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Order of the Phoenix Parody (in the works....you can help!) [04 Aug 2007|12:44pm]
[ mood | anxious ]

Hey everyone! I’ve finally started working on my next Harry Potter Parody for Order of the Phoenix!

Rather than finish it and post the whole thing, I’d really like if everyone would (if they have the time) provide some input so that they can help me make it as funny as possible.

Feel free to criticize (as long as it’s constructive). Tell me what works and what doesn’t.

Do keep in mind though that this movie was particularly hard to parody because of the somber tones and grim subject matter. Hence, some of this material is more so…inspired by the film than based on actual events from the film or book.

Order of the Phoenix Parody – Part 1Collapse )

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I Have No Life, Pt. 1 [28 Jan 2007|02:26am]
I know I haven’t updated in eons, but in my defense I have the busyness of school, the craziness of the holidays, and finally a lack of internet access upon which I allocate much of the blame.


Movie Review-o-Rama!


Alice in Wonderland

The movie has plenty of funny dialogue and physical comedy to delight any person, young or old. The best part about re-watching it at an older age is the joy of apprehending Lewis Carrol’s messages in the film. The book was wrought with social commentary on Victorian society accompanied by a very modernist dissection of reality.
What is insanity? What is normal? What is real?



“Hey, bitch! Don’t bogart the Hookah!”

From the smoking caterpillar’s subversive take on Alice’s recitation, to the reversal of the status of sanity at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, Alice in Wonderland provides a wealth of dilemmas that force the viewers to challenge (or at the very least reconsider) the conventional notions of society that they have grown up with.

The Adventures of Alice in Bonerland!


Note: We’re sure Lewis would have approved if he were still with us today.





Stuart Little 2

Interestingly enough, Stuart Little 2 shares some similarities with Alice in that it has A. literary origins and B. a major theme dealing with the subversion of appearance. What the movie lacks in depth it more than makes up for with a cast fine actors (save one) with surprisingly emotive performances. However, it’s important to note that the movie couldn’t help but surpass my expectations, particularly because prior to viewing…I had none whatsoever.
Highlights:


NOT a flattering pose.


It’s not that kind of movie Geena. Put it away. Put it away!

1. Watching Geena Davis freak out is hilarious. Watching her play an overbearing surrogate mother to tiny mouse in chucks was enough to ring the “absurdity” alarm in my head several times. Her character is easily deceived, and even more easily panicked.

Ladies and Gentleman, Hugh Laurie Pre-House…


He’s not gay…just British.
2. Hugh Laurie (better known for his leading role as the prickly practitioner, House, in the smash primetime hit “House” on Fox) plays dad to Stuart the Little. Hugh is an amazing actor. Not only can he genuinely act to a tiny CGI mouse (YOU try emoting to a green ball on a stick), but he does so without a hint of his thick British accent.




Hawt.


3. Stuart Little is fucking cute. The combination of his tiny mouse ears and his tiny black chucks and his tiny-ass shirts and Michael Fox’s voice is a force of cuteness to be reckoned with.


If I were a mouse, I would totally do him.




4. Nathan Lane voices the hilariously deadpan family cat, Snowbell, who adds much needed foppish comic dialogue in the film.


Let me do the math for you.


= Funny


Sass X
= Sassy Cats


Sassycats >


Sentience X
= Talking Cats


Talking Cats >


Talking Cats Voiced by > Talking Cats


Therefore…


Talking Sassy Cats Voiced by Nathan Lane = FUCKING Hilarious


“A Bird in the hand…”

“Trust me Margalo, good things come in small mouse-crotch-shaped packages.”


The bulk of the movie’s plot revolves around the sexual chemistry between Stuart and a flighty girl sparrow named Margalo. Margalo is some kind of street urchin, a la Oliver Twist’s Artful Dodger. The major difference between the characters is that Margalo never lived in 19th century England anymore than the Artful Dodger was an indentured servant to an underground bird mafia run by a mean spirited Falcon pimp.
But I digress with my Sophia Petrillio-esque tirades.




In the film, Falcon pimp convinces Margalo to endear herself to Stuart in order to get closer to his family and eventually rob them. As a result, the blossoming romance between the diminutive mouse and the bird with a troubled past suddenly becomes compromised.






Watching Stuart court his Margalo delighted me to no end, although I’m not sure exactly why. I was able to accept the Miss Piggy / Kermit romance without giving the union a second thought. And yet…this particular interspecies courtship between a mouse and a bird…this I find absurd.


Sidenote, after watching the Muppet Christmas Carol my five year old cousin and I had the following conversation, which I will paraphrase here:


Isabella : Miss Piggy and Kermit were married?


Me: Yes. At least in the movie they were.


Isabella: They had children?


Me: Yes.


Isabella: But their kids were two pigs and a frog.


Me: Yes. They certainly were.


Isabella: How is that possible?


Me: What do you mean?


Isabella: Shouldn’t they look like them?


Me: Well, I guess you could say the pigs take after their mother…


Isa: No…I mean like BOTH of them.


Me: You mean like mutant pig frog babies?


Isa: (Nods)


Me: I’m not sure. I mean…at the very least the offspring would be have to be sterile.


Isa: What did you say?


Call me a failure as a big cousin, but that just isn’t the kind of question that I know how to answer. I mean, to her credit, I think it shows some sophisticated thinking for a five year old…A+B should equal C…not A or B, but more so the question made me laugh at her pickyness. This was the only part of the movie that offended her on a logistical level. It was perfectly acceptable for these animals to talk, sing, develop intimate relationships, and copulate, but the fact that they failed to have mutant pig/frog babies for offspring…that was the fact that disturbed her?
I must be rubbing off on her too much these days. :)
Oh right…so back to Stuart Little.


Melanie Griffihs, as the voice of Margalo the Bird


Whoa. That’s what Antonio Bandera has to look forward to when he comes home every night?


So…it turns out Margalo the Sparrow is a part of this seedy underground bird mafia with a falcon for a pimp. After that though, the plot is pretty routine. Sparrow girl gets too close to Stuart, Sparrow girl’s conscience is compromised, Sparrow girl betrays Stuart’s trust and eventually wins it back. Stuart saves her, releasing Margalo from her chains to organized ornithological crime. Despite the fact that it was a plot twist visible from miles away, I was surprised to still feel so badly when Margalo betrayed Stuart.


You could say that it struck slightly close to home for me.


You see, like Stuart, we have all been conditioned to secretly hope for storybook endings. We believe that if we just hold on and remain virtuous and friendly…everything will eventually work out in our favor, just like it does for our favorite Disney protagonists. If we are fervent in our efforts, we may land that big promotion, we may climb that tallest mountain, or we might even get that troubled girl-sparrow to like us.


The sad truth is, however, that the storybook endings rarely happen. Often, when the story finishes, we are not left standing with our heart’s desire in hand. Instead, we are lucky if we are still whole, if we remain standing at all, and can hold our heads up when the dust finally settles. But even that kind of ending should be considered happy in a way. Sometimes we’re lucky just to survive.


I know I consider myself very fortunate.





Hello? Little Girl?

Yes…this is the construction worker from the Village People…

I want my hat back.




