You ungrateful fucking prats!

OK, I did do work this a.m. But I've been eating my lunch while perusing random blogs as the Evil Doctor inspired me to do. What a bunch of fucking crybabies. Especially coming off of Thanksgiving. You fucking jerks. Your life really fucking sucks huh? No one understands your pain.
Guess what? Shitty things happen sometimes. The whole world isn't fucked. And no, we would not be better off in the distant past or a third world country. When was the last time you fought off a large carnivore? Hey, you ate today. Great! What the fucking problem then?
You ungrateful little shits. There are a whole lot of people a whole lot worse off than you. For fuck's sake you have an internet access, know how to read, and have enough free time to bitch in (on?) your shitty blog.
Life is wonderful people. And it's only gonna get better. Start realizing how good you have it and be a little thankful, you fuckstains.

Happy Tuesday

No, thank you for coming here to my blog. I really appreciate it.
Stop, you're too kind. Well, I guess my ass does look good in these jeans. That's why I got them. Like a little peach.
Work out? Well, I do swing the ol' indian clubs from time to time.
No, no cologne. That's my natural smell. Thank you!
Yes I'd like another. No I'm not driving.

OK, on to bidness.

Most of the time football seems like a bunch of overpaid sissies running into each other. But sometimes it is the greatest. Forget about your problems and just get drunk while watching Monday Night Football.
Brett Favre is a fucking stud. No two ways about it. I'm straight, but he's just a stud.

Lady Head explained to me that I should be working more, so today I'm going to actually work. The way she put it, the harder I work now, the sooner I can get a faculty position and really fuck off.

Then tonight's Dog Night.

Is it me, or recently have my posts been sucking more? Just not a lot going on I guess. Where's the fire? Where's the rage? Somebody inspire me.

Whooooo!

I am the champion,
I am the champion!
No time for losers,
Cuz I am the champion!
Of the woooooorrrrld!

Lick it people.

I like the girls with the pumps and a bump!

I fucking hate when they do the charity things at cash registers. I'm in CVS buying gum and when I go to pay for it they ask if I want to donate a dollar to St. Jude's Children's Hospital. I'm such a pushover for these things. No, I don't want to donate a dollar since I'm only buying GUM but I do anyway. It's like some sick psychology experiment. I always give the dollar.

OK, so this weekend we also watched the new 'arry Pottah. Sweet. Bella, I love Sirius too. Then we were in the mood for it so we watched Soulplane. Actually was better than I thought (couldn't be worse and we were wasted). Snoop actually played against character a little in this one. He was actually funny.

Then, inspired by VH1, Lady Head and I had a two person dance party to the worst songs evah. Seriously, evah. How bad? Look at the title of this post. That bad.
Well, I better move it, move it on outta here.
Turbo, this does not relieve you from posting.

You shut up.

No, you shut up.

Make me.

You make me.

No, you make me.

I'll kick your ass.

Go ahead, make the first move.

No, you make the first move.

You throw the first punch.

Then I'll go to prison for killing you.

Two hits. Me hitting you and you hitting the floor.

Whatever. C'mon hit me.

No you hit me.






I got nothing.
Turbo, post something. It's about time you started earning your keep around here.

Important updates!

1. In all her roles, I think Siguorney Weaver is the hottest in Galaxy Quest
2. Why don't the elf swords glow all the time when near orcs in LOTR? This inconsistency is very annoying. Don't you have continuity people Peter Jackson?
3. Mythbusters is a fantastic show.

That is all.

Lazy motherfucker

Got to love holiday weekends. Did nothing except eat, drink, and watch TV. Back and forth between a James Bond marathon and VH1. Brings up a point. I hate those fuckers on VH1. Like the guys on I Love the 80s or I Love the 90s. Shitty comics or douchebag columnists. And I hate the fat people that keep talking about what they would do sexually to the people they talk about. "Ooh, I'd take his little ass and show him." Yeah right, orca.
Also, I watched The 100 Most Awesomely Bad Songs and Most Awesomely Bad Heavy Metal Songs. A lot of those deserved it (Color Me Badd, Vanilla Ice, etc.) but The Stroke? We Built This City was the #1 song for Christ's sake! Also, the people here are all shitty musicians and columnists. Sure if Tom Waits and Leonard Cohen were doing the show that'd be one thing. But these people are assholes.
Too lazy for an extensive post.

It's Christmastime in Hollis Queens!

Well, Nashville actually, but that's the song that's on.
Ahhh, first major holiday in the new house yesterday. We told our families that if they wanted to see us they could fucking come down here, we're not going anywhere for T-Day or Xmas.
So it was just Lady Head and I. We kicked it old school. A 22.5 lb turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cornbread casserole, corn, pumpkin pie, chocolate cake, champagne, beaujolais, cognac, grappa.
Today's wake up, start drinking, and decorate the hizzy for Xmas Day!
Favorite Christmas song? Carol of the Bells. Badass.
Nala does not like other animals. The past week has been HISS! ROWR! HISS! PFFFT!
I have faith it'll work out, Lady Head is skeptical.

