Lindsay Lohan confessions of a teenage drama queen
Well, now that Ariel has nearly completed her downfall and is drying up in rehab (yet again), I think the time is right for a little flashback to when it all started to go wrong. Once upon a time it was cokeups and muscleheads, alive, alive-o, and now it’s nothing but orange jumpsuits, enforced Yanni listening sessions and yoga, and the smell of cheap regret.
Those? Those were the days, my friend.
Brian Atene didn't turn out so bad after all
Someday I’ll go through and edit all my old Brian Atene posts (I used to be THE source for Brian Atene information online, having once gotten a shout-out from Atene himself on a video), but that day is not today.
For today, I was awoken at about 6am after falling asleep at 4, and awoken in my least favorite way at that: by someone else’s cat galloping across my face and, specifically, over my eyelid, with its claws out, a fact which anyone nearby can determine by looking at the five long scratch marks on my face right now. They’re extra-super-visible because of the glossy antibiotic cream I’ve spread over them in a layer thick enough to double as an air bag, in case of car crash. And as yesterday I was awoken at 6am by galloping cats as well, after falling asleep again at 4 like any decent, normal, non-cat-owning person, this does not take me to my happy place. It takes me to that place where I can stare at people, listening intently to what they’re saying to me, and actually comprehend not one syllable; nay, not even so much as to be able to identify the language except after careful reverse-thought-engineering.
“Well, it was Doug who was talking to me, and Doug only speaks English, therefore it must have been English!” I think with a great deal of relief once I finally work it out. “Now, I wonder what in hell he was talking about?”
But enough about me (can you ever get enough?). It’s time to talk about Brian Atene, Superman Vodka, Trigger, Google, AOL, and me (again).
Longtime readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog will be familiar with our longtime Ateniac status, dating all the way back since 2006, when the vintage Good Day Mister Kubrick audition tape hit the internet, and hit it hard. I’ve posted his more contemporary videos on this blog and virtually any other blog I could get my hands on even so much as the comments section. So far, so what, right? You either love Atene or you identify with him so strongly you can’t stand the sight of him because all those things about yourself that you’d change if you were a better, stronger, richer, younger person? He is all about those things, three cheers and pass the Nembutal.
And, about once every two years, he signs in to YouTube, finds a camel’s-back-breaking-straw comment and deletes all his videos, leaving me with vast holes in whatever of my blogs I’ve put them into, obviously. BUT I’M SO OVER THAT. Anyway, the one with the shout-out to me is no more, and has not been re-uploaded to the new account.
Cognitive dissociative moment (been having a lot of those recently). Change of subject, slightly.
So I’m looking at the stats for my professional website, raincoaster media, and it appears the blog has suddenly gone from a respectable 100 daily hits to 350, all courtesy of this post on, yes, Brian Atene on the subjects of personal, thespianal, and alcoholic marketing, which outranks every other Brian Atene post on Earth except the one on BoingBoing, even though there are about a dozen Atene posts on THIS blog, as opposed to a simple two on that one. Referrers? I can see three clicks from an AOL search for “Brian Atene” but nothing else. No Google, no Yahoo, nothing else shows up on the referrers. Are people pulling this out of thin air, or is it a hidden link of some sort?Why this post? And why now?
Did he marry a Kardashian today? Get a tv show? Carry a full hot water bottle onto an airplane?
Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
For now, we have this. We have, instead of The Atene Button, Atene Talks Trigger.
Know Your Goat, just, you know, not in THAT WAY
This is a totally, completely, utterly gross story and you will love it. You will curl into the fetal position and cup your hands protectively over your bits, but you will like this story.
It’s a true story. For once. It comes from my mother, who was in charge of medical records at the King Fahd Hospital in Riyadh in the 80’s.
Saudi males who are not married are not supposed to notice they have penises. Seriously, they’re supposed to just pretend it doesn’t exist. So when a Saudi male who was not married was admitted the the hospital where my mother worked and the diagnosis was “ruptured penis” naturally all the typists in medical records were DYING to know how it happened. They were all Westerners and somewhat starved for scandalous sex gossip of this type, or even the sight of a penis, if only in their minds’s eyes.
What made it even more bizarre and in-your-face was, the doctors told him he needed some exercise and so every day he would get out of his room and go for a s…l…o…w… walk up the hallway. Down the hallway. Up the hallway. Down the hallway. With a determined look on his face and his legs bowed as if he were riding a Percheron.
My mother was not a shy woman. She was not what you could ever have called retiring. Or bashful.
So, one day she saw the doctor in charge of that patient in the hallway and walked up to him and said, “Doctor So-and-So, my typists can’t even concentrate to do their jobs, they are so distracted by this. How did it happen?”
