by mg at 09:35 PM on April 30, 2001
If you'd like to have nightmares for a week, you should go check out Silver-Fish's PICTURE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE ANIMAL-ANIMA. It is the single most disturbing thing I've ever seen on the Internet, and I been visiting Stile and Rotten for years.
Needless, this site is Japanese. Isn't it always they case when you see that something weird and disturbing, that it ends up being made in Japan? Like Pokemon, Mr. Sparkle, and the Sony Vaio. I think all that radiation must have caused some serious pyschological damage. Can someone who speaks Japanese please explain to me what is going on here? Actually, I think I'd really rather not know.
Each of the pictures on the site are of equal disturbitude. However, this one and this one and this one and this one and really go to the site and look at all of them. For the life of me, I tried not to look at these, but I clicked on every damn one.
I don't think I'll ever be able to have sex without thinking of Giraffes again.
by mg at 11:29 AM on April 30, 2001
I can not express to you all how much I hate my new job. It has been only a week and I am seriously considering quitting. I’ve got nothing lined up, and no good prospects, but I am about to walk out. That is how much I loathe coming into work here everyday. I hear McDonalds offers a pretty good wage, and I wouldn't have to think at all. ("What, you ordered a Cheeseburger? Good thing there is a button on the cash register with a picture of a cheeseburger, just in case I spontaneously forgot how to read.")
It is so bad, in fact, that I almost left last Monday, my first day, at about 9:30am. But, I figured, I can wait this out and see if things get better. You know, maybe things are just weird because it is my first couple days, they don’t know me, and I don’t know them, and everyone is just a little uncomfortable and unsure of how to interact with each other. Its like when two people have sex for the first time, it is an awkward mess of arms and legs and other bits and you’ve got to figure out exactly how your bodies fit together. Though, here at work, we probably won't end up all sticky afterward.
But things haven’t gotten better. If anything, things have gotten worse. The more I learn about how fucked up it is here the more I want to run away and hide. I thought it might just be that I don’t want to work, period, and I wouldn’t be happy starting anywhere. But I’ve realized that isn’t true, I really do want to work, I just want to work anywhere but here.
I actually talked with the CEO on Friday afternoon, (it is a really small company), and expressed my concerns about the project, about me working here, about the fact that he and the other management people speak nothing but Hebrew around the office, and he pretty much blew off all my concerns. He gave me that smirk that I always give people when I think their opinion is worthless. Now I realise how much that must annoy people.
And not only did he ignore me, but he yelled at me for only staying 9 hours a day for my first week. I said, “Listen here you Mick bastard,” and I’m not sure why since he is Israeli not Irish, “Why should I stay here? I don’t have anything to do. Give me some tasks, and I‘ll stay. Christ, I’d stay longer even if I just had a job description or official title.”
Then I told him, “I’ll stay if you really want me to, but the only thing I have to do is use your T1 line for downloading songs from Napster. If you want me to do that,” I said, “I’ll bring a blanket and my pajamas and stay the night, otherwise, I’m going home to download porn in the comfort of my own bedroom.”
Actually, I didn’t say any of that. But I wanted to.
Here's something blatantly not my own. Don't blame me; it's finals week, and all energy is diverted from normal procrastinatory activities that put off studying and redirected towards finals-mode hyperactive procrastinatory activities that put off studying. So here's something that some of you may have seen before but that I hadn't heard. They make me laugh. (thanks Allen)
The Washington Post's "Style Invitational" asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter, and suppy a new definition. Here are some of them. Incorporate them into your daily repertoire of pithy words and the world shall be a better place.
DIOS: the one true operating system.
Elepants: too-tight jeans on broad-beamed people.
Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of obtaining sex.
Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
Tatyr: A lecherous Mr. Potato Head.
Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the recipient who doesn't get it.
Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
Burglesque: A poorly planned break-in. (See: Watergate)
Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like a serious bummer.
Glibido: All talk and no action.
Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a refund from the IRS, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
Doltergeist: a spirit that decides to haunt someplace stupid, such as your septic tank.
Goodzilla: a giant lizard that puts out forest fires by stamping on them
Writer's tramp: a woman who practices poetic licentiousness.
Sata: a mythical being who brings toys to bad children.
Deifenestration: to throw all talk of God out the window.
Synapple: a perfect beverage to accompany brain food.
And my personal favourite:
Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
by mg at 03:19 PM on April 28, 2001
So, after my first week back at work was finally over yesterday evening, I decided to do something to treat myself. Since I am required by law not to smoke crack, have sex with minors, or set household pets on fire, I decide to buy myself some new DVDs.
I really wanted to get the Fight Club special edition package, which has two discs in it and tons of extras, but it would have been more than US $40, which is way more than I want to spend now. Considering that I haven't been paid yet, and if I could, I would quit my job in a second.
Well, the guy helping me at HMV told me that one of my favourite movies, Empire of the Sun hadn't been released on DVD yet. Considering that it is the only Steven Spielberg movie that I've ever enjoyed, I hope Stevie is reading this and decides to put his muscle into getting Empire released.
The HMV clerk also told me that another of my favourite movies, The Warriors, had recently been released, but they didn't have any copies of it in stock. I can't tell you how many Saturday afternoons during my adolescence were spent watching The Warriors on channel five. I wonder how well it holds up 20 years later, and whether it would be worht spending US$25 for it.
So then I was looking for Leon, which is the European version of The Professional, another one of my favourite movies and the first screen appearance of Natalie Portman. I love Natalie Portman. I found a naked picture of her, but I can't post it considering she was underage and it would be illegal. Ha Ha! I get to see Queen Amidala naked and you don't! Suckers!
I actually picked up Leon because I hear the whole weird sex angle between Leon and Natalie's character is explored more. As much as I really want to see that, I ended up putting it back. Instead, I bought Dancer in the Dark. I hadn't seen it before, but I love Björk. I was going to watch it last night, but a friend came over and we ended up going to IHOP instead.
by mg at 05:25 PM on April 27, 2001
Why won't mg let me have site access? I'm sad.
That really isn't a question. More a kind of whining. But since no one wrote in a real question this week, (What the hell? None of you need bad advice anymore?), I will answer your question. Kind of.
Here is a little guide I put together for potential Bad Samaritan writers:
1) Be funny.
2) Posts should be between 200 and 400 words. The minimum is there to make sure you've got a meme worthy of posting, and the maximum is there because this is my site, I'm the star.
3) Please try to post at least every other day. I understand time constraints, but it really isn't that difficult to write a short and entertaining paragraph or two every second day. It really isn't.
4) Please try not to post more than twice a day. This is my site. I'm the star.
5) If you are writing for the site, that means you've read the site. You know the tone. Feel free to write about whatever you want and in any way you want, but keep the tone close to that of what the audience has come to expect and has grown to love.
6) There are pretty much no restrictions on topic. However, there are some preferred topics, those being, children, animals, sex, crime, violence, media whores, or cannibalism, preferably a combination of two or more of those topics.
7) Actually, I take that back - there is a restriction on topics. Every post must contain at least one reference to children, animals, sex, crime, violence, media whores, or cannibalism.
8) If you are going to use the site to publicly announce your love for someone, please include a picture of that person. Preferably a nude picture.
9) Try not to make it about yourself. Unless you've got a great story or your name is mg, don't write about yourself. I am the star here. That being said, feel free to be self-referential and to relate outside events to your life. This isn't the New York Times (as if that needs to be said); "I" and "me" are perfectly acceptable.
10) You can be a nice person in your real life. I don't care about your real life. But here, you must be a Bad Samaritan. Don't force yourself to be outrageous, because that is never funny. To be a successful participant here you just need to learn to ignore the little voice in your head that says "Should I really say that?" That voice is the bane of creativity. You should destroy that voice. Use any means necessary, whether drugs, alcohol, or trepanation.
