Thursday, October 27, 2005

And Then Some Celebrities Are A Little Too "Down-To-Earth"

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My last post dealt with how some of our beloved celebrities (we love them, don't we?) make the most ludicrous demands of hotels they plan on staying at, which could easily one to believe that these celebrities all have overdeveloped egos. And then today I get this shit.

Yes, that's right, Paris Hilton fucked her new boyfriend in a porta-potty according to insiders. At this time I'm going to be skeptical of the story because she hasn't actually bragged about it herself in the media. I'm sure, though, that if it is true it'll become chic to take your lovers into porta-potties and fuck the shit out of them.


I think it's fucking gross to fuck anybody in a porta-potty. I know I've ranted about people who have problems taking a shit in public washrooms before, but playing horsey on your lover's schlong in an outhouse goes well above and beyond the stigma of that public washroom B.M.

I know what it's like to be so turned on by somebody that you could literally have sex in some pretty strange and disgusting places like the back seat of a Volkswagen, behind a dumpster, on top of stack of old newspapers outside your neighbor's house before the garbage men make their rounds. But come on, a fucking porta-potty? Now granted, all I know of where this happened was that it was at a Hollywood party, and I don't know much about Hollywood, but couldn't you get a fucking cab to take you someplace other than a porta-potty for sex? You are a fucking Hilton, aren't you? Don't your folks own a hotel you could go to for some naked fumblings?

I also know what it's like inside a porta-potty from numerous years spent at summer concert festivals in Camrose. Porta-potties are definitely not a place that I would even think about having sex in. Sure, it's kinky, but the smell is enough to wilt tulips let alone a penis. Paris' new boyfriend must be into some hardcore shit in his sex life or he doesn't have a fucking sense of smell. I mean wouldn't lighting up a cigarette for that post-coital bliss ignite the fumes in one of those things?

I guess the message is that some celebrities are so out-of-control when it comes to egomania and then there's Paris Hilton.

She'll fuck in a porta-potty.

They really do come in all shapes and sizes, don't they?


Wednesday, October 26, 2005

I Just Love It When Celebrities Refer To Themselves As "Down-To-Earth"

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From now on when a celebrity refers to him/her self as "down-to-earth" or is referred to as being "down-to-earth" by entertainment journalists (oftentimes a shameful besmirching of the term "journalist") I'm going to put my boot through the fucking television or whatever medium this message is being pushed through. If I see it on the newspaper you happen to be reading at the time be prepared to taste steel toes.

Did you read what some of those celebrities request from the hotels they stay at? Holy shit! There are way too many delusional celebrities out there. J-Lo needs an entirely white room? Mariah Carey needs brand new toilet seats and gold faucets? Justin Timberlake requires that nobody on the hotel staff address him personally?

Has the world ever been this bad? I mean, more specifically, have we, as the North American society, ever found ourselves in such a state with our cultural icons where we have to install brand new toilet seats, furnish rooms in all white, and not address hotel patrons because some people have egos that out of control? I suppose there have been moments that Elizabeth Taylor has had or maybe members of the Rat Pack, but it seems like things are way out of hand now.

It's times like these that I wonder what Bill Hicks would have to say about many of these icons in our midst. It's times like these that I really think the world needs Bill Hicks more than ever.

The Quest For A More Manly Michael Jackson

This month in Blender magazine's news roundup one story that was given a brief blurb had to do with everybody's favorite Martian, Michael Jackson. It would seem that according to some insiders, the former King of Pop is currently seeking to establish a more macho image for himself. To accomplish this miraculous makeover Michael Jackson plans on lifting weights to attain a beefier appearance and wearing shorter wigs among other penile enhancing techniques.

I wish I had a link to post so that you can verify this story for yourself. You'll just have to take my word for it now unless you pick up the November 2005 issue of Blender featuring a very hot looking Natalie Portman in all her punk glory on the cover.

You know what?

Good for him. Good for Michael.

Obviously this man has done his homework regarding the whole "macho" image. I mean when I think of the manliest men alive (naturally, yours truly numbers among those testerone enriched beefbags) I think of weightlifting and short wigs.

Wait a minute...


He wears a fucking wig? Is he a chemo patient that we haven't heard about? No? Well, what the fuck then?

I know what will make people think of me as being more of a man and less of creepy pedophile! Shorter wigs!

