Thursday, September 30, 2010

I'll be your teenage dream?

Right behind being poked by ugo pervy strangerz, exez stalking your shit & drowning in a tidal wave of Farmville updatez, the most terrifying thing that all of us Facebook userz worry about on a daily basis is the unexpected and dreaded tagging of unflattering photos of ourselvez from back during our uglier younger yearz. It can happen @ any moment and takez no prisoners.

And you're stuck...if you keep yourself tagged, you have to live with your cyberself being forever marred by your adolescent awkwardness. If you de-tag yourself, you're a party pooping wuss that takez yourself way too supa serial. I was torn...I was all out of faith. Yeah that was how I felt when mi amiga de high school, Jordan, posted some old skool photoz of me online.

I might have had joy and had fun and had seasonz in da sun, but I for def def defferz looked like a burnt pile of trash most of the time during high school. And after I picked mis nalgaz off of the floor and wiped the resentful tearz from my eyez, I started looking through my personal photo collection from the olden yearz [read as: 6 años ago], and found the following picture of myself [feat. my friend Val's mom in the background! YAY PAULA!] from my high school graduation:


Aside from the immense pride I feel from having been able to wear the same shirt for both mah high school AND college graduation, I must admit that I don't think there is a single photo of my sourpuss in existence where I look happier than I do in dis photo right herre. I got all philosophical and held the pictura up to the mirror and spent half an hour analyzing the wayz in which my face had changed (HINT: It got meaner, more corrupted + the bagz unda mis ojoz have doubled in size).

After I convinced myself to deglue my gaze from the mirror, I thought it would be cool to ask all you bloggy folkz to post photos of yourselves back when you were silly little school chillunz. So post a link to an ole-timey photo in the comment's section and let's all share and le sigh over how youthful and pure we once looked...


Monday, September 27, 2010

My Monday Muse

[September is as a whole, everyone's least favorite month. Skool startz, the sun goez away and we all start to worry about going bankrupt during the impending moneysuck holiday trio of Helloween, Tanxgiverz & Xtinamas. So the battle of The Monday Muse of September 2010 is a very heated one. Scroll to the bottom of dis herre entry and vote for the Muse that helped you survive the stinkin' donkey pile that is the month of September.]

Birthday Pizza Party!!

Yeah, yeah. You see the picture above and the name of dis week's muse, and you're probz all like "how is a pizza party Monday Muse-worthy?!" And I understand completely.


I mean, growing up, it's almost mandatory to have at least one fiesta wiff some of your bestest school budz where you stay up till 10PM (totez past your bedtime), eating ice cream and pizza and watching sCaRy moviez [read as: tame shit like The Sixth Sense] or PsUedO-NauGHtEeE comediez [read as: st00pid shit like Austin Powers: International Douchebag of WhoGivezaFuck].


Then your friendz would give you cheap junk from their closet as a present and you would not even care cuz OmFGAwD Mom just walked in wiff a tray of rootbeer floats!!! ::happiness esssplosion::


I had mah obligatory birfday shindig at a Romp-a-Round, which is basically like Chuck E. Cheese only you don't get mugged/killed if you give someone the stink-eye. I remember chasing my friendz through slidez and ball pits and mazez. It was a blast until I ran head-first into a padded pole (though not padded enough) and knocked my dumbazz out.


Aaaah. Those were the days. But I've become distracted. Though we all think we know the ins & outz of childhood birfday celebrations, we really need to chut our gobz, and take a gander @ a REAL pizza party...




I am designing mah 25th birthday hoedown, color-by-numberz, by dis herre crazzziness! Dis clip from Mary-Kate & Ashley's Insane Hallucinogenic Birthday Fuckery is more or less a guide to planning the purrrfect annual celebration of the day you rocketed outta your mother and blessed the world with your nalgaz.


The 10 thingz you neeeeeeeed, if you want your nexxxt birthday party to not suck:


1. Enough frosting flowerz to induce a diabetic coma.


2. Menacing background chant anthemz.


3. An abused slave dawg.


4. An icebox large enough to hold every possible food in the entire world.


5. The three ugliest grrrlz that go to your skool.


6. Racism = black chica + fried chicken


7. The spelling skills of a 2nd grader to spell out PIZZA repeatedly (sorry, Fantasia).


8. Whipped cream pouring like waterfallz.


9. Some sicko rando shiz [i.e. a whole fish, chicken tongue and human eyeballs].


10. Chocolate sauce [feat. spreading it slooooooooow].


Make sure all this chaos is @ your birthday party and you will be sure to have the single greatest fiesta de cumpleaños of all time. Those Sweet Sixteen whorez won't have an ice cube's chance in hell in besting your jubilee!


