I’ve been seeing commercials for Hancock so long that I feel like it’s been out forever. Of course it only came out today and instead of waiting for the weekend to see it with my mom I decided to go solo and see it opening day. She’ll be okay.
Hancock is kind of a comic book movie. A comic book movie not based on an actual comic book. Hancock played by Will Smith is an alcoholic, antisocial, and amnesiac superhero or maybe antihero if I want to continue the alliteration. He can fly, he’s bullet proof, he’s strong, his nails are razor sharp, and he’s nigh immortal. He’s also depressed, disinterested, and lonely. Hancock tries to get beneath the skin of heroes and attempts to show the genre from another side, the personal life of a superhero. Unfortunately, what we get to see is superficial and trite. What the movie is supposed to do and what it actually does are two different things. Hancock barely grazes the surface of our downtrodden title character and when it does never gets much deeper than a mosquito bite.
The movie opens with a high speed chase taking place in L.A. while Hancock is passed out on a bench. He’s finally wakened from his drunken slumber by a kid and he flies off to play the hero. If you’ve seen any of the trailers you already know what scene I’m talking about. He flies to the freeway hindering the police while trying to stop the high speed chase/shootout. My first annoyance with this movie and first hint that this movie didn’t know if it wanted to be a kiddie movie or one for adults happened here. Hancock is flying down the freeway and through signs with “Move Bitch” by Ludacris playing in the background. What’s wrong with that? Did I mention that is was the clean/radio version of it? Why not play the album version since Hancock or other characters in the film say bitch or worse throughout? Whatever.
For those of you who are curious I ordered the Swallow or it goes in your eye shirt yesterday. I also got it for 25% off so I’m happy about that. I’m tempted to get another but I’ll see how I like the cut and feel of the one I ordered. Unfortunately, the shirt doesn’t even ship until the day before I leave for Parts Unknown so I just decided to have them ship it to her place. She probably won’t even get the chance to put deodorant stains in the armpits as she has threatened. I’d hate to have the Detroit in me come out and be forced to beat her with a brick before curbstomping her. It would be tragic but as long as her booty was somehow allowed to remain on life support and in my custody then I’d be okay.
Val called to let me know that she got our tickets for the midnight showing of the Dark Knight in IMAX. Suck it bitches! I’m so fucking excited!
My blog received comment number 8,000 over the weekend. The person who made said comment was none other than Southern Gal. Her prize is a seat on the Freakytopian throne, i.e. my lap. Feel free to squirm, wiggle, and bounce to your heart’s content or my eyes roll back in my head and I begin speaking gibberish, which ever happens last. I’m seriously thinking about giving out something for my 10,000th comment. I have no idea what or if I’ll actually go through with it but who knows. Maybe I won’t feel like a cheap bastard as it approaches and if I make the 10,000th comment I can just treat myself. Yay me!
The weekend was okay. Friday we took Tantrum’s happy ass to the vet. She’s the only dog I’ve ever had that is happy to see the vet. I don’t get her but I love my special dog. I don’t love how she’s shedding though. Well, she won’t be in Pussy anytime soon because she doesn’t have to return to the vet for awhile. If I get the leather interior in my next ride like I want then she will never be in my ride again. No sir.
Saturday, I went to the movies. It was a toss up between Wall-E and Wanted and if you read my Twitter then you know which one won out. I had to see Wanted. When I was younger one of the things I really wanted to be when I grew up was an assassin. I thought the coolest thing in the world would be to work for some shadowy organization, receive a dossier of my latest target, stalk him, and kill him in a creative and graphic fashion. When I’m done I’d check my offshore bank account to find an obscene amount of money wired to my account.
The theater was good which was a good sign. I was a bit annoyed that my usual location, the last row, wasn’t available. I hate people sitting behind me and yapping in my ear. You don’t know how much I have to resist the urge to unwrap my pimp hand and just start slapping hoes. I don’t understand why when people find out a movie is based on a comic book they think they need to know the whole backstory to understand it. I never read the Lords of the Rings books, most of Stephen King’s books, etc. and I still managed to understand and enjoy the movie. Is it really that serious?