Recently…I had an ending of my own that was less than storybook in nature, but still remained gentle enough not to tear me asunder. In fact, in a strange sad way…it was almost sweet. Sweet and wholly allegorical, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, or Dawson’s Creek. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it didn’t amount to much, but it meant something to me. It made me feel good about being myself. It was enough to make me feel like my own efforts to remain virtuous, truthful, and courteous, were not made in vain.


I am lucky to be able to say that during this entire debacle, I do not once regret being myself.




And that seems like a pretty happy ending to me.

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The Jung and the Restless [28 Nov 2006|01:17am]

You scored as C.G. Jung. You are more of a spiritualist than would be immediately apparent. Some of your notions are questioned by the cynical, but deep down you know the human consciousness is more than the flesh and tissue can account for. You tend to take a scientific observationist look on matters the average person wouldn't even begin to analyze. You personally are responsible for most of the ideas that are floating around in modern psychologist's/psychic's paltry little skulls. On the down side, you tend to be associated with that asshole Freud.

</td>

C.G. Jung

100%

Dante Alighieri

75%

Miyamoto Musashi

67%

Friedrich Nietzsche

67%

Steven Morrissey

58%

Mother Teresa

50%

Sigmund Freud

42%

Stephen Hawking

42%

Jesus Christ

25%

Adolf Hitler

17%

O.J. Simpson

17%

Charles Manson

8%

Hugh Hefner

0%

Elvis Presley

0%

What Pseudo Historical Figure Best Suits You?
created with QuizFarm.com


You know...I always loved his theory about Synchronicity.



Courtesy of Wikipedia:


Synchronicity is a word coined by the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung to describe the "temporally coincident occurrences of acausal events." Jung spoke of synchronicity as an "acausal connecting principle" (i.e. a pattern of connection that cannot be explained by direct causality).


Plainly put, it is the experience of having two (or more) things happen coincidentally in a manner that is meaningful to the person or persons experiencing them, where that meaning suggests an underlying pattern.


It differs from coincidence in that synchronicity implies not just a happenstance, but an underlying pattern or dynamic that is being expressed through meaningful relationships or events. It was a principle that Jung felt encompassed his concepts of archetypes and the collective unconscious, in that it was descriptive of a governing dynamic that underlay the whole of human experience and history — social, emotional, psychological, and spiritual. Jung believed that many experiences perceived as coincidence were due not merely to chance, but instead, suggested the manifestation of parallel events or circumstances reflecting this governing dynamic.


One of Jung's favourite quotes on Synchronicity was from Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll, where the White Queen says to Alice: "It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards".

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Huh. I would have guessed "Nerd" [06 Nov 2006|12:29am]

What stereotype do you belong to?
Your Result: No stereotype

not preppy yet not a complete loser. has good friends and doesn't revolve life around their looks or social status. All around good person. usually liked by everyone

Jock
geek/nerd
Preppy
Emo
Punk
Loner
Gamer
What stereotype do you belong to?
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Don Mclean...eat your heart out. [08 Jul 2006|11:43am]
A long time ago, my friend Melinda mentioned how "the mall" has moved from being an integral social gathering place for young people, to a barren social wasteland. She suggested in one email to me that online services, like myspace and facebook, have created an alternate mean of hipster communion, and so the internet has taken the place of an actual physical arena in which young people can gather, as Americans become more sedentary in their lifestyles.

This prompted the following response from me:

All you say about the internet is true too. I think ours was the last generation to play outside at all, and while that's a great claim to fame...it makes me feel sorry about those who will come after us.

Call Don Mclean...he needs to re-write that song:

I shall do it for him.




A long long time ago,
I can still remember...
How that Disney Store would make me smile.


And I knew that if I had my chance,
the old toy store we would not by pass,
And my parents would let me browse it...
for a while


The years passed by and I grew older,
and all the while my tastes grew bolder
Music stores, arcade games
food court fights, designer chains


And I came across the magic age,
when "hanging out" was all the rage,
But then I grew up and left
...the stage.


The day...the malll...died


And we were singing:


Bye bye miss Abercrombie and Fitch,
It's a ghost town at Neiman Marcus
no one's at Hot Topic


The old Pretzel store
closed down so I cried...
Because this has been the day the mall died.


This has been the day the mall diieeeeeed.


Should I other verse?

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Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer [08 Jun 2006|01:11am]
[ mood | busy ]

So…it’s summer, and I have finally gotten around to sitting down and writing you all a big, sexy post chock-full of david info and goodies. Where or where to start?
To begin with…I’ve started summer school and *my god* my U.S. History teacher is hi-fucking-larious. He randomly cites songs from the 60’s and 70’s in regular conversation if he stumbles across a sentence that sounds remotely like a lyric. For example…




“It’s group time now...so I want you to get up off of your things, and dance till you feel better James Brown 1973.


Or…he’ll just say random funny stuff like:



“Now I know we only have five minutes left in class, so I won’t make you discuss anything in your groups, but you might want to…oh…I don’t know…learn the names of the people in your immediate area and introduce yourselves to each other…maybe?
(Waves wedding ring hand in the air)


That’s how I got me one of these.”

David’s Note: I’m sorry to say though, that except for this guy who sits behind me and periodically foot fucks my back on accident every time he shifts in his seat… my romantic prospects are once again at zilch.



My teacher’s also insanely liberal…and always says stuff like:


“… and obviously there was corruption in the form of bribery and whatnot that also ran rampant in the government that further impeded progressivism, not terribly unlike today I suppose. Don’t get me started, kids, I do fine myself.”


There’s also this mean girl who sits across from me. I think she’s a gov or history major because she always knows the answer to every question, and regularly contributes unsolicited information about the topic at hand. I wouldn’t mind it if she was just a know-it-all, but she always acts really snooty whenever she delivers her statements…like she’s doling out pearls of wisdom from the fucking clouds. She says stuff like:


“Oh…well, obviously that was the 13th amendment.”

Hidden Meaning: I hate everyone here with a fiery passion.


Or


“Uh…that would have to be the Monroe Doctrine. A lot of people forget that one.”

Hidden Meaning: I think I’m fucking badass even though I carry a Hello Kitty purse and wear nothing but Abercrombie clothing.


Or


“(raises hand)…oh…and by the wayWyoming was the first state that allowed women to vote.”

Hidden Meaning: You all aren’t worthy of licking my proud, brown, Latina taint.



There’s this other girl who doesn’t usually annoy me, but she did end up pissing me off today. She said something to this effect today:




“So…is this when (quotation fingers) “Germany”
builds their (quotation fingers) “navy” because they’re a big(quotation fingers) “country”
and can’t get out of their area?”


I don’t care what atrocities or confusion might have befallen a pre-WW1 European era…no possible circumstance (quotation fingers) “requires” a (quotation fingers) “person” to use (quotation fingers) “quotation fingers” three goddamn times in a single sentence in order to make a cogent (quotation fingers) “point”!


Bitch.


But then again…maybe there’s some nuance in history that I’m just missing.


In the family arena, we had some random Mexican relatives show up last weekend, so my every minute was spent entertaining them with my parents. They all wanted to go shopping so we ended up taking them to…god…what’s it called? La guardia, no….AH! La Cantera! We went to that super ritzy outdoor mall out there near, gosh…I don’t know where, but the point is that it was a mall and it was very expensive. The whole time I was looking around for a CD exchange or a Sam Goody or a even a Old Navy…but no such luck. I even tried looking for a Barnes and Nobles, but gave up when I saw that they had a Neiman Marcus and a whole store dedicated to selling ipod accessories.




