my brain just threw up a little…

September 30, 2009

new season of HouseMD, episode one

Filed under: commentary — Sol @ 1:26 am

I was going to title this simply “House” but Haus might look and get confused. I rather not trouble that one, good fellow he is.

Long crazy episode. I did not expect they would just run him through the nuthouse in one episode, but ok. So what now? Producers are done amusing viewers with this Old House. Now is the time for a New House. A much gentler, nicer, caring creature. A real doctor who is taking his meds, cares for patients not just by curing them but also by shedding a tear and having real feelings for them. And none of those BAD feeling! All GOOD feelings, like what humans should have, you know? The “softer” side of House. Just like that commercial. Nono, not THAT commercial you are thinking about because it actually jingles “… softer side of Sears”,  but THAT commercial because I think it is now targeting same audience. You know, that audience targeting the ones who might come to the softer side of House. They already have the ruffians and hooligans on the hook with Bad House. Now we are playing the Good House.

I wonder if House will be finding god before the end of season two.

I will watch this, but with a whole new interest in the show. I wonder how far they will take the “softer side of House.” What will this be? I am no longer amused by this. Now this is going to be like watching a pooh-fucking-bear cartoon. It is all nice and soft and almost cuddly. Bear and donkey schlopping about, trying to get some honey and counting stars. All is fine except every time you see a donkey you expect to see an exotic dancer blowing that donkey while bear is getting it from behind. And when that doesn’t happen, you feel disappointed. Except it is still the same cartoon. Same with HouseMD. Except now he is that donkey. … and on head-meds. bravo. Now every housewife (what a pun!) will absorb her commercials so much better because House is far FAR more understandable to the softer side.

Hey, I wonder, what will be sold during House shows? Obviously this goes to the highest bidder and changes with channel.  It is ok though. This is what I will do. I will watch this HouseMD, and I will make a list of ALL the products being advertised. I will never buy any of those products. Ever. Because these scumfucks ruined my favorite AssholeMD. They made that into a Softer and more pliable Asshole (gods that did not come out right At All!)… they ruined my show, I am not giving them any money! Fuck off!

Too early to say anyway, I should not be going off about this. Maybe there is hope, and asshole will come back swinging! Still not buying any products advertised during that show. Fuck the lot of them!

September 25, 2009

fever and dreams

Filed under: dreams — Sol @ 12:28 am

pyramid

slopes covered with bodies. nothing dead though, they are all alive, just climbing this steep as fuck slippery slope. some dressed, some not, some wear jewelry, others are just decorated with lean oiled sculpted muscles. Some use golden dollar signs as climbing anchors, others use ropes weaved out of long papyrus of pedigree going back millennium, yet others sport sharp white teeth and perfectly symmetrical seal of genetic perfection on their bodies. And not one is getting ahead of their time. This is like a slow and torturous variation of synchronized climbing instead of swimming. And not one smile, not one gleam of happiness, not a shade of contention or joy.

This is not an endless climbing straight line path for all those on the slope. Some freeze after a while, freeing up space for the next that takes over their path. This just goes the fuck on…

Yes, this really was a preposition ending that sentence. Fuck off! (this was an exclamation and a fragment)

Waking up mid-day with this sweaty sticky fucking fever, with this gut-wrenching dream was NOT what I wanted to do today. At least the fever is down.

September 23, 2009

christopher moore on fever

Filed under: Daily Crazies — Sol @ 6:42 pm

I am home, with a stupid sweaty fever, eating bread and drinking hot tea, trying to sweat this crappy fever out of me. And while stuck I am listening to “Fool” by Christopher Moore. Listen, my feverish head is very much out of it as it is, adding this big bucket of remarkably awesome craziness on top is almost too much.

kings court traveling cross country.  they meet a brightly painted wagon with a theater troop in it. Fool (jester/joker) speaks with the man in charge of the theater. Man in charge of said theater says something in lines of:

“We’ve been rehearsing a classic from antiquity – ‘Green eggs and Hamlet.’  The story of a young prince of Denmark who goes mad, drowns his girlfriend, and in remorse forces spoiled breakfast on all whom he meets. It was pieced together from fragments of an ancient American manuscript.”

“No. I think this would be too esoteric for the king. He is old, and nods off during long performances.” (said Fool)

“Shame. A moving piece. Let me do a selection for you! ‘Green eggs or not green eggs, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to eat them in the box… with a fox…’ “

perhaps more tea and hot shower soon. that actually made sense.

September 20, 2009

urges… they come and go. Braincells stay.

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 11:42 pm

Evil: God isn’t interested in technology. He cares nothing for the microchip or the silicon revolution. Look how he spends his time, forty-three species of parrots! Nipples for men!
Robert: Slugs.
Evil: Slugs! HE created slugs! They can’t hear. They can’t speak. They can’t operate machinery. Are we not in the hands of a lunatic?

September 13, 2009

christopher moore =)

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 11:15 pm

a godzilla banging a fuel tanker… priceless.

September 12, 2009

oh my…

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 4:43 am

Dear Woman.

Please go away. At this point in our relationship, it is best that you just leave. Lets just dodge this ugly baby of the romance, which will grow up to be a rather fat slow human, who on the best of days will not enrage bus drivers thus not provoking them into a vehicular homicide. We are at the stage where it is not too late to pull out! You have sent me a message laced with nonchalant suggestions of how how little you care for my interests, and how important it is for you to uphold your interests. As though my interest in you is a driving force comparable to that of a mac-truck. As though you are the epitome of perfection, beauty, grace, and wisdom, sought after by all humans equipped with testicles and anything resembling libido inhibiting their common sense. You must be expecting every single male on this side of the planet running after you with deed to their house in their left hand, their wallet in their right, a 2.6Kt engagement ring in their teeth, balancing a book of poetry written just for you on their head full of hair,  clenching their sculpted buttocks on the bouquet of elegant long stemmed roses to match your lipstick, and that longing “puppy-in-love” look on their faces.