Sorry

No post today. Slept all day.
I imagine everyone was stumbing around in a daze b/c I was not there to guide you.
Happy Thanksgiving from The Head.

Jesus Fucking Christ

This day will never fucking end. It's only 2:30. I can't do anything b/c I promised myself I wouldn't. Somebody fucking entertain me. I've checked every blog, news-site, forum, humorsite, gamesite, etc. a hundred fucking times. I am bored out of my fucking skull. Christ people, don't you care about The Head? Tell me a story or something. I don't care. Just something to push the boredom out of my melon. I'm dying here.
Normally I'm good at entertaining myself (only boring people get bored - as my high school calc teacher would say) but for some reason I just can't do it today.
(I did have a reuben for lunch so the day's not a total waste.)

And I hate this woman most of all

This woman.
I have a drinking problem! I have 7 drinks over 6 hours on the weekend. I need to have an alka-seltzer the next day! I'm out of control!

I see these articles all the time in magazines. Seriously, learn how to have a real vice people.

Also, Lady Head told me we were leaving work now. Then she changed her mind. That's incredibly cruel.

Rage, building

God do I hate everybody. Every pretentious, self-righteous, nonconforming, antireligious, pseudointellectual dildo. Along with the self-righteous, boy scout-ey, uber-religious, conformist, anti-intellectual twats. Along with all men. And women. Scientists can eat my ass. So can writers. So can day laborers. So can day traders. So can that guy from the suit commercial.
Jared from subway? I'll fakking keel you. Noam Chomsky? I hope your heart explodes. Bobby Fischer? Wherever you are I hope you get beat in chess and you throw a fit and get sentenced to prison where you'll become someone's bitch. Tom Wolfe? I hope your suit gets dirty. That guy with the long neck from 90 second pop on CNN? I hope you get a venereal disease. That guy with the afro on the same? I hope you get one too from fucking the guy with the long neck. Vincent Gallo? There's a special place in hell for you. Creepy used car salesman looking guy at the gym who ogles all the ladies? I hope you're straining while exercising one day and get a prolapsed rectum. Stare-ey guy who sits in the lobby here with his feet on the chair and who doesn't wash his hands after dropping a deuce? I hope you get an intestinal parasite. Derrida, I hope you're rotting in a hell where there are absolutes and perfect communication. Kurt Cobain, I hope you're trapped in a small room where Weird Al Yankovic's "Smells Like Nirvana" plays on repeat for all eternity.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, your cool, and fuck you, I'm out!

I love coffee

Where would science be without coffee? Where would I be without coffee?
See, today Lady Head made me get up and take her to class. It was the perfect day to sleep in too. Needless to say I'm 1/2 dead. Woke up surly as fuck and am still pretty irritable. Ready to fall asleep at my desk. WTF? I'm not some time clock punching wang, I'm revealing the secrets to the universe! Why am I here? No, not it a philosophical sense. I mean why am I here with insuffficient sleep? The big brain needs recharging. Don't you people want to know the secrets of the universe? Well, as long as I'm sleep deprived you can keep on fucking wanting. I'm not gonna discover shit today. I'm just gonna sit here drinking coffee until noon. Then - mouth watering Dagwood. Then leave at 5, work out, play poker, drink, play GTA, watch The 39 Steps, watch Adult Swim, and then to bed.
One good point is since I got here early today I could make the first pot of coffee. Normally if I'm not the first one in Topiary Girl is and she makes coffee. Chocolate rasberry coffee. Now, I'm trying not to channel Denis Leary but seriously, chocolate rasberry coffee. First thing in the morning. Ugh.
What else? I recently switched pizzas. I was always a Tombstone man but recently was exposed to Freschetta. Wow, I was a sucker. It's greasy and delicious. Perfect for soaking up the hooch.
OK.
Rip it.

Love it!

I love sleeping. Love it. Not just sleeping either. I love dozing. Rainy morning dozing with kitties dozing on you. It's too awesome in here to get up. Love it!
Just lie in bed, dozing with the kitties. Then get up and make a huge friggin' breakfast (brunch?). Maybe have a drink. Then watch a DVD or two in bed. Then nap. Then video games. Then read. Then nap.
One of the problems people have is, come 5pm, they feel like they didn't make the best of your day off. Yes you did. You did nothing.
And it was wonderful.
Take a day off. Make sure to make it all about you. Maybe your not like me and have goals. Say "fuck off, you goals!" just for one day. Pamper yourself. Make your own personal holiday.

