Friday, December 31, 2004

hope you all have a good one...

just a quick one today, wishing you all a happy new year and don't get too drunk. we will be partying with a few friends at our pad, watching "i, robot" and possibly an MST3K flick i just got from netflix, drinking, and just hanging out. my buddy s calls it "geek's night in".

be safe all my droogies and only friends, cause the crazies and the drunkies are gonna be out and probably driving and all that shit, so take care of yourselves.

and hey, mother hoodlum, my wife and i had a blast at your place yesterday, and anthony's the cutest! say hey to rick for me and we will get together with both of you (me possibly equipped with stringed instruments!) sometime in the very near future.

and i know that a little time has passed since i last wrote, but when i'm not busy, i also don't have the energy to write, and i can't be funny all the time. sheesh. demanding bastards.

darth sardonic

Thursday, December 23, 2004

may the force be with you 'n' stuff

just received my christmas present from my mom, and as hoped, it was the star wars trilogy on dvd. yes, she gave me my present early. i was over at her house last night, and she gave us our presents and they weren't wrapped and that just how we do things in my family. so shut up so i can finish.

so this morning i decided to sit down and watch a new hope and see if i couldn't recapture the feel of watching that movie for the very first time in '78. (i didn't see it in '77 actually, i caught it when it was rereleased in the theatres for a second run.)

there were numerous things that made it impossible to relive it quite like it was twenty-odd years ago.

first, i wasn't viewing it from a vinyl backseat, with my mom's head framing it on one side, and her boyfriend of the time's head framing it on the other. there wasn't that scratchy and one-dimensional quality to the sound that you get by putting a metallic 4"x4" speaker on the driver's side window.

i didn't have to pee at the scene where luke and han have a laser battle between the millenium falcon and several tie fighters. which means i got to watch it in its entirety.

i wasn't sucking down hot tamales almost as fast as i could get them in my mouth, only spilling maybe fifty on the floor to become part of the organic bouillebaise that spread across the cheap carpeting of mom's pinto.

due to the age and knowledge difference, certain things that seemed so special to me in '78 were "tainted" or "corrupted".

like when i was seven, i thought princess leia was "pretty". i didn't think i'd like to lock myself in her cell with her for about 20 minutes before rescuing her. also, in '78, i hadn't even noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra for the majority of the movie, and that her make-up looked like subdued disco-queen make-up. dancin' woo, dancin' woo, dance the night away. i also wasn't creeped out by her repeated kisses with luke "for luck", cause we all thought, at the time, that they were sure to hook up, not that they were brother and sister. i also wasn't aware of the impending coke addiction and subsequent lack of a career.

i hadn't become aware of just how fucking whiney luke was yet. he might later save the entire galaxy, but right this moment, i was having trouble imagining him being even remotely as centered as ben kenobi. i also didn't know he too would have a major lack of career.

han, the coolest character in the world, turned out later to be rumored as a personality that harrison ford "hated". i am devastated by this rumor. but i also feel then, that harrison ford must've hated indiana jones, since the two of them seem closely related. but in that chilly back seat in '78, i had no way of knowing that han solo would move on to liberate the arc of the covenant, slay a few "skinjobs", battle terrorists in a plane, drown his lover to keep her from blowing the whistle to his wife, save a town, and especially a little boy, from some bad cops, all while winning the skeptical hearts of the people, get shot in the head and completely change his outlook on life (a movie which still makes me cry), matter of fact, out of all the movies that i consider to be my all-time favorites and to have had the biggest influence on my life, harrison ford stars in all but a little trilogy filmed in australia. and i personally feel that harrison ford would've made a bad-ass max rockatanski, as well.

then of course, there is the added footage, which i don't hate, but makes it hard to fully recapture the feel of the original as viewed through a dirty windshield.

what i did get to see, was no. 1's reaction. it's the first time he's seen it when he was old enough to appreciate all the spaceships and battles. and while i can never feel the way i felt at the starliter so long ago, each and every time i watch it it's a new experience. plus, watching my kid be fascinated by the same things that fascinated me made it special and new.

so i'm in the mood to say to all of you, "live long, and pr--"

shit, that's not it. fuck, hang on. dammit. what'd i do wi-- ah, here it is.

