Sunday, November 30, 2008

Giants' Burress Bravely Transcends Metaphor

NEW YORK (AP) - New York Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress, apparently unsatisfied with the results of metaphorically shooting himself in the foot, actually shot himself in the leg with a gun hidden in his pants pocket Friday at a Manhattan nightclub.

Burress, who in February caught the winning touchdown in the Giants' Super Bowl XLII victory and subsequently signed a 5-year, $35 million contract, has since those events systematically attempted to sabotage his career with insubordinate behavior. "I had it all," said Burress upon his release from the hospital on Saturday. "I won the Super Bowl and signed a rich new contract. I couldn't wait to lose it all just as quickly. I wanted to follow the path of my heroes and use my newfound financial security to ruin my career with selfish, criminal behavior sure to disappoint my employers, anger my fans, and break the trust of my teammates. The Giants just wouldn't cooperate by disciplining me severely enough to make even someone as careless as me pay attention ."

Burress did make a genuine effort to sabotage himself. In September, he was suspended one game and fined $117,000 for missing an entire day of meetings and practice without notice to drop his son off at school. In October, he was fined $45,000 by the NFL for verbally abusing a game official. And recently he was benched for skipping a treatment session for his eternally sore hamstring. Burress has extended his effort to the field, as well. In addition to missing a great deal of playing time because of the balky hamstring, he has dropped several catchable passes and has become a smaller part of the Giants' offense as the year progresses.

"I made a good faith effort to ruin my career, but the Giants just wouldn't meet me halfway," added Burress. "They did discipline me, but I could tell that they would never just get rid of me because despite my antics, I am a talented player. I felt that shooting myself in the foot metaphorically was just not going to get the job done. Actually shooting myself turned out to be the best option. Not only did I set a new standard for ridiculous behavior, but by seriously injuring myself I have ensured that I will be worthless but highly paid for the remainder of the season."

Thursday, November 27, 2008

A Thanksgiving Miracle (or just good timing.)

As most of you probably suspect by my frenetic, Poobomber-ish posting schedule,* I have been without work for some time. This week, I finally got a new job.

I got an email Monday morning out of the blue from my old boss Stu asking if I was available to work on a new movie. I hadn't spoken to Stu in at least a year, and we had last worked together on my Canadian adventure in 2006. I quickly accepted, because no matter how many chopped vegetables you mix into Rice-A-Roni, it can only stretch so far. It will eventually turn from San Francisco Treat into San Francisco Tease. I'm not particularly enthused about the new job itself because it will mean long hours and lots of Saturdays, but I'm excited about receiving one of those paycheck things I keep hearing about. Word on the street is that money can be exchanged for goods and services, and I love me some goods and services.

Now comes the part that qualifies this entry as "funny" for the purposes of a humor blog. On Tuesday my friend Julie emailed me and offered me a job too. Of course. Nothing for a long time and then two offers in two days. I told Julie that I had accepted a job in the visual effects department on Movie X just the day before and that it was too bad, because I like working with her. "Oh really?" she wrote back. "Guess what. I'm working on Movie X too, and I'm sitting ten feet from your boss." Well slap my ass and call me Judy. Not only did I get two offers in two days, but I got two offers in two days for jobs on the same movie by two people who acted completely independently of each other. Crazy. I guess I belong there. I'm really glad Stu called me first, too, because that job pays a LOT more than the job Julie offered me. But now I get the best of both worlds, because they'll both be around.

So that is what I am thankful for today. Now I don't have to fly home for Christmas and explain to everyone why I continue to devolve from Great White Hope to black sheep. I'm also thankful that there is a Taco Bell on the way home from the house I'll be having Thanksgiving at. Because I'm going to a vegan Thanksgiving. "More Tofurkey, WWW?" "Oh, no thank you! I couldn't eat another bite. Really."**

* See what I did there? That's quality humor.

** I don't think my host even knows this blog exists, but if he does then I assure him that I am just keeeeeding! - Ferecito style.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

I Strenuously Object

I saw something horrible on TV last night that has forced me to call for a New Rule.

A little background. The last episode of Six Feet Under is the best series finale of any show, ever. EV-ER. And without ruining it for anyone that might care to watch, the song "Breathe Me" by Sia plays a very important and emotional part in the episode. The song and the episode are inseparable.

