wojr - words, occasionally sentences
Friday, November 09, 2007
SWM Desperately Seeking Livestock
First, a word from our sponsor:
For those expecting a reveal of the Dead Pool winner, we must disappoint. The crack staff at wojr.com are, in between hits of crack, still tabulating the Dead Pool results as well as confirming the mortal status of literally tens of celebrities. The winner will be announced right after we finish our own predictions for last year’s Dead Pool.
Now, back to ourregularly scheduled extremely delayed blog post:
Whatever happened to dowries?
You bright readers know what a dowry is – "the money, goods, or estate that a wife brings to her husband at marriage."
Back in the day, men used to reap the benefits from marriage. Our forefathers got mad paid, yo. I do realize that there’s been a sexual revolution since then and everyone's equal now. I watch the WNBA, so I know about women's rights. However, a majority of ladies do prefer to date the financially secure aka a "breadwinner". In this day and age, many members of the female gender want to find a man to support them so they can kick back, pop out some kids and become obsessed with daytime television. Thinking otherwise is like believing Dog the Bounty Hunter doesn’t drop the N-bomb on a daily basis. It's just naïve, playa.
However, nowadays, all men can hope for in terms of a dowry are the wedding gifts; some dining set that is considered too "nice" for regular meals or, better yet, enough monetary gifts to hopefully cover the cost of a hundred chicken dinners, a few hours of open bar and the videographer that apparently was obsessed with the bride’s plunging neckline. Seriously, we are doing a bang up job of protecting the sanctity of marriage, but I digress...
Dowries. I bring them up because I’ll be hanging out with Aunt Jane this weekend. In terms of conversation topics with Jane, all you need to be is single and beyond your twenties to predict what she’ll want to talk about. You don't even need to be related to her to hear words like "marriage", "children", "not", "getting" and "younger" repeatedly. The best defense to this line of interrogation is a quick funny that will be inappropriate enough to force her to change the subject.
Thus, my planned rejoinder to her queries is that "I'm holding out for dowries to make a comeback. Get me a homestead and her dad’s best cow for my trouble. Hey, I just want my forty acres and a mule like any other brotha."
While I’m worried that "reparations" humor might go over my aunt's head, I like comparing "dating in your thirties" to being a carpet bagger. Dealing with the shell-shocked and battle-scarred at an unwelcoming place that you never imagined yourself going. That’s dating in your 30s in a nutshell.
So, in closing if you have any video of brides with awesome cleavage or doing strange things to livestock, feel free to for them to hatemail at wojr dot com.
wojr
First, a word from our sponsor:
For those expecting a reveal of the Dead Pool winner, we must disappoint. The crack staff at wojr.com are, in between hits of crack, still tabulating the Dead Pool results as well as confirming the mortal status of literally tens of celebrities. The winner will be announced right after we finish our own predictions for last year’s Dead Pool.
Now, back to our
Whatever happened to dowries?
You bright readers know what a dowry is – "the money, goods, or estate that a wife brings to her husband at marriage."
Back in the day, men used to reap the benefits from marriage. Our forefathers got mad paid, yo. I do realize that there’s been a sexual revolution since then and everyone's equal now. I watch the WNBA, so I know about women's rights. However, a majority of ladies do prefer to date the financially secure aka a "breadwinner". In this day and age, many members of the female gender want to find a man to support them so they can kick back, pop out some kids and become obsessed with daytime television. Thinking otherwise is like believing Dog the Bounty Hunter doesn’t drop the N-bomb on a daily basis. It's just naïve, playa.
However, nowadays, all men can hope for in terms of a dowry are the wedding gifts; some dining set that is considered too "nice" for regular meals or, better yet, enough monetary gifts to hopefully cover the cost of a hundred chicken dinners, a few hours of open bar and the videographer that apparently was obsessed with the bride’s plunging neckline. Seriously, we are doing a bang up job of protecting the sanctity of marriage, but I digress...
Dowries. I bring them up because I’ll be hanging out with Aunt Jane this weekend. In terms of conversation topics with Jane, all you need to be is single and beyond your twenties to predict what she’ll want to talk about. You don't even need to be related to her to hear words like "marriage", "children", "not", "getting" and "younger" repeatedly. The best defense to this line of interrogation is a quick funny that will be inappropriate enough to force her to change the subject.
Thus, my planned rejoinder to her queries is that "I'm holding out for dowries to make a comeback. Get me a homestead and her dad’s best cow for my trouble. Hey, I just want my forty acres and a mule like any other brotha."
While I’m worried that "reparations" humor might go over my aunt's head, I like comparing "dating in your thirties" to being a carpet bagger. Dealing with the shell-shocked and battle-scarred at an unwelcoming place that you never imagined yourself going. That’s dating in your 30s in a nutshell.
So, in closing if you have any video of brides with awesome cleavage or doing strange things to livestock, feel free to for them to hatemail at wojr dot com.
wojr
Monday, June 25, 2007
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRONC!
Today is the birthday of the Mighty Broncatello! One year older than Jesus!
Now for those not in the know (and please feel free to join us in "The Know"), Bronc and I compete in giving each other crappy birthday gifts. Be it Bronc's birthday, Wojr's birthday or Jesus's birthday - all those precious dates need be celebrated with utter craptastic birthday gifts.
I'm headed to NJ this thursday so I need some bad gift suggestions.
I recall a James Van Der Beek's biography being one gift, Rosie O'Donnell's autobiography being another. However, the current front runner is this book Bronc bought me.
Yeah, that one is hard to top. Honestly, the book sickened me so much that I never actually looked through it. If I did, I would have found this pic.
I know, I should blur out his tally-wacker. It is rather threatening. I'll get to that shortly, but in the meantime, anyone else reminded of this pic?
Yeah, I thought so.
So -- Happy birthday, you gay cowboy you!
And, everyone else, feel free to email me you crappy gift suggestions. Remember when it comes to crap, Price is not a limitation.
wojr
Today is the birthday of the Mighty Broncatello! One year older than Jesus!
Now for those not in the know (and please feel free to join us in "The Know"), Bronc and I compete in giving each other crappy birthday gifts. Be it Bronc's birthday, Wojr's birthday or Jesus's birthday - all those precious dates need be celebrated with utter craptastic birthday gifts.
I'm headed to NJ this thursday so I need some bad gift suggestions.
I recall a James Van Der Beek's biography being one gift, Rosie O'Donnell's autobiography being another. However, the current front runner is this book Bronc bought me.
Yeah, that one is hard to top. Honestly, the book sickened me so much that I never actually looked through it. If I did, I would have found this pic.
I know, I should blur out his tally-wacker. It is rather threatening. I'll get to that shortly, but in the meantime, anyone else reminded of this pic?
Yeah, I thought so.
So -- Happy birthday, you gay cowboy you!
And, everyone else, feel free to email me you crappy gift suggestions. Remember when it comes to crap, Price is not a limitation.
wojr
Friday, June 01, 2007
wojr.com: more than just penis euphemisms (but not by much)
Language is a peculiar thing, especially when you take the time to closely examine it.
Take, for example, the expression "his patience has worn thin." Why do we only comment on the waif-like nature of one’s patience? How come no over ever remarks about the thickness of one’s stoicism?
Wow, that fellow there has a rather thick and robust patience!
Of course, folks then might be prone to mistake the word "patience" for similar-sounding "penis" (or they could just assume patience is an euphemism for cock), especially when used in conjunction with adjectives like thick and robust.
But come on now, except for vagina, what noun couldn’t be turned into a metaphor for the male sexual organ?
Again, you just have to bask in the wonder of language.
By now, I’d wager some of you must be having your patience worn thin as you ask yourself, "what is wojr’s point?" or more accurately "does he ever have a point?"
Well, I am extremely aware that it has been some time since I last posted anything on this blog or the website. Well, I apologize for that and thank those who have waited quietly and patiently for me to get back to my insipid, self-involved writing. To those loyal readers, I compliment you on the obvious thickness of your fortitude. Your patience clearly has the girth of a Mandingo sex fantasy.
To the rest of you that bitched and moaned, well, you all have small and peculiar dicks, especially when you take the time to closely examine them.
Even the ladies.
wojr
Language is a peculiar thing, especially when you take the time to closely examine it.
Take, for example, the expression "his patience has worn thin." Why do we only comment on the waif-like nature of one’s patience? How come no over ever remarks about the thickness of one’s stoicism?
Wow, that fellow there has a rather thick and robust patience!
Of course, folks then might be prone to mistake the word "patience" for similar-sounding "penis" (or they could just assume patience is an euphemism for cock), especially when used in conjunction with adjectives like thick and robust.
But come on now, except for vagina, what noun couldn’t be turned into a metaphor for the male sexual organ?
Again, you just have to bask in the wonder of language.
By now, I’d wager some of you must be having your patience worn thin as you ask yourself, "what is wojr’s point?" or more accurately "does he ever have a point?"
Well, I am extremely aware that it has been some time since I last posted anything on this blog or the website. Well, I apologize for that and thank those who have waited quietly and patiently for me to get back to my insipid, self-involved writing. To those loyal readers, I compliment you on the obvious thickness of your fortitude. Your patience clearly has the girth of a Mandingo sex fantasy.
