Tuesday, August 5, 2008

About that writing everyday thing...

So, a very selfish and rude storm came through last evening and derailed my latest attempt to actually be productive. I got a few posts in the works and as soon as I can get to a friendlier computer (i.e. one not located at my job) I will continue to provide you with the latest high-brow ranting that I can come up with. To be continued...

Monday, August 4, 2008

Erin Andrews Needs To Eat A Sammich

I've finally had it. For years I've had to endure a multitude of my fellow male counterparts get all hot under and bothered over women that I just don't see th point in. Julia Roberts, Eva Longoria, Sarah Jessica Parker (my bad only women think this German sheppard with boobs is hot) and a slew of other MILDLY attractive, bone-thin spectacles of bulimia have all been shoved down my throat as the end all be all in the female form. Well, I call bullshit. Julia Roberts looks like a horse. Eva Longoria looks like Michael Jackson with a better make-up crew and we've already discussed Sarah Jessica "get me my slippers pooch" Parker.

The one thing most of these anorexia anonymous members (not just the ones listed) have in common is that they are super skinny. I don't need a chick that's built like Buffie the Body (how many bees stung her ass to make it swell that large?), but give a brova something. Gimmie a Jessica Biel, a Beyonce, a 1993 Janet Jackson...something that reminds me that the person I'm cuddled up with is actually a woman.

Being thin is a wonderful thing. It shows that you care about your appearance, that you live a healthy lifestyle, that the word buffet doesn't give you an orgasm complete with an 'Exorcist' style head spin. At some point we have to draw the line between what is healthy looking and what is a 'Save the Children' commercial. Jessica Alba looks healthy and fit; the Olsen twins look like they've been in a concentration camp since 'Full House' off the air.

Which brings me to the namesake of this post; Erin Andrews. I understand that compared to the Linda Cohen's and Chris McKendry's at ESPN, Erin Andrews looks like a fine portrait of a woman. Let's not get carried away though. Erin Andrews is a cute woman, but she has the body of an Ethiopian. I know, I know "But she has huge breasts!" If you tape two apples to a pencil they are no doubt going to look larger than if you placed those same apples on a Ford F-350; if you follow my logic. I would go into the discussion about how much of a shame it is that her great on camera skills get over shadowed by her on camera "talents", but that would be a lie because besides being (slightly) more attractive than the average female covering sports she ain't got much else to offer. Linda Cohen and Chris McKendry, while not being the most attractive women on the planet, know their sports and know how to report on sports in a fashion that makes you forget their women and focus on the quality of the job they are doing. How novel...

The point of this all isn't to bash other men's personal preferences or to attempt to diminish the accomplishments of Erin Andrews' life (she works for fucking ESPN...thats more than I can say for my life's achievements); it is to illustrate two points. Point one: don't let your media outlets tell you what is attractive and what isn't. If you're going to let someone decide what your opinion is please don't let it be the media and please let that opinion focus on a subject that matters a little more that T & A. Point two: Erin Andrews needs to eat a sammich.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

The Words Escape Me

So, For the past couple of months I've been trying to write what every asshole with an ounce of writing ability dreams of writing...the great American novel. The only problem is life keeps getting in the way. I haven't written much yet and what I have written I wouldn't show to a blind man. *Sighs heavily...stares lustily at fading dreams*

Seeing as I have this canvas of a blog to spew randomness and hatred-filled rants upon, I have decided to use it. I'm going to have to get back into the habit of writing on a daily basis if I ever want to even come close to getting anything done with this double-stuffed shit sandwich of a book I'm currently (not) working on. Don't expect much from this endeavor. I'm essentially going to just sit down here at my desk every night and type about whatever comes into my head until I feel some sort of inspiration to write something meaningful (read: something to make me money). Unlike my past attempts to blog on a regular basis, this attempt is one I actually give a drunken nun fart about. Expect anger, expect discontent, expect bullshit, expect humor, expect despair, expect me.

Now that the bitching is done I got some non-writing to do...