Thursday, November 30, 2006

Jointed martyrdom

This lady bought came to Pamida the other evening and bought a fresh silver PS2. Evidentally, she was reluctant to purchase the console, for her bitching at the checkout was nonstop and illogical. One of her children wanted a Playstation 2 for Christmas, which is an honorable request. The system, with its big and exclusive brother "available" has dropped in price yet still has decent titles being added to the already immersive library. The mother would have none of it, however, exclaiming "I can't believe I gave in!" and minute variations of the statement, each more repetative than the last. Her final comment was:

"He has a Gameboy Advanced! He has like 4 of them, and they're portable! I don't see why he needs this (points to PS2) when he can bring the others whereever he goes! Why should I have to fork over two hundred dollars for this?! I shouldn't have given in, why didn't I say no?"

Well, here is you answer, ma'am, to all your naive and enraged questions:

1. It's called the Gameboy Advance, you know, the present-tense form. It's fine, we all say certain words in correctly. Personally, I've always pronounced deity "Di-et-tee" rather than "dee-it-ee", and that little error leads to some humerous caroling!

2. If owning a GBA automatically makes a PS2 wish greedy and questionable, then why do you buy him sweatshirts? He's got a polo, why does he need long sleeves!

3. The PS2 was actually on sale for about $125. That's actually 5/8 of the price you said it was. Unless it's going to cost $75 to ship the console to your son, who may or may not live far away, your checking account won't be injured that badly, so you can either put it back or hush your complaining to an inaudible squeal.

At the time of her little tantrum, I zoned out and nodded at basically everything she said, disagreeing with every thought that she annoying threw at me.

In short: sleep is like pizza sauce. You think that it's not that imporant to the anatomy of the pie itself, yet once you try a sauceless pizza, you realize you were wrong.

You sensor bar looks delicious,
Brett in E-Flat Major

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Vines and leaves make for steals and deals.

No time to write, I have to write.

As a token of a token...

Planning Chaos,
Brett University

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Allegoric conclusion

Aaron reluctantly purchased the item he had waited 4 hours in negative-Celcius weather. Mom could see the guilt in his eyes, yet she assured him with her own.

Mom wasn't going to let Aaron walk out of the discount center empty-handed and sucker-punched, and he knew that, despite their friendship only existing for about 124 minutes. They were both in a tough spot, one that shouldn't and wouldn't have happened if it weren't for a redneck Grandma whose motivation can be summed up by Jessica Simpson as Daisy Duke in the Direct TV commercial:

I totally don't know what that means, but I want it.

This here ends the tale of my Wii and our tragic seperation.


Circle the dread,

Monday, November 27, 2006

Cotton letters deliver hope

Mom's thunderous glare didn't phase (nameless) for it takes intellect to fear. (nameless) then displayed her traditional hick-style defense mechanism: outrageously hostile agression.

"(boss) said that if I wer' here bai' nine-turdy, I cood giddit ri' afta der store opened."

Her dialect strengthened as she excalimed herself out the door, Wii in her filthy and undeserving hand/bag. Keep in mind that all this happened because I was disallowed SPECIAL EMPLOYEE ADVANTAGES.

Aaron and Mom stood together, petrified in a combination of rage, shock and vengeance. Their mouths gaped as Mary looked at her pink cross-trainers, utterly ashamed and frantically speechless from the events that unfolded.

Aaron broke the silence, "Now what happens?"

Mom took her LG out of her pocket and began dialing.

"What are you doing?" Aaron asked, still bewildered by the thought of being Eiffel Towered by the friendly staff of Pamida.

"Calling my son."

Aaron said a prayer without opening his mouth, Please let the son of the very nice lady be as kind as his mother/not a douchebag. A pony would be pretty sweet, too.

***back in the brettcave (it's portable)***


Beebop was exceptionally difficult that morning. Usually the duo of Don and Leo outmaneuver the punky swine with kitanas and detailed strategies like having one of us walk in front so he uses his little mace hat and the other guy kills the fucker from behind.

We're geniuses, really.

I was distracted. How could I focus on an 8-bit adventure of heroes in a halfshell when something I've anticipated for a bajillion days was finally in my posession, vicariously at line.

