How You Doin’ Blondie?


A Near-Chuck Experience

My brother and his fellow Jarheads fucking love Chuck Norris. When he visited their base camp back in March, they all went positively apeshit. This past Saturday, my brother told me that there’s rumors circulating that Chuck Norris is going to be coming back in August. I think he almost wet his pants.

It’s difficult to see, but Chuck Norris is the one in the center, directly below the Marine with his arms in the air-

My brother is the one directly to the left of Chuck, clenching his fists. He explained that day to me as, “The best day of my fucking life. It’ll even be better then the birth of my firstborn.”

My brother also said that when Chuck Norris came, they showed him the “shrine” they’d built in his honor, complete with photos and Chuck Norris “Facts”:

Apparently, Norris literally laughed out loud when he read them. My personal favorites are as follows:

  • Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
  • There is no “ctrl” button on Chuck Norris’ computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.
  • Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost.
  • Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas.
  • If Chuck Norris were a calendar, every month would be Chucktober, and every day he’d kick your ass.
  • Chuck Norris brushes his teeth with a mixture of iron shavings, industrial paint remover, and wood-grain alcohol.
  • Q: How many Chuck Norris’ does it take to change a light bulb? A: None, Chuck Norris prefers to kill in the dark.
  • Death once had a near-Chuck experience.
  • Chuck Norris can strangle you with a cordless phone.
  • Chuck Norris does not know where you live. But he knows where you will die.
  • Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he never cries.
  • Because “hunting” implies the possibility of failure, Chuck Norris goes “killing”.

And the one that I actually repeat in conversations with people:

“Chuck Norris knows that violence is not the answer. He gets it wrong on purpose.”

 

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It’s Primary Charm Is The Chorus…

…which goes, “Blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie…”



So I’m channeling an adolescent male’s sense of humor, sue me
April 5, 2008, 9:27 pm
Filed under: Entertainment, fun, Life, lust, Men, Reflections, sex | Tags: , ,

 



To Catch A Pseudo-Predator

I overheard this man remark that Bob Saget’s HBO special was deplorable and tasteless, that he crossed far too many boundaries.

Please, Bob Saget wishes he was that opprobrious.

Saget’s special was sad; if you squinted your eyes and cocked your head to one angle, you could just barely make out the superimposed image of a man bailing water out of a rapidly sinking dingy.

I mean, talking about wanting to fuck your daughter’s underage friends? Really Bob? Admitting you lust after minors is so passe; do you not watch Dateline? 



Somewhere Otis Redding and Lou Rawls are Weeping Quietly

I’m telling you, this urban demographic and their music industry, it’s a Grammy  goldmine! It’s a regular chart-topping factory! Especially with this character I’ve been hearing about lately, this “Fat Joe,” my he is quite the wordsmith. I stumbled upon another gem of his, this one entitled “Still Not A Player,” featuring Monsieur “Big Pun.”

Does this gentleman have a fan club? How might I gain membership?

 

 

And yes folks, he really did just say “I’m not a player, I just fuck a lot.”



Ladies and Gentlemen, Poet Laureate Robert Sylvester Kelly:

    I heard a song the other day, and the lyrics in the opening chorus gave me pause. The name of the song [and I use the term very, very loosely] is “Make it Rain”; penned by Messrs. “Lil’ Wayne” and “Fat Joe,” featuring a guest appearance by R.Kelly. As a woman, I should be offended by the chauvinistic and frankly degrading lyrics Mr. Kelly is crooning; but as someone who considers themselves a novice at the game the big boys play, I was highly entertained by the song’s stark materialistic and animalistic overtures:

“I be drilling these chicks like Major Payne
When I make it rain, they be like ‘Kell… do it again’
From the club to the coupe, inside my gates
Up in my bedroom screaming each other’s name
They was perty perty, and I was flirty flirty
Lil’ dro, lil’ bub now they gettin’ dirty dirty
Don’t ask me what my name is, stupid bitch I’m famous
You gon’ make me aim this, leave your ass brainless
I’m tryin’ to stay R&B but these streets is a part of me
So don’t get it twisted
You see I order one bottle, then I talk with one model
Then I order more bottles, now I got more models
I’m from that city where them niggas don’t play me
I take a chick to my room like cave man
So ask your girlfriend my name, I bet she go
‘Skeet Skeet Skeet Skeet, Weatherman ’bout to make it rain!’”

 

I particularly enjoy the line wherein Robert raps incredulously, “Don’t ask me what my name is, stupid bitch I’m famous.” I simply must find an opportunity to use that line…perhaps during my tete-a-tete with Diane Sawyer when I’m identified as [insert powerful man’s name of your choice here]’s proverbial “side dish”…