Filed under: secrets
Filed under: tales from dudeland
“Hi, Mommy! . . . I didn’t call because I knew you took today off and didn’t want to wake you up . . . Yep, yep . . . Oh, can you get me some Venus Breeze razors when you go out . . . Yeah, the blades . . . Purple . . . For work tomorrow I want to bring your strawberry shortcake –” -Princess
EARBUDS GO IN. Thank fucking Jesus for noise isolating. Thank you, thank you, Jesus. Dear, sweet Jesus Christ.
This horrible parental dependence has tainted my soul. I need to build a little birdhouse to counteract the ulcerative wound formed from bitter, acidic tears.
Filed under: nerdtastic
Courtesy of [Dr. McAweosme/boyfriend], I have fallen in love with Neutral Milk Hotel.
Listen! DDL commands you! (It’ll help tune out the Regs in teh office.)
Filed under: nerdtastic
Buy it here
Buy more awesome Pastafarian garb here
Filed under: amusement
After abandoning my previous churches of Pastafarianism and The Church of the Big Purple Elephant in the Sky (BPEITS), I have seen true salvation. It has come in the form of the well-preserved method actor, Daniel Day-Lewis.
Daniel Day-Lewis beats Jesus with awesome like Joan Crawford beat children with coat hangers. “Why,” you ask?
1. DDL’s constant intensity is way better than baby Jesus or dead Jesus on a stick. I would never feel guilty mackin’ it in front of DDL’s visage. In fact…
2. The Church of DDL isn’t about guilt at all. Or penitence. Its about building your own log cabin and eating moss for a month!!!!! YE-AH!
3. Who would you rather be ravaged by?
4. No one has gone to war on account of DDL.
5. Jesus asks you to find him. “[DDL] WILL FIND YOU!” -proverbs LOTM
6. JC ain’t got no milkshakes. Just a bucket of suffering. And he won’t even make slurpy noises or share his straw.
7. DDL righteously kicks pushy Christian ass.
Filed under: amusement
To the left of my patio is a small strip of grass that my dog goes to the bathroom on; it is not separated from Left neighbor’s strip of grass. To the right of my patio is a driveway, fence posts, and then Right neighbor’s strip of grass.
Clam goes out three times a day. She pees in the morning. She pees before bed. And when I get home from work she pees and drops the kids off. The chillins get picked up in a baggie immediately after. Rarely, she poops in the morning or before bed, but its really uncommon, and I pick it up in the afternoon. As dog owners go, I’m pretty fastidious about the poop. There’s never more than one pile at a time in my yard.
BUT ELDERLY MAN WITH CONTROL ISSUES SAYS “FUCK YOU!”
Initially, he complained to my downstairs neighbor (WTF?) about the dog poop. In the middle of winter. Seriously. There was 2 feet of snow on the ground. NOBODY was in my yard.
A couple months go by. The poop continues to be produced and plucked up. Blue baggies, black baggies, trashman makes it all go away.
Cut to today. I am standing there with a (blue) baggie in my hand, encouraging Clam to poopie, and Assface McGee walks out on his porch and tells me to pick up the poop. I wave the baggie at him. He says “Look in your trashcan! I told Adam to tell your husband, or whatever, to pick it up.” The three most pathetic turds you have ever seen in your life.
“I am. That’s what I am doing right now.”
“All that on the other side is yours. There’s that driveway and all that. The baby is out here at 6:30 in the morning and I’m cleaning poop off of shoes!”
“Uh, OK.”
I guess Clam gets to pee on leash in the morning and before bed from now on. Obnoxious old fucker with his goddamn 6:30am, snow-loving baby.
