Monday, January 07, 2008
Recipe for a perfect Saturday
1. Wake up. Note time.
2. Masturbate. Take tonsil meds. Haul sorry ass out of bed.
3. Shower and get ready while watching the Saturday morning lineup of "Beverly Hills, 90210" on SoapNet. Get excited because they are showing the episode where Dylan's dad, disgraced crooked financier Jack McKay AKA Roman from "Days of our Lives", gets blowed up in a car bomb. Of course, it turns out in six years that Jack McKay actually just faked his death to enter the witness protection program, and that sends Dylan spiraling out of control once again into the substance abuse drama that has tormented him throughout his brooding, privileged life, but that's another story. The scene where Jack McKay supposedly explodes is awesome because it features many shots of Luke Perry screaming "DAAAAAAAD!!!!! WHHYYYYYYYYY?!" like Nancy Kerrigan.
4. Walk dogs.
5. Go to JerseyGirl's apartment.
6. Watch three episodes of "Beverly Hills, 90210" season three with JerseyGirl, Senioritis, Rack, and FalloniusMonk. Make fun of when Brenda pretends to be French to impress Dean Cain. Get hot and bothered about the sexual tension between Dylan and Kelly. Laugh hysterically when Donna Martin says things like, "Je suis AMERICAN. And if you don't like it, then too bad!" Eat an awesome club sandwich and fries. Consume Heineken.
7. Go to P.D. O'Hurley's, the bar that is practically downstairs from JerseyGirl's apartment, and meet your (Redskins fan) friend MultipleScorgasms for NFC Wild Card playoff football. Wear your new Julian Peterson Seahawks jersey. Look totally hot. Explain that Jamie Moyer is a beloved former Mariners pitcher when his physically enthusiastic raising of the 12th man flag before the game prompted JerseyGirl to ask, "Dude, why is that guy like totally wildin' out?"
8. WATCH AS THE SEAHAWKS LAY WASTE TO THE REDSKINS. Laugh in MultipleScorgasm's face as this occurs. Convince all your Bev Niner friends--who aren't really paying attention to the game--that they should say things like "Go Seahawks!" at opportune moments. Okay, so there were a few tense minutes in the fourth quarter where things weren't looking so great for Seattle, but I knew they could pull it out and they did. How can you beat Seattle? We have the 12th man. And we have our mighty Sea-Fence.
9. Go back to JerseyGirl's apartment to drink more and watch two more episodes of "Beverly Hills, 90210." Let Senioritis convince you to accompany her back to P.D. O'Hurley's to watch the end of the Pittsburgh-Jacksonville game, because, like T-Pain, she likes the bartender and apparently did him once, she needs a wingman, and she knows that I am always easily persuaded with the prospect of watching football. She planned to work this into free drinks for us.
10. LAUGH AS THE SHITSBURGH STEALERS LOSE! And drink scotch while chatting up some hot fellas watching the game nearby. They showed a surprising lack of obnoxious jackassery considering they were New England fans. One of them said I looked hot in my NOT PINK Seahawks jersey. Truth. I thanked him and conceded that at least I don't hate the Patriots as much as I hate the Stealers. Then I tapped my bottomless reserve of hatred for anyone wearing yellow and black and went off on one of my predictable tirades about the officiating in Super Bowl XL. I then reveled when the Jags smote the Steelers' ruin upon Heinz Field thanks to key plays like this one where Najeh Davenport gets totally owned by Rashean Mathis:
Then I noted that Jack Del Rio is kind of a hot piece. He really works that challenge flag.
Now that he's lost his typical funeral suit with garish Jags-colored tie, I'd hit that. Usually I like a man in a suit, but Jack Del Rio has bad taste in suits and looks stupid wearing them on the sidelines. I appreciate his effort to class it up, but he just doesn't wear a suit well with his giant Motorola headset. It doesn't work. Also, he has a real problem with wearing these Oakleys that are straight out of 1997, and it's not a good look for him. He needs to wear outfits like this leather jacket number more often. It gives him that kind of rugged, middle-aged bad boy dad look that Steve Mariucci used to rock to great effect back when he was tearing his hair out over Joey Harrington's passer rating in Detroit.
Then I polished off the last of my Johnnie Walker, saluting both Jack's good looks and his team's owning of Pittsburgh (who promptly started complaining about the officials ignoring holding penalties committed by the Jaguars...isn't karma a bitch?), and went home.
Unless somehow you figure out a way to make my tonsil feel 100% back to normal and include R. Kelly showing up in a trenchcoat ready to pull a switcheroo and strip for me with a pepperoni pizza and the director's cut of Total Recall, that is about as close as you get to a perfect Saturday: Seattle wins, Pittsburgh loses, and ample Bev Niner in between. Good times. And watch out, Green Bay...because Seattle's going to be kicking some cheesehead ass this coming weekend! Trust!
