Thursday, September 25, 2008

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Minnesota Twins: Shitbags


Am I the only one who noticed that Mark Buehrle just called the Twins "shitbags"? Seriously, I was just watching the news (I would have been in bed but I am staying up to watch Letterman rip McCain a new one) and they were doing the White Sox highlights (lowlights). The newsman was interviewing Beuhrle, who had just pitched a great game (three earned runs in seven innings...and one of those runs was bullshit), and Beuhrle said something like (praphrasing):

"Ozzie likes to call them pirahnas. I like to call them shitbags because they're so annoying when they get on base."

Shitbags!

On a different and much more important note, I have something to say to the White Sox:

Pull it together. It wasn't very long ago that you were all dousing each other with champagne and celebrating a World Series championship. You don't get chances like this every year. You should know that better than anyone else. I've had enough of this. Let's go.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Top Five Week: #1

Audrina Patridge.

I know that this will make you all want to yell at me because you think that I am kidding myself about this quality, but I don't care. Because I am OBSESSED. Hottest girl ever. I don't know whether or not she has "the quality," but seeing as how I am obsessed with her, I'm going to guess that she does. She's got the quality.

This girl destroys me with the quality so much that I think that if I ever saw her in real life I would just run away, overwhelmed. It's too bad that I'll never, ever meet her. Unless, Audrina, you see this and you want to get in touch. If I run away the first time, it's only out of love. Well, seeing as how I'm sure you are super-flattered by being named the girl that some dude with a blog thinks is hotter than any other girl, Audrina (and not to mention intrigued), I await your e-mail.

She's got the quality.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Top Five Week:#2


Jessica Simpson.


With this pick, it's tough for me to argue that this "unidentifiable quality" that I like is not boobs. DeWolf has already doubted me (see previous post) and said I am only kidding myself when I say that. All that I can tell you is that I really, really don't think that that is what it is (although, as I'm sure any of you who have ever been around me can attest to, I don't think it hurts, either).


It's some kind of sweetness -- a specific kind -- that these girls make me believe that they have, or that they might eventually attain. I don't know if they are doing it on purpose or not. In most cases they probably aren't. There is just something in their respective appearances (and the appearances of girls that I have known in real life) that triggers this response in me. Usually they don't actually have it (actually I can't think of a single girl I've met who has actually proven to have this quality after I have gotten to know them. I guess at least one girl I know has the potential, but who knows. Maybe it doesn't even exist). It's a misleading aura.


Think about all the girls that I have really, really liked in my life...a sort of "Top Five" of girls that more or less destroyed me over significant periods of time. All of these girls have had the quality, yet less than half of them were built like Jessica Simpson. So I don't think it's boobs.


It would be nice if I could figure out what it was, though. Because then I think I would be able to realize when I am falling for a girl simply because she APPEARS to have that quality, even when she really doesn't. Maybe I could even seek it out and find a girl who has it before she bewitches me with it.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Top Five Week: #3


Scarlett Johansson.

Even though I pretty much hate the world right now, I will tell you that it's obvious to me (now that I have realized it) that there is this one specific and yet-to-be-identified quality that I am especially attracted to. I can see it in Reese Witherspoon, Jamie-Lynn Sigler, and Scarlett Johansson. I just don't know what it is. Thoughts?

Well, I'm off to my anger, unhappiness, and hopelessness again. Peace out.

p.s. the quality is not boobs. Hell, maybe it is, I don't know. But I don't think that's it. I don't think that it is a physical thing at all.
I do however enjoy them immensely.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Top Five Week: #4


Jamie-Lynn Sigler.

Again, with the morals...or is it sweetness (or goodness, or whatever)? I don't know. And like I said earlier... it isn't important whether or not the girls on these list actually are really sweet and good. It's only important that this is the impression that they are giving to me based solely on their appearance (and I guess what I see of them in the media).

