Remotely Uncontrolled
On Channel 306 HDNet the other night, there was some show called Celebridate. I didn’t watch long enough to know who the celeb was, or where they and their date went. I did see a quick montage a tois of the three datetestants. One had a tattoo on her shoulder that looked like the artist had used an Etch A Sketch. I can’t remember anything about one of them. My favorite though was the girl who said she wanted a guy who could make her laugh because she loved to laugh. Who the fuck doesn’t love to laugh? There are only two times in a person’s life where they do not love to laugh. The first one is if you’ve already been laughing so much that continued chuckling will cause a bodily event resulting in a pooling of fluids, or whatever the last substance entering your giggle googler being spit across the room. The second one is is a situation in which fun must be suppressed like a fart in an elevator. Come to think of it, if you are the one trying to hold it in or just gave in to temptation, what is funnier than a fart in an elevator?
Not to stand up comedian out, but what’s the deal with actors wearing bulky jackets in hot weather? I first noticed this phenomenon when Keanu Reeves wore that Mexican woven surfer rug thing during the Summer in Speed. Sure, he only applied it to a taut t-shirt over his rather ample upper torso Bill and Ted’s, but he’d have to have fucking delusional expectations to think he was going to stay cool in that thing during the Summer in L.A. Yet another instance of the above mentioned outerwear idiocy, is the alleged soon-to-be-former Mr. Will Jada Pinkett-Smith in the original M.I.B. He’s parlaying around NYC during robbery and carjacking season wearing a jacket made out of tarp like material used by construction workers to keep shit dry, and rappers to keep themselves dry after clock’n hoes.
I went back to HDNet to watch something called Deadline! Unrated, the “100 Percent Happy Endings” edition. The info button on the remote says it’s about “Breasts of all kinds, including Burlesques, pole danger and calendar girl. Entertainment, High-Def, CC.” I didn’t know the Info button had such weird taste in tit size. Every set of tits on this show is more circular than Rick Perry’s reasoning. These womens’ boobs are faker than the McAnimal that is slaughtered to produced the McRib. If they don’t got some jiggle and sag, tell her to put up them salt water bags. Titties ain’t supposed to be a replacement for that weird black-handled-spring-thing people in the 80′s swore by.
As I’m trying to cleanse my head of all these looney thoughts, a relatively unknown friend of mine on SpaceFace just sent me a Farmville request. It came through and finagled my whole style on my iPad like a text message. I have never played Farmville in my life. The only thing I know about it comes from an episode of 60 Minutes I watched. I want to be clear, the dude that thought up people paying to keep video vegetation alive is a genius. I bear him no ill ville. I just don’t understand why this one quasi anonymous chick keeps requesting I do something with Farmville. Even though I continue to immediately delete these requests, I keep getting them. Each one comes with her profile picture to the left of the request like a teaser for the next episode of Guilt Acres. Whereas you get confirmation or denials of your requests to be friends, there must not be any records kept or notifications given for immediate deletions of Farmville requests or this chick would have sold my friend base to the gubmint.
Platoon is on whatever 519 AMAXHD. I find it ballsy whoever that is has the guts to show a Nam movie with the Nutty Sheen in it in light of recent events. If there was a Platoon Redux, the closing scene would be that crazy fucking warlock pissing on the Vietnam War Memorial. Mark, highlight, underline, italicize, copy, paste or whatever my words. That crazy motherfucker will be in a porno movie within the next year. If he was born lucky, it will be a one man tour de force entitled “Two and a 1/2 Men”.
When a titty flick is on, why does the description even list the actors or attempt to describe the plot? If it is a true tit flick, you may have seen the tits before but you can’t associate a name to them. If you are up at the time of morning tit flicks come on, you aren’t hitting the info button to get plot summaries. You’re hitting it for ratings and film lengths. Just cause its an MA, it doesn’t mean you’re going to be able to stay up long enough to jerk off to it.
Channel 530 is Starz in Black. I don’t know if this has just sprung up overnight or what. I had no clue there was such a channel. The only reason I found it is because I’m watching CB4. Like jerking off, on one hand, I get ethnic channels. On the other, they just don’t feel right. I eat tacos. I listened to rap in its infancy and understand everything about this movie. I like egg rolls. I will throw down on some sushi. I didn’t learn to like all that shit from a bunch of different fucking t.v. channels. I didn’t learn to be fat from the Food Network. That shit is genetic. I refined and honed my honkeyness without a channel dedicated to not being able to dance, having a flat ass and liking rap music. But, at the same time, where is Honkey T.V.? Unless you’re in a foreign country speaking a non-indigenous language, I think the idea of a TV channel related to your ethnicity is a non-necessity. At the same time, if you can get that shit on TV, go for it. I mean, goddamn, I’ll watch any fucking channel that periodically shows Roadhouse or Point Break. Is ignorance an ethnicity?
Airline bottles of alcohol are a rip off. But they do fit nicely in the pockets of a robe though. This allows for them to be hid from a spouse, significant other, employer or religious leader. And, drinking airline bottles makes you feel like you aren’t drinking that much. Of course, that myth is debunked after there’s a Hansel and Gretel like trail of bottles left in your wake. All I’m saying’ is, don’t rule them out just because they’re overpriced. You may find them handy.
I’ve gone back to HDN. Girls Gone Blue Ball is on. This whole series is so fucking stupid I can’t take it. I have no idea what the point of seeing drunk chicks in bikinis is unless it is in person and you’re single or ensconced with said wearer.
I’m trying to stay awake for Art Mann Presents, which is the next show. He’s a funny bastard. I’ve got a theory he is Joe Flaherty‘s unclaimed son. I sent him some long-winded Slingo-filled email about a year ago, and he responded with a comment about it being funny. I then replied to his response, but there was no reciprocation. I chose not to go any further for fear of being charged with cyber stalking. A SWAT team may burl up into my crib and stop me from watching if I stay conscious long enough to view it.
“I’ve never seen girls go this wild.” That is a direct quote from someone labeled as a West Cost Cameraman in the Girls Gone Wild Fiefdom. I’d have to think it is a total fucking lie that a dude who films drunk chicks for a living has never seen anything nuttier than some titty flashing. That lying bastard has seen chics having sex with chics who were having sex with other chics while waiting in line to have sex with him just to get on camera. I’ll say this, the dude who owns the whole franchise looks Munsterish since he was sprung from prison after his short stint for going wild and not paying taxes. Another weird thing about the dude is someone forced him at gunpoint to engage in a “homosexual themed video” on January 22, 2004. What does it say about you if your burglars take all your shit, and before leaving, break out the camcorder and force you to go to the really wild side? When you think about it, you must really have fucked with someone because you’d think the homosexual acts you performed at gunpoint were performed on a practicing homosexual. Unless you live in a particularly rough part of San Francisco, I’m guessing these burglars brought entertainment with them. Now that’s Karma.