So. There you go. Who among you wants to write for Bad Samaritan now?
by mg at 08:15 AM on April 27, 2001
I've got this friend who writes the best emails. This is one of them:
i'll have to admit, i've been hedging about your existence for most of my adult life. now that might sound pretty bad, but wait... hear me out. you see, for someone who wasnt raised to believe in you in the first place, the fact that i even think about you at all is damn good, dont you think? give yourself a pat on the back, you're doing alright.
anyway, i'm writing you because, tonite, i'm in one of those what-if-there's-a-god, what-if-there's-a-heaven kind of moods. and whenever i get this way, i figure i should go ahead and just let you know about all the good things i've been up to. i mean, being good has to count for something... right? well, i'm sorta counting on you, because here on earth, it seems that being good just doesnt count for much these days. okay okay, i dont mean to be too negative. i guess i should say, being good doesnt count for much... sex. yes. that's a more accurate statement.
so you already know about the situation between me and the Most Perfect Chinese Girl Ever Born. (hey, this is sorta off topic, but when you're not too busy, can you explain to me why the Most Perfect Chinese Girl Ever Born only loves jewish boys who dont love her back?) anyway, i just got off the phone with her. she called me from the city where she just left some bar, after hanging out with some dude. he tried to get her in bed, but he's neither jewish, nor scrawny, so not her type, so she took off. but her car is 20 blocks from the bar, and she's in heels, in the industrial part of san francisco, and it's past midnight, and she's scared, so i'm on the phone with her, just so she has someone to talk with while she walks.
she's scared because a white car with no headlights is following her and she says to me, i'm going to read you the licence plate number, get a pen. 3 P W L L 6 3 8. if something happens to me, call the police.
i hear the the clicks of her heels against the pavement, and i hear her breathing, so i know she's walking fast, keeping an eye on the white car with no headlights, and at the same time, keeping an eye out for a cab that might be passing through the industrial part of san francisco. she finds one. but it's off duty, and its meter is broken, but the guy agrees to take her. the Most Perfect Chinese Girl Ever Born says she'll be alright now. i offer to stay on the phone with her. she says she'll be alright. i say to her, get to your car safe, call me back if you need to. she says she'll be alright.
my phone rings two minutes later. i pick up and ask her if everything's alright.
she's hysterical and she's shouting even though she doesnt mean to. she says, i cant believe what just happened with the cab driver. i'm never coming to the city again, tom. this has been such a bad night. first, some guy leaves me 20 blocks away from my car because i wont sleep with him. then some other guy is stalking me in his car, like he's about to rape me or molest me, or whatever the fuck. oh tom, this has been such a bad night. and to top it all off, the cab driver offered me a hundred bucks for sex. and i was like NO! and he said, what about two hundred, and i was like NO! two hundred dollars for me. is that what it all comes down to? is that all i'm worth?
so god, i dont leave a girl 20 blocks from her car. i dont stalk a girl in my car and make her fear for her safety and her life. i dont try and reduce the Most Perfect Chinese Girl Ever Born into some common prostitute and offer her two hundred dollars for sex. i'm the guy she calls at half past midnight when she's scared, and trembling, and wants someone on the other end of the line.
so god, i think i've been good. and i know i've been good to the Most Perfect Chinese Girl Ever Born. but i'm not asking for her. i dont need her. but you know, i wouldnt mind if you helped me out a little here. do you know any sensible girls? maybe one that's kind of smart? maybe even likes poetry? let me know if you know someone like this. oh, one more thing. she has to give some mean BJ.
That is the kind of letter that, after I am dead and apprieciated, people will include in books of my correspondance.
by mg at 10:03 PM on April 26, 2001
back when i was a working stiff i used to write almost all of the sites entries on my palm pilot on the trian ride to or from work. Now that i'm working again i've got all this down time whilst i'n trayeling. I'll probably be writing more entries on my palm again.
Unfortunately, in that 6 weeks i was out of work i didn't use my palm for much of anything. Well i used my palm plenty, it just wasn't my palm pilot i was using. (palm pilot / masturbation jokes will never get old)
so, as you can see, that 6 weeks of disuse have caused my graffitti skills to really falter. I am going to leaye this entry with every mistake i mad e as a permanent reminder to myself to never neglect my palm again.
Jeez, what the hell? Does this post even have a point. How fucking boring can i possibly be? God, I've totally sucked recently. why have any of you bothered even coming here?
by mg at 08:45 PM on April 26, 2001
There was a point several years ago in New York City that Lucille Ball had been on TV at least once a day for over 30 years. But I'm sure none of you ever expected to see her naked. Yet, here she is. And let me say, I Love Lucy.
by mg at 01:30 PM on April 26, 2001
The best "I'm not bitter. Really." relationship line I've run across in a real long comes from a Dar Williams song. The song is called The Pointless Yet Poignant Story of a Co-ed and the line goes like this:
my ex-boyfriend can't tell me I've sold out,
because he's in a cult
and he's not alowed to talk to me.
How simple and brilliant and bitter is that?
by mg at 10:49 PM on April 25, 2001
Speaking of TV, you should check out American High. The show's website describes it as a non-fiction My So Called Life. That isn't quite a fair representation.
The show is reality TV. But unlike Survivor or Chains of Love, this show is really real. The producers followed 14 high school students around for an entire year. Additionally, they gave some of the kids video cameras of their own, to film whatever they wanted. They ended up with thousands of hours of tape.
And what you realise after watching the show for even a short time is that there is some basis in reality for all the teen entertainment you see on the WB network and at the movies. The teen fiction is usally pretty dead on about the kinds of angst and drama that kids face. Only the kids on American High are real kids, not their one dimensional TV counterparts. And these real kids have real problems that aren't wrapped up in 23 minutes. Their drama isn't dramatic, it is just real life.
The show is absolutely brilliant. These kids are more honest than any Real World cast member has ever been. Christ, these are just people who happened to have their lives filmed, not fucking cast members. I love this show, and am so happy to have found it again after almost a year.
And when I say find, I do mean find. I just happened to stumble across it tonight. It had been on Fox last summer. For about 2 weeks. It was on right in the middle of Survivor mania, and apparently Fox was expecting bigger ratings from the show. They cancelled it and apparently PBS picked it up and recently began airing episodes. Mad props to Public TV for picking the show up and showing all the episodes. You can always count on PBS for kick ass programming. Big Bird is so fucking hardcore.
Anyway, you should go out of your way to watch this show. It is called American High and it is about a bunch of real teenagers doing real teenage things. And some of the kids are really cute. Wouldn't you like to see cute teenagers doing stuff like fighting with their parents, drinking, having sex and hanging out? I know I do.
To that end, I think I'm in love with Kaytee (and I've just realised that is probably because she reminds me of amanda). So, needless, I wish I was in high school again. Not because I thought high school was fun, but because it wouldn't be illegal for me to have sex with lots high school girls. Oh well.
by mg at 09:01 PM on April 25, 2001
Oh crap. This is TV Turnoff Week. I didn't realise. It is only Wednesday and I've already managed to watch 97 hours of television.
To be honest, I don't mind turning the TV off. But this week is already shot. I think I'll turn off the TV next week. And if it wasn't for new episodes of The Simpsons, Ally McBeal, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek: Voyager, Survivor, and Gilmore Girls, I might actually be able to go the entire week without.
TV, at this point, is my only "guilty habit." Back last month I was talking with someone about what we were going to give up for Lent (it's a Catholic thing). I don't have sex. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I don't drink irresponsibly. I don't eat lots of junk food.
When it came down to it, there wasn't anything that I could have given up that would have made any significant impact on my daily life. And if you know anything about Catholicism, Lent is all about being a pain in the ass.
Even still, I could give up TV if I had to. It'd be nothing to me. In fact, I encourage people to turn off their TVs. Go out for a walk. Read a book. Call up an old friend on the telephone. However, I've got a real problem with those smug bastards at Ad Busters, the folks behind organising TV Turnoff Week.
I can't stand when people blame the media for all the world's problems. That is just such a damn lazy argument. Kids today may see thousands of hours of violence before they hit puberty, but they've still got the choice to not try jumping over a moving Honda Civic because they want to get on MTV. And while Dennis Franz's ass may be on TV every Tuesday night, that still doesn't excuse fat people for wearing speedos.
And how can anyone say, without a hint of irony, that the human rights battle of the 21st century is the war against a corporate media? I'm sorry, but people are still going hungry all over the world. People are still getting their arms and legs chopped off over money. And monkeys are still attacking innocent government officials.
So turn off the TV. Or don't. I couldn't care less. Just don't fucking blame TV for your crappy life.
So apparently police can now actually arrest anyone they want for minor offenses. I am very frightened. There are so many traffic laws out there that I think if you tried to follow them all you’d end up contradicting yourself.
Though I suppose this could be turned into a good thing if they endow the Fashion Police with this same power. “YOU! What are you doing wearing that pink paisley sweater with LIME GREEN PANTS? YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT…”
On a totally unrelated note, I am pleased to provide you with a link to The Museum of Depressionist Art. Any of you who’ve had to suffer through art history as I have should get a hoot.
by mg at 10:38 PM on April 24, 2001
So, a couple of people have asked when I was going to talk about my new job. I guess I should. But I don't feel like it. I'd like to give myself at least until the end of the week to really form an opinion of things. Especially since if I started spewing opinions now, they'd be so full of vile and hate that, uhm, they'd be all too similar to the rest of the stuff on the site.
Well, I will talk about my commute to and from work, which should give some indication of things. I hate commuting. Do I even need to say that? Who likes commuting? Anyway, the commute to my new job sucks. I have to transfer trains. I hate having to transfer trains. But that isn't really what I want to share with you.
Now, see if you can get your brain around this mind-boggling situation. Going to work, I get on a train heading downtown. Then I transfer to an uptown train on the same line. Going home from work, I get on a downtown train, then transfer to an uptown train.
If my commute to work is that convoluted, just imagine what the job itself is like. No, don't imagine, because it'll just make you want to cry. Like it has been for me.
Actually, I will talk a little about work. I really like to work. The six weeks between when I was laid off and when I started to work again have been the only period of time I've been without a job in more than five years. There was even a period of time when I was still at University that I worked three jobs simultaneously, about 60 hours a week, plus a full class load and involvement in student government.
