Monday, August 31, 2009

My Monday Muse

Steven the Beautiful

You know that terrible feeling of childish jealousy you get whenever you see someone accomplish sumfing that you yourself wanted to? Discouragement, resentment & self-deprecation all start to settle in your mind and you begin to question your worth as a human being. If someone else is able to succeed at the very thing you'd die to, then is there really a point to life? No. And that is why after I finish writing this entry, I am going to hang mahself with a pack of Red Vines ala Juno.

Ok, I'm kidderz...but I AM SAD! This gorge specimen of human perfection in the video below is what I want to be. Sexxxy, stylish, delirious! I have long wanted to be a cross-dressing whore, but there is no way en el mundo that I would ever be able to compete with this goddess of nature:



YAY! My blog just got more attractive after posting that video! The cloudz are parting and I can finally see! When I was a little cholo in middle school, mi hermana and I would spend our summerz doing four tingz: 1. Watching Sailor Moon; 2. Watching Baywatch; 3. Watching Supermarket Sweep and 4. Watching Cops. And it was when I was a little tot that I saw this posted vid! Tanx to my awesome bffffl Enrico, I was reminded of its majesty!


Let's all be honest, dearest bloggy companionz, we're all a bit envious of the glory that is Steven the Beautiful. Firstly, and not to hop on the dick of mah favo site eva, Dlisted, but check out those 'browz! Those pencil-tipped slashez are just the accent to highlight an already gorgeous puss! Acne scarring? Please! That just givez him character! And those crack-chomping lipz! Girlfriend musta slathered on an entire jar of Vaseline, cuz I can barely tell that they are cracked to piecez after a five-hour long oral session with the occupants of the local nursing home -- Hey! Gold-Digging is the way to go! It should be its own Olympic sport.

And the outfit! Perfect for hooking waiting for your cousin Tay in Albuquerque. The key to look good is to wear a cream-stayed black top, cheap synthetic weave and of course, a pair of jean shorts that does not fit as to show off your more-to-love thighzzzzzz. And don't forget to accesorize! Duct-tape shoez are a must and if you need a purse, stop on by your local Goodwill and pick out the classiest [read as: trashiest] faux-leather purse available. Trust me, there is alwayz a prime selection!

Another pointer to looking absolutely heavenly like Steven the Beautiful is to mind your sun exposure. Tan your legz but don't EVER let your face get any color (you'll get sick). You will lose that alluring ghost-whiteness on your puss and then no boiz will ever want to touch you!

Oh and here are some hintz if you are ever in a tough situation. Stuck with no compact on the side of the highway? Accost a stranga and rub your greasy mug all over their side mirrorz! Cuz for serial, a supastar gotz to get her makeupz durn! Get harassed by police officer? Give dem attitude, but never be disorderly! Arrested for being a prostitute? Ask them to pweeze excuse your beauty and then shamelessly whine for your freedom. Follow deez steps and you too can possibly be an elegant lotus flower marshmallow creature like Steven the Beautiful!

The only beef I have with Steven is his name. Like if I was when I become a sexxxy female streetwalker, I would totez give mahself a spicy little nickname. I was thinking something along the linez of Cholita Pop'n'Fresh. That has a nice ring to it...

Friday, August 28, 2009

Wordplay!



As any good bloggy friend should be aware of, whenever a gringo attemptz to leave a comment on an entry, they have to type in a rando series of letters to prove that they are indeed flesh & blood and not robot SPAM monstaz. And sometimes the results are hilarz! I have noticed many times that peepz will include the Word Verification as part of their post, to highlight the especially silly codes. Well, since I am smart (read as: borrred) and all about communal posting, I thought it would be fun if we all shared these codes and made up funny yet nearly believable definitionz for them [sowwy, I was an English major and dis is what fun is to me!]. It's like that stupid game Balderdash that no one ever seems to be good at!

I did six to start it off:

Hupering (verb): Rattling on and on about stupid shit [IE politix, the weather, personal problemz] that no one cares about, oblivious to the fact that no one else is listening.

Example: Marjorie would not stop hupering on about her daughter's abortion during the ladies' luncheon.


Adolli (noun): The foaming device on cappuccino machinez that never fudging workz and ends up burning your hand when you try and steam milk into the cup.

Example: As to be expected, Mikaila received third-degree burns when the adolli malfunctioned and sprayed her with hot, venemous foam.


Gumis (noun): The nasty pasty shiz that forms on yo teefz if you don't brush/floss for a day.

Example: The dentist had to take a chisel to Mitsy's teeth to get all that nasty ass gumis off of her choppers.


Fluteli (noun): The token unattractive drunk ho that always ends up going out with you, gets hammered, stripz in public and singz Kelly Clarkson songs out of key, thinking she's talented because she took choir in high school.

Example: Even though she had sung "Since U Been Gone" six times already that evening, Tia was too sloshed to realize how much of an annoying fluteli she had become.


Scrab (verb): When pretending to be a decent cook, you rummage through the cabinents and/or fridgerator and arbitrarily pull out spices, sauces, vegetables, meats, etc. and dump them into a pot [aka every recipe in the Josh Is Trashy cookbook]. When asked what you have made, you always respond with "Casserole" (or "Stew" if you are more refined).

Example: Felix feared that he included Windex in his stew while scrabbing for ingredients. It was the only explanation as to why all of his guests got violently ill and started vomming up glass cleaner after dinner.


