"Anaconda 2: Hunt for the Blood Orchid" was on Cable this Morning

The Washington Post did an experiment where they had a famous classical musician play the D.C. Metro in the middle of rush hour. They were SHOCKED and AGHAST at how no one showered him with currency or stopped what they were doing to watch him.

Stacy Furukawa, demographer at the Commerce Department and yuppie woman on the street:

"It was the most astonishing thing I've ever seen in Washington. Joshua Bell was standing there playing at rush hour, and people were not stopping, and not even looking, and some were flipping quarters at him! Quarters! I wouldn't do that to anybody. I was thinking, Omigosh, what kind of a city do I live in that this could happen?"

Well Stacy, if your city is like MY city, it's the kind of city where people can walk around without food or shelter and no one pays a shit lick of attention or stops to help them.

How DARE those people throw quarters at a white guy who grew up playing tennis in Indiana with a noted psychologist and therapist for parents? WHAT THE FUCK? Hasn't anyone heard of TENS? TWENTIES? BLOWJOBS and GIFT CERTIFICATES for HAMMACHER SCHLEMMER and the BANANA REPUBLIC?



J Lo was in the first Anaconda. The second one is better, namely because of this hot Asian guy. Asian dudes don't get enough work. Is that one guy still alive on LOST? I stopped watching after Season 2. It got too secret code mathy. TV should not be workful.

BREAK FREE FROM PROBLEM BONERS NOW

I am really disgusted by this picture. This picture offends my vagina.

pizza PIZAZZ!

There's a meeting going on next door to my cube. It's open-air, they're not in a conference room. There are ten pizza boxes that are labeled with "FOR THIS MEETING ONLY, PLEASE!" I walked over, opened one and took a piece. A virgin piece from a VIRGIN pie. All the meeting attendees turned and watched and knew they couldn't get their pizza until Dickhead up front stops talking. Dickhead couldn't yell at me because he's a rep from a software company and they're trying to sell us something. I've forgotten because I'm so used to freelancing, but when you're working late you feel really entitled. I can't wait to kick the janitor. He should be here shortly.

J-HOVA'S WITNESS

Now fifty-two bars come out, now you feel 'em
Now, fifty-two cars roll out, remove ceiling
In case fifty-two broads come out, now you chillin

fuck the rapture. fuck beef jerky and bottled water. fuck all that spiritual shit. i will spend my life, humbly preparing. bars, cars, ceiling. bars, cars, ceiling.

odds and ends -n- assorted such

Frieda shamed me at bingo today for not sitting next to her. I deliberately sat with one of the catatonics because I was tired as fuck and didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Frieda's a sweetheart but she's a shitload of effort. You feel like you're ministering to JLo. I want a napkin. I want water. Repeat the number. Repeat the number again. Move my foot. I don't like blue chips, I like red chips. Gimme my sweater. Scratch my back.

It's not that way with the catatonics. You just sit, smile broadly every 10 minutes and make an attempt to communicate. They will not respond to your attempt to communicate and when the caller calls their numbers you lay the chips down.

I always thought those folks stay that way forever, but today there was something hopeful. This Cantonese lady, Mei Lin, was awake and looking around and laying a shitload of chips down on her card. They didn't call any of the numbers, but it was good to see her doing something instead of staring into space with her mouth open. At one point she kept pointing frantically at my purse and saying something in Cantonese.

I hate being unable to fulfill a request, so I opened my purse and removed the only item that could possibly be entertaining: The National Enquirer. I read select portions to Mei while she pointed at the pictures. She was particularly fixated on this one picture of Kirsten Dunst. Also Will Smith and ads for brasseries.

What else happened this weekend? OH. I looked through my sent messages and realized I had sent a message to a friend turning him down for a drink because:

"Work has been licking my ass this week."

The salary and benefits are so-so, but there's Starbucks coffee in the coffeemaker and they give you RIMJOBS!

The other thing was this argument on Avenue A between this Latino girl and her boyfriend. She was screaming at him and a crowd had gathered 'round. This story doesn't need any further embellishment, so I'll just give you the dialogue straight up:

"Your penis is teeny. It's small. It has no emotion."

His penis has no emotion, everyone. Myself, I like my penises stoic. I don't want them to start crying during sex and talking about their roommate that fell off a balcony in Myrtle Beach during Spring Break and unfulfilled dreams of being a glassblower. I guess a joyful penis is OK though. ALL PENISES SHALL MAKE YE A JOYFUL NOISE UNTO THE LORD.