And now...NOW. I heard the song begin on my TV and turned around immediately expecting to see something Six Feet Under-ish. But no. It was a commercial. For a VIDEO GAME. I cannot figure out how that song is the perfect accompaniment for two elfin guys with swords attacking a monster made of rocks. But someone decided that it is. And now that song is tainted.

New Rule: Once a song has become iconically and intrinsically attached to the last episode of a long-running series, it may not subsequently be used for any other commercial purpose.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I Agree, Your Child Is The Next Brando

I spent yesterday working on an open casting call, which is normally orderly and slightly boring, save for some of the things that come out of wannabe actors' mouths. Things like "I was an extra last week in this big group scene, and the assistant director refused to tell us what our motivation was" and "I know I'm 37, but I've been told I look really young, so I can totally play the role of Sexy Co-Ed #3."

This time was different. We were casting for the role of a mischievous four-year-old boy. Imagine if you will, 100 little boys and their eager stage parents put together on a small soundstage waiting for upwards of three hours with nothing to do, eat or drink. In case you have passed out from paralyzing fear, I will pause to allow you to wake up. In the meantime please enjoy this test, which after yesterday sounds less like a humorous lark and more like a valuable job-survival tool: How Many Five-Year-Olds Could You Take In A Fight?

Okay, you back? Good.

The day stumbled out of the gate. The casting call was supposed to begin at 3, and at 3:10 we wondered where everyone was. Usually these things are packed. I went out to investigate, and to my horror I found that the studio guard had directed all our aspiring Culkins to the wrong place. I arrived to find about 200 people lined up along a third-floor outside railing, waiting in front of a vacant office. "HEY!" I yelled up at them. "Any of you people here to audition for Pedro?" After a chorus of annoyed agreement, I led the group of potential Pedros and parents to the actual location. If you've ever wanted to know what it's like to lead a's okay, I guess.

This complication meant that we had a crush of people to process all at once. Fill out the application, put this numbered sticker on your shirt, come stand on the X and let me take your picture. I have to say, I think baby photographers must have it easy. Kids will smile for you way easier than adults will. Adults are too worried about looking cool. One kid even did the robot in his picture, which doesn't happen nearly enough in pictures of adults. (He got a callback, too.) C'mon, who wouldn't like to see an adult doing the robot in their professional picture for the company directory or a press release? There was one kid who didn't want to smile. I don't even think he wanted to be there. Let's face it, when you're four, it's not you who wants to be an actor. It's your parents who want it for you. Most of the kids seemed happy to be there, but I felt bad for this one.

For three hours, the kids ran around like morons on the concrete floor. I had a bet with somebody about how many kids would get hurt, with an over/under of three. To my amazement, it was zero. I used to be a lifeguard and to this day I always get nervous when kids run around like idiots on concrete. Nobody ever used to get hurt in the water, only running around the pool. There was one really cool kid who wasn't running around, though. He wore a "Vote For Pedro" shirt, which was kind of funny, and he seemed very possessed of himself. After his audition, he even came back over to do his lines for us. Then toward the end, when there were only the six kids left who were going to meet with the director, he even insisted on helping us fold up and put away chairs.

I'd had enough yelling and screaming for one day, and when I got home all I wanted to do (after scheduling a vasectomy) was to soak in the hot tub, have some wine and make some pizza. All of which worked wonderfully. Wouldn't you want to have this at the end of a trying day?

Click for deliciousness.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The Woman's Guide To Sports Fandom

Today more than ever, women are infiltrating the previously all-male world of sports fandom. I am strongly in favor of this trend, as it increases the chances that my future wife will not hassle me to go shopping for dishes when football is on. Sports fandom however, like many avocations, requires specialized knowledge to enjoy it fully and gain the respect of your friends. Relax, ladies. I am here to help. That's why today, UBP is proud to present:

The Woman's Guide To Sports Fandom

Article I: Sports bigamy is prohibited.

Fandom requires loyalty and fidelity. You may only be a fan of one team in each sport, and you may not change teams on a whim. Following are the rules to follow when choosing your favorite teams:

Acceptable Reasons To Choose Your Favorite Team
  • You grew up in the team's home city.
  • You live in the team's home city now.
  • The parent, sibling, or man who introduced you to sports is a fan of the team.
  • You are a fan of a particular player on the team in question because they attended the same college as you. (Keep in mind before making a final decision that you will be stuck with this team after that player retires.)
Unacceptable Reasons To Choose Your Favorite Team
  • You like the team's uniforms or colors.
  • You like the animal that the team is named after (especially cats.)
  • You are attracted to one or more of the players.
  • The team is a consistent winner and you like being associated with winnners.
Acceptable Reasons To Switch Teams
  • Your team moves to another city.
  • The man who made you a fan of your team cheats on you.
  • Your favorite team is the Detroit Lions.

