The official Sony Pictures website has announced that Thomas Hayden Church will be playing Spiderman’s latest arch enemy in the webslinger’s third release… Sandman! You may remember Church from the fabulous movie Sideways. The shot above/left is from the movie set - I think he’ll do a pretty good job.
After its very recent and rudimentary over-hyped release, the Xbox 360 is proving to be the pile of typically-rushed shit I always knew it would be. Many owners are complaining of their $400 shit box freezing with either a black or white screen, after only 10-15 minutes out of the box.
Some are saying heatsink problems during shipping, others are saying HDD issues.
I say Bill has rushed the 360 to market in a race to beat Sony to the shelves… shame on you Bill, yet another reason I wouldn’t buy anything that has been manufactured by Micro$oft - you only get one chance to do it right… anyone remember the Nokia N-Gage?
I fucking hate car commercials, and the new one from Chevrolet isn’t by any means an exception to the rule. Their new “red tag event” touts itself as the greatest and latest sale they have ever had, and to promote their fayre, they’re sticking lovely red tags on their vehicles. They use the typical fast talking imbecile to make it sound exciting, tantalize you with the fact that it’s only through the Thanksgiving period, and if you’re not standing by one of their cars with your wallet out before the end of the holidays, you’ll lose out.
[here it comes]
Their strap line - “The price on the tag is the price you pay, not a penny more!”
Isn’t it called a fucking price tag on any normal day?
[slaps head - ah, calling it something else will make them think it's better, bigger, more fabulous!]
Some fat fuck will no doubt be there fresh and early tomorrow morning itching to see one of these fucking tags - tag my ass bitches, and don’t pay a penny more.
You may remember reading my article about Sam, who was recently crowned the “World’s Ugliest Dog”. Well folks, poor little Sam, the 14-year-old pedigreed Chinese Crested pooch has passed away.
His owner, Susie Lockheed said “I don’t think there’ll ever be another Sam, some people would think that’s a good thing”. Sam died just before his 15th birthday.
[takes off hat... *sniff*]
farewell Sam, may your ugly mug grace the halls of doggie heaven.
Vietnam police have arrested British rocker Gary Glitter on a child molestation charge, a state-run newspaper reported on Sunday.The Tuoi Tre (Youth) newspaper quoted immigration police at
Ho Chi Minh City’s Tan Son Nhat airport as saying Glitter — whose real name is Paul Francis Gadd — was arrested while trying to board a plane to Bangkok on Saturday morning.
Immigration police at the airport declined to comment.
The state-run youth newspaper said police escorted Glitter back to the southern resort town of Vung Tau where, according to state-run Vietnamese media, he had taken home several girls aged 15 or under.
On Thursday, Foreign Ministry spokesman Le Dung said police wanted to question the 61-year-old rocker about the allegations, which first surfaced in the British tabloid press.
“If we have evidence of a child sexual violation, very strict legal measures would be applied,” Dung said.
Gary’s at it again, why doesn’t this surprise me. It was only 6 years ago that the aging pop tart was arrested for having been caught with thousands of pictures of child pornography on his home computer.
Supposedly one of the girls is 12 years old… if found guilty he could face 12 years in prison per offense. Under Vietnamese law, sexual contact with a minor carries varying degrees of penalties, depending on the charge. “Obscene acts with a child” can get up to 12 years in prison while child rape carries the maximum penalty of death before a firing squad.
Firing squad, what a waste of a good bullet - just hang the bastard, by his child-loving todger.
Beginning this week, pubs in Britain won’t have to order drinkers out the door at the stroke of 11:00 every night.The government argues it’s the best way to stop a growing wave of violent behavior that erupts right after closing, reports CBS News correspondent Mark Phillips.
The British are about to embark on an exercise in social engineering based on what many think is an odd premise – that excessive drinking can be controlled by making it easier to drink.
That’s what an article at cbsnews.com is saying - how will the Brits take this news? After moving to the States, I feel that folks are less likely to race to get wasted as they know the bars here don’t close until around 4am… leisurely drinking, go home when you’re tired… simple.
I have to say though, those English thug bastards probably won’t change their behavior - they’ll just kick the crap out of you at 3am instead.
President George W Bush tried to make a quick exit from a news conference in Beijing on Sunday - only to find himself thwarted by locked doors.
After answering just six questions from a group of US reporters, the president strode away heading towards the door. President Bush tugged at both handles on the double doors before admitting: “I was trying to escape. Obviously, it didn’t work.”Mr Bush was in China in the latest stop of his East Asia tour.
Great job George, yet another public display of your blatant lack of cerebral accumen. This guy ceases to amaze me with his regular displays of fuckwitism, a natural ability to humiliate himself wherever he goes.
