Brent's Top Ten Things to do to Keep Himself Entertained While R. Girl is Having Fun in Las Vegas

10.) Recreate the door kicking-in scene from Walking Tall (the Joe Don Baker one) every time I enter a room.
"You got a warant?"
"Yeah, I keep it in my shoe!" (Kicks in door, finds bourbon, rejoices! .... later gets shot and wears Darth Vader mask.)

9.) Have my yearly "If I drink Zima alone noone will laugh at me" Night.

8.) Find a slug on my porch when I'm drunk. Wonder at what point in the evelutionary process did slugs say "You know what? I think I'm good with the slime and the crawling. You guys go on ahead."

7.) Decide that not wearing a shirt under my button up shirt is too sexy to pass up.

6.) Repeatedly get frustrated at Hitman: Contracts because I can't make it past the first level. Just because I'm trying to put a syringe into a SWAT team member's neck or just because I decide to use piano wire to choke a mental paitient in front of a horrorified orderly does that mean I have to get shot?

5.) Sing ... my own versions of songs!
"Well, I tip my hat to the big washing ma-chine
And I say hello to the coffee ma-a-ker
Smile because I've got nuggets to eat.
So I pick up my nuggets and say,
'Who wants nuggets today?'
Then I open up the oven and, HEY!
I'm eating chicken nuggets again!"

4.) Catch up on my reading.

3.) Call R. Vegas and ask what new presents she has bought me since the last time we talked!

2.) Get excited about presents!

1.) Stumble around Blockbuster for an hour trying to decide between "They Live!" or "Naked Ski Hookers!".


R. Lucky left for Las Vegas yesterday. According to her, our months of piggy bank savings have blown away in the desert. I was hoping I'd be bedding down with a millionaire when she got back, but I'll just settle for a derriere.
She told me about her first day of liquour and one-armed bandits while I made a quesadilla at 1:00 a.m. because neither of us could sleep.
For the next few days I'll stumble around the apartment, forgetting pants and when to eat.
I found an interesting on-line journal from a soldier in Iraq. If the sucker's for real then our souls are fucked.
A story.
When I was five-years-old or so my family went to Wisconsin Dells, which is for midwesterners who feel Disney isn't cheese-focused enough.
One of the proudest moments of my life was when I got to drive one of the Wisconsin Dells Ducks, a land/water hybrid tourist mover.
I thought I was really driving the boat and loved every minute of it. As I swerved the large boat around the captain told me I was in danger of wrecking it on the rocky cliffs. But, I couldn't let that happen and always straightened the boat out in the nick of time to save my precious crew.
I thought I was a natural boat captain because it was all so easy. I wanted to be a duck captain when I grew up.
But then I did grow up. I realized I wasn't in charge of anything. I might have had my hands on the steering wheel, but one wrong move and the real captain would have yanked me out of control.
I can't say it was heart breaking to find out I'm not a natural river boat captain, so don't cry for me Dorkentina.
But it is sad that so many people will think that today's "hand over" of Iraq sovereignty is real, that the post-toddler steering the country is the real captain.
But one wrong step and they'll lose their grip on the wheel.
The truth is that nothing has changed, dorks. The war is still going on. Four or five guys signing a piece of paper doesn't stop bullets from going through soldiers.
But play with your MTvs and watch your Olsen twins dance, dorks. Close your eyes and let it slip by, because it's not happening to you. You aren't dumber or a zombie. You'll get mad when they show up on your front door and take away your rights, right? That's when you'll be upset.
And then you'll be in a nice, quiet Cuban ass-prodding camp.