2nd best is leaving work early. There's something special about driving home on the highway at 2pm (or 11am). It's great. And it doesn't matter what the weather's like 'cause it's always nicer than in work. The highway and the rest of the day are wide open in front of you. So many possibilities. Home or bar? Movie or lunch?
It's up to you.

(I'm actually at work today).

Bloggers Rejoice!

Finally, it is here. The Evil Doctor finally has his own blog (see sidebar). We all will learn a lot. Whether we want to or not.

TGIF

It's Friday bitches! Yeah I know, my whole life is a weekend so why the fuck should it matter what day it is. Considering I was home at least 3 hours early 3 out of 4 days this week kinda makes that point.
Well tonight we are going to a housewarming party over Ron Livingston and Angie Everhart's (they look just like those two) new house. Should be a blast. Single malt scotch and pot is what defines them.
Then Sat. we are going to our realtor and his wife's baby shower. Sounds boring I know, but let me assure you our realtor kicks ass. He's closed down our parties before. And tried to shoot out street lights at our house.
How's my back you ask? FUUUUUUUCKED. Seriously, I'm in pretty bad shape here. Time to go get some vicodin off the doc. Putting socks on is an exercise in agony. But as I said before, at least I won.
Picked up Nala yesterday. What a great kitty. I stayed in the guest bedroom with her and she snuggled up and slept with me (jealous ladies?). Pictures below (along with one of Nacho).
OK, not much else goin' on today. Gonna try to stay at work almost the whole time today.

New Kitty

Nala

New Kitty

Nala

New doggie

Kraepelin and Nacho outside of the guest bedroom where Nala resides

OWWWWW!

HEAD DOWN! HEAD DOWN!
Fakked up my lower back deadlifting this morning. I'm crippled.
On a happy note, I did get the lift before my vertebrae decided to go all sideways on me. I just passed my lifting partner on that exercise as well. And that was his forte. Now he only has one exercise he's better than me on. Weighted pullups.
The Head is a fucking specimen. A rocked up killing machine.

Moving on.

Men (boys), promise me you'll never get a classic car convertible when you're in your late 40's/ early 50's. It's just sad. It's like Peter Fonda in The Limey. Hitting on girls 1/2 your age. You just can't figure out why they would want guys their own age. Those guys are so immature. They have no appreciation of Miles Davis or a nice cordial. Those guys can't connect with a woman like a more mature man can. It's about making love to her mind. She totally wants to hear about the old days. The wild years. It's not like now. Oh, and they LOVE your ponytail and earring. You're still uber-hip.

No offense to the straight up pervert. At least they don't pretend to be something they're not. Like Larry. This guy that used to come into this bar I bounced at. Always with a new 19 year old. I had to let her in b/c Larry was friends with the owner. Larry was a cheesy 40-something with a paunch and a hair helmet who favored the mock turtleneck. But watching him interact with the girls and it was clear what the deal was.

Also, no offense to my elder friends that tap that younger generation. You don't do it in the same way as the convertible guy. You know who you are.

Congratulations!!!

Heartfelt congratulations to Baby on Board who is now the proud mother of a healthy baby boy! All the best to little Noah.
And fuck that piece of shit, soon to be ex, husband of hers.

Another day another dolla

I'm hot like lava
You got a problem?
I got a problem solver
And his name is revolver

It's like a deadly game of freeze tag
I touch you with a 44 mag
And your frozen inside a body bag

Nobody iller
Than this graveyard filler
Cap peeler
Cause I'm a Natural Born Killer

Was up considerably in poker. Which brings me to my point. When your loved one comes home and says don't play poker and you say "But I'm playing so well, let me just play a little more on this table. These people suck.", just punch yourself in the nuts. Because they do suck, but the cards don't know that, and it only takes a couple of hands to wipe out half your winnings from the previous couple of days. God will punish you. Listen to Lady Head.
Because then you have to go have some drinks after the thrashing you just took and, let's face it, your sick. And while liquor cures a lot of ills, colds and flus are not in that category.

Bring It On and Bring It On Again are the best fucking movies ever--A guest post by Lady Head