To the rest of you that bitched and moaned, well, you all have small and peculiar dicks, especially when you take the time to closely examine them.
Even the ladies.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Snide Remarks, Viewer Mail, woj
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
It Takes A Lot For The Cynic In Me To Be Hopeful About The Future
Quote of the day:
"to those who
do not believe
in evolution
i say,
your children's
children
will."
- Demetri Martin
Happy Happy Hump Day!
wojr
Quote of the day:
"to those who
do not believe
in evolution
i say,
your children's
children
will."
- Demetri Martin
Happy Happy Hump Day!
wojr
Labels: Advice, Snide Remarks
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I Wonder If They Are Franchising
Found on news.bbc.co.uk (via some friend of Shaw-nee):
Thus, I could so do that job.
“It’s not you, it’s them.”
“I think the two of you just need some space.”
“To be honest, he’s looking for some new pussy.”
How difficult is that to get across? The hardest part would be convincing the victim (can you think of a better label? I can’t.) that you are an actual representative of their spouse or lover and not someone playing some cruel prank.
Plus, there’s a definite client base out there. One can never underestimate the number of chicken shit men (and women) in the world.
I do, however, have a few suggestions for Mr. Dressler’s business model.
For one, I would offer a retort service. For a couple euros offer the dumped the opportunity to use the separation agent as a mouthpiece for their rage and retaliation. Anyone who has a nickname like ‘The Terminator’ probably would find it to express the bile and contempt one might feel over been romantically discarded by an intermediary.
Secondly, I would not charge more for the in person dumping. True, using the telephone or even email might be the swifter, more cost-effective route. However, the separation agent is wasting some prime opportunities for some break-up and/or revenge nookie. “What is that guy thinking, breaking up with a gorgeous lady like you?” These separation agents could be getting more play than the pizza guy in a porno. I realize the opportunity for casual sex is difficult to reflect on a company’s bottom line, but employee morale is crucial for any business, especially a start-up.
Third, why stop at romantic break-ups? How about a roommate relocation package or an employment resignation service? Or even go the whole nine yards and institute something akin to the witness protection program. Offer up new identities, fake deaths, the whole shebang. That’s where the big money is.
It could work, but I still like my Best Man Insurance idea better.
wojr
Found on news.bbc.co.uk (via some friend of Shaw-nee):
Agency makes breaking up easierAt their inner core, everyone here at wojr.com are nice guys. Actually, that’s not true. There is only one guy and he has no core. No matter how much you lick, there is no tootsie roll center.
A German businessman has set up a "separation agency" - a service to inform unsuspecting spouses and lovers their partners no longer want them.
Bernd Dressler will deliver the bad news - for those too scared to do it themselves - for 20 euros (£13) by phone, or for 50 euros (£33) in person.
The efficiency and directness of Mr. Dressler's manner has earned him the nickname The Terminator.
The 52-year-old compares his company to a dating agency but "in reverse".
Thus, I could so do that job.
“It’s not you, it’s them.”
“I think the two of you just need some space.”
“To be honest, he’s looking for some new pussy.”
How difficult is that to get across? The hardest part would be convincing the victim (can you think of a better label? I can’t.) that you are an actual representative of their spouse or lover and not someone playing some cruel prank.
Plus, there’s a definite client base out there. One can never underestimate the number of chicken shit men (and women) in the world.
I do, however, have a few suggestions for Mr. Dressler’s business model.
For one, I would offer a retort service. For a couple euros offer the dumped the opportunity to use the separation agent as a mouthpiece for their rage and retaliation. Anyone who has a nickname like ‘The Terminator’ probably would find it to express the bile and contempt one might feel over been romantically discarded by an intermediary.
Secondly, I would not charge more for the in person dumping. True, using the telephone or even email might be the swifter, more cost-effective route. However, the separation agent is wasting some prime opportunities for some break-up and/or revenge nookie. “What is that guy thinking, breaking up with a gorgeous lady like you?” These separation agents could be getting more play than the pizza guy in a porno. I realize the opportunity for casual sex is difficult to reflect on a company’s bottom line, but employee morale is crucial for any business, especially a start-up.
Third, why stop at romantic break-ups? How about a roommate relocation package or an employment resignation service? Or even go the whole nine yards and institute something akin to the witness protection program. Offer up new identities, fake deaths, the whole shebang. That’s where the big money is.
It could work, but I still like my Best Man Insurance idea better.
wojr
wojr's Guide to Dating - Entry #4,742:
'Office Supplies Are NOT Just For Work'
The Boy Scouts had it right. Always be prepared!
Oddly enough, I actually dated a girl that got a little aroused by office supplies.
wojr
'Office Supplies Are NOT Just For Work'
The Boy Scouts had it right. Always be prepared!
Oddly enough, I actually dated a girl that got a little aroused by office supplies.
wojr
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Think I Still Owe Raj A Wedding Gift
Found on INCREDIBLE FUKN.US (via Fleshbot.com (NSFW)):
Though, I am worried about having a buttplug that is called a 'bushplug'. It might be cause for some confusion. Just be sure to always go from the pink to brown, young ladies. Going brown to pink is just bad hygiene.
wojr
Found on INCREDIBLE FUKN.US (via Fleshbot.com (NSFW)):
This President will really f*** you up the butt. You’re already familiar with the sensation, so why not REALLY FEEL IT with our exclusive Presidential Pooper Plug. Invade an Iraqi, an Afghani, or at even an Iranian when you want. With this fat headed, huge stub of a plug no ass is safe anywhere.Do I even need to add my own comments? Isn't that just comical enough without any snarky remarks from me?
Though, I am worried about having a buttplug that is called a 'bushplug'. It might be cause for some confusion. Just be sure to always go from the pink to brown, young ladies. Going brown to pink is just bad hygiene.
wojr
Monday, September 18, 2006
“We're not sure which sister-pimping show he was talking about?”
That’s a direct quote from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - the new show from Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme starring Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford and Amanda Peet. The pilot for which airs tonight at 10 PM on NBC.
I’ve already watched it and got a real kick out of it. I’m not going to praise it as the second coming like most folks out there. The episode is mostly setup and some characters are glossed over. Some aren’t even introduced yet, but Sorkin has a lot of hieracrchy to establish without the benefit of years of Social Studies classes as he did with the West Wing. However, the acting especially from Peet and Perry is just top notch.
If you need additional endorsement..
Further proving he is yin to my yang, Bronc refuses to watch the show at all (despite his fondness for Sorkin and Schlamme’s Sport Night). Not only is it on opposite Monday Night Football on the East Coast, but it’s created by pinko liberals. Bronc also refuses to watch Weeds since it promotes the marijuana.
The word “bronc” actually means “to fuck things up.” So, don’t be a Bronc and watch the damn show. Unless you’re a Pittsburgh Steelers fan.
Other reviews can be found here and here.
wojr
That’s a direct quote from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - the new show from Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme starring Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford and Amanda Peet. The pilot for which airs tonight at 10 PM on NBC.
I’ve already watched it and got a real kick out of it. I’m not going to praise it as the second coming like most folks out there. The episode is mostly setup and some characters are glossed over. Some aren’t even introduced yet, but Sorkin has a lot of hieracrchy to establish without the benefit of years of Social Studies classes as he did with the West Wing. However, the acting especially from Peet and Perry is just top notch.
If you need additional endorsement..
Further proving he is yin to my yang, Bronc refuses to watch the show at all (despite his fondness for Sorkin and Schlamme’s Sport Night). Not only is it on opposite Monday Night Football on the East Coast, but it’s created by pinko liberals. Bronc also refuses to watch Weeds since it promotes the marijuana.
The word “bronc” actually means “to fuck things up.” So, don’t be a Bronc and watch the damn show. Unless you’re a Pittsburgh Steelers fan.
Other reviews can be found here and here.
wojr
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
This Post Is Just So I Can Say “A Pimp-Related Mishap” and “Nazi Dinosaurs”
Back in college, I would write movie reviews for the college newspaper. I believe that I only did it for a semester or, at the very most, a year. To be honest, it got in the way of my drinking and/or couples’ counseling. Being the low man on the proverbial newspaper totem pole, I never got first crack at the various film choices. I usually received the third or fourth “top” movie opening that week. Hence, I got to write about some real dogs.
And by dogs – I mean some ugly ass bitches.
While writing about what fleas or ticks were on a particular dog of a movie that week fulfilled my need to dispel my bile and discontent, it did get old rather quickly. (I was a younger and less bitter wojr then. Now my need to express my hate and cynicism can never be quelled.) But I love movies and take joy in discussing them. Something I have done here occasionally.
I have been avoiding writing film reviews here. I have no real reason to express why, but I’ve been avoiding them just the same. With the fiancée out East, I’ve been able to see more of the motion pictures. (Whenever I read “motion pictures”, my mind imagines the phrase to be uttered by Woody Allen. Again, no real reason why, but I imagine it nonetheless.) This increase in film viewing has become possible since I’ve re-joined netflix.com (Insert obligatory plug here) and additionally find myself no longer required to clear my cinematic choices through said Filipino contingent.
