I’m no soccer expert, but I’m pretty sure the “nut shot, nut shot, off-the-face” play isn’t going to score you many goals. Having been in a few of these sporting situations in the past, I would like to offer this young man a little advice: Stay down. Getting up will only make them kick you in the very sensitive parts over and over again. Learn to play an instrument (a real one like drums or a guitar, not a woodwind or brass) and focus on your studies. In short, just chalk these school years up to “experience.”
Later on when you have a decent paying job, a nice car and a girlfriend, you will…turn into some investment banker asshole who spends his entire life treating everyone like shit as a way of overcompensating for years of humiliation. Hmmm. Nevermind. My new advice, I guess, is: Never try anything ever. (And then blog about it.)
I would be really upset if Denise Richards asked me for my sperm, mostly because I feel like if I’m going to give someone my sperm, it should be done in the way God wanted it to be done: namely jerking it into a turkey baster and dropping it off in front of her doorstep and running away. At least that’s what my weird Uncle does.
So she thinks he doctored the e-mail. Well, let me just say, I have a copy of said e-mail and we can all see, a)this e-mail is not doctored, and b)she not only wanted the sperm, but had big plans for it, and c)I don’t think she fully understands the plot to Jurassic Park.
What better place to pull out your best onstage whorin’ moves than on the Today Show at nine o’clock in the morning…in front of 25 six-year-olds. The look of shame on the young girl in the white and blue jacket at the :29 second mark really says it all. I’m assuming after the show she had a few questions for her mom. I’m pretty sure this is how their conversation went:
Little Girl: Why did the STD lady make baby Jesus cry?
Mom: Well, do you know what methamphetamine is?
Little Girl: Metham…whatamine?
Mom: Methamphetamine. It’s a drug that makes people forget where they are and do crazy things like give make-believe mouth sex to tubby guitarists onstage during a family program.
Little Girl: Is that why she also has “trailer park face”?
Mom: Now you’re learning! You make me so proud!
Little Girl: Then why do I still feel empty inside.
Mom: That’s because the trailer-park-STD-meth lady just took away some of your innocence. And the bad news is, you’ll never ever get it back.
You may remember our 12 videos of famous people falling down we put up a few weeks ago. Well, someone seemed to like it so much that they put together a lovely montage of runway models falling down on the runway. Models have two jobs: 1) look pretty, and 2) walk upright. If they weren’t empty and rich and high on cocaine and power, I might actually feel sorry for them when they weren’t able to pull off #2. But since they are, I’m not.
So, they’re remaking 90210, which the guy who sits next to me says “Is like remaking The Godfather.” I’m not sure I fully agree with him, but I do agree that no one gives a shit about a 90210 remake. So, in an effort to translate what these new characters are all about, I went ahead and used my Bullshit Translator 5000, so that we could hear what they were really saying.
If I had a nickel for every time a flying peniscopter came swooping in during one of my many important speeches, well, I don’t think I would have any nickels. But this Russian guy would have at least one.
OK, so you’re a young girl who just got busted shoplifting. Your first response is, of course, to start crying. You’re second response is, of course, to scream for your mom. But if you’re the guy holding the camera, you’re only response is, of course, to start taunting this girl with lines like, “She got the goods! She got ‘em! Whoo!”, “Girl you caught, you going to jail.” and “Hey girl, you should be a singer with a voice like that.” It’s nice to know that in times of crisis, someone will always be there to comfort and/or berate you.
I have to go to the opera in a couple weeks and I must tell you, I PRAY that it will be half as entertaining as this. We as Americans think we love video games, but you don’t truly love a video game until you make an opera out of it. I can only hope that some day Contra will be turned into a musical, featuring a closing song called “Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, B, A, select start.”