March 22, 2010
What a gloriously depressing weather day it is today in Central, New Jersey. Thursday was beautiful. Friday was beautiful. Saturday was beautiful. Sunday was beautiful. Monday is shit. I remember thinking to myself late Sunday night “I need a beer”, but after that I remember looking out the window for a moment and noticing the sky was gray. Is it going to suck on Monday? And it does. Outside of the weather, the world is still wild and crazy and that is all I need to keep me going and writing.
I will start this new and always historic week at KSWI with a confession. That’s right! I, KSWI Jordan, will confess something. A deep dark secret. A factoid of knowledge that has lingered in the depths of my heart and brain worrying me, plaguing me, CONFOUNDING ME! So listen up everyone! Stop molesting those altar boys for one holy second Mr. Priests because I have a confession to make.
I confess: I like the Black Eyed Peas.
AHHHHHHH!!!!!! I FEEL THIS BURDEN LIFTING OFF MY SHOULDERS!!!!! I CAN BREATHE!!!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!! FFFFFPPPHHHHHMMMM (intake “breadth”) FFFFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFOOOOOO (outtake “breadth”)!!!!! I FEEL SO ALIVE! FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME! I CAN’T DENY YOU! I FEEL SO ALIVE!!! I, I FEEL SO ALIVE FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME!!!! AND I THINK I CAN FLY!!!
Hmmm… I think I stole the last few exclamations from the immortal words of P.O.D. and their hit single “Alive”. Which as we all know was rightfully banned from radio and TV because of the tragic events of 9/11. They should have just banned P.O.D. because they suck, amirite? Awww, P.O.D. doesn’t suck. You just said you liked the Black Eyed Peas how can you talk shit on P.O.D.?
Anyway, I recently have found room in my warm bloody heart for the Black Eyed Peas song “Imma Be”:
This began a serious moment of reflection. How many songs from a band do I have to like before I have to acknowledge I like that band? So…
1. “Let’s Get Retarded”
2. “Pump It”
3. “Don’t Phunk With My Heart”
4. “My Humps”
5. “Boom Boom Pow”
6. “Rock That Body”
7. “I Gotta Feeling”
8. “Imma Be”
I have never sat down and listened to a Black Eyed Peas album. I’m not saying I ever will/would. Currently, I have no intentions of ever spending a single dime on the Black Eyed Peas. But I cannot deny that I think they put out some of the better pop/dance singles. Most of the 8 songs mentioned were not only popular, but they were monumentally popular. Either I liked them from the get go or I have been brainwashed into liking them. I just had to say that. It has been something I have wanted to share publicly for a long time and I thank you all for listening.
I confess my adoration for the Black Eyed Peas, but that is not all! I have more to talk about. There was something historic that just happened I would like to take a moment to reflect on, outside of me admitting to myself that the Black Eyed Peas hold some reverence in my musical heart. That thing: Healthcare reform bill passed! HISTORIC!
I will begin this discussion about the Healthcare reform bill passing through the guidance of Ms. Nancy Pelosi by liberally quoting Dawgz. I will, of course, fix his typos because I’m a friend. Not a good enough friend to not mention that there are numerous typos. Dawgz writes like he is the most brilliantly hyperbolic inner-city youth:
With a historic 219-212 health care vote, on a bill that seemed absolutely dead two months ago after Massachusetts fell in love with the hunky Scott Brown and his green pick-up truck, “The Ice Queen” Nancy Pelosi just vindicated her entire political career. Her arm twisting, already legendary, now officially becomes epic. She will go down in history as one of the most formidable Speakers of the House of the last century. I don’t care what you all think of the bill or Pelosi personally, but she forced Obama to get off the sidelines and fight for reform, while also corralling her wavering party to summon the political-will most people did not think they possessed. Impressive stuff for the first leader of Congress with a D rack.
Here is how she did it:
And yes, what a lovely bosom that 69 year old Speaker of the House lady has. Are you sensing a list of women over 60 that men should fuck? Because there very well might be one in the future.
“The Ice Queen” Nancy Pelosi, Rahm Emanuel and President Barack Obama should feel elated right now. In face of much much much opposition and nay saying and just overall bullshit pessimism – they passed a healthcare reform bill that many thought was impossible to pass.
Currently, I already imagine that Washington D.C. and the political world there is setup exactly like high school. There are the cliques, the cool kids, the nerds, the outcasts et cetera. And right in the middle of it, I think that Nancy Pelosi and Rahm Emanuel walk around like two high school football playing jocks bullying the rest of the students.
They stride the halls with a cocksure swagger. They push a couple Republican representatives from small states into some lockers. In the cafeteria, they knock Joe Lieberman’s lunch tray out of his hands when he walks by. They’re just really aggressive and vulgar to everyone. And today is most certainly the day for them to just “big dick it” in those hallways.
Rahm Emanuel walks down the hall and smacks Ohio’s 15th district representative, Mary Jo Kilroy, on the ass.
Rahm Emanuel – How’s the Financial Services committee? How’s that hot piece of black ass Maxine Waters doing? She’s got my number. Tell her to “holla”. Question is- do you have my number? Because I got some if you need it.
Mary Jo Kilroy – I am married with two chil-
Rahm Emanuel – I didn’t say you had to get a fucking divorce. I’m talking about some action. *smacks her on the ass again* Whatever, you know where to find me. If you see Bill Posey first, tell that limp dick when I see him I’m going to make him kiss the ring. You’ll know that I’ve delivered the message already if he’s crying like a bitch, am I right? *smacks Mary Jo on the ass one more time* You could bounce quarters off that thing! Peace!
Rahm flashes the peace sign at Mary Jo and then he brings it to his lips and graphically starts sticking his tongue between them.
Rahm Emanuel – You love it.
Rahm continues walking. Rahm walks past Oregon’s 5th district representative Kurt Schrader and fakes throwing a punch at him causing Kurt to flinch. Rahm laughs, calls him a “pussy” and keeps on strutting.
That was fun. But today is really “The Ice Queen’s” day. I wonder how she is celebrating.
Somewhere in Washington, three men are having a pleasant conversation: Ohio’s 10th district representative Dennis Kucinich, California’s 25th district representative Buck McKeon, and Alaska’s only representative Don Young. An ominous sound is heard in the distance. A shiver of adrenaline, fear, runs up Dennis Kucinich’s spine.
Dennis Kucinich – Oh no. She’s coming.
Don and Buck look at each other. They see the unbridled terror in Dennis’ eyes. And they now can hear it too. An echo of a steady bass drum heading right to them. The sound is immediately recognizable. It is the rhythmic clopping of high heels on linoleum.
Buck McKeon – It’s Nancy Pelosi. She’s only 10 seconds away and moving in fast.
Don Young – The Doom Bringer? What should we do?
Dennis Kucinich – Run!
Nancy Pelosi – Not so fast you squirrelly fuck!
The three men now sheepishly afraid turn and see the first ever woman Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi walking towards them. Her icy stare freezes their central nervous system and they just watch as she moves closer.
Buck McKeon – I can’t move.
Nancy Pelosi – You better not move, Buck, because I’ll chase you. And I’ll catch you. And you know what happens when I catch one of you bitches who runs from me?
Buck McKeon – You pants them in front of everyone.
Nancy Pelosi – You’re damn right about that.
Nancy reaches the three of them. She appears to be looming over them like a 7 foot tall Hakeem Olajuwon.
Buck McKeon – Good morning, Nancy.
Don Young – Good morning, Nancy. You look radiant today.
Nancy Pelosi – Take your tongue out of my ass for a minute, Don. All you had to say was “good morning”.
Nancy ball taps Kucinich which doubles him over. Don and Buck wince in empathy.
Nancy Pelosi – No “good morning” from the Keebler elf? Come on, Dennis, let’s hear it.
Dennis Kucinich – *gritting his teeth in nauseating pain* Good morning, Ms. Pelosi.
Nancy Pelosi – That’s better. So what’re you fags talking about? Fucking each other, right? Did I interrupt you three making out? Triple kissing homos.
Don and Buck are wide-eyed disgusted. Kucinich is still bent over holding his crotch.
Nancy Pelosi – I’m just fucking with you. I know you all aren’t queers. Old Buck McKeon? Buck “who likes to fuck” McKeon? Straight as an arrow. And Don Young? You must’ve been beating chicks off with a stick up there in the snow. I mean girls had to choose between fucking you or a polar bear, am I right? I’d choose you too, Donnie boy.
Nancy notices Kucinich is still in pain.
