Today is Doctor Who Day, or for the three readers I have who aren't gigantic nerds, today is the day that the 50th Anniversary Doctor Who special episode airs. I have prepared by putting on Dalek socks and forcing StereoNinja to sit through episodes from the 10th doctor era that he had somehow missed. (He hadn't actually seen 'Blink' until Wednesday somehow. I'm not sure he's a real nerd. Or a real ninja*.) I also got lost on Cake Wrecks for a few hours after the cake master sent me this link to some amazing Doctor Who cakes, which is what happens every time I wind up looking at Cake Wrecks. I'll come back and update this post with my reaction after it airs. Whee!
*OR IS HE?
Showing posts with label the cake master. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the cake master. Show all posts
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Nice Tits, England.
Per the cake master halfway through this three way conversation with H-Town, "We are not mature enough for birds to be called tits."
amberance: there's a bird here just called a tit*
H-Town: wow, so you could say "look at the tits on that tree!"
amberance: there's a bird here just called a tit*
H-Town: wow, so you could say "look at the tits on that tree!"
and no one would slap you
and if tits landed on a woman, "Look at the tits on that gal?"
brilliant
The cake master: "There are so many tits on that tree! I've never seen so many tits in one place!"
H-Town: I wish I had more tits around my house!
I’m moving
The cake master: "Aren't the tits beautiful?"
Are the tits noisy?
H-Town: we wouldn't have such a mosquito problem if there are more tits
I hear tits make a slapping noise
The cake master: Are they soft and fluffy?
amberance: "HOLY SHIT THAT OWL JUST ATE THOSE TITS!"
H-Town: oh, now those tits just flew right into the window!
The cake master: Do they swing around in circles?
H-Town: do they hang low and/or wobble to and fro?
amberance: I want them to have really pointy beaks
like "man those are some sharp tits"
The cake master: Yeah, are there low-hanging tits?
They're only on the saggy branches?
H-Town: and if they're male, look at those man tits!
amberance: also they should always fly in pairs
H-Town: their nests should be called bras
and if tits landed on a woman, "Look at the tits on that gal?"
brilliant
The cake master: "There are so many tits on that tree! I've never seen so many tits in one place!"
H-Town: I wish I had more tits around my house!
I’m moving
The cake master: "Aren't the tits beautiful?"
Are the tits noisy?
H-Town: we wouldn't have such a mosquito problem if there are more tits
I hear tits make a slapping noise
The cake master: Are they soft and fluffy?
amberance: "HOLY SHIT THAT OWL JUST ATE THOSE TITS!"
H-Town: oh, now those tits just flew right into the window!
The cake master: Do they swing around in circles?
H-Town: do they hang low and/or wobble to and fro?
amberance: I want them to have really pointy beaks
like "man those are some sharp tits"
The cake master: Yeah, are there low-hanging tits?
They're only on the saggy branches?
H-Town: and if they're male, look at those man tits!
amberance: also they should always fly in pairs
H-Town: their nests should be called bras
The cake master: If there a bunch of nests built on top of each other, are they called support bras?
H-Town: training bras
and if the nests are all mashed together into one sort of uni-nest, it's a sports bra
i hope when they walk, they bounce
The cake master: There's birds that look like tits
H-Town: training bras
and if the nests are all mashed together into one sort of uni-nest, it's a sports bra
i hope when they walk, they bounce
The cake master: There's birds that look like tits
But they’re fake tits
You can tell by feeling them.
H-Town: you can tell because they don't move as much
The cake master: I hear the male tit is smaller though.
And not as bouncy
H-Town: People must wonder why male tits have beaks
The cake master: I sure do
H-Town: tits usually show up about spring break each year
The cake master: well, in the winter they're all covered up
H-Town: and sometimes it's so cold their beaks could cut glass
The cake master: I hear you can tell if it's cold just by looking at a naked tit
As they get older, the more their beaks point at the ground
H-Town: the older tits just walk around naked at the local YMCA in the locker rooms
You can tell by feeling them.
H-Town: you can tell because they don't move as much
The cake master: I hear the male tit is smaller though.