Mighty dorks and people with brains, I have just returned from Fahrenheit 9/11.
Bore you with a review? Nope. Go read a paper for America.
I will tell you that this ex-ameri-frat boy who once went after an innocent Clemson fan with a six iron because the dude "was totally hitting on me" actually got choked up at times. That means it was a good movie, you looking-for-the-deeper-meaning dorks.
I can sum up what I felt after the movie by what happened just minutes ago.
As I drove home I realized I was angry at the world we live in and thus needed to smoke. I had to destroy something and tobacco leaves are the easiest and least federally-crime-punished thing to burn.
So, I went into the 76 station near our apartment and got me some Doral Lights in a box.
The old white guy next to me with a "Something Important to Farmers and Republicans" hat on starts yelling.
"Dammit, shit! I lost my goddamned lighter!"
Hmmm, hey I don't have a lighter either.
So, to the middle-eastern guy behind the counter I say, "Hey, man, can I get a book of matches ... and give one to this guy so he stops cursing."
The nice gentleman hands me the matches and a pack to the other guy.
"Nope, I don't use matches. The sparks jump off the match and burn my clothes. (Really?) Matches are the most unsafe thing, I only use lighters. I don't want holes in my clothes ..."
"You know, cigarettes put holes in your LUNGS," I point out to this rambling aged Americana piece of work.
The middle-eastern guy behind the counter gets the joke and we share a laugh. The old white guy doesn't.
"Lungs? I don't care about my lungs. I got clothes and they are ..."
"Take it easy," I say and I leave.
And somewhere in that story is the point of Fahrenheit 9/11. The middle-easterners and the intelligent people of America get the joke. There are no WMDs. There was no threat from Iraq. There has been no justice since 9/11.
The people who don't care about that and who blindly follow their leaders and their inanerubberist philosophies ("Building a safer world through war"/"I don't use matches") are the rubberheads who are more concerned about the guises they take on (Soccer Mom, NASCAR Dad, Compasionate Conservative, Neo-Patriot) than their lungs or the hearts of the Moms who cry because of soldiers who die.
Put on your rubberkicking boots, dorks, it's time to save some Iraqi babies.


I can't decide if the highlight of my day was Kyle buying me a hamburger at the Microsoft cafeteria or the fact that I came back to work after that and took a nap in the supplies closet.


This, dorks, my doctors ball-grabbing prognosis that I am "fit as a fucker" after yesterday's check-up and my new red Nike shorts that I bought on my lunch break have combined like Voltron to make today a heroically great day.

"This administration does not condone torture."
"Pssst, President Bush, condone means to like allow or overlook."
"Really? I thought I was just making up another fancy Yaleish word to confuse people."
"No, this time you made up a sensible lie."
"Shoot it all to Fuck Swamp ... um, what I meant to say is that this administration does not perpitify torture."
"That's our, Pinochio Prince!"

Nike shorts, boogers, no testicular cancer, zen.

My two favorite things to yell at horrible drivers:
-"Are you alive?" (I constantly suspect many zombies have learned to drive.)
-"Asslicker!" ('Cause nobody expects to be called an asslicker.)

Two things R. Girl says I have yelled at horrible drivers that I don't remember:
-"Go fuck your mother." (In my opinion worse than saying "Motherfucker!" because it's an order not a noun word.)
-"Give us justice!" (I don't remember ever saying this, but I think it's the coolest thing I've ever said. This will be written on my tombstone, dorks.)



From cnn.com

Implicitly, (Republicans are) also suggesting (Kerry's) out of touch with Americans. One Republican operative told the New York Times last year that Kerry "even looks French."

Looks French? Is this seriously their campaign tactic?
"Bush/Cheney 2004: A circus monkey + an angry dough pile = Not French looking"
Dorks Don't Rock presents ...
Just click on these four links and guess which of these dudes is the war-hating, bread-liking, pant-wearing Frenchie for a chance to win valuable or non-valuable prizes or nothing!

Please, dorks, beat your television senseless when it tells you to vote for the "least French" candidate! There's a surplus of televisions. Put Chinese toddlers to work.



