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Here's a collaboration of a bunch of wacky broadcaster snafus.
The last one's pretty darn funny.
The following articles have trackbacked this article:
OTA Trackback Here Today! [by Freedom Watch]
Have you checked out Speegle yet?
I'm sure it's for the blind or something, but I'm also sure that any of you lazy arses out there will thrill at using this thing.
Now you don't even have to read!
Eventually though, another bus lurched into view, and I knew I could get warm again, and the thought of being able to spend the rest of the night in a club proved irresistable, especially as it would be warm!
I joined the bus along with a large crowd of now noisy but good-natured drunks. Once again there was a group of kids, mainly goths, but with a few new-agers and punks thrown in for good measure. Once again the same Johnny Cab driver. As the bus lurched off again at high speed I became conscious that it had now ceased to be a mere conveyer of people, but was in fact a party venue!
The goths were handing round a large bottle of tequila, and a guy in front of me was juggling a large and very messy kebab. As we swung round a particularly tight corner he let go of the kebab which showered everywhere-my fellow passengers deftly leaned to one side to avoid the salad-shower: this was obviously a regular occurrence on this route.
For those not in "the know", the ubiquitous "kebab", or "large doner please mate", is the after-party choice of the British drinker. Theoretically consisting of grilled, sliced lamb in a pita bread sleeve with enough salad to feed an entire PETA convention and topped with a wickedly powerful chilli sauce it's the perfect only way of finishing an evening of hard drinking.
Just don't ask about the nutritional value unless you only understand "fat".
And please don't ask me about which part of the animal is used.. Anyway, I digress.
As this wasn't bad enough, the upper deck of the bus was also packed to capacity and at each stop, passengers were trying to get off at the same time as new passengers were trying to climb the stairs. Coupled with the driver's wannabe Formula 1 driving style this could have been a recipe for disaster on a less-laden bus, but fortunately the "passenger mass" wedged on the stairs prevented anyone from falling.
Now not only was this a party bus, it was also becoming a theme park ride. Was there no end to the entertainment value that $3 would provide?
So, was this London's best-kept secret, and how many more people could join the party?
Well, quite a few as it turned out: the driver was so keen to make a getaway at subsequent stops he didn't actually let people off, and was rewarded by a barrage of verbal abuse (ignored) and kids constantly ringing the bell (ignored). More passengers joined at each stop and soon came up against the increasingly-packed standing mass of passengers. Emotionless he continued on and then later seemed to relent, letting people off.
Perhaps he could sense the mood was getting ugly, and this was a scene that was to be played out again and again throughout the night.
For some reason, many drivers seem to have their own ideas and interpretations of timetables and "stops" - passengers on the bus should be able to ring the bell to ask the driver to let them off at the next stop, and in the same way, passengers wanting to board the bus at the next step should be able to indicate to the driver that they want to board the bus.
A perfectly understandable arrangement, but at 3am The Rules appear to change in a Catch-22 manner and the driver sometimes uses his discretion as to what actually happens.
A group of young girls were carried on an extra two stops for no apparent reason other than it was now approaching 3am and we were approaching Clapham.
Opposite me, two Brazilian guys and their English girlfriend were stageing an impromptu photo shoot using a cellphone - the "photographer" was chattering excitedly in Portugese into the cellphone and obviously sending pictures to an unknown destination at the same time.
I couldn't criticise as I was doing exactly the same thing.
Nevertheless it was a very odd scenario and literally like being at a party that had been transferred from someone's house to a bus: the only thing missing was the music. Maybe TFL could address that shortcoming and keep the punters happy?
3am on the bus
To be continued...
What the h*ll is with zookeepers experimenting on their animals?
In an article, it was reported that
Monkeys and apes in Budapest's Zoo drink their way through 55 litres of red wine each year, albeit in small quantities each day, to help boost their red blood cells, the zoo said on Monday.Ya, so what, in a year from now or something, they're going to be griping that they can't get their monkeys and apes to stop drinkin'."Obviously, they do not have it all at once and get drunk, but they get it in small amounts mixed in their tea," Hanga said.
And, bull-f*cking-sh*t that they need it to boost their red blood cells. Like there's red wine in their natural frickin' habitat.
Hey bozos, there's no f*cking AA for primates, eh. You morons.
