This is mine, get your own. Postings for November 2004
LITTLE THINGS
Posted: Saturday, November 27, 2004
* I hate people who read messages, email, and other written things as you write them.
* I hate people who think I should ask their permission before I do something. They want to know if I'm going to make a phone call, but not if I'm going to shit? That's hypocrisy.
* I hate Puff Daddy, P.Diddy whatever the fuck he is this year. No, you can't be James Bond, asshole. Why? Because you're black. No one has the balls to tell you that superspies are white-only. Maybe you can be the world's first super step-and-fetch-it-boy.
* The world does NOT need to be made more urban. Ok, it was cool for about 10 minutes, but now it's time to enjoy other things. Maybe we can celebrate Eskimo culture next.
* Am I the only one who wants to kill James Lipton? And when the fuck did Jennifer Lopez do anything worthy of the Actors Studio? Was her death scene in Jersey Girl that moving? She only fucking died. People do it all the time.
* I will admit to being an avid gamer. I'm all over the RPG community. (Except LARP, eww). But I refuse to play any game that centers around the television universe of 90210. Dylan should not have a holy sword +2, and Brenda should not be able to cast "fireball".
* If you're attacked by a bulimic werewolf, do you vomit every time there's a full moon? (not my joke, but still, it's good.)
* There was a car accident involving a quadrapeligic in my town. No, they didn't him -- HE was driving the car. How did his gangly asparagus stalk bent arm use the blinker? (For the record, he hit and injured 2 old people....hilarity ensued)
Fuckingly I remain,
~Boogaloo
I HATE HAM
Posted: Monday, November 22, 2004
Yes it's true, I fucking hate ham. I hate ham the same way people hate in-laws and bad blowjobs.
Don't give me that shit about ham is good on rye, because ham is nasty. It's a slimy meat from a portion of an animal that is normally tasty.
There are parts of the pig I love. Bacon, ribs, fatback, hell even a knuckle if you prep it right. I've had roast pig on a spit, I've had all sorts of pig. It's good with a beer and some nachos.
But ham - the coldcut, the spiral-sliced shank, the cubed section all needs to be tossed to the homeless people that wash my windows with the classifieds. Rotten food for rotten people.
It's pink and wet. So is pussy. But pussy tastes good, and I don't mind cumming all over one. I'd have problems busting a nut over a pound of Virginia-baked.
And people serve it like it's this great dish. Like it's surf and turf. It's pink and slimy!! It gets served in slabs, evenly cut, flavorless and dull on the plate.
God I fucking hate ham.
Fuckingly still,
~Boogaloo
PS - If you think I'm full of shit, I hope you get a canned ham up the ass.
PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK
Posted: Friday, November 19, 2004
I've decided that half you fuckers deserve to beg for mercy before I ritualistically slaughter you and shit in your entrails. There are human beings who walk the either in "alternative lifestyles" and quite frankly, I truly hope "alternative" means there's an alternative to living, because the fucking freakshow ends today.
I'm not labelling homosexuality as "alternative", since in the last few years it's become quite common and almost ordinary. "Oh you're gay? Ok.", is all too common a reaction.
No, I'm talking about the fucking mouthbreathers who dress up like giant animals, who wrap themselves in chastity belts and who show respect to their significant others in terms of Master or Mistress....and they aren't just drunk and teasing.
Ok, we've all seen that CSI episode where people in giant costumes get it on, and we've all got a concept of slavery (my black readers know what I'm talking about right? You know, the man keeping you down -- It's a joke you pinheads, relax) But chastity belts? Yep, that bullshit from Robin Hood Men In Tights is real my friends, and there's a market for these bitches. Probably an aftermarket with ricer mods. Yeah, I want a chastity belt to hide my cock and have flames on it. Jesus fucking christ, get a grip. It's your dick, you fool, it's supposed to free to breathe and get sucked and do stuff.
People wore armor to fend off arrows and shit, not because they whacked their bag too much.