Filed under: unsolicited opinions
“One issue raised by critics is the lack of a single cause for third-wave feminism. The first-wave fought and gained the right for women to vote. The second-wave obtained the right for women to have access and equal opportunity to the workforce, as well as ending of legal sex discrimination (Rowe-Finkbeiner 2004:92). The third-wave of feminism lacks a cohesive goal, and it is often seen as an extension of the second-wave (Rowe-Finkbeiner 2004:92-93). Also, third-wave feminism does not have a set definition that can distinguish itself from second-wave feminism. Some argue the third wave can be dubbed the “Second Wave, Part Two” when it comes to the politics of feminism, and “only young feminist culture as truly third wave” (Richards 95).” – Wikipedia.org
Feminsts of our generations, genX and genY, are out in limbo. As our generations’ name suggests, we appear to be without purpose. We have the vote. Reproductive health is an improving issue. (Don’t start with me, you! I can get birth control pills down the street, and I can get a legal abortion where I live — my grandmother couldn’t say the same). The first-wavers dug the trenches, the second-wavers tossed over the mustard gas, and we are just now starting to crawl out of the pits onto level ground. What’s our purpose? How are we different than the misandrists of the 70s?
The third-wave is a home movement. Its a family movement. Its a bedroom movement. It is sexual.
There has been a marrying of feminist/GLBT interests under the heading of “Sex Positive.” Although conjoined interests go beyond this and then diverge, the roots of both movements are buried deep in the notion of “sex is good.”
Filed under: amusement
Millions of starved Chinese and dumpster babies may agree: China sucks.
In preparation for the 2008 Olympics, China has introduced some bat-shit crazy policies including delegalizing horror movies and making opera study mandatory in schools. Perhaps this is part of the reason their citizens are feeding themselves to tigers.
Filed under: tales from dudeland
This is the first in a series of posts studying the behavior of my office Regs. Enjoy!
After matriculating to the “real world” I have isolated myself fairly well from the Regs (regular people). I have been working in the veterinary field since 2002ish, and have been surrounded with eccentric/nerdy/interesting people. While there have always been a few average individuals in the mix, I have not been alone in my personality quirks.
Until now.
My co-workers/officemates are almost entirely Regs, with a couple that stick out as stereotypical Dude and Princess.
Dudes enjoy Pearl Jam, Linkin’ Park, sports, saying “dude,” the movie Rudy and playing first-person shooters.
Princesses get their nails done, really love flowers, have small dogs and usually have an unnaturally protective father.
Princess’ daddy drives her to work when it rains. She brings a lunch packed by her mother. She is 26.
Dudey Dude likes to watch South Park through the speakers on his computer in our shared office. He likes to announce which chicks he finds hot. He also graces us with his thoughtful and accurate movie reviews, such as:
“Dude, I watched Into the Wild last night. It was good, like, REALLY GOOD. It’s about this kid who is, like, fed up, and he goes out into the wild and lives. It’s kinda depressing at the end, but good.”
Now, my opinion of Into the Wild differs GREATLY. I watched it a few weeks ago, and fast-forwarded through the excessively long (over 5 minutes at some points), dialogueless, Eddie-Vedder-infused, “Oh, NATURE is PRETTY!,” survival montages. For the last half hour I was begging the television aloud to please, please let this self-indulgent, spoiled, rich kid die of septicemia, or a bear mauling, or both. Eventually, he starves to death, but with sunny God Rays shining down on his face through the window of his Alaskan hippie bus. I’m still chipping bits of dried puke off of my walls. That being said, [Dr. McAweosme/Boyfriend] vouches for the book version of this true story, saying that John Krakauer does not idealize this foolhardy youth, who wanders out into the Alaskan wilderness with not so much as a pair of snow boots.
Then Princess chimes in on her last movie: No Country for Old Men. She didn’t like it. “It just ended. Tommy Lee Jones was, like, telling this story, and then it just ends. [Brandon/Dirk/Boyfriend] said he read that it had something to do with when he was talking to that old guy in the house, but I didn’t get it.”
*Bashes head on keyboard* I refrained from letting on that themes, central ideas, and other scarybigwords exist in film and literature.
There Will Be Blood is next on her Netflix queque.
