It seems like everyone goes through a phase of life where they hit that bottle hard, and Billy Holiday is no exception to this. He has some exceptional moments, however. Some peculiarities. For instance, he prefers to become inebriated by way of classic hobo wines. He’s a “Strawberry” Cisco man, for any of you keeping track. He also gets sloshed on what I feel are strange choices, such as brandy and “appletinis.” Who are you, Billy Holiday?
Tag: billy holiday
Though it was forged in MSPaint by one man, the story of BOO! was a tale that has existed in the minds and the souls of people world-wide for generations. It rolled off the tongue of every schoolchild, it had its story told by graffiti in back alleys, and even the halls of rest-homes echoed the tale. Knowing the significance and history behind this story, I knew I had to do something. I knew that I had to bring this tale to life in a way never before seen. So I sat down and for many years I painstakingly transferred this legend into the form you see today. When BOO! was first introduced to the internet, it was during simpler times. It was during a time where morals were valued over gold, and children argued if they DID NOT have to wear their school uniform.
It was 2008.
Your friend has hit a rough spot and, for whatever reason, you have stepped up to aid them in their time of need. When you invite a friend to stay in your home until their lives stabilize, until they stop weeping at night, until they get a job — ANY job — and find a place of their own to live, you may not realize exactly what you are about to do. You may think to yourself, “This man or woman has been my friend for X number of years, I feel fondness for them and would like to give them sanctuary from their troubles. After all, were I in their place, I would hope that I had a good person to help me out.” But you fail to acknowledge that this person will be using your furniture, your bathroom, your cooking utensils. They will be all over your living space. They will probably even look in your bedroom when everyone else is out working.
Basically you’ve gone above and beyond the call of friendship. You may think that because you are being so kind as to do all of this, what with the inconveniencing your life to an extent and shaking up your day-to-day, your friend would be more than happy to do the one or two things you ask of them. No sir.
You see, when you invite a friend to live with you, something happens to them. They change into a monster. Many of you have seen this happen with real room mates, but the complexities of the Room Mate is a topic for another article on another day. Friends who are staying with you as guests do not have to pay rent, or bills. They often feel like real guests, although they start out as overly grateful ones.
Hello, I’m Amandoll and today we’re here to honor the world’s favorite miscellaneous underappreciated humor site on the internet, the one you are on right now: the Sneer Campaign. Maybe you’ll see long lost footage, never before seen material unless you follow us on Facebook, and references to your favorite articles. I really don’t know how this is going to turn out because who plans what they’re going to say? Apparently not me! So strap on your safety belts, readers, so that your pants don’t fly off with all of the excitement!
Sneer Campaign began as a brainchild of Dollissa and me, with reluctant support from cchris. We have told this story before, and probably a lot of what I’m about to say in the rest of this article, but sadly I don’t have all 499 other articles posted at this time memorized. This is a clip show anyway, so you didn’t come here expecting all fresh material. BUT how did three people from different parts of the world meet in the first place, you ask? Why, through the magic of Fate and the Internet, of course!
We, the writers of Sneer Campaign, are not complete philistines. Occasionally we like to raise our pinky fingers and sip on hot tea while discussing some of the finer things in this world. Sometimes we cover matters of history, other times we may speak at length about books we have read, or scientific breakthroughs that had been brought to our attention somehow. Other days, we sit around analyzing classic artworks — but never modern art because we are not sophisticated enough to “get” it!
Today, we decided to take a look at the Last Supper, by some kid named Leonardo da Vinci. He had his day back in the 1400s, but do not let that frighten you. Those days were not so different than these days we are in now. So take our hands, readers, and appreciate the history of art, religious beliefs, flippant artistic subterfuge, and yes even a little Last Supper Day Miracle!
I have known Billy Holiday for a very, very long time. I thought that I knew everything there was to know about him but then he dropped this outrageous bombshell on me. And then I offended him. Then there was a spat. It is a classic cycle and is either strengthening or eroding our friendship little by little over these long years.