For example, last Thursday night, I was able to catch the new Mike Judge film, Idiocracy. Most of you may not have heard about this movie since the good people at Twentieth Century Fox have made almost a negative effort in marketing it. They, then, chose to release it on only 130 screens in 7 cities. Doing so without even screening it for critics. (Something the two major releases for the Labor Day weekend, The Wicker Man and Crank, chose to do as well, but that’s a rant for another day.)
Before I walked into the theater, I had not seen a trailer or even a poster for Idiocracy. (In this age of the internet how could they not even slap a trailer on a website for god’s sake??) I did recall reading an interview in a magazine (I think it was Esquire because my ass is civilized.) with Judge, the creator of the Beavis & Butthead and King of the Hill cartoons, about his arduous efforts dealing with Fox just to get the damn thing released. Given my deep heterosexual love for Judge’s previous live-action film, Office Space, I was definitely interested to see the next film in his oeuvre.
Idiocracy is the story of an average Joe (swear to God, his name is Joe) that finds himself the guinea pig in a cryogenics experiment. After a pimp-related mishap, Joe (played by an affable Luke Wilson) wakes up in the year 2505 (the film was due out in 2005) to find himself the smartest person on the planet (I’ll stop using parentheses now).
The movie does take the time to explain how the ignorant have taken control via sheer humping – given how the Jerry Springer set have sex with more frequency and more partners than those with higher IQ and the self-awareness to use birth control. Expounded out five centuries and the idiots are all that’s left. Given that in the future the President is a wrestler, the number one television show is just a guy getting hit in the nuts, and people get their education from Costco, it is not a huge leap of faith to embrace this vision of the future.
Overall the film is far from perfect. It has its share of fleas, but the movie is enjoyable. Idiocracy is a solid “dumb comedy” that you won’t feel stupid for enjoying. Judge’s comments on consumerism, mass media and the group think/mob mentality are totally spot-on. At the very least, Maya Rudolph and her motherhood enhanced breasts are worth a rental.
The point of this post though – isn’t really to commend Judge for his efforts, but to condemn Fox for the lack of theirs. I just can not understand why Fox hasn’t thrown some support behind this movie. The Rip Van Winkle storyline is far from being a high concept/difficult sale, Mike Judge is a rare recognizable commodity in terms of writer/directors and the film is chuck full of trailer moments. Plus, given how the theatrical release of Judge’s last film, Office Space, was mishandled, you would think the studio would have been apprehensive to make the same mistakes.
There must be a reason for their inaction. I’ve heard allegations that Tim Rothman, the head of Fox, is the “kind of guy that’d go out of his way to cockblock his own projects in order to stick to some one he doesn’t like.” (-aintitcoonews.com) I’m sure that’s something Fox stockholders must love, but they can’t be surprised. You don’t invest in Hollywood without accounting for a pissing contest or two.
So, if you live in the following cities, Austin, Dallas, Houston, Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles and Toronto, I would recommend going to see Idiocracy.
Of course, I’d recommend any film that had Nazi Dinosaurs in it.
And Idiocracy has Nazi Dinosaurs.
wojr
Back in college, I would write movie reviews for the college newspaper. I believe that I only did it for a semester or, at the very most, a year. To be honest, it got in the way of my drinking and/or couples’ counseling. Being the low man on the proverbial newspaper totem pole, I never got first crack at the various film choices. I usually received the third or fourth “top” movie opening that week. Hence, I got to write about some real dogs.
And by dogs – I mean some ugly ass bitches.
While writing about what fleas or ticks were on a particular dog of a movie that week fulfilled my need to dispel my bile and discontent, it did get old rather quickly. (I was a younger and less bitter wojr then. Now my need to express my hate and cynicism can never be quelled.) But I love movies and take joy in discussing them. Something I have done here occasionally.
I have been avoiding writing film reviews here. I have no real reason to express why, but I’ve been avoiding them just the same. With the fiancée out East, I’ve been able to see more of the motion pictures. (Whenever I read “motion pictures”, my mind imagines the phrase to be uttered by Woody Allen. Again, no real reason why, but I imagine it nonetheless.) This increase in film viewing has become possible since I’ve re-joined netflix.com (Insert obligatory plug here) and additionally find myself no longer required to clear my cinematic choices through said Filipino contingent.
For example, last Thursday night, I was able to catch the new Mike Judge film, Idiocracy. Most of you may not have heard about this movie since the good people at Twentieth Century Fox have made almost a negative effort in marketing it. They, then, chose to release it on only 130 screens in 7 cities. Doing so without even screening it for critics. (Something the two major releases for the Labor Day weekend, The Wicker Man and Crank, chose to do as well, but that’s a rant for another day.)
Before I walked into the theater, I had not seen a trailer or even a poster for Idiocracy. (In this age of the internet how could they not even slap a trailer on a website for god’s sake??) I did recall reading an interview in a magazine (I think it was Esquire because my ass is civilized.) with Judge, the creator of the Beavis & Butthead and King of the Hill cartoons, about his arduous efforts dealing with Fox just to get the damn thing released. Given my deep heterosexual love for Judge’s previous live-action film, Office Space, I was definitely interested to see the next film in his oeuvre.
Idiocracy is the story of an average Joe (swear to God, his name is Joe) that finds himself the guinea pig in a cryogenics experiment. After a pimp-related mishap, Joe (played by an affable Luke Wilson) wakes up in the year 2505 (the film was due out in 2005) to find himself the smartest person on the planet (I’ll stop using parentheses now).
The movie does take the time to explain how the ignorant have taken control via sheer humping – given how the Jerry Springer set have sex with more frequency and more partners than those with higher IQ and the self-awareness to use birth control. Expounded out five centuries and the idiots are all that’s left. Given that in the future the President is a wrestler, the number one television show is just a guy getting hit in the nuts, and people get their education from Costco, it is not a huge leap of faith to embrace this vision of the future.
Overall the film is far from perfect. It has its share of fleas, but the movie is enjoyable. Idiocracy is a solid “dumb comedy” that you won’t feel stupid for enjoying. Judge’s comments on consumerism, mass media and the group think/mob mentality are totally spot-on. At the very least, Maya Rudolph and her motherhood enhanced breasts are worth a rental.
The point of this post though – isn’t really to commend Judge for his efforts, but to condemn Fox for the lack of theirs. I just can not understand why Fox hasn’t thrown some support behind this movie. The Rip Van Winkle storyline is far from being a high concept/difficult sale, Mike Judge is a rare recognizable commodity in terms of writer/directors and the film is chuck full of trailer moments. Plus, given how the theatrical release of Judge’s last film, Office Space, was mishandled, you would think the studio would have been apprehensive to make the same mistakes.
There must be a reason for their inaction. I’ve heard allegations that Tim Rothman, the head of Fox, is the “kind of guy that’d go out of his way to cockblock his own projects in order to stick to some one he doesn’t like.” (-aintitcoonews.com) I’m sure that’s something Fox stockholders must love, but they can’t be surprised. You don’t invest in Hollywood without accounting for a pissing contest or two.
So, if you live in the following cities, Austin, Dallas, Houston, Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles and Toronto, I would recommend going to see Idiocracy.
Of course, I’d recommend any film that had Nazi Dinosaurs in it.
And Idiocracy has Nazi Dinosaurs.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Crackers, Hollywood, Snide Remarks
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
ANOTHER BAD DAY?
Things could be worse:
Your anus could start whistling the song from "The Bridge Over The River Kwai." Without ever stopping.
Instead of getting a raise, the state garnishes your wages.
Your significant other could ask you to go on "Springer" because of a secret that begs to be revealed.
Beer could be sold only in ziploc bags.
Not only could both men and women menstruate, but they could do it via their tearducts.
There could be pictures of you torturing Iraqi prisoners of war.
There could be pictures of you with a bullwhip up your bottom.
All your favorite television shows could be off the air or moved back to 2005. (That one hurts me. Worse than the bullwhip.)
Your boss could change your Job Title to "Ass Pirate".
You could be like me and your girlfriend could get free front row concert tickets. To Dido. Tonight.
Fucking Dido.
HAPPY HAPPY HUMP DAY.
wojr
Things could be worse:
Your anus could start whistling the song from "The Bridge Over The River Kwai." Without ever stopping. Instead of getting a raise, the state garnishes your wages. Your significant other could ask you to go on "Springer" because of a secret that begs to be revealed. Beer could be sold only in ziploc bags. Not only could both men and women menstruate, but they could do it via their tearducts. There could be pictures of you torturing Iraqi prisoners of war. There could be pictures of you with a bullwhip up your bottom. All your favorite television shows could be off the air or moved back to 2005. (That one hurts me. Worse than the bullwhip.) Your boss could change your Job Title to "Ass Pirate". You could be like me and your girlfriend could get free front row concert tickets. To Dido. Tonight.Fucking Dido.
HAPPY HAPPY HUMP DAY.
wojr
Labels: Advice, My Writing, Snide Remarks
Thursday, May 20, 2004
You Show Me A White Kid Named Xerox & I'll Give You A Dollar
So really, what is in a name?
