If Ryan Phillippe Doesn't Approve, Then Neither Can I.

So, Shakes has started a project called Gayest Looks For Leno, explained here.

Here's my and Winston's "Gayest Look." Possibly not safe for work, due to obscene hand gesture.






















In sum: Jay Leno, you are an asshat, and I heartily extend my middle finger to you, due to your continued idiocy. And I thought the muscles in my right middle finger were atrophied from non-use! Luckily for Leno, they work just fine.

You can see more folks contributing their "Gayest Looks" right here.

Armchair Psychoanalyst Powers, Activate!

SCENE: Annaham stands at the bus stop at 10:30 AM, wearing a t-shirt, jeans, sneakers and a pair of retro sunglasses. Two nearly indistinguishable, white teenage boys with "stylish" asymmetrical haircuts and braces pull up to the curb in a silver BMW. One of them motions for Annaham to take off her headphones.

TEENAGE DRIVER [TO ANNAHAM]: Excuse me, we just heard on the radio that...escaped slaves from the mental hospital are running around town. And they're, like, killing people with stupid sunglasses!

The BOYS break into a series of high-pitched, irritating giggles that can only be described as Beavis and Butthead-meet-Pikachu. This continues for about a minute.

ANNAHAM is confused, and gives her trademark "you are irritating, stupid children, and you are also full of shit" look.

THE DRIVER of the vehicle gives ANNAHAM the middle finger. THE BOYS speed off, laughing.

*

This happened to me this morning.

Thanks for the entirely unnecessary middle school flashback, privileged teenage white boys! Did your parents refuse to pay for the repairs on your car after you drunkenly crashed it at the senior prom, and so you feel that you should--nay, must--take your antisocial whims out on complete strangers? Is your arguably newly formed "masculinity" so threatened by a short woman in retro sunglasses that you must make a joke to her about homicide? Tell me, o privileged teenage children, so that I may be better informed about the unfortunate and oh-so-hard lives that you lead. Obviously, you feel so superior to me that you feel entitled to make a joke about my death, even though you do not know me, and I do not know you.

I am playing the world's tiniest violin for you both.

[Sidenote: I'm reading Battle Royale right now, and the idea grows more and more appealing by the day.]

At This Time, Only LOLDOGS Are Appropriate

image courtesy of IHASAHOTDOG.

The weather where I live is made of fail.

Yes, I'm having a fibro attack; yes, it is right before my school's finals week.

[/whine]