Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Silence is Golden

I had heard everyone going on about this “Black Swan” movie, so I figured I’d go check it out with the gift card I had gotten for Christmas. Generally speaking, I hate gift cards, just give me cash, you know? Then I don’t have to go to some lame store that you happened to have been at when you thought you’d pick me up a present. I mean really, when the hell am I going to go to effing Walmart. Have you seen those people?!? Well, at least I could use a movie gift card.

Anywho, so I’m watchin’ the movie, and Princess Amidala is like freaking out and touching herself where her bathing suit covers when this lady behind me starts talking at full volume to the person next to her. I turn and give her “the look,” you know, the look that says “shut up, you inconsiderate whore.” But she keeps right on talking. So of course I fully turn around in my seat in order to properly turn up the glare. She glances at me but doesn’t stop talking.

“Are you kidding me with this?” I ask.

“Aye, guera, whats your problem?” she said with a sneer.

“I understand that this may be a new experience for you, you know, actually going out to watch a movie in an actual theatre, rather than a DVD in the backseat of your “sancho’s” Escalade, but we, the audience, neither need nor want, to hear your conversation. In fact, it’s what we, polite society, refer to as a common courtesy. Now kindly, shut the fuck up.”

“Do we need to take this outside?”

“No, you need to take it outside.” I said as I threw my large soda in her face. She screamed as her painted on eyebrows began to run down the sides of her face. As she ran out of the theatre with her friend, the audience applauded me. The cost of a twenty dollar soda is a small price to pay to be a social vigilante, but worth it.

Unfortunately, by the time I resettled in my seat and turned my attention back to the movie, Princess Amidala was totally scissoring it up with Jackie [from that one show about the 70’s…I forget the name of it]. “Well this makes no sense,” I muttered to myself quietly, if I wanted to see a movie about dancers lezing out, I would have stayed at home at watched “Showgirls.” And as I got up to leave, I noticed the audience was filled with guys. Every last one of them with large buckets of popcorn placed firmly in their laps.


Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Christmas Wrapping

So last night I was at the mall finishing up my holiday shopping. I was at a loss as to what I should get my friend Pygar, I mean really, what do you get a blind angel? I was wandering aimlessly at the Nordstrom when I spied, on the other side of the store, a lone Hello Kitty toaster on an empty endcap. You know, the one that toasts an image of Hello Kitty on your bread. Adorable… and on sale… so it was perfect.

I bolted across the packed store. In dramatic slowmotion, I lunged over Jermaine Jackson, who had just bent down to look at some luggage. I nearly lost my footing on the landing, and pushed passed Taylor Swift, ironically shoving her into a discount bin while simultaneously blowing Jake Gyllenhaal a kiss. “Call me,” I mouthed, and just as I was able to lay my hands on the little toaster, I was stopped in my tracks my Elizabeth Taylor.


“I’ll take that!” she sneered as she grabbed the toaster

“No way! I saw it first,” I protested, also grabbing the toaster.

“Just try and take it from me,” she growled, pulling the toaster toward her.

“You think you can take me on, sister? I’ve beat the best of’em. I beat down Imelda Marcos at a Payless for a pair of Mary Jane’s, and it wasn’t even a BOGO!” I said as I pulled the toaster in my direction.

“Well, looks like what we have here is a Mexican Standoff,” she said as we glared at each other.

“Indeed,” I added. We stood there, frozen in time, for what felt like an eternity. Wham!’s “Last Christmas” played roughly 15 times in the background.

“You know what, in the spirit of the season, you can have it,” Liz conceded, releasing the toaster.

“Well, you know, that’s really ni—“

“WHITE DIAMONDS!” she screamed and threw dust in my eyes. My hands instinctively went to my eyes, dropping the toaster. I could hear her grabbing the toaster and scuttle off, as I rubbed the dust from my eyes. “Sucka!” I could hear her cackle as she ran off. Sometimes I really hate Christmas.