Nancy Pelosi – Come on, Dennis. I didn’t hit you that hard. I just flicked it.
Nancy helps Dennis back to an upright standing position.
Nancy Pelosi – You may look like a little faggy tree elf, but we all know you’re a sex monster, right? What did you do this weekend? You dog that hot redhead wife of yours? You get some stank on that pecker? I bet you did, you weird little creep. I bet you get freaky with her. I know I would. I know I would. So give up the deets. Give up the details. You get some stank on that little flesh patch you call a dick?
Nancy Pelosi ball taps Kucinich again. He doubles over again. Nancy walks around behind and grabs hold of him on either side of his waist.
Nancy Pelosi – Yeah, I would grab that sexy fire crotch skinny bitch around her narrow waist and just boom boom boom…
Nancy proceeds to pound Dennis Kucinich from behind as Don and Buck look on revolted.
Nancy Pelosi – Uh huh, that’s some good pussy right there.
Nancy then gives Dennis a couple good hard spanks which make Dennis’ knees buckle for an instant. After a few more fake penetrations, Nancy pulls out her imaginary penis and pantomimes finishing herself off all over Kucinich’s back.
Don and Buck look horrified as if they did just watch Nancy Pelosi rape Dennis Kucinich from behind and did nothing to stop it from happening. Kucinich proceeds to tug at his jacket like it’s a security blanket. He looks to be in shock from the whole violation.
Nancy Pelosi – Whew, that was pretty hot. Whew, really hot. My nipples could cut glass right now. I have to admit, Dennis is such a weirdo that my clam is usually dryer than the Mojave Desert when he is around. But right now, I’m wetter than the Pacific Ocean.
Nancy Pelosi starts sniffing the air.
Nancy Pelosi – Can you smell it, boys?
Don and Buck are utterly disgusted.
Don Young – Ms. Pelosi, you are the most vulgar-
Nancy Pelosi – You can smell it. Don’t you lie to me, you son of a bitch. You know you can smell it. I know I can. Tell me what that smell is, Fucky Bucky.
Buck McKeon – Well, it’s your va-
Nancy Pelosi – It’s democracy.
Buck, Don and Dennis look thoroughly confused.
Nancy Pelosi – And it smells glorious. See you ass clowns later. I have to go do an interview with that twat Kouric. I’m going to go gloat on television, boys.
Nancy stomps off down the hall. After 15 powerful strides or so she stops and turns.
Nancy Pelosi – The smell of democracy and “this”.
Nancy forcefully grabs her crotch. She then smells her fingers and then gives Don, Dennis and Buck the finger and keeps on walking.
Nancy Pelosi – Fags!
- End Scene -
I am twisted and it is still raining outside. I love politics!
March 19, 2010
Friday, conspicuously not bloody, Friday. Friday, completely unwounded and unmarred skin, Friday. Friday, totally average in all appearances and unmemorable, Friday. Since it is Friday, it is question and answer time. I think I may be the only person who enjoys the Friday posts. I look forward to these Friday posts because I really don’t have to think of anything to write about. It is supplied to me in these questions and all I need to do is react. Monday thru Thursday is much agonizing, much deliberating, much vetting. It is exhausting. On Wednesday I had to do MATH. AHHH!!! It is tiring.
I just want to mention a couple of thoughts I had about these questions:
1. If these are the questions you really want me to answer then sure keep asking them. But you can ask any question. It doesn’t have to be about me. These Friday posts were not intended to be the longest running Facebook profile ever. Ask anything. If you want to know more about me then ok, but you can ask me any ass backwards ridiculous question and I’ll try my best to answer it. I think I’ve done that already a bunch of times and am perfectly comfortable doing it again.
2. Should I get rid of these posts all together? I like them because I don’t have to think up a topic, but that’s no reason to keep them around. If people are bored with them then I can think of something else to replace these Friday Q&A’s.
Just a thought(s).
-favorite band.. i know soo hard to pick just one, soo favorite band/bands per genre would be cool
I do have an answer for “favorite band” solely because people do ask this question. I feel the most comfortable in saying The Pixies are my favorite band. I think Surfer Rosa and Doolittle are perfect albums. I love how they sound. It is offbeat, melancholy at points, very aggressive at others, it sounds loud even if you turn the volume down, and their music sounds dangerous within the confines of a simple musical structure. I think each member of the band is highly underrated in what they do individually and the band is also that idea of “the sum is greater than its parts”.
But I’m not completely sold on them being my “favorite” band. How do you really compare one band to another? How am I supposed to compare Radiohead to Clutch? Their music sounds nothing alike and it isn’t supposed to. Or compare Nirvana to Metallica? They sound nothing alike as well. Nirvana wasn’t even around long enough to give us more than three studio albums. Meanwhile, Metallica gave us three of my favorite studio albums ever and then continues to hang around and sully that reputation since Cliff died. Also, I have a hard time saying my “favorite” anything is something I wasn’t on Earth to see.
In my own rationale, I have a hard time saying The Beatles are my favorite band because they’re not from my generation. I think they are the “greatest band of all time”, but they don’t belong to me. Same with the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. If I had to create a list of “greatest bands of all time”, I would have to put The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin all right at the top. But I think there is a lack of genuineness if I said they were my “favorite” because that music was made for someone else. It might be a strange way of looking at things I know.
I love music. From Johnny Cash to the Bad Brains to Elliott Smith to Pantera to the Wu-Tang Clan. It is not easy for me to say a favorite. Also, I think it does a bit of a disservice because saying a “favorite” pigeon holes your “taste” in music. If I say my favorite band is The Pixies then does that reflect how much I love Life of Agony, the Broken Social Scene, Nick Cave, Hatebreed, The Allman Brothers, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Marley…..
But I do love The Pixies. A ton. I get chills listening to them.
-favorite song, again hard to pick just one
This is a completely ridiculous question. I’m going to answer it because I would be a dick not answering it, but much like the last question I hate the idea of “favorite” because it pigeon holes you and doesn’t accurately show how much you love other songs too.
If I had HAD had had had to choose a “favorite” song then I would feel the most MOST most most most comfortable saying “Possum Kingdom” by The Toadies.
The Toadies’ album Rubberneck is certainly one of my favorite albums of all time. I have listened to that album a million times and it never gets old for me. I also have listened to “Possum Kingdom” a near uncountable amount of times. I love the classic horror slasher story style lyrics, I love the muddiness of it, I love the range of emotions, it is great to sing/yell along to and it just kicks ass.
How do you think you’ll die? Do you have a death preference?
I think I’ll just fade away into the wind at some point. Whatever my accomplishments are during my life will remain, but the memory of me will be swept off to sea.
Death preference? I want to die of exhaustion after defeating the Robot King Calvatron in a laser-sword duel in the throne room of his hologram fortress atop Mount Xenon (formerly Mt. Everest) thus bringing to an end the great Robot/Human Wars of the 22nd century.
The duel itself will look remarkably similar to the final battle in Masters of the Universe where He-Man defeats Gold Skeletor. After the initial celebration that Robot King Calvatron is dead from decapitation, I will collapse and give a tearful goodbye to my throng of Playboy playmate wives who are each 1-2 months pregnant with a child of mine, which will be interrupted as the hologram fortress begins to fall apart. I’ll insist they leave me behind as they escape to a human future without evil robots. They will all make it out of the fortress alive right before it collapses then explodes and then vanishes forever. They will watch this on individual horses that were rounded up for them by my right hand man who is a warrior Cyclops.
Pretty much – Terminator happens and the machines take over the world, I defeat the machines with a Masters of the Universe climactic fight then everything ends way too similarly to Krull.
Also, my Playboy playmate wives (all 20 of them) will never remarry. They instead become lesbians and just have sex with each other. The Cyclops will be the main father figure for my 20 children. He will raise them the way I would have wanted: a huge emphasis on weapons training, a love for Minor Threat, the teachings of Fight Club and the belief that Michael Jeffrey Jordan may be the greatest human being to have walked this Earth.
You are a ginger kid right? Would you say that you have no soul? How is that working out for you?
I don’t think I qualify as a “ginger”. I don’t have freckles for one. Also, I’m not sure my hair color is red enough to be a “ginger”. My beard is redder than my hair on any given day. But my life is pretty good I guess.
Have you travelled much? Do you have plans to travel?
I’ve been to Italy, China, some Caribbean islands, Mexico, Canada and around the US. I would like to travel to other places, why not? Japan, Brazil, Russia… I wouldn’t mind going to other places.
St. Patrick’s Day?
