This Blog Post is Not About O.J. Simpsons Awesome New Book That Just Got Banned By Al Gore

"Kramer, what a pussy."

"Huh?"

"He called those two black dudes niggers...."

"Yeah, that's really hitting below the belt mann"

"...I wasn't finished, and then he got all gay and apologized."

"He's a pussy because he apologized?"

"Yes duh, but then again, the apology makes the black dudes look super homo so that's kinda funny I guess."

"How does apologizing make the black dudes look gay?"

"Are you a retard?"

"Dude, that's not cool, you know I have a retarded sister."

"Does she cry when you call her a retard?"

"I don't call her a retard."

"Why not? Are you a pussy?"

"Dude, not calling my retarded sister a retard does not make me a pussy."

"Yeah, being a pussy makes you a pussy, anyway, would she cry if you called her a retard?"

"Probably not."

"So in other words, those black dudes are bigger pussies than your retarded sister."

"Dude, you're totally off track, how did this turn into this being about my retarded sister and those black dudes being pussies?"

"Kramer is the one who called them pussies, not me."

"No Kramer called them niggers, you called them pussies."

"He called them pussies when he apologized."

"No he didn't I watched it on Letterman...--- OW! YOU DICK! Why did you just chop me in the adams apple?"

"Sorry, you were pissing me off. Also, I was planning that this whole time."

"You were planning on chopping my adams apple?"

"Yes but only to make a point -- oh yeah plus you are an ugly nigger faggot."

"Wow, you are seriously screwed up."

"Anyway, point is, even though you're a fairly unattractive homosexual black man, the fact that I called you an ugly nigger faggot probably didn't hurt as much as me chopping you in the adams apple right?"

"Well I would have preferred that you did neither, but to answer your question, the "ugly nigger faggot" part will probably sting a little longer than the adams apple chopping because it hurts my heart and affects my self esteem and honestly makes me want to cry because it hits too close to home -- you know?."

"So would it be safe to say that any black dude who gets all sad about being called a nigger is really no different than an ugly crybaby faggot?"

"No but it would be safe to say that Kramer was totally looking concentration campey -- holy crap, what was up with his hair? Does he have cancer or something? --HELL -OH -- I think somebody has AIDS"

"Ha ha, high-uh five-uh."

"Dude, don't borat me, it's not funny when you do it."

"You're right, sorry."

"Apology accepted."

Now for Vanessa;

Vanessa C. - Boots

Vanessa C. - SkyCam

Vanessa C. & Bryn - BiCycle

Vanessa C. - Sofa

That's all for now.
Don't get caught making up an imaginary, sarcastic, thick skinned, homosexual, black best friend so you come off looking super open-minded and urban and whatever.
Your Left Earring,
Ed Bradley

I Got Yer "Bean Bag" Right Here, BITCH

I remember my first day of school, I remember the cold air in the morning, I remember the floor mats where they expected me to actually "nap" (as if), I remember the cookies weren't very great and the little carton of milk felt soggy and a little warm. I also remember that the very first thing I ever thought about the very first teacher I ever had was "this woman is an idiot."

Although I don't remember her name.

She stood up in front of the class and introduced herself:

"Good morning everybody, my name is Mrs. Forgettable, and the first thing we are gonna do is play a game. I have a bean bag and when I toss it to you, you catch it, then say your name and tell us all what you want to be when you grow up."

Ok, so maybe thinking she was an idiot wasn't the FIRST thing I thought about her, but I arrived at that conclusion before I was officially bean bagged into the turd we call compulsory public education.

"What do I WANT to be? Is something going to happen in life where I am gonna haff to change who I already AM?" I thought.

She tossed the bean bag to a dozen or so future firemen, cops, princesses, and gynecologists while the chemicals in my head began to pulse and make my heart beat faster, nervous that I might drop the bean bag and look retarded, but mostly because I was getting ready to make a statement, to issue a decree of sorts, you know, I was ready to let it be known that I didn't like the way this whole little "bean bag" deal was going and I was determined set her straight. I wasn't about to be molded.

The bean bag finally made it my way and I caught it without even squinting like a bunch of the other morons, I took a swallow as my face grew hot, I looked my teacher straight in the eye and gave her a very clear "watch this" kind of look and then I turned towards the rest of my classmates to whom I really wanted to direct my dismissives.

"I don't WANT to BE anything, I AM an artist."

Take that Fireman. Take that Teacher. Take that Sewage Plant Poop Blender.

Growing up, my dad used to occasionally drop into school and come straight to my class and tell the teacher he needed to pull me out of school for the day and then we'd go out for hamburgers and a movie and on one such day, while making the "always remember to take a break" speech that my dad loved to give every five minutes, he said to me;

"Son, my good son, most of your teachers are complete idiots, never think for a second that any of them are any smarter than you."

"Duh dad, I know."

And I did know. Maybe some people are just born thinking they are better than everyone. I think I am one of those people.

Now for Jill;

Jill - Scrabble

Jill - Sofa

That's all for now,
Don't get caught talkin all "bean bag" this and "bean bag" that when it very well could have been a ball or red hot spikey hammer but "bean bag" sounded more kindergarteny.
Your Third Grade Teacher Who You Often Imagined Naked,
Mrs. Roth