Brett's pulse = sin678(a) as a approaches 10:00 pm CDT.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Donatello better run on autopilot.

My phone recieved the signal that I and everyone around may or may not have been waiting for.

Call From:


Mom gave me the 4-1-1 on the awful situation, her voice passionately chilly and muffled by the connection. Imagine your beloved fiance' being kidnapped by an aged trucker with a toothless grin and a half-empty bottle of gin, all the while sporting a neon shirt with a dolphin from Seaworld 1992.

I was helplessly cross-state.

Mom concluded her rant/story with a question:

"What should I do with the Wii?"

It was only fair that Aaron, the customer and unaffiliated leader of the line, recieved the console he sought for.

Windy chips,
Brett w/ envy

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Vaugely in-depth

"Are you still there, Brett?" Josh asked.

"Yeah." :(

"Sorry, dude. (boss) told one of us to call and break the news to you."

"I appreciate it," my sorrow maximized into anger. "Why couldn't you have called me sooner? I'm two hours away!"

"Sorry. I'd do it for you but I have church, sorry."

"Thanks Josh, bye," with a pissed and perturbed tone that could make even the happiest puppies droopy.

"See ya."

I look back and regret taking out my spontaneous frustration out on Josh. They could've just easily leave me uninformed as my "reserved" Wii was sold to a customer. Josh deserves a big hug and a medium pizza for being the messenger, even if it seemed like I did my best to end his life.

With my mind racing like Lightning McQueen in the Dinoco 400, I did the logical thing and called my mom.

Much like myself, Mom is passionate for uncommon interests (she's a nerd). She knew of my Wii-quest and its assumed happy ending on November 19th, 2006. She understood my situation better than anyone, including myself. She also agreed go to the store that morning and camp out for me, out of sure maternal awesomeness.

I began to wonder why my reservation was no longer legit or reserved. The 'unfair employee advantage' part is entirely understandable; Best Buy Managers had to wait in line to ensure themselves a precious console. What gave any of us, Pamida Customer Sales Associates the right to do such a thing?

But why the change? Had a corporate bigwig remind (boss) of a forgotten company policy? Had a large group of fanboys/PS3 rejects/parents call the store and inquire about the Wii? The right answer/question needed to be known.

But first, jazz music.

The professional-quality concert ended after Pamida closed for the night. I flipped my phone open and pressed "Contacts, five, down, down, down, down and down". My co-worker and fellow male teenager, Jared, answered.

"hey d00d. wutz up?"

"Yeah, Jared. Have you heard about the Wii yet?"

(note: the signal/diction was terrible, many huhs and whats were exchange. For the sake of length, I'll swipe them from the records.)

"ya. srry d00d."

"My mom is going to camp out for me, could you do me a favor?"

"k. (boss) sez dat all she has 2 do is bring ur emplo-E crd and get der a lil before 10. k?"

"Thanks, Jared. I owe you one."

"no prob"

Funnily enough, I was initiallly going to ask whether he could go and be Mom's body guard: Jared is a big kid and nobody in there right mind would fuck with his shit. Apparently, Mom could acquire the Wii with only minutes of waiting, they must've not expected much of a line. Mom can be unaccompanied AND unmugged!

Just to be safe, I asked Mom if she could get there at 8 (Pamida opens at 10) to make sure there was no need to be there any earlier; she obliged b/c shes t3h b357.

November 18th was hella polar. Once postiviely confident, I was now scared of the mysterious unknown outcome. Everything could be blown down by the damned wolf. Would my Wii actually get to me? Would someone else pose as an obsticle to my holy grail? What happend to Andre?

That night was a mixture of Christmas eve and the post-audition period. I was so anxious, I slept in the same futon as another male and supposedly touched the ass of another (thus breaking the 10th commandment).

Awake by 8, I reacquainted myself with the NES to keep my mind off of the other Nintendo console that was being born approximately 500,000 times that day.

My brother woke up and watched me play, I must've stirred him while turning the machine on. The golden LoZ still plays like it's deepest and RPG'est game in the land. The dungeons are still challenging and it's still hard to remember how to

My phone rang. It was Mom. It was only 9:00 CDT though, the store was closed along with its doors.

My mom wasn't the only one waiting in line. Her place in line was preceded only by a college student, Aaron, who she was having a great time bonding with. However, another man waited in his car, some 40 feet away from the entrance.

