Sunday, August 28, 2005
Give a bitch a break, updates coming soon
Thanks to all of you who have sent me email wondering why I have not recently updated RAZZY.org. Now I know there are at least 8 people who rely completely on RAZZY.org as their ultimate source for useless bullshit.
I have not stopped building the site, or seeing bad horror movies, or hating Katie Holmes. I have just been busy with banal shit that isn't worth going into, but everyone can relate to. Specifically, my parents were in town, then I moved, then I had to wait to get my cable internet installed, and then I had assloads of mice to kill at work. As I said, not worth going into.
However, rest assured, next week I'll be BACK. In fact, I'll be launching a new section to RAZZY.org, regaling you all with expert NFL analysis as it pertains to the progress of my fantasy team, called (what else?) the Razzies. Plus I have a couple more reviews coming and some much-awaited Catholic news.
So just hold tight, your wait for more RAZZY is nearly at an end.
I have not stopped building the site, or seeing bad horror movies, or hating Katie Holmes. I have just been busy with banal shit that isn't worth going into, but everyone can relate to. Specifically, my parents were in town, then I moved, then I had to wait to get my cable internet installed, and then I had assloads of mice to kill at work. As I said, not worth going into.
However, rest assured, next week I'll be BACK. In fact, I'll be launching a new section to RAZZY.org, regaling you all with expert NFL analysis as it pertains to the progress of my fantasy team, called (what else?) the Razzies. Plus I have a couple more reviews coming and some much-awaited Catholic news.
So just hold tight, your wait for more RAZZY is nearly at an end.
Friday, August 12, 2005
My parents just blazed into town...
...and the first order of business for my father, Raz-Ma-Taz, was to walk over to my television, and write "dust me" on the screen in (what else?) dust. All I have to say about my housekeeping skills, Dad, is that I learned them from watching you.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
I might be a loser, but at least I can spell
Nothing pisses me off more than assholes who can't spell. Tonight I saw an ad for a movie called The Cave, wanted to confirm that indeed the actor in this movie is Cole Hauser (AKA Ben Affleck's redheaded friend in Dazed and Confused), so I hopped onto IMDB to find out. Cole Hauser is getting work all over the place in the last few years (Pitch Black, Chronicles of Riddick, 2 Fast 2 Furious, Paparazzi, etc.), and he's always playing the generic Action Guy role. Anyway, this career track continues with The Cave, which he is indeed in. As I was checking this out, I noticed the stupid IMDB message boards have people speculating about the creatures in the movie, which are the most generic CGI pieces of shit ever. Clearly The Cave's producers hired the same bored, unmotivated special effects crew responsible for the life-sucking Alone in the Dark. Anyway, some losers with nothing better to do comment on this on the internet, and I am a loser with nothing better to do than read it and in the course of doing so, I found a thread arguing that these boring creatures look like bats. An example of the commentary going on in this forum:
"ill have to agree with either highly evlolved/mutated bats or creatures from the time of the dinos (cant remember how to spell it so i used a smaller version) but not exactly dinos."
You moron, you are computer-literate enough to join an online forum and post dumb shit about shitty movies ad nauseum but you can't figure out how to spell "dinosaurs"???? Most kids can spell "Tyrannosaurus" by the time they can walk. They may never learn, even after years of expensive graduate education, that "a lot" is NOT one word, but everyone can spell "dinosaur."
Even if you don't know offhand how to spell "dinosaur," if you forehead-scratching neanderthals can figure out how to use an internet forum to discuss the "evlolvolution" of chiropterans (better known as bats, for those of you lacking the scientific aptitude of Charles Darwin here) you can figure out this miraculous invention:
Or, since you seem to be able to use a web browser but not those old-timey contraptions called books, maybe dictionary.com would be more your speed. Just type "dino" and see what happens.
"ill have to agree with either highly evlolved/mutated bats or creatures from the time of the dinos (cant remember how to spell it so i used a smaller version) but not exactly dinos."
You moron, you are computer-literate enough to join an online forum and post dumb shit about shitty movies ad nauseum but you can't figure out how to spell "dinosaurs"???? Most kids can spell "Tyrannosaurus" by the time they can walk. They may never learn, even after years of expensive graduate education, that "a lot" is NOT one word, but everyone can spell "dinosaur."
