Facebook Great For Killing Time, And People! [Internet Meets Life]

Wayne Forrester is your typical 34 year-old British man. He enjoys bangers & mash, alcohol, cocaine, and murder. I'm getting ahead of myself, let's rewind.

THAT'S bangers and mash? WTF is wrong with the British?

Emma Forrester was fed up with her sausage loving husband (complete speculation) of 15 years and decided it was time to end things. So she kicked him out, presumably on his arse. A few days later Emma changed her Facebook relationship status to "single" which pissed off crazy Wayne beyond belief. He drove to her house, fueled by a cocktail of alcohol and cocaine, and proceeded to stab her with a kitchen knife and meat cleaver. Which begs the question, was the cleaver really necessary?

Judge Brian Barker, the Common Serjeant of London, told him: "You committed a terrible act. There is no possible excuse or justification.

Judge Barker clearly doesn't have a Facebook profile. I totally sympathize with Wayne, that bitch had it coming. How dare she seperate from her truck driving (true), drug addict husband and then have the balls to let the whole damn internet know? She's seriously lucky he only killed her and didn't make her into a throw rug or something.

Disclaimer: I do not condone murder IRL.

[Via BBC News]

Nazi's Delay Video Game Release [The End of Fun]

OK, that's not completely true, but what a headline!

LitteBigPlanet is due to be released for the PS3 at the end of October. At least, it was until some ultra-perceptive, hyper sensitive Islamic-type ruined it for everyone.

"No fun for you!!"

Apparently this song, played early in the game, contains lyrics that were pulled directly from the Qur'an. Little Miss Sunshine over there took offensive to said lyrics and threw a shit-fit.

What? You don't understand Islam? Fools...

The "offensive" parts of the song include:

1- In the 18th second: "كل نفس ذائقة الموت" ("kollo nafsin tha'iqatol mawt", literally: 'Every soul shall have the taste of death').

2- Almost immediately after, in the 27th second: "كل من عليها فان" ("kollo man alaiha fan", literally: 'All that is on earth will perish').

Our little Islamic Carmen San Diego here failed to dig much deeper than that though. Luckily I've done a little research of my own and have unearthed some equally offensive, though less publicized lyrics.

About 35 seconds in: " ئقة الم كل م" ("kollo nafsin alaiha", literally: 'Burn, burn, burn the Jews').

Then, almost immediately after: "ها فانكل " ("tha'iqatol mawt fan", literally: 'Pork is yummy').

So thank you sir, for single-handedly ruining fun for millions.

In Memorandum: Rape Alley [Rape Alley]

Internet's rejoice! I'm back and slightly better than ever. My brief hiatus was due to being in between jobs, and while logically that would mean more posting, the reality of my lazy existence took hold of me, causing a spiraling depression which eventually led to a nasty antifreeze addiction. Don't fret though, I kicked it, and I'm a better Mom for it.

Not Pictured: Me, salivating

I would like to take this joyous moment to remember an old friend. Someone who always stuck with me, someone who always provided me with countless minutes of semi-entertaining spectacle. That's right friends, Rape Alley is no more.

Ok, well that's not true whatsoever. It still exists, unfortunately I've moved on to bigger and better places. No longer do I have the warm embrace of urinating bums peering over my shoulder. Never again will I see a pair of hormonal teenagers vigorously feeling each other up in the middle of the day. Not in person, at least.

Fair reader's, today is truly a sad day. I can only hope that the Sony lot is as riddled with dysfunction as my old lot.

Update: They shoot Wheel of Fortune here. I can't think of anyone more dysfunctional than Sajak. I have it on good authority (read: my own) that Pat heavily lubricates himself with Jack Daniels and canned air to put up with Vanna's incessant ramblings.

He keeps a flask under "Bankrupt"

Shave Much? [Rant]

Shaving B.L.O.W.S. That's not an acronym, it's called emphasis and you'd better get used TO IT!! No one likes shaving, anywhere. Guy, girl, face, legs, back, ears, feet...It's just not a pleasant activity, no matter who is doing it to what.

I just looked at myself in the mirror and noticed that after less than a week of not shaving I've turned in to Ambrose E. Burnside.