Un-fucking-believable the amount of bullshit peons dream up. I'll be so happy when I'm conquering nations and killing your sorry slaveboy asses. Stupid fuckers. Ew. Stop it.
Fuckingly yours,
~Boogaloo
Emotion(s) while posting: disgusted
THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT?
Posted: Monday, November 15, 2004
Real quick today, just wanted to give a fuck you to customer service people who get deluded into the belief that because their chubby greasy outsourced fingers answer a phone they've metamorphosed into some Hitler-esque dictator who know more about your life and your problem than you do.
An example:
Me: Good afternoon, I was wondering if someone could help me with an incomplete order.
Cuntrag on the phone: One moment please.
(A future terrorist answers)
Soon to have dynamite strapped to his chest: Can I help you sir?
Me: Yes I just recieved my order that I placed last week, and it's incomplete, I was wondering if you could tell me when the rest of it will arrive.
AK-47 toting American beheader: So you're unhappy with your order and would like to return it?
Me: No, I just want to know when the rest of it is coming. I have my invoice number and information ready.
Magic carpet riding, elephant rider: Sir, you don't need to get angry, I'll fax you a return slip.
Me: I do not want to return the item, I haven't even opened it. But I ordered the two piece package, and only got half.
Guy who should probably be driving a taxi: So you want to know when you'll receive your package?
Me: I received it.
Cow Worshipper: So why are you calling?
Me: Because I want the other half of my purchase, could you transfer me to a supervisor?
Guy with unpronouncable name: Sorry I couldn't be of more assistance.
Me: No you're not.
Thus endeth the phone conversation.
God I hate outsourced phone service.
Fuckingly yours,
~Boogaloo
Emotion(s) while posting: angry
BOOGALOO'S GUIDE TO XMAS, PART TWO
Posted: Tuesday, November 9, 2004
Just when I thought Brookstone took the crown for King of the Fucked Up Gifts, the All-Time Leader in Bullshit Gifts shows us all how to blow through our life savings for a single gift that will probably break a month after opening.
I present to you, Hammacher Schlemmer, once and future king of shit you'll never have a need for. Here's what treasures can be unearthed this year:
* The Flameless Candle (page 11) -- I believe there's a typo in the advertisement - don't candles need flames? Oh wait, they're battery-operated. This is for all the fuck-ups who aren't allowed to have flamable shit at the asylum. You can pop some batteries in, throw a switch, and have a pretend candle! Isn't that special? We also call them "lamps". And you get 3 for the great price of $29.95.
* The Peaceful Progression Wake-Up Clock (page 16) -- Not only is it a clock, but it's a lamp, sound system and scent factory. Yes, it makes smells. As if waking up to the stench of stale sex, dry cum and rank beer isn't enough to leap you out of the sheets, you can get a clock to smell like coffee. Apparently, if smelling like burnt Sanka doesn't get the job done, there's also some manner of strobe light attached to throw you into seizures. Hot damn, get me one of these. $49.95, plus $9.95 for more beads
* The Talking Watch (page 36) -- This is the King of all horseshit gifts. I quote directly from the ad, "This analog wristwatch announces the time in a clear, distinct voice at the touch of button." I'm fairly certain that a watch's purpose is to tell you the time. Look at the fucking thing, see the time. Very simple. But no, now people are too fucking busy to look at their wrists. We must have it SPOKEN to us. Much like Brookstone's Voice-Activated Remote, this $59.95 watch underscores how fucking lazy people are. It takes all of what, 5 seconds to look at your watch and learn the time. I know a two-year-old who can damn sure tell you what time it is based on when Dora the Explorer is on....(damn you Dora, one day I shall have my victory and you'll rue the day you crossed me). Watches don't have to talk to you. If you're lonely, find another human being and interact. If you're having trouble finding a human being to be your friend, I'm sure you can make good use of the internet and find people who will pretend to be your friend while they pad your ego and tell you that you aren't fat and the guy who dumped you really was a jerk -- because weighing as much as a small loveseat and being completely worthless and shallow aren't really bad. Yeah, that's it. You're fine living as a walrus. Everyone else should just bow down to you.
