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Monday, September 19, 2005

Ok. Now it's time for everyone to stop what they're doing and go HERE to look at many pictures of the drop-dead-fucking-hot Sophie Howard. Voted #1 in Loaded Magazine's (UK) 200 Best Breasts feature. I mean, look at those things! And they're REAL!

Reminds me of this girl I had met through the internet several years ago. Can't remember her name to save my life, though (shocker). But the whole meeting over the internet thing was rediculous. If I had a dollar for every time I had some less-than-stellar experience with someone I met through the internet, then I'd have several dollars in my pocket. Several dollars I'd go spend at a strip club of course.

Anyway, she and I talked through AOL for hours. Even got to the nauseating point where we were both typing "I love you" through the instant messenger. Ugh. Things progressed to the point where we were on the phone a lot and finally to where she took a train ride down from NYC (or was it Jersey?) so that we could be around each other in person. Boy was that a fucking nightmare. And not for reasons you might think.

It started off wonderfully. We met (and actually saw each other) for the first time on the train platform. She was hot. And man, was she busty. We walked to my car, talking. Giddy. Then we drove to a diner to get a bite and talk more. We drank coffee. We laughed. We told stories. It was fucking great.

And then somewhere after driving us back home to meet my folks and us fooling around it all turned to shit. There we were, locking lips and fondling each other when she abruptly stopped kissing me. She then actually told me she didn't want me to kiss her anymore, but then ripped off her shirt and had me fondle her enormous, amazing tits. What was I going to say? "No"?

No explanation. Nothing.

There were a couple of moments where she'd start kissing me again, but then she'd do the same dramatic stop. And then out of nowhere she rolled over, topless, announced that she didn't want me to touch her anymore, and went to sleep.

What.

The.

Fuck?

The next day was worse. She continued with the sort of on-again, off-again thing of kissing me and then freaking out about it, and then turning icy. It was at this point that I started to notice things that I hadn't the night before. It was like a light swtich had been turned on. She was very materialistic, very bossy and very demanding. She was so concerned about her appearance that she was constantly checking herself with a mirror she kept in her purse. Touching up her lipstick. Her eye shadow. She'd talk about how much money her parents made. Then she demanded that we go do something somewhere so she could "meet my friends". All the while becoming more and more "bitchy". It got to the point where I couldn't stand being in the same room with this person. I was at my wits end.

So what did I do?

I told her to get ready and get her things together because we were going out and there wouldn't be time to bring her back to the house before she had to catch her train. So we got in the car and drove. And she was all excited. And wanted to know where we were going.

Imagine how surprized she was when we pulled into the train station. I parked and proceeded to let her know I was really put off by her attitude and behavior and wished her a safe journey back to NYC (or Jersey) as icily as I could. Her expression went from confused to extremely pissed, and she exited the car and walked to wait for her train, which wouldn't be there for another 3 and a half hours.

In many ways it reminded me of when Kirk was fighting Commander Kruge on Planet Genesis.

I.

Have had.

Enough.

OF!

YOU!!!

Not sure what the moral of my story is. Not even sure what my point was here. Oh yes: She had boobs. Big ones.

But that bitch can keep them. They sure as shit aren't worth the trouble.

Posted by Matt @ 10:37 AM |

Friday, September 16, 2005

Keep up the good work ladies! Looks like my dream of a Utopian society where all the women are bisexual is finally becoming a reality.

Posted by Matt @ 12:53 PM |

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

On Rome

Is it just me or is Atia (Polly Walker) the Roman equivalent of Julie Cooper (Mindy Clarke) from The OC? Both are calculating and manipulative. Both use men for their own self gratification. Both are incredibly bitchy. And they even look alike (if nothing else, they're both red-heads).

Does this mean that Octavian is Rome's Seth Cohen?

Nah. I didn't think so either.

But God DAMN, was that some killer pre-AD brain surgery or what? No gauze. No anaesthetic. No machine that goes "ping!". Just some rusty knives and this kick-ass dirty router of some sort that sawed out a nice round piece of Titus Pullo's skull. Blood everywhere. Can't believe I didn't pass out all over myself.

For some reason my favorite scene from last episode was Marc Anthony boning the sheep herding woman while his platoon just stood parked on the trail, waiting for him to finish his "quickie".

How cool it must have been to be a Roman soldier trekking through the lands. You get horny. You find a sheep herding chick. You grab her and fuck her and move on. Rome back then was a living, breathing porno movie. AWESOME!

I'd also like to remind everyone that cares that the season premiere of The OC is this coming Thursday. Now I absolutely love this show, but let's see if Ryan goes up to Marissa and shoves her against a tree to have his way with her. Or see if Seth Cohen gets into a drunken bar fight and stabs a Pompey Magnus supporter through his neck. (Sigh). Thursday nights are just going to seem pretty tame by comparison.

Oh, and check out Prison Break on Fox (Monday nights). Not kidding. The show is kick-ass. If for no other reason, watch it for Peter Stormare. He pwned the otherwise lackluster The Brothers Grimm.

Posted by Matt @ 2:02 PM |

Friday, September 02, 2005

Wow.

Posted by Matt @ 11:38 PM |

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