Retato (noun): The musical term for a part of a song [usually the chorus] that is consistently sung repeatedly at bars because people are too stupid [aka not Josh, Val or Enrico] to learn all the lyrix.

Example: The fluteli in Marissa's entourage kept singing the retato of "Who Let the Dogs Out?" until Michael kicked her in the face with his boot. [double pointz for using two wordz!]



Now it's your turn! If you don't see the Word Verification box, you are probably logged into Blogger and have to sign out in order to see it. Help me rewrite the dictionary! And get your friends to as well...how embarrassing would it be if no one responded to this entry?! VERY!


Wednesday, August 26, 2009

My Music Playlist


Music! Weeee! I alwayz wanted to be a music writer for a fun, hip entertainment magazine and come up with different lists of songs and artists and all that good stuff. Categorizing music and ranking and picking dis and dat...I'm obsessed with it! But since the world hatez me, I can't seem to locate such a jerb. Geebz! Someone pay me to force my beliefs on the public! Ug. Anywho, since I don't have a magazine to vent my musical tastez on, I thought that I might as well do so on mah blogggggg. So here is my current playlist of songs that I can't stop listening to. Five are oldiez and the other five are current trackz. I'm eclectic!

[Listen to some clipz down below]

Newbiez

"She Wolf" by Shakira - A terrifying and addictive Columbian nightmare where Shakira relates herself to a coffee machine. Please note the unenthusiastic wolf howl during the chorus.

"We Are Golden" by Mika - Cutesy pop tune that sounds the way cartoons look. The music video is absolutely orgasmic and is what I do in mi casa when I'm alone.

"Paparazzi" by Lady GaGa - She's a moron, but this song is quite genius. The metaphor in the chorus is threatening and obsessive, just like moi!

"Sleepyhead" by Passion Pit - Crazyass weird Indie shiz (feat. high pitched wailing and DJ goodiez). Am I even cool enough to listen to dis? Probz not.

"Party In the U.S.A." by Miley Cyrus - It's a virus. No matter how many timez I vomit or how many hours I sleep, it won't leave me.



Oldiez

"Dirty Work" by Steely Dan - Lazy little tune about not puttin' up with people's shit. Wish I had this on playback with me @ all times.

"Monday, Monday" by The Mamas and the Papas - Makes me feel like a hippie. I've never been to California, but I think everyone there talks completely in Mamas and Papas lyrix.

"You Making Loving Fun" by Fleetwood Mac - This song gets me inexplicably aroused. I blame the supa hawt bassline.

"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" by Elton John - I can't play the piano like Elton. I can't write wordingz like Bernie Taupin. ::criez::

"Always On My Mind" by Willie Nelson - EDIT: Now I'm crying. Saddest song eva! Or least for this week.


GIVE DEM A LISTEN!



So what are you cholitoz and gringaz listening to?! Share the jamz!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

One In a Million

R.I.P. AALIYAH
January 16, 1979 – August 25, 2001

So I don't want to get all saddy and crybabish up in herre, but I wanted to take a break from my normal routine of garbage banter to dedicate my blog to the memory of one of mah absolute favo singerz eva, Aaliyah. Today is the eight year anniversary of her death aka one of the saddest dayz of mah life! Killed in a terrible and foolish plane crash, I remember hearing about her death on the news when I was just a little high school tot. It shocked me and was the first time in mi vida that I remember having to really cope with death. Grandparents had passed, but that was when I was younger and less susceptible to the full magnitude of such jarring emotions. Yes, I was a mess of tearz for the following few dayz. It got to the point that Aaliyah's name became synonymous with mine in my class. My friend Val and I would constantly shout it out as an exclamation of excitement, or if we were looking for each other in a group of other peepz.

Long story short is, I love Aaliyah and still miss her. So feel free to check out some of her supa hawt videos below and tell me how sad you are that she's gone.

Are You That Somebody? (feat. Timbaland)




Try Again




More Than a Woman




Miss You





Monday, August 24, 2009

My Monday Muse


the Chicken Dinner Factory

So if you're smart and like to have fun, then you obviously have already heard of/watched/fallen in love with the genius television series Wonder Showzen. If you haven't, then close mah blog down, go onto Netflix and order it. If you don't have Netflix yet, then go sign up for it and then order it. Simply put, you must see it. It's the bread to my butter and the cran-raspberry to my vodka. Senseless skits and parodies that are offensive and completely arbitrary in nature?! Sign me up, douchebag! But by far the best part of the show has to be the dubbed over videos with youthful commentary. And the most hilar example of how children actually do say the darnedest tingz can be seen below. Take a tour through the Chicken Dinner Factory:




Now who out there can tell me that they aren't jellerz that they didn't go to the Chicken Dinner Factory? I know I was seeeeeeeething with the angerz after watching this! I <3 botulism, rat fecez & cockingroaches! I can't get enough of Daddy's magic powder! Yay!

Now I was never a big frozen food fan [side note: Fla-Vor-Ice do not count] but after dis exposé on the wonder and excitement of pre-packaged mealz, I don't tink I can resist! Just look @ those tiny little peep puff ballz! Derriciouz! I know that when I love an animal I scream @ it until it submitz to mah desirez to consume it! I haven't stopped yelling at my kittens for the 7 weekz they've been alive! Plus, according to that little girl on the video, if I eat that food, I will throw up 120 timez a minuto...fitz perfectly with my diet! Yay!

