Monday, December 14, 2009

the cause of rob's three-day migraine

sooo... we go to the optometrist, see? and the doc put this cocaine-type stuff in our eyes, right? and rob apparently has a bad trip. this picture of rob, impersonating all of japanese manga-dom, was taken 5 hours after the dose. in the outdoors.

gretta keeps saying, ''you really need to stop looking at me. you're creeping me out.'' funny thing was, rob couldn't really focus on her face anyway. couldn't really focus on anything. other than creeping gretta out.
...and while it isn't really
David After Dentist, we found it entertaining.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Kitten Mittons!! (sic)

Rob's first reaction to "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" was lukewarm. It took me a while to get him on board. Fast forward to us watching this clip five times back to back before going to bed last night. And me watching it two more times while writing this post.

It's the perfect clip because it has something for everyone: cats doing funny things for my mom and grandma, and pants-crapping hilarity for everyone else.

If Hulu weren't retarded, you'd be able to see the awesome, awesome face Danny DeVito is making.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Some fine dumbassery.

I have a skinny husband. He's skinny and tall and sometimes when I look at him, I think he looks like a kid all stretched out. Like Mike Teavee. He's skinny and has about 72 pairs of these Levi's that are comfortably loose on him and I have been curious from time to time as to how these Levi's would fit around Why? I don't know. Probably because I'm tired of feeling so good about the way I look all the time. You know, like most girls do.

So I, being a glutton for never-ending shame that I apparently am, chose a random pair of Rob's jeans to try on one day after he left for work. Just to see how they looked. Or whether or not I could get them zipped.

To my utter amazement, I got them suckers zipped AND buttoned. Then, feeling a little more confident, I stuck my thumbs in the butt pockets to pull the jeans down to a comfortable hip level. I pulled, thinkingly optimistically that I'd maybe expanded my wardrobe, until I heard a really bad sound. A ripping sound. Like, a ripping through the butt of jeans sound. It was a reluctant rip; I could tell those little denim fibers were hanging on with everything they had, as if they knew what effect the their ripping might have on my self-esteem. But they tore anyway. They had no choice. There was just too much ass inside those jeans.

As cruel fate would have it, I had picked an unwieldy pair of Levi's for my ill-fated experiment. There had been a small, thread-bare section of material around the right back pocket. Hence the ripping.

So my butt busted through my husband's pants. And then I had to tell him before he came home and found them.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Help Make Mikey a Millionaire

I know I do this sometimes and the four or five people who read this silly blog may find it pathetic and or tedious, but I don't even care. I'm going to do it again. This is for you, Mikey!

Remember our buddy who did this wicked stupendous video for the Weepies? He's cool. And he's done a spec Superbowl commercial for Doritos and if you all watch it enough, he could win a butt-load of cash. The commercial features the brilliant, blinding talents of Dave, Keith and—last, but most beautiful—Briggleston Von Phelpsinstrat. Also, enjoy the sound expertise of Robbimus Prime and the unparalleled Dorito-scattering abilities of yours truly.

All you've got to do is go here and watch it. Just to make sure you're watching the right one, it's called "Hand" and it's by Boxpilot. You should see a handful of mormons and one very cool animated Dorito-hand. I know, I know. The website is downright intolerable, but they count the views, so you've got to go there and do it. If you don't mind.

Imagine yourself watching this commercial during the Superbowl and whilst patting yourself on the back and saying "I helped make this possible." Also, do it for Keith. He had to eat like four bags of Nacho Cheesiers that night.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

All your base are belong to Calvin.

This is easily the geekiest thing I have ever laughed at.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

and then later, tripping in 7-Eleven...

