More whimsical verbiage from the middle school tale, Halloween Ghoul In School.
Nope. I’m done. I’m fucking done. I’m going to find my seventh grade self, cut off his hands, and shove them bone-first into his eyes. I’m going to point out how sick and wrong everything about this story is, and when he tells me he can’t see, I’m going to smash his guitar over his head. Then I’m going to turn off his computer and throw it out of the window, and then throw him down on top of it, letting the shards of metal and glass impale him through his stomach.
And when his parents come through the front door and see the mess, and see me standing beside him with panic in my eyes, my lips will curl into a grin, and I’ll say:
“You’ll thank me later.”
And then I will phase out of that time, and this universe, and BECOME A SPACE OCTOPUS AND LIVE FOREVER.
…said the toilet, as its covered swung up and revealed a black, gaping maw that seemed to have no end.
“Heeeeeere’s Dookie!” said its owner, as he dropped his pants and turned. He bent his knees, relaxed his bowels, and squeezed.
The toilet screamed into the night, and was never quite the same.
A lovely Halloween story by William, age 5
I tried writing outside today, but something felt out of place that I couldn’t quite figure out. I wanted to type, but my fingers felt numb and clammy. And then I realized what it was: I was cold.
Cold. In Los Angeles.
I checked the weather. Fifty-five degrees. Fifty-five degrees? I’m out in shorts and a light jacket if it’s fifty-five degrees in New York in October! How the hell did that go from “a pleasantly warm day” to “the icy foothills of the Godforsaken Yukon?”
I gotta go back East. I gotta get my thick skin back. LA’s making me too soft, man. Soft like a seat cushion in a BMW. Soft like the carpet in a Hollywood Hills mansion. Soft like the breast implants on a Beverly Hills supermodel.
But seriously, this is happening. Here’s why, from the NY Times:
The immediate cause of the California price rise was a power failure at Exxon Mobil’s Torrance, Calif., refinery on Monday that shut down some production units at the 150,000-barrel-a-day facility. The company on Friday said the refinery had resumed normal operations. Supplies on the West Coast had already been tight because of an Aug. 6 fire at Chevron’s 245,000-barrel-a-day Richmond, Calif., refinery, which has still not been restored to full production.
But it’s cool. I don’t need gas that bad. I guess I can just power my car with the OIL THAT FORMS ON MY SKIN WHEN I SWEAT.
(It’s hot in Los Angeles. That’s the joke.)
With Halloween coming up, let me tell you about something that both fascinates and scares the shit out of me at the same time: Broken animatronics.
We’re on good relations when they work. But after they start rusting, or getting shifty, or hitting the WD-40 too hard, I start to distrust them.
I mean, they’ll swing by and ask for a cup of sugar, and I’ll give it to them because I’m a good neighbor. But in my head I’m thinking, “Man, I don’t know why you’re looking at me that way with your lazy eye, but stop it.”
I know, they can’t help it. But dudes, seriously.
I was relaxing on the outdoor balcony of the Barnes & Noble when the Apple Store (the one with the most professional genius ever) suddenly exploded with applause.
Thinking that there was some big Apple party happening downstairs, I grabbed my bag and ran across the street just as the cheers faded off.
I asked a Genius, “What happened? Did you guys sell your 1,000th iPod? Did someone get married? Did you decide to start selling the Apple II again?”
He said, “Nope. Some of our Genius staff just left, and we clapped them out.”
Some of their Genius staff just left, and they clapped them out.
I don’t know whether that’s a symbol of a wonderful place of employment, or a sign that Apple is slowly taking over humanity with some wacky e-Communist bullshit.
(“Wacky e-Communist bullshit” is a thing now.)
This karaoke place that a bunch of us wonderful people went to tonight was a few unfortunate strippers away from being The Sketchiest Place On Earth™.
Never mind that the place clearly hadn’t been updated since 1992. There was a stripper pole in the middle of the stage. It was clearly meant for a purpose. A sketchy purpose.
Also, the 70-year-old emcee tried to hook up some chick with my friend The Friendly Ghost. She refused. Everything was awkward.
I was the designated driver. The End.
CALL YOUR GIIIIIIIIRLFRIEND
Is Miley Cyrus channeling 90s Gwen Stefani with this haircut? And what’s with the black? Is she also channeling The Cure? ARE THE NINETIES MAKING THEIR OFFICIAL COMEBACK? WHAT’S NEXT: A RUGRATS MARATHON?
(Cue the TMZ frenzy.)
Here’s a picture of a local LA band performing at the pool. Their name is Dementia. All of these kids are somewhere between 12 and 16 years old.
I don’t know about you, but the local high school bands in my hometown were what you’d expect from local high school bands; pretty sub-par. These guys might as well be professionals. The lead guitarist is nailing solos. The vocalist is a young Chris Cornell. I’m dead serious.
What makes this funnier is that they’re performing alt-rock from the 2000s, meaning that they grew up with this music. These songs were pumped from rock radio to their ears as children. And so they’ve taken that and run with it, and now they’ve probably got a record deal and groupies whom they take out for cream sodas and shit.
In other words: What the hell am I doing with my life?
They’re doing a perfect cover of Cochise right now. Soy un imperdidor.
Rush Limbaugh confirmed for full fledged dipshit moron, thinking the villain of The Dark Knight Rise being called “Bane” is part of an anti-Romney conspiracy because of the whole Bain Capital thing.
Yes, a character created in 1993 is a slight against Romney and this whole Bain Capital topic. The writers of the Batman comics went back in time to put Bane into the comics, that’s how much they hate Romney.
I’d pour one out for my fallen homie Rush, except Rush was never my homie to begin with and I really don’t want to waste this coffee.
“I’m gonna go back in time and create a character called “Monrey” to face off against Superman. That okay, Rush?”
Sorry folks, Rush is foaming at the mouth again. He won’t be able to take your questions until the rabies subside.