After the initial culture shock, I began to get a little more comfortable and actually enjoyed myself. The environment really made me want to walk around with a monocle in my eye, talk with a New York accent, and pretend I had a “yacht” that was currently in the shop. I found a Fossil watch store and looked around for a little while with my dad, until I broke down and asked the teller the burning question I had on my mind:


David -“Excuse me. Potentially stupid question here, uh, do you guys sell those cool tin boxes that the watches come in separately?


Teller -“(pause) No…I’m sorry but we don’t. Not here…some of the fossil outlet stores do. But…you can go ahead and take one if you want.


David: Really?


Teller: Blank stare.


David: For free?!


Teller: (pause) Yeah. Sure. Knock yourself out.


I struggled for at least 20 minutes deciding between a blue owl box and an orange fox box, but ended up with the owl. Three hours later, we all stopped for ice cream where I stared at my blue box refusing to take a bite of my sundae. I vocally vacillated back and forth with my mother until she finally put down her own spoon and said:


“Oh for pities sake David! Just hurry up and switch the boxes before your ice cream melts and we have to leave the mall!”


“I hate it when I’m indecisive!” (I cried)


I hate it even more!” (My mother replied)


So…before we left the premises, I went back to the store and switched the boxes back. Despite my love for owls and the color blue…the cuteness of the owl (shown in an origami style) just could not compare to the cool Warhol-esque print of the orange fox box (which was also liberally peppered with stars!) The nice teller who originally gave me permission was not there…but her MANAGER WAS!!! eeeeeesh….I worried about making the switch and leaving with my new box, thinking the manager would accuse me of shoplifting, but sure enough…nothing happened. And I was finally able to enjoy my ice cream with a peaceful mind, knowing I had made the right choice.


Later, back at my grandmother’s house, I was reveling in my new Fossil box and basking in the attention my distant relatives heaped upon my shoulders (they’re cousins of my mother). They literally wouldn’t stop with the “Que guapos” and the “Que chulos”. Finally one mentioned that the next time that they came back in town might be for my wedding.


My mother, father, and myself all fake laughed at the same time to hide the fact that we were all probably stunned a little inside. One of the cousins reiterated this idea, and added that I probably had all the “muchachitas” fawning all over me. My father quickly recovered for our team and replied:


“(laugh) Oh no…right now he’s in school and he’s focusing and his school work. He doesn’t have time for all that.”


My mother’s cousins smiled and nodded their heads in along agreeing that “education” was the most important thing for me right now…despite how displeased I might be. I nodded along and shrugged my shoulders in good “well…whaddya gonna do” fashion.


Of course, secretly, the whole time I wanted to say:


“Yeah…at least I won’t be getting married anytime soon to a girl…because I like-a the boys so much.”




As my fake smile began to wear off, I found myself into full fledged funk-mode. Suddenly I realized that all the love that this family had brought in convoking to celebrate my mother’s graduation would never be a love that could convene for my “wedding day”. Assuming I dropped the bomb on the whole family a third of the people would disavow knowledge of me, another third be angry at me, the final third would be too confused to understand, and everyone…everyone would be in tears. I quickly realized that this scenario was completely academic though. Recently a friend tried to hook me up with another friend over myspace, and after I gave her the ok, and told her to give him my url…I waited for some contact.


The dude still hasn’t contacted me…most likely because he saw my profile, and thusly my resemblance to Quasimodo. Hence, dear readers, I quickly realized that there would be no future conflict with the family because…I will assuredly die alone.


I realize I’m sounding very dramatic and pitiable, but at that moment, all my failed attempts at relationship came flooding back to me, and I quickly excused myself to go to the restroom, unable to take the internal mental pressure I was placing on myself.


Later on, while the entire lot continued to cackle over coffee and pastries, I retreated to the sanctity of the dark, unoccupied living room. I took out my fox box and admired it once more, and then pulled out the catalog that I brought along from the Fossil store because of the cute boy that it had on the cover. Because the catalog had provided no information about him, I had taken it upon myself to make up the boy’s back story. “His name is Justin,” I told myself. “…and he enjoys tennis, windsurfing, and video games.” His favorite writer is Ezra Pound, but the thing he loves to read most is non-fiction, specifically biographies. He’s into classic rock, but he listens to The Strokes, Arcade Fire, and although he never admits it to anyone, he really likes Sugar Ray too, (but mostly just because he had a big time crush on him when he was younger).


Justin, the Fossil Watch model will be played by actor: Justin Chatwin, from "War of the Worlds"


(sing song: He's my make-believe boyfriend! (make-believe boyfriend!)
MAKE-BELIEVE boyfriend!!!


While flipping through the catalog I thought to myself: “How nice would it be to live with Justin in the simplistic world of the Fossil Catalog?" Every page seemed filled with adventure and excitement. On one page, Justin was packing for a trip. With whom? With me? Where are we going Justin? To visit your grandfather’s farm in your homeland of Slovenia? To Chicago to try their pizza? To your business convention in Tokyo? The fun never stops with you, Justin.


On another page, Justin is wearing a box over his head and laughing like a damn fool. Oh why is that box over your head Justin? Are you messing around at your job in the box factory? Do you want to FedEx yourself into my heart, darling?



You don’t need to…you’re already there.


Oh…to live with the handsome young man in the fossil catalog. To live in this magical place where there are no familial expectation concerning your future, much less your sexuality. Where there are no biochemistry exams, no Myspace hookup letdowns, and no jerks that endear themselves to you and then leave you holding your aching heart and wondering why.


In the magical world of the Fossil catalog, no such woes exist. All one has to do is smile all the time, wear $50 leather flip flops, and pretend to put boxes over your head while you show off your brawny musculature through faux-vintage T-shirts and intentionally frayed designer jeans.


Admittedly, it’s a shallow world…...but a simple world as well. A peaceful one.




I do imagine, however, that after a while it gets rather boring.


Here. Meet Eurotrish.

"I'm a going to America!"
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GUESS THAT MOVIE!!! [06 Apr 2006|12:47am]
Ok David Blog reader fans out there...

It's time again for

GUESS THAT MOVIE!!!!

Here's how it works.

My dad is unable to correctly remember lots of stuff...particularly, he messes up movies and bands the most. Here's how the game works. tell you what he says he beleives is the correct name of a movie, and then you guys guess what the actual name is.

Ready?

OK.

Here's my dad's quote:

"David! I'm watching that movie!"

"Which one dad?"

"You know...the one with that girl!"

"That doesn't really help narrow it down dad..."

"It's called...oh...you know...The Pants We Share!"

****


****


****


Have you got the answer yet audience?


****


****


****

Correct answer?

The Sister Hood of the Traveling Pants!

I love my dad....
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ATTENTION all peeps... [23 Jan 2006|12:03am]
Feedback PLEASE!!!!!!!!!

