This installment will focus on commercials.  I really, truly hate most commercials.  I don't know who the fuck writes them - I mean, I know the entertainment business is sorely out of touch with any kind of reality whatsoever, but commercial writers really take the cake (I can't help but think of Jimmy from South Park when I type that line).  Anyhoodles, I give to you some of the more recent commercials that I hate and how I think they should have ended...

Zyrtec Bike-Riding Bitch: This is the commercial where the broad starts talking to her bicycle as if it's her lover (I can understand that feeling if it was a motorized bicycle...maybe she likes to ride bumpy trails or something). Anyways, she's talking about how much she missed her bicycle because of her stupid allergies (I think she says allergies funny - actually, I'm fairly certain that they gave her a new voice because the original voice was that of a 60 year old, not someone who's in her 20s, which is what we are led to believe).  So anyways, Bike-Bitch takes her Zyrtec and now she gets to ride off down the bike path of dreams, to which she owes to Zyrtec.  That's pretty much the end of the commercial.  I think they needed to take it one step further.  She's riding on the bike path, telling her bicycle about some new panties she bought...she's not paying any attention to the oncoming jogger.  They collide.  She gets up and thanks her lucky stars that she had on her trusty bike helmet.  Phew, that was close.  But, a wayward 16 wheeler come barreling down the bike path (hey, it could happen) and SPLAT!  She's crushed...ain't no bicycle helmet gonna help you now.  I hope they have Zyrtec in Hell.

Crazy Febreze Freak Family: So, I'm sure you've seen this commercial.  Mother who should be minding her own business walks into her son with the quasi-Emo hair cut and proceeds to tell him his curtains stink (what the fuck is he doing in there exactly).  Obviously, there is no father in the Frebreze Freak family, because quite frankly, what kind of God-fearing American man would let his son have such a faggy hairdo anyways? None I know.  So, Mother decides that they must wash the room (notice how she says wash funny - I think we are noticing a theme).  So, they go on some orgasmic Frebreze spraying trip (Freud would have so much fun with this family) to wash the room of all the horrible curtain odors.  Then, quasi-Emo boy's "friends" (who are all female) come over and comment how nice it smells.  I'm fairly certain they are not his friends, but girls from the crazy born-again Christian church who assume that this boy is gay because of his Emo hair and are sent to save his soul and turn him into a good old tittie-loving hetrosexual who will be slipping the girls Roofies in no time.  Then the commercial ends.  I'd take it this one step further.  The fumes from the Mother-Son Febreze orgy give them cancer.  I don't know what kind, so we'll call it Febreze Cancer.  They must go to hospital to be cured.  All is well, no more Febreze cancer!  Yay for them, right?  Not so fast my little turtledoves...you see, because the house has been closed up for quite some time (remember, there's no daddy in the picture and obviously they have no friends - the girls decided that he's not gay, but ready to become some sort of serial killer so they high-tailed it out of there), the fumes from the Frebreze have been building up for quite some time.  Frebreze Family comes home, walks in their house and with all the hope in the world, checks their answering machine.  Mother presses the button and KABOOM!  the electrical spark from pressing the button causes the Febreze fumes to combust and they house explodes.  Poor Febreze Family - they'll need something a lot stronger than Frebreze to get rid of the smell of sulphur and rotting corpses.  Enjoy your time in Hell, losers.

That's all for now kiddies. 

Good Gods, no wonder why I have been feeling so uncreative lately.  I haven't posted on my journal in 9 weeks!  I guess I haven't had much to say.  Or, I've gotten so accustomed to Twitter and Facebook, that my thoughts have been relegated to 140 characters or less...

I'm sure I'll have plenty to write about soon - October is going to be a crazy month.  It will all start on Oct 10th when the boy, Lea and possibly Megan will be going to the Ren Faire.  It's a place I've always wanted to go, but never had the gumption to actually make it there.  Should be fun.  I'll bring my drinking horn and buy some mead.  Mmm, mead.  I wish I had enough money to buy some really cool stuff like corsets and such, but I'll probably be broke...

Next up is Social Distortion on October 16th at Crocodile Rock.  SD does play there probably each tour they do, but they usually sell out right away.  This time is no exception.  But thanks to the wonderful powers of Dman, who has friends in, er, places, he was able to snag us a few spots on the guest list.  Hurrah!!

October 23rd is Type O Negative at Crocodile Rock.  I believe I've seen them play once.  I was not at the show that Max Murder got his car suspiciously towed from, but I think I may have seen them in NYC at some point in time.  Nonetheless, I am going this time around.  We got the tickets today.  Lea is going with us too, so, of course, it will be a fun time!

