I Just Wrote This Horrid Joke

..............and had to share it.


Why can't Anna Nicole Smith find a parking space at Walmart?



























( punchline in comments)

Tilly VS the Closet Monster

This bit of cinemania is brought to you by the ever whimsical Bart, and the ever stalwart Tilly.

Lady Frankenstein

Since you've been so good and patient, and haven't whined for a new post (like you still care), you may stay up late and watch this awesome cheesy crapola movie. And you may also have unlimited snacks. Just don't tell yer Ma, ok? I'm not up for another excoriation........
ALSO: totally NSFW--gratuitous boobies/naked ladies---remember the bit with Karloff throwing the girl in the pond? Recreated here with a naked lady. Plus, the monster looks like it was designed and rendered by an 8 year old child, and the creepiest part is the sexual politics. And the way the underlying necrophilia theme really gets obvious. Think of Lady Frank as Mary Shelley's alter ego, or something. And don't tell yer Ma, seriously.

Sing Along

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom

Irony Mass Inversion Impending.

Austin,TX-- It became apparent early today that conformist attitudes in young adults have caused the hipster population to overtake the mainstream population, thereby making hipster the new mainstream. Edgy has become the new banal, and obscure is the new redundant. Additionally, sources report that apathetic has become the new impassioned. Then they rolled their eyes, and sighed "whatever". Irony mass inversion is expected to create a gaping black hole of mediocrity, sucking the entire hipster culture to a dimension you no doubt have never heard of.

Recycled Post-Earth Day Post

I barely remeber having writen this, so--semi-new to me:

The Ultimate Social Network Quiz

1. Which character from Alistair Crowley’s Diary of a Drug Fiend do you most identify with, and why?
2. If you had to be a transvestite crack whore for one day, what brand of make up would you use? Condom? Box cutter?
3. What’s your favorite antibiotic?
4. Favorite pain? Pain killer? Serial killer? Cereal?
5. You’ve been nailed by the wrists to a redwood deck, and a drooling psychopath is standing over you with an axe, ready to behead you.
A: How did you get there?
B: Why you should live, in 50 words or less.
C: What are you wearing?
6. Where did you hide your stash when you were in high school?
Middle school? Kindergarten?
7. Des Cartes said :” Je pense, donc je suis”. Would you date him?
8. Jock or nerd: which one goes best with white wine?
9. What has it gots in its pocketses?
10. If you were an STD, which one would you be?
11. What’s your most shameful secret? Be specific, with details.
12. Everybody has their price—what’s yours?
13. Who should be first up against the wall when the revolution finally happens?
14. Besides me, wise ass.
15. You encounter Andrew Lloyd Webber, Anne Gedes, and Ayn Rand in a deserted meadow. You have only one bullet. What do you do?

Welcome to Austin! Don't Be A Douche!

I read somewhere that Austin was the 6th most moved-to city last year. I'm treating it as good news, because it helps raise the ratio of clients to massage therapists for the better (MT's are as thick here as mosquitoes in a swamp). But on the other hand, I must despair of the inevitable culture dilution that occurs. So welcome, new comer, but leave that urban blightmare bad attitude in your storage unit. Don't bring us your paranoia, your impatience, your douche baggery. Adjust to a more sincere, mellow, thoughtful existence. You've been living in a game preserve for assholes. You are used to being a creep reflexively-- like blinking. Texans generally don't stand for that. We've barely gotten past dueling and feuding, so don't push your luck. Years of rigid role expectation, forced courtesy, and country music have made most Texans into walking time bombs. All you have to do is go a short distance away from here to find them. And sometimes, they drive in to shop. So for safety's sake,for the children, for puppies and Christmas, just to make sure you don't inadvertently provoke someone into acting out in a big, scary way-- clean up your fucking act.

Leagle Department Mumbo Pocus

Dear Kxxx,

Your FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ is ready to be shipped. Our shipping department will get around to it before too long, unless they go on another week-long drug fueled orgy of destruction. Then, it might be a few weeks. Anyway, our legal department insists I furnish you with the following disclaimer/list of warnings/waste of everyone’s time:

Disclaimer:

Your FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ is intended for decorative and recreational use only. No actual fun is guaranteed.

FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ is for external use only.

Do not use FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ if redness or swelling persists.

Discontinue play with FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ if you experience loss of vision or hearing.

Do not expose FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ to cosmic radiation, as this can cause specific side effects, sometimes fatal.

Do not blaspheme in the presence of FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

What's wrong?

Do not allow FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ to become wet.

Do not expose FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ to open flame, or other source of heat.

Do not taunt, threaten, or cajole FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

Discontinue play with FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ if you experience erection lasting more than 4 hours

I had the pear dream again.

