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Archive for July, 2003

 
|| July 15, 2003 || 6:06 am || Comments (4) ||

“KEITH!! I just burned my first ceedee!” I told him the other day.

“You’re kidding me,” he replied, “Your first? You really are a technotard, aren’t you??”

I don’t know why you people doubt me when I tell you these things. Why in God’s name would I lie about what a Beavis I am?

This just in, from the Muffinass Mailbag:

I keep asking myself, “WWJD (what would Jett do?)?”, but arson isn’t my forte.

Look, we can’t all be as magically gifted with The Ragetm as I am, and that’s okay. If things get really tight, however, just give me a ring and I’ll loan you some of the overflow, okay?

That’s it; my work here is done for the day. Now off to school with me, where my amazing powers of self-distraction in the face of that pesky crippling, mind-numbing boredom are put to use. When do I get to start poking people with sharp, shiny things??

 
|| July 13, 2003 || 11:22 pm || Comments (18) ||

Happy fucking bloggiversary to me-eeeeee! Three whole years today. And I’ve only used the word ‘insouciant’ once in that whole time.

I gotta remedy that.


Won’t you sponsor me?

 
|| July 12, 2003 || 11:59 pm || Comments (4) ||

Maxim made these horribly addictive oatmeal-banana-chocolate chip cookies that are sure to lead cellulite to my hips and my thighs like Moses led the Hebrews to the Promised Land. He is evil and must be dealt with (Maxim, not Moses). The fact that I’m not big on banana-flavored things is testament to their egregious and ridiculous level of power.

I’m headed in there to spank him right now (AGAIN, Maxim, not –ahhh, fuckit.)….

For a certain price, I might just be persuaded to snap some photos of said event. Y’all have a peachy Sunday, y’hear?


Won’t you sponsor me?

 
|| July 12, 2003 || 4:35 pm || Comments (14) ||

“One, ahhhahhhahh, one bitchy blogger! Two! Two bitchy bloggers!”

–The Oh-So-Astute and Descriptive Maxim Superior, in his best Sesame Street’s ‘The Count’ impersonation

You people are fucking insane. The bulk of my regular readership will be scratching their heads (and not because of the cooties, this time) and going, “Whaaaaa? Just what are you talking about, crazypersongirl?”, but some of you will totally grok what I’m saying. In the past several days, this is what I’ve seen:

// some folks misinterpreting what other folks have said and reacting badly to what they ‘thought’ or assumed was actually being said

// some folks being intolerant of differences in opinion

// some folks characterizing differences in opinion as intolerance

// some folks refusing to take a step back, breathe, drop pretension and actually try to understand what was being said

// a lot of useless bandwagoning and finger-pointing

// people so insecure in the strength of their position(s) that they try to shut down anyone else’s at the outset of what could be an informative discussion

// people dropping in in the midst of a situation and spewing just for sake of spewing, like they were an expert (more than likely because they weren’t getting enough attention at the time)

// hissy fits and blog shutdowns over virtually nothing (see histrionics post earlier in the week)

// misrepresentation and outright maiming of actual facts and behaviors

// deletions and revisions of posts and comments and such, further muddying the waters (what do you have to hide, huh?)

// dozens of sane voices bucking up and saying, “You know, we’re real sick of this shit.”

// dozens of sane voices being called all manner of names, most especially of the ‘cunt’ variety by those who think that loyalty and sanity can’t go hand-in-hand

// lots of ‘I’m all for an open, honest discussion, but…’ and ‘I support your right to free speech, but….’, etc.

// people afraid to sit up after taking stock or seeing a repeat of the same crap overandoverandover and say, ‘You know what, you’re out of liiiiiine.’

// baseless claims of fear for personal and professional safety (you show me fucking hardcore proof, champy, and I’ll be your most strident, vocal advocate….but don’t you fucking go all Chicken Little or I’ll call you on it in a New York minute)

// general free-form bad behavior

// pitifully weak excuses

// plain, unfettered ignorance

// beyond-horrible decorum

// insecurity by the boatload

// shameless goading

// copious mindless fucktardery

…and this is just from two ‘blog dramas’. You people, God help you, need real worries (although I do not wish them on you in earnest), real troubles. I say this because, if you had them, you would not have the energy or the time to be out here spoiling what should be –and for the most part, is– a rich, creative medium for each other and attempting to fuck it up for the rest of us.

We Southerners refer to this as being ‘Pure-D Ignert’.

That’s it! I need a button. A button stamped ‘Pure-D Ignert’. I would stamp you people with it as a reminder to you that most of us find your bullshit reprehensible and foolish. Some of you should be required to have a license to log on to the InterWeb. There should be a basic skills test, to include a section on social and moral development. You make the rest of us fucking sick and ashamed to float in the ether with you. It’s bad enough you occupy our planet….why must you screw with what should be our arena of escapism, as well?

Gotdammit! The internet is for e-mail and lookin’ at boobies, you cracked-ass fuckwipes. Get with the program.

 
|| July 11, 2003 || 2:04 pm || Comments (4) ||

You know you’ve hit the bigtime when you get a mention on a Snapple lid:

Even further evidence that you’ve hit the bigtime: an anonymous commenter writes, “I dunno….shouldn’t there be an ‘f’ in front of lake?”

Whee!

Perhaps this means I should start wearing a beret and ray-bans and a ribbed turtleneck –all the deepest shade of black imaginable– and snapping my fingers in lieu of applause. That’s always been my mental image of what ‘flake’ looks like.

