waddy-day is everyday
Sarah November 9th, 2009
Today is Gay Adam’s birthday, so drink something, on him!
Today is Gay Adam’s birthday, so drink something, on him!
Your family’s always been the shifty-eyed ones…
Sarah October 29th, 2009
Halloween is coming, and lately I have been hearing a lot of the people I know talk about what they are planning on dressing as. Needless to say, a lot of the costume ideas are things I’ve heard of many times before. I don’t think dressing up like a “sexy” version of anything is really creative or halloweeny, ladies, so please give that up. And guys, stop being lazy and dressing up in your mother’s dresses.
Anyway, I was thinking, there are tons of gross things in this world that you could twist into your halloweeny needs, and since they’re based on real things, they will do a better job of scaring the shit out of your sexy pocohantus friends.
1. Helicobacter Pylori - this is the lovely little bacteria that likes to nestle into your gastrointestinal tract and cause your stomach lining to bleed… also famous for its role in causing stomach cancer. Now, I tried to figure out how you could dress as one of these guys, and I guess the best I could think of was put a garbage bag over you and poke a hole at the top and have spaghetti hanging out of it. Also, kicking someone in the gut until blood shoots out of their face hole.
2. Necrotizing Fasciitis- Known on the street as “flesh eating disease”, going as someone that suffers from this may be tricky, as you don’t want to appear as someone who is going as a zombie. To get the picture perfect, pour some acid on your thigh until most of the tissue is eaten away. You’ll want sort of a gnarled look so I suggest fraying pieces of your exposed muscle with a butter knife. By the end of the night you’ll probably be suffering from at least two or three more gross-looking afflictions that you can boast about at a halloween party, and you’ll be the belle of the ball.
3. Guinea worm sufferer- a person suffering from this wonderful little parasite has the distinct pleasure of pulling a rather long worm out of their infested wormy-cysts. There is no medicine to help get rid of these things, you just have to hold on tightly and pull slowly. If yaknowwhattimean, AND, I think ya do! Anyway, I was thinking this might be a great addition to the flesh eating disease suggestion. I’m not sure where you could get long ass worms from, if you wanted to go for realsies, but I guess for fakesies you could get some more spaghetti strands, and hot glue them to the exposed tissues of your necrosis-ridden exposed internals.
Mmmm halloween.
If you go as any of my suggestions, please send pics so I can do something positive with them…
The Internet: Ain’t What it Used To Be, Part Two
MOSPEADA October 11th, 2009
Author’s Note: Much to your chagrin, I refuse to make an ‘Electric Boogaloo’ reference, despite the fact that, indeed, this is a ‘part two’.
When last we left our hero, which is me, though I’m way more YOUR hero than MINE, he was talking about porn and how it’s ruined the Internet. But it’s not just the porn situation that’s the problem. Maybe more important than 30 oiled lesbians with 31 oiled strap-ons is the state of information in the Information age. They’ve named ages for things before. The Golden Age . . . the Space Age . . . the Stone Age . . . but if you think about all those ‘ages’, what ties them all together? The fact that there was an incredible LACK of whatever the age is named for! How much space did you have in the Space Age, hmm? Did your ancestors bank a lot of cash in the Golden Age? How much pot do you think cavemen were smoking, anyway? Naming an Age for something means that there is almost NONE of whatever the named aspect is available for mass consumption. There is LESS information now than before, mainly because it’s been replaced with DISinformation.
Follow me down the rabbit hole, children. Your buddy the Internet has filled your head with blog after blog after blog of burblings and churnings, some political, some celebrity fueled, some, like this one, so chock full of quality that your mind trembles and curls in on itself. But, quality and artistry aside, where’s the INFORMATION? Do you know? I sure as heck don’t. There is no Walter Cronkite, or Solomon, or Jean-Luc Picard to separate the wheat from the chaff. I’m a busy guy. I have various things to do… varied, various things. I’m not going to go into it here. But, lemme tell ya, they take up way too much time for me to try to figure out what’s important. GI Joe used to give me at least HALF the battle, why can’t the Internet at least throw me a freakin’ bone? GI JOE couldn’t even hit the broad side of a barn! The Internet could at least give me a link or a Wiki or something . . .