I'm obviously not lazy. But I need to love my work. If I love my work, I'll make it my life. But if I don't love my work, I'd rather be doing something else. Just about anything else, really. So far, I don't love my work. I don't love my work so much that I almost left at 9:30 Monday morning. I am going to try to stick it out and see if things turn around. Otherwise, don't be surprised if you hear me say I'm unemployed again soon.
by mg at 11:55 AM on April 24, 2001
Only one of you bastards bought me anything from my wishlist for my birthday. No wait, that isn't right, one of my wonderful inter-net friends bought me something for my birthday, the rest of you ungrateful bastards bought me nothing! You ungrateful bastards you!
Lilly White, of Kiss My Lilly White Ass, bought me True Romance on DVD. I love Lilly. What a true friend she is, the kind of person I'd trust to sell a million dollars of uncut cocaine for me.
The movie was waiting for me in the mail after I got home from the first day of my new job. I cracked it open and immediately started watching it on my new DVD player. Did I mention that my new laptop has a DVD drive? It does. So, now I can start working on my DVD collection. So far, I've got True Romance and Pokemon : The First Movie. no, seriously.
True Romance is one of my top five all-time favorite movies. Any movie that stars Christian Slater, Gary Oldman, Dennis Hopper, Christopher Walken, and has cameos by Chris Penn, Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer, and Samuel Jackson has got to be good. Add to that a script written by Quentin Tarantino, and you've got a kick ass, but totally underrated, movie.
Oh, I forgot to mention Patricia Arquette, didn't I. True Romance also stars Patricia Arquette. While I was watching the movie I was punching myself in the face (hard) because I'd forgotten how cute, sexy, and white trashy she is in this movie.
Her character is named Alabama. If Pat, since we are on a first name basis, is any indication of what Alabama is really like, I am booking tickets to Mobile right quick. In the movies she has the hottest little southern accent.
Alabama also fights Tony Soprano, and wins. She stabs him with a swiss army knife, then cracks him on the head, first with a bust of Elvis, then with a toilet bowl cover. She finally empties a shotgun into him and then uses the empty gun to beat him some more. That scene is almost enough to make me forget she is related to David Arquette.
by mg at 09:39 PM on April 23, 2001
So, when I did this little mini-update to the site design, I apparently fucked up some little Netscape thing. I made the change last night, and since today was my first day back at work, I didn't have time to fix it (or even know about it) until a little while ago.
So, I apologize to all of you Netscape users. Well, the few of you Netscape users. I'm really sorry. Did I mention that I hate Netscape? I hate Netscape. Really.
Please let me know if there are any other boo-boos that any of you come across.
by mg at 07:18 PM on April 23, 2001
I just get as giddy as a school-girl whenever I find out someone is writing about me. I am such an egomaniac. I noticed a few hits from Hopeless Romantics. I went over to investigate, and first noticed a layout that made my head hurt (in the best way). Then I noticed this nice little write up for my On Turning 25 piece from last week:
I related with much of what he said, since I'll be turning 25 in a few days :-) Go, read, it was fun :-)
So, go over to Hopeless Romantics because who doesn't love a hopeless romantic? Which should help explain John Cusack's career.
I just thought you all should take a look at this. It will rock your world. Trust me.
Mommy, can I be a Flash animator when I grow up?
by mg at 10:13 PM on April 22, 2001
Do you think it is possible to fall in love with someone after reading two weeks of weblog entries, looking at a few grainy webcam pictures, and checking out their wishlist?
by mg at 12:08 PM on April 21, 2001
I got a new latop computer for my birthday. My old computer was nearly four years old. To put in perspective how much has changed in the computing world in four years, my new computer can:
download porn from the internet at nearly twice the speed (36k/s to a 56k/s modem)
process porn more than four times as fast (200mhz to a 850mhz chip),
show pornographic images at about 110% the size (13" to a 14.1" monitor),
store ten times as much porn (2gb to a 20gb hard drive),
use a webcam, which I will be getting soon, so I can be the one satisfying all you sick bastards pornographic needs (Win95 to WinME).
Plus, not only does it do all those things, it also fits snuggly in my lap.
by mg at 03:56 PM on April 20, 2001
Today, Friday April 20, is the evilest day of the year.
First, it is some kind of pot-head holiday. Supposedly, a “420” is a police radio call for “pot-smoking in progress.” Today, being the 20th of April, the 4th month, is a big deal. At 4:20 pm, because no pothead can wake up at 4:20 am, drug addicts around the world will light up in celebration. Within minutes they will have completely forgotten what they were celebrating, thinking it just another Wednesday afternoon.
Second, and next evil, it is the second anniversary of the Columbine school shooting. On this day in 1999 two stupid and confused kids did something horrible. What is even more horrible than the actions of those two kids is that it provided Marilyn Manson with a career. He'd have faded into obscurity long ago. Well I guess he already has faded into obscurity. But if parents, school administrators and the media didn't need a scapegoat, because none of them could admit they failed these kids, the good Manson name would never have been sullied by association with Marilyn.
Thirdly, and next most evil, if he wasn't dead Hitler would be 112 today. That is, if he isn't living in Brazil somewhere. That is right, today is Hitler's Birthday. All you neo-nazis should go out and enjoy some Mein Cake. I hope you choke on it.
And, finally, the most evil of all, I've again joined the ranks of the proletariat. Starting Monday, I'm a working man.
by mg at 08:28 AM on April 20, 2001
No Bad Advice this week, I’m hardly in the mental shape to be help myself out, much less someone else. Not that my advice has ever been particularly helpful, but you know what I mean. If I tried this now, my advice might be so bad as to actually get someone killed. I know how powerful my words can be.
I’ve spent the last couple days, on the edge between my first 25 years and my next 25 years, in a particularly introspective mood. I’m a pretty contemplative person to begin with, and really, it’s not as if there aren’t a million things that have come up in the past few months that deserve thinking about. But I keep thinking and thinking, and never come up with anything worthwhile.
I spent 15 minutes yesterday standing on the corner of 8th Street and Broadway in Manhattan, trying to figure out whether I wanted to head east, toward St. Mark’s Place, or north, toward Union Square. There wasn’t anything I particularly wanted in either direction, so it was a decision between the lesser of two boredoms. Kind of like every American election in the last 30 years.
I ended up heading north. I stopped in at the Strand, where they’ve got 8 miles of books. I was looking for a reviewer’s copy of American Gods, the new Neil Gaiman novel. I also looked for the new novel by one of my former professors.
I didn’t find the Gaiman book (which means you can still get it for me as
a late Birthday present). And I picked up, but didn’t buy the book by my former English professor. Just another case of indecision.
I left the Strand and walked up to the Virgin Megastore. I spend way too much time in the Virgin Megastore. I went to every single listening station and picked up about a dozen CDs. I ended up buying nothing. More indecision.
I’m guess this is what being impotent must feel like. When you are impotent, the desire is there and all the tools are at your disposal, but for some reason, you can’t get everything together to make things happen. That is exactly how I’m feeling about my life. I’ve got an impotent brain.
It isn’t as if my life is going badly. I’ve got opportunities in life, love, and work. It’s like a beautiful and horny woman is giving me a 3a.m. booty call, but I have to say no to her because when she gets to my place, nothing is going to be happen. I just can’t seem to get it up. I can’t take advantage of the metaphorical boobies that are there, waiting for me to grab them.
So, on my birthday, instead of a nice dinner with the family, or going out drinking copious amounts of alcohol with my mates, I decided to stay home and meditate on my life. I took the night off from everything, in order to give myself some kind of creativity Viagra.
It worked, I think.
First off, I decided to forget about having any sort of significant romantic relationship in the near future. Instead, I’ll just be having meaningless sex whenever I get the opportunity. I’ve also decided to close the door on old relationships. I might run with one of my exes in the future, but it will be something new. No holding onto the past just because it is the comfortable thing to do.
Being uncomfortable is also what spurred me to make my job decision. I decided to take the job I’d been debating with myself about for the past couple weeks. It isn’t exactly what I want, and it is a little scary, but I will have the opportunity to get some more experience, to get out of the house everyday, and to make money, which is really the most important thing.
I plan to save every single penny that I make, so that if I absolutely hate it, I can leave and not be forced into consuming a diet of nothing but white rice and grub worms, like just another Survivor cast member. I’ve also been running low on office supplies. A job is at least a good opportunity to get some free paper clips.