You know, Dragonlady's World put her opinion in on such matters so eloquently almost a year ago when zookeepers in China were trying to get a chimp to quit smoking:
Hey, here's a suggestion. Don't give the chimp cigarettes!I really have little to add.Assclowns.
Here's a suggestion to those zookeeps in Budapest. Don't give the monkeys and apes wine!
Double a$$clowns.
The following articles have trackbacked this article:
Idiots [by DragonLady's World]
Well, now you can for a simple fee.
It has been reported that
"the women in the industry take pride in their jobs and often get "sexually excited" by their own dirty work."Shouldn't that read the women, men with girlish voices, and grannies with youthful voices?
Oh sure, they claim that phone sex operators aren't
"really bored old hags who file their nails while talking filthy."... but we all know the truth.
Even the elderly, ugly, and possibly the manly can be aroused by dirty talk, you know.
I'm sure I'll still be going strong by 90... not that you needed to know that or anything.
But, they say it's not the easiest job in the world.
Sure, it's nothing as simple as brain surgery or rocket science. That's a chimp's work.
A good phone sexer has to be open-minded about some strange requests. For instance, Austin [a phone sex operator] knows a man who likes to pretend he's shrinking her down to two inches in height for sex.For those who aren't aware, this is a real fetish called microphilia.
And, if you can handle a little oddness, this Not Safe For Work website shows you just what the fetish is all about.
But, you know, after researching it, I've found that Canadians aren't that shy when it comes to phone sex.
More than one-third of Canadians (36 per cent) admitted to having intimate phone conversations with a close friend or partner.My apologies, Samantha is not available for comment.
;-D
Plus, Man on trial for assault slaps his lawyer - in front of the judge and jury.
Alternative heading to these stories, How To Know If Your Client Is Guilty.
Uh, ya, I think they did it.
But, I think the murder story is more interesting, so I'll just write about that one.
The suspect of the murder case, John Gomes, about to go on trial in Boston,
"used his handcuffs in a failed attempt to strangle his defense attorney, a report said Wednesday."It took 6 officers to control the angry client and release his death grip on the attorney.
It is believed that it was a premeditated attempt to stop the court proceedings.
All it ended up doing was costing the alleged criminal more potential prison time as he was taken back and also charged with armed assault with intent to murder.
I don't know about you, but if I was that attorney, I'd drop him as a client.
Lol.
Just wait until he attacks the judge and jury.
There's a lesson in this folks. If you're going to try and stop yourself from being put in jail for murder, it's probably not the best idea to attempt murder in the process, especially not in front of your judge and jury.
Idiot.
PERV hosts the WORLD'S SEXIEST MEATATARIAN awards.
Please nominate the sexiest meat eater alive: a celeb, someone you know, or yourself, and be sure to send in a picture of the nominee (photo dimensions: no greater than 450x450 pixels). Both a male and female will be chosen as winners. A hint: they are probably not on the GoVeg list. For more on the People for the Ethical Rights of Vegetables, read here.
THIS POST WILL REMAIN ON TOP; SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE SAM
Well, these are more like tampon crafts than art, but gross just the same.
Now, if I must share some of my favourites, they'd have to be the Christmas lights and the Valentine's tree (not exactly something to give a loved one on that special day. And, I won't even go there with the darn, bloody earring.
Go here for previous tampon stuff.
It's Monobrow.com/.
Lol, while there, enjoy a game of Monopoly, the monobrow match game.
Go ahead. Go over there and visit. Go celebrate the unity.
The area around Liverpool Street is mainly non-residential but as with any busy rail terminal (even a closed one) there are people milling around all the time, day and night. One reason for this particular area's popularity is a 24-hour cafe, and of course this was an ideal way to kill some time.
I eschewed the renowned traditional (and fat-laden) British Brekkie for.. a chicken curry! What better meal to eat at 2am, and actually traditionally British? I joined the queue into the cramped shop and ordered my curry with a large espresso - it was going to be a long night.
While I was waiting for my meal I had chance to observe my fellow diners.
A large percentage were from next door's police station, and everyone was behaving well as a consequence. Its always a good sign when the local constabulary patronises an establishment - no-one will willingly upset the stomachs of the guardians of the peace. A couple of guys opposite were discussing the merits of a wireless PDA that one of them had just bought, and I smiled to myself - us guys are all the same really.