I didn't think that Top Five Week was going to be this deep. As a matter of fact, I thought that it would be an exercise in shallowness. But I might actually be learning something from it and surprising myself.
You've got to agree, though...There is some unidentifiable quality that Jamie-Lynn Sigler shares with Reese Witherspoon. At least there seems to be to me. Apparently.

Top Five Week: #5


Reese Witherspoon.

Reese has long been a favorite of mine. Now, of course she is gorgeous...but there are a lot of gorgeous women in Hollywood. But there is something about her southern-belle accent and her southern-belle morals (that's what I said...morals) that is really attractive to me.

To be honest, I just wrote out the official Top Five List that I will be releasing over the course of this week and was genuinely surprised that at least three of the girls on the list made the cut because there is something about their moral character that they seem to emote in pictures. And actually, now that I think about it...I think that all five of them share this undefined quality that seems to revolve around their morals. This must explain why I keep getting involved with whores and psycho hose-beasts in real life.

Oh, and being hot as hell doesn't hurt Reese, either. But like I said, there are a lot of hot girls in Hollywood. Reese and the other four girls on this list have simply attracted my attention with the elusive something about her factor*.

It is obvious that the girls on this list might not (and probably don't) have the moral character that I seem to be attracted to. But it exists in all of them in my imagination. So just suspend disbelief and see if you can understand what I am talking about as I reveal the ladies one-by-one throughout the week. See if you can spot a trend. If you do please fill me in because I am obviously clueless in this arena.

*Have I identified what the "something about her" factor is for me? And is it moral goodness (or at least the appearance of it? What? I was under the impression that I had a black and consuming [Despiser. Usurper. Devourer.] void of a soul. Not that I really wanted it to be that way. What the hell is going on? Am I having an epiphany? What? What is happening?

Friday, September 12, 2008

September 15-19 is Top Five week

I will be counting down my official top five beginning Monday. And if you think you know, you don't. Well, maybe you do, what the hell do I know.

Cheers to Bobby Thigpen


I don't have much time to write, but I want to pay tribute to a guy that was, during his playing days, one of my favorite White Sox players. Last night, Francisco Rodriguez tied one of the most elusive records in baseball: Bobby Thigpen's 57 saves in one season. Thigpen, the former closer of the Chicago White Sox, held the record for close to twenty years (like I said, I don't have time to do any research on the actual dates). Were it not for the record, Thigpen would have largely gone unremembered and, as Rodriguez will likely break the record any day now, he will most likely become simply another footnote on the history of baseball. If you are a baseball fan you should have a beer for Thigpen tonight, honoring a man who is about to be forgotten.


Thiggy.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Bass-off


My apartment building is a pile of trash. It is old and rickety. It is ugly. It smells weird. It is either 120 degrees or 4 degrees. There was a pretty significant fire last year. And it is set in the middle of a bunch of fraternity houses. It's not a good place to live, but it works for what I am trying to accomplish right now.

This is my second year in the building, and up until now I haven't really had any problems with anyone else in the building. Everyone basically keeps to themselves in this building. We say hello, we knock on each others' doors if someone has left their headlights on, and we are, for the most part, respectful of each others' need for peace and quiet (with the one possible exception of the girl who used to live a couple of doors down. She used to have her friends over every weekend, blare music, get drunk, and hang out in the hallway at three in the morning. But she was cool, and I was hanging out with her for a lot of that anyway).

A new girl moved into the unit directly below me about a month ago. For the first few weeks I was treated to the craptastic bass lines and drum beats of her shitty rap music playing at ridiculously high levels. I would stomp on my floor (her ceiling) to tell her to shut the fuck up, and it almost never worked.

One day a few weeks ago, she came upstairs and knocked on my door, complaining that my floorboards were creaking. There is a certain spot in the middle of my apartment where the wood must be warped, because it creaks pretty loudly when you walk on it. The only way to avoid making this noise is by...basically not moving around in the apartment at all; i.e. not walking from one place to another. I apologized to her and let her know that I would try harder to keep quiet, and a few days later she showed up at my door again with some cupcakes that she had baked for me (they ruled).

