A Random Survey of Facebook Statuses (or is it stati?)

Cornelius is baking blueberry muffins for his muffin :)

Wyatt is OMFG! Another STD?!

Geneva is conventioning...

Mortimer is eating baby corn...Is this what it feels like to be a giant?

Chastity is wondering how many times she can make her birth name ironic in one night.

Wolfgang is thinks facebook is terribly pedestrian. aSmallWorld here I come!

Percy just jizzed my pants watching Wolfgang swallow a pickle!

Anastasia hopes her cookie doesn't take away her muffins after he finds out I gave Wyatt herpes.

Koramina is snickering at the term "stimulus package."

Dante is in hell right now.

Abraham thinks God is mean :(

Hannah has never actually been to Montana before.

The Brian needs to get compensated for his talents...

A silent but expressive epidemic

Have you checked yourself lately for gesticular cancer?

• Do wine glasses often fall victim to your descriptive hand motions over rousing dinner conversation?
• Do you talk as if you're conducting the New York Philharmonic?
• Do you find yourself grabbing words in mid-air as they're released from your mouth?
• Have you ever poked an eye out while simply asking for the check?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you might be at serious risk for gesticular cancer. Consider trying the following treatments to address this egregious affliction:

• The warmer your hands, the better. Keep them close and intimate to the interiors of your pockets, the underside of your thighs while sitting, or the snug crevasses of your underarms.

• Technology is your friend. Tape record your insightful, witty, and informed comments before attending social gatherings. Bring a lightweight tape player with you and play your pre-recorded thoughts, while you keep your hands and mouth busy by overdoing it on the cheese and crackers.

• Board games are the enemy. Playing certain board games can only catalyze gesticular cancer to rapidly spread. Refrain from participating in any and all of the following lethal leisure activities: Charades, Guesstures, Cranium (and its variations), Pictionary, Taboo, Balderdash, and $10,000 Pyramid. Stick to games like Solitaire instead. Corollary: No more watching Yo! MTV Raps.

• Poison Sumac. Bathe in it. Before you know it, your body will be blanketed in rashes so big you'd think your name was Job (from the Book of). Such maximized itching can only result in incessant scratching, ultimately keeping your hands preoccupied and your body unfit for social contact.

Gesticular cancer is no joke. Don't take risks with your health. Get tested. Your gesticles are counting on it.

Female Prefix Question of the Day

Why don't we pronounce "Mrs." as "misters" since it's written as the plural form of "Mr."? If I were to read "Mrs." without pronouncing it out loud, I would assume that the English language is trying to tell us that a married woman is really equal to two or more men. Is it 'cuz she's got at least twice the balls to be married to that guy?

(That guy of course being this guy.)

(Is he nipping?...Are Japanese folks offended by that participle?)

But then when we say "Mrs." aloud, it's pronounced "Misses." WTF? So Mrs. Kittencaboodle is really the plural of Miss Kittencaboodle, as in Misses Kittencaboodle? She's twice or more the Kittencaboodle??

So "Mrs." is both plural of "Mr." and "Miss?" Then is it simply true that upon marriage, Miss Kittencaboodle suddenly transformed into 2+ men and 2+ women and is ultimately the ultimate multiplying hermaphrodite?? Twice the vaj and twice the schlongo??? Fuck Super Saiyan mode, it's all about Mrs. status!

And finally, what about the more contemporary, pro-feminist, non-marriage specific "Ms." which is pronounced "Mizz." What exactly is a Mizz? Sounds like something Snoop would come up with. "I smizzed this blizz and now I'm out of wizz. Gotta bizz to the dizzealer and cop mizz chrizz." Whizz yizz thizz abizz thizz shizz?

P.S. If you were to flirt with Mr. T, would you go up to him and ask, "So is there a Mrs. T? I pity the fool!"