I wonder if one could book him for a child’s party?
Today is a great day, for the following reasons:
oh, and one other thing…
MY FUCKING GREEN CARD WAS APPROVED TODAY!
That’s right, the wait is over. No longer will I have to wear my “unclean” sign around my neck - I’m now a fully fledged Legal Resident of the United States of America. And not a day too soon… I applied in February of 2002.
This is going to change a lot for me and prove integral in initiating certain necessary changes in my life - to which I have almost been help hostage due to the lack of said card.
Never thought I’d say this… cheers for sorting me out George.
[I am going to celebrate so hard tonight that I will probably implode]
COME ON!
I hear it all the time: “I’m going to sue…”, “I will sue you…” - typical American follow-through to “get your own back”. Truly a sackless move for the most part, and most certainly led to my disdain accordingly for those that do so.
[that was until today]
I have a client that I placed an admin assistant with 6 weeks ago, who apparently isn’t working out as well as said client had hoped. We have guarantee periods in place to protect the client from this inherent problem, just in case their new employee turns out to be a bag of shat. The guarantee in place for this particular client was a 90-day replacement guarantee - layman speak, if the candidate I place does not work out (for whatever reason) within that 90-day period, I replace them for free - this guarantee stands for the full period of 90 days, just as long as the client pays my fee on the day their new employee starts.
[typicality ensues]
Candidate turns out to be as about as useful to the client as a dress and bra is to me. Unfortunately, it’s been 6 weeks since I placed their new employee, and they’re 6 weeks overdue with my $6,500. Yes, the client didn’t want to pay.
[CEO involvement]
We’re suing the client, and I feel good about it. I worked my arse off the bone for this client, and by dicking me around, they have become an exclusive member of the “I’m about to get my wallet pinched” club. You are paying for my service, not the applicant.
Don’t fuck with an ethical recruiter. I have plenty of other clients that pay me for my services - if you don’t want to pay for my services, don’t agree to the contract - simple.
[suing ensues]
The commute this morning was horrendous. The MTA are conducting some major repairs - long needed overhauls of the City’s subway system… which means disruptions for all commuters into and around Manhattan. Today was no exception. I sometimes think that the subway drivers are impervious to heat, as although it’s mid-November, humidity was at it’s peak and it felt around 70′F - yet no air conditioning was running on the C this morning.
[pore explosion]
Needless to say the last car on the train this morning at 8am was full of sweat-drenched working class… yours truly notwithstanding.
I was dying for a late night snack after hanging out with a friend on Saturday night, and as I was walking down Vanderbilt on my way home anyway, I fancied partaking in some McDonald’s fayre (corner of Vanderbilt and Atlantic Avenue).
To my glee I saw the lights on, the brightly lit ‘golden arches’, and here I was, 20 feet away…
[pulls on door]
They were closed to walk in customers? Forsooth, this cannot be! As it turns out, it was to be - these sheisters have opted to keep their drive-thru window open 24 hours, but closed off to any foot traffic. So, deftly done, I scarper around the back to order my food from the drive-thru window… nobody there… I walk to the menu with the built-in speaker, nothing for me to press to gain their attention… I walk back to the window again, and this time I spot some headset-toting fella talking to someone in the restaurant. I decided to knock on the window…
[note to those compelled to knock on that glass window at the drive-thru]
Don’t. It’s about 3 inches thick, probably bulletproof - which would make sense them not wanting to have the front doors open through the night - much safer having a 3 inch thick bulletproof barrier between you and the hungry masses of Clinton Hill. So there I was knocking and knocking… the occupants not hearing a thing, completely devoid of my presence, and the rumblings of my empty tum.
[bollocks!]
Summary: if it’s after 11pm and you don’t have a car, forget McDonald’s - you’ll be shit out of luck. Try the King Chicken place on Fulton between Washington and St. James Place - open all night, and no sign of drive-thru-ism.
Our favorite Kazakstani, Borat (lovingly played by Sacha Baron Cohen, of the Ali G fame) could be in trouble… Kazakhstan’s Foreign Ministry has threatened legal action for portraying them in a derogatory way. The article goes on to say:
“We do not rule out that Mr. Cohen is serving someone’s political order designed to present Kazakhstan and its people in a derogatory way,” Kazakh Foreign Ministry spokesman Yerzhan Ashykbayev told a news briefing.
It’s called humor, you cow-punching twats, get over it.
High fiiiiiiive!
