I have a new hobby

I airbrush girl's faces on and post them under the original picture on their facebook. Bonus points if they're a feminist.


To make up for my last post

Here's a myspace page (now private, so I included a picture of the page) of a girl who was fat enough that she didn't know she was pregnant until into her 6th month. She was smoking, drinking, and doing Xanax up until that point. Her poor baby lived about 11 minutes.

The only picture they have of the baby alive has it in an Insane Clown Posse sweater. Also included are pictures of the baby's funeral, including a coffin decked out with ICP stickers.

I can't describe this any better than the actual pictures.

Ok, now we're super back with awesome new content

So I think I'm going to start doing weekly movie reviews. I figure it's easy post fodder, and it'll keep me up with the kids. I didn't write the review for this one right after I saw it, so some of the details are pretty fuzzy, but I'm very critical of things so this should be pretty easy.

I saw it in a hotel in New York City. I got in with a press pass, but they still gave me a ticket. There was a decline walking into the theater, maybe 20 degrees or so. That wasn't a big deal to me, but there was someone in a wheelchair that was having a bit of trouble. I didn't help him because he had one of those weird small hands.

The bathroom was about halfway down the ramp to the theater, it had a very attractive Art Deco exterior. I didn't use it, but I did stick my head in and the inside seemed fairly clean. One of the soap dispensers wasn't full, but it wasn't empty either. I would say it had about a quarter of it's tank full. I don't see why they don't have graduated dispensers for soap, it would help you predict when you need to buy more. I tried to look up classes on patent law that I could take, but I didn't have cell reception. I've lost interest in the idea, so any readers can feel free to have it.

There was a guy selling popcorn outside of the bathroom. He wasn't wearing the offical AMC theaters uniform so I think he was some kind of popcorn scalper. I didn't entirely trust him, so I bought a small to minimize my financial risk. I think he cut it with salt, which is strange because salt is more expensive than popcorn. I started to question him about it, but he took his wares away without speaking to me. Oh well, some people are just rude. I was just curious about his business practices.

I got to the theater room and saw the cripple's wheelchair laying on the ground with the boy strewn next to it, unconscious. Golly, that hand creeps me out.

I find my seat around halfway up the stadium seating just as the title card is coming on. I knew helping that cripple boy would be a bad idea. Someone else probably will. Don't you hate films that are named "[Article] [Noun]"? I always want to call them just "[Noun]". You would think someone would study that and see that it's confusing. I always have to search IMDB twice because of that. The less attractive solution is to modify the IMDB search algorithm, which seems mediocre anyway. I would enjoy that.

I got a cool new iPod and stuff. Have you seen my mouse? It's really expensive, but I got it for cheap. It has 11 buttons. I really only use 9.

I don't really use bookmarks, I don't have much of a need for them.

I didn't really see a movie :-(.


The Triumphant Return

So it's been a while, my good audience. Yes, I'm still addressing you. After some extended time where I felt neither motivated nor creative enough to post whatever I'm thinking to this amazing and indiscriminately-accessible medium (the internet, for those of you struggling already), Zeppelin is back. I feel no shame or regret in the almost-3 year lapse of content, and I'm not qualifying a damn thing, so let's just get right into it. Here's what got me back into the self-publication groove, what reminded me that I do in fact, still have it.

This is a conversation. On teh internet.

Don't judge me

i judge you as a trendy blackberry-carrying asshole. grow balls.

I need it for my job, the dig is too easy

excuses are like assholes. like trendy blackberry-carrying assholes.

iPhones are trendy, BlackBerrys are ugly. There's nothing trendy about a BlackBerry.

Where it gets interesting. All subjects of humiliation are henceforth to be kept anonymous. Except for MAtt, of course.

Feminine Object of Scorn:


Feminine Object of Scorn:
MAtt why are such an asshole?
fuck you dude

I was playing along with the "boys stop". Don't be sensitive.