"may the force be with you."

darth sardonic

Sunday, December 19, 2004

why i love britney spears...

ok, let me begin by saying that it has absofuckinglutely nothing to do with her voice or her music. if i wanna hear good music or an excellent voice while watching barely legal, nearly-nude pop-queen dancing, i'll listen to christina aguilera, who not only has great pipes, and an excellent set of lungs, but also, through the advances of science and technology, a great pair of lung-covers as well. christina also doesn't try to down play or lie about what she is. she's a ho, and she is proud of it.

i think the biggest reason i love britney spears is for the simple fact that her voice does suck. if her voice was as good as christina's, or her songs even half as inspired, i would feel guilty pressing mute when one of her videos comes on, and cranking the ministry or chevelle.

also, if her voice was half as good as christina's, she wouldn't have to do all the dumb shit she does to keep herself in the public eye. now, i know, there is serious shit going down in the world and i should not be worried about what poor-white-trash gimic britney has pulled lately, but i can only handle so much depressing shit about so-and-so killing the-other-guy, and bombs and shit and pain in iraq, and the latest ass-fucking sans KY that dubya's gonna be giving me before i wish i could blow my brains out, and then, just when things seem their darkest: hey, presto! a shot of britney leaving gas-station restrooms bare foot, not once, but twice!

another reason i love britney is her complete and utter poor-white-trashiness. i mean, c'mon! i have lived among poor white trash. my dad and stepmom had that down to a science. and britney does, also, no matter how many millions she has in the bank. let me just say, if i had that much in the bank, all vestiges of poor-white-trashiness would be removed from my person. that is not to say that i still wouldn't be punk, and find ways to set the world's preconcieved notions on their ass, but i would never, ever enter a public restroom barefoot (i don't now, and i have almost nothing in the bank!!), and i would not be wed in tracksuits, with my reception catered by mcdonalds.

matter of fact, my wife and i probably spent considerabley less than britney on our wedding, and it was beautiful. my wife bought her wedding dress (a gorgeously-understated number) on sale from jay jacobs. i already owned the suit in which i was wed. we did it in a park. my wife's friend held the reception at his mongolian grill, and our guests were able to eat as much of it as they liked, cooked to their tastes, with whatever ingredients they wanted out of the spread that was in front of them. even our rings, though very beautiful, were paid off before we placed them on our fingers on the 28th of august, 1999. and everyone loved the service, and subsequent reception, and no one had to wear jackets with the word "pimp" emblazoned on the back!

i also love britney for the simple fact that she apparently doesn't realize just how full of shit she looks when she says dumb shit like "i don't use my sexuality to sell records." honey, if you didn't use your sexuality to sell records, you wouldn't have sold any! "i had a growth spurt." i've never heard of a growth spurt happening only in your tits, at age 18. maybe her plastice surgeon's name was Groethe Zpert? "i didn't want to kiss madonna, it was her idea." then why the fuck was your mouth all hangin' open with your tongue out and eyes closed about ten minutes before madonna was coming at you? she is blissfully unaware of the eye-rolling that we are all doing to nearly everything that comes out of her mouth that is not backed by casio-esque drumbeats. hell, a lot of us even roll our eyes at that shit!

in local news, my entire family has spent the last several days getting its ass kicked by some sort of virus, which raises a couple questions in my mind: why do the kids only get it bad enough to keep them up at night, make them puke or overfill their diapers, and then keep them wired during the day? why, if my wife is going to get it, does she only get it on the weekends, which is when i should be getting a break, and gets it so bad that i feel like a real horse's ass even mentioning that i, too, am sick and feel icky? why do i get it only bad enough to make me feel like refried dogshit, but not enough that i can say, "fuck all of you, look how fucking sick i am, take care of your own fucking selves while i go lay down."? i often think that there is something wry and sardonic out there that is out to get me. i'm not necessarily saying god, cause i think he has bigger fish to fry, but something.

well, i will leave you with all this to ponder upon, as i need to go drink some gatorade.

darth sardonic

Thursday, December 16, 2004

random shit

so, no. 2 has grown three inches and gained four pounds since he started the growth hormone in august. prior to starting the hormones, he had grown about a quarter-inch in six months, and actually lost weight. yay! and he currently takes 11 steps before he sits on his ass.