And not as bouncy
H-Town: People must wonder why male tits have beaks
The cake master: I sure do
H-Town: tits usually show up about spring break each year
The cake master: well, in the winter they're all covered up
H-Town: and sometimes it's so cold their beaks could cut glass
The cake master: I hear you can tell if it's cold just by looking at a naked tit
As they get older, the more their beaks point at the ground
H-Town: the older tits just walk around naked at the local YMCA in the locker rooms
*In America we don't have tits, but instead the related titmouse and chickadee.
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Second Delay
....and NOW I can't tell you about the party because apparently today is self-hatred and depression day. It's pretty piss poor timing too, since I have a presentation due Thursday and today I've worked on it for exactly zero minutes. Other things I haven't done today: get dressed, work out, turn any lights on, have a rational thought, be nice to StereoNinja, make plans for bonfire night, answer my email or put my contacts in. Things I have done: eat cookie dough, cry, tell H-Town and the cake master that I am a selfish monster, and look at one way flights to Chicago because giving up sounds really good to me today.
I absolutely HATE this part of myself, because I really am not this person. I want things to be fun. I look for things to do that might be fun. I take mundane or unpleasant activities and try to inject them with fun, because if I have to do some chore, it might as well be fun. I made swearing into a hobby reading that 50 Shades of Horseshit right here on this blog. But today it's like I've never even met fun. Like if fun was walking toward me down the sidewalk, I would cross to the other side of the street to avoid it because that dude looks like a creepy weirdo and is scaring me and I want no part of it. And fun is jumping up and down and waving at me like "Hey! HEY! We were supposed to make robot sculptures out of canary feathers and cooked noodles today! Where are you going?" and I'm pretending like I don't see him and muttering "Fuck you, fun. You don't know me. You're not the boss of me!" And then fun starts crying and says "Why are you being like this? I thought we were friends." and look you guys, I JUST MADE FUN CRY. I'M THAT BIG OF AN ASSHOLE TODAY.
So, HOPEFULLY, tomorrow I will not feel like a bag of flaming elephant shit, and I can tell you about what happens when a stripper goes to a party with a bunch of old people, which by the way, is not what you would automatically think would happen. Um, at all. If not, I promise to challenge fun to a fist fight and see if I can make him get stitches in his stupid fun face.
I absolutely HATE this part of myself, because I really am not this person. I want things to be fun. I look for things to do that might be fun. I take mundane or unpleasant activities and try to inject them with fun, because if I have to do some chore, it might as well be fun. I made swearing into a hobby reading that 50 Shades of Horseshit right here on this blog. But today it's like I've never even met fun. Like if fun was walking toward me down the sidewalk, I would cross to the other side of the street to avoid it because that dude looks like a creepy weirdo and is scaring me and I want no part of it. And fun is jumping up and down and waving at me like "Hey! HEY! We were supposed to make robot sculptures out of canary feathers and cooked noodles today! Where are you going?" and I'm pretending like I don't see him and muttering "Fuck you, fun. You don't know me. You're not the boss of me!" And then fun starts crying and says "Why are you being like this? I thought we were friends." and look you guys, I JUST MADE FUN CRY. I'M THAT BIG OF AN ASSHOLE TODAY.
So, HOPEFULLY, tomorrow I will not feel like a bag of flaming elephant shit, and I can tell you about what happens when a stripper goes to a party with a bunch of old people, which by the way, is not what you would automatically think would happen. Um, at all. If not, I promise to challenge fun to a fist fight and see if I can make him get stitches in his stupid fun face.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
Meep Meep
I've just realized I never blogged about my student show over the summer, which is incredibly convenient as I had no idea what I was going to write about today (I am at StereoNinja's office right now as both of us needed to get some work done. It is not very exciting, despite there being a flamingo standing in the corner and goofy little puppets everywhere. Though the arm fell off one of them and we did turn it into a penis.)
I ended up going with a temporary stage name that I came up with myself, Phoebe Moon, after Saturn's irregular and probably captured satellite, because I am a massive, massive geek.
