*Preface* I don't even know what I bought, but I want it. Now where do I put my credit card information? Thankfully, the countdown is at two more posts horribly titled with spam email. Remember to go to yesterday's post and cast your ballot, so-to-speak. Vote or Die! If you choose to vote again, I would not only appreciate your audacity, I would count that second vote! Now, would I dare end my post in the preface?
*Preface* Three more posts left before I beat my own odds on how long I'd last posting up dumb spam titles and thus showing up the one person that predicted I wouldn't last 12 posts with this new and revolutionary titling scheme. As you may have inferred from the last post, the system is starting to drive me up a wall. It couldn't be over sooner.
In one or more words, describe this picture, and how it makes you feel:
*Preface* I can't even read that spam title. The only thing I know is that it's from a group calling themselves the brain-awareness-group from hk. Hopefully it's not inappropriate. And as an added bonus, if you don't have language packs installed on your computer, it shows up as squares!
Can somebody hum me an A sharp, please?
*clears throat*
99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down and pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.
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*Preface* For all intents and purposes, Hibachi! could very well be a spam title. No one has to know.
Stupefying Stupidity proudly presents to you, The Setting Sun. I realize this is the second time this month I've plugged a blog separate from my own, excuse my bad manners, my own, but I've meant it both times.
If you wish to have your blog plugged in a high traffic (15 visitors a day on average! Mommy, I'm going places!), high visibility location (here!), please comment with your name, your email address, your blog url, a pledge for five dollars, a pledge for a favor to be called in at a future time of my choosing, a pledge of allegiance to the flag of United States, and a pink ping -pong ball, no questions asked.
I think I've been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. You know, when you're over at an acquaintance's house, and their mother just baked up a fresh batch of delicious, so-good-it-melts-on-your-tongue, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and while you don't really know her that well, or say you've never really had any conversations with the mother before, you still decide to swipe a cookie while she has her back turned, except that there's a security camera trained on you from that obscure corner behind the refrigerator that allows her to go back and screen capture you red-handed?
While I remain horribly committed to that analogy, my point may have been lost.
I have been caught blog (or Xanga) stalking. Whoever's keeping tally, add another point to my social awkward column please, thanks. Not that it hasn't really happened before and turned out for the better, right tambo001? You now owe me all aforementioned items, and...a soda on the side.
I can't say I didn't see this coming. Along with last year's death of Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter, I'd have to say these are two of the easier hobbies for me to predict death from participation. I'm not trying to be insensitive, and I'm not making disparaging remarks about either activity (I'd love to hunt for crocodiles, while skydiving...someday, anyone free tomorrow?), but let's not try to act so shocked. What's that saying ... if you play with fire ...
... Smokey the Bear will find you. 
The other day, it was announced that the American military, in collaboration with some mad scientists, had successfully developed and tested a new, supposedly non-lethal, weapon. It would work like a ray gun, and would cause the target to think they were on fire. The weapon would be fully deployed in the year 2010.
I don't understand this move at all. Why announce this, a full three years in advance? What, you expect the "enemy" to sit around cowering in fear of the impending doom? It's so similar to the time I heard on the radio something to the extent of, "Our next big military campaign is set to kick off tomorrow in
Is it true? Can it be? I thought I'd never live to see this! Guess who's back together again! It's the RZA, the GZA, the Ghostface Killah, Ol' Dirty Bastard (he's dead, I'm still not ready to talk about it *sniff*), Inspector Deck, Raekwon the Chef, U-G-O-D. Introducing to you, the...
*Preface* I don't feel very talkative wordy, and earlier today, I accidentally emptied out my Spam mailbox without thinking. Luckily, "I it marsupial" showed up just in time for this post.
If you are a girl that applies glitter around your eyes, and you make the executive decision to come at me for a hug, this is fair warning that I may greet your open arms with a move (or a full fledged DANCE MOVEMENT!, video not for everyone) I affectionately call the Heisman. Or a quick punch in the arm and then I'll run away.
