About eighteen years ago, there was a glut of young women choosing names such as “Cody”, “Dakota”, or “Colton” for their soon-to-be-born male children. My immediate reaction to this was to lash out at these ignorant youngsters and inform them that they were not about to acquire a new puppy.
Naming a child “Colton” is damn near child abuse in my book. I predicted that “in eighteen years you’re going to be reading about an awful lot of Codys in the paper”, and that they would most likely grow into miscreants. Unfortunately, my prediction turned out to be all too true.
First of all, cats suck. This statement may ostracize me from my sister and her fiance, who happen to own two cats. Their cats are lovely, but the rest of the species can just go to hell. And by “go to hell” I mean we should gather up every cat on the planet and shoot them to Mars in a rocket. Hopefully NASA will screw up the coordinates and instead of “Cats on Mars” it will be “Cats Trying to Figure Out What to do in the Depths of Outerspace”.
First of all, what kind of cruelty is it to name your kid Chris Christie? The guy sounds like a fairy who sprinkles pixie dust on you so you can go fly away to Never Never Land. I remember in elementary school I had a kid in my class named Thomas Thompson, and he used to get the crap beaten out of him all the time on the playground. By GIRLS. I hope at some point old Tommy changed it to something a little less ridiculous. So he actually had a chance of getting laid at some point in his life.
Apparently, a Qatari diplomat tried to have a smokey smoke in the bathroom on his flight from Washingtion to Denver, and when confronted about the smell of smoke by a stewardess and a US Marshall he made a joke that he was “trying to light his shoe on fire.”
I used to travel a lot for work, mostly to places that were far, far away. I’d end up on a 6am flight out of NYC, which means I’d be heading to the airport around 4:15am. The car that would pick me up to take me to the airport would ALWAYS have 1010wins playing on the radio. (For those that don’t live in NYC, it’s the local news radio station that updates random crap you could care less about every 10 minutes. Hence the name.) These days, sans travel, if I’m up early in the morning I can actually hear the 1010wins jingle running through my head. I usually check out their website because they have a column called “Strange but True”. I love things like that, and I look forward to the column everyday, because it always is strange…but true.
My favorite news story of the week: Jesse James has affairs with 4 women, possibly as high as 11.
If I were Sandra Bullock, I’d be scrubbing my vagina with a brillo pad and raiding CVS of all the fungacide on their shelves. I might even take a bath in paint thinner and then hose myself off with molten lava. Have you seen some of the women this guy hooked up with? If Sandra ends up with anything less than 4 STDs, I think she should thank God for being kind.
Every child of the 80s, and many of the 90s, knows of Cary Elwes. Maybe you didn’t know how to spell his name correctly. That’s ok. I only just learned how to spell it, and I still don’t think I pronounce it correctly. I turn the “w” of his last name into some sort of mumbled “long u” sound, and hope for the best. Actually, I think I do that for most British actors and actresses.
As the years start to whiz by faster (not fast enough until I can retire), I am trying very hard to look for some kind of sign that better times are just around the corner. A happy ending is waiting to unfold and I can stroll off into the sunset and know I have lived a rewarding and meaningful life.
Yes, you have heard right. Throughout the universe there live a small, but virile, population of heterosexual men who need to watch the Twilight Saga’s latest besmirchment of the classic vampire movie, New Moon. These aren’t the normal “I have to watch it because my girlfriend/wife wants to see it”, either. That is an obvious group of men which have been around for ages, since the first man fell asleep at an opera house, or a Barbra Streisand concert, or a cave drawing exhibition.
I have never been fond of monkeys. As a matter of fact, I have thought of them as evil creatures ever since my childhood. They share a special place in my psyche with clowns, cats, and carnies. They just scare the piss out of me.
So coming across stories that serve to compound this view never helps matters.