Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Things I shouldn't say, period

Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Inquiring minds and all that

Our ol’ friend Kaffy has a question, because she’s a heathen Protestant and does not understand the mysteries of the Catholic church:

If masturbation is bad because every sperm is sacred and must be used for procreation, what about chicks masturbating? It’s not like we’re going to waste precious seed, so it shouldn’t be bad, right?

I would like the opinions of your readers, please.


I should also mention that Kaffy wants to know how to get her pervy special ed student to stop feeling her up with his face.

Have at it, folks.


Posted by Broad6:53 PM
File under “Sad, but true”
I think we’re going to have to put you on a work restriction about how much time you’re allowed to spend on the computer like they do for people who get busted for DUI: You can use it for work, but that’s IT.


-- Girlie, laughing at my latest examples of social retardation
Posted by Broad11:56 AM
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Never said I wouldn’t talk about you over here, though

Seems like whatever got into Mr. Allen’s wheaties over the weekend has either infected mine, or mine have infected his, or SOMEthing, because I gots me some Neenernet drama, and on freakin’ MYSPACE, no less.

Oh YEAH.

Even better is it’s not even MY drama; it’s Mer’s. See, she works with these crazy people who’ve never left Brooklyn—not even for, like, a Six Flags vacation in Sandusky, for God’s sake—so because she’s well traveled and not indigenous to the island, she’s suspect. To WHAT is anyone’s guess with these nutjobs, but she is. Anyway, so these people WERE constantly watching her Myspace page, but since she put it on private, they’re now watching MY page. Why? Because in order to practice my Serbian, she leaves me retarded little messages that have nothing to do with anything. But these people think we’re talking about them.

smirk

And once again, these are all people over 30.

One of them is freaked out by my existence, even though I live some 700+ miles away from Brooklyn. Nope, never met the woman in my life, but she seems to think I’m capable of all sorts of hooliganism. Apparently, I have nothing better to do.


Posted by Broad8:15 PM
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Whoever said SSRIs dull one’s emotions

Obviously hasn’t been placed on the RIGHT SSRI, because right now, I’m as twitchy with anger as I’ve ever been. Of course, if by saying “dulled emotions,” one means “being able to resist the urge to bludgeon something or someone with a baseball bat,” one has a point.


Posted by Broad6:37 AM
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Outstanding

I’m not sure where it’s coming from—either there’s a show happening in a bar the next town over or someone in the ‘hood is playing their music really, really loud—but whatever it is, it doesn’t translate well from the distance from which it’s being played, and it’s killing my buzz, man. And now, whoever it is is playing that jangly surf guitar song from “Pulp Fiction” and yelling like an idiot. Faaaaaaaaan-tastic. Seriously, whoever you are, don’t give up your day jobs.

So, my weekend that I was going to tell y’all about—uneventful, but in a really pleasant way. Saturday was the partying with the bio-fam, which I enjoyed, and then Sunday I hung out over at Kaffy’s after spending most of the afternoon at the Gary Air Show chatting up VIPs on the grandstand while missing the LCCVB party going on in the Aquatorium for which I was given a special entry wristband by its lovely PR chick. (I know I’ve talked about how cool the air show is before, but this one was SERIOUSLY cool; the illustrious Thunderbirds made their first appearance, and they’re totally badass if you’ve never seen them). Unfortunately, I missed Kaffy’s sorta-annual croquet bash, but she and I got to spend some quality time drinking and smoking on her front porch, and that was just as nice. And lessee, Monday Mother and I grabbed dinner and went to the mall, and there must’ve been something wrong with me because she didn’t completely annoy the shit out of me, amazingly enough. The end. The best part about the whole holiday? Remembering how refreshing it is to not hate everyone. I went a whole weekend without getting crabby once.


Posted by Broad5:32 PM
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Oh, don’t you worry

I forgot aaaaalllll about it after all was said and done.


Posted by Broad9:18 AM
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
All this for one screw, and it wasn’t even good

Parts 4 & 5: “14 hours of unadulterated Zook. Ain’t that going to be fun!??”

