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November 2003

Have a safe, sodomy-free Thanksgiving!
See, that's funny because Michael Jackson loves boy cock. | Wednesday, 11.26.03
This Thanksgiving, let us give thanks for our health, our loving families and the food we are about to eat. Oh, and also, be thankful you're not an ass-raping pedo who enjoys playing "Rubba Rubba" games with a young boy's penis, whatever the fuck that means.

SAEV THE TURKEYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
bye Victoria NOT LACKI HES' DUMB | Tuesday, 11.25.03
HI EVERYONE! ;P My name is Victoria adn I am VERY uspet with this sites webmaster who calls himself ""LACKI"' even though his real name is john and he thinks hes' so cool even though HE IS NOT! I sent "LACKI" (LOL) an angry email and he said I should right a update for his stupid website witch I only went too once and I hated it so mcuh I can not even begin to tell u how stupid it was!

Now your prbbly asking yourself, "victoria< (my friends call me "V" but none of you guy's can call me "V" because if your reading this site....... your no friend fo mine!!!!!), what made u so upset on "lacki"s' site?" I"Ll tell you write now! It was on the one about the "recipes" witch weren't even good recipes but of course i woudl say that becuz i dont eat meat bcuze MEAT IS MURDER!!!! Thats' right I'm vegetarian adn that meens i dont eat cows, chicknes or turkeys (**GOBBLE GOBBLE** hehehehe ;P) expecially on my least fav. holiday.......... THANSKGIVING!!!!11 Why does every1 get all ecsited over this STUPID 'holiday"? Belive me...... you would'nt think it was such a "HOliday" if one of you're babie's were killed and eaten..... but thats what happens to mommy and daddy turnkeys every thanksgiving and I think that is so sad :(!!!!!! Oen morning Mrs Turkeymomma wakes up from her turkey dreams and her babies are all DEAD becasue some "farmer" has to make [make these money sines BOLD, ok???]"$$$$$$$$$$$$$$"[end the BOLD HERE, thanks!}!!!!!!!

Evar since i bcame a veggie (thats' what us vegetrians call each other, STUPID!!!) my family always maeks fun of me on my least favorite "holiday", witch i already said before was thanksgiving in case you were'nt paying ateention and you probbly werent because you all love your prescious "LACKI" even though he will stab you in teh back when you LEAST ECXPECT IT!!!!!!!! My father always asks me if i want any turkey adn he waves a leg in front of my face and im like "DAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDD! DONT YOU NOW THAT I DO'NT EAT MEET ANYMORE!!!!!?????" he think's its so funny but hes wrong! Little baby turkeys die so that we can get fat and i think thats wrong and im trying to becoem a VEGAN becaus then i wont' eat anything accept for those woodchips they haev in the playgrounds that make it not hurt when you fall of the swings! YUMMMMMMMMM!!!! :) :P :D

SO since "lacki" had repices on his sight.......... I"M GOING TO TELL U ABOUT SOME ALTRENATIVES TO TURKEY AND stuffing and grean beans oh wait grean beans are ok becaus MEAT IS MURDAR!!!!!!!! tHis year for thanskgiving you could have an all veggie holiday witch would be sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much better then eeting all the baby turkees that r all dead now. INstead of haveing a maine course that is of turkey u could make toufu mixed w/ tuna because tuna is a fishie and i dont' think fisheys are cute and cuddly wuddly so its o.k.. to eat them....... [remmber that part that u made bold bfore? MAke thsi part BOLD to]MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmm so gooooood!!!!!!_end bold hear please, thanks you! :0D)

i joined PETA (People For Teh ENdangered Tasty Animals) a/ few years ago, and they send out videosa that show TERRIBLE seens of monkeys in cages and thats why u shoul'dnt eat thanksgiving dinner and well at leeast thats what i think. I tryed to tell my last boyfriend about PETA (People four the endangered tasty animal)s and how i dont agree with his meet filled lifestyle and i dont want him out passed 10 p.m. and his "friends" are meet eaters so he shouldnt' spend time with them and i was soooooooo crushed when we broke up :( but now i'm engaged to Troy and we're getting married in 2008 and hes' goign to get me a wring in 2007 and were MEANT TO BE TOEGETHER!! -*-*VICTORIA & TROY 5.7.02 ~ FOREVA*-*_ LOLOLOL,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Troy's website is so much better then "LACKI"''s" you can search for it on google (witch is my favroite search page] its called "TROYS' PAGE ABOUT VICTORIA'" nad it has pics of us when we went to the fair but i had to leave because they where serving meet and in case you could'nt tell........ I DON'T EAT MEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SOwhile your' all eating turkeys and meet stuffing and meat rowls, ill be eating all teh vegfies and if you invite me over for "THANSKGIVIng' "dinner" im going to through the turkey out the window so that he can live in the wild again HWERE HE BELONGS thankyouverymcuh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111 THank you for reeding this adn ihope you all decide that MEET STINKS! VEGGIES ROCK!! LoL i think that was pretty funny did'nt you, to???? NEway, just so you know, LACKI is a bad person that will say hes your frined and than he will STAB YOU IN TEH BACK and Troy is such a bettar boyfriend so i fell sorry for Rachael becsaue she has to deal with "LACKI" now that he's a big shot on the "INTERNET" and rachael probbllay thinks she's a "big shoT" to becaus she's going to be psychiatrist for crazy people............ well you'd now all about crazy people from dealign with your boyfriend "LACKI" who will STAB YOU INT HE BACK WHEN YOU AREN"T LOOKING AT YOUR BACK!!!!! DONT SAY I DID"NT WARM YOU!!!! LOLOLOLOLOLO ,,,,,,,,,,

