Sunday, July 31, 2005

the myspace unRevolution

I was reading an article today on arguably the most self centered of news outlets, CNN.com. Could this site care anymore about US events and anyless about earth shattering world events? Terry "vegetable lasagna" Schiavo got more airplay than the Korean nuclear crisis. I'm sorry but I'm more worried about Mr. wong launching multiple ICBM's equipped with 100000000 yen of plutonium than some braindead bitch. Anyway, there was an article about how some myspace bloggers (aka fat Everquest nerds) were complaining about how Fox Corp's buyout of myspace will undermine the "counter-culture" grassroots social movement spawned by myspace.com. How exactly is a site that has some 22 million registered users be referred to as "counter-culture"? Since I happen to be one of these 22 million, I'll fill you in on how to succeed in a typical myspace ecosystem.

Girls:
Step 1: Take self portraits of yourself wearing the sluttiest underwear/bikini you can find. Make sure you show ample camel toe.
Step 2: Talk about how your favorite hobbies are shopping,partying and talking to boys. Also make sure to alternate caps on ur words like this : iM a dIrTy wh0rE
Step 3: Make ur background some super dark color and ur text black so no one in their right mind can read whatever inane shit you wrote about yourself.
Step 4: Sit back and watch your comment and friend list swell as hundreds of guido morons (see Garden State post) and greasy spanish dudes say things like "whattup ma" and "damn you look good yo" and my all time favorite "whats good ma?". I dont know you neanderthal, what is good? Isn't that fucking rhetorical question?

Guys:
Step 1: Take pics of you flexing your faux tan muscles in a wife beater. Also don't forget to look mean and take your shirt off as well. Show off your cookie cutter tribal tattoo u got in Seaside.
Step 2: Talk about how your favorite hobbies are working out,partying and talking to girls.
Step 3: Make ur background some super dark color and ur text black so no one in their right mind can read whatever inane shit you wrote about yourself.
Step 4: Add every chick you come across on myspace as a friend. Once they accept, which they will since myspace is the biggest faux popularity contest since high school, leave vacuous comments on the girl's page. See step 4 under Girls...

It is only inevitable that myspace will implode on itself if its members are any indication of its self proclaimed social importance. The only good thing I can see coming out of myspace today and tomorrow is the huge launch pad for indie musicians. With an online/digital distribution channel as magnanimous as myspace, the RIAA has some serious competition when it comes to exposure of up and coming artists. Any local band that I've seen recently, I've been able to look up on myspace and download or stream their music. If anything will survive from the myspace fallout it will be the online social networking of musicians and their fans.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

spamalot

im currently in phoenix (again) and its hot as donkey balls at high noon in the dead of july.

It's so hot that old people are dropping like flies. Why must old people be so defiant? They think everyone is wrong, young people have no respect, and that they can do everything by themselves. So then they go outside to catch the early bird special at the local yokel restaurant and 2 minutes later the adhesive holding their false teeth in starts melting like bubble yum left in your pocket in the washing machine. With temperatures averaging 107 over the last few days, it isn't pleasant to step outside of the comfort of the A/C. A local Chicago radio station called up a Phoenix resident yesterday and asked him how hot it was. They asked him to take a scoop of ice cream and drop it on the sidewalk and then time how long it would take to completely melt. It took 8 seconds. If you pulled that shit in chicago, it would be gone in 5 seconds. You'd look down and see some fat drunk bears fan licking that shit up. Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa beaaars!

On another topic I love getting spam. I know it sounds weird but have you ever taken time to read spam? Spam is the new black. Shit is funny as hell. I think spammers are out of work comedians that are trying to hone their material through spam haikus. read this one:

To: Riley; Tracey@i.com; Kory; Collin; Antoine
Subject: Fw: be a superstar and wear our quality rolexes or brietlings.

wow. these copied versions have the same logo types and serial numbers.


but get him to talk, he has plenty to say. His reading has done him
1880 Milstead Ln, georgetown, Texas 78628-6811 512-721-0445 which is some
of the best land in the country. I grant you, FROM my father I received
the best inheritance, namely a "good temper." "And who was my father?" That
has nothing to do with the good temper; but I will say he was lively,
good-looking round, and fat; he was both in appearance and character a
complete contradiction to his profession. "And pray what was his profession
and his standing in respectable society?" Well, perhaps, if in the beginning
of a book these were written and printed, many, when they read it, would lay
the book down and say, "It seems to me a very miserable title, I don't like
things of this sort." And yet my father was not a skin-dresser nor an
executioner; on the contrary, his employment placed him at the head of the
grandest people of the town, and it was his place by right. He had to
precede the bishop, and even the princes of the blood; he always went
first,- he was a hearse driver!