So, I guess I did end up giving advice to someone this week, myself. It’ll be interesting to see just how good or bad it is.
by mg at 11:26 PM on April 19, 2001
Whether you know her as one of the original TV moms (The Donna Reed Show) or as the woman Jimmy Stewart lassoed the moon for (It's a Wonderful Life), one thing is for sure, you probably never expected to see Donna Reed naked. Yet, here she is, and lemme say, it is a wonderful bod.
by mg at 12:14 PM on April 19, 2001
In response to last week's Bad Advice LJ, a real live woman, writes in with some real insight into a woman's internal monolugue upon meeting a guy for the first time:
Hi, nice to meet you. You are kind of cute. Damn, I should have worn those other pants that make my ass look round. Plus I forgot to put that anti-friz stuff in my hair. Are you smart? Do you like good music? Do you have your shit together emotionally? (more than my last boyfriend?) Are you a challenge? (more than my last boyfriend?)I might want to have sex with you, if I could stop comparing you to my last boyfriend. He spoiled me rotten. But he was fucked up. I loved it when he smacked my ass. But he had no direction. God, I hope you like to lick pussy, because if you don't, forget it. My last boyfriend was really good at that. I love oral sex. I don't want to ask for it. I hope guys like going down on girls. Can I come without being stoned? I wonder if this guy has any grass. Am I wearing good underwear? Should I get waxed or keep shaving myself? I will flirt with you and indicate that I will give it up. Just to keep my options open. In the meantime I will keep checking out how cool you are by my own twisted stardards. And if you are better than my last boyfriend. But I might not give it up. If you get me some chocolate you will raise your chances. Damn. I have to pee. How embarassing.
If that is really what women are thinking, I have to make sure to always keep a brick of hash in my left pocket and a brick of chocolate in the right.
Hey, wouldn't you all like to see LJ to become a regular poster here? I know I would.
by mg at 10:11 AM on April 18, 2001
I was born on April 18, 1976. Today I am 25 years old. I’ve been alive for a quarter-century.
If I were a car, I’d officially be a classic. If I were a dog, I’d be 175 years old. If I had been born in 1876 I’d be middle aged at 25. If I were a bottle of wine, I would have long ago turned to vinegar. If I were a bottle of scotch, I’d still have a couple years to go before I was drinkable. If I were a fruit fly, I’d have died 24 years, 363 days ago. If I were Dick Clark, I’d look exactly the same as I did then.
In my first 25 years there have been 6 American presidents. Two have been named Bush. One has gotten a lot of bush. One has merely lusted for the bush. One probably couldn’t spell bush while he was president. And one probably couldn’t spell bush now. In my first 25 years the times went from Americans on line, waiting for gas, to being on America Online, waiting for naked pictures of Britney Spears to download. In my first 25, video killed the radio star. Hopefully, sometime in the next 25 someone will kill all the annoying VJ stars.
In 1976 Episode 3 of Star Wars was about to be released and no one knew Mark Hammill’s name. Now, Episode 2 of Star Wars is about to be released and people know Mark Hammill’s name, they just don’t care. In 1976 O.J. Simpson was famous. Now he is infamous. In 1976 families would gather around the TV to watch Happy Days, Mork & Mindy, M*A*S*H, and the Bob Newhart Show. Now, families gather around the TV to watch Happy Days, Mork & Mindy, M*A*S*H, and the Bob Newhart Show on Nick at Nite. In 1976 bell-bottoms were in fashion. Now, they may or may not be, but it is hard to tell since they’ve gone in and out of fashion at least five times.
In 1976 the Atari video game system was introduced to the world. I still play video games with the same level of animation and programming, only it’s now on my cell phone. In 1976 you could buy a new car for under $6,000. You can get a top-of-the-line KIA for about the same amount. In 1976, Sylvester Stallone starred in the Academy Award winner for Best Movie of the Year, Rocky. Now, Sylvester Stallone stars in the future Academy Award winner for Best Movie of the Year, Get Carter.
In 1976 Play that Funky Music (White Boy) was a whopper of a hit on the radio and the discotheques. Today, one of the most popular advertising campaigns uses the song Play that Funky Music (White Boy) to sell Whoppers. In 1976 Liberace and Rock Hudson were considered symbols of what man should be. Now Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt are considered symbols of what a man should be. In 1976 the Cincinnati Reds beat the New York Yankees in World Series. One can only hope that the Yankees get beat in today’s World Series.
April 18 is a day that winners are born. Winner like Eric Roberts, Frances Bean Kobain (Kurt and Courtney’s kid) and Rick Moranis were all born today. Also born, not only the same day but the same year as me is Melissa Joan Hart, AKA, Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Apparently, Sabrina hasn’t really been a teenage witch for the last five years.
Please feel free to use the comments to add your own “today/back in the day” thing. And if you haven’t already, you can buy me something. Don’t worry that it won’t arrive in time, I won’t hold it against you, unless what you buy me vibrates, in which case I may very well hold it against you.
by mg at 11:49 AM on April 17, 2001
Today is a lazy, "I'll just print some mail" kind of a day.
subject: for your birthday
Have your pic of the day.
Just to point out, I have not consumed an illegal narcotic in almost 3 years (as of my birthday). However, I do appreciate a good picture. Please send me pictures. Especially if you can't buy me something for my birthday, which is Wednesday, you should send me pictures. Preferably naked pictures. Preferably naked pictures of your teenage girlfriend.
it's been a sad sad week for me.
there's going to be less joy in the world, as yahoo dismantles its porn business.
then, the ultimate sadness fell upon me, seeped into my pores, even penetrated my anus, when i read that my one true love, drew barrymore, secretly eloped and could no longer be mine...
... at least for the next 3 to 5 months.
Tom doesn't get out much. And if he had a chance with either Drew or Tom (Green), it probably be with lefty.
snaggle is a good new addition. plus, he's sexy. yay snaggle!
Oh snaggle, have you sunk so low as to write your own fan mail? Sad.
Besides, if anyone on this site is sexy, it is me. Did you see me in People's 50 Most Beautiful People in the World issue? My picture was on the page right between Penelope Cruz and Rupert Everett. In an article about genital warts. But it was there.
by mg at 01:24 AM on April 17, 2001
Police in Encino, California are scratching their heads and saying, "What you talkin' about Willis?" as Todd Bridges has a run in with the law that doesn't end up with him being taken away in handcuffs.
Bridges is the former child star of "Diff'rent Strokes," one of the most popular shows of the 1970s and 1980s. He had a string of Daryl Strawberryesque run ins with the law through the early 1990s, including charges for attempted murder in 1990, a drug conviction in 1993, and an arrest for assault with a deadly weapon, his car, in 1997.
But, like I said, this time Bridges was on the right side of the law as he managed to save a paraplegic from drowning. Stella Kline, who fishes regularly at Lake Balboa Park, said her electric-powered chair lurched into the lake after her fishing line caught on the chair's joystick. I hate it when I get fishing line caught on my joystick.
Although the water was only three feet deep where Kline fell in, she couldn't get up, what with being a paraplegic and all. Her wheel chair then tilted on its side and forced her head under water.
Lucky for her that Todd Bridges was nearby, fishing with some family members. They were looking for a replacement for Abraham. I understand Lake Balboa is world renowned for its abundance of black goldfish. Actually, he was fishing for lunch, from what I understand, Todd spent all his TV money on drugs.
Upon spotting the fallen Kline, Bridges immediately sprung into action, thinking a paraplegic would make for much better eating than some scrawny fish. He eventually righted Kline's chair, after realizing paraplegic meat would probably be pretty stringy.
"I was thanking God that he was there," said Kline. "And then he started staring at me with this weird look in his eyes. It was kind of spooky." She added, "I was very glad when the ambulance arrived to take me away."
Todd Bridges' mother said that her son has been clean and sober for eight years. So, things could be worse. He could have posed naked, been ostresized by his former co-stars, and then eventually killed himself. Or, you know, been a midget.
by mg at 08:00 PM on April 16, 2001
So far, 2001 and has sucked royal platypus testicles. Looking back on the last three and a half months, anything that could have gone wrong in my life, has. Last year was great, this year greatly bites ass. To recount:
In January, I found out my girlfriend was cheating on me. She was also cheating with me. It was a whole sick love triangle thing.
In February, I was fired. Oh no, wait, I wasn't fired, I was laid off. Which has made being unemployed so much less painful, really. I began the year making more money than I could ever hope to spend. Now, I'm eating cat food out of a tin with my fingers. And it is not even Sheba, the good cat food, it is the generic Key Food brand cat food, that all taste the same whether it is Shrimp or Beef and full of bones.
In March, well, I was expecting all month to have some homeless person stick a dirty fork in my eye socket. That didn't happen. Then I kept expecting getting Tom Greened (and I don't mean marrying
Drew). I got through most of the month spot free, but eventually karma caught up with me. I don't really want to talk about what happened, but, needless to say, it is certainly something worthy of being on this list.
So now it is April. I had a little run in with the law, but that resolved itself quickly and relatively painlessly. But now, finally, the worst imaginable thing has happened, I think I may have found myself a job.
You might be thinking to yourself, "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing MG." And, I guess, you'd be right. It isn't terrible. I certainly like money, health insurance, and free Internet access. But I've also found in the past two months that I really like sleeping until noon, spending entire days without changing out of my pajamas or brushing my hair and teeth, being able to look at porn whenever I feel like it and spending all my time on this stupid website.
