Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Day 87

This still doesn't explain why there's a red light at the bottom...

Line of the week: Not three episodes into Boardwalk Empire and already two blowjob scenes? 1940s? Mo' like the 19blowme's!
Today at 2:27pm: Loading the laundry while singing Madison Avenue's Don't Call Me Baby...from MEMORY!

I watched the wants-to-be-a-real-movie Skyline on Friday morning and though I walked in expecting a mildly entertaining sci-fi action film, I stumbled out feeling like an idiot. This is usually the part where I would say how much of a waste of money it was, but on this particular occasion, I was prepared. During the summer I had gone to see Up in the Air at an early screening for free, and because the movie that was being shown in DIGITAL PROJECTION restarted three times, we all received a pass for a free movie, despite the fact that we hadn't spent money on the first one. Anyways, it was a horrible movie by the pretentious and cliche directors known only ass The Brothers Strauss. The movie is absurd and goes from a science fiction art-ish drama, to an action film to the most ridiculous ending that yields in the message: You can't stop love, because love is in the brain.

It starts off with actors we've seen in commercials and TV shows, all of which are 6-7 on the attractiveness scale, and 3-4 on the personality people-can-relate-to scale. Then we're introduced with aliens, kinda and there's a lot of fighting and small scenes that don't really lead to anything of interest. Eventually the military starts fighting back and we experience all this through a telescope that zooms like a digital camera and can track planes flying at hundreds of miles per hour and nuclear warheads with an amazing amount of success. Then some more arguing happens and some people die and the two main characters fight one of the aliens on the roof of the apartment building that the aliens seem REALLY interested in. If you're wondering what happens, the alien attacks the girl with its giant vaginal lips until her boyfriend/reluctant-father-of-her-child uses his intellect to discover the alien's crucial weakness: excessive punching to the head...which is exactly how he kills it. Anyways, they start getting sad and as the alien ship sucks them up, they kiss as they float up the air like reverse skydiving filmed by Lance Bass. Then the unstoppable power of love is showcased and you get the most ridiculous ending since Next.

I'm reading a book on the life cycle by Erik Erikson, though focusing more on the identity stage through adolescence. It's very nerdy, yes. Hell, I get random urges to read through the week, and I get to my room and grab one of the many books I have laying around that I haven't finished and actively read and make faces as I react to the content! I don't really know when or why I even bought it. As I think about it, however, this is probably my way of dealing with a lack of identity, which is something you'd think I would have worked out by now. Instead, I'm too busy focusing all my hate on ridiculous things like why lesbians, when they've clearly made their choice, still purchase and utilize dildos and other phallic products. If I owned a sex shop, which is an unlikely event, I wouldn't sell a single penis-shaped product to lesbians. They want vaginas 24/7? They can have 'em. As your unelected yet official Guyperson, I vow to never sell anything round to the lesbo community...whether it's real or not! Pick one and stick with're almost as greedy as the bisexuals.

On Saturday, I went to the apartment of a friend (Zack) of a friend (Marc), and was fortunate enough to arrive in the middle of four person jam session. When they finished, they mentioned that their neighbors had complained earlier about how loud they were playing. I had the idea for them to only play Michael Jackson music since it's considered a hate crime to not like it.
Neighbor: Knocks on door
One's self: Hey, what can I do for you?
Neighbor: Well, what you could do for me is turn your damn volume down! Some of us prefer to watch Family Feud, despite the fact that we couldn't tell you who the current host is since they seem to keep quitting every month!
One's self: Hey man, we're playing Michael Jackson covers...and he's dead!
Neighbor: What? I don-
One's self: He's DEAD! As in, never coming back alive.
Neighbor: ...yeah, but you can see him in a documentary and all his songs are on iTunes and I've eve-
One's self: But HE, that person, Michael Jackson, is no longer alive...don't you have any respect for the death of a famous person?
Neighbor: ...
One's self: Well thanks for stopping by, but I've gotta go; this compensation for the lack of a father figure isn't drowned out by itself!

I imagine that's what happens in a world where people think...'n stuff.

They also offered me coffee while I was there and since I don't normally enjoy the java, I said "No thanks," and by limiting my experiences and not doing something out of the ordinary, I have nothing to talk about. See how much life sucks when you say "no"? In a way, it's the MPAA of your brain; unnecessary and rarely-correct self regulation.