If you are my future children, and you give me an artistic birthday card that you depicts the stick people family you took hours to draw, and you decide to put glitter on that card, as hard as it is to understand, my future children, do not be offended if I decide to hold your card ten feet away with an extended pair of tongs.
I think they were going for "Re: my aortA... is caught on the doctor's wristwatch, oh my!". Moving on to today's musical spectacular.
Do you know how much you annoy me? The answer is a lot.
Should I list the reasons why? Well I don't see why not.
It's your hair, your nose, your chinless face, you always need a hug,
Not to mention all the manly apple-tini's that you chug.
That you think I am your mentor just continues to perplex,
and oh my God stop telling me when you have nerdy sex...
See now newbie that's the thing you do that drives me up a tree,
Cuz no matter how I rant to you, you never let me be.
So I'm stuck with all your daydreaming, your wish to be my son,
It makes me suicidal, and I'm not the only one, no I'm not the only one...
So now that is why I call you names like Carol, Jane, and Sue,
Like Moesha, Kim and Lilly, and Susanne and Betty Lou.
See regardless of the names I pick, my feelings are quite clear,
You're a pain in every day of every month of every year.
Now, click the jump to see it in all it's glory!
That is still a spam title, there will be no triple, not even double (double) posting. I am exhausted from a fantastic weekend. Thanks for asking reading.
Speaking of commercials, have you noticed the recent rash of commercials proclaiming their products (Mars Bars and Quaker granola bars just to name two) peanut free? And then invading your television screen with an image kind of like the one below, just in case you didn't get it the first 500 times they mentioned their product was now peanut free?
**Preface** OYSTER?! It's like they specifically aimed that spam at me. Creepy.
Setting: An afternoon IM conversation between two substantially unmotivated employees, due to the nearing weekend, attempting to prove that they had it in them to converse with correct punctuation, correct capitalization, no short forms, and no l33t sp34k. Unnecessary portions have been redacted, and names have been changed to protect the aawesome (me) and one of my future house mates.
McOysty: You know, when we type like this, we should really talk about more ... classy things. [2:22:25 PM]
I think we should sit down over tea and have some crumpets. [2:22:32 PM]
Jumping Off Horses Ninja (J.O.H.N. for short): Right you are. Talk of inconsequential matters must be abolished. We must strive to speak of greater things [2:24:17 PM]
McOysty: You forgot the period at the end of your statement. [2:27:14 PM]
I sat next to the Duchess at tea;
It was just as I feared it would be:
Her rumblings abdominal
Were truly phenomenal
And everyone thought it was me!
I had an itching trigger finger for some 007 GoldeneEye action last night, but realized that I had no one to play it with. Safe to say, I have never wanted to have children of my own more than I did last night.
Three little birds sat on my window and told me I didn't need to worry. - Corinne Bailey Rae
I threw a penny and hit the one sitting furthest to the left (my left, not their left). Can you blame me? Talking birds would creep you out too.
If you haven't had the good fortune of watching the fourth episode of Jack Bauer using the world as his plaything this season's 24, you most probably are unaware that Agent Curtis Manning gets shot in the neck. Although, if you read the last sentence, there is a bigger chance that you now know. But that's not the death that has me all up in arms. I had so many more Kumar/White Castle/Van Wilder jokes saved up that I will never be able to use anymore. Such a cruel world.
Maybe I should've prefaced that last paragraph, and it probably should've went a little something like, ahem, "Spoiler Alert". Hindsight is 20/20.
Welcome to today, the day that was known as tomorrow yesterday, and from tomorrow onwards be forever known as yesterday.
I write to fulfill a promise that I've been hinting at over the course of the last few posts. I am here to revolutionize my blog post titles.
While I tend to write the title after I'm done with the post, many times because I don't exactly know the outcome of the post, no longer will I need to rack my brain for every last ounce of creativity to come up with a suitably awesome title for a brilliantly written post.
No longer will my titles have anything to do with the corresponding post, unless by fluke of nature.
No longer will my titles need to make sense (logically, grammatically, ethically etc.), or be constrained to correct spelling.
