II

So I've watched Andy Samberg's impression of Mark Wahlberg about a dozen times. It doesn't get any funnier each time, I just become more and more incredulous. The fact that he could do such an impression is impressive enough, but the fact that he convinced the writers to let him talk to animals for five minutes? What the fuck? Does Mark Wahlberg really talk to animals? Does he really want to say hello to my mother for him? Is he saying my mother is an animal? Why was The Happening so terrible? Do the giant harpy devil-winged beasts in the Max Payne trailer constitute animals? I thought he was like a hitman in that game. I'm sure the movie won't be as good as the ninety second trailer, because I'm pretty sure he won't be talking to donkeys, which is the only way that I'll watch him on screen again after The Happening.

I'm not sure why I write in this, considering that I hate people that do. Especially when they have no purpose for it. Although this is America, and I can blast as much of my word semen on the face of the internet as I want to. People actually think this stuff should be regulated. And by people, I mean Bill O'Reilly. If the internet was regulated, I would have never been able to say "word semen". Actually, if the internet was properly regulated, they would've probably told me to hyphenate it. Word-semen. Charles Dickens is the Peter North of word-semen. I think that's actually a 300 level class at my college.

The girls downstairs play Disturbia by Rhianna on ultimate-max-volume all the time, and because I live in a shitty apartment, it leaks through my floor and into my head. I bang my cane as hard as I can on the shitty shag carpet, but they don't get the message. Hopefully one day I'll stomp the floor so hard that my foot will go through the termite-infested ripoff wood and lodge itself in their ceiling so tight that the firemen will need the jaws of life to cut it off and the bloody foothole will stay in the ceiling because the landlord is so cheap remaining as a disgusting memory for them to keep their music down on Wednesday nights.

I have no right to complain, because while playing "drinking games" down there, I pushed a glass off the table to break it, denied that fact completely, and then threw a glass of Evan Williams and coke allll over their kitchen. Later I read from Cosmopolitan magazine's list of dirty sex techniques in my best Pete Sampras voice.

But Disturbia?

I quote Coach Herman Boone: "If you drop the ball, you run a mile. If you miss a blocking assignment, you run a mile. If you play Disturbia ecstasy-rave party loud on a Wednesday, I will break my foot off in your John Brown hind-floor and leave a disgusting bloody memory-socket."