As I escaped from the rubberhead factory today to get my truck's wheels aligned I drove up on some worker guys fixin' the road. Orange barrels, vests and all.
As I approached, the guy holding the "Slow" sign held his hand paralell to the road (perpinicular to the road being the well-known signal for "Stop" or "Put your hand against mine to celebrate our football game victory or the completion of our Pine Wood Derby Car."). As I was going 45 m.p.h., I decided to heed his advice.
35 m.p.h. ... his hand is still up, slow down more.
20 m.p.h. ... still up ... more brake.
10 m.p.h. ... hand up, foot down, time slowing
5 m.p.h. ... is this ....
2 m.p.h. ... guy serious ...
The guy nods his head to let me know I was now traveling at the proper speed, 0 m.p.h., the speed of rocks and pens. I had reached Absolute Slow, dorks.
My jaw dropped and my stare went blank to celebrate the occasion.
Ah, dammit all, dorks.
I've got that "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" song stuck in my head for no reason (maybe it's because I read this comic ... but that was months ago). No witches have died that I know of! I don't even have a doorbell.
For the last half hour it's been stuck on the "Which old witch? The Wicked Witch!" part.

Ding Fuck! Get out of my head.
Which old head?
MY fucking head!

Does it get worse?
Sometimes it overlaps with the "He's a Fucking Genius Wizard" song.
So at times my stereo brain is playing this fun hybrid....
"Ding Dong the Witch is dead, because, because, be-cause, because, because, be-cause, because, because, be-cause .. The Wicked Witch is DEAD!"

Welcome to the Jungle we got fun and games we got everything thing you want hmmla la the wicked witch is .. Dammit, dorks!


Wetbackorrists, Radical Nigics!
So what if I've been drinking? Dammit, you deserve a drunk entry, dorks.
I just finished watching an episode from my Superman DVDs called Japoteurs.
In it a radical Japanese man tries to fly a plane (!) into Metropolis. He is dubbed the Japoteur, because Slant Eyed Bob and Nagosammy were already taken.
In 62 years have we made progress?
Hahahahahaha, dorks! Just ask the next "Radical Cleric" you meet.


Happy Birthday, R. Spaghetti Head Angel Wishes!
Someone's getting a spanking ...


Did anyone else notice how quickly the major news outlets dropped the "9/11 Commission Finds No Iraq/Al Queda Link" story? Don't you think it deserves a little more attention than whether or not Reagan's face should be on the million dollar bill?
I grow tired of lies and 9/11, dorks. Three years of fear is enough. "They could have 9/11ed the Space Needle!" Are we really going to let paralell universes scare us now? They didn't fly a plane into Safeco Field, get over it. Did the Mariners win? No? Shit.
Witness the the greatest photo ever taken by man or beast.
Hahahaha, dorks, now that's something to get excited about.

P.S. I forgot to tell you, dorks! I saw a hobo woman in Seattle's U District on Sunday with a sign that read "Homeless mother yah, blah, rarrgh!" only the "r" was turned around like in a Toys 'R' Us sign.
Why? It's not even that cute when a kid does it, or actually when someone trying to show that someone is young so they reverse the R ... because everyone knows the "Correct Positioning of the Letter R" lobe of the brain doesn't develop until puberty.
Back to my observation of the woman. No? A song? Yes!

I don't want a real job.
I'll just beg for your change.
And when I vomit on the street don't look at me strange.
From crack to smack to Jumbo Jacks
I really need to score some
I don't want a real job
'Cause if I had one
I couldn't be a Hobo Mom!


Provided by the management for your safety ...
From a pamphlet handed out today:

Would you know who to call if suddenly one OR ALL (!) of the following happen?
-The fire alarms in your building start ringing, yet there is no fire ...
-The radio is advising all listeners to evacuate the area due to an on-coming force 5 typhoon is heading your way, and your office is in Nebraska. (These are the actual words. "Would you know what to do if you started writing a run-on sentence for a company handout and then forgot English grammar and the constraints of reality?").
-A co-worker just slipped on the coffee you spilled earlier this morning and injured his (sexist bastards) knee.
-A well-known TV investigative reporter is calling on line one wanting to interview you regarding a problem concerning (our product).

