the best laid plans...

The plan for this weekend was to drop $27.00 for a Madison Mallards game and unlimited stomach lube courtesy of the Great Dane. Around 5:20, however, I noticed that the O-man, while still viciously chasing the other dogs with bared teeth, was doing it on three legs, his left back paw held up at a 90 degree angle. So he limped along at shockingly high speeds for a few minutes until I was able to get him on my lap, to find that he had torn one of his nails from the bed. To make a long story short, several hours and $250.00 later my dog was fucked up on puppy Halidol and had a little blue boxing mitt around his back paw. We went for fish fry at Quivey's Grove, where the couple next to us ate in silence while the male half stared intently at me, occasionally smiling suggestively. Then they each threw in some cash contemptfully and took off.

Yesterday we went to the most awkward graduation party ever, then we went to Border's. I was disoriented when I found that the Social Sciences aisle had been consumed by Gay Studies and Women's Studies overspill, and was told that it had been relocated upstairs, next to test prep and computer science manuals. DUDE! It's not bad enough that "Anthropology" is a (now) three-shelf olio of every goddam thing, from travel journals to 'eastern philosophy-inspired' self-help, I now have to trot past the eight aisles of doughy techies and Asian chicks in bowl cuts to the bottom three shelves next to the fucking bathroom. Aargh. Seriously, there were more copies of some shit called "Something Borrowed" than there were real Anthro. texts.

Then we got schnockered on peach-flavored wheat beer and I reigned at Trivial Pursuit.

Here is something interesting.

hisashiburi desu ne

So I apparently installed some sort of awesome software that makes my computer work reeeeeaaaaaallll slooow like it's making love to its childhood crush or something. In any event, as I type this I wait for 20-30 characters already typed to show up. Good times. I guess my main grip these days (and for the last three weeks) has been my Japanese class, populated entirely by people whose lives are dedicated to scoring some Asian pussy or being able to read MANGA. It's basically a hilarious documentary before editing. I'll fill you gaijin in briefly, since I don't like waiting to see what I've typed.

First, there are the ryugakusei (exchange students) all of whom have private tutors and don't work. What an honor it is to make room for them when they come in 20 minutes late because they needed a double latte from Starbucks.

Second are the enlightened "Buddhists" from such exotic places as upstate Iowa who are always several chapters ahead, have computer printouts of their hot Japanese "girlfriends" taped to the front of their Trapper Keepers, and who occupy class time expressing their contempt for American puritanism. If anyone could make m vote GOP it's these self-satisfied fuckers.

Alas, I can't take the shittiness of ths blogging experience any longer. As I was typing "Alas," "expressing" was beginning to appear. If any of my two readers is a tech guru, please advise. Yours in contempt,
maru keito

whoa.

？？？？

stolen from Alexis

Aw.

My new boyfriend bought generic potato chips. Adorable!

How NOT to

create an online dating profile

Heck, yeah!

"It’s a Geek World, brothers and sister. I got a twenty-sided die, the DVD of Ultraviolet, and a Green Lantern T-shirt. Let’s ride."

Sousveillance

I just discovered this. I recommend checking out "sex" and "sousveillance," although I haven't had the chance to check much else out yet.

(mmm... I'd sure shake my tailfeather for some Murphy Lee Ripplets!)

Speechless.

So, I'm a little tired from another weekend in Appleton, home of dude who penned this:

"A Secret for Success and Happiness: Wait Until Marriage
Even if you don't believe in the teachings of the Bible on sexual morality, there is still a compelling case for living the principle of "no sex outside of marriage." Sexual morality is one of the greatest principles that the world needs to be taught, a principle that could restore a lot of peace, happiness, and physical health in the world today.

Those who add a sexual component to their dating relationships often miss the phase of actually getting to know and love a person during dating, instead focusing on the passions that can blind people to all else. These relationships are less likely to be based on genuine common values and interests and genuine respect and love for the other person. Meaningful conversation and empathy are less likely. The other person may just become an object or plaything.

Those who have no qualms about sex before marriage are more likely to accept sex outside of marriage once they are wedded, and that means terrible heartache or even disease for the betrayed spouse. Marry someone with high moral values - and have those values yourself - if you want a successful and happy marriage.

Those who want to jump into a sexual relationship right away tend to lack physical self-control. They tend to be slaves to their passion. The reality of a great relationship and great marriage is that both partners need self-discipline and strength to wade through the many challenges of life without abandoning each other. A spouse with physical self-control in sexuality is also more likely to not lose his or her temper, to not be abusive, etc. "

Holy Heck! I really AM FUCKED! I never made the connection between domestic violence and premarital hookiedoo before. You can read more of this great moral philosopher, on topics ranging from The Home Depot to CAFTA to the vast leftwing media conspiracy, here.