Bring It On and its lesser known sequellae sister Bring It On Again are the best fucking movies ever! Cheerleaders are the best, and there is no finer movie topic than competitive cheerleading. Maybe its my inner lesbian talking (first Hooter's girls, and now cheerleaders) but i love these little whooores to pieces. For those of you who have been deprived the experience, BIO is the age old California story of a head cheerleader (played by Kirsten Dunst) trying to salvage what's left of her squad after a major discovery was made that her team was scamming routines off of the lesser known and low budget ghetto-squad, the Compton City Clovers. Now these Clovers are GANGSTA BITCH cheerleaders and they are ready to throw down on Kirsten and her girls but the plot is irrelevant here because its practically non-existant and what's important are terms like "cheerocracy" and "cheertator" and "spirit fingers" and all kinds of wonderful stuff like that. And of course no cheerleading movie would be complete without the "bad rebel girl turned perky cheerleader." (played by Eliza Dushku). Sublime! And guy cheerleaders? What the bizzah is that about? Are they a) queer or b) masterminds because they spend their days grabbing the business end of a hot chick in a short skirt. In the movie, the Compton City Clovers have gentlemen cheerleaders. In Compton??? Like they wouldnt have their asses shot on a daily basis... Regardless, a classic, and nice fodder for pedophiles. And the second BIO?I believe it was one of those that went straight to video, so you know its gonna be good. Same plot-like thing (gotta-make-it-to-nationals despite-my-ragtag-squad of misfits-that i started-because i-couldnt be part of-varsity cheerleading-because the captain-didnt like-my long-haired-rebel-boyfriend) except different unknown actors. A quality film all around. So i encourage you to turn on USA tonight and you will likely catch one if not both of these fine films. Let me know how you like 'em. And you better BRING IT.

Gotta get those compulsive gambers

Hilarious. I get email updates form my poker sites.
Here's part of the one I got today:

PLAYING HOOKY FROM WORK?
Why not play one of our weekday afternoon events?
MONDAY-WEDNESDAY-FRIDAY AT 4PM UST$5+.50 no-limit hold’em with rebuys and a $5000 guarantee.
TUESDAY-THURSDAY AT 4PM UST$10+1 no-limit hold’em with rebuys and a $7500 guarantee.

The best thing is it made me want to leave work and go play poker.

Gambling's funny. I played some Sat. morning. Won $400. Then later I played some more, lost $23. Then, later, I said to myself "I can't believe I lost $23. I'm gonna win that back from those fuckers." I did, but that's not the point. I'm psychotic.

Whooooo!

Monday is Funday!

Peep this, I'm tired as hell. I won at poker all weekend but got shut out of the big money by some shithead. So I did the mature thing, we had a party! (Lady Head, me, the kitties, and Nacho). It was sweet. Lady Head and I watched movies and cartoons and danced and laughed and lived and loved. I think I broke my brain though. We had a Steak-umm blowout! The Canadians bought a couple boxes of them and didn't like them (!). So they gave them to us. We pigged out on them. We ate 12 steak-umms. Then I ate like half a bag of Keebler Fudge Stripe cookies with a quart of milk. Seriously, I think I'm still full.

Cartoon-wise, Tom Goes to The Mayor sucks balls. Turbo, I don't understand how you can like that show but not The Venture Brothers. You have a screw loose.

Then I had to get up today and go lift. I kinda want to take the rest of the day off.

Lady Head had an MRI the other day b/c they thought she had MS.. Her brain turned out OK (other than small) but she's going to a neurologist soon.

Tonight we are going to go buy a treadmill.

Well, I feel good at work today (other than tired with a bad case of the stupids). I feel like I've got a new lease on science.

Steve Martin

OK, most of the time I don't find Steve Martin funny at all. Never have. That's most of the time. Because two of his works make him a genius. One is The Jerk. The second is in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Some may be due to Michael Caine but when he plays Ruprect he transcends himself. Just awesome.
Typing is hard.
Head out!

Jobbie

OK, after long consideration I've decided not to take that other job. Tough decision but I think I made the right one. The other job would've been grant rich, with more opportunities to get rich in the private sector but I'm God's gift to science. I ain't cut out for no factory line science work. No one who does that shit gets the Nobel Prize.
Also, it would be boring. I needs to challenge my noodle. The Head's gotta stay sharp.
And perhaps most importantly. You. Gentle Readers. In the new job I wouldn't have near the amount of screwoff time I do here. The blog would suffer.
So, to celebrate, I'm leaving early to go play GTA and drink. Everyone else leave and hoist one to The Head's career decision.

The Head on Ladies Fashion

What to wear:
Softball shirts - love them. Boobies, boobies, boobies.
Butt shorts (show off that ba-dunk-a-dunk)
Thermal underwear type shirts
Black eyeliner. Lots of it.
Acceptable piercings: eyebrow, nose, ears (as many as you want as long as they're on the outside rim), bellybutton (as long as you have a nice stomach - otherwise it looks like a meathook in a slaughterhouse), tongue, bottom lip, nipple (but if you're gonna do one, do both).
Flannel pajama bottoms
My shirts.
Boxers (not for underwear but as shorts).
Little black cocktail dresses.
Sundresses.
Adidas tracksuits. Tops or bottoms.
Wifebeaters.
Spanish flamenco skirts.
Shoes with thick high heels.
Khakis that show off that peach of an ass.