Article II: Participation in betting pools is limited to those with legitimate sports knowledge.

This rule is in place to prevent the girl who picks winners based on what team colors she likes or what team mascot would defeat the other mascot in a fight from winning everyone's money. My female roommate once won several hundred dollars in an NCAA basketball pool by betting on the Kentucky Wildcats "because they were cats and their coach's name was Tubby". This rule should be self-explanatory.

Article III: Women may not wear sports apparel that is specifically tailored for women or which features non-team colors for the sake of fashion.

This rule is designed to stamp out the trend of pink-colored sports hats and jerseys for women, and the babydoll-cut sports jerseys which have infiltrated the sports world. If you are a fan, you can wear the same stuff we wear, and sport the same colors. Wearing pink is like wearing a sandwich board that says "I Know Nothing". Sports fandom is about dedication and loyalty, not about coordinating an outfit. Besides, you look sexier in the real thing. Trust us, the hottest thing you can wear to bed is our broken-in regulation hockey or football jersey.

Article IV: Learn the lingo.

Nothing will give you away faster as a newbie than using the wrong terms. Here are some quick tips:
  • You "root" for a team, you do not "cheer" or "vote" for a team.
  • You also do not "like" a team. In sports, "like" does not denote affection. It's a word people use in the context of gambling to denote which team they think will win, e.g. "I like the Giants this week against the Cowboys, so I took them plus the six points."
  • You do not "make" a touchdown, a run, or a goal. You "score" one. Oddly, you DO "make" a basket. I didn't make these up, I'm just explaining them.
  • Do not ask questions out loud in front of a group of sports fans. In the beginning, your questions are likely to be quite stupid and hilarious. Remember the question and then ask it of someone you can trust later on, like a boyfriend, parent or clergyman.
  • When you are well-versed in the language of sports and feel comfortable with your level of knowledge, don't be afraid to flaunt it in front of your man's friends. He will be esteemed among his peers if you know your stuff, and doubly so if you can correct one of them.

Article V: Be cognizant of time and place.

Your man will be quite happy to watch the game with you as long as you understand that while the game is on, you should remain focused on it. I know that you will see this as a bonding time, and may be tempted to talk about other topics that you associate with bonding like how fat you are, what your mother thinks, and what that bitch in line at Starbucks had the nerve to say. But please take these tips to heart:
  • You may bring up other topics on commercial breaks, but only if the discussion can be brought to a conclusion before the game comes back on.
  • Other topics are to be avoided completely in the fourth quarter, third period, or ninth inning of a close game. If you should persist, your man may snap at you. Do not be angry. He is right to do it.
  • Keep in mind that even if company is invited over or you are out at a bar, a sporting event is a sporting event first and a social engagement second. Think of it like an Oscar party - you can have a good time, but everybody shuts up when they're about to announce a winner.

I hope that I have been of help. I enjoy providing valuable community service, and I sincerely hope that my female readers and also the court see that I have done that today.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Shameless Self-Promotion: The First In An Endless Series

Huzzah! Kick the dog and wake the kids! I have been invited to be a guest blogger for the first time.

Please visit *E* Deconstructed to see me not being funny at all (this time on purpose.) ~E's blog is entertaining, especially if like me you like girls who like football. Additionally, unlike my blog, hers is frequently updated.

R.I.P. Cheap Trick

It's a terrible thing when a once-great rock band devolves into a sad parody. Sometimes it's hard to put your finger on exactly when that threshold is crossed. After all, on occasion, carrying on into old age and steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the passing of time works for a particular artist (Jimmy Buffet, Ozzy Osbourne.) But on certain sad occasions, the band in question makes it all too easy.

That's the case today with Cheap Trick. Witness the sadness:

A Very Special Offer.

