Archive for June, 2009

Before I start today, I have my first ever Guest Book Review over on Moog’s Movie Reviews, of the book:

Twilight

I only read books with pictures of boobies (this includes National Geographic starving pygmy women boobies), so this doesn’t apply to me.

ONWARD!!

*******************

Motivate THIS.

(points at crotch)

Nothing to see here today…

…except a custom “motivational poster” made by yours truly over at Big Huge Labs.

Seriously…

…I have no idea how I made it almost 40 years without finding this thing.

Here’s today’s poster for you (click to enlarge (that’s what she said)):


Don’t worry.

She gets plenty of sunlight, water and kibble.

I’m not heartless, you know.

If you want to see all of my custom posters, click here.

If you like them, feel free to post them on your site.

Just give me some credit.

God knows my bank won’t.

Moog out.

Well, we’ve branched out.

I’ve had plenty of Guest Reviews for movies before.

But here, we get our first Guest BOOK Review.

Thanks, PkmnTrainerJ.

Here, without further ado, is a book review from PkmnTrainerJ for:

Twilight


FYI…

If you’re looking for a guest MOVIE review of Twilight, you can find it here.

************************
The email:

Hey moog,

So long as there’s a picture of the book at the top, and some thing highlighting how much of a fag that Robert Pattison/Patterson(?) is, I think this should be fine with a bit of your moogy magic.

************************

The review of Twilight:

What a load of utter bollocks.

People claimed that the Twilight series would be the ‘next Harry Potter’ and I should have learned to ignore the whole ‘next ’ advertising by now, especially with Heroes being spread about as the next Lost, when it doesn’t come anywhere near close.

Ah Lost, you are so damn sexy. Mmm…Lost.

Back to Twilight.

If you don’t know, Twilight is a book series by Stephanie Meyer, and is now also a film series.

In it, there’s a pale emo girl called Bella, some vampire guy called Edward I think, and in later books some werewolf comes in to make a love triangle. How you can screw up great science fiction/fantasy figures such as vampires and werewolves this badly is beyond me.

The best description I’ve ever heard for this book is “self-insertion fan fiction” from someone I follow on Twitter.

When you’re seeing things on websites like “oh, I want to be with Edward sooo much lolololol” & “I wonder what Bella’s baby will be called, I hope it will be half werewolf” etcetera, etcetera it certainly holds true.

I started up the book with an incredibly slow start, and I set it down for a few days and tried to get back in to it later on. I stopped again soon after and wondered whether the allure was just for female folk as mentioned above, but I could watch something like Buffy easily, and basically liked the Underworld films which utilised the whole vampire romance thing + werewolves, so thought that must be it.

Then, a colleague at work came in early, and said he was reading Twilight while waiting for his shift to start.

I thought of two things.

A) He’s a big queermo, in which case all the things he’s said to me have not been in jest

B) Maybe it’s just me that doesn’t get the book.

I told him it was the worst book I’ve ever read, and he started to defend it.

Our conversation was finished with me saying “Vampires. That. Glitter” and then he didn’t speak to me for the rest of the shift. Or again…oh well, no big loss.

THEY FUCKING GLITTER. NO DEATH. JUST GLITTER AND SPARKLES.

So, I tried picking it up once again when I got home, and just couldn’t do it.

It’s so terribly shit.

It’s the kind of stuff you’d expect from someone in Year 4 or 5 (about 5th Grade for America) if they wrote a short story that had to include, themselves, two fantasy races and a love story.

I only managed to get about 150 pages in to it, before I could see where the story was going, with the weird lab, the pale girl and the vampire bloke, and didn’t give a shit.

I wasn’t invested in the story because Bella hadn’t been built up very well at all. This is the only book I’ve started reading and never finished. It was that bad.

If you’re a guy, I wouldn’t advise getting this book.

If you have a girlfriend, don’t get her this book.

If you’re a woman, you already have this book, and will comment to complain at me.

***********************

So, I don’t get it, PkmnJ…did you like it or what?

I guess it’s a mystery.

Anyway, that’s Pkmn’s take on Twilight for my first ever Guest Book Review.

Thanks, dude!

Go check him out, folks. He’s a good guy and apparently has issues with really shitty books.

Moog out.