What not to wear:
Those shirts or dresses that have a constriction high on your waist
Denim skirts - hate them
Any sandal that has a strap that goes over your big toe.
Too much makeup ('cept eyeliner). Seriously ladies, you look like Tammy Faye.
Unacceptable piercings: Cheek, philtrum area (above the top lip), inside of the ear (that little part that semiblocks the canal), any vaginal ones.
These skirts (photo here ).
Grandma underwear.
Skirts with weird uneven hems.
Those roman shoes with the ties that go up your ankle (yeah I thought they went extinct in the 80's too but I saw a girl in them the other day).
Camel toe. 'nuff said.
Those high shoes that don't have a heel. I'm not talking platform shoes here, it's like those ones that put your foot in the same position as high heeled shoes but don't have heels. Help me out with the explanation somebody.

OK, that's it for now. Not a complete list by any means but I have to go meet that guy soon.

The Head on Fashion

OK, several people have commented on my keen fashion sense so I thought I'd share some of it with you. After all, clothes make The Head.
First off, undies. I enjoy the boxer briefs. I also wear boxers. My current boxer brief is Fruit of the Loom. The length is perfect. Not too short, not too long. Length is important. And pretty colors.
Socks, anything works.
OK,
Pants. Day to day, you gotta go with the Adidas warmup pants. Good for anything. I like the soft ones that have a slight sheen to them. Got to be careful with your choice here. I don't like the plastic-ey ones. They should feel like pajama bottoms. Break-aways are cool at first but in the long run they're not worth it. Trust me. Also, make sure they are the ones with deep pockets as your cell-phone and shit can fall out in the car if not.
For non-warm up pants, khakis or cargo pants. Due to lifting's effects on my legs jeans aren't as comfortable as they are on chicken legged people. Still I do go with the wide-leg cut for my jeans. I find jeans pretty restrictive.
Cargo shorts are pretty standard in decent weather.
All in all, as the Ash-hole would say, pants suck, so normally, as soon as I walk in the door at home, everything comes off and I'm sitting in a pair of mesh shorts. Mesh shorts have to be the single greatest clothing invention of all time. So comfortable. Swing by any college bookstore and pick up a couple of pair. But don't get the ones with pockets. NO POCKETS.
Shirts. T-shirts of course. The good ones are of a relatively thin material. The bottom should hang down past your belt only a couple of inches. Sleeve length is important. Not too short or too long. The sleeve should end 1/2 way between the bottom of your deltoid and your elbow. And get the right size. An oversized, thick fabric t-shirt with too long of sleeves says "I'm one of those toothless, junkie, transvestite hookers you see on Cops." A tight, too short sleeved shirt says you're a conceited dildo. Might as well roll them up, Fonzie.
Wife beaters are a must. For other tank tops I go with the ringed old navy ones.
For stuff where t-shirts and tank tops aren't OK usually a polo shirt will work. Anything that requires a more formal dress you shouldn't be going to. I recently discovered the golf shirt on me, which I like. I stole some Nike ones from Big Ron and they seem to do me well. Problem is, they have to be tucked in which I'm not a big fan of. Cramps my style.
Another must have is the Adidas warm-up top. Yeah, with the pants it makes a tracksuit, which is sweet, but they can be worn separately. I love the jacket with jeans.
Shoes, recently, are the Salomon amphibious ones. My little brother Andy sent me a pair and I love them. Tying shoes are for suckers. Any thing that requires dressier shoes than something you can workout in - you shouldn't be there either.
OK, that's it for now. Female fashion comes tomorrow.
Yeah, it's 12:40 and I'm home from work. The missus said I could get a new PS2 so I've got a bad case of GTA fevah!

Wow

This is one of the greatest rants ever.
I'll post later. I have shit to figure out today. Job, Playstation 2, that asshole at online poker last night, etc.

George Lucas is a son of a bitch

GOD DAMN IT!
While trying to find the Sin City trailer (busy day, huh?) I came across the trailer for the new Star Wars.
Why am I pissed you ask? I've posted before on Lucas.
Because the trailer made it actually look good. ASSHOLE! Just when I write you off as losing your mind and fucking everything up you make me want to go see this one. Now I'll actually be disappointed when it sucks. Wookie army, Darth Vader, and some kick ass battle scenes on a volcano planet. I hate you Lucas!

Hi my name is Darth Vader and before I became the Dark Lord of the Sith I looked like I was in a boy band. Fuck you Hayden Christiansen.

Also, this is a classic that you may have seen from The Weekly Standard when The Phantom Menace came out.

New James Bond

Pierce Brosnan is an idiot. He's not going to be Bond anymore. He was a decent Bond but mostly a terrible actor. Have you seen any of his other movies? The Tailor of Panama? The Thomas Crowne Affair? He sucks. Goodbye career. (I'm still pissed David Caruso somehow managed to get on another hit show).
As to who should replace him, it's a no brainer: Clive Owen .
Anyone who thinks otherwise is a dildo. Morons are kicking around Hugh Jackman, Colin Farrel, Jude Law, etc.
It's James Bond people.

