We’ve just been taking it light – victory laps, Neil Diamond songs, rain cancellations and all that other shit that eats up bloggy funtime.
1.0 x 10 ^1.
Unfuckingbelievable. Who woulda thought this thing would last past the free trial at Blogharbor? Not me. Not my then-wife, but only (partially) because i never told her about it.
Now we’re a business and a media empire (as much as a blastocyst is a president or Justin Bieber
can spell is an insightful curator of the human condition).
And yet, I missed the anniversary. It began February 16, 2004.
Missing it may be because we had two weeks of, uh, revised domestic scheduling, leading to lots of IRL pursuits and frolics. And late hours of Warcrack. And time with my IRL children. And way too many carbs.
The very first post, as I recall, was “I need to sneeze.” [Ed.: Second, according to our fact checkers. We killed that long ago, but the first first one is still here, albeit redated.] We were Gene Simmons before Gene Simmons was Gene Simmons and before a Twitter(er) ever twatted.
— Gene Simmons (@genesimmons) February 19, 2014
That was on “Everybody and the Girl,” which I meant to call “Everybody and their dog” after some line in a movie. No, it was not intentionally porn, although we did repost porn for a little while.
Why porn? Because we could! Woo hoo intertubes!!!
Because that name was stupid, we renamed it Brain Farts on Acid. More accurate, except for the acid part. Then, I remembered a letter I got from before there was a site. One last name change and a pricey domain later and here we’ve been ever since.
Quoting its verses is like the cards I used to get that said “to a special boy.” It is a substitute for articulating one’s own thoughts. It is a refuge – a sword and shield -for those who cannot string together their own words, or whose convictions need the imprimatur of some supreme being before they’ll let themselves believe it.
Case in point. Continue reading
Dammit Chris! Not again! You are as shitty of a wingman when I am hitting on topless bikini babes in dreamland as you ever were in real life. And don’t EVER touch my camera.
Russell Something-or-other drove aFiero like this. Drive-By Shootings: The Lesser Lights.
We would call it “the Chevette of 1980s mid-engined ‘sports’ cars,” except that it involves Russell the stoner. We nearly got in a fight with him about his previous car, a Pontiac T1000. We called it a Chevette by any other name: he was adamant that not only was it NOT merely a re-badged POS, it had “completely different wiring” and components.
Uh, no, sorry. Go hit that bong again, dude.
So, we’ll just say “Oh look” and be glad this one doesn’t have a JC Whitney vinyl bra like Russell’s.
Why no, we were not propositioned by a famous photographer. No, it did not involve bedroom things that do not usually occur in real life. Yes, there was twerking. At least implicitly.
And then we awoke.
Hope you guess my name.
Unfortunately, neither this or the stories I read in Penthouse Forum bore any relation to the experience of your author as some anonymous generic dorkboy at a directional university.
Okay. I need to talk to you when you have a minute.
- The start of that thing you knew was going to happen eventually.