Handsy Question of the Day

Why are people who are 'handsome' attractive while people who are a 'handful' considered problematic? I guess a little hand is good (and by little, I mean some, not like a dwarf hand), but a maximum of hands is bad. I wonder what the max number of hands is to be considered 'ful.' Personally, I think anyone with more than two hands would freak me out, even if it's just an extra thumb. I guess for me, +2 hands = handful.

And so if 'handsome' is good and 'handful' is a problem, then what about 'handless'? This kind of person probably likes to play soccer and only soccer. It's also ironic that someone who's 'handless' can't use 'handles.'

Wouldn't it be weird if someone had a third hand but no third arm?

And why was Thing from the Addams Family called 'Thing' when clearly clearly that thing was a hand? Oddly enough, Thing was very handy around the house.



And yes, this entry is exactly the same as the one I wrote about the differences between awesome and awful.

My president is black but his house is all white

Unfortunately, my live blogging experience at the inauguration of inaugurations was unexpectedly cut short when all cell phone data service was shut down. According to an anonymous friend with connections to the Secret Service--let's call her Deeper Throat--a unique EMP ray was activated on the mall to disconnect wireless service in the fear that someone might set off a cell phone bomb, or worse, send their closest friends picture texts of the event and fire off a crass display of e-bragging. Then again, it's possible that the reason for the disruption was that all 1.8 million people there were live blogging too and as we all know here at The Get Down, too much blogging can really shut down anything: office productivity, a work day, social life, a wireless network, etc.

All in all, it was a grand, historic day. Not just because we inaugurated the nation's first black and multiracial president, but more so because it's the first I've been able to endure below freezing temperatures for over 8 hours without pissing out ice chips all over my pant leg. If I can do that, then anything is possible these days.

I have three favorite moments from the inauguration. First is the benediction from Rev. Cat in the Hat who intoned the following piece of poetic justice:

"we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right"

That's genius,
I mean this.
How profound
to rhyme in bound
during the inauguration
of the first black president of our nation.

Second was when the million or so people left on the mall waved "good bye" and "peace out muthafucka" to The Idiot George W. as he flew over our heads in a helicopter on his way to a place called Oblivion.

Watch at 5:05

And last but certainly not least was when the man himself looked up after the inaugural address and gave me a wink and the index finger pistol point as if to say "you know what i mean, pahhhtner." No, I don't mean Barack. I'm talking about Jay-Z. After which point his hat turned into a giant bear and mauled Dick Cheney's face off.


It's a new day for America.

Inaug Blog

I made it in! Still pretty far but I have the Capitol stage in my sights. I could use a little more Jumbotron though, not to be confused with Jumbo Tran, vietnam's answer to Big Pun. A band is playing faintly in the distance. I could use some amplification though. What's up with inauguration unplugged?

inaugural idiocity

The girls standing in front of me lay down newspaper on the ground everytime the line stops. No, not to sit on, but to stand on! I asked if they're trying to keep their pumas clean. But no, they read that if they stand on newspaper they'll stay warm. Apparently they read this in a newspaper. I told them that I read that if they put the paper on their heads they'll be safe from radiation. They're head to toe in newspaper by now.

Inaugurate On Your Face

The last time I waited on an immobile line like this out in the cold before the sun was up was to get a Wii the day it came out. Hmm, Wii or Bam? Does POTUS match up? Does he have motion sensor capabilities? If I swing my fist, will he punch your mii in the face?...Things to ponder for the next 8 hours.

Inaugurate Your Face

Howdy folks, this is your friendly neighborhood blogger Boogie Brown reporting live from the insanity in DC. It looks a lot like Manhattan trying to evacuate in the midst of an alien attack, complete with sirens, helicopters, and cattle herding. Let's hope this day doesn't end like that movie Cloverfield: straight up awful. Only thing worse than a million new yorkers decimated by alien death rays is a bad speech from Bam the man. More blogging later.

