Tuesday, June 24, 2008
OS X is a fucking pussy
I should rename this website "HatingOnApple Blog" after this week. I thought that between my rants about Coldplay, the Apple Store, and the Genius Bar and TAFKAMA's indictment of the entire brand, the topic of anti-Apple sentiments had been thoroughly explored. However, today while rejoicing in the return of my computer and simultaneously Gchatting with LL Cool Jew, I remembered one other thing I totally despise about being a Mac user.
LL Cool Jew: is it [my freshly repaired computer] working yet?I'm hardly surprised that the Mac marketers in charge of selling new versions of OS X are cat people. I hate cats, and I distrust the motives of people who prefer cats over dogs. Dogs are a species of animal that overflows with loyalty, love, and usefulness, while cats don't give a shit about humans and would probably eat their owners if they could. Choosing cats over dogs signifies a major personality flaw to me. So once again, even though I have my computer back and am happy with its freshly functioning brand new hard drive and keyboard with a working "control" and "øptíön" key, I have to express my stern disapproval for the way those assholes do things in Cupertino. Stupid cat-named operating system-running Macs!
Razzy: yes precious!
Razzy: thank god
Razzy: but i can't transfer my stewpid files
LL Cool Jew: woohoo!
Razzy: from my backup thang
LL Cool Jew: you techie
Razzy: because the "Tiger" OS X that I have now has a stupid inept "Migration Asst"
Razzy: before i used the "Leopard" OS X
LL Cool Jew: tiger
LL Cool Jew: leopard?
Razzy: but i can't install that trash until my PI [boss] gets back from vacation
LL Cool Jew: what is this, kung fu panda?
Razzy: dude another thing to hate about apple
Razzy: they name their various versions of OS X after large jungle catsRazzy: OS 10.1 is "cheetah" or "puma"
Razzy: OS 10.2 is "jaguar"
Razzy: OS 10.3 is "panther"
Razzy: OS 10.4 is "tiger"
Razzy: OS 10.5 is "leopard"
LL Cool Jew: wiggity wack
LL Cool Jew: could they just make One that works?
Razzy: and OS 10.6 is gonna be "snow leopard"
Razzy: SERIOUSLY
LL Cool Jew: i hate how they come out with a better thing every year
Razzy: actually OS X works fine
LL Cool Jew: you can never have teh coolest gadget
Razzy: but this computer is built out of fucking recycled 6-pack rings
Razzy: luckily, my PI is a big Mac ho
Razzy: so i get all the updates without paying
Razzy: but the whole feline theme is definitely another "check minus" against Apple
LL Cool Jew: they should name them after doggers! :)
LL Cool Jew: 10.3 the pugRazzy: YES! CHONGAY!
LL Cool Jew: 10.7 the lhasa apso
LL Cool Jew: 10.8 the dingo
Razzy: although 10.3 would be the laziest operating system ever
LL Cool Jew: 10.9 THE D [the D=LL Cool Jew's perpetually terrified longhaired Chihuahua]Razzy: and THAT would offer NO protection against viruses and spyware
Razzy: and the computer would urinate on you when it crashes
LL Cool Jew: ooooooo
Razzy: that e-mail was RELLAY scaray
LL Cool Jew: the d would be the kewtest operating system ever.
Labels: Apple sucks, CHONGAY CHONG, computer incompetence, doggity style, LL Cool Jew, the D
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Beverly Hills Chihuahua
DOB: September 26, 2008
Occupation: 50% warrior, 50% lover, 100% chihuahua
Hometown: Walt Disney Studios
Current residence: during previews at a theater near you
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Normally kids movies are something I avoid like the plague, since I hate both children and the cutesy storylines that appeal to them. Furthermore, any movie with a talking animal (especially where said talking animal plays an integral role bastardizing the culture and history of a magnificent ancient civilization like the Aztecs) gets a big thumbs down in my book. I also generally avoid movies starring dogs, because there's almost always at least one dog death, and I can't handle that emotionally. I started crying during I Am Legend, and not just because it was a godawful time-squandering piece of trash, but because I just couldn't tolerate watching Will Smith strangle his sweet Caesar-y German Shepherd. I can't even talk about Old Yeller, White Fang, or Where the Red Fern Grows without choking up, and you had better believe that I unplugged the damn TV within watching the first 10 minutes of Amores Perros. In every respect, Beverly Hills Chihuahua seems like the kind of movie I would hate for myriad reasons, which is why I'm so shocked that I kind of want to see it.
