When figgy emailed me last week about pulling EE duties, I was, all, piece of cake.
Little did I realize, it was a big ballsweat bundt cake of Doom with rust icing, and a big scoop of piss ice cream on top.
For the first part of the week, I was in full panic mode: why are these bastards holding out? These comments suck! I’m going to cry.
And I don’t think I’ve read THIS much Pajiba EVER. After reading pretty much EVERYTHING, my brain is runny and I have to give props to figgy for doing it week after week. I can also now promise to NEVER again bitch about EE. It’s tougher than it looks and my boy-taco hurty from sitting here, trying not to punch my own face IN THE FACE.
So here, for your pleasures, my crotchfruits, hand-picked according to freshness.
10. Thank god everything good is dying. Now I can finally get some reading done. And by reading I mean sex. — SaBrina
(Does this mean I win the Cannonball Read?)
9. Oh, the poor baby vanquishes his foe and doesn’t know what to do next? Pooooooor widdle thing SUCK IT! YOU SHOULD SUCK! IT! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to kill Hal Jordan? DO YOU? Forever; that’s how long! Since the ’60s! Which is like, very close to being forever! So SUCK IT!
…(sigh) fucking Hollywoodland (it’s still called that, yeah?) — Sinestro
(As far as i know, it is.)
8. Somewhere Sir Ian McKellan is NOT happy.
(psst - he’s with Patrick Stewart) — superasente
(You homosexuals and your guns…)
7. Wait— most women dislike Megan Fox because she’d be able to lure their boyfriend/husband away from them??
This so puts her on the level of the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. — Mar
(And for my next trick, I will NOT SLEEP for a week. Thanks for uncovering THAT worst childhood memory ever.)
6. I had no intention of reading this post, I was just going to bop in here and say something witty to grab geep’s attention in hopes of snagging an EE. Then I started reading, and realized it was all math and graphs and spreadsheets, and I got a nerd boner.
You just made my work day a little more bearable. Thanks for that. — Xtreme
(OF COURSE, Canadian penis will make my top 10 list. AND my integrity remains as intact as my butt-hymen.)
5. Raspoutine: It’s All Gravy From Here On In; The Early Years. — replica
(Please fast-track. Yesterday.)
4. I remember getting into a discussion with some of my actor friends a few years ago about head proportions. We decided larger headed actors are meant for the big screen, while normal size craniums work better in legitimate theater. Musicals are the wildcard, as madcap comedies and romps are complimented by broad acting on large craniums, while post-modern/contemporary slice of life dramas and intimate works require non-freakshow proportions.
Anyway, I was told I should try to get my body in the same condition as Gael Garcia Bernal, because we’re both short actors with big heads. I laughed off the suggestion, saying I didn’t want to look like a novelty lollipop or ghostly Pez dispenser. — Robert
(This theoretical framing has changed my LIFE.)
3. When I was in high school we played a modification of Chubby Bunny called Rainbow Poof. Which, now that I write that, sounds like just about the gayest game ever. We emptied as many pixi stix as possible into a napkin and then funneled the powder into our mouths. Everyone then tried to make one another laugh, thereby forcing the other person to “Rainbow Poof.” I once got 27 pixi stix into my mouth. I then proceeded to foolishly attempt to breathe, inhaling the dust into my sinuses. I then threw up. 2 weeks later I had an ear infection. And I shit you not, the doctor took one look in my ear and said, “My goodness. It’s purple!” — sheshakes
(Pixy-Stix is a hell of a drug.)
2. Two things:
Val Kilmer is fat.
Mike Myers is a whore.
That is all. — katy
(I say this EVERY MORNING over coffee and fondlings.)
1. I work at a news station as a fairly low man on the paycheck totem pole, and come the second week of every month am hurtin’ for certain for my next paycheck and any food that doesn’t come to me for under $1 and in a box. Someone’s significant other packs Laughing Cow cheese in their lunches on a weekly basis and I regularly steal that shit from the community fridge with extreme prejudice.
Each piece is like fingerbanging the prom queen under the bleachers while the varsity football captain cries into his letter jacket alone and ashamed. It’s like kissing an Eliot Spitzer hooker on the mouth and having her refund your money. Like getting a handjob from your friend’s hot mom during a middle school sleepover. And then, just when you think it can’t get any better and you you’ve reached the peak of pleasure mountain, someone jams some badass cheese in your face and you cry like when Bambi’s mom got shot, but you’re smiling and totally a little turned on still. Yeah. — Roaddog
(Is it like winning the EE and then realizing there’s no prize? Because that’s TOTALLY what’s happening here.)
That’s it. Geep is DONE. Next time figgy asks me to take my top off, I’m getting the money first.
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