I just worked 5 effing shiftz at the restaurant since Friday, and I pretty much wanted to end mah life when I got out at 10 PM last night, but I watched this and felt a sigh of relief. Tanx0b020Gawd I don't work in the Chicken Din-Din Factory. I wouldn't want to be sub-human chicken-slicing dronez like those loserz. Yay!

Ok, well I must go...it's time for me to practice my Español Maid-Talk. Toodlez to you my noodlez!

DADDY!

Friday, August 21, 2009

Excuse me, there's an alien in my stew.


I try to make it to the moviez once in awhile, just so I can keep up on all the latest flickz. And in this week alone I have gone TWICE. Look @ me...I'm so popular and busy. Well, the two peliculaz that I went to see couldn't be more polar oppositez. The lovably heart-warming Julie & Julia and the violently disturbing District 9...read below to feast on my geniuz opinionz!


District 9

Get your fuckin' tentacle out of my face!

Of course I went to see this movie! Durhz! Alien thrillaz are what I live for (along with big-budget, plot-hole filled disaster films). Before viewing, I read a million reviewz of District 9 any everyone was praising how amazing it was. I was surprised cuz for usualz critix don't usually les gustan movies of this genre. But after going with mah sister Cindy and housemate Shawn, I for supa totez understand why everyone is suckling on this moviez weiner. It was quite incredible and volleyed me across a broad spectrum of emotionz. I was sad one second, happy another, terrified the next, and crying right after dat.

The plot was strong and a nice twist on the whole "alien comin' to Earth schtick"; instead of the aliens coming to kill us or whatevz, they simply wanted to check tingz out, only to have their craft stall out and become abducted by humans and thus put into concentrate camp-like slumz where they live. Much sympathy is dredged up for the alien beings, or "Prawns" as they are derogatorily called, and unlike other stupid extraterrestial films, they are given personalities that the audience could relate to.

Now, the film makes a blatant political statement which scared me @ first. I can't stand politix and all that borrring unfun shiz [it fills mah lungz with limitless yawns], but this movie touched on some very crucial and disturbing topics that I thought they executed in a very effective and efficient way. Kudoz them!

The effects were fantastico and I was happy that the aliens weren't hidden away for a shocking unveiling "BOOooOoOOOo!!!111!!!1one!11!!!!" moment, but instead were shown clear as day to let the viewer know that these tingz weren't to be feared, but understood. I was for def def defferz impressed and recommend anyone that is smart and isn't a douche to go see it. Oh, and "Christopher Johnson" is the best name for an alien eva!


Julie & Julia

If no one's in the kitchen, who's to see?

Hello?!?! Meryl Streep! I love everyting that she's eva done [sans Mamma Mia! cuz that shit was just stooooopid]. And when I try and tink of any other cholita that would be able to pull off Julia Child, she's the only one that popz into my cabeza. Well, aside from Rhonetta, but she can do anything!

Anywayz! Since I loved Doubt and couldn't wait to see this rousing follow-up, I enlisted the company of mah amigo David, and we were off! And did I love the film? Of course, you idiot! It was brillz!

The film revolves around Julia Child's life and her ascent into the culinary world. She's adorable and fearless and out-going [aka three tingz I wished I was!]. Juxtoposed with that storyline is a modern day tale starring Amy Adams as a blogger (!!!) who attempts to follow Child's cookbook and catalogue her adventure through every one of her recipez. Reviewz have been spewing in that all praise Streep for being the greatest person ever, while hating on the contemporary storyline, but all those people are assholez, cuz I thought that both parts of the film were entertaining and crucial to the other.

The film also made me want to cook more. I made a million gallonz of chicken, potato and onion soup last week that I am just now slowly working mah way through...though I have yet to poach an egg or bone a duck or anyting that requires a great amount of skill [inset: something I don't have].

Well, I hope all you wonderful bloggy personaz are convinced to go see both of these filmz and then comment on how great they are [and by consequence, how great I am for recommending dem to you].


Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Q+A!

I have anxiety issuez. I have come to accept it. I'm constantly paranoid and under the impression that my actions are ultimately going to disappoint someone somewhere. Anyone that is a good friend of mine probably has had to deal with hearing "But are you sure you're not mad @ me?" from me multiple (read as: a million) timez. I do apologize for my nagging, but as I said, I constantly feel on edge and for this round of Q+A! I thought I try and get down to the core of what makes us all a little crazy...and that is FEAR. So the assignment this week, my little babyroonz, is to answer the question:

What Are You Most Afraid Of?

In some wayz, my fearz are pretty run of the mill. Growin' up I was terrified of heights. Still am, but that's not fun to write about cuz nearly everybuddy in the world is scared of that. Yes, my kneez shake when I'm up high. Yes, constantly feel like I'm gonna faint when I look up @ a tall building. Yes, my heart eruptz in terror when I'm on rolla coastaz [note: though I do love dem]. So what's the fun in going on and on about sumfing so borrrring? Nothing. There is no fun.

When I was a tot I was also quite frightened of clownz. Once again, not that crazzzy, but the fact that this fear is such a common one is quite counterintuitive to the whole purpose of clowns in the first place. Aren't they supposed to be fun and joyful and keep children pacified long enough for mom and popz to catch a breath? Instead, they scare the shitz outta babiez with their huge noses and stupid hair and jagged monsta teeth. I remember watching It when I was younger and being all lyke "Fuck deez hoz, I'ma through wit goofyass clownz!" Cuz in case you haven't seen that movie, let me just say that Pennywise is one effed up monkey-flubbing clown. I also hated that bastardo doll from Poltergeist and that cigar-smokin' son of a [demon] bitch from that episode of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" (yeah, i'm gettin' old skool up in here). Clowns are maniacally happy to the point of psychosis, which is when they come out of their carnival tentz and try to John Wayne Gacy my ass (feat. dismemberment and crawl space burialz). Fudge 'em!


