The Modern Tragedy: Full Price Pizza

Today I got raped by Papa John.

That's right, the good papa, Papa John Pizza (not actual last name, I bet), pulled down my pants, and stuck his dick in my butt hole. Lubed up with Pizza Sauce, he entered and exited, entered and exited, ENTERED AND EXITED!!! Faster and faster! In out, out in! HE RAPED ME!

Oh... God... I'm sorry... I've just never been raped by a Pizza mascot before... I'm distraught...

If you can't trust the Pizza Mascots, who can you trust?

I know they said "Avoid the Noid," but he had a heart of Gold.

Literally. His anatomy was different than ours because he wasn't people.

Too bad for him hearts of gold don't pump blood that well (or at all, for that matter). RIP Noid. You are missed (until Domino's reboots you).

Anyway, all this making light of rape has gotten me off topic. No, I wasn't literally raped by Papa John Pizza. I've never been raped... by a Pizza Mascot... Not yet, anyway (Seriously, fucking Avoid the Noid! One of my Uncles was raped by the Noid!)...

Let me explain...

I order my Pizza from Papa John's. Ever since I moved (wow, I always try to spell move, "movie" because I type the word "movie" far more than "move," but I've never tried to spell moved, "movied"... until now!) to my LA apartment, for 2 reasons. First, it is close. It is half a mile away, so a walk there and back is only one mile. Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Cover Girl.

 

Because you're worth it!

Plus, I have this coupon.

Well, I HAD this coupon. Once. For a carryout special. $8.99 for a large, one topping pizza, as long as I pick it up.

I had this coupon once. But, whenever I order pizza (which is about 3 times a month for the past half a year), I always tell them I HAVE this coupon. And they know what coupon I am talking about. So, they give me the discount. I've never had to produce the coupon. Not once!

I think you see where this modern tragedy is going.

I know it's horrible. Like watching a box full of kittens slowly approach a whirring blade. Or, more realistically, watching a box of puppies approach a Puppy Heart Extracting Machine, or PHEMbot, at a Puppy Heard Plant, or PHP for you scientists out there.

 

I called Papa John's and ordered the usual. This guy was either new or retarded. He didn't ask me for my phone number first (non-mentally challenged Pizza phone operators always start with this industry trademark) and when I did give it to him, he repeated every fucking number I gave, as a question. It was like this (in semi-screenplay format)...

Nick

3-

Retard Pizza Man

3?

Nick 

Yes. 0-

Retard Pizza Man

0?

Nick

Yes! 3-

Retard Pizza Man

3? Again?

Nick

YES! Phone numbers sometimes repeat numbers! 8-

Anyway, you get the idea. He was retarded. So, I knew I had to be careful of that retard strength when picking up my pizza.

I gave him my phone number, which took 10 minutes, then I ordered. A large, one topping pizza (as the coupon once stated)...

Nick

...With Jalapenos.

Retard Pizza Man

Jalapeno peppers?

Nick

...? Am I being Punk'd? Won't

Ashton Kutcher just die already?

So, I ordered the pizza. And I told him about the coupon I "have." Usually, this is when they apply the coupon and tell me the new price. The $8.99 price.

The squeamish can stop reading now. I won't blame you. Just be glad this didn't happen to you!

He didn't apply the price. Because he was a new employee (or a retard), he didn't know what coupon I was talking about, or that he was SUPPOSED to take my word for it and apply the discount. Instead, he said I should just "bring the coupon in... or something."

Fuuuuuuuck. I looked for the coupon. In my apartment I looked. Online I looked. Nuthin'. I obviously haven't seen it in six months...

So, I went in. And tried to convince the woman to give me the coupon price without the coupon. But she didn't! She said I need to present the coupon to use it! Which is bullshit, because I always pick up the pizza from her, and she has NEVER, not once, asked to see the coupon!

This is BULLSHIT! Pay full price for pizza? Me?! I've never done that before! And it was far worse than I expected it would be! And far worse than I make it out to be here! I am lucky to be alive.

I hope she falls in the oven and dies (only not really... because that would ruin someone's pizza... and I would not wish that on ANYBODY!).

Anyway, sorry for internet yelling at you, but I am still so upset, hours later. I may never go back. It's nothing personal, but the risk of having to pay for full price pizza is far too great. The reason we learn history is to learn from our mistakes...