Thursday, December 9, 2010

My Two Cents: Toy Story 3

So now that I’m on this stupid watch list, I’m only allowed to see movies that are G rated. So I figured I would watch Toy Story 3 on the Netflix and see what all the hubbub is about. Well let me tell you, there is some dark ass shit in there. I mean really, the whole scene where the toys are trapped in the incinerator… there is something extremely dark about watching Kübler-Ross’ “Five Stages of Grief” theories enacted by innocent toys as they slowly approach death… oh poor Bullseye, hes stuck in denial stage… unlike Buzz Lightyear, he shot straight to acceptance! I could have sworn I was watching a lost scene from Ingmar Bergman’s “Winter Light,” except “Winter Light” was less depressing!

But then, the alien toys work the magic claw and save the other toys from the evil volcano and their near fate of being the reincarnated Thetans trapped in Tom Cruise. Thank goodness, I say, at least we don’t have to hear Woody’s Thetan spirit explaining what a “reach around” is to poor Jessie’s Thetan.

And I don’t even want to mention when Buzz gets jail raped by the nursery school toys. I’m pretty shocked that this didn’t get a hard “R” rating. I guess those cats a Pixar can get away with pretty much anything… oh yeah, there are spoilers in my review...


Wednesday, November 24, 2010

I Shoulda listened to Rebbie Jackson...

I was relaxing on the sofa reading George “Dubya” Bush’s book… who knew he was such a great satirist? This stuff is comedy gold! The lowest point in his presidency was when Kanye West called him a racist! BWAHAHAHA… Hilarious! Sure he could have played it straight and said something like the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, or hell, 9/11, but he went the funny route. And the bit about carrying around Barbie’s miscarried fetus in a jar… seriously, I couldn’t stop laughing… but I digress…

So yeah, I’m all cozy when I hear somebody pounding on the door. I quickly put on my silk bathrobe, the one with the feather trim, not the pink one, but the green one… its after 9:00 and you never know, it could be Ryan Reynolds responding to a certain tweet you sent saying how you’d love to see that Green Lantern costume in person… so I open the door and there are three men in black suits standing stoically on the porch.

“Ma'am, we have a warrant to search the premises and confiscate any computers you may have in your possession,” the Head Goon said

“What? Why?” I protested as two of the goons shoved past me and started searching my house.

“You have been flagged as viewing material on the interweb that is has been categorized as illegal. You are now going to have to register yourself on our watch list.”

“No way, man, the website clearly said that they were all over eighteen!”

“No ma'am, this is not in reference to your visiting Fresh Twinkies dot com, you have been flagged as having viewed ‘The Human Centipede’ in its entirety.”

“But… but… I was just curious to see what all the hub-bub was about-- you can’t be serious!” I said, just as the youngest goon walked up, a look of repulsion on his face. He carried, between his thumb and index finger, a copy of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

“Indeed,” the Head Goon mumbled.

“What? I’ve had that book since I was a kid! It’s a first edition! This is crazy, the movie was on Netflix for fucksake!”

“Yes Ma'am, that’s what we refer to as a sting operation,” one of the more handsome goons said as he put my laptop into a plastic bag marked “evidence.”

“Surely we can work something out,” I said, turning toward him, allowing my robe to slip off one of my shoulders.

The Handsome Goon looked at my smooth toned shoulder, then looked me in the eyes, “It’s a movie about a man sewing people together, ass to mouth,” he said as he shoved past me. Then he turned and added, “You disgust me.”

“Seriously, it’s just a movie! Granted one that was hilariously bad while simultaneously being thoroughly disturbing!”

“You can tell it to the judge,” the Head Goon said

“What’s he doing?” I asked, looking past the Head Good at the younger one who was hammering a sign into the grass at the end of my driveway.

“You are required to prominently display that in your front lawn until further notice,” he added, then walked out. After they had left, I walked down the end of my drive way to get a better look at the sign. It was in the shape of a centipede and read “Pervert” in large bright letters. Just then Ryan Reynolds rolled up on his skateboard. He glanced at the sign, then back at me.


“Well then,” he said with a hunger in his voice, “I hope there is a bit of truth in advertising!”

“And I hope your abs aren’t totally CGI,” I said coyly.

“Only one way to find out. Shall we take this inside?” he asked as he pulled a bottle of Strawberry Hill out of a paper bag.