But neither of these two tingz are especially unique. Both of them scare me, but there is one thing on this planet that unnervez me more than being chased my a pack of ravenous clownz around the top of the Empire State Building with no safety net, and that thing issssssss MUSHROOMz.


Yes, yes. Har har. Laugh it up jerkoffz! But I am serial. Ever since I was a little boy, the existence of mushroomz has plagued my mind. I never had the taste for them and I found the repulsively musky with a texture so unbearable that I would heave the second I chomped down of them. But because I was a little brat, my parents would be sure to always spoon me portionz of dinna sans shroomz, knowing damn well I'd lose my shit if even one of those fungi fuckaz entered my mouf.

As I got older and started working at the restaurant I am still employed at (UG), I was forced to engage in mild contact with these worthless creaturez?/plants?/abominationz. And here are the guiltiest offenders to my palate/existence:

Portabelloz
: They look like possessed jellyfish (another pointless creature that God must have sneezed out while he was intoxicated and vomming).

Morrellz: Dirrty spongez that I had to clean when I was the restaurant's bitch. They always came in a vat of diarrhea water (feat. nasty wormz).

Shiitake: Nice try, having a funny name and all. But you still are disgusting and you look like you have hair growing outta your dome! Shave, pweaze!

Stinkhorn: I've never seen one in person (tanx0b020gawd!) but I'm sure if I did, I would instantly die. The flippin' shroomz look like diseased weiners, and homo don't play that!


I just don't get why such a terrible thing existz on this Earth. And blah blah...I've heard everyday since I was born that mushrooms are So GoOoOoOd 4 yOuUuUuU...what evaz! Shove it! Why do they have gillz, why are they so ugly, why do they taste like musty closet air and how the pelotaz do they grow so huge?! Why can't mushrooms be like they are video gamez, all happy and smilin'...giving you special powers as soon as you touched one of dem? No, in real life they have to be silent beastz, lurking wherever I am, hunting me and torturing me with their sick existence. Oooooohoooo. I just got the goosybumps tinking about them. Excuse me while I hurl, while I'm away, how about you tell me what your biggest fear is?

::HEAVE::

Monday, August 17, 2009

My Monday Muse


Pickle Surprise

Anyone that has read mah blog semi-frequently over the past few monthz would be able to deduce that I am a scare-D-cat. I get frightened easily, anxious at a coin flip and twitchy while driving. Yet nothing I've ever been faced with has filled me with as much fear and confusion as the infamous Pickle Surprise.



The video was made by some guy @ some point in time...blah blah blah who givez two shetz? All I care about is the terror that it forceably insertz into my heart. IT SCAREZ THE DUMPZ OUTTA ME! Like, drag queenz are terrifying. We all know that and we all accept it. Yet we still find ourselves laughing @ their anticz and poorly out of tune karaoke. And while there are spooky drag queenz in this aforeposted video, the most upsetting part is the drag pickle.

Pumping up from the depthz of hell like an atomic cornichon of death, Mr. Pickle Surprise's gorg Adam Lambert makeup and sparkletastic gold glovez, make his entrance in to my life a monumentally confusing moment that I will always cherish. And by "cherish" I mean "drink to the point of forgetting that it ever existed." And I'm all for derriciouz snacks (feat. Mah favo #1 condiment, MAYO), but the inclusion of the Ham Mantra just upset me to the point of heaving. Oh and why the taint does that one cholita'z mouth emit the sounds of a toilet bowl flushing?

I would write more, but that video needs to be viewed to full comprehend how mind-numbingly brillz it is. I hope you aren't too incredibly distraught/and/or blind.



Sunday, August 16, 2009

Artsy Fartsy

My sister Melody is extremely talented and it pissez the snot outta me. She's been drawing ever since the world came into existence [aka my first burfday] and she has really put all the chicken-scratching to good use! She stole a college degree from someone with the same name as her and conned her way into a publishing jerb en la ciudad de Nueva Nueva.

Oh I kid, I kid. Har har! I'm funnerz. For serial, she's an incredible artist and her fiancé, John is also quite skilled, focusing his talents on grafitti-inspired work. Well, the two of them teamed up to make me feel umotivated and worthless and put on an art show. And hooray! It was wundavill! It was yesterday in Red Bank, New Jerzee at this cute little book & art "cafe."


I met up with my family early in the day and we drove to Red Bank to be the supportive nucleus that everyone wantz to be a part of. Our main direction given to us by my sista was that the bookstore was across the street from a pale yellow church. I naturally scoffed @ such a vague comment and made numerous jokez about how we'd have to turn left at the broken-down Chevy and ask Glinden, the hooker of Marshall's Corner, to direct us the rest of the way...but I fucking deep-throated my wordz when we actually did stumble upon said church, and thusly mah sister's show. Fuck off me.