Gwyneth had a little baby girl and named her, Apple. Personally, I like the name. However, most people are just reminded that celebrities have an odd habit of bestowing unusual names to their offspring.
According to this article on MSN, some stellar names for the celebrity progeny include Rumer, Audio Science, Speck, Jermajesty and Fifi Trixibelle. Basically, the article took some cheap shots at the popular folk and insured the children's future dependence on psychological therapy.
Of course, the article fails to mention the crazy names us regular folk give their kids.
From the April issue of Psychology Today:
"Today's parents seem to believe they can alter their child's destiny by the picking the perfect - preferably idiosyncratic - name. (Destiny, incidentally, was the ninth most popular name for girls in New York City last year.) The current crop of preschoolers includes a few Uniques, with uncommonly named playmates like Kyston, Payton and Sawyer. From Dakota to Heaven, Integrity to Serenity, more babies are being named after places and states of mind."
They then go on to list some real names, seen and heard. Here are a few of my favorites:
Armani Hutch
Atom Larceny
Attila Legend
Bigamy* Loveless
Blade Lucky
Bologna Luscious
Camry Maverick
Cappuccino Oat
Cashmere* Ptolemy
Cerulean Rayon
Chanel Sincerity*
Cherry* Sparkle*
Coal Special*
Denim Starsky
Desperate Timberland
Dilemma Tookie
Dung Toyota
Emancipation Tragedy
Espn Truth
Famous* Vienna*
Halston Xerox
The starred names need not adopt a porn name. These individuals can proceed directly to the set for their boy-boy-girl scene.
What cruel parents name their kids Loveless, Tragedy, Desperate or Dung? I mean if you really want to give your kids a feeling of individuality - give them a different family name. There are really no new family names being introduced into the name pool. Sure, we get some funky immigrant names like Wojciak to offset the Browns and Smiths, but those names are only new to you. It's not like they haven't been circulating in their home countries for hundreds of years.
So, if you want your child to be an individual, give them a different family name. Plus, it gives you plausible deniability when the kid starts messing his life up.
(By the way, do you think Starsky and Hutch might be related? I imagine them to be little twin girls. Twin girls that grow up to hot women that men will fantasy about sleeping with, but never actually will. Why? Because the only thing that sounds more homosexual then claiming, "Yeah, I banged Starsky & Hutch" is "I was gang raped by the Village People.")
wojr
So really, what is in a name?
Gwyneth had a little baby girl and named her, Apple. Personally, I like the name. However, most people are just reminded that celebrities have an odd habit of bestowing unusual names to their offspring.
According to this article on MSN, some stellar names for the celebrity progeny include Rumer, Audio Science, Speck, Jermajesty and Fifi Trixibelle. Basically, the article took some cheap shots at the popular folk and insured the children's future dependence on psychological therapy.
Of course, the article fails to mention the crazy names us regular folk give their kids.
From the April issue of Psychology Today:
"Today's parents seem to believe they can alter their child's destiny by the picking the perfect - preferably idiosyncratic - name. (Destiny, incidentally, was the ninth most popular name for girls in New York City last year.) The current crop of preschoolers includes a few Uniques, with uncommonly named playmates like Kyston, Payton and Sawyer. From Dakota to Heaven, Integrity to Serenity, more babies are being named after places and states of mind."
They then go on to list some real names, seen and heard. Here are a few of my favorites:
Armani Hutch Atom Larceny Attila Legend Bigamy* Loveless Blade Lucky Bologna Luscious Camry Maverick Cappuccino Oat Cashmere* Ptolemy Cerulean Rayon Chanel Sincerity* Cherry* Sparkle* Coal Special* Denim Starsky Desperate Timberland Dilemma Tookie Dung Toyota Emancipation Tragedy Espn Truth Famous* Vienna* Halston Xerox The starred names need not adopt a porn name. These individuals can proceed directly to the set for their boy-boy-girl scene.
What cruel parents name their kids Loveless, Tragedy, Desperate or Dung? I mean if you really want to give your kids a feeling of individuality - give them a different family name. There are really no new family names being introduced into the name pool. Sure, we get some funky immigrant names like Wojciak to offset the Browns and Smiths, but those names are only new to you. It's not like they haven't been circulating in their home countries for hundreds of years.
So, if you want your child to be an individual, give them a different family name. Plus, it gives you plausible deniability when the kid starts messing his life up.
(By the way, do you think Starsky and Hutch might be related? I imagine them to be little twin girls. Twin girls that grow up to hot women that men will fantasy about sleeping with, but never actually will. Why? Because the only thing that sounds more homosexual then claiming, "Yeah, I banged Starsky & Hutch" is "I was gang raped by the Village People.")
wojr
Labels: Advice, News, Porn, Snide Remarks, Whores
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Let The Punishment Fit The Cranium
Not the most timely idea but go with it.
If an American citizen commits a hate crime against a person of Middle Eastern heritage, I think as additional punishment the attacker should be forced to wear a turban for the rest of their life.
Not only is it a solid deterrent, but it would make me laugh. Imagine going down to the Piggly Wiggly to get some milk & fresh bait and Billy Bob behind the counter is saddled with a nice head wrap. I would laugh so hard that a little pee might dribble out.
That's what our criminal system needs - more laughs and less torture of POWs.
wojr
Not the most timely idea but go with it.
If an American citizen commits a hate crime against a person of Middle Eastern heritage, I think as additional punishment the attacker should be forced to wear a turban for the rest of their life.
Not only is it a solid deterrent, but it would make me laugh. Imagine going down to the Piggly Wiggly to get some milk & fresh bait and Billy Bob behind the counter is saddled with a nice head wrap. I would laugh so hard that a little pee might dribble out.
That's what our criminal system needs - more laughs and less torture of POWs.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Political, Snide Remarks
Monday, May 17, 2004
Another Reason I Probably Won't End Up Owning An Island
If asked "Given unlimited wealth, what would you do?", I would probably respond like most people. I would want to make some deserted tropical island my home and just drop out from society.
However, if you asked me "If you had an extra $500 lying around, what would you do with it?" I would bypass any tropical yearnings and buy one of these.
So, does that mean my connection to society is entirely based on my personal wealth? Looking at my bank account, I guess that I will always be tethered to you people.
(Let me just tell you that being aware of one's own contradictions does not make them any easier to handle.)
wojr
If asked "Given unlimited wealth, what would you do?", I would probably respond like most people. I would want to make some deserted tropical island my home and just drop out from society.
However, if you asked me "If you had an extra $500 lying around, what would you do with it?" I would bypass any tropical yearnings and buy one of these.
So, does that mean my connection to society is entirely based on my personal wealth? Looking at my bank account, I guess that I will always be tethered to you people.
(Let me just tell you that being aware of one's own contradictions does not make them any easier to handle.)
wojr
Labels: Advice
Sunday, May 16, 2004
But Hasn't Everything Become Just White Noise?
Just watched the utterly uneventful finale of The Practice. Live. Which means I couldn't TIVO my way through all the annoying commercials. Which brings me to what is bothering me today. Car commercials. Is it me or are they all the same? With exception to a few interesting VW ads, all car commercials just appear exactly the same. They are becoming white noise. Just there in the background, utterly ignored. No matter how low the damn APR.
But (and here is the big 'BUT') can we all just assume, as a society, that if it is a car commercial, the car is being driven by a professional driver on a closed road? Can we just take that for granted and when it's not a professional driver on a closed road, when it's, like, some idiot amateur driving down the Garden State Parkway on a Friday during the summer, then we can get the legal notification?
And by the way, coffee is served hot, shampoo feels unpleasant in your eyes, and too much McDonald's will make your ass so wide it can house every legal disclaimer known to man.
All these damn warnings everywhere are preventing the necessary thinning of our herd.
Whatever, I'm going to bed. Hopefully, I will wake up tomorrow to find out Andy Kaufman is still alive.
wojr
Just watched the utterly uneventful finale of The Practice. Live. Which means I couldn't TIVO my way through all the annoying commercials. Which brings me to what is bothering me today. Car commercials. Is it me or are they all the same? With exception to a few interesting VW ads, all car commercials just appear exactly the same. They are becoming white noise. Just there in the background, utterly ignored. No matter how low the damn APR.
But (and here is the big 'BUT') can we all just assume, as a society, that if it is a car commercial, the car is being driven by a professional driver on a closed road? Can we just take that for granted and when it's not a professional driver on a closed road, when it's, like, some idiot amateur driving down the Garden State Parkway on a Friday during the summer, then we can get the legal notification?
And by the way, coffee is served hot, shampoo feels unpleasant in your eyes, and too much McDonald's will make your ass so wide it can house every legal disclaimer known to man.
All these damn warnings everywhere are preventing the necessary thinning of our herd.
Whatever, I'm going to bed. Hopefully, I will wake up tomorrow to find out Andy Kaufman is still alive.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Snide Remarks
Monday, April 26, 2004
It's Not Like I Want The Taxes To Be RETROACTIVE
Saturday, I was trying to cross the street when this car pulls up in front of me. The vehicle contains three quasi-elderly women so I have no real fear of being robbed or raped. (Hope, but no fear.) Thinking they needed directions, I leaned over so my eyes are at their eye-level instead of my crotch. And what did they do?