I'm sure I've mentioned my pathological relationship—nay—obsession with the incredible store of ultimate convenience. If I haven't, it's because I haven't needed to. You may have accompanied me on a Sev-run or even heard me refer to one of "my 7-Elevens," because I do both of those things. If you haven't, don't worry. You know now. And knowing is half the eighties catchphrase. I'd been making trips to my 7-Eleven almost daily (I've made a point to always live within walking distance of at least one at a time) until Ravi, the wall-eyed Armenian cashier, started referring to me affectionately as "Slurpee Girl" and even more affectionately telling my boss that he wants to work at Yolk to be closer to me. Yes, he knows I'm married. No, he does not care. You've got to admire the kid. He's pretty ballsy for convenience store worker with a lazy eye. I digress....

When I woke up this morning, it was just an ordinary day. But when I stopped at my 7-Eleven for my post-Yolk slurpee, I realized it was a very special day indeed.

This is my Domo cup. I don't know who Domo is or where he came from, but I love him and I love that I'm drinking out of him.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Am I krumping now?

I know I'm running the risk of making this the Community blog, but I don't care. If you guys aren't watching this, you should be. Rob said last night that it is quickly becoming his favorite show. "Better than 30 Rock," he says. I don't know if I'm ready to go that far yet (I mean, look at this, will ya?), but I will just tell you that there are a handful of things that make me happy enough to forget that I have to read an average of 100 pages a day. And this is one of them.

Also, you guys don't like it when I post about serious things like Roman Polanski being gross, so here you go.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Roman Polanski says he wants to go to jail here.

It says so here.

Now who do I have to sedate and violate in order to get into that prison?

Sunday, September 27, 2009

If you haven't seen this yet, prepare to be delighted.

If you have, then you know what I'm talking about. Enjoy.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Saturday, September 12, 2009

alright, kids... it's time to be creative!

so i was just slummin' around on the intrawebsaverse the other night and i found something that i thought my audiophile friends would really dig. however, this is not just for the nerds out there. you may find some inner-artist in yourself when you follow the instructions (turn up the volume) and wax stupid-phat & extra-phunky. click on the pretty picture below

...or you might just end up slapping at your keyboard like mr. business baboon...

Friday, September 4, 2009

Sorry we were going to eat you. We didn't know you were king.

We went to see District 9 the other night (amAZing) and I saw a poster for Wild Things. I went up and gave it a hug. I couldn't help it.

Random Gretta trivia: did you know that as a child, I slept with a stack of books on my bed? True story.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Palm trees are candles in the murder wind...

So, there's this fire? I don't know if you guys have heard about it, but apparently it's kind of a big deal. From where we are in Silver Lake it looks like this:

And then during the day it looks like this:

This Mad Max looking picture is pretty close to what we were looking at while driving home from Newport Saturday morning. We, or course, didn't have our camera because, naturally, we never do. Which is actually one of the reasons we'll make such great parents. Our younger kids won't have to feel bad that there are so many more pictures of the older kids because there won't be pictures of ANY of the kids. That and we probably won't have any. Children, I mean.

Despite the fact that it's raining ashes on our stake center in La Crescenta, we're not in any real danger over here in hipstertown. First of all, there are train tracks between us and the fire, and you know those uppity flames won't be coming over to the "wrong side" any time soon. That and we have this handy reservoir by our house so, even if it jumps the tracks and the 5, the fire will probably be quenched before it singes our little shanty. If, by some twist of fate, it does come our way, we'll just find a Costco. Their food storage situation is pretty impressive. Also, air conditioning. Bonus! (Hiding out in Costco is also our Plan A for the Zombie Apocalypse. Don't steal our idea!)

But the best part about this fire is what we saw on one of our favorite Blogs today: A headline reading "THIS IS WHY GOD IS TRYING TO BURN L.A. DOWN" followed by the trailer for Season 6 of The Hills.

In conclusion, I think we all know what needs to be done to appease an angry God. Kill Spencer Pratt.

Monday, August 31, 2009

I know, little dude. I know.

Monday, August 24, 2009

We're back! And we found all our mail!