peace out!
~Victoria~ ^__^ (heheheheheheheheheheheheh)
@------\-------/------- (<-- thatsa flower its sooooooooooo adorable do'nt you think??????????????????? :P)

Ready... AIM... Fire!
That was a pun. | Saturday, 11.22.03
I'm very bad at AIM. Actually, I'm very bad at conversing with humans, but my shortcomings are more pronounced over AIM, since I can't rely on my roguish good looks. Here's a prime example of a typical AIM encounter starring me and some random idiot...

lacki: Hi!
iluvAIM6969: Hello.
lacki: So...
iluvAIM6969 signed off at 04:35:07 PM

I just can't keep conversation going without spewing forth hateful bile that does nothing but alienate my e-Chat Internet buddy. My opinion becomes law, and if you breaka the law, I breaka you face-- y'know... figuratively. Over the internet.

XxHOTPENISGUY12xX: i'm going to a concert tonight! i'm so excited!
lacki: i fucking hate music. all of it. i fucking hate everything and i REALLY fucking hate concerts and music and everything.
lacki: and do you know what else i hate?
XxHOTPENISGUY12xX signed off at 12:33:56 PM

I feel like my life isn't interesting enough to generate an actual conversation. I couldn't say something like, "Hey, today I did some awesome thing and it was great and now I'm going to type to you, my e-buddy, and tell you all about it because you truly value our virtual friendship." I barely care about my day-to-day activities, chances are Joey Chuzzlefuck of Virtual Reality, Iowa will care even less. Instead, I usually start off with something light to "test the waters" so to speak...

lacki: jesus christ are you watching friends? what type of retarded asshole sits and watches this bullshit every week? I'll tell you what kind of retarded asshole... a retarded one.
PHOEBEfan420 signed off at 08:21:46 PM

A little history: I wore Star Wars shirts to school... before it became cool again. I almost got into a fistfight with a coworker who questioned my HTML coding. I've never seen an entire game of football from beginning to end. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that I type quickly. Fast typing + AIM = BAD THINGS.

lacki: hey! how's it going?
lacki: man, i'm writing this update about how much i suck at AIM, it's going to be some funny shit.
lacki: allright man, i'm gonna get going. bye.
sprtsRfun99: im good how r u doing?

Chances are I'm not even paying attention to half the bullshit that you feel necessary to type. My brain simply can't handle AIM windows flying all over the place while, so I usually drift off into a coma-flavored nap until you're done rambling on and on and on and on...

READY4LUVD00D77: Jeez, I don't know what to do anymore. I mean, I love Julie... I love her so much. It's just...
READY4LUVD00D77: Not a day goes by that I don't think about her past. She slept with a lot of guys, and sometimes I feel like she's judging my performance, y'know? I don't know... it's weird. The other day I was sitting in my room, and I just wanted to feel myself bleed, y'know? I just wanted to hurt myself, to show Julie how much she means to me. You probably think I'm crazy! LOL :)
READY4LUVD00D77: Well, I think I'm going to go kill myself, now. Tell Julie I love her, OK? TTYL8er!
lacki: bye
READY4LUVD00D77 signed off at 01:35:21 AM

Lovely and Delicious Thanksgiving Recipes!
Have a happy holiday, ok? Thanks! Bye! | Thursday, 11.20.03
Ghetto-Assed Turkey Dinner

Some might see a man getting ready to enjoy a comically oversized turkey portion... not I. I see a man professing his undying love of poultry through a charming and blissful serenade.
The perfect turkey dinner for a family that's always "on the go" or "too poor for a real turkey dinner." This delicious recipe has been a part of the Lacki family since we originally came over on the boat from Poland, and I'm honored to pass the tradition onto your family.

Sliced turkey from a deli (about 3 slices per serving)
One (1) jar of Turkey gravy
One (1) loaf of bread (white or rye)

Pour the gravy into a pot. Put the pot on the stove. Turn on the stove. Make the gravy hot. Stick your finger in the gravy to see how hot it is. If you burn yourself, the gravy's done! Congratulations, you've successfully cooked gravy.

