Tonight on HBO: Don King vs. Phil Spector
Just what exactly the fuck happened to
Phil Spector's hair? Here he is, Mr Legendary Record Producer and former husband of oh-so-sweet-yum-yum-yum
Ronnie Spector (she was
absolutely smokin' hot in her day)--anyway, here's Phil in court, on
trial for killing this poor bint wanna be while she was in his house, and instead of looking professional and concerned, he fronts up looking like he started the day by
plugging his John Thomas into a light socket. He's probably guilty as hell, because they all are, always. Um, O.J. comes to mind, yes?
The one thing we can be absolutely sure of is that
Don King will be jealous as hell and may himself get violent once he sees these pictures. Stay tuned for details!
Randomosity
- I wonder what Sandra Day O'Connor looks like naked.
- That guy who dismembered his wife the other day...the anchor on FoxNews asked this "expert", he goes: "What would cause a man kill his wife like this?" And dumb bimbo expert says: "Well, it'd be probably be something like having a lot of anger." Ya think?
- Ann Coulter is a twat.
- It's not even April and I'm already sick of baseball.
- I bet Bill Clinton is getting his wing wang worked on right now, as I type.
Salma Hayek is pregnant, and I had nothing to do with it. But I've made her pregnant in my imagination many many times.
I love Seattle
Welllll....
Seattle was more than your old Nigel could stand. Fortified with multiple drams of Sambuca and wads of cashola, thy humble servant ventured out to experience Seattle's underside specialty: females who've had way too much rain fall on them.
In a previous post, I described something as being harder than "playing
Pick-Up-Stix with your butt cheeks."Well, without going into detail (because
I'm such a gentleman and all that), and it cost me some money but hey what the hell, let me just tell you that I saw a particular lovely perform a similar kind of thing, for real, not involving butt cheeks but you, you dirty disgusting filthy-minded shlubbie, you can
just imagine what it was. Can't you?
CAN'T YOU?Oooh, I love Seattle.
Deads to hang, Nigel to romp
You
load them in and let the sling do the rest. Perfection. And now that the install and test are done, I'm free to explore the
seamier side of what the Seattle area has to offer. I don't need to be back home 'till Tuesday and I'm planning on
stinking up the place a bit in my famous "Nigel has no reservations" mode.
I shall report back a vous quand le temps est approprié.
Musings about the Hampton Inn
On the road at the
Hampton Inn. Lucky me. Last night, drank myself silly at the restaurant in the shopping center next door. Stumbled back to the room. I yelled at the cops flagging down
DUIers outside the shopping center: "hey, you bastards, I'm WALKING!!"
Today: am off, but need to prep for the new installation (see previous post); we'll be testing the equipment. That'll be tomorrow. In the
funeral biz, see, Sunday's a dead day. (Hey, I made a funny!).
So this morning I hopped into the rented 4 Runner, drove from
Everett down to Seattle, and took the ferry to
Bainbridge Island. Lovely place, despite the el crapola gray skies and rain and chill in the air. Good looking wimmens; each one averted their eyes when they spotted your Nigel.
I am ugly and grotesque, reason being.
You know, the Hampton Inn isn't for sissies. They have an extremely
challenging shower on/off
thingy--what's hot? What's cold? Who the fuck knows? Another thing: the inside of the
toilet bowl is too close to my dick when I'm sitting down, as I'm trying to release chocolate hostages. Why is that? It's some kind of shortened mini-shitter. I don't like foreskin touching porcelain, know what I mean? Finally, they've thoughtfully positioned the goddamm
heater/AC directly next to the desk/work area, so you're either freezing or boiling and it's a-blowin' right on ya.
I need a drink now. I'm off to the
Hampton Inn bar--which is a fridge next to the check-in counter. Stocked with premium beer like Schlitz, PBR, and Schaefer's, and on the "honor system" (screw that crap--I'm stealing bottles left and right) well,
hell, you can't go wrong.
Technology advances in the funeral home
The dearth of posts has been due to my stupid travel schedule. Right now, I'm
on the road in Washington working with a
funeral home that's decided to add
hoists and cranes to their embalming rooms. The hoists and cranes will handle the bodies of fat bastards like me. This is a problem now, see:
obese stiffs. You can't
drag them around by their ankles--ya gotta treat 'em with respect, which means lifting them up by their ankles.
Reason being, you can
gut them so much easier when they're hanging upside down.
Le stylo de ma tante est sur la table
Et voila. alors: je pense ceci. Comme d'habitude, si je pourrais avoir la connaissance de
Betty Nguyen, en termes de connaissance de sexuel, et apprends ce qui rendrait son
vagin heureux, alors
je serais très heureux.
I peed meself reading this
Funniest story of the year by far (so far, at least). From the Galway First (Ireland):
A man who was found dressed in latex and handcuffs brought a donkey to his room in a Galway city centre hotel, because he was advised “to get out and meet people,” the local court heard last week.
Thomas Aloysius McCarney was charged with cruelty to animals, lewd and obscene behaviour, and with being a danger to himself when he appeared before the court on Friday. Solicitor for the accused Ms Sharon Fitzhenry said that her client had been through a difficult time lately and that his wife had left him and that his life had become increasingly lonely.“Mr McCarney has been attending counselling at which he was told that he would be advised to get out and meet people and do interesting things. It was this advice that saw him book into the city centre hotel with a donkey,” she said. She added that Mr McCarney also suffered from a fixation with the Shrek movies and could constantly be heard at work talking to himself saying things like “Isn’t that right, Donkey?”Supt John McBrearty told the court that Mr McCarney who had signed in as “ Mr Shrek” had told hotel staff that the donkey was a family pet and that this was believed by the hotel receptionist who the supt said was “young and hadn’t great English.”McCarney was found in the room wearing a latex suit and handcuffs, the key to which the donkey is believed to have swallowed.
Just what exactly the fuck happened to Phil Spector's hair? Here he is, Mr Legendary Record Producer and former husband of oh-so-sweet-yum-yum-yum Ronnie Spector (she was absolutely smokin' hot in her day)--anyway, here's Phil in court, on trial for killing this poor bint wanna be while she was in his house, and instead of looking professional and concerned, he fronts up looking like he started the day by plugging his John Thomas into a light socket. He's probably guilty as hell, because they all are, always. Um, O.J. comes to mind, yes?
