By now I am sure you’re all familiar with my “Why Music Sucks Now” line of posts.
I’ve done some others, and the one that made me blamous* was my review over Birthday Sex.
I still get hits on my blog from that. And if you google the definition of impry, my blog is the first search result! How cool is that?!?
Anyway, onto today’s victim song.
This song is currently number 1 in the country according to Billboard.
It shouldn’t be, and I have a quote from a fellow blogger on that later. Right now, I’m going to give you the lyrics, then I will break the song down for you.
Tik Tok Lyrics
Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Grab my glasses, I’m out the door, I’m gonna hit this city
(Lets go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
‘Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back
I’m talking pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here
And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger
I’m talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys tryin’ to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk
Now, now, we go until they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
You got me now
You got that sound
Yeah, you got me
DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
Put your hands up
Put your hands up
Now, the party don’t start ’til I walk in
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no
Here are some of the things I find HORRIBLY RETARDED about this song.
1. “Wake up in the morning and I feel like P. Diddy.” What? Drunk? Missing Beyonce? Did he date Beyonce? I think he did. And now the ugliest man in the world is dating Beyonce. But I digress. They only way I want to wake up feeling like P. Diddy is if it means I’m rich, or I’m black. I’d take either.
2. Why would anyone brush their teeth with Jack? What the hell does this mean? Actually, I may try this and vlog about it. Now that I think about it, I’m going to. It’ll have to be when I can afford a bottle of Jack, though. And, also now that I’m thinking about it, I guess in a way, it’d be like using booze flavored Listerene. So yeah. Maybe she has a point here.
3. I’m going to go on a tangent here about repeating lyrics in songs, and how it’s become a real problem. She says “toes toes, clothes clothes, phones phones.” I’m tired of it. I’m tired of repetition in my songs other than the GD chorus. You know? You know? You know? How did you like that? Annoying, right? “If he types that one more time, I will LEAVE!” That’s probably what you said. Why are we tolerating it in our music? Did Michael Jackson ever repeat anything aside from touching children? No. Why? Because he was a mutha fuckin lyrical fuckin genius. That’s real.
4. Why in the HELL would you want your speakers blown up? Those things cost money, and I’m willing to bet that she doesn’t have the cheap kind, either. Not the ones that you can get at Wal-Mart for 5 bucks that plug into your computer and you can never quite hear GOOD out of them. She probably has speakers that would permantly damage hearing if properly used, and she wants to blow them up? Send them to me, please. I’d like a pair for my surround sound system. Thanks.
5. You’re going to “fight until the sunlight?” Like, a fistfight? For sure, if it’s a chick fight, I want to watch. They do that, ya know. They oil up and go at each other and they start rubbin each other down and slowly undress…wait. Wait. I’ve digressed. But yeah. Fighting until sunlight? Not this guy. You let someone start a fight with me in a club. I will RUN. I’m not a hero. If necessary, I can ask The Missus to handle it. But fighting in a club, especially until the sun rises is NOT classy. You hear that, Kie$ha? Not classy.
6. Which brings me to this. Kie$ha. What? Really? You can just put a dollar sign in your name? You’re not black. And yes. You have to be black to do that. That’s real. I’m pretty sure they have like a patent or something. And if they don’t, they should, because really? Travi$ just doesn’t look right, and neither does Kie$ha. Or $teve. Or Ju$tin. However, $ean P. Diddy looks LEGIT. Just leave it as an “S,” babe. You’ll do just fine.
7. “Ain’t got a care in the world, but we’ve got plenty of beer.” Okay. I need you to say this with me. “I’m an alcoholic.” There. That’s step one. 11 more, and you’re gonna be all better.
8. Your lack of money is probably due to the fact that you buy speakers and beer.
9. If I hear one more white person use the word “swagger” I will punch a baby. That’s real.
10. HAVE YOU SEEN MIK JAGGER?!?
I rest my case.
11. If boys are trying to your “junk junk” you might consider dressing less like a whore and/or leaving the place you are at, in hopes of finding a club instead of a prison dance. I mean, come on guys. How many of you have just grabbed a woman’s junk junk in a club? I haven’t. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been IN a club. All I know, right now, if I grabbed at my wife’s, for sure, I’d get slapped, AND I’M MARRIED.
12. Now she talks about self defense. But only if he gets to “drunk drunk.” Which is going to happen if they have “plenty of beer.” Should this lady even be here? I am really beginning to think maybe she has some daddy issues.
13. The cops are coming, and I’m pretty sure she’s organized the club into a active resistance. Which is smart. A bunch of drunk horny guys, and a bunch of drunk tired of being harassed chicks going at the “po po’s” This will end well. 40 years from now, I’ll be telling the story of the “Racist Cops of Club Crunk Junk” to my grandchildren and reminding them that even though they don’t have enough money, if they have plenty of beer, they’re okay. And letting my granddaughters know that if someone tries to grab their junk junk, make sure to smack them only if they’re drunk drunk.
