|Walsh Rock 'em Stock 'em|
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Dear Svedka Vodka,
Your label says you were voted "Best Vodka Of 2033," I am assuming this is after the vodka wars, where all other vodkas have been destroyed by your evil "Fembot Army," and the general taste consensus is to drink things that taste like battery acid mixed with anger. Also, stay away from my time machine.
Posted 10:16 PM by J.Ro
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Today, my boss said, "I don't understand why anyone would want to climb on top of an animal and go around in circles." I thought it was the funniest thing I heard like ever.
Posted 2:13 AM by J.Ro
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
MYSPACE SURVEY BY ROCKETYSTOCKETY
1. How many gay ass MySpace surveys have you filled out?
3. Do your "friends" not know this shit already?
4. If they don't, do you think they care?
5. How long did it take you to realize MySpace surveys are dumb?
6. How much of a retard are you for answering up until this question?
7. how much stupider are you now?
8. Do you want me to kick you in the head?
10. You want me to kick you in the head and the nuts?
Posted 1:45 PM by Universal Donor
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
J-Rock: But you are in LA? Did you move? Why did you go to LA? Why aren't you in NY to come to my new years's party?
Lord Casio: Hey, I just decided that I'm coming to NYC in 2 days until the 18th.
So when's your crappy party already!? (ha)
J-Rock: It's a new years party. It's on New Years Eve.
Lord Casio: Gay...what about Quanza?
J-Rock: I have a Kwanzaa party, but it's in my pants, and you're not invited cause it's all about seven days of celebration, featuring activities such as candle-lighting and pouring of libations and culminating in a feast and gift-giving. Each of the seven days of Kwanzaa is dedicated to one of the following principles, in my pants.
Unity To strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation and race in my pants.
Self-Determination To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves in my pants.
Collective Work and Responsibility To build and maintain our community together and make our brother's and sister's problems our problems and to solve them together in my pants.
Cooperative Economics To build and maintain our own stores, shops and other businesses and to profit from them together in my pants.
Purpose To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore my pants to their traditional greatness in my pants.
Creativity To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave my pants more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited them.
Faith To believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders and the righteousness and victory of the struggle in my pants.
These principles correspond to the notion that "the seven-fold path of my pants is think in my pants, talk to my pants, act in my pants, create my pants, buy my pants, vote for my pants, and live in my pants."
Lord Casio: Wow....you know how to spell Kwanza. Your pants are complicated. I sometimes celebrate the "running of the balls" but its pretty laid back.
Happy Holidays....in your pants.
Posted 2:46 PM by J.Ro
Thursday, November 30, 2006
J-Rock: I am thinking that I should start a fight club, but instead of men who want to fight, it will just be slutty girls.
Universal Donor: hmm, I predict you will be a millionaire soon.
Posted 12:03 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Go read Fuzzy Squid and see about my date from hell. Maybe if I stop feeling really lazy I will tell the entire story again.
Posted 12:42 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sugar-free Redbull doesn't cover the taste of vom.
Universal Donor has been raving about the awesomeness of The Burg. I finally got around to downloading some and putting it onto my Ipod, (cause you know, the new video IPod takes like forever to load things onto.) So I am on the L, going out to the steel shop that freelance at, but today I am just waiting for the DSL line to be installed. I get in, luckily, I was wearing a hoodie, so I did a little grinding on the Whole Foods job. Then I went to the independant natural food store and got some food. Re-read the texts from the guy I met this weekend at the Halloween loft party, (who is 25 and was dressed as a Mexican wrestler.) Verizon fucked up, and wasn't coming, so I left early. I tried to watch some of The Burg. but by the time I got to Metropolitan/Lorimar the train got crowded, I looked at the people around me, threw up a little in my mouth, and put on The Mountain Goats instead. I got off the train, and knew I totally had to blog about it. Gotta run now, I am going to go have kinky sex with an actor/writer guy. Happy Halloween!
Posted 1:07 PM by J.Ro
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
The People's Common Sense Medical Adviser by R.V. Pierce M.D.
