Britney’s Sex Tape and Post Odds

The Gambler

The deal is this, although Metro doesn’t know the deal. At one time he did, but that was at least six beers ago, and now he knows nothing other than what I tell him and that includes original additions to the Cthulhu Mythos, to which he furrows his brow and goes…uh…wait…hold on…and I hand him another beer and objections are quickly forgotten.

There was also an attempt by his wife to add aliens and various other restrictions to the blog posts, but they are hereby overruled.

Anyway, the deal is that after drinking beer throughout the viewing of Two Days in the Valley, Tapeheads, and Phil the Alien, we would blog, and we would go hit-to-hit on brand, spanking new posts.

And as you know I’m all about the hits.

Okay, 2:20 in the morning is not the best time to get hits, but there are worse.

Reading his post, which he finished at great apparent effort while I answered four comments and three questions in the technical help forum, googled the image of a loser, uploaded it to Photobucket, and worked on this post, it appears that he thinks the issue is simple coherence, which any fool knows a drunk can achieve simply by imitating Hemingway.

And so I ask you to evaluate Metro’s post either in light of total hits OR in light of its ability to evoke Hemingway.

He’s got some 80’s dreck music playing, so I’ve cranked up the Mylene Farmer Megamix. Thank god for YouTube; it’s impossible to find MP3’s in this world, but you can always find YouTubes.

And since I titled this post so specifically, we can be certain that it will draw at least a finite number of readers. Deluded, misguided readers, it is true. But readers nonetheless.

Howdy, y’all!

Celebrity Mugshot Slideshow

A boring title, I know, but this video is laugh-a-minute, at least: it is if you’re as malevolently Schaedenfreudeyan as I!

via turtlebutt, and cross-posted to Ayyyy!

guns don’t kill people

Guns don’t kill people

from the WOW report, which I found by doing my daily slog in the salt mines, during which I admire my manicure and listen to loud music and eat snack foods and drink refreshing beverages and get paid to read gossip blogs.

It’s a brutal job, but somebody’s got to do it.

Pony Pride

This is awesome. It is frightening. It is hilarious. But the comments on the YouTube page are the best of all: not only are her fellow pony collectors cheering her on for being “an individual” just like them, they’re trashing and multi-downvoting everyone who doesn’t believe exactly as they do. Fandom at its best, for sure.

I’ve got no particular issue with The Pony Lady here, except that the He-Man costume really isn’t doing her any favours, and she makes the word “pony” sound absolutely filthy when she says it; it’s the vicious, defensive, groupthinking, happyclownfaced community that I have a problem with. Hey, maybe they’ll comment!

Stolen from Bridlepath.

my dream house: the floorplan

It should be Lambos, not Ferraris, but otherwise this sounds pretty good. The only problem is, it seems to give everyone pretty much the same result.

From Nag on the Lake, via Mastercowfish.

Your home is a

Rough Muse’s Mansion

Your kitchen is only used when the weather won’t permit barbecuing. There’s a pantry stocked with beef jerky. Oh, and deer jerky. Your master bedroom has a bedside table with a pad for writing down late-night inspirations. Your study has a locked plexiglass gun case filled with stuff that would make the A-Team jealous. And Al Qaeda. One of your garages holds your collection of ferraris, and is measured in acreage.Your home also includes a gallery of your favorite works — the originals, of course. Your guests enjoy your animatronic replica of the cantina at Mos Eisley. Outside is your hedge maze and gardens, meticulously tended by a team of world-class botanists.Below is a snippet of the blueprints:

Find YOUR Dream House!