14. I am almost entirely certain that from here on out, the DJ is physically/verbally/sexually assaulting this young lady, and no one cares, no, not even her. He gets her heart pounding, then he breaks her down, then he lifts her up, he has her hands up, and then making her heart pound again. Oddly enough, this sounds like the relationship I had with my junior high gym teacher…wait. What?
15. “Now the party don’t start till I walk in.” What a conceited bitch. I’ve been to plenty of parties, and you haven’t shown up to ONE of them, and for sure, they’ve all started (and ended) very nicely. Would they have been improved by your presence? Well, that depends. Would you have sang? Because no, it wouldn’t have. Getting naked? Yes, it would have. Anything else? No, I don’t think it would have improved anything at all. I have a feeling that just talking to you would lead me to choking you with a fury that normally I reserve for kittens and baby birds.
That’s all I have for you, folks. Like I said, this song is NUMBER FUCKING ONE on the charts right now, and that brings me to a quote by a wise lass that I’ve just recently had the pleasure of talking to.
I’m talking of the one and only Ginger Mandy, who says this:
“That song being #1 represents 85 to 90 percent of everything that is wrong with this country. The other 10 to 15 percent is Wal-Mart.”
That’s real.
*blamous is a term coined by Kid Funk that just means “blog famous.” He used it in a conversation describing me the other day, along with calling me a “bliar.”
Y’all have a great weekend, and I’ll stop around this weekend and do some commenting and check out your blogs. Also, just to let you know, I had almost ALL of the comments responded to, and the power went down on my laptop. There was no way in HELL I was going to start typing all that funniness out again! However, I thank you so much for all of your comments, and I’d like to hit 50 again sometime this month!
I love you. Folks, it’s TMI Thursday time with the one and only Lilu over at LivitLuvit. She’s a peach of a gal that really does her best to get everyone on the internet to do something embarrassing or nasty on Thursdays, and so far, she’s done a good job. This is my contribution this week. If you want more of this, please for the love of all that is holy and pure, click the picture of those old people having more fun than you did last night.
Well, this week’s TMI will be short and sweet.
The thing is, it’s been sort of a “big” week for me.
You know.
“That” kind of big.
As in, maybe I should think about switching to 2 a day bowel movements.
Here’s why.
Actually, wait. Let’s talk about why they don’t make toilets with bigger holes in them. Why don’t they? I mean, surely they know that there are people like me out there that might on occasion have really big extra helpings of nachos and then have all that compress in their colon to something roughly the size of junior varsity football, don’t they? While we’re at it, why don’t they widen the pipes, too? If I ever build a house, it will have pipes the size of a subway system. When I flush a toilet in that house, I want to have to wonder if I’ve been pink socked. I want to have to hold onto a bar above my head that has to have at least as many steel bolts in it as they’re always braggin that the Ford F150 does. I want the neighbors six houses down to say, “Geez. It must be taco night at the Sloat’s.” Is that too much to ask?
Okay. So now. Here’s why.
I’ve taken a dump in 3 different toilets this week, and I’ve clogged ALL of them.
My house, the school, and my dear, sweet mother’s.
I felt kind of bad about that last one.
I think I’m going to have to start eating less.
Is there a discreet way to use a plunger? How come it always sounds like you’re driving an 18 wheeler through a heavily flooded china shop on the “quiet” side of town?
Well, the week’s not up, so I’m going to try to go 4 for 4 today.
Wish me luck!
Anyone want to invite me over to let me take a shot at immortality?
I’m guest blogging again today, and this time it’s
Go check that shiz, yo.
Oh, and one other thing.
Jeff over at Badly Drawn Monsters is riding his bike in a Tour de Cure for the diabetes.
I was so thankful that I made him a couple of things.
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And here is one for my Twilight fans:
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Enjoy the guest blog.
Oh.
And your lunch.
I love you, Jeff!
I got a pretty good reception out of Movie Review Tuesday last week, so I’m going to do it again. The following may contain spoilers, just to let you know.
I do this for y’all, because I get to rent movies a week earlier than everyone else. The only way it really helps you I guess is if you didn’t watch them in the theater. If you did, you should still totally comment, and just tell me how good my ass looks today.
On with the movies.
The first one I saw was:
Fireball. Have you ever watched a basketball game and said to yourself, “Dude, this is great, but you know what would really make this pop? More karate. And specifically, more Muy Thai kickboxing.” You have? Well, then this movie is for you. When I picked the case up and saw two men ninja-ing it up over a basketball, I thought I’d died or was dreaming. This movie is TERRIBLE. But it is the greatest bad movie, EVER. The movie is done in sub-titles, and still, the audio syncing is awful. The fight scenes are legit, and the stunt work is good. There is a parkour scene with a basketball that made my year, and it’s only January. If you happen to find this movie on the shelf, do yourself a favor and rent it. You won’t be sorry. Just don’t expect it to be good. Or you will be sorry. Also, the phrase “You son of a whore!” was used, making this an instant classic.