I know, I know. There are other ways he's going to enhance his image to ooze machismo, but come on, wigs?

And why the sudden interest in looking manly? He's already established himself as a certifiable lunatic. Did you see some of the shit he buys when he goes shopping in those posh Las Vegas stores in that Donald Bashir documentary? First of all, when I think of manly men doing manly man things I don't think of shopping in posh Las Vegas stores. What he needs to do is call a press conference where his sole purpose of being there is to leap onto the back of an angry bull and kill it with a pocket knife and gumption. That's manliness.

But Michael, there have been plenty of macho men throughout the ages who didn't have to go through such an absurd ritual to prove their mettle. Why should Michael Jackson have to slay an angry bull?

Well, I don't write the rules. Basically, the way I look at it, he's done so much to build this image of the wacky pseudo-human with the horribly disfigured plastic body who gets a bit too friendly with unassuming kids and lives in a constant state of delusion thinking that he's still relevant to our culture. Now to suddenly become manly, and thus become the antithesis of everything he's already established himself as, he's going to have to kill a fucking bull. I don't write the rules. I just observe them.

But in all seriousness, this just weirds me out. The thought of a "manly" Michael Jackson. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. There are certain archetypes that keep the society balanced, precariously, but balanced nonetheless. One of those archetypes is that of the freakish man/child/alien/attention whore. If this asshole undergoes the transformation into manly man who the fuck is going to take his place?

I suppose the universe rights itself eventually and having a "macho" Michael Jackson going around and talking in a deep voice about how his sleeping with young boys is purely platonic and clearly "manly" might cause some chaos in the order and stability of the cosmos, somebody, somewhere, is going to step up to the plate and restore things to normal by being the freak for a while.

Good luck with the shorter wigs, though.

Happy 2000th Pageload Massive Missives!

2000 page loads just goes to prove that my refresh button still works.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

This Is How It All Went Down

So this is my first post since the Calgary road trip this past weekend.

Finally, Michael, what the fuck took you so long? You said you'd be back to posting Saturday!

Meh. I remember what I said.

But here it is. I was absolutely exhausted by time I got back home from the brief trip. I departed for Calgary early, early, early Friday morning after working the Thursday night shift. I got home and made a phone call to Jessica, then I packed, and then I was out the door and on my way.

The drive down to Calgary was amazing. Easily one of the most pleasant drives I've ever been on. Next time I go on a longer road trip like that I should really remember that hitting the road before dawn makes for a nice stress-free ride. The highlight of the drive down was definitely catching sight of the mountains once I got south of Red Deer and seeing it by the light of dawn.

Since the trip was made after a night of work and not a night of sleep I was naturally tired by time I reached Jordan and Lori's place. I killed a bit of time with my friends and by 1:30 we found ourselves at the Court of Queens Bench to take in the ceremony whereby Jordan got sworn into the Law Society of Alberta.

Then it was back to the apartment where I had a drink and took an hour long nap. After the nap it was off to the Weaselhead Bar and Grill for dinner and drinking.

Most of what happened at the bar was kind of blurry due to my exhaustion and excessive drinking. I do remember performing "Put Your Head On My Shoulder" for the karaoke portion of the night. I also remember and argument I had with my stomach in the men's room after downing a shot of Jagermeister. My stomach thought it would be wise for what George Carlin would call an involuntary protein spill and I thought it would be more pertinent to shrug it off and continue drinking. It was one of the few times I was able to win an argument with my stomach and I drank quite a bit more.

Sleep that night was light and troubled because I was having numerous epiphanies regarding my novel and Sometimes Sinister. Waking up Saturday left me with a huge hangover. Jordan and I spent a few hours eating lunch and checking out some of the cooler little shops in the Kensington area of town.

After that it was time to go back home. I waited until 6 before I departed and it made for a beautiful sunset to watch over the mountains in the west and a nice drive at night along Highway 2.

What a perfect weekend.

So why haven't I posted anything yet since getting back? Well, I stopped at Best Buy in Red Deer and purchased a couple of Playstation 2 games, Capcom Classics, and Street Fighter Anniversary Edition. Naturally, I've been enjoying this sort of retro video gaming spree the past couple of days.

But now I'm back after I've had my fill of old school video games. It's good to be back.

Here's the best picture of the weekend...