Things seemed to be going pretty well neighborly-wise. I was trying to avoid the creaky floor boards as best I could, and she hadn't blared her music for a couple of weeks.

And then last night, as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to go to bed, I cringed to hear the dumb-ass boov-boov and booch-booch of her stupid-people-music. I got pissed off pretty quickly; I am a fucking insomniac who has enough trouble sleeping as it is. I don't need some goddamn moron rapping about what a goddamn moron he is over a beat and a bassline which only a shit-for-brains would fall for blaring in my ear and making it even tougher to sleep.

But I decided that I would try to let it go for a while, as she lives here too and all of that bullshit. So I finished up getting ready for bed, popped a sleeping pill (I take one every night) and started reading my James Joyce biography in bed (I do this every night, too. And yes I am aware that this makes me a loser).

Well, the bitch wouldn't stop with the fucking music. Even after I stomped on the floor a few times. So, after about forty minutes of reading about Joyce and hallucinating because of the sleeping pill (it's supposed to knock you out after about fifteen minutes; I always stay up too long and it fucks with me) I decided to fight fire with fire. I got up and stumbled like a zombie (sleeping pill) out of my room and out into the main room of my apartment, banging into walls and dressers along the way. I fired up my CD player and reciever (external, big-ass speakers) and started pushing buttons. I discovered that I could mess with the bass level; it had been set at zero -- the minimum. I turned it up to ten -- the maximum (bass tones can fucking travel, as I'm sure you know). I also turned the overall volume up pretty loud -- so loud, in fact, that I worried that I would be pissing off my other neighbors whom had nothing to do with the bass-off. I realized though that the only unit that my apartment is actually connected to is this bass-bitch, as mine is the corner unit. Then I went over to my CD rack, wondering which bass-heavy albums I could pick out which this girl would hate and which would really annoy the fuck out of her. I have a five-disc CD player so I was able to make a few choices. I picked out two of my favorite albums (which were surprisingly pleasant to fall asleep to):

Tool: Undertow.

Down: Nola.

That was at about 12:45. It was fucking loud. Coins on my nightstand were vibrating.

I noticed at first that she turned her music up. She turned it off at about 1:10.

I noticed halfway through Undertow that I was drifting off during the few seconds of silence that lingers between each song, only to be dragged back to consciousness when each successive song began. Believe it or not, I can tell when I am falling asleep most of the time because (well, first, because it takes so long) I drift back and forth between sleeping and wakefulness and I realize that I am doing so and also by realizing that I am thinking about some crazy-ass things that don't make any sense. This is what was happening, and I was out before the vegetables started talking at the end of the album, and before Down even started.

I woke up at about three and the Stones were playing; I apparently had left my Hot Rocks CD in the player. That means that this chick beneath me had been drowning in some pretty loud and hard-core bass work for more than two hours. That made me happy, because I am sick of this chick and her shit music.

Don't make me bust out my Pantera tonight, bitch. And thanks for the fucking cupcakes.



Here is a small sample of the involuntary face-melting that she enjoyed last night:

Tool: Bottom, from Undertow




And then Down, Bury Me in Smoke (not Bury Me in a Smoke like the dipshit wrote), off of Nola:

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

See ya later.


Victroria Beckham, a.k.a. Posh Spice, was Top Ten material in the not-too-distant past. But then she decided to get the "Every Guy's Worst Nightmare" haircut, and now she's way, way off the list. I've never understood why some women get their hair cut like this. This haircut literally scares me. If my Futurewife ever comes home with this hairstyle I am literally just going to say to her, "Hello, little boy. Have you seen my wife?" And I am assuming that I will get the old classic Slap-in-the-Face/"I'm leaving you" response...ha...oh...dammit.

I miss the good old days. And for those of you who think that I am nuts for thinking that she used to be hot...just give it up. You know that I'm right.

It wouldn't be the first time I was slapped in the face for saying something awesome.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Q & A

Question: Why do the frat boys across the street always play their (crap) music so loudly?