I give it 4 of 5 stars.
Up next:
Surrogates, starring none other than Bruce Willis, who has had a long and illustrious film career. This movie should not have been included in it. I hate to start reviews on a bad note, but I really think that’s his fault. The special effects were INCREDIBLY done, and I really liked the premise. However, horrible acting plagued this film like a hot cheerleader with herpes plagues a football team. Willis plays a cop in a world that is run by surrogates that stand in for humans on a daily basis. This allows humans to stay inside all the time, rendering crime non-existent. It also allows people to lie about who they are. There is a movement against the surrogates that is made up of real people, and shit kind of gets real at the end. It just wasn’t much good. However, it is my number two pick this week, so that tells you about the week in general.
I give it 3 of 5 stars.
Next up!
Folks, this is a GREAT movie. I laughed nearly the whole way through it, and it was a good kind of laugh. Whip It stars Ellen Page (Juno) as a typical high school girl with all her typical high school girl woes. Matter of fact, it’s almost the same girl she played in Juno, only you know, not pregnant, because roller derby isn’t really suited for pregnant ladies. She hooks up with a roller derby team that is (loosely) headed up by Drew Barrymore, who is also in her first directorial role. The supporting cast was amazing, and it had Kristin Wiig in it, who I think is SMOKIN hot. The characters are real and genuine, and the movie was shot very well. Easily the best movie I saw this week, and I can promise you that the whole family will enjoy it.
I give it 4 1/2 out of 5 stars.
Next movie, come on down!
Wushu is a Jackie Chan movie, that doesn’t have Jackie Chan in it, which was a relief to me, because I’m a Jet Li fan. I didn’t go into this movie with high expectations, and I was pleasantly surprised. This movie was also in sub-titles, but the choreography was AMAZING. It’s basically a story of 5 kids that enter a training camp together, and graduate ten years later, just in time to foil a kidnapping ring that is operated by bad guys that make Oscar the Grouch look like a hard core thug. They were laughably bad, and their ring is split up like a wishbone in a dogfight. However, if you can make it through that, you’ll see some amazing martial arts. I recommend this movie just for that, and I’d definitely rank it above Fireball, but I’d rent Fireball first just for the experience.
I give it 3 out of 5 stars.
The last new movie of the week…
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I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell is the WORST movie I watched this week. It was a pathetic excuse for a teen comedy that tried really hard to be in the same vein as American Pie. I laughed maybe once, and the whole movie was just one giant ball and poop joke. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good ball and poop joke, but not this. There was about a 20 minute stretch where they are in a strip club, and I forgot about how bad the movie was during that time, but then it comes roaring back at you when they walk out of the club. I don’t have any idea who stars in it, but I understand it’s not the same person who wrote the book. Do yourself a favor, and if you rent this, just skip to the strip club scene, rub one out, and call it a day.
I give it 1 out of 5 stars.
And finally:
The classic movie I picked this week was Equilibrium. Kid Funk said I needed to see this, and he wouldn’t shut up about it till I did. Aside from being a shot for shot remake of the Matrix, it was a very good movie with lots of good special effects and non-stop twists and turns. It stars Christian Bale, mostly just running around killing people with very little gore or blood. It also has Taye Diggs, who could possibly be the worst actor in the history of time. The basic premise is that we live in a world where feeling is no longer allowed, and “sensing” is a crime. Bale plays an agent who seeks out the people who harbor things that evoke feeling, and who is starting to wonder if maybe he’s on the wrong track. The Funk wasn’t lying when he said, “I bet you want to go out and buy two handguns when it’s over.” If you haven’t seen this yet, rent it and check it out. You won’t have to think much, and it’s not terrible.
I give it 3 1/2 out of 5 stars.
That does it for today’s Movie Review Tuesday. Get out there and watch some movies!
I’m pretty sure I’ll be guest blogging tomorrow, so if anyone wants a no strings attached shot at my blog, email me if you can get a post up by tomorrow. (TWSS)
(Hey guys and gals. It’s Memoir Monday time! This is where you write down a story about yourself, steal my button down there, drink a beer, and call it all a win. The only rule is that it has to be true, other than that, there are no rules. I keep getting more and more people to follow my lead! It’s catching on! Will YOU be one on the bandwagon this week? Once you post, let me know, and I will link you up down there for all my kick ass bloggy followers to go and read! Y’all are the greatest, and I love you. If you want to see all the Memoir Monday posts, just click on the book!)
The year was 1995, and I had just turned 13. And, in other news, the Oklahoma City bombing had happened which had completely wrecked a field trip I was supposed to go on earlier that year.