Look, here’s the bottom line: excess is the opposite of satisfaction. Too much of a good thing, as Tony Montana might be able to tell you, once you sort out the incoherent accent based on no language spoken on planet Earth, is not a good thing. It’s a bad thing. The Internet, back when Al Gore was still suckling it on his robo-teat, was like a Doctor Seuss book read to you by your Grandmother, tucked into bed on a cool fall evening, fattened on a cup of hot chocolate so replete with marshmallows the Ghostbusters are tempted to cross the streams. The Internet today is a Doctor Seuss movie staring Jim Carey and Austin Powers and directed by the animated plastic doll that replaced Jenna Jameson circa 2005, where the Cat in the Hat is a Neoconservative talk show host that maintains the President is a Kenyan communist Muslim and the Grinch is pimping Cindy Lou Who on MySpace until Chris Hanson busts him on Dateline NBC. Oh, and it all rhymes, but it’s exclusively soft rhyme, and we all know that’s just damn cheating.
Since the Internet has made you all ADHD spazmoids, here’s the nutshell: INTERNET BAD, BOOBS GOOD.
Thank you and good night.
The Internet: Ain’t What it Used To Be, Part One
MOSPEADA September 23rd, 2009
There was a time, somewhere between fourscore and seven years ago, and *looks at watch* 7:33 yesterday morning, when everything was perfect. You remember this time. It was before Michael Bay and Shia LeBeef raped your childhood with 40 foot tall mechanical dildos that transformed into racist caricatures. It was a happy place, where Hannah Montana was blond, and not draped over her father’s lap to hide his Achy Breaky (read:incestuous) tumescence. I know you hear me . . . I know you can feel the truth. And that truth is, there was a better time . . . a time before the Internet jumped the shark.Yes children, the Internet just ain’t what it used to be. We aren’t talking the kind of “ain’t what it used to be” that you could apply to, say, Meg Ryan’s acting career, love life, or horrifically mutated and distended face. It’s the kind of “ain’t what it used to be” that would be brought to mind if your dog, who you raised from a puppy, and loved from the first tender seconds of your interaction, raped your children, burned down your house, falsely accused you of running an international child pornography ring, sold your wife into sex slavery in Eastern Europe, and brought about the election of Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin and the rotting corpse of Adolph Hitler’s childhood babysitter Helga Stein (who gave him the idea for Dachau by presenting him with an Easy Bake oven for his 7th birthday) as the new judges for American Idol.
But I digress. The Internet, or, as I like to call it, Electronic Satan, used to be cool. It was the guy who let you bum smokes and never asked you for a quarter or a hand job in return. Think back to the BBS days. This was the first taste of freely available porn that most of the world ever had. Yeah, you had to wait a week for a jpg of a boob to download, but it was a FREE boob, one that you could obtain without having to climb into the dumpster behind the local 7-Eleven at the end of the month when they tossed the old Playboys (sans cover). You would also avoid obtaining scabies, polio, anal cancer, projectile airborne eczema, and a thin coating of Slurpee goo. So, double win.
So, you say, now that you can get porn streaming to your Wifi-enabled garbage disposal, isn’t that WAY better than waiting a week to stroke it to one boob of questionable quality? No, and stop being a dick saying ig’nant crap like that. Now that porn is ubiquitous, it’s completely boring. Think about it. How many videos did you have to click on the last time you were on PornHub before you found one that got the ol’ shillelagh salivating? I’m going to say 13, and the one that you did finally settle on was pretty disturbing. But, see where I’m going with this? The Internet, with its incredible wealth of human reproduction documentation, has poisoned you, and you, sick with the obsessive need to find EVERY breast on the web, don’t even realize it.
I’m pretty sure you’re passing out at this point, having rubbed your filthy boy or girl parts raw reading my gonad-centric screed. Join me next time when I may well talk about boobs again . . .
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