I wanna post it in other communities (I've become a total comment whore lately) and I would like to know if it's even worth the try. It's another story that I worked on during my winter break...be forewarned, it's not a parody or funny at all, and, in fact, it's a backstory to the saddest part of GOF

I'm particularly worried about the cheese factor...

The Promises We KeepCollapse )
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David's totally bipolar day! [16 Jan 2006|03:09am]
[ mood | crazy ]

Ok…so this past Saturday has been one of the most non-illness related physically exhausting days of my life. No..wait…to be more descriptive, it was just very unpredictable. Things would go right, things would go wrong, and either way the day never seemed to end.

I exaggerate for humorous effect, of course, but really…by the end of the night I was beat. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is my story.

And… you’ve been warned. From here on out there’s a fair amount of bitching…but there’s also a bunch of funny pictures. So, hopefully that’ll compensate.


Part The First…

The Comic/Toy Convention:
Reaching the mystical state of Nerd-vana



Francisco and I had made plans to attend this comic book/toy fair convention at this little place over by The Forum. All went according to plan, but the thing was that we had to wake our asses up extra early to we could beat the rush and get out of there before lunchtime. I had plans to meet up with my uncle and aunt for a special “let’s awkwardly spend some time with before you have to fucking go back to school” meal and a movie. Francisco was especially understanding about this, and explained that being there early would actually work to our advantage. The coolest shit for the best price tends to fly out the door...you know, what with all that supply and demand crap.

Once we arrived, I quickly noticed that we were the most attractive people there.

I mean, I don’t want to poo-poo my demographic, but I thought for sure that I would see a larger percentage of hot sci-fi fans. I expected to see a chiseled young rouge in Anakin Skywalker robes, or at least a sharp looking lad in a Spike Spiegel suit. Hell…I would have even been happy to see a curvy young vixen in a cute Buffy ensemble. Unfortunately, most of the people there looked like they had come to the show early to complete their Matchbox racecar sets, and then planned to rush back home in time for a beer while they finsihed watching pro-wrestling. However, in all fairness we didn’t go for the eye candy or the funny costumes (although we were sad that we brought our cameras for nothing). We came for gold….hard plastic gold configured to resemble fictionalized people.


An actual table from the set of Battlestar Galactica

No…not really. I was just making fun of the convention.


I was satisfied with my purchases, among the treasures around me I picked up:

1.Some Star Wars toys (hard to find ones no longer on the sheleves, and for prices really close to retail!)

2. Select cards from a Magic the Gathering dealer (nice guy…shaved some money off my total when I bought several cards of different rarities)

3. A Harry Potter “Expecto Patronum” action figure (I have a whole lot of Potter merchandise to catch up on now that I’m gay for J.K. Rowling)

4. Some old school Power Ranger toys from McDonalds (a buck each…both Francisco and I picked up a handful)

5. A free Chronicles of Narnia mini poster (free) and a poster for the movie Beauty Shop (not free, but for a very reasonable price (4 bucks!)

The best find of the day, however goes to Francisco who discovered and purchased the hard to find, mega rare, no longer produced, always price jacked on ebay, super cool, forever forlorn, nearly faded from memory, bitch-ass, unrequitedly adored toy from his childhood…ladies and gentlemen….

R2-D2 with Holographic Princess Leia…

…for eight bucks!!!


This model has it all. The R2 unit features a beautiful silver chrome dome paint job. The optic sensor contains blue pipelighting for a realistic glowing effect when held above a light source. The middle leg is retractable, but, sadly, contains no wheels. Small price to pay though. Francisco searched for this figure ever since he was young, and always figured it would be his “dream” toy, a plaything regulated to fantasy, perhaps purchased once he made his first million, or ended up winning the lottery. But he no longer has to wait…no sir. Because as of last Saturday Morning, we took that naïve toy salesmen for all he was worth and totally scored (Francisco's pride/joy is my pride/joy) one of the coolest, hardest to find Star Wars toys on the planet!!!!

In case you can’t tell, it was quite a rush…

After a few victory laps, we cruised a local Toys R Us (yes I know we’re nerds) and called it a day. We spent the rest of the morning making fun of people we saw crossing the parking lot. Here are some of our latest catchphrases.


“Chickenandbeefchickenandbeefchickenandbeef”

Use:
This one is very multipurpose. You can use it around guys with beer belies, fast paced soccer moms, or anybody who’s just in a hurry and looking a little rushed and stupid.

Origin:
I don’t really know. The fattyness makes sense because a fatty would want chicken and beef. The nonstop nature of the saying suggests the hustle and bustle that comes with running around…I know it might not make much sense but try it the next time you see someone dash across a busy intersection. I swear! It’ll be funny!




“Whoa Pinkie! Whoa!”

Use:
Whenever somebody gets out of control or really excited, just say this phrase quickly making sure to make it sound like you’re interrupting your own speech. The second “whoa” should come immediately after the word “pinkie”

Origin:
Google the following words and all will be revealed: “Pinky, the, cat, goes, apeshit”


“If you don’t like my attitude…then you can F off!

Use:
Apply gently, whenever you see somebody act especially haughty or angry. It’s especially fun to use if you see someone walking around in a sports coat and sunglasses, looking to the world like he’s a mister badass.

Origin:
Madonna lyric taken off her latest album…in that one song about New York.

Part The Second:

The Movie Experience that God Forgot


So…Francisco drops me off at my house and my uncle and aunt arrive shortly after to pick me up. We’re all starving, in the non-literal sense of course, and so we went to this yummy Chinese bistro place in The Quarry. The food was great, but afterwards, it became movie pickin’ time. I had decided beforehand that I wouldn’t protest any selection my uncle might suggest, A. Because there are precious few movies that interest him, and B. So that, if need be, the two of us could overrule his occasionally over insistent wife. Hence, I did not breath so much as a sigh when he picked Glory Road.

I was optimistic when I went into the theater. I figured the movie had it all: dramatic racial tension, sweaty/shirtless basketball players, and it was based on the true story of a Texas college team that tried to take a stand for civil rights and integration. A little home town pride never hurt anybody. Unfortunately, as soon as the previews began, I knew we were in trouble because from that point on the large lady behind us refused to shut her large mouth.

Here’s a play by play of some of the worst moments, when she was particularly audible and uninhibited…



I’m Josh Lucus! I play a tough as nails basketball coach with a heart of gold!
Miss Black Mama woman, will you let your Chicago born son come live with me in the racially inclement state of Texas and play college basketball?”



“HELL NO! You better believe he’s not going anywhere his mama don’t want him to go!”


Look! You boys are on my court, so you’re going to play by my rules!”


OHHHHHHH! Watch out for Mr. HARD Ass. He’s a hard ass is what he is…Mr. Hard Ass”


(notices black student’s room has been trashed and graffiti-ed)
“Who the hell could have done something like this?”


WHITE People.
That’s who!
Mmmm-Hmmmm Mmmmm-Hmmmm.
(music starts up…and she begins to sing along to “Dancing in the Street”, but is unable to remember the words so she just kinda speak-hums….LOUDLY)


And she was like this all-movie-long, people.