If there was ever a time when I should’ve been blogging things as they happened, it was when she was here because I’m so over it, I’m like, I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. And I probably shouldn’t, except I have to get to the part where Mer, on her last night spent with the town clown, got robbed of all but $40 plus all her sleeping medication she takes for Epstein-Barr.

Yes, yes she did.

After various and sundry stops (and after he yelled “Hurry up!” like a fucking fool outside my crib because it was a frillion degrees and I wouldn’t let him inside), they ended up at the bar we were at the first night she got here. During that time:

1) Zook tells her he’s running short, would she mind picking up the tab?
2) One of the guys who hung out with us the first night (who I knew from my days hanging out there but only remember as Scott B.) saw inside Mer’s purse (when she was getting money out to start paying for her and her “date’s” drinks) and asked her about her medication. She tells him their sleeping pills and that she’d give him a couple before they left;
3) Scott B. decides he’s not going to wait and ganks the entire bottle along with all the money;
4) Zook has Mer pay for his dinner at McDonald’s as well as a round of drinks and a six-pack to go before ending up back at the shithole;
5) And then, when they get back to the shithole, he tells her he’s “tired,” so what she came out there for, she wasn’t getting.

She didn’t discover she’d gotten robbed until she got back to my crib—all hysterical because she was so mortified by the whole evening—so we jump into the car at 2 a.m. to go to the Gary Police Department to file a police report. Somewhere around 5 a.m., she and I had a horrendous fight where I almost left her on 7th and Grant Street (that’s square in da HOOD, for those unfamiliar with the G.I.), and by 6:30 a.m. we were back at the crib crying how much we loved each other and so on and so forth.

The last day of the trip saw me working, Mer getting her meds and trying to figure out she was going to get back home with no money, and then this saucy little bit o’ business. She left Thursday morning at 7:30.

After all this, how many times did she get laid? That’s right: Once. And it wasn’t nearly as good as she remembered it.


Posted by Broad7:25 PM
Sunday, August 06, 2006
I’m out there, Jerry

Part 2: “I feel like I’m in a meth documentary.”

Remember how I was all worried about family members finding out about my little space on the innerbunny? Don’t gotta anymore, because they found me. Not sure how I feel about it; on one hand, I’m relieved, but on the other, I’m freaked out because I’m concerned that I’m going to start censoring myself, and that’s not the point of this exercise. Really, I’m hoping they’ll be like they know it’s here, but as long as I’m not talking about them (which the rule is, if someone tells me not to talk about him or her, they don’t get talked about), they’re not going to feel the need to be here. Or maybe they’ll grow to understand and maybe even enjoy my little rants against the universe. B-Dubs (aka my small brother) said he’s cool with it, and I can’t even tell you how moved I was by that. But either way, it is what it is.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming:


Posted by Broad6:43 PM
Thursday, August 03, 2006
I’ll take “total tool” for $50 (because that’s all I can afford)

Given the choice between discovering that someone you like and respect is really a complete jerk-off and discovering that someone you thought was a complete jerk-off is really someone you should respect, I’ve discovered in recent days that I’d much rather discover someone’s a jerk-off. Much, much easier to stomach. Is that weird?

I’m still gearing up for the “Zookathon” post to tell y’all about my disastrous week of utter hell, but I’m still rootin’ around in this EE business. First impression: kinda cool and totally digging that I have smileys now and shit. Much more user-friendly than MT, though I liked my MT, too.


Posted by Broad4:12 PM
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Not that there’s anything wrong with this
valentines2006.gif

[Courtesy of this poor bastard]
Posted by Broad12:20 PM
Thursday, January 19, 2006
“The truth about ‘roni/she a sweet ol’ girl”
I just stopped over at Snidgey's to throw down my mad lyric-remembering skillz to prove that I remember the bridge to "Tenderoni" by Bobby Brown, he of the "I help Whitney Houston's constipation by sticking my hand up her ass and pulling out the shit" fame. I should be very afraid of what that says, shouldn't I!??
Posted by Broad6:21 AM
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
This is why I say, ‘Who needs men when you have cats!??’
I submit to you a dilemma posed by Mer, who needs relationship advice and has asked me to ask my normal, functioning friends their take, but first, did y'all see American Idol tonight? Did you see the freakshow at the very end, the one with the blonde Pippi Longstocking wig and Dorothy dress? That's the one I interviewed. And how about the one who looked like Tina Turner!?? Saw her live -- or was that a dude!?? Because s/he sure looked like one on stage. And I vaguely remember seeing the Statue of Liberty guy, too, but at that point, I was probably just too bitter at being up at 4:30 a.m. in the rain and cold.

