Sunday Was Easter, Weird

I have officially "Perezed" this pic. Did you know Kristin Davis had a Hitler 'stache?

I was actually happy to go to church on Sunday, however long I haven't gone and however the time I went (8 a.m., but sure beats sunrise services). I followed the Catholic tradition of going to church on the "biggie" days of the year. The other days beside Easter, under unofficial Christian protocol, are on Christmas and when you desperately want God to do something for you. Don't think you haven't asked for something from God one day and then, the other days, it's a simple output of the Creator. Don't put him on the backbruner, dammit!

Anyways, Easter weekend fell on the same weekend the droves of gay men decided to show up in my sleepy town. You know, it's the fabulous day of the year for the male homosexual persuasion: White Party Weekend. It's unique to find out the lore behind the weekend. You find out things like what exactly the 25,000 or so gay men do on this particular weekend, no details included. The thing off-putting was that I live just down street from my town's gay central and I could literally hear and see the Party go down. There was a freakin' ferris wheel there! A big gay ferris wheel. Needless to say, I reveled and detested the fact of the party being just screaming distance away. But you gotta admit, they have some cool ass music. Damn, that music is hot.

Fitting into the day of the White Party, I decided willingly to watch Sex and the City: The Movie On Demand. Why you ask? Eh. I don't know either. I mean, the day just seemed destined to have me sit in on two hours of estrogenic hijinks and talk of Louis Vuitton handbags and shoes! SHOES! I really haven't watched the series and something about seeing Samantha have sex is just icky. The movie was cute, for the most part. Then, I made the required subsequent vomiting after viewing the movie. Freakin' SJP. She's not as hot as she used to be in the early 90s. Dude, I just remembered. She was in the First Wives Club. Eck, how am I rehashing these chick flicks?

I also watched Chuck On Demand as well. This show's pretty underrated for NBC, but, then again, they promo the hell out of Heroes and Medium and nothing really comes of it so I figure the same is happening to Chuck. I actually like this show and plan to watch tonight's new one coming on at 9 p.m. That's if my fancy is put off at that point. I mean, I watched freakin' Sex and the City and heard a gay disco go down feet away.

Eh. No more blogging. I figure this is filler just to get back on track after a whole week of getting sick and spreading it. Those herpes flare ups are awfully inconvenient.

I'm an Asian. I'm From Texas. How Do I Feel About This?

The way things are doesn't settle well with this lady, especially when Asian names are involved.

You know that nagging feeling you get when you just threw up your lunch and the same thing is happening to your back end? No. You don't know that feeling?

Ok. Very well. Considering that's the overall feeling of my weeklong illness, which I hope I'm getting over like a good relationship that ended because she didn't feel like she was making me happy, oh no, she was, but she found that justice to break up with me anyways...ehhhh...(ruh roh. TANGENT. Back on track.), I find it overwhelming to get over an illness with this news, being the proud Asian-Texan:

You know what really ruffles the feathers of Texas State Representative Betty Brown? Asian names. She could take or leave the Asians themselves, but their names? She's definitely leaving those.

That's why Ms. Brown has proposed that Asians ditch their given names and use names that are "easier for Americans to deal with." She was responding to a representative's complaint that Chinese, Japanese and Korean people sometimes have difficulty voting due to disparities between their legal, transliterated names and the common English names used on driver's licenses and school registrations. [Asylum/Chron.com]

Since I'm naturally selfish, I'll tell you how this would affect me if this lady got her way. Absolutley no effect on me, whatsoever. I'm not Asian. I'm actually Spanish. I may look like I did wrong against the U.S. in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii in 1941, but believe me, I'm not like those Asians. I speak-a a lot of Hispanol, ya dig? That leaves me with one hitch, though. They still haven't fixed the border-immigration thing yet, right? So, I'm so a fugitive from INS. Si. Great. Changon!

ILVTOFU Too!

That's right, Colorado. I love "TOFU" and there's nothing mushy about it, either.

One lady got in trouble because Colorado has a nasty mind. Ha. Hahaha. Ha.

Colorado vegan Kelly Coffman-Lee loves tofu, but the dirty-minded DMV wouldn't let her get a personalized license plate reading "ILVTOFU," for fear that other dirty-minded drivers would misinterpret the vanity plate's message.

Says Department of Revenue spokesman Mark Couch: "We don't allow 'FU' because some people could read that as street language for sex."

Coffman-Lee, however, thinks the DMV shouldn't be able to censor her passion for bean curd. "That's a little bit '1984' to me," she says. [Asylum]

You can't blame the Rocky Mountain State for putting the brakes on a near disastrous vanity plate. Imagine what drivers on the road would think when they see ILVTOFU on the back of that lady's SUV. Meat eaters would be like, "I resent that! Don't be spreading that veganism hatred on me, sister!" And other vegans would be like, "Show everybody up with your great sign about loving TOFU, will ya? Why I oughta..." Is there nothing sacred about showing your love about bean curd cubes?

Oh, yeah, she loves to f*ck you, as well. So there's that.