But hey! Two Wii's, and Mom is second in line/unharmed/having fun! We're gonna make it after all!

My jubilancy was equaled by her's. However, as a precaution, she asked if I could call Pamida (with my special privileges such as the phone number) and discover just where the Wii's were located.

A short convo with the shift leader, Mary (fairly new there), lead to this info:

"The Wii's will be at customer service."

I told Mary to watch for my Mom and Aaron, the first two in line who had been there since 8 and 6 am, respectively.

It was all working out! Now that Mom and her friend had the upperhand in both distance and knowledge, I was a shoe-in! This calls for some morning co-op!

***meanwhile at home***

Mom and Aaron continued to chat as 10:00 and Pamida's Wiis drew nearer. The kind female learned about the console while the college student described Nintendo's latest innovation to her, detail by excited detail. An hour earilier, they didn't know who the fuck each other were.

Aaron was baffled by the mother's eagerness; he never thought he'd share such a splendid conversation with a mom in a video game console waiting segment (or: launch line). They exchanged sentances and profile info, she even lent him a sleeping bag to warm himself up with.

The workers began to file in at 9:30. (nameless), (girl) and (lady) all had to summon someone to unlock the door for them in order to enter their workplace. Pamida didn't want the raging mob of crazed gamers to burst through the door.

They both anticipated gleefully. There was no hostility, no competition, no trampling or pistol-whipping. Just two human beings being human beings.

The world can be a beautiful place, can't it?

9:59:55, 9:59:56, 9:59:57.

Dispite the frosty temperature, their heart tempo throttled to Prestissimo. Mary stood on the inside, key in hand, ready to unlock the door to the next generation of electronic entertainment.

9:59:58, 9:59:59.

The dense bolt clicked. The path was now open.


Mom and Aaron skipped to customer service, a mere Shaq-arm's length from the entrance. Mary held a white box that featured shimmery potential and the letters "w" and "i". It was undoubtedly comparable to the birth of our savior or The Mystery of Al Capone's Vault.

Mary handed the carboard treasure to Mom like an allegoric exchange of greatness.

Mom looked down and happily asked, "Well, where's the other one?", referring to Aaron's empty mittens.

Mary's eyes sighed. She turned her left shoulder to reveal (nameless), the redneck grandma Customer Serivce Associate, placing the recipt in her pocket and grabbing the bag which held her newly-acquired Nintendo Wii.

Creamed fish hold the bottle caps,

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Vanishing crayons and mammoths

When we last left our friend and colleage...

"Oh Brett, the Wiis came in today. (nameless) has dibbs on one of them, you want the other?"

The unexpected retort:

"Uh...yeah," I said, in a state of gleeful shock. Suddenly, the thought of accessing a console before its release sprinted in; do employee benefits include such a privilege?

"Alright. We can't sell them until Sunday though, you'll just have to wait until then," my superior teammate informed me. "But we'll make sure it's set aside, okay?"

Well, that was a dream that ended faster than others.

"(I don't remember what my comment was but it was probably unintelligent and severely thankful)!"

I quickly called my bro even before I got out of the store. He was pleased with the news for it meant a sure evening of fun rather than a 20-degree commitment with an unknown outcome. Likewise pleased, I began to believe that all that fuss was going to pay off and get me a Wii.


My brother's underground bachelor-mansion was irregularly warm as our accompanying homeboy and I waited for the third member of the crew to arrive. A kit of outdoor necessities was not packed because there was no need. My Wii was safe and sound in the secluded labyrinth of the Pamida backroom, all it took was for me to say "Hi" and I'd be face-first into the next generation. Excitement had morphed into the Blue Ranger and then confident pondering.

Just as long as it took for us to drive over a hundred miles, we were halfway to our destination and only 7.5 hours away from the 3rd and plausibly final console launch for our calender year. The trio of us were enjoying a nice car ride and a weekend off, just to make things that much more pleasant.

(soundless noise of a cell-phone on manner [vibrate lol] mode)

The caller ID displayed the name of my buddy, co-worker and former linemate, the guy responsible for my job and checking account.

"Hey dude, what's up?"