I also got StereoNinja to edit my music and add the Merrie Melodies theme to the beginning and end of my song (Bo Diddley's Roadrunner): at the beginning to compliment the title cards for my number that StereoNinja designed for me, and at the end for maximum ridiculousness whilst twirling the tassels on my pasties (followed immediately by a cartwheel. Seriously.)
I'd had a bit of trouble pulling the costume together. The woman I hired on Etsy to make my bustier and frilly panties did a beautiful job, but the fabric wasn't the right color, which is exactly why you don't try to color match things over the internet. I bought another cheap, shitty bustier that the zipper immediately fell off of, and took it to the world's most incredible tailor to cover in appropriately colored fabric and sew a better zipper on, which he accomplished with less than three days turn around (finding a new zipper in the correct color and length was also an adventure and ended with me in the basement of L Z Fabrics poking around in the zipper over stock section, a portion of the store I had no idea was there until that exact moment). My biggest costuming issue was my tail and how to attach it to me. The final solution was to wig tape it to my ass, the process of which is the least attractive thing ever to happen to stripping. I also had to spray paint some heels orange since the first pair I bought was far too high to dance in comfortably, let alone do a cartwheel. Similarly, I ended up dying several pairs of fishnets before I got them to the correct orange for the roadrunner's legs.
StereoNinja and the cake master both flew into town for the show, and BrownsFan and her husband, my former boss and his partner, and the CEO all came as well, because the first time you take all your clothes off in public, you should definitely invite all of your former co-workers. I was the last solo act to go on (StereoNinja says it's because I was one of the best acts, but I think it's just because it was the most ridiculous) before the finale group act, which was 10 women dancing to the Scissor Sisters' Filthy Gorgeous doing the choreography from Michael Jackson's beat it video and opening up our legs like Christmas, among other things. I can't show you my number because my normally rule flouting boyfriend was afraid to video it after Michelle said not to (in fairness, she is a bit terrifying), but I do remember everyone laughing in all the right places and audible surprise over the cartwheel (I had decided I was doing a cartwheel long before I decided what my number was going to be).
After the show, the bar was having a 90's hip hop party, which some of us stayed for, and during which I recited all the words to The Humpty Dance from memory approximately 10 minutes before they played the song because I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.
I haven't performed since I moved to the U.K., in part because I'm still waiting for the shipping company to send me my things, one of which is my tail, but allegedly it will be here next week, if anyone knows of a burlesque show they think I should try to get booked for. I've also been working on a BDSM themed number with a flogger because of course I have.
(All show photos by the wonderful Ethan Coal. He recently took some other photos of me, but they are in no way appropriate for a general audience or anyone not into soft core porn. But if I know and trust you, email me and I might give you the password to the online gallery. Maybe.)
I ended up going with a temporary stage name that I came up with myself, Phoebe Moon, after Saturn's irregular and probably captured satellite, because I am a massive, massive geek.
 |
| Phoebe. Sexy as FUCK |
I also got StereoNinja to edit my music and add the Merrie Melodies theme to the beginning and end of my song (Bo Diddley's Roadrunner): at the beginning to compliment the title cards for my number that StereoNinja designed for me, and at the end for maximum ridiculousness whilst twirling the tassels on my pasties (followed immediately by a cartwheel. Seriously.)
 |
| Sorry, Warner Brothers. |
 |
| My legs are blurry because I am running REALLY FAST. Because, you know, roadrunner. |
StereoNinja and the cake master both flew into town for the show, and BrownsFan and her husband, my former boss and his partner, and the CEO all came as well, because the first time you take all your clothes off in public, you should definitely invite all of your former co-workers. I was the last solo act to go on (StereoNinja says it's because I was one of the best acts, but I think it's just because it was the most ridiculous) before the finale group act, which was 10 women dancing to the Scissor Sisters' Filthy Gorgeous doing the choreography from Michael Jackson's beat it video and opening up our legs like Christmas, among other things. I can't show you my number because my normally rule flouting boyfriend was afraid to video it after Michelle said not to (in fairness, she is a bit terrifying), but I do remember everyone laughing in all the right places and audible surprise over the cartwheel (I had decided I was doing a cartwheel long before I decided what my number was going to be).
 |
| Wile E. Coyote knew something the kiddies did not, evidently. |
I haven't performed since I moved to the U.K., in part because I'm still waiting for the shipping company to send me my things, one of which is my tail, but allegedly it will be here next week, if anyone knows of a burlesque show they think I should try to get booked for. I've also been working on a BDSM themed number with a flogger because of course I have.
