongue in arguing that a terrible American culture of plastic and false superiority is responsibility, because I have learned it goes nowhere.
Then he attacked Rachel Maddow and "wished he was closer so he could kick people's asses when they lie." And "it's all fucking politics, they [Democrats] just lie." /sigh
I don't really know what to say. I just ignore him and go on with my online life.
To continue my political rant, I like Ron Paul. I don't agree with laissez-faire as the solution to everything, but as conservatives and libertarians go, he knows his platform well. I can trust Ron Paul to do what a Libertarian is supposed to. The sad, sad site ideas.rebuildtheparty.com has been cracking me up.
**let me interject here, last night, when I started this post for the third time, the Gods chose to thwart me. I lost power at about 9:30 pm CT and did not get power back until 1:30am CT. Makes me SO mad.**
Anyway, after my lack of posting, I'm sure Alan's internal pot of Columbian coffee is roiling at my neglect of this site. So I will stop here for now and think of new things to post, as I can no long follow my thoughts from last night.
I leave you with:
The kings of Leon. Pretty amazing, Sex on Fire, is my jam.
But the entire CD is amazing.
(CD cover presumably ©2007 RCA Records, if not so sorry)
My grandfather is totally insane. The man can't decide what he wants to be, a ranting republican or simply a ranting anarchist. He hates all of Washington, but saves special hate speech for Democrats. Barney Frank was just on C-SPAN1 talking, and my grandfather stated, with his voice of God pronouncement voice, that he should be run out of the Senate and that he is single-handedly responsible for financial crisis (you know, as a thing, not even just the American fall out). I hold my tongue in arguing that a terrible American culture of plastic and false superiority is responsibility, because I have learned it goes nowhere.
Then he attacked Rachel Maddow and "wished he was closer so he could kick people's asses when they lie." And "it's all fucking politics, they [Democrats] just lie." /sigh
I don't really know what to say. I just ignore him and go on with my online life.
To continue my political rant, I like Ron Paul. I don't agree with laissez-faire as the solution to everything, but as conservatives and libertarians go, he knows his platform well. I can trust Ron Paul to do what a Libertarian is supposed to. The sad, sad site ideas.rebuildtheparty.com has been cracking me up.
**let me interject here, last night, when I started this post for the third time, the Gods chose to thwart me. I lost power at about 9:30 pm CT and did not get power back until 1:30am CT. Makes me SO mad.**
Anyway, after my lack of posting, I'm sure Alan's internal pot of Columbian coffee is roiling at my neglect of this site. So I will stop here for now and think of new things to post, as I can no long follow my thoughts from last night.
I leave you with:
The kings of Leon. Pretty amazing, Sex on Fire, is my jam.
But the entire CD is amazing.
(CD cover presumably ©2007 RCA Records, if not so sorry)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Our Phillip Likes to Write to the Editor
In case you needed proof that Phillip is a crotchety old man at heart, he did the modern version of letters to the editor today, by posting a comment on a blog.
The article is here:
http://www.queerty.com/scapegoats-lets-blame-the-mormons-20081110/
His comment is here:
The article is here:
http://www.queerty.com/scapegoats-lets-blame-the-mormons-20081110/
His comment is here:
All You Had To Do Was Yell...
Good Morning!
I know no one is reading this quite yet, but I thought I'd share how I spent my morning. I woke up an hour early (at 7:00 am) so that I could finish cleaning the kitchen and make it to school by 10 (which means catching the bus by 9:20...yay for public trans.) I showered, did the daily ritual of pills (not drugs...that's not in the morning) and such and then set to finishing the kitchen. I bagged and closed 5 trash bags and began moving the garbage can so I could sweep and mop. To my horror, I found a veritable smorgasbord of delectable food bits. So...I decided to hand scrub and sterilize the floor. Yes, hand scrub...the entire kitchen. And while I was down there I cleaned the baseboard and the cabinets. Proud that my humble scullery was now sparkling white from head to toe, I rushed into my bedroom to put on a shirt and looked at my phone to see if anyone loved me enough to "Good Morning, sunshine!" via text. It just so happened that time had skipped forward to 9:58 am. Ah, the joys of scrubbing bliss that make time skip forward several hours. I grabbed my bags, reassured myself that I'd finish my homework in the lab and ran out the m-f-ing door towards my corner...I mean bus stop. The bright side to all of this is that the kitchen will remain clean for the rest of the week...until my roommate returns Friday. Enjoy what's left of the morning, non-existent readers!
