An Open Letter to the Bitch Who Ruined my Friday Night

Dear Bitch Who Ruined my Friday Night,

I know I'm the last person on Earth who should come down on people who've had too much to drink and act like idiots, but you, honey, shall be awarded a cake for your performance.

I'm sorry, in retrospect that I was even remotely nice to you and let you sit down next to me. See, I remember the first time we met. It was at my apartment and you acted like a mega-bitch and slapped some Mexican guy for making out with one of your girlfriends and then trying to kick him out of my apartment. I let that one go because everyone deserves a second chance.

I'd like to take this opportunity to let you know that it is not O.K. to whistle like trailer trash at a Nascar race every time a performer does something you find pleasing, particularly when the room is only holding 30 people sitting closely together. It's definitely not alright to yell things at the comedians, agreeing or disagreeing with them, unless you are asked your opinion. It is considered rude to voice your disappointment with the sentiment of a comedian's joke for all to hear. Because the performer is referring to you in their set, it is not because you are "funny" or "special". It is because you are annoying the fuck out of them and everyone else in the room and they would like for you to SHUT THE FUCK UP! It turns out that it is not cool when you blurt out the comedian's punchline before he does because you happen to know him and his act. As you may have noticed, it fucks up his set. It is fortunate for you that the guy you smacked did not beat you mercilessly for being a dumb, drunk whore. I would have probably held his beer for him. And finally, it is certainly not cool to do any of the above while sitting 4 inches from me.

However, it is O.K. to fall down in front of the club, because that was funny. Sorry I didn't help you up, but funny trumps chivalry in this instance and sometimes it takes a few minutes face down on a New York City street to come to one's senses.

I would have suggested that you take a cab home, but judging from your track record, I know that would not have been wise. Plus, I once had a really bad experience asking someone to leave for being annoyingly drunk.

So, Bitch Who Ruined my Friday Night, I sincerely hope I don't have to see you ever again. I also sincerely hope your strangled body is not found floating in the East River. However, if the mood strikes - remember to cut up and down and not across.

Best Regards,

INRI

Hurricane update!

According to this picture from the National Hurricane Center, Hurricane Rita is headed towards the Gulf Coast of Texas but it's heart is really with South Florida and Cuba.

And now for the...

...Stupid Bitch I Want to Kick in the Box and Shove Award! We have this relative of Jabba-the-Hut:


The whole story can be found here. But I'll paraphrase for you:

A woman in Wyandotte claimed to be a hurricane evacuee in need of help, but had actually be living and working in Michigan for at least a year....On Saturday, the 42-year-old woman went to the Red Cross in Detroit and applied for hurricane relief. She walked in with a Mississippi driver’s license and walked out with a $360 voucher for Meijer...Caring folks at a Wyandotte apartment building donated to her an apartment that was stocked with over $1,000 in food, clothing and furniture.

In the words of the immortal Misfits, "I hope you die. Die, monster, die."

Without getting into a whole rant about Human Nature (mostly because I'm not that educated), I think it's relatively safe to say that there are some people who are just bad eggs. And by "bad eggs" I mean sociopathic, wildly self-absorbed douchenozzles.

Ummmmm, Pie!

Hey there!

While I come up with some inane crap to blog about, everybody have some pie!!

A Political Post

This is about as political as it's gonna get here.

John Robert's son is a Children of the Corn, I think.

Holy Shit, Mom looks really pissed, too! I hate being a jerk, but she looks like a real battle-axe. Which is kind of a shame because John Roberts is sort of handsome.



He puts me in mind of this boy:

Uhhhh, Hey There!

I decided this morning that I either need to do this or give it up. So, I'm going to do this.

Anyway, if you are reading this you are either a fag, TunaGirl, or long time friends (Hi Dan and Sarah). As the latterest know, I am a bit of a music fiend. Not as much as when I was younger, but I still love alot of different music. I was, for a long time, exclusively interested in various types of rock music. Then as I got gayer and gayer I started listening to club music then I embraced my inner giant homo and started blatantly listening to show tunes. But none of that is the reason for this post. The point of this post is to point out a musical culture so ridiculous that I've grown to love it.

That musical subculture is "Black Metal". (For some funny, click on the second and third links in the Google search.) Apparently, Black Metal was born in Norway, which is weird because I've always thought of Norway as...actually, I've never really thought that much about Norway. One of the reasons making fun of these fucktards is important is because they are usually rascist, Aryan douchenozzles. However, that's not funny. Whereas, the following list of Black Metal band names are funny. These are:

ANOREXIA NERVOSA (How is that evil, black or metal)
BESTIAL WARLUST
BLACK TORMENT
BLACK WITCHERY
CREST OF DARKNESS (I think this refers to evil toothpaste)
DEATHSPELL OMEGA
DEMONIC CHRIST (BwaaaaHaaaaaHahahahahah)
Enslavement Of Beauty
Epoch Of Unlight
Frozen Death
Funeral Mist
Funeral Procession
Grim Landscape
Moonblood
Morbid Symphony
Mütiilation (because umlats are scary)
Nocturnal Worshipper
Throes Of Dawn
Tube (WTF?? That's not scary!)
Zyklon (Get it Zyklon, because that's the chemical used in concentration camps to kill people, lol)

There are literally hundreds more.

Does anyone want to start a Black Metal Band with me? Because naming that band would be half the fun. Any suggestions?

I could go on for days making fun of the costumes, the lyrics, the band names. However, I'm scared of them and they might try to find me and sacrifice me to Satan. So, I will leave you with the following picture of Gorgoroth which, I think, speaks for itself.

Hi Everybody!

Well, It's been just over a month since I told people to tune in tomorrow for a scintillating tale of my former sexual prowess involving fowl. Since then, I've decided not to tell that story for fear of giving the wrong impression. I'll just quick sum it up with some bullet points. Here they are:

-I went to an orgy.
-The host had only one leg and crawled around the floor naked.
-After some bown-chikka-bown-bown everyone was asked to stop and come into the living room.

-When gathered in the living room, a turkey dinner was presented.
-I left like a bat out of hell.

That's it in a nutshell.

So anyway, I found this gem.

You have to read until at least the second paragraph.

That is all for now.

Insert Title Here

I started this blog thinking brilliance would pour out of me. I was wrong. I wanted it to be funny, but find that every post deteriorates into whining. So, I'm thinking, 'when am I funniest?' Unfortunately, the answer is, when I'm drunk. Usually about an hour before my eyes go blank and I 'check out' mentally, which is about an hour before I pass out with all my clothes on. (Yes, I know, one shouldn't end a sentence in a preposition...Now, fuck off!). But since I'm at work, it's probably not a good idea to get all hammered.

Another unfortunate thing is that I'm either funny because I'm making fun of a certain segment of society or particular people or when I am telling stories from my past. I don't want to make fun of particular people on this blog mostly because that's mean but also because I don't want those people reading and getting all sensitive. I will, however, be making fun of Christians and Bible thumpers as often as possible. So, I think I'm going to start telling stories from my past.

A blogging friend suggested a month or so ago that I blog about a particular experience I once (actually twice) had. It's racy and gross all at the same time.

So tune in tomorrow for the telling of a tale that takes place in a Section 8 building on the West Side of Manhattan about 8 years ago involving poultry and sex.