(All show photos by the wonderful Ethan Coal. He recently took some other photos of me, but they are in no way appropriate for a general audience or anyone not into soft core porn. But if I know and trust you, email me and I might give you the password to the online gallery. Maybe.)
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Epic Austin Weekend of Boobs and Cake
You may have noticed that I didn't get as out of control wacky over my birthday this year as I normally would and I have a very good reason for that, which is that I decided to make a big deal out of someone else's birthday the following weekend and so I planned an epic trip to Austin instead.
I should back up a bit. I have a friend from college named Ashley, who you may remember from this story involving several failed drunk dialing attempts and my keychain winding up in another person's crotchal area. In fact, prior to Epic Austin Trip, that was the last time I'd seen her. Well, back in October or so, I made some sort of offhand comment about coming to see her for her birthday (which is the week after mine) and that also the cake master (who you may remember from when she tried to invite me to go camping) and H-town (who you may remember from every cool thing I have ever done in my life) should come along too. I made this offhand comment on Ashley's Facebook page, where it was seen by Jil with one L (who you will not remember from previous stories because I hadn't seen her in 15 years) (also she has the same birthday as me) who responded with something to the effect of "Is this for serious?" and promptly booked a flight. Well at that point it was ON LIKE DONKEY KONG, so I then set about systematically eliminating every excuse the cake master and H-town could come up with not to go, coordinated the booking of flights and told Ashley it was done and done. "SWEET HOT BUTTERED TITS!" was her actual verbatim response.
I met up with the cake master at Midway airport Friday morning. The fun began immediately when we noticed a girl in a pink cowboy hat with a veil attached to it that nearly reached the floor and "Bride" written in glitter across the front. We hated her immediately, a hatred I accidentally expressed after we'd boarded the plane. She was one of the last people on and was looking around for a seat when a flight attendant yelled "there's seats back here!" just as she was standing next to the empty seat on my right.
"Not this one," I said.
"Oh my god," said the cake master while laughing hysterically.
"Oh, did I say that really loud?"
"YES."
On landing we were greeted by H-town, who had landed just a few minutes before us, and we all went outside to meet Ashley. On the way to her house we discussed the plans for the weekend: we were going "Texas" and planned to use the phrases "I'll tell you what", "That dog can hunt" and "Bless his/her heart" as often as possible. Also, we were going to replace the phrase "that's what she said" with "sounds like my first time" as pioneered by a friend of my cousin Kelly (my whole family is doing it now, it's brilliant. Try it). We got to her house, dumped all of our stuff, and immediately started going through old photos from college that H-town had the forethought to actually bring with her. After a few rounds of "remember that time when", Ashley hunted down her old photos which were mixed in with photos from high school (Ashley and H-town went to high school together also), some Glamour Shots and a dick picture the rest of us weren't meant to see.
Ashley and H-town both do improv comedy. Every Friday night, the Coldtowne Theater in Austin has a show called Cagematch where two improv groups face off against one another in a battle judged by the audience. Ashley had gotten them a slot, and so for the first time ever on the same stage they did a 20 minute set and TORE THE ROOF OFF THE PLACE, which you can see here. It really wasn't even a contest. Afterwards we went for a drink, did some shopping for snacks and cake supplies and then all went to pick up Jil from the airport, where they have a big picture of Texas on the floor which I alternately pretended to shit on and did cartwheels across. I am 34 years old.
Saturday morning, H-town and I woke up first and elected to go jump on/steamroll Ashley and Jil, after which we all got dressed and went on a mission to find a food truck called Biscuits and Groovy which sells, oddly enough, biscuits. An adorable kid with curly hair and a Texas accent took our order and told us "Y'all can go wait in yer car if ya want and I'll bring it on out to ya when it's ready." We dubbed him Biscuit Boy (bless his heart).
