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.

Yuk it up, dweebs

This is GANDHI. Learn the name. I feel as if someday, he will be viewed as an important historical figure.

Okay. If you’ve been following the intrigue around here, you’ll know that those ruffians over at Threevue unabashedly and unashamedly and underhandedly (but most assuredly not unintentionally) ripped off not only our site name, but our color scheme and bannner as well.

Now they’ve taken it a step further. In their latest podcast (here), they make it seem as if THEIRS was the original site, and we are doing this as some sort of comedic stunt. Listen, I am not above a well-executed, elaborate internet hoax (Do you remember the days when we all thought Britney Spears was a real human, rather than a self-destructing android? And now we think back and laugh… laugh… laugh…), but we were first – timestamps DO NOT LIE. Unfortunately, videogamers do. In their depraved culture of running all over the land rescuing helpless princessi (it’s called STALKING, friends), flattening your enemies by stomping on them (animal cruelty!!!), and shooting people point-blank in the face (do you have a permit for that piece?!?), it’s no small wonder that they would pull a stunt like this and expect it to simply blow over.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.

-Keyser Söze

Possibly the greatest pisser-off-er in the entire joint was the fact that a certain Mr. Taylor did not know who Leonard Cohen is. You know, this guy:

Rusty put him straight, pointing out L-Co was recently featured in Watchmen, but seriously… Amateurs! I guess I shouldn’t let my blind rage… blind me. After all, sometimes I get L-Co confused with this dude:

Wait… Ron Howard? You mean… that Ron Howard? There’s only one, right?

I fully thought this was a joke until about two minutes in, and it became crystal clear that it was… in fact… not.

Seriously though, R-How… Whatcha doin’? The Whos just not doing it for you anymore? Need some more spice in your life? And by spice, I mean a man dressed up in a panda suit, extolling the joys of “feeling on your butt-what”?

Career in a rut-what? Or just bored? Or did it on a dare-where?

But I think the real question is: why didn’t you bust out any of your patented Howard moves? Seriously. Way to half-ass it. I’m looking at you, too, Whitaker.

sexting: the latest thing a snappy nickname has taken all the fun out of.

‘Sending sexy SMS’s to my ex’s new man, ‘cuz I can.’

- Musical anomaly Why?

Listen: I enjoy seeing unsolicited candids of my friends’ and compatriots’ naughty bits flash up on my phone as much as the next person (which is to say, quite a lot). After all, I don’t like to keep the same wallpaper on my Blackberry for longer than a few days.

But lately, there has been a lot of ruckus in the mainstream media about how such practices are “inappropriate” and “dangerous”. Obviously, these people have never been exposed to the wonder that is boobs.

More filth mongering after the break…