NEVER FORGET! I will never again pay for full price pizza.

P.S. there was a great picture of an eagle with a tear running down it's face... but it had the date 9/11/01, so I didn't want to post it... because today's date was 1/22/10.

Aw, what the hell. The Eagle Crying is too hilarious  an op to pass up.

I'm Not a Real Man. Or Am I a 24th Century Man?

I'm not a real man.

No, no, no. You're just being nice. It's true. No! Stop it! Listen to me! It's true.

I am not a real man.

I am tiny. With the exception of my gut and big breasts, I have no mass. My arms are sticks. My legs below the knee are almost non-existent.  You could totally snap me like a twig. A twig with a gut and big titties.

My face is fat. No cheekbones. No defined chin. Just droopy fat. I look like I'm 16.

Worst of all, the facial hair. Or lack thereof.

I have no facial hair.

If I were to go without shaving for months, I would simply have strands of disgusting hair growing in a sort of anti-Hitler mustache. And approximately four strands of hair growing out of my chiny-chin-chin.

It's hilarious. My best dreams, the ones that are so good I realize they are a dream when I am dreaming them, have to do with me suddenly having facial hair. I will be amazed at the incredible beard I can grow. Sometimes, it may just be a bad-ass mustache or  even just sideburns. Other times it is the perfect amount of Indiana Jones class stuble.

In there dreams, I always realize, "Wait? Why do I have facial hair all of a sudden? Surely this is a dream!" It always is. A wonderful, wonderful dream.

Most people dream about winning the lottery. Some people dream about falling in love. Other, similar, but less juvenile people dream about the act of sex. Hitler dreamt about ruling to world. My wet dream is about growing facial hair (that is meant as a joke. A dream about facial hair has never literally been a "wet dream." Don't want you to think I'd that strange...)

Oh, and all the wonderful things I would do with my facial hair (if I had it)! Goatees!  And villainous mustaches (with that curl on the end that I cut stroke whenever I laugh manically)! And that British look where all that is shaved is your chin (like Watson used to have before the Holmes reboot)! And Obi Wan Kenobi class beards! And Indiana Jones, best of all, level stubble! Oh, the facial hair I would grow (if I could)...

I am not a man. I exhibit no manly characteristics. I've never been punched in the face. I've never thrown a perfect spiral. I have never watched an entire sporting event without getting distracted, not even when I have been at the game. I've never gotten drunk and snogged a chick. I don't know shit about cars.

I am not a man. But, aside from the breasts, I'm not a woman (and even those are not womanly. Wouldn't want to titty fuck these titties) either. So what am I?

Could I, perhaps be a 24th century man?

Not the kind of 24th century man portrayed in Star Trek. Captain James T. Kirk is far too much of a man for me. Even Bones, with his constant complaining and fear, is more man than I will ever be.

No, I'm an actual 24th Century Man, not a fictional one.

I have less hair on my body because I am simply more evolved. Farther removed from our monkey brethren. My arms and legs are tiny, because in the 24th Century, man does not need muscles. Machines do all the work. Man simply needs hands. For operating computers and masturbating.

For in the 24th Century, man need not have sexual relations to reproduce. Machines do all that for man as well. They keep the species going, so sex is a thing of the past. Therefore, courting skills are no longer known by 24th Century Man (which explains why I lack them). All 24th Century Man knows is masterbation.

I am 24th Century Man! Hear me roar! If I were not so easily defeated by 21st Century Man (aka Real Man), you should feel threatened! Because there would be the chance I could replace you, were I not far inferior to you in everyway.

Oh. And the breasts? 24th Century Man is the source of delicious milk. Because Cows are extinct.

Damn you McDonalds!

No Need for Torture, My Friend (the stunning sequel to "No need for Torturem")

(Yes, I can edit blogs, even after they are posted. But, instead of simply editing the blog that is simply a title, mysteriously posted by my computer, I decided to make an extra little joke in this new title. Because that is how desperate I am to be clever.)

Seeing as how 24 (dink-dink, dink-dink) Season 8 has just started (that's 8 days of hell now for our friend Jack Bauer), it seems like the perfect time to catch up on Season 7. Because, it is much too logical to catch up on 24 before the new season started. I'd rather have my own race against the clock. My mission, which I choose to accept, is to watch Season 7 of 24, in it's entirety, before my DVR runs out of space for new episodes of Season 8 (this mission is made even more urgent by my desire not to erase The Prisoner [2009] miniseries which I have been saving until I grow the balls to watch it again). Or before some douche spoils a tasty twist.