On the next table a young man was trying oh-so-hard to keep awake for his date, and not quite succeeding.
Gotta stay awake 4 U
With breakfast over (well I made it last nearly an hour) it was time to plan the next move. Ideally this would have been a club, so I nipped into the police station next door to ask where the nearest all-nighter was. A lot of clubs only seem to stay open until 3.30am, so it was important to find the right one.
The helpful WPC and I studied a map, but worryingly she couldn't come up with anywhere, so I decided to go it alone and head towards the throbbing centre of London, Tottenham Court Road. Actually this really worried me: I was asking a young woman where the nearest den of iniquity was and she didn't know: maybe our police really are too young!
So, Tottenham Court Road is normally a mecca for gadget-freaks and window-shoppers and the area is one of the busiest parts of 24-hour London being close to Soho. Getting there involved another bus ride and I waited outside in the increasing cold of the early morning. I bought my ticket from the machine in the street and mused that the only people that were really comfortable and warm right now were the bums asleep on the streets in their rancid sleeping bags. This was in stark contrast to us affluent party people who were now shivering with the cold - not that I would have traded places.
As I waited for the bus a new mini-mart was being stocked up prior to opening and the street seemed just as busy as in the day. All around me the city towered above me, ablaze with lights.
At Liverpool Street
In the City
Stocking up the 'mart
To be continued...
Mark McGovern, the man who got p*ss a$$ drunk, literally on a flight to Washington has been sentenced to 7 months in prison for his actions.
Last November, McGovern caused the airline flight to be diverted after he began peeing in the aisle and lighting a cigarette.
Maybe the alarm clock incident in the airport scared the p*ss out of him.
Oh. Oh, ya. That was 2 separate incidents.
Actually, McGovern is believed to have been drunk at the time of his interuption since he has been told to head to alcohol rehab after his sentencing.
The alarm clock incident, on the other hand (get it... hand, like hands of a clock... hoo boy, that was bad) happened in China.
An alarm clock that went off in an airline passenger's bag caused panic at an airport in the Chinese city of Guangzhou.Lol, the owner was allowed to board as long as she promised that it wouldn't go off again.The alarm went off just as the luggage passed through an X-ray machine, causing passengers and airport staff at Baiyun International Airport to scatter, China Daily reported Tuesday.
Hey, at least she didn't have to promise that she'd stop time before boarding.
Apparently, one odd duck of a school in Arizona is banning the use of ketchup (or was that catsup) bottles.
They even chose to punish one student for sneaking some of the "contraband" into the school for their frickin' lunch. The school also "called the parents of several others found with the contraband."
Oh, foreshame. Ketchup bottles in the school.
Whoa is me.
Won't somebody please think of the children.
The bottle smuggling began after the school limited ketchup packet use to three packs per hamburger - extra packets cost 25 cents each.
What a d*mn rip off. No wonder the kids protested through smuggling.
Although they say the kids can bring their own packets to school, they say no to ketchup bottles because it would be a "health code violation".
Is it just me, or does anybody else think this is being extremely overprotective and completely irrational?
F*ck, kids spit on the walls, flick boogers at each other, and sh*t like that. I think they can screw their d*mn "health code violations".
I think this is just another case of authorities power tripping, especially after reading this part:
The policy was adopted because administrators were fed up with students stomping on ketchup packets and squirting the red goo on sidewalks and hallways.And... how does banning ketchup bottles prevent ketchup packet stomping?
Whatever.
Sounds like a poorly made movie. Perhaps one that William Hung could star in.
It appears that William Hung, the terrible singer from American Idol, is being crowned the Artichoke King of Castroville.
Why Hung?
Their only reasoning is because they believed it would bring them exposure to the artichoke festival they are holding this summer.
Well, it did that. I'm laughing about it.
And, they say that Marilyn Monroe was their Artichoke Queen in 1947.
Wow, that would make for an odd couple if the timing were right, eh.
*shudder*
But, since you know how I enjoy feeding you Hung material, here's a link for you of some William Hung retarded remixes.
You know, artichokes leave a bad taste in my mouth, so I guess it's only fitting that Hung be king afterall.
Interpret that as you will (ugh).
