Again with the entertainment writers and their catchy, original ledes?
JLo's love doesn't cost a thing? It doesn't? She's from the block, is she? You'd tap the bottle and twist the cap off, would ya?
Ech.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
To the Cingular people
Holy sh*t how you piss us off.
First, with the never having godd*mn bars. Ever. Nevermind the big ass billboards with HUGE bars on them. "Hey! Get Cingular Wireless! Yay! Bars!"
No. Bars. Ever. No signal. Ever. That's point one. Which brings us to point two.
Lookee here: we went to buy us one of them new fancy phones with that there new technology there so we can take them fancy pictures with our *phone*. Shoot, sugar. Maybe we want to get us one of them new fandangled *video* phones, too.
(But mainly, we just want a phone that doesn't drop f*cking calls in our *apartment* or in the *big city*, but now we're breaking character). And we digress.
So we went to get us a new phone yesterday, and it went a li'l something like this:
Assistant to the assistant manager, with way too much knowledge about anytime minutes and video sending and blue teeth: Sorry, man. You can't buy a phone here because you bought your old one in a different sector.
OMS: (Sighs). A what now?
Manager: Sir, you can buy this phone in Irvington.
OMS: But. Wha. Wait. I want to buy it here.
Assistant to the assistant manager: Well, you can buy it online, or you can buy it back in sector 38, near Philadelphia.
OMS: I can buy this online?
Assistant to the assistant manager: Ye--
OMS: KBYE.
And END SCENE.
But wa-wa-wait it gets worse...
So we go online tonight to upgrade our phone, but we can't remember our password. And because we've had the same password for everything for pretty much our entire life, this should not be an issue.
But of course it is.
After five log-in attempts, we successfully locked ourselves out. And now we've been on the phone waiting for the nice Cingular computer voice lady to shut the f*ck up so Andrew in India can answer our very simple question: what, dear sir, is our motherf*cking password?
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Wait! Wait! The nice Cingular computer voice lady just told us all our trouble will wash away if we manage our account online! Yay! All we have to do now is F*CK we can't do that!
No password b*tches! Wheeeeeeeeee! Cingular sucks our ass!
Godd*mnit.
First, with the never having godd*mn bars. Ever. Nevermind the big ass billboards with HUGE bars on them. "Hey! Get Cingular Wireless! Yay! Bars!"
No. Bars. Ever. No signal. Ever. That's point one. Which brings us to point two.
Lookee here: we went to buy us one of them new fancy phones with that there new technology there so we can take them fancy pictures with our *phone*. Shoot, sugar. Maybe we want to get us one of them new fandangled *video* phones, too.
(But mainly, we just want a phone that doesn't drop f*cking calls in our *apartment* or in the *big city*, but now we're breaking character). And we digress.
So we went to get us a new phone yesterday, and it went a li'l something like this:
Assistant to the assistant manager, with way too much knowledge about anytime minutes and video sending and blue teeth: Sorry, man. You can't buy a phone here because you bought your old one in a different sector.
OMS: (Sighs). A what now?
Manager: Sir, you can buy this phone in Irvington.
OMS: But. Wha. Wait. I want to buy it here.
Assistant to the assistant manager: Well, you can buy it online, or you can buy it back in sector 38, near Philadelphia.
OMS: I can buy this online?
Assistant to the assistant manager: Ye--
OMS: KBYE.
And END SCENE.
But wa-wa-wait it gets worse...
So we go online tonight to upgrade our phone, but we can't remember our password. And because we've had the same password for everything for pretty much our entire life, this should not be an issue.
But of course it is.
After five log-in attempts, we successfully locked ourselves out. And now we've been on the phone waiting for the nice Cingular computer voice lady to shut the f*ck up so Andrew in India can answer our very simple question: what, dear sir, is our motherf*cking password?
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Wait! Wait! The nice Cingular computer voice lady just told us all our trouble will wash away if we manage our account online! Yay! All we have to do now is F*CK we can't do that!
No password b*tches! Wheeeeeeeeee! Cingular sucks our ass!
Godd*mnit.
We're not a piece of meat
We'll have more later, but all we can say to the guy dancing in our direction Saturday night is no, we don't have the gay.
Friday, April 07, 2006
(We were) dreamin' when (we) wrote this...
Yeah. So tonight we're gonna party, well, you know the deal.
Be back later this weekend with a good ol' tale about airports (!) and hoops (!) and driving (!) and more exclamationable endeavors (!) (!) (!).
Be back later this weekend with a good ol' tale about airports (!) and hoops (!) and driving (!) and more exclamationable endeavors (!) (!) (!).
Thursday, April 06, 2006
To the sales guys at the bar
"I can sell anything!" one of you said, excitedly. "I'm a sales maniac!"
Yes, you talked in exclamation points, and yes, you and your friend talked very loudly about the secret deal that SHHHHHHH! don't say anything to Mary because she can't know about this secret deal.
And other guy, wow.
"Don't I know you?" you said to Lita Ford in a business suit when she walked by. "Where are you from? Don't I know you? You look familiar. (Yes, she does. Like Lita Ford, only with brown hair and in a business suit. In other words, just the 1988 hair, really). Don't I know you?"
"No," she said. "You don't."
And END SCENE.
***
Currently listening to: Coolio's Gangsta Paradise. It's been in our head since we woke up. And it's still playing over and over. Who wakes up to "Why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and (us)?"
Yes, you talked in exclamation points, and yes, you and your friend talked very loudly about the secret deal that SHHHHHHH! don't say anything to Mary because she can't know about this secret deal.
And other guy, wow.
"Don't I know you?" you said to Lita Ford in a business suit when she walked by. "Where are you from? Don't I know you? You look familiar. (Yes, she does. Like Lita Ford, only with brown hair and in a business suit. In other words, just the 1988 hair, really). Don't I know you?"
"No," she said. "You don't."
And END SCENE.
***
Currently listening to: Coolio's Gangsta Paradise. It's been in our head since we woke up. And it's still playing over and over. Who wakes up to "Why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and (us)?"
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