Blogspot, writer of words, channel of fear.
One of the great joys of digital cable is that for any change in time t, there are d[2(e0)x]/dt instances of pre-3rd season Will & Grace showing (where e0 equals the permittivity of free space). In 8th grade, the show made me long for an elevated kitchen and a lucrative career in corporate law more than anything. I'm not kidding--Will and Grace is the major reason I did mock trial.
Of course, since new episodes are as fun to watch as a seven year old sitcom about faghags, all avalible shows are syndicated--which means they've had commercials injected into them with a turkey baster. The average commercial break goes something like this: A woman is dancing in a club when she suddenly realizes she sports a colossal, glowing pit stain. Shoulda used Dri-Pits! After this comes an ice cream commercial, followed without delay by advertisements for tampons designed for those heavy days. Do you see the pattern?
Fag hags who spend Sunday morning reading Cathy are unfortunate realities. There are good one though. My friend Blaire uses her charm to collect gays like stamps or mini-bottles of barbeque sauce; I suspect her secret intention is to pickle us and sell our shriveled corpses on Antiques Roadshow. I respect her.
Changing channels, Justin and I notice the demographic that watches The Science Channel are uniformly balding and lodged in a death-spiral of debt. I, for one, agree with the attractive, yet approachable, blonde spokeswoman that consolidation is the answer. I, for one, also agree with experts that there is going to be a killer asteroid in 800 years and we may go the way of the dinosaur.
*I drank 2 liters of green tea today to avoid overheating and that shit is driving me up the wall.
One of the great joys of digital cable is that for any change in time t, there are d[2(e0)x]/dt instances of pre-3rd season Will & Grace showing (where e0 equals the permittivity of free space). In 8th grade, the show made me long for an elevated kitchen and a lucrative career in corporate law more than anything. I'm not kidding--Will and Grace is the major reason I did mock trial.
Of course, since new episodes are as fun to watch as a seven year old sitcom about faghags, all avalible shows are syndicated--which means they've had commercials injected into them with a turkey baster. The average commercial break goes something like this: A woman is dancing in a club when she suddenly realizes she sports a colossal, glowing pit stain. Shoulda used Dri-Pits! After this comes an ice cream commercial, followed without delay by advertisements for tampons designed for those heavy days. Do you see the pattern?
Fag hags who spend Sunday morning reading Cathy are unfortunate realities. There are good one though. My friend Blaire uses her charm to collect gays like stamps or mini-bottles of barbeque sauce; I suspect her secret intention is to pickle us and sell our shriveled corpses on Antiques Roadshow. I respect her.
Changing channels, Justin and I notice the demographic that watches The Science Channel are uniformly balding and lodged in a death-spiral of debt. I, for one, agree with the attractive, yet approachable, blonde spokeswoman that consolidation is the answer. I, for one, also agree with experts that there is going to be a killer asteroid in 800 years and we may go the way of the dinosaur.
*I drank 2 liters of green tea today to avoid overheating and that shit is driving me up the wall.
posted by Byron at 2:36 AM
2 Comments:
Do all you gays come to NYU for the choice pick of lovely and stylish fag hags? I think so.
Believe me, I came here for the gays.
you bitches are like cars or handbags.
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