Answer: The music is tough to hear over the volume of the water spraying out of the faucets in their community showers. Plus, there's all of the towel-snapping. That can be pretty loud, too. And then there is the girlish giggling (coming from the frat boys. They never have any girls over there). Oh, and don't forget the straight-up humping that they are doing to each other over there. Talk about loud!

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Lies.


Here is an article from Yahoo about some *truth stretching* that Sarah Palin did in her KNOCK OUT BEST SPEECH OF ALL TIME last night.


I find it ironic that Palin was constantly blasting Obama in saying that he has simply mesmerized his voters with his charisma and his public-speaking ability, and yet today the GOP is gushing over the fact that they have a SUPER CHARISMATIC veep who delivered a KNOCKOUT SPEECH last night.


Lady, shut the hell up. You're from Alaska. Your kid is pregnant. And your husband has an uncanny resemblance to Dude Who Gave Birth. There is your answer to all of those rumors about Bristol Palin really giving birth to Tigger Palin (or whatever the hell his name is)! It wasn't Bristol! It was hubby. Conspiracy!





Some other notes about some of the prominent Republicans of the moment:


John "Maverick" McCain. Dude, thanks for fighting for our country and all that. Sincerely. And I am sorry that you had to go through the P.O.W. experience. I'm glad that you came out of it all ok. Sincerely.


One problem, though: I read somewhere that the torture that you experienced at the hands of your captors is not even defined as torture according to our President, which YOUR dumb-ass party produced. Now I have no doubt in my mind that what you went through was torture. My problem is that you don't get to have it both ways. You can't keep building up the fact that you were horribly tortured and even stayed behind after you had the chance to escape that torturous situation when your own moronic party tells the world that the things that you went through aren't even really torture so that they can legally do those things to people, bitch.


Also, just a general note to Republicans, and Americans in general:


Um, this is the party that produced George W. Bush. And we all know how that has gone (excuse me while I go count up my quarters so that I can buy a third of a tank of gas to drive to work on). And now McCain keeps harping on the idea that he wants to shake up Washington and change everything because Bush has screwed everything up. Dude, Bush was your idea. Twice. You and all of the gun-toting nut jobs that just fucking nominated you.


(Let me just wrap that last argument up for you: the same people that gave you George W. Bush [twice] are now giving you John McCain. I don't even understand how these people can claim that they have nominated someone who will shake up Washington. It's your own damn fault, people! Now, if you are on the fence about this election, one question you have to ask yourself is this: Do you trust that the party that produced George W. Bush (TWICE!) really knows what they are doing? Have they displayed that they are capable of producing a good president? My answer to both of those questions "Hell, hell, HELL no.")


The Maverick. Shut the hell up, you douche bag. There is nothing more lame than an old person trying to be cool in front of other old people. You're 72! Instead of the Maverick, your nickname should be the Rascal.



Rudy Giuliani. Everyone please join me in a chorus when I say this: Rudy Giuliani, Shut the Fuck Up. I don't remember who it was that said that everything that comes out of Rudy Giuliani's mouth is "a noun, a verb, and then 9/11," but that person was right on. Rudy Giuliani, being a dickhead, 9/11. Rudy Giuliani, lying, 9/11. I watched your speech last night and I don't even know what to say, other than that I think that it is pretty fucked up that you are straight-up lying to millions of people in an attempt to change our future.


And, didn't you cheat on your wife? Here is an imagined conversation between myself, Giuliani, and McCain:


Me: "So, Rudy. Didn't you cheat on your wife? Well, at least you didn't cheat on her/dump her while she was in the grips of a debilitating and potentially fatal disease."


[I, with mouth hanging open, the corners of my lips peeled embarrassingly backwards, sharply draw in a breath and shift my gaze over to McCain]


Me: "Awkwaaard!"


Rudy Giuliani, shut the fuck up, 9/11.


As a matter of fact, all of you Repulican pricks can go fuck yourselves. Or the guy in the next stall over (that is, if he understands foot-tap language as well as you all seem to).