"I've Seen a Million Faces, and I've Rocked Them All"

Today is a rare Hair Band Friday outside of the office. I decided to take the party to my bar review class, and it's unbelievable. Some chick named Heather totally just made out with this other chick named Kristi, just because I told them I scored 14 points higher than the average on our practice multistate multiple choice exam. Oh, and I forgot to mention that they were buck naked, on top of a lectern, rubbing honey and torn-out pages from BarBri books all over themselves (including places from whence babies come -- yes, Holt, the cabbage patch). Anyway, you'd be amazed at how much knowledge you can retain when you've downed a fifth of Jack, eight mini-thins, and nearly a half an ounce of hash, not to mention when you combine that with banging between twelve and eighteen chicks an hour (sometimes up to four at a time -- believe me, it's possible given the right number of appendages) during the lecture. No worries, though, because the music coming from the speakers I attached to my iPod Shuffle drowned out the unbelievably loud and constant screaming orgasms (I'm a screamer, what can I say?), blasting the likes of "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi, "Sex" by Kix, and "Lesson Well Learned" by Armored Saint. By the end of it, the lecturer gave in to what I knew she wanted, and she started stripping, as expected. I told her I'd let myself do her only if she once again explained the difference between delegation and assignment. Let's just say she delegated her poonanny's duties under the deal to her massive ta-ta's, and I assigned all of my wang's "proceeds" from the deal to her face, neck, and hair.

In other news, former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay died the other day, as Ryan "Pissed Off" Christoff said, "taking the easy way out." My favorite quote from the AP article was from Lay's pastor, who said, "Apparently, his heart simply gave out." That's funny because I didn't know that it was possible for a heart to give out when it was already cold and black, pumping not human blood, but rather a black sludge, thick as molasses, comprised of crude oil, pureed dead puppies, and innocent employees' pensions. To top it off, Lay actually thought he didn't do anything wrong. Fuck that guy. Good riddance. I hope Hitler and John Wayne Gacy (in full clown regalia) are tag-teaming him in hell as we speak.

Speaking of death, apparently there's more in Vermont than just hippies, cheese, ice cream, and civil unions. You can now add weed-smoking teenage grave robbers. It turns out that a teenager by the name of Nickolas Buckalew (not to be confused with Nicholas Buckalew) decided that his bong made of glass just wasn't tight enough. So, rather than go down to the local head shop (which I assume are on every corner in Vermont), he went to the local graveyard to shop for a head. This guy dug up a grave, sawed off a corpse's head with a hacksaw, took the head home, and planned to bleach it so that he could make it into a bong. I'm sure there's a "Dead Head" joke in there somewhere. Holy shit, are you kidding me? Then, to top it off, he tells a bunch of people what he did. I guess that's better than showing up to a party with bunch of herb and a bong made of a human skull. "But you guys can hit it from its lips and the nose is the carb. I'm dark and disturbed." That's a party foul, even if his parents didn't hug him enough when he was a kid. Thanks to Christoff for sending me the link.

To leave you on a lighter note, check out this short film entitled "80s Ending," which does a delightful job of spoofing every cheesy '80s movie ending all at once. Thanks to Greg "Weez" Veeser for the link.

Have a great weekend, and for you Spaniards out there, Feliz San Fermin!