Even if you don't know offhand how to spell "dinosaur," if you forehead-scratching neanderthals can figure out how to use an internet forum to discuss the "evlolvolution" of chiropterans (better known as bats, for those of you lacking the scientific aptitude of Charles Darwin here) you can figure out this miraculous invention:
Or, since you seem to be able to use a web browser but not those old-timey contraptions called books, maybe dictionary.com would be more your speed. Just type "dino" and see what happens.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Big, Beautiful Shitshow
This is a classic example of Smith College's presence on the web (apart from the masterpiece known as RAZZY.org and my friends' artsy websites, of course). It's rare that you find someone who has FACE cellulite, but here you go:
http://www.bigbeautifulblog.com/
I am strongly considering never mentioning that I went to Smith again. The problem here is not only that she was painted liberally with the ugly stick, but she also embodies the worst traits of a Smith girl: self-righteous, pseudo-intellectual, and just plain idiotic.
This bitch's blog actually gets right into "white privilege and 'hidden' racism" by the second paragraph. Nobody cares about your poorly written opinions on this matter, you pompous twat! And don't get into why Dove's "real women" marketing campaign (translation: using Photoshopped fat chicks to sell firming cream to insecure snatches) is exploiting "big beautiful women" like yourself. And most definitely DO NOT tell me about your date with "Jim," undoubtedly your fellow warlock in the Pioneer Valley D&D club. Smith girls continue to astound me with the value they place on their own stupid opinions.
Before you say, "Oh yeah? Well you're a narcissistic, arrogant, sententious asshole, Razzy, where do you get off?," let me remind you that I've never once waxed on about "white privilege" or any other boring, cliched topic that idiots can chatter on in circles about for hours. Nor will I ever. And I certainly would never have a series of blog entries with titles like these:
Previous Posts
Coming Soon... A trip to Lane Bryant to pick out the perfect Ivy Day dress!
A little explanation... We already know. You want it supersized.
No, you're not hallucinating... I really am this unattractive.
Dress in vertical stripes, they make you look thinner
I realized today... that my cobwebby vagina withered and collapsed upon itself from lack of use
Next Semester I'm going to gain 50 pounds and take Queer Studies!
In other news.... I'm also mildly retarded
A Letter... to the reader: I enjoy torturing you with anecdotes from my boring life.
In case you were wondering, yep, this bitch is an Ada (for you non-Smith people, that's "Ada Comstock Scholar", which also means "student of non-traditional age," which also means "cranky uptight bitch who hasn't gotten laid in ten years.") Adas often suffer from delusions of self-grandeur, thinking that they are the center of the universe, when in fact they are as about as exciting as a Smith College Lunadisc ( that's Smith girl for "ultimate Frisbee") tournament. For example:
Sometimes tragic, at other times comic, my life will be recorded, day-to-day, so that you, my darling reader, can travel along my journey through all my experiences with me. It will be a long journey, eventually, so I invite you to take a break, get a cup of coffee, and come back ready to step into my world.
Like this bitch has such an exciting life getting her masters in English at Smith and playing Magic with all her geeky friends that you need to gather all your faculties and load up on caffeine before merely READING about it. Reading this blog is an experience on par with having my feet flogged with canes, eating jagged broken glass, or self-immolation. This Ada's time would be better spent at the gym.
http://www.bigbeautifulblog.com/
I am strongly considering never mentioning that I went to Smith again. The problem here is not only that she was painted liberally with the ugly stick, but she also embodies the worst traits of a Smith girl: self-righteous, pseudo-intellectual, and just plain idiotic.
This bitch's blog actually gets right into "white privilege and 'hidden' racism" by the second paragraph. Nobody cares about your poorly written opinions on this matter, you pompous twat! And don't get into why Dove's "real women" marketing campaign (translation: using Photoshopped fat chicks to sell firming cream to insecure snatches) is exploiting "big beautiful women" like yourself. And most definitely DO NOT tell me about your date with "Jim," undoubtedly your fellow warlock in the Pioneer Valley D&D club. Smith girls continue to astound me with the value they place on their own stupid opinions.
Before you say, "Oh yeah? Well you're a narcissistic, arrogant, sententious asshole, Razzy, where do you get off?," let me remind you that I've never once waxed on about "white privilege" or any other boring, cliched topic that idiots can chatter on in circles about for hours. Nor will I ever. And I certainly would never have a series of blog entries with titles like these:
Previous Posts
Coming Soon... A trip to Lane Bryant to pick out the perfect Ivy Day dress!
