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Monday, March 31, 2003



Twat did you say?I have recruited this Playboy bunny to remind you that the Brewery Artwalk is coming up in less than two weeks. I know you are totally dying to come see the artists in their natural habitat. You never know - you may find the perfect piece of art to decorate your home, give as a gift, or scare away the neighbors. My work alone can acheive all of those things, and there are at least another hundred people opening their studios to your dirty, prying eyes. So show up, mofos.

In other news, I got seven rolls of film back from the lab this weekend, and I was extremely pleased with the results. It's been a long time since I've shot anything in black & white, and I almost forgot how much more appealing I find my images when they're shot in black & white. Color photography is good for a lot of things, like that entire roll I shot of Liz's son's soccer game (yes, I am a soccer stepmom, frighteningly enough), but I have to say I prefer black & white for almost everything. It just conveys the type of mood I try to capture better than color. Of course, I do prefer shooting in color when I'm going to take photos of, say, blood, because you just don't get the same in-your-face ick factor without the subtle shades of red pain, but for the most part, I'll be shooting almost all my film in black & white from now on. Now I've just got to find some models, because most of my work doesn't have any people in it, and the people that have made it into my portfolio are all intentionally sticking sharp objects into themselves (i.e., they are bloody). I think I'm going to have to trick my girlfriend and/or other people into letting me take photos of them. I just want to take photos - is that so wrong?


babbled by Kat @ 2:32:00 PM | |


Sunday, March 30, 2003



I have nothing original to say, but other people do.

"There are exits at the front and the rear of American democracy. Please take this opportunity to familiarize yourself with the nearest exit. In the event of a theocratic American hegemony, lights will appear on either end of the aisle, marking the way to your exit for you.

In the unlikely event of the repeal of Amendments 1-5, your seat cushion may be used to purchase carriage across one of our more porous borders.

Should there be a depressurization of America's historical tolerance for diversity, bibles will drop from the overhead compartment. Please read your own copy before assisting small children.

Please do not read pirated versions of the bible, as this may give aid and comfort to terrorist organizations.

We thank you for flying Knee Jerk Republican Contract with America, and hope you'll enjoy your stay in 2003. Or wherever your final destination may be."

from bash.org


babbled by Kat @ 12:51:00 PM | |


Thursday, March 27, 2003



That is one creepy looking motherfucker right there.I seriously need to spend way less time thinking about shit. I dwell on problems and then they become giant, swirling masses of doubt and horror inside of my head. It makes interpersonal relationships just a giant bucket of fun. Sometimes I think I should just move out to some remote location and build a solar-powered house that is completely self-sustaining so that I can just be a fucking hermit and hang out with my cat that only has one eye. Of course, then my photography would become really boring and I would end up living my entire life in the virtual realm and then my eyesight would deteriorate from constantly staring at computer monitors and I'd be forced to live out the rest of my days in terrible darkness without the pleasures of reading or blogging and eventually I'd become so full of despair that I'd slit my wrists and my poor one-eyed cat would be left by himself and when his food ran out he'd have to dine on my rotting corpse. So instead of running away and becoming a hermit, I just channel all that negative energy into stuff I enjoy, like photography and actively hating Renee Zellweger.

So anyway, the other night I was watching The Practice, and there was this really intense storyline going on, which prominently featured Lara Flynn Boyle's character. She was being really serious, and like, acting really hard and stuff, but I could not take my eyes off her overinflated lips. I mean, seriously, what is up with that "too much collagen" look that these actresses get into? Maybe it's because she became so skinny that there isn't anything soft and smushy left on her body, so she felt that she should create that by making her upper lip look like she's wearing a snausage coated in lip gloss. If that's what she wants to do, it's her prerogative, but man, it sure distracts from her fine acting skills. Snicker.


babbled by Kat @ 7:28:00 PM | |


Tuesday, March 25, 2003



Um. What?In case any of you were wondering why I don't talk about my political opinions here, or why I haven't talked about the war at all, I'm going to tell you why. Aren't you excited? I can tell. The excitement emanating from my vast readership is fucking palpable.

