A Mischief Of Magpies

If the Sun were the size of a beach ball then Jupiter would be the size of a golf ball and a Mischief of Magpies would be as small as a pea.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Vanity Unfair

I hardly need ask if you have perused the October, Paris Hilton cover edition, of Vanity Fair magazine, instead I’ll just naturally assume you have, culture vulture that you are.

No doubt, then, that you are familiar with the quote from Nicky Hilton in that same issue… what? No, not Paris, Nicky, y’know, the other one. Oh come on! Surely you recognise her, she’s Paris’ sister but is, like, famous and successful in her own right, yeah? Actually she’s a very well respected businesswoman and total hot babe to boot, if you must know.
And, well, she had this to say to her critics:

“I just want to say to these writers, ‘I’m 21 years old, I run two multi-million-dollar companies, I work my ass off. Like, what were you doing that was so fucking important at that age?’ I feel very accomplished for my age.”
Now, you’d have thought all the playa hatas would have backed the hell off after that zing, but some wiseacre just had to step up with this letter printed in the following edition:

“I would like to respond to that. When I was 21, I was busy working toward my Ph.D. in organic chemistry at the University of Minnesota. I was the first to synthesize the compound okadaic acid — shown to be the leading cause of breast cancer.”
- Steven F. Sabes
Wayzata, Minnesota
Yeah, well, brainiac, I don’t see you having the Japanese fashionista going ga-ga for your darling little handbags, nor do I expect the paparazzi to be waiting for you outside the choicest NY nightclubs, on the off-chance of catching you stumbling out in a drunken, coke-addled state with your titties hanging out.
So. Keep messing with your test-tubes or whatever, Dr Sabes, some people, like Paris Hilton’s equally famous sister, Nicky, have two multi-million dollar businesses to ’run’, and, despite being born into millions, she has to “work her ass off” for everything she gets. I mean, do you know how much quality nose-jobs even cost these days? No, I didn’t think so. Loser.

Rich




There may have been or may not have been a guy named, Rich, say. Rich woke up one morning looking out the window breath sweet and aspertame sticky with a yo-ho-ho memory of to much rum. It was fucking raining out as it had been for the past 40 days and nights. Rich sat on his bed deep in thought, masturbating. It came to him in a flash. He would take the day off instead of going in, no one comes in to look at cars when it's 40 degrees and raining, no one. The car business is so fucking dead right now you could set a cannon full of flaming shit off in the middle of the showroom and not a soul would be hit.




Then would come Rich's favorite the immortal game between management and the staff when there is nothing to do.

" If you don't have something to do, pretend to look busy "

" you get paid more than I do, you pretend I'm looking busy "

This is what was rolling around in his head. Rich decided to take the day off.

Rich made good food. He worked out, smoked a fatty and had a hot tub. He caught up on his chores around the house. He listened to his favorite music, read a book and took a nap and yes, he masturbated.

Rich went to work a happy man the next day.

Greetings and Salutations

I've been invited here to contribute to this blog. Ordinarily I would read the damn thing before I started posting, but I'm at work, and I'm really supposed to be ordering flowers for my boss who forgot to send them to his girlfriend's father's wake tonight.

Dumbass.

So here I am, kids. The Coconut, at your service. I must say I'm a little disappointed that I didn't win "Person of the Year" on this blog. Just because I wasn't here when the awards were handed out is really no excuse.

My mother-in-law, who knows I am a vegetarian, is planning to make the Thanksgiving stuffing with sausage and chicken broth. She offered to make a separate one without the stuffing. I asked her if she was planning to substitute the chicken broth as well. She said "No, chicken broth really isn't meat so you can eat it."

Thanks for informing me that I can eat the broth of dead birds whilst remaining vegetarian. I hadn't known that.

Well, a little bit about me, and then you can leave a little bit about you in the comments.

As you've seen above, I'm a vegetarian for ethical reasons. The older I get, the more I turn into a hippy. But if I start using that Aveda hair stuff that makes you smell like trees, you have my full permission to sell me into sexual bondage to Dick Cheney.

I'm also young, recently married, very girly (there's nothing better than shiny lips and shiny hair, people, and I will judge you according to how shiny your lips and hair are), and EXTREMELY opinionated, as you will soon find out and likely begin to regret having invited me here.

Does this blog have a theme? Or can I just keep rambling?

Anyway.

By way of further introduction, I offer you The Llama Song. Enjoy, my lovely bunch of Coconuts.

You kids seem alright. I'll hang around awhile, as long as this doesn't suck.

-K.