Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Deep down, my mother was very silly. She would have pretended not to like Dinosaur Comics, but secretly, she would have loved it. Anyway, it's like Ryan North is giving her a secret shout-out today, because he used the name "Tina."
It's been 4 months today. If you're so inclined, raise a glass (preferably of some sweet ass wine that no one above the age of 19 should enjoy) to my beautiful Tina, who used to laugh so hard at the most ridiculous stuff.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I'll be back with a recap of Jugo and Boobyloob's Party Weekend in just a moment.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Sip on this and ask yourself why you don't own this dvd already.
Apparently, the madam really is a woman you don't say "no" to, because if she had demanded that money from me after I failed to satisfy a client, I'd have popped her in the mouth. Who in the hell does she think she is? The Bishop? Seriously, let your mouth gape open in incredulity throughout (my favorite piece might be the half-hearted and parenthetical "there is an important distinction to be made here between those who choose prostitution and those who are forced into it" BECAUSE REALLY NO SHIT).
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Actually, it's not that deep. Shit happens, blah blah blah. But it does underscore how long it's been since I've been to the movies with someone else (Iron Fist doesn't count). After a clusterfuck shambola of a parking situation, we got to the theater in time to miss almost all of the previews (thank God, because if I see the trailer for Lakeview Terrace ONE MORE GATTDAMN TIME) but also too late to find two seats together. Pacific Culver City was mad packed! What in the crispy coated hell?! That place is usually empty.
Practically the only seats that were available were in the front two rows. No dice. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't sit there. Why do they even put seats that close?! Fuck off, movie people. My eleven dollars wasn't enough? Now you have to take my dignity?
So, ever the sportsman, I let my friend sit in the one aisle seat available and I claimed booty space on the steps. I was fine. Needless to say, I got booted about 5 minutes in by an officious usher who tried to fool me into thinking that there were seats available. Rather than step over an aisle full of people trying to find some mythical lost seat of Atlantis, I just rolled out and decided to see Pineapple Express instead. But I had to leave before it was over so that I could catch VC when Tropic Thunder ended because she had no idea where the fuck I had gone and I didn't have my phone on me because it's dead because I lost the charger in Vegas and so here my dumb ass is, two hours later, having seen bits and pieces of two different fucking movies I wasn't that jazzed about in the first motherfucking place and THIS IS WHY I GO TO MOVIES ALONE. Because other people make life complicated.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Cane wave to jackandjillpolitics, who have to wade through this kind of tripe day in and day out. I'd have lost it by now. I have lost it by now.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
My brother and angel-in-law will be celebrating their first anniversary in a few weeks. They're going to start incubating clones any day now, and let me make this clear: if some punk ever comes at one of their children with this kind of malarkey, I will not only pop the top on one can of whup ass, I will mix my own recipe, secure funding on my own bottling plant, hire a team of workers and managers, and then pop the top on every single motherflucking can of Jugo's Wild West Shankin' N' Jivin' Diet Whoop Ass in the joint.
There were good 'n' plenty things that I lovedlovedloved about my Star Trek weekend, but before we trip gaily down that road, let me hip you to the things that were emphatically not the business.
1) The dudes [that’s right, this ish happened more than once] who, upon seeing me at the bar with VC (Asian) and Tania (white) felt compelled to exclaim: “Oh My God, you guys are hot like a Benetton ad.” Hey, Chad? I got a message from 1987 here; it wants your fashion mall fetishization back. Also, American Apparel wants to know if you want a job. Thehellouttahere with that tired line, you fucking fool.
2) Nana Visitor (Major Kira): I liked this character better when her name was Ensign Ro and she was giving Captain Picard grief. When the Rene Auberjonois-Armin Shimmerman Q&A ended and whippet-thin Nana sashayed on stage to belt out some Elaine Stritch-style cabaret numbers, I had to 23 skidoo. I wish Major Kira could have been on Vogager, so I could have ignored her more completely.
3) I saw no [black] Uhuras. Not a single one. Other chicks in Uhura’s “Mirror, Mirror” uniform do not count! There was supposed to be a contingent of Uhuras-in-Training at this con, and I didn’t see nary a one, dammit!
4) I had to buy an iron. The Last Chance Motel we stayed in (which had a worrying, crime-y kind of smell on the first night) lied and said they had one, and then failed to produce. Why did I need an iron for the weekend, you ask? To iron a transfer of Hot Leering Spock From “Charlie X” onto my super awesome homemade pencil skirt.That joint was the only concession I was making to constuming for the weekend, so an iron had to be bought.