"Who ya gonna call" ... The answer is this resource telephone card (attached) ... The subject matter experts answering these lines will be able to help you with these issues and more...

It's nice to know that if I ever say,
"Ah, Christ SuperShit! The building's on fake fire, I've been wormholed to Nebraska, there's a Super Typhoon headed this way, Bob slipped in a completely carpeted office and has knee parts sticking out of his khakis and now Barbara Walters is on LINE ONE (the MOST DREADED OF LINES!) and wants to know the truth! What do I do? Who's I'm gonna call?"
someone is there to tell me, "RUN, fucker, RUN!"

Before my disbelief can wear off ...
A Rubberhead has asked me to send and inter-office memo to Denver, Alabama.
Should I tell them that a.)Denver is in Colorado, b.)we don't have an office in Alabama or c.)nothing, because I'm 75 percent sure the envelope just contains a crayon drawing of a kitten anyways.

I can only stare at the wall as my college education and soul fade away, dorks.



The Rubberheads, Soccer Moms and NASCAR Dads are in my backyard.
They are so angry that the Wizard of Oz isn't real, afraid of their wars, and have so much hate for the Lakers that they are coming after 10-year-old children.
"There has to be an enemy! That's what TV teaches us!"
Back Soccer Moms!
Be gone NASCAR Dads!
I have a zero-tolerance policy for Rubberheads!

P.S. Just snuck out of work to get the Beastie Boys' "To the Five Boroughs" ... 4 tracks in and excellent!


Today I shipped a phonebook to a psychic.
Me: Hello, Mole. Did you have a nice weekend?
Mole: Nope, never really do much of anything ...
Me: Oh.
Mole: ... well, did some laundry ..
Me: Yep, fun (Moving away)
Mole: ... and grocery shopping ...
Me: Important
Mole: ... and of course I rejoiced to see the Lakers lose. I HATE them ... so much.

When Mole says this his wrinkles become wrinklier and his brow furrows and his face forms into one that man has historically used to say "Ghengis Khan stabbed my dog" and "Those Nazis!".
Why has the Baby Boomer generation become an increasingly angry group?
You see, dorks, first they were stupid hippies and they got hit a lot (actually, first they were neglected of paternal love due to the harsh traditions of non-emotional parent/child relationships their parents were used to), then they were stupid corporate raiders and they lost their souls and now their lives are filled with books like "Men are from Mars and Need to Not Be Stupid" and they cream their jeans when Hillary Duff makes believe that their world exists in it's pretty white universe that is .... lost myself there for a minute.
So, they yell!
"I HATE red lights."
"I HATE David Letterman."
"I HATE Wendy's new salads."
They used to be mad at their fathers, now they're mad at Shaq.

Moving on.
So, I got R. Girl a bracelet for her birthday. Turns out I got it a little small. No problem, right?

Every Jeweler in Town: Yes are you going to need new O Loops or new eye pins?
Me: What?
Every Jeweler in Town: Do you know the Quick ratio?
Me: Um, I have a bracelet.

There's something about haircutters and jewelers that makes them think they can speak thier lingo and I'll just catch on.

Every Haircutter Ever: Do you want a fade or a crosssnatch?
Me: I want to look like I got a haircut.
Every Haircutter Ever: For next time remember your gaurd length is 5.
Me: NO!

Want some fries to go with your irony?
So, I went out with the L.C. yesterday to do some B-Day shopping for R.G.
We dec. to gr. some L. (wait, I can't abbreviate everything) so we went to this place for burgers.
One of the burgers was named the "Communication Breakdown Burger" and I ordered out of Zeppelin Loyalty.
Guess what?
The cook read the ticket wrong and forgot to make the burger.
Get it?
There was a "Communication Breakdown" and that was the name of the burger.
Get it now? Yes? Hahahahahahahaha! The whole place was rolling when I thanked the waitress for the "Irony Burger", which was on the house.
Free Burgers = Perfect Weekend, dorks.


