My obsession with awful television knows no bounds

The fact that I can find no references to the fact that Bachelor Pad 2's delusional villain Kasey sounds an awful lot like Meatwad should be seen as a sign of the further decline of our civilization. Last night he attempted to draw sympathy from a studio audience when he revealed that he suffered from a speech impediment. He neglected to mention that he exacerbates the effects of his unfortunate disease by gargling every day with two and a half cups of buttermilk.

My favorite of Kasey's verbal atrocities?

"It's beating...it's throbbing...you know what that means? It's guard and protect time. Are you ready?"

"I want to punch him across the face and say 'that's for America.'"

So, here in the afterglow of Bachelor Pad 2, I raise my glass of buttermilk to you, Kasey. Oh, and when you predicted victory on the final challenge, a hundred foot vertical climb, because you're "witty...." Well...I'm not sure you know what words mean. But, you'll be missed. Take it from your voicesake:

Kitten Vlog 2.0 - Reboot

Risen...LIKE THE MIGHTY PHOENIX

Years ago, some friends and I had a sketch show called Friends of Davey Jones. That enterprise is, as Dickens may have observed, as dead as a doornail. So, I have decided to redirect my insufferable narcissism and create this mighty turd you see before you. What you'll eventually find here:

1. Hard-hitting, bacon-oriented commentary
2. The return of the Kitten Vlog (the original star bit the big one)
3. Videos of my area (static photos are for girls, Weiner)
4. Regret

What you won't find here (from this point on):

1. Sentiment
2. Compassion
3. Pity
4. Virtue
5. Amusing anecdotes about children
6. Wholehearted recommendations
7. Life tips
8. Convention photos
9. Tributes or memorials
10. Praise of Guy Fieri
11. Praise of Dane Cook
12. Cautionary medical tales
13. Discussions of music or bands
14. Catchphrases
15. Unconditional love of Brooklyn
16. Hope
17. Self-respect
18. Integrity
19. Revelations
20. Quick and easy recipes

I look forward to working with you.

Blogging mere inches from my computer

I suppose if I'm going to blog consistently again, I need to really embrace this mobile hogwash. So, I'm experimenting with an app called Blogger Droid. So far, it's a tremendous pain in the ass, as my fat shaky fingers can't seem to navigate the Droid keyboard with the same elegant dexterity I use to pound out this irrelevant tripe on a normal computer.
Also, this app forces me to stare at ads the whole time I'm attempting to blog. In fact, right now a banner on the top of my screen is asking me not to miss CMT's new sitcom Working Class. Well, it's not asking me it's telling me. I can't imagine a more poorly aimed bit of marketing than that. I really can't. Unless readers of Oprah's blog get ads for colleges. Then that might be even more misguided.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Blog Babies

I realize that if I produced children at the same rate I blog, I'd have a series of unfortunately sized premature babies lying about the apartment. And, like premature babies, these blog posts are relatively useless. Sure, they're fun to look at and ridicule with your friends, but put a mop in their hands and what've you got? You have three and a half pounds of quivering flesh and...well, a mop. Also, they stink. The blog posts, I mean. Well, I've never smelled a premature baby, so I won't make presumptions about their odor. Broccoli? I only ask because some newborns I've met smell faintly of produce. I've often heard mothers refer to their wombs as "ovens" and that the child inside is "baking." So, do premature babies smell like cake batter? That can give you salmonella can't it? This whole business about the potentially lethal effects of premature babies on adults is deeply unsettling.

Speaking of unsettling, did you hear the news? Yeah, neither did I. I find a lot of the news I was reading or seeing on television disturbing, so now I go without. I'm sure the salmonella baby thing will be on there eventually. I just got fed up with all the men wearing ties barking at each other. A list of other things I'm fed up with:

1. To continue with the "men who wear ties" motif, why are we no longer buttoning the top button of the shirt, fellas? Do we all have fat necks? Do I have a fat neck?
2. If I have a fat neck, is there even an exercise for that? I suppose I could hang weights on my ears, but I suffer from eczema and my ears are very sensitive.
3. While I was passing a playground during my evening constitutional (a phrase, I'm happy to say, I lifted from Disney's delightful 101 Dalmatians), a group of school children implied that I was a homosexual gentleman! I would like to pick their brains as to how they know. Is there a test? Please remember I have sensitive ears.
4. Basketball.
5. Persistent insurance salesmen.
6. Persistent diarrhea.
7. Loss of important prescription medication.

Indianapolis: Greek God of Indians

We find ourselves somewhere between Akron and Columbus Ohio at the moment on a trip to Indianapolis. Akron, it should be noticed, shares a lot in common with my hometown of Bangor, Pennsylvania in that they are both towns in which absolutely nothing ever happened. After we mistakenly drove through a particularly bad section of Akron, I couldn't help but think there'd be a high crime rate in the town if anybody actually lived there. Despite the ubiquitous economic depression here, the local newspaper seems surprisingly left-wing. I suppose that's one of the reasons this state is so confounding around election time.

One of the pleasant discoveries we've made (well, that I've made...Mandy and her friend Cris have known about them for some time) is a series of quick-marts called "Sheets." Their signature novelty is an express deli system they've dubbed "MTO," which stands for "made to order," though we came up with alternate meanings:
My Testicle Odor
Mike's Tremendous Orgasm
Mis-Tentacled Octopus
My Toaster's Off

And so on. Anyway, more to come from Indianapolis and Sunday's Indy 500.

Squeezing out a blog on the road

I'm pretty certain I am doing myself a disservice by not using my Droid to blog while travelling. Well, I have cast aside the clunky barbarism of desktop publishing and have joined the ranks of the most painfully annoying cocksuckers ever to embrace technology: the smartphone bloggers. Now I can keep everyone posted on what songs I'm listening to, what hilariously misguided notions I have, and what colors and textures I'm finding in my feces. I'm told scatological humor is big right now.

Speaking of smartphones and their signaling the rapid decline of Western civilization, I observed a gentleman at the office I'm currently slaving for scrolling through email on his Blackberry during the first few minutes of a lecture on fire safety that was being delivered by some poor dope who was unlucky enough to be slapped with the thankless role of "safety warden" of our building. I want nothing more than to see his comb-over melt off of his dumb face as the flames remind him that he doesn't know where the fire exits are. Rules are rules, after all. And now you die, you self-important dildo.

All that negativity aside, I am curious to see how successful this mobile blogging goes. I'll...keep you posted! LITERALLY! LOL OMG STFU