OH! She did say one thing during the preview that made me laugh though. See, there’s this movie that’s going to come out called “Eight Below”. It’s all about these researchers that go to the Antarctic to do researchy things, but then this big ass snow storm blows in on them in a hurry and they have to evacuate their campsite immediately. In doing so, they leave behind eight Siberian Huskies that are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness until their hunky trainer comes back to get them. The movie preview focuses on the names and personalities of the dogs…it shows them playing, hunting, struggling to survive against the elements, etc. At first it looked like a shitty dramatic sequel to Snow Dogs, but then it picked up and looks like it might even be halfway decent, specially for animal lovers (and it too is based on a true story).

This is was the gumflapper behind me had to say once the preview was over:



Soooo…it’s about...dogs?


I couldn’t help but snicker!

After the movie, my uncle guilted me into going to a Spurs game with him. The truth was that I was just plain tired and wanted to relax at home after the horrible experience I had at the movies with him. However, I didn’t want him to go alone, so instead I got shanghaied with my dad (who kind of wanted to go) and together the three of us drove up to go see the guy ( a friend from our church) who would had scored my uncle the free tickets.

As luck would have it, the guy was sick…but his kids were more than up to going, and when I learned this fact, I began screaming inside, to myself.

And, would you like to know who this guy’s kids were, and why it added so much more insult to my injury to spend time with them?

Search those files people…who do I know that’s church affiliated and could ruin my evening by giving me a nice dose of longing and good shot of overzealous self-awareness?

That’s right. My sexy, ecclesiastical hottie, Raul (or as he was formerly know in past posts…”The Boy”).

And his younger brother and sister…(not sexy, but pesky and troublesome all the same)

Raul’s still in town because of his holiday break, but he plans to head back to Monterrey soon. Today as a matter of fact…

Anyways…to make a long story short, we were stuck in traffic for nearly two hours before we finally made it to the game. There was this incredible awkward silence in the car that was only occasionally shattered by my loud father who took it upon himself to interrogate Raul with a series of boring questions and comments in his broken Spanish. I would never claim that mine is better, but my dad doesn’t even try to use correct Spanish verb tenses. He’ll just start a sentence with “Pues Hermano, the cosa es que…”and then he’ll fill in the blanks with undiluted English.


Josh Lucas is equally horrified

Imagine that…the awkwardness of having your crush a mere foot behind you (I sat in the front seat with my uncle, my dad and our guests sat in the back), and having to remain seated in a car for two hours while you listen to your dad embarrass himself trying to explain the concept of “weather proofing” in Spanish.

I was completely phased out at the game, but once I rested a bit I got into it and even got nervous during the last quarter when we kept gaining/losing our lead. When I finally got back home the drive from the SBC center had been significantly shorter than the drive TO, so I was in a good mood. I was also happy the day was finally over, and proud of myself for not being a sourpuss the entire evening.

Of course, it was then that I went to the bathroom and noticed my zipper was flying at half mast, and I suspect that it had been that way since my uncle, aunt, and I had departed from the movies that afternoon.


*Sigh*
5 comments|post comment

Quizards! [13 Jan 2006|02:28am]
[ mood | accomplished ]

I got a little quiz qwazzy...




Everyone saw that one coming...


You are savvy, sassy and always on the go!
Even if it means borrowing someone else's
car without asking! Sometimes you say
the wrong thing at the wrong time, but
that's why we all love you!


I don't know how accurate that one is...but you gotta love any pic with an old lady wielding a knife and cackling maniacally



Hey! There are lots of male feminists out there. Yo go, girls!


You are SALUTE YOUR SHORTS. You are a wangsta who knows business. You have fun in the sun and know how to have a good laugh.

I was only too happy to hear the news...unfortunately, this wasn't the first answer I was given...


You are CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL. She is a rad chick with absolutely no fashion sense. If you are a guy and chose this... you are gay.

Ouch.
Two for two in terms of congruence. In my defense, however, I only changed one answer to get the shorts description instead.

Mmmmm....I like the first one better.

P.S. what's a wangsta, and do I seem like one?


You scored as Albus Dumbledore.

You are very wise, observant, and analyctical. You have a very "well-organized" mind, which makes you function in a calm and fair manner. Though you get angered easily, its rare of you to ever act out of temper. You are constantly seeing the good in people and are naturally forgiving because of it. You're easy to please and a great person to learn from.

Whee! I must have an old soul. First Sophia and now, Dumbledore. Awww they would make a cute couple.

Well, I think they would have gotten along...


And, by the way, it's official now...

Although the sorting hat did take a long time deciding...



You belong in Gryffindor! You are honest loyal, brave and true. Not just that but you're pretty smart too! You're in this House along with the Weasleys, Harry, Nevile, Lavender Brown, Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan and Hermione. Your house was founded by Godric Gyffindor, and your colors are gold and red.....wear them proudly.

I think it's feasible. And I think my friends would agree...

Oh! Almost forgot to show some love!

       
Gryffindor is love.



10 comments|post comment

I don't make these things up people... [10 Jan 2006|11:23pm]
Fated...

That's all I have to say.

What Harry Potter characters are you most/least compatable with? by Bessyboo
Name
Age
House
Your best friend is...Dobby the Houself
Your rival is...Terry Boot
Your love intrest is...Cedric Diggory
Quiz created with MemeGen!


BTW...I haven't read past GOF...

Who is Terry Boob...or Sock...or Boot...or whatever.

PLEASE! If you can tell me, then refrain from important spoilers...

Spanks!
3 comments|post comment

What I did over winter break.... [09 Jan 2006|07:03pm]
I did a whole lotta writing....


Here's the first piece I've ever posted on my journal! I'm so excited!


It's a Harry Potter Goblet of Fire parody...took me soooo long to do (mind you, it's like 24 pages long.)


Mad props to Laura who showed me how to do the livejournal cut!


Goblet of Fire ParodyCollapse )

7 comments|post comment

[21 Dec 2005|01:25pm]
Courtesy of the Diana...



The Expatriate
Achtung! You are 38% brainwashworthy, 27% antitolerant, and 0% blindly patriotic
Congratulations! You are not susceptible to brainwashing, your values and cares extend beyond the borders of your own country, and your Blind Patriotism does not reach unhealthy levels. If you had been German in the 30s, you would've left the country.

One bad scenario -- as I hypothetically project you back in time -- is that you just wouldn't have cared one way or the other about Nazism. Maybe politics don't interest you enough. But the fact that you took this test means they probably do. I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt.

Did you know that many of the smartest Germans departed prior to the beginning of World War II, because they knew some evil shit was brewing? Brain Drain. Many of them were scientists. It is very possible you could have been one of them.

Conclusion: born and raised in Germany in the early 1930's, you would not have been a Nazi.





The Would You Have Been A Nazi? Test
- it rules -




My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:


free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 46% on brainwashworthy

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 37% on antitolerant

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 0% on patriotic
Link: The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
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[21 Dec 2005|03:53am]
Courtesy of The Turtle....

May not be all that accurate because I couldn't see some of the images it tested me on...but the end result sure seems dead on!


the Wit

(52% dark, 15% spontaneous, 15% vulgar)

your humor style:
CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK


You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat.

I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer.

Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion.

You probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais




The 3-Variable Funny Test!
- it rules -

If you're interested, try my latest: The Terrorism Test




My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:


free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 51% on darkness

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 0% on spontaneity

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 5% on vulgarity
Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
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Sick sick sick of this shit...............Literally! [08 Dec 2005|12:07pm]
[ mood | sickies... ]

Okay...so, I'm stuck here at home recuperating from what I hope is just a stomach virus running its course and I realize that considering all the hoopla and crazy stuff that's gone on this semester, I haven't really gotten the chance to update my journal.


Of course, I'm still recovering, so it won't be all that lengthy and it might even reek with bad grammar and syntax...fyi...so no judgies!


As far as my sickness goes, I had to provide the health clinic with a stool sample for the first time ever in my life. Although I know there's no inherent taint to this particular procedure, I still feel like I've had some sort of medical innocence shattered.




Get it? Stool sample?


Ha.



Come to think of it...that day (just tuesday actually) was one of the most exhausting days of my life. All morning long I had stomach cramps and then diarrhea followed by nausea and vomitting. It was really scary because I just couldn't stop. I would try to drink water to replace my fluids, but end up throwing it up a few minutes later. I had to coordinate a time to see the clinic and prepare material for my sociology group so they could our stupid poster for class. Big props out for Francisco, who took them my stuff while I was at the clinic!


The physician's assistant was a little cold and not as friendly as he could be. The one I saw last year was nicer. He talked down to me a bit like I was moron, but at least he was warm while he did it. This one poked and prodded me with the least possible amount of emotion or concern on his face. Then he ordered blood work and stool samples to be taken, much to my suprise. But I was willing to do anything to get out of there, because I was constantly worrying about when I would feel my next bout of nausea or stomach cramp, and then need to seek immediate relief in a bathroom.


The nurse who took care of me was very sweet, but couldn't take my blood because my veins were being stubborn. She thought it was because I was dehydrated, and wrote me up a form to get my blood taken at a nearby clinic (where I would also get the material needed to collect my stool sample). I sighed, taking the forms, and rushed to call my mother because the clinics close at about six, and I had been released from the clinic's clutches at about five. My mother raced on over and together we drove downtown to get my blood drawn. In the car I began to feel sick, wave after wave of dizzyness hit, but I kept my body as still as possible, no talking, used only fixed deep breathing, and finally, we arrived at the lab and the nausea went away.




Butterfly needles. Definitely the cutest of all the needles!


The young lady at the front desk initially thought the forms my nurse had filled out were wrong, but then after much phone calling and searching about, she approved the form and let me have a seat. I prepared myself for the worst as I clenched my fist, ready to get poked, but the worst didn't happen. The nurse or technician who drew my blood was very sweet. She spoke to me calmly, asked me how my day was going, and made jokes all the way through. She used a "butterfly needle" which is what they use for infants. It's really small and great for testing veins. She pricked me with the minimum fuss and muss, and gave me a non-sticky bandage because, to quote her: "Personally, I don't really enjoy the sensation of ripping hair out of my arm."


"I'm not that fond of it myself." I replied with a weak smile.


And just like that, it was over.


I left the office and waited for my mother outside the bathrooms, and as I waited I began to cry. First it was just the watering of my eyes, but then my nose began to drip, my face began to burn, and I was in full blown out blubbering mode. My mother came out of the restroom confused and hysterical at seeing me in such a state. She asked if the blood drawing had been painful, and then proceeded to interrogate me about my social life, thinking "someone had been mean" to me at school.


Here's how I tried to explain it to her that day:


Ever since 7:00 Tuesday morning, I had been in pain. I had been unable to sleep because of my stomach cramps. I would use the restroom and leave only because I felt the sudden need to vomit, after which I would return to the bathroom in a never ending cycle of water loss. I would drink water, but it didn't matter. Everything inside me kept leaving my body. I kept losing myself in a sick way that I'd never felt before. By the time I got my appointment I was scared because I had a throbbing headache and a fever (sure signs of dehydration). Once there I found out that extra measures were needed to find out if there was bacteria in my system (the blood work and the stool sample). Then I heard that I would need to race to another part of town to be able to utlize these tools, which meant calling my mother (on her birthday of all days!!!) and getting her to race me over to the lab to get blood drawn. We barely make it in time, and end up getting some initial resistance from the front desk lady. You have to understand that when I got strapped down to that chair, I was expecting the WORST. I was so tired and dizzy and exhausted from running around all day, that I just wanted it to all to be over with as soon as possible. I braced myself for the worst, and instead, I was given perhaps the least invasive medical experience ever.



The First Annual: You FUCKING Made a BIG ASS Difference Award goes to:


The sweet as hell Nurse and Lab Tech from my story!


My heroine.


That technician's compassion, her sweetness, her gentleness, her thoughtfullness. All of it combined to make me feel so much better, and afterwards I was amazed at how much lighter I felt. And I thought to myself: "My God. People must feel like they want to give up everyday, and all it takes from another human being is a little kindness to put everything in perspective." It may sound corny, but I had never been so easily lifted up by another person when I was so deeply entrenched in my own suffering. I thought about her, and I realized that THIS was true healing, this is the power we have to enrich the lives of others and make things right. We are all on this earth for a short amount of time, and during that time we are suceptible to sickness (the worst kind of treachery, when your own body betrays you). You feel like you have no control. Nothing makes sense anymore, because the vessel you have embodied is rebeling against you. It's amazing to consider what a tremendous effect we can have on each other to heal each other...with nothing more than mere words.


Mere words, and a gentle touch.






And that's pretty fucking powerful...


So...the beautiful insight combined with the exhaustion, and the feeling of being blessed was all too much for me and I cried my eyes out for the rest of the ride home. My mother said she understood after I explained everything to her, but she still probably thinks I was secretly sexually assaulted or something...


On a lighter note...I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and LOVED IT! Of course that was right before Thanksgiving, the movie being the only happy thing about that holiday...but that's another story for another post...


Good luck on finals everyone (including me)!




As far as alleviating human suffering goes, Mancandy never hurts either :)
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love sucks monster cock [26 Sep 2005|04:56pm]
[ mood | depressed ]

yeah...


That romantic prospect that I was talking about at some lengths earlier?


Yeah...it fell through hardcore.


I got a sore arm and a broken heart.


Damn. Sounds like a country song.


The sore arm is from a new flu shot. The broken heart is from the incredible disspointment I feel.


Fuck.


(David looks downcast)



Shout out to all the mean bitches that have led me on...
1 comment|post comment

the saturday evening post [24 Sep 2005|08:07pm]
[ mood | complacent ]

So peeps…it’s been a while since I updated, and I’ve got to tell you that the reason why is because I’ve just been going through so much good postable stuff, that I haven’t had time to update.

To begin with school is some strange place in between manageable and crotch-like. On the one hand, classes like my Intro to creative writing class are going well, and I really feel like I’m developing and honing my craft as a writer, but other classes like, say Social Philosophy, have been giving me troubles since day one.

In fact, I’m in the process of trying to drop that class right now…as my efforts to contact the teacher and communicate have proven ineffectual. I tried visiting the guy twice during his designated office hours, and both times he was a no-show. I tried emailing him a long ass letter explaining my confusion and frustration, asking him if I had what it took to finally understand “the historical perspective”, or if I should just drop the class. The douche finally got back to me this past Monday and emailed me a two sentence body suggesting I consult some sort of London video series if I wanted to try to be creative in my writing. I can take hard classes. I’ve taken much harder classes than this, but within those classes I had teachers that I could talk to, who I felt had a modicum of compassion or genuine interest in my well being. His flippant email and constant condescension have finally gotten to me, and when I asked the wrong academic advisor for her signature to drop the class (I got assigned a new one), I got the final piece of confirmation I needed to feel good about my decision.

