Fun new game more annoying than your neighbors

Greetings loyal readers, (if there are any of you left), I apologize for my absence lately. I've been working a ton, and not behind a desk so Internet time has been cut back to checking emails once a week. I'm working on it, I promise!!

It's been a summer of music for me... Saw The Paper Chase earlier this summer and more recently Frank Black and The Dead Weather. Both were amazing, but the Frank Black show was absolutely stunning. To be so close to greatness as he humbly played audience requests and talked about his kids, (they like hip-hop!) was awe inspiring. It was a very intimate setting, maybe 100 people. I was so close I could have spit on him, not that I would do something like that. Here's a pic...(and the current wallpaper on my phone)

This summer's musical journey continues when I leave for Lollopalooza in a couple of hours. I'll give a full update of that when I get back. Then I wrap up the season back in Columbus for Modest Mouse at the LC Pavilion on Aug. 23rd.

Now that we're all caught up I wanted to bring your attention to a fun new game I made up a couple of nights ago. I've played it before on random drunken nights, but have decided to make it a regular thing for a few reasons. 1) To help discourage the narcissism of the American public which seems to be out of control lately (said the girl writing her life's story for all to read) and 2) If I don't entertain myself no one else will.

The idea is to let the world know that we don't need to know all about what kind of person is behind the wheel as we drive behind them on the freeway. While this game won't get rid of those annoying 'I vacationed here' ovals or the happy family stick people that are so envogue now a days it will hopefully deter a few people from telling you how much they love dachshunds or that they ahem, 'support', ahem our troops. Here's how you play..

1. Find a car with one of those obnoxious magnets that display what a douche bag the driver is for all to see.

2. Remove said magnet from the douche bag's car alleviating them of their burden. (fig. A)

3. Place the magnet on unsuspecting victim B's car. (fig. B)

4. Laugh and ponder how long it will take douche bag and unsuspecting victim B to notice your handiwork.

Fun, right!! Plus everyone gets to play so no one gets left out. Now go find yourself a Wal-Mart parking lot and wreak some havoc.

fig. A

fig. B

random nerdy bits

So.... I was eating breakfast yesterday and catching up on ToplessRobot.com when I discovered with glee that Rob finally (and I mean finally) posted the Pokemon fan fiction he's been so reluctant to share. I have long been a champion of FFF and couldn't wait for the story to unfold. Generally, I have a high tolerance for entertainment that would make most people squirm. The funniest line for me was, ""Fuck me, daddy," she said, grinning a bloody smile. Her pleading eyes met his and before she knew it, her father's wrinkly, liver-spotted dick was in her mouth." I seriously laughed out loud, and that's not even the half of it... plus the term Pokevagina deserves an honorable mention.

As glad as I was to see it posted I was bummed the story wasn't accompanied with Rob's usual snarky comments, but alas, beggars can't be choosers. While perusing the comments on this particular FFF I saw mention of two girls one cup. Now I had heard that phrase mentioned before but never actually witnessed it. Anytime I asked someone about it I was told, "you just have to see it." Curiosity got the best of me, I googled it, and lets just say a little of my innocence was lost forever. My advice to you, you don't have to see it, unless you want a little piece of your soul to die too**. This from the girl who once did a collage series using pictures from The Book of Infectious Diseases. Did I mention I was eating breakfast at the time?

I caught up on Questionable Content today too.... I love it so much!! Marigold is a welcome addition and i appreciate the way Angus' character is developing. I started here today... but you should read them all because when it comes to comics, Jeph rocks out with his cock out!!

Here's a sample..... I'm totally a Dora by the way...(for the good and the bad... well it's mostly a.... mess, but...)

*Sorry... couldn't get that to format right... so just take a look at the site... I laughed out loud for an hour this afternoon... even amidst 2girls1cup - thanks JJ!

Also worth mentioning is that there is a free online Buffy comic written by Joss Whedon himself on the Dark Horse website. It's only three pages but rife with inside references, if you're a fan, check it out.

Sidenote:

The Dead Weather CD comes out on the 15th - hooray! Also, I am going to an intimate Frank Black acoustic show on the 14th. If you're in the Pittsburgh area and going, let me know, we can grab a beer beforehand. -W

** Here is an excerpt from an email i wrote to a friend after I posted this.... believe me, leave well enough alone... stay away from 2girls1cup!!!

I only saw about 45 seconds of it and here's a brief synopsis.....

(While Never Gonna Give You Up is playing)..... Two girls kiss in bad makeup and cheap clothes, one shits in a glass, they lick and eat it. The one who didn't shit in the glass throws up on it and they pour it on each other and make out.

Damn you MM.....I wanted to know the song (because that's the only funny part) so I googled it again and I lasted a few seconds more by putting my hand over the screen, but I was actually gagging..... and you know my tolerance...... I only lasted about 35 seconds total.... I don't know how long it really is.

King of Pop!!

I loved Michel Jackson. Not everyone can say that, but I still remember very vividly, being eight years old in fourth grade and telling everyone in school that Michael Jackson was my cousin. Of course that was true, even if that particular Michael Jackson was white, but I meant it. That was my claim to fame and I was sticking to it, no matter what. 

Here on the evening of his death, I find myself mourning in the least infamous of fashions. I've endured the prattling of 'fans' wondering who will get the kids and what their copy of Bad will be worth now. Selfish. I still remember the day I got  'Thriller' on vinyl and don't think I'll be making any money from selling my copy. Tonight we played our favorite of his songs over and over again and sang along each time. I think I listened to P.Y.T. three times. Not much of a moratorium, but it was something. 