Place one (1) slice of bread on a plate. Place three (3) slices of turkey on the slice of bread. CAREFULLY pour the gravy on top of the turkey; be sure to cover every inch! You're done! Apply fork to the open-faced sandwich, cut off a piece that will easily fit in your mouth. Place food in mouth. Chew food. Now swallow it. Repeat until unhungry.

Pro-Tip: It helps to take the turkey out of the fridge a few minutes before you start cooking, so that it doesn't cool down the gravy too much. Also, you can eat cranberry sauce straight from the can to complete the full-on ghetto-assed Thanksgiving experience.

187-Hit Salty-Dog Super-Combo Potato-Chips

It's similar to a regular bowl of potato chips, but it somehow gives you the strength to perform a 187-hit super combo by pressing Down, Forward-Down, Forward + Uppercut + Roundhouse. Against who? Anyone you want, buddy.

One (1) bag of Wise potato chips
Three (3) generous handfuls of salt
Ten (10) packets of soy sauce

Empty the bag of chips into a bowl. Apply three (3) generous handfuls of salt. Flip the chips around in the bowl so that every chip receives the same amount of salty goodness. Next, gingerly coat the chips with ten (10) packets of soy sauce.

When serving the 187-Hit Salty-Dog Super-Combo Potato-Chips, I find my guests enjoy drinking large amounts of water while indulging their salt-tooth. Guests with heart conditions enjoy taking frequent, near-permanent naps in between servings, and who can blame them? It's the type of dish that overloads the senses with enough salt to choke an army of salt-water elephants, if there's such a thing as salt-water elephants, and I'm almost certain there isn't.

Pro-Tip: Remember that super-combo thing? Yeah, that was just a gimmick. It's impossible to perform a 187-hit super-combo after eating one of these chips. Chances are you'll just die. But have you tried marketing "You'll Probably Die Potato Chips?" Let me tell you, it was slightly easier than marketing Crystal Pepsi, but not by much. I'm a tremendously horrible chef.

Hot Apple Pie Ice Cream Thing

If it comes out looking like this, you've done something WRONG. My recipe is waaaay better. Up above? I wouldn't feed that shitty pie to my fucking dog, and you can quote me on that, motherfucker.
I've never made this, but it sounds awesome in my head, where I think up, like, ideas and stuff with my brain, y'know? I must issue a warning, though: most of my ideas result in someone getting seriously injured. Just in case, wear a protective suit while cooking this masterpiece of culinary perfection.

One (1) Hostess Fruit Pie (apple)
One (1) pint of crazy expensive ($12.00 +) vanilla ice cream
One (1) large ice cream sundae dish (the kind they have at Friendly's)

First, go to Friendly's and ask for an ice cream sundae. Finish the delicious sundae and steal the big vase-looking dish that it comes in. This step is ESSENTIAL. I cannot stress how important this is. Even if I bold, underline and italicize the text!!!!!

Now, place the Hostess Fruit Pie on a paper plate, and slap that sum'bitch in the microwave. Actually, hold up, cut it in half first, then nuke it in the microwave. When the imitation fruit filling starts smoking, you should a) run for your life and b) stop cooking it, stupid. I'm sorry, that wasn't very nice. You're not stupid... your only crime is being hungry. Again, my apologies.

Now, take one half of the hot pie and jam it into the bottom of the sundae dish. Seriously wedge it in there so the pie has no chance to escape. Now, place a scoop of the crazy expensive ice cream on top of the pie. Again, really press it down hard, so it kinda oozes into the pie. Next, place the other half of the pie on top of the ice cream, and add the final layer of ice cream on top of that last layer of pie. Serve with a sp00n and a cold glass of m00 juice, d00d!

Pro-Tip: For an extra treat, deep fry your Hot Applie Pie Ice Cream Thing in a vat of grease. Also, call an ambulance to cart your fat ass to the hospital, because there's a good chance that a decent amount of your internal organs will explode into a million drippy, stinky chunks.

Print out this update for a free turkey!
Not valid where turkeys are sold. | Tuesday, 11.18.03
The Thanksgiving season is upon us, and you know what that means! Our Lord and Savior Jesus Claus died for our sins in 1492. See, I remembered the date because of that rhyme: "Jesus Claus died for me and you in 14 hundred and 92." Then he rose from his grave and fed the dinosaurs turkey and stuffing and we should give thanks because Jesus was clever and put poison in the stuffing and killed off all the dinosaurs, except for alligators, because alligators prefer potatoes over stuffing. Thank God for Jesus!

As a PETA representative, I find this update SICK! I looooove animals (especially kittens ^__^), and they are so cute, and I'm a vegan because I'm saving animals because MEAT IS MURDAR!!!11 I hate Thanksgiving because I only eat soy and I'm a communist and one time I accidentally stepped on an ant and I felt bad for his family. Bye!!!!!!!!!!
But who honestly "gives thanks" anymore? We celebrate this holiday for one reason, and one reason only: we hate turkeys and want them dead. DEAD! In ye' olden days, families would save up their shillings and quarters for a whole year, just so they could buy a live turkey and kill the living fuck out of it on Thanksgiving. Now, you can't even walk past a supermarket without somehow earning a free turkey.

