Me Likey

Not that you care, but I like:

Breakfast tacos. This is a no-brainer in my book. Eggs, cheese, and bacon all wrapped up in a warm tortilla, served in aluminum foil. No silverware needed. You are served best with black coffee.

Black coffee. Oh how you make my mornings go. You are the "do it" juice that my body simply refuses to manufacture on its own. You rule me before 11am. I do not look forward to the headaches you will toss my way once I start experimenting with the idea of severing our morning rendezvous. You are served best with aluminum-wrapped breakfast tacos.

Halloween. I love you for the simple fact that Hallmark has tried, but honestly failed to hijack you, my fondest of pagan holidays. When else can one dress like a Optimus Prime? I LOVE Optimus Prime. Now there's a real leader.

Optimus Prime. That fuckin' guy, robot, whatever, is the total shit. When he transforms from truck to antennae-eared leader of energon cube-wrangling Autobots, his trailer magically disappears. NO ONE else can claim that. Who is badass? O.P. is, that's who.

Jogger's high. Yeah, I know, it is actually Runner's High. But fuck it. My run is a fast walking-kinda-trotting-don't-fuck-up-the-knees type of jog. I'm no Bruce freakin' Jenner, and neither are you. The high feels better than a KB toke followed by a split-case of PBR with your best friend. Now that is high.

Heavy watches. Good heft in a timepiece says: I like sexy time. Drop that featherweight G-Shock and get laid (if by no one but yourself).

Vibrate. I've never heard what my cell phone sounds like, and I don't care to. Whenever I hear other people's phones, my arm makes an involuntary "stabbing" motion. Besides, it brightens my day when you call and it massages my right nut.

Saying “later”. So much better than “good bye”. Do you never plan to see each other again or what? I will see your ass “later”, and we’re both cool with that. “Good bye” is the salutation of a dead man.

Festival beer. I don’t have to carry a heavy-ass igloo to the park. Beer-tickets help me forget that getting drunk costs real money. Getting tanked in public, in the sun, and riding rusty rides manned by two-toothed loons with family trees that don’t branch is more fun than sky diving with the Dali Lama. There’s special dirt in every Solo cup.

Later, likes.

Me No likey

Not that you care, but I dislike:

Q-tips in my ear. Sure, it seams all hygienic and shit to clean that wax from your head-holes. But, the sound it makes… like Styrofoam rubbing against Styrofoam… and so LOUD. My teeth are grinding just thinking about it. Ava makes me do it. She's girly like that.

Sizing convention at Starbucks. Small, medium, and large. That's the deal. Welcome to America. Shut the fuck up about anything else you burnt-bean nazis.

Herpes. Never had it, but I know I wouldn’t like it.

God-rock. Sure, maybe the good lord likes to “rock out” every now and again. Why not? JC might have headlined back in the day. Hell if I know. But if he did, it wouldn’t be to any of that “unto Him” bullshit. Was there something sooo wrong with gospel?

Wisdom teeth. Useless evolution-loophole tagalongs. Piss off and take that appendix with, you no food-grinding, abscessing, jaw crackers.

Parking meters. Didn’t I pay to have this road built? Didn’t I pay to install this meter? Don’t I pay the shmuck’s salary who checks the damn things? Why am I paying just to ensure that I pay for a shitload of other things I don’t care to pay for? In what way is this whole idea constructive or socially productive? Fuck-me-nuts.

Tighty-whities. If I wanted to snuggle any closer to my beloved testicles, I would cut them off and duct-tape them to my forehead.

Mayo. (an issue guaranteed to polarize) For the love of all that is holy. It was invented to cover up the smell and taste of rancid meat. Need I say more? I think Miracle Whip resembles whipped puss.

Festival beer. Luke-warm. Thirty-minute wait to buy tickets, thirty-minute wait to exchange tickets for beer. Always seem to lose stupid tickets. Plastic cup looks used. Half foam. Miller Goddamn Light. $4 per ounce. They only let you buy two at a time. There’s always dirt in it.

Later, dislikes.

Dirty Shame = Dirty Trick

To begin: I enjoy tawdry cinema. I enjoy Monty Python, some of the Troma stuff. Hell, I even like Benny Hill.

But I feel violated by A Dirty Shame.

Oh John Waters, you silly rascal you! If you really wanted to put that much penis into a movie, you should have just made a good piece of porn (like everyone else does)! But no, you got that somewhat curious, and ever-subtle NC-17 (-> Green light: GO!) and you ran like hell with it! And I know exactly what went through your mind when they granted you your wild-card rating: I will bring them nubile and middle aged penises! All hail the love-muscle! Let the media-craving masses eat turgid man-root!

Errr... it certainly caught me, as strangers dangling their ding-a-lings always will, a bit off-guard.

We're all cool with penis around here. I mean, those of us who don't like other peoples' penises: have one of our own, so we see their value. And those with neither said equipment, nor the inclination to view others' said equipment, are aware that the things are somewhat necessary for procreation (not entirely though: Hell-o, Jesus!) and can at least respect them for that purpose. However, I do believe it fair to say that parading them around in a movie might be asking a bit much of an audience, even those familiar with your tendency toward the shocking and obscene (which I personally appreciate). Besides, even pro-penis-viewers are more than likely envisioning the saluting version(s), not the flaccid, mini-trunks you splayed and interspersed through your film.

I seriously feel like you set me up to see random dick. Normally, your films are ridiculous, irreverent chaos and overacting characters that make little or no sense as they cavort and make silly. And that's your theme, man. That's your shtick. And you somehow pull it off every time, slipping another bit of reel silliness into the cult vault. But this Dirty Shame film seems like thin plot designed to get you closer to Johnny Knoxville, and a fantastic opportunity to shower our eyes with relaxed pecker-sticks.