You may be under the impression that Rob and I are super-mature, extra-responsible grown-up types. And that's fine. You're sort of right. After all, we've managed to be married for more than a year now without spending any time in jail or getting our utilities shut off, which is an accomplishment in and of itself. But we did leave home for 10 days without making any arrangements for our mail, which, I suppose, is also impressive only in a different way. We realized this while on the home stretch, of course, which in this case was on Highway 1 somewhere between San Francisco and Monterey. When we finally got to Silver Lake the next day, we were stoked to find that some brilliant, blinding light from heaven saved all our mail for us in a super safe place. See? Eastsiders are the best!

Now you may be wondering, "where were these ultra-dependable adult-like people for ten days while all they're government issued mail and time sensitive bills piled up in the mailbox?" I'll tell you. We were on a Cow Town tour of the Western U.S., that's where! Sure, we made stops in such bustling metropolises as Provo, Salt Lake City, and Reno. But mostly, we were hitting up places like Heber Valley, UT; Winnemucca, NV; Red Bluff, CA and the California Mission of San Simeon.

  • Driving all night to make it BYU for my brother George's commencement. Go Cougs! (I didn't walk at my own commencement. In fact, I had to check with my dad during the ceremony to make sure I actually did graduate from college. Turns out I did, so we're all good on that front.)
  • Hitting up the Costco for a million flowers to arrange for my brother Cliff's wedding dinner at the Beesley's house. No pictures, of course, because I lack foresight.
  • Singing a Kings of Leon cover at the wedding dinner.
  • Watching Cliff get married!! To a girl!! Then cleaning up after the reception with the skill and dexterity of a blind, drunken toddler! (I fell with scissors in my pocket!)
  • Skipping church to brunch with the family and visit with good, good friends.
  • Sleeping through Elko and waking up for lunch at the (only) pizza place in Winnemucca.
  • Taking a couple days to chill in Reno with the supercool Kienes.
  • Three days at Gramma Whalen's house in Red Bluff, eating nothing but pizza, and thus, thoroughly infuriating my intestines.
  • San Francisco, the Pacific Coast, and Hearst Castle with my pal, husband.
  • Coming home to my own bed, which kicks the asses of the beds at the Days Inn in San Simeon.

Chatting it up at Cliffy's reception while looking (although not actually being) a little bit pregnant.

Trying to be cute with my bro , but only succeeding in photographically documenting my creepy eye.

Found this doozy in the Red Bluff Cemetery. I think it's an Asian name...

At the Coit Tower in SF. What's wrong with my bangs? How should I know? What do you think I am, a surgeon?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Girl's Camp

I made it. I actually made it last Saturday, but this is the first time I felt like thinking about it since it happened. Just kidding, gosh! It wasn't that bad. It was actually a delightful time in a delightful place where I pulled out slivers and ate cold waffle sticks and made a bunch of wacky, small world-type connections.

Twelve and 13 year old girls are crazy. They're small, yes, but they have astounding lung capacity. They can scream in long or short bursts. They can hold conversations with each other while talking both incessantly and simultaneously. It's impressive. But they also have the remarkable ability to become best friends instantly. Don't worry, there are still cliques. Things still haven't changed too much since we were in middle school. But by the end of the week, almost every single clique had dissolved, and all the girls were hugging and weeping/giggling in each other's arms. (If you've been to girl's camp, you know what I'm talking about with the weeping/giggling. It happens.)

All the girls mentioned at some point that they didn't really want to come to camp. They thought they wouldn't make any friends or they didn't know what to expect. Well, I promise none of the didn't want to go more than I did. I went to girl's camp once with my ward, but there were no certifications, or hikes or anything. There was nail polish, though, and there definitely were maxi pad pranks.

I was afraid to drive up there by myself because I'm a baby. But the drive to Santa Barbara is beautiful, which made things a little easier. Also, I didn't wreck, so that was a bonus.

