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The Insensitive MC

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BABY'S FIRST INTERVIEW [Feb. 7th, 2008|08:41 pm]
The Insensitive MC
My first real job at The Daily Planet, I'm interviewing this guy on Tuesday:


I have no idea what to ask him. Ideas? Anyone? What was it like working with CHRIS KATTAN?

Oh, and "Semi-Pro"? Not good. Not good at all.
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Ratner? You disgust me. [May. 29th, 2006|02:41 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |disappointeddisappointed]

So my favorite part in X-Men 3 was when Uma Thurman threw that great white shark directly at Luke Wilson through the window of some high rise building. That was so awesome.

Oh wait, that was a trailer for some other dumb movie. Okay. My favorite part in X-Men 3 was when ***SPOILER ALERT*** Dr. X like, explodes, and one of his rich mutant students has this totally fantastic conversation with some guy that shoots ice from his hand:

Bitch: *weepy* I miss him
Dude: We all do. I understand.
Bitch: *weepy weepy weeps*
Dude: ...
Bitch: ...I dunno. I guess I just miss snow.

Cut to the two of them ice skating for 46 minutes while Anna Paquin glares at them with extreme jealousy through a window. The fuck? Dude! Prof. X like, exploded! EX-PLO-DED HELLO NOT A TIME FOR ICE SKATING AND/OR JEALOUSY.

No wait wait wait, 'nother part. Famke Janssen is all resurrected and wicked hot as usual except her hair is all long and she is in an inexplicable pair of black undies which is way hotter and Wolverine is like, nice tits because he's been staring at them forever. And because she's now The Phoenix she is totally horny and starts making out with him and grabs his mutant balls and he has a full erection and then just as mutant vaginas are about to be exposed he's all, "No. I can't. The Professor wouldn't approve". WHAT. What have you done with Wolverine, nueter him? You did, Professor, didn't you. Good. I'm glad you exploded. I miss snow too, fuck you.

Oh, oh, okay. I have one more favorite part. Magneto and his rag tag group of mutant cronies storm Alcatraz by ripping the entire Golden Gate Bridge off of its hinges and then they float the massive thing over and it literally takes an hour and a half. Like, couldn't you guys have floated over in some trollies or whatever? I dunno. Anyway. A bunch of random mutant dudes go storming into the guards and Ian McNeto is like, "send the pawns first". And then literally 14 seconds later McNeto is all "send the pawns first" and I'm all, where did I hear that before oh right, from Magneto. 14 seconds ago. Laziest editor, EVER.

I'm sorry. I'm kind of a nerd. I really dug the previous installments. But # 3 was such a fucking mess I can't even wrap my head around it. Then again, Brett Ratner. Who is banging Lindsay Lohan. 'Nuff. Said. Bryan Singer right now is like *siiiiiigh*.
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(no subject) [Mar. 13th, 2006|09:09 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |peacefulpeaceful]

Stuckie Dan: http://www.myspace.com/CarlWinslow
Stuckie Dan: i just added him
Professor Pesto: lolz
Professor Pesto: how did you find that
Stuckie Dan: collegehumor.com
Professor Pesto: he's awesome
Stuckie Dan: indeed
Professor Pesto: hahaha, he does hate white people
Professor Pesto: he said it on that one episode
Professor Pesto: to Eddie
Stuckie Dan: he did?
Professor Pesto: Urkle had a white girlfriend...
Professor Pesto: and she had glasses too and was also clumsy
Professor Pesto: and you know how much Carl hated Urkle
Stuckie Dan: haha right
Professor Pesto: so Eddie and Carl were in the kitchen and Carl was all serious and standing in his uniform and was all ashamed and confused because he didn't understand his anger
Stuckie Dan: hahahaha
Professor Pesto: so Eddie taught him all about tolerance
Stuckie Dan: hahaha
Professor Pesto: and it was a son teaching father moment and the strings were playing intensely
Stuckie Dan: hahahaha
Professor Pesto: and Urkle's girlfriend came over, I think her name was Ursula, and she was an exchange student
Stuckie Dan: ha
Professor Pesto: and her and Carl bonded because he understood the meaning of tolerance via Eddie
Stuckie Dan: right
Professor Pesto: then Aunt Winslow backed her car up into her she died and the grandma buried her underneath the daughter's giant dollhouse of bigotry and Carl was relieved because he fucking hates cracka ass crackas
Professor Pesto: do you remember that episode?
Stuckie Dan: nope haha
Professor Pesto: it would be awesome if that really was an episode
Stuckie Dan: oh you made all that shit up?
Stuckie Dan: what the fuck
Professor Pesto: hahahaha yeah
Stuckie Dan: it was believable until the killing her part
Stuckie Dan: but I was like "maybe"
Professor Pesto: it's even more awesome that you pictured all of it and accepted it
Professor Pesto: I love lies
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The sun shines and mediocrity reigns [Nov. 13th, 2005|02:14 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |sleepysleepy]

Lovely afternoon and I'm congested. Semi-watching football. Someone threw a ball, some other people fell over. Shawn said "Niiice". I sniffed. I hate football.