What an action packed life I lead.

24's trademark, besides the "real time" device, has got to be Jack's extreme use of torture to get time sensitive information from suspects. The man's shot a suspect's wife in the leg and electrocuted his own brother using wires ripped from a lamp for Christ sake! He's the 2nd to last television character I would want to cross. Because, let's face it, Dexter is even more frightening.

I honestly don't know who would win in a fight. Dexter Morgan or Jack Bauer. Though, it's a mute point... because neither would ever find the need to fight the other... and neither exists. Still, it would make for a bad-ass crossover comic book. And you thought Marvel Vs. DC was rad...

Anyway, watching Jack torture all these people has got me thinking... No, it's not like when I watch Dexter, silly! All the torture on screen doesn't make me want to torture people, like my sudden desire to chop up bodies after I watch Dexter.

My thinking has been done from the torturee's perspective (Spell check and I are fairly certain that 'torturee' is not a word. I mean one who is being tortured, as opposed to one who is doing the torturing). I'm not sure why this is. Perhaps I relate more to the characters who are corrupt, willing to accept vast wealth to betray their country, more than the characters who will do what is right for the US, even at the cost of their own life or the lives of their families.

For whatever the reason, I've been thinking about if I were to be tortured. And how very unnecessary that would be.

Basically, if you have taken me hostage, I'll spill. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, man! No need even withdraw a gun. Or a plastic bag for that matter.

I mean, really, you don't even have to take me hostage. Just ask me nicely. Maybe throw me a "please"... and then a "thank you." You know, after I've given up my colleagues or the location of the nuclear device, it would be nice to be thanked

Because, to be frank, I'm just not a fan of pain. Physical or psychological. It doesn't matter. I prefer to avoid both.

This is also the reason I choose not to die for your sins. Even though I do happen to be the Son of God.

How's that for an ending! Talk about a 24 style twist!

No Need for Torturem

Bringing Change (Change I didn't even promise!)

That's right, ladies and gentlemen.

Not one day on the job and I have brought Change to the 3rd floor as King of DVD/Bluray Land. CHANGE! (And not simply the change I deliver to the visitors to DVD/Bluray Land when they purchase my subjects as slaves, using cash money.)

Today I was shown the ropes. All the duties I would be preforming as King (also known as not-actually-a-lead DVD/Music lead).

My first act (after learning said duties) was bringing Change to the third floor. Horrible, horrible, change.

It wasn't even my idea. It was God's (also known as the third floor manager). God spoke down upon me, saying, "Perhaps we should move the Blurays."

You see, all has not been well in DVD/Bluray Land. All the Bluray people have been held prisoner, kept captive behind the counter. This is for two reasons. Because there is not enough space in the rest of my moderately-sized kingdom for them to live and because it keeps them away from the Vikings that enter our store, stealing and raping the more expensive peoples... like the Bluray race.

Today, God said down unto me, that perhaps we could move the Bluray people out into the kingdom, freeing them from their prison behind mine royal counter (That is not a typo. By saying "Mine" instead of "My" it simply sounds more royal, don't yine think [again, Yine sounds more royal than mine, don't yine think?]?).

He said that, perhaps the people of Bluray would be more easily sold as slaves if they were more easily browsed out in the kingdom. And rightfully so. It is hard to pick a good slave from over a counter. Especially if you are not sure which slave you have come for and you simply wish to browse slaves.

Yes. Such Change I would bring to the people. My first day, and I am vowing to close down a prison! Always a smart decision for a ruler to make.

Alas, the prison could not be closed (Who saw that coming? Not my nonexistant advisers! That's for sure!). Because, in order to free the Bluray people, other people would have to take their place. Fore there is simply not enough space in the kingdom unless some subjects are kept in prison (wouldn't that be a nice reversal, California?).

Who better than the DVD people of the Health/Fitness and Music/Performance tribes? Because who the fuck goes to Barnes and Noble to buy a workout DVD or a DVD of Madonna's latest concert?

So, like Jean Luc Picard, I made it so!

