Puke.

Two friends of mine directed me to a recently discovered atrocity, a website called Fancy Fast Food. Rather than dwell on what it may mean that more than zero people knew this was something that would be right up my alley-- what with my penchant for masochistic food porn (This Is Why You're Fat is my homepage, after all)-- I've decided to share the horror with those of you who end up reading this blog accidentally after it turns up in your Google search for photos of Oprah Winfrey's bush.* 

Basically, this website gives detailed instructions on how to makeover various fast food items to make them into "fancy" foods. Instead, what happens is no. Just, NO. The photo above is the result of a makeover of some White Castle shitty bullshit burgers into "Tapas de Castillo Blanco." Did I mention "no," yet?

I can't actually bring myself to get through all of the instructions, because once I read sentences like "Meanwhile, using a food processor, blend the french fries into a pulp with a little water. Do the same with the beef (no water necessary) until it’s ground and moldable. Hand-roll the ground beef into meatballs, then pan-fry them until they start to brown," I usually have to take a quick break to vomit for the rest of my fucking life. I didn't think it was possible to make White Castle food even more of a sickout puke party; but, I guess I stand corrected.

*True story. Hey, I'll take a "unique" user however I can get it.

I Am What's Wrong With This Country

So, I mentioned last week that I'm unemployed right now, making clear that said unemployment is indeed the impetus for my renewed attention to this blog. I've never been unemployed before, and it is taking a toll on my comfort level, to say the least. Not knowing where I'm going to get my next dollar is an uneasy feeling. I'd prefer not to suck dick for coke (never mix business with pleasure), so working jobs I hate has always been the more palatable option. Um, so to speak.

But, today I got my notice from The Man saying that I've been awarded unemployment pay. Remember those feelings of doom and malaise I was talking about, woven in with blueprints of suicide? GONE. Hooray for free money!

Now, I've got about a week before I actually start receiving my free money, but did I mention free money? Suddenly, all those years I spent rolling calls and making reservations for aging yuppie assholes at Katsu-ya seem like an even bigger waste of time than they did before. If all I had to do was get laid off to still get enough money to live a pretty lovely life, I should have seen to this happening a long time ago.

I want to celebrate with the free money I don't even have yet that's burning a hole in my pocket. Peanut butter and crack sandwiches for everyone-- on me!

No Sir, I Assure You I Am Not Going to "Love [Your] Nuts"

You may already know that the ShamWow™ Guy is also the Slap Chop™ Guy-- not to mention that he's everyone's favorite hooker-Slap Chopping™ enthusiast. Well, that fucking Slap Chop™ commercial just came on NatGeo HD and weirded me out anew, so I decided to share the suffering. I mean, I was just talking about that dipshit, after all.

Oh yes, it was the long version, so you're going to get three minutes and change of Vince's nut-Slapping™ intensity and cryptic orders to "stop having a boring life." Maybe I should start assaulting prostitutes to spice things up, too.

OR...Slap Chop™!

He also demonstrates how easy it is to Slap™ together standard breakfast fare (you know, hard boiled egg™, pickle™, green onion™ plus a pinch™ of ham™, pounded™ like an unruly whore™-- I mean, Slap Chopped™-- into a fine paste™, just like no one ever used to ever make™ ever), because "YOU DON'T HAVE TIME FOR BREAKFAST."™ 

Here you go, sweetums. An oldie but creepy, just for you. 

After watching this again, I think I need an adult.

These Things Come in 3s 3 1/2s

It is unusually difficult to find a photo of this man where he is not giving a thumbs-up. So, this.

Yesterday morning, when I was realizing I'd fallen asleep with the teevee on all night again, Ann Curry's voice was telling me that the Oxi Clean guy done came up deayud (LTNA gets folksy!).  I actually yelled to my pillow "What the fuck is going ON?" before rolling over for visual confirmation of what I thought I'd heard. I had not hallucinated the news.

Ed McMahon last Tuesday.  Then, Farrah Fawcett/Michael Jackson Day, later that week. (I am being polite here. We all know the real story is Jacko, and any mentions of Farrah that have come since then have been obligatory. We all know it. I just had the anonymous blog balls to say it.) 

And now Billy freakin Mays? I repeat, what the fuck is going ON?  Admittedly, I'm not attached to any of these personalities, but this shit is fucking weird. If I were a washed up and/or F-List celebrity, I'd be feeling a bit nervous right now. Billy just did Conan last week, for crying out loud. Who's going to yell at me insisting I buy shitty As Seen On TV products now? 

Sheesh. I totally just lost a bet. My money was on the ShamWow guy going first (meth-fueled murder/suicide, obvi). If I can get some action on a Real Housewife of New Jersey dying, I'm letting it ride.

Oh, and this is old and still sort of funny. Probably a bit disrespectful to put up, in light of things. But, you know, fuck you.

