Jeremy Hapscroft Has a Pony

28.3.05

Don't Say the B-Word.

Remeber that phase you went through when you were a kid when curse words were like the worst thing you could possibly hear and uttering them was the most foul crime you could commit? And this was a self-imposed thing, too. Even if your parents cursed, or were fine with cursing. It was around eight or nine, where if anyone said "shit" or something similar, you would say "Don't say the s-word!" Maybe this isn't a normal thing. I don't know. I do remember last year or so, Bill Ullman's son Graham was going through that, and we (me, Tyler, and Steve) were able to convince him that "Buford" was a bad word. The best part of that night was at the diner when we kept saying our names were Buford, and Lisa went along with the joke, not realizing we had set up that Buford was a bad word. She starts rattling off "Buford, Buford, Buford," and Graham is absolutely appalled. "MOM! You're saying the B-word!" And Tyler and I laughed long and hard. I'm not sure if that story transfers well to print or not. But it was fucking hilarious when it happened. That's all I have for today. It's hard to be consistently side-splittingly hysterical. Sorry.


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M. "Awesome" at 6:37 PM

22.3.05

Celebrity Moustache Extravaganza!

Yeah, I didn't post last night because as soon as I got on my computer at about Seven P.M., I went to lay down and fell asleep till Ten. So there. If you don't like it, screw you. So, today, I bring you moustaches.

Lots of moustaches.

Today I decided that you need to know what constitutes a good or bad moustache. THere is a simple system to judge this. I call it the Selleck Rating System, or SRS, named, of course, after the golden standard of moustachioed men, Tom Selleck.


Just look at that. That's a prime cut of 'stache f I ever saw one. The facial hair on display will be awarded anywhere from one to four Sellecks:


One Selleck is the worst, and four Sellecks the best. So let's get cracking!

Today: The Celebrity Edition

Geraldo Rivera

This is very similar in shape to the Selleck's, but it just has a sort of skeevy edge to it:

Verdict:

Groucho Marx

A classic moustache. I have to dock a half a point, though, because it's made out of greasepaint.
Verdict:

Freddie Mercury

You know, I'm really torn on this one. I'm gonna perform the age-old test of looking at this guy without a stache:

Yeesh. Mercury's jaw structure really hurts him on this one. I don't know. I'll give him an extra half a point because he died of AIDS.

Verdict:

Charlie Chaplin

Ehh. He gets extra points because he's a comedic genius, but really not that great.
Verdict:

Borat

What can I say? Freakin' Awesome. Really, really great.
Verdict:

Daniel Day-Lewis (a.k.a. Bill the Butcher)

Again, a really great moustache all around. I'd like to think he grew it himself, but he probably didn't.
Verdict:

John Waters

No. No, no, no. Very bad. It looks like someone played a trick on him or something while he was sleeping.
Verdict:
No moustache for you!

Well, that's it for this installment of Moustache Rides. Did I miss any of your favorite moustaches? Tell me and maybe they'll get rated, too. In the future I'll be rating non-celebrities, and maybe I'll even expand into beards. Until then, go away.


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M. "Awesome" at 3:26 PM

18.3.05

Laugh it up, Fuzzball

As a newly great blogger and awesome MySpace-er, I get lots of random people IM-ing me all the time. Well, no, not really. But I think I will be. Well, no, not really. But I do think it's time to set the rules for talking to me. I've gotten many an IM like this (this is a hypothetical composite AIM address; if it actually is one, sorry):

cRaZyGrRl7639: hey mike

This is how I respond, and the conversation that ensues:

logjammin37: hey
cRaZyGrRl7639: whats up
logjammin37: nothin much
logjammin37: same old same old
cRaZyGrRl7639: lol me too

And here the conversation ends, for the most part. Now, two things occur to me in this conversation, both of which I will address. The first thing is, according to everyone on AIM, I am freaking hilarious. The other is that I hate conversations like this that don't lead anywhere. It's damn small talk. If we were two people at a party instead of two people on the web, we'd start talkin' 'bout the freakin' weather. You know what? This is worse than small talk. You know why? If not at a party, when do you start with the small talk? In the hallway, most likely. But when you're in the hallway, you have to leave soon. For an example, here's a typical scene with me from a hallway:




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M. "Awesome" at 7:54 AM

17.3.05

Stephen Baldwin Gets Head

I sort of wish I was making this up, but mostly not.