Previous/Related: Hung Up
Whether you've seen it already or not, you're probably going to want to watch and listen to it over and over again.
At least, I did.
Enjoy this R Rated 80s Band.
It's a catchy tune and it says it all in a few simple words.
Here are some random (un)amusing facts about toilets for you.
In a survey conducted in 2000 by Kimberly-Clark, it was found that men prefer to fold their toilet paper, and women like to wad it.Is that true?
From a female's perspective, it is. Is it true for the other end of matters?
Most toilets flush in E flat.I never thought of the can as being musical.
But, I'm sure some of the arses that have sat on the thing have played more tunes.
Joseph Gayetty is credited for inventing toilet paper in 1857. Unfortunately, his invention failed and did not catch on until ten years later.I don't know about you, but I thought this would have been one instant success story for sure. And, don't bother asking what they used before that; I believe it was linen in many countries.
Three years of a person's life is spent on the toilet.No sh*t! But, for some of us out there, I'm sure it's a lot longer.
pffffffhhhtttttttt
Notice the blogad to the left there.
Cool, eh.
Go ahead and click on the link. I promise he won't bite.
When you're at the site, you'll get the chance to see live animal camera feeds. I won't tell you too much about it because I want you to head on over there and take a peek for yourself.
I'm going to go look for one with turtles, or turders as I call them.
Don't ask why.
But, anyhow, by checking out the sites in my ad spaces, you're helping to keep this blog running. So, I'd greatly appreciate any clicks you do - and this one has cwoot wittow animals. And, not to mention some ferocious people eaters... rrrrraaaaaaawwwrrrrrr!
Introduction by Sam: This week I have the opportunity to provide my readers with a breakaway from my usual style of writing, a week-long running article by Welcome to Mildew Hall, which is more along the lines of a story than my typical moaning, whining, and griping.
So, please enjoy, A Night On The Town, which I will schedule for 10 am PST daily.
Article contributed by Welcome to Mildew Hall.
Standfast
One of the great things about living close to London is that the Big City is close enough to go by train for a night out. One of the not-so-great things is that most trains stop running at midnight, so when my date turned from a quick drink to an evening of deep and meaningful conversation, my journey home took a turn for the worse. This is my story.
Main Story
I'd only met my date, Irene, once before at a colleague's leaving party. We'd talked briefly and a group of us had somehow ended up at a local pub where we'd had a discussion about whiskey. Irene had extolled the virtues of Scotch while I argued the case for the far superior Irish variety: fire-water versus Irish Mist. From then on I knew that I had to challenge her to a return match and I would introduce her to the One True Spirit. With that in mind I'd arranged a "whiskey tour" in which we'd attempt to sample my personal favourite, Bushmills, in a real Irish bar in London. Some research revealed that a bar in Holloway Road was the place to be and I set about organising an itinerary. There was only one problem - Irene was moving to London that day, practically as far West as she could get and that meant an extended tube journey. No matter, it was still in London. No problem!
Well, our whiskey tour went very well, and though we didn't actually find any Bushmills to sample we ended up talking and sipping other (lesser) whiskeys late into the night. So late in fact that neither of us was watching the time and the magic midnight hour came and went, which in London means that public transport all but stopped running. Yes, even in the 21st Century, Britons are not supposed to stay out after the witching hour and this was the government's way of telling us that. Did someone say curfew?
Panicking (although trying not to show it) I managed to get us both to within one tube stop of Irene's new apartment and she thankfully made it back home safely. I, on the other hand, the true gent (chivalry in the UK is not dead, it's just well hidden) was marooned in West London, with little chance of getting a train back to my home in rural Hampshire. In short, I was stuffed! A helpful London Transport guy at the tube station suggested that I might get one of London's (in)famous Night Buses back into the city and from there, well, I could figure out what to do next. So I sprinted out of the tube station and into the night air, feeling slightly self-conscious in my best suit: this was a seedy part of London where jeans and tee-shirt were the preferred uniform. The TFL Night Bus service is the government's attempt at moving people around the capital all through the night at economical rates, which it does admirably. It also has another role, which I'm coming to shortly. The night bus is just as much a social service as transport.