So, on the one hand this is a good thing. I can go back to eating two meals a day. I can have my electricity turned back on. I can start paying for sex again. Which are all good things. But, on the other, I'm going to have to do stuff. Which is a bad thing.
by mg at 10:36 PM on April 15, 2001
It is your civic duty to go on over to FHM and vote for the 100 Sexiest Women in the World. This is one vote that I am more than happy to rock.
There are pictures of lots of women, but if the Yasmine Bleeths of the world don't trip yer trigger you can also enter any name you want. And don't worry, I already voted for your mom.
by mg at 03:50 PM on April 15, 2001
Wednesday is my birthday. You should buy me something. I was going to make the list nothing but joke items, but do I really need another
Whatï¿½s up with kids these days? I mean, you have naked high school cheerleaders, fourteen-year-olds having sex in class with the teacher in the room, ten-year-olds trading soda for sex, and who knows what else? Maybe itï¿½s as mg stated: ï¿½kids today are lucky.ï¿½ I think fourteen was the very youngest age at which any of my friends started to get freaky, but most of us had to wait until college. Granted, some of us didnï¿½t wait too long after getting to college, but thatï¿½s beside the point.
Iï¿½ve heard it said, and Iï¿½m inclined to agree, that the U.S. is the most sexually repressed industrial nation in the world. When I was in school, ï¿½sex edï¿½ was basically anatomy. ï¿½The male homo sapiens inserts his male reproductive organ into the receptive female reproductive organ of the female of his species, and the process of copulation begins.ï¿½ We certainly didnï¿½t learn anything useful, like how to put a condom on a banana, or that masturbation is normal and healthier than selling yourself on the street corner, or that *gasp* you can actually get diseases from what kids today arenï¿½t calling sex.
But still, ten year olds? One of the reasons Freud was considered so shocking was his belief that even children had sexual desires and curiosities. Granted, Freud was all about sex and thought that everyone always though about sex, but itï¿½s appearing that thereï¿½s truth to his beliefs after all. (And he wasn't just talking about men - that's a given. A sexual thought every 30 seconds? I can't recall...) Maybe Iï¿½m starting to be puritanical now, but ten just seems a little too young. I didnï¿½t even think ten-year-olds could have sex. Back in my day, ï¿½playing doctorï¿½ was pretty much the worst you could do, and that just involved getting naked. Now what do we have? ï¿½Playing hooker?ï¿½
Think of it this way: for those of you whoï¿½ve had sex and arenï¿½t having any now ï¿½ how much time do you spend thinking about and trying to get some? I hate to think what would've happened to me if sex had to compete with addition and subtraction.
by mg at 11:13 AM on April 13, 2001
Will Ashley give me some (you know what i'm saying? eh? eh?)?
No. She won't give it up. And sorry, it is that simple.
Here is a good rule of thumb for relationships: If you have to ask if someone is going to have sex with you, then they probably never will be having sex with you.
There are all sorts of studies out there. They've proven, conclusively, that people will make the decision whether or not to sleep with you within the first 5 minutes of meeting you. For guys the internal monologue, 95% of the time, will go something like this:
Hi, nice to meet you. You are kind of cute. I want to have sex with you.
Occasionally guys won't want to sleep with a woman that they meet. Like a cousin, or a long lost twin sister. But generally so, a guy will want to sleep with every woman he meets, will be pretty honest about if asked, and will make obvious attempts to get in that woman's pants.
For chicks it is a little more complicated. I've never been a woman, I've just laid one on a TV. So all of this is just speculation. But, my best guess as to what a woman's internal monologue would be upon meeting someone new is something like:
Hi, nice to meet you. I wonder if those sandals I saw last week are still on sale? You are kind of cute. I hate having such a small bladder because I have to pee so often. You look like you won't go bald for at least 10 more years. These pants make me look fat. I want to have sex with you, but not until we've been dating for at least 3 months and I've made you buy me lots of stuff. This humidity makes my hair so frizzy. And though I want to have sex with you I will never give you any indication that I might ever give it up. I like chocolate.
That is just a guess. I've never been a woman and never had a woman's internal monologue after meeting a guy for the first time. But even still, I'm sure the above is pretty close to the real thing. Even if by some fluke this isn't dead on, the point is still the same; people make their decisions about who they are going to sleep with within minutes of meeting someone. So what your mom is always saying about how the first impression is the only one that matters is completely true. Moms spew out so much crap to their kids that they are bound to be right some of the time, this is one of them.
So, because the first impression is so important, when you meet a woman for the first time you have to make sure that you are doing something that is impressive and sexy. Like washing your new Camaro, unbuttoning the jacket of your Armani suit, or shooting your wad in her face. Basically anything that will show that you've got a lot of money and power and that you are a real man.
In this situation, Jake, the first impression has already been made. She knew whether she was going to have sex with you a long time ago. And like I said, if you have to ask, then she isn't.
So, my advice is to dump her. Does she have a sister? A younger sister? As young as possible, but old enough to have hit puberty. In that 13 to 14 year-old range would be optimal. If she does, ask the younger sister out. She will be so glad that an older boy is asking her out that she will say yes no matter what kind of troll you are, and most likely give it up to you for the first time, if only to piss off her older sister.
Oh no. Wait. Strike that. Strike that entire paragraph. All of it. Don't have sex with her sister. Really. I'm unemployed and just don't have the money for bail.
My real advice, is, like I said, that since has already made her up mind, there isn't much you can do to change it. She knows whether she is either going to give it up or not. And even if she is going to give you her flower, she will wait as long as possible until she does let you pluck her. But if you have to ask, then she isn't.
But kids today are lucky. Back when I was younger, oral sex was actually considered sex. But nowadays, 10 year-olds trade their lunch money for it. I guess the youth of today don't think oral sex is that big a deal anymore. So, if you aren't already doing so, go for the oral as much as you can. And don't be greedy about it. For every time she hobs your knob you should eat some of that dolphin-free tuna.
Here is a little known science fact: the more women have sex, the more women want sex. I read that somewhere, and I believe everything I read. So, if you get really good at chowing the box and know how to work the digits like an accountant on tax day, your woman will be so into you, she might even be convinced to ignore her first impressions. And even if she doesn't ever give up the golden goose for you, you will be getting your rocks off, and that really is all that matters.
Now that I read this back, it is actually pretty good advice, I didn't mean that to happen. But if you would like some Bad Advice, or, quite possibly, Good Advice, if I mess up again. If you want advice, just write a letter, Maria.
by mg at 12:30 PM on April 12, 2001
If you are a 98 pound weakling, live in your parents basement, still have an acne problem at age 32, and a small penis, you now have at least one reason not kill yourself. A just completed survey by Lifestyles Condoms shows that the average length of a male sex organ is only 5.877 inches. These new results suggest an average length that is significantly shorter than has been found in previous surveys. Past surveys have set the average at between 6.2 to 6.4 inches.
(For the rest of the world, 5.877 inches translates to something like 15 centimeters. 5.8 compared to 15, possibly the best reason for the States to adopt the metric system.)
We all know that penis size has nothing to do with how well you perform sexually. We all know the true measure of a man's prowess comes not from the size of his unit, but in how much money he had to pay the hooker. We all know that size doesn't matter, but it does make a difference in how men feel about themselves, and occasionally, how men feel up themselves. It is the same psychology that compels women to get silicon despite the fact that boobies have no real sexual function.
The Lifestyles study was conducted in Cancun during spring break. Was this really just a way for researchers to get a free trip to Mexico? Or did they, as they'll insist, think that holding the tests in such an environment would help get true variety in males?
The testers pitched a tent outside a local bar, and had the testes look at some girlie mags. Then a nurse would snap on a pair of latex gloves and measure the erection. All of the previous studies relied on the honor system, self measurement. Since no man in the history of men, outside of John Holmes, has ever honestly revealed his penis length to himself, much less to another person, the half-inch difference in average penis size between this and previous studies is pretty easily explained. What isn't so quickly explained is how easy it is to convince a man to take down his pants for a T-shirt and some free condoms.
If you are in that 5.8 to 6.2 range, this means you are now above average. Woo hoo! If you are less than that, I apologize. You will never be happy in life, and you might as well just accept that fact. Unless, of course, you are willing to begin a rigorous regiment of daily penis enlarging exercises. In which case, there is hope for you yet. Actually, the average range change didn't effect me greatly, and I'm not a big exercise freak, but I suppose one could always stand to be a little more physically fit.
The article also notes that 5.87 inches is the size of a Starbucks grande coffee, which makes it the same length as the average human penis. A grande, despite it's grandiose name, however, is actually just a medium. Starbuck's largest size is called a vente. Which is why my last girlfriend would always say, "I'll have a Vente Mocha-You" whenever she would unzip my pants. For decency's sake I'll skip the obvious frothy milk joke.
by mg at 01:31 AM on April 12, 2001
... is of that 70's girl, Laura Prepon. If blondes have all the fun, redheads have all the... I don't know what they have, actually, I just know I want some of it.
by mg at 11:31 PM on April 11, 2001
I made a promise to my father on his death bed. He looked up at me, his face covered with lesions, clasped one of his scaly hand upon mine, and said, "MG, if you ever start a mailing list, don't spam the people who join it. Don't sell their e-mail addresses, and don't encourage them to have sex with minors."