Dr. Avila: You’re dropping a philosophy class?

Me: Yes. Social Philosophy.

Dr. A: With who?

Me: Katch-cow-ski? I’m not really sure if I’m pronouncing it ri-

Dr. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.
Say no more. I understand completely. (quickly signs my slip)

In other news, my love life is non-existent (as always), but I may have a solid prospect on the horizon. I don’t want to jinx it, but if you’re a friend of mine, I’m sure I’ve given you the skinny by now. I know it seems like I have a new crush every other day, but I really feel good about this one. Uncertainty forever flies above though, so don’t worry. It’s true that I can’t help but hold onto hope, but I never hold it very high.




On a random note, here’s a picture of my new favorite cartoon character, Jack Spicer. He’s an evil boy genius bent on ruling the world with his disembodied ghost spirit fag hag named, Wuya. Both are featured prominently on the show Xiaolin Showdown. Jack’s character is voiced by the same guy who did Dave from Dave the Barbarian. As such, his pitch tends to run high and lends itself to girly screams. The show also features a number of not so secret messages that suggest Jack’s a mega-gay. In addition to his Wile E Coyote underdog tendencies, and killer character design, I think it’s this aspect that attracts me so to Jack. I loves the little guy, and would totally go out with him if he was real (and legal). Plus I envy his goggles. If it were socially acceptable, I would wear fucking goggles on my head every-fucking-day.



Let’s finish this with some useless quizzes I’ve taken!

gashlycrumb
The GashlyCrumb Tinies - You have a terribly wicked
sense of humour and people are drawn to your
wit. Children beware of the thin, pale man
with the black umbrella!


Which Edward Gorey Book Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


Your Expression Number is 3
A natural performer, your destiny lies in writing, speaking, acting, or teaching.
Imaginative and unique, you have a natural creative talent in the arts.
You're also a natural salesperson. You can easily sell your ideas and yourself.

A total optimist, you are enthusiastic about life and living.
You are friendly and social - and people are taken by your charm.
Your role in life is to inspire, motivate, and raise others' spirits.

At times, you can seem a bit superficial.
Sometimes you're a bit unfocused and too easygoing.
You're best off when you don't dwell on trivial matters, especially gossip.



You Are Strawberry Ice Cream
A bit shy and sensitive, you are sweet to the core.
You often find yourself on the outside looking in.
Insightful and pensive, you really understand how the world works.
You are most compatible with chocolate chip ice cream.
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I am a blog whore [15 Aug 2005|08:59pm]
[ mood | tired like a dog ]

I have finally joined the program (thanks to some help from Diana) and utilized a "Myspace" account. Friends that have one too, please contact me asap so I can add you



Finally! Real life pictures of David and David's life!




Obviously one of the cool things I can do now is load up real life pics and post them (again, please, I know I'm behind of the times). But now I can finally post those pics I always swore to you peeps that I would post.

More shixnit on the way...and here's the link to the myspace place:

http://www.myspace.com/25397088


Or just myspace.com/davestar707!

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family unfair [05 Aug 2005|01:52am]
[ mood | anxious (but the good kind) ]

As I promised, here is the explanation as to the beef I have with my Uncle.

He just came back from Japan (again) after being laid over in Okinawa. He came back last Friday, and while we were at the dinner table he made some sort of dumbass joke to my little cousin about how he was going to chop off her fingers with his knife. He often plays with her in this very aggressive manner, mentioning how he’s going to gobble her up or eat her “tootsies”, but never before has he referenced mutilation with a physical instrument. He began to wave the knife at her, and at that point my protective grandmother stepped in and called a foul so that my aunt would stop her husband. My aunt, the sweet soul that she always is, tried to make the situation humorous by saying:

“Now Wayne, you need to behave. You’re making mom (my grandma) nervous.”

My Uncle took this as his cue to become defensive and bring up the Bible. He laughed it off and said he was being spoken to as if he was a child, and how the Bible says that the only people you have to obey are your mother and father. My grandmother, in Spanish, told him something about how the Bible also says to respect your elders, and that she’s pretty elderly. My hairsplitting uncle said:

“Well, I have to respect you, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to obey you.”

The man has not been in the U.S. but for a day, and the first meal we have with him back, easily within the first five minutes of just sitting down and getting ready to eat,…the asshole already manages to undermine my aunt/grandmother’s authority, and slap his metaphorical cock on the table, looking for people to challenge his “God given” authority to pretend to pull a Jeffrey Dahmer on his daughter.

My mother and I exchanged looks at that point, and then she chuckled. She offered up a laugh in response to Wayne’s statements, but this was no ordinary laugh.

This was a special laugh.

This was a laugh that communicated a whole world of contempt and disgust for his actions. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Wayne is incapable of perceiving these underlying thoughts, and so he dismisses my mother’s laughs as actual amusement when he does something stupid and smiles his shiteating grin.

Within seconds, through our looks, my mother and I communicated.

I told her through my stare that I thought Wayne was stupid, and that while respect didn’t equate obedience, it did require consideration, and a willingness to listen to others. My mother agreed with a deep inhalation and then through a quick yet soft snort of air, she told me that Wayne was simply being Wayne; an insecure, unapologetic asshole who has to assert his authority by pissing on everything and everyone, including the people he loves.

All this was too much for me, and like my mother’s undetectably contemptible laugh, I also wished to contribute through subversive sarcasm.

“You know Wayne,” I began as soon as the awkward silence had settled.

“It’s really great to have you back.”





I finished dinner as early as possible and went to go play Hungry Hungry Hippo with my little cousin. What my Uncle doesn’t want to acknowledge is that his daughter is a fiercely independent little girl, and I know she’s going to grow up into a fiercely independent young woman, and so he better be careful with just how tightly he tries to control her, because it’s all going to come raining down on him when she gets older.

I can’t wait for her to go through puberty. She is going to give him so much hell.

But until then, I’m content to stand by her and play games with her.

Games like…Hungry Hungry Hippos.

You know, Hungry Hungry Hippos is a pretty cool game. I had never played it before that day, but now I see it’s the game I was born to play. I totally rock at it. It’s also a really cool metaphor.
You see, sometimes it can seem like we are all just a bunch of mechanized, pastel hippos…randomly snapping at the luscious white marbles of life, trying desperately to sustain ourselves is this deeply competitive world.

Before I close, please, don’t get me wrong. Wayne is a “good man”, in that he would
never abuse my little cousin, or beat his wife, etc. He’s just insensitive, and like I said, a possessive, unimaginative, control freak.

This post is getting sad….let’s end on a happy note.


What do we want?

SEX!

How do we want it?

AS A SCANDAL!

SEX

SCANDAL

SEX

SCANDAL

SEX

SCANDAL

GOOOOOOOOOOOO Miss PIGGY!!!


“And then…all my bacon fell out!”


You know…for good measure, let’s get a hot guy picture in here too.