A little explanation... We already know. You want it supersized.
No, you're not hallucinating... I really am this unattractive.
Dress in vertical stripes, they make you look thinner
I realized today... that my cobwebby vagina withered and collapsed upon itself from lack of use
Next Semester I'm going to gain 50 pounds and take Queer Studies!
In other news.... I'm also mildly retarded
A Letter... to the reader: I enjoy torturing you with anecdotes from my boring life.
In case you were wondering, yep, this bitch is an Ada (for you non-Smith people, that's "Ada Comstock Scholar", which also means "student of non-traditional age," which also means "cranky uptight bitch who hasn't gotten laid in ten years.") Adas often suffer from delusions of self-grandeur, thinking that they are the center of the universe, when in fact they are as about as exciting as a Smith College Lunadisc ( that's Smith girl for "ultimate Frisbee") tournament. For example:
Sometimes tragic, at other times comic, my life will be recorded, day-to-day, so that you, my darling reader, can travel along my journey through all my experiences with me. It will be a long journey, eventually, so I invite you to take a break, get a cup of coffee, and come back ready to step into my world.
Like this bitch has such an exciting life getting her masters in English at Smith and playing Magic with all her geeky friends that you need to gather all your faculties and load up on caffeine before merely READING about it. Reading this blog is an experience on par with having my feet flogged with canes, eating jagged broken glass, or self-immolation. This Ada's time would be better spent at the gym.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Who needs to steal animals to torture and kill when you can just BUY them?
So yesterday, I was walking the dogs, and on the way back from my walk I decided to duck into the local bodega. Of course, the boys can't be trusted inside the Thrifty Mart, so I tied them up to the little bike rack/fence thing outside. Caesar can keep Chingy! under control for the amount of time it takes for me to trot inside, grab a sixer of PBR, say hello to Johnny (bodega owner) and his cohort of Dominican underlings, pay, and go back outside. Also, because Caesar weighs 110 pounds, is built like a German shepherd, marked like a Rottweiler, and sports a spiky dog collar that would make any dominatrix swoon, he usually repels any would-be dog thieves. I have never worried about leaving them for a minute or so, especially since the store has windows.
I'm about to head into the store to accomplish the aforementioned mission, when some nosy bitch in a Sierra Club shirt comes up and starts lecturing me about leaving my boys alone. She tells me that dog thieves are on the loose. Someone on her street that she barely knew lost a dog to thieves doing just what I was about to do: going into a bodega. These dog thieves, she tells me, are professionals. She offers to watch the dogs for me while I go into the store. I start thinking that maybe she is a dog thief. I am suspicious. But, since the store has windows and she is fat (and therefore slow), I give her my best "fuck off, you meddling tree hugger" look, and say, "whatever," and begin my errand.
When I come back outside, my boys are doing me proud. They hate this imposing snatch. Caesar is pointedly ignoring her, and while she is sticking her pudgy hand in his face, he keeps darting his nose past it to look for me through the store window. Chingy!, while not noticing that I've even gone, is busy trying to fight Max, a large, friendly male boxer from the neighborhood. Chingy! is pissing and sneezing ferociously to overcompensate for his pronounced size disadvantage. Neither want anything to do with their overbearing would-be defender. As I mutter a pointedly insincere thanks and begin to unfasten their leashes.
I notice her silently judging the beer I just purchased, and realize that she has deemed me a bad dog owner. She immediately begins to lecture me again about the danger of leaving my dogs outside, "even if it's just to buy beer." She says the word beer as though I just purchased a six-pack of hell incarnate. Then comes her lame-ass political agenda.
She tells me that the reason dognapping outside bodegas is rampant is because of "medical testing". Little did I know, "medical testing" facilities pay top dollar for domestic pets stolen off the street. "That's funny," I said. "Because I worked for a facility that conducted medical experiments on dogs, and we bred our own Beagles for it. They're tattooed on the ear when they're puppies. That's how you know they're lab dogs."
She looks at me like I had just said that I boiled babies for fun. I decided to continue.
"Yeah, and I still do medical research on animals, but now I work with mice. And I breed my own mice, too. In fact, I play God with my mice and fuck with them genetically. So I can't just use any old mice off the street, I need my special transgenic mice." This is actually all true. "But I always treat them humanely. You know, I always break their necks before I cut them open. They're like ants."