Hot off the heels of Pauly Shore's new line of pot-themed yarmulkes, my arch nemesis, Stephen Baldwin, is teaming up with Head from Korn, to produce a line of cool, Christianity-based...things. As born-again Christians, I am sure Baldwin's and Head are familiar with this union as a sign of the Apocalypse. No word yet on what these products are, exactly, but I can only speculate that maybe they'll be Jesus bongs. You might feel like checking out the website for the Christian sk8 doc he directed, Livin' It. I'm not sure exactly what "it" is, maybe it has something to do with being on Celebrity Mole. We're still waiting on the official announcement, but I think it's safe to say that Stephen Baldwin is batshit insane (please note he refers to himself in the third person in that interview).

In other news, Daniel Baldwin is still an asshole, and Alec Baldwin is still the man, which sadly leaves William "Don't Call Me Billy" Baldwin the only Baldwin still without a personality.


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M. "Awesome" at 8:12 AM

16.3.05

Random Phrases Are Usurpers

Yesterday I was going to write about how this month I would experiment with posting every day, even if I had nothing to say.

Oh well.

At least I actually posted a new entry today unlike some people we know.

In response to my post about LiLo, someone thought I had a crush on her. This is not the case. I did, as I stated in the letter, but that was a long time ago, and plus, I don't think you can have a crush on someone who is a total slut who lets permanently-wasted movie "stars" touch their hoo-ha.

Yes, I said hoo-ha.

Yes, I said it to mean vagina.

As far as this blog is concerned, I basically want to be Bob from My Blog Is Poop. It's probably the funniest damn blog I read. I even went so far as to take his blog design (which isnt really his, it's a free blogskin). Just like his aspiration was to get on BWE, mine is to be him. So there.


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M. "Awesome" at 9:15 PM

14.3.05

It's Quiet....Too Quiet....

You can't fool us, Travolta. We know what you're up to, and believe me, it won't work. Don't give me that look, Barbarino. You know what I'm talking about, and you can't deny it. I mean, come on! The clues are all there, spelled out in black and white. Scientology? A private airstrip at your house? Really. Who are you fooling? Not us. Not the American people, Tony Manero, I'll tell you that. You can sit there, smug as a bug in a rug, all you want, just don't think you're pulling one over on us. Just remember that. And if you do succeed, I'll be there, ready to fight the infinite struggle.