Part of the reason for this may be due to the fact that when LL Cool Jew and I were roommates in 2005, I lived with her little long-haired Chihuahua, Dulcinea. Although Dulcinea (aka "the D") is not without her challenges (in particular, frequent medical problems, a tendency to urinate uncontrollably when startled or terror-stricken, and a sneaky habit of furtively shitting on various furniture and/or carpets), she is a very, very sweet, funny little dog and I am extremely fond of her. Obviously, LL Cool Jew is too, since she went and got ANOTHER long-haired wawa, Sergio, to keep the D company. Even if you hate dogs, you can't say that these two aren't pretty fucking cute:
LL Cool Jew told me that when she recently saw the trailer in the theater, she embarrassed her husband BigBagel because she actually started clapping delightedly. While I don't think I'd get so excited as to burst into raucous applauding, I wouldn't be embarrassed by LL's enthusiasm. If she's in New York when that shit drops, I'll go see Beverly Hills Chihuahua with her, even if it means sitting in a theater full of hateful children. After watching the trailer, I'm convinced that this movie might not make me homicidally crazed. In fact, in spite of the fact that it has none of the three elements I consider critical to a good movie (murder, explosions, people getting fucked), and many of the elements I consider terrible (possible dog death, musical numbers, shameless revisionist history) I think I might actually like it.
It's at least got to be more exciting than Beverly Hills CHONGAY, which would be approximately ninety minutes of this:
It's at least got to be more exciting than Beverly Hills CHONGAY, which would be approximately ninety minutes of this:
Labels: CHONGAY CHONG, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, destroy all children, doggity style, LL Cool Jew, movies, the D
Monday, January 28, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Sergio Cool Jew-Bagel
DOB: November 2007
Occupation: being sickeningly cute
Hometown: Covington, Louisiana
Current residence: casa de Cool Jew-Bagel, New Orleans, Louisiana
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I'm not so sick and depraved as to be into bestiality--especially not with puppies--so I don't really want to hit Sergio, but I simply had to weigh in on how FUCKING OBSCENELY, RIDICULOUSLY CUTE LL Cool Jew and BigBagel's new puppy is. I got a call from LL Cool Jew to check my e-mail a while back, and found this letter:
Hi,
My name is Sergio, and I am the newest member of the Cool Jew-Bagel family. I weigh about 2 pounds and like my new big sister, I am a long-hair chihuahua. I am about 9 weeks old and was born in Covington, La.
Here are some pictures of me.
In the first one, I am showing my ability to mug for the camera, or at the very least be really freaked out by that giant human shoving it in my face and making funny noises.
In the second photo, my new sister is showing how excited she is to meet me.
In the third photo, I take my first bath. It sucked.
In the final photo, there I am with the scary but warm lady who keeps making coo-ing noises.
Anyway, nice to meet you! I hope you make it to New Orleans soon to see me in person.Sergio is a hot, fluffy little piece. If my apartment weren't already overrun with dogs, I'd want one of those little 2-pound feather dusters for my very own. For one thing, it would be nice to have a small dog that is actually small (versus one that weighs in at a monstrous THIRTY pounds like Chingy! the Hutt, who is presently putting my feet to sleep and snoring loud enough to sound like a fucking wood chipper...CHONGAY CHONG, Sergio!). For another, I'm just a sucker for cute puppies. I can't wait until Sergio gets to meet his Auntie Razzy. Looks like a trip to New Orleans is in my near future.
-Sergio
Labels: BigBagel, Caese Doggy Dogg, CHONGAY CHONG, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, doggity style, LL Cool Jew, the D
Monday, September 24, 2007
Looks like I started a trend
This weekend, BigBagel e-mailed me to let me know I'm not the only one with a brand new MacBook. He went ahead and demonstrated that he too was capable of using Photo Booth, although because he's not as cool as me he didn't show his tits. Okay, my tits are better than his (it's not like he's a NFL head coach and can outdo me in the rack department), so I can't blame him for being shy. Instead he appropriated his and LL Cool Jew's 5-lb Chihuahua, dainty lady, and urinator extraordinaire Dulcinea to showcase all the fun effects:
Looking at these pictures, I can almost hear LL Cool Jew saying on D's behalf (because we both have voices we do to speak for our dogs, and we are so accomplished in speaking them to each other send each other texts in these dialects), "OHMAHGAWD, Antzi, I look RELLAY weird. I almost look as funky as that asshole Chingy!.
Almost, D. But not quite.
Oh yeah, and there's not really any point to this post except that people (including myself) like to look at pictures of cute dogs. Almost as much as they like to look at bare breasts. But not quite.
Looking at these pictures, I can almost hear LL Cool Jew saying on D's behalf (because we both have voices we do to speak for our dogs, and we are so accomplished in speaking them to each other send each other texts in these dialects), "OHMAHGAWD, Antzi, I look RELLAY weird. I almost look as funky as that asshole Chingy!.
Almost, D. But not quite.
Oh yeah, and there's not really any point to this post except that people (including myself) like to look at pictures of cute dogs. Almost as much as they like to look at bare breasts. But not quite.
Labels: BigBagel, CHONGAY CHONG, doggity style, LL Cool Jew, the D
Thursday, August 30, 2007
My last will and testament
Yesterday, this was on the cover of the finest news publication in the history of print journalism:
Yes, Leona Helmsley left $12 million to her beloved Maltese, Trouble. Trouble helped Leona sell rooms at the Helmsley Hotel by appearing with her in ads extolling Leona's hospitality and dedication to customer service (and that must mean Trouble is damn near as old as Leona when she bit the big one), as well as living up to his name and his mistress's reputation by biting members of the Helmsley housekeeping staff.
