My weekend was a fucking vortex. A VORTEX I tells ya...
Making it worse is that I had all sorts of plans that I detailed in Friday's blog - ALL OF WHICH FELL THROUGH.
Friday night started off well-intentioned enough. A gaggle of us were set to attend Madonnarama and made sure we got there in decent-enough time (read: before 11). Yeah... that was downright tardy. There was a line up the mothafuckin' block - people had clearly been there since before 9. And who has got that sort of time? WHO?!
It was supposed to be $10 before 11, $15 before 1 and "more" after 1... I'd price an evening dancing to all-Madonna music with 5,000 other homos, all the dry ice you can breathe and zero personal space at 2 bucks. Maybe $2.50. So naturally, the most I was willing to go was 10.
Call me a jaded old fuck (well, don't, lest I bitch slap you), but I just have no patience for places that let a line purposely swell so it looks 'happenin'. I just couldn't care less... so in a reaction comprised of 20% "we'ze too hot fo' dat shit"-elitism, 10%"dang! as if that line is that long, y'all!"-despair, and 70% good-old-fashioned "meh"-apathy, we bolted the absolutely preposterous lineup at Madonnarama and found ourselves at Woody's. Yee-Haw.About two seconds after we got in there, BOOM - torrential downpour. Homos from that Madonnarama line sought shelter in the village like they was gonna melt or some shit... they swarmed like locusts - it was amazing. I imagined "The Ride of the Valkyries" underscoring and let me tell ya, it was all too fitting.
Anyway, joy of joys, what a night to find y'self at Woody's - it was afterall, "Best Ass Night". It is just simply beyond me who enters these things. I think the only people that I respect less than the dudes who enter these things are the dudes who are active spectators at them. It's so seedy. But then again, who am I to judge? Ya gotta have fun, that's what I always say.
It turned out that one of the contestants was a guy that one of my co-fags had some liasons with a while back [I won't mention either of their names as he didn't seem particularly pleased to find himself in this circumstance].
My nameless co-fag said that this dude was "going through a real low-point right now".
I asked "how low?"
"Low enough to enter a best ass contest at Woody's."
Point taken. Anyballs that was that was about that. I also trumpeted that I'd be attending the centennial anniversary of the Royal Alex theatre yesterday, but shoot y'all, it was at noon. This guy does nothing before 7 PM on Sundays. Fuck it, this guy doesn't really do anything after 7 PM on Sundays, either. The point I'm making is that I don't do things on Sundays - did you get that?
It's a pretty definitive 'day of rest' for me. Not for religious reasons, but primarily because I'm so abominably wasted on Saturday nights that it really takes quite a stripe offa/outta me. So I'm just the picture of languid, if you can imagine. And I'll actually watch anything that's on m'TV set. The past three Sundays, CBC's been airing the Harry Potter films... so I thought I'd see what all the fuss is about and check 'em out. But then I'll fall asleep for 20 minute intervals and miss key plot points/character introductions/spells and other conventions of warlockcraft and I'm just fucked right up ass in terms of understanding what's going on.
I have, however, come to three conclusions:
1.) In each and every case, whomever you think is a good guy is actually a bad guy and whomever you think is a bad guy is actually a good guy. I could have just said vice versa. Whatever.
2.) MORE Maggie Smith, LESS fantastical beasts.
3.) Hermoine and Ron both need gender reassignment surgery. He's clearly a chick and she's clearly a dude.
Anyway...
The best thing to happen to me all weekend was joyous indeed... I'm going to assume that you're well-aware of third-place finisher Lauren Caitlin Upton's ass-rockingly brilliant answer at this past Friday's Miss Teen USA pageant... it's one of the best things I've ever seen.
I can't tell you how entertaining I find that. And it just gets better every time you watch it. How many times she incorrectly says "such as". Mario Lopez about to lose it at the end of it. Whether or not that self-satisfied smirk she ends on is genuine or not. All of these things.
I refuse to believe that a percentage of U.S. Americans (is there any other kind?) don't have access to maps. It was my understanding that every citizen of U.S. America - from the hoitiest, toitiest Connetician family of 4 to the lowliest Appalachian family of 17 - had an at-least 2004 edition globe of the world that doubled as a wetbar as the centrepiece of their living room. I'LL BE DAMNED!
Anyway, Miss Upton's Q&A snaffoo easily made a dark day for the Bimbo community. Apparently, the bitch isn't doing any follow-up interviews - as her reps were easily able to foresee the amount of people with basic mathematical and grammatical problems for her to take a stab at.
Already this incident seems poised to result in more response videos than "Dick In A Box"...
Anyway, such as, I've got to get going, such as, so, South America and Iraq, such as, I'll have to talk to you later, U.S. Americans.
Such as,
--- Aj
Gah,
It's heavily rumored that Trump wants them as is reportedly 'in talks' with them, but it seems doubtful that all three would do it. I'm thinking Paris would be the likliest candidate. Say what you will about her, but Princess P has an innate knack for branding. It might be a little limited past writhing on the hood of a car, 'leaking' sex tapes and patenting catch phrases like "that's hot", I'm fairly certain that she could beat CNBC's Jim Cramer at selling snowcones to pedestrians on Wall Street or some other mundane task that would comprise the first challenge. She's also have a plethora of papparazzi contacts at her disposal at any given second. However, methinks she might hit a bit of a wall if it comes down to project management of a 60-story high-rise, but that's just pure speculation.
His chief export is pain; his two speeds are walk and kill; he doesn't sleep, he waits; when he falls in the water, he doesn't get wet, rather, the water gets Chuck Norris; there's no chin underneath his beard, just another fist: All these things considered PLUS his dynamite spokemanship for Total Gym home fitness would make CN an ideal candidate. It would seem unlikely that he'd do any business with NBC anytime soon what with the nasty lawsuit between the two over "Law & Order" being trademarked nicknames for his right and left legs. But we can dream.
Back in the days of Spice, it was widely reported and admitted by the girls themselves that Geri handled the business. Which is mayhaps accountable for their swift demise after her departure. Nevertheless, I've gotta give someone props for overseeing an operation that pumped out merchandise that even I bought, and shit, I neva don't buy nothin'! I remember back in high school I owned several pieces of Spice Girls periphenalia, most notably, a Spice Girls diary. With a lock. I remember I kept the names of all the girls I knew who had abortions and how many they had. That's all.
That's right, the Pine-Sol spokeswoman. Perhaps more a candidate for Celebrity Fit Club, I can tell you that I'm buying whatever she's sellin'.
I dare say that the world has never witnessed a marriage of commerce and art more harmonious and ingenious than Madonna. Let me put it this way: whereas 1,000 engineers working at 1,000 labs in for 1,000 years with an unlimited budget could work towards inventing the space car - Madonna, in her infinite wisdom and talent, could scribble down the prototype on a napkin whilst hunched over on the toilet, fund its construction with the profits from her latest remix album, get her kids to build it after school on a Wednesday, then agressively-yet-subversively market it so that in three months, everyone in the known world would trade they Hyundai's in and be driving one. Yeah.
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