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M. "Awesome" at 8:36 PM

13.3.05

An Open Letter to Lindsay Lohan

Hi. I know this is a bit unexpected, but I really felt the need to write to you. You've been doing really great lately. 2004 was definitely your year; all those hit movies, your eighteenth birthday; it must have been really great. So I just wanted to catch you before anything bad happened. But I guess I was too late. Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay. I just don't know what to say. Bruce Willis? I didn't even know his penis still worked. What on earth possesed you to hook up with a man old enough to be your grandfather (sort of) when there are tons of great-looking guys your own age who would kill to have been Bruce just then (and when he was blowin' shit up in Die Hard)? That's right, I'm talking about me. OK, I may be 17, a year younger than yourself, but I'm going to be 18 in June, and besides, one year is a much better age difference than thirty-one. I may not have piles of cash like Bruce Willis, either, so I can't produce your next movie like McClane did. But I think I have more to offer you than Butch does. Let me tell you why.
Remember The Parent Trap? So do I. I saw that in the theaters when I was eleven. I was smitten. I had the biggest crush on you. I couldn't wait for more Lohan. All these other creeps just noticed you when you were in Freaky Friday. Of course, it wasn't an unhealthy obsession or anything like that. I got over it, but the point I'm trying to make is that I was there at the beginning. I didn't just jump on the Lohan bandwagon when it stopped in my town. I think what I am trying to say is that I'm dedicated. I'll stick with you, like I did all those years ago.
Now, I realize I'm not famous, but I think that's okay. I think the relationship would be all the better for it. I would never wake up in the morning wondering "Damn, am I more famous than my girlfriend or not?" because I'd already know the answer. I think this goes with the dedication point I was making. I don't ever expect to be more famous than you. I think you and Brucie would be fighting over that one all the time. I would be grateful just to be with you.
Now, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an aspiring filmmaker. I know what you're thinking now "Oh God, he's gonna want me to help him with his career." No, I don't. I'm only thinking of you. I could give you that big dramatic break you're looking for. You could turn into a serious actress overnight. I wouldn't be able to give you that big salary you always get, but that wouldn't matter, because we'd be in love.
I understand that sometimes we'd have a long-distance relationship. You'd be off shooting your next big movie, and I'd be in college. I'm sure you've heard the dangers of relationships like those. But it's alright. I trust you. I do. And I hope that you'd trust me, too. That brings me to the one thing you would have to give me. If you really wanted us to be together, I would have to live with you. But that's only because I don't think they let you have girlfriends live permanently in the dorms, and I'm not quite sure my mom's house would be quite up to your standards. But that's a small thing to ask, isn't it? And I wouldn't try to mooch off of you in any way. I would help out with rent or anything else with what I would make at the local Tower Records.
I'm not joking, Lindsay. I'm deeply concerned about you. I just want to see you do well, and I don't want to see you get hurt. I want you to know that other men may come and go in your life, but I am always here for you.




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M. "Awesome" at 12:06 AM

3.3.05

Todd.

I got accepted to Hofstra, if you care. I don't, so why should you.

I think one mark of a great song is that you don't even care how long it is. I had heard Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) many a time before I cared about Springsteen enough to buy the album. I've probably heard the song at least twenty timThe Aes, including about ten times in the last five days, and I didn't even know it was over seven minutes until I looked at the track listing a couple of days ago. I thought it was just the standard three-minute pop song. Some seven-minute songs just feel too long, but I can still listen to Rosalita and not even notice when the song's over. It's a excellent way to while away seven minutes of your life. You won't even miss them.

I have painted a masterpiece. I call it The Adventures of Green Boy and Orange Girl. If you can think of a nice background (perhaps a sunset or a hilly path, two things which I was too unskilled to paint) you can add it in. Remember to show me the finished product. Actually, show me any really cool paintings you create on Artpad. Artpad is the coolest program I've seen on the Internet in a long time.
*Update* I've painted another one, like you care, but I'm more proud of it than the other one. This one doesn't have a name, though. If you can think of one, let me know.


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M. "Awesome" at 11:21 PM

2.3.05

"..."

The above quote is from the immortal Harpo Marx.

Today I wondered what would happen if I just decided not to communicate with anyone for a certain period of time. If someone talked to me, I wouldn't say anything, if I was called on the phone, I wouldn't pick it up, if someone IM'd me, I wouldn't write them back. I wondered what this would do to myself, but more importantly, others. How would this affect my long-term relationships with others if I did this for a day, a week, a month, or even a year? How harshly would people react? I mean, I just think of how Nicole reacts when I don't IM her, unintentionally, merely because I have nothing to say. What if I just didn't talk to her or acknowledge her at all, completely intentionally? (To clarify that last question, if I were to do this, I wouldn't just ignore just one person. That would just be cruel.) Of course, I don't think I could ever do such a thing. And that thought led to another: What separates us fully-functioned people with the mentally challenged? (I couldn't think of any more-P.C. way to say that). I believe it is this: We have the ability not to act on such thoughts. Sometimes I walk down the hallways at school and I think about what would happen if I just went around grabbing random people's asses, just to see their reactions. But if the same thought came to a mentally-challenged person (I am talking about both the mentally retarded and crazy people), they wouldn't restrain themselves. They would just go ahead and do it. But are our mental faculties only to do with restraint? I don't know. Your thoughts about this would be appreciated.


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M. "Awesome" at 11:15 PM