dear henri,

I was thinking....

2005-10-22T04:48:00.000-05:00

while I was listening to one of my favorite Ani Difranco songs "School Night" and it goes like this, yo--

"What of the mother
whose house is in flames
and both of her children
are in their beds crying
and she loves them both
with the whole of her heart
but she knows she can only
carry one at a time?
she's choking on the smoke
of unthinkable choices
she is haunted by the voices
of so many desires
she's bent over from the business
of begging forgiveness
while frantically running around
putting out fires

but then what kind of scale
compares the weight of two beauties
the gravity of duties
or the ground speed of joy?
tell me what kind of gauge
can quantify elation?
what kind of equation
could i possibly employ?"

Well, anyway. No one--including my mother, knows how beautiful my mother is.
If you're reading this, understand that I couldn't ever describe it, but I will say that were it up to me I'd burn up with my Mommy and my sister before I'd watch either of them go.

Wow. some of my lyrics.

2005-10-22T04:44:00.000-05:00

"The Ballad of Sissy and Jelly"

The quiet of the fire mingles softly like coffee and cream with the sounds of the holy man on the mountain laughing wisely as time passes by.

She's seen all of the country--cooled her thumbs in the oceans and hitched the stars but there's something pulls her back her like the tides to the scene of our love.

And the Countess in his castle pulls the strings at the ranch of the housewives and whores but the cowgirls take it over--scare the bitches away with the stench of their cores.

Well Dolores says the Goddess wants the women to rule but not with force and the cranes eat the peyote as the government comes to kick down the doors.

You can hypnotize a chicken--20 times round the head and he's yours for life and it t'weren't no silver bullet. it was a rocking horse, or maybe I lied.

"Mica's Song"

I'll always remember the way you cried in the bathroom cause you looked so unfamiliar when we shaved your hair off. And that night we listened to a candle as it cracked away the seconds in a silence that was comfortable. You always carried an umbrella, said 'It looks like nasty weather, and I don't like feeling helpless.'

and I just wanted you. I just wanted you to know--that I know. That you were the one who made it rain. You were the one who made it rain. And I miss you and I miss you and I miss you...

I gave you my last chance at puppy love and you held it like a baby in your arms--but you told me you didn't have enough for me you'd lost it all a long time ago.

and I just wanted you. I just wanted you to know--that I know that you were the one who made it rain. You were the one who made it rain and I miss you I miss you I miss you...

"Lightswitch"

I hope someone is watching me--if for nothing else just to see for themself the beauty of my symmetry as I rampage through this lifetime. And i may not be anything but a bundle of nerves that exists to compel my finger to turn on a lightswitch.

'Cause I'm sitting in a dark room trying hard to hear something only your eyes can say--and some strange fascination with knowing you wholly incites me to believe I'd hear them if only I turned on a lightswitch.

You see you excite me in ways I can't quantify or contain--but what an elusive lover you have been and remain. Tell me a story that doesn't end with starting over again. And I'll turn on a lightswitch.

"Hangover"

I'll wake up in the morning when the sun sets angry fingers on my eyelids I'm arrested in this moment and I do not know whose room I'm in my mouth will taste like garbage as my head pounds out the backbeat of the song that made you love me when I sang to you so honestly.

And I will promise to the mirror that I'm not the thing I'm looking at I am so much more beautiful I'm so much more intact- and the contours of her body in the bedsprings will recede as I figure out the difference between what I want and what I need.

and hey, bartender whatcha got back there that's stronger than my memory 'cause I remember someone being in love with me.

My eyes are still adjusting to the darkness of her absence as I fumble for my dignity inside this cold reality and promises are little less than pretty words we've lain to rest among the dead and buried of this fickle thing that we call love

i'll wake up in the morning when the sun sets angry fingers on my eyelids--I'm arrested in this moment and I do not know whose room I'm in.

"Body is Liquid"

My body is liquid- my breath is coming out steam. Your hands are cupped beneath me your eyes are burning right through me. Sometimes I'm salty, baby. Sometimes I'm sweet. I think I taste like honey. Maybe I'm candy.

Drink me down. Oh Drink me down.

I think that I'll surrender- I think I'll lay at your feet. You wanted something special, something unique. Sometimes I'm hard to swallow, sometimes I'm easy. I think you want to touch me. Go on and please me.

Drink me down. Oh Drink me down.

My body is liquid. My body is liquid. My body is liquid. My body is liquid...

"Leftover"

So you gave her that mushy pink shit in your chest with fries on the side and she asked you for more. Then she sent it all back in a brown paper bag. Wondering who in the hell she even ordered it for. So now you cry in the dark and act like a fool. Forget about everyone else and believe that she''ll come back to you.

And here I am now begging for scraps of the stuff that she didn't want--tail between my legs I say

'Refuse me. Shit on me. Ignore me. I'll still be in love with you in the morning.'

I remember when I was interesting to you. You sat down in my room and looked at me like I was something. And I caught your eye when you were dancing--told you I wanted you without saying anything.

And here I am now scratching for crumbs of your affection. Honest and brave I say

'Refuse me. Shit on me. Ignore me. I'll still be in love with you in the morning.'

"Great One"

Back through the rusty swinging doors of admiration. Don't you just love it when the fans behave as friends? Guess I should you my heartfelt congratulations but I can't. I used to love the way your voice would touch the ceiling. Sweep all the cobwebs from the corners of the room. I spoke about how you could never forget me but I spoke to soon.

Olga. You forgot to call me on my birthday. You forgot who built you up when you were nothing more than a soundtrack for drinking coffee and writing poetry. Nothing more than a friend to me.

I came to see you as a big star the other day. (blue girls, tough women) You just signed an autograph and walked away. (and the ladies feast on you tonight.) Ain't it funny (You said I would be a great one)how we never ever mean the things we say when we speak to soon? (and you were right)

My uterus hurts.

2005-10-11T14:33:00.001-05:00

all work and no play makes mandy a dull girl all work and no play makes mandy a dull girl all work and...

oh...hello. Sometimes I wish I were a crazy person wielding an axe and chasing someone. I wouldn't want to hurt them with the axe--just chase them. Then they'd hit me with something and I would of course jump right back up and start chasing them because that's what villains do. Hopefully while they were running their shirt would catch on a bush and fly off revealing their breasts. At the end when I finally caught them I'd say "Hey, I dont' understand why you're running, I just wanted to give you this!" and hand them a flower or a kitten. Then I'd act like they were nuts for running away from me.

Agree with me or Die!!!!!

2005-10-11T14:32:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me today that I'm tired of interests. By that I mean I'm tired of people asking me if I like things in search of a common interest. And I'm tired of being made to feel like I suck because I like/dislike something someone else does or doesn't.

"Do you like Leonardo Dicaprio?"

"No I hate Leonardo Dicaprio"

"But he was so good in 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape'!"

"I like 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape'."

"I hated 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape' but I love Leonardo Dicaprio."

"I guess we can't have a conversation then"

"We just did."

What the fuck are we accomplishing? Do you really, truly care if I adore Reba McEntire? (Which I do, in fact, chew on that.) Do I truly care if you like watching paint dry? Yes, I do. But that doesn't mean that I have to like watching paint dry.

If I spent every second of my day trying to have as much in common with someone else as possible--I MAY eventually have 1/1000000th of an iota of a molecule of a fiber of my essence in common with them.

I like the sound of trains when I'm sleeping.

I hate the cold.

I sort of enjoy melba toast~ but not enough to wax ecstatic.

Getting my hair cut makes me happy.

I can't stand it when people touch my face.

I despise bad grammar.

I love having the back of my neck kissed.

I think feet are beautiful.

The smell of potpourri makes me nauseous.

I don't like pumpkin pie.

I love fiction, and hate instruction manuals.

My favorite color is blue next to yellow. I refuse to pick one.

I hate being held down forcibly.

I love being held down playfully.

Celine Dion frustrates me.

I adore films based on redemption.

I despise most films based on sick humor.

I love to amuse myself by miniaturizing words--for instance: monkey

I laugh hardest at things that don't make sense.

I cry hardest at insensitivity.

I would rather die than hear someone talk down to my mothers.

I'm glad I have no religious upbringing.

I'm fascinated by people who have and manage to not suck.

I love the smell of lighter fluid.

I hate talking on the telephone.

I would love to be a cello.

Really I could go on all day but I won't---because if you got the original point, you're probably not even reading this. But if you did--well bless yer heart, honey.

=)

2005-10-11T14:31:00.000-05:00

"Who knows how to make love stay?

Tell love you are going to the Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

Tell love you want a momento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.

Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning."

~Tom Robbins

Shoot me.

2005-10-11T14:30:00.000-05:00

hahahahah

I have 2 jobs and I'm broke.

hahahahaha.

Off to work!

hahahahhahaha

Se7en

2005-09-03T05:13:00.000-05:00

Politiko tagged me.

1. Seven things I plan to do before I die

• Write a novel.
• Write/Direct a movie.
• Have a wedding.
• Skydive
• Scuba Dive
• Meet J.M.R (aka Politko)
• Smoke a J with Ani Difranco.

2. Seven things I can do

• Play a mean guitar.
• Hurt your feelings.
• Impersonate Zorak from Space Ghost
• Get in bad moods for no reason.
• Persuade someone to do pretty much anything.
• Show appreciation.
• Roll my eyes in different directions.

3. Seven things I can't do

• Use common sense.
• Impregnate the person I love.
~ Golf. :-)
• Put up with being demeaned in any way.
• Be enclosed in a small space.
• Pretend to love someone.
• Hold a grudge

4. Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex people

• Cleanliness.
~ Manners
• Sensitivity
• Wit
• Facial Hair.
• Fashion sense.
• Potential mini-Henri ingredients.

5. Seven things I say most

• Rock out with your cock out.
~ You're fucking kidding me.
• no, everything's okay.
~ Thank you for calling Blockbuster, this is Henri how can I help you?
• That's fuckin' awesome.
• NO FUCKING WAY!
• Truthfully....

6. Seven celebrity crushes

• Clea Duvall
• Johnny Knoxville
• Jodie Foster
• Ani Difranco
• Kathryn Hepburn
• Milla Jovovich
• Amy Ray

7. Seven People I want to take this quiz

Esteban
Mommy
Angie
God
Sleepy
Dopey
Happy

2005-08-15T21:42:00.001-05:00

dusk

2005-08-15T21:42:00.000-05:00

dusk

2005-08-15T21:41:00.001-05:00

dusk

2005-08-15T21:41:00.000-05:00

dusk

Annnnd Finally. (even though it shows up FIRST to you) You should probably scroll down to the beginning of the little test thingies.

2005-08-05T02:52:00.000-05:00

You Are an Emo Rocker!

Expressive and deep, lyrics are really your thing.
That doesn't mean you don't rock out...
You just rock out with meaning.
For you, rock is more about connecting than grandstanding.

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

I may have peed I'm laughing so hard.

2005-08-05T02:50:00.000-05:00

To pick up Esteban Pertable: I've just moved you to the top of my to do list.

Get your own Magic Pick Up Line

I always thought so.

2005-08-05T02:43:00.000-05:00

Your 80s Theme Song:

Your 80s Theme Song is Rock Me Amadeus by Falco

What's Your 80's Theme Song?

w00t!

2005-08-05T02:36:00.000-05:00

Your Hidden Talent

You are both very knowledgeable and creative.
You tend to be full of new ideas and potential - big potential.
Ideas like yours could change the world, if you build them.
As long as you don't stop working on your dreams, you'll get there.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

Laughin my effin' ass off.

2005-08-05T02:35:00.000-05:00

Your IQ Is 90

Your Logical Intelligence is Average
Your Verbal Intelligence is Exceptional
Your Mathematical Intelligence is Average
Your General Knowledge is Average

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

I'm serious. I love Feedback.

2005-08-05T02:29:00.000-05:00

Cheese Pizza

I want to see yours btw! For all of these.

2005-08-05T02:27:00.000-05:00

You are funky, outdoorsy, and down to earth.
While you may not be a total hippie...
You're definitely one of the most free spirited people around.

You are very impulsive - every day is a new adventure.
However, you do put some thought behind all your actions.
Still, you do tend to shock and offend people from time to time!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

Bored + Bummed = This

2005-08-05T02:24:00.000-05:00

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Genius Philosopher.

Where You Lived: Ontario.

How You Died: Hung for treason.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

2005-08-04T22:37:00.000-05:00

I stole this idea from Politiko because it ROCKS!!!!!!

Type the answers to each of the following into a google image search, and post one of the pictures.

The Age You Will Be on Your Next Birthday:

The Place You Live:

Your Favorite Color:

The Place You Want to Get Married:

Your First Love:

Your Favorite Fruit/Vegetable:

Your Favorite Animal:

Your Pet's Name:

Last Name of Your Favorite Actor:

Your Favorite Song:

Bad Habit of Yours:

Your Middle Name:
Mine is "Big" and consequently this photo is from a Sigur Ros (that's a band that I love) CD insert. Imagine that.

2005-08-02T03:28:00.000-05:00

See it or Spend Your Life Wandering in Lust for Brains.

File This One Under "Zombie Movies that Make You Cry"

2005-08-02T02:59:00.000-05:00

Here we go again.

Shaun of the Dead (Wright & Penn 2004)

I have seen my share of horror movies. Generally they're lacking to the point I want to give up on them...all of them--and never in my life would or could I have expected to see one that would make me feel...well..everything.