Here are some of my cute girls during synchronized swimming. Yeah, I never did that at camp.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I think it's safe to say, they've taken this a little too far.

I like Harry Potter just as much as any other insufferable geek, but now that I've seen this...I just...I don't even know. I would have anticipated that this is precisely the sort of thing that would result in you getting your ass handed to yourself everyday of your Middle School life. And here they are doing it in college. Things change, I guess.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Did Rob ever tell you he was in a Showbiz Pizza commercial when he was a kid? This is cooler. More here.

Undead Bird Mobile: It looks better in real life

I made this for my niece. Got the idea over here. If you check the link you'll probably notice two things:
their's might look a tad more polished then mine and also, my photography skills leave much to be desired. Try to be a good person and not pass judgment.

Before I figured out the trick ( glue!) all the birds would just swing upside down, so it looked like they were dead. After I resurrected them, they still didn't look totally alive on account of they don't have eyes. "Zombie Birds" had a kind of unsavory ring to it, so I decided that "Undead" would be the most honest label that I could slap on these suckers.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Wait a that...?

Homemade wrapping paper? Yarp. Jealous? No? Pretend you are so that I can feel good about myself and then say, "Don't worry, guys. It's super easy. If I could do it then a blind, fingerless monkey could probably figure it out."

I got into trouble after discovering Michael's in Glendale. At first, I stayed away from the scrap-booking and stamping aisle because I don't do that crap. I'm way too bad of a picture-taker to have the many photos necessary for any sort of album, and stamping greeting cards would defeat the purpose of my continued effort to avoid correspondence as much as possible. Also, I was sure it would make me feel just too, too Mormon. But while my sister was visiting last week, we ventured over to the stamps & such and I found a super cool wood grainy one. I'm totally in to faux wood grain right now because in my brain, it's 1976.Then I remembered that I had about 6,000 brown paper bags sitting around the house, and voila—an idea was born! An eco-friendly idea that involves recycling and repurposing. I'm so green, right? Look how Silver Lake I am!

The little yarn flower is one I did on a loom that I got from my friend Cathy. The yarn, I also got from Cathy while assembling about a million flower loom kits for her etsy shop after she was on Martha. They're fun and easy and oh so sixties.

In a related story, I finally figured out what to do with all of Rob's post-its.

They're cork board tiles. I covered them with this rad fabric I found across the street (notice the totally awesome wood grain print). There are six of them, three of each pattern, but four of them are on the floor because I so cleverly adhered them to the wall with the crappy tape squares they came with. Let me know if you have a better idea before I just pound nails through them into the plaster.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

What does your facial hair say about you?

Check this out.

I am...proud(?)... to say that in the time I've known him, Rob has rocked almost all of these looks and then some. Except the chin strap. But really, it's just a matter of time.

Rob! Defend yourself!

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

My next art project

Does anyone know where I can find 5 or 6 traffic pylons?

Monday, June 1, 2009

Ma Paints

After a gazillion years of us kids telling her to, my Ma has finally posted some of her paintings online. Some for selling, some already sold. She did it on facebook ... not quite the online shopping destination I was rooting for, but hey, baby steps. I decided to put them up here for any s.i.w.a.s. readers who might appreciate them. Enjoy!


rooster 1


prickly pear

bird on bag

pups in a purse


Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Domestication of a Wife: It's a Good Thing

I remember my mom watching Martha Stewart on late summer mornings when I was a teenager. As I made my way out the door wearing some variation of bathing or work-out garb in a vain attempt to tone my thighs and get a tan I would think, "What a colossal waste of time! After all, you can just buy most of the stuff she makes. And anything you can't get from her line at KMart, you probably don't need." Then I would proceed to exit the house for a good skin scorching, returning several hours later to spend some quality time in front of TV, cultivating my encyclopedic pop culture knowledge while watching VH1.