On a related note, I can't fucking wait for Sin City. I got a huge friggin' chubby for it. Lot of stars in it though so I hope they don't fuck it up. But Miller himself is involved so I think it'll be good. How about Mickey Rourke as Marv? Awesome.

Officially went crazy

Well, Nacho's nearing full integration in the Headdome. All the cats seem to put up with her. Kraepelin still follows her fat ass around and swats at her. Seriously, Kraepelin weighs 7-8 lbs, Nacho is 110-120. That's like me punching a guy that weighs over a ton.
So that's three cats and a dog in our house. That's a lot you say? Well The Heads obviously don't think so because I'm going to get another cat. Yeah, we're officially crazy people now.
See Big Ron has to get rid of his cat for several reasons, kid, new house, girfriend, etc. and he loves the fucking animal (remember "If my cat and Chrissy's kid were in the street..."). So he wants it to go to a good home. Last time I saw him he asked if I could take it if he needed to get rid of it. I said sure. Then I didn't hear anything about it. Since it was still up in the air when he asked I assumed that nothing was coming of it and he was keeping Nala (that's the cat's name).
So we get back from Cleveland with Nacho and the next day I get an email from Chrissy saying Ron will buy my tickets and/or rent me a car to come get Nala. In fucking Cleveland! Yeah, where I just fucking was.
So now I gotta figure this out.
Nala's a great cat. A purebred Tonkinese. Pretty blue-gray fur. A good addition to the menagerie.

Moving on, I fucking hate U2. Hate them. That new iPod commercial reminded me that I fucking hate U2.

What else? Watched "The Gambler" with James Caan last night. He was a stud back in the day, hairy shoulders and all.

Venture Bros. kick ass.
I love The Monarch.
Best line is when he says Brock is going to go "all sickhouse on us".

Dr. Venture's best line is when he refers to the Mexican Day of the Dead as "Your Crazy Christmas Dead People Day"

Wow, are my posts getting more fragmented or what. Must be all that animal dander fucking up my brain.

Well, gotta work on some fakking papers for submission.

I'll post some more crap later.

Don't forget to watch "Dog: The Bounty Hunter" tonight.

Back in Black

Back from Cleveland with our new doggie, Nacho. Pictures are coming.
A good time was had by all. Friday we went to see Baby on Board. She seems to be doing a LOT better than I'd be doing that's for sure. I would have killed everyone by now. For the backstory go read her blog and tell me she's not a friggin' rock.

Saturday we went and picked up our rental. An Aztek. Actually, not a bad little car. Then we were off to St. Jude's place. We went and got Mr. Hero for lunch (Wonderful) and then watched Tremors 4. I didn't even know they made a fourth one. But St. Jude watched about 4 seconds of it and said "Oh, this is the Tremors set in the old west". I must bow to him in regards to watching really, REALLY bad movies and TV (and I'm no slouch myself in that department).
Then we went bar hopping. Now in Cleveland with Big Ron we go club-hopping. With St. Jude we go to very different places. Wonderful dive bars. First was Hotz. A little closet of a bar with cheap drinks and a weird chick bartender. It's here that Lady Head found her true calling. Professional Shuffleboard player. Seriously, it was the first time she played and she was quite the asskicker. There's was a tournament about to start so all of the regular players were there and Lady Head beat them. She's got natural talent there. Truly amazing since she lacks any motor skills at all in anything else (darts, walking, carrying shit, trying to drink without spilling her vodka all over the couch, etc.).

Then we went to Dempsy's for beers (St. Pauli's for some reason) and shots of JD. Pictures to follow.

Then we were off to the Starkweather. Fishbowls of Pabst and shots of Jack. GREAT jukebox here. Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, AC/DC,Patsy Cline, Flogging Molly etc., etc.

We got drunk. Real drunk. Tall-tale drunk (The Ash-hole's term). Am I exaggerating? Well, at one point St. Jude was playing the Megatouch game at the bar. With. His. Penis. Classy.

Then it's dinner time. So we went to see Lady Jude, who was working at Lava. I had baked brie, potato leek soup, and BBQ ribs. Here I made the mistake of drinking martinis (Hendrick's gin, I like it although I wouldn't call it gin).

Off to St. Jude's place where we watched Rounders.
Now I like poker a lot and I've seen this movie a couple of times. It SUCKS. Seriously. It's terrible. A total cheesefest. Normally I love John Tuturro but everything he says in this movie is awful. Matt Damon is lame. Just one cheesy line after another. The only good thing about it is Edward Norton who, as always, is friggin sweet.