In response to this story, Razzyphile El Cyd wanted to know what exactly what I would leave to my treasured mutts. I was just thinking about this because the other night, I had a dream that Chingy! went on tour with Lil' Boosie, and then when I tried to rescue him from the "tour bus" (in the dream it was a cinder block-worthy RV), he got run over and died. I was holding his squashed little Hutt body, looking into those freshly lifeless turbid little eyes, and woke up in tears. Luckily, it was just a dream and Chingy! was snoring away contentedly in his usual spot on my extra pillows, but it did remind me that in spite of all the bitching I do about him, I would be devastated if Chingy! passed on. Obviously if I were to croak, I'd want to ensure that my dogs could, like Trouble, continue living their lavish lives of luxury, so I figured I'd respond to El Cyd's request. Besides, it seems very responsible to have my affairs in order should I meet my untimely demise (you never know...between my haters, stalkers, drug-dealing neighbors, embittered former sex partners, alcoholism, smoking, and dangerous New Yorker habit of jaywalking whenever possible, it could happen).
Unfortunately, unlike Leona, I don't have a lot of spare millions laying around to bequeath to my pets. However, I do have a number of priceless items which my dogs would likely treasure. And by "treasure," I mean "find deliciously chewable." So, without further ado, allow me to order the affairs of my estate:
I, Razzy, a resident of New York, New York, being of sound and disposing mind and memory and over the age of eighteen (18) years or a member of the armed forces of the United States or a member of an auxiliary of the armed forces of the United States or a member of the maritime service of the United States, and not being actuated by any duress, menace, fraud, mistake, or undue influence, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills and Codicils previously made by me.
I. MARRIAGE AND CHILDREN
I am not married (thank God). I am a single parent and have the following children:
Name: Caesar Gaius Octavian Augustus Rasmussen
Date of Birth: October 8, 2001
Name: Chingy! Chin-Chin Chongay Chong Rasmussen
Date of Birth: June 3, 2003
II. EXECUTOR: Owing to her exceptional bond with my d-o-double g's, I appoint LL Cool Jew as Executor of this my Last Will and Testament and provide if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint MillerTime as alternate Executor, as she'll know what to do with all my old sex toys. My Executor shall be authorized to carry out all provisions of this Will and pay my just debts, obligations and funeral expenses.
III. GUARDIAN: In the event I shall die as the sole parent of minor children, then I appoint LL Cool Jew as Guardian of said minor children. If this named Guardian is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Miss Corbutt as alternate Guardian for Caesar, and KatieScarlett as alternate Guardian for Chingy!
IV. SIMULTANEOUS DEATH OF BENEFICIARY: If any beneficiary of this Will, including any beneficiary of any trust established by this Will, shall die within 30 days of my death or prior to the distribution of my estate, I hereby declare that I shall be deemed to have survived such person.
V. BEQUESTS:
I will, give, and bequeath unto the dogs named below, if he or she survives me, the Property described below:
Name: Caesar Gaius Octavian Augustus Rasmussen
Relationship: biological dog
Property: all old Heineken bottle caps littering my desk and floor for the purposes of mastication and amusement, any and all Kongs which may be found under my bed, my comforter for frustrated or enthusiastic humping purposes, any and all partially consumed bones, rawhides, pig ears, or other animal skin-based dog treats which may surface in the course of the Augean stables-caliber cleanup of my apartment, all leftover Beneful, all the cheese and/or pepperoni and/or in my refrigerator, and all the flies that migrate in through my unscreened windows, which provide Caesar great joy as snapping-at targets.
Name: Chingy! Chin-Chin Chongay Chong Rasmussen
Relationship: adopted dog
Property: any and all dirty socks and/or underwear for licking and chewing, any and all remote controls, vibrators, houseplants, household electronics and appliances, CDs, DVDs (including both mainstream and pornographic films), cosmetics, computer and accessories (including flash drive, external DVR, and shitty-ass non-functional HP printer/copier/scanner) asthma inhalers, lighters, feminine hygiene products, Palmer's Cocoa Butter dispensers, stiletto heeled shoes, treasured heirloom crucifixes, wicker baskets shaped like Washington state, Glade plug-ins, digital cameras, or other priceless material for purposes of methodical destruction by snaggle-teeth or grotesquely abbreviated paws, the contents of my kitchen and bathroom garbage cans, and all the knick-knacks on my tchotchky shelf, particularly my Harry Potter replica wand, my Catholic priest Homie doll, and my statue of Kali, Hindu Goddess of Destruction.
Name: Dulcinea Cool Jew-Bagel
Address: New Orleans, Louisiana
Relationship: honorary god-Chihuahua
Property: my great-grandmother's hand-tied rag rug, her preferred indoor shitting spot.