That was then the entire country suddenly got suspicious of white guys buying manure, not Arabian fellas with shoes.
Anyway, I had just started the 7th grade a couple of months before, and things were not going well for me. I had been slapped by a chick who had mistakenly been informed that I’d called her a whore, and I had bawled like a baby, because that’s what I did then.
We had a large black girl named Nicky* in our class.
She was big, y’all. She developed earlier than anyone else, and this was BEFORE they started puttin steroids in the chicken and making 6th girls D cups.
Not that I look, you know.
Nicky was a great gal who would talk to you and be your friend when no one was watching. I knew this from experience.
However, when you were in a group of people, Nicky had a problem.
She’d grab your penis.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a bad thing. I wish a big black chick WOULD grab my penis right now. Hell, even in public.
But in the 7th grade, I wasn’t…ahem…as big as I am now, and I, like every other teenager in the nation, got a hard on at the drop of a hat. I didn’t need any girl grabbing a hold on my cash and prizes, and causing me all these problems.
We were in class, and for those of you who go to school at Okay, it is Coach Botts’ room now. The teacher at the time was Mrs. Wallace.
Mrs. Wallace had left the room for a moment, and Nicky looked around the room for a target. I was a skinny, wimpy kid at the time, and her eyes locked onto mine.
No.
Not here.
Yes.
She got up, and came towards me. I assumed a defensive posture. (Jumping out of my desk and hiding behind another.)
She came after me.
I got up, and ran to the teachers desk. I turned around to face her, and she was RIGHT THERE. Hand out, groping, grasping for the prize before her, so she could announce to everyone, “It’s little, y’all!” which was her standard phrase after grabbing a young man.
As she closed in for the kill, I gave a fake.
I was not yet the ninja I am today, but it was still a good one.
She went for it.
SHE WENT FOR IT!
I was so relieved that I didn’t even stop to think. I just went for the opening.
Then I realized.
SHE HAD FAKED MY FAKE.
I went for the gap, which suddenly wasn’t there anymore, and so I did what any brave man would do in this situation. I threw myself backwards, where the back of my head caught the corner of teachers desk, and spilled the pop setting on it all down the back of my clothes and neck, which were suddenly sopping wet.
I stood up, and the class ERUPTED.
Much like the back of my head, which, and I’m quoting someone in the class here, “Shot blood up just like the movies! It was SO COOOOOOL, Travis!”
I didn’t spill that pop.
I probably got blood in it though.
You see, the corner of that desk and the back of my head had a terrible disagreement. The desk won, mostly because it lacked a vascular system. I put my hand on the back of my neck to wipe away what I thought was a Diet Dr. Pepper, and I pulled away a hand covered in blood. It was then I yelled the phrase that was repeated to me even on graduation day.
“I’M LOSING BLOOD FAST, GUYS!”
And I ran out of the class.
On the way to the office, I was stopped by the superintendent. He was both shocked and amazed at this skinny 7th grader running down the stairs with blood coming out of the back of his head like a horror movie. He handled it well though, and my mother was called, and I went to the doctor. 7 stitches and a shaved spot on my head later, I was just fine.
Did I want to go home?
Naw.
I went back to school. I wanted to show off my battle wound.
What I got to watch was the 85 year old high school lady janitor cleaning my blood off of ever surface between the gym and the office.
That’s the first time I got stitches.
*Name was NOT changed.
I just realized that I got stitches trying to KEEP a girl from touching my penis. And now I’d gladly take 7 stitches to GET a girl to touch it. Geez.
Other Non-Bloody Runs To The Office Today: GO READ THEM!!!
Adrienzgirl’s Memoir Monday: Get Your Licks In While You Can.
Greg’s Memoir Monday: Leaving Venice.
Witch’s Memoir Monday: Busted.
Daffy’s Memoir Monday: When I Am Old Enough For Diapers.
LMJ’s Memoir Monday: The Day I Learned What A Blunt Wrap Is.
Ed’s Memoir Monday: The Time I Wish I Had Wonk Eye.
Josh’s Memoir Monday: Part One-Pictures Worth More Than Words.
Meeko’s Memoir Monday: Mexican Momma.
Shany’s Memoir Monday.
Over at Lily’s place telling a story about how you should always know who you’re talking to when you text someone.
Oh, and if you’re not following Lily, you better get on that shiz.
I love you guys, and I hope you’re having a great Sunday!
Get ready for Memoir Monday tomorrow!
I’ve got some random things here to get you through the weekend. I won’t be around much, kids, because daddy has to work late.
First things first, because he’s my homie.
Kid Funk is on iTunes. That’s right, he is. Just search for “A Morning Grey” and he will pop up. He’d also like me to tell you that every time his song is downloaded, a tree is planted, because he’s a philanthropist like that. He’s blowin up, y’all. And if you think I won’t use his future stardom to promote the heck outta this blog, you’re wrong.