Night Bus approaching
I only had to wait around 10 minutes and the familiar red London double-decker bus sped into sight. In fact I was quite unprepared for the speed at which it arrived: normally these buses take their turn in the caucus-race that is London traffic and progress is at a sedate pace. If you've ever seen those old horror films in which the hapless passenger is being driven at breakneck speed by a possessed driver, then you'll have some idea of the pace. I paid my $3 fare and took a seat near the front of the bus. This particular one was heading back toward Liverpool Street Station where I would surely get a train. I settled back into my seat, zoned out to some hard house on the 'Shuffle and enjoyed the ride.
There weren't many other passengers on board at this stage as most Night Bus users come out of the city to the 'burbs. It was down to a couple of fast-food workers going home, a random scattering of party people going who-knows-where, and me. The one thing we had in common was that no-one spoke, and no-one wanted to look at anyone else, at least not consciously.. Risky business in London that.. The bus driver in his plexi-glass safety cage continued to propel us through the night suburbs at the same pace as before, coming up close against the occasional straggling car. In the rural countryside this would be known as "sheep worrying", but "tailgating" is probably a more familiar term. Needless to say, after midnight the Night Buses rule the streets and you don't want to get in their way. We stopped every so often to disgorge a few passengers and take on some more. The way the bus stopped I couldn't help wondering how long the brakes would last.. As we started to travel through the more affluent areas such as Chelsea, the mainly residential areas gave way to retail and a few clubs. It was now 0130 and many of the clubs were tipping out. Large crowds of rowdy drinkers were massing outside famous-name venues, incensed that they were being thrown out at such an early hour when they still had money to spend: welcome to 21st Century British nightlife. As it was Chelsea though, no-one was catching the Bus, which sped on into the night.
Picking up passengers
Still nearer into the city though, we started to pick up passengers. This time it was a large group of youngsters obviously moving from one party to the next: call me old-fashioned but I don't remember having this much freedom to travel when I was that age. I could see the driver visibly wince when he had to accept cash for a fare - although it wasn't much, cash is rapidly becoming a no-no in late-night London, and in fact on a couple of occasions people rode for free rather than the driver accept a note. The preference now is for the prepay "Oyster Card" which one would simply touch against a pad mounted near the driver when entering the bus. As we neared Liverpool Street Station though, the bus rapidly filled up and before I knew it not only were the seats all full, there was no room in the aisle either. Quite a few mellow drunks had now joined our bus and I was quietly praying that no-one was feeling ill enough to throw up: there would be no escape from blowing chunks in a bus that crowded. Within a few minutes though, our chariot of fire had arrived at Liverpool Street Station and everybody disembarked into the dark morning. Without a flicker of emotion our driver checked to make sure we were all out and sped off into the night again. Think Total Recall's Johnny Cabs without the chat.
To be continued...
When it comes to low budget hair salons, many stylists have said that places like that hire those with the lowest test scores.
I think the haircuts speak for themselves.
Nonetheless, here's the top 10 possible slogans for these low budget salons:
1. Come for the bowl cut (off centered), stay for the obnoxious pleasantries.
2. No two haircuts alike!
3. Hey, at least our stylists passed the test.
4. Disappointing customers since 1982.
5. If you're bald, we'll still find a way to mess it up.
6. Aw come on, give us a chance.
7. Visit us today and get the ultra modern beehive look!
8. If you're a fan of the Three Stooges cuts, then you'll love us!
9. We use only the finest quality No Name products.
10. *NOW* with half the accidental hair fires!
Bonus: Home of the Mullet!
Man, would you catch her already?
Dragonlady's World has maintained the throne for three weeks straight now.
She's a moron guesser extraordinaire.
Congrats Dragonlady's World can you go for four, or will someone else beat Dragonlady's World to the win?
Good luck to everyone.
Here is the standard info for the game:
To your right is the Moron Of The Week posting from which you will be able to guess who you believe is the moron in the picture, then submit your answer in the comment section of this article. On Friday, I will provide the correct answer along with a link to the winning guess's site. Will you be the winner this week?
PS - this isn't going to be easy as there is no shortage of morons out there: politicians, journalists, celebrities, frothing-at-the-mouth moonbats, and the like.
... and that is why I'm asking for your help.
You see, MR.BIG has always been the one to give me cartoon ideas to draw and post here on my blog.