His voice sounded reluctant and sympathetic. "Yeah, Brett? This is Josh."
"Yup, I'm fully aware of that."

"Well, (our boss) says that employees cannot get any special advantages, so we can't hold a Wii for you."

Although those speaking were almost 2 hours away from each other, the conversation dissolved into a mutal silence.

zomg phind out nxt tiem

Spelunking the rich,

Monday, November 20, 2006

Gliding to cranberries

Last Time, on the Adventures of a Corporate Fanboy:

scroll down to find out more!


Things to pack:
-Sleeping Bag
-Numerous Blankets
-Gameboy w/ AA batteries
-Gloves 'n Mittens 'n Handcoats

Everything on the above list was ready and waitin' to be utalized for comforting needs. Even if we were not lucky enough to nab a Wii, the dude(tte)s we'd meet and the Olympic-like experience would make it at least ignorantly pleasurable, if not newsworthily rememberable.

Websites and CNN alike were covering the Playstation 3 launch with a "glad I'm not there" approach, which got fairly annoying as they all started repeating the same universal reports. After switching off both monitors in dread, I hopped into Simmons and cruised to Pamida, in search of school supplies for kids who aren't me but are definitely needy. Dispite my customer intentions, they asked if I could help the store muscleman with lifting mysterious boxes. The money wouldn't hurt; I punched my time card with a left hook and began doing what I do best: loading trailers.

A hour and a half passed. It was nice to lend a hand/arm to my co-workers and I wasn't planning anything more important. I told my shift leader that I had to go; a statement which he understood and agreed to.

"Oh, Brett, hold up," he said as I strolled to the employee area. "The Wiis came in today. (nameless) has dibbs on one of them, you want the other?"

Boy, that question is like a friendly Rhino in Zubaz: surreally easy.

Or is it?

We'll all figure that out someday.

Iratedness earns D's,
Bretty Bird

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Bungee walking by moonlight

As of three months ago, today's post was going to discribe my magical weekend of outdoor sleep, meeting cool passionable people like myself and, most importantly, the unique allure of the Nintendo Wii.

I've been looking forward to November 19th for seemingly forever. If you dare to view the earliest of my early blog archives, you'll actually find a embarssingly undetailed report giving the low-down on the former Revolution and its then-newly-reveiled controller, along with the mild-controversy surrounding it (keep in mind that the PS3 was almost 100% speculation at the time). The Revolution was dubbed 'Wii' sometime that spring.

Between then and now I've:

1. Come to terms with my Nintendo Fanboydom
2. Gotten a job for the sole purpose of buying the Wii at its launch date
3. Grown 0'0"
4. Yet to improve 1337ness of any sort, really.

November 19th was the holy day of Wii. My personal numberical countdown was started as screenshots and other media of launch titles began to pour out, and how sweet the pixel-juice was! Twilight Princess, Red Steel, even motherfucking Happy Feet looked amazing as the albino nunchaku began to break down walls and attract followers as if they were Transition Metals.

I wrote poetry. I drew pictures. I stayed up past my bedtime to find the current info on the little rectangular prism that could. Pumped was I for I was pumped.

But excitement is petty swagger without organization, which was uncharacteristicly a nonproblem for my endeavours. Asides from one large miscue (missed the reservation date), I was totally informed of the local situation regarding the sequently available video game console extravaganza. The options were weighed as my two partners in my Wii quest (who have remained unmentioned for some reason) aided my decision that resembles a father selecting national parks for a family vacation.


After a period of inactivity, a bright idea stumbled upon my noggin: talk to the workplace (a minor-league department store) about the possibility of ordering and holding a trio of Wiis for a trio of cool cats. I was given a basically confident "We'll see" from the electronic guru; no specifics were told but the message was fairly evident.

The other two would eventually drop out of contention due to financial matters (IE: they didn't have enough money), I was going Godsmack in this battle.

time flies by sort of

My brother and a close friend told me of a possible roadtrip to go see my older sister; a journey that usually involves rushed fun and hours of pavement and prairie.
I don't see her enough; of course I'll go with. One problem: which weekend will this take place? November 17-19th.

Shit. Family or Wii? Both for 100, Alex.