"Shaun of the Dead" is remarkable on so many levels, but mostly just this one: This is a movie about ZOMBIES. It has the disgusting gore of your average zombie movie. It has the someone-take-charge-cooperation-for-survival element, and then there's the WOW that's really touching--part of the film. And that's where it got me. Set aside the fact that the film was pretty much hilarious for so many reasons and picture this: This movie made me cry MORE THAN ONCE! I don't know if the creators (Mensa material, they are) intended for me to cry, but GOD damn it I did! I really did. This movie was downright touching.

General Synopsis: Couch potato Everyman proves that to be extraordinary, one simply must step up to the challenges of the world....like killer zombies.

I wish I could say more, but honestly, you just have to see it for yourself. Understand that you WILL like it, or you're pretty much a freak.

if you really MUST know more check out The Official Shaun of the Dead Website Yo!

That said,
I give "Shaun of the Dead" 8 (yup) 8 rawkstars. ********

I don't care who you are, this one's gooooooood.

XOXO

Love,
Henri

Mitch Hedberg: Funniest Guy Ever.

2005-07-30T05:16:00.000-05:00

These are quotes from Mitch Hedberg, comedic genius who passed away March 30, 2005.

WARNING: You are likely to snort with laughter.

Thanks Elaine, I ganked these quotes from ya.

-"I tried walking into a Target, but I missed."
-"I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long."
-"I type 101 words a minute. But it's in my own language."
-"I wish I could play little league now. I'd be way better than before."
-"I would imagine if you understood Morse Code, a tap dancer would drive you crazy."
-"It's hard to dance if you just lost your wallet. Whoa! Where's my wallet? But, hey this song is funky."
-"I played golf....I did not get a hole in one, but I did hit a guy and that's way more satisfying. You're supposed to yell "FORE," but I was too busy mumbling that ain't no way that's gonna hit him."
-"I wrote a letter to my dad- I wrote, I really enjoy being here. But I accidently wrote rarely, instead of really. But I still wanted to use it, so I crossed it out and wrote I rarely drive steamboats, Dad. There's a lot you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator. This letter took a harsh turn right away."
-"And then at the end of the letter i like to write P.S.- This is what part of the alphabet would look like if Q and R were eliminated."
-"The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how much I play, I'll never be as good as a wall. I played a wall once. They're relentless."
-"When someone hands you a flyer, it's like they're saying "Here--you throw this away.""
-"I like rice. Rice is great if your hungry and want 2000 of something."
-"I got my hair highlighted, because I felt some strands were more important that others."
-"I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it."
-"I hate turkeys. If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. There's turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastromi,.Some one needs to tell the turkey, man, just be yourself."
-"I like refried beans. I wanna try fried beans, because maybe they're just as good and we're just wasting time."
-"I got into and argument with a girlfriend inside of a tent. That's a bad place for an argument, because I tried to walk out and slam the flap. How are you supposed to express your anger in this situation? Zipper it up real quick?"
-"This product that was on TV was available for four easy payments of $19.95. I would like a product that was available for three easy payments and one complicated payment. We can't tell you which payment it is, but one of these payments is going to be hard."
-"I was going to get my teeth whitened, but I said screw that, I'll just get a tan instead."
-"I was at this casino minding my own business and this guy came up to me and said you're gonna have to move you're blocking a fire exit. As if were there a fire, I wasn't gonna run. If you are flamable and have legs you are never blocking a fire exit."
-"I don't own a cell phone or a pager. I just hang around everyone I know, all the time. If someone wants to get a hold of me they just say "Mitch," and I say "What?" and turn my head slightly."
-"I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later."
-"My friend said to me "You know what I like? Mashed potatoes," I was like, Dude, you gotta give me time to guess. If your going to quiz me, you must put a pause in there."
-"An escalator can never break. It can only become stairs. You would never seen an "Escalator temporarily out of order" sign, just "Escalator temporarily stairs. Sorry for the convenience.""
-"I was walking down the street with my friend and he said "I hear music" As though there's another way you can take it in. You're not special. That's how I receive it too. I tried to taste it, but it did not work."
-"I went to the park and saw a kid flying a kite. The kid was really excited. I don't know why, that's what they're supposed to do. Now if he had a chair on the other end of that string, I would have been impressed."
-"I was at the airport and this guy came up to me and said I saw you on tv last night. He didn't say if I was any good. He just told me where I was. So I turned away for a minute and said, 'Hey I saw you at the airport a minute ago. You were good.'"
-"I can't get into flossing, I can't. People who smoke say you don't know how hard it is to stop smoking. Yes I do. It's as hard as it is to start flossing. You seem jittery. Yeah, I'm about to floss."
-"One time a guy handed me a picture of himself and he said. "Here's a picture of me when I was younger." Every picture of you is when you were younger. Here's a picture of me when I'm older. How'd you pull that off? Let me see that camera."
-"I think pickles are cucumbers that sold out. They sold their soul to the devil and the devil is....Dill."
-"Alcoholism, is a disease, but it's the only disease that you can get yelled at for having. Dammit Otto, your an alcoholic. Dammit Otto, you have Lupis. One of those two doesn't sound right."
-"I was walking by a drycleaner at 3a.m. and there was a sign that said "Sorry, we're closed." You don't have to be sorry. It's 3a.m. and you're a drycleaner. It would be ridiculous for me to expect you to be open. I'm not gonna come by at 10 and say, hey I was here at 3a.m and you guys were closed. Someone owes me an apology."
-"I get the Reese's candy bar, If you read it, there's an apostrophe. The candy bar is his. I didn't know that. Next time your eating a Reese's and some guy named Reese comes up to you and says let me have that. You better give it to him. I'm sorry Reese, I didn't think I would ever run into you."
-"I've been working the colleges and I always buy the shirts from the college, because they're quality shirts. But people always get the wrong idea. I'm walking around wearing a Washington U shirt and someone says "Hey Washington U, Did you go there?" Yeah! It was a Wednesday."
-"Y'know I order a club sandwhich all the time. And I'm not even a member. I don't know how I get away with it. I like my sandwiches with three pieces of bread. So do I. Lets form a club. Okay, but we're gonna need more stipulation. Yes we do. Instead of cutting it once, lets cut it again. Yeah, four triangles. And we shall dump chips in the middle. Let me ask you something, how do you feel about frilly toothpicks? I'm for them."
-"I opened a yogurt and underneath the lid it said "please try again" they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I had opened the yogurt wrong. Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me. Come on Mitch, don't give up! An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait, fruit on the bottom, hope on top."
-"I brought a donut and the guy gave me a recieipt for the donut. I don't need a receipt for the donut, I give you the money, you give me the donut, end of transaction. We do not need to bring ink and paper into this. I can not imagine the scenerio where I would have to prove that I bought a donut. Some skeptical friend. Don't even act like I didn't get that donut. I got the documentation right here."
-"When you go a resturant on the weekends and it's busy so they start a waiting list. They say Dufrane, party of two, table ready for Dufrane, party of two, and if no one answers they'll say the name again, Dufrane, party of two. But then if no one answers, they'll move on to the next name. Bush party of three. Yeah, but what happened to the Dufranes, No one seems to care, who can eat at a time like this? People are missing. You people are selfish. The Dufranes are in someone's trunk right now, with duct tape over their mouths and they're hungry. That's a double whammy! We need help! Bush search party of three. You can eat once you find the Dufranes."

2005-07-30T03:17:00.000-05:00

Forget Me Not So Fresh Feeling.

2005-07-30T02:52:00.000-05:00

Before and After.

Yo. T-Bone and I have been coming up with Before and After clues for Wheel of Fortune. Wheel of Fortune, of course, will never take any of our suggestions--probably because they're dirty, but that doesn't mean we can't all enjoy them here on "dear, henri" sooooooo heregoes. Feel free, by the way to send in any suggestions you might have.

Henri and T-Bone's Dirty Before and After Puzzles:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Silence is
Golden
Showers

Leather
Crop
Circles

Joe
Camel
Toe

Fallopian
Tube
Socks

Miller Genuine
Draft
Dodger

Pubic
Hair
Salon

Slap and
Tickle
Me Elmo

Sesame
Street
Walker

Bikini
Inspector
Gadget

Hand-
cuff
links

Muff
Diving
Instructor

White
Trash
Compactor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Until Next time,
Exes and Ohs.

Henri

2005-07-27T14:21:00.000-05:00

The University of Blogging

Presents to
Henri B. Rockstar

An Honorary
Bachelor of
Bad Poetry

Majoring in
Babbling

Signed
Dr. GoQuiz.com

Blogging Degree
From Go-Quiz.com

Henri Ebert Strikes Again.

2005-07-25T01:41:00.000-05:00

If, for the rest of my life, I tried every day to describe to someone who was raised in a cave the beauty that is Johnny Depp, I'd never succeed. Why? You ask. It's because Johnny Depp is beautiful because he slips under the radar of modern conformist behavior in a way that I can only dream of. Let me just state for the record in case you had any doubts: JOHNNY DEPP IS MY ABSOLUTE ALL TIME FAVORITE ACTOR UNTIL I DIE. That said:

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (Tim Burton)

Once again I embarked on a cinematic journey with my dear, sweet Esteban Pertable--not Latin extraoridnaire. For two weeks now we've been planning a date to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and finally this evening our dreams came to fruition. Personally I've been waiting for a few years for this film to arrive, as it's concept has been rolled around for quite some time. Regardless, I simply couldn't think of a better date than Esteban, who was the perfect gentleman and treated me to our evening out (though I was the gentleman last time I trust that with a weekly pattern it will even out before we die), I shan't inconvenience my beloved readers by spoilering any details about the film. Let's just suffice to say that when you treat yourself to the CatCF experience, keep in mind you will not be seeing a remake of the original version. What you will see is an unbelievably impressive use of all that our modern technology allows, mixed with a timeless story. Mr. Depp, out-does himself to the point that you wonder why you aren't wearing a toga and following him around. The character of Willy Wonka is transformed to something so alien, yet so right that your head will literally pop off of your shoulders, I'm serious, Esteban had to glue mine back on. Though there are points in the film that lean towards....let's say grasping, it is more than compensated for in the fantastic acting, and the fidelity to the orignal work by Roald Dahl. Never during the film did I wonder what time it was, never once did I find myself any less than enrapt, and after 3 and a half gallons of Diet Coke (which I love but don't know why) it took every fiber of my essence to tear myself away to go pee.
In the original film Veruca Salt is for sure the most sinister of the band of nose-miners to be privileged to the Wonka Factory, but in the newer version you will be sure to hate TV Mike (who is so irritating and obnoxious, you hope his ridiculous little head will implode) far more, and though the original definitely made the point that all of the children but Charlie Bucket were impure of heart, this beautiful adaptation brings you into the mind of Willy Wonka as he experiences the vain, and sometimes disgusting antics of the "children" I put this in quotes because, as I was watching, I felt more as if they were demons straight from hell. Anyway, you'll see, and if you don't, shame on you.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, in my book, gets 7 count 'em 7 rockstars. If you disagree, suck my dick.

*******
until next time.
XOXO
Henri

2005-07-20T06:10:00.000-05:00

Our Fearless leader and the--what's that? An upper middle class white man? Replacing (pause) Sandra (gong) Day (gong) O'Connor.

A Poem: By. Henri B. Rockstar.

2005-07-20T06:04:00.000-05:00

Fuuuuuuck Yeah! (fiddlin’)
Ha-a-a-euuulll Yeah! (banjo banjo and (shhh) no banjo)

(Silence)

Here’s to the guys who stand on the corner
And forget me as soon as I hand them a quarter.
And here’s to the jerks (pause) with the fake and bake taaaaaans.

Raise ‘em up to the kings, so saddled with greed
every loved one so far from an inkling of need
That they fold like wallets under money’s demaaaands.

(chimes)

(quiet)
I have just a few (beat) things. To Say.
(beat, beat)
(beat beat beat) ß------snare drum.

That’s gay.( triangle triangle)
That’s gay.(piccolo piccolo cowbell)
That’s gay.(maracas maracas)
Thaaaaaat's Gaaaaaaaay! (drums and tuba)
(banjo banjo craaaazy banjo) (banging on pots and pans)

(kazoo)

fin

Until Next Time.
XOXO
Henri

Take it From Me...

2005-07-15T03:05:00.000-05:00

Okay. Are you ever around someone who completely annoys the piss out of you? Somebody who seems to have been built simply to arouse every shred of anger your mind can muster? This is the person at whom you scream at the top of your lungs (but in your head): "Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT THE EFFIN' HELL UP!?!? GODDAMN IT PLEASE BEFORE MY EARS START BLEEDING GIVE ME SOME PEACE!!!" If you could, you would put this person on a boat and send them off to B.F.E. (Big Fudgy Elastic) to spend their existence blissfully annoying the piss out of somebody, ANYBODY but you. Weeellll today, I want you to do something really nice for that person, even if it just means complimenting their new hairstyle (which of course you hate, but shit, they don't need to know that.) Go to the coffee pot and fill up a cup for them and make an effort to NOT want to spit in it. Bring them some candy--good candy not the kind that gets stuck in your teeth and pulls your fillings out. Water their plant for them. Offer them the part of the newspaper you're not reading. Tell them a joke.