Generally, I draw a blank as to what to draw, so I ask him if he has any ideas and then I draw them, but lately, he's been as stumped as me. Okay, part of the reason is because I'm taking on other projects in my own life, and apparently, so is MR.BIG and he really can't help me with my blog as much anymore.
Anyhow, blah, blah, blah, what I'm asking from my readers is to submit some cartoon ideas - detailed or not so detailed - and I'll see what I can do with the ideas.
As you may know from previous Crazy Sam Comics, I am willing to take on a challenge and thrive best when the cartoon is controversial. However, I enjoy drawing variety, too, so give me what you've got.
Although I probably won't be able to get to everyones (assuming many of you will help me out a little - yes, consider this virtual begging), I will give it my best shot.
This is a new attempt for me, so don't be shocked to see explosive failure on my part :-D
You can send the cartoon ideas via email - sam @ this site - or in the comment section below. For my email addie, if you haven't figured it out, check the FAQ.
The couple that every Canadian seems to want to do, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie had their baby.
Whoopty-doo.
So, Shiloh Nouvel, eh.
Is that pronounced Shiloh like "sh*thole" or Shiloh like "silo"?
Either way, looks like a tough life for that kid.
Getting right to it... this is an open thread, so have at it. And, while you're here, why not support Sam with a little clickity-click on the blogads.
Here's the info for open trackbacks:
Trackback articles that showcase your work and discuss whatever you want to attract new readers (linking this article in return of course):
Look to the right of this site to find out which OTA members are doing open trackbacks.
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To learn about OTA and trackbacking, click on the OTA link:
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If you're just cruising the net right now, looking for something, anything to kill some time you've got on your hands, then Found may be a site where you can do just that. Perhaps you could even contribute to it.
"We collect found stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids' homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles- anything that gives a glimpse into someone else's life."I chose the Mother's Day note as the link to the site because that's pretty much exactly the kind of note I'd leave my mom in such a circumstance.
... and I mean out there.
Have you checked out Stuff on my cat?
It almost makes me want to get a cat just to send some pics in.
Alas, I'm a dog person.
Hmmm, I wonder why there isn't a stuff on my dog website. At least, not one that really has pictures of stuff on people's dogs.
(and, don't bother trying the stuffonmydog url - it's just a junk ad site)
Best I could get for dogs was this.
Sounds like it would make a cool video game or movie.
But, this isn't about that.
This is about the Internet.
It seems the inventor of the Internet, Tim Berners-Lee, is as cheesed off as I am about governments trying to control the web.
"He warned that if the US decided to go ahead with a two-tier internet, the network would enter "a dark period".And, I have to agree that an Internet chopped up into parts would be rather boring.
From this blogger's (and heck, just plain ol' web surfer's) perspective, creating restrictions will really discourage usage.
I thrill at searching for something and then ending up finding something else completely different and unexpected, but it turns out to be an absolutely wonderful find.
Oftentimes, the best sh*t I share on my blog comes from "happy accidents".
I realise, though, that this is ONLY a way for governments to profit off a potential market for them.
Whatever.
Don't they get enough of our money?
In addition, companies like telecoms, who I'm sure have lost some revenue since the booming Internet industry,
"would like to implement a two-tier system, where data from companies or institutions that can pay are given priority over those that cannot."Oh, of course. Drive the Internet into the ground so that telecoms can resurface. I get it now.
But, there has been some movement by computer-based companies to prevent the two tier Internet system from arising:
companies like Microsoft and Google have called for legislation to be introduced to guarantee net neutrality.Hmmm... so microsoft and google are good for something, eh.
This is the gist of it and something that I wouldn't like to see happen, but may be inevitable:
A two-tier system would mean that people would only have full access to those portions of the internet that they paid for and that some companies would be given priority over others.It's bad enough already that we have to pay for porn.
(aw come on, you can't expect me to go through a whole article on web surfing without bringing up pornography)
Somebody better catch that Dragonlady's World, eh. She's rockin' the moron throne.
Yes, Dragonlady's World guessed it correct that Britney Spears, another BS moron (Barbra Streisand being the other), has done a number of things that make her a moron.
It all started, of course, with her singing career.