Who says I cannot camp out with my sister? It works out, see, because the nearest hotspot of consumer goods is 30 minutes away in North Dakota. North Dakota happens to have a truely dated law that says no business shall be open before noon on Sundays. My sister (who has a name) goes to college in Minnesota, where no such rule is enforced, meaning a whole half-day of enjoyment with Nintendo's latest. Arrangements were made and remade and preremade but either way, it was all set up for the most part.

Fade to last Thursday, right smackdab in the embellished Playstation 3 scandal. The odds were stacked against anyone without a tent and 6-day strong BO. I feared that the same fate would fall upon casual Wii-campers (if there is such a thing) for my pary would not be able to set up a temporary living areauntil about 5'o clock on Saturday night, thanks to the NCAA of all things. The line could be overwelmingly long by then, in fact, it was logical that any premature effort would be futile.

We had to try though. The Wii only launches once, right? Right?

2 b cuntinud...

Chickens of litter,
Brett w/ handles

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Gas-powered loathing

This statement is in both my blog and journal.

You know what that means?

Time to make my own clip-art.

So I'm watching a giant humanoid figure make of circumsized forskins eat a bearded clam-lady and now its fighting the second coming of Christ, which farces the Statue of Liberty in Ghostbusters 2 and has the voicebox of Stephen Hawking. It's not a good thing to view when you're really tired or really impressionable or really stoned or really stupid; it's generally disturbing and odd.

In about an hour from now, America will be 2/3 of the way into the next generation of electronic entertainment and what's on G4 right now, the network devoted and derived from video games and everything related? The Man Show. The fucking Man Show. Sorry, but it was only funny when I was 14 and learning about fallopean tubes. It's fine that it's being broadcasted, but what if ESPN decided to show billiards instead of Super Bowl pregame?

lol vaginaz

"Click" is awful. My class chose to watch it for the Chaos Theory unit over "Back to the Future", "The Terminator" and "Home Alone 2". Both painfully predictable and pathetic, the film makes you wonder why they based an entire production off of an Austin Powers joke.

Oh, it's girls jumping on trampolines. Ha, trampolines.

Methinks you don't get it.

Spirit of the Diploducus,

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Bubblegum is but a distraction

Today's post will be in

Which path will Brett choose?

Will mistakes be committed a second time?

What the fuck?

Streams of turkey,

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Monitoring the habits of maturity

The PS3 can pwn Rubix Cubes and make fully grown crows out of chicken eggs.

Can you?

"chuck norris can lol"

You really need to get yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

Speaking of denominational celebrations: it's Thanksgiving in about 1.4 weeks or so, and you know what that means?

People are about to outrageously panic.

Funny how the holidays were created to give people some time off so they could say "_________ is cool, hail ________!" or "Thanks, __________, for this lovely _________." They were intended to provide enjoyment and self-reflection, yet the American society has made it into a dreadful freight-train of compressed anxiety by which millions will morph into raging trolls with shopping bags.

I'll get my fair share of seasonal stress this year thanks to my retail employment facility, where I will undoubtedly experience the tidings of angry customers in their Yuletide plights. Hopefully there will be no Turbo Man of 2006; it's unlikely that I could handle a horde pothering parents, attempting to win over their children via toys/gadgets that they'll probably end up forgetting about anyways as the little shits discover the blessings of Marijuana.

Underaged hellions should be a treat as well.

"Mommy I wan' Gwan' Theff' Auo!"

"Sorry Jimmy, you'll end up as a criminal like your Uncle Charles!"

"Fu' you, ho'!"

Hung like a scorpion,
Brette of Ye Newe Shoppe

Monday, November 13, 2006

Hateful jamborees

Someday I will do investigative reporting beyond the boundries of Wikipedia.

However, that day is not November 13, 2006 or January 45, 1867.

My Pokemon squad is offically completely assembled and their raising/steriod injecting is still in progress. A detailed 'Meet the Team' session will be held when they reach the point of casual boasting/vicarious dreamliving. Let's just say they're not exactly 'profession' but they are certainly 'paid' for their 'efforts.'

Over the weekend, I was reminded of the effective and shunned tactic of 'annoy your opponent into a blind rage by which you can take advantage', often called 'productive pestering.' Not really, but now is the time for new trends to take over if there is ever going to be.