Fast forward to me being married, under-employed and dirt poor in 2009. I have a part-time job and three long, hot months before I start my grad program. I've had enough blistering sunburns to give up on my quest to darken my vampire skin (which, thanks to Stephanie Meyer, is now coveted by teenagers everywhere). And as much as I love reading books no one else cares about, it's embarrassing when Rob comes home from a long day at work and I have nothing to show for my day but some wacky stuff I found on the Internet and a second or third reading of one of my Christopher Moore books. So, what's a girl with a guilt complex to do?

Well, I got crafty. I've learned to cook. I'm no longer afraid of handling raw meat and I've learned how to slice tomatoes without them falling to pieces in my hands. I'm no Julia Child, by any means. Let's just say I've gotten to the point where I'm no longer in awe of Rachel Ray.

But cooking wasn't enough. I needed more productivity to fill up my days. Probably because we don't have cable. So, I got a sewing machine. I bought a book about printing by hand. I'm on a first name basis with the ladies (and dude) down the street at Sew LA. I'm desperately trying to grow a plant, despite the fact that my thumb is about as green and nurturing as Henry Kissinger. I bought a hot glue gun. And an embroidery hoop. And a subscription to Ready Made magazine.

Bed Pockets by Lotta Jansdotter. Too bad my Singer doesn't have the cajones for canvas.

Hair clips.

My checkbook cover. Corners are hard.

My sick, sad plant.

I didn't make any of this, but those chairs are awesome, right? Garage sale!

That's right. I'm a real wife now. And I mean that in the
most sexist way.

Friday, May 15, 2009

hiiiiiiiiiiiiii YAH!!

so, apparently the three of you who read this blog don't take too kindly to serious posturing, as the previous post has so blatantly proven. and then it took almost a month for me to see anything post-worthy that wasn't comPLETEly inappropriate. and i mean COMPLETELY inappropriate. (hey man, click at your own risk. but i warned you)

but then, fresh air arrived. i'm talking down-by-the-jersey-shore fresh. i give you... the very definition of high art:

i can't tell you how grateful i am that my family was too poor to own a videocamera when i was a kid. i guarantee you i did this very thing. in my front yard.
those were the days.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Why is this?

Survey: Support for terror suspect torture differs among faithful

Story Highlights
  • 742 American adults surveyed on use of torture against suspected terrorists
  • 54% of those who go to services at least once a week say it's often or sometimes OK
  • In survey, people unaffiliated with any religious group were least likely to back torture
  • President of National Association of Evangelicals yet to comment on survey

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

in my next life...

so i was reading Wired last night and thinking, 'gee whiz. i sure wish i was smart. i wanna be a superscientist in my next life.'

then i watched this and changed my mind.


Monday, April 6, 2009

Super Serious Update/NY recap.

Guys! We just found out that the Melrose Mac Contest ends tonight at midnight. So, if you haven't voted, pretty please go here and do so. #7 So Close. As I said on the facebook: everyone who votes for Rob and causes him to win will be remembered by us when Rob is rich and famous. If he doesn't win, we'll still love you for trying.

In other news, Rob and I just got back from a totally crazy, super fun, little bit soggy trip to the Big Apple. Rob had some work to do at the Nettwerk office and I had a generous dad with extra skymiles and some time to kill. Here's what we did:
  • Spent some time at Rockefeller Center with a hoarde of teenaged, mustachioed (even the ladies) Portuguese tourists.
  • Listened to an organ recital at St. Patrick's Cathedral after lighting a candle for St. Jude on behalf of my lost-cause older brother (bless you, Cliffy).
  • Explored the eclectic shops in SoHo. And by shops I mean toy stores. Because we are children.
  • Hit up Dylan's Candy Bar on the Upper East Side. (They gots candy in the floors!)
  • Had dinner on the Upper West Side at City Grill with Nick, followed by dessert featuring special guest star, the best brownie sundae ever.
  • Got caught in the freezing rain on Canal St.
  • Saw 'The Great Buck Howard.'
  • Ate delicious pizza in the East Village at a place called Bite Me Best.
  • Went to the airport only to be delayed, delayed again, then bumped from our flight.
  • Called every hotel in our price range to stay for the next two nights until the next available flight back to LA.
  • Split a cab back to Brooklyn with an Army Dentist named Owen.
  • Had matzoh ball soup and a pastrami sandwich at Katz's Deli.
  • Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.
  • Went back to the airport, only to be turned away again.
  • Finally got back to LA on Sunday afternoon.
Here are some pictures:

Top of the Rock

Brooklyn Bridge

The moral of the story is: never fly Delta. That, and if you have to pee before a 5 1/2 hour flight, you'd better just do it.

And the MasterCard price breakdown for the 2009 NYC Adventure is...

Two pounds of goodies from Dylan's—$20
Four days worth of Metro and Air Train cards—$50
One unexpected night's stay at the Brooklyn Marriott—$240
The chance to see the handiwork of New York's finest smart ass on this billboard in the subway...


Wednesday, March 18, 2009

This time it's personal...

Ok, guys. This is super serious. Rob is a finalist in a competition at Melrose Mac where he could win somewhere in the neighborhood of $10K in gear. He submitted one of his songs and was chosen with nine other folks as potential winners.

Go to here, click on "the vote page" link and vote for
#7-So Close. Do it! I mean... do it please! Even if you don't even know us but you just look at our blog sometimes to see how ridiculous we are, or if you check in on us but we haven't spoken for years, or if you check us out because you used to date us and you want to see if we got fat or bald (update: we did!). We will love you forever. Like fat kids love cake.

The contest ends on April 9th, but try to be cool and vote right away. It just takes a second.

Be prepared for an increased measure of love from us as we will assume you voted and passed this along to every single person you know. :)

Bossa Nova! Chevy Nova?

Friday, March 13, 2009

i have a new-found respect for elmo

just last night gretta and i were watching 'Extras' and i said to her, "it's painful to watch". and she said, "that's what makes it funny". so i was all like, "no. pain isn't funny". and then she's all like, "he so is funny". and then i was all like...

i digress.

elmo is forking hilarious. he makes
Ricky Gervais explode with laughter. who else can do that??!

...see? ricky makes me uncomfortable. puppets and necrophilia and holocaust. what a freak.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Rob pwns cub scouts...

And then gets pwned.

Then he comes home and has a heart attack. Because he's getting too old for this.

The end.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Who's on Twitter?

I want to follow you.

You can follow me, if you want. I'm GrettaPWhalen.

Rob doesn't Tweet...yet.

Okay. Cool. See you guys later.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

well who'da thunkit?

bambi's kinda hardcore.

**click on that wimpy deer**
... or is this bambi's kid? i don't know anymore, what with all disney's straight-to-dvd-crapolla. gimme the classics.

but hardcore bambi's pretty cool, too.

I was going to save this for Valentine's Day...

...but I think it's timely in light of the circumstances.*

This one's for you, Robbie.

I'm a little crazy, you see. Neurotic, I guess, is the truest description. Like a young, female Woody Allen only Mormon instead of Jewish, married to a non-relative and not an award-winning filmmaker. So I guess I'm more of a young, female version of my parent's volatile DNA combo. But my husband is pretty solid, so that helps with the day-to-day activities. Although, I'm the one who remembers to turn off the oven, so, I figure...

*If you're saying to yourself, "What circumstances? What is she talking about?", here's your answer: there are no special circumstances, really. I just felt like doing this today.

Monday, February 9, 2009

This one is better than the double grilled-cheeser burger for two reasons...

Bacon. Also, bacon.

Submitted for the approval of the 3 or 4 people who look at this silly blog, I present to you ... the Double Bacon Hamburger Fatty Melt.


Monday, February 2, 2009


Those crafty supergeeks, they did it again!