Comic Con 2009: A plethora of lonely men, perpetual strangers to the touch of woman

Today I came down with a case of the buttyflies. Awaiting in my email inbox was an anouncement that none other than Joss Whedon--creator of Buffy, Angel, Firefly, and Serenity-- would be a guest of honor at this year's convention of comics (no, not the funny kind). The email reached out to me and uttered, "This is it, true believer!" What else could I do but surrender my credit card info in exchange for advanced tickets to this nerd rodeo, this homage to geek mecca...Geeka, if you will. I can already smell that heavenly concoction of poor hygiene, distressed newsprint, and brace-face flatulence. The nerds are upon us and no one is safe!

I sometimes forget that I am among their ranks, perhaps having been deluded by Mysterio's trickery or a sinister spell from Sarumon. But I quickly take stock of my environment, my lair, and am easily reminded of my nerdicity:

1) Even my Spider-Man doll wears X-men tighty whities. Yes, doll. Not action figure. The action figure is still sealed in it's original packaging and not available for additional under garments.

2) Every pimple on my acne-besieged face is named after a crew member of the Starship Enterprise: Geordi LaForge and Deanna Troi on my chin, Mr. Data and Lieutenant Worf on my temples, Commander Riker on my cheek, and Captain Jean Luc Picard sits on the bridge (of my nose). And whenever the Captain looks like he's about to burst, I always interpret that as him about to say, "Number one, engage!"

3) Anytime my morning bagel gets burnt, I let out a yell to the gods, "FRACKIN TOASTER!"

4) I have a wanted poster from the state police of Michigan with my mug on it. It's real. It's a precious reminder from the Detroit Con (in the biz, we call em Cons, ya know, short for convention) of 2000 when I shoved a wannabe Wolverine into a Pikachu so I could get a picture with the real Batman (at the time, Val Kilmer). How do I know it wasn't the real Woverine? He was in a wheelchair! So obvious! The real Logan has a mutant healing factor and would never need one of those! Duhhh!

5) On my desk, enclosed in a plexi-bi-carbonite glass case, is a special edition, limited printing, director's cut, leatherbound, hardcover, doube-sized, remastered, 50th anniversary issue of the first appearance of Captain America's sidekick's canine's apprentice Uncle Sam. According to the certificate of authenticity, it's #48 of only 349 copies printed in the world. Eat that, Comic Book Guy.

6) On my left butt cheek sits a tattoo portrait of Optimus Prime, gun in hand and ready for action. Beneath him is the inscription "Transform and roll out!" And yes, you're right, true nerds fear pain more than the opposite sex, so don't worry, the tattoo is not real. I re-draw Optimus on my ass every morning with a sharpy and a complex arrangement of mirrors.

7) For my 25th suprise birthday party, I was deceivingly taken to a comic book store in order to distract me while my entire family dressed up as Super Mario World characters. Someone was even Birdo from Super Mario 2. When I entered the party, I leaped over a fireball and landed on Bowser's head, ultimately disposing him from the bridge. Unfortunately, I immediately learned that the Princess was actually in another castle...

There you have it. Undeniable proof of my nerditude. If you're interested in joining me for this grand occasion, let me know and I can forward you the application to prove your own geekature. The passing of this nerd litmus test will of course be followed by some obligatory hazing. Hope you have an affinity for light sabers! They have oh so many uses!

Movin' on Up

After years of living out my fantasy life as a refugee, I've decided to graduate to a better living by paying more for a nicer apartment because let's face it, I'm worth it (maybe it's Maybelline!). But in order to afford the pricier habitat, other parts of my life will require serious changes. For example, in addition to my regular 9-5 job, Imma hafta get my hustle on and slang some rock, kiiiiiiiid! I also plan on auctioning off my virginity on ebay. How much do you think I can get for the greatest 3 seconds of my life? Stealing toilet paper from the office will also be necessary. I plan to smuggle it out in my pant leg kind of like Tim Robbins in Shawshank. Maybe I can get Red to help in exchange for a carton of Newports.

