Somewhat recently, fellow resident of the Sneer House, Lisa, and I took a trip to the Midwestern United States’ Largest Flea Market, which is conveniently located just north of Cincinnati. For those of you unfamiliar with the large scale flea market, let me just describe it as an expansive building filled with booths that are full of an array of garbage that is for sale. Some of the booths actually sell quality items, and you wonder what they are doing there, but mostly it seems to be junk that fell off of the back of a truck and these people scavenged it and put low, low price tags on it — or absurdly high price tags. For those of you who ARE familiar with flea markets, you know that the “bottom” in my title means a butt.
It is a statement of fact when I announce to the world here that dogs 100% love Halloween because they are animals that enjoy being dressed up in ridiculous costumes. Our four-legged friends excitedly wag their tails when they see their human companions lunge toward them with doggy-sized clothes. They yip in ecstatic delight and dance their paws in place when they see fabrics sewn to fit their quadruped shapes that then showcase these proud little companions to be some sort of dog-related pun, or the star of some television show that the dog does not appreciate OR even watch at all! Dogs love being made into laughingstocks, there only as spectacles for human snickering – the tune of which either sounds misguided, derisive, or full of pity (dogs can tell the difference). I mean, even going to a costume site will display for you, one after the other, the expressions of pure canine joy as they pose for the camera in yet another adorable, cutie-wootie, charming little outfit.
Oh wait, what am I talking about? Dogs obviously hate being dressed in anything like clothing and endure it only because they think they are being punished and will do anything to get back into your good graces. These friends of humankind are long-suffering little heroes, designed to help people and be true pals. People, of course, are mostly undeserving of such unconditional love, and throughout history have beaten the dogs, and submitted them to every form of cruelty, interspersed with occasional treats, food, and shelter. OCCASIONALLY. You could say that dogs have had it a lot better lately (ignoring all of the cruelty they are still subjected to at the hands of modern-day monsters, as seen daily via viral videos designed to make us weep), but then… then we notice an increase of popularity of Costumes for Dogs.
A fondness or craving for sweets is the definition of “sweet tooth,” according to the internet, with help from Google.
Many times in my young life, I have heard people excuse their penchant for sugary treats by referring to the fact that they possess such a “tooth.” I have news for everyone. It’s not a good excuse. Pedophiles aren’t excused from child-touchery because they are fond of it, nor should people be excused of their sticky, disgusting habit out of fondness for sugar.
First came the tentacle rape.
It was the beginning in a long line of horrors that OMGJeremy has subjected me to in his articles since the very beginning in 2002. (OMGJeremy.com was the site that most of us used to write for.) But you know what they say: what doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger. Well, I must be invincible by now. And not only have I seen a lot, but I’ve written about a lot too, articles that have been lost to time mostly, including a review of a site that teaches women how to rape their husbands. But in 2003, I found something that managed to combine all of those and more. It’s as if all my nightmares Go-Go-Power-Morphed into some unholy Megazord and returned to feed me my own ass.
“What is it?” you’re probably asking as you close the door and open a new browser window. Why It’s none other than Furcadia — an online game that let you take on the role of an animal and interact with others in a series of dream worlds. And not surprisingly in the least, it contains the three big staples of the internet diet: furries, cybersex, and MMORPGs.
Welcome to my long overdue review of a movie called Dirty Girl! Welcome! Please feel welcome! I just sat down and thought to myself, “Hey what should I do next?” I have like a thousand things that I am behind on. Some things, heck, I am like two years behind on them. Where does the time go? As I perused my List of Burdens that are slowly sapping my will to live — and I look at this list somewhat frequently, and I lament. I lament at how I have all of these responsibilities to other people, or, I guess sometimes you can call them “promises” or maybe even “paid commissions” and I think about how when they are finished, I will be free at last to live my life and gosh that’ll be the day, and then I go and take a nap or something. But not anymore! Not today!
I think it has been mentioned before that I am a terrible movie-watcher. The silliest things bug me and if I am bugged like twice in a film, I get more and more hateful about it all. By the end, if I sit through the whole thing, I have created a mountain of anger out of pretty much nothing at all and I will have a rant if anyone lets me. I am ridiculously hard to please when it comes to films, especially, and I want you to know that upfront, in case you have actually come to this review wanting an unbiased opinion. I am SO biased, so read everything from here on out imagining that I am a hate-filled shrew who can find no joy in any aspect of living.
I like my comedy scripted and rehearsed please. Improvisation is best left for jazz, freestyle rap, and Twitter.
You find yourself in a maze filled with edible orbs, and you are not alone. Monsters lurk in this place, is it a dungeon? Is it a castle? Is it a level of HELL? You must run from these evil things — oh! You catch a glimpse! They’re g-g-ghosts! Vengeful, doomed spirits chase you, wishing to devour your soul. So you run. You dodge them by darting into unused corridors! Oh god but there are more! Mindlessly being forced to eat orbs as you run in terror, you stumble upon one that causes the ghosts to flee from YOU. Ha ha! Who’s chasing whom NOW, you fiends?! You gobble them up for a few seconds, not nearly enough seconds. Then their fear is over. You didn’t kill any of them. You do not kill ghosts. The chase is on again, and again, and again until you somehow eat all of the orbs. Then it all starts over.
No, I didn’t write out an entry from my Terrible Dreams journal. I just described the basic plot of Pac Man, an early video game from the otherwise glorious 1980s. It was released on this date in 1980, and I was never the same again.
You might see these around sometimes in old people’s homes, on the street, or under the bed of some guy you met at the bar. They’re usually black circular thin discs, sometimes with a sticker label with nonsense words. But what are they?
Originally created as a sort-of frisbee, they did not catch on much. The strange method of production however, resulted in millions and millions being pressed. Many records (heh heh heh) of what was done with them since then have vanished but we can find some clues in the haphazard piles people leave behind. From what we can tell, these were once available from places called Urban Outfitters and a place called CBGBs. The last remaining mention of CBGBs indicates it was an eatery at Newark Airport.