As we approached the store I noticed that one of my sis' pieces was actually sitting in the display window:


When we were done oogling the window display, we ventured inside to begin ruthlessly criticizing the rest of their work...but to our surprise, there was nothing find fault with! And for me to not be able to find something to bitch about...well that is quite an accomplishment. Here is a look at some of Melody's arte fantastico:





I also adore John's work to boot. Not sure if y'all remember (or care enough to remember) but back when I gave a "tour" of my house, but in one of the shots of my room you can see a painting sitting on my dresser of a robot. John did it and bequeathed it to me as a burfday present two yearz ago! Very modern and very awesome, I adore his work for its strangeness and its admirable execution. Here are a few shots of his work:



I even helped with one of the pieces! My sister asked me to look @ two drawings she had been working on and put my creative writing minor to good use and construct a poem inspired by them. She imprinted my poem on the drawing and it came out really great! You can't really read it in the photo, but it's there!




A good time was had by all. My sister and [future] bro-in-law were able to display their work (and even sell a few piecez!). I drank five glasses of wine. Yay! Here is a picture of mi hermana y yo in front of our collabo piece -- and yes, I know I look uncomferz and high:


My sister checks my blog semi-regularly, so leave her a comment and tell her what you tink of her shiz! Also, check out her Flickr page HERE. Oh, and HERE is John's page as well. Apparently "thetruthcomesout" featurez a quote that yours truly said once in regards to an ex of mine. Whoopz! BLACKMAIL!

TALENT!

Saturday, August 15, 2009

I'm not the piano man.

I don't claim to know how to play the piano. I've alwayz wanted to be one of those uber-talented gringoz who can sit down at the ivories and just tap-tap-tap a great little ditty that has everyone crowd around me while marveling @ my magic fingaz. But alas, I am not and the few times I've tried to learn to play the piano I always got frustrated and gave up. I played the bass guitar in a band in high school, and while I love the bass (and really need to pick it up again), I always found the piano to be sexxxy. Sensitive, yet powerful. Profound and crafty. I WANT TO BE THE NEXT REGINA SPEKTOR / FIONA APPLE / RUFUS WAINWRIGHT / VANESSA CARLTON...

...oh! Speaking of which! When I was a freshman (and boy, was I fresh!) in college, Ms. Carlton released a brillz song called "White Houses." It's all about growing up and coming to terms with your maturity and it's all nostalgic and beautiful and makez me cry [like dat's hard to do]. It;s wonderfully metaphorical and got banned from MTV cuz V. Carlton talkz about losing her virginity and having her Bloody Mary erupt. Just like my freshman year! Well, except I don't gotz a hymen.

So anyone, it was my obsession that year that my dorm peepz had to listen to on repeat for weeks on end. I discovered a (terribly outta-tuned) piano that was in the lounge of my dormitory, so I slowly but surely began to tinker away @ learning the song. Once I did, I forced everyone I knew to listen to me play it. But then I went through college and slowly lost the time to practice and once I graduated and moved into Shawn's house, I lost any opportunity to use a piano.

UNTIL NOW! [sound hornz and start da parade!] Mah sister found her old keyboard from when she was a teenager and was nice enough to let me borrow it! I am by no meanz a talented musician, but I thought "What the hay?" and posted below two videos of me fucking up otherwise gorgeous songz.

Vanessa Carlton - "White Houses"





Kelly Clarkson - "Already Gone"



Thursday, August 13, 2009

My trip to [Augustana's biggest only hit]!

First off, you win a bag of Caramel Cremez if you understand the title of this blog. Good for you! Now, even supa-busy, [self]important bloggerz need a vacation! So that's why I packed a sack and roadtripped to Boston two weekendz ago to visit mah best friend Valerie Rose[Dewitt-Bukater]. She goes to school up there and I thought it would really sweet of myself to bless her with my hideouz presence.

Well, Geebuz knowz I ain't gonna be driving up there [I'm scurrrrrred of driving!] and commuting to NYC three dayz a week [prox 5 horaz a day] keepz me pretty anti-public transportation when I don't need it. So thankfully mah other best high school peep Laura isn't a wimp and a half like moi and was willing to tote my bunz up to da MA with her.

So we left at like 4:30 in the PM on Friday and then treked for prox 463.54 hours (aka like 6 horaz). We stopped for dinna at the only place that's open in Conneticutt @ 10 PM on Fridays: McDonaldz. Now, I haven't eaten fast food in a year and a half. I actually find it quite disgusting (not even mentioning how shitty it is para cuerpos), and I was quite distraught that it was the only option available! Here is a pic of me hating my life via fat food:


Then we finally got to Boston and wept with joy when we saw Valeroni. Even though we were mad tirez, we decided to go out drinking @ dis bar down the street from Val's apartmento. We hung around there and drank and listened to ugly choloz sing "Don't Stop Believin' (the Non-Glee A Capella Remix)." Then some persona started spilling drinks on us and pulling on Laura's gorge hair, so we were all lyke "Peace out biz-nitchez" and then went back to Val's house and cried.

The next day we woke up and were starving, so Val took Laura and I out around town and we pretended to shop and ate at some cute bookstore/cafe. I got a fruit salad cuz I'm gay and then I bought size 27 jeanz @ Urban Outfitters. As we were walking, I found free-advertising for mah blog out on the streets of Boston!:



We then stopped for an afternoon snack @ this ice cream chain called JP Licks. Funny how it's my initialz followed by a verb that will most likely be construed as sumfing sexual. Damn you ice cream Gawdz! Whatevz...I stopped complaining as soon as a spoonful of pomegranate sorbet was ejaculated into mi boca. Derrrrrrriciouz!


Now, to work off the fatness we gained via creamy deluxe treatz, we thought it would be wise to exercise. And what better way to exercise than to kick the shit out of each other in front of a large reflective pool?