'ProPes' is best used in either physical or virtual competition, not in a battle of whits, for obnoxiousness won't give you an edge if the dude your facing off against knows everything, k?

Say you're playing the popular sport of "basketball", one of the most frustrating activities this side of the Water Temple. Most people believe height and size dominate the game, but alas, a chipmunk/guard that can run in circles exceptionally fast while making squeaking noises will prove to find sucess, assuming he/she can fuckin' nock dwn t3h outsid3 jumpr and has handles like a pasta strainer:

Noodles go in, but the don't come out.

Basically, they don't look like they're irrelavant pipshits but then you find out otherwise and pretty soon you have yourself 16 fouls and a 45 game suspension for whipping out a RGB in the 3rd quarter.

Examples of Productive Pesterers:

-Allen Iverson
-Pablo Sanchez
-Pikachu in Super Smash Brothers
-The Quotient Rule
-GeneralCole (assumingly)
-Pikachu in Super Smash Brothers Melee
-Tweety-Bird (with or without the hyphen)
-Underpants Gnomes
-Pikachu in Super Smash Brothers Brawl

If you excuse me, I have some catching up to do with an old friend...

Inexplict linkage of copyright fractions,
Brett two oh

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Elite nouns and hunched phraises

In a world where althetics were like video games:

1. Those who practice more would suceed more.
2. Strategy > Ability
3. Instead of 'Andre Carter' and 'Randy Johnston', stars would have cool names like 'NEO' and 'ItWasLuck.'
4. You could not distinguish the competitors from the fans.
5. RedBull and Bawls would be official sponsors and used in postgame-celebrations/pregame rituals.

If video games were more similar to sports:

1. LogiTech and MadKatz would dish out controller endorsement deals.
2. A n00b could easily pwn a seasoned vet, assuming the newcomer has the knack of unconquerable subconscious skill.
3. A professional Mario player could be paid millions while he gets consistently dominated by the first goomba.


Oh noes! I'm posting on the blog!

Why didn't anyone tell me?

Tangerine corncob,

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Looking past the visual


\We can never know about the days to come
But we think about them anyway, yay

And I wonder if I'm really with you now
Or just chasin' after some finer day

Anticipation, anticipation
Is makin' me late
Is keepin' me waitin'

Carly Simon said it best: "Give patience a chance (paraphraised)."

My excitement enflames as my neckhairs become icedly stiff, the hours linger yet the grail seems nearer than ever before.

You hear that? I'm pumped.

...but not too pumped.

Lukewarm porrage,
Brett <3's the dictionary

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Unwanted lumps, cherish thee

Holy shit, gravy is about 7/4 cooler than paper cutters aka scissors.

My hunger strenghtens with each particle of unmelted glass that seeps through the bust of time.

There are times when EasyMac is insufficient and I dwellingly post about wanting food rather than eating it.

Gosh that's silly.

Razor sharp fuzziness,

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Points of escalation

Good grief, yesterday marked my 69th post and I didn't make a big fuss as a result. My only hope is to hack into the Blogger database, outmanuever/gun its treacherous defense systems and turn back the eternal clock within, thus giving me another shot at some sort of statement like this:

69th p0st lol

God bless (virtual) American time travel.

Today would've been an exquisite evening to mess around with a video camera and end up with some poorly shot clips of my friends acting goofy/normal with tin foil and I dunno, a stuffed Garfield doll.

...which brings me to my next and essentially urgent subject: stuffed animals and the common (wrong) titles that they're often referred to.

Common Mistakes
Plush Animals
Plush Dolls
Stuffed Doll
Dolly Plushes
Dolly Animals
Beanie Babies
Bean Bags
Beans Beans they come from the Hearts
Beanie Dolls

This is a stuffed animal:

Here is another example:

(note: She wants to get it one with me, assuming her shirt doesn't lie)


So, since that issue is unforgivenably solved:

lol self-cannibalism

Problems lead to followers,

Monday, November 06, 2006

Rainbows of potential

"brett do u liek fallout boy??"

Not in particular, no, I'm more of a a brass-hole, a horn lorn or a obsessive trombone enthusiest, most commonly referred to as a 'ska fan.'

The reason behind my clinging to the genre is unknown, unclear and possibly nuclear, but I can ensure you that no matter what mood I'm in, the peppy blend of trumpets and guitars seem to be the right choice for a bright future.

