Thirteen Steps

If you enjoy Triumph the Insult Dog, you’ll like this video. Good gravy, I laughed hard. “Hey, it’s my year! I’m taking this.”

If you’re like me [asshole], you hate the way Flickr.com’s image browsing works. That frustration is now gone for me because of this site. It allows you to view tons of thumbnails at a time and gives one the ability to query random images, similar to the way the LJ random images site works.

Am I the only one who’s bothered by how touchy-touchy the Olsen twins are with one another? Seriously. I mean, how Flowers in The Attic is the below image?

Do other people get up on their sibling’s kool-aid like this?

I’m sure you’ve all been to the Random Chuck Norris Facts site. If not, do so. That site also provides random Vin Diesel facts. Because my opinion of such things is so vital to my readers [all 3 of you], I’d like to share some of my favorites.

“Chuck Norris takes a baseball bat into the can with him in case he craps out a wildcat and has to beat it to death.”

“If you were to lock Vin Diesel in a room with a guitar, a year later you would have the greatest album ever, it would sweep the Grammy’s. When asked why he doesn’t do this Vin replied “Because Grammy’s are for queers.” Then he ate a knife to show the seriousness of his response.”

“When Chuck Norris does push-ups, he doesn’t lift his body off the ground; he pushes the earth away from his body.”

“When Chuck Norris beats his dog for peeing on the rug, he does so at the PETA headquarters out of sheer spite.”

“Whenever Vin Diesel puts out a cigarette, he throws it in slow motion into a long line of gasoline and calmly walks away as an inferno erupts behind him.”

“When Chuck Norris works out, he sweats fortitude.”

“When Chuck Norris has a good idea he kicks over a forklift carrying a pallet of light bulbs.”

“When Chuck Norris goes swimming, he doesn’t get wet. The water gets Chuck Norris.”

Though he tends to make movies that lack quality, I’d still have no problems drinking tomato soup from the small of Jason Statham’s back. I’m just saying…

I hate the DJ voice. You know what I’m talking about? If you’ve ever listened to top 40 radio or been to a wedding, that’s the guy I’m referring to. I can’t really explain what it is that I dislike about it. It just makes me want to stab.

While on my way to lunch with Lynn, yesterday, I noticed a middle-aged turd of a man on a Harley. His wife was on the bike with him and the leather jackets they donned hadn’t a single scuff on them. On the guy’s helmet was a sticker that said ‘Bikers For Bush.’ It was in the shape of and used the colors from the Harley Davidson logo. I was appalled. The guys who invented that clique, real bikers, would have cut out that guy’s tongue for such pro-establishment bullshit. Bikers for Bush? What an ass.

Dear East Lansing [non-nu] Punk Guy,

I see you, man. I see the combat boots and spiked wristband. I see the patches and safety pins and neck-tattoos. Yes, your mohawk is tall and the whiskey on your breath is beyond apparent. You’ve got the sleeping bag and that fuck-the-system attitude. I get it. What I don’t get, though, is how you can afford a $130 Merrell backpack [brand new] but not a fecking shower. No, I don’t want a hug, man. I want you to cleanse yourself. I want to talk to you about Bad Religion and NOFX without throwing up in my mouth. Is that so much to ask? Do you need soap? I have extra.

I want you to love baths like I do,
Don