----------------------

Who is your Monday Muse of September 2010?!

Missy the Cat?
AbLisa?
The Toilet Tiger Family?
or
or this week's Birthday Pizza Party!!?


Sunday, September 26, 2010

Costume Query

Sorry I haven't blogged in about a week! What wiff working, trying to maintain some sort of social life & desperately attempting to fend off some sickernezz, I've had little time to dedicate to this preciouz fartpile of mine on da Interwebz. But I come to you folkz today with a very important entry. One that could very well mean nuffin' to anyone change the future of humanity as we know it...WHAT THE SHET AM I GONNA DRESS MAH AZZ UP AS FOR HELLOWEEN?!?!?!?!?

There are three roadz I could travel down in regards to costuming choicez. I shall exhibit these to you folkz along with exxxamplez of each, and I leave it up to your exquisitely astute and well-traveled [read as: depraved & likely disturbed] pointz o' view to tell me what look you think lookz da best on me.


1. Boring Traditional Costume Mainstayz

I could abandon all creativity and squeeze my fanny into some generic cop-out lame-o costumez that show nothing of my personality (I have one, right?) or style. Upside, though, this shit is e-z to make or find cheap at dolla storez, and since I am a frugalmeister, I might just opt for holiday disappointment and be a...

...Elphaba stupid witch...


...or an uninspired ghosty...


...or a run-of-the-mill vampire [aka a blood-sucker not affiliated with that Twilight, True Blood, Vampire Diariez fuckery].


2. Slutty Remixez of Normal Costumez

Maybe I'll abandon any of mah moral standingz (don't laugh, please) and staple some see-through swatchez of fabric to my privatez and cavort about as a sexxxyskatez prostitute. I could be a...


...buoyantly brain-dead baseball supastar (since I lurrrve promiscuity/sportz so much)...


...or a well-respected hussy police officer...


...or a purrtastic sleezy pussycat.


3. Piss-Poor Celebrity Impersonationz

You know you're a big cheese when peepz start dressing up as your doppelganger for Helloween. And since I do pride myself in knowing more about popular culture than one person should, maybe I should swan-dive into my imagination and become someone famoso like...


...The Situation from Jersey Shore (since I'm not self-concious just taking my shirt off @ da beach)...


...or Woody from Toy Story 3 (cuz little kidz don't constantly peeve me off)...


...or Katy Perry (DUH).

--------------------------

So whatchutink folkz? I need your wise guidance! What do you think I should be? What will make me a HalloWINNER instead of a HalloWEENIE?! If you don't give me any input, I'm just gonna party in what I am wearing today...

...LAZY PUMPKIN [feat. bedhead].


(oh...and no one suggest I dress up in any outfitz made out of butchered meatz. For serial, I'm not that obnoxious.)

Monday, September 20, 2010

My Monday Muse

The Toilet Tiger Family

Potty-training a kid must be one of the most unpleasant parts of being a parent. First of, poop & pee are absolutely dizzzzgusting. Secondly, teaching people how to do anything is boring and tedious and not fun. Thirdly, you get arrested for slapping your child if they don't do it right the first time, and then you get sexually abused in jail and your life is ruined.

So therefor, when I finally decide to bring a bundle of glowing beautiful precious joy into the world kidnap a baby from a hospital for ransom, I will skip the whole potty-training hell no-fun part of the jerb, and just sit their azz down in front of deez herrre videos:



After watching dis informational learning aid [read as: disorienting frightfest], I know my little cucarachaz (that's the cute pet name I'ma use for my non-existent future demon spawn), will never soil their pantaloonz EVER. If their bucketz start a-wailin', they will know now to jet their special partz on over to a pisspot and drain their water reservoir for all it's worth.


They also will know that when it's time to take a dumpathon, they best have their bums firmly planted over the porcelain seat before they start to do their biiiizzzzznezzzzzz. I don't wanna see a single effing stain on any of their pantz...cuz I can't be jetting on over to Target [read as: Goodwill] every other day to buy them replacement pantalonez!