If choosing to utilize the BED TYME BUDDY™ feature of your FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™, do not allow perspiration, saliva, or urine to come in contact with FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

Was I there?

Do not operate machinery or drive a car under the influence of FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

Do not loan money to FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

Yes. I think I'm insane.

Hide all prescription drugs, alcohol, and firearms in proximity to FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

I know you are.

Avoid prolonged eye contact with FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™, as this can lead to a loss of will and/or blood.

Do not perform erotic dance moves in the presence of FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

Do not in any way flirt with or “lead on” FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™

We hope your FUNEE TYME BAT BUDDY™ will bring you minutes of enjoyment.

(not for sale to minors under 21)

So---What is "Kurt" REALLY Like?

The memory is somewhat blurred---like the memory of staring into the sun on a peyote fueled vision quest. A mixture of profound insight, nausea, and a Greek chorus of armadillos. Almost exactly like that, but with several extra "L"'s in the word "exactllllllly".
Of course, you are doubtful. Some of you doubt the very existence of Kurt. Some of you doubt my existence (sometimes, even I do). But such flippant frivolity is the earmark of a Scotch-knob. Look it up.
What is Kurt like? A gazelle. Yes--he is cautious, and graceful. Then, there is that wild ruminant aroma--the kind that draws the big cats, slinking through the undergrowth. Also, like a gazelle, he possesses a fine, generous spirit. The hooves complete the whole "like a gazelle" vibe.
More, true life Kurt-based experiences, coming soon. By "soon", I mean "when I bloody well feel like it, Sparky".

Kurt's Time Here Drawing to a Close; City Drowning Sorrow in Pints of Haagan Daaz

Why does there have to be so much sorrow in the world? Why can't Kurt be everywhere at once, or at least stay here where we can all bask in the radiance of his despotic glory? There might have been a follow-up Kurt/Trey summit last Monday, but it got preempted by bad weather/fatigue/each waiting for the other to call. If it had not rained all day, Kurt would havebeen taken to this city's oldest and most awesome putt-putt golf range, nestled in the heart of our fair village. I really wanted to show him my favorite nature preserve, but traveling alone with me to a secluded woods somehow didn't appeal. I even volunteered to let him carry the shovel and hacksaw, but no. Also, he "forgot" the little hand made bat toy presented to him, thereby thwarting our plans for surreptitious monitoring his every move via embedded GPS/nanny cam technology. He's quite canny, that Kurt. Watch this space for a retrospective of our encounter.

Overheard at the Kurt/Trey Summit

"Quantum physics shows us that matter, on a sub-atomic level, is an attention whore".

After Math

....or maybe after gym class----oh, hell--no time like the present....................

May I offer, for your perusal/feverish bidding like a bunch of starving sharks at an estate sale, the following items?

The actual sofa upon which Kurt actually sat (seating area indicated)
The section of carpet upon which his actual feet (shod) actually rested
the table and sheets (sheets made actual contact)
a cast off hair from Kurt's actual head(!!!!!)

Also for sale, but not yet pictured:
the actual door upon which he actually knocked (shave-and-a-haircut,btw)
the actual bathroom he was in for a whole couple of minutes
the passenger side seat/ entire truck that safely transported Kurt to his hotel.

I'd really like to offer up this entire house, along with the hotel, but apparently there are some sort of silly laws prohibiting me from doing that.


But don't let me catch you even looking at the Todd nail clippings. MINE!!

The Hour Grows Ever Closer

................when HE arrives. I've strewn the place with subtle collectors of shed skin cells and CO2, all cleverly disguised as clutter. Also, having read that last post, I have diplomatically chosen to send the odd-Tay one-Clays out for the day---what the eye doesn't see, the heart can't take out back and shoot. Again. And again.
What will happen? Will he agree to my experiment in quantum blogging--the one I've decided to call
"Schrödinger's Kurt"? So may questions, and so little time left to prepare. Watch this space for further updates----should I survive.................................your bids will be taken on the various memorabilia generated by his mere presence.
Now, if I can just lure Mariana here...............

The historic and possibly ill-advised meeting between bloggers Kurt and Trey takes place today, if the buses are running. I wondered what would be the most appropriate gift to bring Trey as a thank you for the elaborate meal he is undoubtedly preparing. Only something special would suffice.

You may remember that, with the repurposing of OPE blog, Todd was rendered obsolete, and it became necessary to take him out back and shoot him. It was even kind of satisfying. Anyway, in my culture, it is traditional for the family of the deceased to prepare the body for burial. Todd's people couldn't do it, as they didn't know he was going to be dead. So it fell to me.

