Friday, September 18, 2009

Eye spy with my little eye...

I don't know if this is one of those freaky "Magic Eye" pictures that were all the rage in the 90's or what [I always hated those fucking things anyway]... but they say that J-Lo is in the picture below, but for the life of me, I just can't see her. You would think that I would at least be able to see her ass or something, but seriously... just can't see her. I've looked at this image for hours on end... but nope, no J-Lo... Perhaps, dear readers, you can help a sister out... can you see J-Lo?


I know, its hard, huh?

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Number Nine... Number Nine... Number Nine...

I was cruisin down the street, in my six-fo when I saw the spirit of my friend Pygar cast in a glow of shimmering lights. Fearing the spirit would fade before my eyes, I jumped the curb and pulled the car to a stop right in front of Pygar.

“Oh Spirit, will you speak to me?” I implored, running up to him

“Hey Frau, I was going to call you.” Pygar said.

“CUT CUT!” yelled an obnoxious Steven Spielberg, well I guess that is kind of redundant.

“Wait, what’s going on?” I asked, confused.

“We should wrap up filming today, and I should be around tomorrow to pick up Chi-Chi.”

“Chi-Chi?”

“My Puggle… You were watching her... while I was on location filming. We’re doing some pick up scenes here in LA and should finish today.”

“Of course of course, I, uhm, just didn’t realize that it was going to be over a year. I thought you had died.”

“Frau, Angels don’t die, Angels are love.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Love dies all the time, just look at Hugh Hefner and Holly Madison,” I said, but only received a blank stare in reply.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow and take her off your hands,” he added calmly.

“Sure, sure, of course, I’ll be around all day.” Oh cursed Fortuna, why hast thou spun your wheel away from me. I had put Chi-Chi out in my back yard, oh so many months ago and sorta left her there. I spied her from the kitchen window just last week, she was burning sage and listening to the Indigo Girls, I’m afraid she’s gone totally feral!

I drove away, frantically searching for a pet store, if only I had gotten that iPhone, I’m sure there would be an app for this. From the corner of my eye I spied a shop called “Puppies and Pussies” across the street. I took a chance, hoping it wasn’t some sorta of lesbian bathhouse, and flipped a u-turn. Traffic stopped and horns started blazing as I jumped the curb and pulled to a stop right in front of the door. People continued to honk, I can only assume they recognized me and were clamoring for an autograph.

“There’s no time, sorry,” I waved to my fan base as I exited the car and threw the shop doors open. It was very dramatic. “Shopkeep, how much is that doggie in the window!” I cried out, pointing to the Puggle behind glass.

“Sorry, we just sold him. The gentleman is in the bathroom right now. Maybe you can talk it out with him,” she said just as I heard the toilet flush.

“NEMESIS!” I screamed and pointed, all Body Snatchers style, at Rufus Wainwright as he exited the bathroom. I guess I don’t need to tell you that he was dressed like Judy Garland after a bender.

“Well, well, well, little Miss Pretty, it seems I have thwarted you yet again,” he said, picking up a white kitten and stroking as if he were channeling Telly Savalas.

“Technically, you haven’t paid yet,” the Shopkeeper mentioned on the side.

“Technically nothing!” he yelled and threw the cat at my head. If ever my catlike reflexes were going to be any use to me, it definitely was in that moment, while a cat was flying towards my beautiful face. I quickly leapt out of the way into a display of toys, where I landed with a loud squeak, just as the cat sailed by, its hiss like the buzzing of a seriously pissed off bee flying past my ear. Unfortunately, the Shopkeeper wasn’t so lucky, and she ended up taking that pussy right in the face.

As I struggled to get out of the pile of squeaky toys, Rufus seized the moment and napped the Puggle. “Now I’m off to go play ‘Beatles Rock Band,’ suckers!” he cackled as he ran out of the store. He knows how to run in heels, I’ll give him that much. Once I recomposed myself, I followed shortly. I just had to leave, as the screams from the Shopkeeper were starting to really annoy me. Total drama queen, and I don’t have time for that kind of drama in my life. I ended up having to go to the dog pound, where I picked up a German Shepard. Pygar should be none the wiser, he is blind after all. Besides, more people need to rescue dogs from the pound and not support puppy mills. If only everyone knew that there are some great dogs that can be found there… and knowing is half the battle!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Spin me right round...

I was reading an article at NME.com about how Johnny Marr was going to be playing on the new Postal Service right after he finished playing on the new Miley Cyrus record, or was it Hannah Montana? I get them confused, all of these white girls look alike to me. Anywho, its crazy, who isn't he playing with these days, well, besides Morrissey. So naturally I started to scour the interweb to listen to some leaked tracks [you know, once I discovered the interweb wasn't just a delivery method for porno, it has actually been quite useful]. Just as the track finished loading there was an annoying knock at my door. I quickly slipped into my bathrobe and opened the door to find Jodie Foster [who looked like she was fresh from a Bad News Bears game] with two roughians standing behind her.
“Madame,” Jodie started, “you owe us 2.4 billion dollars.”
“First, Ms Foster, I would like to say that I am quite flattered, but these scissors don’t cut that way. And even if they did, just look at me.” I said with an open handed Vanna gesture to my hotness, “I wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Madame, my name is not Ms. Foster, I work for The Record Company—“
The Record Company? Awesome, what does a bitch have to do to get a digital remaster of Gucci Crew II?”
“Madame, that is not why we are here.”
“Why not!?! Don’t you people realize the masters are degrading as we speak! Degrading. As. We. Speak!”
“Madame, you owe us 2.4 billion for illegally downloading album tracks from the Britney Spears album.”
“Miley Cyrus,” I corrected, or was it Paris Hilton?
“Same thing."
"I know, huh..."
"We will take a personal check.” Faux Jodie continued.
“Well I don’t have 2.4 billion dollars,” I lied. Of course I wasn’t going to give this Faux Jodie anything. I hadn’t even listened to the track yet, sure I was going to download it if it were any good, well I probably would have downloaded it if it sucked too, because if it sucked, I shouldn’t have to pay for it. If I was guilty of anything, it was second degree manslaughter, but I was never convicted, and the statute of limitations expired last year.
“Well, if you can’t pay us, then we’re going to have to smash some shit up,” Faux Jodie said, then did one of those silent instructive head nods to her roughians, who then shoved past me and started over turning my furniture and what not.Then they pulled out my collection of classic vinyl. When Faux Jodie pulled out my signed copy of Bob Denver’s Spoken Word I pleaded with her for mercy. She merely cackled and threw it mit viel spaß against the front steps.
Her roughians joined in the heinous act. I think one of them actually started to eat one of the records, I dunno, he wasn't quite all there. Then, just as quickly as they came, then turned into a black smoke and vanished, one of them even too my robe.
I was left standing there on my front porch, naked and shocked. How could The Record Company do this to me! I was a loyal consumer. I even made the immediate switch over to CDs back in the day... and sure they were overpriced, but they promised me that they price would drop when more people switched to the new medium... even though prices went up instead of down. If I was guilty of anything, it was trusting too much, that and the previously mentioned manslaughter... statute of limitations, fuckers, try and convict me now!