The last seven words in the above paragraph just happen to be the campaign slogan of my running mate and I for student council elections, uncoincidentally enough.

Anyways, Reel Big Fish, the posterboys/frontrunners of the 3rd-wave ska scene, released their latest album a month or two or three ago. Their 6th (or 7th) record/CD/lazerdisc is their first of the 'Live' variety, giving it more vitality and content than the previous few, along with an impressive amount of actual circular dataplates.

"Our Live Album is Better than Your Live Album" is both a true statement and the title of the aforementioned published playlist. 3 discs, 55 tracks (some are repeated [ie: both audio and visual]) and oodles of impulsive fun can be yours for the scant price of about 15-20 American dollars if you feel like being awesome.


Most kids seek candy,

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Team Rocket's red glare

For the past few seconds I've been playfully toying with the thought of a new layout for this here Web Logging Area. A fresh look to JHB or whatever its called might be exactly what Dr.Mario perscribed.

That could possibly be the largest picture of an Italian medical officer in t3h world.

In regards to the recent trend of sleep-deprived rubber-coated Minutemen and their untolerable request of neverending Egos and shower curtains:

Vote Intelligently: Vote Sodomy.

One of my newly and subconsciously required privileges is the one that pertains to the legal and offically legit selection of elected officals. And no, 'elected' is not spelt 'e-l-e-t-e-c-t-ed.'

How do I feel about that? I'm fortunate that my 18th year just happens to feature an election instead of an erection or an infection or an erection infection. Get it? Anatomy and science are gross and crude!

I'm going to vote on Tuesday and anyone who's of-age and awesome should also.
(note: Brett is not awesome but he is of-age)

Your only option is to sleep,
Brett pew pew pew

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Bricks of iron and noodles

"brett were do babies com from?"

Shut up and read your comic.

For the very first time in possibly all of 2006, I got an idea for an article (aka overly-lengthy posts with specific themes and pix!!!1). Coincidentally enough, I forgot it just now.

Oh there it is again.

"You're in the Super Bowl, Charlie Brown" is by far the funniest film since "SoaP". Not only does it featuring enough repeating animations to make the fiends responsible for Scooby-Doo say 'Lazy fucktards', but the said segments are approximately 7 minutes too long!

But I digress, for the cartoon is a legit classic and Charles Shulz has possibly the most frequently mispelt last name of any celebrity (and he's from Minnesota!!!1). The football that rivals both "Rudy" and "Revenge of the Titans" begins with an apparently NFL-sponsored game between felines and Woodstock clones, with Snoopy at the helms of the feathered little cheep wannabes.

Either way, the birds dismember the cats, and the crowd cheers on the bloodbath.

Then there's like 47 polysecond pauses and a PPK (punt pass klan) competition and the Peanuts gang decide to wear helmets because throwing a football can give you a severe concussion without head-armor. They also represent selective NFL teams, or do they??

There's no business like no business.

Marconi Plays Thrice,
Brett listens to the radio

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Equivalent to yogurt and hunter

"brett wut did u do 4 halowean??"

Shit, it was Halloween last night? According to whom? What supporting evidence do you have?

Exhibit A

Little kids were wearing costumes, being guided around to gather candy and other sweets (no apples of course, damn razor blades!!).

Does the defendant have anything in response?

(the defendant)
Children are allowed and prone to dress up as fantasy characters or Presidents on a daily basis. That claim is irrelevant.

Exhibit 4.26

Pumpking sales/stocks are soaring, along with other spooky decor and seasonable veggies!

(t3h d3f3nd4n7)
Ha, I knowingly doubt the pumpkins are actually sprouting little green wings and flying, kid. Metaphors are poision, especially in the field of law.

Exhibit Georgia
'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown' was on last Friday. Now why would it be played during any other time period of the year?

(The ant who defends)
Three words: slow news day. Or: baseball rain delay. Or: Next question please.

Exhibit, Jr.
Today is November 1st, right?

(the armored representative attorney)
Only in the modern American calender.

Exhibit Zero (w/ no calories)
Well, you're gay!! Fag!!

(the defendant)
I've got nothing.

Green Porcupine Cosmic,
Brett and Enriee