Texes to Tyler

It was only Dark a few hours before the sea air began to chill. Before melancholy could creep in, he took off his shoes. His feet sank into the sand to see what the sunset had left behind. The warmth wrapped around him and with a velvety voice it whispered “I’ll be back soon.”

Buzzed Jogging is Drunk Jogging

Ooh, you have a Slanket too? How utterly urbane. Come here, hat-hair... let's get cozy. Literally.

I like how in this advertisement, the guy wearing the Slanket has been shunned by his friends/companions/significant other, and is sitting quite alone. Because he’s at a sporting event. Wearing a f-ing Slanket. The beer does not cover for the fact that you are wearing glorified feetie-pyjamas, sir. Luckily the Slanket is not only impervious to cool drafts, but the cold sting of ostracization as well.

In other news, I’ve not been home for more than a week, and have had to snatch access to the internet whenever it comes up, such as the public library. Where a man who looks like the evil brother of Santa Claus told me I had my file sharing on. From behind some bookshelves. Like Wilson, from Home Improvement. Or Deep Throat.

Do me a favor and let me know if you guys see any saucy pictures of me floating around on the internet. The only one who should make a profit off of those ultimately disappointing boudoir photographs I have stored on my hard drive is yours truly. And don’t give me that shit about how the warm feeling in my heart that comes with sharing my assets with others should be payment enough – my Animated Hitch Critter, Slanket, NFL Forest Faces, and Car Antlers did NOT pay for themselves, people. SkyMall is not cheap, and neither is the lifestyle that comes along with my sophisticated tastes in understated douchebaggery.

Neither an Explanation Nor an Apology

nom nom nom

Listen: I woke up this morning with the worst hangover I have ever had in my entire life. Ever. Whether it was due to the homemade beer I imbibed, the multitude of microbrews I sampled, or the few choice sips of wild turkey which are still haunting me as I type this in the form of disembodied wafts from some kind of demonesque sense-memory, the three hours I spent in the bathroom this morning have really given me a shift in paradigm. I feel as though I have a new lease on life, so to speak.

Naturally, this means that I have a lot to share with you, my dear audience.

I am sure that my absence has caused many a sorrowful heart among our readership, and I now hope to rectify that by breaking down the mind-numbingly dull things that have kept me from you all these past weeks.

LET US BEGIN:

1. While driving on the freeway, I saw the man in front of me switch lanes and then use his side-mirror to crack open a hard-boiled egg.* This threw me into a momentary existential crisis.
2. A pollster called my house and asked to speak to a male between the ages of 18 and 32. I replied, “…We don’t have one of those here.” Only later did I realize this was unnecessarily awkward.
3. I waited on line for hours with hundreds of people to see a highly anticipated show and was then unceremoniously turned away, but also discovered I still remember how to play MASH.
4. Tried jackfruit carnitas.
5. Cake.
6. Was publicly insulted and humiliated by a TA. He’s DEFINITELY not getting an inappropriate love note now.
7. The handle on my toilet fell off and ended up in the toilet bowl, whereupon I flushed it in a drunken, angry stupor, because I was unable to retrieve it. Upon further contemplation, I find this very meta, not unlike the Ouroboros – the snake eating it’s own tail.
8. Lost two wrestling matches.
9. Found out that going off caffeine for more than 24 hours gives me blinding headaches and nausea.
10. Tried to get myself back into my locked apartment with a credit card. As a result, I was still locked out, but now have minus one working credit card.
11. Panic attacks.
12. Fully embraced my quasi-creepy love for theme/love hotels. More on that later.

Really, this post doesn’t answer any questions, but it also tells you no lies. I’ll be back soon.

In conclusion: thank God for Rebecca Gayheart, who is singlehandedly keeping this website afloat with her inexplicable draw.

*This is legal, but apparently answering my phone is crossing the line.

in our defense: nerd israel and other great truths

just another day at the office

So I can already tell that this post is going to be a little problematic. Borne necessarily out of the collective writers block that we here at Twovue seemed to have accrued through a stint of our own laziness, I am here to invigorate our stymied sentience and return to the charge of shedding light on the most apocryphal injustices that plague our great nation . In so far as this is the first post in…let’s call it “awhile,” it’s going to be the blogging equivalent of me riding a tricycle. So let’s all put our heads down and get some work done.

