Pan pan, pan pan, pan pan. This is United States Coast Guard station Long Beach with an urgent marine bulletin. The United States Coast Guard has received a report of a 28 foot pleasure craft named “What, Me Worry?” overdue on arrival from Catalina Island to San Pedro. All vessels are requested to keep lookout and render assistance as needed. This is United States Coast Guard station Long Beach, OUT.
Category: Uncategorized
TAGGING YOU!!!!
1. Type your first name into Google followed by “had better stop” . Then go to and post whatever you got as advice to the current question.
2. Open iTunes, put it on shuffle, and forward to the fifth song. Stalk the artist until arrested. If the artist is dead, stalk someone else, claiming that they are this person.
3. Reach for the nearest book you can find, open it to page 23, and tell others you have read it, although you have not.
4. Take the “Which fucking waste of time are you” quiz at QuizEnnui.com! [UNDERCONSTRUCTION.GIF]
5. Click here to put the “HOMOSEXUAL FAGGOTS ARE LOVE” banner on your site!!!
6. Take a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror with a flash camera and then get your Sparklies Fashion Weather Bratz Trollz SouthPark avatar and then get this free Flying Spaghetti Monster banner and then drag them all to the trashcan and delete them forever and just go back to bed.
6. ADD YOURSELF TO THE LIST!!!! of people who have made this joke.
You know what I’m lookin’ at.
They sell this as a Teen Wolf shirt, but I vividly remember a college classmate who was blessed with very large and beautiful breasts who wore this, and that was before that movie came out. She certainly enjoyed the triple-takes she got on Bruin Walk this way.
What Are You Looking At Dicknose T-Shirt
Oh, I still have an extra Romp Star babydoll shirt for whichever one of you LADIES would APPRECIATE it.
YOU’RE ON NOTICE
I like this webtoy.
Why we fight?
Shot at 19th & Newport in Costa Mesa, CA today. Shiny clean trucks without anything in the bed, and big V-8s.
B Ø N K
Going from a half dose of two antidepressants to no dose of any antidepressant is a ride. And by “ride” I mean “rusty Tilt-A-Swing-A-Clank-A-Whirl operated by carnies at the County Fair.”
I woke up at 3:30 pm today feeling hung over. The day went slowly for three hours while caffeine and my last remaining head pill (Adderall) took effect and I got some minor stuff done and dorked. I showered, felt better, and needed to go for groceries; my brother was arriving for a visit for a few days and a full larder was a necessity.
Then I went to Trader Joes to get food. As I was checking out my stuff I got the sweats, blurry vision, stomach upset, headache, and total exhaustion. It was like a sugar low plus jet lag plus the flu, all at once.
I made it home, stuffed the freezer and fridge things in their place, and told my brother and mom that there was easy food there for them to eat. I then drank a liter of Orangina and ate some yogurt and collapsed.
There’s a Dead Man’s Party in my hippocampus and you’re all invited!
Your tax dollars at work: DHS flamewarriors on the job
Sometimes the IP logging feature on LJ is a beautiful thing, especially when Homeland Security employees think they’re being all badass by flaming you for your political views from work.
Back to work, you. I pay you to beat up Mexicans and lose the city of New Orleans, not click around on the internet like a bunch of Kansas City faggots.
Scéan at Kéan
Fulla churchians as usual. Very loud International Coffees/No Sex in the City women near me churchin’ it up. Youth group inside meeting.
The women are alternating hymn singing and laughing about relationships and being high on life.
The youth group noisily disbands outside near me. A guy hands me a CD. “Want this CD? It’s about Jesus.”
“No thanks.”
…pause…
“I hear there’s a book, too.”
There is a five second silence.
“Uhh… Umm… Yeah! It’s a er… Good Book.”
today’s phrases
head weasels
vegan cake studio
I was asked by the store manager to use the monkey
SNAKES IN A BRAIN, MOTHERFUCKIN’ SNAKES IN MY FUCKIN’ BRAIN
terror mules
soft saints
What Would Amos Say?
Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. […] The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending it are infinite. What would grace be if it were not cheap? — Diedrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship
From the Register article I cited yesterday about the “SWAT Team” kids preaching on the beach. Photo credit to Andy Templeton for this excellent piece of photojournalism. The other pics with the article are good also.
The perfectly scrubbed whiteness of these people — even when they’re not white — is alarming. They exist in a perfect bubble of privilege and cultural isolation. Their friends and family are all like them. Their ideal world is a kind of 1903 Tennesse where everyone is inexplicably 2006 “cool”: chastity, whiteness, conservative politics, extreme sports, rock ‘n’ roll music, TV, great new snacks, and women in their place, obediently following behind their husbands even while surfing some massive waves.
The place where dogmatic evangelical religion and cluelessly neotenized teenage privilege meet is the best-gilded turd you’ll ever see. But you’ll smell it, too. Smell is pretty strong around these parts.
Be My Blog 