“Lets!” I said, pulling him toward the house. When life hands you lemons, you hook it up with some Boone’s Farm.



Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Start Wearing Purple

I was on my way to have lunch with my fashion protégé, Tim Gunn [correction, brunch, you know how the gays love their bunches… just cause you roll out of bed late and fancy it up with Mimosas it’s still effing pancakes and waffles… but whatev’]. As I’m rolling up to the valet, I notice everyone is wearing purple.

“Excuse me, young lad, what day is it today?” I say, flagging down a young man who was sashaying gaily by, and by gaily I mean merrily and not “gay-ly,” though he was clearly a queen. “What’s with all the purple? Did Prince explode or something?”

“No, silly goose, its Spirit Day!” he said. Then after reading my blank expression, he continued, “You are supposed to wear purple today to support for the kids that were bullied because they were gay.”

“Shazbot!” I exclaimed, glancing at the clock. “I still have time to make it right!” I then tossed him a shilling and told him to go out and get the finest prize turkey he could find before I sped off.

Unfortunately, luck was not in my favor, as it appeared all of the clothing stores in the neighborhood were not going to open for another two hours. But I was never being one to back down off a challenge [and I don’t mean a fit nubile pool boy named Challenge… though that’s something I wouldn’t back off of either… with his firm pecks and strong arms… wait, now where was I…]. Once I was able to regain focus, I quickly came up with a brilliant idea and I pulled into a liquor store to purchase a large bottle of Crown Royal.

I pulled the bottle out of its purple cloth bag and set it aside, then dumped the contents of my purse into the purple bag, and voila, instant clutch and more importantly, avid cause supporter! Now, what to do with the bottle of whiskey? I very well couldn’t drive around the city with an open bottle in the car! So I popped the bottle open and downed it, its five o’clock somewhere, right?

By the time I arrived back at the restaurant, I was fashionably late, so really, I was on time. Granted I almost took out the valet when I crashed into the podium, but everyone LOVED my fancy new purse, and I was honoring those victims of anti-gay bullying by bringing attention to the matter… and that’s what’s important… [and that I looked fabulous doing it]!



Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Never cross a sleeping angel...

Pygar and I were having a lovely picnic in the park, just soaking up the beautiful day. A slow breeze was meandering through the trees while the sun was shining down from a bright blue sky. Chi-Chi, Pygar's German Shepard frolicked in the grass while Pygar took a little power-nap on the blanket we had laid out. It was so serene that I felt like writing a poem, you know something to really capture the moment.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," I jotted down in my dream journal. "And sorry I could not travel both." Oh man, this was gonna be some good shit, I thought as I continued to write.

Sadly, my poetic flow was interrupted by the loud whine of a spoiled brat, "But moooom, I don't wanna go to the park, I wanna play on my Gameboy!"

I looked up to see a woman walking down the paved path pushing an 8 year old in a stroller. "Hunter, now you just hush now, we'll be back at the car as soon as we cut through this park.

"This park is stupid and ugly," he said, throwing a candy bar wrapper to the ground. I cut into the brat with my eyes, but the little punk deflected my shade right back at me. By this time, Pygar sat up, his quiet reverie broken.

"Excuse me," I said calmly," but I do believe you dropped something." I pointed to the candy wrapper on the ground. The woman turned and looked at the trash, then threw a sneer in my direction.

"Well I never!" I said, turning to Pygar to find that he had disappeared. I looked back toward the rude lady and brat child to see Pygar materialize in front of them. He leaned down to the stroller with a warm and pleasant smile.

"Sweet child," he started, "you should pause and enjoy this beautiful day. Do you not hear the birds singing? The trees rustling? I can not see these things, but I can feel the beauty, and I can only imagine how fantastic it would be to see it in all of its glory."

"Whatever, this is stupid and you're stupid," the brat spit, while the mother smiled smugly.

Pygar merely paused, smiled, then leaned in a little closer, "Think on this, one day, you will die, and while your body sits in a dark coffin buried deep in the ground the worms will feed on your rotten little carcass. And in turn those worms will help the soil, and all of these beautiful trees with become even more beautiful, but not because of the nutrients from your decayed flesh, but merely because your sorry little ass won't be around any more. But where will you be? Why, you'll be drifting in the black void of nothingness. Can you picture that for me? Absolute. Nothingness."

