30 August 2010

mozzer monday - life is a pigsty


“What's the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning? Wish I hadn't.”
If you're taking some time to just wallow in self pity, regret, and despair there's no better soundtrack than Life is a Pigsty. When you try to vocalize your current state of mind and the only thing you can come up with is a constant and repetitive 'FUCK' mixed in with the occasional 'Fuck me' it's clearly time to leave it to Morrissey. Plus, with a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels...and no one wants to hear that.

27 August 2010

buffett concert or disney roadtrip?

There are few things in life I hate more than one James William Buffett. If the question 'would you rather?' was posed and behind door A was attending a Jimmy Buffett concert, I'm choosing door B every fucking time. Eat a steaming pile of feces left by some meth-head vagrant in an alley in south east DC or wear a Jimmy Buffet World Tour t-shirt for a night? Pass the fork and knife. Drink a vial of full blown aids or attend a Buffet Concert? They're bound to find a cure one of these days, I'll take my chances with the AIDS. Jimmy Buffet heads my top five bands or musicians who will have to be shot come the musical revolution list, and the only thing worse than Jimmy Buffett himself is his band of anoying 'parrothead' fans. This conversation started when a co-worker of mine sent an all-staff email offering her three tickets to see Jimmy Buffett in concert for their face value which was an astonishing $471.00. That being said, I found something far worse than attending a Jimmy Buffet concert: a car trip from Washington, DC to Orlando Florida in a mini-van with an overly-obsessed disney fanatic and his family. You can follow every excruciatingly painful, monotonous, inconsequential rambling here, although I wouldn't recommend it, or if you're curious which toilet he just defecated in and promptly checked-in via 4square on twitter.

Rob Gordon: alright opie, i've got one for you...
would you rather
ride with nips and family all the way from DC to Disney
or
attend a jimmy buffet concert?
Celluloid Hero: oh man that is tough. do i have to remain sober for both?
Rob Gordon: well, you'd have to remain sober for the car ride...the concert no
Celluloid Hero: so i could technically get black out drunk and pass out
Rob Gordon: technically speaking, i suppose you could, but for the spirit of the argument lets say you can get a nice drunk going- but not david hasselhoff late night cheeseburger drunk
Celluloid Hero: hmm, can i get drunk in the parking lot and just go in for jimmy buffet? or do i have to sit through all the opening acts?
Rob Gordon: hmm, one would think that the opening acts would be better than buffet, unless it was like Nickelback opening for Buffet, but i'll allow you to go in for the tail end of the opening act, get in your seats by the opening song HOWEVER no leaving early
and you couldn't bring your ipod to the concert
you'd have to listen to it, first five rows too
you have to witness the awfulness (if that's a word) that is James Buffet for 90+ minutes, plus encore
and no starting fights with the parrott heads
Celluloid Hero: i will go with buffett. a sober, 12-14 hour car ride full of Disney would cause me to eat a bullet.
Rob Gordon: i think i'd have to agree with you
Celluloid Hero: because you know they're watching disney movies all the way down.
Rob Gordon: as awful as seeing and hearing jimmy buffet would be, it pales in comparison to a 12 hour ride with Nips being all giddy - nipples fully erect for the entire ride, and his screaming kids
Rob Gordon: Nips’ wife is 4squaring it up on twitter now, the end is near...
Celluloid Hero: and a wife of a friend of mine does the 4square. @CVS. @Exxon. @Costco. @Wal-Mart. @Home.
Rob Gordon: thankfully, nips is the only one i know that does that shit
i have a feeling that facebook places is going to have the same effect on me as you mentioned - people are so fucking annoying
Celluloid Hero: im pretty sure 4square was started so you can say ‘hey I’m at this cool bar.’ not so that you could become the mayor ofChipotle in fucking Gainsville
Celluloid Hero: oh wow
@rwhitneyjr: Kids subjected to original, broadway and bluegrass versions of Circle of Life. #roadtrip10
Rob Gordon: how long until one of them tries to jimmy the door open and jump to his death?
i say before they hit the GA state line
Celluloid Hero: i just tweeted before the SC line
Rob Gordon: hmm, it doesn't take long to get through NC, but you may just be correct
dude!!! we should call in an amber alert on Nips...what type of van does he drive?
Celluloid Hero: honda odyssey
'09
blue?
Rob Gordon: did he buy it from Jefferson Steercock?
can we get the license plates?
Celluloid Hero: he bought it in VA. tysons honda
Rob Gordon: damn it
Celluloid Hero: i'm asking Jefferson Steercock
Rob Gordon: "PLEASE RT: Amber Alert - 2009 Blue Honda Odyssey w/VA plates, last seen heading south on I-95 in NC"
Celluloid Hero: L-O-L
bluegrass disney was heard blasting from the inside
Rob Gordon: haha i'm tempted to tweet it, however i just looked there is an actual @amberalert on twitter, don't want it to get out of hand, have the police get involved and shit

26 August 2010

i am going to cold call your kids

and tell them their dad was murdered at work today by one of his employees.
This is every conversation I have ever had with a boss rolled into one, now...where did I put my starbucks giftcard?