And now, on to our dilemma.

Suppose you've been dating this guy for five weeks, and everything's been going swimmingly, better than any relationship in which you've ever been involved, bar none. You're going to spend the weekend with him like you've been doing for the previous four weeks, but you've promised one of your friends that you'd go out with her at some point over the weekend. Guy says, "Have fun," and you go out with your friend. As you and your friend are wrapping up the evening, you call guy and tell him you're on your way back to his crib to which he replies, "Cool, see you when you get here." But when you get there, you ring his buzzer, and he doesn't answer ... for at least a half hour, and you're standing in the snow and cold. Seething and not a little drunk, you catch a cab back to your own crib.
Posted by Broad7:53 PM
Friday, December 02, 2005
Rhetorically
Why is it that when you try to make small talk with a guy, they blow you off, but when you ask them for help, they're all up into you all of a sudden?
Posted by Broad6:39 AM
Friday, November 04, 2005
An intervention of one
Things have been a little drama-ridden up in Chez Broad over the past couple days -- nay, weeks. I just haven't talked about it here.

The deal, if you haven't read about in other places, is that I had to tell someone I hold dear to me that I have to keep my distance while they're atttempting to work out some serious shit. It's not because I don't love them or want them in my life; it's that I physically and emotionally cannot watch them do what they're doing to themselves and the people they love anymore. Outside of profoundly sad, the whole thing makes me violently angry in ways that I haven't been in I don't remember when, and I'm not willing to put myself through that anymore. I mean, and I can bear a shit ton of weighty matters -- more than most people, I would say -- and I do it gladly when I'm not forced to, too (i.e. Mother). Thing is, you can't help someone if they're not listening, and like all people who think they have the answers, I'd hoped that my stepping away would turn on the lightbulb for the person. It hasn't. So now, all I can do is hope that at least some of the things I said were taken to heart and that they will stop happening right now, regardless of anything else.

It wasn't at all an easy decision to make. However, to paraphrase the great Dr. Phil from a book that became my bible in my crazy pussy days, there comes a point where I would rather be healthy and alone than sick with someone else.
Posted by Broad8:26 AM
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
My designer has a new name, it’s P-S-Y-C-H …OOO(babble)
If she hasn't already posted it, Snidge is in the process of preparing the long, sordid tale of why she and I don't have our new skins.

Yep, more big, scary blogdrama, y'all -- but hopefully, it's the end of this particular drama for real this time. No, seriously! I swear!

I'm going to let her lay the foundation, because 1) she's the one who finally came out swinging, and 2) the whole ordeal just astounds me, especially since I'd considered Christina a friend. Maybe not in the way I love these fine homies, but the potential was there. Instead, she used our burgeoning friendship to get out of any urgency I might've had about wanting my new skin, and then, when the price of poker went up (to use my favorite Dr. Phil phrase), she made it personal, and that's when it all went from frustration to unadulterated ugly. 0-60, just like that.

Yes, I know there are quite a few people who have had skins done by her, and they're gorgeous. This has nothing to do with her talent, and it sure as hell has nothing to do with the rest of the group, because the rest of them were more than willing to do what they could to avert the trainwreck. But this is the way she did business with Snidge and me. If you want to take your chances, have at it -- I can't stop you. I'll just say that there are a million other designers out there who're just as good if not better, and with them, you'll have a better chance of actually GETTING your stuff without getting ignored outright or lied to.

The good news in all of this -- because there's always good news, you know -- is that I'm going to be Headcase's first skin-uea pig. We've got a theme and everything, so I'm gazzed, man. It's going to be fun. And not a violation of major copyright laws.
Posted by Broad8:30 PM
Page 1 of 3 pages  1 2 3 >
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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