11.3.2kX
Some of you are my Facebook pals. Last weekend I had an idea for a Facebook group after spontaneously making up a limerick in the shower. Limerick Challenge! I'd invite my Facebook pals and we'd collaborate on silly-ass limericks. Within minutes of creating the group, folks were using it. It was immediately successful and it's thrilling to see my clever, smart, creative pals who for the most part are strangers to one another, creating limericks, line by line. It truly is Laugh Out Loud funny.
I left the group "open." Meaning people could add themselves and their pals and the group was public and open to all of facebook. SILLY ME!
I had a late dailies session Monday night, and returning to shut down and bike home, I noticed that there were 88 posts to Limerick Challenge! WHOA! Looking closer, it was only 88 Facebook "chats." Still, that's quite a few. I looked.
Jizz.
Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.Jizz. CUM. Jizz.Jizz.Jizz.
WTF? I looked at the group page. Someone joined the group and added ten friends. They all had "profile pictures" of themselves, presumably, and they were young. Teenagers. The primary looked like Martin Gore from Depeche Mode circa 1983, except younger. All of them had dopey hypenated multiple last names: "Alex Thierry-Bolvane. Monica Madge-Jensen. Andrew Clausen-Choice." Stupid! But that's not my point.
These kids joined my group, went straight to the "chat room" and started talkin' Jizz!
I so wish I captured the transcript, but not having done so, let me recreate:
Jizz.
Jizz.
I want cookies.
Make cum cookies.
Yea .... LOL
.... Jizz.
I'll Jizz for cookies
Don't you mean come cookiesLOL
WHat
...LOL
Jizz.
Jizz.
Jizz.
It went on like that for 88 lines.
I deleted them from the group. This was about limericks, not jizz. But it got me thinking, uh ... wtf? Why did they need MY group chatroom to talk about jizz? My guess is they're not 18 and can't form a group and get a chatroom, so they have to stalk OPEN groups and invade for jizz talk. My idea, anyway.
Perhaps the weirdest thing about it, as the rest was annoying but momentarily amusing, was that my wonderfully bizarro former next-door neighbor WAS PARTICIPATING in the jizz chat. I asked her WTF?? and she said, "It was fun! I'm over 50 and don't get a lot of attention!" LOL for sure.
Tonight - The Page Bar.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
White Hen
11.2.2kX
Many years ago, I lived in a "high first floor" apartment near the lake in Chicago. My street ended at a park on the lake; it was that near. All summer long, despite it being somewhat of a dead-end, the street was alive. The apartment had a sun room on the street side (floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls) so I had a front-row seat to some fun goings-on out on Pratt Blvd.
One time the cops shot over the heads of fleeing car-burglars. One time I watched a drunk guy stumble around for an incredibly long time; the kind of stupid drunk antics that would certainly end up on youtube in this day and age.
He clawed his way along the wrought iron fence in front of our apartment. Slowly, post-by-post, going east. He would embolden, find his legs and take three or four steps then crash against the steady fence. He got to the end of the fence and stopped. A row of soft hedge continued east. He stiffened up and took his three stiff steps, then crashed into the hedge, which didn't hold him up one bit. He fell through and ... laid there. His legs from knee-down sticking out into the sidewalk.
He'd roll or kick every once in a while, so I knew he wasn't dead. Only after some kids started fucking with him did I call the cops. The cops came quickly (it was an active area and they were always around) and gently tried to rouse him -- by beating furiously on his feet with their nightsticks. The sound of it was beyond fucked!
This is the sound of the headache I got. ouch.
Tonight - Special request for Little Minsky's Burlesque @
Club Deluxe.
Pabst, Pizza & Pasties!! $5 cover at the door. Show starts at 10pm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Many years ago, I lived in a "high first floor" apartment near the lake in Chicago. My street ended at a park on the lake; it was that near. All summer long, despite it being somewhat of a dead-end, the street was alive. The apartment had a sun room on the street side (floor-to-ceiling windows on three walls) so I had a front-row seat to some fun goings-on out on Pratt Blvd.
One time the cops shot over the heads of fleeing car-burglars. One time I watched a drunk guy stumble around for an incredibly long time; the kind of stupid drunk antics that would certainly end up on youtube in this day and age.