Oh dear… no wonder your profile has been collecting dust rhinos for over three years.  Please look at my profile again. Look closely, please. Do you see anything that says “Seeking over-ambitious, high maintenance, gold-digging, drama queen.”  ? Well, when you see THAT on my profile, you may go ahead and drop me a line asking me about my mating habits, my looks, my accent, and my income again. Until then – do the world a favor, hire a surgeon who would be willing to suck away about 120lbs off of you, fix your teeth, give you a nose-job, saw off your head, and mail it to Jerry Springer. This way, you see, you will not be pestering those who really do not give two flying dry chihuahua turds for your attitude. You will also get all the attention you ever needed. And there will even be a crowd of shock-starved idiots to be dramatized by your very pretty head. They will also be safe from falling further into the abyss of arrogant ignorance, a place where you certainly would send them to if you were able to speak to them, thus lowering their standards.

Good day to you, Pretty.

P.S. Before any fem friend I have thinks it is about them – it is NOT! It was some dafty Cali bimbo on match poking at me with some serious arrogance and rudeness. It made me a little grumpy.

September 10, 2009

online dating services vomit (twice)

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 2:28 am

Dear Fluffy Lord! Thanks for pointers! I guess I am just way too picky.

This one looks too fake. That’s a stretched fake smile that would cost a car salesman his job.

This one is more than I can lift, and so scary I won’t stick a harpoon in it, never you mind me sticking my precious in this.

This one looks like my mom. It is not my mom, and according to the listing this one is younger, but she sure as hell looks like my mom.

This one looks like a kid, has two kids, recently separated and is looking for a guy younger than she is, a guy who makes 75K+, and has no kids. Who is she kidding.

This one is too young. “Enjoyz dansing…” – appears to be a little daft too.

This one is 71 and looks very serious. If she looked a little less serious I would be more sarcastic, but without sarcasm I will just say “Last roll.”

This one is lying. I can see 3rd chin in the 1/2-faced picture, and a fold of fat on her wrist. 130lbs 5’4″ she is NOT!

This one looks like Death. No, seriously. The Death from Discworld. With skin, sans the scythe. Oh, and big hair on that.

This one “curvy” and “wanted a Heart for God” – fail goes both ways on this one, I guess… and no picture. I cannot lift “cuvry” and “no picture.” I also do not fit that heart-god thing. I am a heartless twat, and I do not believe in their god. Next!

This one lists “bodytype – average.” Fail – I can see her upper arm, it is bigger than my leg. If this is average, men would be a lot more polite to ladies. On average, that is.

This one is an epic fail all over the place – wrong age, wrong bodytype, wrong … just about everything. Come to think of it, I think its a woman, but with this service you can just never be sure.

Dear Fluffy Lord! Remember that talk about Smart, Beautiful, and Kind. This bunch I just looked at are not fitting these criteria at all. Are you hinting that I would be better off single? It really is far more appealing than spending any time with any of the fine ladies whose profiles I just looked at in the last hour.

sigh

NEXT!

September 9, 2009

damn Goat!

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 12:14 am

Goat the Gout is back. Well, it is starting to gnaw on my foot… again.

I have never shot a goat. In fact, I have never shot an animal! This one I would shoot with no remorse. In fact, I am so angry with this Goat the Gout, I would not even bother with a gun. A knife would do fine. Not even a sword. A knife would do just fine. A blunt one. In fact a butter-knife would be preferred.  Die Goat, DIE!

September 8, 2009

scabs

Filed under: random crazies — Sol @ 11:13 pm

Scabs. We all have them. We get those once in a while and we act like little children when we get them. Some scream at the injury even though it isn’t really a mortal kind. Others puff out their chest impersonating an older kid and their bravado and braveness and shrug it off to the best of their ability. Some others act in a directly opposite fashion and very nearly exclaim about having to spend years in PTSD counseling due to this horrible trauma. It really is just a breakup. Only instead of your knee you skin your heart after you stupidly stuck it like a tongue to a frozen pole. The one that does the dumping usually saves their hide from a scab, and the one dumped is the one with the scab to pick for sometime after. We all pick at those scabs. Strong, weak, fake, brave, or insane, no matter which you are or which you are pretending to be – you will pick at that scab.  Every time you pick at it, it feels less and less and eventually you become only aware of that bit that feels somehow different. Your nails now scratch the itch instead of getting caught on that one disappearing piece of crunchy nonsense you rather not think about anymore. And then you stick it right back to the fucking pole, like a retarded child in five layers of clothes, that was again let out to play with other kids in spite of his recent accident that left him scratching his tongue inappropriately with his two fingers.

I came across a classified with a picture of a girl. No, not her, just a look-alike that made me stop. That was truly shocking.  A very old scab, felt funny. Not funny-haha, rather funny-peculiar. Oh well, they say “Sic transit gloria mundi.”

September 5, 2009

Argh! Crivens!

Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 8:57 pm

There is something wrong with my head. I sat in the waking stupor for the last ten minutes telling myself that it is not a reason to feel guilty when you overslept and did not make it to a social function on a weekend. There is really no reason to feel bad aside from … well, I wanted to make it there.

It’s all fine and well, but I would like to throw some hot food and drink down my hatch, and run off to Steven’s to stick my hands in the fire and have a few good jolly laughs, hopefully not at my expense.

And I will do the theater tomorrow for their last showing.

Hey, I am allowed to oversleep the day after my Bday! (bidet, lol)

and now, dog walking!

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