The tremendous amounts of spam my few email accounts receive daily will now be skimmed, and the spam title that sticks out most will be my blog post title for that day!
Because like many Indian folk (I don't know the politically correct term) and their killings of wild animals (hide your whales), nothing goes to waste.
Over/Under on how many posts this system lasts for: 12
*Preface - Today has been long day. Rex Grossman and the Chicago Bears still beat the Eagles yesterday (I didn't dream it), it took forever to get to and from work, and I have shaky hands that ruin any photograph I attempt to take. I feel the need to unload on something.*
I woke up this morning to something I've been anticipating. And while I wouldn't go so far as to say I was eagerly awaiting it's arrival, I knew deep down in my heart its' coming was inevitable.
See, some things are too good to be true, and when reality strikes, it feels colder than the 0 degrees, Kelvin. As if you were given a free pass during the holiday season to drive as fast as you want on the open roads, then suddenly and with only slight warning signs, the roads get congested, mushy, and altogether unkind. The harsh winds start blowing directly into your face, and the path ahead is as unclear as Sean Paul speaking.
Still wondering what I'm going on about?
ABC's hit show,Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, has screwed over a family with more than enough troubles of its own. Extreme Makeover builds dream houses for underprivileged families, both extremes in their own rights, with the finished houses being ridiculously pimped out, and the families being severely underprivileged, many times appearing on the verge of bankruptcy because they either have too many children and/or need to pay hospital fees up the wazoo.
This makes for a very compelling story line, complete with the telling of the life story that led the family to the unfortunate borderline poverty situation they currently reside in, then finishing off with tears of joy as the family rejoices over a brand new house, furnished and finished at no cost to the family, supposedly. All very moving, and I know people that are near tears after watching this show.
Somebody hold me.
But that's only half the story. By increasing the worth of the property, the taxing of said property should very well increase proportionately. Of course, a family barely able to support itself before the upgrade in housing most probably would have no way to pay off additional taxes.
David Goldberg, president of the production company that delivers the show, countered with the statement, "It's about making people's dream of owning a home come true. It isn't about duping them and then leaving them riddled with a bunch of tax bills."
Or is it? DAVID? IS IT REALLY?
I never liked this show, and this just story just further alienates and infuriates me. There's a basic rule that was implicitly taught to me by my loving parents through the years as they started me off with a $1/week allowance, and that was to never give a huge amount of money to those that have never before handled a similar amount of money, because they won't know what to do with it.
You generously heap televisions, cars, houses, and money onto people that have owned nothing more than the equivalent of a cardboard box, how soon before they turn around and sell it to the first person that comes knocking? Or get squashed by taxation? Or, worse yet, mishandle and lose it all?
Note that I'm not discouraging generosity, in fact, you should be going out of your way to give to the needy, provided you do it in the right way.
This show goes about it in a way that is rewarding unfortunate circumstance, spoiling people for a day or two, then running away before the consequences of spoiling settle in, without looking back at the repercussions, or ever looking to correct the unfortunate circumstances in the first place. How about providing some meaningful employment opportunities instead of building a house that begs to not only be taxed higher, but also broken into?
In the end, it's all one big ruse to exploit the tear-jerking stories, and turn it into television revenue. ABC, I'm never going to watch your show, and if it weren't for the one or two compelling shows that your network happens to carry, I'd petition for a boycott of your channel altogether, including the removal of the '1' and '8' buttons on my television remote, an impressively ignorant, but definitely defiant, move.
The Chicago Bears just beat the Seattle Seahawks with an overtime field goal, DESPITE their horrible quarterback, Rex Grossman. I wonder what would help counteract this feeling of rapidly descending deflating depression...
Track One - Bring It All Back
Feel good, falling in love, you can achieve your dreams. What this song boils down to is good old fashioned SELFISHNESS, where the world revolves around you.
Track Two - You're My Number One
"You're like a drug, you got me wanting more". I'm just about ready to slap a parental advisory onto this album. Unfortunately for all the concerned parents out there, I can't stop nonsensically prancing around long enough to follow through.