Anyway, I don't talk about the war or politics very much here mainly because I try to keep this site fairly light in subject matter, and I try to at least amuse myself, and war and politics are not light or amusing. Also, I have witnessed, both personally and on the teevee and intarweb, the amazing amounts of hatred, bile, and vitriol that are being exchanged between people who are on either side of the war debate. I am disheartened by the mudslinging and personal insults being hurled back and forth from both camps. I see people who are anti-war being called unpatriotic, un-American, or pro-Saddam. I see people who are pro-war being called bloodthirsty warmongers. Now, I realize that there are extremes on both sides and exceptions to every rule, but for the most part these broad characterizations of people on both ends of the war debate are unjust and untrue. It seems to me, with few exceptions, that most of the people engaging so passionately in these debates are unwilling to acknowledge that other people are entitled to their opinion whether they agree with you or not. I pay attention to what's going on in the world, and I form my own opinions, but I don't think less of other people simply because they have come to a different conclusion. However, I do tend to want to put some distance between myself and those who choose to sling personal insults that question my intelligence simply because I do not agree with them. I feel that every human being has the right to form their own personal opinions and express them, and that extends to those who think that other people's differing opinions are valueless. That doesn't mean I have to talk to you if you think I'm a fucktard for disagreeing with you, though, so I keep my opinions away from this site so nameless, faceless, amorphous intarweb entities don't try to drag me into a lengthy online war debate. I mean, I got enough shit for the duck tape thing.

Tomorrow (or when I get around to it) we'll return to our normally scheduled program of hilarity, during which I will discuss the disturbing expansion of Lara Flynn Boyle's lips.


babbled by Kat @ 8:23:00 AM | |


Monday, March 24, 2003



I think the new rule should be that every future Best Actor winner gets to kiss Halle Berry.To my three and a quarter loyal readers: I am happy to report that I am back in L.A., safe and sound. I was kept extremely safe by the high levels of security at our nation's airports. I mean, if it hadn't been for them, that 90 year old lady going through security next to me might have smuggled 20 tons of TNT in her orthopedic shoes. Fortunately, this time through I didn't get the pat-down, which is always fun since the screeners usually make comments about my tattoos and want to "bond" with me because they have a crappy, faded tattoo of a unicorn on their saggy left boob. Okay, that was just that one screener, but still, I like to avoid being touched by strangers if I can. Stranger danger!

I took two cameras with me to Phoenix but did not find one interesting thing to photograph. Seriously. I took the camera out once to show my mom some photos of my one-eyed cat, but I didn't actually take any photos. I know that I should really just take as many photos as I can, especially since the Artwalk is coming up and I need to have some fresh material for it, but I literally did not find one interesting thing to photograph. Well, my family was interesting, but I didn't really have a chance to get any good photos of them. And I didn't see one mullet the entire time I was there! Shocking, I know. Perhaps it isn't mullet mating season yet and they're still hibernating.

This week, I will be attempting to self-medicate my ADD and general malaise with heapin' helpings of caffeine so that I can get many, many things done. I have to complete the third round of revisions for two of the presentations for the upcoming geek conference, put my car in the shop and pray that the only repair it needs is covered under the warranty, process like 10 rolls of film and scan all the images, and put together the two small desks I got a couple of weeks ago so that my office can FINALLY be fucking organized. Once again I will put out a call for volunteers - anyone who wants to do any of this shit for me and/or give me foot massages while I work, feel free to come on over. I might even give you a whole dollar.


babbled by Kat @ 9:20:00 AM | |


Thursday, March 20, 2003



Is that your 'O' face?When I was trying to book my hotel room for my trip to Phoenix this weekend I had trouble finding one that was anywhere near my grandma's house. This, of course, is due to the fact that she lives like 5 minutes away from the Peoria Sports Complex, where two baseball teams do their spring training. Now, you may not know this, but I am a semi-closeted baseball fan. I'm a born-and-bred Yankee fan, which makes me fairly unpopular anywhere that isn't New York. My dad's a Dodger fan, though, and since I live less than 2 miles from Dodger Stadium, I try to root for them, even though they suck. Anyway, since my flight arrives in Phoenix at noon tomorrow, I will have an opportunity to go to a spring training game either tomorrow afternoon or Saturday afternoon, and I'm having trouble deciding which one to attend. If I go tomorrow, I'll have to kind of rush to the stadium, but I'll be seeing the White Sox play the Mariners, which should be a reasonably decent game. If I wait and go on Saturday, I'll be less rushed, but I'll be seeing the Royals play the Padres, and they both suck monkey ass. Well, ok, the Royals aren't that bad, but the Padres just plain suck. I need you guys to help me decide. So, tell me: haul ass across town to see the good teams, or chill out, relax, and see the suckier teams? I should mention that there are seats available in the infield directly behind home plate for the Friday game.