Offer me some crappy pamphlet in addition to salvation in the Almighty Lord Jesus Christ.
Which just puts me in the worst mood ever.
First off, I want to know what aspect about me says that I need, let alone want, salvation? Don't I just exude content with my sinning ways?
Secondly, does Jesus need the extra public relations? Do people not know who Jesus is? Hasn't Mel Gibson fixed that problem?
Lastly, do we really need drive-by conversions? (Also, why didn't the salvation of my soul at least warrant them parking the car first and coming up to me on foot? No, all my ever-lasting soul gets is a California roll.) Are churches and synagogues camouflaged now? Do we not know where the Gods live anymore?
I'll concede that the literature distribution must net them some converts. These people have been doing it for way too long not to have any success. If it didn't work, they would have stopped by now. Their batting average can't be that good though, but once they get you. OH BOY. They've got you. Lock, stock and barrel, man. Let the tithing begin.
Now don't get me wrong, I am all for freedom of religion in this country. I think any church can set up shop, open the doors, put an ad in the yellow pages and see who shows up. I may bitch about the advertising, but they just need some wittier slogans for me to get over that. Telling me I'll burn forever in a lake of hellfire won't make me a fan too quickly.
My problem, however, is with the money. In my opinion, our country gives way too much money to religion. Especially the South. Religion is big business. Has been for the last five, six hundred years and I accept that. If there is a market for it, well, you can't blame the business for selling it. But we can tax them. WE CAN TAX THE HELL OUT OF THEM.
I mean, I'm not the biggest fan of defense spending. But it helps the nation's economy. It means more jobs for Americans, more capital in the marketplace. Defense contractors while probably overcharging the government, have to pay taxes on that income. Their employees have to pay income taxes as well. The money comes full circle. It ends up helping education, research grants, more defense spending, flying G.W. out on another family vacation.
Now, I know some money given to churches goes towards social programs, food programs - various things that help the community. Kudos to them. But not all the money goes there. Who pays for those huge cathedrals & synagogues, the solid gold tabernacles and Stars of David, payoffs to families of the sexually assaulted, or whatever it is the Hare Krishnas need? But hey, it is the churches' money, let them spend it as they see fit. But why should they be excluded from paying taxes? If not income tax, how about sales tax? Hey, if it reduces the taxes of their worshippers, that should mean more discretionary income for their followers which should mean more donations in the offering basket. Right?
It seems to make sense, but it may just be me. I can be bitter. I have an afterlife of fire and brimstone to look forward to.
wojr
Saturday, I was trying to cross the street when this car pulls up in front of me. The vehicle contains three quasi-elderly women so I have no real fear of being robbed or raped. (Hope, but no fear.) Thinking they needed directions, I leaned over so my eyes are at their eye-level instead of my crotch. And what did they do?
Offer me some crappy pamphlet in addition to salvation in the Almighty Lord Jesus Christ.
Which just puts me in the worst mood ever.
First off, I want to know what aspect about me says that I need, let alone want, salvation? Don't I just exude content with my sinning ways?
Secondly, does Jesus need the extra public relations? Do people not know who Jesus is? Hasn't Mel Gibson fixed that problem?
Lastly, do we really need drive-by conversions? (Also, why didn't the salvation of my soul at least warrant them parking the car first and coming up to me on foot? No, all my ever-lasting soul gets is a California roll.) Are churches and synagogues camouflaged now? Do we not know where the Gods live anymore?
I'll concede that the literature distribution must net them some converts. These people have been doing it for way too long not to have any success. If it didn't work, they would have stopped by now. Their batting average can't be that good though, but once they get you. OH BOY. They've got you. Lock, stock and barrel, man. Let the tithing begin.
Now don't get me wrong, I am all for freedom of religion in this country. I think any church can set up shop, open the doors, put an ad in the yellow pages and see who shows up. I may bitch about the advertising, but they just need some wittier slogans for me to get over that. Telling me I'll burn forever in a lake of hellfire won't make me a fan too quickly.
My problem, however, is with the money. In my opinion, our country gives way too much money to religion. Especially the South. Religion is big business. Has been for the last five, six hundred years and I accept that. If there is a market for it, well, you can't blame the business for selling it. But we can tax them. WE CAN TAX THE HELL OUT OF THEM.
I mean, I'm not the biggest fan of defense spending. But it helps the nation's economy. It means more jobs for Americans, more capital in the marketplace. Defense contractors while probably overcharging the government, have to pay taxes on that income. Their employees have to pay income taxes as well. The money comes full circle. It ends up helping education, research grants, more defense spending, flying G.W. out on another family vacation.
Now, I know some money given to churches goes towards social programs, food programs - various things that help the community. Kudos to them. But not all the money goes there. Who pays for those huge cathedrals & synagogues, the solid gold tabernacles and Stars of David, payoffs to families of the sexually assaulted, or whatever it is the Hare Krishnas need? But hey, it is the churches' money, let them spend it as they see fit. But why should they be excluded from paying taxes? If not income tax, how about sales tax? Hey, if it reduces the taxes of their worshippers, that should mean more discretionary income for their followers which should mean more donations in the offering basket. Right?
It seems to make sense, but it may just be me. I can be bitter. I have an afterlife of fire and brimstone to look forward to.
wojr
Labels: Advice, My Writing, Political, Religion, Snide Remarks
Thursday, April 22, 2004
'Have the Dogs Stopped Screaming, Clarice?'
On the way to work, an odd thought occurred to me.
When you walk by a house with a dog or when a car goes by with a dog hanging out the window, you know how, more often than not, those dogs will just start barking at you? There are just dogs that will just bark themselves silly, like their very existence depended on it, trying to get your attention.
What if those barks are actually cries for help?
I'm not saying all of these dogs are being held captive against their will. But what if it is true for only 10% of the dogs? That 10% still totals over 600 thousand dogs in America alone. And we don't even eat dogs here.
But don't get me wrong, I'm glad dogs can't form words. Because if they did, you know they would never shut the hell up. And it goes a little something like this..
"Hey, where's my food? Hey, where's my bone? Hey buddy, want to go play catch? Play catch? Play catch? Wanna go for a walk? Man, that leash is tight. Can't you loosen it up? How about I shit in your slippers if you don't loosen that leash up? You know what? I hate dry dog food. How about the moist stuff? How about some steak for that matter? Don't look at me like that, brother. You snipped my balls. I can't get laid no more. So for sure I'm going to talk your ear off. Just remember I'm man's best friend. I'm the best friend your sorry ass is going to get. Now, how about some cold water here? This dish has been out in the sun all day long. It nearly scolded my tongue. Man, this hotel sucks. The service is horrible. Your leg looks good though. If I could get it up, I would hump that like there was no tomorrow."
Scary thing is - I had to make myself stop typing. I could have gone on and on and on.
So, next time a dog barks at you for no reason, don't be afraid to call animal services. You might be saving a life.
wojr
On the way to work, an odd thought occurred to me.
When you walk by a house with a dog or when a car goes by with a dog hanging out the window, you know how, more often than not, those dogs will just start barking at you? There are just dogs that will just bark themselves silly, like their very existence depended on it, trying to get your attention.
What if those barks are actually cries for help?
I'm not saying all of these dogs are being held captive against their will. But what if it is true for only 10% of the dogs? That 10% still totals over 600 thousand dogs in America alone. And we don't even eat dogs here.
But don't get me wrong, I'm glad dogs can't form words. Because if they did, you know they would never shut the hell up. And it goes a little something like this..
"Hey, where's my food? Hey, where's my bone? Hey buddy, want to go play catch? Play catch? Play catch? Wanna go for a walk? Man, that leash is tight. Can't you loosen it up? How about I shit in your slippers if you don't loosen that leash up? You know what? I hate dry dog food. How about the moist stuff? How about some steak for that matter? Don't look at me like that, brother. You snipped my balls. I can't get laid no more. So for sure I'm going to talk your ear off. Just remember I'm man's best friend. I'm the best friend your sorry ass is going to get. Now, how about some cold water here? This dish has been out in the sun all day long. It nearly scolded my tongue. Man, this hotel sucks. The service is horrible. Your leg looks good though. If I could get it up, I would hump that like there was no tomorrow."
Scary thing is - I had to make myself stop typing. I could have gone on and on and on.
So, next time a dog barks at you for no reason, don't be afraid to call animal services. You might be saving a life.
wojr
Labels: Advice, My Writing, Snide Remarks
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Now I'll Be On The Prowl For Some Brown Sugar
Carmel & I went food-shopping last night and ended up buying like five pounds of strawberries - They were on sale.
You know what, though?
It's true. The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.
I always thought that was just something black people said in attempt to get laid.
Who knew it was actually true?
Wojr
Carmel & I went food-shopping last night and ended up buying like five pounds of strawberries - They were on sale.
You know what, though?
It's true. The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.
I always thought that was just something black people said in attempt to get laid.
Who knew it was actually true?