The bulk of Saturday was spent hanging around the house baking a somewhat ridiculous amount of cake. This was for the party we were attending at some friends of Ashley's who were all having a joint birthday party. The theme of the weekend was boobs, because Ashley has huge boobs, I had been tapped to strip at the party, the whole thing had kicked off with "SWEET HOT BUTTERED TITS" and mostly because boobs are awesome. So we made a boobs cake along with a sheet cake on which we ended up drawing Ryan Gosling's abs after watching Crazy Stupid Love while we waited for the cakes to cool. Then Ashley wrote the name of every January birthday person she knew over the top of Ryan's abs and we left for the party.
There was some sort of themed drink thingy going on at the party which we all quickly abandoned in favor of beer. We hung about the party until after the cake cutting, when I disappeared to go get dressed so that I could then turn around and get undressed in front of 60 people. Ashley introduced me for the first time as Poppy Coq "who has come all the way from Chicago to take her clothes off to music." Which I then did for my first solo strip tease performance of my life. Afterwards I was told by both Ashley and H-town they had overheard some girl say "My god, that ass!" while I was performing. When I was back in street clothes, I went and found the others who were now sitting in the front room drinking more beer and watching whatever crap movie was playing on the tv in there. As we didn't really know anyone else at the party, we elected to play a new drinking game we invented for the occasion called "Spot the Hipster", in which you drink every time someone comes in the room wearing black rimmed glasses, a plaid shirt, a decorative scarf, or a beard. We were wasted in 11 seconds. Also, I kept telling everyone who walked in the front door "You missed it. I was naked 10 minutes ago."
Back at Ashley's we were tired, drunk, hungry, and not at all ready to go to bed, so we sent Ashley out to buy us some frozen pizzas while we hung her bras from her ceiling fan and threw an exercise ball at each other up the stairs. Then when Ashley got back we dressed H-town up in heels and made videos of her walking around until we were all slap happy enough to think that me responding to Ashley's question "What time did we put the pizza in?" with "Your mom" was the most hilarious thing we'd ever heard. Which was about the time we realized we should probably go to bed.
Epic Austin weekend was truly Epic, and it is mad ridiculous that it took us 15 years to all get back in the same room at the same time. I can't imagine that it will take us another 15 to do it again. I've already started my campaign for Summer of Chicago 2013. If we get just one more woman to come I can even call it Summer of Chicago Epic Trip: Now With MORE BOOBS!
In conclusion, boobs. And your mom.
I should back up a bit. I have a friend from college named Ashley, who you may remember from this story involving several failed drunk dialing attempts and my keychain winding up in another person's crotchal area. In fact, prior to Epic Austin Trip, that was the last time I'd seen her. Well, back in October or so, I made some sort of offhand comment about coming to see her for her birthday (which is the week after mine) and that also the cake master (who you may remember from when she tried to invite me to go camping) and H-town (who you may remember from every cool thing I have ever done in my life) should come along too. I made this offhand comment on Ashley's Facebook page, where it was seen by Jil with one L (who you will not remember from previous stories because I hadn't seen her in 15 years) (also she has the same birthday as me) who responded with something to the effect of "Is this for serious?" and promptly booked a flight. Well at that point it was ON LIKE DONKEY KONG, so I then set about systematically eliminating every excuse the cake master and H-town could come up with not to go, coordinated the booking of flights and told Ashley it was done and done. "SWEET HOT BUTTERED TITS!" was her actual verbatim response.
I met up with the cake master at Midway airport Friday morning. The fun began immediately when we noticed a girl in a pink cowboy hat with a veil attached to it that nearly reached the floor and "Bride" written in glitter across the front. We hated her immediately, a hatred I accidentally expressed after we'd boarded the plane. She was one of the last people on and was looking around for a seat when a flight attendant yelled "there's seats back here!" just as she was standing next to the empty seat on my right.