WATERBURY, Conn. (AP) - A food fight that started with fruit cup turned into a mealtime melee, serving up a full plate of arrests and injuries ... Three girls and fours boys ranging in age from 12 to 14 were arrested on charges including breach of peace, assault and inciting a riot.

What's next? Speeding tickets for Big Wheels? Background checks for Cabage Patch Kids?

I started a foodfight at Crooked Lake Elementary School in Andover, MN when I was a wee hipster. It remains one of the proudest moments of my life. I can still see the potatoes flying, the chicken nuggets pelting innocent first graders and wounded students covered in ketchup screaming "Where is God?"
Please, let us have our country back soccer moms and NASCAR dads! Zealots and Rubberheads let our children go!

I signed up for an adult kickball league yesterday.
AND the dentist told me I had "fairly good" teeth today!
So, on that note ... Candy for all! I brought enough for everybody!
Weekend, dorks.




An e-mail received today! Just now!

From: president@rubberheads.org
To: ME!
Sent: Thurs., June 10, 2004 11:57 A.M.
Subject: Please stop making fun of us ...


Please stop making fun of us and letting people know that we exist. You are really screwing up our plans for world domination. Thanks.

-President McRubber of the Rubberhead Foundation>>

Incriminating evidence! They exist! It's like finding out Santa is real ... and really, really stupid.
I wrote back!

From: ME!
To: president@rubberhead.org
Date: Thurs., June 10, 2004 12:11 P.M.
Subject: RE: Please stop making fun of us ...

Oh, Rubberhead. Your plan to take over the world by "finding a big stick" and "hitting the Universe Emperor while he's asleep" needs a little work.
Keep up the horrible, horrible work!

But, it wouldn't be a Rubberhead story if all went right, right?
So ...
The message bounced back to me. The rubberhead's e-mail address didn't exist. Leave it to a rubberhead to send an e-mail from an account that doesn't exist!

Dorks beware!


Just so you know that my life isn't all West Nile Virus and XBox ....

Last night R. Honey and I watched the last minutes of the sunset from a large piece of driftwood on Alki Beach. The sun saying "Goodnight, all" on our left and the Space Needle blinking on the right.
I had mint chocolate chip. R. Girl had rainbow sherbert.
We both had sugar cones.

Head pounding. Head pounding. Head pounding.

"So, are you FEELING BETTER? I mean, have you made HEALTH PROGRESS?"

Oh, carpool lady can't you see my head beating like a drum? That's not normal!

"Yes, I feel better," I say softly .... slowly ...

"What was it? THE FLU? Did you HAVE THE FLU?"

My brain just fell into my lap, lady. Couldn't have anything to do with your Bose speaker lungs, could it?

"Yes, I think so," I say smoothly ...

"You know you really SHOULD BE CAREFUL. I've read reports that THE WEST NILE VIRUS has been detected in King County again. It starts LIKE THE FLU. You know THE SYMPTOMS. My friend in college had it and you know she GAINED SOME SEVERE LEARNING disabilities because it caused her BRAIN TO DECAY."

It's 7:30 on a Wednesday morning and I might have some Egyptian Death Flu.
Well, at least Speaker Lungs has already blasted my brain out of my head before it can decay and turn me into some carpooling mummy.

"The kids ATE TOAST this morning."



I return to the rubberhead factory today after stomach flu yesterday.
"I had that a couple of weeks ago," says WigWolf, "It gave me ... the runs."
Hell Spawn! I vomit more!
I avoid using words like 'vomit' 'diarrhea' 'puke' 'the runs' 'Reagan' and 'vinyl' when talking out loud.
Be like me, rubberheads!