What’s yours?

Image capped from over at theDane’s place. He leaves/gives great voice mail. And designs purty pixellated things.

 
|| July 11, 2003 || 1:36 am || Comments (6) ||

Keith, God love him, is running around telling everyone that I don’t wear panties. So much for private conversations being sacred.

Keith, I am never, ever having hotsweatysex with you now. God knows what you’d tell your readership just for the sake of a good story.

It seems that Keith has no sponsors as of yet (he’s blogging for the American Cancer Society) and is getting frustrated. I tried to remind him that this is his first year doing the Blogathon and that it takes a bit for people to scrape the rust off their checkbooks and wallets that first year. I also told him that by the end of the ‘thon, he’ll be amazed at the sponsors that have come walking out of the woodwork when they experience that admiration and awe for him and his Strong Bionic Blogathonning Kung-Futm.

Keith is a hardheaded boy and doesn’t listen. Finally I got tired of him crying about his pussy hurting and just handed him my idea for next year’s ‘thon (you can say a lot of things about me, but you can’t call me a bad friend, oh no): For every X amount of dollars pledged, post a picture of a weblogger’s panties. Not everyone wants to bare flesh for Cyberia, but some folks would gladly show their undies. Face it, there are some people whose underwear you would just love to see. That having been said, once Keith’s sponsorships have reached a hunnert dollars, he’ll be posting a photo of my undies. You should go sponsor him. You know you’ve always wondered about what I drape my naughty bits in.

His tagline is fucked up in the most delicious manner: ‘If not for the panties, do it for the patients.’

Ray Angel lives in Albion, Indiana. Ray Angel is Blogathonning for Doctors Without Borders. Ray Angel has totally captivated my imagination this Blogathon. For every hundred-dollar pledge Madman Ray (as I choose henceforward to call him) gets, that boy will put on a dress and run around Albion for one hour carrying a sign that says “I’M A PRETTY LADY.” Keep in mind that Albion appears to be a smallish sort of town, making this sort of stunt all the richer. Shit like this virtually disappears in a big city; in a podunk burg it floats on people’s tongues for a millenia. Now, you people know I’m recently unemployed, but I’m dying to see this cat do it. Somebody pony up! Ray has nads like no other, and I need a fucking chuckle! Plus, you can even pick the message for his sign, if you’d like. Fifty bucks gets you a half-hour while a hunnert gets you the full hour. C’mon, Muffinasses, do-it! Do-IT! DO-IT!

Speaking of Muffinasses, look what my future fiance and cellmate (although, we are unsure of what order those two things will happen in as of yet) whipped up!

Now all my precious Superior Muffinasses can tout that fact loud and proud. Just right-click that button and save it to your own little corner of Cyberia, please. Here’s the accompanying code:

&lta href=”http://www.decablog.com/jett/blog.php” title=”Proud Superior Muffinass, and my JettGrrrl loves me!”&gt&ltimg src=”INSERT_IMAGE_FILE_PATH_HERE” border=0&gt&lt/a&gt

Do keep in mind that I’m a technotard of the highest order: You’ll need to change them thar brackets to the <> dealies. Thanks for the fix, John!

For your further linking pleasure, here is a blinkie

that Jo-Ann made me some time ago and I, in my wondrous fashion, misplaced. Der. Thanks, Jo-Ann!

&lta href=”http://www.decablog.com/jett/blog.php” title=”[All blogged up and nowhere to go.]“&gt&ltimg src=”INSERT_IMAGE_FILE_PATH_HERE” border=0&gt&lt/a&gt

Remember, you can sponsor me, as well. All pledges are just that –pledges– and aren’t due and payable until AFTER the ‘thon. Even then, I don’t touch a dime of that money…you get to send it straight to the charity, thus having the comfort of knowing that I won’t be out carousing and buying rounds of beer and sausages for fellow revellers and wayward travellers in some random dive down in Mexico somewhere. And let me clarify something here: The Blogathon is all about raising money for good causes. Absolutely. In the spirit of Keith’s ‘If not for the panties, do it for the patients.’ line, I must admit that in my case, it’s about merciless competition also. Heavy-handed competition! Beating the pants off of all those other steenkeeng webloggers (even Keith and Ray Angel) and their contributors! I want to win a PRIZE this year, dammit! I want to finally break 1K for my charity, but I want a PRIZE, too! Currently I am running tenth, and while it is better than running in the three-hunnert fifteenth slot, it will never do! Help me deliver the righteous smackdown. Buoy me upon your pocketbooks and wallets to absolute, utter vic-tohhhh-reee!

And help Tourette research and education; it benefits so many others, not just those with TS. People with all sorts of neurological conditions benefit from the research that TSA funds. Your ten bucks, twenty bucks, or (and Lord hep me, I may just have a stroke if I ever get a Franklin for a pledge) hunnert bucks would be well-spent. Really. And you might just get to see a grown Jett cry real, heartfelt tears of gratitude.*

* ESPECIALLY if I win something really cool, like nipple clamps (but really, I don’t think Cat has those in the prize queue).

 
|| July 9, 2003 || 6:42 pm || Comments (2) ||

“I’m got-damn bonafide! Iiiii got th’ answers.”

–Everett, ‘O Brother Where Art Thou’

Histrionics, a brief but handy guide. You know, in case you’re inclined to get to the heart of the matter.

You silly fuckers, you.


Won’t you sponsor me?