I just hope that my future babalooonz won't be disappointed when they use the toilet and I don't jump outta nowhere and start singing some dumbfuck jingle to them in congratulatory joyousness. Pish...I don't do song 'n' dance numberz for free, even if you are my brat child!


And I also hope they don't expect their scat and pizz to smile and talk to them like these hallucinating tigerz say they do. Nuffin has ever dropped outta my body that had a face and I pray to da Lawd dat nothing ever doez!


Seriously Japan, WTF?!


Sunday, September 19, 2010

This wind blowing in just came from the ocean.


Nueva York & its residents have a lot of shiz to deal wiff. High crime, pollution, terrorism, bed bugz, over-sized marshmallow men, hurricanez, rude people, having their asses killed via high-budget Hollywood disaster flicks (and within the year, ME living there!)...New York doesn't seem to get much of a break. That's why I have to take a moment to flip the bird 3 times up @ Mother Nature's st00pid puss for forcing NYC to have to deal with sumfing it usually never has to worry over: TORNADOES.

Last week, while on one of the upper levelz of the office building I work at in Brooklez, the sky became overcast and it started raining gatoz y perroz. Within five minutez, a co-worker ushered us all to a large window in her office and we watched in awe in utter fucking horror as a huge storm front started blanketing Brooklyn in misery cloudz!

The windowz began to shake violently and then God began to chuck baseballz of ice down on top of us. We all cowered under our deskz and counted our blessingz [read as: shrugged our shoulderz and went back to work]. Then just 15 minutez after it began, the storm ended. I didn't find out till later that a goddamn tornado touched down in Brooklyn, destroying property ripping up treez & even killing one person!

When I was younger, I was obsessed but absolutely traumitzed by the movie Twister and I would relentlessly badger my sister Melody (who shared a room with me) whenever a storm would hit, thinking for sure I would get my azz sucked up into a cyclone. I'm still of a nervous mental state when it comez to that shit, so I beg of you, douchebitch Mother Nature, keep that crap in the midwest where it belongz. Geeeebz!


Want to see the aftermath of the storm?! Crazy shit...check out deez fotographiaz of all the damage. Have any of you bloggy readerz come face-to-face with a twister? Was it the scariest moment of your life?! Share your trauma with us!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

My Musical ABCs - G!

Good golly! Our last installment of Musical ABCs was such a grand & gorgeous go-getting adventure that I am sure you're all going Lady gaga a googleplex number of timez in anticipation for the nexxxt gratifyingly ganderific entry! Let's get ourz groooooovez on gallivanting for our favo songz dat begin wiff Mr. G


"Glitter in the Air" by P!nk


"Have you ever wished for an endless night, to lasso the moon and the stars and pull that rope tight?"


What can I say that I haven't already said before? As my favorite singer of all time, there is very little P!nk could do (not including one specific monotonous dance anthem that doesn't show of her talent & the one specific corny-to-the-point-of-physical-pain woeful ballad) to make me feel anything but a blinding adoration, rezzzpect & love for her.


Therefor it should come as no surprise to all you faithfully derrriciouz bloggy peepz that P!nk would nab one of mah Musical ABCs. If we back track two letterz ago to E, you'll remember that I went through a difficult relationshit and breakup that left me cold & ashamed, lying nakerz on da floor.


Well, before the break-up and back when I still plump wiff delusionz and I thought that mi ex-novio y yo could sort out our infinite problemz, I would play P!nk's "Glitter In the Air" on repeat. As the closing track to the brilliant Grammy-nominated (AND ROBBED) album Funhouse, the song poses a bunch of pensive and nostalgic preguntaz to the listener. And anyone that is a hypersensitive puffball of emotional nervez will know that dis herre is one of the best songs to listen to on repeat and cry to!


The bridge of the song is one of the main reasonz I started drinking coffee...just so I too could sit in my garden and watch my sexxxy & tattooed hubby walk towards me, clutching it, caaaaalliiiiing meeeeee "Sugaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar"! Sigh...a weepy crybaby douchenozzle a boy can dream, can't he?

