These band-aids saved my marriage.
I cannot say enough about these band-aids.
These band-aids saved my marriage.
***** Amazon Review of David Archer Underwear with separate pouches fly trunks. *****
Let us begin by saying that these underwears have taught me the true meaning of 'Panty Privilege.' Panty Privilege is the privilege enjoyed by those living in cold places. Y'all up in the north have panty privilege. You can buy ten pairs of heavy cotton for ten bucks and call it a day. If I wear those cheap heavy cottons down here in TEXAS, I get a medical condition I call "Sous-Vide Crotch."
Do I need to explain "Sous-Vide Crotch?" It's hot in Texas. Hot, and humid. And, see, a man's body, in certain regions, is built like if you sealed a couple of steaks in plastic wrap and pressed them between two pork chops in a steam bath. It's not a good scene.
In Texas, you can't get cheap underwear. You gotta spring for the good stuff, with moisture wicking fabric and the space-age designs. It's expensive! Y'all can buy whatever with your northern privilege, but I gotta put myself in debt for my underwear. It's not fair! That's Panty Privilege.
Heh-HEY there, America, and thanks for stopping by for another edition of Ben Needed Something For His Blog Trivia! I'm your host, the interchangeable Id, Ego and Super-Ego of Benjamin Mumford-Zisk, here to tell you that tree pollen is the number on killer of Americans under ninety-nine, so don't forget to spay and neuter your houseplants!
I bought this because I've been watching a lot of Star Trek: TNG lately and I thought it looked cool. But it turns out this is a face-trimmer machine. So now my face is pretty smooth. I will say this thing doesn't get all my hairs unless I really grind it in there, but if I grind it in there I get ashy face. And I'm white, so like, if the ashy face is showing up on me, you know this face-trimmer machine is ashing something FIERCE. Still, works good.
This book is terrible.
This book is terrible even before you acknowledge the craven recursive layers of salable pop culture reference.
Why is this book terrible?
The protagonist is garbage. He shrugs off the death of his
Oh, it's a movie by now, they show it in the friggin' previews.
His family dies, and he blows it off like 'i didn't like them much lol' as if a half dozen children haven't just been murdered in front of him.
His best friend? A black lesbian who is forced by her own, what, self-loathing? Some odd repressive culture? To LITERALLY wear the digital skin of a cis-het white dude to fit in and have ANY FRIENDS AT ALL. Oh, she's homeless, too. Her arc, by the way? Isn't.
Oh, and here's the deal with the OASIS: It's become a de facto nation, with the most stable economy and currency on the planet. And at the end, Gandalf the Disappointing, the Willy Wonka ripoff the book is based on, gives the seventeen year old protagonist the power to DESTROY THE ONLY FUNCTIONAL PIECE OF A CRUMBLING GEOPOLITICAL LANDSCAPE because it's a video game, at its core, and Ernest Cline had to throw a bone to the wal-mart/target mom/aunt /gramma crowd who's gonna buy this to connect to their gamer child but secrety wish their gamer child would give up the games and play in the sun.
Want an analog? Imagine if at the end of the matrix, Neo was told that: A) the matrix keeps all humanity alive, and is essentially a giant life-support system, and B) he has the power to shut it off because it's a video game and we need to put games aside. Doesn't make any sense? Kinda disappointing?
SO IS THIS BOOK.
OSTER BELGIAN WAFFLE MAKER
Look, I'll come right out with it. There isn't much you can't cook in a waffle maker. Pretty much soup. Everything else is fair game.
PROVE ME WRONG, AMERICA!
The sticker over her butt doesn't come off, it's part of the cover.
You ever buy a classic book because it's all about sex and then it turns out it's about a girl getting assaulted over and over by priests and the only reason they don't call it assault is because the book was written before the phrase 'sexual assault' entered the lexicon? That's what happened to me with Justine.
And also Clifford the Big Red Dog, but that's more about my personal hangups.
The 100 days of Narcissism, 2014
My phone autocorrects 'job' to 'Jor-El.'
My partner was living in NZ, I was still in the states. I got a video camera and did a dance to "She Wolf" by Shakira and dropped trou right when Shakira sings "aah-oooh" in that breathy way she does. (Seriously, great song, look it up if you don't know it.) My package fills out the dog snout, so it really looks like I have a wolf in my pants. My partner found it hilarious, she loves it when I wear them now that we're reunited, and frankly, I still get a kick out of taking my pants off in front of a mirror and making dog noises.
There's no fly, though, so be warned that you're gonna have to pull em down when you have to pee. On the plus side, "gotta go face-peel the wolf" is a great euphemism for using the bathroom.
Spoiler Warning! Spoilers ahead. And weird ones, too.
TLDR: The lightsaber duels and force evolution and jedi trope-rejection are great. They take up an hour of a two-and-a-half-hour movie. The remaining hour and a half is rife with bad writing, acting and directing. Two fifths good, three fifths bad is a shitty movie.
Trigger Warning: I talk shit about a movie you may have liked.