Here is a link to his Myspace Music page.
Secondly,
You may have heard about this video contest going on over at Lee’s place for her soap. I made a commercial, and so did Moog, Ed, and Corrie. Here’s the thing. A month or so ago, things were ROUGH at the Sloat household. Real rough. So rough, we didn’t really have enough money for groceries. Now, I know I could stand to skip a few meals, but we didn’t really want to do that. However, Corrie had a contest for a comment her son made, and I wound up winning it, using, by my standards, what I call “dirty pool.” I won a $50 gift card, which honestly helped us make it through the month, and my faithful voters were supposed to be rewarded. Well, that hasn’t happened yet, and I honestly don’t see it happening anytime real soon. So, in the meantime, I want you to go vote for Corrie in this contest. Her kid made a commercial, and she promised him the $50 prize money for it if he won. Since I have the most LOYAL followers ever, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, is it? 🙂 Just click the word “Lee’s” up at the top of this rant, then vote in the sidebar. Thanks guys!
Oh, and buy some soap while you’re at it?
And lastly, I have some pictures for you.
I was looking through some gadgets for Blogger the other day, when I ran across this gem. Seriously? Bella Swan quotes? Geez, I need to get this up on my page right away so y’all don’t miss one more days worth of sage advice from this vampire loving emo chick with a penchant for werewolves. Seriously. But yeah. Blogger? You might want to just take this off the list.
Next picture:
That’s right. Think about this tonight and all weekend, ladies. It could be you that I’m hammering. Yeah…
And finally, this is a little something I made you to tide you over just in case that last picture wasn’t enough.
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Have a good weekend, folks. Now go vote!Folks, it’s TMI Thursday time with the one and only Lilu over at LivitLuvit. She’s a peach of a gal that really does her best to get everyone on the internet to do something embarrassing or nasty on Thursdays, and so far, she’s done a good job. This is my contribution this week. If you want more of this, please for the love of all that is holy and pure, click the picture of those old people having more fun than you did last night.
I think I was 14. It’s hard to remember, and I’ve tried to mostly block it from my mind.
It was also on a band bus.
It’s here that I’d like to take the opportunity to say a few words to the parents whose kids want to play the trumpet, the saxophone, the clarinet, or if they’re chunky, the tuba.
It’s cool and all, until a band trip.
For some reason, little Johnny or Kate, most notably Kate, will be an incredible child and a great role model until they get on a band bus. Then the magic happens.
Innocent young teens go abso-fucking-lutely apeshit. It’s the hormones.
I made out with a black chick on a band bus. And I just want to take an aside from the aside and say that when you get made out with by a black chick, you STAY made out with. That shit is EPIC.
Anyway, parents, I suggest you think twice about letting little Johnny and Kate go to Six Flags with the band on a “band trip.”
You remember the first American Pie where that weird wicked hot chick from How I Met Your Mother talks about shovin a flute up her axe wound?
Yeah… That shit happens for realsies.
Anyboob, we’re on a band trip, and we’re playing truth or dare.
It get’s to Kate* and she takes dare. Well, my buddy looked at me and said, “Have you ever seen tits before?”
“No…”
“Well then, Kate, I dare you to flash Travis.”
Let me tell you about Kate. They called Kate “Loppy.” I didn’t know why. I was a young, innocent child, with very little in the way of sexual knowledge, unless you count getting girls to touch my penis by telling them it was a spider.
I soon found out why they called her Loppy.
I was expecting a bra flash, something I’d seen before, and wasn’t real impressed with.
No.
I got the real deal. I got the full monty. I got…Tha Bidness.
She flipped the bra up, and out fell two of the weirdest looking boobies I’ve seen TO THIS DAY. Folks, it was insane. I’ve taken the liberty of using MS Paint to illustrate what I saw:
It. Was. Awful.
Was I aroused?
You got dang right.
Why?
CAUSE I WAS LOOKIN AT MY FIRST PAIR OF REAL FEET!
Surely one of you will get that reference.
Bonus points to the one who does.
My buddies all laughed, because I was apparently the last to know about ol’ Loppy. I guess she flashed those things like they were the last pair on earth, and I’ll never understand that. Why can’t the hot chicks do that sort of thing?
Anyway, if this story had a moral, and most of mine do if you look hard enough, it’d be this.
When Johnny picks up the trumpet, you give him the sex talk, slap him on the ass and slip him some condoms.
When Kate picks up the flute, lock her in her room and only let her wear turtle necks and long pants until she’s out of the house.
Oh.
And parents? If your daughter has hairy boobs, can you…ahem…SAY SOMETHING?
Thanks a million.
*Name was changed to protect identity. That’s the last thing I need is that chick adding me on Facebook and seeing this. Geez. So yeah. Her name wasn’t Kate.
(P.S. Don’t give me shit about that double standard. It’s always been there, I’m just bringing it up. (heh) For sure, you think my baby niece will be the most protected little girl ever? You better believe it.)