Holy fuck, did I just go off on a tangent. Must have been a bad slice of pizza.
Fuck bullshit gifts. If you have to resort to giant dollar amounts to qualify your yearly goodwill, I hope you fucking die from internal injuries after a car wreck. I hope you fucking suffer hellishly for justifying how good you are based on how much you spent.
Dollar signs DO NOT equal love. Just because you have the paper to spread around doesn't mean you should. And no, you don't need to keep up appearances. Be fucking honest with yourself for once. Yes you fatty. Admit that you're lame and that maybe giving the $20 gift will mean more to the other person than the $200 gift. Get a fucking clue with the money you save -- no one likes flashy people in this day and age, unless your black and you've got some new rims or other superficial bullshit. Then I'll pretend to be interested for ten minutes until you realize I'm ignoring you.
You want to see Christmas joy? Give a kid a ball or teach him a new word. Do something that will hold an attention span more than 10 minutes. Improve a life, don't improve a toybox.
Note: If you fuckers jump on me for getting morallistic when I'm normally bitter and angry, I'll take an hour out of each day to sodomize your immediate eldery family members with kitchen appliances. I can get preachy, I've fucking earned the right.
It's going to be a glorious holiday season, isn't it?
As always, I fuckingly remain,
~Boogaloo
PS A follow-up to yesterday's post script -- You're not cute and you're not fooling anyone by trying to profusely apologize. I hope the next time you smell the red tulips, eighty one bees rise as one and sting you to death, cunt. And if you want to know what qualifies to speak on behalf of a toddler's interests, you ask him about Daddy. That's if he stops laughing at you, cause fat chicks are funny and ugly. Har Har bitch, die now.
Emotion(s) while posting: angry, confident, smug
BOOGALOO'S GUIDE TO XMAS, PART ONE
Posted: Monday, November 8, 2004
The Brookstone catalog came the other day, and dear jesus, my hatred for them grows with each passing holiday season. Let's peruse the catalog together and find some choice items, shall we?
* (page 28) The Ambient Stock Market Orb -- It's a fucking mood ring that glows when the market is "good" "even" or "worth a call to your broker". It's a fucking ball!! Kreskin might actually be more accurate. And the price? $150.00 Holy fuck. For $150, I'll shit on your portfolio and tell you the market is up.
* (page 44) The Voice Activated TV Remote -- For every Star Trek cocksucker in your family, you speak at it, and it works. "Record" "Lower Volume" "Change Channel" all do the work of your fingers. How fucking hard is it to touch the remote and press the corresponding button? How much energy does it waste to push a button? All this bullshit for a whopping $50.00
* (page 64) The Parking Zone for your garage -- A replica traffic light to determine your best parking job in your garage. Here's a tip: When you hear something go 'crunch' or 'squish', stop driving. You really need a light to tell you when you've gone too far? Just listen for the screams. When they stop, you're golden. Or you can shell out $30.00
Catalogs = comedy gold.
Fuck all you cocksuckers who think this blog entry isn't good, I'm still fuckingly yours,
~Boogaloo
Emotion(s) while posting: disgusted
JUST BECAUSE YOU WEAR A COSTUME DOESN'T MAKE YOU A SUPERHERO
Posted: Monday, November 8, 2004
Attention all furries -- Fuck you. If you wear a goddamned costume in order to "find yourself", jump off a fucking cliff.
If you find yourself too strongly identifying with an animal species or fantasy animal species, try therapy. I would reccommend any therapy which includes dropping your plugged-in toaster into your next bathtime.
You are human, sad to say. You're some washed-up artist, or beauty school dropout, or second-rate telemarketer, you're not a 'telepathic vampire dragon'. They don't even have that shit on decent anime! Now you're just making shit up.
Bad enough you choose to dress like a hack version of a Disney character, but you make shit up like that? When basic childish imagination needs to be augmented in order for you to even feel 'normal', you've devolved onto a whole new plane of faux-human existence.