And I looked down at him, tears in my eyes, and said "Yes, pa-pa. Can I go now? Buffy is on."
Really, feel free to join the the mailing list. I won't send you spam. I won't sell your address. I probably won't ever have to send out a single e-mail. It would just be nice to be able to get hold of you in case the site ever goes down down again, or if something of such phenomenal and pressing importance happens that I absolutely must reach you (like finding nude pictures of Bea Arthur).
|So, all I'm saying is, join the mailing list.|
by mg at 03:34 AM on April 11, 2001
For a brief time yesterday I'd made a change to my style sheets so that visited links would appear with a line through them. Like so:
This is a visited link. Within minutes (okay, hours) of the change, I got a flood of emails (okay, three) like this one from Eric at Lovers Caught on Tape.
Did I offend you?
Did I forget to brush my teeth before I kissed ya?
Our link has a strikethrough on the text.
So, the people who read my site are either amazingly stupid or the line-through really didn't make sense. Just to be safe, I decided to change it back.
People are so resistant to change. That, and mind control.
I'd like to take a second to thank mg for his wonderful welcome back message yesterday. I hope I'll be able to live up to his expectations. I usually fail to be humorous in my daily life, but I always come up with something gut-bustingly funny a long time after the fact. Here, however, free from my temporal bounds, I may be able to shine forth with brilliant pithy commentary. And, really, no matter what mg says, some of us like pithy commentary. Anyway, on to some pithiness. This one's brought to you courtesy of an Art History exam I had to take today.
One thing I will never understand is this whole "grading on a curve" bit. You know what I'm talking about... the whole phenomenon that the grade that most people will score on a test is what will become middle C. Statisticians call this phenomenon a "bell curve," probably due to the fact that if you chart the scores, they'll form a bell. You've all seen the curve, too. This is based on the principle that most people are average, and that there are as few people scoring in the F range as there are scoring in the A range. Professors have told me that, interestingly enough, in large lecture classes the scores do just happen to fall into such a curve.
A book came out a couple years ago by Richard J. Herrnstein and Charles Murray entitled, creatively enough, The Bell Curve : Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life. I have yet to read it, but what caused such a stir was that people gathered that what the authors were trying to insinuate is that African- and Latino-Americans will always be at the bottom of the social ladder because they are inherently less intelligent. Now, that's not quite what the authors were getting at but that's not really what I want to talk about.
What I want to know is this: a bell curve model tells us that as many people will score in the A range as will score in the F range.
Maybe I'm just prejudiced, since I'm a little radical in my political views and very idealistic in my ways. Maybe I've just seen the wrong segments of society. Maybe I'm just too intellectual and elitist. Or maybe I'm just flat-out wrong. Anyway, here's what strikes me as odd about that:
That doesn't account for nearly enough stupid people.
Maybe I just don't have enough faith in the American public or the public in general, for that matter. I, for one, don't think democracy is the best form of government. History is replete with examples of the populace not being educated enough to govern themselves. Just take a look at our president. (Granted, he did lose the popular vote - but there were still plenty who did vote for him.) But that's another gripe for another stream of pithy commentary.
Besides, we've already managed to kill Socrates; who's next?
by mg at 01:43 PM on April 10, 2001
Two more new friends added to the ever growing Bad Samaritan army (I really need to stop saying that). Sticky Buffalo and The Fat Website. Show them the kind of love that only a father can show to his daughter.
I also made some crappy little buttons, you can use on your site to link back here. I should make them blink or something to be extra annoying.
I'm no graphic artist. If anyone wants to make good buttons for me, let me know.
The first of a couple new authors will be starting here tomorrow. The new peep is Snaggle, a "real life" friend and someone who wrote a couple times back in the old days. Like I said, I used to have people come in and write on topics they were experts in. Now this is more an everything/nothing site, and Snaggle is definitely an expert in one of those things.
That wasn't very nice of me. Snaggle is pretty smart, a good designer and a very funny guy. And if he isn't, he is so gone. At any rate, he is one fine copy-editor. Since I gave him access to Greymatter yesterday he has already found and corrected 23 grammatical and spelling errors, just from posts within the last 27 hours!
So, look for him starting tomorrow, and if you want now you can go check out his bio.
by mg at 12:01 PM on April 10, 2001
When I started this site, it was supposed to be a magazine. On a daily or weekly basis there would be several articles on various topics. I obviously didn't think it out very much. So, that didn't even last long enough for me to put out a single issue.
Then, when I actually started doing something with the site it was more of a daily column than a weblog. I'd write extensively about a single topic every day. I'd have guests come in and write essays about topics that they were experts or had interest in.
That got to be boring. People stopped writing. So the site morphed again into more of a journal, because I ran out of topics that I knew anything about. I know more about myself than anything else in the world, even more than I know about particle physics or every curve of Kirsten Dunst's body. I was also leading a pretty exciting life for a while.
But lately, life hasn't been very interesting. It is tough to write about your social interactions when you don't have any social interactions. It is difficult to write about the exciting things you get to do at work when the only work you do is to walk out to the mailbox to pick up an unemployment check. And it is impossible to write about your romantic relationships when the only thing you're having a relationship with is a bottle of Jergens.
So the site is something different altogether now. I guess it is probably just your typical e/n (everything/nothing) site at this point. Well, not so typical since I'm not 16, I don't live in my parents basement and I can come correct, grammatically.
I'm not sure what brought this on, but it's probably because I've been feeling pretty introspective recently. Or possibly because after 6+ months of doing this site, my ex girlfriend, who was my girlfriend at the time this all started, actually read the site yesterday for the first time.
She wrote me science fiction (which should mean nothing to the folks who haven't been around that long, but is pretty important and I'll explain that later today).
But she also asked me about various specific things I'd written about, including:
"Did I really go out with a gymnast?" -Yes
"Do I really get crushes on people so easily?" -Yes
"Why do you write about sex so much?" -Because I'm not getting any (though, that isn't what I said to her)
Anyway, in addition to the specific questions, I felt the need to generally explain myself and the site to her. I don't know why, but I did. And now, I find myself feeling the need to explaining myself and the site to you, and I don't know why, but I'm doing it.
by mg at 07:22 PM on April 09, 2001
Adam Curry, Jesse Camp, Carson Daly.
Throughout the years, MTV has been responsible for flinging lots of crap into faces the American viewing public. And we’ve always accepted it, at times even embracing the steaming pile of shit we've come to know as Music Television. That is what we Americans do in the twenty-first century, accept things. We have learned to eat the shit that MTV has flung our way and to be happy about it, because, what else are we supposed to do, watch VH1?
So, at this point it is hard to believe that anyone would ever get upset with MTV for any reason. Having a kid set himself on fire only caused the slightest ripple in the pop-culture cesspool. Now, it is unlikely that the new pile of feces the folks at MTV, like so many hyperactive, diarrhetic monkeys, have flung our way will cause any sort of commotion at all.
Which is quite sad considering this time, because it was actual shit that they've been throwing. Shit shot right out of the ass of a performer, a member of the Shower Rangers, and right into the face of two 14 year-olds, members of the audience. That kind of thing is fine for adults to do in the privacy of their own homes. And that kind of thing is fine for the audience of Stile Project project to watch from the privacy of the internet.
But these two unsuspecting teenage girls don’t desrve to get shit on. Unless, of course, they did. In this case, however, I am willing to give those girls the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn’t deserve to be taken on stage, and to watch, in shock and horror as the performers pulled down their pants and sprayed shit in their faces. I don’t know, I’d guess very few people deserve that to happen to them.
People are sue crazy in this country. Sue, sue, sue! And generally speaking, when it comes down to it, I’m not much up for litigation. That probably stems from the fact I’ve almost been sued twice now, and my last three employers have all been sued while I’ve been working for them. I’m just not a big fan of lawyers unless they are saving my ass. But I sincerely hope that those girls get every penny they can out of those folks at MTV. I want Tom Green to have to give up the other nut for these girls.
by mg at 02:21 PM on April 09, 2001
So, I have something to admit I lied about why the site was down last week. It didn’t have anything to do with rape. But it still did have something to do with legal troubles. You see, I had a little run in with the law at a local salad bar and spent the weekend in lock-up undergoing psychiatric tests. No, really, would a sane person have naked pictures of Betty White?
Actually, okay, you got me. I'm lying now. I wasn’t the one spending the night in jail and in need of a more than a sneeze-guard for my rear; it was Marco Arellano,
You see, Arellano allegedly concocted a mixture of water, urine and feces, and fabricated several homemade shakers fashioned from a jar with holes punched in the lid. He then used the jars to spray his funky mixture on at least 13 salad bars across midtown Manhattan last Friday.
Eric Drusano, customer at one of the afflicted eateries and master of the obvious said: “That's horrible. How can somebody do that? It sounds to me like that man is crazy.”