Now, I'm not against buffets. They're proof that God exists, especially in Las Vegas. But a free buffet before a rock show is just about the most un-rock 'n roll thing I can imagine. I daresay that when your talents need to be augmented by heaping plates of "I Want You To Want Me Chicken Jambalaya" and "Standing On The Edge Seasonal Vegetables", it's time to hang it up. This reminds me of when I saw a performance by INXS advertised at a dinner theater during their post-erotic asphyxiation, pre-reality show limbo. I didn't have the heart to investigate further and see if they were billed above the Beef Wellington.

Cheap Trick, we know you want us to want you. And we will always want you on the radio on a Saturday night when we're drunk. But we don't want you like this.

Saturday, November 15, 2008


This afternoon my friend Amanda called me and asked, "What are you doing tonight?" This is pretty much the worst question ever after "Does this make me look fat?" and "Is she pretty?"

I hate answering this question, because if your answer is "I'm staying home", then it is assumed you are free and eager to accept any social invitation. Somewhere along the line, it was decided by the People That Decide Things that:

  1. Staying at home alone is the least desirable way to spend a Saturday night.
  2. Staying at home is not plans, but a lack of plans.
  3. The company of others is a priori preferable to spending time alone.
  4. Pursuant to (1), (2) and (3), any social invitation, no matter how boring or unpleasant, is to be immediately accepted if there are no conflicting social engagements.
  5. Pursuant to (3), failure to adhere to (4) is considered rude and a personal slight.

Predictably, when Amanda heard that I was staying home she invited me out to see a play written by one of her co-workers. I do not like plays. Most especially, I do not like plays by novice playwrights that are performed in 99-seat theaters by drama students and Starbucks baristas. They invariably remind me of Ingmar Bergman films without the levity. In this case, not only would I be required to watch the play, but because Amanda knows the writer I would be required to meet him and tell him how much I enjoyed his play. I do not need to tell you why this is unacceptable.

When Amanda called, I had already prepped a Cornish game hen that I was planning to cook for dinner and was looking forward to having a nice meal and watching my new Netflix arrival. To me, those are plans, even if no one else is involved. I knew that this reasoning would not work with Amanda, though. On a previous occasion she had called me at about 6pm asking if I wanted to get some dinner, and when I replied that I had already begun cooking dinner she asked why I couldn't put it in the fridge and have it another night. So that's what we're dealing with here.

As soon as she asked me to go to the play, I knew I was screwed no matter what I did. I was either going to ditch my plans and go do something I really didn't want to do, or I was going to decline and look like an asshole. I audibly hesitated as I told Amanda that plays weren't really my thing. She said, "But you're not doing anything else. You're just going to sit home instead of going to the play with me?" I really wanted to object to her dismissive use of the word 'just', but this was no time for pedantry. I sort of declined again, and then she - a woman who never misses an opportunity to talk about how independent and strong she is - played the helpless woman card. "Are you going to make me go to Hollywood alone at night?" I knew she was half-kidding, but I knew she was also definitely trying to guilt me into going. I wasn't having it. She finished with, "Well, I have to leave by six. Call me if you change your mind."

Amanda is Canadian, and is here for just a few months for work. I am the only person from Los Angeles that she knew before coming here, so I - the introvert - have assumed the responsibilities normally divided among an entire social circle. Not two weeks ago I spent 12 hours in the hospital with her when she had minor surgery because there was no one else to do it. I feel that I should be able to say no sometimes without making someone mad. I feel that if I want to stay home then it should be considered the same as if I have plans with another person.

I also feel that this entry started out funny but wasn't so funny by the end. So let me just say...POOPY!

Monday, November 10, 2008


I think a lot about why things are funny. In particular, I've been thinking lately about the difference between comedy and a mind-fuck. Is one legitimate craft and the other in bad faith? Is there a line between them that you shouldn't cross? Or is comedy an "anything goes" kind of performance art?

The example I keep coming back to is Andy Kaufman. Kaufman had an alter-ego character named "Tony Clifton". "Tony Clifton" was a sleazy lounge singer, and Kaufman often performed entire shows as Clifton. The ads promoted a show by Tony Clifton, your ticket said Tony Clifton, but everyone really knew they were coming to see Andy Kaufman. Kaufman wore prosthetics, and never broke character during the show. So far, so good...just an innovative kind of comedy, and everyone knew what the deal was.