The internet, my bastion of porn and music piracy is rife with this adult playtime. There are hundreds of thriving messageboards with grown men and women who refer to themselves by some bastardized cant, and have shrugged off their 'human names' in order to live more animals. What the fuck? No one's enslaving you and calling you Toby, you greasy fuckstain.
You know who should wear costumes? Naughty schoolgirls and fucking superheroes. Aquaman doesn't fucking do much, but at least he has a reason to wear some goddamned tights. That naughty schoolgirl loveslave I know has a reason to wear the plaid.
Jesus fucking christ on a fucking crutch, are you that devoid of the ability to socialize that you have to wear a big dog suit? Christ, even I socialize now and again, and I'm two steps above the fucking Unabomber in terms of social interaction. Ok, maybe I'm one and a half steps above the Unabomber. Didn't mean to diss Ted like that.
I had another thought here, but was distracted with the presence of freshly baked peanut butter cookies.
Ok, I'm refocused now with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth (just the way your mom taught me). Nevermind, I went fucking blank.
And for the record, the official 'Get Boogaloo A New Home' fund has started with a grand total of $.67. Donate fuckers, a Boogaloo is a terrible thing to waste.
Until next time bitches, I am forever fuckingly yours,
~Boogaloo
PS That stupid fucking cunt really needs to stop emailing me. Do it again beast and so help me god I'll ruin your pathetic life. I hope the next time you're out, a truck rolls over on you. And I hope your pets die in a housefire. Don't fucking breathe my air you tubby hosebeast. Just fucking leave me alone or I'll make you blubber and cry before you can go lawyer up. I hate lazy whiny shallow self-centered cunts. You don't fucking know me, you don't know my life. Fuck off.
Emotion(s) while posting: angry
SURVIVOR SEX, RAY CHARLES, AND A GTA UPDATE
Posted: Monday, November 1, 2004
Today's a good day. Why? Because I fucking said so. I had the opportunity to write some venomous emails to some pinheads who think I'm the most evil thing to walk on 2 legs, I had a nice sammich for lunch, and I found some decent porn. Good times indeed.
If you can, watch the Jenna Lewis sex tape. I have to preface it with a few things before you settle in with a box of Kleenex:
A. Ignore her frequent mugging for the camera when she doesn't have a cock lodged in her cakehole. B. Ignore how her model/boyfriend lays like a corpse during the blowjob scenes. At least he had the smarts to move her arm out of the frame. But c'mon, you're getting your sack fondled - enjoy it! C. Ignore the part where she says, "I can't keep sucking it that deep." Yes you can bitch, just remember what Daddy taught you.
Other than that, it gets the Boogaloo stain of approval. Of course I only watched half of it, the money shot will be tomorrow. (That's what they call a cliffhanger.)
To other business - I think I have to go see this Ray Charles autobiography film. Even the racist old white folks in my town thought it looked good. At least the music will be good.
Now it's time for the GTA update - It's still fun to shoot minorities with a shotgun while driving a bouncing lowrider. There is no better simulator for living in the ghetto. Well, maybe if there was a welfare mission. Or a mission where you have to knock up 3 women and abandon them. But I digress.
In lighter news, my novel is progressing well. Yes, I'm writing a novel, you cocksuckers. Go fuck yourselves if you're going to bitch about it. At least I'm not holed up in a cubicle wearing a tie and dress shoes.
However, if this blog is being read by editors, publishers or legitimate agents, you're not cocksuckers. You're "business contacts I've not yet met". (See how Boogaloo covers his ass?)
Painless Child from CNN
CNN calls this a disease. She can't feel pain. How is that a bad thing? You can't feel the shovel cracking over the back of your head, you can't feel the searing pain of the white-hot coat hanger branding you, you can't feel the piercing pain in your loins when some overweight 40-year-old violates you dressed like a mime.
What pedophile wouldn't want a kid without pain reception? Don't broadcast this sort of thing CNN, people more twisted than me are paying attention.
Go play with yourselves now.
Fuckingly yours,
~Boogaloo
Emotion(s) while posting: happy
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