|HDTV, marijuana and bargain-basement sex ...|
I bought a widescreen TV the day before Thanksgiving. Mostly so I
had something to give thanks for. I've been watching a lot of my old
favorites, in widescreen, for the first time. Well, not for the
first time, being that I saw them at the theater, but the first time in my
recliner. The first thing to remember, if you want to live a happy
life as a snappy loser, is that every movie is better when viewed from the
comfort of a cheap recliner, with beer stains and the faint smell of
Being that I received the TV right before a holiday, lots of people had a chance to look at it and comment on it. My brother, who was slightly drunk after drinking a weird concoction of caramel apple flavored Schnapps and Red Bull, declared, "I'd rather watch movies here than at any damn theater!" He then ran out of the room and vomited. I don't know if that's the most ringing endorsement. My other brother, who was sober, but wondered if anyone had some pot, said the TV was "pretty cool, I guess." Then he farted and pretended that the embarrassing event occurred because the turkey was "half-baked." I have no idea what he was talking about, but his mind was probably on the pot.
My girlfriend said the TV was making her jealous and wondered why I didn't buy her a ring, instead of spending a thousand dollars on a TV. Then she wondered where I came across a thousand dollars. Maybe my brother's magically loaded bong should have given her a hint. Not that I deal drugs. Not that there would be anything wrong with it, if I did. The war on drugs is a farce so pathetic that only the war on terrorism could look worse. I asked my girlfriend if she'd get aroused watching porn on a 34" screen. She was immediately pissed, but I saved myself by claiming that women are too skinny and if I stretched a 4:3 image to a widescreen image, they'll finally be sexy, due to the fact that they'll look all fat, like my girlfriend. I didn't actually tell her she looked fat, but, secretly in my brain, I thought she should lay off the turkey. And by turkey I don't mean me, even though I'm sometimes called a turkey. I have a penis.
My best friend Shawn saved me from ugly things like makeup sex when he came over to eat leftovers and take an objective look at my brand spankin' new television. He thought it was a "pretty good" picture, but reminded me that his HDTV was 55" and mine was only 34. I reminded him that size doesn't matter and he said, "tell that to your girlfriend." I'm still scratching my head over that one.
My friend Steve, a fellow videogame geek, spent a few hours at my house but made me turn Hellboy off. "Hellboy sucks," he defiantly said, "why do you like this piece of shit so much?" I answered with, "because I have taste" and he said that was the critic in me coming out. I then reminded him that he loved The Fast and the Furious and won the argument. It's like the cinematic version of "rock paper scissors." If you love The Fast and the Furious, you're a big fucking loser and should go home and play with your rock. Or scissors. Or whatever the hell item in the game is a loser. I never did like that game. We ended up playing Halo 2 for the next 90 minutes. It's pretty cool in widescreen. Heck, it'd be pretty cool on a screen no bigger than the one that came with the original Gameboy.
Then there was my female friend who's not my girlfriend. She promised she would come over, but not until Saturday. Then she decided she would probably come Friday, due to super-neat circumstances that I don't have time to get into. Then she cancelled, but swore she'd come on Saturday. She then cancelled Saturday. She's somehow managed to cancel doing something with me, at my house, for around a year, now. We attend screenings together, but, ever since she got heavy with her boyfriend, I think that I'm sort of a throwaway friend. Like Rambo, in Rambo II; I'm expendable. It sucks to be Rambo in Rambo II. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, sort of like they thought Rambo was in First Blood. We do still have some incredible phone conversations. Even so, my friend who's a girl but not my girlfriend had no comment about my television.
Sunday my sexy neighbor's daughter came over to look at the TV. At 18, she's too young for me, but if I happened to be Charlie Chaplin, was single, and wasn't dead, I'd bone her in a second. Did you know Charlie Chaplin was dead? He's still funnier than you. Anyway, I had C-SPAN on when she arrived at my house. I was actually asleep watching C-SPAN. It's weird to be asleep watching something, because technically you're really just sleeping with something on that you meant to watch. For some reason I find C-SPAN to be a great sleeping pill, those days when it isn't freaking me out and keeping me awake. Anyway, my neighbor asked why George Bush was so "distorted." I had the Resident of the United States on "full" mode, for some unknown reason. Being the man of quick wit that I can occasionally be, especially when it comes to dissing conservatives, I told her I stretched his image out, to represent Bush's STRETCHING the truth. Get it? Ha ha ha. I guess Charlie Chaplin's still funnier than me, too. Her (my neighbor) dad is the president of a bank and a diehard Republican. I think, based on the dirty look she gave me, his daughter thought I was deliberately insulting her father's right wing lunacy. She didn't stay long, but she did say the TV was "rad." Who says "rad," anymore? I guess hot daughters of bank presidents. I think she has breast implants -- which no teen should ever have. One time I accidentally bumped into them and they felt like a beach ball. That simultaneously made me horny and repulsed.
Finally, my dog Porthos vindicated my purchase. I put a picture up of him and his girlfriend. His girlfriend is a stray bitch. Although the dogs are neutered and spayed, they are deeply in love. Every time she shows up at the front door, I let her in and they love each other in that platonic way that could only occur between a couple with exactly no nuts and one useless vagina, between them. When I displayed this picture on the television, Porthos kissed the television and whimpered in a way that only a canine in love could whimper.
This picture is a blurred cheap version of the one Porthos saw, but you can still tell that both dogs are licking their lips. Isn't that sweet? Porth is the one sitting in back. The stray dog is the one in front. She's less distorted than Porth (due to the resizing of an initially huge image), but Porth is a better looking dog, in real life. Really. I'm not just being a proud parent. Am I?
So that's all there is to it. My dog made me proud of my purchase, Hellboy is a great movie (and an even better comic) and Republicans still suck -- even if they do have sexy daughters. Speaking of sucking, I tried to watch an episode of Family Guy while my girlfriend sucked me off. She said she'd "swallow," if I promised not to write this update. I told her to spit.
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