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|Hey McFly, your shoe's untied.|
Don't be so gullible, McFly. | Tuesday, 06.29.04
OK, I suppose I should update this sexy beast while my team of contractors dream up a new interface that will open garage doors and serve chocolate chip pancakes via the world wide web. I remember the first time I ventured out onto the world wide web as a bright-eyed twelve-year-old... I went to some search engine, typed in "star wars" and was assaulted by erotic fan fiction featuring Han Solo and a gaggle of oversexed Ewoks. I scanned line after traumatizing line thinking maybe, just maybe, this was the setup to a huge joke, but alas, there was no punchline. Unless you consider "Wicket stared into Solo's eyes, his mouth aching for the humanoid's love paste" a punchline, and if you do, please accept this coupon for a free knuckle sandwich courtesy of Lacki's House of Knuckle-Flavored Delights.
|What's more scary, the costume, or the 700 pound, 47-year-old man that is dripping pork sweat underneath?|
While enjoying a particularly fine plate of chicken parmigian on a pita thing from the world-renowned Nevada Diner, I studied the specimens seated one table over. "What exactly are those things?" I asked Rachel, who had to look over her shoulder to see just who, or what, I was talking about. "What things?" she asked. "Those things... they're really loud and obnoxious, and they're talking about dungeons and/or dragons," I said as I dunked a waffle fry the size of my friggin' head into a vat of gravy that was also the size of my friggin' head. "Oh, those things," she replied. "Those are nerds." But they weren't regular nerds (because believe me, I've been a nerd long enough to know a regular nerd when I see one). They were like... internet nerds. In real life (IRL LOL). Their entire conversation sounded like a chat log...
ANIME_guy_00: these fries r awesome :yum:
ham_princess_69: u guyz see chronickls fo riddik?
dragon_grrrl: vin diezel = so hot :P
ANIME_guy_00: i have dirty hair, please notice me
ham_princess_69: mmmm, you are hottar than vin deesel, lets' make pork children :kikiki: :*
dragon_grrrl: OMG my mom is sucha b1tch!
ANIME_guy_00: awwww, why dragon_grrrl?
dragon_grrrl: shes all like "stop listaning to devil musick!" ::rolleyes::
waitress_12: Are you faggots going to order anything, or are you just going to sit here like faggots?
ham_princess_69: complimentary bread
Seriously, if these buttertrolls could have held up emoticon flashcards during their conversation, they would have. And I guess there's nothing wrong with that (or, more importantly, nothing that I can easily fix without getting out of my seat), but it was just very obvious that ANIME_guy_00 was very interested in having freaky roleplaying sex with both dragon_grrrl and ham_princess_69, complete with viking helmets and a 57-sided dice. And again, if that sort of thing floats your Klingon warship, more power to you, just turn down your nerd megaphones when I'm trying to enjoy a meal with my ladyfriend. Oh, and finish up my math homework you fucking nerds.
|We're all fucked.|
| Wednesday, 06.16.04
|Average Blue Robot Boy!|
aka Mega Man | Monday, 06.14.04
Here's what I don't understand about Mega Man. All of his enemies' names are based on their appearance, right? Ice Man wears a parka, Pharaoh Man looks Egyptian, Guts Man is... um... really strong. And yet, the star of the game, Mega Man, doesn't appear to be very mega at all. He's this little pipsqueak with a gigantic head and a robotic dog that doubles as an unstoppable hoverboard. Mega Man should have been named Average Man or Blue Man. And if you want to get technical, he's not even a man; he's a fucking robot boy! Dear Capcom, please name your character Average Blue Robot Boy instead of Mega Man because I'm sick of your lies and you'll be hearing from my invincible squad of lawyer-ninjas before sundown. Pssh, Mega Man. He can't even duck. That's some robot you've built there Dr. Light, but did you forget to install the knee drivers?
|Domo arigato, Mr. Fire Man.|
In every Mega Man game, you travel through level after level of mindless robots, spikes and bottomless pits to reach the highly-penetrable enemy lair, where the level boss is patiently standing in the corner waiting for you and your highly-advanced pellet gun. Metal Man must have spent billions of dollars to construct a level of a conveyer belts and rotating spikes, yet he forgot to install a lock on his SUPER SECRET EXECUTIVE BOSS LOUNGE.
Metal Man: *gasp* Mega Man! I'm surprised you've made it this far...
Mega Man: Well I have and...
Metal Man: Wait a second, can I ask you something? How did you get past my sophisticated conveyer belt system?
Mega Man: Um... I walked on them.
Metal Man: Interesting... and the rotating spikes?
Mega Man: I jumped over them.
Metal Man: And the door that leads to my executive boss lounge?
Mega Man: Well, it was open, so I just kinda let myself in...
