Saturday, December 31, 2005

2005: The Yummy, the Genocide, and the Mouthdropping Lunacy.

I have decided to end my self-imposed exile/hiatus and offer a rousing commentary on the last 365 days or so. Rather than do a countdown, which I basically do at least three times a month, I have merely handpicked what I have deemed to be the most amazing moments of 2005. Some of them will only be intimately understood by a select few, but I more than make up for that bias with the puggle section alone.


In February, as happens most days, I developed an insatiable craving for the bovine. Rather than go over to the Roll n' Roaster on 3rd and 11th (which does horrible creepy things to their cows. I can't even discuss this without metaphorically bowing my head in respect for the bovines that had to endure such despicable treatment at the hands of those ruffians), I went on and looked for a respectable hamburger eatery. The first one on the list was Rare on 37th and Lexington. Weenie Brian had also become hungry at this point, and both he and Devra wandered outside with me in sub-zero weather to walk over to this establishment. It was a hellish journey. The wind had picked up and assaulted us ala Bobby Brown. But damned if we weren't rewarded for our fortitude when we stepped into that haven of bovine sexuality. Best burgers ever. Best fries ever. Quite possibly the most amazing random rewarding endeavor in the history of Emma.

Picture TONS of people, mostly 30-something businessmen cradling their Coronoas.

Terri Schaivo/Riding the Bus with my Sister Jokes.

The question is not whether or not I'm going to hell; it's for exactly WHAT reason. Is it because I dismissed the political implications of the Terri Schiavo case immediately and concentrated on the politically incorrect jokes instead? Is it because I thought they should have injected her with cyanide on day two? Oooh is it because I'm comparing a human vegetable with Rosie O'Donnell's gut-wrenchingly putrid portrayal of a retarded girl riding a bus? I could seriously do this all day.
What a ridiculous waste of the public's time on both counts. It should be noted that while the world was focused on Terri Schiavo, the fucking KYRGYZSTAN government collapsed while this was going on, and I was basically the only person talking about it. If I had had a blog at that point in time...mad awards. Nobel Prize? Insert Tookie joke. None of us have the time or resources to go into why she is a subhuman waste. I would probably start with that ridiculous "blog" she has that a blue-assed monkey could better maintain. Jesus. She writes in...I guess you would call it verse, because it's a bunch of illiterate crap in poem form. You'd think someone else would have picked up on the fact that she's a)illiterate b) a horrible actress who did her best work in the Flinstones c) not worth reading. Nope. Go to her train wreck of a site. That woman gets like 500 comments per post. I throw a party if I get one comment. The culmination of her uselessness came during the Hallmark presentation of "Riding the Bus With My Sister," which has to be considered Ed Woodian and lethal to the general populace.
We somehow managed to benefit from these two temporary cultural fixtures though:
"Terri is dying, people! Her light is growing fainter! Her voice is so low I can scarcely hear what she's saying! She says...she says she thinks she could get well again if children believed in fairies. Do you believe? If you believe, clap your hands."
"Today's brain twister: Would you rather be O.J.'s girlfriend or Michael Schaivo's fiancee?"
"I would give my left nut to see a making of documentary, just to hear Angelica Huston's direction: 'Rosie, let's see a little more underbite. And whenever you touch something, be sure to stroke it, like Lenny from "Of Mice and Men."'"
"The only thing that could save this now would be if Rosie goes on a rampage on the bus, stabbing all the other passengers with safety scissors while yelling, 'I'm a person!' Then she goes to trial but can't get the death penalty because she's retarded."
In conclusion, I will be going to the frozen lake in the ninth circle, but will be chuckling all the way down.

Hugh Laurie.

Technically, House came on the air in late 2004, but the world fell madly in love in 2005, hence him making our coveted list. An honorable mention goes to his co-star/perfect orgasmic comedic foil Robert Sean Leonard, who battled back from suicide in Dead Poets Society to become a respected medical authority at a Princeton hospital. Everyone in the world should drop whatever they're doing and watch one of the millions of episodes Fox runs every night. It's an incredibly badass show, and Hugh Laurie has one of the best American accents ever. People that are not fans of acerbic wit will find this show lacking, but I don't believe that either of my two readers fall into that category. It's deliciousness, it's insanity, it's a hot gimpy doctor who plays the piano. And if he doesn't win the Golden Globe on the 16th...heads will roll like the wolf.