He was a hearse driver! And a fat one at that. Awesome.

Friday, July 15, 2005

From Hackencrack to Hoe broken

A farewell party for my company's CEO last nite turned out to be yet another alcohol and cheap beef fueled debacle. Most of the nite's merriment was facilitated by easy access to the open bar and quick turnaround time due to the small number of revilers that attended. After an entertaining video made by a coworker as a montage of our CEO's years at the company was aired, the revilers stormed the bar like it was the beaches of Normandy. Many a good man and woman went down, mired underfoot of their (up to that point) brethren.
For the calm before the storm had just commenced, as conversations were conducted with judicious reservedness and the dancing shoes had been stowed safely under the bar. Fast forward 45 minutes to my boss describing the sex toy he had bought for his wife and how much they enjoyed using it. The story was chokingly absorbed by the audience as one by one, they migrated to the bar to scrub the visuals out of their heads with the help of that dirty bastard, Jose Cuervo.

The dancing began in grand fashion as the dj ( who looked strikingly like Yakov Smirnoff) began pumping the batmitzvah playlist. I'll admit I'm not one to dance but my coworker kept feeding everyone shots and amazingly enough many of us found ourselves rapping the chorus to Ain't nuttin but a g thang. Even the Isrealis knew the words! At around 10 pm EVERYONE at the party was officially cut off from the bar. You get that? EVERYONE. I have never been to any event where the entire place was cutoff for drinking too much. amazing. The party quickly dissipated and eventually I was persuaded to drive a few of my more inebriated colleagues to Hoboken to extend the merriment. Mike had a tear in his eyes as he parted with his BMW, more out of fear that the Mafia clientele that he caught grilling him was plotting to pipe bomb his car. In Hoboken, the scene was grim. Many the unsavory character lined up at lana lounge for a East LA gang bang. We passed them and entered oddfellows to a room of portly white women and watered down drinks. 2 more hours of this and we all parted our separate ways. It was 1 am and mike had to be at work in 3 hours. He didn't look happy. Morning came and went. Noon came and found both mike and I still lying in our respective beds; him carless and missing a large part of his dignity. I made the effort and went to work only to find out im going back to Phoenix!! (see Days of Blunder)

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Days of Blunder

today started out at the brisk hour of 4 am. It was dark outside and my pecker was at full attention as I stumbled into the bathroom. I had roughly 1 hour to get to the office, load up the limo with a server, and then book to newark liberty international to catch a 7 am flight. Luckily the jackasses from the limo service were actually on time and not reeking of cheap proletariat russian vodka, and so at 5:15 we were en route to the office. An hour later I found myself at newark airport waiting on a giant line outside to check in my bag and the server. I get to the front of the line, where Lando Calrissian


weighs the server and proceeds to smugly tell me that I will need to go inside to the Special Services desk. I proceed there with the big ass box and have it weighed again, pay the 50 bucks, and then trek it to the x-ray machine. at this point its 6:30 and boarding has just started. I still need to get my brown ass through security and make it to the gate. After cutting the line and rockin the elite access lane, I got to the gate with 5 minutes to spare and got upgraded to first class! WOOOOOOOT! So at this point im sittin in the seat, huffing/puffing/wheezing/ and coughing while the guy next to me offers me 5 dollars to give to my family for the Tsunami relief effort.

5 hours later and im at the baggage claim counter yelling at some poor lady who is telling me that despite all the biblical proportional heavy lifting I did all morning, the server was on a later flight and not coming in until 4 pm. SHEEEEEEEEET. Out of options, and also a little out of breath, I got on the hertz bus and tried getting to my car where the lady at the counter fucked up and gave me a non-existent car, which when i complained, offered to give me a 2 car upgrade to a ..... Volvo Stationwagon.
If thats a DOUBLE upgrade, don't ever let me rent a standard car from these assholes. So now im officially pimpin a soccer mom ride, I hit the freeway and let the oddly and disturbingly sexy voice of the Hertz Neverlost GPS guide me to the hotel where I can hopefully slip into a double scotch and let this terrible day of days end.