See, this is what I would do if I knew how to do this. All day long. I'm not kidding. Just hack into electronic road signs with important messages like, "Toll road/Killer Robots Ahead" or "Baby-eating Gypsies: Next 5 Miles." Some people have all the fun.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009


this is the best article i've come across in a long, long time
. i've been saying this for years. your favorite band of all time sucks.
¡SUCKS! ...and i'm perfectly aware that it applies to my favorite band, too.

here's the thing: every great band has at least one horrible album, and 95% of the bands out there never even have one, single good record. it's usually just a couple of good to great to maybe incredible songs, and the rest of the record is pretty much the same song with different words. seriously. be honest with yourself.

jack johnson's made six albums by coming up with one song. one. horrible. song.
punk? a whole movement made up of the same 3-4 chords, prodded along by the same chugging, polka rhythm.
indie rock? come on. whiney hipsters channeling the beatles, or fleetwood mac, or bob dylan, or whatevertheflavoroftheweekmightbe... only, never as well as the originals.

so do me a favor. love the music you love, but don't try to convince me that your favorite band/artist is the greatest thing ever.
this guy is.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


Watch the #*@$ out, bitches! I TOLD you!

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

space. the final...

awwww horse huey!!! i see new frontiers all over the urban landscape of this li'l earth!
... and in my next life i wanna be as smart, clever, and sneaky as these punks.

bring on the Ko-Dan armada!

Thursday, January 8, 2009

An open letter to Ann Coulter.

Dear Ann,

I realize you're a big successful author, and really, I'm just a shopgirl with delusions of becoming a junior college instructor of some sort—which means you have no reason to heed my advice. But believe me, I've been sitting on these thoughts and feelings for the last several years. They come from my heart and I think they might help you. Here goes...

You HAVE to stop talking. I'm not just saying this because your voice grates on my tender ears—which really aren't so tender considering the fact that I grew up in a boisterous and foul-mouthed family. And it's not because you look like one of the dinosaurs from that old ABC show of the same name. (Remember the next door neighbor...the brontosaurus?)

No. I'm advising you to stop talking because you're awful. You are the exact opposite of the following: gracious, impartial, sympathetic, human.

Trust me. I know where you're coming from. The anorexia must make you super cranky and I'd probably be pissed, too, if my eyes kept sinking to the back of my head a couple millimeters every year. Seriously, you look like Skeletor. And please don't let your body dysmorphia trick you into taking that as a compliment.

So, we have a deal, then? No more talking? No more wasting the world's time by writing useless books? No more passive aggressive interviews with relatively harmless News Magazine hosts, just to prove who's the bigger man? (It's you, by the way. Congratulations).

Alright. I'm glad I got that off my chest. No doubt we'll see each other in the afterlife. Actually, you'll probably just see me from that great view on your pedestal, hobnobbing with my friends: the single moms, the members of the liberal media and the homosexuals.

Of course, you're always welcome to join us.



Wednesday, January 7, 2009

cockroaches, twinkies and ... adult entertainment?

so no one knows whether we're in, or headed for, the second great depression, but we're facing a financial crisis that borders on a nuclear winter, of sorts. and what can survive nuclear fallout? cockroaches. and twinkies. and i kinda figured the oldest profession/pictures of the oldest profession would too. but apparently i was wrong. check out this
CNN article about a "porn bailout".

now the really funny thing about it all is that i was AT the beverly wilshire the night that Flynt Publishing had their holiday orgy party.
the beverly wilshire. on rodeo drive. hookers and trashy pimps swerving their milion-dollar goodies all over the place. i took a chemical shower when i got home. i STILL have a rash. anyway... what i'm getting at is that i'm pretty sure Larry Flynt's disease-and-wheelchair-ridden ass doesn't deserve a bailout to continue peddling something that's free-- if you just try and slide your self-image back down to where it actually should be and marry that person who's willing to settle for your sorry carcass.