I opened up my pantry to stare at my cereal selection for awhile until my stomach relayed which one it wanted to my brain and during the processing I saw a tied up bag of baby marshmallows.
Mmmm. baby marshmallows, I’d lak ta hav mez sum a thoze I thought as I reached for the bag. but… the tie. was tied way too tight. and I didn’t feel like unwinding it just for marshmallows. so I didn’t.
So just so we’re all clear here…
Untying a twist tie… on a plastic bag… of baby marshmallows… was too much work for me. so I moved on.
UPDATE: A few minutes later I rediscovered half a steak in the fridge from the other night and decided steak & eggs sounded good, so I’m crackin mah eggs all up in mah bowl like a pimp and walking over to the garbage to throw out the shells instead of doing the cracking in a closer proximity to said garbage. and each time I do this (I made 4 eggs), I’m thinking “the energy its taking to make this unnecessary trip could have been put towards securing yourself some of those baby marshmallows you know”. I scramble up them eggers and I’m thinking “you know, even this is kind of a chore that you could have split between grabbing some of those baby marshmallows - and plus, the steak is still fridged and gonna need heating. you know what you’re gonna be thinking about THEN dontcha”. and of course I did.
I’ve been receiving this question ever since captain Fem-Mi appeared on this website, which was only weeks before our friendship crashed and burned after he perpetrated a social suicide bombing on our relationship after converting to Douchebagelism in college. It was unfortunate timing, cuz everyone on richardland had just started to meet and went on to love Feminine Mikey - and for good reason - I did too. he was fun. Great guy, good pal. but unfortunately he started to achieve meltdown atomic levels of doucherness, achieved by matching a sudden decrease of his interesting and unique attributes with a sharp increase of his opinion of himself (always the scientific douchebag ratio). The unbalanced scales led him to turn into a huge burnout loser that I still stuck with for awhile until he topped his make-your-own-sundae of disaster with a cherry of Brutisesque betrayal.
Mikey relations were cut at that point and laid mostly dormant until earlier this year when he tried to add me on Facebook, resulting in a smack-back that was detailed here on richardland. He responded to it and I responded back eventually - which he would obnoxiously try to copy? Cuz I would take a month or so to respond to a message cuz I’m terribly uninterested in the sob story this douche has but I at least get to it. He however is supposedly trying to apologize and become friends again so wtf is HIS excuse for all of a sudden taking 4 weeks to reply now? moron. he can’t stop trying to be like me even after all this time.
So what’s the deal with Mikey? The answer to the headline of this post is “not bloody likely”, but said in a really obnoxious way, maybe with an accent, and definitely delivered only a few inches away from your face with an awkward pause afterward.
I’m totally forgiving if a repentance is genuine, but that’s only half the story with a friend-gone-wrong. Duh - hello? I have to still LIKE you if you wanna be friends again. So I might forgive someone but if I still don’t respect them then what’s the point?
Well Mikey, being an idiot and all, failed to understand why he had to sell himself as a good person when I should already know this (that whole 6 months where he was a jerk that ended our friendship doesn’t count when Mikey’s the score keeper). The Feminine Mikey brand has been sullied, I told him, and you need to market it properly or no one’s gonna remember or at least apply to your party affiliation the good times - they’re just gonna remember the shit you at best, failed to explain properly and they’re gonna choose the inexperienced black guy over you no matter how seasoned and worthy you might be.
It’s like a guy who breaks up with his girlfriend cuz he doesn’t like her anymore but then a few years later gets lonely and finds himself regretting the good times with her. so he goes back and apologizes and she points out that he was a jerk during the breakup. he agrees and apologizes but is all “wtf ELSE do you want from me? i SAID i was sorry. gaaad” . So she throws her drink in his face.
if he really loved her, he goes on accepting the mantle and explaining why he’s worth a second shot. the other scenario though, is if he was just a schmuck who was only going through this cuz he got a little nostalgic lately after re-examining his current quality of life - then he decides he doesn’t need this kind of bullshit and totally remembers why he dumped the bitch in the first place and they’re both better off for it.
I threw the drink.
your move holy man.
My last response to Mikey sums it all up in my usual dosages of prose, sober comment, compassion, stern explanation and ruthless logicality that Roger Ebert called “the best to hit the internet in years”. It’s an explanation in response to him whining about his attempts being hopeless and if I “clearly whole heartedly hate” him and blah blah - you’ll see. Here’s it be at for y’all to take awn in:
Michael, the opposite of love isn’t hate. it’s apathy.
there’s lots of that with me towards you, but clearly not 100% as you can see the length of the responses [you get].
so no, I don’t “whole heartedly hate” you. I think you’re a selfish opportunistic ass whose narcissism led him to devalue any friends that could be seen as dominant or hindering to a new decidedly consequence-free lifestyle you thought would lead you to happiness and when it failed, you come back to the friends you sneered at in the past while retaining the same resentment you had for them when you hastily cut them out of your life.