We then headed back to Val'z apartment and watched VH1 countdown the greatest songz from the 80s and drank. Laura and Val had vino blanco. I had Michelob Ultra cuz I'm not classy. Laura then helped me make supa-slutty shortz outta the pair of jeanz that I bought. Here I am modeling them and looking pretty whorish:


Then we drank more and proceeded to take prox 200 photoz of ourselves in different poses and at different angles. My vanity is suffocating sometimez. Here are the three of us looking like gorge modelz. Tyra would be proud!


And then we left and embarked on our Night O' Drunkaholix. We started off at some bar that Val is a regular at and we had one drink there before deciding that it was totez not happenin'. We found our way @ some fancy little restaurant and by some cruel joke of nature against the other patronz, I was sat @ a table. I proceeded to verbally threaten strangerz who were strolling down the street (FUCK OFF COUPLEZ. NO ONE [aka me] WANTS TO SEE YOU HOLDING HANDZ AND BEING HAPPY 2GETHZ. I'M ALONE AND GOING TO DIE ALONE, SO GO CHOKE ON EACH OTHER AND DIE) while harrassing the server wit preguntaz like "If you were gonna die tomorrow, like someone was going to cut your throat and you were gonna effing bleed to death in front of ur family, what would be the last drink you'd order?" He said he'd get an Appletini, so that's what I got and it was pretty good. Laura got a Pomegranite martini that tasted like glass cleaner and cranberry juice. I graded our drinkz thusly:


After we were done being attractive and unhappy @ that rezzzzzztaraunt, we decided to go to another watering hole, where we proceeded to get even more shet-faced while singing along with Lady GaGogglez. Then we were given rando free hot dogz which we of course ate. They were lukewarm and wet, but still free. Couldn't. Resist!


Now, @ this point, the only person with a vague sense of reality was Val. Laura was calling high school peepz on the phone and I was screaming and/or crying, so of course to shut us up Val did what any friend would do: She took us to a sausage hut. We ordered french friez, ::nom nom::ed and then passed out on the greasy table tops. I woke up with cold sorez pimplez all over mah jowlz! Sick nasty!


After Hot Dogz 'R' Us, we slothed back to Val's apartment where the two ladiez made fun of everyone in our senior yearbook while I called mi amigo David and cried to him on the phone for an hour while lying in a hallway closet. After embarrassing mahzelf, I felt asleep and woke up to start a new day!

We woke up and decided to peel ourselvez out of our hangovaz by getting derriciouz omlettes @ some tiny little diner deep within Boston. It's was fantastico. We sang pop music en route and laughed about timez gone by! MeMoRiEz! Here are Val and I hugging like queerz:


We decided to be grrrrreat fwiendz and visit our amigoz from high school, Peter & Mike. And by "visit" I of course mean, "have them order us pizza while we watch Legally Blondez on ABC Family." We were appreciative no doubt and to show mah gratitude, I'd like to take the time to pimp out their web comic, The World Wasn't Meant. It's funny. Read it. Then I threatened Peter with violence, shot him with a Nerf gun and took another 50 pix. Then we headed back to Val's!


We then hunted for dinosaurz outside of Val's apartment...


...and we capped our night off right by eating prox 70 Fla.Vor.Ice. We didn't feel bad about it either because we're manorexic! Hurray!



Then we all went to sleep and had pleasant dreamz about Robert Downey, Jr., or at least I did. Pepaw Wet Dreamz = Gloriouz! We had to wake up mad earlycopterz to drop Val off @ class. Then Laura and I trekked back to Nueva Jersey. During our ten thousand hour trip back, we ate at a Dairy Queen and witnessed a drug deal happen eight feet from us. There is nuffin like cocaine distribution to end a perfectly wunderville weekend! If you want to see the full catalogue of pix, go on over to my Facebook and comment your nalgaz off!

Who wantz to go on mah next roadtrip adventure wit me?! Where shall we go? YOU DECIDE! I'm too lazy.

Monday, August 10, 2009

My Monday Muse


Virgania Horsen

I've written about dis hawt little trick before, but that was back when my blog wasn't fun and when the only people that looked @ it were mahself and my sister when I forced her @ gunpoint to laugh @ me. So thus I thought that it was wise to repost about this goddess of light & beauty. Kristin Wiig (aka the only person that's funny on SNL anymore) must have swallowed a lethal dosage of hilarity pills and had her stomach pumped. Out of the bile and muck grew Virgania Horsen.

The queen of independent entrpreanurs [I alwayz feel so intelligente when I use that word], Ms. Horsen has her finger on the pulse of societal outcrying! The has made it her life duty to address the needs and frustrations of the common man. And what are two of the biggest annoyancez that we as United States citizenz have to fend with?! The post office & airport, you idiot! Watch her commercialz below:


Pony Express


"Why don't you give ME your mail? I'll deliver it."

The goddamn post office! There isn't anything I hate more (okay...I'm lying) than getting in line at the post office to pay my student loanz just to have to wait a thousand hours to buy a stamp and stand behind clueless trophy momz (feat. unruly bastardo kiddoz) and 0ld people who need the postal clerk to give them a front-to-back tutorial on the different sizes of packaging and their correalting pricez! NO! ME FIRST. Ug.

Well, Virgania must have heard my wretchez of pain and agony, because she has answered mah prayerz! A few weeks ago I sent a CD to Puntafriend and bloggy reader John, and alaz it got sent back to me (I blame terrorists)! If I had opted for Virgania Horsen's Pony Express, I'm sure my gift would have been home-runned right into his handz!