Wojr
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Wojr's Guide to Dating - Entry #3,567:
'As Long As You Aren't Ass-Raped, Prison Can Be A Lovely Dating Tool'
Even though my current dating status is 'Eternally Engaged', I'm pretty much an old married man. Carmel and I have lived together for over three years and have no intentions of ceasing that romantic arrangement.
So, I feel that I can start relinquishing some of my utterly stellar dating guidelines.
Today's tip: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A CRIMINAL RECORD.
Most men prone to acts of moral turpitude like myself classify women via two categories, short-term and long-term. Long-term relationships usually equal "eternity", while short-term ones can range from "nanoseconds after the orgasm" to "nanoseconds shy of eternity."
When dealing with members of the second category, when you know marriage just is not an option, never overlook the usefulness of a solid criminal record; whether you actually have one or not. (Translated implication: if you don't have one, make one up.)
Not only do you get that bad boy vibe which is quite hard to muster otherwise, you are immediately slotted into their short-term category. This lower classification frees one from the numerous "where are we going?" discussions that men considered 'marriage material' need to suffer. With the criminal history, you are going just as far as she wants, which if you're receiving a consistent supply of nookie should suit you just fine.
Speaking of the macking, being viewed as dangerous does open up new realms in bedroom area. Even George Costanza knows that the best sex is the conjugal visit sex. Just be sure to be clear that you weren't on the receiving end of any jailhouse dick and that the only tossed salad you've eaten has been from McDonald's.
Yet another benefit of the criminal history is the utter readiness of foolproof excuses. Want to head back to your crib during the pre-dawn hours? Claim that you need to run off to do your community service; just don't tell her which highway you are supposed to be picking trash from. Stopped by for some after-work boom-boom but still want to meet up with the fellas? Tell her the halfway house you are assigned to has a curfew. Don't feel like calling for a week or two? Just explain that you were in 'County'.
The key to it all is the avoidance of specifics. There is no need to go overboard on the details. Her overactive imagination will fill in the blanks. Lines like "don't worry, it's only a misdemeanor", "I was just holding something for a friend" or "I was reckless, you'd think I would know better by now" will keep you and her afloat for several weeks. Afterwards, well.. who wants a relationship to last longer than SEVERAL weeks?
Stay tuned for the next entry in Wojr's Guide to Dating
'Alcohol & Your Penis: A Give and Take Relationship'
wojr
'As Long As You Aren't Ass-Raped, Prison Can Be A Lovely Dating Tool'
Even though my current dating status is 'Eternally Engaged', I'm pretty much an old married man. Carmel and I have lived together for over three years and have no intentions of ceasing that romantic arrangement.
So, I feel that I can start relinquishing some of my utterly stellar dating guidelines.
Today's tip: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A CRIMINAL RECORD.
Most men prone to acts of moral turpitude like myself classify women via two categories, short-term and long-term. Long-term relationships usually equal "eternity", while short-term ones can range from "nanoseconds after the orgasm" to "nanoseconds shy of eternity."
When dealing with members of the second category, when you know marriage just is not an option, never overlook the usefulness of a solid criminal record; whether you actually have one or not. (Translated implication: if you don't have one, make one up.)
Not only do you get that bad boy vibe which is quite hard to muster otherwise, you are immediately slotted into their short-term category. This lower classification frees one from the numerous "where are we going?" discussions that men considered 'marriage material' need to suffer. With the criminal history, you are going just as far as she wants, which if you're receiving a consistent supply of nookie should suit you just fine.
Speaking of the macking, being viewed as dangerous does open up new realms in bedroom area. Even George Costanza knows that the best sex is the conjugal visit sex. Just be sure to be clear that you weren't on the receiving end of any jailhouse dick and that the only tossed salad you've eaten has been from McDonald's.
Yet another benefit of the criminal history is the utter readiness of foolproof excuses. Want to head back to your crib during the pre-dawn hours? Claim that you need to run off to do your community service; just don't tell her which highway you are supposed to be picking trash from. Stopped by for some after-work boom-boom but still want to meet up with the fellas? Tell her the halfway house you are assigned to has a curfew. Don't feel like calling for a week or two? Just explain that you were in 'County'.
The key to it all is the avoidance of specifics. There is no need to go overboard on the details. Her overactive imagination will fill in the blanks. Lines like "don't worry, it's only a misdemeanor", "I was just holding something for a friend" or "I was reckless, you'd think I would know better by now" will keep you and her afloat for several weeks. Afterwards, well.. who wants a relationship to last longer than SEVERAL weeks?
Stay tuned for the next entry in Wojr's Guide to Dating
'Alcohol & Your Penis: A Give and Take Relationship'
wojr
Labels: Advice, My Writing, Sex
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Little Little Post
One thing I love about the Internet is its ability for one to communally revel in geekness.
Check out this message board filled with people that share in my previously mentioned utter fascination with the trailer for Garden State.
(I know - I'm a tool. Let's see your website, where you are cool ALL THE TIME.)
wojr
One thing I love about the Internet is its ability for one to communally revel in geekness.
Check out this message board filled with people that share in my previously mentioned utter fascination with the trailer for Garden State.
(I know - I'm a tool. Let's see your website, where you are cool ALL THE TIME.)
wojr
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE..
If you haven't already seen it, Dave Chappelle: Charley Murphy's True Hollywood Story - Rick James.
Very well might be the funniest thing I have ever seen.
wojr
If you haven't already seen it, Dave Chappelle: Charley Murphy's True Hollywood Story - Rick James.
Very well might be the funniest thing I have ever seen.
wojr
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Day of Fools
Today is April the First - known to most as April Fools Day. Many of you dropped me a note admonishing me for not doing anything special for this day. Most believed that I would be a full supporter of this pseudo-holiday. While I support any holiday that Hallmark does not make money from (Groundhog Day Rocks), I don't like the concept of April Fools Day.
It's the one day that silly little pranks are not only expected, but almost socially acceptable. Well, fuck that. Who wants to do what is expected? Who wants to be socially acceptable? Don't be a sheep. People slaughter sheep. Save those pranks, save those practical jokes for the other 364 (or 365) days of the year when it's not a stupid little April Fools' joke. On those other days, these malicious actions border on vengeance. And let me tell you, revenge is much more satisfying.
For the same reason, I'm not a supporter of that "Night before Halloween" known to many as Mischief Night, Ghoulie Night, Devil's Night or Egg Night, depending on the location of your adolescence. Why do all that stupid shit on the one night that everyone is expecting it? And by everyone I mean parents, home-owners, business proprietors and, most importantly, police officers. Why not pick an arbitrary night some other month of the year and make that the new Mischief Night? It'll be easier to buy spray-paint, eggs, toilet paper, gasoline, kindling, neon pink dildos and whatever else one would need for successful hi-jinks. Plus, actions done on a quieter, calmer time of year might even warrant a mention in your local newspaper - and like I said, there is no such thing as bad exposure.
So, go out and raise some mischief. Just not tonight and not at the end of October. Pick something new. Damn tradition.
AND the first person to send me picture of some WOJR.COM graffiti will get a crispy dollar bill from yours truly.
wojr
Today is April the First - known to most as April Fools Day. Many of you dropped me a note admonishing me for not doing anything special for this day. Most believed that I would be a full supporter of this pseudo-holiday. While I support any holiday that Hallmark does not make money from (Groundhog Day Rocks), I don't like the concept of April Fools Day.
It's the one day that silly little pranks are not only expected, but almost socially acceptable. Well, fuck that. Who wants to do what is expected? Who wants to be socially acceptable? Don't be a sheep. People slaughter sheep. Save those pranks, save those practical jokes for the other 364 (or 365) days of the year when it's not a stupid little April Fools' joke. On those other days, these malicious actions border on vengeance. And let me tell you, revenge is much more satisfying.
For the same reason, I'm not a supporter of that "Night before Halloween" known to many as Mischief Night, Ghoulie Night, Devil's Night or Egg Night, depending on the location of your adolescence. Why do all that stupid shit on the one night that everyone is expecting it? And by everyone I mean parents, home-owners, business proprietors and, most importantly, police officers. Why not pick an arbitrary night some other month of the year and make that the new Mischief Night? It'll be easier to buy spray-paint, eggs, toilet paper, gasoline, kindling, neon pink dildos and whatever else one would need for successful hi-jinks. Plus, actions done on a quieter, calmer time of year might even warrant a mention in your local newspaper - and like I said, there is no such thing as bad exposure.
So, go out and raise some mischief. Just not tonight and not at the end of October. Pick something new. Damn tradition.
AND the first person to send me picture of some WOJR.COM graffiti will get a crispy dollar bill from yours truly.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Nostalgia, Snide Remarks
Saturday, March 27, 2004
"That don't sound too good, Bill Murray."
Just goes to show you that you don't need big budgets to make my ass laugh. I know Jim Jarmusch is not for everyone, but just look at this trailer for Coffee and Cigarettes.
Gza, Rza & Bill Murray - I could watch two hours of that conversation alone. "The Chinese delegation drafts the Wu Tang Clan."
wojr
Just goes to show you that you don't need big budgets to make my ass laugh. I know Jim Jarmusch is not for everyone, but just look at this trailer for Coffee and Cigarettes.