I was talking to Billy at Denny's (The restaurant, not the house of someone with the unfortunate name of Denny, which sounds like the homosexual version of Dennis) about technology, and we eventually came upon the topic of scientific advancements. To be precise; scientific advances stemming from the Nazi's experiments during the holocaust. Granted, it's easy to learn about something when you don't care what you do to it, but it's still astounding how much we learned about people through the holocaust. Pun only intended if understood.

My point is this, if I had to be a Nazi, and I'm not saying that I want to be a Nazi (I don't look good in neutral colors). If I was forced to be a Nazi manperson, like through some extravagant series of events where I obviously made the wrong decision time after time or an uncommon financial situation, then I would have to be the guy who pulls the levers that look like Bugs Bunny would use against his enemies. I'm assuming, of course, that I would be living in a world where choosing to be a Nazi would actually be a safer alternative to who know what. One would think pulling the switch that kills would be a horrible job to have, but think about how easy it would be and how high of a status your fellow Nazi-ites would give you.

Now that I'm thinking about the social structure of the Nazi's, I'm curious. I fully acknowledge that no good will eventually become of this, but do you think they kept a record of how many antiNazi's each had killed and boasted it to their friends? As a lever-puller, one would likely always have the highest number while doing the least of the physical work...though burdened to carry a significantly larger emotional workload than the others. Is this an acceptable trade? I would be inclined to disagree, unless you were allowed to say one liners before you pulled said lever. Something like "Ya burnt!" or "Does this open the garage door?" and "Weird, I can't get it this time, it's like something I can't see is trying to sto-Oh, there it goes. Whew, almost had to call the I.T. douchebags, always with their jokes about my insecurity as a man, and that I have to kill hundreds of Jews a day just to feel validated and accepted by the other men in my society that seem to have their shit together. I'm masculine GODDAMN IT!"

That's one insecure Nazi.

This week, I leave you with one of my favorite online videos, Hard Gay. It's an absolute treat for the whole family! Here's the one where he visits the Yahoo! offices, parts 1 and 2. Enjoy! Like Coke!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Day 86

Grass often feels like pants when you're see-through.

Line of the Week: A lot of people like to blame Method Acting or drugs for Heath Ledger's death. Personally, I blame Christopher Nolan.

Here's a quote from a Google News article that was posted on that infamous social-vomit page known only as the facebook "news" feed. Here's the pitch:
A planned website, Harrasmap, will allow women to quickly report instances of harassment via text message or Twitter, to be loaded onto a digital map of Cairo to show hotspots and areas that might be dangerous for women to walk alone. The data will be shared with activists, media, and police.
So women are going to be raped and/or harassed and the first thing they're expected to do is pull out their phones and tweet their live-raping? Now, I don't know who's getting raped but not harassed, but this all seems pretty stupid. Will rapists have access to this information? Yes. Will they start hanging out near areas that are marked as "safe zones?" No doubt. Telling people where you've been raped is just as useful as telling people where you tripped in public, it's interesting information with little, if any, practical use.

For Halloween next year, I'm going to go as Marty McFly and have my girlfriend go as Lorraine McFly, because you simply can't beat a good incest gag.

I was babysitting my aunt's kids and when I took them for a walk (White parents in my subdivision do it, so it can't be bad), they started whining, as kids often do. Now, I'm no stranger to complaining, but kids complain about the most ridiculous things sometimes. It began with asking if they could go back to grab a PSP or something, then if I could drive them to a convenience store after to get candy and eventually led to saying that their feet hurt. At this very moment, my mouth made a decision without consulting my brain because I intensely explained that "There are kids in Africa who can't even afford feet!" Wisdom, consider yourself cream cheese because you've just been spread.

Things that bother me to the point of mentioning:
  • Mobile version of web sites
  • Straight ticket voting
  • Milk that's not whole...that is to say, incomplete milk.(Looking at you, 1%)
  • The colors red and green. Likely due to my colorblindness.
I went to a Hong Kong Food Market with my friend Marc for his Asian Literature class, which goes to show that they'll teach anything if you know enough about it, regardless of its practicality, or lack thereof. As we near the store, I start making a joke that the parking lot is going to be full of white Hondas and Toyotas, along with a bunch of old cars that just blend in. Cars so boring, your eyes don't even register them as a viable transportation option. Pulling in, what do I see but five white vehicles parked within thirty feet of eachother, proving that sometimes, racism is worth it.