You should really buff up on your history.

I've grown mutton chops. And not the sweet black and white kind like Burny up there, I'm growing the equivalent of a mullet on both sides of my head. Normally I'm very well groomed, some say too groomed (let that ruminate in your head a little), but lately (read: since I was 15) I've had no desire to shave.

Unless you shave every day, or you're this guy:

It's always going to be a losing battle.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about women so all opinions are based solely on the male experience.

There's definitely a "magic hour" of sorts when it comes to shaving. Not too much hair where as the razor is pulling it out, but not too little or you'll run the risk of deadly razor burn. I'd imagine the same holds true for women. If I knew one I could confirm this theory. This "magic hour" tends to fall around day 3 of not shaving for me.

Day 4 is when I give day 3 a big middle finger in it's prime numbered ass and just keep on cruising by. Well past day 7, and sometimes, just sometimes, I cross the dark side in to double digits. Around day 10 (or, Defcon 1 as Emily likes to call it) I really start to piss off not only myself, but I suspect society as a whole.

Though unbelievably easy to maintain, a full beard sucks slightly more than shaving. It's all itchy and makes my face look like a vagina.

The LHC Of Joints [Rape Alley]

In our second installment of this feature, lovingly dubbed Rape Alley, we examine drug use among the vest-wearing, seemingly homeless population of Culver City. This is my new best friend:

Please ignore the glare. I was giddy with excitement and forgot my photog etiquite.

For the sake of story telling, let's call him Charles. Mainly because he's incredibly classy and reminds me of a prince. His method of ingestion consisted of blowing on the joint, as so, then inhaling what came off. It's definitely the weirdest technique I've ever seen--er, heard of.

That window is approximately 18 inches behind my head, needless to say, it reeks in here. Yes, those are rubber bands around that horse cock of a joint to hold it together.

Charles on his throne, continuing the madness.

I'm not usually one to comment on wardrobe, but, let's take a moment to examine Charles' ensemble. The lynch pin of the whole thing is definitely that vest (pin-striped, mind you), it really ties the outfit together. It's pretty tough to pull off the vest-only look, but good ol' Charles did it. Extra points for accomplishing this feat whilst holding a CVS bag in his non-joint hand and a roll of paper towels tucked under the other arm (seriously).

Charles' posse.

Thank you, sir. You have truly brightened my day.

Button Fly? More Like, Button DIE [Rant]

I'm caught in the middle of a dilemma. I hate, hate, button fly jeans, but my favorite pair just happen to be of this variety.

Who thought to themselves, "Hey, jeans are way too easy to put on, how can I complicate this?" It was probably this guy:

"I shall make the perfect race of jeans."

Most bad things are his fault anyway, might as well add this to the list. Putting on my jeans has gone from a 90 second affair to a 120 second affair, and that is just unacceptable. What? 90 seconds is still way too long to put on jeans? Well that extra 75 seconds accounts for lube time, my jeans are very tight.

Probably shouldn't have picked out this particular pair.

My main concern isn't the actual buttoning of said fly, I've turned that into a drinking game of sorts. Every time I button one I take a shot of Tequila, and since most of my pants have at least 8 buttons (front & back), my drive in to work tends to be entertaining.

The real problem is that the damn thing just does not want to stay buttoned.

Walking from my car to the office? 1 button, popped.
Booting up my computer? 2 buttons, gone.
Breathing at a steady pace? 3 buttons and a mild ulcer.

I would burn these jeans to the ground if they didn't make my ass look so good.

Ninja Monday [Read: Black]

In case you haven't heard yet, the economy basically took a big shit on all of us today.

Kind of like this, but firmer, and the baby is America.

Amidst all this chaos, the human spirit prevailed. Specifically, the part of the human spirit that loves to see animals do cute things. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best thing that happened today.



We clearly can't trust cats anymore. Then this happened, and kind of frightened me.



Who is breeding these super-pets? If somehow this dog met that cat up there, and by some freakish lapse in logic and science, they mated--

I don't even want to think about it. It's like imagining McCain winning, nothing good will come of it.

In other news: I'm still at work. Go team!