I, asshole will not be updating for a few days while we sort out some connectivity issues.
Monthly Archives: December 2006
WOW! New Harry Potter Book You Guys
Did you hear???? They’ve just released the title for the next HP book! As loyal readers may know, I blew through the entire series this summer, and am SO EXCITED!!!! In fact, the reason I’ve been posting here a little less is because I’ve been writing Harry Potter Slash with Snape and Mrs. Norris! (If anyone’s interested, my handle is “HairyPooper47” at Quiddich? I Hardly Know Her?. AND IT’S QUALITY SLASH, I TELLS YA.)
ANYWAYZ, I’ve got an exclusive tip on what the new U.S. cover’s going to be! WOWSERS!
[cleek]
Wew Wew WEWWEWEW OOOOH…1001 Erotic Deeelights
It’s a VERY SOXY day here at I, Asshole. Let’s have a mixtape of too much of TEH SEXY.
David Cross from Run, Ronnie, Run: Three Times One Minus One.
+5 for that SOXY David Cross
+5 for that woman looking great in Spandex. I wish I could work Spandex like that, because I WOULD.
Justin Timberlake and Samberg: Dick-in-a-Box.
+5 for bringing skeevy back
+5 for Samberg in anything
-5 for Maya Rudolph and her always bad skin. Take some vitamin D, woman!
MadTV: I Want You to Watch Me Play Madden
+5 for the women looking convincingly enamored
-5 for Madden
UPDATE! Supa sent along the Bing Bong Brothers: “You Will Like My Penis” (?) FANG YOU SUPA!
+5 for scary, half-glued moustaches
-5 for no jiggly bikini girls
I love this genre, of the completely non-subtle r&b/rap song.
Got anything else? Throw it at me, I’ll post it!
Thanks to J.B. for the “Dick-in-a-Box” link and for reminding me I wanted to do this.
Dear MF Diary: Gingerbread Shacks, Food Poisoning, Kicked Puppies, and YOU
1. On Thursday my back seized up like WHOA. It was in the exact same spot as when I hurt it kickboxing. This time I was doing something even more heroically magnificent: I was putting a new bag in the trashcan.
I crawled to the living room floor like a spazzy snake and managed to call my babydaddy. Who had just finished his hour-long commute. They love that, you know. Fighting to get to work and the coming back home again immediately.
So I was lying there on the floor, clutching my cel phone. I had talked my tiniest slave into bringing me a pillow and my book. I had just changed Strudel and snacked her up before my back spazzed, so I knew she’d be okay for an hour walking around my carcass.
“This isn’t so bad, as long as I don’t move,” I thought. “I can make it for an hour.”
Strudel came to stand over me and looked down into my face.
“Mama? Mama? Mama? WAAAAA-CHOOOO!”
BAM! Pasted with snot. And what ho, I’ve got a cold this week. It’s a mystery.
Companion asked me how I was feeling with it, and honestly, I am just so thrilled not to have the flu I’m pretty happy.
Moral: Never get lower than a mannerless shortie with a cold.
2. This weekend, for the first time in my twenty-nine years, I made gingerbread houses. I tried a few years ago, using real gingerbread, but I think I didn’t cook it long enough and there were some structural integrity issues. I seem to recall drinking the leftover wine from marinating grapes and then having a serious Godzilla moment. The ginger-citizens were terrified, and I think I deservedly got slivers of Lifesaver glass lodged in my giant lizard hand.
Whippet and her kids came over, and before they were due to arrive I made little graham cracker houses with royal icing. Does anyone know why it’s called “Royal Icing?” Was it used to seal up those little inbred lads in the Tower of London? Is it because it’s, like, royally disgusting? And yet I couldn’t stop unconsciously licking my fingers and then going “YEEEW.”
