I Wanna Go To Your Party

Microsoft is encouraging people to have Windows 7 launch parties. As it so happens I love parties and want to go to yours. Why should you invite me?

How about a list of reasons?

Beer: I’m a cheap bastard, though not disrespectful. I will drink your alcohol, BUT I always start with the cheap nasty shit. I’ll be polishing off your Natty Light, while you drink your uberclassier Microbrew.

Wingman: Did you ever see those Hobbit movies? Nerd. I fell asleep, but I woke up to that little freak talking about ‘His Preshush’. Like him, I’m not a handsome man. He and I could easily pass for brothers. Stand next to me and the ladies will totally dig you.

Nudity: I no longer fear ruining the crease of my trousers in a crowded room. Gone are the days when I remove my pants and ask if you have a spare hanger. Twister will not be an unpleasant experience for your other guests and there’ll be no uncomfortable sounds as my ass skin and sack rub across your leather couch. I still refuse to wear shirts. Fortunately, I recently acquired some Chippendaleesque cuffs ‘n collar. They’re quite the conversation starter. I plan to shave your name into my chest hair to give you some pub. FREE pub.

Bicuri-OS: I own Macs and PCs. I can be condescending when discussing either OS, and will gladly do so. Don’t get me started on Linux though. Linus Torvalds is an uppity douche.

I could probably think of more reasons, but typing on a phone is hard, and why would you need more. Just leave your invitation info in the comments section.

-FW

LADBLDR

Vanity plates. An outward display of both doucheism, and sympathy for the fellow man.

Douchey, because it’s screaming "HEY LOOK AT ME! I CAN COUNT TO SEVEN!!" Which is totally different from blogging, because we assume you know we can count.

Sympathetic, because it gives the fellow drivers, at least the ones looking at the back of your head (and not in the ‘Now this is a great Saturday night!" sort of way), something to do.

We get to decrypt your seven character message.

Today I scored: LADBLDR

Running this message through a special plate decoder algorithm that I wrote and placed in my car’s on board computer, I surmised the writer to tell me:

Lady Builder.

Rejected decryptions included: Lad Bladder, Laid Bleeder, and Lance Armstrong De-Ball Drive.

But what does Lady Builder really mean?

Is the driver (sex indeterminate) a female construction worker? Well that’s kinda lame. Surely she has help. I’ve never seen just a single Mexican on a rooftop. Construction is a team effort. Only an ass would take credit for the work of other, lesser peoples. I refuse to believe this description defines the plate owner.

I suppose the Lady Builder could be a dork, a ‘la Warren, from the Buffy season when Willow went all crazy and tried to destroy the world. Only instead of fully-functional, lifelike, robot women, a real ‘Warren’ would build amateur Real Dolls. Which of course would suck. Have you ever tried molding a woman out of theatrical latex?
A. It’s hard to sculpt the mold.
B. It takes a lot of space and your friends ask questions.
C. The lady at the wig shop seems very judgmental while you try to explain what you need.
D. Real glass eyes are expensive, and those googly puppet eyes at Hobby Lobby kill the mood. Move even a little and there’s a distracting rattle. Or so I would suspect.
I don’t think a sex doll craftsman is the type to call attention to it with vanity tags.

Maybe, LADBLDR is a plastic surgeon. A true Lady Builder. Providing women the cleavage to be confident, the flat tummy to tackle two-pieces, the lifted derrière to display and delight dudes-a-plenty. This is an achievement to crow about. And phenomenally better than some bullshit construction woman. It’s almost like having a super power. Who else can take the wrinkled skin of a middle aged woman and stretch it into a permanent look of surprise? Some don’t like that cougarish expression but I for one love it. I mean how ego boosting is it to unzip your pants and have a woman’s eye brows arch in disbelief? I don’t know first hand…but I bet it’d be cool.

Press on Lady Builder.

Press on.

Brewster’s Millions

I think I have Brewstered myself.

Unlike those who claim to hate or not watch TV, I love it. I love scripted television. I like being told a story.

For years the masses have raved about Lost. I had never seen it. Why? I dunno. But, when I noticed the first 4 seasons were available on Netflix Instant View I decided to watch them.

I did so in 30 days. I watched because of the general public conversation, and because several of the writers (Paul Dini, Jeff Loeb, Brian K. Vaughn) have significant comic book backgrounds. (I still count Paul Dini has a comic book writer, though I guess TV is really his bread and butter).

Without looking, the first 3 seasons were around 23 episodes each, and the 4th season was 14 episodes. Without commercials, thanks Netflix, they were about 40 minutes each.

That’s a little more than FIFTY FIVE hours of TV.

It was exhausting.

What is the Brewster Effect* then?

I went to set Minnie (my Mac Mini used for DVRing, the TiVo died in the spring – it will be missed) to record my stories for the upcoming season.

My list is as follows.

1. Supernatural.

Currently, I am willing to commit 1 hour per week. That is it. Excluding college football on Saturdays, of course.

* Brewster’s Millions is a classic comedy from the 80’s