Name: Kylee Razzy
Address: Puyallup, Washington
Relationship: niece
Property: all clean socks, for carrying around the house as suits her
Name: Stretch Fitz-MillerTime
Address: Puyallup, Washington
Relationship: step-dog
Property: my book of IQ tests, in the hopes that he may overcome his developmental disabilities and reach an acceptable level of cognition; my Seahawks 2005 NFC Championship blanket, in hopes that he will have a soft place to recover from head injuries sustained by running into walls
Name: Ilse Fitz-Neo
Address: New York, New York
Relationship: dogsittee
Property: nothing, for reasons that are known to her...okay, fine, it's because she's spoiled enough already and she already has acquired one of Caesar's rope chew toys
VI. ALL REMAINING PROPERTY; RESIDUARY CLAUSE: I give, devise, and bequeath all of the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, of whatever kind and character, and wherever located, to my parents Raz-Ma-Taz and Chicken, provided that my parents survives me. If my parents do not survive me, then I give, devise, and bequeath all of the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, of whatever kind and character, and wherever located, to my children per share, but if any child predeceases me, then his or her share will pass, per share, to his or her lineal descendants, natural or adopted, if any, who survive me; but if there are none, and there won't be, because they are neutered, then his or her share will lapse and pass equally as part of the shares of my other named children; but if none of my named children survives me or leaves a lineal descendant who survives me, then according to the order of intestate succession in the State of New York.
VII. ADDITIONAL POWERS OF THE EXECUTOR: My Executor shall have the following additional powers with respect to my estate, to be exercised from time to time at my Executor's discretion without further license or order of any court:
To take over my blog. No offense to my other contributors, but LL Cool Jew, you're the closest thing to me and I know you'll make sure the useless bullshit stays fresh and as free of grammatical and spelling errors as possible.
VIII. WAIVER OF BOND, INVENTORY, ACCOUNTING, REPORTING AND APPROVAL: My Executor and alternate Executor shall serve without any bond, and I hereby waive the necessity of preparing or filing any inventory, accounting, appraisal, reporting, approvals or final appraisement of my estate. I direct that no expert appraisal be made of my estate unless required by law.
IX. OPTIONAL PROVISIONS: I have placed my initials next to the provisions below that I adopt as part of this Will. Any unmarked provision is not adopted by me and is not a part of this Will.
If any beneficiary to this Will is indebted to me at the time of my death, and the beneficiary evidences this debt by a valid Promissory Note payable to me, then such person's portion of my estate shall be diminished by the amount of such debt. ALR
Any and all debts of my estate shall first be paid from my residuary estate. Any debts on any real property bequeathed in this Will shall be assumed by the person to receive such real property and not paid by my Executor. ALR
I direct that my remains be cremated and that the ashes be manufactured into a fly-ass Lifegem to be mounted in a hot platinum setting according to the wishes of my Executor, who shall proceed to show-stop in the rocks on her wrist like pink lemonade made from my residual carbon. ALR
X. CONSTRUCTION: The term "testator" as used in this Will is deemed to include me as Testator or Testatrix. The pronouns used in this Will shall include, where appropriate, either gender or both, singular and plural.
XI. SEVERABILITY AND SURVIVAL: If any part of this Will is declared invalid, illegal, or inoperative for any reason, it is my intent that the remaining parts shall be effective and fully operative, and that any Court so interpreting this Will and any provision in it construe in favor of survival.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I, Razzy, hereby set my hand to this last Will, on each page of which I have placed my initials, on this 30th day of August, 2007 at my apartment in Sugar Hill, New York, State of New York.
That ought to do it. I'm glad I've now got that grown-up chore out of the way. Suze Orman, bless her lesbish, financially responsible heart, would be so proud of me. Now, if I can only figure out how to manage my investment portfolio (read: the Almond Roca can of change on my dresser), I'll have all my shit together.
In response to this story, Razzyphile El Cyd wanted to know what exactly what I would leave to my treasured mutts. I was just thinking about this because the other night, I had a dream that Chingy! went on tour with Lil' Boosie, and then when I tried to rescue him from the "tour bus" (in the dream it was a cinder block-worthy RV), he got run over and died. I was holding his squashed little Hutt body, looking into those freshly lifeless turbid little eyes, and woke up in tears. Luckily, it was just a dream and Chingy! was snoring away contentedly in his usual spot on my extra pillows, but it did remind me that in spite of all the bitching I do about him, I would be devastated if Chingy! passed on. Obviously if I were to croak, I'd want to ensure that my dogs could, like Trouble, continue living their lavish lives of luxury, so I figured I'd respond to El Cyd's request. Besides, it seems very responsible to have my affairs in order should I meet my untimely demise (you never know...between my haters, stalkers, drug-dealing neighbors, embittered former sex partners, alcoholism, smoking, and dangerous New Yorker habit of jaywalking whenever possible, it could happen).
Unfortunately, unlike Leona, I don't have a lot of spare millions laying around to bequeath to my pets. However, I do have a number of priceless items which my dogs would likely treasure. And by "treasure," I mean "find deliciously chewable." So, without further ado, allow me to order the affairs of my estate:
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF
RAZZY
RAZZY
I, Razzy, a resident of New York, New York, being of sound and disposing mind and memory and over the age of eighteen (18) years or a member of the armed forces of the United States or a member of an auxiliary of the armed forces of the United States or a member of the maritime service of the United States, and not being actuated by any duress, menace, fraud, mistake, or undue influence, do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills and Codicils previously made by me.
