After rounding the world four times and getting the piercings, but only having three earrings to show for it because he's too picky about what he'll actually put back in his ear, Mark attempted to settle down back in his hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee. This, of course, did not happen because, quite apparently, he has been biologically implanted with a PsychoMagnet™ which makes even the most stable of people batshit crazy.
Mark is currently "hiding" in wildly public places, and making as much noise as possible, while throngs of anonymous nutjobs accuse him of every salacious deed imaginable, such as the unseasonable rainfall of 2011, the murders of several prominent people who are still very much alive, and the 1915 sinking of the Lusitania. Mark is a carnivorous smoker who is Politically agnostic, unable to reproduce, refuses all manners of Internet dating, and generally believes that Murphy was an optimist.
During the course of a conversation, a customer complained of a capricious canine. The malcontented mutt, so known as Buddy, was the property of a pestiferous old prune next door. He’d decided it was his duty to guard their front door and growl aggressively every time they tried to go into their own garage.
When I arrived at the premises, I was immediately pounced upon by the pesky pooch, which resulted in my kicking the bastard under the jaw. He didn’t seem to like it very much, but buggered off, regardless.
Their own two dogs had been terrorized by the territorial tail-wagger, a detail that became clear today. The pups watched intently as I banished the bitchy ol’ bastard with a few blasts from a BB Gun. They immediately began a gleeful, circle-running trip — yes, they were overjoyed!
Maybe you had to be there … But it’s funny to me that the neighbor’s annoying dog can understand the meaning of, “Fuck off!” He didn’t ask questions, didn’t make promises, didn’t try and defend himself. He just fucked off. 😉
Note: Thanks, Sam, for reminding me to alliterate more…
Quoth the caption, “The Half Blood Prince of Bel-Air is Harry Potter in the Hood:”
H. Piddy be gangsta pimpin’ in the hiz-ouse? Suuuuuuuure. Of course, when it comes to his arch nemesis, it’s difficult to figure out which one is worse…
It’s clearly obvious they’re both losers.
For more than obvious reasons, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a Weird Al tune…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lp6eswhgOKk
And with that, I’m off to find a forty of Folgers.
Some nights, people are up for a bit of self-inflicted boredom and self-abuse which doesn’t require imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and playing six thousand three hundred forty-two games of Solitaire. If you’re one of those people, I suggest you go and see the latest installment of the Harry Potter franchise, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, at your local movie theater.
The movie begins with the main character, Harry Potter (portrayed by the now 40-year-old Daniel Radcliff) standing bloody-nosed next to his “special” friend and mentor, Albus “Gaybeard” Dumbledore. Next, Gaybeard cock-blocks Potter as he finally gets up the cajones to attempt the franchise’s first interracial romance. This repeated cock-blocking continues, as Potter’s best friend Ron Weaseley begins flirting with every girl in the school, including Potter’s only hope of ever getting a piece, Hermione Grainger.
The next seven hours (yes, the film was entirely too long) are filled with droll humdrum, an entirely-too-long game of Quidditch, and a few ridiculous assassinations combined with some rather unspectacular visual effects when compared to the other films. The script itself takes a Star Wars-style detour as Vice Chancellor Snape assists Anakin Malfoy in destroying, err, wait … Well, anyway, yes, Obi-Wan Dumblodore is defeated, but will “only grow stronger.” Whatever.
Hopefully, the franchise will be redeemed with the next film, “Harry Potter Can’t Even Get Laid with a Horcrux.”
“I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors,
but I think that God’s got a sick sense of humor.
And when I die I expect to find him laughing…”
— Blashphemous Rumours, Depeche Mode
Some nights, people are up for a bit of self-inflicted boredom and self-abuse which doesn’t require imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and playing six thousand three hundred forty-two games of Solitaire. If you’re one of those people, I suggest you go and see the latest installment of the Harry Potter franchise, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, at your local movie theater.