I didn’t really do anything for St. Patrick’s Day. I drank a few beers at dinner at a local bar. That’s about it. It was a Wednesday and I wasn’t really into it. I don’t like the idea that I’m “supposed” to get crazy on St. Patrick’s Day. It is fake craziness. You’re forcing yourself to get crazy. I would rather just get into craziness when the craziness presents itself.
NY Runaways Premiere?
I saw the pictures. I think they are pretty good. It is quite the sexy little, emphasize “little”, outfit Kristen is wearing. I think she looked better on Leno’s show though. Remember, I am a chest washer, so I enjoy practicality – she looked more naturally pretty on Leno than made up pretty at the premiere —- if that makes sense. I think you also asked if she “needed” bigger boobs. I’d have to see the merchandise in action before I think there needs to be upgrades. I’m sure they’re great. I love boobs – let’s just leave it at that.
How do you watch sports in an office?
There is a time and place for everything. I can be quiet. I can be loud. I can hold back enthusiasm. I can scream until I’m hoarse. I said that I am loud watching the Steelers when I’m alone. I don’t care about any of these college basketball teams the way I care about the Steelers. I don’t care about any team in any sport the way I care about the Steelers, so it is different. I’m not sure I could watch the Steelers at work. I really don’t enjoy watching the Steelers with other people in general.
Also, I’m pretty good at being low-key if I want to be. I’ll let you in on a little secret – I write a 2000 word blog every day at work and no one knows about it shhhhhh. If people sat and watched me the entire time while watching these games they may notice a random fist pump or a soft “yes” or “damn it” under my breath. But that’s about it.
If the United States was conquered by another country, which country would you prefer to take us over? I think your kneejerk answer to this might be a Dwight Schrute-ish, “Would never happen. The United States will never be conquered by another country, and if it were, as patriotic Americans we would burn the whole place to the ground and salt the fields.” No, assume that somehow, someone takes us over and as pinko liberal softies we roll right over and take it. Which country would you prefer to roll over for?
I think Mr. Schrute’s answer is pretty spot-on. I hands down believe that the United States of America is the greatest country on Earth ever. We have our faults, tons of them, but that doesn’t make us any less than the best. One reason I believe this is when there is a crisis happening in the world people expect America to be there to help fix it. Regardless of what affiliation that country has with the US, people expect the US to fix it. And if the US doesn’t give a 100% effort in fixing it then they are criticized and demonized because of it. That doesn’t happen with any other country. The US has brought this onto itself, but now people expect it from it.
When the earthquake hit Haiti, everyone expected the US to show up to fix it. And when its hands are full with Haiti and an earthquake strikes Chile then people think the US show be there fixing them as well. Maybe the US is spread too thin as it is also fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan and trying to find an end to the fighting in Iraq while at the same time showing a presence in pretty much every country on Earth and at the same time fixing the myriads of problems within its own borders. I don’t see any other country even attempting to do as much for the planet as the US is. Sometimes it works out for the worse and sometimes it works out for the better, but no one else is trying to carry the weight the way the US is. It is egomaniacal sure, but it’s just the type of people Americans are and strive to be. We don’t take life lightly.
If I had to choose a country, maybe the Swiss or the Dutch. I would probably choose a European country that has little strife, mostly known for relaxing and beautiful women, little to no ego. I feel like some people might say Canada, but I couldn’t choose Canada because they have a benign arrogance. Canadians think they’re like America without any of the problems. Fuck you, Canada. Go win two World Wars and maybe we’ll start talking about if we are at all similar.
If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be and why?
An Ent. They fuck shit up.
Have a great weekend.
March 18, 2010
Today is going to be one of those days. It could really go either way. In 3 hours (it is 9:20am THIS second, or I mean… THIS second) the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament affectionately referred to as March Madness begins. I love tournaments. And I love basketball. So, I love March Madness. Thanks to the evil mistress that is technology, for the past few years the games have been streamed live over the interwebz.
You click on ^this^ link and then there is another link that says “launch player” and you click on that link and then a player comes up and you watch it and all these good things. So, that is what is supposed to happen. Although, there are always hiccups with technology and even more so the craptastic technology I’m dealing with at work. Maybe they’ll block the streaming, maybe CBS updated their player meaning I would have to download a new plug-in, but I can’t download any new plug-ins, maybe my computer will explode just to be difficult.
I really hope it works though. It has worked well the past two years. I started this job in February a couple years ago. The second month I was here was March and obviously the Madness of March. I really enjoyed watching the games at work and getting paid for it. Almost completely uninterrupted I watched all the games I could at work. If only I was allowed to drink beer at my desk it would have been perfect.
My brain is preoccupied with a number of things: NCAA March Madness and its ability to be watched on my work computer, the technology in my personal life and spending the money to upgrade it, looming projects, I’m pretty sure my dry-cleaner is shrinking my clothes, if they are not shrinking my clothes then how much weight am I gaining and at how fast of a pace am I gaining it as well as how much taller am I going to grow to considering I am way past puberty, dinosaurs, whether I should see Clash of the Titans in 3-D or not, how can I make this blog successful, if there is a God will God recognize all the times I have allowed drunk bitches at bars to take seats at the bar that clearly I had been waiting 10x longer for and they didn’t wait anytime for because they just stumbled their drunk entitled, non-social, beads wearing, sloppy asses over there at the exact moment the two guys at the bar who are way too old to be dressed like that or be at a hip rock n’ roll bar stand up shakily and saunter off.
My preoccupations are leading me to a video post. I saw on the HuffPo a very tough investigative journalist piece about the “13 Cutest Animals Falling Asleep (VIDEOS)”. I am going to steal that fluff and write my own fluff about it. Fuck you, HuffPo. I remember when Ms. Huffington was a crazy conservative and battled against former SNL comedian Al Franken on Bill Maher’s first show Politically Incorrect on Comedy Central. Oh how times have changed. Ms. Huffington is now a blogging liberal. Al Franken is now a Senator in Minnesota. And Bill Maher is doing the exact same show he did on Comedy Central and then ABC, but now it is on HBO. We get it Bill, you smoke marijuana. Great. You’re still a tool.
As the article title suggests, these are videos of cute animals falling asleep. And by falling asleep I mean sleep is taking a hold of them and pulling them through to the other side whether they want to or not. It is a lot like watching a drunk person trying to stay awake. The animals look the drunkest. In honor of St. Patrick’s Day and the people who got really drunk for no apparent reason on a Wednesday, I will narrate these videos as if they are drunks trying to stay awake.
Oh, he is the cutest! He is so sweepy! Oh my God! I want to pet him!
AHHHHH!!! SO CUTE!!!
I just wanted to get that out of the way. I’ve watched the first couple and they are the cutest animals ever.
Getting closer. Getting closer. Closer. And touchdown! Yeah, I can’t move my arms. And my face is just smashed… oh I’m up. Hunh? No, I didn’t fall asleep right then. Oh man, I’m drunk. How did I wind up in this wood shop? How did I end up on this wooden and wheeled dirty sled? Did those assholes leave me here? I really hope I didn’t break into this place. I already have two strikes on my record and I’m falling asleep … again. I need to get up, but my arms and legs are not under my control anymore. They are heavy like concrete. I’m just going to… lay down right here. If only I could lie down where my face wasn’t smashed against this dirty wood.
Hey man, you can’t sleep at the bar. I see you have a drink there. I can’t throw out a paying customer. But maybe you need to just forget about the drink and go home. Yeah, man listen to your buddy. Maybe you should, oh you’re up. Good. I’m glad you’re up. No, don’t fall back asleep. You’re falling right back to sleep in your drink. Come on, guy. You clearly have been bathing in the same whisky you’ve been drinking. And he’s up again. Ok, man. Listen to me. You need to finish your drink and leave or just leave altogether. You seem like a nice guy. I don’t want to have to throw you out in front of all your friends, but you’re back to sleep again. Damn it! I hate to do this, but can someone get Reggie. I’m going to need some help carrying this lush out of the bar. Nah, I’ve tried to wake him up, but his face just goes right back to sleep. Oh hey, this is your friend. Yeah, you’re going to have to get him out of here before Reggie and I throw him out. No he is not being cool right now. He is completely asleep at the bar with his face in his drink. Just look. Yeah, you can finish his drink for him, but then you have got to go.