An Ikea just opened 45 minutes away. We walked through the store once without stopping. Cattle, double strollers, strolling fucking cattle. I said "I'm going to stab myself in the face with something wicker-related" twice within 3 minutes. Because I am seriously that annoyed by copious mounds of roaming adults. Then I ate a cinnamon bun and frowned the entire time. Like I was 7. Then we left.

I just ate a bacon mushroom melt from Wendy's. I don't know why that happened, but I do know it'll never happen again. I want to vomit in something wicker-related. Shawn is already in the bathroom and we finished eating 6 minutes ago. That should be the Wendy's guarantee. We promise the La Brea Tar Shits within 7 minutes or your money back!

*belch* "Oh GOD". *sprays not nearly enough melon-scented air freshener* Romance, people. Alive and flinching.

Beenie and I ate at Paragon last night. We attempted to hit Ten, but the valet dude said it might be a while because of "kitchen problems". Right. Way to be vague, dude. Also, why are restaurant names always so pretentious? Our waitress at Paragon was a cunt. The food was too cheap to be useful. I tipped our cunty waitress 16 percent because she thought she was too good to bring me my pinot noir in a timely fashion. When I came home Shawn and I watched 2 episodes of Sex and the City, season 4. Aiden and Carrie are going to break up soon. Again. Shawn and I are apparently still together. We're like Miranda and Steve, except Shawn is taller, balding, and has both balls. Oh and I'm not a pregnant lawyer. But I am sort of glib.

That Johnny Cash movie looks pretty god-awful. And I love Johnny. But that scene where Reese is all "Bay-be, bay-be, bay-be". I dunno. Lame. Shut up, Elle.

"Where's Dillon?" Shawn wants to know and I have no idea what's going on. I think of Matt Dillon and his cro-magnon forehead and his perpetually confused eyebrows. He doesn't know where he is either, Shawn. Oh, you meant the football player. *sniff*. Right. In other news, the announcer just called someone "overzealous". I personally would have said "eager beaver", just to mix it up. I like words that kind of rhyme. But that's why I'm not a football announcer. That's the only reason.

Someone's helmet went *mash* and I've decided to take a nap.

I love Sundays.
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New Season Series Regular [Sep. 17th, 2005|12:19 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |refreshedrefreshed]

I was watching that episode where Samatha gets the flu and noone would take care of her except for Carrie who made her frozen Fanta and cough syrup and I was thinking man, I haven't gotten sick this year yet and fucking, WHAM, Hi head cold Hi, thanks for showing up.

It was like if Uncle Phil was all, "Will, we haven't seen your friend in a while" and Jazz opens the door and stands there and the audience track is looping WHOO and then Phil tosses him outside [ARGH!] and he's wearing the same patterned brown shirt and stone washed jeans he always wears when Phil tosses him even though he showed up today in a red shirt and shiny slacks.

Because 2 TV metaphors beat 1 and you know it.

So my head was so congested with mucus and chocolate and Guinness [the latter 2 always being there] that a sales rep asked me to hand him a blue slip and instead I passed him a glue stick.

PlugWunderWhy: do you use glue sticks in the office?
PlugWunderWhy: i havent used one since like 4th grade
Professor Pesto: want to hear something funny
PlugWunderWhy: yes
Professor Pesto: my first week on the job they handed me a Staples catalogue and asked me to pick whatever I wanted for my desk and I was SO excited because OMG, office supplies
PlugWunderWhy: hahahah right
Professor Pesto: so I was flipping through it with glee like it was a Tiffany's catalogue and circling average things like pens and a calculator and then I saw glue sticks and thought, wow, I haven't had a glue stick since I was 11
PlugWunderWhy: hahahahahah
Professor Pesto: so they ordered two 6 packs of giant glue sticks for me and they are all lined up on my desk and I'll never, ever use them ever
PlugWunderWhy: hahahaha
PlugWunderWhy: thats awesome
Professor Pesto: you don't know glory until you've seen 12 glue sticks all lined up in a row

I'm getting pretty antsy day-by-day here. When everything is all okay all we want is disarray. Fickle bitches. I wonder why Desperate Housewives is such a hit and then I realize oh, right, of course. But it's not so much the relationship doldroms, it's everyday-droms. It's all just okay and that's just not enough. I read 2 Augusten Burroughs novels in a row and thought shit, I'm a wry fucker too, where does it all go? I provide running commentary on TV shows nightly like I should be a robot silhouette in a movie theater with a head made of an empty gum ball machine. Kind of a waste. So let's change that. Let me be a feature player on the show. I don't just want an 8 x 10 black and white of me displayed, I want my name announced by Don Pardo while I'm pretending to get out of a cab. Fuck it. It's a new season. A different writer. I'll see you all tomorrow, same show, different theme, let's get the ratings up.