Tears started to stream down the kid's chocolate covered cheeks while the mother gasped with dismay.

"Oh shut up," Pygar growled, "and pick up your trash, you dumb bitch!" The lady cowered and ran back to the candy wrapper, quickly depositing it into the trashcan.

"And Santa Claus isn't real!" I yelled to the kid as his mother frantically pushed him down the path to get away from us as fast as possible.

"Tea?" Pygar asked, he had already returned to the blanket and was holding a teapot.

"Sounds lovely!"

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Money Cab!

I was leaving Pygar's apartment after getting ready for the premiere of my BFF Angie's new movie [I think its called Pepper... or Curry... I dunno, something like that], and I figured it'd be easier just to take a cab [you know, just in case I hook up with some hottie, I want to make sure he drives me home].

So run downstairs and jump into the waiting cab. Just as I put my seat-belt on all these lights start flashing and shit. Of course I'm thinkin' maybe I'm having a flashback or something, so I try and play it real cool.


"You're in the Money Cab!" the cabbie exclaimed.


"Wait, you're not hot little Ben Bailey," I say to the clearly not Ben Bailey. This cabbie wasn't even cute, actually he looked like a creepy older version of a nameless drag queen who jumped off the top of Pygar's apartment building. "And don't you mean 'Cash Cab?'"


"No, no, this is totally different. But you can still totally win money! So do you wanna play?"


"Sure, why not," I say, after all, if this Skaggs Lady Lee knock off wants to give me money, who am I to argue. "So, this is going to be on TV, huh?" I said nervously, noticing the small camera mounted above the dash.

"Uhm--yeah...! On TV!"


"I'm suddenly feeling a bit anxious," I giggled nervously, concerned about how my hair and make up were.

"I have some Quaaludes if you want?" He offered, holding up a box of Lemonheads.


"You keep 'ludes in a box of Lemonheads?"


"Yeah, its uh... just more convenient. So do you want one?"


"Uhm, no, I think I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" he said, shaking the box slightly.

"No... thanks... really."

"Well you just let me know if you change your mind. So shall we play the game now?" he asked as we pulled into traffic.


"Yes! Bring it on!" I said rubbing my hands together.

"Okay, the first question is worth 25$! Do you date older men?"

"Well that's a strange question, I thought this was supposed to be general--"

"15 seconds, I need your answer!" he interrupted.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, I get excitable even watching game shows, let alone being on one!

"Good-err, I mean, Correct! The next question is worth 50$. Without looking, what color are your panties?"

"Really, I don't understand the relevance--"


"10 seconds!"


"Damn, I need to use my mobile shout-out," I said. He handed me a mobile phone and asked who I was going to call. "My friend, Pygar, he's an angel."


"Hello?" I heard Pygar say at the other end of the line.


"Pygar, its Frau, I'm in the Money Cab and I need your help with a question. This afternoon, when I was changing at your place, what color panties was I wearing?"


"Frau, first of all, you do realize that I am blind. Secondly, when have you ever worn panties?"


"Of course! Oh Pygar, I could kiss you! Thanks, I'll call you later" I said, hanging up the phone, the to the cabbie, "I'm not wearing any!"


"Oh yes," his said, his voice dropped slightly as the cab swerved a little, "that's the right answer! You are doing so well, can I offer you a Lemonhead?"

"Ooo, yeah, I love Lemonheads!" I said, taking a Lemonhead from the box, "They're way better than stupid Cherry Chan, I mean really, what a racist. You know, these aren't very sour," I added, sucking on the candy.

"Uhm... its because they're super fresh! Next question! For 100$! Are you old enough to vote?"


"Yes!"


"Oh, I'm sorry, you lose," he appeared to be genuinely crestfallen.


"But I am old enough to vote!" I protested.


"Yeah... sorry, I'm going to have to kick you out here," he said pulling off to the side of the road.

"But we're on the 405!"