***********************
Want to be a reviewer? Send me a review!!

Want a movie reviewed? Let me know!

Email me here, or via the link on the right of the page and we’ll see what we can do.

***********************
Haven’t had enough?

Come swing by and see me at my other blog, Mental Poo.

***********************

Before I start today, I have my first ever Guest Book Review over on Moog’s Movie Reviews, of the book:

Twilight

I only read books with pictures of boobies (this includes National Geographic starving pygmy women boobies), so this doesn’t apply to me.

ONWARD!!

*******************

Motivate THIS.

(points at crotch)

Nothing to see here today…

…except a custom “motivational poster” made by yours truly over at Big Huge Labs.

Seriously…

…I have no idea how I made it almost 40 years without finding this thing.

Here’s today’s poster for you (click to enlarge (that’s what she said)):


Don’t worry.

She gets plenty of sunlight, water and kibble.

I’m not heartless, you know.

If you want to see all of my custom posters, click here.

If you like them, feel free to post them on your site.

Just give me some credit.

God knows my bank won’t.

Moog out.


It’s time yet again for another entry in the ‘Shit I learn’ series of Mental Poo!

Like you had anything else to do right now.

For more of ‘The Shit I Learn,’ check out these gems:

The Kid Vomiting Edition

The Broken Hand Edition

The Karate Edition

The Marriage Edition

Today’s episode:

The Shit I Learn – Soccer Dad Edition

Yeah. I’m a soccer dad.

I drive a minivan, enjoy Pina Colada smoothies, bring the kids all over the place, and have a crush on my Latin pool-boy, Guapo.

Don’t judge.


Okay…back to the soccer shit.

My 8 year old daughter enrolled in the town’s recreational soccer league this past spring.

How good is she?

Do you know that world famous soccer guy, Pele?

My daughter is just like Pele.

That is if Pele lived in fucking Bizarro World.

Also, Bizarro Pele has no legs and is blind.

So, yeah.

She’s like “Bizarro multiple cripple Pele.”


She is awful.

But, I love her with all my heart so I’ll try to look past the inadequacies of her pathetic play on the field every single goddamn Sunday but for Chrissakes you’d figure that after practicing and practicing and practicing she’d GET SOMETHING RIGHT BUT NOOOOOO.

Ahem.

Sorry.

So here are some things I’ve learned painfully sitting through games every Sunday:

1) Positions are merely serving suggestions

You know how when you buy a box of Ritz crackers and the cover of the box shows the crackers with, like, cheese and ham and peppers and OMG they look so fucking good shit on them?

Then you open the box, and all that’s in there are some shitty fucking crackers?

So you look at your pack of shitty fucking crackers in your fat hand then look back at the cover of the box and see in teeny tiny little letters:

“Serving Suggestion”

?!?

And you drop the box, fall to your knees, and look up at sky screaming, “WHY GOD?! WHY?!?!”

* cricket

Maybe that’s just me.


Helpful tip: this SAME shit applies to Wheat Thins and Triscuits and shit, too.

Un-fucking-believable.

They build you up and build you up and then tear you right the fuck down as soon as you open the box.

Stupid elves.

Whatever…

…the entire ‘serving suggestion’ thing apparently applies to putting my daughter out in the field and giving her a position to play.

Coach: “Payton…you’re on offense.”

Two minutes later…

…Payton is over by our goal while the rest of the team, defense included, is on the complete other side of the goddamn field actually trying to score goals.

Every once in a while, she looks over and – in her most professional soccer attitude – waves at us…

…and then proceeds to skip around in circles.

Awesome.

Coach: “Payton…defense! You’re on DEFENSE!!”

Payton doesn’t hear this because, apparently, she saw a baby on the sideline and is now over there tickling it’s feet.

I’m so proud.


2) Yelling swear words is not encouragement

So, as the wife and I are sitting on the sidelines, we’re surrounded by other parents shouting things to their kids playing in the game.

Things like:

“Way to go, Trevor!”

“Nice block, Haley!”

“You go, Jared! You did that great, Jared! You are the best, Jared! Jared you are great!”

Admittedly, Jared’s parents are a little fucking weird.

Regardless, all these parents are yelling words of encouragement to their kids who are playing their hearts out.