I. MARRIAGE AND CHILDREN
I am not married (thank God). I am a single parent and have the following children:
Name: Caesar Gaius Octavian Augustus Rasmussen
Date of Birth: October 8, 2001
Name: Chingy! Chin-Chin Chongay Chong Rasmussen
Date of Birth: June 3, 2003
II. EXECUTOR: Owing to her exceptional bond with my d-o-double g's, I appoint LL Cool Jew as Executor of this my Last Will and Testament and provide if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint MillerTime as alternate Executor, as she'll know what to do with all my old sex toys. My Executor shall be authorized to carry out all provisions of this Will and pay my just debts, obligations and funeral expenses.
III. GUARDIAN: In the event I shall die as the sole parent of minor children, then I appoint LL Cool Jew as Guardian of said minor children. If this named Guardian is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Miss Corbutt as alternate Guardian for Caesar, and KatieScarlett as alternate Guardian for Chingy!
IV. SIMULTANEOUS DEATH OF BENEFICIARY: If any beneficiary of this Will, including any beneficiary of any trust established by this Will, shall die within 30 days of my death or prior to the distribution of my estate, I hereby declare that I shall be deemed to have survived such person.
V. BEQUESTS:
I will, give, and bequeath unto the dogs named below, if he or she survives me, the Property described below:
Name: Caesar Gaius Octavian Augustus Rasmussen
Relationship: biological dog
Property: all old Heineken bottle caps littering my desk and floor for the purposes of mastication and amusement, any and all Kongs which may be found under my bed, my comforter for frustrated or enthusiastic humping purposes, any and all partially consumed bones, rawhides, pig ears, or other animal skin-based dog treats which may surface in the course of the Augean stables-caliber cleanup of my apartment, all leftover Beneful, all the cheese and/or pepperoni and/or in my refrigerator, and all the flies that migrate in through my unscreened windows, which provide Caesar great joy as snapping-at targets.
Name: Chingy! Chin-Chin Chongay Chong Rasmussen
Relationship: adopted dog
Property: any and all dirty socks and/or underwear for licking and chewing, any and all remote controls, vibrators, houseplants, household electronics and appliances, CDs, DVDs (including both mainstream and pornographic films), cosmetics, computer and accessories (including flash drive, external DVR, and shitty-ass non-functional HP printer/copier/scanner) asthma inhalers, lighters, feminine hygiene products, Palmer's Cocoa Butter dispensers, stiletto heeled shoes, treasured heirloom crucifixes, wicker baskets shaped like Washington state, Glade plug-ins, digital cameras, or other priceless material for purposes of methodical destruction by snaggle-teeth or grotesquely abbreviated paws, the contents of my kitchen and bathroom garbage cans, and all the knick-knacks on my tchotchky shelf, particularly my Harry Potter replica wand, my Catholic priest Homie doll, and my statue of Kali, Hindu Goddess of Destruction.
Name: Dulcinea Cool Jew-Bagel
Address: New Orleans, Louisiana
Relationship: honorary god-Chihuahua
Property: my great-grandmother's hand-tied rag rug, her preferred indoor shitting spot.
Name: Kylee Razzy
Address: Puyallup, Washington
Relationship: niece
Property: all clean socks, for carrying around the house as suits her
Name: Stretch Fitz-MillerTime
Address: Puyallup, Washington
Relationship: step-dog
Property: my book of IQ tests, in the hopes that he may overcome his developmental disabilities and reach an acceptable level of cognition; my Seahawks 2005 NFC Championship blanket, in hopes that he will have a soft place to recover from head injuries sustained by running into walls
Name: Ilse Fitz-Neo
Address: New York, New York
Relationship: dogsittee
Property: nothing, for reasons that are known to her...okay, fine, it's because she's spoiled enough already and she already has acquired one of Caesar's rope chew toys
VI. ALL REMAINING PROPERTY; RESIDUARY CLAUSE: I give, devise, and bequeath all of the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, of whatever kind and character, and wherever located, to my parents Raz-Ma-Taz and Chicken, provided that my parents survives me. If my parents do not survive me, then I give, devise, and bequeath all of the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, of whatever kind and character, and wherever located, to my children per share, but if any child predeceases me, then his or her share will pass, per share, to his or her lineal descendants, natural or adopted, if any, who survive me; but if there are none, and there won't be, because they are neutered, then his or her share will lapse and pass equally as part of the shares of my other named children; but if none of my named children survives me or leaves a lineal descendant who survives me, then according to the order of intestate succession in the State of New York.
VII. ADDITIONAL POWERS OF THE EXECUTOR: My Executor shall have the following additional powers with respect to my estate, to be exercised from time to time at my Executor's discretion without further license or order of any court:
To take over my blog. No offense to my other contributors, but LL Cool Jew, you're the closest thing to me and I know you'll make sure the useless bullshit stays fresh and as free of grammatical and spelling errors as possible.