You may find that given a little positive stimulation, that person will stop being so annoying. You never know. It's possible they could go from being the most annoying person in the world to you to your best friend. Maybe I'm stretching here, but I suppose my point is a simple one: The way you behave has an effect on the world around you and not a small or insignificant one. You are truly and actually capable of changing the attitude of everyone in the room with you by having a positive attitude. After that, they'll go home and spread that attitude to their kids or spouses or roommates or friends, and those people, in turn, will pass it on to their loved ones, and you know what? You'll be the person who started it. You may not get to see it--or maybe you will, but you'll definitely feel it. You'll feel better, they'll feel better and all it takes is a change in attitude. How unbelievably simple right? Well then stop reading about it and start doing it. I promise I will.

Until next time.
XOXOXO

Henri

Eminem

2005-07-12T15:09:00.000-05:00

Hi My Name Is, What? My Name is, Who? My Name is No Talent!

2005-07-12T14:09:00.000-05:00

Sigh. Last night my friend Celery was kind enough to allow me to accompany her to the Eminem show. I can't say that I'm a huge Eminem fan, but I do think he's a talented writer, with a unique flow. That said, this was the worst concert I've ever seen, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The fun all started in downtown Gary, Indiana Otherwise known as "Just go ahead and ignore it and it will surely fall off the map one day" Indiana. I don't blame Celery for this small detour because I was also navigationally challenged. Needless to say we had a lovely, touristy drive through downtown Gary, and then ended up going in a big circle and ending where we started, then we were on our way again. We ended our road-trip at the Tweeter Center, once known as The World Music Theater. They must have changed the name about the same time that they changed the name of the Chicago Bears to (I'm not making this up) Bear's Football Presented to You By Bank One. Anyhoo. We got to the show, packed up our blanket (we had lawn seats) and got our tickets from the will-call window. We then tried to enter the pavillion and were quickly stopped by a burly woman. Apparently for the Eminem show, people were not allowed to bring blankets. I assume because they anticipated that the concert would simultaneously suck and blow, and they were afraid we would roll our blankets into balls, set them aflame and throw them at the parade of flashy rappers on stage. We were told to check our blanket at a window manned by two very stressed-out teenagers. These two teenagers I might add, worked much, much harder than Eminem for their money last night. Finally we were allowed to be frisked in a half-assed manner, by another teenaged girl, who asked us to empty our pockets. Mine were full of the candy that Celery had been trying to hide in the bottom of the blanket bag. I pulled the Blowpops and Dubble bubble and Sugar Daddys from my pocket and when the girl looked at me strangely I said "My friend's Diabetic."

After this we stood in line for ridiculously overpriced beer for 10 minutes, so that at the end, the intelligence-challenged woman at the counter, apparently exhausted from selling beer to all the 15 year-olds in line in front of us, could tell us we needed to have our hands stamped "Over There" (this was illustrated by pointing in a somewhat West, Southwest direction--where EVERYTHING except the beer stand was located) in order to buy beer. Allow me to note that there wasn't a single sign warning that we would need to do this. We headed away from the beer in search of this all important hand-stamper. We asked another staff member where to go and her reply was "That guy, in the black shirt." We turned to see about 700 guys in black shirts. We would have given up, but at this point we NEEDED the beer. We finally found Mr. Handstamperman who joked about charging us $500 a piece to look at our ID's. HahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GOD THAT WAS FUNNY.

Anyway, we eventually got our beer and found ourselves a seat on the lawn on the right side of the pavillion where we could hear nothing but Eminem's microphone, which he never really used. As a matter of fact, we could hear his mic SO well that we realized he was basically either lip syncing, or relying SO heavily on his backup track, that there was really no point to him being there at all. In between every number, there was a 5-minute long pre-produced video of Eminem going back stage and being all tough and mean and full of attitude....

I don't even want to talk about it anymore. Let's suffice to say that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you waste your hard-earned money to go see this crap. I felt like I was watching an MTV filler program. This concert should have been hosted by Carson Daly.

Boo.

I did have a fuckin' rawkstar time hanging out with Celery though. Yeeeehaw!

XOXO
Henri

2005-07-11T11:14:00.000-05:00

Getting to Know Henri

2005-07-11T10:38:00.000-05:00

1. First name?.... Mandy

2. Were you named after anyone?.... Yup, everyone who was born before me.

3. Do you wish on stars?.... I forget to sometimes.

4 When did you last cry?.... Last night..

5. Do you like your handwriting?.... No, *I* can't even read it.

6. What is your favorite lunch meat?.... HARD salami <---- lol yup.

7. What is your birth date?.... October 15th 1979

8. What is your most embarrassing CD?.... For some reason the "Titanic" Soundtrack touched my CD's for a while, but it wasn't mine, does that count?

9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you?.... Absolutely.

10. Do you keep a journal?.... Does this count?

11. Do you use sarcasm a lot?.... I try, but it never works out.

12. What are your nicknames?.... Henri. Mandyngo! Mustardseed.

13. Would you bungee jump? Hell yeah!.... Are you offering?

14. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?.... No way, I'm way too lazy for that.

15. Do you think that you are strong?.... Strong smelling maybe.

16. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?.... Moose Tracks.

18. Red or pink?.... Blue

19. What is your least favorite thing about yourself?.... The fact that I'm nuts.

20. Who do you miss most, Seinfeld or Byron?.... I miss my best friend Dan.

21. Do you want everyone you send this to, to send it back?.... Yeah, just like I want herpes. (see question #11, discuss)

22. What are you listening to right now?.... The garbage truck. But Sigur Ros is in my CD player.

23. What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now?.... Blue jeans,
annnd my shoes look kind of pink or flesh-colored...oh wait those aren't shoes.
.
24. Last thing you ate?.... a Hershey bar.

25. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?.... Whichever one looks best stuck up Lizard's nose.

26. What is the weather like right now?.... hot. unpleasant.

27. Last person you talked to on the phone?.... Lizard

28. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?.... The only time I notice them is if they're on fire.

29. Do you like the person who sent this to you?.... Yes, I love Sam I Am.

30. Favorite Drink?.... Water

31. Favorite Sport?.... Well if I believed that NASCAR were a sport...I still wouldn't say that, so I guess I'll have to go with skateboarding.

32. Hair color?.... This week it's browney blondish.

33. Eye color?.... blue.

34. Do you wear contacts?.... No.

35. Favorite Food?.... Jerky.

36. Last Movie You Watched?.... "Million Dollar Baby" (and I liked "The Aviator" better)

38. Scary Movies Or Happy Endings?.... Depressing Indie Films.

39. Summer or winter?.... Summer.

40. Hugs OR Kisses?.... Hugs.

41. What Is Your Favorite Dessert?.... Creme Brulee

42.. Who Is Most Likely To Respond?.... Esteban Pertable

43. Who Is Least Likely To Respond?.... God.

44. Living Arrangements?.... Yep, it's arranged pretty nicely.

45. What books are you reading?.... I'm saving myself for the new Harry Potter.

46. What's On Your Mouse Pad?.... a mouse.

47. What Did You Watch Last night on TV?.... TV is the devil.

48. Favorite Smells?.... Dirt, rain on hot pavement, clean laundry, the cat's head.

49. Favorite Sounds?.... Ambient nature sounds.

50. Rolling Stones or Beatles?.... Old Stones Newer Beatles.

51. What's the furthest you've been from home?.... Haven't really found home yet.

52. Do you have a special talent?.... Besides that thing I do with ping-pong balls? Ummm I can play the guitar and I'm pretty good with people.

beeotch!

2005-07-10T18:50:00.000-05:00

Zzzzz

Henri Ebert

2005-07-10T18:12:00.000-05:00

I've been toying with the idea of creating a separate blog to review films since I see so many of them all the time, but the truth is I can barely keep up with this one SO to spice up the Henri fix, I present, here at "dear henri" my first (probably of many) movie reviews.

Dark Water

Born from the same dark twisted, and somewhat waterlogged minds of the creators of the 'The Ring' AKA: Scariest Movie Ever! (If you're me that is) 'Dark Water' had so much potential to be totally scary it's almost scary. When I go to see a "scary" movie, I want to feel uncomfortable afterwards. I want to run from a dark room aftwerards as if demons are on my heels, and sleep with the light on and make sure all the closet doors in the house are closed. When I watch a scary movie, I want to soil myself from sheer terror. Here's the problem. 'Dark Water' wasn't scary. In my opinion, the scariest part of the whole movie was the fact that Mr. Veeck (Pete Postlethwaite) spoke in a broken Idon'tknowwhatnationality accent for absolutely no good reason. I also found it disturbing that someone as hot as Dahlia(Jennifer Connoly, who will always be better known for her role as Sarah in 'Labrynth') could possibly be single.

Here's what it's about: A divorcee is forced to move, with her child, to low income housing as a result of her cheating husband, immediately upon moving into this place, Dahlia and her daughter Ceci (Ariel Gade) encounter strange and eerie things. For instance, (insert spooky music here) the elevator doors closing unexpectedly! and water leaking from a spot in the ceiling! Then, for the next hour and a half there's a lot of Dahlia bitching at her landlord (John C. Reilly) about the leak, intermingled with a few flashbacks of her childhood so that we have it completely pounded into our heads that she has abondonment issues, and Ceci developing an "imaginary" friend who is causing problems for her at her new school with her teacher (played by rawkstar extraordinaire Cameron Mannheim). Throw in some issues with the custody battle Dahlia is having with her ex-husband Kyle
(Dougray Scott) and you have a strange and disjointed appearance by her lawyer Jeff Platzer (Tim Roth). This all culminates in a very anti-climactic yet melodramatic sort of rip off of 'The Ring' that will make you want your money back. I'd also like to point out that Scott and Roth, both British actors, forced fakey American accents on their audience (gag) we can TELL you're faking it, okay! This film was disappointing to say the least, though I did get to see it with my good friend Esteban Pertable, who makes every day a good day.

Favorite Quote from the film: "I don't know who or what pushed your Wacko button today but..." ~Kyle

Summary: Goblin King Goblin King wherever you may be take this creepy child and send her back to hell before I fall asleep and choke on my popcorn.

On the Henri (with an incredibly good attention span for even the worst movies) Meter: Dark Water receives 3 rawkstars and 7 Z's. * * * Zzzzzzz

2005-07-10T17:53:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday Darlin'

I'm an Ass I'm an Ass I'm an Ass Ass Ass...

2005-07-10T17:45:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: Though it would appear that I forgot the truth is, I didn't, I wouldn't I never will. The thing is that I, Henri, never ever ever know what day it is. Little known fact. Actually, I don't even know what the date is right now and it's probably right in front of me somewhere on this screen but I'm too focused (guffaw) to notice. That said:

Happy Birthday TO YOU!
Happy Birthday TO YOU!

Happy BIRTHDAY DEAR POLITIKOOOOOOO!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!
XOXO

Henri.

2005-07-07T22:35:00.000-05:00

Politiko, I'm Watchin' You!

2005-07-07T22:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was sitting in front of the idiot box with my dinner and I happened to be subjected to an episode of the news. Little known fact about Henri: I don't much like TV and I especially don't like the news. My hatred for the news started with my four year education as a Telecommunications major. I was paying to be taught how to maniupulate people through the framing of a news broadcast. For those of you who don't know, "framing" refers to the WAY a story is told. For instance, if George Bush were drunkenly stumbling down the street and happened to knock over a baby carriage and vomit on the socks of, say, Tony Blair, the story would go something like: President Bush takes the time to kiss a baby before a very important meeting with British Prime Minister Tony Blair. You get the point, and I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP: The news is bullshit, don't watch it don't watch it don't watch it.

Anyhoo, I was watching the news yesterday and they told me, as I've suspected for some time now, that major terrorists circuits are hiding in and operating from Canada. This story was placed against a backdrop of the Canadian flag, with videos of terrorists (Who looked strangely as if they were practicing their...terror tactics(?) on a soundstage in Southern California (hmm)) running drills. I immediately called everyone I know to say "I told you so!" I knew those Canadians were up to no good with their politeness, and their environmentally friendly attitudes, not to mention their extreme diversity, and their Smarties being like our MnM's and our Smarties being not at all like MnM's. It was mostly the whole french thing that tipped me off. Bilingual! Aha!!! I'm on to you Canada, and now the U.S. news is so look out because we're a bunch of big dumb (don't forget about fat lazy) morons, and we aren't afraid to point our guns at just about anyone and fire at will until there's at LEAST a Texas-sized hole in the globe. So check it out, we are watching you and we know what you're up to because we made it up yesterday! And don't forget, the Michigan militia is right next to you and they even give guns to children!

Until Next Time,
XOXO

Henri

2005-07-02T15:43:00.000-05:00

The Best Part of Waking Up is....Man Screw Waking Up!

2005-07-02T15:33:00.000-05:00

I am not a morning person-- or more accurately, I am not a late afternoon (that's when I get up) person. I'm not sure when it started, but for as long as I can remember the time between my waking up and about an hour after that is a time best not to approach me. Having coffee will not help, nor will a nice refreshing shower, a brisk jog, or a shot of steroids. It's not that other people piss me off when I've just woken up--it's more like...other people piss me off when I've just woken up. You see, my mind is a very fragile and soft piece of gelatinous oop when I wake up. Any stimulation other than the soft murmur of wind in the trees and the occasional blaring siren minus the occasional blaring siren, causes my mind to curl up into the fetal position and stick it's thumb in it's mouth because I've just come from a world of endless fascination where unicorns exist and people are naked ALL the time, and that's where my mind lives for the hour after I wake up. Let me try to illustrate this with an example of a conversation I might have with say...some guy who wants to give me eleventy-billion dollars.

Crazy Person: ...So Henri, that's why we picked you for this giveaway of eleventy-billion dollars, and don't think it's just your rack that's great, your butt's smokin' as well!