Now enjoy the outstanding Alecia Beth Moore's flawlessly brillz live Grammy performance (no, she did not lipsynch. Spare me having to set you on fire and don't even bother saying she did):



runners-up:
"The Great Gig In the Sky" by Pink Floyd
"Girl From the Gutter" by Kina
"Ghost of a Good Thing" by Dashboard Confessional

"Gotta Tell You" by Samantha Mumba


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

My [Belated] Monday Muse

AbLisa
Destiny's Child, The Pussycat Dolls, TLC, 3LW, The Dreams...seems like girl pop groupz always have their fair mess of bullshiz to sludge through. Hoz be gettin' mad when the main slut is given all the attention or there are "creative differencez" within the group which I think is just an excuse they give when peepz just start to hate each other.

It's mad suxxorz when groups break-up, especially when they have so much potential. When I found out Eden's Crush wasn't going to release a 2nd album I pretty much felt indifferent was crushed worse than a chair under THIS guy's nalgaz. So that's why I watch/mourn this week's Tuesday Monday Muse with a fountain of frosty tearz in my st00pid eyez.


Sigh...think of all the Grammys grrrlfriendz aren't going to win! With that full-fisted FALCON PUUUUUUUUUNCH, my hopes of one day seeing a Behind the Music: AbLisa have been dashed & cremated!


And it's all tanx to their asshole voices that are reminiscent of old people clearing their throats that Lisa bitch! Abby (the chica with the fake cran-razzberry pelo) is my heroine for smashing her porkrind loving (ex)friend in the braces! Just take a gander at Abby's puss every time Lisa did sumfing artarded.


She's thinking to herself:


a) Why is it that the first bloody thing you do when you march your buttered thighz on stage is call Judge Louis a d.i.n.o.$.a.u.r.?!


b) Why the shit did you say I was your cousin, and then reiterate and say that it's actually your sister who is my cousin, which would still make me your cousin, WHICH I'M NOT?!?


c) Last time I checked, you weren't goddamn Kelly Osbourne, and until you are, you best not be telling anything other than your own pregnant reflection to "shut up."


d) Of course we care what the audience's earholez are tinking. That's why we came on this show, twat.


e) HOW DARE YOU QUESTION THE VALIDITY OF AUSTRALIAN SOAP OPERA ACTRESS AND RECORDING STAR (and Josh's teenage idol) NATALIE IMBRUGLIA!!!!!!


Pish...dat ho deserve a firm jowl-slap. Sure, AbLisa may not be the next t.A.T.u., M2m or Jo$hr!co, but I say Abby strikez out on her own, throwz caution (and good vocalz) to the wind and becomez the next Diana Ross, Kelly Rowland or Nicole Scherzingereringerfdsherkg. Go for the starz girl. GOOOOO!


Sunday, September 12, 2010

Music Video Vault

The Bloodhound Gang - "The Bad Touch"


WHAT'S THE DEAL?: One-hit wonders are seriously the bread to mah pop culture butter ghee. To be able to spout off names like Samantha Mumba, Willa Ford, soulDecision, Lou Bega & Debelah Morgan to the sounds of crickets/disinterested peepz forced into talking to me is frrrealz one of the biggest joyz en mi vida.

This installment of the Music Video Vault highlights one of those bands that hit the musical jackpot and then fell off the face of the Earth. Joining the douchebaggy rankz of Len, Sisqo & The Baha Men, I give you The Bloodhound Gang.

Sure, I could visit Wikipedia and fart out all these facts about the group and their discography, but since my life is sOoOoOoOoOoO effing busy [read as: I'm mad lazzzybonez today], lemme just cut to the chase. Back when MTV's Total Request Live was the single most important asset to every tw33n's life (yes, I am guilty as charged), a video premiered one day that left a funny taste in all of our innocent wittle moufz. It was "The Bad Touch."

The song came from the album Hooray For Boobies which had THIS as an album cover when it should have been THIS instead. The song tasted foul, foreign & frightening just like jizz and all the cool [aka demented] kidz like myself made sure to study it and learn all the lyrix. Sex available in an easy to sing, easy to remember hook shooter with a dose of explicit content and a spoonful of parental disapproval? You gotz ur azzez a hit.

The prococious little ditty captured the heart of America every fat drunk frat guy who would belch out its wordingz as though it was the motherfucking Ten Commandments. After the song's popular weened, the Bloodhound gang released a failed follow-up single that was about a drug-addicted Pac-Man or some shit, and then a disc that became one of the worst reviewed albums of all time albeit having one of the sexxxiest album covers ever printed.