We began the great exodus. A moving of peoples. First, we had to shift the DVD tribes of Health/Fitness and Music/Performance out of their homes. Needless to say, it went much smoother than the events of District 9.

Such Change required all the tribes of the DVD people be relocated. All must loose the homes they resided for generations for the greater good. I am such a mighty king that the suffering of my people does not cause me to loose sight of this greater good.

For you see, the people of Bluray were to be located to the left side of the oval that is the kingdom of DVD/Bluray Land. For it is here that they can be most easily watched by their divine ruler, so that Vikings do not pillage and rape them (some Vikings do have penis [Penises? Peni?] of such a small sized that they literally can have sex with a Bluray, though the results ain't pretty! Trust me on that one [I love Blurays soooo much {And with that little joke, I have finally crossed the invisible, arbitrary line of what is acceptable and what goes too far}!]!).

The right side of the kingdom, where the Tribes of Health/Fitness and Music/Performance tribes lived for generation upon generation, are in a blind spot where I cannot protect my peoples (because honestly, who would steal this garbage?). So they were moved out and all other tribes were shifted right to make room for the people of Bluray! For they are my chosen people! Who I love above all else (I would make a great God...[aka Manager...])!

So, I brought great Change to today!

Great Change that I could not complete....

So, tomorrow, either the Change is done when I arrive or I must complete it! But at least Change has begun!

And for someone who never promised to bring Change at all, that ain't half bad.

Preview on Top of a Preview For a Preview

It really seems of late that this blog has simply become an outlet where I rage against stupid decisions. Like my past two blogs (that's right, I did... er... write two blogs in the past two days. I just didn't post them on FBook because they weren't particularly good... I'm not saying that this one is... I just... I dunno... I'm posting a link on FBook, alright?! Jerk.) about the uncontrollable outrage I felt after Avatar won (bought?) the Golden Globe for Best Picture and the silliness of having all the characters on the Book of Eli posters where sunglasses. But I am okay with that, as there are plenty of stupid decisions to rage against.

Today I watched the Trailer for The A-Team. HERE. Pretty badass, right? I know I get sand in my vagina sometimes over these over the top action-thrill rides (I still don't know why the fuck John McClane surfed on a jet), but I'm totally on board with The A-Team. It just looks like a lot of fun.

You got Liam Neeson, the ultimate badass, being an ultimate badass by kicking ass and taking names... while chomping on a massive cigar. You got Bradley Cooper, who is pretty fly, kicking ass and stripping of his shirt (you know, so that the movie has a chance of hitting all four quadrants). You got Sharlto Copley, who is really the only thing I remember about District 9. And you got some dude impersonating Mr. T. Mix up that concoction (I totally tried to spell it concocktion) with some over the top special effects and you got yourself a movie (my biggest fear is that it comes from 20th Century Fox, who hasn't made a good movie in years.)!

So, I am stoked on The A-Team. I'm not complaining about that. Though I am a wee bit concerned it will overshadow The Losers, which is basically the same movie, without the name recognition. The Losers is a script I read about a dozen different drafts of when I worked at Weed Road. I won't say much about it as not to get my pants sued off (though that could get pretty sexy pretty fast).

Basically, The Losers are a military group that is framed for a debacle (what a fun word) and presumed dead by the US Military. In order to get their lives back they have to kill the man who set them up (who is a deliciously written villain that Jason Bateman almost played... I was so sad when he wasn't cast... it's perfectly written for him... or Jeremy Piven....). It's really a lot like A-Team. And Weed Road cast a lot of would-be stars before they were big, like the guy who played the Comedian in Watchman and the chick from Star Trek and Avatar. But the script was pretty good. So, hopefully there is room for both to succeed this summer in Hollywood.

Anyway, I'm not upset about the existence of The A-Team or The Losers. Both should make for a solid 2010 action slate.

I am upset with the lack of respect I am treated with when viewing movie trailers online.

It really has gone too far.

Whenever you view a trailer on joblo.com (my preferred site for movie news because sites like aintitcool.com don't report all the news and the site design looks sloppy) you have to watch a 30-second commercial first. Yes, you have to watch an advertisement so that you can watch an advertisement.

Gay.

And not in the cool way, like William Dafoe in Boondock Saints (Jesus, I accidentally typed Boondick Saints the first time... WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!?). I mean in the totally faggit way, like one who rides a motorcycle.