Me: Mmmhmm (Translation: I like to wiggle my toes...toes toes toes, wow! That's a funny word, "toes", what if we replaced toes with "greenbeans" I like to wiggle my greenbeans....

Crazy Person: Also, as an added bonus, we're going to fly you and your loved ones to a desert island populated by Oompa Loompas and really really good-looking people where the rivers flow with beer and marijauna rains from the skies.

Me: Yup. (Translation: How come I don't have a pet monkey yet? I mean I know they throw poo, but really if you think about it it's totally worth it for the comedic value alone-- if I had a monkey I'd name him "Phillip" Phillip the poo throwing monkey and he would live on my shoulder and attack my sworn enemies and bring me great joy.

Crazy Person: All we need you to do is sign right here next to where it says "IF YOU SIGN HERE WE OWN YOUR SOUL! AND YOU WILL BE PROBED ANALLY EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE BY A GERMAN WOMAN WITH A BEARD" and we'll get this ball rolling.

Me: (Signing) Neat. (Translation: kumquat kumquat toes toes monkey kumquat! Philip, won't you scratch my greenbeans for me? Oh please?)

You get the picture. It's not a pretty.

Until next time.

XOXO
Henri

2005-06-26T02:30:00.000-05:00

Hope You're Wearing Depends.

2005-06-26T02:28:00.000-05:00

Click the llama (gently--he spits!):

dedicated to DannyAlcatraz, my favorite Llama.

Thanks Sapphypantz.

2005-06-23T16:46:00.000-05:00

Sk8 or Die!

Hell..er...No, Just ON Wheels.

2005-06-23T16:44:00.000-05:00

Guess what guys. I've decided to take up skating. I went and got myself a nifty new skateboard, then my Lizard-pantz tweaked it a little bit (she's good at tweaking things, and it's really cute, and I love her!) Anyway, I don't know how to skateboard. I've wanted to start doing it since I took up with my ex and her gang of hooligan skater friends. It turns out that they're some of the coolest people I've ever met and gee whiz do they make skating look easy. They even make bleeding look like fun, but I never tried it (well, I've tried bleeding, but that kinda sucks) mostly because I didn't want to make an ass of myself in front of my girlfriend because she manages to never look like an ass, or she always manages to look really cute doing things that would make everyone else look like an ass, and that makes it hard-- but she dumped my ass and it doesn't matter now. So I got my nifty new skateboard and decided to take it for a spin on the mean streets of Smellparaiso. So far I've managed to very very slowly roll down the sidewalk in front of the house. It's not much but I like doing it over and over and over again. Maybe someone can sponsor me for my slow-rolling skills. I've also gotten really good at accidentally causing my board to pop up and smack me in the shin, leaving nasty looking bumps and bruises. Oh and I nearly forgot that I skitched (skating while hanging on to a moving vehicle) alongside T-bone as she was driving down the street. That was fun until my board flew out from under me and I realized I'd been inches away from having my head under the car tire. I'll try it again though.

I don't wear a helmet or padding because cool kids don't do that. Cool kids bleed...profusely...from the head without whining about it. If Lizard could have it her way I'd be encased in a mattress and 17 layers of bubble wrap, but she doesn't understand about the cool kids.
In about a week or so I'm going to wander around town looking for a group of rowdy skater boys (cool kids)to take me in and let me follow (VERY slowly) behind them while they do amazing things like pushing their boards without falling down, ollie...um..ing, and skating on the road without being cursed at by angry motorists. My charm and sweetness will endear me to them and we'll all learn an important lesson about equal opportunity, which someone will make an MTV short about with a catchy Avril Lavigne soundtrack, you know.

For now, I'm just going to go stand on my board in the grass and imagine grinding a low cement wall downtown with a pig hot on my tail and a gleam in my eye.

Until next time.

XOXO
Love,
Henri

Don't Pierce the Peanut!

2005-06-22T18:47:00.000-05:00

Ear Piercing Made Me Gay!

2005-06-22T18:17:00.000-05:00

It has come to my attention that some members of my family think it would be a good idea to take my beautiful little peanut of a niece, Harleigh, to a store in the mall called Libby Lou's (otherwise known as the bowels of hell) so that she can have earrings violently thrust through her tiny, soft, 4 month-old baby ears by a complete stranger. The theory behind this and I quote my aunt "It's so everybody knows she's a little girl!" Re he he heaallly? What a brilliant idea. I'd forgotten that it matters terribly that people are aware of the sex of an infant. It would be a complete horror if one were forced to ask "Is your baby a boy or a girl?" That would cause the heavens to fall and fire to rain down upon the earth in a terrifying display of apocolyptic fury! Imagine the horrifying results of someone accidentally calling her "him" oh dear me, what then would we do? How could we ever forgive them? Thank god we have the miracle of piercing so that no embarrassing blunders should occur. Really, it's great. For you, the people of the world, we shall injure my infant niece so that you can know the incredibly important fact that she is a female.

You know... the people who are around Harleigh already know that she's a little girl. So my question is this: Who gives a flying monkey fuck whether or not complete strangers know the sex of my niece? I know I don't. I don't really think my sister cares, or Jimmy, Harleigh's dad. My mom, I don't think it matters to her either but-- oh yeah my aunt, it is desper ately important to her that folks know.

Here is where I will make a very good point: I had my ears pierced when I was a wee little Henri, and guess how many times I've been mistaken for a boy? Even with my GREAT rack I have been referred to as "young man" more times than I can count! Do you know why? It's because I'm gay! And you know what!?!?! I'm GAY because I had my ears pierced when I was tiny! That's right, put THAT in your pipe and smoke it! Muahahahahahahaha(gasp)Muahahahahahahahahaha! And how bout my sister!? She's a complete hoodlum! She's been in and out of the pen so many times she's running out of room for prison tats! (NOTE: Last sentence is a complete fabrication) Okay, so maybe she's never been in prison, but she'll CUT you, White Bread! She will.

All joking aside, Harleigh is four months old, and at this point has absolutely no reason NOT to trust her loving family, but the second we allow some monster (and that's what the evil woman who will puncture infants is-- A MONSTER!) to cause her pain that she can't understand, and doesn't HAVE to suffer through, she'll learn to mistrust.
As much as I can joke about it, I find the idea of piercing infants absolutely disgusting and barbaric. Talking about it makes me choke up with rage, especially when it's my beloved Peanut we're talking about.
So this is my FINAL warning:

Dear Family,

don't pierce my Peanut.

I know where you live.

Love,
Henri

PS- I'm NOT kidding!

Oh My GAWD I Love My Niece!

2005-06-08T19:03:00.000-05:00

Condom Commercials on Primetime! What!?!?!?

2005-06-05T14:16:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri,

Thank you for posting such stimulating
blogs for me to read and enjoy.
I look forward to them always!

Sorry I haven't written sooner.
I have been meaning to. *Smile

So now, on to my question for you.

What do you think about condom
commercials being aired on T.V. around primetime
hours?

As of two short days ago, "Trojan" commercials
are now being run at 7:00 pm thru the early part of
the morning. NBC and ABC are two of the major
broadcast networks to air them.

This is a breakthrough for television. Condom commercials
have always aired no earlier than 11pm.

Do you think children should be subjected to these
particular ads?

What kind of an impact, if any, will this have on today's
society?

Thanks Henri.

The Lizard

Dear Lizard,

Thank you for bringing this travesty to my attention! I'll just give my friends Pat Robertson and Tipper Gore a call and we can get that censorship ball a'rollin'! It's such a relief that concerned citizens will take the time to bring important issues like this into the public light....

Or..

Not only do I think condom commercials are completely appropriate during primetime hours, but also that they should be run at ALL hours of the day. Considering the ridiculously huge percentage of the population suffering from AIDS and other STD's, not to mention unwanted pregnancies, this is long overdue. Why has it taken so long for our airwaves to lighten up? I have a few theories.

The most obvious reason for the discretion our broadcasters must abide by is the archaic insistence of organized religion that birth control is evil. <---- insert belly laugh here. Forget about the fact that the world is completely overpopulated, and that the population continues to rise dramatically all the time because of the lack of birth control, how about that the idea of being fruitful and multiplying is completely outdated and useless now. Once upon a time it made perfect sense for people to have as many children as possible in order to have their own colony of indentured servants. Indentured servitude, however, is no longer the cool thing to suffer through. I remember once my mom tried to make me be an indentured servant and I was all like "Whatchootalkin'bout Willis?" and she was all "Mr. Drummond said no jumping on the bed!" or something like that, honestly I don't remember very well. At this point I can't even remember what my point is except I suddenly feel a renewed distaste for Catholisism, but well....

Reason number 2, and this is my favorite: As a species, it turns out that we are sexually inhibited to such a degree, that Janet Jackson's nipple is more offensive to the general public than the fact that our government consistently destroys other civilizations like a kid crushing ants on a playground. We are so tight-minded about our bodies and what we can do with them, that Dennis Franz's ass has actually been discussed as a current event MORE THAN ONCE! Have you ever SEEN Dennis Franz's ass? And more importantly, how do you think Dennis Franz feels knowing that the only thing we'll ever remember him for, really, is the fact that he was one of the first people to show his ass on broadcast television? The truth is, we MUST, not should, but MUST start educating our children to be comfortable with their bodies, and to understand the processes that they will go through as NORMAL human beings. I hate to burst any bubbles out there, but the fact that sexuality is SO NORMAL, and SO something EVERYONE experiences, makes it almost boring...almost. It's like this: Either you talk to your kids about sex, and why it happens, and what it is, or someone else is going to, and you know what? It's going to be some other kid who doesn't know jack about sex except what they learned from the magazines under their teenaged brother's bed, and your child is not going to understand this perfectly natural human behavior as it should be understood. This is how things like Fred Phelps happen (Don't know who that is? Well look him up at www.godhatesfags.com, he's my FAVORITE person!) and who better than him to illustrate the fact that as a society, we DESPERATELY need condom commercials on TV all the time. We need condoms to be in our faces constantly (just now realizing that didn't sound right, but you get my point) mocking us with their latexy goodness, screaming to us to wrap our Whoppers, and put on our raincoats, and suffocate our weasels, and encapsulate our erect purple soldiers in ribbed armor! Don't you see? The beginning of a better world starts right on your idiot box! I'm so worked up right now I could lay an egg! Sheesh!

Until next time.

XOXO
Love,
Henri

Panty-Blog: The Sequel!

2005-05-23T22:50:00.000-05:00

I thought perhaps that yesterday's Panty-Blog would be enough to make the laughter snowball for days and days, and THEN the story has to go and get more funny than I ever imagined it could be. Let me tell you about my day. I woke up at 2pm this morning to go to work, and what should be hanging from the antenna of my truck (which, consequently, smells like rotting flesh because a mouse crawled into the heating vents and died)? That's right, the mystery underpants. I assumed that this prank was born from the diablolical mind of the wicked T-bone, so I quickly removed the damn things and hung them from the side-view mirror of her brand new car, then went to work, imagining myself safe. Before I go on I'd just like to say that what I'm about to tell you will make you understand how much fun it is to live with insane super-villains like T-bone.

You see, about half an hour after I went to work, my manager, who had just been on a smoke break, informed me that some crazy person had just asked her to tell "Henri the Trainee" to look at her vehicle. With great anticipation I rushed outside to see what was the dilly-yo and this is what I found:

A square of cardboard lodged under my wiper. On this cardboard square- the mystery panteez were firmly taped. At the top, scrawled in large Sharpie red letters, were the words:

Public Notice: These are not my underwear (see exhibit "A")

Above the taped underpants the board read "Exhibit 'A'" with an arrow pointing at them.

Then there's the right side. Here's what it said:

Be A Crime-Stopper:

If you know the "wear" abouts of the
under-cover
under-garment owner,
please call anonymously
The Law office of
Didshe Planthem, And Whye
@ (XXX) XXX-XXXX

Thank you America For Your Help.
Uncle Sam Salutes You.

Then to the left of that:

Facts:
#1 They are underwear
#2 They were in my drawer
#3 They are NOT NOT NOT Mine!
#4 They have never ever ever ever been mine!
#5 They don't Fit L-to-the-Izzle or myself.

Theory & Logic:

#1 If they don't fit, you must acquit!
#2 New Room-mate = New Panteez.
#3 Could be part of a Soviet "Secret Stash" Operation.
#4 They Would "No Question" fit Henri like a glove, well at least like panteez, yet she denies all!
#5 Possibly Henri is a Soviet Spy.

The Remaining Question: Why won't she admit they're hers?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This item will be proudly displayed in my room from this point on--mostly in case I have to prove in a court of law that T-bone is eligible for an insanity plea, but also because it's the funniest shit I've ever seen in my life.

Thank you and good day.

Henri

Found: Hanes Her Way Size: 5 Neatly Folded in T-bone's Drawer.

2005-05-23T04:08:00.000-05:00

I have an announcement to make. It's a very important announcement and you should pay close attention because it could pertain to you.

After a long night of renting out mediocre movies to crabby people I came home, not to a cheerful warm reception, but to a pair of stripey underpants folded neatly on my bed. These underpants were alien to me. In other words, they were mystery underpants, and really what could be more confusing than mystery underpants? I assumed that my roommates, T-bone and L-to-the-Izzle had been involved in some sort of kinky gang fight or burrito throwing contest that involved underwear, and leaving this pair on my bed was their way of sharing the spoils. Upon seeing T-bone I non-chalantly asked "Why the hell are those underwear on my bed? to which she replied (I'm not kidding, she really said this, or at least something very very similar) "I thought maybe you needed an emergency underwear stash and decided to stick those in my underwear drawer for safe-keeping."

