Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Jenna and Barbara's Decision Making Process

Barbara: Hey, Jenna.
Jenna: Hi... twin.
Barbara: It's Barbara. My name is Barbara.
Jenna: Really? Hey, isn't that also the name of our...
Barbara: Our grandmother. Yes, it's also the name of our grandmother.
Jenna: She's the one with the white hair and mannish physique, right?
Barbara: Well that certainly ain't Grandpa.
Jenna: Okay, cool, that's what I thought. So, what's up? And don't say "my dinner from last night" because, dude, that was a boot and rally of epic proportion! Can I get an amen?!... Wait, they do have God down here, right?
Barbara: Jenna, listen. I'm, like, really starting to think we should leave Argentina and go back home.
Jenna: Whaaaaat? Whyyyy???
Barbara: Well okay, first off, someone stole my purse and my cell phone.
Jenna: Uhm, Barbara, I think what you meant to say was, "I left my purse and cell phone in a cab when I was so wasted I couldn't see straight or stand upright."
Barbara: No, Jenna, that was you.
Jenna: Whateverrr! Besides, the secret service is here to protect us.
Barbara: Yeah, but my bag got stolen when they were with us.
Jenna: Hahahahaha! Seriously? That is soooo fucked up! But then again, so was Brian.
Barbara: Brian? Who's Brian?
Jenna: He's the agent Daddy tapped from his frat to watch over us. Our families have known one another since, like, the Mayflower. He is sooo cool.
Barbara: Really? What was he doing before he was appointed for this job?
Jenna: After he flunked out of UT, he ran the stables on our ranch.
Barbara: So does that make him qualified?
Jenna: What's with the third degree, Senorita Buzz Kill? We're here to celebrate our 25th birthday, baby. Whooo!
Barbara: Well yeah, I know, but doesn't it bother you that we've been asked to leave the country by the U.S. Embassy?
Jenna: Dude, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one -- do you not read Fox News? They work for us!
Barbara: Well I know that. But I would, like, feel kind of bad if we caused an international incident or something. I mean Daddy's been having a tough time as it is recently.
Jenna: Uh, no he hasn't. And seriously, Barbara, you'd know that if you'd paid more attention to Fox News. Anyway, come on, we have tangerine lessons in an hour, and I need to find my dancing shoes.
Barbara: I don't know, I really think we should go home.
Jenna: Well then maybe you should go. But I'm going to stay. I mean now that I'm 25 I realize that someone needs to be a role model to the girls down here, and I'm sorry, but Madonna is just too old to do that now.
Barbara: That is really mature of you.
Jenna: I know. I just want to make Daddy as proud of me as the world is of him!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

If I Were Going to Write About OJ...

Here's how I'd do it: MURDERER!

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I have a music recommendation for you people. Yes, yes, I know. In the past I’ve been accused of having terrible taste in music. And I just have to say those accusations hurt me a great deal because they were as right as rain. But a new day has dawned, and even though I still have great fondness for Ace of Base, my palette has expanded to include good music, too.

So do yourselves a favor and check out this young folk rock singer out of New Braunfels, Texas named Ryan Bingham. Yep, that is a hotlink to his MySpace page, but don't hold that against him. He's got four songs you can listen to there, my favorites are the middle two, "Sunrise" and "Southside of Heaven."

He's got one of those really cool, throaty voices -- imagine a male, cowboy hat wearing Kim Carnes -- wait, no, don't do that, that's an awful image. But even for us North Eastern snobs who tend to shy away from all things non-Brooks Bros., this guy will almost make you wish you, too, knew how to pop off a beer cap with your belt buckle. I haven't heard anything like it and it's worth a listen. Ryan hasn't broken yet, but he's about to and once you hear him, you'll know why. You might even thank me. But maybe we should just leave hypotheticals like that to the Juice man.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Tom and Katie Exchange Vows

I, Tom, take thee Katie, in the presence of our friends and family, including that couple standing in for your parents, and the almighty Xenu, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife.

I vow to love you so much, like a love that’s just, wow, serious love. Yeah! Like a climb on top of this altar, back-flip kind of love!

Oh, right, sorry, not that I would do that, as I also vow to “dial it back,” as you say, and, although I don’t personally see it, to “stop scaring people.”

To have and to hold you, in public, but no more than six times per week, and not by a vice-like neck squeeze or extended bear hug that, yes, would be more appropriate from a bounty hunter, and for which I’ve apologized, like, a hundred times.

To be your faithful partner in sickness and non-chemically-enhanced health, which is not just the same as sickness, no matter what anyone says.

For richer or poorer, but not richer than the amount clearly spelled out in paragraphs six through eight of the agreement, with options to vest after year ten.

To support you in your goals, personal and professional, including any Dawson’s Creek reunion special, but only if the script calls for Joey Potter to return to spread the gospel of L. Ron Hubbard, which, I think we both now agree, was a glaring omission in the series’ five year run.

To encourage and gently instruct one another in all new endeavors and activities, including, for example, at childbirth, where one of us might have forgotten about the “no talking” rule and, definitely, the “no swearing” rule.

To get to know you as a woman, as my wife and, fingers crossed, as an Operating Thetan VIII.

And to be together, from this day forward, for all eternity, under the eye, the all-watchful eye, which will always be watching, watching you, and I, together, all eternity, watching.