Meanwhile, my wife and I are yelling shit like:

“PAYTON!! KICK IT! KICK THE BALL! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KICK THE FUCKING BALL!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t raise you to be a LOSER!”

“Awful!! You’re awful!”

“You’re not my daughter!”

“Stop tickling the baby!”

(I heard that last line in a porno once)


Tough love.

It works.

Just not on the soccer field.

You know…

Where you’re supposed to KICK THE BALL!! KICK THE FUCKING BALL!!!

Sorry.

Gotta run, anyway.

Guapo’s here to clean the pool.


It’s time yet again for another entry in the ‘Shit I learn’ series of Mental Poo!

Like you had anything else to do right now.

For more of ‘The Shit I Learn,’ check out these gems:

The Kid Vomiting Edition

The Broken Hand Edition

The Karate Edition

The Marriage Edition

Today’s episode:

The Shit I Learn – Soccer Dad Edition

Yeah. I’m a soccer dad.

I drive a minivan, enjoy Pina Colada smoothies, bring the kids all over the place, and have a crush on my Latin pool-boy, Guapo.

Don’t judge.


Okay…back to the soccer shit.

My 8 year old daughter enrolled in the town’s recreational soccer league this past spring.

How good is she?

Do you know that world famous soccer guy, Pele?

My daughter is just like Pele.

That is if Pele lived in fucking Bizarro World.

Also, Bizarro Pele has no legs and is blind.

So, yeah.

She’s like “Bizarro multiple cripple Pele.”


She is awful.

But, I love her with all my heart so I’ll try to look past the inadequacies of her pathetic play on the field every single goddamn Sunday but for Chrissakes you’d figure that after practicing and practicing and practicing she’d GET SOMETHING RIGHT BUT NOOOOOO.

Ahem.

Sorry.

So here are some things I’ve learned painfully sitting through games every Sunday:

1) Positions are merely serving suggestions

You know how when you buy a box of Ritz crackers and the cover of the box shows the crackers with, like, cheese and ham and peppers and OMG they look so fucking good shit on them?

Then you open the box, and all that’s in there are some shitty fucking crackers?

So you look at your pack of shitty fucking crackers in your fat hand then look back at the cover of the box and see in teeny tiny little letters:

“Serving Suggestion”

?!?

And you drop the box, fall to your knees, and look up at sky screaming, “WHY GOD?! WHY?!?!”

* cricket

Maybe that’s just me.


Helpful tip: this SAME shit applies to Wheat Thins and Triscuits and shit, too.

Un-fucking-believable.

They build you up and build you up and then tear you right the fuck down as soon as you open the box.

Stupid elves.

Whatever…

…the entire ‘serving suggestion’ thing apparently applies to putting my daughter out in the field and giving her a position to play.

Coach: “Payton…you’re on offense.”

Two minutes later…

…Payton is over by our goal while the rest of the team, defense included, is on the complete other side of the goddamn field actually trying to score goals.

Every once in a while, she looks over and – in her most professional soccer attitude – waves at us…

…and then proceeds to skip around in circles.

Awesome.

Coach: “Payton…defense! You’re on DEFENSE!!”

Payton doesn’t hear this because, apparently, she saw a baby on the sideline and is now over there tickling it’s feet.

I’m so proud.


2) Yelling swear words is not encouragement

So, as the wife and I are sitting on the sidelines, we’re surrounded by other parents shouting things to their kids playing in the game.

Things like:

“Way to go, Trevor!”

“Nice block, Haley!”

“You go, Jared! You did that great, Jared! You are the best, Jared! Jared you are great!”

Admittedly, Jared’s parents are a little fucking weird.

Regardless, all these parents are yelling words of encouragement to their kids who are playing their hearts out.

Meanwhile, my wife and I are yelling shit like:

“PAYTON!! KICK IT! KICK THE BALL! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KICK THE FUCKING BALL!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t raise you to be a LOSER!”

“Awful!! You’re awful!”

“You’re not my daughter!”

“Stop tickling the baby!”

(I heard that last line in a porno once)


Tough love.

It works.

Just not on the soccer field.

You know…

Where you’re supposed to KICK THE BALL!! KICK THE FUCKING BALL!!!

Sorry.

Gotta run, anyway.

Guapo’s here to clean the pool.