Cashier: Ok, your total is $2.50. Oh, here's seven free turkeys.
You: Um, ok. Hold on, I think I have the change.
Cashier: Oh! You're paying with exact change! You've just earned twelve more turkeys! Hooray!
You: Why don't you donate some of those turkeys to charity?
Cashier: Why don't you get the fuck out of my store, and here, take some more of these turkeys for your troubles.

Back in grammar school, one of my teachers decided it would be fun to let her students prepare a Thanksgiving feast of corn muffins, butter and Hi-C Ecto Cooler, but mostly butter. But this wasn't no Land-O-Lakes... we had to make the shit ourselves using only water, flour and a dozen stale cashews. I'm fairly certain none of those ingredients can be found in butter, and I'm also fairly certain that I ate most of the cashews. Anyway, we mixed the remaining ingredients for hours in a small tupperware bowl, just like the pilgrims did thousands of years ago, and in the end, we made a butter-like substance that tasted like a semen-encrusted carpet. Some kids ate it anyway (mostly the smelly kids) and most of them died (but no one cared, because they smelled like boogers). Thanksgiving was ruined, and to this day, I can't drink semen without thinking of that nasty ejaculate-butter.

Nowadays, I celebrate Thanksgiving just like everyone else... I eat cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, rolls, stuffing, and turkey... in that exact order, because my OCD demands that I eat all of my foods alphabetically. One year I accidentally had stuffing before the mashed potatoes, and I had to flick all the light switches in the house 782 times before my OCD allowed me to sit down and finish my meal. Afterwards, I had some whipped cream before I ate a slice of apple pie and nearly had a nervous breakdown. Luckily, a few dozen lightswitch flicks remedied the situation, and another Thanksgiving was saved... this time.

Enjoy this update, Pork-filled Beast!
Hate Mail... I think. | Monday, 11.17.03
Admittedly, my newly added comment system is flawed. Weeding through millions and gazillions of letters a day is hard enough, but my script isn't smart enough to tell me which story a viewer is commenting on. Usually, I just receive horribly misspelled invitations for gay sex; other times people just insert their credit card information, which I promptly hand over to the proper authorities.

But this message took me by surprise. Usually I would reply to something like this via email, but Jim didn't leave his email address. Check it out.

name: Jim *****
comment: I have a question for you, Hog. Six montsh ago, I lost my job as a stockbroker (pinstriped suits, silk ties, white shirts, polished Gucci shoes, cufflinks, suspenders, the whole thing). I haven't found anything since in that field, but my debts are piling up. This week I had a job offer to work as a janitor. Thats'a very big comedown, and I said no. The guy who wanted to hire me laughed when I told him about my former job. Do you think I'm being arrogant? Should I take the job? Thanks, Jim

I'm not really sure if that was hate mail, or if Jim really thinks my name is Hog. He capitalized it like a proper name, so I'm assuming, in his haste, Jim thought he was asking for advice from someone named Hog. Hey, stranger things have happened. Anyway, here's my open reply to Jim:

First off, I'm sorry to hear that you recently lost your job. I know what it's like to scour the papers and the internet for job postings, day after day, for hours upon hours, and it can be a daunting experience.

Should you take the job as a janitor? As a former janitor myself, I say "yes." Sure you're going to take a paycut, but there's no shame in taking any job that this poor economy has to offer. Your self-diagnosed "arrogance" can be expected, given your past work experience, but those bills have to get paid somehow, right? If any of the other janitors start giving you shit, just kill the weakest one with a broken broom handle.

Now, I've been called a lot of things in my time (manipulative, poseur, dickhead, faggot, fat, asshole, two-faced, homo, ballerina, fake, bastard, untalented, chubby, punk, and motherfucker, just to name the top fifteen). Hog is a new one, though, and I thank you for pointing out my increasing weight problem. See, I couldn't eat anything but Jell-O and ice chips for three weeks after having my tonsils ripped from my throat, so I put on a few pounds after I regained the use of my swallowing organs. I'm sorry you have to deal with my "hog-like" appearance, but imagine how I feel! I gained three bra sizes in two weeks!

Anyway, I hope you found my advice inspirational, educational, and strangely sexy. I wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors, and a happy, healthy new year. Oh yeah, one more thing... Thanks for checking out my website, Swine.