I mean. The reasoning is to help me remember that despite my Uncle’s obvious ugliness…both in and out…

(Eeeeeeeeeshh…… love must be blind cuzz my aunt is smokin' hot)

that there is still a world of beauty out there.

What?

You say you’re not buying it either?

You say it’s just another excuse for me to post hot guy pictures?

Well you’re right.

(David looks down and then up angrily)

I DON’T HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU!!!!!

Hurumph!


See? Did it anyway. Boo-ya.

"I’m totally marrying David!
We’re planning on a winter wedding...
(pause)
Please bring candy"

2 comments|post comment

malled to death [05 Aug 2005|01:10am]
[ mood | amused ]

So…last Thursday Carla and I finally managed to hook up and paint the town red. Well, really, there wasn’t that much town painting going down as much as there was shopping.

Lots of shopping.

We started out by heading to North Star mall, where Carla mentioned she had a hankering for Greek food. Not being a big fan of that thick, white cucumber sauce stuff, I opted for Chinese. Prior to making our final meal choices, we were harassed by the Chinese establishment’s servers. They force fed us (practically) orange chicken, and feigned anger at us leaving before we had a chance to try the bourbon chicken. Sold on the orange chicken, I decided to stay, and Carla stuck to her gut influenced Greek guns, and headed off to get herself a gyro. (Damn…that almost seemed poetic!)

While we were eating (and people watching), we noticed this one peculiar family behind us. It was made up of a mom, dad, and two kids, one significantly older than the other. I would say, mid to late teens. Anyhoot, this kid, the teen, had taken off his sandals, and placed his bare feet in his mother’s lap. It wasn’t so much that Carla and I had any moral objection to foot-lappers, but the whole thing made us double take. We were the tiniest bit put off, however, when the teen placed his legs on his dad’s lap, and the dad started massaging his feet.


Foot massages, and food courts just don’t mix kids.
Otherwise, they’d be called Foot Courts…

Ironically, the thing Lee hated most about his job was…the feet.


We discussed ways to give the people the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the young man was an athlete who had recently suffered a sports injury. Perhaps he has some sort of muscular medical condition. Hell, maybe the dad had lost a bet…

But no matter what we tried to come up with, the action still seemed, out of place.




From there we headed downstairs to bath and body works. You see, speaking of hygiene, Carla had agreed to help me find a sort of cologne substitute. During conversation Carla had mentioned buying cologne for her boytoy, Kenny, and I mentioned how I had never worn cologne before, but that most of the ones I had smelled seemed too pungent or potent. Carla suggested I try Bath and Bodywork’s men’s line of products, specifically, a “daily freshener”. Upon seeing the display (and just walking into the store) I realized that this was the gayest possible recourse I could have seen through as a means to attain some sort of personal odor enhancer.


The patron saint for homosexuals: St. Francis of A-sissy

How about some Old Spice David? No? Too strong? Eternity for men? No? Too “sour”?
Uhh ok…how about a “daily freshener”.
Yeah…the line says it’s for men, and it’s not lying. Specifically, it’s for men who like men.
Yeah! No joke. Just read the fine print.


Just kidding.

I really do love the stuff Carla helped me pick out. We took our time sampling all the different scents until we discovered “Glacier Bay”, which easily overtook “Icy Springs” and beat the SHIT out of that crapscent “Woodlands”. Geez. That stuff was awful!

After that we swung by Hot Topic to browse a bit. I shamefully asked Carla to hold my bag before we entered the store. While I’m aware that Hot Topic has an alternative following, I don’t think my Bath and Bodyworks bag would have come off so much as “alternative” as it would “girly”. I know I shouldn’t care what people think, but sue me, I had a moment of self consciousness.


Attack of the Pseudo Punks

Tiffany Amber liked modeling just fine.
But what she really wanted to do was direct.



So…Carla found these sweet guitar pick earrings and I found some buttons and a Deceptacon wallet (squeal!). We got in line (Carla first) and when it was my turn I asked if the cashier could check the price of a Belle and Sebastian sticker I was thinking about getting. We left the line temporarily, and as we returned, there were these two incredibly short wannabe punk girls dressed to the nines in clothing you know was bought exclusively at this store. They were the kind of girls who wear those nasty attitude/slutty slogan t-shirts, like: “I’m not listening to you”, and “Look, but don’t touch” across their ample bosoms. Plus, not to mention, at least 50 pound of weight in wrist bands and faux leather chockers. They totally invaded my personal space at checkout, crowding me in so that I had little to no elbow room. Sympathetic eye contact was met with an air of detachment, and I gave up trying to communicate my discomfort. As I paid I sighed openly, and wondered if I ever put my friends or parents through a similar kind of grief when I went through my adolescence. Although I think I occasionally had an air of aloofness about me, I never would have transgressed into any sort of tangible rudeness like these girls had. Carla waited for me, we dissed the duo in the parking lot, and then we took off to our next fun filled stop.


“I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid…”

What the Petersons didn’t know was that this was actually an unfinished, SexToys R Us


We got into the store five minutes before closing time, and the long lines assured us that we would have some time to browse before we were forced up to the front to make our purchases. We meandered a bit, looking for the electronic talking Blue’s Clues plush toys. The last time we went we found a huge row of them and set them all off at once. Our antics were foiled this time, however, as there were only a handful of the singing, dancing dolls left. A chance find occurred though, when we perused the other plush toys and found a baby Gonzo, from the Muppet Babies. Carla explained to me how much she loved Gonzo as a kid (still does). She talked about his underdog persona, his unrequited, yet eternal love for Miss. Piggy, and his resilient, dorky spirit. I offered to buy her the toy as a pre-birthday gift, since it was the last one and I didn’t want to risk coming back later and have it not be there. She conceded and off we went to the cashier.

Now, here’s where it gets crazy. You see, when we got to the register Gonzo refused to ring up a price. The nice lady scanned him over and over, but still, no price. Finally she had to call her manager, who had to look him up in the computer they have in the back of the store. The wait felt incredibly long, even though it probably only took five or seven minutes. The thing that made it feel longer was that there was a huge line of people growing by the minute behind us. I’ve been held up in lines because of people with problematic purchases, but never before have a been the one holding up the line. During this entire interlude, I discussed this phenomenon with Carla, and we both agreed that while it was troublesome, in a strange way, it was also a lot of fun.

Kinda like some diluted form of celebrity.

There was also this really creepy guy that got locked out of the toy store and couldn’t get in through the entrance. He was waiting for us to leave so that the automatic doors in the exit would close and he could get inside. What he needed was beyond me, but both Carla and I were totally creped out by him.


The source of all the hub-bub: Baby Gonzo



We finished off the night by checking out the Wal-Mart near Carla’s house. I was trying desperately, to see if any of the new Star Wars toys were available, but alas…they were not. We still ended up browsing through the music and clothing and whatnot, talking and pointing out this and that. It was a grand ol’ time. We stopped by her house so she could pick up a book for me to borrow (The Silver Chair), and then she dropped me off at my house where I retrieved for her two DVDs: Mean Girls and Garden State. Carla also let me borrow “The Notebook”, which I’m ashamed to say I have still not seen.


(David sweatdrops, anime style)

Errrrr…..he he he. I’ll get right on it!
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