My social life will see drastic changes. No more buying drinks for the ladies. Instead I'll get them ice chips and spin em around 15 times on a swivel chair. That should do the trick. And to take care of my own inebriation, I intend to shoot rubbing alcohol directly into my veins. And if I start to bleed, I'll just use the rubbing alcohol to wash the wound too.

I plan on introducing the world (minus the Philippines, Guam, and Hawaii) to the Spam diet. Spamwiches, Spamburgers, split Spam soup, Spam salad, Spamberry ice cream...you get the idea. Best part about Spam is that it's like Lambus bread: one bite will fill me up...with 1300% of my daily value of sodium. The tricky part will be keeping my heart beating during meal times (a wet fork to the electric socket oughtta do it). But you know, you gotta risk big to win big. Unfortunately though, I may become what some societies refer to as a "fat ass" and start engaging in "fat ass" activities like "breaking chairs, stools, and toilets" and "scaring young children," but I'm not one to fight change. That requires too much energy. I'll probably succumb to the itis before reaching that point anyway.

Lastly, my biggest expense will have to come to a dramatic stop. No, it's not eating out, taking cabs, or buying corporate coffee. It's not designer clothes, exotic vacations, or alimony for a stripper named Areola Divine. My biggest expense: buying vowels. Do you know how much vowels cost these days?? $250 for every A, E, I, O, U (but fortunately never Y) that I use. Pat Sajak is the biggest thief in American history. He's jacking my wallet! For this blog entry alone, I had to spend $1,250. At this rate, I'm gonna land on bankrupt pretty soon. So from this point on, n mr byng vwls, k? Wsts mny thts ndd fr xpnsv apt. Sjk cn sck my blls!


[Note: If you're interested in taking over my current apartment, it's available at a low price. Don't be deterred by the refugee comment above. I was actually referring to my first apartment which I vacated in 2007 after a flash flood nearly drowned my teddy bear Gandalf! For some reason, the "You shall not pass!" line doesn't quite work with rising storm water.]

[Note for the note: The previous note was written before the vowel ban came into effect. It's not like I'm breaking my own rule immediately after making it. I mean, I guess I am breaking it now, but I had to explain the note above...rgh fck, k rl brkn, lst tm, prms. vwls r dn. cnsnnts nly.]

Poetry for the Monday Morning Quarterback

eli you punk ass
thanks for ruining oh nine
do you have autism?

and thanks to you plax
for giving black on black crime
new meaning, genius

donovan mcnabb
your whole name takes up one line
of football haiku

long john covered legs
feels like a lover's embrace
if lover was dwarf

"sartorial" means
related to fashion, clothes
i learned today

the haiku above
has no connection with sports
just being pedant

Caked Out Question of the Day

What does it mean to have my cake and eat it too? Honestly, is it even my cake if I'm not eating it with my mouth? What do I do with a cake that I'm not eating, stare at it? Try to absorb it's spirit with my mind? Dig into it looking for a nail file to help me break through these prison bars?

Does this phrase also imply that since eating my own cake is uncommon, I eat cakes that aren't mine? Why would I eat other people's cakes? Why does this phrase accuse me of being some sort of cake-thief? That's just absurd. Is "cake-thief" just a euphemism for calling me a lecherous fatass with hot-dog-like fingers? As if I went around the table and started eating everyone else's cake, without of course eating my own, 'cuz I only sniff mine so I can remember the scent and find it's counterparts to eat.

Breaking B-HO Related News!

This just in: New York City webslinging vigilante Spider-Man is reported to be none other than First Lady Elect Michelle Obama. The evidence is conclusive. The trademark fist bump often traded between soon-to-be President Obama and his wife Michelle to channel their supernatural powers is seen here to be used with the masked arachnid guy...woman. Also note the way POTUS 44 pauses, employs ellipsis (the three periods denoting artful use of suspenseful silence), and then calls the crime-fighter "partner." Clearly, he is referring to his life-partner MO. Those aren't pectoral muscles folks, those are boobies.