I once almost wrecked a car listening to the "Off the Wall" album. I choose to remember him that way, rocking out.  .  . . He was an entertainer above all else, every aspect of his life kept us intrigued.... and I loved him for that reason alone. 

...if I had to choose.

I watched the 90's remake of Night of the Living Dead today and it got me thinking about  how much I love zombies. Then I thought that I also loved vampires as much if not more than zombies.  Then I paused to acknowledge how truly awesome robots are and wondered if I had to play Fuck Marry Kill with the three, what would I decide?

The decision was actually quite easy and took no time at all.

 I'd kill the zombie because frankly I don't want to sleep with or marry anything that wants to eat me......

I'd marry the robot and program it to do my bidding. The possibilities here are endless, you could choose anything from housework to assassinations.......excellent.

Finally, I'd fuck the vampire because they're the sexiest of the three by far..... (I have regular recurring dreams about getting it on with vampires.) 

Wait, he wants to eat me too.... crap. 

Well, there could be a chance he might just take a sip and not drain me completely. Maybe I could  work it into a regular thing. It would be perfect actually, then I'll have a regular booty call on the side since I'll be trapped in a sexless marriage. Think about it, the vampire wins too, who doesn't love a snack after sex? 

Note: The last episode of Buffy is among one of my favorite moments - ever. Oh Spike, how you make me swoon.

...then again my mind is always in the gutter.

I came across this image a while ago but have been extremely lax in my blogging efforts and unmotivated in general. I now have not one but two jobs however and as it turns out being extremely busy makes me want to do more in every are of my life, so here goes.

Admittedly I am NOT the Mayhem festivals target audience, but the graphics on this flyer baffle me. I have no issue with the images of death and destruction, the burning city in the background or even the skeleton in chains (cough - blatant Eddie the Demon rip-off - cough).

What I don't get is the disembodied, flaccid, uncircumcised phallus sprouting from the word Slayer. Is the band into rotting penises? Have Jeff, Kerry and the boys even seen this? That's totally what that thing is though, some dudes dong, right? It can't be an arm because it's too skinny (and red), and if it's a finger (and I think it's too big) where has it's hand gotten to?  

I am thoroughly disturbed by this image.

Ignorance is BLISS

I was told once that I'm extra observant, it's a trait I've always been proud of.  I'm beginning to think however that maybe I should rethink the way I go about things.  I found another hair in a food item today and I got to thinking that I can't be the only one. I can't be the only person noticing hairs and other miscellaneous items in the food she eats. 

That leaves two possibilities for the rest of you. Either A) you're not paying attention, or B) you don't care. I have no doubt that if this particular tub of Heluva Good Bodacious Onion Dip had landed in someone else's grocery cart that this hair would be half way to the large intestines by now. It doesn't matter if that's becuase it was shoveled into someone's mouth at the speed of light, or they were too busy watching their favorite hockey team skate their way to the playoffs (Go Pens!) to see it, I truly believe that I'm one of the few lucky consumers who would have noticed it. I don't say this out of conceit, rather the opposite, because I am tired of being regularly grossed out by curly body hairs in my favorite snacks. I hate it. I wish I didn't care, but do. I'm anal and have cleanliness issues. Luckily I also have a sense of humor (to a degree) and I penned this lovely little note card to the Heluva Good Cheese Company. Hopefully someone there will enjoy it too. 

NEVER be this girl.....

I walked into a restroom yesterday when I heard a couple of teenage girls chatting.  I was immediately annoyed because, well, teenage girls are annoying. They were both in stalls but must have been aware of my presence, I wasn't quiet. 

Then, as I'm doing the job I set out to do the saddest display began to unfold in the form of a conversation. Here is as direct a transcript as memory will allow to the intimate conversation I became privy to.....

pathetic little tart: So you know how I had that abortion the other day? What day was that? Sunday? Yeah Sunday.

note: at this point pathetic little tart got sidetracked because her toilet flushed too long. This resulted in her repeating "Oh my god, Umm... Umm... it just won't stop. Oh my god" for about two minutes straight. During which time I finish my business and flush. 

daft friend: Wait, what were you talking about?

pathetic little tart: What? Oh yeah, like so you know how like I had that abortion?

daft friend: Yeah. (very matter-of-factly)

I exit my stall and wash my hands. Pathetic little tart is staring at me in the mirror and gauging my reaction. I didn't react. 

pathetic little tart: (exiting stall) Well that clinic called me to, get this, 'see how I'm doing'.  They like called and like wanted to know if it worked or not. I was all like, don't you know? And they called on my moms cell phone too. Can you believe it.

daft friend: Now you're mom's totally going to know.

I exited the bathroom, stone faced and proceeded to repeat the conversation in  horror to McMader. 

I'm no prude and am staunchly pro choice. I guess you could say when it comes down to it I'm a quality over quantity kind of girl. Some people enjoy a buffet, some don't. I don't. 

The fact that this girl had an abortion didn't sadden or surprise me. It was that she was so completely starved for attention that she felt compelled to bring it up in front of a complete stranger in the women's restroom at the mall. Her mentioning that she gave the clinic her mother's cell phone number when every kid in America over the age of thirteen is practically required by law to carry one also raised a red flag. 

The whole thing was a cry for help, probably right down to the circumstances in which she got knocked up in the first place. She was only about fifteen and the way she stared me down in the mirror hoping I would react made me want to smack her across the face and then give her a big hug.