5) BoyChen’s unauthorized shuttle craft mission to the Four Queens. I had to bust his ass back down to ensign when he returned at 7 in the morning, broke, busted, and disgusted. Ah, the rigors of command.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
I interrupt this Star Trek recap to tell you that I just met Leonard Cohen at the Starbucks by my job.
My co-worker, who feels about Leonard Cohen the way I feel about Jeff Goldblum
I know. That shit doesn't make any sense to me, either.
Whatever. VC also is a fierce seamstress. Plus, she's more than a little crazy. I've never met anyone who could match Julie's or my predilection for wearing stupid handmade costumes, but VC surpasses it. So you know she was my first pick to ride shotgun this trip. After about 10 seconds we invited her brother, BoyChen, whom science will one day prove to be 50% squirrel, to go along/further split the cost of gas.
I should mention several complicating factors here. Neither VC nor BoyChen is currently employed, so taking a last minute trip to Las Vegas was perhaps not the most pecuniarily prudent decision one could make. And I'm not exactly made of money myself, right now. While VC was backpacking through Brazil last month, I incurred about 1K's worth of damage to her convertible. Bitches, I want you to imagine how hard I cried when I had to a) confess and b) pay. None of us was rolling into Sin City with anything approaching freedom pockets. Nevertheless, roll into Sin City we did.
The second thing you should know is that BoyChen doesn't really like any Star Trek incarnation except Voyager. Yeah, you read that right. Get on back to the Delta quadrant with that bullshit, BoyChen. I don't even know how a human brain can be that damaged and still function. Enterprise put me to sleep like a glass of warm milk and a back rub; but Voyager actively irritated the fuck out of me. And before you start accusing me of player-hating on Jeri Ryan (the standard riposte, apparently), know that Seven-of-Nine was one of the few things I liked about that show. You know why? Because she seemed just as irritated with the crew as I was. She stayed looking pissed off.
Speaking of Enterprise, I am legally obligated to say two things: one, Connor Trinneer is the doofus ex-boyfriend of my old roommate, Mia; two, Scott Bakula's autograph costs $109?! American money?! Bitch, please. When Rene Auberjonois, whose changeling bucket you are not fit to rinse, costs $40, you better keep it moving with that $109. Is there that much Quantum Leap goodwill left floating around?
To continue: VC dipped into Hollywood on Friday and picked me up from work. Friday was 08/08/08, if you'll recall, and as VC is Chinese, she was determined to mark it. And be marked by it. So on the way out of town, we stopped on the east side and she got a tattoo of her chop on the back of her neck.* So far, so good.
Also, her tattooist was hot to death. You all know that sleeve tattoos are my kryptonite, so let's just say that I found Man to be quite alluring.
Ink applied, we swerved over to to grab some Jesus Chik'n** and then started our hobo nerd adventure in earnest. They screwed up my order at the place, so I got a sandwich for free! Things were already looking good on this trip! Only I can't eat wheat anymore***, so I had to eat the meat in the backseat with my hands.***. Messy, but satisfying. Just like the days to come.
Stay tuned for Part II: The Wrath of Con (I am so ashamed of that. I swear)
*Pictures to come. You know, when I get all the rest of the pictures sorted out. Keep checking this space
*** developed some weird hyper-sensitivity out of nowhere
Monday, August 11, 2008
Just got back from Vegas, where your fearless leader and two intrepid/cracked out partners-in-crime did the damn thing at the Star Trek convention. Recap and photos to follow. Including me shaking hands with the man himself.
Friday, August 01, 2008
In other close call news, I delivered a special report for Dude Weather after the earthquake. Pay no motherfucking attention to that picture. I HAVE AN AFRO NOW, GAINES. All pictures of me without an afro have to be destroyed immediately. That is coming straight from the office of Barack Obama; and that dude is going to be our next president.
Shout[s] out to DC and JM*, who are [I think] maxin' and relaxin' in Wisconsin and recently got in touch with ol' Jugo.
*Do you see how I've cleverly obscured your identities with my impenetrable code?
I'll be posting pics soon of my imminent tattoo-ing. I'm getting a piece on my back in honor of my beautiful Tina. I'm hoping to have the work done at Zulu Tattoo. Feel free to drop some dimes in the bucket because that shit is expensive, kids.