Crazy like a fox. Arellano has already been contacted by the Food Network, who in an attempt to capitalize on the success of MTV's Jackass, have offered him a chance to develop his own nightly program to follow Emirel Lagasse. Catching on to Arellano's feces style, the Iron Chef's Chairman Kaga has replaced the signature red pepper he bites into at the beginning of every episode with a giant turd.
by mg at 11:28 PM on April 08, 2001
There are two new recruits to the Bad Samaritan army! Okay, that sounds a little narcissistic, how about, "There two new sites with which we have a reciprocal link arrangement"? That rolls off the tongue like Anne Heche hanging out backstage at the Rosie O'Donnel show, doesn't it?
Anyway. The two new recruits are Slacker Jedi and Lacking in Emotional Content. Ralph at Lacking wrote "It's REALLY hard for me to become instantly addicted to a blog, this is one of those times: Bad Samaritan." Nice.
Surgeon Generals Warning: Bad Samaritan has the same addictive qualities as crack. Remember kids, crack may be a ghetto drug, but Bad Samaritan will never leave you standing on a corner trading blow jobs for a hit. Though, I'd be pretty willing to sell my body for hits.
Well, Slacker Jedi and Lacking in Emotional Content have been cool enough to show me love, so all ya'll should be cool enough to show them some love for me. Go visit. And if anyone else wants some love, you should know that I give my love up pretty durn easy. But I'm not a playa, I just crush a lot. So, you know, send an e-mail and I'll give you the hook up.
Speaking of love, I'm not really sure what Blog Whores is all about. It seems to be kind of a Talk Soup for weblogs, but without the pithy commentary (and we could all do with a little less pithy commentary in our lives). Well, someone over there must have liked the whole bad advice prom piece (the one that has caused so much trouble - *see below), because they decided to quoted it. I guess I don't have anything else to say about that.
by mg at 04:42 PM on April 08, 2001
Check out other stars you never thought you'd see naked.
by mg at 04:18 AM on April 07, 2001
So, what happened to the site the last couple days?
To fully understand the answer, you really need to go back and read the bad advice from last Tuesday. Don't worry, go read it, I’ll be right here when you get back.
You should keep the following statement from that post in mind as you read the rest of this story:
First, find out if the girl has a sister. Preferably a younger sister. As young as possible, but old enough to have hit puberty. In that 13 to 14 year-old range would be optimal. If she does, ask the younger sister to the prom. She will be so glad that an older boy asking her out that she will say yes no matter what kind of troll you are.
Well, the day after I posted that bad advice I received an email. This email supposedly came from the office of the district attorney from Churchill County, Nevada. The basic gist of that email was that my site had somehow been named in relation to a statutory rape case. I thought someone was pulling my leg, so I just ignored it.
The next day, Thursday afternoon, a clerk from the Queens County Courthouse here in New York showed up at my front door with a subpoena that had been filed by the DA in Nevada. The subpoena was to provide a digital copy of the entire site and any and all correspondence I had with this certain person.
Oh shit. This is not a joke. Holy fuck, I’d always kidded about getting subpoenaed and now here I was standing in my front door, shocked, with my subpoena in my hands. My neighbors were looking at me funny. I was just standing there incredibly shocked.
The name and email in the documents wasn't anyone I knew. It wasn't the kid who sent in the advice in the first place. It wasn't anyone who has ever emailed me. At this point I really had no idea what was going on, only that I was somehow involved in a rape.
I didn't know much but I did know that I was incredibly screwed.
I was kind of lucky because I’ve got a strong background in media law. The law class I took at university is the toughest class in the journalism department. The semester I took it the professor made a kid cry, right in the middle of class. I however, got an A in the class.
More importantly, I worked on the student newspaper for 3 years. Eventually I became the publisher of the paper (The publisher is different than an editor. A publisher is in charge of all the managerial and business decisions. The editor handles the writing. If I was the editor, don’t you think my writing would be of much higher quality?). And fortunately for me now, but unfortunately for me then, the paper I worked on was a defendant in 2 lawsuits while I was there. I personally got to know a lot about media law and I got the chance to work with one of the best media lawyers in the country.
So, in an absolute tizzy, and this has been the only time in my entire life when I’ve been in an actual tizzy, I called one of them up. I explained to her what was going on and she had me fax over the injunction and forward the email. I did all that; and she looked it over and called the Churchill County DA’s office to find out what was going on.
[ meanwhile, back at the server ranch ]
At the same time I was getting a knock on my door and being served a subpoena, the company that hosts my website was getting a knock on their door as well. They got a notice, similar to mine, to provide information to the Nevada DA’s office.
This kind of freaked them out, and I suppose it should have. When one your clients is involved in a criminal investigation it is always bad. And when one of your clients is involved in a criminal investigation that directly involves the product that you are providing them, well, if you are smart, you try to wipe your hands of that client as quickly as possible. So, they shut my site down. I can’t blame them I guess. I just wish they would’ve let me know about it beforehand so I could have told all you people.
Well, my lawyer called me back after she talked to the Nevada people. Here is a brief synopsis of what happened: This high school kid was sitting in a computer lab on Tuesday. He was reading my site, and saw that bad advice post. He called his friends over to look at it and they were all laughing because one of them was really having sex with his ex-girlfriend’s younger sister. The teacher overheard them and reported the kid to the school administration, who then called the police. Charges were filed against the kid and the DA’s office started building their case, which is where I came in.
So, after hearing this I was, needless to say, very happy. Not only was the bad advice I wrote not the cause of a rape, but bad advice I wrote was the cause of a rapist being caught. How cool is that? This is the kind of thing they give medals for, isn’t it? This puts me up there with Superman as the greatest heroes the world has ever know!
Anyway, I felt better that I hadn’t done anything wrong. And once the entire story was explained to my hosts, they agreed to put the site back up. Good for them, defenders of free speech! I will be sending a couple floppy discs to Nevada, certified mail, Monday morning, but otherwise, everything will be back to normal. Well, except for one thing.
My lawyer told me that from now I should be a little more explicit when I am giving advice. I need to make sure that people really understand that it is bad advice. I’d thought that it was pretty obvious from the fact that the title of the column is bad advice and that the advice is so, I don’t know, bad, that no one should actually follow it, but my lawyer made me promise to be more careful.
So, there will be no more encouraging people to have sex with 12 year-olds. I swear.
by mg at 06:19 AM on April 06, 2001
the site is up again. but for how long? i'll try to explain everything that has been happening in the last 48 hours. it is quite a story.
by mg at 06:18 AM on April 06, 2001
The 2001 baseball season started up this week and, coincidentally, Daryl Strawberry, the ex-Yankee slugger, was back on the cocaine. An 8 time All-star, Strawberry is used to running and around the bases after a monstrous home run. Now he runs from the law.
Last week Strawberry disappeared from a Florida hospital where he was attending drug rehabilitation. He was found four days later by some friends and returned to police custody. He will most likely face jail time for breaking the terms of his probation stemming from a drug possession conviction last year. "News of the ex-Yankee's return came hours after police said they were investigating reports that Strawberry had been kidnapped and was being held for $50,000 ransom."
It is quite a sad and bizarre story, and there doesn't seem to be an explanation for Strawberry's constant troubles. Or is there?
There was an episode of The Simpsons that had all the members of the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant softball team being replaced by "ringers." One of those ringers was Daryl Strawberry, who replaced Homer in right field. Right before the big game each of the ringers inexplicably befalls a terrible tragedy; one suffering from radiation poisoning and another hypnotized into believing he is a chicken. Every player has something bad happen to them, except Strawberry. See where I am going here?
That's right, this last decade has really been nothing more than one long Simpsons episode, and Strawberry is, in fact, doing just fine in real life. All the drug problems, the run-ins with the law, and the colon cancer are merely a plot device created by Matt Groening and crew. There is bound to be a Simpsons episode next fall that has the softball team trying for the championship repeat and Strawberry's actions are all explained in a very comical and ironic manner. I'm sure of it.
In somewhat related news, the average salary for major league baseball players this season is $2,264,403. Alex Rodriguez, baseball's highest paid player at $21 million (plus bonuses) earns about $130,000 per game. If averaged out over the course of a year, Rodriguez makes $57,534 per day. The average household income in the United States is $54,842 per year. Rodriguez's yearly salary is just short of the entire Minnesota Twins' team, which is the league’s lowest at $24.4 million.
If Strawberry were still playing baseball and making at least the league average, it would have taken him just 4 games to make the $50,000 necessary to pay his "ransom."
by mg at 04:02 AM on April 04, 2001
A while back I made the unfortunate mistake of mentioning the words peeing, drinking, and movies in the same post. In fact, the same sentence, but not in that icky order that all the visitors who got to this site using those search terms were hoping.
One day, a while later, I then made the second unfortunate mistake of talking about how many people got to the site searching for the terms "peeing," "drinking," and "movies." I also happened to mention the word "animals" in another part of that same post.
