I was just nailed with an abundance of friend requests on my Myspace page—being the cautious person that I am (Stop snickering!), I always check out each one to see whether they’re legit, especially the ones that don’t have a picture. Tonight, it was a giant clusterfuck of illegitimacy. It made me feel all icky inside except for Jasmine’s page. That one was actually pretty funny… (more…)
The first season of Beauty and the Geek aired in Australia this winter and ZOO Magazine included a review in their December 11th, 2006 issue. Here’s the article verbatim (grammar, spelling and snide remarks as written):
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BEAUTY AND THE GEEK
Brainy nerds learn how to get some lovin’ from some airhead babes
Nerds rejoice! This reality show is your Holy Grail — it will teach you how to pull an incredibly hot chick. All you need to do is pay her lots of money and guarantee some career-boosting exposure on a national TV show. Easy! Failing that, Beauty and the Geek might give you a few pointers for dealing with the ladies and some useful nerdy info too. The idea is simple: the Geeks (brain surgeons, rocket scientists etc) must train the girls to win mental challenges, while the Beauties must school the dorks to score with women. Sounds straightforward, but there are some serious airheads among the Beauties, and the dweebs are about as far from Casanova as you can get. Strangely, being vice president of the Dukes of Hazzard fan club doesn’t have the babes fighting for a date with Bill. Shawn, the assistant Scoutmaster, isn’t fighting them off either. [4 out of 5 stars]
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But who’s to say we should rely on their judgment when it comes to, well, anything? After all, the magazine includes a competition for “Real Girl of the year ‘06″—pictures of ten girls in their underwear with quotes like:
If those are things beautiful Aussie women would say if they’re already prepared for mental challenges… maybe Bill and I should book our plane tickets now.
Note to self: If you haven’t played in over a month, haven’t kept up a reasonable level of fitness and decide to join a pick-up game of soccer, do not try to run alongside the better players unless you like taking long baths in ice water afterwards.
“This is not a dating show. This is a social experiment…”
You are a geek
You are into sci-fi and technology. You are very clever although you are also socially smart. You have lots of friends, geeks and non-geeks.Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com |
I stopped by Rainbow Foods earlier this afternoon and there’s one cool thing about their parking lot: the space that’s closest to the entry has a sign which says “Mother To Be Parking.” Yes, that’s right, even closer than the handicapped parking spaces. (”Screw you and your wheelchair! I had sex three months ago!”) Then again, you could cheat the system: “mother to be” could include an 8-year-old who wants to have kids when she grows up. I’d be impressed if she could work the pedals and park the vehicle properly, in which case she may have earned the right to use the space, but that’s beside the point.
The point is that as I was leaving the grocery store, I walked past the space and saw an SUV there with a personalized license plate. A plate that read “ROGER L”. You know, I got a B in Biology and I don’t remember the textbook ever saying that dudes could bear offspring. The only thing I can think of is that the vehicle belonged to a handicapped person who wanted to stick it to the pregnant women. (”Screw you and your uterus! I haven’t been able to have sex in three years!”) Personally, I wouldn’t take a chance like that. If a pregnant woman ever gets a serious hankering for Cheetos and there’s a guy’s SUV parked in the “Mother To Be” space… the vehicle could quickly end up as handicapped as the driver.
I know, I know—I didn’t want to abandon the original blog, either. shawnbakken.com always gave me warm and fuzzy feelings in various places on my body and lemme tell ya, I’m all about the warmth and fuzziness. So why didn’t I get it up and running again?
Because it’s not mine.
I was taking a shower this afternoon to clean off because… well, I needed cleaning off. (That’s usually a constant state for me, but that’s beside the point.) I turned off the water, grabbed my towel and started to dry off. After rubbing down my chest and stomach and other areas for an extensive period of time, I flipped the towel over my head so I could start drying my back.
RIIIIIIP!!!
It took me a few minutes to stop laughing, at which point I finally realized what had happened: There was a loose thread on the hem that snagged my external genitalia and refused to let go as the rest of the towel continued its lengthy journey to the other side of my body. Consequently, the thread was barely holding on at the ends and I started getting a little cocky (pun intended, of course).
“Heh heh… look at the power of my penis! Strong enough to rend fabric! Imagine what it could do to pubic hair!”
Then I realized there might be negative implications as well. I could be walking down the street, some hot girls would see my huge package and instead of appreciating the view, they’d whisper to each other, “He must have gotten a sock caught down there this time.” Damn… another lonely night with only the towel to keep me company.