So I’m going to do something a little different today and attempt to review a book. I loved it so much, was so entertained, was so caught up in the story, I HAVE to share it with you. It is my hope that by the end of this post, you’ll be curious enough to buy it, read it, and hopefully love it as much as I do. Even if you don’t read it, at least purchase it so the author can make a few bucks and feel encouraged to write other AWESOME literature.
I don’t normally review things, so the fact I’m doing so now should definitely tell you something.
Read the rest of this Awesome review...
Ever since I saw the episode of ER where Noah Wyle pulled a live roach from a patient’s ear, the fear of suffering the same fate has lived in the back of my mind. I’ve thought of wearing earplugs at night to prevent such an occurrence, but I never do. Instead, I clean my ears several times a day. Before I could adopt such a regiment though, I had to face the challenge of choosing the proper tools.
As a kid, I was taught to clean my ears with a Q-tip and a bit of alcohol (NOT the Jack Daniels kind). I would immerse one end of a q-tip in the sanitizing liquid, then stick it in my ear and swirl it around. This accomplished two things: 1) absolutely nothing; and 2) it pissed me off. Apparently this method only served to shift the wax slightly to the right instead of just removing it altogether. After a few failed attempts with this system, the time had come to move on.
More about my bad habit...
1985 was quite simply the most magical year I’ve ever known. I was just a small boy at the time, with already large and highly threatening testicles; but not unlike other children of lesser testicles (or even, none at all), I was completely immersed in the world of a young, yet burgeoning cable channel called Music Television—or MTV, to those in the know. This MTV was quite different then. They actually played music videos, and had people called VJs that introduced them. From what I could gather of VJs, they were mostly just wicked old people—like 22 or something—that tried to act like they knew all kinds of shit about music. Of course, people that old only listen to retarded, faggy music, so I’m sure they had kids around to tell them what was cool. As far as I was concerned, these VJs could just as easily have been replaced by drooling chimps in diapers (and they eventually would be). The music videos themselves were all that really mattered.
Read more of Mr. .45's Guest Post
Hey everybody! Welcome to my new site. Go ahead, have a look around… I’m in no hurry.
…
You done?
Good! Took you long enough.
I’m kidding. :-p
Read the rest of this entry »
One time, on one of many dates with a now ex-boyfriend, I lost my wallet. I didn’t know it was gone until someone from a video store called my cell phone to let me know. We had to drive all the way back to the Valley - trust me, it was FAR - to retrieve it. Apparently some guy found it in the parking space we were in and turned it in to the nearest business. The guy left his number in case I wanted to call him. I did. He had a really nice voice and I was getting all excited (I know I already had a boyfriend, but the plan to dump him was already in place) until he said, “My girlfriend and I….”
Read the rest of this entry »
