Super Angry Blog

Six pence now, a pound in time.

As mankind begins his journey through the new millennia, culture is bound to transition with him. Marriage may take less of a role as it once did, as its religious implications become less pronounced and its financial risks become more so. Though traditional women’s roles exhibited revolutionary change in the nineteen sixties, they are likely to continue their metamorphosis in this new era in ways men cannot begin to imagine. Thus, the study of gender roles takes on a critical importance for all those who wish to engage in successful romantic interactions.

So that brings us to the most crucial of questions, how ought a young or old man go about pleasing a lady (or the partner playing that sex role). Well, chaps, this is a conundrum because your girlfriend is Rumplestiltskin or for some of you she might be Azrael or Beezlebub. Most nurses are banshees. Trust me, I have evidence. Leave your soul at home when you go to the hospital, or else you might come home without it.

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He creeps into my bed at night

And takes all that he pleases

My hearts fondest desire

if only he would call the next day Read the rest of this entry »

Brilliant amber drippy drop, will he ever hear me?

It’s late at night and the women’s bathrooms at school take on an eerie ambiance. The stalls are dark and foreboding, suggesting the possibility of a George Michael or Michael Jackson hiding around every corner. Then I see them, those odd white commodes out in the breeze that I’ve never observed another girl using: the female urinal.

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Before Mormons grew fangs and made pacts with the supernatural, before I could legally imbibe spirits, an event happened which forever etched my heart with a burning obsession.

On an October evening in the living room of our tiny decades old bungalow, my parents sat and watched old movies on TNT. My mother beckoned, “Come watch the Lost Boys with us.” The film’s title filled my head with images of old men performing a bad rendition of Peter Pan or perhaps a western film. I was utterly convinced that the movie had something to do with Tombstone, which had played earlier that day.

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So as my readers may have noticed I have been absent for a while and did not post a Halloween special, for which I sincerely apologize. It’s a long sordid story of excuses as to why, involving one or more of the following:

1. Depression

2. Japanese Porn that no one should ever ever look at

3. Illness

4. Writing a novel

5. Applying to schools

6. Shame for not blogging.

Here’s a picture, as promised, made by me in paint. Ranting follows.

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I hope my blip on Los Angeles has been amusing. In honor of Halloween I will be featuring a celebratory blog including (can you believe this technology) -PHOTOS. This celebratory blog will also include a fun Halloween craft that you can do while bitching about your life just like I love to do everyday. Don’t worry men, this will be a male friendly craft (I won’t make you bedazzle your jeans or anything). Read the rest of this entry »

In front of me stood a mid-twenties punk-princess Amazon, her round bosom covered by black shroud. She was the anti-establishment: feminist, post-smoker, sublime lover, patron saint of the high school nerd. Her two large mammary glands stood like perky shields to the world, their size matched well with her fleshy body. Then the catch,

“I have breast implants.”

Oh, woe, how could those natural beauties not be natural at all? And then it occurred to me that the current popularity of large breasts had permeated even the counterculture of Los Angeles.

Ah well, I suppose an Amazon would look silly with only tiny mosquito bites on her mighty chest…

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