I fell into a bit of a coma this weekend and when I come out ...
Reagan's dead. Hm.
Bush has got himself some lawyers lined up. Hmm.
This quote came out: "This administration rejects torture." Hmmm.
But then they talk about The Torture Act. Hmmmm.

I am once again going to explain current Washington politics to you dorks by using fast food examples ... namely hamburgers equal torture.

"Mr. President, some of our troops are eating hamburgers," said John Ashcroft.
"Hamburgers? Are we against that?" ased Bush Jr.
"We should be. Let's make a Hamburger Act outlining when it is right for us to eat hamburgers, when to eat them and how high the ketchup to mustard ratio should be (1:2) and then we'll say we are against Hamburgers," said John Ashcroft.
"Does that mean we are going to stop eating hamburgers?" ased Lil' Bush.
"Hell no. But if anyone asks we aren't responsible for the Hamburger Act. Just the Yippee Jesus Act and the Boo Homos Act .. all other acts are mysteries," said Ashy-Washy.
"I'm confused," said Bushbo.
"It works! Bush White House Mumble works again!" said Assfingerer.
"I like pickles," said Bushy Boy gleefully.
"We know you do, kiddo," said Ashcroft.

Oh, it's so silly. Silly, dorks.

From cnn.com ("Worldwide leader in sucking White House balls")
MTV plans to edit out a shot of (Eminem) exposing his rear end to the audience at the 2004 Movie Awards when the show is broadcast Thursday.

My name is what, my name is who, my name is what, chicka-chicka Slim Played Out.
If I want sexism, violence, racial stereotypes and homophobia I'll just listen to a White House Press Conference instead of the guy who TRIED TO BEAT UP TRIUMPH THE INSULT COMIC DOG!

That's it! I'm moving to Mars, dorks.


Wait, the bike doesn't have tires. And it's missing a spring ... and now, so is my step.
Witness, dorks, the saddest moment of my life.
A story written by my friend Eva "Goldfinger" Moore has inspired me to get a bike.
I found a guy who's selling one for $25.
My life just got 3,000 times better. I wish all you dorks could see Seattle today!


Fifteen minutes ago.

The phone goes ring, ring. I answer.
"This is Brent."
"Brent, do you have any of those big envelopes? Not the skinny ones, the ones that are big," says Crumble Cheeks.
"Could you please bring me some?"
I Grab a handful of the envelopes and head to her office. This is the same Rubberhead who was baffled by how a folder works until I opened it up for her.
I am silently chanting "I know something stupid is going to happen. I know something stupid is going to happen" as I enter the office.
"Here you go."
"No, these aren't them. I need the big ones."
I take the top envelope off the stack I have brought up. I open it.
"Oh, OK, that's better. My stuff can fit in there now."

Rubberheads, dorks, my life is full of Rubberheads.

From the Tri-Valley Herald:
Condoleezza Rice insists that (Bush) will one day rank alongside such towering pillars of 20th century statecraft as President Franklin D. Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill.
"When you think of statesmen, you think of ... people like Roosevelt, people like Churchill, and people like Truman...And this president has been an agent of ... historic change for the better."

Repetition does not transform a lie into truth.
-Franklin D. Roosevelt

Never in the face of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few.
- Winston Churchill

Humility is to make a right estimate of oneself.
-Harry Truman

I know that human being and fish can coexist peacefully.
-George W. Bush

Well, maybe he can rank with Aquaman and Dr. Doolittle.

A small glimpse into my life ....
3:30 a.m. this morning
Riding a dinosaur, chasing robots, is that Michael Keaton? Yippee boobies and my childhood home ...
I wake up on the floor of my bedroom.
"What the hell? How'd I get down here?"
R. Sleepy waking up, "Mmmm, you woke up around midnight and started bumping into things and then grabbed a pillow, fell down there and went to bed."
"I don't know. I asked you and you just said, 'I don't know what I'm doing'."
Crawling back into bed, "The life I lead."

Have a good one, dorks.