She scolds me, "Just because they're small doesn't mean they don't feel pain!" She looks back and forth between me and my dogs, as though I'm about to go upstairs and vivisect Chingy!. I say, "Oh, I know. That's why I make them sniff glue before I stick a needle into their skull and inject them full of poliovirus. It's kind of like sticking a fire hose into your brain and turning it on. So I let them sniff some glue first. It really disorients them." This is not exactly true, but I figured I'd substitute "glue" for "isoflurane" to really freak her out.
She looks horrified, but it serves her right. That's what she gets for not knowing what she's talking about. If people want animals to experiment on, there are plenty of unwanted dogs and cats available for that if need be. There's certainly not such a severe shortage that stolen pets get "top dollar" on the animal vivisection black market. Furthermore, anyone doing a remotely well-controlled study wouldn't want to introduce the genetic and environmental variables that using random dogs off the street would produce. So to all PETA assholes out there, before you stick your huge schnozz in some humble grad student's (or in my case, arrogant grad student's) business, just remember that we're killing animals just fine without your helpful interference. And my dogs don't like you, either.
I'm about to head into the store to accomplish the aforementioned mission, when some nosy bitch in a Sierra Club shirt comes up and starts lecturing me about leaving my boys alone. She tells me that dog thieves are on the loose. Someone on her street that she barely knew lost a dog to thieves doing just what I was about to do: going into a bodega. These dog thieves, she tells me, are professionals. She offers to watch the dogs for me while I go into the store. I start thinking that maybe she is a dog thief. I am suspicious. But, since the store has windows and she is fat (and therefore slow), I give her my best "fuck off, you meddling tree hugger" look, and say, "whatever," and begin my errand.
When I come back outside, my boys are doing me proud. They hate this imposing snatch. Caesar is pointedly ignoring her, and while she is sticking her pudgy hand in his face, he keeps darting his nose past it to look for me through the store window. Chingy!, while not noticing that I've even gone, is busy trying to fight Max, a large, friendly male boxer from the neighborhood. Chingy! is pissing and sneezing ferociously to overcompensate for his pronounced size disadvantage. Neither want anything to do with their overbearing would-be defender. As I mutter a pointedly insincere thanks and begin to unfasten their leashes.
I notice her silently judging the beer I just purchased, and realize that she has deemed me a bad dog owner. She immediately begins to lecture me again about the danger of leaving my dogs outside, "even if it's just to buy beer." She says the word beer as though I just purchased a six-pack of hell incarnate. Then comes her lame-ass political agenda.
She tells me that the reason dognapping outside bodegas is rampant is because of "medical testing". Little did I know, "medical testing" facilities pay top dollar for domestic pets stolen off the street. "That's funny," I said. "Because I worked for a facility that conducted medical experiments on dogs, and we bred our own Beagles for it. They're tattooed on the ear when they're puppies. That's how you know they're lab dogs."
She looks at me like I had just said that I boiled babies for fun. I decided to continue.
"Yeah, and I still do medical research on animals, but now I work with mice. And I breed my own mice, too. In fact, I play God with my mice and fuck with them genetically. So I can't just use any old mice off the street, I need my special transgenic mice." This is actually all true. "But I always treat them humanely. You know, I always break their necks before I cut them open. They're like ants."
She scolds me, "Just because they're small doesn't mean they don't feel pain!" She looks back and forth between me and my dogs, as though I'm about to go upstairs and vivisect Chingy!. I say, "Oh, I know. That's why I make them sniff glue before I stick a needle into their skull and inject them full of poliovirus. It's kind of like sticking a fire hose into your brain and turning it on. So I let them sniff some glue first. It really disorients them." This is not exactly true, but I figured I'd substitute "glue" for "isoflurane" to really freak her out.
She looks horrified, but it serves her right. That's what she gets for not knowing what she's talking about. If people want animals to experiment on, there are plenty of unwanted dogs and cats available for that if need be. There's certainly not such a severe shortage that stolen pets get "top dollar" on the animal vivisection black market. Furthermore, anyone doing a remotely well-controlled study wouldn't want to introduce the genetic and environmental variables that using random dogs off the street would produce. So to all PETA assholes out there, before you stick your huge schnozz in some humble grad student's (or in my case, arrogant grad student's) business, just remember that we're killing animals just fine without your helpful interference. And my dogs don't like you, either.
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