In other news, there is a gallery opening at the Brewery this weekend. I make special mention of it because both Liz and I have something in the show. It's the Brewery Artists' Small Works show, which has items from various artists who reside at the Brewery. I won't be there for the opening, but I think you should stop by anyway if you are in L.A. because these shows are always amazing and show a ton of diverse styles and mediums. If you can't make it to the opening, you must come to the Spring Artwalk, as the show will still be running then, and you can stop by my loft and be awed by my amazing talent and/or the sheer quantity of gingersnaps available for snacking. The artwalk will be on April 12-13, and I will remind you about it constantly over the next few weeks so that I will eventually break your will and you will feel compelled to attend. Suckers!


babbled by Kat @ 9:40:00 AM | |


Wednesday, March 19, 2003



Is she straining under the weight of her boobs or trying to suppress a fart?This past weekend, my girlfriend and I adopted a cat from the Pasadena Humane Society. He's black and has only one eye, so he always looks like he's winking. Don't worry, I will not turn into one of those people who is always talking about their cat and displaying tons of cat photos. I will post one photo of him shortly because nobody I have told about him believes that I have a one-eyed cat. Liz and I realize that obtaining a cat is another step towards total lesbian domesticity, but never fear - even though we moved in together, essentially bought a major appliance, and adopted a cat, we are not vegan, we don't listen to folk music or Melissa Etheridge and we still have a lot of heterosexual male friends, so we have a long way to go. If I ever start talking about how "meat is murder" and eschewing the use of lipstick, you can feel free to beat me to death with a side of beef.

This weekend, I will be going to Phoenix to visit my grandma and other family members. I assume that while I am there I will have to find a way to entertain myself, and I hope to do it by taking photos of the toothless speed freaks and mulleted Nascar fans that litter the streets of that fine city. If I do, I'll be sure to share them with you. Of course, I am bringing my laptop because I am in love with it and can't bear to be parted with it for any length of time. Well, really it's because I have to work on my presentation materials for the geek conference I'm speaking at in a couple of months, but don't tell my laptop that. I don't want to break its little laptop heart.

Speaking of computers, my fucking desktop at home has completely tanked. It was running perfectly fine with no indication of any problems at all until Sunday afternoon, when it thought, "Hey, I think I'll reboot myself for no fucking good reason whatsoever! That's a great idea!" It came back up and was running long enough for me to complete my homework and an exam for the online class I'm taking, and then randomly rebooted itself again while I was searching the IBM support site to find out why the fuck it was doing that. Now it won't boot to the OS at all - I can turn it on, but right after it finishes the POST, it reboots. It goes like this: "Power on, POST, make Kat really pissed off and ready to throw me out the window, repeat." I don't know if it's hardware or software related, so each evening I have been going home from work and fucking with it by trying different fixes. If any of my illustrious readership is, say, in L.A. and is exceptionally gifted with PC hardware problems, you should come over right now and fix it for me so that I don't go off the deep end. If you do, I'll be eternally grateful and will be sure to spare you when my evil empire takes over.


babbled by Kat @ 9:51:00 AM | |


Monday, March 17, 2003



Top o' the mornin' to ye!As you may know, I'm Irish. I'm not just regular Irish, I'm hella Irish. So in honor of St. Patrick's day, I present: Fun Irish Facts!

  • The modern submarine was invented by an Irishman named John Philip Holland. He was funded by the Fenians, who were fighting to liberate themselves from the dirty English.

  • The first divorce ever granted by the Irish government was in 1997.

  • The word "whiskey" originated from the Irish Gaelic words "Uisce Beatha" (pronounced ish-ka ba-ha), which means "water of life". Damn skippy.

  • The newt is Ireland's only indigenous reptile.

  • The term "honeymoon" originated from an Irish tradition. The word for honeymoon in Gaelic is "mi na meala", which means "the month of honey". Irish monks used to produce a fermented honey brew called mead and would give enough to a bride and groom to last them a month after their wedding. It was believed that this drink enhanced fertility and was the best way to ensure a good beginning for a new marriage.