But now let's go back to the sexxxually perverted magic that was "The Bad Touch":



VIDEO SYNOPSIS: A clan of horned-up furriez monkeyz go around terrorizing Paris, France wiff their hot shit dance movez (yeah, I've serial stolen deez stepz for when I go clubbin') and geniuz poetic stylingz: "Please turn me on, I'm Mr. Coffee with an automatic drip," & "I want you smothered, want you covered like my waffle house hash browns," are some modern day Shakespeare shit...don't act like it didn't get your motor running!

Deez d00dz may seem like sexual deviants looking to fluff out the pure beauty of Paris worse than Quagmire humping the Eiffel Tower, but that's not The Bloodhound Gang's intention at all!

Look who they kidnap: some dolled-up sluts, some gays, some fattoz & a midget. Isn't it obvious?! They just wanted to put together a song & dance pop group [see: *NSync for the classifications of boy band hearthrobs].

After they torture all dem peepz in a quite deep and introspective man vs. the wild role reversal (thought-provoking, I know), they set all their asses up and rehearse dance movez that would make Jessica Simpson's eye holes water in envy.

Then the midget dies at the end because he lookz different from everyone else because he tried to disrupt the synchronized danceathon. Pish...he deserved it.


POINTS OF MENTION:

:09 - Why the hell didn't they show my middle school Health class that nature video instead of that dumbo Power Point presentation of STDs?! I might have actually learned sumfing and not slept through the entire semester!

:14 - Weird I find the kicking, goateed monkey cute?!

:46
- Why are dem French bakers so turned on by a boring old croissant? Aren't you the choloz that MAKE the croissants? Are you sick to death of them after decades of churning them out everyday?!

1:14 & 1:28: Lovez that old lady! Too bad she's probably dead by now.

1:36: Annoying gayz!

1:44: YAY! Mr. Mime makez an appearance!

3:25: So much spanking/thrusting...don't act like your juices aren't percolating @ the sight of it.

3:56: I bet you'll think twice about jay-walking nexxxt time!


THE CONCLUSION: The Bloodhound Gang taught me everything I need to know about sexxx [aka force people to do schtuff you want them to do and then kill them]. They also have totally scarred my innocent perception of primatez while additionally freaking out the old ho that's sitting behind me @ the coffee shop who is looking over my shoulder right as we speak...YES YOU, STOP WATCHING ME.

There we go...she's gone. Anywho, I hope you learned a lot about lurrrve and lurrrve-making! Just make sure to wrap dem booster shotz up in saran wrap so no one gets preggerz or STDed!


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

My hands float up above me.


I only write about the things that interest me and avoid topicz that put me to sleep. Thus why the majority of mah blog postz revolve around pop culture, bookz & dumbazz YouTube videoz, and why politics, social issues & religion nary make an appearance. But after going through some heavy, tragic schtuff earlier this summer, I've found myself thinking a lot about the latter of those three usually-snorefest subjectz.

Religion has always been sumfing I've been aware of, but never cared enough about to ponder over. Everyone always wants to blab about it, warz are fought over it and people base their entire livez off of it, but I've always been deaf to it. The way I see it, I don't subscribe to any specific beliefs, but still respect (and somewhat admire) those that devotedly believe in their faith. However (just like A Perfect Circle), I roll my eyez a thousand timez @ peepz that blindly follow religion like an obligation.

I don't judge peepz that want to go to church, or study this religion or practice that religion, but I would hope that their hearts are fully committed, and it's not just sumfing they routinely slug off to like a familial tradition they secretly wish they could give up to. And I hope that they wouldn't judge me for not goin' to church, but instead watching an entire season of The Simple Life in one seating while taking Fla.Vor.Ice shooterz in mah underooz.

After losing a friend earlier dis summer, I started thinking about faith and I found myself listening to "All Around Me" by Flyleaf & "Alive" by P.O.D. on repeat. Both are Christian hard rawk bandz and while the songz are obviously focused on Mr. Christ, I still got some personal resolution from them. I found myself taking their messages of gratitude and perseverance and injecting it into my own life, without getting that awkward "I'm not religious but some major God fanatic is lecturing me about sin and heaven and hell and trippy naked winged-babies"-kind of feeling.

What about you folkz? Do you have a specific creed? If so, what does it bring to your life? If not, what is your opinion on organized (or unorganized) religion?!




