The Mediocre Gatsby

Well, it's summertime, and I have three weddings to go to, for three great couples I know.

Given the magnitude of these events, how much I care for the parties in question and my usual flair for the dramatic, I thought that called for something a little special. So I decided to dress for the part.

So I got a new suit, and it goes a little somethin' like this (I promise never to make this face, however):

Seersucker. It's not just a fabric, it's an approach, a way of life, really. It's about doing things right, the first time.

It also looks really cool. I think I'm going to start calling everyone "old sport" and leaving dollars in people's hands every time I shake them. Go big or go home!

I Didn't Even Have To Use My A-K

I just rode my bike home from the bar. It's nearly 2:30 am. I've had a great day.

Which is funny, because I can't think of any particular thing that made it good. But good, it was.

So thanks to anyone out there who might have made that possible.

Let's hope tomorrow keeps the pace.

Talk About A Romance Explosion!

This one really takes the cake. It takes the cake and covers it in rainbow-colored icing and multi-colored jimmies. I don't even have an introduction for it - it's that astounding.

The Pentagon just admitted that it has been working on a bomb... wait for it... that will turn everyone within its blast radius.... gay.

Yes, you read that correctly, I'm afraid. This is beyond the beyond. I wonder if this one was cooked up by those science fiction writers the government hired last week! Man, this country gets weirder every god damn day.

Just know this, as you read the story - this is what your tax dollars are being spent on!

But wait, it gets scarier - I think they've been testing this bomb in our own backyard - the West Village!

An elite strike force has been summoned to investigate further. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire: THE GAY-TEAM

It Really Ties The Room Together

Good news, friends. I finally got some furniture in my living room. It's actually starting to look like a place where a human might want to live.

The couch is long enough to pass out on after stumbling home at 4am and if I ever want to sit by the window and page through the latest copy of Hustler, there's a lovely chair by the window as well. Not to mention the highly shaggable shag rug and my coffee table that looks like it was designed by Powell-Peralta.

Now, if only I had some goddamn curtains on the windows. Ah well, Rome wasn't curtained in a day, I suppose.

Cell phone pic (sandals not included):

TGINTWA - Thank God It's Not This Week Anymore!

Man, on a scale of one to shitty, this week was explosive diarrhea. From start to finish, it was textbook awful. As the corpse of this week is lowered into the earth, I spit on its grave!

Okay, okay, enough of that imagery. Yikes, what's wrong with this guy?

Time for some comedy. I think I'll have some of this tonight (which is to say, comedy and Scotch!)


Also, if you're anything like me (and I sincerely hope for your sake you're not), you've often wondered what it might look like when the Misfits tend to their landscaping. Well, it's the weekend, so it's time to take care of the yard, people! I think it might look something like this:


Have a nice weekend, my Funions.

This Just In: An Entire Fleet of Angels Gets Their Wings (Again!)

Yup, you guessed it, you three people who actually read this dumb site with any regularity...

P-Hilt is back in the clink.

Justice is served (again)! It must be my muthafuckin' Friday!

You know what this means: we might still get to see some face tattoos!

This Just In: Life Isn't Fair

Okay, so forget what I said two posts below about the great hope I felt when Paris Hilton was sent to jail.

Skankapalooza just got out - after only two days. Money talks and morons walk, apparently.

Read it and weep. She's going to serve the rest of the sentence under house arrest, Disturbia style.

You tell em, Commodus Aurelius:

Man, and I was really hoping she'd discover the writings of the honorable Elijah Muhammed. And/or get a neck tattoo.

I guess the world really is as terrible as I originally thought.

Oh well, go on about your business.

Wawawewow!

Hello my bloggings bestfriends!


Today, I communicating to you with the internets. (Thank you, Al Gores for invent! Also, for your global warmings. It very cold in Kazakh, so I like a very much.)

I tell to you a wonderful thing I find on this electronic highways. It a called "999 Borats" - this a very premium number of me! In my country, Minister of Mathematics and Horse Science, Uri Bobshalaveletzakin dictate all number is below 1,000 because government like save money on superfluous comma markings. Since this is police-enforced law, I am agree!

This is project I discover, make by artist Oli Goldsmith. He is big #1 fan of a Borat! He like my journalisms of culture and decide to make a 999 paintings original of me! I like a very much Oli Goldsmith! I wish to him great success and access to American vagin.


This make to me and my family a very proud. If Oli Goldsmith make journey to Kazakh, my father is promise to him give choice of my sister Barbarella (very much sex!), brother Bilo (he is retard) or donkey (sometimes she kick testi-satchel, but she nice) - he make a good choose!

I hope to you make visit to this World Wide Web pages, where you find more and purchase this paintings. They make you tie a rooms together, very nice design for metrosexuals. If you show to a nice lady, she is have immediate romance explosion - this is guarantee!

Thank you Oli Goldsmith for make painting of me. I hope you get a very much sexytime propositions from internets web cam ladies with this project. Maybe you meet Lyndsey Lohans. High five!

Jagshemash,
Borat Sagdiyev

So Shines A Good Deed In A Weary World

So, as of this Monday afternoon...

Iraq's pretty much an irrevocable disaster.
Our political leaders are thoroughly corrupt.
Gas (and corn, apparently?) ain't getting any cheaper.
Global warming insists on being invited to the party.

And on and on.

People are dying, moms are crying, peace sells, but who's buying? (Dave Mustane would ask you the same question.)

I don't know. But at least Dippy McDumbshit is going to jail for a few weeks. Yes, Paris is burning. Paris Hilton, America's favorite vapid, soulless, moronic excuse for a celebritard is finally getting a much-needed and long overdue dose of reality. And, according to the article linked above, a pamphlet on potential viruses contracted in the jail cell.

This is a great day and has even greater future potential. Think about all that can happen:

- She could tussle with some of those tough broads from latenight Cinemax lady prison movies.
- She could make custom "THATSHOT" license plates.
- Prison tattoos on her neck (or face!).
- Wouldn't it be amazing if she discovered the Nation of Islam?

I guess what I'm trying to say is, yes, the world is a troubled place. But let's look at the bright side when we can. Every time Paris Hilton goes to jail, an entire fleet of angels gets their wings.

POTUS* or Sulky McSulkpants?

Ha! (Read that again and imagine Alf saying it.)

I love it when The Huffington Post puts this picture of Bush on their site. They do it every time he tries to hide something or if his approval ratings sink.

(Which is pretty fucking often, actually.)


The only way it could look funnier is if there was a big "NO GIRLS ALLOWED" sign next to the window.

*POTUS stands for President of the United States, by the way.