He was used to my mother. He knew those western women were crazy and my mother was the craziest of all of them and, thus, not to be trifled with.
He looked up the hall. He looked down the hall. He looked up the hall. He looked down the hall. He leaned in and whispered, “The goat bolted.”
Endora was the shizznit and don't you even TRY to say different or I'll turn you into a newt. A special-needs newt
One of an ongoing series featuring Angie Dickinson, Suzanne Pleshette, Catherine Deneuve, Catwoman, Britney Spears, Mylene Farmer, Vanessa Paradis, an Iraqi police woman in training, Rembrandt’s Pallas Athena, Barbie, and now, Endora from Bewitched.
I always wanted to grow up to be her, and I think I may have finally succeeded. Now to get my hands on that wardrobe!
Pucci Galore!
What I like about her is…seriously, everything. I even dyed my hair red for a couple of years! She takes no prisoners, takes no shit, takes names and kicks ass, and she was right: her daughter married a total dork. Derwood was a feeb. I’m sorry, all you Derwoods or Darvins or Dickwads or Whatevers out there, but you’re just not good enough and it would be cruel to let you go through life in a fog of self-delusion, correct?
Endora would NEVER stoop to psychoactives. Other than Martinis, of course
Do you know the Sedona Method? Its aim is to give insecure, dweebish people a feeling of accomplishment. Regardless of whether or not they have, in fact, accomplished anything.
You can see why Endora and I would have a problem with that, yes? [clue for Derwoods: say Yes]
So, from Endora I have taken my vociferous contempt for the inferior, my belief that if one is magical enough one can get away with anything, and my taste for earrings of true splendiferositude.
Endora enjoys Champagne mainly on the plane over Spain
Endora and me: can we help it if we're fabulous?
You think Chihuahuas are vicious? You think they’re yappy? You think they’re neurotic? You haven’t met their owners.
Our latest flamewar comes to us from Gawker, where it grew from a post about the nutbag hoarder who dropped off 43 of the little fanged mutants at the Victoria SPCA.
See, here’s where I think deportation is a great idea. I would round up every fucking rat dog in san diego and demand to see their papers. Those without valid visas would be put in a dump truck and poured off a bridge 1′ south of the midline of the rio grande. Any that swam north would be shot for trying to re-immigrate.
I love dogs, but hate rats. And I’ve never yet seen any evidence that Chiuahuas belong in the former category. Reply
@m4ximusprim3: You don’t love dogs. Reply
m4ximusprim3 promoted this comment
@m4ximusprim3: If you want to come off as tactless and juvenile there are 3 things to make fun of: a person’s name; their accent; their dog. I’m sure you’re a rugged, woodsy outdoor type with a pair of all-American retrievers you hunt with regularly. We’re not all so manly, or have something to compensate for, so please try to be more understanding. Also, the last I knew, they allow chihuahuas at Westminster, and I’d say the AKC is a better arbiter of what is and isn’t a dog than you. Replym4ximusprim3 promoted this comment@bunzah_steele: Taxonomy and practicality are separate issues. Tomatoes and squashes are technically fruits, but you won’t find them in any fruit salads. Chihuahuas are technically dogs, but they don’t perform any of the activities normally associated with dogs, besides possibly barking.
I’m not saying you can’t love them, I’m saying they’re closer to trembly mole creatures than any practical definition of a dog. And if I had my way, they’d get cleared the hell out of san diego, where they’re ubiquitous as purse dogs and generally quite annoying. Reply
@bunzah_steele: And I’m against hunting on principle. If you want to take down a deer, you should have to fight it with a knife so the deer has a chance. Reply@m4ximusprim3: The purpose of chihuahuas is to be companion animals – particularly in the city, a task at which they excel. In that respect I’d say they are eminently practical. It’s not like they’re some breed developed 400 years ago in Scotland to hunt something now extinct that people continue breeding so they can parade it around to enhance their self image. How many people own mastiffs or sheepdogs that live the same life as any pampered sissy chihuahua? Incidentally, I’ve only been mocked with the tired “rat” putdown twice while walking my dogs, but this is New York and there are plenty of small dogs here because it makes sense to have a small dog in a small apartment. If San Diego is so terribly overrun, maybe YOU should get the hell out. Something to consider. Reply@m4ximusprim3: You want to know something that will probably make you go batshit crazy and have a fit in which you writhe around, froth at the mouth and bite the furniture? Yes? Well, many many small dogs are actually bred in Mexico and smuggled over the border and sold either on the street or in so-called “pet shops”. Happy now? Reply@m4ximusprim3: I’m a dog handler, and work with a number of different breeds of dogs. And chihuahuas are definitely dogs. I’ve seen them swim, hunt (butterflies), wrestle, play fetch, and do tricks. Like many small dogs they crave human companionship and attention somewhat more than large dogs. They are not particularly like rats, which my tiny poodle enjoys killing. Reply@m4ximusprim3: hey if I had MY was San Diego would get cleared out of Cali. Good thing we don’t always get what we want! Reply@m4ximusprim3: Max, you know what, if you got a little dog to take care of, say someone you know and like asked you to take care of their tiny dog just for a week, a weird thing would happen, you’d start to like this dog and find out the endearing qualities, and you’d see small dogs in a whole new way, and the reason I can tell this is because you defended bambi so you have a soft heart after all. Hahaha. Reply@m4ximusprim3: I never used the term “fucking,” advocated killing or used right wing anti-immigrant language in anything I wrote right out of the gate. So I think you win the vehemence award (a sash of rotting sardines). Your post was nasty, offensive and not funny. Practically everything mean you wrote was before I posted a word. So don’t blame it on me. OK, troll fed. Good night! Reply@m4ximusprim3: They’re doing more or less the same thing with humans.