I’d love to be proved wrong.
I’ve always doubted I would.
And that… meui dea frens…is the situation with Mikey.
Since I’m an awesome friend, I want my gay friends to score just as much as anyone else. aaaand… the author of the emo duo Pon & Zi internet cartoon strip (you’ve seen them on myspace somewhere at some point if nowhere else) happens to be into hot dogs and not donuts (in a relationship currently though. bleh) and looked just too ca-uuute with my homo-homeboy big D, so naturally I started harassing him to hook it up with Pon & Zi dude. Now, one of the ways I could accomplish this would be to private message him on Facebook. but. eff that. So I public-commented him, but, ehn khode *does that double eyebrow raise that marks deviousness*
The 2nd message (at the top) explains the first, which reads:
Why am I messaging you? haven’t I anything better to do? you will understand the real intention soon. banged into your brain, its meaning will be. the meaning of this comment is at the end. Pon&Zi rock and i saw you marked yourself as a fan on here. artist is a word that is sometimes used too liberally. yet??? here I am. messaging you. with a question SO IMPORTANT, it could only be delivered publicly in code…..
the code? first word of each line. duh. (in bold to help you out).
Yeay for gay hook-ups!
In an unrelated note though to fellow Californians: vote Yes on Prop 8.
OooOoo. I knew having 17 year old female friends would come in handy for something other than baiting their hot friends, and here it is: new music introduction. of course!
I was just presented this song by Regina Spector (written by. not presented by. but that’d be cool if Spector was all like “here. i want you to check out this diddy. i think you’ll like it. - kindov like spam on Myspace from band profiles, except in real life and from Regina Spector and not a reason I hate serive I use). Spector is “a Soviet-born Jewish-American singer-songwriter and pianist”, which is…an odd first sentence to describe an entertainer in their Wikipedia entry, but whatever. who cares, cuz she’s totally sung her way right into my ha-ha-haha-ha-a-a-a-a-arrrt.
*giggles*!
I think one of the reasons I like it so much is that it’s the first song I’ve heard to incorporate the “a-a-ah-a-ah-a” from the “standing outside with my mouth open wide” song that I also get little excited tinglies from.
I have a guest in the house currently in town that drinks coffee, and whenever coffee is already made and being served, I try to force down a cup just so I can help progress into adulthood that tiny bit more (same with wine).
Well, I had too much. 2 cups with half a melted chocolate bar, soy milk, sugar, and a drop of carmel (how ELSE am i supposed to make it eatable?). I have a hard time tolerating caffine unless dilluted well, so I assumed my bowl of Cocoa Krispies and 4 giant ass glasses of water I had my 2cupcoffee’s with would do the trick. A trick was done alright, as I assumed wrong and an hour and a half later, without warning I get the hot-head with bubble in your throat combo that is your bodies preparation slash heads-up that “hey. dude? yer eh, about to puke. k? k, cool.”
Well at first I was down with it. I haven’t puked in a really long time and after awhile you forget what its like, so I was kinda into the reminder. Plus, several of my model friends out here in L.A. rave about puking up breakfast, so why not try it and gain the credibility of experience for the next time I make open fun of thier “disease”?
Then I realized this puke would cost me. And I said ah-nah.
Besides the coffee and Krispies in a half gallon of water this morning, my stomach had expensive pill-form supplements churning with in it already… One calcium/vitamin-D pill, 1 multi-mineral, 1 pure garlic extract and 1 multi-fattyacid (borage, flax and fish oils).
Oh no. we’re not puking that up. no way guys. we gotta pull this one through.
My body goes “but Rich!” — no. don’t “but Rich” me right now. We’re keepin it down. Now I need you to just stay cool for a few minutes while I work on some things. Help is on the way, alright? just sit tight…
And it (my body) did. I quickly left the bathroom where I had this “its not worth the cost to vomit right now” epiphany and headed over to the kitch to down some organic trail mix and more water. A slice of cheese and some rubbing of the temples later and all is well.
i was on Brenda (my iphone) with a friend who was complaining about this skeezy guy and telling me a story. i was walking out of the parking lot to pick up some PF Changs and talking through the microphone in the iphone earbuds when she was saying how the skeezy guy was trying to be smooth when he told her “i saw something that reminded me of you an wanted ta giv u a call” so i interjected “ya, like his slowly erecting cock [as the thing that "reminded" him of her] - forgetting of course that i was around people in public and seemingly talking to myself since my phone was in my pocket and i just have earphones on.