Fags...

But, I am used to this travesty of having to watch an advertisement to watch an advertisement (a real travesty, not like what's going on in Haiti). What happened today was totally.... so much more tragic.

On this new site, where I watched The A-Team Trailer, I was in the middle of enjoying a shirtless Bradley Cooper (if you can't beat them [and you can't cause it's a hate crime], join them...) when a second trailer started, simultaneously. And not in a different window. In the very same Window, slightly overlapping my A-Team Trailer. The audio was going and everything.

Why (no), why the fuck (that's better), would someone watching The A-Team trailer be interested in watching the trailer for Legion AT THE EXACT SAME TIME?!? (Sorry I internet shouted there, but it could not be helped). It makes no fucking sense! To quote Christian Bale, "That's fucking dis-tract-ing!"

I know Dennis Quaid is a brilliant actor, unmatched by all his peers, but if I'm at your website for The A-Team trailer, I probably want to watch the A-Team trailer. I can't imagine the number of people visiting your site who want to watch The A-Team trailer with the added audio from the Legion trailer are very high (though anyone who does want to watch this is probably very high).

 Plus, to add insult to injury, the trailer I had to watch with my A-Team trailer was the trailer for Legion! I can't think of a movie trailer out now that looks like a bigger pile of poop. A movie where angel's wield machine guns and old ladies crawl along the ceilings?  The executives who okay'ed that script were surely fired before filming was complete. I mean, Dennis Quaid can't save everything...

This does also bring me to one last point...

Has anyone else noticed how there are now previews for previews?

Like, Entertainment Tonight has a commercial with brief clips from a trailer and says "Tune in this Friday for premiere of the Avatard trailer..."

That just seems plain wrong. What is this world of ours coming to? If Avatard's success is not a sign of the impending Apocalypse, than this surely is...

 Maybe Angel's wielding machine guns are not so far fetched... Save us Dennis Quaid!

The Golden Globes Are Voted On By Stupid People Who Know Nothing About Film or Another Avatar Rant

Avatard is the best movie of the year? Really? No, seriously. Really?

Whether you liked the movie or not, you have to be fucking retarded to really think it was the highest quality movie of the year.

I get it. The special effects were flashy. But we're not twelve, are we Golden Globe voters?

Don't we understand that a movie is the sum of many parts? In order to judge the quality of a movie, we must look at the script, the acting, the directing, the music, entertainment value, AND special effects.

Okay, so the script is one of the least original ever. Take the plot from FernGully and add the shitty dialog  and stock characters from Transformers. Seriously, General and Corporate characters who care more about money and the scientist characters who realize that nature is important? And the character with a military history and a conscious who is stuck in the middle? Come the fuck on!

And sure, Cameron filled it with a decent message, nature is beautiful and we are destroying our world. But, hear of subtlety much? You don't HAVE to bash an audience over the head with your message. They are smart enough to get it (though, in a world of people dumb enough to love Avatard in such mass, apparently I'm wrong).

The acting? Meat head Sam Worthington acting against a general who seems to be taken straight out of any military film? Lame.

It's bullshit. I know it doesn't matter (both because it is a subjective award and because it's the Golden Globes [a stupid man's Oscars {and even the Oscars are just a political sham}]), but this movie truly won based on the reputation of Cameron, the box office receipts (rating for a ratings starving NBC), and the special effects. It's like all the other parts that make a movie weren't even considered.

So shame on you, Golden Globe Voters (whoever you are. Who knows how the fuck these award shows work.). Shame on you for being a bunch of Avatards.

At least Mad Men won best Drama Series (though  Dexter actually deserved it more this year), Michael C. Hall and John Lithgow won acting awards for Dexter, Christoph Waltz won for Inglourious Basterds, and Robert Downey Jr. won for his performance as Sherlock Holmes. If a Golden Glob had any value (the fact that Avatard and James Cameron won proves, without a doubt, that is does not) that would be pretty cool.

Oh, and is it just me (and South Park), or do actors come across as really smug and snooty when they talk about helping those in Haiti? It's nice they give money, but it's also like they take every opportunity to remind us they have given money.

Anyway, that is my outrage. And I'm this close to stopping this whole write-a-blog-a-day-every-day, considering how shitty the blog was yesterday and is today. This seems to be a failed experiment. A failed experiment indeed.