Metal Man: DAMMIT! You certainly are a mega man!
See, the reason the enemy robots keep getting their asses kicked by Mega Man is a lack of communication. You'd think Magnet Man would have the common decency to call up Snake Man and warn him about the blue robot boy that's making a mockery of his multi-billion dollar magnet-infused turf. Just a phone call. What does it take, like two seconds? "Dude, don't forget to lock the screen door to your executive boss lounge! There's a robotic boy wearing two-tone shorts that's a door away from kicking my magnety ass!" Maybe they're all just bitter because they look so goddamned ridiculous. I don't think Toad Man gets to strip out of his froggy suit at the end of a long day... he's pretty much a robot frog 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Believe me, it's not as easy as it sounds.
|Las Vegas trip report.|
i need to get rid of these bylines. | Wednesday, 06.09.04
Frank Sinatra taught me a lesson on this trip. I approached a Sinatra-themed slot machine with a 10 dollar bill. It was a corny nickel slot machine, but fuck it, I thought, and shoved my crispy bill into the money hole. This particular machine had a "Bet 15" option, which gives you 15 fucking chances to win. There were lines crossing all over the place, spanning like 27 rows... a lemon on the first row, a bar on the fifth row and a picture of Sammie Davis Jr. on the 18th row yielded a 700 credit payout thanks to strange slot machine logic. So, I clicked the Bet 15 button, the spinny things start spinning, lines are crossing all over the place... nothing. Interesting. Bet 15 again... chunk chunk chunk... nothing. OK, fuck it, Bet 5... chunk chunk chunk... nothing. About 10 seconds later, I had 2 credits left, and I swore the cartoon likeness of Frank Sinatra spoke to me... "I hope your ass feels better in the morning, because you just got fucked, baby!" Yes, the Frank Sinatra slot machine made me its bitch, and I gave up on gambling before any other members of the Rat Pack could get their cold dead hands on me and my genitals.
|This blue man is about to a) steal Rachel's purse or b) fondle her breasts. Either way, I'm gonna kick his scrawny blue ass in front of all of his friends.|
Las Vegas is an amazing place. It's kind of like DisneyLand with whores and booze. Like, you'll be standing in front of the Mirage hotel, watching the musical water fountain among families and elderly couples, and all of a sudden you'll hear a drunken whore get flattened by a bus not ten yards away. And this is completely normal. Everyone will be like, "Oh shit, that whore just got flattened by a bus. Oh well, what time does the gift shop close?" It's surreal at first, but after a day or two, you become Vegasized and nothing fazes you. Actually, that's a lie; the porno flyer guys will still faze you. You don't know about the porno flyer guys? These men (and, strangely enough, elderly women) line the Vegas strip, handing out flyers for call girls, prostitutes and HOTT xXx NYMPHO SLUTS at all hours of the day and night. Little porno cards litter the streets and sidewalks, as ignorant tourists politely accept them and then realize that they're not holding a voucher for a $.25 steak dinner. "My word, what is this? A pornographic business card for a woman named Sandy who specializes in making my dirtiest fantasies come true?" The porno flyer guys will not stop until you enjoy a generous helping of AIDS from one of their sassiest whores.
Before I left for Vegas, I was warned that nothing is within walking distance on the strip. But since Rachel and I are rugged motherfuckers, we walked everywhere. You can't really hail a cab on the street, so you have to walk to the nearest hotel to one of their cab stops. But since one hotel takes up like seven city blocks, you might as well just walk to your destination anyway. This was our mentality, and by the time we got back to our hotel one night, we were nearly falling over each other because our legs were like fucking linguini. Luckily, beer and lounge singers heal all wounds, as does watching middle aged crackers dance to 70's motown.
We stayed at the Luxor, which I pronounced Luckser, and everyone else pronounces Luxore. It's the big pyramid hotel with the Sphinx in front... can't miss it. It was definitely the nicest pyramid I've ever stayed in, and that's saying a lot because I was born in Egypt in 1325 B.C. We ate breakfast exclusively at the Pyramid Cafe... that's right motherfuckers, we didn't eat at a buffet once. Do you know how impossible that is? Not eating a buffet-style breakfast in Vegas? That's like not having explosive diarrhea after a meal at Pizza Hut. "Oh, but the buffets are so reasonable! They practically pay for themselves!" Yeah, if I want to scoop ice cold scrambled eggs from a metal pan and line my pockets with sausages and tiny boxes of Frosted Flakes. The only people who benefit from buffets are the morbidly obese and the genius who discovered that a tiny sterno flame creates the illusion of hot food. Take that Vegas! You may have wooed me with your loose slots and your complimentary towels by the pool, but I'll take my $7.95 and spend it on hilariously gaudy Vegas ash trays for my friends and family, thank you so very much.