Fortunately, as I was clipping Todd's nails (and giving them the traditional French tips), I slipped them into a ziploc bag for later archiving. What could be a more appropriate gift for Trey than a little piece of Todd (and a ziploc bag)? I of course retain the cloning rights, but the clippings will be his to fondle!

eBay, Smithsonian, or Vatican Vault?

A new meme to replace marry-fuck-kill---what should I do with the actual phone on which I actually spoke to Kurt ? It comes with access to the voicemail left by himself, so extra value and all, but what to do? eBay? Donate to Smithsonian? Or hand over to the Vatican to be forever suppressed? Your input will be gratefully read. Probably.

You REALLY Wish You Were Me Right Now......

.............seriously.

It is possibly a sign of impending apocalypse, but............. I just spoke to Kurt. On my actual phone. I have evidence that other people actually exist.

I think you wet yourself. I'll wait here while you clean up.







It gets better. He's coming here to IRBHN World HQ.

I think it's mentioned in the book of Revelation.........

Bad News: Some drunk guy peed on the pillow pile erected in the towne square. We tried to hold off on the public execution until Kurt could be present, but public outrage being what it was..... sadly, Kurt was not able to enjoy the bloodletting. Talk of gladitorial games has been heard................

What I Did With My Holiday Blues

The holidays usually give me the blues, so I decided to stay busy.
They say idle hands are the devil's workshop, but I think I made a fair case for busy hands producing the ungodly.
Colorful ginger bread voodoo dolls are fun--my fave is the blue guy with the comb over.
This is my innovation---the single sock monkey, made from only one sock.

Bats. I made many bats. The toothy one at the bottom flew all the way to Portugal. His arms are still tired!
F-Bomb bunny, number 2 in the holiday depression bunnies series
emo bunnie---number one of the series
an evil sock monkey, and more bats and bunnies below.

The City Prepares

So much to be done! In anticipation of the arrival of a certain blogstar to our fair ("so-so" fair, not "pretty") city, the local authorities/village elders are "taking certain steps".
Stray dogs are being rounded up, and given baths, haircuts, and breath mints (on their new collars, like St Bernards); vagrants are likewise being collected, bathed, and taught to sing our simple songs of greeting (tone-deafness leading to bone-deadness), and best of all, in the towne square--a giant pillow pile.
Let it never be said that we don't know how to kowtow to the glitteratti!
Here is a (partial) list of celebs who have graced our little settlement in days past:

Kukla and Ollie (no Fran)

That skinny girl from the movies (the one with dark hair, except she's up for some award for being in a movie with her hair blonde)

That guy who plays bongos naked

That blonde guy who plays a vampire on TV

That other blonde guy--the big one

Some other people I didn't personally recognize, but they had a real 'tude, so they must be famous

The boogie man (at night, under the beds)

Something to Blog About

Hey! How are you! Wow, it's been-what? About a million years since an update, right?
Things have been very interesting. I found a dead raccoon, for starters. What is so interesting, as opposed to disgusting, about that? Well, it had apparently committed suicide. Where it ever learned to tie a noose, I'll never know.
And speaking of shocking news, guess what? Go ahead, guess away.
Nope. No. Wrong. How rude. No. No. And, NO!
Ok, I'll spill.........someone is coming to visit the wanna-be major American city I live in.
"So", you may say, "don't people often visit your quaint little 'berg?"; to which I can only reply "well, yeah---but not like THIS person". So there, smarty. With that kind of attitude, I might just keep my little secret. Hum dee dum dum dum, la la la la la laaaaaaa.......................
What? Oh, are you still here? What? Who might it be, you ask? Do you really want to know?
Ok, I'll tell you.
[ahem] It is with mixed pleasure and apprehension that I tell you...........what are you looking at?
Oh, that. Yes, my hair looks weird. I asked Mei-mei to help me trim it, and she thought I meant chop most of the length off the back. Yes, it looks silly. No, I'm not getting it "fixed", I'm just going to gel it to death until the back grows out again---that way the front will be longer, and it will all tie up neatly. Why grow it if I'm only going to tie it up, you ask? Why are you all up in my business? What's it to you? What's that? You think I'm stalling? You think maybe no one of interest (other than the douche bag entertainment industry vermin that swarm in for sux by sux worse) would ever set foot here in this oasis of hipster mediocrity? Ok---enough trivial dead raccoon hair tragedy minutia.
The person of interest, the one leaving the relative comfort of their very own domicile to travel to this geographic location is------wait for it, even better---scroll down....................................................................................................................

















Kurt-Kurt-Kurty-Kurt-KURT!!!!!

Couldn't you just die? Well don't---not here, anyway----I still have a dead raccoon to remove.

Is this some lame excuse for not blogging?

Well, an attempt, anyway.
Just when I thought I was as weird as I was going to ever be, I discovered how much Bjork appeals to me. In my world, she makes perfect sense.