I’m over hanging at The Office Scribe’s place, answering questions for her interview.
I’ll be back tomorrow with a TMI post.
I’ll also be guest blogging at a couple of other places soon.
Anyone wanna take a shot at my blog while I’m gone?
And yeah, the big words are the link.
I feel like I should leave you something here though. So I am gonna give you a picture.
Do it.
I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome back at Post It Note Tuesday, so I’m branching off.
Why? Cause I’m a bad ass rebel who does what he wants, that’s why.
Well, except for Jessica Alba. She hasn’t returned any of my calls. She sent me a letter though. I know it was her because it had her signature at the bottom. The top said, “Restraining Order,” but she’s not fooling me.
AnyEbert, on with the reviews.
As an employee of a classy establishment like the one I work for, I get to rent movies for free, but I also get to see new releases a week before the rest of you suckers, because they want me to be able to recommend shit.
I’m going to start out with a possible 5 star rating, but I’m going to get more creative with that if I do this again.
I’ve been through 5 new releases this week, and I’m going to call this review:
The Week of Gratuitous Nudity and Violence.
We’ll do them in the order I watched. First up.
Gamer stars Gerard Butler as the exact same bad ass guy that runs around and kills people in all of his movies. Hell, I’m pretty sure he killed a bunch of people in The Ugly Truth. It also has that guy from Dexter, Michael Hall. I haven’t seen Dexter, and if this performance was in any way indicative of his performance on that show, I won’t. If you want to see boobs and blood, this is the flick for you. If you want a plot line that moves slower than me in a 5k, this movie is for you. Basically, Butler has been sentenced to prison for a crime he was forced to commit because ol’ Dexter douche was acting like a god. Then he gets to be a real life video game character, and if he survives 30 matches, he gets set free. He’s survived 27, and shit gets (kind of in a cheesy way) real. The only good part? About a 2 and a half minute dance scene with Michael Hall.
My rating: 2 stars
Up next:
This movie had more blood than the Red Cross. At various times I also saw: A brain, intestines, bone, and I’m pretty sure I saw a soul at one point. That’s how bad people were gettin carved up. It was tragic, y’all. True to form, just about EVERYONE dies. If you saw the first one and liked it, you’ll like this one. No real plot to speak of, just killin and killin, then for a change, more killin. Vinnie Jones is in it, and that means I like it. It is pretty much the exact same movie as Gamer, only with enough twists to leave you wondering where your hat is, and why you wear hats to begin with. Why do I recommend this over Gamer? Because this one never even TRIES to fool you with a plot. Just gives you the bidness from minute one. Go rent it.
My rating: 4 stars
Next!
Synopsis: Pretty girl has a boyfriend. Pretty girl fucks boyfriends best friend. Pretty girl gets caught up. Pretty girl gets shot. Best friend almost gets caught up. Boyfriend nabs wrong guy. Best friend struggles with conscience. WAIT! Boyfriend knew all along. Boyfriend sets up best friend for the murder. Revenge is served. Roll credits. There. I just saved you an hour and a half of your life you’ll never get back. Oh yeah, it’s got that dead chick in it. I mean, like, she died for real. Heart attack my ass, she just LOOKS unhealthy in this movie. I think it’s the last one she ever made. Her death was too early, and this movie was a mistake. Don’t rent.
My rating: 2 stars
Next, please:
Two words. Kate. Beckinsale. That’s all I need to say, right? No, apparently that’s not enough anymore. Did you ever see a movie, and right after the shower scene with Kate go into your kitchen and make some sausage balls? Cause that’s what I did. Yeah, and right before the shower scene? You see like 6 penises. It was ridiculous. I missed 40 minutes of this one while I was making sausage balls, (I guess the inspiration came from the penii?) and I feel like I didn’t miss anything. It was a typical whodunnit, and it was about as predictable as my next bowel movement. (soon) I could tell you whodunnit, but that would make you not rent it, and therefore you wouldn’t get to see the HAWT shower scene. Lots of “grisly images” in this one that make it hard to eat sausage balls. Rent at your own discretion.
My rating: 2 stars
Last new movie:
My first thought upon seeing this in the box of new releases was: “Ricky Gervais is a hell of a funny guy, and Ghost Town was legit.” Go rent Ghost Town. Trust me, even if you’ve already seen it, go rent it instead of this. This movie was okay at best, and downright horrible at worst. He tried really hard to make it work, but honestly, there was too much honesty. That’s real. Most of the movie was just people running around spouting off whatever they thought, because they live in a society that doesn’t yet know how to lie. You might think that’s funny, because you’re here on this blog, and that’s pretty much what I do, but it’s not as funny as me. Is that braggy? I hope that’s not braggy. Anyway, it’s the typical boy chases girl romantic comedy. A few giggles here and there, a few HA!’s, but no belly laughs, and a bit of blasphemy towards the end. I was very disappointed. It is a cute movie though, and would probably be the ONLY movie this week that I saw that I’d recommend for a family movie night. If you’re gonna get something this week, and it has to be kid-friendly, get this.