Anyway, I don't want to trivialize the trip by saying "dur hur this sucked, dur hur this was cool," and I wouldn't be able to anyway, since everything was great. Rachel and I had an awesome time, even when we were just chillin' out by the pool, drinking exotic drinks and getting burnt to a crisp by the exotic sun. I left with $550 in my pocket and came back with a 20 dollar bill and a newfound appreciation for the city of sin. Excellent trip A+++++++ would visit again.
|Mike D grabbed the money, MCA snatched the gold.|
Adrock drove the bulldozer into the ATM machine because he's real bold. | Monday, 06.07.04
I'm not sure how I transferred monies from my checking account to my wallet before I started using an ATM card. Many people cite sliced bread as the pinnacle of neato inventions, and I can safely say that Automatic Teller Machine technology surpasses sliced bread on all fronts. I mean, sure, sliced bread is convenient and delicious, but have you checked the nutritional value of an ATM card? 0 carbs. Bread has a significantly higher carb count, therefore ATM technology > sliced bread. You could eat ATM cards for days on end and not gain a single pound, and although I haven't done the research yet, I'm 100% positive that you will shit out 20 dollar bills while following the ATM diet. It just makes sense... DOLLARS and sense!
|Remember that part in Terminator 2 when John Connor hacked an ATM machine with one of these things and he was all like, "Easy money" and then he hacks that thing at Cyberdine to open the door and he says "Easy money" again to show you how much he's grown as a character? God, that shit was corny.|
If you're a frugal spend-thrift like myself, every visit to the ATM is like hitting the jackpot in Vegas... just punch a few buttons and -POW- $100 richer. I like to bring bells and whistles into my bank's ATM bunker, and I also dress up in a little slinky number and serve myself complimentary drinks to recreate the full gambling experience. Contrary to popular belief, Kearny Federal Savings has the loosest slots in town, and whatever happens at Kearny Federal Savings stays at Kearny Federal Savings. One time, I threw out a bunch of empty water bottles and soda cans in that little garbage can they put next to the ATM machine for your crumpled up bank statements because I'm a wild man that cannot be reasoned with.
Some people have a hard time understanding the subtle intricacies of the Automatic Teller Machine. For those who haven't experienced the quiet dignity of the ATM firsthand, allow me to explain. First, you insert your ATM card into the machine. When you hear the satisfying CA-CHUNK, you know you're in business. Enter your pin number (make it something easy to remember, like 1234. I've been using that pin number for years and no one has ever guessed -- oh shit.), tell the machine how much money you need to keep the bookies from cutting off a loved one's toe, and -VIOLA-. Instant monies. Or, you could be like this fellow...
|JEDDAH, Saudi Arabia (Reuters) - A Saudi man posing as a municipal worker used a bulldozer in an inept attempt to rob a bank's automatic teller machine but fled when the police arrived, a local daily reported on Tuesday.|
Now that sounds pretty stupid, but I can't say anything, because one time I used a bulldozer in an inept attempt to steal another bulldozer. I guess I took the old saying, "If at first you don't succeed, steal another bulldozer" literally, but there's really not a whole lot of room for interpretation with the age-old saying that I made up one day when I was tripping out of my mind on model glue. Using a bulldozer to rip off an ATM machine seems a bit excessive, though. I find that a piece of duct tape over the little camera and a .45 pointed at the back of a frightened ATM patron's head works wonders, especially if the said ATM patron's head is adorned with a monocle and a top hat. "I say good chap, it appears that I'm the victim of a foul caper!" the mustachioed, monocled, top hatted victim utters before I paint the ATM machine with his brains... next time I have to remember to get his pin number before I paint the ATM machine with his brains. It's just common courtesy... DOLLARS and common courtesy.
|The English-language Arab News said residents of the Red Sea city Jeddah called the police after being woken by the noise of the bulldozer, but did not realize for some time that the man was trying to rob the bank. "It was disturbing. But it never crossed my mind we were watching a theft," witness Mohammed al-Assiri told Arab News. "With all that's happening this is the last thing we need."|
Wait a second... no one put two and two together and realized that some maniac was trying to bust open the ATM machine? Man, I want to have that gullibility for five seconds in my life.
Mohammed al-Assiri: Hey there, John. Say, what is that awful racket?
John: It sounds like... yeah, it sounds like a man frantically driving a bulldozer into an ATM machine.
Mohammed al-Assiri: Huh, that's strange. I wonder why someone would do that?
John: Beats the heck outta me. Maybe the bulldozer needs to make a withdrawal, and since it doesn't have hands or an ATM card, it's going berserk.
Mohammed al-Assiri: Makes sense to me.
John: Hey, what am I doing in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, anyway?
Mohammed al-Assiri: Here's a better questions... how the fuck am I speaking English?
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