First of all, this is a brilliant idea. I think everyone should have a secret underwear stash somewhere just in case. Forget about the practical purpose of it, how about the sheer comedic brilliance of your friends and loved ones finding mystery underwear and imagining every possible origin of them. A brilliant idea or not, this is a completely illogical first assumption. I mean, of all the possible reasons for the underwear being in T-bone's underwear drawer, this was the first that popped into her head. You've got to wonder what she's smokin' and where you can get some and send it to me.

Second. Where DID the underpants come from? Seriously! You see, T-bone assumed they were mine because they would not fit her, nor would they fit L-to-the-Izzle. I, on the other hand, fall directly in the middle of my two beloved roommates in size, and happen to be the most perfect match for the strange and delightful mystery pair. I would like to state for the record that the underpants are not mine, and I have never seen them before this fateful afternoon when I found them waiting for me on my bed. In an attempt to discover the origin of the underpants we tried several methods of deduction including L-to-the-Izzle and T-bone both trying them on over their pants. If the underpants don't fit, you must acquit was the theme of that particular test. L-to-the-Izzle modeled this look in the driveway to the dismay (I'm sure) of the neighborhood. Next there was the throwing of the u-pants into the ceiling fan. I'm not sure exactly how that would help, but it was highly entertaining. Also, we put the underpants on Levi's (dog extraordinaire) head like a saucy little pilot's helmet. That was also good for a laugh, but where, oh where did the upee's come from, I ask you?

At this point a brilliant plan was contrived which consists of basically sending the u-pants in the mail to L-to-the-Izzle's sister anonymously with a note that reads "Hello. Are these your underpants? If not, you must send them on within 48 hours or you'll have bad luck for the rest of your life" or "Hello, my name is Phillip the Underpants, are you my Mommy?". It would be the best chain letter of all time. Keep your eyes on the mailbox, it could be coming to you.

I think that T-bone put it best when she asked: Do you think that this particular pair of underpants knew, as it was being lovingly wrapped in plastic along with, say, four other pair, that it would one day be the star of what will from this point forward be referred to as "The Panty Blog"? I think not.

Anyway, if these are your underpants, please contact henri via henri_rockstar@yahoo.com with "Oh Jesus Christ I've been Looking Everywhere For Those" in the subject line, and I will make incessant fun of you because, honestly, after all the stuff we've done with these upees, I don't think you want them back.

Until next time,

XOXO
Henri

2005-05-19T23:30:00.000-05:00

Soy Un Perdedor.

Be Kind, Rewind.

2005-05-19T23:03:00.000-05:00

No, folks, I'm not dead--I've simply gotten a semblance of a life. It turns out that someone WAS interested in my "looking cute" skills, or at least that's what I'd like to believe...Unfortunately I'm pretty sure it was actually my extreme loserishness, or chronic availability that got me my new job at (drumroll please) Blockbuster Video. I am now the video store girl. I get paid $5.15 an hour to rent videos to people. Every now and then these people have good taste in movies, more often, though, I rent out copy after copy after copy of "Fat Albert" and I find myself wondering where exactly I first went wrong in my life. I think it might have been when I was 15, and didn't run away to Canada to be with my first love. That probably would have been a good decision. Instead I decided I would stick around and graduate and do all the things that proper teenagers did...well..."proper" might be kind of stretching it, but you get the point. I convinced myself that for the first time in my life I would follow through with something and went to college where I spent four years having my heart stomped on left and right (probably because I always threw it all over the place), having nervous breakdowns, scaring the shit out of my family and friends with a pathetic attempt to off myself, drinking, drinking, drinking, and then eventually dropping out. Since then I've pretty much wasted three years of my life...literally wasted. That's not to say I haven't done and seen important things, or spent time with people who matter very much, simply that I made no effort to do anything useful to myself or society in general (although I am a pretty helpful, respectful, generous person, and there's something to be said for that.) I can even close my eyes and think about all of the great things I've done for about 3 seconds before I run out of things to remember--and THAT, my friends, is why I'm the video store girl. That's why, when I go somewhere in town now, people will see me and think "Hey that's the girl from Blockbuster" not "Hey! That's Henri Rockstar! I loved her third album, it's so great how she's constantly reinventing herself! I'm going to ask for her autograph! And I'll also ask her girlfriend, Angelina Jolie for HER autograph!"

For the record, I work really hard, and I will be paying off the debt I so idiotically incurred during my "Sloth Sabbatical" tour, as I like to refer to the past three years of my life in my head. You see, I am taking charge at the moment, making an effort to do and be something different, and I'm proud of myself. I'm getting a lot of help from some really wonderful people who have been more than generous to me, and have taken care of me with such love and conviction that I could never in my lifetime repay them, but goddamn it I'll try.

Maybe I lost touch of myself for a while there, but just to let you know, I'm back, so make sure you start looking for me soon, peeking around the corner with a giant smile on my face because I can be proud of everything I am--so yeah, I'll be the video store girl for a little while, then I'll be the Queen of America, and my slaves will smite you if you ever mention the words "lazy" and "Henri" in the same sentence. If you feel like it, you can start sending me tributes now.

XOXO
Henri

Please Hire Me!

2005-04-28T01:43:00.000-05:00

Okay, so sitting on my ass all day dreaming about being something is all well and good, but man does life suck when you don't even have enough money to afford a pack of gum. I'd like to think I could get along on my charm and good looks, but, well....Actually if any of you need someone to sit around and look cute and be all charming, give me a call, because I'm ever so qualified. Otherwise, I'd like to post my resume in the hope that Angelina Jolie will read it and decide to be my girlfriend. Okay, so heregoes.

Henri B. Rockstar (B is for badass, which is me)
Some town, Indiana
1-900-BIKERCHIXXX

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Objectives: To become president of the United States, make Angelina Jolie my girlfriend, and get paid for being cute and sassy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skills:

>Can clear a 6-foot bong.
>Excellent Boobie flasher.
>posses the ability to be highly obnoxious when drunk.
>I smell good...Sometimes.
>I do an excellent imitation of Zorak from Space Ghost, Coast to Coast.
>Highly combustible.
>I can roll my eyes in two different directions.
>Extensive knowledge of completely useless information. (Did you know the blue whale has the largest penis in the world?)
>Highly motivated when at gunpoint, and only at gunpoint.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Employment History:

Not selling drugs at the rest park, that's for damn sure.
Location: Not at the rest park
Duties Included: NOT selling goofballs to the cranked out truck-hoes.

Borrowed ten bucks from my mom.
Location: In the living room.
Duties Included: Whining incessantly until she gave in, running out the door before she changed her mind.

Found some change in the couch one time.
Location: The couch.
Duties Included: Rolling over, digging through crusty dirty Cheetos, and moving a stinky sock 3 inches to the left.

Scored $20 in a bet.
Location: Downtown Bloomington
Duties Included: Convincing a complete stranger to give me a piggy-back ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other Activities:

Waxing ecstatic, forgetting what day it is, peeing in inappropriate places, being nude in inappropriate places, being vulgar near important political art, swearing, swearing at important politcal art, peeing on important political art, flirting incessantly, antagonizing my mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ATTN: Hiring Manager

Dear Dude in Charge,

I believe it would benefit you greatly to hire me for the position of: President of the United States, get Angelina Jolie to be my girlfriend, and make fat cash being cute and sassy, because if George W. Bush, Billy Bob Thorton, and the Olson Twins can do it, I'm a fucking shoe-in.

Sincerely,

Henri B. Rockstar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alrighty then. I'll just sit back now and wait for the job offers to come pouring in. Snap!

Won't You Be My Friendster?

2005-04-23T14:08:00.000-05:00

Won't you be my Friendster?

2005-04-19T16:26:00.000-05:00

0% Klingon

After Living in NW Indiana for 18 years and Bloomington for 7, This is How Henri Speaks.

2005-04-19T16:02:00.000-05:00

Your Linguistic Profile:

75% General American English

10% Dixie

10% Upper Midwestern

5% Yankee

0% Midwestern

2005-04-18T18:36:00.000-05:00

Henri, the Lazy-Ass Underpants Gnome.

The Following is an Excerpt From an E-mail a Great Friend Who Knows Me All Too Well Sent...

2005-04-18T18:31:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri,

How's life? Hope you are happy & well...but as the resident overachiever, I must give you a friendly reminder to GET OFF YOUR ASS & DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR LIFE!!! If you needed that, good. If you didn't, just ignore it.

:)Love you, lady. Take care!

Hotty McFencerhotty,

Dear Hotty,

Duly noted, and thank you. Life is...a gift as always. ;-)

Love,
Henri

2005-04-18T18:30:00.000-05:00

Try the Amazing Mind Squeegee, just $19.95 with $999.95 for Shipping and Handling. Make Checks payable to "Henri is Dreaming"

Politiko's Painful Memories...

2005-04-18T18:13:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri,

Why haven't you updated your blog? This is causing me great distress as I am having extreme withdrawal symptoms.On a more serious note, how does one prevent herself from living in the past, which consists of constantly re-living memories in her head? PAINFUL memories.

Yours truly,

Politiko a la nostalgia

My dearest Politiko,

Firstly, the reason that I haven’t updated my blog is that I haven’t received any requests for advice like the one I’m about to answer for you. It is springtime, so perhaps you’ll be seeing more creativity from me soon. Now, on to your question:

I frequently find myself reliving painful memories. I’ll be rampaging through life as usual when suddenly I’ll remember something that one of my jerk ex-girlfriends did to me and I’ll start to get all emotional. Basically with trial and error, I have perfected a method of squelching these memories before they become a raging fire of emotional trauma. You’ll probably want to come up with your own, but this is mine: When I start to think of something that upsets me, I simply imagine myself washing the memory away a-la squeegee. It’s sort of like a giant windshield-wiper (ha ha, wiper is a FUNNY word) of the soul. It took some practice, but as it turns out, it works really well for me now. Sometimes I even think, to whomever happens to be the subject of the memory, “You’ve been squeegeed,” and the sheer ridiculousness of the comment amuses me enough to allow me to move on. If that doesn’t work, try drinking a fifth of Jim Beam and running around the yard in your underpants singing “Cherry, Cherry” by Neil Diamond. That is what I do. Now, as much as I’d like to tell everyone that I’m a very well adjusted person, it simply isn’t true (I know, you’re all shocked), and my method is clearly just another way of repressing deep feelings I’d rather not deal with right now. Maybe, darling, you’re reliving these memories for a reason--- and you should relax and allow them to run their course. As much as we would all hate to admit it sometimes, our mind really does know what it’s doing, and if for some reason things continue popping up, it usually means you should pay attention. I would also suggest making a dream diary if you haven’t already, because the dream world is rife with meaningful symbols for you to decode and use to your psychological advantage. If none of this works for you…well, you’re Politiko, and you’re the damn best the world has to offer, so I’m sure it’ll be better soon.

Love,
Henri

2005-04-08T22:58:00.000-05:00

This Ancient Scientific Practice Ensures You Won't Die of Scurvy!

Earliest Form of Medical Testing.

2005-04-08T22:42:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri

Why is it when somebody eats something that is terrible they always say "here taste this its gross"? If it's gross why would you want to try it anyway?

E. Coli

Dear E.,

In the time when the world was new, and civilizations consited of small hunter-gatherer tribes, many of the items used for food and medicine were found through experimentation. This experimentation was taken on by the sacred medical folk. The medicine person of the tribe, if faced by and unfamiliar plant or berry, would taste and smell a small amount of the item themselves. When they didn't drop dead, they would pass it on to another to test it. Isn't that interesting? I know, I think so too.

So people taste gross things and hand them off because they want you to make sure their rotten egg-salad can't be used to heal scurvy. That's all. You should feel honored that someone trusts your expert medical opinion.

~Henri

2005-04-07T04:35:00.000-05:00

Squeeze Bottle? Jar? How about BUCKET!?

So Glad You Came to Me in Time With This Question!

2005-04-07T04:02:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri,

Is it true that Miracle Whip taste different from a frickin squeeze bottle? This has been bothering me for months now can you shed some light upon this subject.

Thank you,
Squeezy

Dear Squeezy,

First of all, put down that pastrami! You've come to the right place. You see, Squeezy, unbeknownst to many, Miracle Whip is Miracle Whip regardless of the vessel which contains it's whippy miracly goodness. If the MW is in a SQUEEZE bottle, it is much, much simpler to obtain Here's the thing, and I want you to pay really close attention: Do you really want something you don't have to work for? I mean really? Sure that squeeze bottle may seem like an easy, convenient way to apply Miracle Whip-- and the old knife in the jar method may seem crazy in comparison, but won't that meatloaf with bacon and pickles taste much better if you've worked for the meaningless empty calories of the gelatinous white oop called Miracle Whip piled liberally atop it by opening a jar lid and using a knife? The answer is NO! It tastes BETTER out of a squeeze bottle, duh!

Have a nice day, and thank you. And by the way--be sure to wash this post down with a large Diet Coke.

I'm Always on the Party Bus!

2005-04-05T21:41:00.000-05:00

~this post is dedicated to my favorite Lizard.

2005-04-05T14:58:00.000-05:00

R.I.P, Finally.

Maybe This Will Make Some of You Feel Better

2005-04-05T14:53:00.000-05:00

I had a dream about Terry Schiavo last night. We were just hanging out.