Track Three - Two In A Million
On the count of three, grab the closest baby, and hug it. Altogether now, ready?
One...two...three...
*squeeze*
Track Four - S Club Party
Remember the music video for this single? Where the members of S Club 7 took turns jumping in the air and drawing an invisible S that was only evident after sparkling video effects were added? And even knowing that special effects don't occur in real life, you had to try for yourself anyways? You'd be lying if you say you didn't.
This is a couple of friends, with the aid of a bouncy mattress and Photoshop, paying homage to S Club for that spectacular video. 
Track Five - Everybody Wants Ya
*more nonsensically dancing*
Track Six - Viva La Fiesta
I still can't get over S Club Party. It begs to be on any "best party song" polls, if not the top 5 party songs ever.
Track Seven - Gonna Change The World
The Patriots/Chargers game is starting.
Track Eight - I Really Miss You
You know the moment in most basic romantic stories where circumstances (whether it be a fight or not) dramatically separate the guy and the girl, before they make a tearful/joyous reunion to end off the movie? And the director takes pan shots of the longing faces of both the guy and girl, usually by some sort of window sill or on their beds, staring off into the distance, to fully depict their loneliness and longing for the other party?
If I ever became a director of a cheesy chick flick, THIS is the song that would be playing. I'm for-serious. I just listened to this song twice, complete with tears welling in my eyes, and there's a FOOTBALL GAME ON TELEVISION THAT I REALLY WANT TO WATCH.
Track Nine - Friday Night
Now to duck out, while maintaining the facade that I actually finished the review...Skip!
Track Ten - It's a Feel Good Thing
Stay tuned for a revolutionary way of posting, or at least a certain aspect of posting! I'll be back later than you expect, but sooner than you may want. That doesn't even make sense.
Track Eleven - Hope For The Future
Go Patriots Go!
Dear Fox,
As I prepare to settle into a weekend where the majority of the time will be spent on my couch watching the NFL playoffs as carried by your fabulous network (amongst others), I expect at least 50 references or ads related to or about the upcoming premiere of 24.
In fact, I wouldn't be entirely opposed to a spiffy "countdown to" clock running in the lower left corner of the screen.
Even though I have already seen the two episodes you plan to air in two days, as well as the two episodes the following day, I think that it would not only be the smart promotional move (synergy!), but can it get more macho than football and Jack Bauer?
Also if you could provide some dark periods during the unimportant parts of your show, where the television screen could go dark and the sound would be muted, in order for me to fit in power naps and/or washroom breaks, it would be greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
Me
Before you sit down this Sunday (or earlier) to watch the remarkable return of Jack Bauer, along with the obligatory torture scenes the patented "dammit" frustration howl (at least I hope for this one), and in general, an overdose of manliness, make sure you have at least a dozen of those delicious White Castle burgers (McDonald burgers are roughly the same size so I guess you could use them as a substitute), because you'll suddenly and inexplicably crave them halfway through the first episode.
Thanks to the upgraded archive menu over there to the left (to the left), I now know the exact breakdown of posts I write every year (and even every month). And based on that I know, and you know, that I not only gave 65 less posts last year (2006 for those of you hiding under a big rock) as compared to 2005, but at the rate I'm posting this year, I'll be well off my totals for 2006 when I should really be shooting for 2005 numbers.
I used a calculator for both calculations because mental math is hard just to be sure.
As such, I feel the need for my first double post of 2007. Please click ...
Told you milk was bad for you. Yet another reason I refuse to drink milk, even if I devour a stupendous amount of other dairy related products such as ice-cream, cream in my coffee, and yogurt.
Um. Does this render my point ... Moo-t?
A Walt Disney employee, dressed up as the Winnie The Pooh's friend Tigger, struck a child during a photographing session. I don't think the video is as funny as your imagination, but if you really must see for yourselves, it really isn't hard to find it on YouTube.
To be fair, the child learned a valuable lesson that day. You DON'T MESS WITH TIGERS. Whether it be in a caged animal in a zoo, an amazing player on golf course, or a supposedly friendly character in the magical land of Walt Disney, a tiger is still carnivorous. And now that child knows.
iPod. YouTube. Wii. My keen observation of naming trends tells me that the next big product/company will be named OUR-something.