The first matter of business that needs attending to is a palatable excuse for our long absence. While I cannot speak for my co-denizens of truth and beauty (though if you think about it, the blogging media is in reality a sort of synthesis of a collective conscious into one homogenous voice, but I digress), I personally have spent the last three weeks in a state of relative vegetation, enraptured if you will, with the great expanse of cheap entertainment that is the internet. What the novelist and NPR contributer Sarah Vowell has christened “Nerd Israel,” the holy land of the idle, indolent and cripplingly dweebish alike, the internet has simultaneously served as an incapacitating crutch, and a phosphorescent Bat-signal, uniting us all under a common desire for free porn and the derisive comedy of 4chan.

texes to tyler:

The rolling of the dock was a little like a lullaby. With his eyes trained on the horizon, the boy strained his vision and light bending through the moisture of the sea air let him see beyond. So it continued horizon after horizon until, through a haze, he happened upon a boy rolling on a dock. He waved his hand, and in a blur watched a moment catch up with itself.

this isn’t completely terrible, vol. 2: Bourgeois Pig in Hollywood

Location, location, location.

Something about crippling depression, finals week, and constantly being surrounded by inbred jackholes can really suck the funny right out of you.

Luckily, I don’t really care, and you’re going to be subjected to my shit regardless.

On that note, welcome to another edition of “this isn’t completely terrible“, with me, Kim.

Like I was telling some dear friends recently, after inhaling far too much gasoline fumes and spending far too much time in the hot, hot sun (just like OMC says), I hate myself, but generally, I hate other people more, so it looks like I still have some semblance of self-esteem.

Which is probably what propels me to do things like to go cafes with names like Bourgeois Pig. Located in breathtaking Hollywood, California, right across the street from what I believe is the Scientology Celebrity Center*, the Bourgeois Pig serves coffee, pastries, and cafe food. It’s obviously way too blue-blooded for me (it’s in the name, for Christ’s sake), but I go there anyway because it reaffirms everything I hate about Los Angeles while simultaneously serving me delicious drinks and intriguing eye candy, both in human and decorative form. It’s really a win-win situation. But you don’t have to trust me, I’m not the only one raving about it. User Sir Felgar on the Zagat website exclaims,

Way overpriced and somehwat[sic] pretentious(.)

Which is cool, because that’s what all my Johns tend to say about me. Not to leave any doubt about the place, CarolS0256 adds:

It could be cleaner.

threevue’s reign of terror

I forgot to mention this last week, when it would have been even remotely relevant, but some of you may know that Threevue.com’s Tyler recently attended a couple of video game blog reader meet-ups. I went to the Kotaku meet-up at the Golden Gopher downtown (which was pretty swank), and Tyler seemed to be on his best behavior then because my prying eyes were there, you know… prying.

However, later on in the week he attended the Joystiq meet-up, and apparently forgot to pack some manners.

Here he is, accosting some young man in the blogging biz. It appears as if that young man is searching for something on his iPhone. Maybe directions on how to procure a restraining order?

"You WILL type faster on that lifestyle phone. And you will LIKE it."

Look, I’m not going to sit here and point fingers, unlike some people (see above). I think what we can ALL agree on, is how, despite the fact that Threevue is a general disgrace to the V-U-E name, they sure do know how to grow a mustache.

just an update

for those of you following the twovue vs. threevue saga. here’s just a look at some of the services we can provide. proving we are sexy, anonymous, and apparently really into rebecca gayheart.

bella and edward

i would feel remiss in not making a comment on this new social phenomenon. and what a phenomenon it is. i mean who knew that two and a half hours of unculminated teenage sexual tension would drive people to hysteric fits of unrelenting psychosis with borderline mania literacy, for the first time since the dawn of elvis the pelvis. that normally rational and well behaved women all over the world are pledging their first born children to the instantly famous authoress, should come to no one as a surprise. i think we should all just be grateful that no one in the movie/novels is described as looking like anything as heinous as a warlock or a mandalorian. if people are going outside dressed up as vampires, at least they look like Bella rather than Boba Fett.

i guess now would be the time to preface that i’ve seen the movie…four times. and i don’t even have a remotely good excuse for any of those occasions. another crucial fact, i own the soundtrack. but what distinguishes me from the masses is that i didn’t use garageband to splice the fifteen second sequence of music where bella and edward meet and then endeavor to make a “mix tape” with 96 tracks of that sequence. the fact that i know someone who did, makes me feel just about as bad though. if mockery is the highest form of flattery, i might possibly be the twilight’s biggest fan. look out world, this is the skin of a stalker!

to stephanie meyer, with love, rachel!

also:

How to Start a Book

“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”

Vladi…calm down Baby!  Now let’s talk about that young lady you were dating.