"Sorry, but those are the rules of the game," he said as he drove off.



"Well ain't that a fine 'how do you do,'" I said to myself as I stuck my thumb out to try and hitch a ride. But then my arm started to feel really heavy, and I thought it sounded like a good idea to sit by the side of the road... and maybe rest my eyes a minute. Next thing I knew, I woke up three days later in Palm Springs laying in the back of a car with Jeremy London, an empty bottle of Hennessy, and an eighth of crank.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Skin this cat...

So I was walking down the street listening the to the new Scissor Sisters on my Zune [is it just me, or does it sound like it could have been produced by Groovie Mann and Buzz McCloy...?] when I spied a sandwich board on the corner advertising a discount Brazilian wax with an arrow pointing down the next street. Well, it is summer, and I have been remiss in the grooming of my Boo Boo Kitty, and you know much how bitches love a good discount... so naturally I turned the corner as the arrow directed.

After a few feet, I came upon another sign. "This way to your super discount Brazilian!" that pointed down a dark alley. I had already invested a few paces into this venture and there was no turning back now. So I continued on... into the dark damp alley... a cat awkwardly jumped across my path [almost as it somebody just out of frame chucked him at me] and darted towards a dumpster, knocking over some bottles as it hurried away.

I went to see if the cat was okay when I saw a strange figure stooped suspiciously behind the dumpster. My first thought was that it was just a misplaced bridge troll, but I was suddenly gripped by fear... it was as though I might be channeling Jamie Lee Curtis. I approached cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly reach my quivering hand toward the hunched creature.

"Oooo girl, don't do it!" an unseen black girl screamed off in the distance, but I couldn't help it
, and I wasn't sure why, but I was compelled to see the creature. Then I saw what it was holding in its stubby little hands and I couldn't help but let out a startled gasp...

The figure quickly turned turned toward me after hearing my gasp. I could see more clearly the large rat [I suppose it coulda been a nutria, I mean it was pretty big] he was holding, a huge bite taken out of its side.


"I must feed!" Glenn Beck snarled, as rat blood [nutria blood? I still couldn't really tell... you know, the more I think about it, it coulda been that stupid cat] ran over his lips and down his chin.


"Oh, I was right, it is just a misplaced bridge troll," I said, regaining my composure and continuing on my way to my super discount Brazilian. The slurping sounds from Glenn slowly faded into white noise as I approached the third and final sign pointing into the back entrance of an abandoned Millers Outpost.


"Hello, pretty lady, you here for discount Brazilian?" a polite man with a thick Russian accent asked as I entered.


"You know it!"


"Good, good, you lay down here," he said, directing me to the old check out counter.


"Its been a while, is this gonna hurt?" I asked
.

"No, no, not at all," he said, pulling out a thick roll of gaffer's tape. "Like big band-aide, very quick." I raised an eyebrow with suspicion. "Very good discount," he added and I was sold. I mean how could I say no, it was a good discount... and he was kinda hot...




Meanwhile, in the alley, the only sounds were that of the misplaced bridge troll feasting hungrily. It had been weeks since it had last fed and he worried that the lady would come back and take his food. It continued to look around cautiously back in the direction that the lady had went. Then, suddenly a piercing scream slashed through the quiet of the alley and scared the little bridge troll. It dropped its meal and ran blindly in the other direction, right out into the street, where it was promptly struck down by a street sweeper as it drove down the street picking up trash.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I guess I should really get a TIVO...

Oh man, can I just tell you how pissed off I am? Last night I rushed home to watch Tuesday nights episode of “Lost” that I had set the VCR to tape [I had a previously scheduled date to take George Clooney to Yogurtland for his birthday, and I couldn’t bear to listen to him crying if I canceled on him... again... sometimes I just wish he would just man up]... anywho, so I walk into the living room and find the Ghost of Michael Jackson, Gore Vidal, and George Takei hogging up the sofa.


“Excuse me guys, but ya’ll need to beat it,” I said.

“We were just watching ‘This is It.’ This is the best part,” Michael Jackson’s Ghost said, adding an “Eee-hee” while grabbing his crotch.