Keep reaching for the stars!
Your e-pal,

Now they got me in the middle, feelin' like a manwhore.
On the low, hoe. | Friday, 11.14.03
"Huh huh... uhhh... so what do you like to do?"
"Um... I like going to clubs!"
"Oh shit, me too! Huh huh... let's make babies."
Too sexy for clown college? Too stupid for Hamburger U? Do you often dream about escorting fat ladies, having sex with them and getting paid for it? Time to pack your bags, move to Panchiao, Taiwan and enroll in the whore college. Actually, it's too late, because the most prestigious university that offers a Bachelor's Degree in "Fucking for Money" has been shut down for illegal activities. Oh, you mean the gigolo school wasn't a legitimate learning facility? I never would have guessed. By the way, that was sarcasm, and it was hilarious.

"Police raided a gigolo training center in Panchiao and arrested nine of the school's operators for overcharging students, officials said yesterday. The operators allegedly inflated tuition bills by adding in expensive clothes and mobile phones, police officer Liu Tai-shun said. They were also accused of having links to organized crime."
-- Taipei Times

Whew, thank god I attended college in America, where tuition bills are far from inflated, and we were never forced to buy overpriced materials. Oh. Nevermind. But... at least I took some worthwhile classes that prepared me for life in the real world... right?

"A local newspaper reported that the school gave lectures on eloquence, posture, dancing and popular games played at gigolo bars for the potential 'male public relations workers,' a Taiwanese term for gigolos. They were also lectured on taboos at the bars, such as wearing white socks, smoking while walking or walking across the dance floor."
-- Taipei Times

DAMMIT! I'm far from eloquent, I have zero posture, I can't dance, I don't know any of the reindeer games played at gigolo bars, I'm wearing white socks, I don't smoke at all and I constantly walk across dance floors, sobbing. What the fuck kind of education did my parents pay for? I'll tell you what kind: the kind that makes Rachel cringe when she and her white sock wearing boyfriend are placed in a boom-tisk boom-tisk techno environment. She has things like "rhythm," and "style" and "clothes that fit properly." I just stand in the corner, facing the wall and playing imaginary Castlevania games in my head.

"We look faaaaaabulous!"
So why pick on the Taiwanese Manwhore School? They're just providing a service that benefits devilishly attractive men and horny fat women. Just like gay porno. And who doesn't love watching a hot and cheeky gay porno or twelve? I'm sure these seminars were held at a distinguished Taiwanese University, filled with desks, and pencils and a chalkboard...

"Classes were held in an apartment building in Panchiao."
-- Taipei Times

Oh. Well, they provided pamphlets and booklets to advertise their services, right?

"The school's operators ran classified ads offering 'well-paid moonlighting jobs.'"
-- Taipei Times

All right, you know what? I'm sick of defending the Scary Taiwanese Penis Whore College. In America, if you reply to an ad offering a "well-paid moonlighting job" and your office is found in an apartment building, chances are your new-found place of employment involves two things: having your face raped by a 700 pound man in a pink Chipmunk costume and shitty benefits, unless you consider having your genitals chopped up into a billion pieces and thrown into the Hudson a "benefit." Sorry Gigolo School, apparently, the world was not ready for your overpriced lectures and mafia ties. But when you open your apartment complex doors to the public again, I'll be waiting... my uncoordinated, white sock wearing ass will be waiting.

Speaking of whores, have you tried the new THISMAYHURT.com SPAM-O-MATIC®, yet? You can fill your friends' and enemies' inboxes full of SPAM promoting your favorite site in the fucking universe, thismayhurt.com! Do it! Do it now!

The moral of the story = never call me, ever. | Wednesday, 11.12.03
Have you heard the news? Technology has advanced well beyond our wildest (der her wireless) dreams! Now, finally, I can transfer my landline telephone number to my cell phone! Why, j--t think -f how co--enie-t this is... it's --... wai- -- Sorry, my phone's breaking up, let me call you on my landline phone oh yeah I forgot I don't have one anymore okay thanks byeeeeee!

As Rachel and I sat down for a dinner (well, my second dinner) of stank-assed pizza from around the corner, she noticed the headline of the Star Ledger sitting on the table...

Rachel: Hmm. That's interesting.
John: What?
Rachel: Cell phones and landline phones--
John: Oh yeah, I know all about it. Ask me anything and I'll impress you with my limitless and vast amounts of knowledge on the subject.
Rachel: Ok, what happens when someone at home picks up the landline phone at the same time you pick up your cellphone?
John's head: *KABOOM*

Maybe I'm just not understanding the concept here, but I don't see why this is so great, and therefore, no one else should either. My landline number gets switched over to my cellphone -- got it. Ok, now what happens to the landline phones in my house? Do the jacks even do anything anymore? How will 911 know where the call is coming from when the prowlers break into my house and steal all my stuff and then they see me on the cell phone and then they stab me in the neck after I've placed the call to the police? How does my toaster work? What am I supposed to do with this new answering machine? Is the phone company going to give me money for it? I want to cancel everything: my cell phone, my landline phone, my cable, my electricity, my heat and my subscription to Confusing Phone Technology Monthly... WHO THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL, AND WHICH PHONE SHOULD I USE? OH JESUS CHRIST, JUST GIVE ME SOME ANSWERS! HELLO? -- If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again -- WHO WAS THAT? HELLO? I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS NEW SPAGE-AGE TECHNOLOGY AND IT'S HURTING MY SKULL.