Gza, Rza & Bill Murray - I could watch two hours of that conversation alone. "The Chinese delegation drafts the Wu Tang Clan."
wojr
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Let's Spend a Few Minutes Discussing College..
I guess the latest propaganda magazine that my Alma Mater publishes has been making the rounds. Normally, it takes an extra day or so to make it to the West Coast, so my sweet copy has not arrived.
In the back of these publications, the school issues little blurbs about some alumni and gives the latest tally in the race to marry, give birth and die. Some of the ladies don't do things in that specific order, but we love them anyway. Basically, the whole thing is just fodder for my little sewing circle of friends to pick up the phone or drop an email to gossip. Especially when an ex-girlfriend is involved.. But anywho..
The point I was going to attempt to arrive at was - I am so glad I went to college when I did, 1991-1995. (Yeah, I'm frigging ancient) Even though the Internet would have made schoolwork much easier and the cell phone would have facilitated many a drunken hookup, I am utterly jubilant that I am not in college right now.
Why is that? Well, I'm glad you asked.
I've been checking out collegehumor.com a lot recently. Basically, it's free, it's funny and it has pictures of drunk & naked girls. All three are causes I can vehemently support. Essentially, collegehumor.com is going to prevent an entire generation from seeking public office as every evidential image of drunkenness, stupidity and debauchery that occurs on college campuses makes its way to the internet. With the proliferation of digital cameras & camera-phones, more and more of these pictures and sites will be on the Internet.
Now if this practice was around when I was in college, well, I wouldn't be on the Internet right now. I wouldn't even be in America. I would be in Uganda, atoning for my sins as a missionary of some sort. AND I WOULD NOT BE ALONE.
Therefore, it is a good thing that I went to school when I did. Not only do all my college friends get my obscure 80s references, but they keep the evidence of our youthful transgression hidden from the eyes of the public. Plus, I don't think my white ass would thrive in Uganda.
Plus, as friends and ex-girlfriends start to have children, I am also comforted to know that the evidence of their children's drunken exploits will be showing up on the Internet in less than twenty years.
Now, I'm off the scan some pictures. I think I have one of Dan is his blue panties.
wojr
I guess the latest propaganda magazine that my Alma Mater publishes has been making the rounds. Normally, it takes an extra day or so to make it to the West Coast, so my sweet copy has not arrived.
In the back of these publications, the school issues little blurbs about some alumni and gives the latest tally in the race to marry, give birth and die. Some of the ladies don't do things in that specific order, but we love them anyway. Basically, the whole thing is just fodder for my little sewing circle of friends to pick up the phone or drop an email to gossip. Especially when an ex-girlfriend is involved.. But anywho..
The point I was going to attempt to arrive at was - I am so glad I went to college when I did, 1991-1995. (Yeah, I'm frigging ancient) Even though the Internet would have made schoolwork much easier and the cell phone would have facilitated many a drunken hookup, I am utterly jubilant that I am not in college right now.
Why is that? Well, I'm glad you asked.
I've been checking out collegehumor.com a lot recently. Basically, it's free, it's funny and it has pictures of drunk & naked girls. All three are causes I can vehemently support. Essentially, collegehumor.com is going to prevent an entire generation from seeking public office as every evidential image of drunkenness, stupidity and debauchery that occurs on college campuses makes its way to the internet. With the proliferation of digital cameras & camera-phones, more and more of these pictures and sites will be on the Internet.
Now if this practice was around when I was in college, well, I wouldn't be on the Internet right now. I wouldn't even be in America. I would be in Uganda, atoning for my sins as a missionary of some sort. AND I WOULD NOT BE ALONE.
Therefore, it is a good thing that I went to school when I did. Not only do all my college friends get my obscure 80s references, but they keep the evidence of our youthful transgression hidden from the eyes of the public. Plus, I don't think my white ass would thrive in Uganda.
Plus, as friends and ex-girlfriends start to have children, I am also comforted to know that the evidence of their children's drunken exploits will be showing up on the Internet in less than twenty years.
Now, I'm off the scan some pictures. I think I have one of Dan is his blue panties.
wojr
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Miss, I think someone has written on your forehead..
I live only a few blocks from my work - a rare luxury here in Los Angeles. So, I just hop on a bus to get there. The damn thing stops right in front of my home and my office. Plus, it allows me my only guilt-free reading time. (Whenever I read otherwise, I feel guilty, like I should be writing. Just like when I write for this page and I feel like I should be doing some REAL writing.)
There are occasional drawbacks to my guilt-free reading time on my stress-free ride to work. Like the one I experienced this morning.
This morning, I got stuck next to a woman who spent the entire ride plucking her eyebrows.
Now, I realize there is an entire world of hair removal that the male brethren are not privy. I know that I, as a male, have reaped the benefits of hours of feminine hair care and upkeep. Such care that I just take for granted - believing the ladies were just born that way.
However, I want to know one thing. Who decided that the drawn-in eyebrow was an attractive look on women? You know what I mean, when all the real brow hair is just removed and replaced with some pencil drawing. (I've even heard of ladies getting those lines tattooed in.)
Is this done due to the prodding of other women or is there some damn fool man telling his lady that this is a good look for her? Who or what is at the root of this problem? They need to be found and severely reprimanded. I don't care if they are in a cave with Osama. Find them and deal with them.
Now, don't go thinking that I want everyone to go the "furry" route. I don't. Personal grooming ranks high in my book (especially when it's done in your home rather than the bus). Whenever I shave, I make sure to hit the gap between my brows. No uni-brow for wojr.
The point is - Just don't go drawing hair on yourself. That goes for men and women. I'm putting my foot down here, because I am seeing the occurrence more and more - and even with the younger generation. We are burgeoning on the edge of an epidemic here and there needs to be a voice for reason - even if that voice rides a bus to work.
Tomorrow: we'll attack comb-overs.
wojr
I live only a few blocks from my work - a rare luxury here in Los Angeles. So, I just hop on a bus to get there. The damn thing stops right in front of my home and my office. Plus, it allows me my only guilt-free reading time. (Whenever I read otherwise, I feel guilty, like I should be writing. Just like when I write for this page and I feel like I should be doing some REAL writing.)
There are occasional drawbacks to my guilt-free reading time on my stress-free ride to work. Like the one I experienced this morning.
This morning, I got stuck next to a woman who spent the entire ride plucking her eyebrows.
Now, I realize there is an entire world of hair removal that the male brethren are not privy. I know that I, as a male, have reaped the benefits of hours of feminine hair care and upkeep. Such care that I just take for granted - believing the ladies were just born that way.
However, I want to know one thing. Who decided that the drawn-in eyebrow was an attractive look on women? You know what I mean, when all the real brow hair is just removed and replaced with some pencil drawing. (I've even heard of ladies getting those lines tattooed in.)
Is this done due to the prodding of other women or is there some damn fool man telling his lady that this is a good look for her? Who or what is at the root of this problem? They need to be found and severely reprimanded. I don't care if they are in a cave with Osama. Find them and deal with them.
Now, don't go thinking that I want everyone to go the "furry" route. I don't. Personal grooming ranks high in my book (especially when it's done in your home rather than the bus). Whenever I shave, I make sure to hit the gap between my brows. No uni-brow for wojr.
The point is - Just don't go drawing hair on yourself. That goes for men and women. I'm putting my foot down here, because I am seeing the occurrence more and more - and even with the younger generation. We are burgeoning on the edge of an epidemic here and there needs to be a voice for reason - even if that voice rides a bus to work.
Tomorrow: we'll attack comb-overs.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Snide Remarks
Monday, March 15, 2004
"In Only A Perfect World..."
For those of you don't know, I'm originally from the Jersey Shore. I guess there never was an Old Jersey Shore, because the "new" preface wasn't necessary. In my youth, I worked on the boardwalk in Seaside shilling ice cream. I made out with girls on the beach, even in frigid December. (Even proposed to one in a more recent and even more frigid December.) I raged against the coming of the BENNIES. I rotted my teeth with salt water taffy and zeppolis. But most importantly, I loved skee-ball. Rolling wooden balls up slanted ramps in vain attempts to land them in the 50 or 100 point holes, now that is pure bliss to me. Saving up a summer worth of tickets to buy objects that would be shunned at any respectable garage sale, that was my childhood.
If I had my way, in only a perfect world, I would open a "Skee-Ball Bar." No pool tables, no darts, not even a go-go dancer. (Ok, maybe one go-go dancer to add a touch of class to the joint.) Just skee-ball machines. And the tickets? Redeemable for drinks. For alcoholic drinks, of course.
Ahhh.. sweet nirvana. A skee-ball bar.
Unfortunately, insurance for a place like that would be astronomical. Even though the balls from billiards are made of denser material, no one would be worried about drunks hurling those around the room. They would be concerned about the "mullet" crew coming in and raising havoc with my precious skee-balls. Yes, I could see the broken bones and concussions now.
Plus, the novelty of such a place wouldn't hold. Hell, I'd get sick of it after a short while and I love the game. But, the memory would be better than the actual experience. It's like Pong. Sure, it would be fun for a game or two, but then you switch back to Grand Theft Auto. Maybe if you could play skeeball in Grand Theft Auto - and then start nailing people in the heads with those wooden balls. Yeah, that would work.
