My Random Blog

Note: The links in this post open in new windows, so if you click ‘em, you won’t lose your place.

Pam Anderson, according to a blurb I heard on TV Guide Channel, may be getting divorced. AGAIN. Which led me to this thought: There seriously needs to be a rehab facility for celebrities addicted to marriage. I understand that marriage isn’t for everyone, and sometimes things just don’t work out, but come ON already. Stop marrying every person you get naked with.

Oh and while you’re at it… Stop making sex tapes! There’s a whole porn industry for that. Leave that shit to the professionals, people. If you’ve seen the snooze fest that is One Night in Paris, then you know what I’m sayin’. If you haven’t, then you’re lucky to not have the nightmares that I do.

The people in the Pepto Bismol commercials need mental help. I don’t care HOW much money I’m offered: I am never going to grab my butt cheeks, swing them around and yell “Diarrhea!” At least not until I’ve gone insane. Then anything goes.

I thought rabid PMS was just for women. Holy hotdogs was I wrong. I know that video has been all over the Internet since Britney started down the Froot Loop Highway, but it still freaks me out.

The Japanese are geniuses. No wonder they bring us such cool little electronic gadgets, and what not. Have you seen their game shows?? THAT, my friends, is creativity at it’s finest. I’d much rather watch a bunch of people do hilarious, ridiculous, and often painful things to win stuff than lose 100 pounds and eat bugs. Eat a giant cockroach and dry heave for 10 minutes or take a soccer ball to the face? There’s just no contest there.

And there’s my randomness for today.

So today I have a wicked hangover, like I knew I would. And since I lack the energy to do anything even remotely productive, I’m watching VH-1. I’ve been watching it for about an hour and a half now, and I can actually FEEL my IQ dropping, dramatically. Luckily my brain cells are still soaking in Tuaca, so they don’t care.

First there was that Bret Michaels thing, version 2. He’s looking for love, evidently, with a gaggle of alcoholic, beat-down strippers. I was sure that this round would garner him hotter women. I was wrong.

Now there is Web Junk, a show dedicated to the stupidity, and often, hilarity that is online videos. I’ve only been paying half-attention to it, since I’ve been hopping around the Internet. However, one video that I paid attention to made me laugh so hard I scared my dogs. And here it is for your viewing enjoyment… Enjoy.

Last month, I emailed a CraigsList post to my friend Christina, and then forgot about it. Today she emailed me back and I re-read it. Having the same reaction to it that I did a month ago (I laughed), here it is:

TO THE DRUNK HOTTIE WHO FELL OFF MY MOTORCYCLE
Date: 2007-11-07, 5:23AM PST

I met you at the bar last night, and we hit it off. Ya we were both a little buzzed, but you seemed as into me as I was into you. Things got to things, we made out a bit, and you ended up going home with me on the back of my motorcycle, which was awesome because that doesn’t usually happen to me. I luckily had the extra helmet with me and let you wear my bike jacket while suffering the cold on the way home. I was feeling pretty happy and lucky to say the least.

This is where things got crazy.

I don’t know if you slipped, or thought I was taking you home to kill you, or if your’re just plain crazy and had a change of heart, but all of a sudden you let go of me MID-TURN and went flying into the bushes at about 10-15mph near the park by my house. I was so freaked out!!! when I looked back to see you fumbling in the bushes I could only PRAY TO GOD that you didn’t hit the asphalt or something worse.

I really thought you must have been hurt at least a bit, but as I turned around to come check on you, you took off into the unlit park running full speed with my helmet and jacket still on! I parked my bike and looked for you for over 2 hours calling your name until I was so cold I had to go home or risk freezing to death.

WTF

Im sorry for what happened and I really hope your’re ok, really I do, but seriously WTF. Running into a forested park in the middle of the night like that….I really can’t begin to guess what you were thinking, and you weren’t that drunk, but i suppose my “crazy-bitch o’ meter” wasn’t working at the bar that night, and from the speed you took off I can only surmise that your’re not that hurt. I would like my expensive bike gear back though, I hope it kept you warm during your psychotic episode, but it IS mine and I kinda need it to get around in the winter. If you could return it to the bar for me, check in with your shrink, and promise to never come near me again that would be great, cause you scared the #*$% outta me and are costing me alot of money.

Sincerely,
Very cold/poor motorcycle rider who will never let women near his bike again.

This never stops making me laugh!