But Andy Kaufman added another dimension to it. He took advantage of the anonymous nature of the prosthetics to occasionally have his writing partner Bob Zmuda perform the Tony Clifton shows without telling anyone. The only people that knew were Kaufman, Zmuda and Kaufman's manager. Even the owners of the clubs hosting the performances didn't know. Sometimes Kaufman sat in the audience in disguise. On one occasion Bob Zmuda even appeared as Tony Clifton on the Letterman show. Zmuda was basically playing Andy Kaufman playing Tony Clifton. The audiences had a reasonable expectation that they were paying to see Andy Kaufman, when in fact he wasn't there. Kaufman's response would probably be, "You're paying to see Tony Clifton, and you got him. You're not paying to see me."

I tell the Andy Kaufman story because it's a nice intro to what's keeping me up at night. Is it still comedy if you're not trying to be funny? I realize that you can be unintentionally funny, but that's not a performance, that's an accident. What I'm getting at is, can you be intentionally unintentionally funny? Let's say I'm a terrible singer and I want to perform a comedy bit about a terrible singer. I can do it two different ways. I can imitate a terrible singer or I can sincerely try to sing well, knowing that my sincere attempt will probably be funnier and ring truer than the imitation. It's likely to be emotionally crushing to go the sincere route, but the results are likely to be better too. And like the Andy Kaufman example, the audience will never know.

Does the sincere attempt at singing count as comedy, or is it debasing yourself for a laugh?

Was Andy Kaufman screwing the audience, or was he a daring performance artist?

Is there even a meaningful difference between the options in these two examples?

Does it matter that the audience will never know?

The world is falling apart, and yet this is the kind of thing that consumes my mental energy.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Actual Conversations With Real People, Vol. 2

Today UBP presents another installment of Actual Conversations With Real People. These are, yes, actual conversations I've had with real people. Today's real person is *drumroll* a Deli Worker.

Me: "I'd like a tuna salad sandwich on wheat toast, please."

Deli Worker: "What would you like on it?"

Me: "Just lettuce and onions, please."

Deli Worker: "Any mayo or mustard on that?"

Me: "No thank you, just lettuce and onions."

Deli Worker: "Any cheese?"

Me: "No thank you."

Deli Worker: "Tomato?"

Me: (big sigh) "No thank you."

~ FIN ~

Friday, November 7, 2008

Obama Wins Election; Reveals Divine Nature

CHICAGO (AP) - Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) won the 2008 Presidential election Tuesday night, handily defeating his Republican opponent, Senator John McCain of Arizona. Obama received 364 electoral votes to 163 for McCain and also won the popular vote, 52 percent to 46 percent. During his acceptance speech at Grant Park, Obama also revealed His divine nature to a transfixed nation.

Shortly after urging the crowd to "put aside our differences and work together for the good of all Americans", Obama extended His arms from His sides and began to glow with an unearthly light. As the assembled masses gasped, Obama took on a glittering gold countenance and slowly began to ascend from the stage to a height of over 100 feet. Rising together on either side of Obama were Vice-President Elect Joe Biden and Democratic Party mascot/figurehead President Bill Clinton, who began to glow with a slightly dimmer light and assumed positions slightly behind and below the President-Elect.

"Fear not," Obama said, his voice taking on an otherworldly soothing and lyrical tone. "Today you have chosen wisely, America. I told you that a vote for Me was a vote for change, and you have heeded My call." The rapt audience began to shudder, some collapsing in the thrall of sheer Obamamania. "At the stroke of midnight tonight," Obama continued, "the faithful who have voted for Me shall vanish from this Earth as one in a joyful rapture and join Me in Heaven. A Heaven where mortgages are interest-free, war is but a memory, free healthcare is available to even those seeking nose jobs or tattoo removal, and everyone is gay. Those evildoers who have voted for Herr McCain shall remain on this Earth, left behind to fight wars over dwindling oil supplies and gradually succumb to global warming, the fiery hell of their own creation."

After His remarks, Obama remained in the sky flanked by Biden and Clinton, smiling beneficently and basking in the adoration of the crowd. For the remainder of the two hours until midnight, there was singing of songs, holding of hands and dancing of all sorts, even the white kind. As the clock struck, families and loved ones held each other tightly before transforming simultaneously into flashes of blinding light and disappearing from the Earth. The only signs of human life were the clothes left behind by the faithful and the distant sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth from McCain voters coming to terms with their fate. []

Ed. Note: The writer of this article wishes to make a correction.

