(no subject)

Cripes. It's sort of neat having a phone that plays mp3s, but it's embarrassing when you're at work, you have your phone in your back pocket cuz it's small and flat like that, you sit down without having remembered to put the keylock on the phone, and all of a sudden this is blaring out of your ass:

All you trekkies and tv addicts
Don't mean to diss
Don't mean to bring static
All you klingons in the fuckin' house
Grab your backstreet friend and get loud
Blowin' doors off hinges
I'll grab you with the pinchers
And no i didn't retire
I'll snatch you up
With the needle nose pliers

Draws quite a few stares in a big room full of manuscript editors. Took me a good twenty seconds to shut the blasted thing off.

someone save me

Not only did I go home and watch The Bad News Bears last night, but I also watched The Lost Boys. The former held up very well; the latter not so much. I dunno--it was all right, but it wasn't as funny as I remembered. I remembered being much more amused in the theater by the Frog Brothers and by Corey Haim's mother getting chased by that dog. Oh, and Corey Haim was an annoying little puke. He always did that goofy look with his mouth all open. I wonder if he still does that now that he's sold his teeth on eBay. Look at him. He looks whacked out on tranqs even at that tender age. Isn't that the most slappable face you've ever seen? And I don't mean in some freaky kind of way, you vile perverts.



I'll return from the land of '70s and '80s nostalgia soon, I promise. I just have to find my copy of Over the Edge first. *twitch*

In other news, I'm on another sunflower seed kick. I've noticed that when I'm not eating them, no one ever comes by my desk to ask me anything. But the minute I get a mouthful of sunflower seeds, eight people come by in rapid succession, and I know they all think I've got a big chaw o' tobaccer in my mouf. They'd better look out, or I'm gonna spill my spit cup on 'em.

(no subject)

Did anyone else see that article about the Belgian guy who had sex with his friend's dog? He said something like he did it out of love because the dog couldn't get laid otherwise. Anyone got a link for me?

(no subject)

For once, I don't have an annoying song in my head. Instead, I have this.

(no subject)

I'm still angry about my German II class back in the summer of 1993. I had that bastard George "Little Hitler" Buehler. One day we were going over the "gern" construction, which is used to say you enjoy something. If you wanted to say, "I like talking" in German, you'd say, "Ich spiele gern." So, okay. We were looking at the textbook at all the different activities listed and going around the room to say what we liked. I decided I wanted to say that I liked skeet shooting, despite the fact that I detest guns and in fact have no idea what a skeet is. The German word for "shooting" is "schiessen," which is pronounced with a long "E"--sort of like "sheesen." Well, that "ei" vs. "ie" thing always screwed me up in German. I could never remember which was pronounced like a long "E" and which with a long "I". So I mistakenly said it with a long "I" sound: "Ich skeetscheissen gern."

Well, as it happens, the German word for "shitting" is "scheissen." So I'd said I enjoyed skeet shitting. And that little Translyvanian bastard stood up there and laughed his Teutonic ass off at me. And if that weren't bad enough, every time he saw me on campus for the next year, he'd make a point to say, "Hey, how's the skeetscheissen going?"

I'll get him back one day oh yes oh yes I'll get him and if you try and stop me you're all going down. YOU'RE ALL GOING DOWN.

(no subject)

Then there was the time when I was 16 and Wes and I decided to get drunk at my house in the middle of the day. I had an open half-gallon of Aristocrat vodka that I figured had a couple of decent drunks left in it. Well, that day, Wes convinced me that we should hang out, watch movies, and finish that sucker off. So what the hell, I figured. We rented a couple of movies, put one on, and started mixing Aristocrat and Tang.

SHUT UP. We didn't have any soda, OK?

Before I knew it, the Aristocrat was gone, I was only somewhat buzzed, and Wes was fucking TORE DOWN. I don't know if his tolerance was so much less than mine, or if he'd drunk so much more than me, but I was getting a little pissed at him because he was having such a good time and I didn't have anything more to drink. Well, the next thing you know, Wes had taken a turn for the worse and was stumbling for the front door. I knew he must have been puking, but I didn't have any particular desire to watch see him ralph, so I stayed where I was.

Next thing I heard (after a minute or so of BWARRRRRGH FLORGHHHHHHHH) was "NOOOO, MOM, it was just a SCARY MOVIE!!! We were watching a SHHCARY MOVIE!!! It was so GROSSSH that it made me SICK!"

I started moving toward the front door, and BAM, I'm met by an angry Sue Snow, whose head was a full two feet tall. I swear, that woman's head got SO FUCKING BIG. She pushed past me and went into the living room to see what horrible violence we were watching. And what did she see onscreen but CHEECH AND CHONG . . .

By the time I even started processing the scene in front of me, Sue had dragged Wes's ass into the Oldsmobile. He told me later that he'd insisted he wasn't drunk, whereupon she took him to the police station for a breathalyzer test, when he puked into the machine. (Later I received information that suggested that some or all of the PD story wasn't true.) Wes got in pretty bad trouble for that, as it was the first time his parents got any clue that he drank. Somehow, however, I was able to get off pretty easily--I told Mom that we started experimenting with the peach schnapps in the liquor cabinet, and it had just hit him really hard.