Man, I could really go for a zeppoli right.
wojr
For those of you don't know, I'm originally from the Jersey Shore. I guess there never was an Old Jersey Shore, because the "new" preface wasn't necessary. In my youth, I worked on the boardwalk in Seaside shilling ice cream. I made out with girls on the beach, even in frigid December. (Even proposed to one in a more recent and even more frigid December.) I raged against the coming of the BENNIES. I rotted my teeth with salt water taffy and zeppolis. But most importantly, I loved skee-ball. Rolling wooden balls up slanted ramps in vain attempts to land them in the 50 or 100 point holes, now that is pure bliss to me. Saving up a summer worth of tickets to buy objects that would be shunned at any respectable garage sale, that was my childhood.
If I had my way, in only a perfect world, I would open a "Skee-Ball Bar." No pool tables, no darts, not even a go-go dancer. (Ok, maybe one go-go dancer to add a touch of class to the joint.) Just skee-ball machines. And the tickets? Redeemable for drinks. For alcoholic drinks, of course.
Ahhh.. sweet nirvana. A skee-ball bar.
Unfortunately, insurance for a place like that would be astronomical. Even though the balls from billiards are made of denser material, no one would be worried about drunks hurling those around the room. They would be concerned about the "mullet" crew coming in and raising havoc with my precious skee-balls. Yes, I could see the broken bones and concussions now.
Plus, the novelty of such a place wouldn't hold. Hell, I'd get sick of it after a short while and I love the game. But, the memory would be better than the actual experience. It's like Pong. Sure, it would be fun for a game or two, but then you switch back to Grand Theft Auto. Maybe if you could play skeeball in Grand Theft Auto - and then start nailing people in the heads with those wooden balls. Yeah, that would work.
Man, I could really go for a zeppoli right.
wojr
Saturday, March 06, 2004
Be Forewarned...
What is this all about?
No, not in the grandiose "meaning of life" manner. I am referring to what this asinine page is all about. Before jumping on the "blog" bandwagon, I spent many an hour looking at other individual's diary-like contributions to the Internet (when you call it 'research', wasting time can be relatively guilt-free) and noticed that many of these on-line journals have a primary focus or direction. I have born witness to web logs devoted to knitting, comic book creating in Kansas, the defense of Michael Jackson, proving that Secretary Rumsfield is actually the devil and the price comparison of hookers in third world countries (when you call it 'research', third world prostitution can be relatively guilt-free).
This journal will not be as centered as those and not just because I am not what one would call a centered person. It is just that those others are not only occasionally very frightening but more often than not repetitive.
This space is for me to get the voices out of my head and down on "paper". The topics will definitely vary. Sometimes they will focus on Global Thermonuclear War. Sometimes they will deal with how an acquaintance from college had her crotch "burn" for an entire year. If I don't know what to expect, I doubt any of you can. Ergo, we all can remain interested.
However, I think I should issue a warning, like one of these disclaimers issued out before all the really good TV shows. I don't like to shy away from things. I might not offer my opinion on topics I feel ill informed on, but I don't avoid areas because they are so-called "hot topics". I love the grey areas of our society. They interest me. They drive me towards discussion. Often, they inspire the things I write about. To be honest, I have to avoid most of those topics every weekday from 8AM to 5PM for the sake of office politics. I won't avoid them here.
So, here's a quick breakdown on where I'll be on these issues:
Politics - If believing that education should get more of our tax dollars and that everyone is entitled to quality medical care makes me a liberal, then I am a liberal. Now, my other viewpoints in the political realm might range from the slightly conservative to the radical left, but my passion for those points will never equal the level of those first two. (But, I will admit that the Patriot Act scares the shit out of me.)
So, be forewarned..
Religion - I was raised Catholic. I went to Catholic school from the age of 9 through 21. Personally, I like god. And by god, I mean "whatever that is more than human and created all the shit you see in the universe". I am, however, not so fond of man, especially the ones doing things in a god's name. That feeling stems back prior to 9/11. So, don't expect me to back the organized religions of the world. Now, don't get me wrong. I greatly admire people with faith. If you have a strong bond with your deity of choice, you get all my props. Just don't try to push me into that same relationship and, Heavens to Betsy, don't go condemning me or anyone else to your conceptualization of an afterlife.
So, be forewarned...
Discrimination - My mother didn't exactly teach me a great deal in relation to living a 'good' life, but she did impart one very important nugget of info - "Judge people only on how they treat you". Back in grade school, one of my friends, Brian Hope, was black (and I'm pretty sure that he still is). Actually, I remember having a crush on his older sister, but cannot seem to recall her name at the moment. In the middle of some stupid, youthful argument, I dropped the "N-Bomb" on young Brian, not really knowing the true ramifications of the word. When news of my transgression got back to my mother, she beat the crap out of me. Now my mother had a tendency for whooping my ass, but even now, twenty years later, I think that was one time she was justified in her actions. Thus, I still "judge people only on how they treat me". Only know, in my cynical 'old age' that has become more "I give everyone the equal opportunity to show his or her inner ass". So, I don't care about the color of your skin, the nation of your birth or how you get your sexual/romantic kicks, because all the people that I really despise tend to be white, straight Americans.
So, be forewarned...
Profanity - I'll try to keep it to a minimum. Sometimes I will fail. Even when it comes to those dreaded "C-words".
So, be forewarned...
Now that all the necessary opening warnings are out there, let's get back to our regular scheduled programming.
wojr
What is this all about?
No, not in the grandiose "meaning of life" manner. I am referring to what this asinine page is all about. Before jumping on the "blog" bandwagon, I spent many an hour looking at other individual's diary-like contributions to the Internet (when you call it 'research', wasting time can be relatively guilt-free) and noticed that many of these on-line journals have a primary focus or direction. I have born witness to web logs devoted to knitting, comic book creating in Kansas, the defense of Michael Jackson, proving that Secretary Rumsfield is actually the devil and the price comparison of hookers in third world countries (when you call it 'research', third world prostitution can be relatively guilt-free).
This journal will not be as centered as those and not just because I am not what one would call a centered person. It is just that those others are not only occasionally very frightening but more often than not repetitive.
This space is for me to get the voices out of my head and down on "paper". The topics will definitely vary. Sometimes they will focus on Global Thermonuclear War. Sometimes they will deal with how an acquaintance from college had her crotch "burn" for an entire year. If I don't know what to expect, I doubt any of you can. Ergo, we all can remain interested.
However, I think I should issue a warning, like one of these disclaimers issued out before all the really good TV shows. I don't like to shy away from things. I might not offer my opinion on topics I feel ill informed on, but I don't avoid areas because they are so-called "hot topics". I love the grey areas of our society. They interest me. They drive me towards discussion. Often, they inspire the things I write about. To be honest, I have to avoid most of those topics every weekday from 8AM to 5PM for the sake of office politics. I won't avoid them here.
So, here's a quick breakdown on where I'll be on these issues:
Politics - If believing that education should get more of our tax dollars and that everyone is entitled to quality medical care makes me a liberal, then I am a liberal. Now, my other viewpoints in the political realm might range from the slightly conservative to the radical left, but my passion for those points will never equal the level of those first two. (But, I will admit that the Patriot Act scares the shit out of me.)
So, be forewarned..
Religion - I was raised Catholic. I went to Catholic school from the age of 9 through 21. Personally, I like god. And by god, I mean "whatever that is more than human and created all the shit you see in the universe". I am, however, not so fond of man, especially the ones doing things in a god's name. That feeling stems back prior to 9/11. So, don't expect me to back the organized religions of the world. Now, don't get me wrong. I greatly admire people with faith. If you have a strong bond with your deity of choice, you get all my props. Just don't try to push me into that same relationship and, Heavens to Betsy, don't go condemning me or anyone else to your conceptualization of an afterlife.
So, be forewarned...
Discrimination - My mother didn't exactly teach me a great deal in relation to living a 'good' life, but she did impart one very important nugget of info - "Judge people only on how they treat you". Back in grade school, one of my friends, Brian Hope, was black (and I'm pretty sure that he still is). Actually, I remember having a crush on his older sister, but cannot seem to recall her name at the moment. In the middle of some stupid, youthful argument, I dropped the "N-Bomb" on young Brian, not really knowing the true ramifications of the word. When news of my transgression got back to my mother, she beat the crap out of me. Now my mother had a tendency for whooping my ass, but even now, twenty years later, I think that was one time she was justified in her actions. Thus, I still "judge people only on how they treat me". Only know, in my cynical 'old age' that has become more "I give everyone the equal opportunity to show his or her inner ass". So, I don't care about the color of your skin, the nation of your birth or how you get your sexual/romantic kicks, because all the people that I really despise tend to be white, straight Americans.
So, be forewarned...
Profanity - I'll try to keep it to a minimum. Sometimes I will fail. Even when it comes to those dreaded "C-words".
So, be forewarned...
Now that all the necessary opening warnings are out there, let's get back to our regular scheduled programming.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Political, Religion, Snide Remarks, Whores