VIII. WAIVER OF BOND, INVENTORY, ACCOUNTING, REPORTING AND APPROVAL: My Executor and alternate Executor shall serve without any bond, and I hereby waive the necessity of preparing or filing any inventory, accounting, appraisal, reporting, approvals or final appraisement of my estate. I direct that no expert appraisal be made of my estate unless required by law.
IX. OPTIONAL PROVISIONS: I have placed my initials next to the provisions below that I adopt as part of this Will. Any unmarked provision is not adopted by me and is not a part of this Will.
If any beneficiary to this Will is indebted to me at the time of my death, and the beneficiary evidences this debt by a valid Promissory Note payable to me, then such person's portion of my estate shall be diminished by the amount of such debt. ALR
Any and all debts of my estate shall first be paid from my residuary estate. Any debts on any real property bequeathed in this Will shall be assumed by the person to receive such real property and not paid by my Executor. ALR
I direct that my remains be cremated and that the ashes be manufactured into a fly-ass Lifegem to be mounted in a hot platinum setting according to the wishes of my Executor, who shall proceed to show-stop in the rocks on her wrist like pink lemonade made from my residual carbon. ALR
X. CONSTRUCTION: The term "testator" as used in this Will is deemed to include me as Testator or Testatrix. The pronouns used in this Will shall include, where appropriate, either gender or both, singular and plural.
XI. SEVERABILITY AND SURVIVAL: If any part of this Will is declared invalid, illegal, or inoperative for any reason, it is my intent that the remaining parts shall be effective and fully operative, and that any Court so interpreting this Will and any provision in it construe in favor of survival.
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I, Razzy, hereby set my hand to this last Will, on each page of which I have placed my initials, on this 30th day of August, 2007 at my apartment in Sugar Hill, New York, State of New York.
That ought to do it. I'm glad I've now got that grown-up chore out of the way. Suze Orman, bless her lesbish, financially responsible heart, would be so proud of me. Now, if I can only figure out how to manage my investment portfolio (read: the Almond Roca can of change on my dresser), I'll have all my shit together.
Labels: Caese Doggy Dogg, CHONGAY CHONG, doggity style, family matters, intentional buffoonery, KatieScarlett, large exclamatory font, LL Cool Jew, MillerTime, Miss Corbutt, Razzification, the D
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Anyone up for a little hog-dogging?
There has been a great deal of turmoil in the Cool Jew-Bagel household about the recent Michael Vick dog fighting scandal. LL Cool Jew, like me, is a great lover of Canis familiaris, and was appalled when Atlanta Dirrty Birds quarterback Michael Vick was busted for letting his cousins run a dog fighting pit at one of his houses.
We both have voices we use when speaking for our dogs, and she assumed her Dulcinea voice (Dulcinea, AKA "the D", is her long-haired Chihuahua) when explaining it to me: "Ohmahgawd, Antzi, that Michael Vick is a rellay big asshole. I hate those dog pits, they're RELLAY scaray." I responded with a concurrent-sounding "CHONGAY!" and we continued discussing it in the guise of our dogs.
A couple days ago, I noticed a news story about Redskins running back Clinton Portis and tackle Chris Samuels questioning (and giggling about, in Samuels's case) why dog fighting is even a crime. Portis stated:
BigBagel replied with the following e-mail, which managed to cover all bases concerning dog fighting in the Dirrty and incorporate his standard grousing about the New York Giants:
From: BigBagel (bigbagel@pulitzerprizewinningdirrtydirrtynewspaper.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE: that michael vick is RELLAY an asshole
laurel, ms, is in the free state of jones county, so named because they voted to secede from the great state of mississippi during reconstruction because they thought state leaders were too "liberal" or wussy or some combination of the two. ll cool jew regularly writes stories from there. and yes, dog fighting is probably quite prevalent there, along with moonshine, pickled pork butt and incest.
in south mississippi, hog-dogging is much more popular than dog fighting. here it is best described by wikipedia:
"In a typical match the hog is released into a pen with one or more dogs who attempt to subdue it. In more violent versions of the sport, specially trained "catch dogs" try to bring down the hog by biting and dragging. Occasionally the dogs are outfitted with chest armor, but major injuries to both animals are common in any case. Hog dogging as a sport developed from the training of specialist boar-hunting dogs."
HOG-DOGGING?!?! I had no idea that there were these sorts of excuses for illegal gambling in the form of interspecies mortal combat going on, but now that I know they do, I'm hardly surprised that it's a favorite form of entertainment in Southern Miss. Hog-dogging sounds like some kind of difficult to achieve, yet gratifying and extremely lowbrow sexual position. For example, if (insert friend's name here) asked me, "Hey, Razzy, was that guy you took home last night any good in bed?", I'd reply, "Yeah, he was dirty! No boring missionary position there; he hog-dogged my ass all night. While we watched Interracial Hog-Dogging 7."
if i were a betting man, i'd say that a) clinton portis had his ass chewed out by team management for flying off the handle like that and b) he meant everything he said.
of course, this is how monsieur portis likes to appear during press conferences.
http://www.clintonportis.com/characters.html
my personal favorite is "Angel of Southeast Jerome."
he has numerous "characters" that change throughout the season. that has done nothing to improve the redskins record, though, as the giants, even under the stewardship of FAS Manning [RAZZY EDIT: FAS=fetal alcohol syndrome], have done better every year portis has been a hog save last year.