Totally. We should totally watch Star Wars right now. Yeah, we’ll stay up all night watching the whole original trilogy. None of that prequels bullshit. Lucas is a genius and an asshole. A genius asshole! An asshole genius. Sounds like the smartest proctologist ever. Anyway, we’ll just stay up all night until the sunrises drinking and watching the greatest intergalactic battles ever. Yeah, just start them up. I’ll completely make it all…. niii…zzzz… Hunh? I didn’t fall asleep. I’m here for the whole jourrrrr….zzzzz.
Mmmmrrpppffhfpphhh… What? Oh? Yeah, this isn’t my bed. Ok, I must’ve stumbled into the wrong dorm room, sue me. Actually don’t sue me. Oh man, could you quit yelling at me? I have a headache the size of… hmmph… uh what was I saying? I drank like a shot of jager. Uhhh, I mean a bottle of jager. I drank a whole bottle of jager in shot form. It’s just it’s so comfortable here… is this a Winnie the Pooh pillow? I need to get me a pooh heheh… pill…ow…zzzzzz….
Uh huh… uhhhh hunnh…. No, what? I’m not falling asleep. I’m awake. Yeah, I’m paying attention. I can totally drive home. Just tell me how we get there again. Ok, sure. Yeah, of course we make that left. I remember making that left. I’m just tired. I’m not drunk. It’s like 4 am. It’s it being 4 am is why I’m tired plus your boring voice. It’s not the 12 long island iced teas I had. Those are giving me energy if anything. It’s your boring voice… uh… huh… what? I did not sway!?! Just give me the directions already. I’m hungry too. Maybe we should drive to get foooo… hmmm…zzz… *hic*… fuck. Now I have the hiccups. Ugh, your voice is just *hic* dron *hic* ning. Let’s just *hic*… sleep… *falls* What!?! What just happened? I just closed my eyes for a second. Did someone just push me? Oh fuck it. You guys can go on without me. I’m going to start a new life here on this ground.
ZzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……….. Strip club? Did someone say they want to go to a strip club?… zzzzz…..ZZZZzzzzzzz…….Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…. I love strippers. Who said something about strippers? We should call the strip…. zzzzzzzzzzZzzzzzZZZZzzzz…. Are you shaking me to go to the strip club? If that is the case then I will get up. Or maybe you could just pick me up. I swear if you can get me to the car that I’ll be completely awake by the time we get to the strip club. The smell of alcohol, sweat, perfume, and menthol cigarettes is like a shot of energy to my head. It’s like those Irish Spring commercials where the smell of Ireland wakes the people up. I wake up when I smell strippersssss…… zzzzzzzzzZZzzz… ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….
Hey bro, it’s time to get up. It’s like 5am. We have got to go. I know we told you could sleep here, but Craig kind of fucked that up. Yeah, he was hooking up with Jessica. Yep, it was going pretty good, but can you not hear that yelling? You look wasted and your eyes are barely open, but she is yelling pretty loud for you not to be able to hear her. Just keep clawing your way up, that’s right. It turns out Jessica does not like to be called Michelle, her twin sister’s name, when she is going down on a guy. Uh huh? Bro, what are you doing? Don’t go back to sleep. Can you not hear Jessica yelling at Craig that she is going to call the cops? What the fuck, bro? Wake up!
Right. Completely. I completely agree with you, Officer. I should not be driving. I completely agree. I’ll call a cab. That makes perfect sense, Mr. Police Officer with the gun and the badge. I’m cool. I’ll just call a cab…. *falls*… zzzzZzzzzZzZZzzzz… I’m up. Those handcuffs are really unnecessary. The most unnecessary. I’m seriously awake and just needed that quick nap. One maybe two seconds more and I’ll be perfectly wide awake enough to drive home. NOT that I’m going to drive home. Obviously, I’m calling a cab. These handcuffs are the most unnecessary thing in the world right now.
I cannot wait for this cheesesteak. Oh man, this was a good idea. This is exactly what I need right now: a belly full of cheese, meat and bread to soak up all this flammable booze in my tummy. I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner, but I did get a chance to drink 12 shots of Jameson. It really was one or the other and not both. Yeah, I think I smell the onion and sweet peppers. I think that’s mine. I think they’re taking it out of the oven right now. I think it’s great that they toast the sub rolls like that. And, yeah, I call them sub roles because the word “hoagie” makes you sound less IQ-full. This Formica table is great too. It’s so smooth. I’m just going to touch it with my face for a second. Just for shits and giggles, am I right? Just for a second. It’s so smooth and…..ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz
SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! Too many shots. ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Ahhh shit. Don’t I know you? Not this asshole again. Didn’t I throw you out of this bar a couple weeks ago for falling asleep with your face in your drink? Why am I even asking this guy any questions? He is completely asleep. Hey drunky! You can’t sleep here! I know you’re standing up, but your head is literally on the bar asleep. Does anyone have this idiot’s ID? You do? Ok, let me take a look at it. I could have sworn that I threw this guy out of here …. Mark O’Leary? I threw out a Patrick O’Leary. That guy threw up on some dude’s scooter when Reggie and I got him out the door. Like soon as the door opened he projectile vomited all over that guy’s scooter. That guy was pissed. But he kept saying “scooter”. Dude, you threw up on my scooter. You can’t be serious using the word “scooter”. Never. Or “cookie”. You can’t sound manly or serious saying “scooter” or “cookie”. That “oo” sound just takes away your balls. Just try it once. Try saying “sugar cookies” like a bad ass. Doesn’t work. Hey man! Give me your motherfucking sugar cookies! It sounds silly. Yo bro! Don’t fuck with my scooter! That’s just not happening either. Has anyone called Reggie because we need to get another drunk O’Leary out of the bar, same shit different day.
Uuuugggghhhhhh… why did you let me drink that bottle of Goldschlager? Uuuuugggghhhhh… you are the worst friends ever? Uuuuugggghhhhh… I can feel all those gold bits of paper tearing apart my stomach. Why the hell would you want to drink gold foil? Uuuuuugggghhhhhh…. I’m going to throw up so much gold into that toilet it’ll look like I ate pirate treasure.
Ok, who is going to drive? Who is the least drunk one… I think Phil just died. Is Phil dead or asleep? Ok, well Phil is not driving. He might not be breathing either. Once we figure out between the two of us who is driving we might want to drive straight to the hospital to revive Phil. Are you ok to drive, Ricky? Ricky?…. Ricky? Fuck. Ricky might be dead too. I really wish there was someone else here to drive and not me. I initially thought I was the drunkest of the three of us and now I’m the only one not dead. This is going to get interesting.
Ok, so not “Aggressive Thursday”, but “Adorable Thursday”.
Questions for Friday, please.
March 17, 2010
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! YEAH! I’m at work so fuck all of you that are not.
I have two things to say about St. Patrick’s Day and then I will move on to a much more interesting topic which is mathematics and the phenomenal story of Winston Bennett’s sexual encounters with thousands of women.
1. St. Patrick’s Day is on March 17th because there was a debate whether or not it should be on March 1st or March 7th and the compromise was to celebrate it on March 17th. That is literally what I was taught. I am passing that onto you whether it is true or false. Just saying. It sounds reasonable enough for an island full of potato eating drunks that I hold lineage to. It also sounds more reasonable than saying that William Blackstone, Thomas Acquinas and John Calvin meant more to creating the framework of this country than the fucking man who wrote the framework for this country THOMAS MOTHERFUCKING JEFFERSON!
2. My fondest St. Patrick’s Day was in 2005. I was a Senior at Saint Joseph’s University in Philadelphia, PA. I had no Thursday classes. I promptly woke up at 10:30am. I had to be at what I believe was the former President’s lounge on campus to an interview a professor. At the time, Dawgz, another friend we’ll call Kenneth Cole Snake, and I were making a political documentary. That day we were interviewing one of our favorite professors – Dr. Arnold Farr.
I got to the room around 11am. It was a big room with leather couches, a projector screen and paintings of all the former SJU Presidents or something aka white guys who are dead. I rigged up the projector to play the NCAA Basketball tournament on the far wall. I sat and watched it until Kenneth Cole Snake and Dawgz showed up at 11:30am. Dr. Arnold Farr arrived around 12:30pm. We interviewed him for an hour in which he talked on a host of subjects raging from radical historicism, symbolic representation, failure of the Democratic party in the 2004 election, the voting practices of the South mirroring racism, growing up in the South (he is from South Carolina), and hope for the future.