Well, after that was beddy-by time. Woke up about 3:30 feeling like death. Lady Head woke me up at 7ish, at which point we went and picked up Nacho and drove the 8 hours to Nashville.
All I can say, besides that driving hungover sucks, is that wow are there some fat fucking people out there. I mean fucking FAT. Rest stops seem to draw them like flies. Just friggin gigundous fatbodies.

Despite this, I am turning into a fat bastard myself. I gotta lose some weight. So The Head's gonna start running. Maybe cut out a whopper sometimes? Here's my diet yesterday. 2 bacon, egg, and cheese extra value meals form McDonald's; Reeses's pieces blizzard from DQ, Tendercrisp chicken sandwich meal form BK, large cheesesteak and fries. I'm awesome. And fat. Interestingly, that's probably the first time since high school I went to BK and didn't get a burger. I just liked those tendercrisp commercials.

Got home and introduced Nacho to the kitties. P-Lo and Purkinje hid under the bed. Kraepelin is a fucking psycho. He just kept following the dog around. It's like his new friend. That cat is totally fearless.

Oh, does anyone know what the fuck was up with Adult Swim last night?

Moving On. Through Spite!

Sigh. Went for pancakes, ended up with a french dip. Not that the french dip is bad but the pancake place was too long of a wait so I went next door. Normally, frech dip is top notch but I was in the mood for pancakes.
This weekend we're off to Cleveland to pick up Nacho. We'll be seeing both Baby on Board (from Hamster on the Wheel ) as well as St. Jude. So, Team Head, feel free to guest post.
Now to the point of the title. I was pretty bummed about the election but in the past 24 hours I have managed to climb out from under the dark cloud. How did I do it you ask? Well dumbass, the title of this post tells you: Through Spite! Yes, our great friend Spite. How much unpleasantness and problems has she cured? How much motivation has she given us? Now she put depression about this whole election on the run!

See, here's what she did. She was hiding deep in the recesses over this whole thing until a couple of days after. See, I was feeling pure. At one with a LOT of other people (tens of millions in fact). Now that's not usually my bag but hey, we had a common enemy. I started trawling the internet, talking to professor-types, watching the news, etc. See, a lot of stuff I've been seeing is the ultraliberal response. Equating Bush with Hitler, saying they're gonna move out of the country, etc. (It's a democracy people. Sometimes other people don't vote the way you want them too. If you leave, you're an asshole - anyways, like you're gonna leave your cushy faculty job to go work as a carpenter in the French counrtyside.)

Then all of a sudden - BAM!- Spite was back! Sure I'm in a bad way. Goodbye funding, goodbye rights, goodbye Social Security. But there's a lot of people I don't like that are absolutely miserable. And that makes me feel better. Yeah, I'm horrible, but try it! It works! All of these relativist academics saying people in "The Heartland" are stupid and WRONG (!). Hilarious. Bill Maher, Michael Moore, Noam, etc. Ha ha ha! You suck.

Thank you Spite. Thank you for letting me turn off higher cognitive function. Wait that's too smart.

Thank you Spite. Thank you for letting me turn off mah book learnin'. Screw those ivory tower pricks.

Romantic Dinner for Two at...HOOTERS! (A guest post by Lady Head)

