I was wisely using my lunch time hour to evaluate the...err...assets of the pussy cat dolls (i'm not sure exactly who comprises this group). Their democratically-elected leader appears to be the gorgeous (that word could be used to describe any of them really; they are interchangeably gorgeous) chick who, for a large part of the video, sticks up her index finger, tilts her head to the side, and dances a lazy sort of jig. Oh, and she lips synchs poorly.
Of course, none of this matters (the beauty, the finger, jig dancing) when the goddamn editing gives you about 3 seconds to appreciate it before cuts. Here, watch:
See what I mean? It's directed like a bad japanese robot fighting cartoon where the attention span of the audience is so brief (think golden retriever brief) that a new, violently glowing image must be presented every other second in a sequence that will inevitably cause epileptic seizures in large amounts of the population. And there's some weird posturing going on, most of which really doesn't make much sense in the context that it's occurring. Take, for example, my favorite "pants" scene: She seems just a BIT too happy to be putting on pants, doesn't she? What are these pants? Why do they make her so happy? And why is she wearing a black bra?
These are all questions that haunt me. Every waking moment of my day thus far is spent in quiet, pussy-catish contemplation. I'm like a modern Buddha and my koan is focused on the this woman's pants. Damn, religion is COOL.
I leave you with an image that, on many levels, generalizes the pussy cat dolls:
5:10 PM - That extra dimension makes all the difference
There are plenty of people who prefer the pre-Playstation Final Fantasy games to later offerings in the series. Much like the fans who loved the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" and hated its sequel, I never understood these types. Both works were essentially identical. Final Fantasy VII, for example, was the Halo of the PSX - the marquee game, the first game they advertised on movie theater screens, the game many people bought that console to play, inspiring two sequel games set in the same world. More importantly, though, the Seven+ Final Fantasies kept all the hallmarks that made the series great: namely, long playing times, incredibly convoluted and melodramatic plots, interesting visual design, and quirky hairstyle choices.
Shonen Jump released pics of the new Final Fantasy 4 3D remake for the DS, and someone on the NeoGAF forums made a couple of images comparing the new one with the same events from the original SNES version. Enjoy.
I've been thinking about it often lately (mostly after contemplating multi-tool hari-kiri after dealing with a particularly stupid cow-orker) and every day, the idea of being a homeless drunken bum sounds more and more TOTALLY AWESOME.
Allow me to regale you with my reasoning:
*Bums don't work. They just kind of layabout, shoot the shit, give sage advice to lost travelers, and stab each-other. All of which are skills that I possess in spades!
*Constant drunkenness. Bums somehow have the ability to acquire quality alcohol at all times of day and in all locations. And they drink it like normal folks aerobically inhale and process oxygen--except we don't curl up and die of cirrhosis after a hard month of breathing.
*Bums never have to deal with PECO, Comcast, or other asshole corporate bill-collecting agencies. For this one reason alone, I would gladly give up all worldly possessions.
*Free soup for dinner. What more needs be said?
*Hot college chicks are always trying to help out the homeless. I could see myself, as a homeless drunken bum, saying things like "I think, for you, i could give up alcohol and drugs, get a job, and be happy" then I'd take 50 bucks from the bitch's purse and buy a decent bottle of wine to celebrate my crushing of someone's innocence and belief in the intrinsic good of man. It's really kind of a white wine event, I think.
*In case of a zombie outbreak or nuclear war, the homeless are perfectly positioned to live in the ensuing post-apocalyptic environment. Eat that, yuppie-soon-to-starve-to-death scum!
*Any time is a good time to stab someone!
Well, as you can see, I put a TON of thought into this possible life. I believe it's a tolerable sort of existence--definitely preferable to my current position. Now, what could my bum-name be...
--HK_Newbie
And yes, I probably will be seeing "Grindhouse" this weekend.
In honor of my 25 years of continued existence, I decided to go out for a night on the town. After work, I went home, threw a hoodie over my button-up work shirt and a pair of heavy boots in place of my calf-skin somethingorothers (very expensive, but i liked the idea of wearing calf-skin on my feet. eat that, vegetarian and animal rights activists!) and MAC'd 200 bucks from the nearest ATM. Of course, every homeless person in the city picked that moment to hang out around that specific ATM, but I was able to counter their pleas with "I don't speak the english!" and "It's my birthday bitches, this is MY booze money! not yours!" They seemed to accept the latter excuse.
I started out at one of my favorite bars, north 3rd, shortened to n3rd (I like it for obvious reasons) and had a few Duvels and vodka shots. I alerted the rather cute bar-tender of my birthday wishes (complete and total dissassociation) and she was more than happy to oblige. I talked to some older dude about Thomas Pynchon, different types of probability distributions, frame dragging, and video games (i always seem to meet up with weird people who feel compelled to tell me their fucked-up life stories--this one was less fucked than most). Old-dude bought me another shot, and together we went to the standard tap where the drinking continued...
This is where things start getting blurry: at some point, old-dude took his leave, I was drinking by myself at some hole-in-the-wall bar, I danced (terribly) with a bar-tender to the dulcet tones of the hideously old Mick Jagger (who is probably a flesh-eating ghoul), and i ended up walking out of the bar around 3am with a shot-glass in each hand.
I assume the shot-glasses were for my protection in case someone decided to jump me. I would probably throw them at my attacker as a distraction (cause it sure as hell wouldn't actually hit them) and try running to my apartment. Fortunately, I made it home without incident and woke up about an hour after I was supposed to be at work.
She seems just a BIT too happy to be putting on pants, doesn't she? What are these pants? Why do they make her so happy? And why is she wearing a black bra?