If that was your plan, then you definitely succeeded in half of it (if you also intended, then I hope the Knoxville thing worked out for you too). I haven't seen that many strangers' dicks in my face since that tragic summer of Boot Camp for Aspiring Alter Boys.

ZING! I kid, I kid. I love to poke fun. I poke fun because I love. I poke because I'm fun loving. I'm not funny when I'm poking though. This is going nowhere. I don't need a bunch of grief from aspiring alter boys.

But seriously, Priests creep me out the same way clowns creep everyone else out. They have those outfits with who-knows-what on underneath, you can never really tell what they do for money, they like kids a little too much, and they all follow a solitary ring-leader who heads what appears to be little more than jacked-up circus.

Whoa, is that lightning? Sheez.

Man, I hope hell has valet parking.

'Cause I'll need a job.

To end: Waters, I am calling you on your dirty dick-trick. Bygones. Maybe I'll park your car when you visit. But don't bother tipping me. Word.

Will Ferrell: comic hero of our time.

Honestly, I don't know what it is about this guy that makes him such a hoot to me. Honestly, I don't why I used the word "hoot", either.

Ferrell's "Bush pushes the vote"

Goddamn that's entertaining. I almost pissed myself watching that at work. His Bush impression is more campy than parody purist would hope, but he's gearing it more toward potty-humorists than he is diehard satirists. Makes sense then, that I would gravitate toward it. "Low-brow" would be the name of my favorite Jeopardy category (my one fighting chance at some intellectual dosh).

Apple even let's him get away with claiming porn.

Yes, Parfait and porn. Oh, and poop. That all meshes well with Apple. Apple dessert and porn? Sure, why not? Funny mutherplucker.

If it weren't for Ferrell, Old School might have sucked a bit harder. As it stands, he propped up a good portion of the comedy within that flick, and the comedy was what was supposed to carry the plot through. Anyone who goes against that would do best to remind themselves of the injection scene: "You're crazy man, I love you, but you're crazy..." followed by the side-swiping of hapless toddlers as he stammered his slow-mo way into the pool to sink, eyes wide open. "Hello Darkness my old friend..." Anyone could write that, but only Will could pull it off. He killed it, and it made me weep aloud in the theatre.

Face it. He made that movie. He better not go the Hartman route. But then again, no one is as funny as Phil was... is...

Damn you Will Ferrell!

Team nic, and their rivals

Now here's a big ol' "fuck you" to all the safety nazis out there.

Check fella out:

Old man tobacco finds self once more

Now I am not trying to say that smoking is a good thing. Really, I would prefer to avoid qualifying the qualities of smoking. Good, bad, irritating, relaxing, addicting, comforting, whatever. But as a smoker, I cannot help but feel a slight grin pouring over my face as I read (and re-read) the headline. Being a smoker who is willing to commit this "tyranny" against all who are "pure in health", I tend to smoke in public, in front of strangers and strange people.

This puts me in the line of fire for every goddamned cooky-dumbass and ill-educated soccer-mom who is obviously unimpressed with their own existence and feels it their right, no, RESPONSIBILITY to repeat to me what I can already plainly read on the side of the box of cancer sticks I purchased not but two days earlier. Yes, we all know it is bad for you. Yes, the Surgeon General has some empirically valid points. Yes, it causes health issues. Yes, we will all die of something someday. No, smoking outdoors will not kill harmless passers-by (I repeat, with clarification: NO, IT WILL NOT HURT YOU ANY MORE THAN YOUR BREATHING WHILE SITTING IN TRAFFIC ON THE WAY TO YOUR ASBESTOS-RIDDEN PLACE OF BUSINESS). No, OBL is not supported directly by my nicotine addiction, now move along you dupe. For the love of all that is holy, will you please piss-off? If it is so reprehensible to you, why come so close to bother me about it? Get your babies away from the smoker! Jesus.

It never ceases to amaze me how many strangers will take it upon themselves to let you know that you are killing yourself. What other activity could a person do that would make this form of privacy-violation acceptable? B.A.S.E. jumping? Running for president? Public flatulence? I see smoking as more akin to eating Fritos and Miracle Whip everyday. More of a personal mistake than something inviting public critique. Everyone knows mayo-Frito diet has both long and short-term quality-of-life reducing qualities, and will eventually (through obesity related healthcare) cost the whole population money to treat. Half the state of Michigan does that publicly (most add sausage to said diet), and no one says a thing. To each their own. But if they light up a cig too... Then it is ON. Apparently.

Those who have just quit smoking have been the worst I've met so far. They've "seen the light", and feel that their experience and revelation should serve as reason enough for you, as ignorant smoker, to join their crusade against that which they believe so thoroughly that they should hate... yet they are constantly fighting their urge to re-indulge in. Like a recently-made-paraplegic pimp trying to preach abstinence, it all comes off as ill-placed haterism. Just a bunch of well-if-I-can't-then-no-one-can logic gone evangelical, and in my face. Almost as if they are berating me in the physical, but lecturing themselves in the mental realm. Because lecturing themselves out loud about the evils of their own addiction(s) would be "bat-shit loon-ball", but lecturing (reminding) me about my (their own) habits is somehow "helpful". Please save me the soapbox, and that will be favor enough.

If I believed they truly meant well, then I'd probably leave it alone. But honestly, it just looks like a bunch of useless axe-grinding, and a waste of my time. And a waste of a good smoke. Just like this entry.

Damn you nicotine!