Friday, July 25, 2008


Have you seen Frances Bean lately?

She looks exactly like an anime character.


That's Major Motoko Kusanagi from Ghost in the Shell. I should know. I'm an anime freak. It's an awesome movie. You should totally watch it, even if you don't like anime. The Matrix totally bit off of it like, so hard.

Of course, she has a kind of young Liz Phair thing happening too:

I don't know. I love Liz Phair. She's just adorable. I'm not so wild about every album she's released since Exile In Guyville, but that's for another post.

Anyway, I was thinking... If I were fifteen years old, I do believe I'd be in love with Frances, despite her terribly unfortunate pedigree. I mean, I miss Kurt as much as anyone, and Courtney is just a fucking embarrassment. What do you think it would be like to date FB? I think it might go something like this. Keep in mind, you're fifteen, and totally awkward as fuck already.

You arrive at her house.

You: Hey...

Frances Bean: Hey.

Y: So, what do you feel like doing?

FB: I don't know. Come in while I finish getting ready.

Y: Um, is your mom around?

FB: Ugh, yes. Just hang out. I'll be ready in like 5.

Y: Uh, ok.

[Frances runs to her room to finish getting ready. Courtney stumbles in a nearby room, and you begin sweating. She staggers in, and finding you in the entry way, stops, eyes you up and down, and coughs.]

Courtney (drunk, possibly loaded on pills, half-dressed, cigarette dangling): Who the fuck was at the door? Why did you get it? We have people to do that. Mexican people.

Y: Uh, hi Ms. Love.

C: Who the fuck are you? Are you here to get Frances? I bet you want to see her naked. You do, don't you? I mean, it's totally normal. You can tell me. It's cool.

Y: I... I... we're gonna...

C: Whatever. I know you want to, you little filth bag. You better not get her pregnant, fucker, or I'll put a shotgun in your mouth too! Ha ha ha [cough, sputter]! Oh, fuck, you know I'm only kidding. Where are you two lovebirds off to, anyway... where's that bottle of Valium?

Y: I was thinking we would just go down to the mall. Some people are there.

C: Who? Who's there? You know who's there? The fucking pappa... papra... papraNAZI! That's who! Those fucking bloodsuckers! Scum... they ruin everything! How many times have you had a tit fall out, completely by accident, and you weren't totally trashed? Like a million, right? Me too! But EVERY time, it's 'Courtney's off the wagon' or 'Courtney's breaking the terms of her probation' or 'Courtney's a complete trainwreck and is unfit to be the mother of anything short of a scorching case of syphilis'...

Y: [...]

C: Don't look at me like that, you little shit.

Y: I... just...

FB: Ok, let's get out of here. Mom, come on. You always do this!


FB: You know what. Let's go. I'll be back... later, I guess.

C: You better be! And you [gesturing woozily to you] - you remember what I said..

Y: Ok... which part?

C: [slumped over on the table, passed out, snoring]

FB: Never mind. Let's go.

Y: Is it always like that?

FB: Unfortunately...

I really hope she goes in the opposite direction. And I hope Courtney is sawed in half by a giant shard of metal that falls from a construction site as she walks underneath.

How Much Does Childhood Fascination Cost?

Well, it starts at $30,000. At least that's what I gather. There's an auction on eBay for a prop hoverboard from Back To The Future II.

When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was for enough time to pass that hoverboards became a reality. I rode my skateboard and loved it like any other kid, but man, once I laid eyes on that marvel of fun and excitement, my totally awesome board looked like a wooden slab of stir-fried boring. I had one of the best boards at the time, and it still paled in comparison to a slick rocket powered by rare-earth magnets (as I later discovered were a possible explanation for how it was so kickass).

Robert Zemeckis even went so far to joke at the time that hoverboards were real and toy companies couldn't release them due to parental pressure! My tiny brain was bursting at the seams as I had not yet developed the scathing, razor-sharp sense of sarcasm I currently employ in every aspect of my personal and professional life. How could such an injustice continue? I was sure, at some point, if I managed to stay alive long enough, that I would have my vindication; that one day, I would cruise along just above the earth's surface, on a freaking awesome hoverboard.

And now, if I can wrangle up thirty large, I can get that much closer. Of course, I'd need a huge crew of people to tow me along on suspension cables and swing me around when I call out directions, which would increase the cost of this little venture substantially, but hey! If I have that much money to bid, plus the "buyer's premium" which apparently would be 20% of the final cost of the item (!), hiring a crew to support my insane desire to re-create a completely fabricated childhood fantasy is nothing, right?

