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…send your nemesis fecal matter!
I give you the shit senders.
Greetings from Southern California, or as Jean Baudrillard so lovingly calls my home state, the “desert of the hyperreal.” I write you all while basking in the glimmering sunshine amidst throngs of blonde women clad in velour Juicy Couture tracksuits, UGG boots, and oversized sunglasses. Tonight, I shall feast on vegan cuisine with my favorite globetrotter, Lauren. While my trusted and best beloved lab partner/co-author/homeslice ices over in Massachusetts, I decided to take some time to put 2008 in perspective.
To begin with, 2008 was the year of the Rat. It was also the year that a small army of mice invaded my apartment. Currently, Lo tha Funkee Feline is holding down the fort and keeping the little critters at bay by intimidating and humiliating these small rodent beings. Apparently, she also likes to sadistically humiliate and destroy phone cords.
And is it ever a “Fuck You Friday” here at Teletypewriter! Ian fell ill with the flu and I have to complete one to two chapters of my thesis and the GRE’s in less than three weeks. But our woes can’t compare to the woes of John McCain’s brother, Joe McCain, who apparently called 911 because he was stuck in traffic:
Operator: 911, state your emergency
Joe: It’s not an emergency, but do you know why on one side at the damn drawbridge of 95 traffic is stopped for 15 minutes and yet traffic’s coming the other way?
Operator: Sir, are you calling 911 to complain about traffic? (pause)
Joe: “Fuck you!” (hangs up)
Apparently, the operator found out that it was Joe McCain thanks to *69. I totally forgot that even existed thanks to cell phone caller-ID. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s been a slow week here at Teletypewriter as Mr. Drinkwater and I have been consuming various medias faster than we can report on them. We also consumed an unusual amount of apple pie whilst pondering my strange preoccupation with Sarah Palin. Read the rest of this entry »
Pardon my minor obsession with Sarah Palin, but her enigma possesses me like no other. Allegedly, this is her report card complete with SAT scores. While I harbor absolutely zero sympathy or any other warm feelings toward this woman, I sure hope this is as fake as all get out. In fact, it has to be fake. Seriously: a “D” in foreign language given her close proximity to Russia?! Impossible!
The 416 on the math scores are especially charming since one gets 200 points just for writing their name.
At approximately 8:45 a.m. EST in the meatspace, Ms. Rambunctious made sustained eye contact with Mel Gibson. Read the rest of this entry »
For some of you, this may come as old news. But for those of you who haven’t done a thorough google search of our favorite beauty queen lately, now hear this: allegedly, this pit bull hockey mom has her lipstick tattooed on. I guess compulsively reproducing, threatening women’s rights, and conducting business e-mail out of a Yahoo account all while pretending to be a feminist leaves very little time for lipstick application. It’s okay, Sarah, I understand. My real worry for you is that you’ll never be able to experience the joys of M.A.C. Lip Glass like the rest of us.
Anyway, the full “story” is here.
I suppose the real question is…should we care? Well, of course we should! You see, the internet is in the middle of a very important decision: is Sarah Palin a “milf,” a “vpilf,” a heartbeat away from being a “pilf,” or all three? In my opinion, this is breathtakingly milfy and I know milfy aesthetic when I see it, gosh darrnit you betcha!