"Not this one," I said.
"Oh my god," said the cake master while laughing hysterically.
"Oh, did I say that really loud?"
"YES."
On landing we were greeted by H-town, who had landed just a few minutes before us, and we all went outside to meet Ashley. On the way to her house we discussed the plans for the weekend: we were going "Texas" and planned to use the phrases "I'll tell you what", "That dog can hunt" and "Bless his/her heart" as often as possible. Also, we were going to replace the phrase "that's what she said" with "sounds like my first time" as pioneered by a friend of my cousin Kelly (my whole family is doing it now, it's brilliant. Try it). We got to her house, dumped all of our stuff, and immediately started going through old photos from college that H-town had the forethought to actually bring with her. After a few rounds of "remember that time when", Ashley hunted down her old photos which were mixed in with photos from high school (Ashley and H-town went to high school together also), some Glamour Shots and a dick picture the rest of us weren't meant to see.
Ashley and H-town both do improv comedy. Every Friday night, the Coldtowne Theater in Austin has a show called Cagematch where two improv groups face off against one another in a battle judged by the audience. Ashley had gotten them a slot, and so for the first time ever on the same stage they did a 20 minute set and TORE THE ROOF OFF THE PLACE, which you can see here. It really wasn't even a contest. Afterwards we went for a drink, did some shopping for snacks and cake supplies and then all went to pick up Jil from the airport, where they have a big picture of Texas on the floor which I alternately pretended to shit on and did cartwheels across. I am 34 years old.
Saturday morning, H-town and I woke up first and elected to go jump on/steamroll Ashley and Jil, after which we all got dressed and went on a mission to find a food truck called Biscuits and Groovy which sells, oddly enough, biscuits. An adorable kid with curly hair and a Texas accent took our order and told us "Y'all can go wait in yer car if ya want and I'll bring it on out to ya when it's ready." We dubbed him Biscuit Boy (bless his heart).
The bulk of Saturday was spent hanging around the house baking a somewhat ridiculous amount of cake. This was for the party we were attending at some friends of Ashley's who were all having a joint birthday party. The theme of the weekend was boobs, because Ashley has huge boobs, I had been tapped to strip at the party, the whole thing had kicked off with "SWEET HOT BUTTERED TITS" and mostly because boobs are awesome. So we made a boobs cake along with a sheet cake on which we ended up drawing Ryan Gosling's abs after watching Crazy Stupid Love while we waited for the cakes to cool. Then Ashley wrote the name of every January birthday person she knew over the top of Ryan's abs and we left for the party.
There was some sort of themed drink thingy going on at the party which we all quickly abandoned in favor of beer. We hung about the party until after the cake cutting, when I disappeared to go get dressed so that I could then turn around and get undressed in front of 60 people. Ashley introduced me for the first time as Poppy Coq "who has come all the way from Chicago to take her clothes off to music." Which I then did for my first solo strip tease performance of my life. Afterwards I was told by both Ashley and H-town they had overheard some girl say "My god, that ass!" while I was performing. When I was back in street clothes, I went and found the others who were now sitting in the front room drinking more beer and watching whatever crap movie was playing on the tv in there. As we didn't really know anyone else at the party, we elected to play a new drinking game we invented for the occasion called "Spot the Hipster", in which you drink every time someone comes in the room wearing black rimmed glasses, a plaid shirt, a decorative scarf, or a beard. We were wasted in 11 seconds. Also, I kept telling everyone who walked in the front door "You missed it. I was naked 10 minutes ago."
Back at Ashley's we were tired, drunk, hungry, and not at all ready to go to bed, so we sent Ashley out to buy us some frozen pizzas while we hung her bras from her ceiling fan and threw an exercise ball at each other up the stairs. Then when Ashley got back we dressed H-town up in heels and made videos of her walking around until we were all slap happy enough to think that me responding to Ashley's question "What time did we put the pizza in?" with "Your mom" was the most hilarious thing we'd ever heard. Which was about the time we realized we should probably go to bed.