Late Breaking News! Daily Bugle photographer and Queens native Peter Parker is actually a post-op transexual and transracial and now currently married to the next leader of the United States. Suddenly, the red and blue tights don't seem like an odd apparel choice at all.










"I bet I can get those Spidey senses tingling with this one finger...partner."

Resoloot!

Most people are full of shit when it comes it to New Year's resolutions. They say things like no more chocolate, or no more alcohol, or no more chocolate alcohol. Then two days after January 1st you find out that they OD'ed on mudslides and white russians and crashed into a tree. Don't worry though, they don't drive and only crashed by walking with their eyes closed. And walking under the influence is not a crime yet, it's only frowned up...or smiled upon if you subscribe to schaudenfraude.

But unlike these shit-full people, I only make realistic New Year's resolutions, ones that I can keep. I've devised this list of original resolutions that are guaranteed to make life better in this new rotation of the earth around the fire-monster.

New New Year's Resolutions:

1) Sew the holes in my pants pockets (or at least staple them shut). Dimes and pennies keep slipping through and careen down my pant leg into my socks. I'm tired of my leg feeling like a coin slide game at the boardwalk. '09: the time to fill that hole!

2) Give my keychain lego man a new right hand. He doesn't have to be an amputee in the new year, especially when I can steal the c-shaped hand from a lego cop or a lego underwater explorer. Either that or I should just rip out keychain lego man's left hand so at least that way, his OCD maniacal need for symmetry doesn't drive him insane. It's all about balance in the '09. ( I think I only applied the article "the" before '09 because of the show "The OC." get it? The Oh Nine?)

3) Curb my alcoholism by experimenting with harder drugs. Snow will take on a new meaning this winter and crack will no longer refer to the cleavage between the two hemispheres of your ass. Hardcore drugs: my anti-alcohol in '09.

4) Go to the gym regularly...to use their shower. The drain in my bathroom's tub keeps clogging and something tells me that wading around in my own filth does not make me clean. Instead, I should be showering in front of strangers at the gym like Old Man Withers and Uni-nut. Gotta keep it so fresh and so clean in '09.

5) Try new diets for a better, healthier me. I hear the pizza diet is really effective. A slice a day keeps the skinny away, I always say, while reclining on my duvet, drinking a glass of cabernet, dreaming of a pizza buffet. I stole this bit from Adam Sandley...I'm really looking forward to having a doughier body and smelling like cheese all the time. Aged mozzarella, the new fragrance in '09.

6) Wipe my own ass after taking shits.

7) Do more reading...like of the gender classification printed on bathroom doors, or over the shoulders of people text messaging on the train, or in my bowl of Alpha-bits cereal. Reading is FUNdamental and fun can happen anywhere. Literacy, it's the new fad in the '09.

8) When meeting new people, don't apologize that my hand is wet having just washed them and shake their hand anyway and hold on for as long as possible. That way, they won't ever forget me. I'll always be that mysterious gentleman with a grasp like the ocean. Aqueous encounters in 2009!

9) Learn a new language, preferably the language of love. But if that class is full or has lofty pre-reqs, I'll sign up for pottery instead. That Demi-Swayze pottery scene is like the epitome of love, so I'd say that's a perty good stand-in. Besides, what female could say no to a hand-made ash tray or multi-purpose bowl? None worth knowing, I always say. Pour one out for love pottery in '09.

10) Replace all the pens in my office with glitter pens because even in a mechanical, banal office setting, everyone deserves to smile, and nothing pulls up the ends of your mouth quite like glitter does. It's kind of like seeing your name on a Christmas stocking, only it's everywhere. GLITTER signature! GLITTER memo! GLITTER pink slip! GLITTER OH NINE!