Once inside, we head to what we assumed would be the most Chinese part of the Chinese SUPA-MARKET; the fish aisle. On our way, we passed a lunch table in front of what was the Chinese butcher's shop, where you could buy a duck for less than $15. We were starving and seriously considering buying a duck to eat while we walked around. Marc said that would never work, while I was convinced it would if we were to buy some plates in the plates aisle, some chopsticks in the woodware aisle and some napkins in the American products aisle. While he was looking around, I snapped pictures of interesting products.

The Chinese make Basil Seed Drink, Grass Jelly Drink, and Sierra Mist, which I assume is Chinese for Coke Suck. This is a big reason why I hate the Chinese...who drink Pepsi. Untrustworthy.

In America, everything says Made in China. In China, food says Made in USA.

Even the Chinese have their own version of a tortilla. How progressive of them!

When you use two sticks to eat your food, you realize the plate Americans give to their kids is going be your best option.

I don't get this picture. Who is ordering Banana Sauce and why is it not yellow and/or white? Also, who is disgusting enough to eat something called Banana Sauce made by UFC? I don't like where that's leading, those guys excrete worse shit than just insecurity and illiteracy.

This is a normal sized stick for a Chinese person, but a midget-beating stick for a regular sized person...or an African dildo...or what a chopstick looks like in my abnormally-skinny hands. I think they lent these out to the Japs for dolphin killing.

"Eyeround" Steak? Really? You guys aren't fooling anyone. There's no way to fix your eyes or gain peripheral vision; that's what you get for being born a Chinese. It's just science from god and that Zedong fellow.

Sweet Pineapple Gel? Is this what UFC makes guys rub on each other before a fight? Why is UFC making so many fruity products? I feel like there's something there...UFC...fruits...hmmm. I guess it's just one of those things we'll never understand.

A friend was watching Back to the Future because of its recent anniversary, and I have to ask: What the fuck is up with Marty's mom: Lorraine? I'm referring to that woman's deep psychological issues. When Marty beats Biff by eluding him into a truck full of poop (A common profession in the 1950s), she gets so wet she FOLLOWS HIM HOME. Do you know how fucking insane that is? To see someone beat another person up, follow them home without their knowledge and then knock on the door with obvious sexual intentions. Then, when George punches Biff before his rape scene, but after the cleavage/incest scene (My favorite), she completely forgets about Marty and whether he's alive or not. Then, following the white guy calling the black guys/reefer-addicts/musicians spooks, there's another scene where George is pushed by some douche and drags Lorraine off, presumably to rape her. If there's any piece of information you should leave this film with, rape was quite rampant in the white, suburbia, high school dances of the 1950s. Also, blacks were the only good musicians, reefer addicts and stole music from young, white students.

Similarly,there's been people who think it's weird that Marty McFly hangs out with a scientist who is clearly significantly older than him, but the reasons are obvious. George McFly, in the initial timeline, is bullied by Biff and his gang of minions (Plus the guy with the 3D glasses) and in turn, becomes a push over. This leads to him having even lower confidence than before, causing him to be a mentally and socially absent father and husband, creating a weak family scared of failure and excitement. Enter Doc Brown, Marty's father figure. He's more energetic, intelligent and engaging than his own father, the one person he doesn't want to be. After going back in time and putting his father in a situation that allows his life to changed in a way that improves his self worth, he gives himself the father he's always wanted. It's not about fixing the timeline, but about feeling fulfilled as a son.

That's all for now, tune in next time for another psychological cinematic analysis...or don't! Please do? Ok, we'll see. I'll leave you with one of my favorite animated gifs I came across years ago:

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Day 85

This is what my job is going to be, are you as excited as I am? Don't be.

Line of the week: "the ugly guys kept acting all queer" -a fellow "student's" example of what NOT to write in an cultural anthropology participant observation ethnography paper

An important announcement (Although not one that justifies any kind of exclamation marks or words in all caps): I'm going to try stories...and some other stuff. That's all.

