Friday, September 30, 2005
I call "bullshit"
Sony has introduced a brand new line of television called "Bravia," which they're touting as, "The world's first television FOR MEN AND WOMEN."
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What the fuck does that mean?!?!?! Were all televisions up to this point only suited for men? Were people not meant to enjoy television? What the hell?! Yet that slogan appears on all their ads both on TV and in print. It is, how you say, "Retarded." More over, it is "retarded FOR MEN AND WOMEN."
I'm so drowsy I can hardly fucking stand it. I came this close to passing out on the toilet here at work. Seriously. Something about those red tiles that I find soothing. At any rate, you may claim that you never wanted such an image in your head, but you're wrong. As MEN AND WOMEN, you're all wrong.
How sick am I? Last night I received a phone call (at least I'm pretty sure it was an actual phone call and not a fever dream) from a friend asking if I'd like to go see Dolly Parton in concert for free. Instead of laughing and hanging up the phone, I actually said, "You know what? That sounds awesome! If I'm not still sick by tomorrow, I'm there!" Well, that's not going to happen. I could only imagine what the crowds at a Dolly Parton concert must look like. That's why I was excited in the first place. I can't name a single Dolly song to save my life so, really, the appeal in going would be just to laugh at slack-jawed yokels.
I had a freaking smoothie to keep myself hydrated during lunch. Now it feels like my tongue was just run through a shredder. I want to go to bed. Tonight is Friday night and I am certain that my plans of dying at around 9pm are more exciting than anything else people might have planned. It's true. Soon: dead.
Tylenol Cold and Allergy can lick my balls. It takes forever to kick in, even though I took my second dose about an hour earlier than recommended. I only did that because the first dose was wearing off too quickly.
Hey, you know how there are some Radiohead songs that when you listen to them you can very easily see yourself driving in your car on the freeway all the way to a dead end, crashing through the barracaded dead end, and plummeting into the ocean? The water is so inviting. Anyway, that sounds good right about now.
Charlize Theron just got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Great, now all she has to do is sit on my face and we'll be set. What? Shut up. What?! You're vulgar.
Some idiots are singing Happy Birthday outside to another drone. I swear to God, every other day some moron here has a birthday. I'm over it.
Okay... okay, now I should really buckle down and pretend I give a shit about anorexic Paula who is about as crazy as a rat in a tin shithouse... whatever that means. I saw a picture on the internet of some fat guy wearing a shirt that read, "I BEAT ANOREXIA!" It's a funny picture. But looking at the guy, I couldn't help but laugh at how funny it would be if his wife was named Anorexia. I mean, this guy clearly beats women.
Hey, give me some money, would ya? No questions, just do it. I need it for, um, Katrina.
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...
...
What the fuck does that mean?!?!?! Were all televisions up to this point only suited for men? Were people not meant to enjoy television? What the hell?! Yet that slogan appears on all their ads both on TV and in print. It is, how you say, "Retarded." More over, it is "retarded FOR MEN AND WOMEN."
I'm so drowsy I can hardly fucking stand it. I came this close to passing out on the toilet here at work. Seriously. Something about those red tiles that I find soothing. At any rate, you may claim that you never wanted such an image in your head, but you're wrong. As MEN AND WOMEN, you're all wrong.
How sick am I? Last night I received a phone call (at least I'm pretty sure it was an actual phone call and not a fever dream) from a friend asking if I'd like to go see Dolly Parton in concert for free. Instead of laughing and hanging up the phone, I actually said, "You know what? That sounds awesome! If I'm not still sick by tomorrow, I'm there!" Well, that's not going to happen. I could only imagine what the crowds at a Dolly Parton concert must look like. That's why I was excited in the first place. I can't name a single Dolly song to save my life so, really, the appeal in going would be just to laugh at slack-jawed yokels.
I had a freaking smoothie to keep myself hydrated during lunch. Now it feels like my tongue was just run through a shredder. I want to go to bed. Tonight is Friday night and I am certain that my plans of dying at around 9pm are more exciting than anything else people might have planned. It's true. Soon: dead.
Tylenol Cold and Allergy can lick my balls. It takes forever to kick in, even though I took my second dose about an hour earlier than recommended. I only did that because the first dose was wearing off too quickly.
Hey, you know how there are some Radiohead songs that when you listen to them you can very easily see yourself driving in your car on the freeway all the way to a dead end, crashing through the barracaded dead end, and plummeting into the ocean? The water is so inviting. Anyway, that sounds good right about now.
Charlize Theron just got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Great, now all she has to do is sit on my face and we'll be set. What? Shut up. What?! You're vulgar.
Some idiots are singing Happy Birthday outside to another drone. I swear to God, every other day some moron here has a birthday. I'm over it.
Okay... okay, now I should really buckle down and pretend I give a shit about anorexic Paula who is about as crazy as a rat in a tin shithouse... whatever that means. I saw a picture on the internet of some fat guy wearing a shirt that read, "I BEAT ANOREXIA!" It's a funny picture. But looking at the guy, I couldn't help but laugh at how funny it would be if his wife was named Anorexia. I mean, this guy clearly beats women.
Hey, give me some money, would ya? No questions, just do it. I need it for, um, Katrina.
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