Feminine Object of Scorn:
just like that did.

piss off. this is the most classic form of strengthening there is. there is nothing more timeless and respectable than masculine competition, two men doing their damndest to cut the other down. the battering of ram's head against ram's head, the construction of elaborate nests besting your neighbor's to attract female birds, the list goes on. and personal berating through the relatively anonymous medium of social networking sites is our generation of young men’s means of doing so. and i'll be damned if i let you take that away from us. i'll be damned.

I miss Dynosite.
And I don't miss prissy high school girls.
And I still hate you Tyler.

Feminine Object of Scorn:
oh yeah MAtt you know me so well. I'm definitely fucking prissy with all this cursing. Very lady-like, I must say.
You still act like an immature high school boy.
So shut the fuck up.

yes, yes, let the animosity breed. it's all like a nice cool breeze up my skirts.

I misspelled cunt. When the name of the conversation is "fuck you friend" don't butt in and expect anything but a "fuck you."


Feminine Object of Scorn:
tyler you're just mad cause i never let you hook up with me.


oh no no no. somebody just made a big mistake.
[Feminine Object of Scorn], i'm going to give you the opportunity to apologize for that most regrettable last comment of yours in the spirit of what used to be our friendship. i certainly hope you'll take advantage of this offer and recognize a few certain things. firstly, that what you said was uncalled for and unsolicited, seeing as how you had absolutely nothing to do with this conversation. secondly, that your remark was, for lack of a better word, cheap, and stands as a pretty good indication of what measures you'll resort to when you feel slighted by someone on the internet (which in itself is pathetic, but not unusual enough to be it's own point). and finally, that in a game of insults and articulation, the objective being the public humiliation of the other party, you will lose. horribly.
this game will commence in 5 minutes unless you say "tyler, i'm very sorry and i'll never do it again." you have my demands.

Feminine Object of Scorn:
ok, i'll make things a little more private for you.
check your email

Tyler can be articulate, I'm just rude. You're fucking hideous. I can't imagine the messes that must be fucking your weather beaten cunt, though I suppose I don't pay attention to the girl in the drive-thru either.

Fuck private, bring it out bitch.

Feminine Object of Scorn:
MAtt, sweetie, I wasn't talking to you. Ass.

the pathetic excuse for an explanation you left festering in my inbox was not at all what i meant by an apology. i made this whole thing quite simple for you, and yet you still can't help but interject your awkwardly formulated, and frankly incorrect, summary of this little confrontation.
firstly, everything i have to say is viewable on this picture wall. i hid nothing and deleted nothing. MAtt took no editorial liberties with anything i said either. one of my less endearing qualities: frank honesty when provoked.
secondly, you're entirely wrong about how i perceive you. i did value your friendship and even enjoyed talking to you all the way up to the point where you no longer needed my attention because you were getting it from many other sources. (MAtt: "getting it"-"sources": double entendre.) i am also not ashamed to admit that i considered the idea of being inside you. however, your insistence that i think of you as nothing but a hole to fuck is entirely misguided. you're not even that much.
tell me when you want it to stop.

Feminine Object of Scorn:
i'm not apologizng[sic]. call me immature. i don't care. i know i am. i'm only 17. damn. but i didn't like what you said the other night.

and excuse me for sending that email. i won't ever again for anything. better, how about lose my number, and i delete you here?

your continuing inability to see the humor in this confrontation, and the irony of your replies, stuns me. how do you come up with this shit? it's fantastic!

She's only 17! Leave her alone! I bet she's never said "treat me like an adult" before.

oh, and you're losing, by the way.

Feminine Object of Scorn:

damn, anything but nonchalance! that affords me absolutely no material!

I don't know. I think that puts her about even with you. You better try harder to put her in her place.

So that's it. I hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, don't lose faith just yet. This just seemed like it deserved to be accessible to all search engine crawlers and bored associates of mine. Stay tuned for more content hot off the presses.


We're back!

In the words of Jules Verne: "We're motherfucking back bitches!" Stay tuned for fresh content starting very soon.