Man, mucus? Motivates.
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Breathe Me [Aug. 22nd, 2005|09:46 pm]
The Insensitive MC
Montreal is a rush.

And Six Feet Under's finale made me cry like my name was Tammy Faye.

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Now. [Jun. 19th, 2005|08:57 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |contentcontent]

Sunday evening margarita made me nauseous. Lightweight. It's the service in that joint that's truly sickening. The bar douche once tossed an ashtray at my shoulder with such indifferent velocity that I actually said "ow" with an earnest disposition. Fucking, OW. Relax, dude. Life ain't that bad. Sorry you're 37 and still slinging nachos to spoiled RISD brats in flat Mary Janes. Could be worse. Think about it. I'm barely 24 and half a shot of tequila is disagreeing with my entire system. Ow.

Is anyone watching the final season of Six Feet Under?

Grandma stopped by my apartment this afternoon. She liked the japanese screen in my bedroom. Loved the couch. I hate the couch. But grandma? Loved it. She also loves Manny Ramirez of the Red Sox because he's "like a bag of nothing". I guffawed and offered her a beer. She declined but said I have nice teeth. She's like everyone I ever dated. Ow.

I've been at my delightfully decent job for over 3 months now, have been in this fairly fab apartment a bit longer, have been with the beau for 8 months. Everything is sort of great. My girlfriends and I have dinner during the week, mainly plates upon boats of sushi at Haruki a few blocks away. We sit at the sushi bar and the head chef whose name we do not know gives us squid and lollipops. I told my cooked-maki-only-please girlfriend that the squid was pork and she ate it without hesitation and commented on how like, totally chewy it was. Try some more, B. "Okay, O". *chompchompchompchompchompchompchompchomp swallow*. Not bad.

Th beau is laughing at something Marge said far too loudly. Marge is never funny. Sometimes I kind of hate him.

My whole life is a non-sequiter. I miss writing. I hate Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Everyone's latest album sucks. But I love that my grandma said that my bathroom is "wow". Because, frankly, everything is pretty wow right now. Except whatever the frig was in that margarita.
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Return of the Dying Lived [Mar. 25th, 2005|07:18 pm]
The Insensitive MC
I'm back. High speed at home. I'm gonna be doing a lot of previous day'ing. Is it creepy that I kind of miss reading my friends list on a daily?


It is.
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The Storm Before The Calm [Mar. 6th, 2005|01:57 pm]
The Insensitive MC
[Current Mood |calmcalm]

Baby’s first apartment? Set-up and clean. Walls painted, pictures hung, books, cd’s, and dvd’s alphabetically arranged. Near perfection. Well… Save for a chaotic pile of my soon to be organizized sweaters, t-shirts, and blousy things. Funny how I’m so particular about structuring the spices in descending order according to size, yet I only finally decide to hang up and fold my entire wardrobe when I intercept an “Uh, honey? The clothes? Need to be hung up now” from the ever-patient beau.

And I ate Fruity Pebbles for breakfast this morning. My literal first taste of slummin’ it.


But the place looks terrif. It really, really does. And it feels terrif. And I’m Cheshire lately because of it. The first night there I cried in bed. Never an attractive state. Rolled over and bawled because I realized that I’m no longer in an engines revving state, but in a “and we’re off!” one. Anxiety never arrives casually. But a few days later, as I filled up the clawfoot with a generous amount of Mr. Bubbles [SLUMMIN’ it], lit a fruity Yankee candle, and blasted some Otis. Man. That was it. I have arrived. The strain down the fucking drain, ya’ll. I bought a bottle of cabernet last night. Hell, I bought 2. Homegirl at the counter and I bantered about trash tv. About how we love to drink a few glasses of wine, kick back on a comfy couch, and watch us some reality bullshit. Yeah, new job on the near horizon. Yeah, the relationship intensity has risen dramatically due to cohabitation. Yeah the weathers getting warmer, the days are getting longer, but let’s face it. This is what I look forward to:

Mondays: Real World/Road Rules Challenge Inferno II - 10pm
Tuesdays: Amazing Race - 9pm
Wednesdays: Movie Night, Tuesday new releases
Thursdays: The Apprentice
Sundays: Dead-fucking-wood

The old stand-by’s. A glass of wine. Good company. Trashy programming. A totally cozy chair. And a pantry full of descending spices. Here’s to a new year, with as much serene comfort as possible.
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WTF [Feb. 21st, 2005|10:12 am]
The Insensitive MC
The Man. RIP

Hunter S. Thompson

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