©1918, by World's Dispensary Medical Association
Posted 5:35 PM by J.Ro
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
On Resin Babies
Universal Donor: zam! here now, how 'bout you?
Universal Donor: wheee! I'm dying!!!!!
Me: have you checked my blog and seen my obscene Asian babies?
11:00 AM GET WITH THE TIMES!
Universal Donor: i've been out of the loop for the last 3 weeks or so
Me: What loop were you in? The anti-Asian babies loop!
Universal Donor: thanks, spazfucker
i know your URL!
OH MY HOT FUCK THAT IS DISTURBING
YES! Craig and I found them and all these old men and women came up and said
CUTE! BABY! CUTE! CUTE! BABY!
He told them I was afraid of having real babies, so I had them like kittens.
Universal Donor: jesus fucking christ
I can't even hang with the babies
Me: why you have to hate on my babies?
I named one after you, Bunbury!
Universal Donor: because i can see their assh*les
Me: what about the weiners
Universal Donor: don't get me started on the kibbles and bits
Me: one of them is all ass up in the air
Universal Donor: i know like a monkey
Me: and he's in front of the one that is holding his legs back
Universal Donor: presenting
You will forever compromise the quality of my sleep
Universal Donor: she had hobocock breath
Me: well that's why I started calling her that!
Universal Donor: makes sense to me! It's a very distinctive smell
Posted 1:32 AM by J.Ro
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I found these in Chinatown, they were $3.00 each. Mister insisted that I buy the whole set.
Posted 8:55 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Dear Myla Goldberg,
If I were the Decemberist's, I too would write a song about you. I think if I saw you on the street I would get butterflies in my stomach.
I totally thought you were hot, and then went and ruined it for yourself. You are tall and solid, and you have your 50's screen hero good looks. The rain had made your hair wet most of it was slicked back, but a few strands fell rakishly into your eyes. Your t-shirt clung to your body. The white t-shirt and blue jeans were a nice touch to the bygone era hero thing. Then I saw your flip-flops, I thought I would give you another chance, but you kept sucking on your finger (seriously, what was that all about, were you eating crackers and they were stuck between your back teeth and gums?) and it was over. We could have had beautiful babies.
Dear Lady On The TV,
I can't stand to look at you, this sewing show is really interesting, and I am sure you have a lot you could teach me. I am sorry you can only talk out of the left side of your mouth. Is it because of a stroke?
Posted 11:16 AM by J.Ro
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Just a suggestion, if you don't want people to know about that time you hired a tranny prostitute, don't get drunk and tell the story every time you meet someone. The smile and glazed eyes as you reminisce on how (s)he worked it, and how it was the best tail you ever had, gives it away.
Dear Throat Cancer Guy,
Please go away. It's not that I support cancer or anything, I am sorry you had throat cancer, but I don't want to see you swabbing your goddamn throat anymore. I am sorry that the hole in your throat stops you from swimming, maybe you can get water wings or get some kind of throat snorkel.
I hate you. I gave it a shot, but you suck. Please leave my fridgidator, the weird orange glow kinda scares me.
I love you, stay the same. You're awesome.
Thank you for bringing me such joy with your unnessecarily violent death scenes. If I ever spawn, child of satan or not, I am only going to cut their hair while they are sleeping and tell them the hair cutting fairy did it. Also, if that kid isn't the child of the devil for reals, you've really fucked him up, if he is, well he still is going to be fucked up. I think he may need to see a shrink.
Posted 3:21 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Patridiculous' Birthday Fortunes
(for beer, you know, cause it's better that way.)
"Jessie is hotter than you, even though she’s old now."
"I’ll show you a happy birthday.
"You are in charge of Jessie’s spanking."
"Are you sure you deserve this beer?
(132 calories, fatty)"
"You were obviously a pity invite."
"Even cock teases get birthdays."
"This means Jessie’s parents had sex."
"Jessie wants a unicorn for her birthday.
By unicorn, she means anal."
"No present = no fun touch."
"Jessie is hotter than you, even though she’s drunk now."