I'm sorry. I had to mention it. She went from Joey Potter to Lizzie Borden without the axe...which I suspect is still pretty creepy, even without the parental blood on the hands. But I won't waste more valuable space talking about how annoying this pairing is. I feel the most noteworthy aspect of this saga is the herpes on Katie Holmes' mouth. Come on. "Wtf."

I love that all you have to do to find these pictures is to type katie holmes herpes on Yahoo.

Charles Fink and Other Facebook Experiments.

Finky, I think that's the wrong year.
Around March, Malsta and I got really bored and decided to make a ton of friends from our dorm through Facebook. We actually managed to get a few into our apartment, though our dorm was composed of crazy schizo people for the most part who were seeking refuge at Alumni Hall to get away from people like us. Shrug. Charles Fink was by far the most rewarding of our friendship attempts. An exceptionally odd individual, Mr. Fink was employed at Radio City Music Hall at the time, and spent his free moments ghost hunting in California. When he went to see the Aviator with me and Devra (his third time) he kept leaving right before the nude scenes. Neither of us have a clue what that was about, since Leonardo DiCaprio's body is nothing to write home about. Is his body capable of developing muscle tissue? Fink's nudity disappearances were only the beginning. The selling point for me was the fact that he lived in John Steinbeck's hometown. It doesn't take much. At any rate, to cap off this resounding Facebook success, he fucked a Rockette, got fired, and gets his kicks being a drag queen. Yeah. I don't know.

Shudder times four.

The Oscar Party.
That picture segways nicely into the Most Successful Shindig in Emma History. Blue Mego and I decided to have a party because Natalie Portman was totally supposed to win an Oscar. Rather than pay for food and decorations, we got the dorm to sponsor the party and pay for everything. It was insanely badass. We were almost thwarted in our efforts because our cunty RA was being...cunty, and she told us she was going to get soda, and LIED. CUNT. We managed to get the soda ourselves, but God damn. If you didn't want to get the soda, fucking say so. Anyway, the party was an insane success, we had about 80 people in there, as well as some totally badass Oscar decorations courtesy of yours truly. I printed out weird pictures of the nominees and taped them to balloons. I should be an interior designer or something equally amazing. Yes, I know. Natalie didn't win because the Cate Blanchett Overacting Doucheface took it home, but it was clearly supposed to go to Portman. On a sidenote, Charles Fink called me seconds after Cate won to just go 'HA!' and hang up. Truly lives up to his last name.

However, Million Dollar Baby beat the Shitty Martin Scorcese Movie, and Hillary Swank kicked major ass. After she won, she fucking went to a fast food place to get a burger. I had that picture up on my wall for months.

Expect something insane to go down at Weenie Enema when the Oscars roll around this time. Major shizzle is getting thrown down - Brokeback style.

The Horses from Gulliver's Travels.

I know. You're rolling your eyes and thinking, "Is she STILL on those fucking talking horses?" Sorry. But those horses (coupled with an award-winning treatise called "In Defense of Horses That Walk Upright") netted this girl an A in that creepy 18th Century Novel class. I am indebted to the Houyhnhnms for life. In a class where I had to read some of the worst books ever, the fourth book of Gulliver's Travels was far and away the most incredible fucking thing I read this year. I strongly recommend this Wikipedia article about the horses. Your soul will thank you.

Big Bear's Makeover.
Big Bear, my one and only true BFF and loyal companion since November of 1984, has been deteriorating at a pretty consistent rate for two decades now, and the end of the year brought with it a limp neck that made his head roll dangerously far back, and something dramatic needed to be done. Big Bear was given a sort of brown velvet neck brace that keeps his head upright, and he looks more noble than ever.

This picture should be vaguely familiar to most loyal readers. Although a Russian paw is obscuring the important qualities, you can see that he has new big black eyes, and his little brown bowtie is almost visible. Don't they look related? Swoon.

As badass as 2005 was, 2006 is going to include top-secret work on the Great American Historical Novel with Devra Bogangles, making enough money to finally fulfill my dream of spending a night at the Times Square Marriott, the re-election of Hillary Clinton as New York Senator, and perhaps another appearance in the NY Post. Word fucking up.

Before I forget, I hereby nominate this picture as Picture of the Year:


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