Fiddle lessons in Rome

I didn't watch the Oscars last night... or any night, for that matter. I watched it the two times a certain Jon Stewart was the host, but otherwise, I avoid it. If I wanted to watch something lick its own asshole for over two hours, I'd watch my dog. "Thank you Jesus" this and "I'd like to thank the little people" that. Pretentious adults playing make believe that get high off their own fumes. I love excellent films. I LOVE exceptional actors. I just don't love self love, ya dig? People that throw a party to praise themselves ought to be given nut checks and whatever the equivalent of a nut check is for a woman... breast check? Nah, that just sounds fun and responsible, for that matter. Breast cancer is a serious threat. FOR REALS. Give a hoot, squeeze a breast. Okay, moving on.

I had to write an essay today in class. The professor decided to hand out printing paper for us to write on... um, what in the fuck? Is this not a college class? I'm used to writing with the guidance of lined paper, thank you very much. I'm not a barbarian. But there's no arguing with a tenured professor, so I wrote about why Oedipus Rex blah blah blah "wahhh, I fucked my mom and she bore my weird offspring," etc. I turned in three, count 'em, three printer pages scribbled with my atrocious, downward curving handwriting. I'm sure I'll get an A. I'm not even sure this guy reads what we write. I'm not even sure this guy CAN read.

If you can't tell, I'm rambling on this blog. I have absolutely NO ideas for a good story. It will come to me eventually, I'm sure. I've always got silly things bouncing around in my skull... I just seldom have the patience to put them to paper... or computer, I suppose.

You ever sit around wishing your kids might come out looking Aryan?

I do.

Dances with Horses

I have a repressed memory. Now don't get me wrong, I remember PLENTY of awful remembrances from my childhood: my teacher pushing me from the jungle gym, breaking my arm, the time I vomited in front of my crush, overhearing my mother describing how she screwed up raising me, and decided to raise my brother in a different way, the time fire ants bit my... anyhoo, I have plenty. But I have one seemingly ordinary memory that I felt compelled to forget until my father mentioned it the other day. "I just heard your horse trainer died."

wut.

"My horse trainer?" I looked at him quizzically. "Yeah, a nice old woman." And OFF HE WENT. ON WITH HIS DAY. No further explanation. What on Earth happened? What rocked my world so fucking hard that I can't remember horse training? When did I ride horses? I grew up in suburbia, God damn it! There's very little to mount out here... if you catch my meaning. Wait, you thought I meant sex? You're gross.

I mean, I've never liked horses. "Oh, they're SOOOO majestic." Fuck off. Unless it's in my gelatin or glue, I couldn't give a flying fuck about Buttercup. God damn shitting, farting, ornery beasts. Say what you will about the short falls of the human race, at least we don't walk and shit at the same time... well, I think Utah might be an exception, but then Utah always is an exception, isn't it? Horses just never drove me crazy, although most heterosexual men aren't all that mesmerized by them anyway. They just rub me the wrong way. The one thing horses have going for them are big, beautiful, brown eyes. But I'd sooner see that on a female of the human persuasion... I guess what this whole rant boils down to is this: stop trying to seduce me with your eyes, female horses. Yes, yes. Your manes are spectacular, and the workmanship on that horseshoe is sublime. But it just can't ever be.

Film Characters in Interesting Situations

300's King Leonidas finding out why his grandfather can't remember his name

King Leonidas: What's the verdict, doctor?
Psychiatrist: I'm afraid he's suffering from dementia, King Leonidas.
King Leonidas: DAMN IT, MAN. SPEAK PLAINLY!
Psychiatrist: He's suffering from a consistent and, sadly, atrophic madness -
King Leonidas: This isn't madness.
Psychiatrist: I-what? No, dementia is-
King Leonidas: THIS. IS. SPARTA! *Kicks the psychiatrist into a convenient, endless pit*


Apollo 13's crew dealing with a baby

*Baby crying*
Jim Lovell: I... what does it want?
Fred Haise: I'm not sure, Jim. I've never dealt with anything this volatile.
Jake Swiggert: Well, we have to do something!
Jim Lovell: I know, but - whoa, what's that smell?
Fred Haise: Oh sweet merciful God.
Jake Swiggert: It's coming from the diaper. *Gags*
Jim Lovell: Gentlemen... suit up.
*Slow motion walk in full astronaut gear*
Jim Lovell: Okay... I'm going in.
Jake Swiggert: Easy... easy...
Fred Haise: *Faints*
Jim Lovell: *Opens diaper, dry heaves* Houston, we have a problem.
Jake Swiggert: ABORT! ABORT!


Top Gun's Maverick and Goose at a bar

Maverick: Are you sure, Goose? This is risky.
Goose: Hey, what are wingmen for? *Grabs his shoulder, walks towards two women, diverting the less attractive woman's attention*
Maverick: There goes the greatest wingman I ever knew. When I'm banging this smokin' 10 tonight, I'll be thinking of you, Goose. *Locks arms with the woman and leaves the bar.*
Goose: *To the ugly woman* I bet you have a lot of stories about cats or crotchet.
Ugly Woman: Well, you're in for a treat! I can talk for hours about both!
Goose: *Reaches for his sidearm*

Hey, that last one wasn't very interesting. Funny, perhaps. But that's a completely reasonable and expected situation for two young pilots.

I FAILED YOU.

I'm also a cook!

I like to cook things... that statement is misleading. My FATHER is a cook... THAT statement is misleading. FUCK. My father LIKES to cook, and instilled in me a sense of wonder and delight in all things culinary - which is probably why I weighed 315 pounds my senior year of high school (Damn you, Chick-Fil-A!).  I recently started to cook in the interest of science, and here's what I've made so far. I will constantly update this post to show my most recent foodie achievements.

African Chicken Peanut Stew. Just as good as it looks. Sweet, tangy, and a little spicy. If you ask nicely... well, I just might make it for you.

Enchiladas with a thick, mole sauce... the enchiladas are filled with ground beef, chilies, and onions... the guacamole is Alton Brown's. 

Revolutionary Tweets Supporting Egypt

MRobespierre: @Egypt - Don't get ahead of yourself! LOL Too soon? :/

NTurner: @Egypt - Don't fuck with whitey. Motherfucker's can't take a joke. 

CheG: I'M MORE THAN A T-SHIRT! I HAVE FEELINGS! #Egypt #Freedom #Bolivia 

TheCastro: The Egyptian people have made their decision: LET THEM PLAY BASEBALL!

Sparty: Hey @Egypt, good luck! And if anyone asks, I'm not Spartacus. 

KMarx: Good job, @Egypt... could I interest you in some socialism? Please? Just-just a little?

HoChi: @Egypt, you can call me "Uncle." ;) <3

J_Dog_Brown: What @NTurner said.

LTrotsky: =(

JStall: LOL @LTrotsky

MX: =I

MLKjr: @Egypt <3... ya know what? <3 @Everybody =)

Gandhi: @Egypt Have a complimentary enema on me.

MaoZ: @Egypt, have you tried repressing yourselves? It does WONDERS.

WillyWally: FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

VLenin: Could I interest you in some borscht, @Egypt? No? DOES ANYONE WANT BORSCHT? 

GWash: @Egypt, if you're anything like America, the first hundred-ish years will be fantastic - all downhill from there.

Mandela: =D

Tibet Butler Preserve

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.