Well, I don’t know which you are, but I’m apparently a closeted lesbian cutter:
Find out what drunk celebrity you are at LiquidGeneration!
Is very weird and possibly even incorrect, as all my friends tell me that when I get drunk I actually get friendlier. The one time someone slipped me Roofies I went up and down the halls of my apartment building, knocking on doors and introducing myself with “it’s high time we said hi!” God, it was hilarious. Or so they tell me.
or look just like one…
Oh god, not ANOTHER one!
No, it’s true: this is a plan to enable you to put “movie producer” on your business card, which will come in handy on a Friday at the clubs, if no-where else. Actually, it will count for something with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, who will allow any actual credited producer to purchase a ticket to the Academy Awards, better known as the Oscars.
Come to think of it, I’ve got a friend who’s always wanted to go. Hmmmm…
Allow me to introduce With Glowing Hearts, the motion picture:
So far, so awww, right? Yes, it’s an inspirational documentary, perhaps the least likely to be commercially successful genre of film in filmdom. How can you become a producer of this acclaimed-but-so-far-unreleased soon-to-be-classic? Easy; everybody knows there’s one way to become a producer.
You come up with the money.
In this case, you can come up with amounts as small as a Toonie:
Making a film costs money, and although we’ve done a great job at keeping our costs down there are certain expenses which are unavoidable. That’s why from now, until the middle of August, we’re running our Toonie and Tweet Torch Relay to help get us to the finish line and to get your name in the credits. Starting with a minimum contribution of $2, “producers” can have their name published in a word cloud that will appear in the film’s credit roll and on this site. Increasing your contribution will increase the size of your name in the cloud.
All money collected will go directly towards costs related to finishing and distributing the film like insurance, music rights, and salaries for the great people who have been working on the film with us. Just click on the Chip-In widget to the right and follow the instructions to use either your PayPal account or credit card, note that transactions are conducted in US dollars but will be converted to your local currency on your bill. The name that is associated with your PayPal account is the same that will be used for the credits, if you would like a different name to appear in the credits please indicate that under “special instructions for vendor” on the “Review your payment” page.
Sure, it says mid-August, but if you ask nicely you’ll probably find there’s always room for more money (though perhaps it will need more zeros after the 2). Go on, haven’t you always wanted to be a Hollywood big shot? I hear Clooney is breaking up with his latest bimbette, so if you’re a brunette and you can get him good and drunk at the Vanity Fair afterparty, you’ve probably got a shot.
We’ve been on an Amy Winehouse kick lately (and yes, are consequently in desperate need of a de-lousing, even though only one apartment in my building is reported to have insect-y kind of vermin), so here’s a wicked-good mashup: Crazy Little Thing Called Love and Rehab. It’s bad when looking at pictures of a healthy woman makes people think of death, but I defy you to watch this and not think about what she looks like now. The saline implants are probably the healthiest part of her; anyone else wondering if she went off to her Caribbean retreat specifically so she could get healthy enough a doctor would operate on her? Going through rehab to get a pair of new tits: yes, welcome to the 21st Century. Here’s your six-inch miniskirt, here’s your coke, here’s your fake tan, and here are your tattoos. You now look like a homeless hooker from 1968; in fact, if you’re anything like Amy here, you probably look like the same age, too.
It's not the size, it's how you use it
From the Guardian:
Greenland: A ship melts an iceberg by spraying it with seawater near the Stena Forth oil drilling ship
Don’t worry, it happens to everyone.
that door had to be carted away and burnt later, for public safety reasons
Remember that old-timey singer Amy Winehouse, back when she was still alive?
Studio performance of Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse
For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game
While I wish I’d never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand
Self professed… profound
Till the chips were down
…know you’re a gambling man
Love is a losing hand
Though I’d bet on blind
Love is a faith resign
Memories mar my mind
Love is a faith resign
Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
You know what else is a losing game? Trying to clean up the code in a popular page you copied bodily from Facebook because you are dutiful and political and committed to freedom of speech and think the world NEEDS an archive of the now-deleted Everybody Draw Mohammad Day page, and furthermore, you are doing it on a beautiful Friday Saturday (I have lost track of time GOD HAVE I BEEN HERE THAT LONG???) night while reading the posts and tweets of all my friends who are a block or two away, having a great time NOT editing Facebook code. And further to furthermore, not doing the workout I was supposed to get done four hours ago either, because I am here, madly editing this stupid, extraneous-div-filled code to appease the Google Gods, who have thrown this blog into the Ninth Circle of Google Hell since the start of May. I even pulled my best string, who yanked Matt Cutt‘s personal chain and got nothing better than When I search for ‘raincoaster’ that blog is the first hit, which proves it’s being indexed properly which is bullshit.
Don’t believe me? Here is my stats graph:
Is it any wonder I'm so fucking CRANKY?????
Now, having gone through ismyblogworking.com and Quantcast and the W3 Validator, Feed Validator, Google Webmaster Tools and (the much more decipherable) Yahoo Site Explorer, I have found my blog is riddled with a metric snotload of code errors and, since I, myself, don’t write in code unless someone is holding a gun to my head AND there are sharks with frikkin laser beams on their heads circling my desk, I didn’t put there. Right?
Anyhoodle, it appeared to even my inexperienced eye that code that looked like div /div div /div /form div div div div /h5 and so on was somewhat problematic, and so I sat down to eliminate said code, line by painful line. For two point seven five hours I sifted code, exercising my Delete button and my Backspace ruthlessly (have you seen Ruth lately, by the way? I’ve been Ruthless for months now) and when I looked at the sidebar I saw that I had successfully cleansed less than one-tenth of the code.
At that point I ruthlessly (seriously, where IS that bitch?) exercised the Move To Trash key, and I hope Lindsay Lohan is happy with the present I sent her.
Now I’m off to sacrifice a unicorn to the Google Gods.
Who knew Lady Gaga = Voldemort?
Wish me luck. On the plus side, I think this may be a good omen:
raincoaster 