2. Masturbate. Take tonsil meds. Haul sorry ass out of bed.
3. Shower and get ready while watching the Saturday morning lineup of "Beverly Hills, 90210" on SoapNet. Get excited because they are showing the episode where Dylan's dad, disgraced crooked financier Jack McKay AKA Roman from "Days of our Lives", gets blowed up in a car bomb. Of course, it turns out in six years that Jack McKay actually just faked his death to enter the witness protection program, and that sends Dylan spiraling out of control once again into the substance abuse drama that has tormented him throughout his brooding, privileged life, but that's another story. The scene where Jack McKay supposedly explodes is awesome because it features many shots of Luke Perry screaming "DAAAAAAAD!!!!! WHHYYYYYYYYY?!" like Nancy Kerrigan.
4. Walk dogs.
5. Go to JerseyGirl's apartment.
6. Watch three episodes of "Beverly Hills, 90210" season three with JerseyGirl, Senioritis, Rack, and FalloniusMonk. Make fun of when Brenda pretends to be French to impress Dean Cain. Get hot and bothered about the sexual tension between Dylan and Kelly. Laugh hysterically when Donna Martin says things like, "Je suis AMERICAN. And if you don't like it, then too bad!" Eat an awesome club sandwich and fries. Consume Heineken.
7. Go to P.D. O'Hurley's, the bar that is practically downstairs from JerseyGirl's apartment, and meet your (Redskins fan) friend MultipleScorgasms for NFC Wild Card playoff football. Wear your new Julian Peterson Seahawks jersey. Look totally hot. Explain that Jamie Moyer is a beloved former Mariners pitcher when his physically enthusiastic raising of the 12th man flag before the game prompted JerseyGirl to ask, "Dude, why is that guy like totally wildin' out?"
8. WATCH AS THE SEAHAWKS LAY WASTE TO THE REDSKINS. Laugh in MultipleScorgasm's face as this occurs. Convince all your Bev Niner friends--who aren't really paying attention to the game--that they should say things like "Go Seahawks!" at opportune moments. Okay, so there were a few tense minutes in the fourth quarter where things weren't looking so great for Seattle, but I knew they could pull it out and they did. How can you beat Seattle? We have the 12th man. And we have our mighty Sea-Fence.
9. Go back to JerseyGirl's apartment to drink more and watch two more episodes of "Beverly Hills, 90210." Let Senioritis convince you to accompany her back to P.D. O'Hurley's to watch the end of the Pittsburgh-Jacksonville game, because, like T-Pain, she likes the bartender and apparently did him once, she needs a wingman, and she knows that I am always easily persuaded with the prospect of watching football. She planned to work this into free drinks for us.
10. LAUGH AS THE SHITSBURGH STEALERS LOSE! And drink scotch while chatting up some hot fellas watching the game nearby. They showed a surprising lack of obnoxious jackassery considering they were New England fans. One of them said I looked hot in my NOT PINK Seahawks jersey. Truth. I thanked him and conceded that at least I don't hate the Patriots as much as I hate the Stealers. Then I tapped my bottomless reserve of hatred for anyone wearing yellow and black and went off on one of my predictable tirades about the officiating in Super Bowl XL. I then reveled when the Jags smote the Steelers' ruin upon Heinz Field thanks to key plays like this one where Najeh Davenport gets totally owned by Rashean Mathis:
Then I polished off the last of my Johnnie Walker, saluting both Jack's good looks and his team's owning of Pittsburgh (who promptly started complaining about the officials ignoring holding penalties committed by the Jaguars...isn't karma a bitch?), and went home.
Unless somehow you figure out a way to make my tonsil feel 100% back to normal and include R. Kelly showing up in a trenchcoat ready to pull a switcheroo and strip for me with a pepperoni pizza and the director's cut of Total Recall, that is about as close as you get to a perfect Saturday: Seattle wins, Pittsburgh loses, and ample Bev Niner in between. Good times. And watch out, Green Bay...because Seattle's going to be kicking some cheesehead ass this coming weekend! Trust!
Labels: alcoholism, Bev Niner, comeuppance, FalloniusMonk, JerseyGirl, NFL football, Rack, Razzification, Seahawks, Senioritis, Stealers suck
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Heidi Montag
DOB: September 15, 1986
Occupation: "reality" TV whore, some variety of wannabe singer, some type of glorified receptionist at Bolthouse Productions
Hometown: Crested Butte, Colorado
Current residence: West Hollywood, California
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Frankly, Heidi Montag by any normal sentient being's standard is abysmally stupid. However, when compared to some of her co-stars on "The Hills"--namely Audrina and Whitney--she looks like fucking Einstein. Well, if not Einstein, then at least Doogie Howser, M.D. There was just one thing mitigating her comparatively higher intellect: her relationship with Spencer Pratt. The use of "douchebag" as a pejorative descriptor was invented to describe this fuckwit. I was thoroughly unimpressed when he gave her a big cubic zirconium and proposed to make up for Heidi's choosing him over her relationship with ex-BFF Lauren Conrad. Then, with each passing week, JerseyGirl, HillsYes, Senioritis, and myself would choke on whatever white trash cuisine I was teaching JerseyGirl how to cook as Spencer continued to surpass his own previous demonstrations of skeeziness. Just look at this creep:
Heidi's breaking this engagement means that Spencer is only going to be giving us a serious case of the shudders for a couple episodes this next season before he gets straight kicked to the curb. No more Z-list fame for Spencer (the) Pratt! At least, until he makes an appearance on "To Catch a Predator." So, thank you, Heidi, for coming to your senses and hastening this asshole's exit from the not-really-limelight he is currently enjoying. Just for that, I'd tap her ass hard enough to put some serious fuck-knots in what HillsYes calls her "Texas blowout" hairstyle.