20 August 2010

there's a name for being this pathetic...and it's kevin

My favorite part of the iPhone is the fact that you can pretty much save every text message you've ever sent. Aside from being a plethora of incriminating evidence, it does provide the occasional laugh, like when you find a text message that says "there is no way this is the broad that likes her asshole eaten" with absolutely no context. I had planned on going through the past three years of text messaging and doing a top 5 list, however, whatever may or may not be stored on my phone pales in comparison to the gem that was bestowed upon me last night. I'll be the first to say, I've done some pathetic shit in my life. Has it been as pathetic as this? No. Well, no with an asterisk. There is the possibility that among the many memories that I have suppressed there is a situation that occurred in which I was this pathetic; but if that is in fact true, I don't remember it, so, therefore, it never happened. I'm pretty confident that I've never begged for sex. Pretty certain. And I'm fairly certain that if I was inclined to beg for sex, it wouldn't be via text message. (Here's a quick tip - never leave a paper trail.) And if a certain situation occurred in which I was a little, let's say - over eager, and had a 'misfire' you would never, ever in a million years, get me to admit to it. And finally, never include both your first and last name on something this pitiful. It's like when Mikey is leaving his sixth message for Nikki, and then decides to throw in....'this is Mike'. Funny? Yes. Unnecessary? You bet. That being said, enjoy what has to be the most pathetic three text message in the history of text messaging:

16 August 2010

no one saw that one coming...


As much as I love Elvis's music, I love the legend of Elvis just as much. The excessiveness, his pet monkey, his addiction to pain killers, his TV glasses, his entourage wrapping his gut in saran wrap so he could fit in his jump suits. That's why I can't imagine it was any surprise when he turned up dead after choking on his own Kingly vomit thirty-three years ago today. As an Elvis fan, tonight I'll be dining on one of the King's favorite meals, the Fool's Gold Loaf. The ingredients couldn't be any simpler:

1 loaf italian white bread
1 stick of butter
1 jar of peanut butter
1 jar of grape jelly
1 pound of bacon
Legend has it that Elvis was so enamoured by the sandwich that clocks in at anywhere between 8,000 and 42,000 calories that he would go to any length to enjoy the tasty coronary inducing treat:
On the night of February 1, 1976, Elvis Presley was at his home Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee, entertaining Capt. Jerry Kennedy of the Denver, Colorado, police force, and Ron Pietrafeso of Colorado's Strike Force Against Crime. The three men began discussing the sandwich, and Elvis decided he wanted one right then. The Mine Company was a five-star restaurant known for its rip-roaring parties and as the 'place' to be seen at the time. Elvis had been to the restaurant before, while in Denver.

Kennedy and Pietrafeso were friends of the owners and hung out there often, so they were driven to the Memphis airport and boarded Elvis's private jet, the Lisa Marie, and flew the two hours to Denver. When they arrived in Denver at 1:40 AM, the plane taxied to a special hangar where the passengers were greeted by Buck Scott, the owner of the Colorado Mine Company, and his wife Cindy who had brought 22 fresh Fool's Gold Loaves for the men. They spent three hours in the hangar eating the sandwiches, washing them down with Perrier and champagne. Presley invited the pilots of the plane, Milo High and Elwood Davis, to join them. When they were done, they flew back to Memphis without ever having left the airport.

mozzer monday - pregnant for the last time

morrissey, mozzer2010 has been an interesting year, and by interesting I mean it has sucked ass. But sometimes just when you think things have bottomed out, life has a way of slapping the living shit out of you and reminding you that things can always get worse. And although this doesn't involve me in any direct way, the selfish side of me can't help but think how this is going to inconvenience and negatively effect me in the long run. More over though, I'm astounded by the mentality of certain people, and by astounded I mean my mind is fucking blown, and by certain people I mean women, and by women I mean Rob Gordon Jr's mother. Apparently, deciding that you want to get pregnant by your douchebag, speech impediment having boyfriend whom you just moved in with two months ago because your crazy ass welfare ridden sister, who already has five kids from five different fathers, and your sister-in-law are both pregnant and you just can't be the one left out of that group - is the newest trend. It's the new hot shit - everyone is doing it! There is, however, a more time honored tradition, a trend that has been in existence much longer than making some ill-advised 'pregnancy pact' with friends and relatives, one that has stood since the dawn of time, since the first troglodyte knocked up his neanderthal lady friend. That is of course, telling the ass clown who knowingly agreed to go along with your misguided plans of having another child that you were in fact succesful and pregnant, and having him promptly break up with you and telling you to move out.