Can just fuck off. I'm ready for a Saturday.
How 'bout y'all?
Friday, January 22, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
OOPS!
Forgot it was Friday. The spammer who sends me 20 e-mails a day hawking Viagra can fuck off.
Sorry I was late. Take it away.
Sorry I was late. Take it away.
Friday, January 8, 2010
I can fuck off for following the whole Casey Johnson/Tila Tequila/Nicky Hilton-rescues-the-dogs saga. I mean, really. What is this? American culture bottoming out? I don't think I've seen a public scandal composed of so many useless, brain-dead people in my life. I can't stop watching it. It's pointless. It's stupid. It's....what we deserve after a decade of "reality" television.
I can also fuck off for what I'm about to write below. Feel free to second that motion if you find my thoughts distasteful, but...
Where did the notion that we're not supposed to speak ill of the dead originate, anyway? Two weeks ago, if I had called Casey Johnson (and yes, unfortunately, I'd heard of her before she died) a cokehead slut of a worthless, spoiled bint, everyone who knew who she was, with few exceptions, would have cheered me on. Now that she's dead, probably having ushered her own demise, I'm supposed to talk about tragedy and act like the minions of Satan swiped an angel from Earth. I know there are the feelings of the family to factor in - but in Johnson's case, we're talking about the enablers that turned her into the selfish, indulgent, incurious twit that only cared about money, parties and undeserved fame. You don't become a creature like that without a little help. This is a girl who got her first Gucci purse at the age of ten. Any sadness I feel for Casey Johnson's passing is only that she wasn't brought up to be a better person and that she arrived to adulthood in this ridiculous age where we award ill-behaved, self-absorbed, vapid shitstains for their idiotic and self-centered attitudes by making them famous. I'm not being naive, here. I know there's always been a seedy underbelly to the jet set and people who make the gossip pages, but never, ever before has it been flaunted so shamelessly until the last few years. "Hi! I'm stupid! I'm selfish! I think I'm awesome! I treat other people like crap! My biggest goal in life is to be drunk by eleven! I literally have no talent, little education, don't know who the Vice President of the United States is and think Nairobi is the name of an energy drink! Take my picture and put me on TV!"
Fuck. Go at it, ya'll. I've got a headache.
I can also fuck off for what I'm about to write below. Feel free to second that motion if you find my thoughts distasteful, but...
Where did the notion that we're not supposed to speak ill of the dead originate, anyway? Two weeks ago, if I had called Casey Johnson (and yes, unfortunately, I'd heard of her before she died) a cokehead slut of a worthless, spoiled bint, everyone who knew who she was, with few exceptions, would have cheered me on. Now that she's dead, probably having ushered her own demise, I'm supposed to talk about tragedy and act like the minions of Satan swiped an angel from Earth. I know there are the feelings of the family to factor in - but in Johnson's case, we're talking about the enablers that turned her into the selfish, indulgent, incurious twit that only cared about money, parties and undeserved fame. You don't become a creature like that without a little help. This is a girl who got her first Gucci purse at the age of ten. Any sadness I feel for Casey Johnson's passing is only that she wasn't brought up to be a better person and that she arrived to adulthood in this ridiculous age where we award ill-behaved, self-absorbed, vapid shitstains for their idiotic and self-centered attitudes by making them famous. I'm not being naive, here. I know there's always been a seedy underbelly to the jet set and people who make the gossip pages, but never, ever before has it been flaunted so shamelessly until the last few years. "Hi! I'm stupid! I'm selfish! I think I'm awesome! I treat other people like crap! My biggest goal in life is to be drunk by eleven! I literally have no talent, little education, don't know who the Vice President of the United States is and think Nairobi is the name of an energy drink! Take my picture and put me on TV!"
Fuck. Go at it, ya'll. I've got a headache.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Good Riddance
2009 can fuck off, if only for the grief it brought so many people I care about.
But now it's 2010. Like that crap movie with Roy Scheider. But without Hellen Mirin's tits. Here's a big FUCK YEAH for all of us to have a great year that puts all that shit behind us. It's already starting out fantastic. I woke up next to a hot guy who made me coffee and the first thing I'm going to see on TV today is an outdoor hockey game. I've got nothing to tell off except last year.
But maybe you do, so, as usual, the forum is yours.
But now it's 2010. Like that crap movie with Roy Scheider. But without Hellen Mirin's tits. Here's a big FUCK YEAH for all of us to have a great year that puts all that shit behind us. It's already starting out fantastic. I woke up next to a hot guy who made me coffee and the first thing I'm going to see on TV today is an outdoor hockey game. I've got nothing to tell off except last year.
But maybe you do, so, as usual, the forum is yours.
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