This is music to my ears. In an earlier post I’d commented on what kind of message the networks were sending by allowing Ms Stewart her own reality show… Yahoo News have reported that NBC are not interested in doing any more series after this one is through - one less piece of crap on the telly… Desperate Housewives, please be next.
Adidas reports that they are currently testing and developing an “intelligent” soccer ball which they hope will put an end to goal-line controversies. The ball contains a microchip that senses when the ball crosses the goal line. Referees outfitted with earpieces hear a transmitted beep once a ball makes a goal. FIFA, the international football association, tried out the ball in the Under-17 World Championship this year in Peru, and the ball may be used in next year’s World Cup in Germany.
Seems like a lot of effort going into what would be a fallacy here in the States - NOBODY argues with the referee, nobody - if he says it’s in, it’s in - even if it’s blatantly not.
Don’t argue with the guys in black and white stripe, they’ll kill your sorry ass.
We’re all probably aware by now that Daniel Craig recently landed the coveted spot as the new James Bond. I personally think he’s a good choice, certainly less farcical than some of the crap they were considering… Colin Firth (wimp), Hugh Jackman (he’s not British) and Ewan McGregor (wimp) to name but a few.
Recently Nicolas Cage publicly unloaded at contactmusic.com stating that he “resents the unwritten rule which states the secret spy can only be played by British actors and is devastated he will probably never get another opportunity to try for the role.” He went to to say “You can cast a Brit to play Bond but you can never cast an American to play him.” That’s about the bones of it Nic, pick up your toys - he finished his rant by saying “I think that is totally unfair.”
I thought it was unfair you subjecting me to Bringing Out the Dead, Snake Eyes, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and National Treasure.
According to Sky News, Dr. Leakey of Cambridge University has “developed fart-free varieties to the relief of baked bean fans and their families everywhere”.
I had to chuckle at learning that the good doctor has created his own “fart-ometer” to measure the level of flatulence produced by these special beans. Sold in France as “haricots non-flatulent”… hilarious.
I should put my co-worker onto these.
Thursday early afternoon and I simply had to get productive on my ass - in a slump today after waking with a mother load of a migraine, my right eye ball on the brink of exploding out of its socket. What better way than laundry to make it feel like the big hand on my watch is moving in a direction that isn’t in vain…
[scouts flat for erroneous pants and the equally elusive solitary sock]
With a full [and heavy] bag of stinkers I headed to the laundromat. It’s about 4pm and I know that the 24 hour place on the corner of Fulton and Cambridge Place is going to be empty - utter bliss - as on Saturdays, it’s like a freaking linen zoo.
[onto the point of this entry]
After throwing my clothes in the tumble dryer, I took a seat and switched on the trusty nano for some aural opulence. Two or three tunes into it I decided that some sporadicity was in order, so I chose “shuffle” and away we went. Ray Charles and Unchain My Heart got me through the first 5 minutes, then came “The Luther” - Luther Vandross. I hadn’t spent much time listening to Luther on the subway commutes, instead deciding that something a little higher on the BPMs would be more conducive to waking me up for a day’s slog at the office. Luther started and I realized which song the “shuffle” option had picked… “Dance With My Father Again’. My heart fucking stopped. Time fucking stopped. The tumble dryers, yes, stopped. Everything frozen around me - I felt a phantom fist grip tightly around my chest, preventing me from taking a breath.
[history lesson]
I was about 3 and a half years old when my father left my mother and I - she was also pregnant with my younger brother at the time - I know, what a shit. Anyway, typical story, young marriage, kids and stress - he cheated, she found out - [cobra] you’re fired!
[fast forward]
So I never really knew my Dad, and to be honest, never made an effort to reach out to him, contact him. As he’d never been a huge part of my life I seldom think about him, but there was something about this bloody song that just broke the dam and did me in, like a freight train to the chest. The song gripped me in its vice and wouldn’t let go - I kept listening, remembering my dad, listening, remembering my dad… for one second I thought I was going to lose it, right there in the laundromat - I ripped the ear plugs out of my lugs and took a walk outside… one very quick cigarette later and a pocketed iPod, I returned to finish cleaning my “Y’s”.
I got home shortly thereafter and threw my bag of clean clothes on the floor, collapsed on my bed and was drawn into one of the deepest and thought provoking questions in my life thus far…do I miss my dad after all these years? Thought upon thought raced through my head, like a V12 engine and all cylinders firing. All thoughts led to one conculsion - I did miss him.
How is he? Is he married? Does he have any kids? Is he still alive? That question crippled me - what, after all this time, finally growing a sack and moving forward in an effort to actually entertain the idea of tracking him down, I find he’s passed away.
[typing this gives me a lump in my throat]
I need to get in touch with him. I just need to know he’s ok.
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