Author: Sharkey

Slice of the day, with seven minutes to spare. Here’s a little Charlize Theron for your bordering-on-not-safe-for-work eyes.

Is Charlize hot? Yes. Are you fellas going to see her in The Italian Job even though it’s just going to be a pale shadow of the original? Yes. Are you going to give a shit about the story once this body comes onscreen? Probably not.

Go ahead and check it out if you’re interested. Otherwise, I can sum up all of the strangely-fierce word of mouth press that this flick is getting: overrated. But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad movie. Want more info? Read the review.

Have you gone out and seen X-2 like a good little nerd? Damn straight you have. Did you think the ladies were smokin’ hot? Damn straight you did. Are you going to thank LP for our new gallery of Famke Janssen? Damn straight you… probably won’t. You’ll more than likely have your hands full.

Sweet Jesus in a birchbark canoe, take a look at this place. It’s like a ghost town, only with more boobs. Unfortunately, my clients do not have any sympathy for your lack of entertainment. Perhaps after payment is completed, I’ll give you their addresses and you can take the matter up with them personally.

Chain Reaction is on TV right now, and the following thought occurred to me: do you think that at this point in his career, Keanu Reeves ever expected to be making 25 million per film? Sure, he’d had Speed, but he’d also followed it up with Johnny Mnemonic. Kind of funny how things turn out for actors who’s careers seem to be going nowhere one minute, and the exact opposite the next.

I know Alex Winters is embarrassed, that old comparison has been done to death. But what about Steve Guttenburg? What if he’d been picked to be in Die Hard? What a horrible, horrible world we would live in. Now that filming is wrapped for the last Matrix flick, Keanu can go work on the third addition to the Bill & Ted series and kill his career completely, before he ruins John Constantine. Or he can focus on his music with Dogstar, that would do the trick.

Shit, I really want to watch the Bill & Ted flicks now.

Hey LP, I was halfway through uploading your Anna Paquin when I became certain that I could supplement it with even more fantastic pics. Holy shit do I love being right.

I uh… I need to go see X-2 again.

By the way, I’m going to enter comic book geek mode here, so try not to pay attention to me if’n you don’t care about that kind of stuff. Why couldn’t Rogue ever have sex? Slap some Jordache jeans with a be-condomed wang poking through the zipper on a fella, and she could enjoy a ride on the tilt-a-whirl without fear of discovering exactly how often we perverts think about touching females with our nether regions. Hell, you probably thought about it a good ten times while reading this post! Five times while reading about Rogue, you goddamn nerd.

So that’s it, I’m done. No more finals, at least for a little while, and I got some hefty clients off my plate. Not bad for a day’s work. Actually, it was month’s of repetitive and boring work, but since it all culminated into one Hellish day, I’ll accept the kudos now.

However, I am ashamed of one piece of scholastic stupidity, and that is forgetting about my fourth class. I enrolled in an online “Advanced Photoshop” course, which turned out to be not-so-advanced. I figured it fulfilled a requirement for transfer, and they might get me some more practice time with the goddamn pen tool. Unfortunately, it was a half-semester class, and I didn’t remember until that half was half over. HALF! HALF! Ok, now that I have all of the halves out of my system, we can move on. Sadly, I signed on just in time to take the second quiz. Well, I would have if I’d signed on a few hours earlier. But I didn’t. Fuck. So I ask the teacher what the feasibility of me passing this course is. He gets back to me about three fucking weeks later and tells me that with the limited time I have left (thanks, sport) I can possibly get myself a B if I turn in all of the course work, do all of the review questions, turn in a kickass final project and do well on the final. So I stress about getting 80 fucking Photoshop projects done, do my kickass final project, and tonight was the night of the final. Want to know how I did? Well, let me show you:

100 fucking point five. I aced the sunuvabitch. The worst bit? Look at the grades of my classmates? An 82% average? 71%? 59%? It doesn’t take into account the folks who didn’t even take the test, so that means that I’m in a class with complete idiots who will more than likely get a better grade than I will, merely because they are better than marking things on a calendar than I am.

So who’s the bigger dumbass here, me or them? The fools or the fool who’s better than all of them yet tripped over himself and missed the first three weeks of class? Personally, I think if I had a personal assistant, the world would be conquered by now. It’s not laziness, it’s just that I’m time-illiterate.

Maybe I’ll ask to retake just the two quizzes next semester. It’d be worth the $40 not to have a B in a class that this kid could have aced. Anyway, thanks for letting me waste a few minutes of your life. As you were.

Yet again (this is going to be a long string of ’em, so prepare yourselves) LP gives us a kickass gallery. This time it’s Rachel Weisz, whom you probably saw bouncing her way through The Mummy and The Mummy Returns. Now you can see her bounce her way across your monitor. Enjoy.

Why can’t my clients look like that? I wouldn’t mind so much if she asked me to get something done “absolutely as soon as possible urgent urgent argh@!#$*%(*!” and then disappears on a four hour lunch break. I’d still want drown her in a subway station pay toilet, but it probably wouldn’t be number one on my list of things to do to her.

Let’s have a few examples of today’s word, shall we?

Hmmm… here’s a good one.

A Parma priest accused of groping two male deputies and a female hotel clerk has pleaded no contest in Erie County to misdemeanor charges of indecency and sexual imposition.

Deputies reported finding the priest drunk and wandering the Sawmill Creek resort without pants on May 1. They accused him of setting off a fire alarm, then groping and propositioning the officers and clerk as they tried to restrain him.

If I had all that pent up sexual tension at 74, I’d probably let it out in a few interesting ways as well. You gotta figure that the old fella’s… uh… ol’ fella was just about kaput. Viagra can only keep you going for so long I’m afraid, so who can blame the guy for getting blitzed and letting off a little wang-steam, right? Well, unless he’s been molesting little boys the whole time, in which case, the old bastard’s got no excuse.

Oh, and Robert sent in a fantastic picture. I went to one of those places when I was a kid, the best I got was a picture with me and George Burns, the sweet old bastard. He is missed.

*looks at picture*

*sighs*

*Ahem*. Carry on.

Just to solidify your misconceptions ladies, I will now continue to badger and objectify your half of the species. Hey, I have a right, I have a girlfriend and we’re far past the phase where “that time of the month” is hidden and her inner demon (you all have one) contained. So without further ado, good ol LP brings us the first of God-knows-how many slices, with a long-lost entry in the old slice archives now finally recovered, Flavia Vento. Put on your not-safe-for-work helmets, this one’s a bit spicy.

I’m taking three finals today, and I have three different clients who want changes made yesterday that they requested five minutes ago. So don’t give me any lip about not updating much or not being funny the last couple of weeks, months, whatever. I think you have the dynamics of this relationship wrong, kiddo. I’m not your clown, you’re my clown. Now put on the fucking floppy shoes and get ready to invade Canada. And somebody get me a fucking coffee.