Poon Job's Palace

Thats right...I said it. That movie sucked tremendous donkey dick. Not just regular donkey dick...TREMENDOUS!
Not one, not two, not three, but four of my so-called "friends" highly recommended this steaming pile of dog shit.
Sadly...picking up my dog's crap is more interesting. When I do that he gets all happy and wags his tail, which then makes me happy.
Nobody wins with The Grudge...not me, not my dog, not Bill Pulman, not anyone...save Sam Raimi who apparently made an assload of money from this colossal turd.

The only bright side of the whole situation is that I got a free rental for pre-ordering the Incredibles on DVD...its too bad that I shall never get the hour and 40 minutes I wasted on this.

Therefore I have decided to bill Sam Raimi and whoever else produced this fucking heap for my time. I figure that $2,680 is adequate compensation for my time and the emotional scarring I experienced.

Expect a letter from my lawyer shortly, Mr. Raimi

I have been in Illinois for the past few weeks and have noticed something odd. I can't seem to find an adult size urinal. Without fail, every restroom (with the exception of those in Chicago) are equipped with children's urinals...which leads me to believe that everyone in this state (once again with the exception of Chicago) are midgets. I just need to find out where they are hiding.

Normally I use the children's urinal anyway, but thats cause I anticipate a kid coming having to pee and being forced to use the adult size one. It is the difficulty of the act that I find amusing, but I am also teaching this kid a tough life lesson. He needs to grow up and learn how to pee in the big urinal or be forced to get some sort of infection on his willy. However, with all the urinals standing approximatley 2 inches from the ground I find it difficult to teach my lesson to the kids.

Additionally I have noticed that most people in this state are unaware of the rules of public urinal use. In my last 3 attempts to drain the main vein guys have tried to have conversations with me. The common factor: they were all fratboy douches. The next time some guy tries to flash some retarded hand signal at me while I am holding my penis is gonna get dick slapped.

The minute or so I spend at the urinal is my time to reflect on things that are going on in my life. Not engage in mindless conversation with "single-serving friends."

What are we to do? I propose raising all the urinals to standard size, teach urinal etiquette in elementary school and kick Illinois out of the Union.

That's right...I said it. Valentine's day is nothing but a fruity ass pseudo-holiday created by Joe Hallmark to sell a shitload of useless paraphanalia. I think it is obvious to say that my view expresses my current single status. Needless to say I decided to put this post in festive red to please the hopeless romantics (namely Alex).
Which brings me to an odd fact that was brought to my knowledge the other day. Apparently for the last 3 years I have broken up with the girl I was going out with at the time prior to this ass-sucking day. Usually they do something that annoys me and I adopt an avoidant behavior to prevent me from saying or doing anything that may get me dumped, which ends up getting me dumped anyway. Its a catch-22.
So my friend tells me I suffer from attachment issues and I act to distant towards women to prevent myself from getting too emotionally involved. She followed this off by telling me that I view women as objects and nothing more than a "hole for me to fuck."
Cutting her off for fear of hearing some Freudian crap about my penis or an Oedipal complex, I decide to tell her that I value her opinion and she is a true friend for expressing such wisdom.
Translation: You're lucky you're my friend and I'm not in the mood to argue. Now go fuck yourself...and while you're doing that pick me up a cup of coffee.
After this discussion I realized what my problem is. It wasn't any of that psycho-analytical schovanistic bull shit she was trying to pin on me. No sirree Bob. I suffer from a relationship allergy to the month of February. It makes perfect sense as I looked at the pattern of most of my break-ups. It is my immune system's natural defense mechanism for me to fuck up relationships at this time of year. I could probably suffer from hives or even worse anaphylactic shock.

Now all I have to do is wait for the New England Journal of Medicine to post an article regarding this alment or wait until March 1st (whichever comes first) to get into a new pseudo-relationship. My advice to you...save all of your money on crappy gifts and spend it on important shit that can benefit you, like baseball cards or comic books and shit.

Remember, if you are in a loving relationship they are obligated to have sex with you regardless of gifts.

I'm sitting in my hotel room here in the Dirty South (thats Atlanta for all of you who aren't hip with it) and I decide to watch TV, which is not unlike what I would be doing if I was home and this Medical Hair Restoration commercial comes on. This ad has been on quite a while and features such sports legends as Wade Boggs and Mercury Morris (who I have never heard of however cool his name may be).
I don't know if it was my hatred of Atlanta or its shitty weather but this commercial annoyed me more than usual. When did Wade Boggs become so sad? He says that the hair restoration works yet clearly it hasn't worked for him. Then as the narrator says the description of the product they show Wade Boggs swinging a bat a few times followed by some obligatory posing.
Its like they had nothing for him to do, so the director says, "Hey Wade...why don't you swing that bat there a few times." I'm sure the director followed this comment up by giving a round of high fives to everyone on his crew.
Moral of the Story: Wade Boggs is a sad old man and if you ever see him in a dark alley asking you for spare change, don't give it to him. Cause he sure as hell aint gonna spend the money on his hair restoration.

P.S.- What happened to Semmy?

what happened to the blog?

I finally cracked and bought myself a camcorder, which I really had no need for. So I bought a Sony DRC-HC85 Mini DV. It only took me 2 days and trips to 5 stores to find one that had a good deal on it.

Initially I went to San Jose to Fry's Electronics just so I could check em out and I started talking to a sales clerk who looked like some bizarro hobbit. I pretty much had my mind made up on the HC65 and then he told me I could get an open box HC85 for the same price. So I decide to buy it. As he rings it up at the register I discover that he lied to me about the price.
Turns out it was 200 dollars more. Normally I wouldn't mind as much, but these salesmen work on commission which likens them to used car salesmen. So I tell him no deal and decide to go check out the iPod accessories at the other end of the store. As I was browsing the little hobbit came running up to me saying he was sorry he was mistaken about the price and that he had accidentally rang up the wrong model. He tells me his manager will even throw in a free bag and a couple mini DV's if I buy it.
So, once again I make the trek across the large store to the camcorder section. This time when Bilbo rings the purchase up its only 25 dollars cheaper then the original total. At this point, the hulk within me was starting to get pissed so I told Bilbo to take the camera and all the accesories and shove it up his ass. Then I stormed away in dramatic fashion.
As I walk out I notice that Miss February 1999 Stacy Fuson had set up an autograph table for the premiere of the new Playboy video game. I started wondering if these ingrates in line still lived with their parents and jerked-off to the naked video game characters.
So anyways I head to a bunch of other stores and decide that I'm not going to get the camera, until I hit Best Buy.
I had a self imposed embargo with this store as I found most of the shit they sell a lot cheaper at any other store. Until, I saw the HC85 camera...which was selling for $775. So after a few minutes of haggling I get the guy to throw in the camera bag. Then I went to Costco and bought the miniDV tapes for half the price of any of the other stores.

Moral of the story: Don't trust a hobbit cause they get hair on their feet by jerking off to video game porn.