So next time I need to send a CD or toaster or drugz or whateverz to pepawz and cholitas across the country, I'ma pick up a batch of stermps and sling-shot it into Ms. Horsen's pie-hole.

And hell effing yes I'd put my stupid little nalgaz on that horse and ride it! Who doesn't like pony ridez? Communists, that's who. Are you a communist? No?! Then get your ass on that bitch's pony!

Hot Air Balloon Ride


"See ya later suckaz! I'ma take myself a hot air balloon ride!"

Here's the scenario: It happenz everytime...I need to go rendezvous with clients friends from all over the world, and without fail I will miss my plane due to the terrible hellhole that is the airport. By the time I get there they've already gotten off on another ho's face gone to the pizza party and I'm forced to hook mahself on the street for coke get dinner by myshelf. Well, once again, Virgania Horsen has me & my problemas on her mind! Hot air bawoonz! Problem solved!

I was tinking, "Why not take a ride in her balloon?" and I couldn't come up with an answer! The fresh air! The non-long linez! Her suit-dress (feat. wicked ponytail)! Wow! She can cut me a deal! With Virgania kicking airport security and terrorism in the puss, my life has gotten ten timez better!

Now if there is only a way that she could fix other problems I have like constantly getting stuck at red lights or keeping little children from making fun of me when I go to daydream at the local park's swingset by mahself. But alas, there is always tomorrow.

Friday, August 7, 2009

In fact, you look like a whore.


Anyone that is effing rad will know who this fellow is in diz picture. He's one of my favo peepz in the entire world. His name is Motha Fucking Michael Ian Black and he's funnier than you. He's this comedian cholo who was all over those I Love the ______ showz that VH1 churned out like whores from Flavor Of Love. He was also in that Wet Hot American Summer movie that I never saw [apparently he does the nasty boy tango with some dude in it ::Netflixed!::]. Anywayz, he is hilarious and I start peeing mahself whenever I see his cute little puss on TV or in my dreamz.

Wellz, I was in Brooklez two weeks ago. I was sent on some errands from my boss and was told to go to da B&N down a few blocks from the office. I strutted my nalgaz down there (while listening to "Battlefield"...durhz!) and when I got there I noticed a large display of non-fiction essay books right by the entrance. Considering that I just finished the cutesy fairytale of sunshine known as "No Country For Old Men" on the bus ride in, I needed a new book to read. Well, I came across a treasured piece of gold among all the other shit that was piled there [all the other books are "shit" largely because I didn't write dem]. And that glorious nugget of fortune was Michael Ian Black's collection of short humorous ass-splitting essayz called "My Custom Van." Of course I shelled out the whore dinero I made the night before ($15.99) and purchazed it!

And let me tell you silly gringoz sumfing...TWAS. DA. BEST. PURCHASE. OF. MAH. LIFE! I read half of it en route home that day and numerous timez disturbed the morbidly obese sleeping man that was sitting next to me with my young and vivacious laughter. His writing reminded me of my own, just in that it's vile, crude and unapologetically ruthless [main difference though is that he is a published author while I am just a douche pretzel]. Anywho, I recommend you check it out before I kill you. Here are some quotez to entice you:

"Perhaps you will think I am naive, just another optimistic teenager who believes he can change the world. So be it. If that is the case, I say, 'Just watch me achieve my goals!' "

"Guess what? I'm having a taco party, and you're fucking invited."

"Vampires will need a place to sleep during daylight. Plus, they will be killing people. These two factors will combine to make the coffin industry a profitable one indeed."

"We will join forces in not caring, you and I. We will eat our forceful sandwiches and watch the small, pregnant carnival-goers injure themselves..."

"I have always found struggling robots funny."

"Sure, you might get some funny looks, but you'll be the one laughing when they are dead on the mountain while you're kicking back with a cup of fruit salad at the lodge."

"When your Chocolate Wave arrives, spoon some of that gooey concoction into her mouth and say, 'I wish this gooey concoction was my wang, and I wish your mouth was your butt.' "

"Then she told me that I was most likely a Crystal Child from another dimension, which made me feel confused."

"But maybe I'm just not outrageous enough to play a video game on a website for corn chips."




GO GET IT [LOVE IT]!!!



Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Q+A!


So since my first Q+A! installment was such a success (a record-setting 28 commentz!) I thought that round two should get even a little more intimate with you blog-reading choloz. I want to know about ur pastzzzz...so that's why this entry's pregunta is...

What's Your Favorite Childhood Toy?

Before billz, literary theory & other men's weinerz took the reignz of my mind, what bounced around inside mah cabeza? When I was just a little Josher-Tot, I wasn't like other cholitoz my age. While other young boiz were playing sportz or beating each other up, I sat inside or in my yard playing with little effing dollz. Yes, I went through a Barbie phase where I would break my sister'z toyz via beheading and then cry to mah parents before she would find out/hit me, but the dollz that this entry is about are of course...MOTHER-FLIPPIN' ACTION FIGUREZ!!!!




But not just any figgerz...no, I was a selective prick when it came down to what enterprise I became obsezzereskatez with. And there were three in particz that I was the most dedicated to...


