One more reason to love Cash

"LOSE YOUR GUT"

It said, this stupid Men's Health flier as it sat on my stupid bathroom floor, mocking me and my teeth brushing. LOSE YOUR GUT. One year. Ten "BIG" issues. Only $19.97. "That's a steal!"

Bastards.

Next time, I take the little mailer flier things out of the magazine and throw them all out so they don't end up hidden in the random space between the wall and the bathroom sink. How come the Playboy ones never end up there?

Bastards.

"Even though posts and hits are down in record numbers, I just love OMS. I mean, like, how could I not? He's adorable and hellasexy," says Scarlett

Enough, after this

So Cho Seung-Hui really videotaped himself and sent the clips to NBC? This guy might be the douche bag of all douche bags, after Hitler and Bin Laden. OMS shan't utter his name again. What a hack, this guy, though. Vodka and cognac? Awful plays? Billion chances? Raped soul?

Jesus.

From msnbc.com:
The extensive material sent to NBC News this week by Cho Seung-Hui includes an angry diatribe against the rich and numerous unspecified enemies. Among the statements:

• You have vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience. You thought it was one pathetic boy’s life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people.

• Do you know what it feels to be spit on your face and to have trash shoved down your throat? Do you know what it feels like to dig your own grave?
Do you know what it feels like to have throat slashed from ear to ear? Do you know what it feels like to be torched alive?
Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated and be impaled upon on a cross? And left to bleed to death for your amusement? You have never felt a single ounce of pain your whole life. Did you want to inject as much misery in our lives as you can just because you can?

• You had everything you wanted. Your Mercedes wasn’t enough, you brats. Your golden necklaces weren’t enough, you snobs. Your trust fund wasn’t enough. Your vodka and Cognac weren’t enough. All your debaucheries weren’t enough. Those weren’t enough to fulfill your hedonistic needs. You had everything.

Again. Vodka and cognac? Douche bag, this guy. Douche bag.

Definitions of class

Dmitri Young and the Nationals tonight (AP Photo).

Countless candlelight vigils memorials.

Kids posting VT logos on their myspace and facebook pages.

Countless facebook memorials.

Any more?

No way a Philly fan does this

The guy totally should'a caught the foul ball. He deserved the slice to the face.

Right? F*cking Sox fans, man. Gahd love 'em.

Restoring faith in humanity

Don't get OMS started on the Virginia Tech madness. All he knows is it gets harder and harder still to think this'll all end up well.

But then he stops at the ol' grocery store on the way home, and his faith is somewhat restored. See, looks like someone had them some fun while defacing the chalkboard in front of the store.

"Fresh Cocked Salmon: $4.99," the sign read.

Heh.

Meanwhile, inside the store...

Girl: Which should we get? The double-stuff Oreos or the soft and chewy chocolate chip cookies?
OMS: (Under breath) Come on. Obviously chewy chocolate chip cookies.
Guy: Double-stuff Oreos.
Girl: Really? I thought you liked the other.
Guy: If I liked the other, I would've said the other.
OMS: (Under breath) Told ya to get the chewy goodness.
Girl: Seriously? You really want the Oreos?
Guy: Fine. Just get whatever you want.

Um, do these conversations *ever* go any differently? Seriously. Like, ever? No? Didn't think so.

Blame it on Rio

So last night before the ol' man went to bed, he caught him some Movie of the Night on Channel 9. And boy did it bring memories of Young Fat Puberty watching the same movie on the HBO when his parents weren't around.

From the imdb: She's the hottest thing on the beach. She's also his best friend's daughter!

Oh with the Duncan Sheik

I swear the iTunes knows what the weather is doing outside. Three times with the Duncan Sheik during a Sunday morning rainstorm? Duncan Sheik. Then the No Doubt. Then back to Duncan Sheik, then with the song from the Buffy musical and back to the Duncan Sheik.

What's that, you say? Buffy musical? Before you judge, I present the following, song sweetly by Ms. Trachtenberg over there:

No you see you and me wouldn't be very regal
What I mean I'm 15 so this queen things illegal
Well that's great but I'm late and I'd hate to delay her
She'll get pissed if I'm missed see my sister's the slayer

Brilliant.

And still raining. But hey! Yonder doing "Maid of the Canyon" just came on! Sunshine might be days away, weather-wise, but I'm so ho-downing on the inside.

From the May 2007 Playmate News

Shallan Meiers: "So many guys don't know proper grammar. If I meet a guy and he can't speak properly, I can't bring him home."

