Date Archives March 2007

Oh, Disney, you’re perverted!

Apparently when Robo-Walt is not busy devouring delicious Cuban children, he’s encouraging his artists and product developers to, ahem, plumb the depths of the human soul and mine the popularity of what is one of the internet’s most infamous photographs. This is then marketed to children. Will the children of tomorrow grow up in a land where anal stretching is not only accepted but EMBRACED? Shudder to think!

Stare intently at Mickey’s brown eye and say cheese! 000k7sf8 It really could use a less contented facial expression and more stretching action. Personally speaking, of course. s640x480

I like that none of the girls will go in it. Boys love Goatse action instinctively. I can’t believe that at no point during the design and construction of the ride did anybody say, “Hold it guys…don’t you think it looks a bit like you’re climbing into Obelix’s ass?”…or at least, nobody thought that might not be in especially good taste.

It is now my life’s dream to get my picture taken on that ride.


I escaped my murderous fate/watery grave this weekend due to a number of rather clever rules steadfastly adhered to on my part, based on my horror movie expertise.

At all times, I had a puppy galavanting in front of me, a small child strapped to the back of my neck, and two virgins handcuffed to a short length of chain on either side. In addition to protecting me from a grisly hack-and-slash death, it was also kind of sexy. The virgin part, anyway. Especially during showers. I DID say ‘at all times’ and I’m all too aware of shower-stabbing scenes to allow my virgins to wait outside. The puppy and baby, however, guarded the shower curtain, because no one likes the smell of wet dog, and I don’t want the baby to interrupt Sexy Time. Not TOO much Sexy Time, though, as otherwise it defeats the purpose of having virgins chained to me in the first place.

Also, just for this weekend, I stopped wearing gloves made of butter, just in case I needed to start my car in a hurry and couldn’t be bothered with fumbling and dropping my keys multiple times in my rush to escape.

And look! I ended up not being murdered. Obviously my plan worked. Do not argue and attempt to tell me that is specious reasoning, because I will wave my un-murdered hand at you and loudly proclaim “BAH!”

What does the ‘V’ stand for? Very. And the I? Important. And just one more question– PERSON.

Amy won a radio contest which gets us in as VIPs at The South Sound Garage’s grand opening in Tacoma tonight. Considering that one of the bands playing tonight has a name that references fisting, it’s sure to be a classy, classy evening.

Still, it’s not often that either one of us are treated like VIPs, so I’m guessing that being a VIP at a shithole is better than sitting at home doing nothing. If I remember to charge my camera battery, I’ll try to get some pictures of our moment in the sun…er, dark bar. I can definitely feel my freak magnet charging in anticipiation.

Yesterday, I realized I’d gotten the VIP treatment from some scumbag who took it upon himself to break into my mailbox. Note to scumbag: There’s nothing good in there. Unless you want a copy of Entertainment Weekly and REALLY like those coupons that come on the back of the ‘Have you seen this child’ bulletins (aka ‘This child is already in someone’s fuck cellar’ announcements), there’s nothing you could possibly want in there. I don’t recieve bank statements in the mail. Amy doesn’t even have a bank account. And if you’re breaking into my mailbox because you want to pay my utility bills, I will happily share the amounts and dates they need to be paid by without you even making the EFFORT of taking out the hammer. Really!