Afterwards, we walked over to the local SJU bar, The Muddy Duck, and proceeded to drink Yuengling. They did not serve Guinness because they were the shittiest bar ever, but they were our shittiest bar ever. Friends joined us and we drank for several hours at the Duck. Around 3pm, we went down the block to Larry’s (a cheesesteak, pizza, sandwich place) and got some food. We returned to The Duck. We drank. We left the duck around 5pm. Went to a friend’s apartment. Drank there. Around 8pm went back to the Duck with Guinness cans stuffed in our pockets. Smuggled them in. Drank them and then drank whatever else until 1-2 am. During that time all of the SJU drinking class showed up at the bar for some period of time. It was jam packed, dirty, loud and somehow overpriced as usual. At some point, I DDTed a friend onto the pool table (sorry Dave).
I made it back to my apartment drunk as can be. Passed out. And most likely didn’t go to class on Friday. That’s about the best one I can remember.
Now… The REAL topic…
Winston George Bennett III
Until yesterday, I had never heard of Winston Bennett. I did not know Winston was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky. I did not know he was named “Mr. Basketball” in the state of Kentucky in 1983. I did not know about Winston Bennett playing for the University of Kentucky. I did not know that he led the Wildcats to the Final Four and to the Sweet Sixteen finishes in two respective seasons. I did not know anything about the collegiate basketball awards Winston Bennett won. I did not know he was drafted by the Cleveland Cavaliers. I did not know he was a bust in the NBA and only played for 3 seasons. I didn’t know about him returning to the University of Kentucky to be an assistant coach. I didn’t know he was apart of Kentucky’s NCAA Tournament Championship team in 1996. I didn’t know he followed Rick Pitino to the NBA as an assistant coach for the Boston Celtics. I didn’t know about him being named the head coach of Kentucky State University in 2000. And I didn’t know that Winston Bennett was currently the head coach for a school named Mid-Continent University. I didn’t even know there was a Mid-Continent University.
I will admit I did not know any of these things about Winston George Bennett III. I do now. And the reason I do is because of one amazing thing Winston George Bennett III did: HE HAD SEX WITH EVERY WOMAN! Or pretty fucking close.
Yesterday, there was an article/interview on The Huffington Post with Mr. Bennett where he revealed that he was a sex addict:
Bennett claims that when he was single he averaged having sex with 90 different women a month. Yes, you read that correctly. That was 90 as in NINETY as in a nine with a zero after it. As in count how many fingers you have – should be 10 unless you are a FREAK – and then multiply that by 9. Now replace those 90 fingers with 90 different skanky ass women having sex with professional basketball marginal footnote Winston Bennett. I know that Wilt Chamberlain said he had sex with 20,000 women which is insanity, but he was one of the greatest basketball players ever. I didn’t even know Bennett existed and I love basketball. So this is kind of crazier.
As you can guess, I now love Winston George Bennett III. He should be elected to the Hall of Fame of Greatest Human Beings Ever alongside Willie “I fought a bear in Japan on film” Williams. Over the course of a month, on average Winston slept with 90 different women which would be roughly 3 a day. THREE different women a day!?! That is ludicrously brilliant. And this is only part of the story. There is so much more amazingness in Winston’s story post playing basketball with his trials and tribulations on and off the court, but today we will only talk about the positive: SEX WITH 3 DIFFERENT WOMEN A DAY!
That was some rudimentary math right there; 90 women a month, there are 30-31 days in a given month is 3 or 2.9 women a day that Winston is having sex with. I would like to continue with this mathematics for … well ever and I will, but let me also establish two other numbers that Winston mentions in this interview: 4 and 45.
4 – The number 4 signifies how many different women Winston Bennett was sleeping with on average every week when he was in HIGH SCHOOL! Winston Bennett was the COOLEST dude in high school.
45 – Winston Bennett had a transformative moment in 1989, he got married. Winston had another transformative moment when he cheated on his wife the very next day after they got married. The number 45 is Winston’s estimate of how many women he slept with in a given month after getting married. And if you are wondering – HE IS STILL MARRIED!
Yes, Winston Bennett and reliable Peggy have been married for over 20 years. She and he are both religious people. Stoic Peggy has been helped by Jesus and religion to stay strong and stay with Winston. Meanwhile, Winston has been “religiously” cheating on her since the moment they met.
Now, is the time for mathematics. NUMBERS!
Winston Bennett graduated from high school in Louisville, Kentucky in 1983. This idea of sleeping with 4 different women a week in high school probably did not start when he was a freshman. Let’s just start with his senior year of high school (1982) because that was the year he was named “Mr. Basketball” in Kentucky – which we all know is a very prestigious and sexy honor.
If he averaged this all year –
52 weeks a year X 4 scandalously slutty women = 208 different freaky deakys.
Let’s assume that this was 1982. In 1982, Winston Bennett finished his junior year in high school and later in the year started his senior year of high school. At some point in 1983, Winston knows that he will begin playing for the University of Kentucky. I think it is very safe to assume this is when the 4 times a week escalates closer to the pinnacle that is 3 different hoes a day.
4 floozies over 7 days becomes 21 floozies over 7 days, which is a 5.25x growth.
None of us assume that this happens over night. Women are easy, but not that easy, am I right? Winston graduates high school in 1983 and starts playing for the Wildcast of Kentucky that same year. He continues to play for the Wildcats until he graduates in 1988. Winston then plays basketball in Italy and for the CBA in 1988, before he begins his short lived NBA career in 1989 – the same year he got married to good ole’ steadfast Peggy.
I am going to make a humble estimate that by 1987 Winston had reached his pinnacle of 3 different harlots a day. Winston would have been 22 years old and I think I am making more than enough of a modest estimate. The man is 6’7” and carries the nickname “Steady Bee” who wouldn’t want to have sloppy seconds or thirds sex with that?
4 years, annual growth of an additional 1.3125x women a week –
In 1982, Winston Bennett had sex with 208 different women.
In 1983, Winston Bennett had sex with 273 different women.
1984, Winston Bennett had sex with 546 women.
1985, Winston Bennett had sex with 819 women.
1986, Winston Bennett had sex with 1092 women.
AHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHHHHHHHH!!!!! I LOVE BEING ALIVE!!!!
And since 52 weeks a year x 7 days = 364 days and there are 365 days a year, we’ll just say that 1987 was when Winston finally began having sex with 1095 or 3 women a day for the full year.
Let’s continue this idea; Winston Bennett had sex with 1095 women in both 1987 and in 1988. Most would assume that Winston’s average of 3 women a day definitely went up when he was playing professional basketball in Italy in 1988. We all know how those hairy European chicks love to bone black guys who play ball from Kentucky. But I will keep these estimates of 3 a day at 3 a day because that is the gospel from Sir Winston Bennett himself.
How does this compare to his stats in college? Winston played from 1983-1988 for the University of Kentucky – that is 5 years. Winston was there for the second half of 1983 and the first half of 1988. While at the University of Kentucky, I estimate Winston George Bennett III had sex with 4236 whores. INCREDIBLE!
Over the 5 seasons that Winston played at UK he played for a total of 133 games for 3713 minutes. So he had sex with 500 more women than minutes he played basketball in college. He did have to be red-shirted for one season which I would assume sucked for him as a basketball player, but I would definitely assume it didn’t stop him from having insane amounts of sex. While at Kentucky he scored 1399 points and grabbed 799 rebounds. Which means for basically every point scored on the court he “scored” with three different women off the court. Or at least we hope off the court. For every rebound he grabbed off the glass he put his penis inside 5.3 different women somewhere on this BEAUTIFUL PLANET!
If we add it all up, before Winston Bennett played one second of professional basketball for the NBA – he had dogged the shit out of 5128 skanks.
In 1989, Winston Bennett got married to tried and true Peggy. Winston claims that he dropped his average of 90 women a month to 45 a month once married. Everyone has to make sacrifices. I’m not exactly sure when he got married in 1989, but let’s assume they coincide with the NBA for simplicity’s sake. Also, let’s assume that actually playing professional basketball for a professional basketball team in the NBA took up even a little bit of his time because apparently college, college basketball, European basketball and high school basketball, graduating high school and so forth took up none of his time.
At an average of 45 tramps a month for 12 months = 540 hussies.
Winston played in the NBA for 3 years x 540 jezebels = 1620 unbelievable females.
How does this compare to Winston Bennett’s NBA stats? Winston played in 136 games for 2157 minutes. He scored 648 points and 414 rebounds. If we do some division – for every professional basketball point that Winston Bennett scored in a professional basketball game he had sex with 2.5 women. I guess he threw some technically dwarf women in there for the smell of it.