We should have known how moronic she would turn out to be just by listening to her music. First off, her music has no depth; it's sucktacular. Second, many of her songs tend to sound the same. So similar that a comedy duo called Supergirly (whom I had the pleasure of seeing their routine live) mocked the Spears songs by playing Hit Me Baby One More Time synchronically with Oops, I did it again.
Other than the pathetic lyrics, there is no difference to some of her songs.
All of this was highly suspected.
And, we all know her from her relationship with n'sync, or backstreet boy, or boys 2 men, or new kids on the block, or whatever he was in, singer Justin Timberlake.
The whole time throughout their relationship and before, the moron Britney claimed to be a virgin when everything else suggested otherwise: her closeness with Justin, her trashy whore clothes, and her virtually pornographic videos and concerts.
Of course, after Timberlake spilled the beans, Britney was forced to confess that she truly was the tramp she denied being.
And, it really sealed the deal when she went from virgin wannabe to instant whore in the video, and subsequent concert for "I'm a Slave 4 U".
The concert really ticked a lot of parents and childcare givers off when they took their children (Britney's only fan base, other than drooling, perverted old men) to see the girl in concert and were shocked to see simulated gay sex , orgies, and masterbation on stage. All to the tune of Britney's infamous lip synching.
And, speaking of fake lip action, her trailer trash-like smooch with the aging moron Madonna at the 2003 MTV awards caused a worldwide dry heave.
And I thought 2 blondes tongue wrestling was supposed to be arousing; all I heard from that experience was a lot of disgust, proving that these 2 morons are has beens pushing towards retirement from the public eye.
This is further proven as the couple tied for the 2002 Razzies for Worst Actress.
Britney won it and another for Worst Original Song in her shotty movie Crossroads. I guess not enough biblets and perverts support it at the box office.
No one else would go see it.
But, I think as horrible as it is to say, we were all a little hopeful the day the false report came out that Britney Spears had died in a car accident with a pretzel truck.
Heh, heh, pretzel truck. What a twisted tale.
I wouldn't doubt if the moron, herself, believed she had passed on that day.
Alas, Britney is still alive and has moved on to prove just how low rent she really is.
For example, one telltale sign of Britney's true trashiness is displayed in her support for Michael Jackson during his second child molestation trial. Britney stated,
"He needs someone to be like, 'OK, let's buck you up, let's give you a moustache, let's rough you up, let's go to a bar, let's get drunk and be a man.'Yes, fighting solves everything, including one's lust for little children.And if he didn't do those things, I feel sorry for him. Either way, he needs to get in a fight."
Heck, why not add get a mullet and wear a wife beater shirt onto that list, Brit?
But, nowadays we have the Britney who can't seem to keep her child from hitting the pavement.
First, it was the baby on the lap in the front seat of a car, then it was baby plummeting to the ground from its high chair and cracking its skull, then it was the baby in the backwards car seat with the convertible top down in the boiling hot sun, and now it's the "choosing the drink over the baby's life".
Britney, choose the baby for gosh sakes. Drop the d*mn drink.
And, while we're at it, let's take a vote. Was it the babysitter, K-Fed mac daddy, or stumble-fumble mommy Britney who was watching the baby when it fell out of its high chair?
They claim it was the babysitter and consequently fired her, but my vote's on stumble-fumble.
Perhaps they should have used that babysitter, instead of the one Britney hired, to babysit her husband. Yes, Britney lacks such confidence in her marriage that she hired a babysitter to keep tabs on K-Fed.
And why are you with someone so infantile that they need a darn babysitter, Britney?
Oh ya, it's because you're immature yourself.
Good thing her looks made her some money (contrary to belief, it was not her singing voice) because she sure doesn't have the smarts to get her there.
And, what's worse is the doped up pimp daddy wannabe K-Fed and Britney are having another child.
How can we stop these two from breeding more stupidity into this world? (I don't know if the babies will be as dumb, but my hunch is that the DNA will speak for itself)
But, aside from her perfect marriage and family life, Britney has made some personal decisions that keep her in tune with her inner moron.
Recently, she has become disenfranchised since she got stuck in the Madonna, Lindsay Lohan Kabbalah fad, considering that now the John Travolta-Tom Cruise Scientology fad is the much more "in" thing to do. That's probably why she ended up cutting the red string of Kabbalah love from her wrist.
And, when it comes to celebrity scents, Spears stinks a lot.