ME: How are you feeling?
TERRY: Better.

Cheers to Terry Schiavo.

The Answer is NO!

2005-04-05T14:31:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I asked you all to send questions that I may answer here at Dear Henri and the question I've received most often is this one:

Dear Henri,

Are you making this up?

-everyone

Dear Everyone,

No, I'm not making this up, but if you don't believe me--send me a different question and you'll see.

2005-04-04T01:38:00.000-05:00

The Amazing Regenerating Heart!

All You Need Is Love.

2005-04-04T01:32:00.000-05:00

Dear Henri,

Very recently I was in a relationship that ended very badly. As a matter of fact, lately I’ve noticed that all of my relationships have ended pretty badly, and I’m starting to feel really worried that something is very wrong with me. It seems like I put so much of myself into caring for other people, and always end up leaving with wounds that will never heal, and half of myself, if not less. It’s gotten to the point that I’ve just about decided to give up on love altogether because every time I trust someone enough to love them, I get hurt so very badly. I know that I’m a good person, and I know that my heart is always in the right place, but I just can’t seem to get it right. Right now I’m trying to date—but it just feels so artificial sometimes. When I give my heart to someone it takes a very long time to grow back, because I give it with intention of not having to worry about losing it. Sometimes I think about all of the love I’ve lost and I get so sad I can barely stand getting up in the morning. I’ve had friends tell me that love is not the most important thing in the world, but I simply don’t believe that, and never will. As a true romantic, how do I make myself whole again?

-Broken

Dear Broken,
First of all, you have no idea what a difficult question this is for me to answer right now, but I will anyway. Your friends are very wrong when they say that love isn’t the most important thing in the world. What is love if not the foundation of each meaningful action one takes in one’s life. Many people have been embittered by love, desensitized to it, even partially destroyed by it, but much like the air you breathe, love is a necessary catalyst for the forward motion of a healthy life. Try not to think of it as just something you have in an intimate romantic relationship. Think of those friends of yours—do you not love them? I know that I love my friends with every fiber of my essence, and I think of them as a gift. How about your family? There are times that I could cry out of appreciation for everything my mother has done for me in my life. That is love. There is love for the things that interest you, love for the work you do, even love for complete strangers. Maybe the understanding of the emotion itself—the real meaning in an oversimplified way, would help you deal with the loss of your relationship. The truth is, when you fall in love with someone, no matter how hard you try not to, you see them as infallible. It’s only later, when you’ve become accustomed to each other that you start to see each other’s faults. I can’t tell you why your personal relationships end in a bad way, but I can tell you that losing anything that means the world to you is going to hurt. I’ve not seen many a relationship (including my own) end well in my time, and I don’t expect to see many more. Perhaps the most important thing you can do to help yourself through this pain, is to realize that it gives meaning to every gesture and act of love that you made for this person. Every part of you that hurts right now hurts because there’s a little piece missing that you gave to someone else. Be proud of that—because there is nothing more honorable in the world than someone who is not afraid to give of him or herself, and as the pain drains away with each day, remind yourself of each and every good and beautiful thing you’ve done for another, and when it’s gone, continue to remind yourself—then you’ll know that you’re whole enough to move on. And know that nothing at all is wrong with you. I hope that helps. If not, just take some damn Prozac and quit yer bitchin’!

2005-04-01T04:58:00.000-06:00

Ron Jeremy OWNS You!

Perv Boyfriend Needs to Wake Up and Smell the Dumpster.

2005-04-01T04:45:00.000-06:00

Dear Henri,

Over the past few years I have been amassing a very large collection of vintage pornography magazines from the 70’s. I’m not sure how the fascination started, but I just can’t seem to stop. I’ve gotten to the point where I look through dumpsters to see if anyone has accidentally thrown away a classic Hustler, or Playboy. I even stopped to look in a box in front of someone’s house while I was with my mother to see if there were any mags in it. I found my first magazine in a pile of stuff when I was helping someone clean her dead uncle’s house, and I haven’t been able to stop since. The problem is, my boyfriend. He’s obsessed with my collection. It’s gotten to the point that all he ever does is sit and flip through the magazines. I told him this was a problem and he came back with the fact that it is my collection of pornography, so I shouldn't talk. Do you think I should get rid of it? It would break my heart, but I don’t know what else to do. Help!

Porny McLikespornalot.

Dear Porny,
I’d like to see that collection sometime—seriously it’s so refreshing to hear that a woman would collect something like that. Here’s the thing: Stop digging in dumpsters. You have about a 1% chance of scoring vintage porn in a dumpster, and about a 90% chance of scoring mad-cow disease or something equally horrifying. As far as your boyfriend is concerned, I say keep the porn. As a matter of fact, keep the porn and dump your boyfriend. It’s perfectly normal for a male-person to enjoy looking at pornography but when the perusal comes at the expense of your feelings, he needs to get a clue. I hear so often about things like this. Not necessarily involving porn—but people ignoring their significant others to do less important things. The truth is, your boyfriend should be impressed at how interesting you are, rather than your collection of porn. I suggest permitting him to gander at your collection occasionally while making it clear that you are in a relationship, and he needs to take care of your needs. If he can’t handle that—kick him to the curb, but don’t go through any boxes on the curb.

2005-03-31T14:39:00.000-06:00

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut, Sometimes You Don't!

Yes, Folks, Some Lesbians Like Dick!

2005-03-31T14:14:00.000-06:00

Dear Henri,

I am a lesbian. I have been a lesbian for a long time despite a small flirtation with being a straight girl. This elicited many giggles. I am gay. Gay, gay, gay. I am not straight. Clear yet? Okie dokie…I have a serious fascination with the penis. Not in the “gosh, it would be swell to be able to do it with my girlfriend with a big ol’ dick” or “I feel that I was not born into a body that matches my psyche”, but in the “good lord, I bet if I could find a man that actually knew how to work his stuff then boy-girl sex would be fun”. I don’t know exactly what the dilemma is because, if I were single, I think I would be fine stepping up to the proverbial plate and taking a swing at the hetero sex. But, since I’m not single and since my girlie friend has this weird thing about sharing me with other people, I don’t have that opportunity. So, what do I do? Find as many straight girls to tell me how bad it is and alleviate the desire? Find as many straight girls to tell me how awesome it is and experience vicariously through them? Suck it up and drop the fascination? And there is no need to suggest toys or harnesses; those are incredibly fun and have been done…a lot. So…help me Henri!

Dyke wanting to Dabble

Dear Dabble,

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. Juuuuuust kidding. Oh, my, what a dilemma! Well, luckily you’ve come to the right place. Surprisingly, you are one of many lesbian women who feel this way (I can see straight jaws dropping everywhere), and many lesbians have or do engage with men while fully aware of their own homosexuality, as curious as that is. Most lesbians who do have a desire to sleep with men feel ashamed of it and uncomfortable sharing the information with their friends and partners. Well rest assured Dabble, you’re a perfectly healthy woman. The problem here is labels. Because you feel like you most closely resemble a lesbian, you make yourself feel as though you can’t stray from desire only for women, but it is possible to be a lesbian emotionally, and a bisexual behaviorally—in other words: You love women only but anyone, regardless of their sex, can get yer motor running, especially if that someone has something that you’re girlfriend can’t grow overnight. Sexuality is a diverse and ever moving entity, and you should explore yours as much as possible.
Normally I would advise you to get your ass out there and see what this magical penis is all about, but it says here that you are in a relationship. You probably find the idea of sleeping with other women besides your girlfriend appealing at times, as well, and that’s also normal. The important thing here is, respect your relationship. I would suggest having a conversation with yourself about the things that intrigue you about the penis, and why you aren’t satisfied with a substitute. As far as conversing with straight girls on the subject, go ahead, but I would highly suggest conversing with lesbian women who share your fascination. Just remember, a sexual urge is never a more powerful thing than the love you can share with someone—and curiosity, though powerful, killed the proverbial Kat*, I mean cat!

* Henri's asshole ex-girlfriend, oops.

The Creative Well Has Run--Away With The Spoon.

2005-03-31T05:08:00.000-06:00

You may have noticed a few changes around here. That’s very good, because if you hadn’t you’re probably a potato that fell accidentally on the keyboard, and then I’d be talking to a potato. Anyhoo, don’t be afraid. Change is good. For instance, I went from living in a very diverse and open-minded city, to a place where the gas stations down town advertise “Live Bait” in the windows. Do I spend all of my time crying? Yes! But that’s not the point, the point is—change is good.

You see it’s all great fun to sit by yourself racking your brain for ideas so that you can meet the needs of your public—the thing is, I play well with others, and I have writer’s block. After receiving an e-mail from a friend asking me advice, it occurred to me that if there’s one thing I’m good at it is dispensing advice. Notice I said “dispensing” because the actual release of the advice, through me, is what I’m good at, I’m not necessarily good at advice—but I would like to give you some anyway! I’ve decided to change the name of Henri’s Happy Hour for two reasons:
Reason 1: I feel distaste for alliteration.

Reason 2: Henri’s Happy Hour will now be named “Dear Henri” because it’s an advice column!

That’s right. I have a lot of spare time, and a great big imagination, so I’d like to help you out by answering your questions a-la “Dear Henry”. Simply e-mail your question to me at: henri_rockstar@yahoo.com, and I will answer it before the world. Your name, of course, will be omitted or changed, and I shall not reveal your identity unless someone offers me $10. That said; please send your questions freely so that I may have a creative outlet before my head explodes. Thanks.

Love,
Henri

2005-03-24T14:06:00.000-06:00

The Power of Christ Compels You! The Power of Christ Compels You!

I Need a Night-Light.

2005-03-24T13:54:00.000-06:00

For the first time since I was a wee tiny little Henri, I actually thought about crawling into bed with my mom last night because I was having terrible nightmares. Mommy stopped letting me sleep in her bed back then because I had nosebleeds, and kept bleeding all over everything. True Story.

Anyway, bad dreams:

I’m very interested in the act of dreaming. I’ve read a lot about lucid dreaming and how to interact with your dreams, and have successfully made myself do it quite a few times. Anyone, by the way, is capable of interactive dreaming—it just takes a little tiny bit of effort. I thought you all should know that. It’s really good for you. So I was having these terrible nightmares, and trying like the dickens to make it stop—which just made it worse for some reason. At this point all I remember is that there was a very creepy man-thing sitting at the end of my bed doing lots of disturbing things with his face, and that damn freaky dancing baby.

(Henri’s dream—I swear this is how it happened)

ME: Excuse me Mr. Creepy person thing, do you think you could stop distorting your face and looking like the girl from the Ring because I’m very tired.

MR. CREEPY-MAN: *Turns his freaky head to look directly at me* Don’t wanna.

ME: But you see, I’m really scared of you and I also think you’re kind of a lame-ass, so I think maybe it’s time for you to go.
(Dancing baby from Ally McBeal shows up)

DANCING BABY: *dance dance dance* Do you know why I’m dancing Henri?

ME: Because you’re evil?

MR CREEPY-MAN-GUY-THING: *laughing demonically* I’m going to eat you!

DANCING BABY: Yes, I’m evil, and I’m going to eat you first!

ME: *Doing some stupid Matrix Kung-Fu move that is completely ineffective* I'll kick your asses, I will! Don't make me do it!

At this point I woke up making a really weird snorting noise, because I think I was trying to yell, I then immediately fell back asleep and there were Dancing Baby and Creepy Man-Guy-Person-Thing, only this time, they were both right on top of me. Then Creepy Man’s head started spinning around and Dancing Baby opened its mouth and lunged at me with gnashing teeth. This time I woke up ACTUALLY yelling for my mommy. I had to sleep with the light on for the rest of the night.

My advice to you is to not eat fondue. I ate fondue, and I think its yummy, choclately goodness caused a misfiring in my synapses and made me have nightmares. Be responsible when you fondue, at least, those little forky things ARE NOT TOYS! On the bright side, maybe tonight I’ll get to dream about being a Fraggle, because that’s what I like to dream about the most. Those crazy Fraggles! I love ‘em.

2005-03-22T19:30:00.000-06:00

Setherbean and Harleighbug. Oh My God! Ilovethemsomuch!!!

2005-03-21T15:17:00.000-06:00

The light of my life...my nephew Setherbean!

2005-03-21T15:16:00.000-06:00

I love my niece so much I want to squeeze her until she poops!

2005-03-18T14:25:00.000-06:00

Women Make the Best Superheroes.

You Never Know What Masked Wonder is Lurking in Your Neighborhood.

2005-03-18T14:19:00.000-06:00

One of my hobbies, of late, is pretending to be superheroes with my friends. It’s really a good time to sit down and think of superpowers for your friends and then laugh until you pee. I’ve decided that since I don’t get to see them everyday anymore, I’m going to branch out and give other people superpowers to amuse myself. I would like to start with my mother and her cohorts…I mean coworkers. I present to you: The Momminator! P.A.M., The Sanitizer! And Captain Lisa Extraordinaire!

The Momminator: Being born in an area of extreme nuclear runoff, The Momminator is equipped with extra-sensitive bat-like hearing--which activates her “What are you doing!?” ray, sending offspring everywhere into a state of deer-in-the-street confusion. Try arguing with this one and her “Bottomless box of comebacks” will leave your head spinning, and GOD FORBID don’t forget to wear a coat and gloves or the Momminator will hit you with her “Encyclopedic knowledge of diseases made up by the Momminator that you can catch if you don’t wear a coat—jazz fingers” this causes the eyes to roll up in the head in a VERY painful manner. Kryptonite: Babies make her forget everything she’s doing.