I know no one is reading this quite yet, but I thought I'd share how I spent my morning. I woke up an hour early (at 7:00 am) so that I could finish cleaning the kitchen and make it to school by 10 (which means catching the bus by 9:20...yay for public trans.) I showered, did the daily ritual of pills (not drugs...that's not in the morning) and such and then set to finishing the kitchen. I bagged and closed 5 trash bags and began moving the garbage can so I could sweep and mop. To my horror, I found a veritable smorgasbord of delectable food bits. So...I decided to hand scrub and sterilize the floor. Yes, hand scrub...the entire kitchen. And while I was down there I cleaned the baseboard and the cabinets. Proud that my humble scullery was now sparkling white from head to toe, I rushed into my bedroom to put on a shirt and looked at my phone to see if anyone loved me enough to "Good Morning, sunshine!" via text. It just so happened that time had skipped forward to 9:58 am. Ah, the joys of scrubbing bliss that make time skip forward several hours. I grabbed my bags, reassured myself that I'd finish my homework in the lab and ran out the m-f-ing door towards my corner...I mean bus stop. The bright side to all of this is that the kitchen will remain clean for the rest of the week...until my roommate returns Friday. Enjoy what's left of the morning, non-existent readers!
Monday, November 10, 2008
This is so forced.
Alan is forcing me to bring greatness and tragedy into the world in equal parts. We are both very excited to start this blog. There's really no telling what you're going to get. I have an interest in bad web comics so you'll get some of that. It makes me sad to say that we are making our start poaching funny pictures and making infinitely better quips, but it's a start.
Alan's a real hott mess in real life, and he should be bringing you all the stories about the loose ladies he hangs with. I'm the other kind of hott mess, a very liberal brain trapped in a bible-thumping, ultra conservative house with no hope of escape. But in a few months I will be (hopefully) trekking around the world and having all sorts of hijinks abroad.
Looking forward to it!
Oh, and the first bit of good and serious news. My mom just had her gallbladder taken out and everything went very well.
Alan's a real hott mess in real life, and he should be bringing you all the stories about the loose ladies he hangs with. I'm the other kind of hott mess, a very liberal brain trapped in a bible-thumping, ultra conservative house with no hope of escape. But in a few months I will be (hopefully) trekking around the world and having all sorts of hijinks abroad.
Looking forward to it!
Oh, and the first bit of good and serious news. My mom just had her gallbladder taken out and everything went very well.
In the Beginning...
Good god, it happened. Alan and Phillip created a blog together. Let Zydeco music be played from lab to lab, and from former soviet republic to former soviet republic.
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"Wow. There is so much misinformation. I know that the religious groups can say and do as they please, within limits and still retain their tax exempt status. Acting as a PAC is not okay, this I know. A key point in this was brought up, if the Church simply "encourages" its members to donate, that's not the same as the Church cutting a big check and is most likely legal ok. Ethically, not so much, as it's just a side-step of the law.
As for poor Japhy: dude, do your thing. While I am fairly liberal, I like to see all people's points. And all the hate you've gotten just for bringing up things people don't want to face or process is terrible. I just sigh to myself knowing that so many pigheaded people can't be bothered with anything other than what they want to hear. You shouldn't even try try to lure people in with Morning Goods, though I know that readership is important to every online entity.
It's nice to have you, and I won't count you out yet! You're gonna have to try a lot harder to kick me in the teeth and gay bash my head a little harder to get me to quit reading. Basically, thanks for saying something new and hopefully we can all bring the community together and promote some thought and understanding."
And the most closeted man on the internet award goes to writer "Roymondo" You can look for his comments. Phillip and I g-chatted about him. Posted here:
me: who is this roymondo bastard?Goodness, aren't we queeny on queerty?