Monthly Archives: August 2007

the hipster Olympics

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You’ve seen the Original…

Now see the derivative, post-postmodern, watered-down American version!

An epic battle of apathetic grandeur.

STARRING
Announcer Greg Berman – Taige Jensen (voice)
Announcer Neil Tafoya – Ryan Hunter (voice)
Reporter Conica Friesbee – Jenn Lyon
#1, Sasha Pinrod III – Taige Jensen
#2, Larken Trebek – Maggie Ross
#3, Nolan Shelby – Ryan Hunter
#4, Zac Zuro – Ryan Hall
#5, Gideon Zidoushe – Dave Powell
Referee Wally Masters – Will Connell
Square Sean Ericsson – Eric Sherertz

DISCLAIMER:
POYKPAC™ and POYKPAC Sports™ have no affiliation with Pabst Brewing Company, American Apparel, Myspace.com, cocaine, Pitchfork Media, The Elephant 6 Recording Company, Domino Recording Company Ltd, EMI, MoTown Records, or Vice Magazine Publishing Inc. All products and companies portrayed were done so satirically.

This short film is, however, a shameless tribute to Monty Python‘s “The Upperclass Twit of the Year.” All that being said: Let the lawsuits commence!

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it’s quiet. too quiet

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SwoonIt may well be quiet around here (that’s the natural aftermath of fighting off a venomous spider…you really just want to go lie down and have food and refreshing beverages brought to you) but I know somewhere that’s simply radiating vitality, having sprung fully-formed from the forehead of Coco Chanel.

Teeny Manolo, my new blog.

What are you still doing here? The other blogger has 15 welcoming comments in her introductory post. Moi? Goose egg. And I’m too proud to invent sock puppets to post paens to myself.

Barely.

It’s a children’s fashion blog with celebrity overtones (because I write for it, y’all), and if you must know I wrote it yesterday wearing stirrup pants and a Starbucks gimme t, with a wad of greasy deep conditioner in my hair, whereas today I wrote it wearing my sister’s overalls (so hot this year, and boy am I lucky) another Starbucks gimme t, and a shaker knit cardigan. I’m not eating pizza, but I should be, to get the look right.

As I said before: what are you still doing here? Go, read, enjoy, comment, blogroll, Technorati Fave and all other assorted Operation Global Media Domination furthering activities! That’s H T T P : / / T E E N Y M A N O L O . C O M, y’all!

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I was bitten by a poisonous spider

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Shelob

and it died.

Think about that the next time you try to get in my face about … anything at all.

I’m just saying.

PS: so there are black widow spiders here in Vancouver. You learn something new every day, eh?

Give me my footie pjs, put on my cat; I have
Immortal longings in me: now no more
The juice of the Okanagan‘s grape shall moist this lip:
Yare, yare, good CG; quick. Methinks I hear
Viggo call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of spammers, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: baby, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am tentacles and marabou; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind CG; blog readers, long farewell.

What, I’m still here? Damn, now what am I gonna do with this soliloquy? I h8 anticlimax!

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Photoessay o’ the Day: the Eight Phases of Goatse

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I’m just going to assume you know what I’m talking about, because after all, we’re all adults on the internets and we have been around a turn or two, didn’t just fall off the novelty USB device truck, we’ve had it in the ear before.

So. Goatse And The Eight Phases Thereof: a photoessay

A phenomenon known as “goatse” has taken the internet by storm, in what has become the fad from hell that just won’t die. Don’t know what goatse is? It’s a picture, go look it up, can’t miss it. Unfortunately, no one can be told what the goatse is…you must see it for yourself….

And when you do…

The first phase

Phase 1: Shock
“OMGWTF!” *MINIMIZE……*

 

all the way to:

Goatse phase 7

Phase 7: Enchantment
“Only on teh intranet! What a delight!”

 

And beyond!

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the four Yorkshiremen

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I’ve been meaning to steal this for some time, but have been holding off because the blogger from whom I stole it was threatened right off the Internet by that anal retentive egotist “Hitchens‘ little brother,” not to be confused with his more powerful and eloquent brother, nor with The Hitch, who is far more amusing and not afraid of god or man, much less a snivelling, brittle journalist. I was hoping she’d come back online, but “the other Hitchens” has probably gone so far as to rip up the power lines delivering electricity to her house, restoring her to a state not unlike those pre-Industrial peasants for whom he bears such apparent fondness.

But she’s gone. Hope somewhere a desperately enema-deprived hack is happily snickering into his posset. And drunkenly spilling it right into his shrivelled and dusty lap.

Anyway, here’s four whining Yorkshiremen: Eddie Izzard, Harry Enfield, Vic Reeves and the Voice of God himself, Alan Rickman.

And transcript, courtesy of BadKittyCat over the jump.

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