A running commentary on things that I don't like.

Also, you know, about why I'm a lot cooler than you.

Seriously. Much cooler. And smarter.

Which is why you should read my site.

That way when I tell you that Napoleon Dynamite was stupid crap, you won't make a fool of yourself by continuing to tell people to watch it.

God, it Sucks
the place to go for all things that suck
a

H
a
t
e

B
l
o
g
.:[Monday, January 24, 2005]:.
My Brother: That Dirty, Cheap Bastard

Where have I been? Well, that's my fucking business, isn't it? Maybe I've been sitting out my 6 month sentence for "date rape," though I have to say if she went on a date with me then she was asking for it, and my attorney says that isn't an admission of guilt.

Anyway, my brother was criticizing my handling of my girlfriend recently, and I had to leap to my own defense. Not because I'm not a crappy boyfriend, but because accepting relationship criticism from my brother is like accepting relationship advice from Michael Skakel or advice on the treatment of campaign volunteers from Ted Kennedy.

So anyway, I went to my brother's wedding a couple of years ago in New Orleans. Now, many people might consider having their wedding in New Orleans because it's a fun place to hang out, or because their family lives there, or because hookers and blow are cheap in the Big Easy, but my brother is way too big of a dork to base a wedding decision on anything as fun as cheap blowjobs or mere proximity to family. He chose New Orleans because he had to go there for a seminar, it would be a tax writeoff, and it was close to the end of the year (for tax purposes). It's like a Meg Ryan movie!

He also bought the wedding rings off of Ebay. Now, granted, you can get a bargain on a wedding set when they come delivered to your house mounted on a dessicated pair of severed fingers, but I can't help but think that somehow, there's a failing of romanticism involved here.

Maybe my idea of romance is chloroform and duct tape... but dammit, some things are sacred! I might put something in my date's drink to "enhance to mood," but I'd never get married for tax purposes. Damn you, Meno!

| a BEN production by me at 9:31 PM