no. 1 is sick, and threw up all over the couch this morning. good thing it was already a piece of shit. poor kid, he didn't look like he felt good, but he was looking really unhappy after throwing up. now, of course, he is tearing around like a maniac and you would have a hard time telling he had thrown up only a couple of hours ago. boy, isn't my life fun?

in other news, yesterday i got fritz the cat from netflix (and, no, netflix does not pay me royalties, but they are just so damn cool that i don't mind tossing a little free advertising their way.) i got it cause it's one of those "cult classics" that they (whoever that really is) told me i need to see. it fucking sucked. it was just a dumb animated hunk of tripe that dealt with counterculture sentiments of the sixties. bleah!! if i had known, i would've given it a pass. maybe if i had lived through the sixties, i might've liked it more, but probably not. it's based on a robert crumb comic, and while it's ultracool to dig r. crumb (especially for a punk nerd like myself), lets face it, i only get about half of the shit he does. so if you like r. crumb, and can make sense out of everything he does, then check the movie out (though it's not actually him animating, and i like his art more than anything else he does).

some other movies that i have picked up from netflix that fall into the "cult-classic must-see" category are: caligula--this was originally rated x, and there's a reason. it has actual hard-core imagery several times throughout the movie. it has some very sexy parts, and then has some very disturbing parts. it's got malcolm macdowell, who is a disturbing motherfucker at best. overall, i gave it a 3 outta 5. the story of o--oh my god, this was dull in the extreme. i thought it would be all sexy since it's about a woman's journey through the darker forbidden side of sensuality. blah blah blah. even the sex scenes managed to be unsexy. a 1. last tango in paris--my wife and i have noticed a trend in french movies about sex: it's going to end terrible for somebody before they roll the credits. this one overall wasn't bad, but my question is, why does the girl keep coming back to marlon brando, who persistantly treats her like shit and wants nothing from her but dirty sex. my other question is, where is she, cause i'd like to have a go at her, and i'm better-looking than brando (which isn't saying much, i realize). a 4, maybe. if you asked my wife, she would rate all these movies very low. but she likes the uncut version of the lover, so i'm not really sure what her criteria for a sensual movie to be good really is. (don't get me wrong, i loved the lover also, but am much easier to please than my wife.)

we also recently watched crime spree, which had looked funny from the preview we saw, and it was, but was also cleverly plotted and excellently acted. it was nearly, i repeat, nearly as good as lock stock and two smoking barrels (there were a number of similarities), and i was pleasantly surprised.

but i will leave off, as i neither have a degree in film critiquing nor do i intend this blog to be a forum for discussing movies i like or don't like. but i was just feeling so violated by having watched fritz the cat that i felt the need to get it off my chest.

yes, again, dear nonexistant readers, the word you're looking for is "anywaaaaaaaaaayss!!"

darth sardonic

Monday, December 13, 2004

chicks n guitars

well, it's the time of year where i begin to be bombarded by magazines wanting to sell me guitars and basses and amps, and sundry other shit that they are convinced i need, and i am not.

these are usually done up a little like those motorbike magazines, they have a full-page shot of the guitar/bass/amp/pedal/whatever with an extremely scantily-clad chica holding it, leaning against it, or what-have-you.

now, here's my beef: why the fuck can't they find hottie chicks to pose with the guitars that actually play guitars?!!? they always get some trashy ho who thinks it's rock and roll to hold the guitar firmly by the neck and body (usually down by the volume and tone knobs), and put a look on their face kinda like axl rose or any member of motley crue just after they have downed a fifth of jack, and stand with their pelvis and basketball-implant chest thrust towards the camera, a bikini-bottom so small that if it were a napkin at a restuarant, you'd ask for a larger one, and a "fender" t-shirt that has been cut and knotted so that it barely covers her rather sizable areola, and the trademark name has been reduced to "f--r".

i mean, don't get me wrong, i love cute girls as much as the next motherfucker, but if you're going to try and convince me to buy your guitar, couldn't you at least show the girl an easy chord, and tell her that you don't strum the strings with your palm and fingers splayed?