I was at work last Tuesday being a "bartender" and whatnot, when something not-not-worth talking about occurred. Keep in mind that this already took place, so this is just like reading a brand new history text book written by a nerd/comedian/linguistic enthusiast instead of boring white know white people, they're so boring, with all their money, power and generally greater affluence. "Poo on them" is what I say, whenever I'm at a restaurant that serves lemonade with free refills. Anyways, back to the event. I'm working at the bar and out of my left peripheral vision, I see something dark and potentially intriguing walking towards the front of the glass doors between the bar and the parking lot.

I look away to clean a glass like they do in cowboy movies, and look out to see this black shemale that looked a lot like the black alien guy from Star Trek (I don't care, so don't tell me). He/she was about 5'5", with a fivehead that lit up underneath the 1960s lights outside the building and had calves protruding from the back of his/her figure more than his/her ass...though not as much as those mammoth thighs that could kill an MMA child-support-avoider...err, "fighter."

After waving at me and me giving the standard fake-smile, he/she motions through the glass if he/she can come inside with his/her cigarette and I give him/her this look like "Umm, did you not read the City of Houston Smoking Ordinance from September 1st 2007?" and he/she's like "Ok, I'll finish this up." Now my comedian mind kicks in with the standard narcissism "This bitch is going to say some weird shit, but he/she doesn't know I've heard jokes about rape since I was in middle school. Bring it person whom I could smugly defeat in a spelling bee." He/She walks in and says "You look like you want to get your dick sucked when you get off work." (But much "blacker", I couldn't find any Ebonix Language Support in Microsoft Word)

I immediately replied with "Oh, thank you so much, but I just got two of them recently so I'm good. I appreciate it though. To be frank, I'm kind of up to my shoulders in blowjobs." However, as I was saying that, two thoughts immediately hugged my mind-grapes in reaction to what she had said. 1)....Ummm, is that what you got from all that? Because those were not the non-verbal messages I was intending to send, at this interpersonal communication." 2) Are we talking about this going down, for free?...or are you looking for money? Because I m not paying for a gay blowjob. If it's free and it gets out, I can tell people I was blowjob raped. Which, I think we can all agree, is the worst possible rape of all. As in THE WORST. Out of all the rapes that could happen to you, and there are many, I can't think of a single kind, aside from the one that I'm talking about, that can even be compared with the horrific and unparalleled disgust...of a blowjob rape. Oh look...

This is an original photograph of 3 Initech employees savagely
beating a horse despite it obviously being fake and dead.

The shemal and I end up talking, since my girlfriend denied my application to receive a blowjob at no cost to her...she never lets me do anything! He/she tells me that he/she had just caught his/her, I assume gay, boyfriend of three years with another woman in a bed and home that he/she "dances 5 days of out the week for." I'm a human being in a relationship of three monthsish. I want to help. I do what I would do in any situation like this and ask myself: What would Liz Lemon do? In true fashion to the lifestyle I've chosen for myself, at the assured yet necessary disappointment of my parents, I reply with "Three years and he cheated on you? In your bed that you pay for in the home you pay for? If that was me, that'd be a DEALBREAKER."

He/she sees the computer screen where I place orders and create contextual-based comically-named tables and asks if he/she could order something on the screen and if it would tell the kitchen to make it. I tell him/her that I could, but there's no way he/she's getting back here, and yes, all food orders go to the kitchen, liquor orders come to the bar and good luck getting a soft drink on a weekday. I turn around to make some drinks and as I look up to see what he/she's up to, two cops come in and begin asking him/her if they can talk. He/She starts protesting and they take him/her around to the side of the building to question him/her. Naturally, this takes two-and-a-half hours and with a total of FOUR different cops, because getting four identical cops would be absolutely stupid. In the end (i.e. When my food arrived), they take him/her away and  as the cop leaves, he answers the only question I cared to ask: They booked her as a male.

I'm so used to being on top of replacing condoms that when I forget, I literally have to deal with stuff falling out of my wallet until I buy more. I'm unsure as to whether this is funny or weird, but it's a fact I have to live with that I don't really know what to do with. It's taking up space in my brain and something tells me that such a space could be filled with something better suited to my future, like how to most effectively bring back the word jabroni, something I've been attempting to do for almost four months now. I suppose I would be fine with how to stop writing so many fucking run-on sentences...

A friend asked me if I ever wake up to crusty hands, referring to nocturnal emissions all over your sleepy hands. I said no, because in my dreams, I actually fuck people. Not masterbate to a DREAM. How sad of a life do you need to have to where even in your dreams, you can't get laid.