"Nice party dress. NOT!"
"Are you sure you deserve that slice of cake?"
"Who invited you?"
"You will not get laid tonight."
"She loves you not."
"Quit flirting with him, slut!"
"It’s her birthday and she’ll drink dish soap if she wants to."
(This one's a long story)
"You dirty! You dirty! You dirty!"
"I saw you do that. You’re dirty."
"Someone here wants to teach you a lesson."
Posted 12:51 PM by J.Ro
Friday, May 05, 2006
Monday, May 01, 2006
GO LOOK AT THIS RIGHT NOW! Or I will never speak to you again; this is not to say that I don't love you and want the best for you, I really do. I am thankful for your kind thoughts, and friendship. You really are the best. You're seriously totally awesome. I am so glad you're my friend. I love you, and I promise I won't tell anyone about that thing.
Posted 3:24 PM by J.Ro
Thursday, April 27, 2006
AN E-MAIL I SENT TODAY TO MY FATHER
I have a crippling fear of your answering machine; unless you change the recorded message that greets callers, I will be forced to come over and smash it. I own several hammers, and mallets of varying sizes and applications, all which would be useful for such an event.
I love you and miss conversing with you over the telephone wire, yet every time I put the receiver to my ear to ring you, I am seized by a paralyzing fear of that device.
Lovingly, your daughter,
Don't ask me about my time machine.
Posted 7:32 AM by J.Ro
Saturday, April 15, 2006
With Mother's Day fast approaching, I know many of you are looking for just the right poem to express your feelings, I was referred to this site. I wish Hallmark would take a cue from them. No, seriously, this may be my favorite poem of all time.
Posted 5:13 PM by J.Ro
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Dear NYC Cab Drivers,
When a single woman enters your cab after attending a party, it is okay to make polite conversaton; polite conversation in case you are not aware includes, but is not limited to the following
asking her how her night was.
if she is from the city.
telling her small inconsequential details about yourself, where you are from, your name etc.
It is not okay to to tell her your dick is hard, that you are horny and want a blowjob.
If there are any questions about this, please do not feel free to contact me.
Please forget where you dropped me off.
Posted 6:15 PM by J.Ro
Friday, March 24, 2006
Jeffery Brown's comic, I'm going to be small.
Posted 4:59 PM by J.Ro
Nuncstans totally understands my art.
Posted 2:22 PM by J.Ro
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Actual Text Message Exchange
Victor: You should come to Barcade. Nerd convention!
J-Rock: Are you the keynote speaker?
Posted 1:34 AM by J.Ro
Sunday, February 05, 2006
The New York City subway system, although greatly improved from the days of yore, still leaves much to be desired. I know, what an original observation! J-Rock, you so clevah! Maybe instead I just want to share with you a couple of recent stories.
Last week on my way to work, I went to sit down on a bench and realized why only one person was sitting at this bench, because there were multiple piles of human feces on the ground, in front of the bench. This was not towards the back of a little used station far out on the outer stretches of some seldom used line. This was on the Houston street 1 line. I of course realized too late, and then had to spend the next few minutes making sure the hem of my coat stayed far, far away.
On my way home recently, I sat across from a woman chewing on orange peels. They were floating around her bag, sitting on her lap. I didn't actually see any orange pieces. Just orange peels, and there was no container, or bag from which they came, well except for her purse. This would have been of course, an amusing if not strange enough scenario to occupy my trip, but it got even better! Somewhere on the Upper West Side (86th street, I believe,) a man boarded the car, sat down on in the corner seat, and proceeded to remove his shoes. He then produced what looked to be those handi-wipes that they give you in bar-b-cue restaurants, and began to furiously scrub his feet. I tried to occupy myself with my book, but the car was somewhat empty, and half of the car was now some kind of freak show. I tried not to laugh, even the orange peel lady was staring. Luckily about that time, the train pulled into the 72nd street station, and I exited.
Posted 9:48 PM by J.Ro
Monday, January 16, 2006
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Happy New Years!
Todays list is entitled...