Billy Bob Thornton = D*ck

Of the five vowels in the alphabet, which one did you think was replaced by the asterisk in this title? I'm sure the title doesn't equate to Billy Bob Thornton being a 'deck' or a 'dock' or a 'duck,' or, for that matter, a 'dack.'

No, Mr. Thornton was simply a dick doing the same dick things that I hear Hollywood types do when they reach out to the public medium but I usually turn a blind eye or death ear to. No, Mr. Thornton just embodied the Hollywood dick without any hitches or consolations contained when he appeared on a Canadian radio talk show with his band the Boxmasters.

Mr. French Fried Pataters had the gall to expect the interviewer, who so eloquently and patiently explained his line of question to the "actor," to only ask questions about him being a musician. First of all, when you think of Billy Bob Thornton, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Hm? Actor? Yes. Crazy redneck who wore Angelina Jolie's blood around his neck? Maybe. Musician? Just about third or fourth down on the list.

Second, Mr. Thornton acted like his "requests" to move along his line of questioning was pre-ordained as if he was Jesus Christ. You, sir, are no Jesus Christ. You won only one Oscar and that was for writing. You were in freakin' Mr. Woodcock and School for Scoundrels and Armageddon and The Astronaut Farmer. Nothing says "down to earth" and "home grown" then redneck premadonna.

A Dose of Blasphemy for Your Easter

There are two sides to every person. One side usually counteracts the extreme of the other, and in vice-versa. This concept comes into play when the video for "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails comes into play. See, I am very devout in my belief in Jesus Christ being my Lord and Saviour and Eternal Redeemer. There's no jokes about that, no quick quips. But that's my George Bushian side of me saying that.

My liberal, artsy-fartsy side says this nearly four minute motion picture accompanying the unique industrial sound of Mr. Trent Reznor is a feast for the eyes and carries on the grittiness of life. That's if you equate life with sado-masochism, bondage, bestiality, torture, and straight-up blasphemy.

Duality is what we all live for in our lives. We can appear to be the most squeaky clean entity on earth all in the hopes of getting into God's heavenly gates on the first try. But you can't shake the true being that comes from within. Just a reminder, Jesus died in order for us to live without sin...and without the stigma of filming/watching a semi-snuff film featuring people spinning on tourniquets and a severed pig's head doing the same on some crazy Eli Whitney-type cotton gin contraption.

Enjoy! (SVFNSFW):

Editor's Note: The point of this post is to drive home the true meaning of Easter, however twisted I present it. God forgives you for who you are, no matter what. It's not enough that we've been given the gift of "second life" through His Son's death that we have to live our lives in torture over our wrongdoings. Next time you think you're not worthy of this world because of your perceived guilt, be reminded that you were given the greatest gift and opportunity for this world through human sacrifice. Relax. Now, enough Bible-thumping. Replay that crazy monkey crucifixion again!

This Dog Hates Your Guts

Parity is the greatest part of blogging these days besides anonymous abuse and insults toward entities that simply piss you off.

So, what better way to give you parity and abuse in one posting than to give you this newborn puppy in a teacup. And news flash for you: I am channeling all my hatred through this teacup puppy.

Why must this be the case? Because I'm in a hateful mood and I figure you can't blame me when something cute like a teacup puppy fills your screen. I mean, look at this son of a bitch. It's yawning and it's smaller than the size of the teacup! Plus, it's a judgmental racist.

And what's the concept of parity having to do with this posting. It's simply a nod to the cutest yet most sarcastic blog on Blogspot besides my own. I dare you to check it out.

Oh, yeah. This teacup dog thinks your mother's a whore and your father holds the money. The dog's words, not mine.

[Best Week Ever]

The Bucs Bought Themselves a Lemon

Kay-Dub Number 2 is back in Florida. I think a motorcyle wheelie celebration is in order.

Why I'm still not a sports beat writer for a financially strapped newspaper or online news edition is beyond me. I can pretend to give a crap about every little thing in sports because there's an affixed 200 or so pro teams that operate every day because fans still give a crap about them. I don't know what the point of this two sentence rambling is about, but I'm pretty pissed that Kellen Winslow II got a new contract from his new team, the largest ever for an NFL tight end.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers were tricked into signed the four-year veteran to a six-year, $36.1 million contract extension with $20.1 million in guarantees, ESPN's John Clayton first reported.

Naturally, I have my doubts for somebody who was so hard headed at the University of Miami, FL that he carried that over to the NFL, was not worth the sixth overall pick the Cleveland Browns drafted him at in 2004, and, basically, gave a big "f**k you" to management by aggravating a knee injury with a extracurricular rice-rocket stunt show in a parking lot, which was caught on tape.

In my opinion, that money should be saved to sign other worthy tight ends like Antonio Gates and Jason Witten (I think). You know, the team first, me last kind of deals. But what do I know about the NFL. I work for no reputible news organization nor have I worked in a pro or college sports team. Although, I dream of the day I get plucked from the crowd and be told to coach the Denver Broncos, and then, piss off the star quarterback who was supposed to carry the future of the franchise. (Broncos FTW, BTW.)