“Myra, can you move, you’re blocking the TV and I don’t want to miss it,” Gore Vidal said, shooing me away with his hand.

“Right, well, you are going to have to finish watching this later, I need to watch Lost. And besides, what are you still doing in my house, Michael?”

“Oh Frau, yer such a card! You know we’re roomies now,” he answered.

“Roommates?” I scoffed. “How ‘bout paying a little rent then!?”

“Myra, if you are going to just stand there, be a doll and top me off,” Gore said, waving an empty glass in my direction. I glared back with silent sass, the deadliest of all sass, but he just feigned being parched by making a dry noise with his mouth. Damn, this queen was good.

“Whatever,” I continued, “you guys are just going to have to wait.” I turned and stopped the DVD, then pushed play on the VCR. I was gripped by a silent Pavlovian rage as a familiar theme song filled the air.

“She’s fantastic! Made of Plastic! Microchips here and there!” the television sang.

“What. The. Hell?” I said as I turned back toward the sofa. There may have been fire in my eyes, I’m not sure.

“Oh yeah, there was a ‘Small Wonder’ marathon on channel five, so I taped it! I just love that little V.I.C.I.,” The Ghost of Michael Jackson said, adding, “jammon!”

“Voice Input Child Identicant,” George Takei chirped in with a smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, I used that blank tape you had in there,” Michael said. I would have been seething with animosity if I hadn’t been paralyzed by anger. It took me a few seconds to regain my motor functions.

“Do you not realize how awesome that episode was supposed to be? Jin and Sun both died in the helicopter crash!” Oh sorry, spoiler alert if anyone hasn’t watched it yet.

“Myra, since your show isn’t on, can you put our DVD back on?” Gore Vidal said, breaking the proverbial camel's back.

“STOP CALLING ME MYRA!” I screamed. “I am a one hundred percent natural woman! SEE!” I added as I impulsively flashed him my koochie.

“Oh my!” George Takei exclaimed.

My rage quickly turned to red hot embarrassment, as I realized that I still had my winter coat and hadn’t shaved or tapered the growler in months. I sobbed and ran upstairs like a teenage girl. I ended up spending the rest of the evening scouring the web for a bit torrent of the Lost finale. Turns out the whole thing was just a dream that Bob Newhart was having, what a disappointment. Well, at least Kate didn’t turn out to be Mitochondrial Eve.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

freaking guys with iphones

I was enjoying a Vanilla Ice Blended Ultimate at the local Coffee Bean when I felt a movement worth of Beethoven coming on. The place had been empty since I walked in and as I made my way to the restroom, I was looking forward to the reassurance of a cold toilet seat [really, there’s nothing grosser than a warm toilet seat… well aside from a wet one].

I opened the door to the unisex restroom, and was greeted by some tween toe-head standing in front of the sink staring at porno on his iPhone while rubbing one out!

“What the French, toast?” I exclaimed.

“Oh my goodness! Please, please, please,” he begged as he scrambled to pull up his pants, “you can’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

“To be honest, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m Justin Bieber.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Justin Bieber.”

I paused for a second, “Who?”

“Singer, songwriter, Justin Bieber. I was just on Saturday Night Live,” he said. I stared blankly at him. “People were trampled at my concert in Australia,” he added.

“Nope, sorry,” I said, still drawing a blank. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I mean really, how creepy would it be for a thir—er—twenty five year old woman to go on about catching some teen twirp rubbin’ one out… be he vampire or not.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you, I really appreciate it,” He gushed as he walked past me. “Oh and I’m sorry, I peed on the seat a little,” he added as he closed the door behind him. I turned and looked at the drenched toilet seat. Fucker even pissed all over the walls and the toilet paper [which all the more shocking because it was one of those toilet paper dispensers with the huge plastic cover and just the little hole underneath].

“Oh Fuck that!” I yelled, “Game on Bieber, whoever the fuck you are! Game on!”

Friday, March 19, 2010

Carlo to the rescue...