OMS can't agree enough with you, Ms. Meiers. Proper grammar is the way to get into his pants, too. Speak it, sister. Speak the proper grammar. What's that? Oh. He has to have rock hard abs and a savings account, too?

Oh. Well. Nice meeting you. What? Yes. OMS will run along now. Thanks for not calling your bodyguards. No. That't OK. OMS will let himself out. Quickly. K, bye.

Nothing says "Hater" like a cat

So OMS ventured home to pet the folks' cat for the night.

I maybe morphed into my alter ego and played a few tunes. Had the house to myself, no neighbors downstairs arguing over American Idol. Figured I'd experiment with the ol' vocal range.

But the cat, all aflutter with love when I walked in and fed him the wet food and let him shed all over my stylin' and profilin' suit, had other ideas.

He turned on me. Quickly. Sure, love me when I feed you some of my scrumptious ham dinner, but turn on me when I need positive reinforcement and groupie love.

"Meow," he said when I wrapped up the first set. The meow was more of an, "Eh," and then he walked away.

Whatevs, cat. Whateffingevs.

Oh. And now he's back with the purring and staninf in fronittog the montior amnd oh with the hitting my fingers while I type. Sure. Love me when I'm blogging.

Whatevs, cat.

OMS isn't proud either, looking back

From the AP:

NEW YORK (AP) -- She's got legs -- and she knew how to use them.

But Wednesday night, the magic finally ran out for Haley Scarnato on "American Idol."

(Yes, that means the Sanjaya phenomenon continues.)

The departure of Scarnato, 24, of San Antonio, Texas, trimmed the number of finalists to seven. The winner will be chosen in May.

Simon Cowell suggested on Tuesday's program that Scarnato was using her curve-hugging, leg-baring attire as a "tactic" to stay in the competition.

"I'm not gonna wear anything ... that's completely inappropriate," a jeans-clad Scarnato countered Wednesday.

OMS once interviewed that li'l fella from the Monkees back in the day. His lede?

He didn't take the last train to Clarksville. No, Davy Jones took the train home to Snyder County instead.

Um. What train? Where? So quoting the ZZ Top? Not too bad, OMS realizes -- but hack nonetheless. As for Idol, OMS has seen one total performance ever. And he still thinks Kelly Clarkson is OMG the best singer ever. And Sanjaya is a freaking creepy robot.

Not that OMS follows this crap or anything.

From our good/best friend in the South

The cleaning lady is wearing a baseball cap with the words John 3:16 written on it.

That's it. That's the whole thing.

Please help me.

29 teams in a hat

Well, it was more of a koozie. Twenty-nine names in a Y-100 beer koozie.

OMS picked seven out, which just so happens to be the number of games the Phillies have played this year. Then he picked three from the seven, because that's the number of series the Phillies have played this year. And then he picked one from the three because, well, there has to be a winner.

So OMS randomly will have a new team to root for if the Phillies lose *one* more game at Shea Stadium this week. The only catch? If the Phils fire their awful manager, OMS is back in scarlett red.

If not, go effing D-bags, which sucks, because, well, we hate that tall lad over there with the 'stache and the mullet and the mysterious lack of wins as a Yankee.

Thought of the Day

You, um, figure it out.

It totally won a big important award, too

Nice job tonight, one-half of Blammos. Blam? Mos?

For the record, and so not bragging

But if OMS could find his bracket, he'd have proof. He did have Florida beating Ohio State in the finals, 85-75. So, well, yay him even if he was a point off.

What? What, now? "You picked the top two teams in the nation to make the finals and you're bragging about *that*?" you ask?

Headline, beeyatch. Read the ever-lovin' headline.

Runnin' on Empty

So OMS went for an old man run tonight after the commute home. Nothing like Survivor, Fall Out Boy and Kylie Minogue (Kylie Minogue? WTF?) to keep one's skinny chicken legs moving.

And hey! The iPod not enough? Still need a motivator? Try whispering, "Come on fatty," every time you feel like quitting. And then do lots of crunches and eat broccoli. And stretch. A lot. Because oof with the calf pain.

Why the new workout plan? Huh. Something about being the only fat ogre in a polaraid picture taken Saturday night along side nothing but beautiful, skinny, glowing people.

So there's, um, that.

What amounts to a perfect Sunday

At one point, I paused.

Fleetwood Mac's Rumours *album* was playing in the background and I was stringing my acoustic guitar.

It was impossible not to smile, you know?

Old School

Now this is a modicum of drive and ambition, no?