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Is it just me or does this deviation of the art-form known as pornographic films just totally rule? Little people doing unspeakable things to each others tiny, tiny bodies? Heaven. Absolute heaven.
And why not wear it on my shirt, letting all know how I feel about this sub-genre of this sub-species? A great conversation starter at parties, I must freely admit.
My only concern: Midget, as nomenclature, is considered offensive. But you try and find a "I heart little people porn" shirt.
I'm on my feet up to 22 hours a day, and my dogs are known to bark. But a little secret I've picked up from my years on the street -- there is nothing like a soft, comfortable neck.
I built this cradle a few months ago and let me tell you, I'm sleeping better, I've got more energy, my posture is better and I can pick up shortwave radio signals when I'm on a hill.
The two pads cradling my neck? You guessed it -- 100% pure Alpaca fur. Carbon fiber tubing and a couple of 3/8" lug nuts and you've got yourself and neck Chez Lounge.
Only hard part was screwing the bolts into my skull. Luckily, there's not much in there, as I'm Yale man.
HA! Take that, Yale. Princeton rules!
That is the last time I buy speed from my mother's boyfriend. Chump tried to pass off a stick of chalk as glassy crystal.
Well, I cracked him over the head with my bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade (BTW -- add some vodka and some canned hairspray to it and you've got a lovely and refreshing summertime beverage).
He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and lunged at me, but mom's knives are crappy ones from Target, not like my Wusthof's. Told her that good knives make all the difference. She can't julienne for shit.
So her dirtbag bf came at me with some pressed steel Chinese made 9 inch blade. Barely cut the skin. Good thing he wasn't trying to rondelle some carrots.
What a loser...
I can feel it. My next big break is right around the corner. Just as soon as I am tried for domestic abuse in the great state of Utah. Yes, I know I was arrested a while ago for trying to run someone over in a bowling ally parking lot who simply wanted my autograph. But look at this face. See it in my eyes. I'm ready, America. I'm ready for my comeback. Gary Coleman is ready to make you laugh, once again...
This is the sort of free publicity my former agent was always telling me about. "Get arrested, make a sex tape, date Heather Graham... all my clients are doing these things and booking gigs!" Well, Heather Graham didn't Facebook me back and I'm not ready for a sex tape just yet, so getting arrested seemed like right thing to do.
So all you casting directors, Gary Coleman, pending me making bail, is available for pilots, guest star roles, feature films, direct to video and stage work. My pager is turned on.
What is it, like, the tenth time I've been pinched? Do I get a free scoop of ice cream with the punch-card I've been keeping in my wallet?
Ha! Just joshing ya. Dandy Aick here, free-form alt comic, sometimes TV and film actor, sexually ambiguous as a sea horse, lover of the liquor and the yip-yip, at your service.
Sure, I've been on the wagon for a bit. I think I was even on Celebrity Rehab or some other TV abortion like that. And I was clean. For a while, at least. Living life one day at a time.
And then I was at a comedy club. Doing my shtick. Lo and behold, a guy and girl approached me -- big fans who just had to be the Dick-meister. And who wants a free drink with his fan? This dude does. So five shots of Kettle One later, I grab his dick and her tit. Seemed like the thing to do. Thing not to do was tell him that her tit was bigger than his dick. Oh, Andy... sometimes you can't let a funny line just go into the ether.
...to get Lasik and rob a gas station. Sure, I could have done one eye, wait a few weeks, then get the other, but hey, I'm not making two trips. Pull the band-aid off all at once -- that's always been my philosophy.
They said my vision would be fuzzy for a few hours -- plenty of time to have the outpatient procedure, hit the Chevron I've been casing for a month, hold that shit up and be on my merry way. Well, I can't see a damned thing as I'm holding a gun to this guy's head, pulling cash out of the register. Guess he thought my bandages were a disguise or something. Then I walked out. Or at least I thought I walked out. Bam! Right into a wall. I go down. Cops coming, guy holding me down, and I can't even see a thing.
I'm a so not breaking and entering into that house the day after my bunion surgery, that's for sure.
How do I look?
I am big fan of the cinema. But I must say that I was very, very disappointed by the new Tarantino war epic.
I mean, I'm all for revisionist history. (See my holocaust denial blog!) And I love it when I see Nazi's wearing their uniforms, in full glory, long before the Zionists shut down their fun. Oh, to view a man in uniform. The regalia! If I didn't hate gays so much, I'd probably be one.
I digress... This film by Mr. Tarantino is an abomination. Firstly, Goebbels looked nothing like the actor who portrayed him. Nothing like him! I should know -- his face is tattooed on my knee.
And what a one-sided point of view! Nazis are bad. Jews are good. Where's the objectivity? Nazis did a lot of good things: They built highways, lowered unemployment, lowered the crime rate, encouraged a strong family. C'mon, Quentin, do some research. (Again, see my blog!)
When is Mel Gibson gonna make another flick, eh? He gets it.