P.A.M.: Designed by Swiss scientists in an effort to infiltrate society, P.A.M is a state-of-the art A.I. with the capabilities of the world’s largest super computers. P.A.M is the go to for answers on anything from bomb deactivation, to spice muffin recipes. The true Martha Stuart of Androidery, P.A.M managed to override her own programming and give it a good feng shui-ing. Equipped with a protective shell, and a G.E.D. dispenser, P.A.M can protect her teammates from danger while teaching them about various subjects and enriching their education. Kryptonite: Small gnomes that can poke their creepy little fingers in her gears.

The Sanitizer: The Sanitizer was born with the ability to actually see germs. This being unacceptable, she quickly evolved into a germ-killing machine. Attempt to sneeze on the Sanitizer and you will be rewarded with a 20 minute-coat of stinky Anti-bacterial soap foam, which she shoots from her wrists (not at ALL like Spider-Man). Her Motto: “God made dirt because he was drunk!” Her tool belt comes equipped with an entire pharmacy from Penicillin to Organic Garlic Belly Balm; she has the power to prevent all illness faster than a dissolving aspirin! Kryptonite: Public Toilets.

Last but not least…

Captain Lisa Extraordinaire: A born leader, Captain Lisa was also born with eight extra invisible hands. Wondering why you just got a wedgie? It’s because Captain Lisa can carry on a conversation with YOU while playing the trumpet, picking her nose, writing a letter, flipping someone off, hailing a cab and giving you a wedgie. Her ability to “magically” bust out in a break dancing move involving not ever touching the ground, entertains her foes, while the rest of the gang kicks the poo out of them. Kryptonite: Mittens.
The Captain and her odd assortment of superhero pals take on drove after drove of really crabby people while managing to save the world from peril at every moment. Remember; Pay your phone bill on time!

2005-03-17T00:54:00.000-06:00

I Wish You All the Pinkest of Elephants.

Ode to a Drunken Stupor!

2005-03-17T00:46:00.001-06:00

Happy St. Patrick’s Day Friends! Do me a favor and don’t kill anything today. Make that your St. Patrick’s Day resolution. I know it’s going to be hard for some of you murderous pirate brutes, but we can all do it together. I will continue NOT to kill Pee-wee, the dog from hell. I don’t even understand this holiday, really. For instance, after all of the snakes were driven from Ireland, did they not then have a rodent problem? Why are we celebrating this? No matter. It just leaves me open to discuss a topic I’m greatly familiar with: Being sloppy drunk!

I started my drinking career at the tender young age of 16. My friend Shandyngo’s father had a very regular work schedule, which left us many hours in the day for great debauchery. This particular day, Shandyngo and her brother, Shawndyngo, got A LOT of Miller Genuine Draft and we drank it all in the hot sun. After becoming deeply intoxicated, I thought it would be a great idea to barbecue some chicken. This was also a first for me, because anyone who knows me knows I CANNOT cook. I was going about my merry little business of grilling the chicken when two things happened. #1) The neighbor came over to let us know that two men were peeing on the side of the garage, and #2) Shandyngo’s idiot cousin Jen decided to poor her entire long island iced-tea cooler on my chicken, thus extinguishing the grill for the rest of the day.

Jen: I wanna help.
Me: (pathetically attempting to block her from the grill) no goway!
Jen: Come on! (pours tea on chicken)
Me: Aw shit you broke my chicken!
Jen: No I didn’t it’s fine!
Me: Fuck you, dude!
Jen: No fuck you!
Me: No fuck you!
Shandyngo: Fuck you both!

That’s what I remember about the first time I was drunk. I also remember rolling down a hill at some point and telling everyone I saw that I loved him or her. Later that night I’m pretty sure we had to hose Jen down in the driveway because she puked on herself. I thought it was funny because I was mad about the chicken… I’m still mad about the chicken.

I’d like to tell you all of my fun drunken stories (at least the one’s I can remember) but my mom reads this and she’ll probably have a heart attack, so I’ll try to keep it PG.
Things I’ve done when I was drunk:

I’ve actually been naked in ALL Bloomington fountains, including the music school fountain, which is on a main road (there are pictures of this incident somewhere)

On New Year’s of 2000 I actually had a conversation with a very nice man for five minutes before my friends realized that he was masturbating and pulled me away.

I forgot the words to my own song while playing on stage in front of people.
I let a frat boy kiss me because he had a broken arm.

I got kicked out of a bar for trying to pee in the men’s room.

I got kicked out of bars twice for getting in fights.

I was actually kidnapped by the person who is now my ex.

I threw up 8 times in a gas station parking lot.

I slept in my back yard and don’t remember how I got there.

My friends and I made a total of about $250 off of two middle-aged geeks who followed us around during the Little 500 weekend because they were so drunk they were handing out fitties.

I married a diminutive Croatian so that he could gain citizenship. (Just kidding, Mom)

I demanded that the band playing allow me to come onstage and sing “Midnight Train to Georgia” with them. They refused.

I got stuck in the midst of grinding Mexican men on the dance floor and couldn’t get out. It was terrifying.

I got a picture of my friend’s face tattooed on my ass. (I’m not telling you whether that’s true or not).

Doesn’t that just make you want to do a shot with me? I’m SOOO much fun when I’m drunk.

I encourage you to take my example and do one of the things I’ve listed. If not, at least drink until you see leprechauns. That should do for a nice holiday. Cheers!

2005-03-16T21:49:00.000-06:00

Pensively Henri.

2005-03-14T13:08:00.000-06:00

I’m having what you might call a GOOD day today. Yesterday I quit the job I’ve had for a week because it was making me crabby with my Mommy. I realized that after a week, I should have already been throwing parties with my co-workers. Anybody who knows me knows that’s true. I feel like waxing philosophical today. I love writing.

I’ve been listening to David Bowie all day. I bought a two-disc album of his BBC recordings before I left Bloomington. I felt the need to stock up. No offense NW Indiana, it’s just that the Bloomington music scene is like peeps in the microwave, hot and squishy. Anyway, I’ve been listening to it all day, and I love it. I just realized that “Starman” is about God, and that makes me like it a lot more.

That’s another thing—God. I’m not going to tell you about my personal religious beliefs because I shouldn’t have to. I keep mine on my face, and in my attitude, and that’s ALL you need to know about what I believe. As a matter of fact, I think that’s all you ever really can know about someone else’s religious beliefs. The end.

I hung out with a bunch of crazy Puerto Ricans the other night. I feel a little cooler now. It was fun for me. And according to Dan, the 6ft 300lb guy, I’ve got great tits. Yay me! More fun, though, was my special guest for the evening, Elvira Stellaluna (name changed cause it’s funny to change people’s names). This is someone I’ve been spending time with recently, and she’s wonderful to be around. (raise the shot glasses) Cheers to my new friend.

My girls are coming this weekend, and you have NO idea how cool that is. The My Little Fonies (that’s our band, even though I’m the only one who can play an instrument…I think maybe J-bird can play the oboe, OH and a mean recorder. Sandi is the beatboxer/triangle player, Rito is the fly-girl slash singer) are doing a reunion show.

Seriously though, I need to start practicing my guitar more and writing songs. I would rather be on stage than anywhere. If you’ve never been up there you can’t understand. I become a completely different person when I play. I get nervous and shy, but I play like a mofo. Once I was playing for about 200 people and I made my fingers bleed. I got lots of phone #’s and a new girlfriend that night.

I think I need to do something besides wait tables. It stresses me out too much. I miss my old job a lot, and I feel dirty being in any other restaurant. If anyone needs a personal assistant, I’m all over it.

I need a haircut.

I have a question for everyone (I’m expecting responses, by the way):

What would you do with 1 wish?
The best answer gets mine.

2005-03-12T22:00:00.000-06:00

Hot stuff.

2005-03-12T21:59:00.000-06:00

This is some funny shit right here.

2005-03-10T20:37:00.000-06:00

Yay! We Know How to Make El Pee-Pee in the Big Boy Potty!

Reality TV AKA Not a Drop of Creativity Left in the Business We Call Show.

2005-03-10T20:27:00.000-06:00

I’m not sure how it happened, but once again I’ve been sucked into the surge of idiot masses that waste an hour of their lives watching Survivor every week. As much as I hate to admit it, I find myself yelling encouragement, strategy, and profanity as this stupid-ass show unfolds. On tonight’s show I actually heard one of the contestants (who just happens to be A BIG GIANT REDNECK) say “I didn’t know I could get my butt whupped by a homosexual, there are some strong gay people in the world.” Barf. I know women smaller than ME that could kick that guy’s ass (Politiko, for instance). The worst part of this season, I think, is the fact that I have to see this moron’s junk through his filthy Tommy Hilfiger underpants, because they’ve all decided to parade around in their underwear, and they’re constantly soaked.
Listening to their little confessional interviews is always a treat. Apparently, instead of actually researching how to survive in the wilderness, these people bone up on their shit talking and whining skills.
Skinny, dirty, mad, woman: She’s so lazy. All she does is sit around on her butt while everybody else does the work, and I can see her roots!
Of course she’s talking about the token do-absolutely-nothing-useful-at-all-times girl. I love her. She sits around on her ass watching other people do work and ACTUALLY thinks she’s going to make it to the end.
Do nothing girl: I’m huuuungry!
The funny thing is, even when she does eat, she probably just makes herself throw-up.
So you have a bunch of overworked, tired, malnourished people living on an island and when they win their little competitions, what do they get as a reward? Alcohol!! What a brilliant fucking idea. Give the dying people alcohol. Personally, I think they should have a liquor cabinet that’s stocked all the time like the Real World, and then maybe something interesting would happen, like someone getting eaten by a shark. Even better—they should give them guns and tell them the last one alive wins the money. Those bitches would be running all over the island screeching war cries, covered in mud and planting sticks in the ground with pig heads jammed on top of them. That would shut their whining up. I mean honestly, can’t someone get dysentery or something? What kind of bullshit is a show called Survivor where no one actually dies? What I’d really like to see is a mutiny, where the survivors take Jeff Probst hostage and demand Twinkies. That would be a really good time.

Let’s not forget about the other stupid reality shows that we allow to commandeer our brains—like The Amazing Race. What a worthless bunch of jackasses. As if our country isn’t disrespectful enough to the rest of the world, we have to send the lowest common denominator out on a trek through other countries so they can offend the people there by speaking Spanglish (examples: El bus-o, I needo money-o, where is el beach-o,) and then becoming incredibly frustrated at the locals for not understanding because, of course, as Americans they are in a great big hurry. It’s hilarious to me that Americans are the first people to bitch incessantly about people from other countries who come here and don’t speak English. Well guess what, it’s probably because they’ve been too busy learning seventeen other languages OR working their asses off to feed their families as a result of their crushed economy (which, of course, WE are responsible for crushing). Most Americans can’t even speak English correctly, and for those of you who claim to be bilingual, you should know that Pig Latin doesn’t count, nor does Klingon. Here are some of my ideas to improve The Amazing Race: Instead of competing for money, the contestants should be given some terrible flesh-eating disease, and the prize would be exactly 1 dose of the cure, that way even the teammates have to fight over it. Or how about instead of planting helpful, smiling locals, they plant angry starving locals with pepper spray and boots with sharpened knives on the end.

If we actually made a show portraying reality, it would be a bunch of lazy bums sitting on their couches watching TV. Personally, I’m going to write a script for a show called “American Election” there will be ten human contestants and 1 really stupid monkey (the current president) competing for the presidency of the US. All they have to do to make it to the end is go 1 entire month without lying a single time. If they do lie, they will be tried before a jury of angry black single mothers who have the button to a small electric device that is attached to each of the contestants’ genitals. Talk about ratings.
I’m moving to Canada.

2005-03-10T15:32:00.000-06:00

Douching Changes the Ph of Your Sensitive Female Parts. Don't Do Douche!!!

TV SAYS: BUY SHIT OR YOU'LL GET HERPES!!!

2005-03-10T15:18:00.000-06:00

Much to my dismay, I’ve been watching more TV lately than I have in the past 6 years. I figured since I spent my childhood sitting in front of the damn thing like a droid, destroying my attention span and my memory, I could spend the rest of it doing something worthwhile, like smoking pot. When I was in college, I was a Telecommunications major and I learned exactly how manipulative and terrible television actually is, making me despise it more. One of the careers I could have pursued, and probably would have been smashing at, was in advertising as a writer. The funny thing is, I HATE advertising. How ironic. Anyway, I thought I’d devote my blog today to commercials, because I’ve seen a whole bunch of them in my time and they suck—except the new Axe body spray ones where the women are humping frying pans and toasters and shit—that there’s funny, I don’t care who you are.

For as long as I can remember, the commercials that have irritated me most are for feminine products. My loathing all started with the Summer’s Eve Douche commercials where the mother and daughter had the heart-to-heart about notsofreshness. Ladies, douching is terrible for you. It actually causes problems. It would have been so much better if the helpful TV mom, instead of suggesting Summer’s Eve, said, “Honey, maybe you’re feeling not so fresh because you’re a huge slut.” Or, “Honey, have you ever considered bathing once in a while?” Or, “Honey, stop sticking food items in there.” Or, “Honey, did you know that most women feel not-so-fresh because TV is trying to sell them douches and sprays, so they are manipulated into feeling that way, when in all actuality they are perfectly healthy, normal women?” If she was a real mother who actually cared about her daughter’s uterine welfare, she may have suggested drinking lots of water, eating healthy foods, and exercising. That’s not possible though, because then how would TV sell Doritos and Pepsi?