And what the hell is with the buyer's premium, anyway? You win the auction, and then pay a shitload more money JUST to be able to get the item you won? Horseshit.

Oh, so close.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Fail Makes The Hurt Hurt A Little Less

Since last time I was so moany and bitchy about how much pain I'm in, here are some more Fail Blog laughs, that I couldn't share the other day because it actually hurt too much to laugh.

And this awesome one is from today.

Sorry about all the FAIL posts, but it's just so good.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Fate's Cruel Hand

So y'all know I loves my surfing. Almost as much as I love whiskey. Ok, maybe more depending on the season, because I would pass on whiskey to go surfing. In any event, last week I was reminded of what a hemorrhoid I am on the ass of the ocean, and I am healed just enough to share now, so on with it.

Last week, early on, some storm thingy (hurricane) was blowing around Bermuda or something. It was sending crazy waves all the way up the coast. Unfortunately, anytime there's crazy waves, there's crazy risk, because the ocean really doesn't get the whole "cooperation" thing. So you have to be willing to risk a little more to get the good rides, because the water's a little more unforgiving.

Sunday it was unrideable. I mean, really. I watched kids who were good get drop kicked off of waves in a most unpleasant way. And the water was frigid cold. Like not ball-shrinking cold, but ball shattering, like liquid nitrogen on a racquetball in your middle school auditorium during a "Science is Cool/Fun/etc" assembly.

Monday I decided to roll the dice because it looked like things had calmed down enough. And I was ok. Went in, got some action, came out. Tuesday, same deal, even a little better. Wednesday, I decided to go in late in the day, since I had some work to get done, and if you go in at low tide, it's so shallow that you can get paralyzed if you hit the sand bar the wrong way. (No joke. It happened to some guy that weekend.) So yeah, Wednesday, the water's really warm all of a sudden, and I go in with no suit, just shorts. Thinking, man, this is really nice, I decide to fool around.

Most of the waves are ok, but not great, but as I soon found out, some of the rougher cousins of the waves on Sunday were still hanging around, long after all the other respectable guests left the party. As I was about to get out, I figured I'd race one more wave, since you had to get your shit together pretty quick, as they were moving fast.

It's always the last one that does it, right? It's always "one more job" for the criminal in the movie, where he gets shot or caught instead of spending his golden years sipping margaritas in Mexico. Think Blow, or Heat. Which are both magnificent, and if you haven't seen them, what the hell is your problem, anyway.

Well my "one more" decided right at the last second to not play fair, and I tried to kick my board away and jump over the back of the wave if I could, except that the wave was bigger than I was, and caught me in the curl and slammed me down instead of graciously letting me get by. I was hurled into the break, and in an instant had the fin of my board jammed into my ribcage two or three times. The force of the wave was throwing me around, and I couldn't push the board away, all I could do was lay there and take it. My arms got slammed too, as I would find later, when mystery bruises made their appearance.

I think I yelled underwater, and when I got up, I was convinced I would have a hole in the side of my body. I reached around expecting to feel exposed bone, but only felt a sharp pain instead. I limped up the beach, gasping and swearing, and made my way to the shower outside of my house, where I tried to get a better look at what was to make my week just perfect. I couldn't take full breaths because it felt like someone was jabbing a knife into my side. I say that, and as I have not been a victim of a stabbing, assume this is what a knife would might feel like. At this point, I am convinced I have broken ribs. I've never felt a pain like this in my entire life. I start to panic a little, because I can't get enough air in and all my muscles are tightening, preventing me from doing that any better than I can already. I had to relax just to get air in and keep myself from getting dizzy and passing out, because I was alone, and no one would find me for what I assumed would be hours.

I managed to get a ride to an urgent care clinic, where I had chest x-rays taken. They told me I was lucky, and actually hadn't broken anything, and my lung was not punctured. I had a soft-tissue contusion, and all my muscles in that area were spasming, and preventing me from breathing/relaxing. So they gave me a shot of some muscle relaxant in my butt cheek, and a prescription for some ibuprofen and painkillers. I hate taking stuff, so I avoided it as long as I could, but man, this weekend was a painful one.

Now, a few days later, the pain is still there, but not as severe (I can breathe properly) and I am starting to feel somewhat normal again. I don't know when I can get back in the water, but I'm hoping my Wolverine-like healing factor will assist in that regard. I would post a picture of the wound area, but I don't want anyone vomming on any computers. That would truly be a tragedy.

What a royal pain in the ass, though. I mean, seriously. Summer? Give me a friggin' break. What happened to you and me just kicking it and laughing at all the suckers? Let's do that again. Because this shit is totally lame.