Now, I am no chicken-cooking expert. This is partly because I am not a great cook, but it is also because I don’t enjoy cooking meats. I always fear that they are underdone and poisoning me or giving me parasites. However, I can tell you that I can’t recall ever having cooked a chicken that came out dry. Maybe my standards are low when it comes to the golden bird, or maybe Billy Holiday needs to take some lessons.
I don’t think you’ll even need to click on it to read it. But if you need to see the detail, if you want to zoom in and see where I changed my hair to better reflect the year 2017, you sure can do it!
In 2001, I landed what I consider to be my first “real job.” I say this because this was the first job I ever had that I would willingly tell people about. Instead of hiding my employment status behind mumbles, I would gladly sit down with you and tell you at great length what my job is, where it is, what I do at it, and a million other details that would cause you to want to punch me if you could just stop feeling so damned happy for me long enough. So after I get the call telling me I have the job, I am given instructions on where to go to do a piss test. Now normally they do these pre-employment, but I was told that the facility this takes place in was under construction and had just re-opened to an extent. “To an extent” was an exact quote from the lady talking to me, just so you know.
I arrive there, wearing some fairly nice clothes. I got the job so I decided I could drop the illusion that I knew how to dress, but I didn’t want to start dressing like a complete scumbag until I was there a few months… so I was in something sorta in between. Like if someone woke you up from a deep sleep and yelled to hurry up because one of your family members just decided to get married on the spot. You wouldn’t have time to put on a suit and tie, but you wouldn’t go in anything that smelled like three days worth of ass. That was the balance I was striving for.
Habbo Hotel has been around since practically the beginning of the internet as we know it. Several of us have been held in its thrall, and maybe still go back to it from time to time. Maybe we are going to it today, in the present year of 2017. At any rate, it seems like a good idea to get the boot in the door and write a first article introducing our readers to the concept, as though you don’t all secretly keep accounts there, yourselves. I have been discussing it with everyone’s favorite Southern Man, Mr. Billy Holiday (my frequent cohort at the hotel a few years ago and actually he might have been on there far more than I actually was). We have realized that there were so many happenings over so many years that there are a few articles within us about this place, this should-be-totally-defunct place. But what is it?
Normally I make a point of it to not cover ground that has already been covered to death. I just don’t mess with it. I know many of you are saying, “But the internet has a million seduction guides up already.” That much is true. They are all well and good, or not so good, and could probably net you a person of average ability, appearance, and expectation, if they are among the better variety. Fine if you are into that kind of thing. Personally, I’m not much for child’s play. So while the other guides might get you some ass, I’m here to get you some class.
Now I’m not giving you ALL of my secrets here. It isn’t fair to the women of the world for me to unleash an army of men they have no ability to resist. Sorry guys, you ain’t leaving with a full stomach, but I ain’t so mean that I’m not going to throw you some scraps. These tips will help you get a leg up, possibly a second leg up, but it is up to you as to whether or not you get that third leg up. As for the rest of you with the manly gender as a target, I am sure these same suggestions can work for you. Hell, any human being of any orientation seeking any other being can probably use this guide just fine. However, I can only really speak for my own self − and I have no complaints.
All of this could have been avoided. This entire article wouldn’t have even been necessary if my parents had followed a fairly logical rule. As a parent myself, I know this rule inside and out. If you have kids, you know it too. But for those of you without children, I am about to drop a real gem on you. A piece of advice that will make your parenting days a lot easier and lessen the chances of your home experiencing a murder/suicide. You ready? Okay.
Don’t tell a child that they can’t see/do something because it is “for adults.”
There you go. I just saved you a lot of yelling and a handful of awkward visits from Child Services. Now don’t go thinking I’m one of those people who doesn’t believe in telling a kid they can’t have something or do something. I’m not saying that you should let a child get away with whatever. By all means, tell them “no” when you want them to keep their snot and dirt-encrusted hands off of something. When they ask you why, just don’t make the mistake of telling them it is for “big folks,” “adults,” “mommy and daddy,” or whatever other stupid shit you say instead of just looking them in the eye and saying, “Shut the fuck up.”
A good solid “shut the fuck up” from my folks sure would have saved me a whole lot of grief.