My rating: 3 1/2 stars
And lastly, I catch up to an older one:
Dear. Sweet. Mother. That’s the summary. I mean, I don’t do scary movies. I was told this one was expertly done, and wasn’t really THAT scary. Ahem. I will say one thing, it was VERY well done. For those of you who haven’t scene (heh) this movie, I would say go rent it, bring it home, and then stare at the case real hard for a while. Then, get down on your knees, and pray to the Good Lord, and ask Him for forgiveness for what you are about to watch, and then just go take a sleeping pill. For sure, that’s going to be the only way you get to sleep that night. This movie starts out kind of corny, but then, shit gets real. Then, before you know it, shit gets even more real. A little while longer, shit gets real AND nasty, and even a little sad. Then, shit gets even MORE real, then SHIT GETS THE MOST REAL EVER. I was disappointed when I thought the movie was over, but for sure, it’s not over. I live tweeted this movie last night, and some of you might have caught that. This was an excellent movie, but not for the faint of heart. I will say this, even though it might be a spoiler. There is a 7 minute long rape scene about halfway into the movie. It is a very GRAPHIC rape scene, and should not be seen by ANYONE under the age of 17. Hell, for that matter, ANYONE at all. However, at the end, when shit is gettin realer than the realest ever, it pays off big time. Go rent this movie if you think you can handle it. It will be worth it.
My rating: 4 stars
I hope you all enjoyed Movie Review Tuesday, and it might be something I do again iffen it gets some comment love! Feel free to share your own feelings about these movies! We have to educate people!
(Hey guys and gals. It’s Memoir Monday time! This is where you write down a story about yourself, steal my button down there, drink a beer, and call it all a win. The only rule is that it has to be true, other than that, there are no rules. I keep getting more and more people to follow my lead! It’s catching on! Will YOU be one on the bandwagon this week? Once you post, let me know, and I will link you up down there for all my kick ass bloggy followers to go and read! Y’all are the greatest, and I love you. If you want to see all the Memoir Monday posts, just click on the book!)
Well, that title should probably alienate the rest of the readers I have left after getting rid of most of them by telling the entire internet that apparently, I have a small penis.
I’m gonna make that the last time I mention that.
I found out that a 14 year old girl and all of my brothers church friends read my blog, and I probably need to clean it up around here, with the exception of TMI Thursdays.
We all know that won’t happen.
This is about the Memoir though. So let’s get started.
I have done some crazy things in my sleep. Sleepwalking is one of the worst, but I think I’m over that now. The last time it happened, I was about 16, and my dad almost shot me as I walked out the door at 2 A.M. to go to a friends house.
The Missus says I talk a lot in my sleep. I fully believe that this is because I can’t shut up even long enough to get 8 hours of sleep.
However, this is a story about her, and why I’m afraid to go to sleep first when we crawl into bed tonight.
One night, we were enjoying a peaceful nights sleep. Crickets chirping quietly outside, the howling of neighborhood dogs, and my Powerstroke diesel engine-like snoring.
I woke up for some reason. I don’t remember why, but it probably had to do with dogs howling. Which is why I think dogs should be shot. Don’t give me any shit over that, either.
Anyway, I wake up, and my lovely bride is staring right at me.
Right. At. Me.
My first thought is, “Hey, alright. Some midnight action!”
I was soon proven wrong.
She stares at me for about 2 minutes, and finally I ask, “Hey, are you okay?”
Her response?
She reared back and punched the ever lovin SHIT out of the headboard.
I’m not talkin a tap here, folks. This was a punch. Have you seen The Hangover? The scene where Mike Tyson punches Zach Galifinakasisassasissaisiaasis?
Yeah, it was every bit of that hard.
I don’t mind telling you, I pissed myself a little.
As soon as the punch was completed, her eyes closed, and she hit the pillow. It was the weirdest most scary damn thing I’ve ever witnessed in my marriage.
I couldn’t go to sleep for hours. I just kept imagining what it would be like to take that punch. Especially just being asleep, and not knowing it was coming.
When she woke the next morning, her knuckles weren’t sore at all, and to this day, she doesn’t believe a word of this story.
It happened though, and for sure, I don’t go to sleep first anymore. I watch. I’ve also perfected my rolling out of bed technique, and if need be, I’m not afraid to sleep on the couch.
I also learned that if I ever have to fight The Missus, I need to develop a defense for a right hook that has the ability to put a dent in maple. I really think that subconsciously she wants to hurt me, and she wants to hurt me bad.
Can anyone give me karate lessons? I think that might be the only way I’ll survive this thing.