So I'm sleepy, but I realize that the mild amusement of perhaps two or three people depends on an accurate recounting of my weekend. First, on Friday we went to my favorite new bar, "Grumpy's," home of the $1.50 domestic mug, where my baby was approached by a dude in a NASCAR tee-shirt and goatee asking his name. Apparently they went to middle school together (15 years ago) and he wanted to rehash the good old days. I kinda egged him on, since I kinda found my honey's looks of desperation funny, then I sat back as this dude (who usually doesn't like new people in his bar, he told us) wistfully recalled their playing football at recess. After about ten long minutes I absent-mindedly began stroking my poor boyfriend's tummy, to which the dude beerily, and somewhat angrily, responded, "Man, you two are gonna FUCK tonight!" It has been an awful long time since I was literally speechless. Neither of us could muster a reply, so he continued... "you two are fuckin' HORNDOGS!" I would have bet my car, if you'd asked me, on never hearing "horndogs" used again. But apparently I am a bona fide 'horndog.' ROCK.

Lastly, how well do you know your Appleton? Let's play "adult entertainment venue or family-style restaurant?"
1. The Golden Corral
2. Beansnappers
3. The Lion's Den
4. Juggzzzz

Okay, the last one I made up. But please submit your guesses below, together with name and daytime phone number. The winner gets a Porkchop's Legacy tee-shirt made from a Hanes 'Beefy-T' and puffy paint, if they still sell that shit.

Tie a yellow ribbon

'round your fucking Lincoln Navigator, without the faintest sense of irony. Don't believe the hippies; there's oil to burn once the brown people are pacified.

Meanwhile, friends, I give you this, courtesy of (ripped off from) xuliland.com:

ribbon magnets are stupid

Sightings, part II (Usher-style)

Despite our crushing disappointment we headed on to the worst garage sale ever, then went out for some pizza (which, in the midwest, is cut into squares - how quaint!) back to the apartment for some sweaty emergency lovemaking. I write this now so that in three months, when we are either broken up or he is begging to dry hump me while I do my homework, I will have a record of the honeymoon period. Like former guests of the "Newlywed Game," whose husbands have since left them for Hooters waitresses and such. We went on a shitty bar mini-tour, including one "shufflepuck" match, two games of darts, two old-person cocktails, two shots of Jack Daniels, four mugs of MGD, and approximately 45 minutes of pop country. ROCK.

Sunday began with the usual filth, followed by a revenge trip to the Cheese Fest, this time sans O-man. Not only was the event a "festival" according only to the very broadest definition of the term, there wasn't even any FUCKING CHEESE on offer when we got there!

Chopper's recommendations for your trip to Appleton/Little Chute:
1. Stay the fuck out of Little Chute unless you are despoverbese, or wish to become so;
2. Keep your registration up-to-date;
3. Drink heavily and often;
4. Get a native to be your guide. As in other depressed areas, a guide is easy to find. Offer him pussy and/or MGD in exchange for his services.

Sightings

In Rosendale, WI, outside a church:
Prayer is the best wireless connection.

So, bloggees, I've had a long weekend in Appleton, apparently the family-style restaurant and adult superstore capital of the world. Tolerable--nay, delightful--on account of good company, but otherwise a real pit of hell. I was pulled over due to (long-) expired plates but let off with a warning, then [get this!] ten minutes later, in the parking lot of my beloved's apartment complex, the driver-side door handle FELL OFF and is dangling by a wire tether. It's unfair to blame this turn of events on Appleton's shittiness, but I trust that those of you who have been there will understand the perfect correspondence between the milieu and the overwhelming sense of despair brought on by these events.

Saturday we began our tour of morbid despoverbesity (following the peremptory but enthusiastic early-morning blow job) with a trip to Little Chute, WI for its much-ballyhoo'd "Great Wisconsin Cheese Festival." While it was certainly Midwestern, I defy the provincial (and grossly ugly) Little Chute citizenry to defend the other terms in the greatly overblown title. Of course, we weren't to know until Sunday, as we were turned away at the gate on Saturday by a hugely fat lady in a golf cart who told us with some satisfaction (not to mention haughtiness, the justification for which I can't possibly imagine) that dogs were not allowed.

You know when....

all of a sudden, you realize that the internet didn't even really exist in the '80s and you feel your brain explode? Whoah.

Time to make the bloggies...

Today a middle-aged dude with a crewcut zipped by me in his, like, Dodge Viper convertible or some other such Picture of Dorian Gray-style nonsense and I realized suddently that I FUCKING LOVE SUPERTRAMP. I say this entirely without irony; back in the '70s lyrics like those of "The Logic Song" weren't yet hackneyed. Supertramp fucking hackneyed them! Fuck Yeah! I'm off to download "Breakfast in America" and have some feel-good 'Chop time.

The Chopper ain't no holla back girl.