I like having a seperate line for my house. Would you like to know why? Three people have my cell phone number: Rachel, my mother and a friend who I've known since I was four years old. Four people have my landline number: Rachel, my mother, the friend, and a receptionist for a doctor's office who insists that I'm Gregory Penczak, and that I'm due for a checkup. Every four days. For the past three years. Luckily, I've always missed the repeated calls due to either work or school, but if I switch lines... I won't even begin to describe the horrors. Mostly because I can't think of a funny way to end this paragraph. Moving on...

Believe it or not, even with my positive outlook on life and pleasant speaking voice, I'm not very good at using the phone. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that everything I said in the previous sentence is a goddamned lie, except for the part where I said, "I'm not very good at using the phone." Or maybe it's because I never passed "Phone Etiquette for Retarded Introverts 101." Here's a common occurrence:

*phone rings*
John: ...
*phone rings*
John: ...
*phone rings*
John: *picks up phone*
John: FUCK YOU CUM-DUMPSTER! Oh wait... I mean, uh, hello?

I'll be keeping my cell phone and landline phone as seperate as church and state, oil and water, or LotR fans and hot, sassy vaginas. I h-p- you en-oyed --ading th-- upd--e as much -- I --joyed wri--ng it... oh, wa--... hold on, I'm breaking up, let me use my landline phone oh wait I forgot this is my landline phone this was a stupid idea okay nevermind thanks byeeeeee!

This update contains zero (0) Face/Off references.
Who said I wasn't talented? | Monday, 11.10.03
How many nights have you spent dreaming of having your divot covered face ripped from your skull and replaced with a handsome, less-vomit-inducing face of your choice? Well, ugly, your dreams will soon become a reality if some crazies over in London get their way. That's right, soon, face transplants will become the new "creepiest surgery on the planet," easily beating the former title-holder: ass transplants.

"Ten British people have put their names forward to become the first in the world to undergo a face transplant. Details on plans for the pioneering operation will be announced by surgeons within days. Teams on both sides of the Atlantic are now confident they have the skills to attempt the operation. Surgeons insist the procedure, which involves transplanting an entire face from a corpse to a living person, will only be available for patients with the most severe facial disfigurements - and not as a cosmetic vanity treatment."
-- This is London

So... what do you think?
The surgeons also insist that they'll soon offer the Cosmetic Vanity Treatment Package, as long as the patient provides their own corpse face replacement. I'm totally in favor of bizarre scientific experiments. For instance, in my high school biology class, I thought it would be fun to see what Hydrochloric Acid smelled like, so I stuck my nose in a beaker full of the stuff and took a whiff... FOR SCIENCE! I came to the scientific conclusion that Hydrochloric Acid smells like 10,000 demonic ventriloquist dummies stabbing my reproductive organs with rusty screwdrivers. It also smelled like the last thing I would smell for a week, because apparently, and this is news to me, Hydrochloric Acid is somewhat corrosive to nouns. I decided to fail the class, but not because of the toxic fumes. It's just cool to fail at things.

So, given my extensive scientific background, I fully endorse the face-swapping surgery, although I think the doctors need to iron out a few details. For instance, let's say I'm a dead guy. Let's also say I died in an extremely heroic and sexy way... like, uh... I died trying to save some starving, 18+ orphans who worked in a lingerie factory. What's my incentive for giving Norman P. Uglyface my skull skin? Everyone would be all like, "Oh my god! It's the guy who saved those orphans! I thought he died!" And Norman P. Uglyface would be all like, "Ummm... it's a miracle?" And then he'd get the key to the city and a giant oversized novelty check, and what do I get? A big stupid pile of nothing. But at least I'm dead and have no face. Thank you science, you fucking bastard.

"In a key report to be published on 19 November, members [of The Royal College of Surgeons] will highlight a catalogue of concerns - focusing on the huge psychological and emotional difficulties patients associated with having a dead person's face."
-- This is London

Difficulties such as, but not limited to: a good chance the new face will turn evil and scamper about, and a nagging hunger for braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnns. Also, doctors recommend you don't wear your new face in a vehicle traveling over 55 miles per hour, since it's quite possible that your new face will peel off like a slice of bologna. Oh, and don't get it wet. But that's it. Oh wait, also don't blow your nose while your new face is attached. Also, don't feed it after midnight. But that's really it this time. Oh wait-- did I mention the thing about getting it wet? Oh yeah, I did. Okay, that's it then.