"Apparently I celebrated too hard last night and ingested some substances with which I have precious little experience. I apologize unreservedly for my characterization of the events at Grant Park. What really happened is that just like every four years, we elected another guy who half the country hates. We're excited and hopeful now. However, it won't be long before he demonstrates that even if he is a very good choice, he is in fact human. Radical change, let alone Rapture, is unlikely because of our inefficient political process, the poisonous influence of lobbyists, and the very real limitations of the office of the President."

Thursday, November 6, 2008

It's A Major Award!

I have finally been decorated! Fancy over at Fancy Schmancy has presented me with the "I Fucking Love Your Blog" award, pictured below.

As well she might! Untitled Blogger Project has been lauded by many important and prominent figures that to the best of my knowledge you have never heard of. Plus Zibbs likes it. Just listen to these enthusiastic endorsements:

Barack Obama, President-Elect: "What are you talking about?"

Sean Penn, Actor/Curmudgeon: "I don't have time for this nonsense."

Cole Hamels, World Series Hero: "Thank you, but I didn't do it alone; there's 25 guys on this team. I'm just trying to help the ballclub."

Amy Winehouse, Singer: "Can I throw up here? I'll say whatever you want after that."

Sean Penn, Douchebag: "I said get away from me, you &%#$@ *&%@#!"

For those of you that are unaware, this is a very selective and prestigious award. It has only been awarded to seven people by Fancy, and then of course the person that gave it to her, and the six other people given it in that class, and then the seven people that they each gave it to, and th...let's just say it's a big deal. I won't be passing it along, because if I love your blog, you already know. Plus, the more of you mouth-breathers I give it to, the less it's worth.

Thanks, Fancy, and I'll try to keep this a blog that you can be fucking proud of.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Real Craigslist Personals, Plus One I Totally Made Up

Yes, they're all real and they're all spectacular. Except for the one I made up. I was going to put a funny note with each one but I realized that like a fine steak, they require no accompaniment. Enjoy!

Please don't email me if you have nothing nice to say and only say don't move here. I am a US citizen and have the right to live where I so choose.

I won't fuck your friends

I have a membership at 2 video stores

no BBw please also no gay guys and any other freaks.

diner ready any wana share me it


I am in a dead end marriage and don't know whether I should leave or not. I just don't know if this is as good as it gets or not. Are you better than her? Should I leave?

Please only read further if you have or have ever had a serious secret desire to receive an anal tonguing experience.

I am a good looking asian,5'10", 32 years old man looking for some chubby or little heavy girl (Not Black)

Hi there I am looking for a woman who is involved in recovery, I am an attractive and 6'2 200Lbs

i'm black & white, 5'10, love to play sports and dance. young ladies who were BORN a girl

i have a sneeze fetish. it turns me on to see women sneeze.. the wetter the better. if you would be interested in experimenting with this, or have done this before.. please email me.

we were married in the 70's I cannot find you

A bit about me --I'm not your "typical" WOMAN -- I'm not FAT, don't have herpes, and I sure as hell don't eat rice every day!

ive been single for a few weeks now so if you get me drunk, you'd probably get a blow job. just throwing it out there. send me a pic or a link to your myspace and ill send you mine. everyone has a myspace -- if you don't you're creepy!!!

I'm not your average Jewish girl; I am nice.

With this guy I don't want to have to worry about anything financial because he'll take care of. I mean that's wat there for right? I wanna kno wat its like to be treated like a princess

Have you ever had a PBR? Do you even know what one is?

Be discreet. Be loyal. Be sane. Be disease free. Be single. Be Drama Free. Be generous. Be humorous. Be Intelligent. Be height and weight porpotioned. Be oral. Be packing a 9" or more penis.

if you are interested in talking to someone depressed and lonely please send me a pic and i will send you mine.

Long walks on the beach, snuggling to some smooth jazz with my cats while reading a book, keeping up with what's going on in this world, hitting up the trendy new art gallery and going out for a cup of coffee are just some of the things I don't like do to. (Ed. Note: I almost wrote to this girl.)

UPDATE: To the guy who sent me an email saying only "Lets see if oyur interested", and then corrected himself sending another email saying only "Lets see if your interested (sorry)", I just want to let you know that it's actually "you're". Hopefully this helps in your future internet endeavors. (Ed. Note: This one too.)

Do you like persimmons?

Someone please save me!!!! All I really want is strong blk man's touch. I'm so tired of riding my imagination and masterbating it's pathetic