Speaking of Apple, did everyone get to see how they re-invented the phone? Not only is it a phone, it's a wide-screen iPod, and it carries Internet capabilities only rivaled by BlackBerry's. AND IT'S TOUCHSCREEN. Simply stunning.
Now, please excuse me as I need to dispose of a skunk that happened to wander over to one of the windows of my house and die. The smell has permeated every nook and cranny of my house. I'm afraid that I may wake up smelling funky tomorrow, so I will most probably dress to impress, blaming any traces of skunk on a cubicle neighbor. I mean how can anyone dressed like a million bucks smell like garbage? My story wouldn't be cross-examined once.
Goodnight. And good riddance.
There is no such thing as bad media. At least thats the phrase commonly bandied about by, well, the media.
Knowing this full well, rappers have been exploiting this for years. Cooking up trouble to generate interest in a soon to be released product with the ultimate goal of increased sales figures can be done in a variety of ways. Whether it be by disclosing over and over again how many times you got shot, or by releasing a cute, but drug-dealing related, t-shirt that kids all over the country would wear to school.
All very controversial. But my favorite tactic, most recently on display courtesy of Nasir Jones (Nas) and Sean Carter (Jay-Z) on the side I will call "30's the new 20 and I will bitterly claim that to stay relevant", Weezy F Baby (Lil' Wayne), Dipset (Jimmy Jones) and a little Jeezy (Young Jeezy) on the opposing side I dub "Puh-lease, you should've stayed retired", much like Maple Leaf hot dogs, is 100%, genuine, bona fide, electrified ... BEEF!
Moo.
And the verbal fighting I hear most about these days? Donald Trump vs Rosie O'Donnell. Timed perfectly to coincide with the just-premiered season of his hit show, The Apprentice. Except that it didn't work, with ratings receding at the rate of Trump's hairline. Even I, the self-proclaimed watcher of all things television, have not payed attention to that show in...a few years.
But back to the matter at hand. The only thing better than two people beefing?! Three people beefing.
Apparently, Rosie made some disparaging remarks about Asian people on The View, and Jin, the only Asian rapper today with even a slight influence on American culture (correct me if I'm wrong), felt the need to defend his Asian background, but more importantly, remain relevant, and released a dis track featuring Donald Trump's remarks over one of the best dis tracks ever (arguably). Of course, given the nature of a dis track, play at your own discretion. If you choose not to listen, at least allow me to quote:
"You ate up all the d**n pizza, which Burger King you go to, just to fill up your belly, no need to prove you're heavy."
There's a treat for my Cantonese understanding friends smack dab in the middle of the song (1:57ish) as he goes for about half a verse in that dialect.
With my recent joining of Flickr, and the subsequent linking of my Flickr page to this blog, the battle to remain relatively Internet anonymous just got a little harder.
How does one go about posting pictures that are meaningful and full of memories without revealing how one looks like? I could just continue posting pictures of scenery I encounter, or other inanimate objects, but to truly evoke emotion and memories, I feel the need to display a couple of pictures that I am prominently featured in.
Quite connundruminous.
For now, I have resorted to posting up shots where either my face is not in full view or I have covered up the majority of my face with something (i.e. a pair of sunglasses, a scarf, chicken wings), and I resolve to continue along this path.
So if you notice me conspicuously turning my head while you attempt to take a photograph of me or with me, forcing you to re-take the picture, try to remember not to delete the "ruined" picture, as it will probably show up on my Flickr.
Thank you very little.
Just in case, I'm going to use up a full post to point out the changes made to Stupefying Stupidity, all carried out under the guise of making your viewing experience more fulfilling and convenient, when in actuality, the changes were made because I felt the need to flex my Photoshop/HTML muscles, of which I own about as much as I have real muscle in my body (faint and fading traces).