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, HillsYes, JerseyGirl, media whores, Senioritis, sluts, TV
Monday, December 03, 2007
Hills YEAH!
I watch "The Hills" and I'm finally okay with admitting this. It comes on right after "I Love New York 2", and I think I enjoy watching it because it makes me feel like the smartest person on earth compared to the dumb rich slags on this show. JerseyGirl, Senioritis, and HillsYes join me every Monday for a little Monday night reality whore party. I was delighted to prefunk for this joyous occasion today when the following video arrived in my inbox courtesy of JerseyGirl.
Those who have succumbed to the doom that is "The Hills" know two unimpeachable facts: Audrina Partridge may be one of the most vacant, astoundingly stupid people on the planet, and her now ex-boyfriend Justin Bobby is an asshole fucktard with the hygiene of an indigent. He is probably the worst non-physically abusive boyfriend in the world, but Audrina just stares blankly and bares her blinding veneers in the face of his alternately belching and putting her down. I seriously question whether or not Audrina has been lobotomized. She is that fucking mindless.
This video captures the essence of the Audrina-Justin Bobby relationship and the type of intense dialogue which transpires between them on any given episode of "The Hills:"
Mila Kunis doesn't quite have her Audrina glassy stare down, but James Franco captures the true essence of Justin Bobby. The best part is at the end where "Audrina" idly strokes "Justin Bobby's" greasy tresses. It was touching.
Those who have succumbed to the doom that is "The Hills" know two unimpeachable facts: Audrina Partridge may be one of the most vacant, astoundingly stupid people on the planet, and her now ex-boyfriend Justin Bobby is an asshole fucktard with the hygiene of an indigent. He is probably the worst non-physically abusive boyfriend in the world, but Audrina just stares blankly and bares her blinding veneers in the face of his alternately belching and putting her down. I seriously question whether or not Audrina has been lobotomized. She is that fucking mindless.
This video captures the essence of the Audrina-Justin Bobby relationship and the type of intense dialogue which transpires between them on any given episode of "The Hills:"
Mila Kunis doesn't quite have her Audrina glassy stare down, but James Franco captures the true essence of Justin Bobby. The best part is at the end where "Audrina" idly strokes "Justin Bobby's" greasy tresses. It was touching.
Labels: hilarious shit, I LOVE IT, I Love New York, JerseyGirl, Senioritis, TV
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Daily Douchebag: P.D. O'Hurley's
DOB: Established ???--whenevs
Occupation: enabling drunk-ass bitches on a school night
Location: 72nd between Amsterdam and Columbus
Douchebaggery: Normally I sing the praises of any place that serves hooch and gets me drunk. However, thanks to this establishment, I wound up getting home at 3 a.m. Last night, I was supposed to just have a quiet night teaching JerseyGirl how to make tacos (seriously...I had to teach this bitch how to make grilled cheese a couple weeks ago) and watching "I Love New York 2" and "The Hills" with her, HillsYes, and Senioritis. HillsYes was smart, only drank two beers, and bailed after we watched the vacant sack of blinding veneers known as Audrina Partridge finally show a slight glimmer of intelligence (emphasis on SLIGHT...I swear we only watch this show to revel in how astoundingly stupid and vacant these hookers are) in dumping Justin Bobby. That quiet night turned into drinking an entire twelve-pack of Amstel Light, a bottle of chardonnay that Laurie Dhue had given JerseyGirl for Christmas last year when she worked for America's favorite freedom-loving news channel, a sixer of Heineken, and then a 2:00 a.m. visit to P.D. O'Hurley's. I was DRUNK, and frankly, I still might be.
"COME ON!" said Senioritis, when I feebly protested the idea of going to a bar on a Monday night. "Are you Razzy, or what?"
Obviously, that strategy of persuading me to continue drinking regardless of the consequences works every time. I vaguely remember drinking a Bud Light at P.D. O'Hurley's and then turning down some random dude on the street's offer to buy me a hot dog at Gray's Papaya. When I got home, I tripped in my lobby and then dropped my contact lens case in the toilet.
The truth is, I have nobody but myself to blame for my current condition of half-drunk, half-hung over. However, since I like to misplace culpability and dodge responsibility for my own drunken mistakes, it's all P.D. O'Hurley's fault for being there and offering our dumb asses brew dogs in the wee hours on a Monday night. On the bright side, the bartender there who is jocking Senioritis was off that night, so we didn't get free drinks. If free drinks had been in the mix, I can only imagine the considerably graver state I'd be in now. So if you're disappointed because I'm a little duller than normal, you know who to point an accusatory finger at: P.D. O'HURLEY'S!
Labels: alcoholism, Daily Douchebag, JerseyGirl, NYC, Senioritis
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