Whenever I'm at work and see a server close out a tab, only to receive a declined credit card slip, my favorite thing to do is to quickly jump facing them and in the most childish sing-songy way, tease them with "Ha ha! Your customers are po-or. Your customers are po-or. You're customers hit their kids because that's what they grew up with. Your customers prefer to spend money on over-priced food and a movie than be responsibly adults. Your customers don't read." The song is still being built, maybe a beta will be available soon, but that's not true.

I'm transferring to Texas State in San Marcos, TX next semester because I've definitely made the right decisions in life. A friend of mine was telling me how those morning after pills, Plan-B, are only $10 in San Marcos as opposed to $30 in Houston, and I said "Well that's because that entire town is plan-b." I'm not saying going to TX State is like getting an abortion, but lets just say they're both rarely something you plan on doing. The only place in the same category is Texas Tech. Let's be honest, Lubbock wouldn't even be on a US map if they didn't have so many Walmarts.

I'm majoring in Marketing because I don't believe in god and need something to pay the bills until I can do stand up as a "career." Did you know that 100% of immigrant parents would cry if they read that? I do.

I could never be a doctor. Not just because I get squemish around blood, but because I don't want to operate on some random ethnic person. Have you ever stood near someone from India? I would much rather operate on the white guy, I bet he washes his hands and showers on a daily basis. I suppose I could be the racist doctor, the Mel Gibson to Hawk-eye's misogyny.

Well that's about it. Until next week, how about writing that entire story with both pronouns conjugated correctly? I bet that was almost as much a bitch to write as it was to read! If you ever tell this story out loud, make sure to refer to the character as a her. She may have been born a guy, but if she went through all that trouble, discrimination and hate to identify herself in a way that takes less than a syllable to change in how you address it and make her day.

Also, the trailer for Four Lions, a movie about terrorists in England who are basically just idiots like you and everyone that's not you.

Here's a bonus video.

For the record, the only reason I posted this is because I've never been able to have a bad day after hearing a child curse. It's an event that mixes shock and joy into a beautiful emotion that is similar to the one that happens when an old person says something racist or when a conservative cheats on his wife with multiple gay men. Aside from that, the video seems like it was written by an angry 9-year old with early signs of mental instability. All I'm saying is that, THAT is not how you package your message.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Day 84

I'm actually apathetic to Katy...but not to the Perrys.

Chinese people are funny...or Indians...or Mexicans...or whatever the fuck those guys are.

LOTW: Why is mother's day a bigger event than father's day? Because dads hit harder...

On the UT "Shooter" CANNOT be called a shooter unless you...wait for it...SHOOT SOMEONE!! This guy wasn't a terrorist. He wasn't a shooter. He wasn't a killer. He was a waste of an AK-47. I doubt I'll ever kill someone for the sole fact that it's too risky and I could get caught, however, if I was given an AK-47 at a college, 90% of all my bullets fired would come in contact with someone else, with the last couple saved for yours truly. Also, have any of ya'll ever even seen an AK-47? They're pretty big when they've got a stock attached, and they're pretty heavy, so props to whatshisname for being able to turn the gun around on himself and actually successfully commit suicide before getting caught. Ok, go back to class and quit bitching about whatever you're bitching about.

I feel like we fucked up as a developing race by getting rid of slavery. If we're a species started by aliens (If hieroglyphics and Indiana Jones 4 were of any indication, we ARE), and they gave us the idea and practice of slavery...then when they come back, they are going to be PISSED. I don't have a joke for this I just wish I had a slave to drive me while I do dirty-nothings in my backseat. She'd be around my age, a brunette, glasses, about 5 feet and 4 1/2 inches and her name would be Tina Fey.

I was thinking about how crazy the concept of getting an autograph really is. When you ask for an autograph, you essentially want proof that you met the autographs are basically just receipts for people you've met. This idea interests me because I like to see what people do with people-receipts. Black people tend to use them as alibi's because they know you can't trust them, White people use them for tax purposes, and Mexicans don't know what taxes are.