Last night, I had to run into the Ralph’s to grab a couple of things for a dinner party I was having. I really wanted to do it up nice, and boy was I in luck! Carlo Rossi was two bucks off with my Ralph’s Club Card. So I grab a jug of Chardonnay, some frozen empanadas and rushed over to the “10 items or less” line when I see a pair of those Kardashian girls in front of me in line. I couldn’t tell you which ones they were, it was definitely the whore one [I know that doesn’t help] and then the other one… was it Krystal? Karmen? Klu Klux Kardashian? I dunno, it was the one who had just shit out a baby, whatever, that’s not the point.

The point is, these bitches are in the 10 items or less line with a cart filled with groceries. Of course I am instantly annoyed, as my guests were going to be arriving any minute now and it’s taking forever for the guy to ring everything up. Yeah sure I could have grabbed the wine earlier, but I’m a procrastinator, what of it? Still, I manage to maintain my cool, cuz I’m cool like that [I’m also chill like that, and peace like that].

Then, after he had finished scanning everything, little Koozie Kardashian whips out a book of WIC stamps! So then cashier has to go through the tedious process of removing all the wine and cigarettes off their tally. Now I’m pissed, as it’s been twenty minutes and I’m starting to get nasty text messages from Martha Stewart [she can be so impatient!]. I start throwing mad shapes in the direction of the sisters [after all, my scowl can kill a bitch dead, watch out!]. Then I notice the other Karshashian slut trying to pull a fast one as she carefully maneuvers their cart around to the end of the checkout so that the cashier doesn’t see the stacks of bottled water they have stashed underneath.

Koozie doles out a stack of WIC tickets and then pulls out massive roll of cash to pay for their booze and cigarettes and they are getting ready to walk out when I all to the cashier.

“Excuse me,” I say as I point at their shopping cart. “Don’t forget to ring up their water.” At which point both the bitches whip their gaze in my direction, their faces contorted into hideously grotesque sneers [it wasn’t really much different from how they look anyway, so its pretty easy to picture].

“Somebody need to be minding her own bin'ess,” the whore one said, well, not the one whore one, but the other… confusing, I know… but then her eyes begin to glow red and she starts shooting fireballs from her eyes! I dive out of the way just in the nick of time and counter attack by hurling my jug of Carlo Rossi straight at her head!

Needless to say, I got mad skills, as the jug cracked her head open and roaches started pouring out as the shell of her body collapsed to the floor. I looked around for the other one just in time to see her running out the door pushing her cart filled with stolen water. She’ll have to wait for another day, after all, I had empanadas to heat up.

“Thanks for your help, Frau,” the cashier says, with a bit of a swoon.

“Anytime, cutie,” I reply with a wink, then we went into the back room and snogged on a palette of Purina. Martha was mad that I was an hour late, but she loved my empanadas so much, she forgot all about it!

Friday, February 5, 2010

Video [Game] Killed the Radio Star[let]

A good friend of mine, well lets just call him Torrent, gave me a copy of the hot new Sim game called SimChina! So I installed it last night and played it for a few hours, and then, talk about crazy, I looked up and its freaking February! Talk about falling into a two month k-hole!

The game is pretty awesome though! The goal is to keep your factory running at top capacity. You can import workers from rural villages, and then when they sass up and disrespect your absolute power as factory owner, you can have them put in jail for expressing freedom of thought. My first factory was producing dog food as an export; I was able to cut costs by supplementing the ingredients with workers who were producing below efficiency. Luckily, switch from the production of dog food right before the American market found out the food was essentially poison. My new production line was up and running with the proverbial Big Leagues, producing plastic keytars for the XBOX game “Keytar Hero: Kajagoogoo.” My factory quickly became a massive conglomerate with the mission to sabotage the American education system by subverting the youth into not doing their math homework, thus positioning my conglomerate to take over the world!


No, the irony is not lost on me… but whatever, my dream to take over the world is very nearly realized… granted, only in simulation form, but you gotta start somewhere, right? Now if only I could educate my little sim workers so they would be smart enough to hack into Google and steal their corporate secrets before they pull out of the country. But the only way my SimWorkers can learn is through access to interweb classes from DeVry, but I had to set the interweb to “censored” so that my workers do not have access to radical ideas… oh the irony, indeed…

I should probably get something to eat...