I woke up late today ...
It's time for Morning Math!
Current time (x) added to estimated time of shower (y) multiplied by the average number of backups on I-405 (z) over the ammount of words I'll have to use to explain to my hippie carpool partner why I'm late (a) = haul ass!

Made it!
"Sorry I'm late."

"Yeah, you know, it's really hard to judge if you're going to make it, I mean you really need to know if you really know the other person, like if they are going to stay or if they are going to go ahead. I mean I'm on time because the kids had a game yesterday and they were tired so I could go to bed, but I'm worried that their real mother is not taking care of business, and so ...."

(Fading out. Inner toughts taking over ...) "Taking care of business? ... la da da if my train's on time I can be at work by nine. Start your yah-yah job and get your pay. Hmmm- da second hand guitar hmmm-da ... you'll go far if you get in with the right group of fellows. ... 'Cause we been taking care of business, EVERYDAY. And we been taking care of business EVERYWAY. We've been taking care of business ... hmmm landmine. We be taking care of business and working overtime. Work out. Dadadadadadaa DA DA"

"...so I told him that pudding shouldn't be gray. Can you believe that?"


Nice save, brain.
Have a good day, dorks.


Welcome back, Me.
I didn't Memorialize too much yesterday. I'm feeling sick. Between R. Streppy, the L.C.'s dogs, a Rubberhead carnival last week and shopping at every freakin' sporting goods store in Seattle to find a decent sleeping bag I am exhausted. Exhaustion + Mac & Cheese/Natural Ice diet = ... too worn out for algebra right now, dorks.
I'm clammy, crabby and sluggish. I'm virtually made of molluscs!

This weekend included:
-One of my birthday presents for R. Adult (June 18th, if you are present-inclined) was tickets to Mitch Hedberg on Saturday night. He is our comedian-in-common. Our movie-in-common is "Malibu's Most Wanted".
Mitch jokes not heard before concert: "I flew over an island and saw S-O-S written very big. I yelled out 'Stop! Those people have dirty pans'" and "I had an infestation of Koala bears ... I turned on my lights and Koala bears scattered everywhere ... Do not hide behind the toaster, you are too big to fit back there. Plus you are cute and I want to pet you."

-Shopping and disc golf with the Lovely Couple Saturday morning. We bought chicken then took a nap. If that don't say rock 'n' roll you can eat my ass, dorks! Why do I yell?

-Shrek 2 in the theater with R. Girl. It was pointed out to me that I started squirming like all of the toddlers halfway through the movie.
"I'm tired."
"Shh, we'll get ice ..."
"Look! Shrek!"

-Bubba Ho-Tep on DVD Sunday night. What would happen if Elvis had lived and then joined forces with J.F.K. (who is now Ossie Davis-like) to fight a mummy in a Texas retirement home?
This movie.
14 tubs of popcorn out of 15! A must-see ... if you are sick of history and mummy attacks not correlating!

Another voice-note left by me (Heavily Keystone Light influenced)
2:29am 5/31/04:
"Now you can eat Dorritos ... Fritos, whatever, no matter what you're doing ..."
For some reason I thought this was an important topic to write about. It's magnitude escapes me now ... oh, wait, I can eat them ANYWHERE?!?!!? Even while playing SOCCER?!?!!?
Miracle of miracles! I see the glory!

Hehe. Memory!
What I bragged to my buddy Kurtis I was going to tell this chick after I ditched her (circa. 1997):
"Truly thou art the fling of flings."
Oh, Past Me, what ribald jest!

From cnn:
"Bush praises Iraqi interim government ... blasts kill 14, including 3 near 'Green Zone' "

"And your president will be Bob. (Ka-Boom) Your president will be Carl."

I'm reading "Power and Terror: Post-9/11 Talks and Interviews" sort-of by Noam Chomsky (it's pretty much the transcript of the related movie from what I gather).
Very good, Ameridork. 15 out of 15 tubs of popcorn.

Hmmm, done.
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com