The foundation of Senior Head's and my marriage rests on many things, one of which being our combined appreciation for the glory that is Hooters. Hooters has the best friggin' chicken wings on the planet. For those of you who dont know what Hooter's is (which i cant imagine as a Hooters just opened up a restaurant in Hong Kong for fuck's sake), it is a bar/restaurant that features voluptuous young women in tight white tank tops with tight orange butt-shorts (so tight they obviate the need for underwear) serving you greasy piles of orange-colored buffalo wings. As you walk in the door, the cacophonous ring of high-pitched sugary voices call out "HI!!! WELCOME TO HOOTERS!!!!! And once you hear it, you know you are in for the delightful treat that are the 3-mile island hot wings. So it is implicit from my description of Hooters why men are drawn to the place. Titties titties titties. Ass ass ass. So why would any self-respecting heterosexual woman want to eat wings while staring down at the artificial cleavage of some high-pitched bimbo? In fact, i've heard from many a woman on "how awful Hooters is" and "how those girls are sluts" etc. Well, all of that is bunk. First of all, those that have tasted Hooter's wings know that the wings could carry the restaurant, even without the boobies. In fact, i held my bridesmaid luncheon at Hooters, not of my own volition, but because a bridesmaid requested it (for the fucking WINGS, bee-ya!!) and another one seconded it (and she was a vegetarian. Hooters has good fries as well). And none of us are fatty-fatty bo-bratties either (although i'm trying to work my way there) so you know we still can be picky eaters. So we agree Hooters is delicious. But aside from the good wings, i love the Hooters girls ta-tas too! Now i like cock as much as the next heterosexual girl, but i can also appreciate a nice rack when i see one. And some of these girls have gazongas! I mean, they must have supersized their implants. And they stuff those ta-tas so beautifully into a demi-shaped bra (which the ladies will know as "cleavage enhancers"), which is further crammed into a painfully tight tank top. Plus these girls are drenched in make-up, with hair done up to the roof. And i love it! They are so incredibly slutty looking that it is a priveledge to see it and have these wonderful ladies bring me another Michy Ultra. I mean, anyone can get naked and dance on a bar. But to cram your ass into a tight outfit (which there is NO WAY IN HELL it can be comfortable) and carry a tray of hotwings and beers, all the while maintaining a sugary sweet composure when dirty old men and just-turned-21-working-as a roofer/landscaper--young hoodlums are asking you for your phone number and for you to pose with them for a picture--well that takes some major minerals (or ta-tas in this case) to do. I think the women that appalled by Hooters are merely threatened by these women. Me, not so much. Hooter's girls' tits are larger than life. Both of mine would barely fit into one cup of their bras. So i dont feel in competition--kind of like comparing apples to oranges (or oranges to grapes in this case). Plus i know i could never carry a tray of drinks without dropping it, so they are highly skilled. And i'm sure they appreciate me--not looking as hot but saving the world with my immense intellect and magical neuroscientist abilities. So my hat is off to Hooters and the Hooters' girls that work so hard to be over-the-top. For the men: come to Hooters for the titties, stay for the wings. For the ladies: come to Hooters for the wings, stay for the titties. I order you to go to your local Hooters tonight, knock back some wings and beer, respect the waitress that serves you, and reward that amazing rack of ta-ta excellence with a nice gratuity.

We. Are. Fucked.

Can someone please explain to me why democratic presidential candidates still pick southern running mates? It's not like they'll carry any of those inbred hick states (yeah, I know I live in Tennessee, but I'm an expatriate from the North).
Seriously, pick someone form the midwest. Fuck, pick Kucinich. He can certainly swing 70K votes out of 5 million and the election is ours. Pretty much every state was gonna vote the same as in 2000 so pick someone from a state that matters. Christ, pick John Glenn's semi-corpse.

Well, at least I look like a jack booted thug. A Good German, as HST would say. Maybe I can switch. You pinkos are fucked. I'll be kicking down your door soon.

I was up 'til 3:30 watching the assholes at CNN verbally masturabating. Then I got a call form the missus at 10:30 saying I was supposed to take a speaker to lunch. I was in charge too. So -zoom- came to work, grabbed some people for lunch, looked up this guys research to make conversation and had him at the restaurant by 11:40. I was my usual charming self and ended up killing the extra hour after lunch bullshitting with him over Starbuck's. Why when they give us 2+ hour lunches does everyone rip through everything in <1h. Scientists suck ass.

Oh, Ohio?
FUCK YOU.

Back in the Saddle Again.

OK Headiacs, I'm back. Yeah, I know I was back Friday but I needed to decompress and take the weekend and Monday off from everything 'cept TV, poker, and the kitties.

So what's new you ask? Plenty. The Heads are planning on a new arrival. No, not a child, but Lady Head's dog from Cleveland! Wheeee! A 115 lb rotweiler named Nacho (yeah, I know, the name sucks). Pictures will come this weekend after we fly to Cleveland to drive her ass back. Two of the cats have experience with Nacho but Kraepelin doesn't. Should make for an exciting time!

Moving on, it's Election day so everyone should skip out of work early to go vote. Then go drink and cheer democracy in action! Wells/Head 2004! Unless you live in a swing state, then Kerry. Daddy needs his science funding back.

Speaking of drinking, I broke the "No Martinis For A Month" plan on Friday. I'm so friggin' sweet.

Also tonight, starting at 11pm (EST) - Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law marathon on Cartoon Network!

Sunday was the ATHF marathon. There's a tie for my favorite episode between the Broodwich one and the mummy one.

Also today we go to the police property building to reclaim whatever stuff 5-0 recovered. Details to follow. Hopefully they have my PS2 so I can FINALLY play GTA: San Andreas.

I hate Bill Cafferty.

Hardee's redeemed itself. See, it was on the boycott chopping block due to a radio commercial that sucked ("regular" guy bitching about him going to a "foo-foo french-asian restaurant" on a date, then stopping at hardee's afterwards, getting a thickburger, and "wolfed that puppy down" right in front of his date, etc., etc.), but now they have a commercial revolving around pregnant ladies eating thickburgers. Which is awesome.

Choppy post. It sounds better if you read it in a Walter Winchell style (Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America, from border to border, and coast to coast, and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press.) That way it seems more important.