Tampon commercials are unbelievable. Sometimes they’re so confusing you can’t even tell they’re tampon commercials. This is their way of advertising to women without grossing men out. Actually, all of these stupid feminine hygiene commercials are designed not to gross men out, rather than actually help women. Tampons keep getting smaller and smaller, and shaped differently, and packaged so no one can hear you open up the wrapper because GOD FORBID ANYONE KNOW THAT YOU’RE A MENUSTRATING FEMALE!!! Their selling point is that the shape and size and whatnot make it so you can’t even tell you are using a tampon. What they really need to do is just shape the damn things like a penis, you won’t feel a thing. Guess what, having a period sucks! It’s an uncomfortable, messy, disgusting time for each of us, and nothing that they can sell will change that, unless they sell a pill that will knock you out for the duration. I can see the commercial now:
Daughter: Mom, do you ever get that not-so-fresh feeling?
Mom: No, I just take one of these little babies (hands daughter a pill (it’s pink of course)
Daughter: (takes pill) Snore….
Announcer: MENQUIL, the pill that knocks you out for a week so you don’t have to deal with your body’s natural mechanisms, by the makers of the Flugelbinder.

Commercials for medications are ridiculous. They always show happy people bouncing around in an idyllic grassland in nice clothes while they tell you how much better your life will be if you take their drug, then they start listing the side effects.
Announcer: The side-effects for Menquil include: Diarrhea, nausea, abdominal pain, heart murmur, hangnails, the black plague, insomnia, dwarfism, gigantism, weird knobby butt protrusions, irritating telemarketer calls, rabies, sexual side-effects, not-so-freshness, pregnant or nursing mothers should not take Menquil…
After all that, you STILL have no idea what the damn pill does, because they don’t tell you. They tell you to ask your doctor about it.
You: Doctor, I have knobby butt protrusions.
Doctor: Have you been taking Menquil?
You: What’s Menquil?
Doctor: I have NO idea.

Then you have the herpes outbreak control commercials where happy attractive couples are riding horses, wrestling around, laughing and playing. I don’t have herpes, so I’m not sure—but I don’t think that if I did riding horses would be at the top of my fun list. They actually have the nerve to say, “Herpes outbreaks can be unpleasant.” Gee, you think? Why are they encouraging people with herpes to be sexually active? I think Herpes outbreak commercials actually CAUSE herpes. I suggest that if you have herpes, move away from everyone else and think about what a giant loser you are because you have HERPES!

I’m getting a bit long winded, so I will complain about one final product. The razor. It seems like every week there’s a new razor on the market that gives an amazingly close shave because of it’s built in shave gel and eleventy billion blades. A razor is a RAZOR. They all do the same thing. You really can’t improve on it by adding more blades. They should try having the guy in the commercial shave off his FACE SKIN. That would be an amazingly close shave.
Woman: (stroking sexy stud man’s bleeding lack of face)
Man: (Grins despite the fact that he’s bleeding to death)
Announcer: The Shtick Death Razor, Now with a complementary dose of Menquil. For an amazingly close shave.
Then they show a bunch of explosions and naked women, which is what the guys are REALLY looking for in their razor. The End.

2005-03-06T23:10:00.000-06:00

Mustardseed, the Level Two Rhythm Rogue Disco Bandit....Snap!

When It Comes to Meat, I'm Livin' Large

2005-03-06T22:37:00.000-06:00

Happy Monday Everyone. It's not actually Monday yet, but I'll bet the rest of you are sleeping right now--so Happy Monday. I will be starting my new job today and I'm not looking forward to it. Mostly I'm not looking forward to it because the gland on the right side of my throat is the size of a lemon right now and I can't swallow without grimacing. Everyone please take a moment to concentrate on my health improving very soon. It's really pretty ironic that I've been doing absolutely nothing in perfect health for a month and now that I have a job I'm coming down with the bubonic plague. I knew it would happen someday what with all the time I spend wallowing around with rats and eating with my hands and bathing once every half-year or so. Tomorrow I'll send for the surgeon to come with his leeches and let my blood until I feel better.

I had the privilege of spending ten minutes with my beloved friend Rito today, who was heading back to Bloomington from a long weekend of being held hostage by her Mommy. I also spoke to my friend Sandi on the phone and she told me that she spent all night the other night hanging out with Slug. For those of you who don't know, Slug is the voice and the poetry behind the incredibly talented underground hip-hop group Atmosphere. I am SOOO jealous. It's a REALLY big deal. Another one of our friends, whose name I won't mention, spent her time getting to know one of the other band members pretty well if you know what I mean ;-). Last time I was in Bloomington I met Billy Currington, but he sucks, so I'll probably stop telling people that now.

I let my cousin, Spiff (name changed to protect the innocent) give me a haircut today because she's going to school to be a beautician. It was very brave of me, but she's gotta practice on someone and she did a good job. She didn't say "Oops" "Uh oh" or "Oh shit" once, and that was comforting. My ears are still intact as well.

My niece's umbilical cord came off today which is pretty gross, but soon she'll have a normal belly button and she got to have her first real bath. She didn't like it at all which she voiced very loudly. Things Harleigh doesn't like: Baths, bright lights, cold butt wipeys on her butt, pink (oh wait that's me), jazz fusion. We have a lot in common.

Silliest Argument of the day:

My stepsister: "Oprah Winfrey's a racist."

Me: "No she isn't."

Her: "Yes she is, she likes black people much better than white people."

Me: "Oprah Winfrey is not racist."

Her: "Yes she is, I've been studying her and she...."

Me: "Shut up."

Other News:

In the Kingdom of Loathing I am a Level 2 Rhythm Rogue Disco Bandit named Mustardseed. I have a slingshot a chef's hat and studded leather boxer shorts. I would go up a level so I can join a clan but I have no more adventures left until rollover, or until I eat something or get drunk, but I can't find food or alcohol. I do have plenty of meat though thanks to a kindly stranger who donated A LOT of it to me. In the Kingdom of Loathing, meat is currency, but not edible. Hmmm.

Thoughts To Grow a Day On:

It's a terrible idea to wear garments made of rubber. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but some people just don't know. If you do wear rubber garments, be sure to bring a bottle of Goldbond, because my skater friend told me it's great for sweaty ball-rash, which is what you get if you wear rubber garments, or skate, unless of course you don't have testicles. If so, more power to you sister, but don't think you're safe from chafing of your own.

I'm going to go take something strong enough to knock my ass out so I don't notice that swallowing is excruciating. Once again, Happy Monday.

2005-03-04T00:21:00.000-06:00

Convincing Someone They've Been Poisoned is an Excellent Way to Relieve Stress.

Hello 911? I Just Ate Poisoned Wasabi!!!

2005-03-03T23:35:00.000-06:00

Look around you. If you're at work you probably see a bunch of people you are forced to spend your entire day with. There's the guy who smells really bad, but no one has the heart to tell him- the woman who always comes back from the restroom with toilet paper hanging out of her pants- the really annoying woman who never stops talking- your pimp. Each of these people adds something unique and diverse to your work day--why not abuse them for your own entertainment. What's the point of going through the day without laughing at someone else's expense. I give you:

Mean Things You Can Do to Your Co-workers.

Everyone has a breaking point, so you should definitely keep this in mind when planning to use these clever ideas. The last thing you want is toilet-paper woman showing up for work all disgruntled with some kind of automatic weapon she bought from K-mart and spraying the room with bullets. If you don't feel like recognizing someone's breaking point, simply make them believe that you are the ONLY one not responsible for their misery. Now--let's get cracking.

The first prank (which I have actually done) can be pulled off at any time as long as your target does not see you. You will need: A package of Lox and a cup of crumbled bleu cheese. This is a particularly good prank to pull on someone who really has it coming to them. Simply place the Lox and bleu cheese in their coat pocket and wait for the fun to begin. Make "What's that smell?" the magic phrase for the day, and any time someone says it to the victim, take a slug of the fifth of Wild Turkey you have hidden in your desk drawer. You'll be trashed by the time you go home. Also be sure to clue someone else in so that when they laugh with you, the victim marks them as a possible suspect. Remember: Wash your hands after handling these items--they're very stinky.

If your victim has family photos in their cubicle, drawing mustaches on their loved ones is a quick, easy, way to cause suffering. Be sure to use a Sharpie or something equally permanent to insure a lifetime of mustachioed kin. You may also choose to draw devil horns, bug eyes, or even something pornographic if you're feeling extra froggy. Your victim will be dismayed.

Do you have internet access at work? Good. This next prank is perfect for you computer jockies. When your target goes for his lunch break, log into his computer and subscribe him to as many beastiality websites as possible. That way, when he comes back, he'll be faced with a deluge of highly inappropriate pop-up windows. If you're lucky the boss might even walk by and look over the victim's shoulder. It will take literally months for your target to get rid of the offending material while you just sit back and laugh and laugh.

Here's a fun way to shut up never-stop-talking-lady. When she's away from her desk, simply leave a note scrawled in large, childish, serial killer letters that says "There is a voice activated bomb taped to the bottom of your chair. Shhh. Please recycle." If you don't want to go that far a good dose of super-glue on the coffee cup should do the trick. Remember to dispose of any evidence.

Last but not least, the prank that will have you and your cohorts rolling in the aisles. You should work on this one for about half the day. Start out the day by purchasing wasabi peas for just yourself and your victim. Be sure that the victim witnesses you consuming said taste treat. After an hour or so, begin complaining that you're feeling dizzy. As the minutes pass, become aggressively more disoriented, then turn purple. Now here is the kicker, and the prank won't work without it: Say "All I've had today were those wasabi peas!" Then begin having a fake siezure directly next to your victim. Foam at the mouth, speak in tongues, and definitely pee yourself. This will convince your victim that they too will die of whatever plague you caught from the wasabi peas. To make the prank work REALLY well, try actually dying. Your vic won't know what to do with himself.

Remember, be creative about your pranks. If you can actually give someone a heart attack, make them poo in their pants, or give them some kind of itchy venereal disease, you have succeeded and your days will be much brighter. Most importantly, you did not get these ideas from me. Have fun.

2005-03-02T17:21:00.000-06:00

Creepy Little Shits.

What Are You Afraid Of?

2005-03-02T15:38:00.000-06:00

Today I'd like to talk about something we can all identify with: Fear. Fear is that cold prickly monster who slithers up the back of your neck leaving a trail of slime. Everyone is afraid of something, but who is really ready to admit to the more embarrassing side of it all? I'll tell you, I am. Recently a very strange fellow I knew randomly asked another friend and I if we were afraid of snakes. I found this question rather silly, because why would anyone be afraid of snakes? They don't have guns, let alone little arms with little fingers to pull triggers. Snakes are boring, even. I'm glad I'm not one because that would suck. How would I pick my nose? Anyway, the feelings that the question inspired in me made me realize that I AM A TOTAL WEIRDO!!!

The earliest fear I can remember having was of mice. I was terrified of them with good reason. When I was a wee little lass I was digging in my toybox, probably for something weird like a shoe string or something small enough to stick in my nose, when a mouse literally projected itself DIRECTLY at my face. Clearly the mouse was making a defensive attack of some sort but to my little mind, he was trying to kill me, so I screamed. From that point on I was convinced there was a mouse hiding in every shadow waiting to spring on me with tiny gnashing teeth and an inaudible battle cry. I was terrified of putting my feet down on the floor for fear my little toes would be gnawed upon out of revenge. In my mind the mice were organizing for a full scale attack upon me in my sleep.

Really SLEEP was a terrifying time for me when I was small. Every night I lay in the semi-dark (night lights make scary shadows) vulnerable to demise by way of each terrible demon lying behind every corner of my imagination--if it weren't for my amazing PULLING THE COVERS OVER MY HEAD defense. The problem with this was that I had to be encased in a shell of blanket, and I am CLAUSTROPHOBIC. I hate having my head under the blankets without a sufficient airhole to this day.

Most recently my fears have delved into the world of creepy children. Children behaving in an eerie, evil, malicious, adult-like way, freak the SHIT out of me. Examples: The little boy in The Ring, Hayley Joel Osment in anything, that freaky dancing baby on Allie McBeal, George Bush. Anyway, you get my point. These freaky little shits make my skin crawl with their ESP and their seeing dead people and calling their parents by their first names... that ain't right.

I'm kind of scared of my little sister because I'm convinced that she's secretly joined a clan of warriors who live in the woods and teach her the ancient art of Taikeek'urass, and one day she's going to break it out on me. She's like a tiger waiting to spring on me and tie me into a pretzel at any moment she feels like it.

PMS is kind of a scary thing, although I doubt it would make much of a story. This is the story I'd write if I had PMS:

Mrs. Dalloway decided that she would buy the flowers herself, but a burst of anger ripped through her and she shouted "FUCK THIS SHIT!" The sun shone magically into the window, reaching its long fingers out for something to carress. Mrs. Dalloway's plan for the day had changed. She would sit in her room eating ham sandwiches and watching movies in the dark.

Usually the stuff we're afraid of is silly. I'm pretty sure that giant melon-headed aliens aren't going to come down to earth and start breeding the human race as cattle to feed their magnificicent person-eating warhorses--though right now they're fighting a civil war that isn't looking very good for their side so...I'm just saying I keep a piece of tinfoil in my pocket. You would too if you know what's good for you.