Winston’s most active season was 1989-1990. He played 55 games, scored 338 points, and grabbed 188 rebounds. This means technically that on the 55 days that Winston Bennett played professional basketball he averaged 18 minutes played, 6.1 points and 3.4 rebounds. Meanwhile, on those same 55 days he had sex with about 81.4 women. For every 12 minutes that Winston Bennett actually did his professional job in the NBA that actually can be counted Winston had sex with a different woman. AHHHH!!! This is all so crazy.
So crazy amazing! Oh man! He is the greatest man ever!
I LOVE YOU, WINSTON BENNETT!
Also, if you are wondering – Winston Bennett does admit he had no sliding scale of beauty or looks or anything for the women he had sex with. He just had sex with everything. That right there is a humanitarian. Do you know how many women can say that they had sex with a professional athlete regardless of how much money they made, how fat they are, how ugly they may be, how stupid they are, how completely ridiculous they are —–?????? Oh wait, I do know – 1620!!! HAHAHAHAHAH and that’s just during the actual years he was playing professional basketball!
Just in this stretch of time from junior year of high school to his final season in the NBA, Winston George Bennett III had sex with an estimated 6748 different women.
SIX THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND FORTY EIGHT LOVELY WOMEN!
I LOVE AMERICA!
March 16, 2010
I try to keep a level of transparency on this blog. I’m not really trying to maintain any level of “professionalism” here by pretending that I can truly compartmentalize writing this with my jokes and then the real everyday world. Currently my little Myspace mood is FURIOUS. I would say 90% of it has to do with this article http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts1253. Sure, there are things going on in my life causing me frustration (technology, work, Alice Eve’s cleavage), but right now Texas is the basis of my fury. If I had 6 problems, Texas would be 5 of them.
There is a lot to be angry about with these changes. Instead of being angry about all of them, which I most certainly am, I will just hone in on the one change that is ABSOLUTELY MOTHERFUCKING INSANE. And that would be:
Thomas Jefferson no longer included among writers influencing the nation’s intellectual origins. Jefferson, a deist who helped pioneer the legal theory of the separation of church and state, is not a model founder in the board’s judgment. Among the intellectual forerunners to be highlighted in Jefferson’s place: medieval Catholic philosopher St. Thomas Aquinas, Puritan theologian John Calvin and conservative British law scholar William Blackstone. Heavy emphasis is also to be placed on the founding fathers having been guided by strict Christian beliefs.
I do have a humorous topic of sorts to talk about. But if every once and awhile, I break into a rant about how THOMAS JEFFERSON IS THE MOTHERFUCKING FOUNDER OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN COUNTRY AND YOU INGRATES IN TEXAS ARE FUCKING TREASONOUS PIECES OF SHIT TO TRY AND PRETEND OTHERWISE then you will at least understand the context. I just want to forewarn you there may be, as in definitely will be, outbursts about how Thomas Acquinas HAD BEEN DEAD FOR FIVE HUNDRED YEARS before the Declaration of Independence was even written for the United States.
Pop quiz Texas: who wrote the Declaration of Independence? MOTHERFUCKING THOMAS JEFFERSON YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICKS! I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU TREASONOUS FUCKS! YOU HATE AMERICA! YOU HATE ALL THAT AMERICA STANDS FOR! YOU ARE DAMNING THE FUTURE OF AMERICA WITH WHAT YOU ARE DOING! I’m just giving you a little bit of a heads up.
In light of my HORRENDOUSLY foul mood, I think I should tread on an even lighter subject like shitty pop music. Over the weekend, I was hanging out with a friend and no it was not Dawgz. There is more in my life than Kristen Stewart, Dawgz, the Steelers and HATING THE 10 PEOPLE WHO VOTED TO PASS THIS EDUCATIONAL REFORM IN TEXAS. I mean there isn’t much more in life that one needs than those things, but I do have other friends just in case you were worried. This friend and I were watching music videos, which is crazy – who knew you could still watch music videos on the television?
One music video was particularly memorable/interesting: Bon Jovi’s “Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore” featuring LeAnn Rimes.
I am from New Jersey. I am proud of being from New Jersey for many reasons. One recent reason is that my educational system is not trying to pretend that THE THIRD PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES DID NOT MATTER IN THE INTELLECTUAL CREATION OF THIS COUNTRY. Even with my love for New Jersey, I outright dislike Bon Jovi and pretty much all their music. At their very best, Bon Jovi has 3 or so songs that are fun to sing-a-long to when absolutely plastered at a bar. And when I’m plastered at a bar the list of things I find “fun” are very questionable when sober. I hold no critical praise for any of their music. Couple this with my dislike for popular “country” music like LeAnn Rimes.
Either way, if you like the song or don’t – you cannot deny it is wildly disconcerting and/or plain creepy. First and foremost, let’s setup the “givens”. The song is a duet between Jon Bon Jovi and LeAnn Rimes and the title of this song is “Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore”. One can assume a lot of things. Just as one can assume without hearing the Bruce Springsteen song “Prove It All Night” it is about a man and a woman “getting it on” – scientific term. Jon and LeAnn will be doing “something” until they are not “strangers” anymore. What could be an activity that a man and a woman who are alone together can do until they are not strangers anymore? Play Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2? Watch reruns of Arrested Development on IFC? Maybe name all the Presidents of the United States in chronological order conspicuously not skipping the THIRD PRESIDENT OF THE FUCKING UNITED STATES NAMED THOMAS JEFFERSON?
Or they could be fucking. That’s my guess. Or is that too crass? Maybe I’m just imagining… oh wait a minute what’s this? There are lyrics to this stupid song? Do you think that the lyrics may help?
It might be hard to be lovers
But it’s harder to be friends
Baby, pull down the covers
It’s time you let me in
Maybe light a couple candles
I’ll just go ahead and lock the door
If you just talk to me baby
Till we ain’t strangers anymore
Huh? That’s exactly like I said. So Jon and LeAnn are going to go into a bedroom. Lock the door. Light candles. Get into bed together. “Talk”. Until they are not strangers anymore. This is at the point in the song (the beginning of the damn song), I would like to mention that Jon Bon Jovi is a married man. Jon got married on April 29th, 1989. Jon is still happily married. There is a crazy twist; Jon is not married to LeAnn Rimes. What was LeAnn Rimes doing on April 29th, 1989? Probably eating paste because SHE WAS SEVEN.
The majority of the lyrics to the song are like the above posted. It is a lot about Jon and LeAnn hanging out in bed together “reconnecting”, if you know what I’m saying. It would be really easy to just write a bad song with extra marital affair connotations, but they went a step farther and made a video with even more extra martial affair connotations. I would like to submit evidence “A”:
Here is a picture of LeAnn Rimes and Jon Bon Jovi doing, what I call, the “twilight”. It isn’t “making out” per-say, but even more creepy it is just them rubbing foreheads, noses and chins. This sequence is replicated several times throughout the video. Very intimate close-up shots of Jon and LeAnn lightly grinding their faces on each other, but leaving just enough separation between their lips to breathily whisper the arduously terrible lyrics that Jon and/or some random music producer wrote.
The main thrust of the video, outside of their facial thrusting, is Jon and LeAnn wandering the lonely streets of New York City’s borough Manhattan. Why Manhattan? Who the fuck knows? Jon is from central New Jersey, so I guess that is close enough to Manhattan. I would venture to guess Jon really has a bigger following in southern New Jersey and he spends a great deal of time in Philadelphia, but whatever. Meanwhile, LeAnn is from Mississippi, which you may remember as being such an overly patriotic state that it SECEDED FROM THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA and there had to be a WAR fought to bring it back as well as TEXAS which also SECEDED because it “loves” this country so much.
They’re not just walking the streets of Manhattan, but also lying around on beds on the streets of Manhattan. This is both dumb and dumb. The first “dumb” is that it is just dumb looking having them sitting on these beds randomly on an intersection in New York City. Secondly, it is “dumb” because it is highly dangerous. There are cars everywhere whizzing around in Manhattan. Don’t lie around on the streets on a bed or not in any city let alone the most populated and busiest traffic city in the country. This country in particular is the United States who actually uses currency with THOMAS JEFFERSON’S FUCKING FACE ON IT.
Here is LeAnn on her bed in the street. Wildly unsafe as mentioned. It gets worse though: no shoes and I would say she is not properly dressed for the weather. The shoes idea is a no brainer. You need to wear shoes when walking around New York City. I’m not talking about the parks, but the damn streets require shoes. Even if you are precariously laying on an even precariously placed bed in the middle of a street in Manhattan you should be wearing shoes. Jon is wearing shoes LeAnn, so take a tip, Hester Prynne, and wear some shoes on the city streets of New York City. Also, they are in winter coats the rest of the video and those silk sheets and that thin sweater will give her little to no warmth. Oh wait, what will give her warmth? The adulterous hands of Jon Bon Jovi.