c'mon, there are enough hotties in the world of rock, country, and blues that actually getting models to stand around looking stupid with the guitars should be completely unnecessary. throw something tight on michelle branch, and hand her a gibson acoustic. pass avril a strat, and have her do what she does. i bet you wouldn't have to work very hard to convince sheryl crow to pose completely buck-ass naked, with the guitar slung in such a way that it covers the nasty bits. every member of the donnas, joss stone(i don't know if she actually plays guitar, but put her near one, she's hotter than any of the sluts they have posing in their mags!!), ani difranco(yes, i think she's hot in her own "weird haired homeless girl" kind of way), etc etc.

i know, i know, i should be so completely overwhelmed by cleavage, smooth skin, and overapplied make-up that i shouldn't even notice that the chord she is making consists of placing her hand, barbie-fashion (i.e., all my fingers are attached to each other, and don't bend at the joints) across the strings, but i can't help it. is it too much to think that the producers of these magazines should notice it, too? who knows, maybe i'm just big loser. (probably.)

darth sardonic

Friday, December 10, 2004

'tis the season...

i just woke up to george micheal's christmas tune, "last christmas, i gave you my heart, the very next day, you gave it away..." i'm not sure what this song is called, but i call it "crap".

and it is simply one of many crappy christmas songs. everything the beach boys ever did by way of christmas tunes suck. they have one where santa is protrayed as a street racer who's dragging in his sled. one of the back-up lines is "christmas comes this time each year." hey, brian, thanks for clearing that up, i was a little confused, but now i got it straitened out.

and the radio is chock full of these little nuggets of joy almost as soon as the thanksgiving gravy's got a skin on it.

then, of course, there are the crappy christmas specials that clog the tv. i mean, clay aiken has been on the scene for five minutes, but he's getting together with all his "buddies" (who i'm sure he never met till he was done with american idol (or as i like to call it, "crap"). i liked clay aiken better when he was rick astley. then there was jessica simpson's crappy christmas special, and a whole slew of others for which we couldn't give a fuck. where the hell is the peanuts christmas special?! now, there's some programming that i can get behind.

i don't get into the mood usually until the 15 (of december, not october). i like to keep my holidays seperated (my apologies to mother hoodlum, who is a big fan of the nightmare before christmas.) until then, i'm usually pretty scroogey, though i have noticed that having kids has improved my outlook on the holidays.

and in a stroke of luck, i have completed my christmas shopping already. actually, the hardest part was finding a place that carried lumps of coal, but once i found it, my christmas shopping was done.

i'm sure i'll have more to gripe about as the season progresses, so stay tuned.

darth sardonic

Thursday, December 09, 2004

a little note

okay, i was just reveiwing my old blogs(i'm figuring out which ones to include in my upcoming magnum opus, which will be titled(unless the powers that be at whatever publishing company is unlucky enough to decide my manuscript has potential decide that the title stinks) letters from the inner circle of hell), and came across the saga of nos.1 and 2 (sep 04), and realized that you, the regular reader, are a little familiar with my kids' stories, but i haven't been filling some of you in.

no. 1 is on the verge of speaking 3 and 4 word sentences, and will most likely begin developmental preschool in about a month. the tantrums have scaled down beautifully.

no. 2 took his first steps last week!!!! yay!!!! he also says a handful of words (or reasonable facsimiles thereof), and seems to be growing on the growth hormone shots(we find out for sure on monday when he has a follow-up).

so, if you were interested, there you go. if not, piss off ya nonce.

darth sardonic

get me off this crazy thing!

okay, so it's been awhile, and, yes, my recent blogs have not really even been funny. i know. so fucking sue me, what can i say?!

but i was just in the bathroom plucking hairs out of my nose and ears. i know, eeeeeewww. can i point out something?

i used to be able to eat whatever i wanted. steaks, mcdonalds, lots of starchy foods deep-fat fried and smothered in butter, and i always looked like i needed to run around in the shower to get wet. lately, it seems more like if i look at food longingly then my waistline stays at status quo, regardless of exercise or whatever.

i've already mentioned, i'm sure, the gray that is sneaking it's way into my hair. that's okay i guess, it doesn't really make me look old, and i've decided it's really no big deal. i can live with it just the way it is. but within the last two years, i've started sprouting long black hairs in my ears, my nose, my shoulders, and now when my wife shaves my neck, she has to continue down past what i consider the neck to what i really consider my high upper back.