First, she was Curious what marriage would be like, so she had a quick 55 hour marriage with her friend, Jason Allen Alexander. Then, she came out with her own little Fantasy about what a real marriage would be like. And now, she attempts to get In Control of her marriage by keeping an informant for her hubby.
At least, that's my take on the whole perfume naming thing.
I say the next two scents she tries to hock are called The Bitter Divorce and No One Will Touch My Rotten K-Fed Crotch.
Anyhow, enough with this moron. Congrats continues to go to Dragonlady's World for being 3 weeks undefeated.
More on the moron:
Mystery of Britney's breasts
Baby Spears already a rapper
Britney Spears pregnancy watch
Brit's tits
Spears on Letterman
Save Sean Preston
Britney's seduction: kiss her feet, but who would want to when she stands around toilets in her bare tootsies?
Britney's breakdown
Britney now; Britney 2025
Get a peek at Britney' s pears
More of Britney's pears
She's all class
Classy laaa-day
Britney's a doll
Britney's drunkin' swagger
Britney beers
That horrid Spears sculpture
Is this Britney practising for a future baby dangling experience?
Britney sues over ugly baby photos
Canada tests armament in England before the inevitable attack on the USA.
That should have been the title to this article.
First, we attacked with maple syrup and Celine Dion, then we deployed out Goose Special Forces, and now Canada is taking the US invasion to the next level: french fry grenades.
But, before we can move to that level, we've had to test the strategy out on our motherland, England.
Workers at a french fries factory in northern England had to be evacuated on two consecutive days last week when armaments suspected to date back to World Wars I and II were discovered in batches of imported European potatoes.Sure, they claim the potatoes came from Europe, but we really used that story as a guise to mislead the US.Canadian-based McCain Foods -- the world's largest producer of frozen french fries -- said employees at its plant in Scarborough discovered a suspected hand grenade on Saturday, a day after a shell tip was found among a batch of potatoes.
You see, if we can smuggle in our highly useful weaponry to a country, then send our troops next, they can assemble the pieces and begin the attack before anyone would be the wiser.
Unfortunately, the kinks still need to be worked out considering the secret mission was exposed. Back to square one.
Our goal remains - to slowly take over north america, AND THEN THE WORLD!
(And yes, we have to use WW1 and WW2 ammo; it's all we've got other than our navy tugboat)
Go ahead and click Do Me to read The Random Masturbation Synonym Generator.
Some of my favourites (although, I couldn't get through them all, and there may be some really good ones you'd like to share with us):
Attacking Oscar in the closet
Strummin' the one-eyed burping gecko
Emptying the testicular squatters
I recently came up with an impulse buy item that Ole Blue The Heretic might be interested in.
Sell brain farts.No wait, there are too many out there already.
I'm having one now.
Okay, so sleep has been sold; air has been sold; and water has been sold by the bottles full.
What else is there?
Anyone got any ideas of what other free and completely ridiculous items could be sold by the millions to the gullible?
Crack that whip, boy!
Apparently, the Canadian national media is as biased when it comes to reporting as the press is in the US.
No kidding, eh.
Would you expect any less of our media than to follow in the footsteps of almost every other MSM reporter out there?
Harper's smart, though, stating right off that he's not dealing with those cheeseballs.
Prime Minister Stephen Harper accused members of the national media on Wednesday of bias, vowing to avoid them from now on in favour of less hostile local reporters.Gee, sounds exactly like the bull that Bush has to deal with down south there.Harper told a London, Ont. TV station in an interview that the Ottawa press gallery has decided to become the Official Opposition to his Conservative government, and that he's experiencing difficulty that no Liberal prime minister would ever have to face.
But, I'm sure it is pretty much impossible to ignore the national media altogether, especially when you are the Prime Minister.
And, of course, insulted by Harper's bravery, the press retaliated with comments like,
"When (Harper) doesn't like it and he can't get his way, he walks out of news conferences . . ."Uh, no, it's called standing up to bullies.
Harper's actually acting as a role model by sticking up for himself and not allowing sh*theads to ignorantly and disgracefully attack him.
Our countries' leaders are not celebrities that the paparazzi/press can trample on and fabricate stories about; they are to be respected.
Linked to free constitution, tmh bacon bits, blue star chronicles, freedom watch, pirate's cove,