Putting the "Oy!" in "Unemployed"

This is a photo of a bread line. I lack subtlety.

Oh, indeed. Unreliable as ever, it looks like I'm doing this little blog o' mine, again. For a little while, at least. 

You see, the marked fall-off(s) in my attention here over the years have always been due to having pesky jobs that required me to do some actual work at them. Hence, no time to talk about the bullshit du jour that may be amusing. 

But, hooray recession! (Not really.) 

Today is my first day being unemployed, as the show I work/worked for is on an unpaid hiatus that'll last at least two months. Furthermore, due to MASSIVE budget cuts, I can't really count on my old job being there when it returns in the Fall. Sometime during my busy weekend of panic attacks and suicide fantasies, I decided I may as well start up here again. It'll be a nice reprieve from tracing my veins with an Exacto Knife. But, let me tell you, as soon as I get that second interview to be the Assistant Night Manager Trainee at FedEx Kinko's, I'll likely vanish again.

For now though, I'll be posting here daily-ish, just to distract from the terror of having no job and no prospects. Talking shit anonymously in a forum where I have zero accountability provides a brief distraction from the terror of my new reality: Drinking whatever imported beer is on sale (*shudder*) while I watch TV all day-- and mind you, I had to cancel Showtime. Have you ever had only one premium cable channel? It's ghastly.

For now, I'm off to see what awful jobs are out there, so I can talk myself into applying anyway, just to feel like I'm doing something, anything. I never thought I'd be Googling "taco bell careers;" and yet, here we are.

Kill me in the face.

Things with More Appeal.17

So, I've been neglecting you, reader. However, this is only because there really hasn't been anything worth talking about for a couple of weeks, other than politics. I have enough sense to know that the only way to make this blog any worse would be to expound on my political allegiances, and I'd only reveal my ignorance further. As tempting as it is to have my very own nothing-but-spin-zone feature on here (perhaps I could title a weekly series The LTNA Variable!), I decided to revisit my erstwhile-turned-sporadic "weekly" series. Indeed, here's something that I like, which I now bequeath to you, my cuddlecub: Metalocalypse.

This show, unlike some of its suckfest brethren of the ADD-stoner eleven minute cartoons of [adult swim] (Squidbillies, 12 oz. Mouse, Robot Chicken), helps keep the average quality level of the [adult swim] lineup above board, along with other jewels like The Boondocks, for which I have already expressed my profound love in previous entries.

It's about a death metal band called Dethklok, and I'm not going to tell you much else about it. All you need to know is that the humor of the show has little or nothing to do with death metal, so don't be reluctant to check the show out just because metal isn't "your thing." Besides, it's by Brendon Small, who has proven he doesn't suck plenty of times in earlier works. So, fucking watch it.

Who needs a taste?

What the Fuck?

Heath Ledger

1979-2008

This shit is fucked up right here. Renfro last week, and now this? In case you somehow haven't heard, Heath Ledger was found dead in a New York apartment a few hours ago. The apartment may or may not have belonged to Mary Kate Olsen, and judging by the pills found near him, this may or may not be a suicide. Also, he may or may not have been found naked according to the New York Times blog (at least, the post that's up right now), but that really does sound like the kind of thing someone mean would throw into the flurry of reports just to make things sound even more fucked up.

If there's anything to that superstition about deaths/bad shit shit coming in threes, the third person in this sequence had better damn well be someone who sucks. Maybe French Stewart has some little known oxycontin habit or something? Let's hope so, because the non-sucky semi-attractive boys dying is killing my buzz.

Virgins Computer Experts Agree with Me

Much of the geek world had multiple dorkgasms earlier this week, when Apple announced it's latest toy, the Macbook Air. I, too, was pretty impressed with the sleek new laptop. At first.

But, upon viewing their informational video, I began to notice several things that the notebook is lacking-- really basic shit, like more than one USB port and, oh I don't know, a fucking disc drive? Indeed, I suppose the lack of a disc drive is somewhat explained away by the very ethos of the Macbook Air. Still though, it would be nice to have the option. If you're bringing this thing on a plane and want to watch a DVD, you're pretty much fucked unless you bring additional equipment.

By the very end of the guided tour, I was left feeling that the product was, quite honestly, another bullshit boondoggle by Apple. Steve Jobs, the world's richest premature ejaculator, blew Apple's load too quickly on this release, yet again. They released a product that wasn't entirely thought out, in the hopes that the niche market of suckers with fuck-you-money who waited on line for days for their iPhones would fall for it again. They will.

I dared not utter this to my friends who were already placing their pre-orders for one, but I'm glad to say that the nerd authorities seem to agree with me. I've said it before and I'll say it many more times: Never by a first generation Apple anything. I happen to be in the market for a laptop, but I'd rather spend my money on Asian hookers and cocaine than this mess. Oh, who am I kidding? I was planning to do that anyway.