Thursday, August 14, 2008

Blah Blah Blog

I have to be honest, folks. Frequent blogging freaks me the fuck out because every time I finish a post I’m happy with it means dick the next day, and maybe even worse than dick, raises the bar for the next post. Today, in a pathetic attempt to find a blogging niche and a mad dash to one-up myself, I pumped successful blogs for ideas, took my favorite post titles, gutted them of heinously awful/ridiculous content and filled in my own.

Everyone on the blogosphere seems too brain addled to be capable of reading content longer than one sentence, so we have reverted to a simplified bullet point system as demonstrated by the two real post titles found below and filled with my own content:

Top five hairstyles of Lauren LC Conrad and how to do them yourself:
Seeing as the complexities of my hairstyling repertoire amount to two modes: hair up and hair down, this is perplexing. For a brief period in middleschool (known as the dark ages) I subscribed to the very popular Puerty Rican hair-plastered-to-your-skull look, and the combination of my rather large head and the even larger plume of cauliflower curls bursting forth around my neck once I had run out of skull to plaster my hair to with gobs of hairgel is something I get chills reliving even now.

I can however, point out that the only thing which flagged this chick as a candidate for being on TV in the first place was the fact that she is fucking loaded. If you have enough money to employ a professional hair stylist, you too will have fab hair ladies. So here is my how-to for La Lauren’s cute wavy look:

1. Get rich. (I’m talkin’ four iphones and a swarovski-coated Chihuahua rich.)

2. Get pretty. (skinny, tan, toned, mani and pedi botox lunching at the Ivy pretty)

3. Get someone else to grow you some really fantastic hair (preferably a vegan nubile Swiss virgin) then lob it off and get it woven into your own hair.

4. Get another someone to perform daily blows, curls, spritzes, scrunches, twists, and up-dos on your lovely new locks. It is preferable to abuse this someone verbally, financially, or otherwise if you get really creative.)

5. Work it, biatch!

Top three ways to get into a bar underage:
Boobs, more specifically, cleavage, sideboob, or, for the truly desperate or perhaps already halfway gone due to vigilant pre-gaming- the nip slip. It’s not classy ladies, but neither is the drunken dance floor dry-humping you’re about to be doing. Pay a bum to buy you a bottle of wine and drink the classy way- with friends in a candlelit room where the floor doesn’t stick to your shoes and smell like piss, or for the truly Hemmingway at heart- alone in your locked room with only the glow of a flickering candle for company.

There are many posts which claim they are doing you a favor by telling you how to be more efficient, effective, and productive.

However, scanning the internet for ways to be productive is like fucking a porcupine to get rid of that stabbing pain in your inner theigh. I mean that’s a little graphic but seriously, the whole reason you’re unproductive is the fact you are spending time stumbling upon these articles. However, if you fall into the category of people who are genuinely trying to find answers instead of dicking around and then giving themselves an excuse for dicking around by finding a ‘productive’ way of dicking around, then you need to know a few things which are brutally honest and which , even in my most manic raging waves of productivity, I can never manage to stick to:

How To Be Productive
1. Sit down and fucking do it.
2. Shut up, stop whining, and really do it.
3. Seriously, what the fuck are you still doing here- go do it. It will usually get done.

These posts love to harp on the power of positive thinking, taking small bites, and good planning, but all the planning and smiling in the world isn’t going to get shit done unless you do it. Go and do it.

People like to review new technology and applications, and I’ve noticed that the NEW FACEBOOK has garnered a huge amount of posts. But what worries me more is the huge amount of views on said posts… a whole community of people who are too retarded and devoid of personality to even make their own decision about the ultimate tecno-tool for retards with no personalities

Review of the New Facebook
Don’t get me wrong, I use the facebook. I use it more than I’ll care to admit, but I am under no illusion that I am indulging in anything short of binging on a sociopathic-masturbation sunday with a .com cherry on top. Facebook and THE NEW FACEBOOK are still good for exactly the same things:

1. reinforcing my fear of social interaction
2. stalking the fuck out of everyone under the guise of “social networking”
3. Looking at pictures of old boyfriends’ new girlfriends to see if they are prettier than I am
4. Looking at pictures of the bitchy girls from highschool to see if they are prettier than I am
5. Looking at pictures of seemingly happy people going to parties, lounging on the beach together, and making silly faces on backpacking Euro-trips to reinforce what I already suspected, which is that my life is boring and empty.
6. Posing for pictures with people who are not really my friends at parties on the beach and in Europe to reinforce the illusion that compared to me, everyone else’s life is boring and empty.

Movie Review
Who really cares about your movie review unless you are A. a well respected film maker B. famous, or C. a total asshole who is entertaining only in their brazen assholedome. Since I have no claim to a or b yet, I’ll dive right into C and say something inflammatory just for the sake of getting attention:

Heath Ledger absolutely SUCKED ASS in Dark Knight because he was not Heath Ledger, but rather a shapeshifting reincarnation of Sid Vicious who died only a few months before the birth of baby Heath, as clearly evidenced here:

Well done Sid.

Someone got fat, someone got knocked up, someone is in rehab. I don’t know how the same recycled stories still manages to maintain our interest year after year. I mean come on people, we have CG now, can’t we have a cooler scandal? Mary Kate Olsen is dating a kraken!

I don’t care if Lindsay Lohan is a lesbian. Call me when you find out her lesbian lover is the spirit of Catherine the great (the Paris Hilton of the 18th century, whose well pounded Polish pussy got gossip mills a churnin’ claiming she died by having sex with a horse. That’s right. A horse. Now THAT’S a quality tabloid. Step it up tabloids of 2008, you’ve got big shoes (and vaginas) to fill.)

I’m out.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Sadly, she didn't (die from sex with a horse). But I would love the Olsen-Kraken pairing!

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