This Is Why They Call It 'Men'struating!

Because men are supposed to do it.

A 15-year-old boy in some place in India (I think, I don't care enough to actually look up where Kolkata is--sounds like a poor and/or retarded man's Calcutta [double-parenthesis, this is a first--isn't Calcutta the poor man's Calcutta?] is menstruating. For those that don't know, menstruating is what it's called when a woman's vagina becomes filled with bees.

The article talks about how his behaviour (goddamn Queen's English) and traits are like a woman. This kid officially now has won the title of the gayest boy in the world! Congratulations! May your vagina-y penis shine with the light of Vishnu!

It also mentions how he didn't tell anybody he was menstruating for a while. So, your wiener is dripping blood? Make sure you keep it a secret from everybody. It's probably no big deal.

If my penis even sneezed, I would take it to the doctor right away. Or I would show it off at parties.

Interesting thought of the day:
If Princess Diana's nickname was Lady Live, she probably wouldn't be dead right now. It was a stockpile of bad karma that offed her.

Liar, Liar, Meaningless Symbol on Fire!

Now, I'm not an America-hater, but sometimes shit just gets too ridiculous.

See, a bunch of people that don't actually give a flying fuck about anything that goes on in the country that doesn't direclty involve their acquisition of as many blowjobs and fancy cars as possible (two things that I, myself, am very adamant about as well), decided that they weren't going to allow people to burn the flag anymore.

To these people (the same ones who actually believe the Pope has magical powers and that John Edwards talks to dead people), if somebody burns the flag, then they feel like that actually, somehow makes less of the United States. I don't want to get all preachy and shit, but that's what makes America good, you fucking douche bags. The fact that people can openly protest the management of the country in which they live and not face any penalties for it as long as it is done without causing harm to anybody else is why America is what it is. Once some goddamn red staters decide that "Every time a flag burns an angel gets raped by a cheese grater," so they're not going to allow it anymore, is the point when America is no longer actually standing for what it should (free porn on the internet and Brownie Batter Blizzards from Dairy Queen).

Once again, I'm coming off like the filthy left-winger that I am, but I can't believe that people in Congress and the Senate actually think that it's about time we stopped allowing people to burn the flag. Because we all know that burning the flag is the gateway drug into burning harder things like American flag t-shirts, bandanas, toilet seat covers, band-aids, and vibrators.

I'm not going to head out and start burning any flags, but what these idiots don't understand is that the flag is merely a symbol. I mean, when you break it down, they're just burning cloth, kevlar, or a sheet of circumsized Jewish baby foreskin, or whatever flags are made from. It's a goddamn metaphor, you retards. They're not flying planes into the White House or wearing explosive British Knights on a flight; they're operating on the same fucking level as Alice in Wonderland.

The simple idea that people are saying that it has a good chance of passing this time (though, hopefully, it will get shot down by the Supreme Court again), shows just how much I have no idea what actually goes on in the minds of a majority of Americans. The Wal-Mart robots of the Red States have control of America right now and it's scary. People who believe that the universe was created by magic are in control of the most powerful nation in the world.

Suck on that one, logic!

Interesting thought of the day:
Autoerotic asphyxiation is a good first and last line for a haiku.

Short and Sweet!

Just like a Vietnam War amputee made out of candy!

Today I decided that if I ever start to drink alcohol, the only way I'm going to drink is by sucking the alcohol from Wetnaps.

My Brain is Broken!

This morning I woke up early (for me) and couldn't get back to sleep because my mind wouldn't stop going. What was on my mind, you ask? The sad part about what I'm going to write is that it is all 100% true.

I couldn't think of the mom's name from "Who's the Boss?". I don't know why I woke up with "Who's the Boss?" on the brain, but I did. I'm going over the names in my head: Tony, Jonathan, Samantha, Mona, _____ . I even get a mental running start by saying the names really fast in my head, and I get nothing.

Then I thought, well, maybe if I remember their last name, that will trigger the first name. Tony's last name is, umm, Micelli. Jonathan's is going to be the same as the mom. His last name is...Bower. That's it. Jonathan Bower. That would make the mom named _____ . I still have nothing.

Having the world's most gay-ass case of OCD on earth, I can't just let it go. I go through each letter of the alphabet. Normally this works for me; not this time. Finally I commit myself to getting up (which means I won't be getting back to sleep this morning) and turning on my computer so I can check it on imdb. As I stand up, my mind yells out, "Angela!"

Fuck you, brain. Who's the boss now, bitch?

I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that I had to know this completely trivial fact so much that I was willing to forego more sleep, or the fact that I can actually name all of the main characters from "Who's the Boss?," including last names, from a dead sleep.

Either way, I'm sure tomorrow morning I'll wake up to naming all the kids from "Just the Ten of Us" in descending order by age.

Interesting thought of the day:
A breakfast burrito is what I call it when I drape my flaccid wiener on my girlfriend's* mouth while she's asleep.

*a magazine cut-out of David Gest

Tom Ka-ruise! (Because He's Ka-razy With a Capital K)

In the endless publicity machine that is Tom Cruise's life, recently some cracks have begun to show in the heretofore seemingly "normal" exterior. A year ago I wrote about Scientology and some of the things that they believe in that makes them all crazy. It turns out that I wasn't being sarcastic like I originally thought, but, instead, it turns out that I'm a prophet sent to warn the world about the impending battle coming. That's right, a battle between good and evil, Jesus and L. Ron Hubbard, Mel Gibson and Tom Cruise. This will be so epic that some may call it a War of the Worlds.

Motherfucker.

He did it to me, too.

VERSUS

That's going to make a kick-ass movie. The Passion of the Samurai. No. The Tim Man (By the way, I haven't seen Tim, but I'll bet that it's ten kinds of awesome). No. Signs on a Wire. No, that's two Mel Gibson movies; that doesn't work. Minority Weapon. No, sorry, that's not a movie, it's a sharpened toothbrush. Whatever.

Recently, though, things have escalated between these two . Apparently, Mel Gibson thought that scientologists operated on the same level as vampires and the girl who stabbed her vagina with a crucifix in that one Disney movie, and had Tom Cruise doused in holy water at the War of the Worlds Australian premiere (Mel's homeland--coincidence? I think not--or it is!). Luckily for him, Tom Cruise has given the Church of Scientology $2,000,000 this year, barely edging his way into the Platinum Package that ensures his protection from "holy water, the heeby-jeebies, and the stink eye."

Geraldo Rivera's mustache tells me that Cruise's underlings, Jenna Elfman and John Travolta, are planning to counterattack by making sequels to both Krippendorf's Tribe and Lucky Numbers and releasing them on the same weekend as Gibson's next film. This box office poison has been employed before when Elfman's Looney Tunes: Back in Action managed to scare crowds away from the theaters and even killed 13 Christians.

Interesting thought of the day:
One time, Webster walked in on Punky Brewster while she was having a three way with Wesley from "Mr. Belvedere" and Vicki from "Small Wonder."