THINGS TO NEVER WRITE IN AN E-MAIL OR CHAT TO J-ROCK
NP or N/P
Posted 9:18 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Papa Stock's birthday has come and gone, and he still hasn't changed his answering machine. On a funny note, last night he was mistaken for my husband.
Posted 8:52 PM by J.Ro
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Today I saw a man without a nose, just a band-aid where his nose should be. I tried not to stare, and think of Gogol.
Posted 11:44 PM by J.Ro
Saturday, October 29, 2005
I am looking at a book right now called Raccoons Are The Smartest People; no they are not, they're raccoons.
I was recently watchiing Cinderella with my neice. There was a preveiw for Cinderella III. WTF? Where was II? So of course I had to look it up. My favorite part of IMDB are the message boards. This is an actual quote from the message board:
Why does she wear her old serving clothes when she goes to the village and why doe she have other dresses that are similar in design to her servent dress? Makes me wonder where she got them. You would think Cinderella would get rid of everything that reminds her of being a servent in her own home which includes the old dress. She has yet to replace the ballgown the she wore to the ball.
Not only is this a quote but this is the topic of an entire board, there are seven responses at this time. I am way too lazy to point out all of the things that are stupid about this, so I will let you figure it out on your own.
Posted 3:25 PM by J.Ro
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Although, He Did Call Me Stunning
JRock: ...some guy tried to pick me up, claiming he was Dave Eggers, but I knew he was lying the entire time
Fuzzy Squid: HA!
Fuzzy Squid: I'm going to start telling people I'm Dave Eggers.
JRock: But he was psychotically detailed about the whole thing.
Fuzzy Squid: Well, are you sure it wasn't Dave Eggers?
JRock: It didn't look like Dave Eggers.
JRock: I have his phone number, you want to call him?
JRock: He also said he was 31. I think Dave Eggers is at least 33, maybe as old as 35.
JRock: Just call him and ask him "who's this?"
Fuzzy Squid: Well, I mean, if it didn't look like him.
Fuzzy Squid: His picture is everywhere.
Fuzzy Squid: You should be able to tell.
Fuzzy Squid: Plus, doesn't he live in SF?
Fuzzy Squid: He's had that white fro for a while now, right?
JRock: He had a beard, I told him, "you don't look like Dave Eggers, why are you lying?"
JRock: I know it wasn't Dave Eggers, but he was buying all my drinks, and I thought it was funny.
Fuzzy Squid: Yeah see,
Fuzzy Squid: that's where I draw the line,
Fuzzy Squid: I will lie to a woman,
Fuzzy Squid: but I won't buy her drinks
JRock: But I knew he was lying. I had been talking to him for a moment, and then I asked him his name, and he didn't say "Dave," he said "Dave Eggers...."
JRock: It's fucking hilarious, because he wouldn't let it go, even when I said "I know you are not Dave Eggers, but I think it's really funny that you lie like that"
Fuzzy Squid: I wish girls would lie to me.
Fuzzy Squid: instead they tell me all about their boring lives.
JRock: Please call him. It would be really funny since you're in SF.
Fuzzy Squid: what's his number?
Fuzzy Squid: Do you like this guy or not?
JRock: I don't care, I just thought it was really funny.
JRock: He may be crazy.
JRock: Well, he is crazy, obviously.
Fuzzy Squid: I left him a message.
JRock: What did it say?
JRock: What did his machine say?
Fuzzy Squid: His voicemail just said his phone number.
Fuzzy Squid: "I'm not sure who I'm calling for, but my name is David, actually, my friends call me Dave."
Fuzzy Squid: "I heard you met my friend Jessie last night, she's the redhead--she told me the story and I thought it was pretty funny."
Fuzzy Squid: "I just wanted to call and let you know why she was pretty sure you aren't who you said you were, bye!"
JRock: You're so awesome.
Fuzzy Squid: He just called me.
Fuzzy Squid: He said I got the wrong number.
Fuzzy Squid: Ha!
Fuzzy Squid: He sounded a bit crazy.
JRock: What? Are you kidding? Did he say who it was?