But Chihuahua people are “fragile,” so behold the hate you get for saying this.
Chihuahuas are horrible, virtually untrainable, dumb knicknacks with teeth and bad tempers. They are pets for people who don’t actually like, you know, PETS. Reply
@m4ximusprim3: “Trembly mole creature.” Exactly! Reply@raincoaster: I think you’ve gotten to the heart of the issue- it’s really the Chihuahua people I hate, not their hairless, yapping charges.
Also, how on earth have I not hearted you before? We agree on virtually everything.
Rectified! Reply
@m4ximusprim3: Sorry, but I have to comment.
I have a 2 year old long-haired chihuahua named Charlie. Not only does he barely ever bark, he is a loyal, fun, clean DOG. I go on 15km runs all the time and he always keeps up. He’s not some little purse dog who yaps at everyone.
So to generalize like that is very insulting. Reply
@raincoaster: Love at last! At least something good came of this. Replyraincoaster promoted this comment@bunzah_steele: It’s great that you’re not defensive and high-strung. Because that would only reinforce what I’d said. Reply@raincoaster: And it’s refreshing that you’re not brutal, nasty, contemptuous and thin-skinned. Anybody can see from your posts in this thread that your humor is a marvel of droll subtlety. Reply@m4ximusprim3: wow, I have no idea what kind of cats you see. Reply@bunzah_steele: What, you didn’t know all of that already? Don’t you have teh googlez where you live? Reply@raincoaster: Oh right. You’re FAMOUS. I have to read your book. Reply@raincoaster: Oh, and drowning in cash, by the looks of your site. Reply@raincoaster: I swear I hit the damn pencil 24 times in 2 browsers and everything I could think of to cancel that mean one. I’m really sorry. Reply@bunzah_steele: No worries. If I couldn’t take a hit now and again I’d get off the internet.
Besides, if I’m famous for anything, it’s my impecuniousness! Reply
@raincoaster: Seriously, that video was the perfect humorous kiss-off and I hail your wit and timing. Reply@bunzah_steele: Thanks. See? What did I say? GROUP HUG! Reply@bunzah_steele: I assume you know about this site:
The Tomb of the Chihuahua Pharaohs Reply
@raincoaster: Yes, a friend sent it to me long ago. It’s pretty normal compared The Chihuahua Kingdom, which no longer exists. That was a site run by a husband & wife who had like 20 dogs living in individual plush cuevas, arranged like a subdivision. While they came off as very knowledgeable and responsible dog owners, the site was set up around a medieval castle theme, with sections like the Court of Learning and a Bridge of Remembrance. They had pretty good dog-rearing info nonetheless and this was back when I had my first chi. Then one day there was a message to the effect of “My wife, having assumed the identity of Steve on the site, has assumed it in real life. We are seeking immediate counseling and will be back when she is normal.” Which apparently never happened. So you’re right, chihuahua owners can be a fragile bunch, something I demonstrated myself. I’m still thoroughly abashed at my own ankle-biting with you, I guess it’s true that dog owners eventually start behaving like their pets! Of course, I’m all yours if you let me lick the paté knife. Reply@bunzah_steele: Oh my. That’s a wonderful story: I live for that sort of thing.
I had a border collie. Not sure what that says about me, except that I couldn’t take her near the playground because she would bite at the ankles of the kids in an attempt to herd them up the slide.
No worries. Getting into these kinds of spats is more or less what the comments section here is FOR, and nobody as equal-opportunity offensive as me goes long without getting up somebody’s nostrils.
raincoaster 