  • The use of the rosary in Catholic prayer originated in Ireland. Irish monks would pray 150 psalms each day, and the lay people who wanted to pray along with the Irish monks began carrying a pouch with 150 pebbles so that they could keep track of all the prayers if they were not at the monastery. This soon evolved into a thin rope with 150 knots, and the rosary was born.

  • The wolfhound is the official dog of Ireland. It is the largest of all dogs and can be up to six foot four when standing on its hind legs.

  • The original Guinness Brewery in Dublin has a 6,000 year lease. A full seven percent of the Irish barley crop is used solely for the production of Guinness beer.

  • Irish monks were almost entirely responsible for maintaining Western culture and literacy in Europe after the fall of Rome.

  • If you have a parent that was born in Ireland, you automatically have Irish citizenship. If you have a grandparent who was born in Ireland, you are eligible to apply for Irish citizenship.

    I leave you with this Irish blessing: May you be in Heaven a half hour before the Devil knows you're dead!


    babbled by Kat @ 9:57:00 AM | |


    Thursday, March 13, 2003



    She's flexible, isn't she? I wonder if she can snack on her own muffin.I got a whole bunch of new crap in the last few days, even though I am totally short on cash because I am putting all of my spare cash towards paying off the stupid fucking credit card debt that I ran up while I was unemployed last year. I was supposed to stop charging new crap on my credit cards and only buy things with cash, and then I was going to pay my evil credit card overlords whatever cash I had left over so as to reduce my balances in a reasonably quick manner. However, I apparently cannot resist the siren call of new technology and/or repairs to large appliances in my home, so I have spent a whole mess of plastic money in the last few days. I know you are just fucking dying to know what I bought with all my ill-gotten credit, so I will tell you all about it, you nosy fucking bastards.

    One of the things I spent money on was actually a necessity. Shocking, I know, but it had to be done. A few days ago, our refrigerator started to act like a stupid fucking bitch and decided it didn't need to keep things cold enough. I mean, melted Fudgesicles are okay and all, but only if it's a hot summer day and you have to eat it before it melts all over your girlfriend's boobs... um, anyway, we decided that having milk spoil after a day was not cost-effective, so we had to call a repairman and get him to come out and fix that dirty whore of a refrigerator. It turns out that our frost-free refrigerator decided she didn't want to be free of frost anymore, and chaos had ensued. The repairman fixed her up and melted a bunch of frost onto our floor, and we sent him on his way with our pockets much lighter but our Fudgesicles much colder.

    Now, as some of you may know, I am a photography nut. You wouldn't know it if you just looked at this website, but contrary to popular belief I do exist in the physical realm and some people have actually seen me in person and know that I have a camera somewhere on my person most of the time. Anyway, because I am a cheap bastard and also would like to start developing and scanning my own film instead of paying a lab $20 a pop, I bought a scanner. It's brand spanking new and people are lusting after it like crazy, and I have it, and that makes me happy because I usually get technology when it's been around for quite a while due to my cheap bastard-ness. I figure this puppy will pay for itself in about 25 rolls of film (because I have to buy darkroom stuff, too, for all you math nerds who think I'm estimating incorrectly). At least that's how I justified it to myself.

    I also bought a wireless router for my house, which means that now I can surf the intarweb while I'm in bed, on the couch, or on the shitter. I am sure that those scenarios cover 99% of the fetishes of my illustrious readership, but if you have a specific idea in your head about what I should be doing whilst wirelessly surfing for porn, please let me know.

    So now, I'm nearly broke, sitting on my toilet scanning slides of my girlfriend covered in melted Fudgesicles and wirelessly blogging the whole thing. So what do you think I'm going to do next? What everyone would do, of course - I'm going to an all-nude strip club for lunch with my boss and four other friends. Wouldn't you do the same? Of course you would.


    babbled by Kat @ 10:59:00 AM | |


    Tuesday, March 11, 2003



    I am sorry, but this is the dumbest motherfucking thing I have ever heard in my fucking life. Ok, maybe this is the dumbest motherfucking thing I have ever heard in my fucking life, but they're both right at the fucking top of the list.


    babbled by Kat @ 4:59:00 PM | |


    Monday, March 10, 2003



    Freckled titty alert!I'm kind of irritated about a few things. I'm so irritated that I can't even be soothed by the sight of the lovely Julianne Moore with boobs akimbo like they were at the SAG Awards last night where her best actress award was stolen away from her by that stupid twat Renee Zellweger. See, I'm even irritated by that. Fucking stupid musical.