Other Non-Sleep Punched Walks Down Memory Lane: GO READ THEM!
Quixotic’s Memoir Monday: How I Developed My Life-Long Fear Of Kombie Vans.
Jeff’s Musical Memoir Monday: Felmo Is Free.
Kristin’s Memoir Monday: Today Would Make Me 33.
Aunt Juicebox’s Memoir Monday: Ripped Off.
Corrie’s Memoir Monday: Hyperactive From Conception.
LMJ’s Memoir Monday: Camel Toe. (Yes, It Is What You Think It Is About.)
Angel’s Memoir Monday: Why Children Should Wear Cowbells To Bed.
Josh’s Memoir Monday: Holy Mole-y!
Meeko’s Memoir Monday: Sort Of.
Daffy’s Memoir Monday: Hood Style.
Folks, it’s TMI Thursday time with the one and only Lilu over at LivitLuvit. She’s a peach of a gal that really does her best to get everyone on the internet to do something embarrassing or nasty on Thursdays, and so far, she’s done a good job. This is my contribution this week. If you want more of this, please for the love of all that is holy and pure, click the picture of those old people having more fun than you did last night. Wait. “holy and pure” and TMI Thursdays should never even be mentioned together in the same POST let alone the same sentence. Aw, just go see her.
That title is gonna kill my traffic. I know it is.
However, the other day, I was tasked with finding out if Lady Gaga is a man or not.
Who is Lady Gaga?
If you asked that question, I’m going to make a recommendation.
I’d like to to feel around for your head. Chances are, it’s in your ass, and you need to remove it. If that’s the case, then talk to your doctor about some sort of emergency surgery, or talk to any Chapel Hill fan about living with it there. They all know about leading a full healthy life with their heads in their asses.
Now that we have that worked out, on with the post.
When I was asked to make my decision the other day, I was in a classroom subbing. I immediately put this up to a vote for the kids, because let’s face it, anything I was having them do was less important.
The vote was simple. Raise your hand if you think she’s a man, and then raise your hand if you think she’s a woman.
I have to say, when you have to force a kid to vote just to break a tie, the chances are you need to do more about proving to the world that you are, in fact, a lady.
She squeaked by on the thinnest margin of estrogen, with a vote of 5-4 for the lack of a Y chromosome.
That’s too close, folks.
So I went into my research.
I was talking with Jeff from Badly Drawn Monsters yesterday, and I used the phrase “I’ve had my face buried in her business all day.” Followed immediately by “I would totally get in that to look for a penis.”
He stopped talking to me.
Folks, I’ve been through a lot of different media the past couple of days looking for the ol’ stick and berries on the “it” in question, and I have to say, I can’t find either.
Send the pictures to…wait.
Wait.
Heh. Send them to this person.
Yeah, there have been some lumps, but not “sugar lumps.” Ya know what I mean?
I hope you clicked that link. I love that band.
They could be lady time lumps, or bunched up underwear lumps, or thanks to new knowledge given to me by Lauren at (Mis)Adventures In Theatre recently, maybe something called ben-wa balls. Thanks for that, Lauren.
*shudder*
Anytestes, from hereto and forthwith, let it be known that on this date, the day of our Lord, I, Travis Sloat, do hereby pronounce the singer known as Lady Gaga, to be a woman. And not only a woman, but a woman I would take home, pour a glass of wine, turn on some Marvin, light a fire, talk about some musical business things for a while, buy a bearskin rug, lay her down on that bearskin rug, ask her nicely to not make her next costume out of my new bearskin rug, and then make the sweet, sweet, maybe ruin my new bearskin rug but it’s okay because I just got Lady Gaga pregnant and she can buy me a new one love to her.
That’s real.
P.S. She can’t be a woman. She just can’t. Want to know why? Have you ever seen Maury Povich, and he’s got those people on there, you know the ones, the ones that look like women, but might be a man? And you don’t want to rub one out while they’re on the screen because they might turn out to be a man and you’d wonder for the rest of your life whether or not you’re gay because you fired off some knuckle children at a man. For sure, let’s just say I’ve already “invested” some of that time into pictures and video of Lady Gaga. So. She’s not a man. Why? Because I don’t masturbate to pics of dudes.
That’s real.
God, I hope that’s real.
Oh yeah, and click
to see what Supah Mommy did last night. (And it’s totally safe for work.)
WARNING: Lazy post ahead. Proceed at your own boredom.
When I get out of the shower every morning, I laugh. And not because I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It’s because I see this:
Right?
Here is a picture that I took on Christmas Day, right before my family went sledding.
I am Ninja Travis. And you should fear me. Oh. And the Blue Devils.
And finally, well, I really don’t think this needs words.
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Last, but certainly not least, my sneaky way to link up with the other Post It’s this week, hosted by Supah Mommy, who will probably bitch at me for doing this, if she can find which post it I’m under.
Love you guys.
Please love me back?