Eternal Sunset of The Spotty Mind

I like to refer to memorial day as "War Movie Day".  And usually, I get all into The Great Escape and Stalag 17 and Saving Private Ryan but today, that serious stuff seems a bit much.  I have settled for Red Dawn, less heavy because it is not based on a real war, but also because it has El Swayz, though he does not have a dance number.

Sadly, I do not own a copy of a movie that best honors all the men and women who have fought and died for this great nation of ours: In The Army Now, starring Pauly Shore, Lori Petty, Andy Dick, David Alan Grier, and a sexy sexy Lynn Whitfield as the ballbusting drill sergeant.  Rent it.  Watch it.  Laugh twice, maybe.  Sing along to John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt.  Remember that people died to defend the right to make Pauly Shore movies.  And be proud to be an American.

Is it wrong during finals to use movies like Real Genius and Revenge of the Nerds to motivate myself into being the best damn nerd I can be?  If it is, I don’t wanna be right.

NERD PRIDE!!!

• How many perfect attendance awards have you won?
• Can you do your taxes in binary?  (Nate, I’m not mocking you…)
• How many ways can you say "Today is a good day to die" in Klingon?
• Have you ever been in a polka band called the Loga-rhythms?
• How many jokes about the "right hand rule" can you make without making a single masturbation reference?

If your answer is none or no for all of these, you really need to get on your nerdiness.  Our future and our children’s future depends on it. 
NERD PRIDE!!!

I’ve now read four reviews of the new Facts of Life Season 1 & 2 DVD and not one of them (including the random one that appeared in Sports Illustrated) mentioned that Molly Ringwald was a character in the first season.  What the fuck?!?

Makes me want to spread rumors that Mrs. Garret is an alcoholic… 

(I forgot there was a dude on the show before Clooney…  Remember this creepy pedophile guy?  If Mrs. Garret never stopped working for the Drummonds, we would never have had to suffer through Ocean’s 12.)

It had been said by my friend Melanaise that after the ghost
of the great Babe Ruth was exorcised from Fenway Park, he took up residence
in my bed. Since I’m an unforgiving
Yankee hater, I figured it could very well be true. But this theory has been proven to be incorrect.

The Babe is haunting Barry Bonds. For those who don’t know, in short, the juicing Barry is totally
unable to hit the home run that would tie him with the Babe for all time home runs. Meanwhile, he makes his team suck quite hard
since he’s otherwise completely useless. Babe, do do that voo doo that you do so well.

Then who is haunting my bed? Could it be the ghost of late Yankee Manager Billy Martin, who couldn’t
get laid under the Queensboro Bridge with a hundred dollar bill hanging out of
his fly? Could
it be the ghost of pussy past reminding me that being a man doesn’t always end
well? Especially if it involves getting
“tested” afterwards?  I suspect it’s that unmistakable stench of
desperation that has soaked into the mattress.

So here’s my point: does anyone know of any hotties who dig, how you say, "Korean barbecue"?

From The Lady from Shanghai:

Rita: The Chinese say "It is difficult for love to last long. Therefore, one who loves passionately is cured of love, in the end."
Orson: That’s a hard way of thinking.
Rita: There’s more to the proverb.  "Human nature is eternal. Therefore, one
who follows his nature keeps his original nature, in the end."

Fucking mind blowing…  So for those who love passionately, there is no cure but death.

Best of luck.

Check out golfer Michelle Wie.  Hot, eh?

Now look at her looking hotter.

So what’s wrong with me that I find this last one the hottest?

Too bad she’s so damn young she just might be the daughter I had to give up in high school.

I think I can still see the silver lining. 

This photo makes the city look just slightly less dirty.  Mostly because there are no people in the shot.

My roommate Brian and I were discussing the pros and cons of having Ted clones.  I thought with my current workload, two would be preferable.  And then we realized that the idea is possibly one of the most annoying concepts ever thought up.  Can you imagine? 

• The beer bill would go through the roof, and we would drink a whole lot more since we wouldn’t ever be drinking alone. 
• Instead of one asshole singing showtunes all day in the apartment, there’d be three assholes singing trios. 
• Could you imagine three Teds at a Mets game?  We’d get banned for life, even though we’re three of the few humans with the same cranius enormous condition that Mr. Met has.
• Three of my asses could fill the grand canyon.
• Three times the man periods.
• There’d be three times as many guys in our apartment not getting laid.
• My clones would play grabass all day long, thereby not getting any of the work done for which they were spawned.

There are some positives…

• Rotating shifts.  I’d finally get sleep.
• I would no longer have to take yoga to learn to self-fellate.
• I could play wiffle ball with myself, but why would I do that when I can blow myself?

Probably not worth it.

Do I look like a reliable person to you?  Do you seriously think you can come to me with serious issues and expect me to offer you rational and sound advice?  Do I look like a person who can tell you what went wrong with your relationships when mine all vaporize?  In fact, do you think I want to hear any of your relationship shit?  Do I look like I’m good at math?  Do I seem emotionally stable enough to be logical?  Do you think I actually want to pick up your slack, you lazy fuck?  Do I look like a leader to you?  And lastly, do you seriously believe that I have any words of value to offer about your life?

It seems the answer to all those questions is yes.  My reliabilty is a big liability.  I’m a sucker that way.  Now get off my ass.  Go lean on somebody else this week.

And I’ll get back to you the following week when I get all needy again.  Yes indeedy, feed the needy.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with dogs lately and all it seems to do is remind me that people are dicks.  Why can’t people be nice like dogs?  I don’t mean the face licking and crotch sniffing, though ladies are invited to do so.  I mean the trust.  The needing and giving.  The simplicity of life and love.

But mostly I’d love to just scratch a lady’s tummy and have her moan and turn over on her back with her legs splayed and 6 nipples staring at me.  Only once got an invitation like that, except that she had a third of the nipples and a lot more fur…