a girl nearby goes “excuse me????” and long story short, she was cute and i got a phone number.
andrewneedshelp: know any good free ringtone sites? Richar900: none. sorry andrewneedshelp: gay Richar900: i make them on my mac andrewneedshelp: dood andrewneedshelp: turn the gay dial a smidge andrewneedshelp: “i make them on my mac” andrewneedshelp: do you have a tshirt that says, “please stick it in my ass” too? andrewneedshelp: Richar900: in large AND medium (they shrink in the wash) andrewneedshelp: AHAHAHAHA Richar900: point taken on the way it sounds, but it really just consists of pressing “open file” > choose song > save as ringtone. Richar900: and then having gay sex andrewneedshelp: in what software? Richar900: Garageband. Mac onliezsukka andrewneedshelp: ah andrewneedshelp: iphone 2.1 didnt do shit for dropped calls andrewneedshelp: fuck steve jobs Richar900: i want one just for the headphone jack. what asshole puts a 5 inch long jack in a phone? i have to tie a rubberband around the plug and the phone to make it push that extra milicentimeter to connect when i wanna use my Bose headphones andrewneedshelp: hahahaha Richar900: people in airports n stuff are like “whats that?” and i say “my adaptor” and act like im cool as i smugly put my noise cancelling earmuffs on but everyone really knows im just a douche. its cool though cuz i cant hear them at that point
I answered a stranger named “big al” on myspace whether I actually hit the girl in the Is Violence Against Women Funny? video and recieved this curious response (you have to read bottom to top):
I responded asking why I would want to show my ass in Tennessee (or any other state for that matter). I clicked over to see who exactly this person afraid of seeing my ass was and saw just how cool he actually is…
Clearly this young man is a force to be reckoned with. Not only does he look good at his cousins wedding (lol), play in the rain (lol) and have a friend who is “the shit” (that too is funniez! ha ha!), but he finally got insurance (yay! if i don’t show you my ass can i havs a ride????) and he is a Pimp - as evidenced by the Microsoft Paint addition to that awesome picture of him doing his impression of Uncle Sam in a really bright bowling alley, dated 2 years ago. We know he is the one who is the pimp and not the other people in the picture because there is an arrow clearly pointing to him, and what can i say the letters don’t lie. Indeed they are honest (though some punctuation would have made it less confusing) but that doesn’t mean they have to make any damn sense, as shown by the caption under that sexahh azz boday saying “i guess better i can bench my body weight finally”.
He’s also an accomplished athlete. This is his current main picture if you couldn’t make it out from the conversation screenshot:
Well, one thing is for sure: This is one boy class 5 that will always have a first place in my heart.
I leave you only with this picture of big al. I think the caption says it all…
Awhile ago I got tired of the 350 group and event invitations piling up on my facebook account so I accepted every one of them. That was before I knew that when you join a group or event, the originator of each can mass message its members. So now I’m constantly annoyed by club promos and party event nightlife spam, but every once in awhile I get an interesting one. Like. today. Asking me to remember the terrorist attacks of September 11th 2001. by drinking vodka at a fashion club.
clicks it ifs you cants reads it
Well… you can’t. really. say they made it too tacky. right? I guess?
I should go. I’m sure the “special guest DJ” (FINALLY. i’m sick of their regular guy) will be bringing the house down with “God Bless America” and Enya remixes containing news reports all night.
Ladies and gentleman alike, no doubt, will be rockin out in red white and blue clubbing clothes as the conversation at the bar and on the dance floor is centered around the horrors of Islamo-terrorism and the changes it brought upon the world.
The metal adorned navel in the promo image is probably symbolism for the center of our country that was attacked - pierced, if you will - by hateful extremists on that day.
Perhaps the double bars on the bellybutton ring are to represent the twin towers as they’re silver, but with just a splash of red in an otherwise grayscale upper half of the poster.
Gray, like the Word Trade Center. Red like the blood of the 3 thousand people murdered there.
The image’s featuring of exposed and sexified female (we assume) midriff and promoting Skyy vodka at the event must be their way of sticking it to the Islamist ideology that hates us for our decitant ways.
And that is why we must drink Skyy vodka and party it up on 9/11. at the Whip Lounge.
Because if we don’t… the terrorists win.
Update: Brian sent out an apology for this the next day.
andrewneedshelp: i’m naked Richar900: interesting. you mean to convey that you have recently let down your guard and settled the apprehensions that normally limit your every day activity, thus leaving you with a sense of freedom and openness, but also disarmed - disrobed if you will - and you want others such as myself to know? andrewneedshelp: yes andrewneedshelp: that is exactly what i mean to convey.