Which leads me to where I am now. Countless people looking for animals peeing, finding their way to Bad Samaritan, which happens to contain absolutely no peeing animals. Sorry.
Actually, I'm not sorry. I'm disapointed. I'm very disapointed with the Internet community. People need to get up from their computers. Get outside for some fresh air. Just anything to get out of the house. Perhaps a trip to the zoo?
by mg at 11:55 AM on April 03, 2001
i asked this girl i know to the final year prom. she said she would, then later told me that a slightly better looking guy asked her so she couldn't come with me now.
that was two days before the prom, and so i spent heaps of money on tux hire and
the ticket for her, which she still used with the other guy, but i didn't get to go. please give me some bad advice.
Whoa. Dude, that is so hard-core. What a bitch.
Unfortunately for you, the prom has passed. There is nothing you can do now. Get over it. It could have been worse, she could have been girlfriend. But she was just a friend and she may have done a totally awful thing, but she did it because you let her. And once you let someone walk all over you, there isn't much you can do but get up, dust yourself off, and move on.
Anything else you did now would just makes you look like more of a tool. And sorry to say this, brother, but you were made to look a tool here. It may seem like I am giving you no advice* at all, and really I’m not. Except to say, don’t let this happen again.
Girls have this crazy notion that prom should be about romance, when we guys know it is about nothing but sex. This could have been a great opportunity to have sex with your friend, but she chose romance. This girl wasn’t having sex with you before, isn’t now, and most likely never will be. She chose romance. No big loss for you. Girls, women, whatever, will always choose romance. That is another lesson: don’t take a friend to the prom.
I was talking with a friend, today in fact, about how I have never asked a girl out (well, the once). Otherwise, they have all approached me.
by mg at 12:08 AM on April 03, 2001
As of today, this site has officially been up for 6 months. Woo hoo! I was going to do something special to mark the occasion, but, as I've mentioned previously, I am very very lazy.
In the last six months there have been more than 110 days of posting and approximately 80,000 words strung together to form sentences, paragraphs and awful ideas. In the future, I plan on writing much more frequently, and more entertainingly. There will be tons of fun new features, like bad advice. I'm also always looking for other bad samaritan's who'd like to take the keyboard every now and again.
In the last six months there have been 4 different designs, and countless minor design changes. I actually plan to stick with this design for a while. You people don't come here to look at pretty things, you come here to read ugly words. Though, if you do happen to be here for pictures of pretty things, here is one of my new girlfriend, Jessica Biel.
In the past six months the site has horrified and amused more than 10,000 unique visitors, with more than half of those coming within the last two months. I know, it isn't supposed to be all about the hits, but all about the art. Well, screw art, I want the hits. I will do anything for the hits, so keep your eyes out, those who've been with me all along, those of you just catching on, and those of you yet to be here, things will only get better.
by mg at 11:01 AM on April 02, 2001
Hopeless and awkward and desperate for love, an Albany man, thought he was calling a number he found in a personals ad. Unfortunately, the number was not that of a DDF SWF, but of the CPD (Colonie Police Department). The man, however, was not searching the personals look really for a LTR, but just casual and anonymous sex.
After hanging-up on the man five times, the female dispatcher who was answering the calls decided to meet him at a local motel. The fella was then arrested for trying to solicit sex. The man spent the night in lock-up and was released the next morning. He promptly picked up a newspaper and started looking through the "men seeking men" ads.
by mg at 09:27 AM on April 02, 2001
The former vice-president of the International Olympic Committee, Dick Pound, has announced he will be running for president of the IOC. Dick Pound has been involved in the IOC for more than 20 years and is the current organiser of worldwide television coverage. In addition, Dick Pound was an Olympian himself, competing in the two-man luge, the clean and jerk, pole-vault, and grecoroman wrestling.
by mg at 07:40 AM on April 02, 2001
My girlfriend cheated on me, dumped me, then told me about the fact that she cheated on me. If we are still talking all the time for a week afterwards, should I give her another chance?
Well, neotriax, if you've read this site before, you know that I was in a similar situation a couple months ago. My ex-girlfriend was seeing another guy, keeping us both in the dark about the other. The way she let me know about the other guy was to, one day, clear out of the blue, tell me she was getting married. That marriage never happened.
I don't know that much about the extended circumstances of your situation, and really, I don't care. When you've got a website, you can write all about your petty little problems, but this is my show, and here is the way I see the situation:
A cheating significant other deserves death, or at least a very painful life. Like Timothy McVeigh, your girlfriend has lost the right to be treated like a human being, because, in the eyes of God, she no longer is one.
You can't legally end your girlfriend's life, nor do I in any way suggest that (*wink* *wink*). So, if you do decide to take her back, and you will decide to take her back, she has lost all her girlfriend rights. You don't have to buy her presents anymore. She should be buying you things. Like a Play Station 2, or a mail-order bride. She has lost the right to get dinner or drinks paid for. In fact, you should be stealing money from her purse when she isn't looking.
She has also lost the right to not be punched in the face for being such a stupid bitch. I suggest using a sack-full of oranges since that won't leave any bruises. She has lost the right of you staying the night or for calling the next morning. Shit, you can not call her for weeks, and she won't have any right to be upset. And more than anything, she has lost the right to have you not cheat on her. Does she have any younger sisters? Neotriax, my friend, you should be leaving batches in every female member of her family, her best friends, and her pets.
So, if you decide to take her back, and you will decide to take her back, think of this as your chance to do and say whatever you want without any guilt or fear of repercussion. Enjoy her company. Enjoy the grunting in the back seat of your Dodge Dart. But when she cheats again, and she will cheat again, be ready.
Spend the time while you are together getting ammunition to be used on her later. Save all the embarrassing voicemail she leaves you. Save all the letters, e-mail and instant messenger conversations. And if you can, get her to pose nude for pictures, or better yet, videos.
It may seem like a lot of work to do all those things, but it is worth it. When you do break up again, and you will break up again, you will have all this terrific information you can use to destroy her life. And that, my friend, is priceless. Replay the voicemails on her parent's answering machine. Forward the e-mails to all her co-workers. Let me post her naked pictures and video on this site. Make her life miserable. Women come and women go, but sweet, sweet revenge lasts forever.
And before the cry of "misogyny" fills the air, shut the hell up, bitch. The same would apply whether male or female, gay or straight, bestialist or necrophiliac. Advice this bad is universal.
Do you want some bad advice? Of course you do, submit your questions.
by mg at 01:22 AM on April 02, 2001
Laura, I am very disappointed in you. In all these months we've been together, we've never had these kind of problems. You have always been there for me whenever I needed you. I needed you this morning Laura, and where were you?
Well, that out of the way, in case you are wondering, Laura is the name of the server where this site is hosted. And in case you didn't notice, the site was down for about three hours this morning. Add that to the five hours on Sunday and that means the server has been down eight of the last 30 hours. That is only about 75% uptime. My host gaurantees 99% uptime.
I'm no math major but 75 is much less than 99.
So, Laura, perhaps it is time for a divorce. You can have the kids if I can have the summer home in the Hamptons.
by mg at 01:17 AM on April 02, 2001
a reason to love mtv: for showing the new Fatboy Slim video starring Christopher Walken.
a reason to hate mtv: for not showing a commercial featuring animatronic cats having sex. PETA (people for the ethical treatment of animals) was getting ready to run a public service announcement trying to get people to spade/nuter their pets, but were rejected because, as an MTV spokesman said, they don't show "fornication" on their network.
The ad, like many PETA ads, was rejected by every station they sent it too, including The Discovery Channel, which regularaly shows video of animals getting it on. It is, of course, available on the Internet. You can see the ad here.
a reason to fuck mtv: i can't think of any, but these guys know of a few.
by mg at 06:13 AM on April 01, 2001
Remember, tonight is the night to set your clock ahead an hour. I don't want you to be late for church tomorrow morning.
Do people outside the States celebrate daylight savings time? I hope you do because I'd hate to imagine a world where the phrase "spring ahead and fall backward" had no meaning.
by mg at 03:39 AM on April 01, 2001
I'd thought of doing something for April Fools day. But then realized how incredibly lame that would be. So then I decided to do nothing. Which is not only less lame, but also much easier.
by mg at 03:30 AM on April 01, 2001
Last week was spring break for Denver, Colorado teenagers. Some went to Mexico. Some went to Krispy Kreme.
Krispy Kreme, the donut chain, opened it's first franchise in Colorado and some Denver high school students decided that for spring break they'd pitch a tent outside the store and wait for it to open. They arrived at about 2:30 pm on Monday in anticipation of the store opening the next morning at 5:30.
You might ask yourself, "What kind of freaks camp out for 15 hours just for donuts?" If you are asking yourself that question, you must be among the unlucky majority of people unfortunate enough to live in a land without Krispy Kreme donuts. So, it is understandable that this story might seem a little foolish to you. However, if you've ever experienced "the filet mignon of donuts" you've certainly waited outside in the Colorada winter for nearly a day just to have a taste. Or at least you've waited a couple minutes on line.