As a woman who spends four months a year obsessing over the NFL season, and the remaining eight months obsessively counting days until the NFL season will start, I am well acquainted with Clinton Portis's schizophrenic press conference antics. My personal favorite Clinton Portis personality is Sheriff Gonna Getcha, although Kid Bro Sweets, Dr. I Don't Know, and Dolla Bill (L to R) also have their debonair charm:
BigBagel is absolutely right about him, and anyone who drafted him for their fantasy team in recent seasons can attest to that. Clearly he's spending too much time at Ricky's shopping for wigs and novelty sunglasses and acting as an apologist for animal cruelty, and not nearly enough time trying to figure how to get the ball into the end zone without sustaining some type of bullshit injury. Or maybe his mind is on hog-dogging more than his multi-million dollar NFL contract.
[RAZZY NOTE: My apologies for continuing to let my friends write most of my blog via e-mails they send to me. Since I've spent the past couple days working my fucking tits off and nobody wants to hear about that, I can't really think about anything to write about besides the funny correspondence my friends send me. My inner monologue currently is a litany of "fuck grad school", "fuck rhinovirus 1A", "fuck mice", "fuck PCR", "fuck cloning", "fuck 293T cells", "fuck lentiviruses", "fuck the flow cytometer", "fuck human intercellular adhesion molecule-1", "fuck dendritic cells", and "fuck I want some alcohol." In fact, the only reason I have time to write anything at all is because I'm spending an hour glued to the flow cytometer (or FACS, as it's colloquially known--"FACS" is to "flow cytometer" what "Band-Aid" is to "adhesive bandage") waiting for my cells to run through it. Although this instrument has the Arthurian-sounding name of "FACSCalibur" it's not remotely as thrilling as pulling a sword from a stone, questing for the Holy Grail, or bringing mad drama because your slutbag of a wife is banging Lancelot. Therefore, I can covertly blog in between acquiring data, but I can't focus all my attention on creating premium useless bullshit. So I'm sure I'll think of something more exciting to discuss in the next couple days, but for now this will have to do.]
We both have voices we use when speaking for our dogs, and she assumed her Dulcinea voice (Dulcinea, AKA "the D", is her long-haired Chihuahua) when explaining it to me: "Ohmahgawd, Antzi, that Michael Vick is a rellay big asshole. I hate those dog pits, they're RELLAY scaray." I responded with a concurrent-sounding "CHONGAY!" and we continued discussing it in the guise of our dogs.
A couple days ago, I noticed a news story about Redskins running back Clinton Portis and tackle Chris Samuels questioning (and giggling about, in Samuels's case) why dog fighting is even a crime. Portis stated:
"I don't know if he was fighting dogs or not," Portis said. "But it's his property; it's his dogs. If that's what he wants to do, do it."I e-mailed the story to them, along with a query about the location of Laurel, MS and whether or not either had witnessed the alleged prevalence of dog fighting there.
Portis said dog fighting is a "prevalent" part of life.
Portis, a native of Laurel, Mississippi, added: "I know a lot of back roads that got a dog fight if you want to go see it. But they're not bothering those people because those people are not big names. I'm sure there's some police got some dogs that are fighting them, some judges got dogs and everything else."
BigBagel replied with the following e-mail, which managed to cover all bases concerning dog fighting in the Dirrty and incorporate his standard grousing about the New York Giants:
From: BigBagel (bigbagel@pulitzerprizewinningdirrtydirrtynewspaper.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE: that michael vick is RELLAY an asshole
laurel, ms, is in the free state of jones county, so named because they voted to secede from the great state of mississippi during reconstruction because they thought state leaders were too "liberal" or wussy or some combination of the two. ll cool jew regularly writes stories from there. and yes, dog fighting is probably quite prevalent there, along with moonshine, pickled pork butt and incest.
in south mississippi, hog-dogging is much more popular than dog fighting. here it is best described by wikipedia:
"In a typical match the hog is released into a pen with one or more dogs who attempt to subdue it. In more violent versions of the sport, specially trained "catch dogs" try to bring down the hog by biting and dragging. Occasionally the dogs are outfitted with chest armor, but major injuries to both animals are common in any case. Hog dogging as a sport developed from the training of specialist boar-hunting dogs."