Monday, September 6, 2010

My Monday Muse


Missy the Cat

You know, today I'm feelin' a little outta control. For the first time since I snorted dis blog outta my brain, I'm going to make this week's Monday Muse not the usually inspirational [read as: absurdly st00pid] video. Yes, you will have to do some reading...QUIT YO BITCHINZ'. If you click photo below, you will learn about an exxxtra special feline; a cat that launched the greatest email thread the world has ever seen. Lemme hear your clickity click click clicks...


When I was a little sprout, I had a cat that looked a lot like Missy, and he too ran away (OoOoHh WhY dId I LeAvE tHE DoOoOoOOr oPeN?!!). I tried to make posterz to hang around town, but to avoid me embarrassing the entire family, mis padres didn't let me post my crappy cry for help anywhere other than the refridgerator door.

My gato, Spot, never did come back to us and I largely blame the fact that email wasn't mainstream & popular yet and that I couldn't cyberstalk a designer to make rescue posterz for me! I'm sure if this d00d had been around, I would've been reunited con Spot and we could get back on the track we were before of overfeeding him to death.

I don't get why Ms. CrankyPants CatOwner wasn't please with the designer's creationz. If I could have had Spot's puss pasted all over town like a movie poster, I know peepz would see it and become confused and thus ignore it start a rally to find mah precious kitty!

And WTF @ her scoffing over the $2,000 reward! Bitch, if you really loved your cat (cuz I'm sure it's her only amigo in the entire world), you'd shell out the dough and throw in a lapdance as a special bonus to Enrique Igelsias the hero that found it for you!

For serial, the designer had the key to your cat's safety, and you quibble over money/design/the wrong cat being on the poster. UN. GRATE. FUL.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Don'tcha love the weather by the sea?!

When I was young, I never needed anyone & making love was just for fun mi familia y yo made it a summer tradition of spending a week down @ mah uncle's beach house in Manasquan, NJ so we could have some fun en la sol. We'd go to the beach every day, burn the hell out of our skinz, swim, admire all of the beautiful people who would wear gorgeously flattering bathing suitz [read as: tragic hoz who jimmied themselves into risque suits three sizez too small] and then trek back to the house where we'd spend the evening telling storiez of timez gone by while eating hot dogz & stale potato chipz on the porch.

But obviously the pinnacle of this wittle vacation was always the trip we'd take to the Seaside Heights Boardwalk. The epitome of trashtastico fun, I looked forward to this excursion all year!

But ::sigh:: alas, as time went by and my sisterz & I grew into real people and became inundated with things like work & school, this tradition eventually fizzled into our soda pop memories.

HOWEVZ, mis padres had the brillz idea of setting aside mutually convenient time in August and goin' as a family to the Boardwalk for one day! And last weekend, that is what we did. And wiff mah trusty phone (con camera) in hand, I took a bucket-load of picturaz that I will now bore you all to death with graciously share wiff all of youuuuu! You're so lucky!


We arrived to the boardwalk and as the decor clearly suggestz, were treated like kingz and queenz [aka were heckled @ by the carnival game operatorz].


I went up to this imprisoned bitch & was gonna ask her to tell me how long it would take till I was on the cover of Rolling Stone, but there were cracks in her crystal ball and crane game jewelry on her fingaz, so I began to for serial question her credibility.



My sister Melody's fiance, John, came with us! Here he is murdering the hell outta the world's largest pinball machine!


Families should stick together (or some shit like dat)! Here are my two sisterz & my dad monopolizing the pinball machine room. I too partook in the flipper madness and played every single machine there. Games included one based on The Addam's Family, two based on the meteorological devastation of tornadoes & earthquakes, one on aliens killing the world, one on car racing, one on magicianz & finally some st00pid boring baseball game that I didn't understand.


Here is mi madre playing Guitar Hero. She was rockin' out to some old songz that put me to sleep, so I challenged her to a face-off, forcing her to play Deftones' "Hole In the Earth" [aka a song she has never heard of]. 4 minutez [feat. a year's worth of cussing] later, she scored an 84%. Though she didn't beat my 99%, I was still greatly impressed. Good jerb, Mommy!


A ritualistic rivalry has been blossoming between mi hermana, Cindy, & I over the past few yearz over air hockey. And though, in the past, we've had some neck-n-neck gamez, I for def def defferz whooped her in all three roundz we played against each other. But how can I not win? I pretend that my goal is a CD player and that the puck is a copy of The Black Eyed Peas' latest album The E.N.D., and the LAST THING in the world I'd ever want to happen would be to have those two things meet!