Fuzzy Squid: Aw, I should've inquired further--no, all he said was that he thinks I got the wrong number, and he asked me who I was looking for and I said, "you know what, I'm not sure who exactly I'm looking for."
JRock: WTF! I have his book. He wrote some poem and signed it Dave Eggers, but I can barely read his writing
Fuzzy Squid: What do you mean you have his book?
JRock: This little leather notebook.
Fuzzy Squid: why do you have crazy pants' notebook?
JRock: Because he was trying to prove he was D.E.
JRock: This is so great, first someone writes me Bukowski poems on Friendster, now someone's impersonating Dave Eggers.
Fuzzy Squid: Are you ever going to call the guy?
Fuzzy Squid: To tell him you think his writing is overrated,
Fuzzy Squid: I don't know?
JRock: I already did. I told him I had read his book of short stories and it sucked and I couldn't finish it. I was happy it was a library book so I could return it.
Fuzzy Squid: Ha!
JRock: Well it's not like I had anything to lose, he wouldn't show me his ID, and I knew it wasn't him.
Posted 8:56 PM by J.Ro
Date: October 7, 2005 7:38:00 PM EDT
Subject: lik lak
hello,,can "ll be freinds ?
i am mady from egypt i wll visit NY as soon in
december and i looking for new experience in my
life and want to see the open mind ,,,thant wee
have a close mind in our contry by the way i am
single and virgan till now and want some one more
experience than me to tell me the way that i wll
walk in this big state for holiday i visit LA before
but with family ahh :( and now with my freind :)
and looking for new freinds there ...
Posted 6:34 PM by J.Ro
Friday, September 16, 2005
Why I May Not Be Talking To You
A handy reference guide*
You are a liar.
You are a hypocrite.
You treat me badly.
You try to make me feel bad about myself to elevate yourself in your own eyes.
You disgust me.
You think I might be in love with you.
You are in love with me.
I hate you.
You are an asshole.
You have deep seated psychological problems that impede normal social relationships.
*This is really good, so like you don't have to call everyone and ask them why. Your story sounds pathetic and they tell me so.
Posted 8:53 PM by J.Ro
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Happy NA-Na-La-La everyone!
I can't wait until they make it a national holiday and we get like a day off from work and stuff. Not like all the days off from work we got when the OG Na-Na-La-La was. Like if you even had a job left or you weren't like dead. Yeah, that would be nice, a little reward for otherwise being turned into our countries excuse for pretty much everything. I can't wait for the days ahead when everyone looks forward to NA-Na-La-La Day. There will be NA-Na-La-La Day parades, where everyone dresses up as buidings and planes and they run into eachother, all the while small children run away from them in mock terror. There will be NA-Na-La-La Day barbcues, (which I think is most appropriate) where we will all sit around the specially constructed NA-Na-La-La Day fire pit and remember the smoldering fires and the smell of rotting and burning flesh that lingered for oh so many months.
So, How do you get a national holiday declared? I am sure that some of those other "days-offa-work" holidays were originally to remember some important event, like you know, like Memorial Day, Labor Day and Easter are about something right?
Posted 6:07 PM by J.Ro
Friday, August 26, 2005
Saturday, June 18, 2005
The following is totally not true.
I was bitten by a baby Liger at the petting zoo.
Posted 2:52 AM by J.Ro
Saturday, June 11, 2005
I am older, I am wiser.
I gouged a large part of my thumb out. This is the part that's on the inside of your first knuckle.
It bled a whole lot. It continued to bleed a whole lot. It's gross.
I am not going to explain how I did this. Instead I am going to explain, why I am not going to explain it.
You don't know what I really do for a living, you only have a kind of vauge idea that it somehow involves certain things.
It bores me to have to try to explain it, when inevitably after 13 seconds your eyes glaze over when you realize, it really isn't anything like Flashdance.
I am not proud of what happened.
You don't really care.
And yes, I will have a scar.
Posted 6:02 PM by J.Ro
Monday, May 16, 2005
When You Get To The Point Make Sure That I'm Still Awake, OK?