The graham crackers were being naughty and had baked crookedly in the factory, so I had similar difficulties this time. I repeated the phrase that came up endlessly in library school: “WUT ABOUT THE CHILDREN,” who were waiting to receive the bounty of tiny, prefabricated housing. Thus I was able to calm the fuck down without getting the neck veins and windmill arms. I hardly ever smash things anymore, which my parole officer says is progress. I am about the most impatient, useless crafter who ever lived. A few weeks ago I applied the “donkey knitting a poncho” metaphor to someone else, but now I realize there are four fingers pointing back at me.
Apparently I likes the neck veins because I’ll probably do it again next year.
Franny Vs. Neko
Strudel got an anatomically correct potty doll for Xmas, and now there’s been a war going on all day long. This is what happens when Franny’s playdate falls through.
Franny’s no chump. She got me a few times today when I least expected it, like when I was washing the dishes and my hands were all wet. You can hear her laughing as I start filming. I know, I know–oldest siblings shouldn’t have children of their own. I know. Bonus: you can see how messy my house gets during dinnertime.
Wherein Weiner Dogs Poop; Beastman is Revealed to Have AIDS; Strippers Will Revenge-Fart
Today is better and less angst-filled. (I know you were on tenterhooks.) I think I was getting too much sleep for a couple of days. Sleeping too much is bad because it leads to thinking. And thinking starts with a “T” which rhymes with “P” that stands for Pooping Pepper.
I may have bought these today. I am feeling coy so I will let you draw your own conclusions.
Okay, okay, you are so strong and persuasive and you smell so enticingly of Old Spice that I’ll tell you: I did.
For a few years now I’ve been just clonking the big salt can and my ugly grinder down on the table. Now I can class things up a bit with a matched set!!! I got it from this cool newer store in Wallingford, which features all the stuff you don’t really need but OOH you want it. Like giant gummy steaks. They are so nice and friendly and they offer opportunities for discounts via trivia which, I regret to say, is actually a draw for me as a consumer. I also bought Strudel one of those “magic wands” filled with glitter and blue water, for the car. I loves that place.
It is also important that you check in on the state of affairs between Skeletor and Beastman. Warning: Giant Rubber Wangs and lyrics about buttsex ahoy. I feel convinced somehow that the Tiger Lillies influenced this. Additionally: Not Safe for those who Abhor Bam Margera (NSHTWABM).
Finally, your stripper is probably farting on you. I have never actually been to a strip club, because I generally get my action on at the Blood Bank (Hiiii Raoul!), but now I am motivated to go to see if I can tell who’s “crop dusting.” Awesome, Ladies!
P.S. This is old, but new to me! Tirzah sent me an email with pics of “dragon John,” who has covered his manparts with a Puff the Magic Dragon tattoo. Thanks to Blah Blah Blog, since I found you when I googled up the dragon peen. And thank you Tizzy, you always send me the craziest shit.
Drip Drip Drop There Goes a Cookiegasm
This is Making me Laugh Today
Sometimes I feel sad that my kids are four-and-a-half years apart. And then I see lovely family tableaus like these. Hee!
Shop I, Asshole or No One Will Love You
S’up jerks. As I am in need of a second swimming pool, I have decided it’s time for me to sell out. Who wants some I, Asshole swag? I thought so.
Make all your xmas nightmares come true! One-click shopping! MUCH BETTER THAN THAT OTHER STORE OVER THERE. No, don’t click on that! Come back!!!!
Super Saturday Footie PWNage
Figure One: My place card, up in the nosebleed seats. Apparently I am a “chicken.” Whatevs.
Companion and I went to his holiday party on Saturday night. We got all dressed up and junk, knowing that some people would be wearing ball gowns (there was a fine Scarlet O’Hara number in attendance) and others would be wearing jeans. We were somewhere in between. I just got my hair did, thanks to Supa, so it was krazy baboon’s ass red.
Figure Two: No one will notice that these foot-long eyelashes aren’t real.
As we walked in the door, we were immediately descended upon. I suspect they were eager to bounce us because we were looking pretty non-conservative. Since Companion works for a contracting firm, he didn’t actually know anyone in the room and no one recognized him. But lo, we gave the correct names, and were name-tagged, wined, and sent on our way.