After I pummeled her to defeat @ da air hockey, Cindy resorted to her guiltiest vice, hard drugz, binge drinking, obsessive shopping baby smugglin' fake gambling! However, her earnings weren't nearly as fruitful as those of other casino-goerz...


Deez rando peepz were such expertz [read as: CHEATERZ!!] @ this one coin game that the machine started to non-stop marathon vom ticketz all over the place. An attendant had to come over and fix the damn thing. He then arrested the couple and locked them in a hellish cell under the boardz.


Being awesome @ arcade gamez is EXHAUSTING. So we went and got monster-sized slices o' pizza and a platter of fried Oreos. Mmmm! Yay for having my entire annual caloric intake digested within one seating! I'm not eating for the rest of the year.


While marching along the boardz, I noticed a family of lethally adorable kittenz frolicking out on the beach next to a Seaside Heights lifeboat.


Not to be outdone by ANYONE or ANYTHING, I had my adorable family also pose by the lifeboat. Aren't we cuter than the familia de gatoz?!?!


As it started getting darker, we traversed on over to the pier that had all the ridez. We were gonna go engage in some bumper car mayhem, but there were a thousand little kids (who apparently don't have curfewz) farting about and ruining our fun. So instead we went to a funhouse (sadly, P!nk was nowhere in sight). However, Christina Aguilera & Snoop Dogg were there to welcome us.

Since we expected the bumper cars to not suck ballz, we prematurely bought ride tickets. So we decided that instead of wasting our $$$, we'd take a ride on that godforsaken bullshit Pharaoh swinging ship ride that always makes me feel like I'm about to give birth to my intestines. First mah sisterz went on, and then they convinced John & I to also take a ride. I hated it and it made my stomach sad.

--------------------------

By this time, it had gotten to be pretty darn late, and since I had to wake up @ 7:30 en la mañana to go to werk, we headed off and got lost for an hour...why the fuck was I the car navigator?! made it back to our residences in record time!

It was a truly marvelous day and made me feel all bloated with nostalgia. Lotz of fun and I hope we go back nexxxt summer!


Wednesday, September 1, 2010

My Musical ABCs - F!

So who is ready to take on Mr. F and fart out your favo fantastico songz that begin with his letter?! Favorably fill out the effing comment form and fabulously forward your fitting choices...PLEASE!

"Folkin' Around" by Panic! At the Disco

"I'm putting out the lantern. Find your own way back home."

College came + went like a blurrrrr to me. And it wasn't just cuz I drank heavily for a large portion of it. There were a lot of great memoriez and I get occasionally mad nostalgic sometimez [read as: will start to bawl hysterically, unprovoked, @ the mere thought of some mundane detail about those four yearz] when I think about all the fun I had.

And scientistz have proven (no they haven't...I just made this up) that music is the #1 trigger for all memory based ponderingz! Dat's why there is a collection of five bandz that I listened to NON-STOP between the yearz of '04 & '08 that avalanche a mountain of reflective recollectionz when I hear them now: Fall Out Boy, Motion City Soundtrack, Straylight Run, Coheed & Cambria aaaaaannnnnddddd Panic! At the Disco!

They are part of that altrock/post-punk group of bandz that gets labeled as "emo" by st00pid artardz that don't even know what that word referz to. And while their first album A Fever You Can't Sweat Out was chock-full of the clever brattiness and obnoxiously long song titlez that bands in the genre started to become known for, their 2nd album, Pretty. Odd donkeypunched their critix in the taint by reinventing their sound to follow a more classical pop-rock song styling!

I was lent dis album the first time I hung out the chico who would later become mah best friend, Enricoz, and I fell in lurrrve wiff it on the first listen through. But it was "Folkin' Around" that really fish-hooked, gutted and fried my earz into submission. The violin fiddle, the ragtime beat, the lightly narrative lyrix...dis song is a hop, skip & a lightyear away from the music they used to make, and it's short length lets me never get tired of playing in on obsessive repeat!



runners-up:
"(Fork and Knife)" by Brand New
"For a Dreamer, Night's the Only Time of Day" by Forgive Durden
"Funhouse" by P!nk

"Faded" by soulDecision feat. Thrust