(no subject)
Okay, seriously. It's been a few years, I thought we were finally past this: ANOTHER LAND BEFORE TIME??! You do realize they've already SURVIVED THE ICE AGE, PEOPLE. There's NOTHING THAT CAN KILL THEM. We will be seeing Land Before Time XVII: Littlefoot in Las Vegas, doubt me not.
Ahh, I love the smell of childhood favourites being shat upon (for the umpteenth time).
* * *
Live thoughts on American Idol:
- I think we've officially made up for the slavery thing by deciding to take a dive on the pop star popularity contests. So far, the way it's going, next week they're just going to turn off the lights and say "will all the girls we can still see please leave the stage?"
- We know that, deservedly or not, Ryan Seacrest has obtained something of a foppish reputation; it's somewhat amusing, however, to see Simon join the fray of vagina. Their little half-veiled barbs at each other are either signs of frazzled nerves due to having their eardrums bleed every year, or maybe just a little bit of homoerotic tension. I'll let the slashers take it from here.
- Maybe it's the rampant liver damage messing with her brain, but Paula somehow decided to become the show's official cheerleader. "You can breathe?! You will make it in this competition! You have a beautiful soul, girl! You look fabulous! Singing? Who the hell cares about that?!"
- Simon's head seems to be filled with various places where bad singers congregate. "That sounded like it belongs in a... [student gig | hotel | karaoke | bar | lounge | old folks home | litterbox | etc.]."
* * *
San Francisco is an awesome town. Shannon and I took incredible advantage of victoriae and beauwolf's amazing hospitality, rode some trolleys, kicked it in Market Street, and were wowed by the incredible transportation system. The entire population could mass-amputate their limbs and still get around just as easily. However, NEVER TAKE TAXIS. THEY ARE EVIL MONEY HOLES.
* * *
I'm making a housecall to fix the boss of my boss' boss' computer on Friday. Better do a good job? (I need business cards, stat.)
* * *
If there is a god, then potlucks are surely proof of his existence. No event where you can bring a bag of chips and get a seven-course meal in return could be borne of mortal minds.
Ahh, I love the smell of childhood favourites being shat upon (for the umpteenth time).
* * *
Live thoughts on American Idol:
- I think we've officially made up for the slavery thing by deciding to take a dive on the pop star popularity contests. So far, the way it's going, next week they're just going to turn off the lights and say "will all the girls we can still see please leave the stage?"
- We know that, deservedly or not, Ryan Seacrest has obtained something of a foppish reputation; it's somewhat amusing, however, to see Simon join the fray of vagina. Their little half-veiled barbs at each other are either signs of frazzled nerves due to having their eardrums bleed every year, or maybe just a little bit of homoerotic tension. I'll let the slashers take it from here.
- Maybe it's the rampant liver damage messing with her brain, but Paula somehow decided to become the show's official cheerleader. "You can breathe?! You will make it in this competition! You have a beautiful soul, girl! You look fabulous! Singing? Who the hell cares about that?!"
- Simon's head seems to be filled with various places where bad singers congregate. "That sounded like it belongs in a... [student gig | hotel | karaoke | bar | lounge | old folks home | litterbox | etc.]."
* * *
San Francisco is an awesome town. Shannon and I took incredible advantage of victoriae and beauwolf's amazing hospitality, rode some trolleys, kicked it in Market Street, and were wowed by the incredible transportation system. The entire population could mass-amputate their limbs and still get around just as easily. However, NEVER TAKE TAXIS. THEY ARE EVIL MONEY HOLES.
* * *
I'm making a housecall to fix the boss of my boss' boss' computer on Friday. Better do a good job? (I need business cards, stat.)
* * *
If there is a god, then potlucks are surely proof of his existence. No event where you can bring a bag of chips and get a seven-course meal in return could be borne of mortal minds.