1. Ghostbusterz


Don't try and act like you hos didn't own the movie and its sequel on VHS! I tink it was mandatory for any child of the 80s/early 90s to be IN LOVE with this franchize. The filmz kicked azz [they made the Statue of Liberty, mah first crush, come alive!], the video gamez were torturous and addictive, the merchandizing was inescapable...but none of that shit matterz, when it comez down to the true beauty of GBz...those fucking plastic figurinez. Mis padrez knew they were in deep shet the first time they bought me one of those little bastardz...flipping over the cardboard backing that Egon Spengler came strapped in, they could see the gloriouz collection of Ghostbuster action figure bounty that was awaiting mah grubby handz and their empyting walletz! Lucky for me, that didn't spoil the shiz outta me, or else I for probz would own every single piece of crap that had that cutesy logo on it!

But they did keep me satizified. Of course I had each of the Ghostbusterz and they each came with a little accessory ghost that I of course pretended was their domesticated pet that would follow them on all of their adventurez. I also had the Ecto 1 toy car that came with a ray gun arched on top and a sheet of decorative stickerz that you could use to pimp out the vehicle (or in mah case, make it look like shit cuz I just haphazardly stuck those tingz everywhere).

I also had the creme de la creme of all action figure havenz: The Ghostbusterz Head Quarterz that was a massive chuck of plastic with huge red doorz, three floorz (decked out in more decorative stickaz) and this nausea-inducing spiral elevator that alwayz got stuck/eventually broke [if you look at DIS PHOTO you can see that someone else also had a malfunctioning lift that eventually broke off...I'M NOT ALONE!].

They had a whole bunch of rando ghostz monstaz that never once appeared in the movie or television show, so I steered clear of that bullshit. My one regret from this era of mah life? Never getting my sparkly gumdrop sausage fingaz of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man figurine. ALWAYS. WANTED. IT. ::criez::


2. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlez


Again, another epic franchise that filled mah early yearz with endless hourz of make-believe life. What's better than ninjaz + mutant reptilez + talking ratz + sickening amounts of pizza?! In my peanut-sized baby brain, NUFFIN'! The moviez were epic and I started to grow irrationally affectionate towards Leonardo. Maybe cuz blue was my favo color and large swordz kick taint and I found Michelangelo (everyone else's favo tortuga) to be obnoxiouz and possibly artarded.

I had all da turtlez and the standard crop of enemiez for them to fight...you know, large warthogz and rhinoz dressed in armor with trashcan lidz as shields and nose ringz. I had Masta Splinter who came in some ill-fitting red robe that alwayz fell off and evil nemesis Shredder, who came equipped with buzzsawz on his jointz that spun around and made a terrible gyrating sound [I couldn't find a pic, but trust me...he was a pimp.]

As with the GhostingBusterz, I had both a vehicle and a home for my axxxtion figz: There was this cumberzome van that had enough room to fit all of the turtlez (feat. their awkwardly shaped bodiez & jointz) and a door that swung open for some reason. The second time I played with it, I broke the door off and was forced to use an intricate combo of rubber bandz and masking tape to keep it secured. Then I had this sewer playset that had way too many piecez but was still incredz. It allowed me to explore mah domesticated lady side by giving me a home for the tortugaz to rest and place house in. Neat! Odd...but neat.

For some reason and I still don't understand why, they created a line of turtle figurez that all had guitarz and shit, cuz you remember that episode where they put off trying to defend the city from the evil Foot Clan so that could start a popular worldwide mod-rock band, don'tchu?

BONUS PIC! Herre is me dressed up all TMNT style for Helloween one year! Cutez!


3. Jurassic Park


But without fail, the single greatest obsezzion of mah entire childhood would have to be Jurassic Park. Durhz I loved the moviez (even the shitty third one), durhz I played the SNES game (that was impossible to beat) and double durhz I collected as man goddamn action figurez as possible! I had all the main characterz from the first film and as many dinoz as I could get my greasy little mittz onto. I remember asking for Christmas (and then later my burfday) for the T-Rex figure, sadly to be told by mis padrez that every store ever ran out of them. Don't get me wrong, I had the raptorz to rip everyone in half, the gallimimus to stampede to death, the triceratopz to gorge, the stegosaurus to whiplash and the dilophosauras to shoot jizzam with, but still, nothing was quite like the T-Rew gulping up your existence in one swoop.

Then one day I was hanging out with some runny nose gringo I had just met, and low and behold, that bastard had the mutha-sniffing Tyrannosaurs Rex figure! Complete with stomping sound action and realistic roarz, I believe that was when I had my first erection. Well, being the wise business man I was and still am, I immediately offered to buy it for $10. And to my surprise Bobby Whoever sold it to me! Yay! Then my collection was more or less complete.

I had some jeep that was awesome until I lost all the extra pieces to it. I had some hospital room laboratory something or other. I had more outrageously futuristic weaponary than you could shake a snare trap at. It was a glorious time. My sister and I used to take my shopping bag of toyz down to the creek behind mi casa and play with the figure in the mud and water, just like they were frrealz in the wild! Realistic!

But let's be serious, the best part about playing Jurassic Park was having the dinosaurs murder and consume the helpless humanz in as many terrifyingly brutal wayz as possible. I was so obsessed with the figurinez' demisez that I would set up elaborate scenez where every fucking dino I had would be chasing after/annihilating my poor characterz. Then I would force mi padre to take a half a roll of film on it, making sure he got every nuance and specific detal. Somewhere those photoz are floating around in my parent's attic and one day I will need to trek on over and find them. It showed a lot of dedication, I think, on my part. That or it just proved that I was a huge nerd-parade that really needed some social interaction.




So what about you out there in da blogosphere? Did you have any childhood toyz that you couldn't possibly imagine your younger yearz without? Share! All aboard the Memory Mobile! Next stop: Nostalgia City! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!