    Anyway, I'm not really that mad about the SAG Awards; after all, they do have a funny-sounding name, and that's more than can be said for a lot of other awards shows. However, I am miffed at a few people, circumstances, and things, and so I'm going to vent about them because this is my website, damn it, and you can't stop me.

    Actually, the thing I'm most annoyed about is that my family decided that it would be a good idea not to tell me that my grandmother was in the hospital all week last week. She's okay, and she didn't go in for anything super serious, but Jesus fucking Christ, people, is it too much to ask that you call me and say, "Oh, hey, by the way, your grandmother, who is like your favorite person on the fucking planet, is in the hospital right now"? I am definitely happy that she's okay, but my family (well, really, my mom) has got to get over this thing she has about "not wanting to upset" me. This has been a bone of contention for a long time in my family. They kept it from me when my grandfather was in the hospital before he died, and because of that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him. They didn't tell me until after he had passed away. I don't want that to happen again. Of course I think my grandmother is invincible and has super-powers and so she'll probably end up outliving me, but I still think my mom should call me if anyone in the family is in the hospital, you know?

    I'm also kinda annoyed that I didn't get to spend any alone time with my girlfriend this weekend. The only alone time we had was on Saturday morning when we went to Target. Then she had to go to her son's Little League game, and he came over and watched movies and spent the night after that. (By the way, we watched Undercover Brother, which was totally fucking hilarious. "I am not a SISSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" You go, Doogie. Solid.) She left before I got up on Sunday because she had to go help her friend cast her movie, and she was pretty much gone for the rest of the day and I only saw her in 10 minute intervals when she came home and then ran back out again a few times. I'm not mad at her, I'm just annoyed that we didn't have enough time to spend together this weekend. Stupid time.

    And to top it all off, the Barbi twins still exist. Why, God, why?


    babbled by Kat @ 8:39:00 AM | |


    Friday, March 07, 2003



    Hot dog, or something like that.I do a lot of my thinking in the shower. While I was taking a shower this morning, I was toying with some ideas for the links over there on the left, thinking about how I really should just find a good waxer already because shaving is annoying, and mentally tallying the unreimbursed employee expenses I can deduct on my tax return. Since this site is the item in that list that I can take the most immediate action on, I decided to go ahead and make a couple of changes today.

    First, you may notice that I moved my wishlists up into the "Go elsewhere" section. You are not seeing double, as I have two wishlists, one at Amazon and one at B&H Photo. For the most part, those are there for my own personal reference, because otherwise my increasingly senile brain would forget all the stuff that I had intended to buy at some point, but if you want to buy me presents, I will not protest.

    Next, I added some new blogs to the "Blogs I read.." section. Allow me to introduce: Stephen, CW, Julia, Anthony, Tracy, and Ambitionless. Go look at 'em, already.

    The other thing I added, which I've been meaning to do for a while, is the "This Week at the Brewery" feature. There, I will attempt to link to any events, gallery openings, etc., that are going on at the Brewery Arts Complex each week. You know, because I live there, and there's usually something kind of neat going on somewhere on the property. So take a look, and stop by if you can. Don't be shy.


    babbled by Kat @ 10:58:00 AM | |


    Wednesday, March 05, 2003



    Look, ma! I've got dirt on my face!Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. Since every blogger and their momma is talking about it I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon. Well, okay, I was going to talk about it anyway. I'm so transparent.

    I have a kind of odd history with the tradition of giving things up for Lent. I come from a Catholic family on my Dad's side, but I wasn't raised Catholic because my mom is a dirty Protestant and she decided to just raise me as an unholy, unbaptized child of Satan. Though I have always had an intense interest in all things spiritual, I did not formally become a Catholic until four years ago. The formal adult conversion process involves taking a class on the fundamentals of Catholicism for a few months, and then you get the religious trifecta of baptism, confirmation, and first communion all in one big ceremony at the Easter vigil service on "Easter Eve". I did this as an adult for several reasons - mostly because I was just at that point in my spiritual journey (god, that sounds cheesy). Anyway, what I was trying to get at with this little story of sin and redemption was that I've only had about 4 years of experience with this whole Lent business.