Epic Austin weekend was truly Epic, and it is mad ridiculous that it took us 15 years to all get back in the same room at the same time. I can't imagine that it will take us another 15 to do it again. I've already started my campaign for Summer of Chicago 2013. If we get just one more woman to come I can even call it Summer of Chicago Epic Trip: Now With MORE BOOBS!
In conclusion, boobs. And your mom.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
I Will Make Every Conversation About Sex Eventually. Every One.
The cake master's g-mail chat status read "ANTM is still on?" I had no idea what that meant so I googled it. Mistake.
me: Ok, I had to actually go look up what ANTM is, and now I'm upset that I did that
The cake master: hahaha
it's SO BAD
me: it's to the point where I don't even want to watch tv anymore because even if i'm watching something good there's going to be a commercial for something that flat out sucks
The cake master: haha
very true
me: also the history channel should not be allowed to be called the history channel any more
The cake master: why not?
because of the serious lack of history being broadcast on it?
me: who the hell's idea was it to make a reality show about logging? for reals. wtf?
The cake master: oh i know, it's ridiculous
me: also, discovery channel ghost hunters needs to be called "old houses make noises, get over it"
The cake master: omfg
HAHAHA
indeed
and BBC America needs to be called, "Hey, we have a few British shows"
me: OMG RIGHT? I love TNG n' everything but THAT WAS AN AMERICAN SHOW OH MY GOD STOP
The cake master: I actually emailed them about that once
like, BBC has so many good shows, can't we get a few more instead of TNG?
and they responded it's a popular show and they get good ratings on it
me: "it stars a british guy, what the eff do you want from us?"
The cake master: hahaha
right, now they have Battlestar Galactica
which I love, but COME ON
of course, it stars a british guy too, so I guess I shouldn't complain
a British guy with an American accent
me: There's already a Sci Fi channel. It's called SyFy
The cake master: and it used to show Battlestar Galactica!!
me: i really need to bang patrick stewart. fyi
The cake master: haha nice
me: like, a lot
me: Ok, I had to actually go look up what ANTM is, and now I'm upset that I did that
The cake master: hahaha
it's SO BAD
me: it's to the point where I don't even want to watch tv anymore because even if i'm watching something good there's going to be a commercial for something that flat out sucks
The cake master: haha
very true
me: also the history channel should not be allowed to be called the history channel any more
The cake master: why not?
because of the serious lack of history being broadcast on it?
me: who the hell's idea was it to make a reality show about logging? for reals. wtf?
The cake master: oh i know, it's ridiculous
me: also, discovery channel ghost hunters needs to be called "old houses make noises, get over it"
The cake master: omfg
HAHAHA
indeed
and BBC America needs to be called, "Hey, we have a few British shows"
me: OMG RIGHT? I love TNG n' everything but THAT WAS AN AMERICAN SHOW OH MY GOD STOP
The cake master: I actually emailed them about that once
like, BBC has so many good shows, can't we get a few more instead of TNG?
and they responded it's a popular show and they get good ratings on it
me: "it stars a british guy, what the eff do you want from us?"
The cake master: hahaha
right, now they have Battlestar Galactica
which I love, but COME ON
of course, it stars a british guy too, so I guess I shouldn't complain
a British guy with an American accent
me: There's already a Sci Fi channel. It's called SyFy
The cake master: and it used to show Battlestar Galactica!!
me: i really need to bang patrick stewart. fyi
The cake master: haha nice
me: like, a lot
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Slutty Piety
The cake master: so what should i be for halloween?
Me: slutty something. the only costumes available for women are slut versions of other things
The cake master: i know, which is why i plan on making my own costume
i was thinking either nurse ratchet from from one flew over the cuckoos nest, or the pope, only with huge boobs
Me: the pope should always have huge boobs. i'd be more inclined to heed the pope if he had giant knockers
Me: slutty something. the only costumes available for women are slut versions of other things
The cake master: i know, which is why i plan on making my own costume
i was thinking either nurse ratchet from from one flew over the cuckoos nest, or the pope, only with huge boobs
Me: the pope should always have huge boobs. i'd be more inclined to heed the pope if he had giant knockers
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