this shit's unacceptable. i'm fucking 33 for god's sake. i used to be proud of the fact that i was not an overly hairy fucker, with just the right amount on my chest, arms, legs. but now, holy fuck!! stuff's sprouting everywhere.

and i'm made gassy by just about everything i eat. i remember my dad had an uncanny ability to turn sundry foodstuffs into readily available naturla gas, and apparently i have received that gene, it just waits till middle age to kick in.

in keeping with my recent renewed attempt to improve my health (and reduce my waistline)(see run, forrest, run), the wife and i purchased those daily vitamin supplements put out by a well-known company(who is not paying me advertising or royalties or whatever, so fuck them, i'm not naming em), and this morning, after taking mine, i read the label to see just how much it's helping me with my necessary daily requirements.

check this shit out: (from the label printed on the bottle, and yes, this is real!) vitamin c--150%, vitamin d--100%, e--150%, riboflavin--100%, b6--150%, folic acid--100%, (my personal favorite!)b12--300%(!!!!!!!). now, there's lots more, some other that meet or exceed the daily allowance, and others ranging from 10% to 80%. so i did a little research, (this part is not real, i made this shit up), and all i need to include in my diet to fill in what's not being provided by my vitamin supplement is: a carrot, and a rusty nail.

300% on the b12. wtf!!!! my luck, a few years down the road and they will find out that excessive b12 in your diet causes premature gray hair, extra body-hair growth, and excessive flatulence.

anyways, thanks for playing along,

darth sardonic

Saturday, December 04, 2004

welcome to the fold

hey all you out there in nonexistant readerville, i've added a new "pal" to my link list cause one can never have too many "pals", and i seem to have too few, so...

sorcha's an old-school goth(hey, i was one of those once!), who is dealing with getting older and becoming disenchanted with the scene. i can relate, i did that quite a bit as i got older.

anyways, she has an uncanny knack for the literary, and i love her style.

actually, i love all you guys for your own inimitable styles, or you wouldn't be in my link list, so big group hug, and give yourselves pats on the back, or gin-and-tonics, or spliffs, or whatever makes ya feel good about y'self.

darth sardonic

Friday, December 03, 2004

birth control

in a time when the head of the fda, appointed by bush, who is, as we've already established, a motherfucker with a god complex, is trying to do away with all forms of birth control, my wife constantly finds stories that would make it seem like we need it more than ever.

you know the stories: mother cuts off baby daughter's arms, father pleads guilty to torturing his two kids, mother shoots children, father leaves 8-month-old in car in 120 degree weather, mother leaves daughter on porch to starve.

my wife tells me these stories all the time. i'm not sure if there is a rise in these kinds of occurances or if i am just made more conscious of them now that i have children of my own. when i used to hear these stories, i used to say, "that fucking sucks." now, no matter what the story, i suddenly imagine no.1 or no. 2 in the situation described. i can't help it. and it makes me physically ill.

so, i think it's time for some kind of testing before you have kids. this sounds horribly harsh, i know, and it is possible that i myself may have failed some kind of psychological test before having kids. but this shit is fucking crazy!! if we can't prevent them from having kids, then they should have whatever they did to their children done to them.

you cut your kid's arms off, fuck you you fucking cunt, i'll cut your fucking arms off, and leave you to bleed to death. starve your kid to death, i'll fucking nail your feet to the floor! pull your kids' toenails out and make them eat dog feces! i'll do all that to you, and then beat your fucking shitty head in with a baseball bat, you fucking cocksucker! i'm sick to death of these atrocities!

now, i know that some have blamed post-partum depression. and i understand first of all, that i have absolutely no concept of what that must be like. but women have been dealing with it for eons. my wife dealt with it. so i would recommend tossing out that argument altogether. now, if the legions of women readers i have(yeah right), feel that's unfair, then i would love to be commented on and hear your post-partum depression stories. i'm open on that one.

otherwise, i think it's time to start fucking these people up in such a way that this rubbish will end! when no. 1 went in for a minor surgery, i was so distraught, i had dreams where he died and i woke up bawling. i haven't done that since i was like eight. that is an approximation of normal parenthood. i may not be the best dad ever, but i will walk through the dank pits of hell for my kids. these people obviously feel nothing for their offspring, and should be completely removed from society, or life, even.

but that's just what i think, and i'm an asshole.

darth sardonic