Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Last year I made a half-assed attempt at offering these updates via RSS
feed, or XML feed, or BLT feed, or whatever. And since I had/have no
idea what I'm doing, I went with an outfit that caters to people who
had/have no idea what they're doing. For a few months I sent out a daily
feed, and only about ten people subscribed to it. Amongst those ten
people, I think seven told me it sucked. Eventually I just stopped doing
it.
Now I'm getting emails from people asking me to start it up again. And
on Monday I did. I'm trying to make it a little better than last time,
but I'm offering no guarantees. In any case, it's back up and running,
if you're interested. And if you have any suggestions for me, I'm all
ears.
-- Brad sent me these excellent
Bonds-taunting pics last night, taken at the Phillies/Giants game on
Friday. Heh. Tough crowd. I especially like the Asterisk Boys.
-- Over the past weekend I got it into my mind that I needed to add a
few new "exhibits" to the bunker.
I'm wanting one of those old Civil Defense fallout
shelter signs that used to hang on the outside of schools and
government buildings and whatnot. I watched an eBay auction all Saturday
morning, and was convinced I was on the verge of securing one for cheap.
But, as usual, the snipers moved in during the last few seconds, and
crushed my dreams. Again. I'm a very patient man however, and one those
babies WILL be mine...
After my deep, dark eBay disappointment, I decided to get some prices on
custom framing. I chose a piece from my vast collection of fucked-upness
-- a rare old advertising poster for Michael
O'Donoghue's notorious Mr.
Mike's Mondo Video -- and took it to a frame shop near our
house. The woman measured it, did some calculations, and said,
"Forty-seven dollars, plus tax."
I thanked her and told her I'd get back with them, but was secretly
thinking, "Shit!"
I went to another place in a
neighboring town, and the woman there pissed me off almost immediately.
She had an air of authority about her, like she was the High Queen of
Framing or something, and was talking down to me. Her price? Exactly
double: ninety-four bucks. I laughed in her big fleshy face, all
exaggerated and everything, and walked out.
So nothing got done. Screw it.
-- Last night I met Toney and the Secrets for dinner. And while I was
pummeling my entree into submission, one of the boys brought up that
David Blaine douche.
I guess he's trying to be the new Evel Knievel? Is that correct? Well...
I don't know everything, but I do know that the dude is one poor-ass
excuse for a daredevil. Evel jumped freakin' buses on a motorcycle. And
this guy's doing what? Holding his breath for a really long time?
Pitiful.
Remember when he locked himself inside a see-through fiberglass box and
dangled from a crane for several weeks in London? Instead of the
adulation he expected, folks were throwing shit at him -- half-eaten
burritos, ham sandwiches, etc. -- and flipping him off with abandon.
I don't really even get the guy's act. He's always having himself buried
and locked in boxes. And this is magic? It's not as if he's trying to
escape, like Houdini. He just kicks back for a while in an unusual
place, climbs out, and starts taking bows. The hell, man?
Whatever. It's time for the guy to start proving the skeptics
wrong. And later today I'm going to send him a letter, containing a
proposition that just might turn it around for him.
For his next big event, I'd like to see him try to live in the House of
Nancy, with Nostrils, the translucents, and the filthy sack o' ticks,
for two full weeks. Now that would be an accomplishment.
Of course I don't believe it can be done, but if he's somehow able to
pull it off... I'll not only retract all of my past mockery, but I'll
also go out and buy a David Blaine lunchbox and carry it to work every
day. I've got my hand on my heart here.
Mr. Blaine, the ball is now in your court.
-- And finally, a question: how come there are no albinos anymore? When
I was a kid, I used to see them quite regularly. In fact, there was a
full-on albino family that lived in our neighborhood -- they had pink
eyes and practically glowed in the dark. But I haven't seen one in
years. Why??
First it was the disappearance of white dog poop, now this. I'm losing
touch with my roots!
--
Last year I made a half-assed attempt at offering these updates via RSS
feed, or XML feed, or BLT feed, or whatever. And since I had/have no
idea what I'm doing, I went with an outfit that caters to people who
had/have no idea what they're doing. For a few months I sent out a daily
feed, and only about ten people subscribed to it. Amongst those ten
people, I think seven told me it sucked. Eventually I just stopped doing
it.