He clawed his way along the wrought iron fence in front of our apartment. Slowly, post-by-post, going east. He would embolden, find his legs and take three or four steps then crash against the steady fence. He got to the end of the fence and stopped. A row of soft hedge continued east. He stiffened up and took his three stiff steps, then crashed into the hedge, which didn't hold him up one bit. He fell through and ... laid there. His legs from knee-down sticking out into the sidewalk.
He'd roll or kick every once in a while, so I knew he wasn't dead. Only after some kids started fucking with him did I call the cops. The cops came quickly (it was an active area and they were always around) and gently tried to rouse him -- by beating furiously on his feet with their nightsticks. The sound of it was beyond fucked!
This is the sound of the headache I got. ouch.
Tonight - Special request for Little Minsky's Burlesque @
Club Deluxe.
Pabst, Pizza & Pasties!! $5 cover at the door. Show starts at 10pm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Bob
11.1.2kX
Last week, when the World Series was fixin' to start, I ran into my pal Bob. It's not the Bob you are thinking of, but LA Bob, who walks his two wiener dogs mornings in my LA neighborhood. I see him often, and as he sports a Cubs hat, I naturally had to start talking to him.
Last week, when I ran into Bob, we talked about the Series. He asked if I was pulling for Frisco. I said no, I don't care for them. "You aren't pulling for Texas, are you?!? he demanded. "Well, no, Bob," I said, "I got nothing for them, except I hate the AL." We chatted a bit longer and his wiener dogs began to get restless. "I'll see you later, Bob," I said, and wheeled off. He called to me, "Don't root for Texas. Jeez." I thought about that.
Then, watching a bit of the Series, I realized that while I had no love for the Giants, all the guys I really detested weren't there anymore. Plus, they had The Wonder Hamster. Plus they had that lunatic with the ridiculous beard. And while I didn't love, like or hate them, there were a few people I really truly hate that were pulling for the Rangers: Them Bush fellas that fuct our world up so good.
So, I chose not to watch much. Who cares?
I saw Bob again this morning. I told him I thought about what he said about the Rangers and that Big and Little George liking them were enough for me to hate them. He said he figured I'd come around. We chatted a while longer and his wiener dogs began to hump each other. We ignored it, but it was time to get movin'.
Tonight - Yes, we're "Doubling Down" at The Homestead.
C'mon out and help long-time TNSC list members and childhood friends Zara Finlay and Raub Shapiro celebrate their birthday!! Booze and Pizza. Look for us in "the back room".
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Last week, when the World Series was fixin' to start, I ran into my pal Bob. It's not the Bob you are thinking of, but LA Bob, who walks his two wiener dogs mornings in my LA neighborhood. I see him often, and as he sports a Cubs hat, I naturally had to start talking to him.
Last week, when I ran into Bob, we talked about the Series. He asked if I was pulling for Frisco. I said no, I don't care for them. "You aren't pulling for Texas, are you?!? he demanded. "Well, no, Bob," I said, "I got nothing for them, except I hate the AL." We chatted a bit longer and his wiener dogs began to get restless. "I'll see you later, Bob," I said, and wheeled off. He called to me, "Don't root for Texas. Jeez." I thought about that.
Then, watching a bit of the Series, I realized that while I had no love for the Giants, all the guys I really detested weren't there anymore. Plus, they had The Wonder Hamster. Plus they had that lunatic with the ridiculous beard. And while I didn't love, like or hate them, there were a few people I really truly hate that were pulling for the Rangers: Them Bush fellas that fuct our world up so good.
So, I chose not to watch much. Who cares?
I saw Bob again this morning. I told him I thought about what he said about the Rangers and that Big and Little George liking them were enough for me to hate them. He said he figured I'd come around. We chatted a while longer and his wiener dogs began to hump each other. We ignored it, but it was time to get movin'.
Tonight - Yes, we're "Doubling Down" at The Homestead.
C'mon out and help long-time TNSC list members and childhood friends Zara Finlay and Raub Shapiro celebrate their birthday!! Booze and Pizza. Look for us in "the back room".
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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