Hard to believe I’ve been doing Fuck it Friday for a little over two years now. The actual anniversary date was Monday but Fuck it Friday is an end of the week type of thing. Seriously, no one should be this pissed off or annoyed starting the week off. Well, I can be that angry but I usually let that linger and fester for a few days and let my venom out on Friday. Since this is an anniversary post I’ve decided to make it public. Enjoy because it’s going to be awhile before you’re ever treated to another one again. The next one goes back to being for my regulars only. I’m also going to do something different today. Any I.P. address showing up in my stats that I don’t log a comment from, while this is the current post, will be banned just for shits and giggles. I don’t want to hear any of you remedial assholes commenting at me indirectly on other people’s blogs about getting banned or getting any passive aggressive e-mails. I warned you I was going to do it. Reading is fundamental motherfuckers! It’s also your friend. I don’t like illiterate people anyway, unless they have XL dick sucking lips like Fantasia. What?!
In case you’re new, a window licker, or just haven’t figured things out yet here’s the deal. Fuck it Friday is a spotlight rant post where I give special attention to the people, places, and things that have annoyed me, pissed me the fuck off, or otherwise deserve the one finger salute! This post contains a lot of profanity. If that’s offensive to you then get your panty waste ass out of here because I cuss a lot in general! At times my rants may be misogynistic, racist, elitist, blasphemous, mean spirited, arrogant, seething with sarcasm, and pretty much piss in the face of what you believe and your sensibilities. Deal with it or get the fuck on! As is everything else in my blog this post is written from my perspective. If anything I say hits a bit too close to home for you then fuck you! It’s your problem not mine. Now with that out of the way read on.
Fuck lurkers in the ass with hot cheese covered, ragged pieces of metal for eternity and beyond while being tea bagged by hot, sweaty, salty, stanky donkey balls! Fuck all the rotten teeth yuckmouth lurkers from Europe and the nappy-headed, dusty ass, flies landing and setting up shop on your fucking eyes lurker niggers from Africa! Fuck the bitch made rotten pussy lurkers who will read this and still be afraid to comment. Change your goddamn pullups you tiny bladder punks! Fuck all the lurkers from Georgia, New York, New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia, and California in particular! Cat got your tongues or are you rude cocksucking motherfuckers too busy swallowing and keeping down the obscene amounts of semen you love to eat? Fuck all the lurkers from Verizon and Roadrunner ISPs! I see scary, mute bitches.
I’ve been getting some e-mails and comments directed towards me so I thought I’d clear a few things up. If you have never commented and don’t comment regularly then don’t ask me for a password. You’ve done nothing to warrant it but thanks for the hits and page views. Unless I’m truly bored or feeling magnanimous (which doesn’t happen often minus cash or other considerations) it just isn’t going to happen. Fuck it Friday is strictly a post for and to reward my regulars, those who actually comment on a regular basis. The rest of the password protected posts aren’t for lurkers or people who come by once in a blue moon. Hell, you’re the reason why I protected the posts. I refuse to share some things with a bunch of selfish, inconsiderate motherfuckers who always seem to have enough time to read but can’t take a minute or two to comment. Fuck you! Over 90% of the 600+ posts on Freakytopia (yeah I’ve added some new stuff so everyone who could once say they’ve read every post can no longer make that claim, are open to be perused by regulars, semi-regulars, blue mooners, and even the lurkers, who I usually give some chance to comment before I ban their pussy bitch asses) are free to read and comment on. By the end of the month most, if not all of the Fuck it Friday’s will be password protected and I’ll probably retroactively password several other posts. Invariably I get a couple of ass smears who come out of the shadows once and claim they’re no longer lurkers and ask for a password. To you I say hoe sit down, choke on pissing dick and die you fucktarded waste of semen!
From the bottom of my heart, I truly detest lurkers. I don’t know how to express it any more clearly to some of you simple minded, thimble brained, mentally retarded, nosy little mute peons. Hell, I’m surprised some of you bastards are even smart enough to breath out of your mouths let alone be as annoying as you are. I’ve done posts on why I hate you fuckers. I moved from Blogger because they didn’t give me the option to ban you fuckers. I’ve asked people to comment nicely and I’ve asked people not so nicely to comment, to little or no effect. One of the reasons I blog is for the interaction. Hell, it’s the main reason why most people have a public blog. Without the comments I’ll either get bored and stop blogging (providing you one less blog to read) or I’ll just make it private and you’ll still have one less blog to read. The comments entertain me and make blogging worthwhile. Let’s keep it real, I’m in this for me and my entertainment. If I’m not entertained I really couldn’t give a piss blue fuck about entertaining any of you. In simpler terms if you don’t comment I have no reason to post.