I think this is the point in the post that I mention LeAnn Rimes is a well-known “home wrecker” – scientific term. LeAnn was married. While married LeAnn started getting a little frisky and cheated on her husband with some guy she made a movie with that I have never heard of – the guy and/or the movie. That guy was also married at the time. And he got a divorce as well. I’m not saying that Jon Bon Jovi is having an affair with LeAnn Rimes, but I am saying that Jon Bon Jovi’s wife should be real creeped out that her husband chose a woman who is pretty well known for recently breaking up an 8 year marriage with some guy who she worked on a project with.
Jon looks like a man who is tortured not by a fictitious failing marriage in this video, but a man who is currently getting way too involved in what was supposed to be a few flings. Just one singer and one a lot younger singer having some fun without their significant others around. The type of stuff that LeAnn’s costar thought they were getting into until LeAnn got all clingy and made everything dramatic. To me Jon’s expression denotes, “I can’t believe I fucked this broad and now she is talking about our ‘relationship’, ‘our future’, ‘our feelings’. Damn it. I should have gotten Shakira or some other chick who doesn’t even speak English. Why did I try to appeal to the South? Those people are stupid. They want to stop teaching about Thomas Jefferson and instead want to teach about obscure British property lawyers from the 18th century whose beliefs were denounced by Alexander Hamilton, Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson and later who died before Thomas Jefferson was even in the preparation stages of writing the Declaration of Independence which is the document and that this country is founded on. Damn me and my wandering penis.”
Shit. She is right behind me on this bed. Why are we on this stupid bed in the middle of the street? Oh shit, she is pretty much naked. If I tilt my head just right I think I can see right down her satin nightie she is wearing. LeAnn gets the freakiest in the sack too. Oh man, I can’t believe I’m going to do this again. But she wants it.
Uh, no honey. This is just work. I’m just working late. Where am I? I’m on a bed. Yeah, LeAnn is here. Yeah, I’m playing with her hair. I’m also putting my lips like a nanocentimillimeter from her youthful lips. Yep. We’re pretty much fake doing it. Yep. Oh no, I didn’t come up with the idea. I’m just a slave to my craft. Ok, I’ve got to go. LeAnn is wearing very little clothes and she gets cold easily with the wind going right up her slip and everything. I have been put in charge of warming her young body with my hands and breath. So, I’ll see you later. Love ya, honey.
The song and video continue with Jon and LeAnn getting closer to fucking on the bed. And the lyrics culminate with this bit:
Tell me who you think you see
When you look into my eyes
Lets put our two hearts back together
And we’ll leave the broken pieces on the floor
Make love with me baby
Till we ain’t strangers anymore
It is all metaphors about “talking” in bed or “holding each other” in bed. That is until the final stanza where they just “make love”. I mean at this point they are lying in bed, candles, door locked, holding, staring – I doubt any significant other would think that at that point they weren’t just banging each other anyway. I would imagine a spouse wouldn’t be cool or wouldn’t believe you if you said something along these lines, “Me? I did nothing of the sort. Yes, we were in a bedroom. Yes, the door was locked. Yes, it was just the two of us. Yes, there were candles lit – you know how much I love candles. It just seems to be a shame not to use the candles if they are already there. Yes, we were in the bed and under the covers. And yes, we did hold each other all night while staring longingly into each others’ eyes while whispering about our feelings for each other. But! We did not make love!…. oh you heard that? The part where I said to her ‘make love with me baby till we ain’t strangers anymore? Well that’s interesting isn’t it? I’ll pack my things.”
We’re not strangers anymore
We’re not strangers
We’re not strangers anymore
Yeah! They fucked! Yeah! They balled each others’ brains out! Yeah cheating on your spouse! Yeah, this song being perfectly acceptable for channels like PAX and middle American family values or something!
I have not seen a music video on television in forever and I get subjected to this and that D’Angelo song where he is naked. I’m never watching music videos again. And fuck Texas. Even Austin – stupid hipsters! Go drink your lattes and talk Malcolm Gladwell in HELL!
March 15, 2010
Another fucking week. It is Monday and it is shitty outside. Or it was shitty outside when I woke up. It has been shitty weather-wise for the past 3 days. Saturday was all day and all night intense rain. There was flooding all over New Jersey. And who really cares? I doubt any of you care about my trials and tribulations with flooding. I mean I made it through it. I’m still here typing, which is all that matters, right?
It doesn’t matter to you all if I’m typing with one arm because I lost the other in the rain on Saturday. That’s right. I could have lost my arm in the rain. The rain could’ve been so powerful it just tore my arm clean off. Or maybe I was caught in the flooding and somehow one of my arms got caught. I needed to free myself so I had to sever it with a pocket knife and say goodbye. But here I am typing away with my one good hand, because it is my only hand, to give you all a couple of jokes. You insensitive bitches, forcing a man with one arm to entertain you like some disfigured monkey!
What if I lost both arms in the rain? I don’t know how, but I could have. Here I am. I still show up for work. No idea how I got dressed or drove here, but I did. Am I typing out these jokes to serve your selfish desires with my nose right now? Who knows? Maybe I dialed the computer tech guys with my nose and they showed up. I explained to them my predicament. I have a host of incredibly sick unforgiving women who chide me, tease me, scorn me and for whatever reason I feel obligated to try and make them laugh to only help others who have to deal with them in real life. I need a way to provide some humor to them because any day that I don’t there is a chance for a PMS related homicide where ever they work and live. Even though they are completely disgusted, they understand.
Now, I sit here with one of those plastic helmets on connected with electrodes and touch sensors. I’m tapping the sensors with my head which moves a cursor on the computer screen to move one by one to each letter. Once at the correct letter, I bite down on the enter/confirm key. Do you see what lengths your depravity has driven me to!?! I have no arms, or one arm, or maybe I’m perfectly fine with two arms and just furious I am at work! But do you see what you are doing! I hope you all feel ashamed.
I could be typing with my feet. I could be typing with my feet because I have no arms or because I’m feeling adventurous. Either way, it is Monday and my sternal head is showing.
Quizzes! I thought I would take a quiz this morning. I thought maybe a personality quiz with funny results. If you remember, last time I took a personality quiz from Cosmopolitan magazine I was near suicidal afterwards. I was going to steer clear of the Cosmo and try something different. I found a website – www.gagirl.com – at first I read it as “Gaga Girl” thinking I found a kindred Lady Gaga inspired spirit. Alas, “Ga” is “GA” is “Georgia”. It is “Georgia Girl”!
Georgia Girl likes to remain anonymous. There is no “about” or “who the fuck are you?” section I can find on this site. I will guess that this site is the maddening drivel of a very bored and lonely woman. The website says it started in 1997. OH MY GOD! That’s crazy! Nothing still exists from 1997! Half of my readers weren’t even old enough for cognizant thoughts in 1997 and the other half were probably just starting their second midlife crisis. The website looks exactly like it would have in 1997, which only adds to its genius.
The majority of the site is dedicated to the sappiest poetry about the sappiest subjects. Would you like twenty G-Rated/cry-yourself-to-sleep-after-inhaling-a-box-of-Russell-Stover-chocolates poems about hugs? Then today is your birthday because GA Girl’s got’em. Outside of the poems, I did find an entire section of quizzes. Predictably most were unnervingly stupid.
A couple “quizzes” caught my eye. They asked one question, gave you a set of choices, and depending on which choice you made it gave you a mock psych profile on your decision. This is all phenomenally scientific. What candy bar would you choose? You chose a “Butterfinger”, well then you are a kid toucher who wets his bed, but you have great conversational techniques, you drive a Ford and DVR every episode of The Soup. Nothing as specific as that, but that is the gist. The one quiz that I found the most “interesting” was:
What part of your body do you wash first in the shower?
Find out what it reveals about your personality by clicking on the name of the body part you wash first.
Fair enough. I have heard of them before. I have taken a few showers in my day. I think I could participate in this. The washing your body quiz has six archetypes: hair, chest, armpits, face, shoulders and other.
Georgia Girl does not reveal her scientific resources, so we are supposed to trust her integrity and believe that all of this is 100% factually accurate. Whatever body part you wash first when in the shower speaks about your inner psyche and all of your darkest secrets and ambitions will be revealed. It’s time for Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung to take a beat seat to the utter psychological brilliance of Georgia Girl’s findings. Carl and Sigmund are probably making out in the back seat anyway, am I right? So let’s not disturb them shall we.