I Katie, take thee Tom, in the presence of our friends and your family, God, and, uh, that Xenu guy, to be my husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my primary handler from this day forward.

I vow to love and stand by you, and, as agreed, at all major premiers and award shows, and various other media engagements, but definitely not on Oprah, which has sort of a scene-of-the-crime feel now.

To be there for you in sickness and in health. And also, apparently, in recurring soul-crushing bouts of untreated depression.

For richer or poorer, but, regardless, paragraph seven and those options are fully binding and non-negotiable.

To be your companion and mate, but not your co-star in some poorly conceived romantic-comedy, because look how well that turned out for Ben and J.Lo, and I’m still young and viable in this industry, so forget that.

To encourage and gently instruct one another in all new endeavors and activities, including at, say, a Washington Redskins game, where one of us might have forgotten that in football it’s not called a three-point shot, and definitely to stop shouting “and one” throughout the game, because that got really embarrassing, especially since one of us was in a football movie, like, thirty years ago.

To grow together on our journey, and to really try hard for OT VIII, but, I’m not making any promises since you know how bad I am at tests and just getting to OT II took, like, a whole year.

And to stay with you, ‘til death do us part. But, to be clear, not in that thetan way. You know, where you continue to live beyond the death of the body for millions of years. Because I have NOT signed on for that.

No matter what that eye thing sees.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Prisoner 082975 Wants to Be Your Friend!

Boy, sexual predators on the internet just can't catch a break! Today comes news that there are bigger, badder motherfuckers lurking in cyberspace who are putting simple pedophiles to shame. Turns out death row inmates are the latest commuters on the information superhighway, and guess what parents? They want your children to be their friendsters! According to the Telegraph, "At least 30 prisoners awaiting execution in Texas have pages on MySpace."

You know MySpace, it's that wonderful social networking site we oldies keep hearing so much about! Well apparently the young ones--and Rupert Murdoch--love it. It's the way they communicate, share ideas, become BFFs with homicidal maniacs.

Unsurprisingly this new prisoner friend trend is far too delicious for the kids to ignore. They're adding convicts to their rolls like the guilty pleasures they are. Really, what self-respecting surly teen wouldn't want a felon for a friend? Talk about a great way to piss off your parents. (Before you could only resort to piercing your hoo-ha and hoping they heard about it from a local member of the clergy.) So you officially heard it here first: death row inmates are the new black, they are the new must have accessory for fall.

Now go ahead, invite Preston to be your friend. Aside from the triple homicide conviction, he's quite a peach!

Friday, November 10, 2006

Frat Boys Sue For Being Frat Boys

First, no need to comment on the miracle that was Tuesday other than to say, once again, FUCK YEAH!

Ok, then. So, in other delightful news this week, Borat continued to delight audiences with his twisted Tocqueville journey through some of the more excitable parts of our nation. Unfortunately, though, some of our fellow citizens don’t come off as the contemplative, evolved individuals that they totally, like, for real y’all, are. No, a couple of frat brothers from South Carolina University are not happy with their big-screen debut. So, it’s time to sue. What better way to Make Benefit Glorious Nation of America than the time-honored tradition of the lawsuit:

The legal action filed Thursday on their behalf claims they were duped into appearing in the spoof documentary "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan," in which they made racist and sexist comments on camera.

The little angels claim they were taken to a bar and liquored up before the shoot – something that they would never have done otherwise – and then engaged in conversation with Borat in which they disparaged women and minorities – again, something that they would never done otherwise.

This is outrageous. I mean, the sloppy sorority girls at least get a free trucker cap for their drunken antics on Girls Gone Wild. But these guys got zip. Unacceptable. If Borat had any class, he’d at least give them a complimentary green swim thong or pictures of his prostitute wife.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

It's Morning In America!

Favorite headline of the day, "White House Concedes Defeat." Who could have imagined before yesterday those in the White House knew what the word "concedes" meant?

And if that weren't good enough, the Bush administration's own Professor Griff, that combative Minister of DisInformation, Donald Rumsfeld, has just resigned! I mean damn, when the Army Times says you're a nincompoop who has badly misguided the armed forces and the nation, pack it in brother, your mission is embarrassingly accomplished.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006


And you thought the term "frazzled poll worker" only applied to a certain disgraced evangelical leader...
In Indiana's Marion County, about 175 of 914 precincts turned to paper because poll workers didn't know how to run the machines, said Marion County Clerk Doris Ann Sadler. She said it could take most of the day to fix all of the machine-related issues.

Do Something For America....And Then For You

Because maybe Robin was too understated, please VOTE today.

And then treat yourself to a gay massage and some crystal meth. It's the American way.

A Not So Subtle Reminder

Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Democrat. Vote. Vote. Vote.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Jay, Gleefully...

Hello gentle readers, Robin here. Okay, look, I know you're disappointed to be hearing from me instead of Funnyman Jay Dyckman today since Fridays are usually Jay Days at the Shaking blog. But before you start with the inevitable question of, "Oh, so she knocked Jay off now, too?" I'm just here to tell you that Jay is on the road and unable to post right now.

He did, however, ask me to pass a message to you that he sent me "from his Verizon Wireless BlackBerry." It reads thusly:

"Jay sends his regrets that he is on the road but would like Robin to express on his behalf his extreme glee about Ted Haggard."

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

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