This is an unsolicited message that I recieved via Friendster, awhile back. It is here below in all it's entire uncorrected glory. I was inspired to post it by Nuncstans, (Unicorns United 4EVA!!!)Please share you thoughts, feelings and interpretations.
Date: Tuesday, 05 April, 2005 03:17:00 AM
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I not jealous
because we never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they told
us, but listening to you I wasn sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, her, print her, she mad but she
magic. there no lie in her fire. I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
I admit that there are some details that I am aware of, that I have left out, but I have left hints.
Posted 2:13 AM by J.Ro
Saturday, April 09, 2005
5 Totally True Things About Me
Until I was 12, I thought the Jehovah's Witnesses, were actual witnesses in a trial.
I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was almost 22
When I was a small child my brother convinced me that it was possible that the Staten Island ferry could hit an iceberg, and even though I knew how to swim I would drown anyway.
Also as a small child, I believed that the mezzuzah my father wore around his neck was actually a whistle; this was not helped by the fact that everytime I called it such and blew into it, he would whistle.
I was excused from gym in Highschool for "personal" reasons.
Posted 6:01 PM by J.Ro
Friday, April 01, 2005
Posted 7:07 PM by J.Ro
Monday, March 07, 2005
I Wrote A Poem About That
Two opening sentences that will make me shudder or try as best I can to change the subject are "I wrote a poem about..." and "I had the weirdest dream..." Last night an off-handed but somewhat gross comment reminded me of an account of a dream had by an ex-boyfriend. He would off-handedly describe said dream to anyone who would listen, seemingly wanting to hear their interpretation. Since I had known this story for so many years, I had forgotten how truly horrifying it was. I casually related this dream to my friends, who I think are still shuddering. I am sorry to all who may have heard it.
Posted 3:32 AM by J.Ro
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Please send me all your fantasies, stories, ideas about psychotic behavior in relationships. I want the "best way to break ups" or the "cheesiest thing he ever did." You can e-mail them to me, or post them in comments.
Posted 2:31 AM by J.Ro
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Here's a nice photo for you, and a few thoughts and demands.
Please from now on refer to my breasts, not as "titties," "coconuts," "bazongas," or "honkers," but only as "zoomers," or "funbags."
There is something really weird about my new job. It might be that nobody has yelled at anyone, or about anything....yet. They're all pleasant.
I am desperately afraid that I am going to freak them out, especially today when I realized I was mumbling to myself. .
My father still hasn't changed his answering machine message.
I love you..
Posted 9:49 PM by J.Ro
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Really Awesome Moments in my life.
In this e-mail exchange someone, I hated happened to e-mail my place of business. My employer replied for me.
From: s**** m****
Sent: Saturday, December 18, 2004 7:56 PM
Subject: Feedback Form
Below is the result of your feedback form. It was submitted by
s**** m**** on Saturday, December 18, 2004 at 16:55:58
request: I am interested in taking your classes and want more information on
them. I am also interested in the prices for your services.
Are you kidding? DID YOU THINK AFTER FUCKING AROUND WITH (insert exes name here) THAT YOU
COULD BE ALLOWED IN OUR PLACE OF BUSINESS!!!!!!
Okay so, she didn't spell my first name right. Who cares?
Okay, so I have to admit, it was a long time ago, and I kind of feel guilty about it, (I do look a little psycho) but it is funny as hell.
Posted 1:56 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
So today was Papa Stock's birthday. When I called him to wish him well, I got his answering machine. Which of course, somehow within the course of the message conjures up words such as agitation, pretentious, obnoxious, pompous, affected and so on; how you may ask... Perhaps it is because the message is like 2 minutes long and includes a poem.
Now, I know what you're thinking, J-Rock, your father is a bumbling old funny man who sits around composing poetry to leave on his machine to brighten up your day, you cold, cold bitch. Please bear in mind that while you may imagine a cutesy:
We're not here, we're drinkin' beer!...this it was not. Nuh-nuh-no, this was a three-stanza poem invoking feelings of contemplation, reflection and boozy Irishness....