Those who wash their hair first are the artistic type. Daydreaming is your hobby but you can achieve what most other people cannot. Dedication is lacking but you will work tirelessly towards goals which are to your liking. Money is not important to you. Friends are but only intellectuals and fellow artistic types. You make the best lover as you are most willing to explore and please your partner. Talent is your main strength. Your best partner in life will be those who chose chest.
See? This is going to be some good shit right here. Oh if you wash your hair you like to smile. None that bullshit is going on with Georgia Girl! She is cutting to the bone. My analysis of this analysis is that a “haircentric washer” is creative, but impractical, selfish with your projects, but give good head, you’re an elitist, but isn’t an asshole elitist like you only consort with rich people. If I had to take a guess, I think Leonardo DiCaprio washes his hair first.
Those who wash their chest first are the practical type. You are straightforward and do not beat around the bush. To you, convenience is of paramount importance. You hate to be distracted when concentrating and are impatient with people who do not see things your way. You’re a good lover and willing to try new things. Your best partner in life will be those who chose hair.
A chest washer is a pragmatist. I buy this hook, line and sinker. If the first thing you do when you get into the shower is to reach for the soap and not the shampoo or a specific face wash then I think generally speaking the chest would be where you start. Grabbing the soap first is all a pragmatist move. Even with all the special shampoos and face washes, the regular bar of soap or gel or whatever can be used to wash your whole body including face and hair if wanted. The chest is a likely place to start for the practical because it is the center, big surface area, it’s the hub of your body.
None of these archetypes signify whether there is a difference for a man or a woman. I would tend to think that women with, how should I say, “grander” bosoms would start at the chest. Let’s imagine, hmmm I don’t kn- EVA AMURRI, let’s imagine Eva Amurri (Susan Sarandon’s daughter and the naked girl on Californication) is taking a shower….
I blanked out for a few minutes. But I would imagine or I did imagine she starts by soaping up her chest. She gets “them” good and lathered. She’ll spend upwards of 20 minutes or so getting a really thick soapy cleansing coat on “them”. Then she’ll rinse them off for another good 20 minutes or so. And then repeat with the soap and more rinsing until I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! AHHHH!!!!
Those who wash their armpits first are dependable and hard working. Generally a very popular person as you are very down to earth and willing to help others. You tend to get yourself into trouble as you cannot tell whether people are genuine towards you. You are the working type with average talent. Your best partner in life will be those who chose shoulders.
Are they washing their armpits first because they stink from all the hard work they are doing? Meeting people is easy, but being “very popular” can be difficult and get quite a funk stewing in your pits. This is also a bit of quandary – they’re dependable and hard working. So can I spot a dependable and hard working person if they have very clean armpits or is it the opposite – do they have really dirty armpits that they attend to first in the shower because of all the stinkiness they get into outside of the shower? It’s a rough life for the armpit washers because of this never ending paranoia they are involved in worrying if a person is using them or not. Who knew?
I think Brad Pitt is an armpit washer first. Not just because of the “Pitt” and arm”pit”. Brad is obviously very popular and he appears to be very down to Earth. He is a hard worker and he is willing to help others. Haven’t you seen all the work he has done in New Orleans? That is typical armpit washer stuff right there. I don’t know about this “average talent” garbage though. That’s the only thing that doesn’t make sense to me. He is a great talent. Brad has at least a dozen at least good-great movies. So my question is, what the fuck Georgia Girl!?! Obviously, Brad Pitt washes his armpits first when he gets into the motherfucking shower! But you’re calling him of “average” talent! FUCKING RIDICULOUS! I’m FUCKING FURIOUS! “AVERAGE”!?! Fight Club, 12 Monkeys, Legends of the Fall, Snatch, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Cowardly Robert Ford, Babel et cetera! ET CETERA! Pfffft… Georgia Girl, I’ll let this one slide, but don’t you EVER say that Brad Pitt is “average” AGAIN.
To those who wash their face first money is important and you will do anything to get it. Integrity and dignity is not important. You feel that friends are there to be used and life is one big hassle. Other people find it hard to understand you but you are not concerned as to what they think. You are a very self-centered person. You’re an average lover as you tend to be absorbed in self pleasure at the expense of your partner. Your best partner in life will be those who chose other.
Your best partner would be anyone fucking deranged enough to hook up with a face washing loser like you, you MOTHERFUCKER! Seriously, there is not one good trait offered if you wash your face first. If you wash your face first then you are the worst of the fucking worst apparently. Adolf Hitler washed his face first. Saddam Hussein washed his face first. It sounds like Jennifer Aniston washes her face first, which is why Brad and her and every other man cannot stay with her.
Is it just me or do you feel like Georgia Girl got wronged by a face washer? Like really wronged. Everything was all “good lover”, “great lover”, “dependable” and then face washing was brought up and it became “I HATE YOU, YOU WHORE! GO WASH YOUR FACE YOU SELFISH PRICK!” It got really real when face washing was brought up. I think Georgia Girl may need a few hug poems to get over this face washing first business. And if any of you are face washers first, I hope you are proud of yourselves because you are terrible fucking people. I’m sure you are proud because you are self centered and I would like to make it perfectly clear that everyone hates you. Hugs.
Those who wash their shoulders first are very responsible. You work hard at everything you attempt. People often think you’re stuck up as you tend to spend your time alone. You are very dedicated and make friends for life once others get to know you. Money and power are fairly important to you. You make a faithful lover and tend to be faithful for life. Your best partner in life will be those who chose armpits.
This does not sound like Angelina Jolie, now we all know for certain that Brangelina shit won’t last. Responsible, hard worker, stuck-up, loner, money and power are pretty cool, and faithful lover? Kevin Spacey? Kind of sounds like Kevin Spacey to me. Maybe Tom Hanks. Yeah, Tom Hanks works as well. I think Brad Pitt and Tom Hanks would be perfect for each other. Brad Pitt and Kevin did work on Se7en together. Maybe on set they realized they were perfect shower buddies/soulmates and they made out and stuff. Oh? Yeah, I’m supposed to pick a female for Brad, right? Sure….
Hmmmm… Hillary Rodham Clinton. If you change the “money and power are fairly important to you” to “money and power are VERY important to you” then I think Brad Pitt and H-Rod would be a great match. First, Brad – you’re welcome. Second, could you send Angelina Jolie dressed in her Lara Croft Tomb Raider gear and minus her crazy amount of kids to Jersey City, NJ. Just have her go to the Newport/Pavonia PATH station. I can meet her there. I’ll bring soap or flowers or something.
Those who wash “other parts” first are very average. Undoubtedly, you have your inner strengths but people find it hard to see. You must learn to be a little bit more adventurous and sell your potential. Deep down, you are a very likeable person with very few faults. However, the key will be to make your strengths stand out and not just hide your weaknesses. You are an average lover. You have great fantasies about different techniques but unfortunately are not brave enough to try them out. Your best partner in life will be those who chose face.
HAHAHAHAHAH… “very average”? Brilliant! I love the idea of being “very” “average”. Tremendous. You slay me Georgia Girl. Sure you may have some talent, I mean sincerely who the fuck knows what it is, but even if we did know you hide it anyway because you’re a little scawdy cat. I think the “average lover” goes without saying if your first description is that they are “very average” entirely. A “very average” human being is hysterical! Even though there is no hate in this paragraph like the face washing one, there is definitely a disdain and clear bitchiness in this that makes it sound like Georgia Girl has no respect for “other” washers. I suspect Georgia Girl’s most loyal friend is an even lonelier woman than Georgia Girl who takes a lot of emotional and verbal abuse from Georgia Girl. She probably spends more time with Georgia Girl than anyone else, but there isn’t a single sober second where Georgia Girl would admit they are “best” friends.
Also, I sincerely love the idea that “other” is a category. What is “other”? First, I thought “balls”? Are we talking about people who wash their junk first? Their private parts? Their wackadoos and whootiewhowhoos? That could be. It could also mean “legs”. Or feet or hands or elbows or stomach or butts. And all those people are “very average” and they have longing fantasies about using vibrating cockrings or 69-ing, but they are just gutless sheep who will bang away in a mediocre missionary position their whole life. Poor bastards.
So what am I?
Chest washer. I am the pragmatist. I get into the shower and grab the soap. I start up a good lather and slap it on my chest. I need to keep this sternal head clean and sparkly for dreary days like today.
Any hair washers available?