But first, important business needs to be addressed. While I can see the merits of getting through the nitty (that's not a word?) gritty details of how I finally decided on a classification scheme for my links section, and then ending this post with the big news, in order to ensure that you must read through the entire post or at the very least, click the "read more" button, thus increasing the time you spend on this site which I can track, but not only have I wasted away two good paragraphs, this sentence is quite the run-on, so I'll be nice and hopefully the fantastic revelation will be enough to entice you to continue reading.
I hope you're holding onto something. You may not be ready for what you are about to read.
I have to make you wait for this one.
Snakes on a Plane, the DVD, in stores everywhere! But that's not it...
Any time now...
Stupefying Stupidity, has been crowned the "Best Internet Site of 2006" by the terrific people over at Tambo001.
Re-read that sentence if you have to. Please, try not to look so shocked.
Technically, I share this honor with Facebook, but I choose to overlook this, just like I choose to overlook the fact that it's actually a shinier, slightly distorted, still aawesome, version of me that is Time Magazine's reigning Person of the Year.
It's appreciative people like you the reader, and the tremendous Tambo001, that spur me on to greater, not necessarily more eloquent, but definitely more arrogant, heights when it comes to the persona personified on this blog. And go ahead, click on the link that will take you to her site, because she writes more often and more thoughtfully than I. I'm still double-a aawesome, and I know that like the Terminator, you'll be back.
In fact, I'll wait.
*nondescript humming...of Vanessa Hudgens' 'Come Back To Me'*
There seems to be an overabundance of stalling on this post.
I was ever so tempted to upgrade her link status to professional but I decided against it at the very last minute, for reasons that I will get into in a future post seeing how I probably won't be talking about the tweaks and changes today after-all. Terribly talented Tammy, don't take offense to the non-upgraded link status, I put the full self-promoting propaganda machine behind your blog in this acceptance speech, and it would be a shame if you were to take offense and then we'd have to do the Internet Beef thing, complete with slanderous comments and all.
Although I suspect that it'd attract more attention to both our blogs, so I'd be open to privately discuss the possibility of sparking a fake blog war to generate traffic. Isn't that how rappers sell albums these days?
Tricked you, now go read Tambo001's site.
Welcome to the first day...
...of the rest of your life.
Coincidentally, it is also the day I, the aawesome Buttug McOysty, the reigning Person of the Year as named by the generous people at the prestigious Time Magazine, have decided to make my long-awaited return to my favorite stomping grounds, the Internets.
While I realize I may have forfeited opportunities to do a 2006-year-in-review post by musing about Secret Santa amongst other topics, then proceeding to go on an extended vacation, I have a duty, even if it is only to my extremely short memory span, to retrace, remind and relive. Sometimes, I try really hard with the alliteration. Other times, much like today, it is severely half-hearted. Shall we reminisce?
But first, duck! It's Dick!
Actually, the person whose face Dick Cheney decorated with shotgun bullets mustered up all the nobility he had in him and came out with a public apology to Dick. And if that's not upside down enough for you, 2006 should be remembered as the year the vegetables got their dark side on and struck back with an E. coli vengeance. It was probably safer to eat one of the newly introduced BK Quadruple Stackers because it contained no traces of any vegetables (meat, bacon and cheese, OH MY!).
Speaking of lethality, remember when Korea exploded that bomb underground, not that I should strike this out, I wonder how hard it is to read words that have been HTML-struck Jim Jones metaphorically killed Jay-Z, and now all the kids, myself included, are running around screaming "BALLIN" with reckless abandon?
I talk extensively about personal musical tastes on this site, so I won't delve too much into that area this post, but I must bring up the hyphy movement, that was not only birthed in 2006, but laid to rest in 2006. How bang on was I?
And of course the boys responsible for YouTube became instant chamillionaires billionaires, and enabled me to skip out on writing full length posts by instead, for example, posting up a video containing a hilariously rehearsed dance routine, say, on treadmills. But we're no longer allowed to laugh at this:
*stifled chuckles*
And now, a moment of silence for the once-planet, now dwarf-planet, Pluto.
There's really only one right way to end this post.
SNAKES ON A PLANE.