Yes, I said Irishness, my father is a Jew with Irish covetousness; he has a beard, wears cable knit sweaters, and drinks whiskey while reading Joyce and playing The Chieftains until either the neighbors complain or he is so wasted that he burns the potatoes and hallucinates leprechauns. I kid you not, so shut up. The entire joke that is my last name is based on this scenario... but I digress.
At least Papa Stock has an answering machine; he does not have a cellular phone. He was remiss to switching from rotary until it actually cost more to keep the relic. When asked why he does not possess modern conveniences, Papa Stock shakes his hand at the sky and bellows You can't control me with your satellite messages. I know where you live Stuyvesant!"
He then lifts a rock from the ground and tries lamely to heft it at the Empire State building. It quickly falls to the ground with a thud, as we are not lifting people.*
I know this is like totally beating a dead horse, and this was totally over in the 90's but this is my Dad. Someone finds this cute and endearing. I see it as the root of what is deeply wrong with me.
Answering machines, or voicemail outgoing messages should can say anything you want, but they shall be no longer than 10 seconds. We'll call this, "The 10 second rule," this also applies to the incoming message, unless it involves important details, such as directions, or when and how often to take the antidote.
There shall be no apologizing, no I am sorry, I am not here right now No you're not! Shut up, these are unnecessary words and take seconds away from my life, that I will never have back, which I am still desperate to recover after watching Wicker Park.
Suffice it to say I can't take your call right now. No, don't even say that, I already know that, otherwise you would be taking my call and I would talking to you.
There shall be no music, unless it is unintentional background noise; no intro guitar solo crap from Yngwie Malmsteen. This is neither cute, nor ironic. This will make me hate you, and I will quickly lose your number.
I hate you now, why are you even reading this? Who cares. I give up. I am now totally bored with this subject.
I made my father change his message. I yelled at him and said I would never call him again if I had to listen to that crap ever again.
Now I am sounding like a cruel bitch, but have I mentioned that my father had had this message for seven years!?!
* We are not lifting people, nor are we fighting people. We are a cruel, fragile yet beautiful people. We have secretly scoliotic spines, and oblongesque astigmatisms; but oh how our delicate features are accentuated by glasses, we are lilth** and frail, rugged yet pale. We are smart and funny, we glow, we glisten, we were also teased mercilessly as children, and now exact our revenge with our extreme attractiveness. You see my friend, I come from a long line of draft dodgers, and eccentricities, my father is right at home amongst this circus of which I call my family.
** While I recently became aware that "lilth" is not technically a word, I think you'll agree that it should be, and that its meaning is clear from the context above.
Posted 10:27 AM by J.Ro
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Okay, I Am Totally Posting This All Over The Place
Cue Theme From Greatest American Hero.
Unfortunately I fear by posting this, I am somehow jinxing something.
I also just want to say "Vote or Die," is a really stupid slogan, like the ballot, is dusted with the antidote to the Ebola-AIDS that they're going to be spraying midnight EST when the CA polls close.
Because I always vote, (even in the primarys you jerks.) I have to go serve jury duty tomorrow!
Usually I think this kind of thing is very personal, but because of the Electoral College, I am leaving the party. That statement totally brings to mind images of keggers and frats, sorry dude. I want my vote to count for something.
FUCK YOU NADER!
I just have to say, if you vote for Nader, the terrorists will have won.
Posted 1:29 PM by J.Ro
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
It's Turtles All The Way Down
I hurt myself again. Last week, while changing in a confined space, teetering on one leg, I fell, slamming both my bottom and my top onto tile. My tailbone is bruised or something, not much I can do about it, except bitch and moan. So, um here is me bitching and moaning. Feel sorry for me.
Just a note, As it is getting cold in New York, sometimes you have to turn the heat on. What you don't have to do, is dance around your apartment playing air key-tar singing The Heat Is On before touching the thermostat. I am not going to name names here, but you know who you are, and your name rhymes with Blue Jean.
Posted 4:35 PM by J.Ro