HOG-DOGGING?!?! I had no idea that there were these sorts of excuses for illegal gambling in the form of interspecies mortal combat going on, but now that I know they do, I'm hardly surprised that it's a favorite form of entertainment in Southern Miss. Hog-dogging sounds like some kind of difficult to achieve, yet gratifying and extremely lowbrow sexual position. For example, if (insert friend's name here) asked me, "Hey, Razzy, was that guy you took home last night any good in bed?", I'd reply, "Yeah, he was dirty! No boring missionary position there; he hog-dogged my ass all night. While we watched Interracial Hog-Dogging 7."
if i were a betting man, i'd say that a) clinton portis had his ass chewed out by team management for flying off the handle like that and b) he meant everything he said.
of course, this is how monsieur portis likes to appear during press conferences.
http://www.clintonportis.com/characters.html
my personal favorite is "Angel of Southeast Jerome."
he has numerous "characters" that change throughout the season. that has done nothing to improve the redskins record, though, as the giants, even under the stewardship of FAS Manning [RAZZY EDIT: FAS=fetal alcohol syndrome], have done better every year portis has been a hog save last year.
As a woman who spends four months a year obsessing over the NFL season, and the remaining eight months obsessively counting days until the NFL season will start, I am well acquainted with Clinton Portis's schizophrenic press conference antics. My personal favorite Clinton Portis personality is Sheriff Gonna Getcha, although Kid Bro Sweets, Dr. I Don't Know, and Dolla Bill (L to R) also have their debonair charm:
[RAZZY NOTE: My apologies for continuing to let my friends write most of my blog via e-mails they send to me. Since I've spent the past couple days working my fucking tits off and nobody wants to hear about that, I can't really think about anything to write about besides the funny correspondence my friends send me. My inner monologue currently is a litany of "fuck grad school", "fuck rhinovirus 1A", "fuck mice", "fuck PCR", "fuck cloning", "fuck 293T cells", "fuck lentiviruses", "fuck the flow cytometer", "fuck human intercellular adhesion molecule-1", "fuck dendritic cells", and "fuck I want some alcohol." In fact, the only reason I have time to write anything at all is because I'm spending an hour glued to the flow cytometer (or FACS, as it's colloquially known--"FACS" is to "flow cytometer" what "Band-Aid" is to "adhesive bandage") waiting for my cells to run through it. Although this instrument has the Arthurian-sounding name of "FACSCalibur" it's not remotely as thrilling as pulling a sword from a stone, questing for the Holy Grail, or bringing mad drama because your slutbag of a wife is banging Lancelot. Therefore, I can covertly blog in between acquiring data, but I can't focus all my attention on creating premium useless bullshit. So I'm sure I'll think of something more exciting to discuss in the next couple days, but for now this will have to do.]
Labels: assholes, BigBagel, correspondence, crime and punishment, Dirrty Dirrty, doggity style, NFL football, the D
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The smallest member of the wedding party
My dear friend LL Cool Jew is marrying BigBagel next spring, and thankfully, they're not going to do it on some post-Katrina reconstruction casino barge in the Dirrty Dirrty. In fact, I was excited to hear that they are doing it here on the very island I live on, so I can just hop the A-train in what will undoubtedly be a tastefully slutty bridesmaid outfit. However, that's a few months away. Right now, like all brides-to-be, she is busy planning the many details of the event (aside from the whole stepping on the glass and shouting "mazel tov" thing, which pretty much plans itself). One of these details concerns the tiniest member of the bridal party: Dulcinea, LL's long-haired chihuahua.
Trusting my judgment, LL Cool Jew made a request ("weigh in, sister") for my opinion regarding the outfit the D will be rocking as she alternately tiptoes, shivers with fright, and pisses herself while heading down the aisle.
Should it be the simple bride costume? A drawback of this is that yellow liquids will easily show up on and stain white sparkly chiffon.
Or should she wear a more involved bride outfit, complete with what my friend Neo called "fake fucking Cabbage Patch Kid hands" and a veil? I anticipate that the veil might quickly become a chew toy, or as Dulcinea likes to call them, a "grossie."
Or the more streamlined ring bearer costume, complete with authentic sombrero in tribute to Dulcinea's Mexican heritage? Taco, taco!
I voted for anything, so long as it includes the sombrero. Regardless of what the D is sporting, one thing is for certain: it's going to be REALLY REALLY ridiculously adorable.
What do you guys think???
Trusting my judgment, LL Cool Jew made a request ("weigh in, sister") for my opinion regarding the outfit the D will be rocking as she alternately tiptoes, shivers with fright, and pisses herself while heading down the aisle.
Should it be the simple bride costume? A drawback of this is that yellow liquids will easily show up on and stain white sparkly chiffon.
Or should she wear a more involved bride outfit, complete with what my friend Neo called "fake fucking Cabbage Patch Kid hands" and a veil? I anticipate that the veil might quickly become a chew toy, or as Dulcinea likes to call them, a "grossie."
Or the more streamlined ring bearer costume, complete with authentic sombrero in tribute to Dulcinea's Mexican heritage? Taco, taco!
I voted for anything, so long as it includes the sombrero. Regardless of what the D is sporting, one thing is for certain: it's going to be REALLY REALLY ridiculously adorable.
What do you guys think???
Labels: Dirrty Dirrty, doggity style, holy fucking matrimony, LL Cool Jew, the D
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