I don't understand kissing. I mean, I like it, a lot, but it doesn't really make any sense. Where does passion and the idea "Hey, let me punch your mouth with my mouth" come together? Also, the mouth is the filthiest and most germ and bacteria infested area in your body. Why would you want put the dirtiest part of your body into the other dirtiest part of your significant other? The only thing dirtier would be to just rub both sides of your hand on their tongue. Yeah, just think about doing that...let it set in your mind-grapes. Our mouths are actually dirtier than a penis (or vagina), that's why it doesn't make sense to wash your hands AFTER you pee. If anything, you should wash your hands BEFORE you pee, so you don't get your penis (or vagina) dirty. The last thing you want is a dirty penis, especially if it's sweaty, because then the dirt and sweat and make penis-sweat-mud and it will smell like something a yak vomiting after going to Taco Bell, drinking half a gallon of spoiled whole milk and a bucket full of pubes.

...although that might have gone a bit too far, It didn't.

Now, I know this site is pretty basic, but mark these words: One day, when my life gets off the ground, I'll have the money to be able to finally create a website as beautiful as this guy (Click on him for the site!):

Sponsored by MS Paint and a very intoxicated 6-year old lesbian with Parkinson's Disease.

One of the best parts of not having online classes is that I get the joy of interacting with people all day long and adapting appropriately. For instance, today someone was talking about the Tea Party or Gay Marriage, I can't remember, they're both pretty homosexual though, and they began their "statement" by saying that they've "read the bible and stuff." Whenever people say stuff like that, I know it's time to talk to my neighbors, lock eyes with my professor and give them a "Check out this guy's research" look or my personal favorite, open a bag of chips while they're talking...a term I'm using VERY loosely.

For my first exam of the semester I decided to be a good boy and get to class early and instead of cramming last minute stuff I wont remember, I ended up just listen to my professor talk about his marriage. This is how the pre-exam conversation went:
Professor: You know what I've learned from 14 years of marriage?
Class: ...
Professor: The longer you're married, the earlier in the day you need to start foreplay.
Class: Hahaha // groans // haha
Me: ::raise my hand::
Professor: Yes?
Me: Oh, umm... What's "foreplay?" Is that golf related?
Class: Hahaha
Professor and Class: Random banter while I be a nerd on my phone.
Professor: Alright, let me shut the door so we can get started. Is the next chapter in the book about Intimacy & Sex or Conflict Resolution?
Me: What's the difference?

Badum, TISSS! Thanks everyone, I'll be here all semester!!

I feel as if the most dangerous race combination is Asian and blacks. I can't really explain my reasoning but I just know that if you know someone who's Asian, I'm willing to bet they would rather hang out with anyone but those colored folks. To be fair, Asian people tend to be at least four times more racist than any other race, and that includes white people. Have any of you ever seen a black woman date an Asian guy? Would you like to? Me too, but I'm scared of the outcome. Something tells me that if the entire black community could enslave a race, they'd get the Asians and then use them against the whites...a little yellow fever can go a long way when all the Lucy Liu and Zyang Ziyis of the world are all snatched up. Hell, just look at Mark Zuckerberg; the youngest billionaire on the planet and what's the only thing of his every nerd or male in general would kill for? His Asian woman.

A black lady came into my Digital Imaging class to print something or other and as she left she asked my professor, albeit loud enough for the entire class to hear: "Ya'll aint got no women in dis class?!!" Immediately, the two girls in the class turned around and made themselves known by saying something I didn't hear because a MAN next to me was saying something. The lady laughs it off, says "my bad" (classic) and then asks what class this was. Without missing a beat I said "Misogyny 2302" and immediately put my professor in the most awkward position possible. Would you like to know the worst part? Nothing interesting happened. She just left after saying "You're funny, bye!" before I could even say "I know."

So I normally wouldn't do this but after a pretty long chunk of the single life full of promiscuity, apathy and fairly consistent narcissism, I've begun what I would assume is called a "real" relationship. I'm not exactly sure I know what it means, aside from the fact that quotation marks make it sound super serious, but I'm happy. We're only a few months in and still in the infatuation stage but I'm definitely happy with my ginger. Yes, you read that correctly. I'm dating a redhead and I couldn't be more fucking ecstatic about it. I don't even tell people her name before I tell them she's a redhead. I can officially cross "redhead" off of my list of future case you're wondering, there's only four left and that Asian one is going to be a little harder than I expected. Oh, and like all gingers, she lacks a soul but when you get down to it souls are for bible-fuckers to parade around, black people to lose and white people's to sell.

Alright, that's it until next week so go see The Social Network and prepare to have your mind-grapes blown to bits.