As a journalism-ist, I constantly have to deal with ethics. Should I expose that multi-billion dollar corporation for the thieves they are? Who will be affected by my hard-hitting news reports? What kind of cheese is this, and what is it doing on my sam'mich? Well, I'm not paying for it, and I'm going to throw it on the floor, like this: *thud* But, did you know that scientists also have to deal with ethics? I know! I couldn't believe it either, but here's the proof:

"The biggest obstacle for the UK and American teams will be satisfying critics that the procedure is ethical. Although the Royal College does not have the power to block the operation in Britain, its report will form the basis for discussions by an ethics committee at the Royal Free Hospital, where the proposed face transplant would take place."
-- This is London... or is it?

See? Some "bleeding heart Liberals" find something unethical about removing the faces of dead convicts and stapling them onto rich ugly folks. Geez, can we do anything anymore? Hey, Ethics Committee at the Royal Free Hospital, is it ok if I exhale this breath I just inhaled? I just wanted to check with you first before I exhaled, Lord knows I don't want to disturb your precious committee, with your flowing robes and gavels and fancy wigs and such. Anything else I can do for you, Ethics Committee at the Royal Free Hospital? You guys thirsty? Is the temperature okay in here? All right, I'll be waiting out here in the hallway while you guys make your decisions and whatnot. Jerks.

Personally, I'd love to copy and paste someone's face over my own. You know whose face I'd pick? Will Smith's. He seems to have good things going for him, and he succeeds at nearly everything he does. I'm willing to bet Will Smith wouldn't have gotten the starring role in Independence Day with the face of a pasty faced white boy. He has a beautiful skin tone that would be doubly accentuated by my ghost-like cracker features. I'm gunnin' for you Will Smith. But mostly your handsome, valuable, well kept face.

Oh wait, remember that paragraph from before, the one with the facial difficulties? I forgot one: don't go near microwaves, metal detectors or wooden surfaces while wearing your new face. Also, try not to show any emotions that involve your face, as it can stretch out the new skin. Oh, and don't get it wet, but I'm pretty sure I already mentioned that one. But that's it. We hope you enjoy your healthy new lifestyle while wearing your rotting cadaver meat face!

Q: How'd you sleep? A: SLEEP? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Only half a cup for me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! | Thursday, 11.06.03
Coffee is the backbone of our nation. It was developed by the pilgrims in the late 1900's, who presented it to the Indians as a "tasty alternative to drinking snake urine." Mere seconds after drinking the special blend of succulent pilgrim coffee, the Indians dropped like fucking flies, because the pilgrims were bastards, and secretly replaced the Indians' Folger's Crystals with rat poison and expired creamer. Thus, America was born. Thanks to coffee. And rat poison. And, to a lesser extent, expired creamer.

EVERYONE loves coffee. Even Flannel Ape Boy.
In between looking over important documents and writing important memos, I've found that a warm, refreshing mug of dirtwater really hits the spot, and gives me the energy I need to absentmindedly stare at the clock until it's time for me to go home. Also, dialing random cubicles and telling people to pack up their shit and get the fuck out of my office helps pass the time as well, but I'm checking with my lawyers to see how illegal this practice can be. In the meantime, I'll stick to drinking coffee.

Although I'm now a pro at pouring and consuming coffee, my first coffee experience was a complete and total failure. I didn't know how much sugar to add, I didn't know how much milk to add, and I couldn't find a proper utensil to stir the ingredients together. I took one sip, swished the contents around in my mouth, and promptly spit the demon-coffee all over myself. For one reason or another, I threw the remaining pot all over the floor and 13 coworkers, who all received third - fourth degree burns. A few minutes later I soldiered on, poured myself a fresh cup and never looked back. Actually, that's a lie. I looked back once, but only to see how badly I burned that secretary's face... you know, the one that was screaming, "For the love of god, you threw coffee on my face" as her face dripped into her lap.

Some people like their coffee "black," others like their coffee with "cream and two sugars." I like my coffee "sweet enough to give an elephant chronic diarrhea." Legally, I don't think I can even call it coffee after I'm done adding ingredients to it; it turns into rock candy at some point, especially that one time I couldn't find a stirrer and had to use a half-eaten Snickers bar I found in the garbage. Needless to say, the coffee was so good it tasted like God with a creamy nuget center.

An unfortunate side-effect of my new addiction is a slight twitch in my right eye that can only be cured with a pencil to the spine, or, oddly enough, more coffee. Also, my right hand twitches in unison with my eye, which only proves the obvious: the right side of my body thinks it's at some sort of rave. Half of me can twitch the beat to all my favorite drum n' bass classics, such as, "Boom tisk boom tisk boom tisk" and "Boom tisk boom boom boom tisk." At 150 bpm, the right side of my body knows how to get down with its bad self, while the left side simply sits quietly, looking stupid.

Black Flag had a song entitled "Black Coffee," in which the lead vocalist expressed his love of, "drinking black coffee, drinking black coffee, drinking black coffee" and "star(ing) at the wall." I can relate, Rollins. Just replace the words "black coffee" with "unnaturally sweetened sludge water," and it's like you wrote that song about me, man. Please make love to my ass... wait-- did I type that... or did I think that? Eh, whatever, my eye's twitching too much to proofread, anyway.