    The first year I gave up something for Lent was also the year I got baptized. I was going to give up sex, but I figured that wouldn't be fair to my live-in boyfriend, so I thought long and hard about what to give up that wouldn't make other people's balls ache. I ended up giving up shopping. You may think that's silly, but at the time, my commute to work went through the World Trade Center, and there was a mall in it. A fucking good mall, too. I went shopping there almost every day. I didn't always buy stuff, but I'd say I bought at least one item every third day or so. When you give things up for Lent, you are supposed to give up something that you enjoy that you don't really need, and really, I had plenty of fucking clothes. I gave it up, I stuck to it, I got some water and stinky oil poured on my head afterwards, and all was right with the world.

    Each of the next three years, I gave up drinking for Lent. This was a completely different ballgame. People who didn't say jack shit when I was spending my lunch hours at St. Patrick's Cathedral got all in my face about me being so "religious". Meanwhile, I had pretty much stopped going to church, and had nothing to do with religion in general or Catholicism in particular except for the Lenten tradition. (I'll tell you why some other time.) But man, tell someone you're giving up alcohol for any reason other than alcoholism and/or "my liver screams bloody murder in the night", and they get awfully pissy. I ended up in lengthy religious debates with people when all I wanted to do was, like, just not drink for a little while. Also, people kept asking me how I was "holding up" and if I thought I could actually "make it" and not have a drink for 6 WHOLE weeks. Jesus fucking Christ, people. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a raging alcoholic. Really, it's just like giving up candy or french fries or soda pop or something like that. Anyway, after enduring that kind of shit for three years and contemplating the various ways that I could injure people with common household items, I've made my decision on what I'm going to give up for Lent:

    I'm giving up telling people what I gave up.

    However, I really like Tony's idea of doing extra stuff during Lent, so I will tell you about that. I am going to try to do 100 crunches and 50 bicep curls each day. (I can't do 100 curls like Tony, because I have pansy-ass girly arms that get all tired out after about 30 curls. But I'll work my way up.) I'm also going to start bringing my own lunch to work, because it's cheaper and healthier than buying food from the crapeteria in our building. And, finally, I am going to learn how to develop my own film. You'd think a part-time photographer like myself would know how to do that, wouldn't you? But noooo, I don't have any idea what the fuck to do in a darkroom. So I am making a commitment to myself and everyone who wants to see all those photos of naked ladies I've taken that I'll learn how to develop my own film. I'm sure that will disappoint the guys at the lab who have previously developed the aforementioned naked lady photos, so I guess I'm back to causing blue balls with my Lenten choices. Sorry about that.

    Completely off-topic: I finally have an about page. Enjoy.


    babbled by Kat @ 3:24:00 PM | |


    Tuesday, March 04, 2003



    It's a sign of the coming apocalypse, I know it.So, I watched this show, Married by America, last night.

    Yeah, I know. "Reality teevee". Not really up my alley. I never, ever watch this crap. However, I peripherally know someone who was on it last night, so his roommate and a group of people who know him all gathered 'round the television that we brought to the bar (no, I'm not kidding, we brought our own) and watched the entire two hour mess.

    It was like watching a fucking train wreck.

    Basically, the rules go like this: there are five contestants, pictured at left. There are five suitors picked out for each of them by some mysterious, behind-the-scenes selection process. Then, three family members or friends of each contestant asks sometimes inane, sometimes relevant questions of the suitors so that they can narrow down the pool of available human meat. They eliminate one suitor immediately, another after a "big secret" is revealed about one of the suitors, and another after some "intense suitor interrogation", which also happens behind the scenes. Then the viewing public is invited to call in and place their votes for one of the remaining suitors. All of this suitor-weeding fun takes place while the contestant is hidden away somewhere with those fancy soundproof headphones on. Next week, the contestants are going to marry the suitor that was picked out for them, without ever having seen them before.

    I'm telling you, this is a sign of the coming apocalypse.

    Now, our man Jack got voted off at the end of last night's episode, which means that I never, ever have to watch this mindless drivel again. While I'm happy about that, I don't know why the gay pirate guy who was the crazy blonde contestant's friend decided to vote Jack off the show. I mean, they picked a fucking used car salesman over our guy. What the fuck is that?

    While watching the show, we all decided collectively that the only "reality" dating or marriage show we would like to see in the future is one that involves suitors battling to the death in order to win, kind of like a cross between "The Dating Game" and "Ultimate Fighting Championship", but with more blood. Are you listening, Fox?


    babbled by Kat @ 8:48:00 AM | |