This ain’t Blogger or one of those free spots. I pay for this shit and because I do I and I alone get to make the rules here. One of the rules here is that if you want to continue viewing my blog then you need to comment. If you want a password to a password protected post then you need to comment fairly regularly. The only exception is to make a donation to the Freaky Deaky Fund. If you make a donation then I don’t give a fuck if you ever comment until it’s time to resubscribe. E-mail me for rates. If you can’t do that then you leave me with several choices. I can ban you, I can increase the number of password protected post, I can make the blog a private (members only blog), I can make it a private blog (for my eyes only), or I can just say fuck it and stop blogging altogether. Let’s face it, at this point I’d rather just flip all of you monkey niggers off and stop blogging then to go private. You could always quit coming by if you can’t muster up enough to comment as often as you read but that would be too much like right, huh? So what’s it going to be? But before you answer that I’d like to know something. (more…)
People on the Internet really trip me out at times and make me pull out the blank fucking stare. I’ve been trying to socialize more and find some people locally who can rise higher than the associate rung on my ladder of friendship. I don’t make friends easily. Mainly because I’m extremely distrustful, cynical, and not necessarily an outwardly friendly person. I’ve struck friendships up with people almost instantly but that is definitely an exception to the rule for me. Becoming friends with me is a bit like mixing ballet with war. I’m demanding and difficult, I freely admit that. Friendships, like most relationships I develop, tend to be rather intense. I love deeply and possibly hate even deeper. Many people can’t handle that. Fuck’em. Until I know and believe you’re down for me and worthy of any trust I might invest in you I always have to and will look out for number one. When getting to know me I often keep people at arm’s length. Even when I let you in I’m quick to put up walls, moats, barbwire, my arm, and anything else I feel I have to do to protect myself. I’ll never apologize for how I feel or for putting up my guard. I also won’t conform to anyone’s opinion of how I should feel, when I should feel it, how long I should feel it, or how I process my feelings. It’s just not going to happen.
I got into a discussion about my blog with a reader. Apparently they were looking at my last comments. I mentioned something about deleting some of the darker stuff I wrote in part because I didn’t want to be bothered with insincere concern and worry. She asked if I really thought the concern was insincere. I affirmed what I previously said. Honestly, if I shot myself in the head today maybe one person would be genuinely concerned or sad. Everybody else would be annoyed there wouldn’t be a Fuck it Friday that week or miss my one liners and quips but that’s about it. She asked why I thought concern from people on the Internet was insincere? Basically because it’s people from the Internet. She asked me if I had ever been genuinely concerned about someone on the Internet. I paused and thought. Then I thought some more. I finally came to the conclusion that if I had to think about it that long then the answer was probably no, at least in recent years.
Most people withhold a lot of things from their blogs. Of those people, I’m certain that most of them mainly or exclusively choose to post things that shows them in a positive light. For all I know everyone I ever read, currently read, or will ever read could be the biggest liars on the planet. She asked me if I genuinely meant it when I wished people well. I guess, to a point. There’s only so much good things I can stand to hear from a person before part of me begins to feel that they’re rubbing their good fortunes in my face or bragging about it. At that point I start wishing for bad things to happen to them. Yeah, I’m sure it’s not a nice thing to think or philosophy to have but it is what it is and I own it.
Sometimes I get bored and while listening to the voices in my head, a lot of mean thoughts bandy about. Let’s be real some of the voices in my head are mischievous and some are downright assholes. Here are some of the things they’ve tempted me to do. Have fun guessing which ones I’ve actually done. I’m not Puffy but this is the remix bitches! I’ve supplied the answers to which I’ve done. How many did you get right?
I’m going to use my demon voice to scare the hell out of your young children and act like I don’t know why they’re crying. ***GUILTY*** Yeah I’ve done this before. Scaring kids like that is hifuckinglarious to me especially when they start crying and looking around for help.
I’m going to introduce any kids I come into contact with to the Boogeyman, Father Flanigan, Big Bubba, Broomstick Brenda, and the Tossed Salad Man. ***GUILTY*** I used to be terrified of the Boogeyman as a kid. Factor that with the horrific and graphic nightmares I suffered from and a slight fear of the dark and you would think I wouldn’t want to introduce kids to that. Yeah, you’d think but then you’d be wrong. I mainly tell kids about them when I’m really bored or they’re working my last nerve.
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