You're a shotgun -bang! What's up wit' that thang?
I wanna know, how does it hang? | Monday, 11.03.03
I admit it. When I have absolutely nothing to write about, I scour the internet for a "wacky" story usually involving sex, mutilation or monkeys, write something dangerously hilarious, and then eat leftover Halloween candy. Even in June. We don't get too many Trick-or-Treaters because I enjoy killing children who are wearing costumes that I deem "fucking retarded." For instance, girls, wearing your skank-assed pajamas and sucking on a pacifier you found at the bottom of a well full of AIDS is a crappy excuse for a baby costume. Your punishment is death. My reward is a limitless supply of "fun-sized" Kit Kat bars.

Lanessa Riobe, a 16-year-old from Kissimmee, Florida also wore a shitty costume, but luckily, her punishment was suspension from Osceola High School. And from what I've heard about Osceola High School in Kissimmee, Florida, that's not really much of a punishment. That's a goddamned reward, much like my endless supply of "midget-endorsed" Twizzler fruit-flavored candy snacks.

Lanessa Riobe, 16, was told to go home Friday after wearing a T-shirt decorated with condoms. Lanessa said she decided on the costume after seeing safe-sex commercials on television.
-- WFTV.com

I get her flowers and the bitch gets me a 6 pack of Trojans. What's my slutwhore wife trying to tell me?
Ok, first off, that's not much of a costume. Mr. and Mrs. Riobe, maybe it's time to up the allowance, you think? Your daughter's "men's bathroom condom dispenser" costume leaves a bit to be desired, although it's better than her last costume, which was a "men's bathroom powdered soap dispenser." Fuck, I hate powdered soap. "I want to smell like a urinal cake, but I also want my hands to be as gritty as a fucking sandcastle." Moving on...

"A lot of my friends are sexually active," Riobe told the Orlando Sentinel. "I tell them, if you're going to do it, be safe." Riobe taped condoms to a white T-shirt and began passing them out to her classmates. Her first-period teacher alerted school administrators, who sent her home with a three-day suspension for class disruption. They also said she had an insolent attitude.
-- WFTV.com

While earning my PhD in child cykology, I learned that when a 16-year-old girl starts a sentence with the words "A lot of my friends," chances are the remaining words in the sentence are a dirty lie. For instance, "All of my friends think smoking cigarettes and getting pregnant is cool, but I enjoy reading the bible and needlepoint." I'm calling you out Lanessa Riobe. I heard you never even said the phrase "if you're going to do it, be safe," around your friends. You were all like, "Condoms are for faggots, I love getting crabs." And we all know that cool kids pull out. Really cool kids pull out and then push back in. But that's like Fonzie territory.

There are only three people I know who can get away with taping condoms to a t-shirt, and their names are "Salt," "-N-" and "Peppa." They didn't get suspended from Osceola High School in Kissimmee, Florida. You must have been doing something wrong, Lanessa Riobe. Perhaps the condoms were all similarly colored, or maybe you stapled the condoms to your shirt. You should have read the warning on the back of the condom that read, "If you plan on affixing this condom to your clothing, don't use a stapler, because babies and AIDS can pass through the staple holes. Stupid." Or maybe, just maybe, your school administrators use the rhythm method. Regardless, your lazy ass got three days out of school for wearing a hastily planned out "costume." It's actually quite ingenious, and I only wish I had gone through with my planned costume, which was a "lady's room tampon dispenser."

"A lot of my friends' vaginas bleed profusely," Lacki told the Orlando Sentinel. "I tell them, if you're to bleed... bleed on this."
-- thismayhurt.com

I know it's shit but it is something I will not admit.
wack | Sunday, 11.02.03
presents... WACK! from their new EP
Despierta Los Ninos.
WACK! ...download (2.9 MB)
I wonder when its gonna stop being fun for me (x3)
Five fucking seconds from now
I really need to quit before it all turns to shit (x3)
Too fucking late for that
They said my first cd was my best one
And that other shit was dissapointing at best
Me likes watching it go down in flames
Not my fault
I blame it on the industry
Rock my hole
Well since you put it that a way
They were right
My shit is wack
Down to defy niggas, and my double wide niggas
My shit is wack
I wonder when I really stopped being good at this (x3)
Was I ever good at this
I know it's shit but it is something I will not admit (x3)
Too fucking bad for you
Down to defy niggas, and my double wide niggas
Down to defy niggas, and my double wide niggas
Me likes watching it go down in flames
Not my fault
I blame it on the industry
Rock my hole
Well since you put it that a way
They were right
My shit is wack
My shit is wack
Down to defy niggas, and my double wide niggas
My shit is wack
Down to defy niggas, and my double wide niggas



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