Then, October 24th brings us to Eastern State Penitertiary.  We aren't going to do the Terror Behind the Walls, but rather a tour of the prison.  Besides, according to Ghost Hunters, the prison is mega-haunted, so it will be creepy fun without having paid teenagers jump out from behind a plywood wall screaming "boo".  Then it's the Mutter Museum (although maybe we'll do the Mutter Museum first than ESP, who knows).  I am excited to see the old bones of those who donated their bodies to science in the 19th century.  I think they have things in jars too.  That always means a good time.

Finally, on October 31st, Halloween, leads us to Dracula's Ball (wow, I just realized that I will be spending two Saturdays in a row in Philly).  I still don't know what I will go as - I was thinking of dressing up like Nikki Sixx for work, but I don't think I'll do that for Drac's Ball.  I need some good costume ideas.  Since my creativity chip has been dislodged from my brain, I have yet to think of anything.  I need to think of something cheap.  I guess I'll go to a thrift shop and check things out.  The only downer of this is that I will miss Samhain Circle.  Last year was awesome and I'm sure this year will be no exception.  If only Samhain was two days long.  It would make life much easier.

Then, November 1st is the first day of NaNoWriMo.  I am going to try to do it this year - I have no math class to drain my brain and take away time from me.  Of course, there lies another problem.  I need to think of a story idea.  I had a few down on paper that sounded good in my brain, but once I actually wrote them down, they sounded kind of lame.  I guess I have a month to get something, but I wish I had some better ideas.  Damn brain - why must you forsake me?  We used to be friends.  I'm pretty good to you.  I don't do much which would kill your cells.  Sure, my job is brainless and lame, but that's no way to revolt against me.

So, what better way to come back to my neglected blog than to go on a good old fashioned rant.  My followers (all three of you) would expect nothing less.  Now, on to the rant at hand...

Today Michael Vick is a free "man" (I use that term loosely).  This means he is free to go onto any football team that will take his sick, sorry ass.  In case you do not know, Michael Vick is the poor excuse for a human being football player who decided to use his fame and fortune to run and participate in a large dog-fighting ring.  A dog-fighting ring where the "loser" had to face such horrible consequences such as electrocution, being slammed up against a wall repeatedly, hanged or drowned.  It sickens me to even type these words.  He got caught and then tried to turn it around saying it's part of his "culture".  What the fuck - what fucking culture? 

So, I'm watching some show where people can call in and state their opinions on such topics.  Now, I know what is said about opinions - they are like assholes - everyone has them.  But, come on.   He served 23 fucking months for doing something that is beyond words.  What kind of person can take a dog and bash them up against a wall repeatedly against a wall until they die because they lost a fight (and lost HIM money)?  Is this the kind of person you want walking the streets?  A person who has such disregard for INNOCENT living things?  People say that he made a "mistake".  A mistake - forgetting to turn on your blinker is a fucking mistake!  Maybe even having a weak moment and cheating on your significant other can be considered a "mistake".  No, participating in one of the largest dog-fighting rings in history is not a mistake.  Yes, he served his time, I get and understand that.  I suppose it's not this fault that our laws regarding pure, outright animal cruelty are fucked up beyond repair.  In most cases, animals are considered "property".

Not for nothing, but how many people are sitting in jails right now for buying or selling pot?  Serving LIFE SENTENCES for having pot plants in their homes.  Hell, Bernie Madoff got 150 years for a Ponzi scheme.  But, a sick, sadistic, disgusting murderer gets 23 months?  And we are supposed to forgive?  Forgiveness is for pussies.   

Oh, and the president of the Humane Society thinks he should be able to play if he shows REMORSE and starts to work with the humane society to erradicate dog fighting?  Seriously?  No, he should be forced to live the miserable disgusting life he deserves. 

Some may call me a hypocrite.  Yes, I do eat meat.  I'm not all hardcore.  I try my best - I try to only support companies that do not use animal testing.  I feel guilty as it is for eating meat sometimes.  But, I draw the line when it comes to pure, outright, straight up cruelty.  Cruelty that is fueled by the almight dollar.

I pity the team who decides to hire him (Chicago Bears?).  I hope they go bankrupt.  But, alas, we live in a sports-obsessed society.  Sports fans will soon forget as soon as he gets their beloved team to the Superbowl.  Maybe he'll get MVP.  Another American Hero.

lalalalalalalalalala

blah blah blah test test test

So, I've been neglecting my bloggering duties.  I do apologize to the two whole people who may read this.  Unfortunately, I've been feeling horrible.  The teefs are hurting more than ever and I've been fighting off killer sinus pain for the past two days.  I am hoping that once these teefs are out of my skull, I will be back to my semi-lazy self instead of the lump of bones I've become. 

Yes, I am a lazy sod.  I get it.  I see I haven't posted in like 3 weeks.  I don't know why actually.  I think it's that damned Twitter.  No, not really.  Truth is, I'm just lazy...

Let's see...the past two weeks I've gone to the Farmers Market with surioara .  I am now spoiled for any other food selling establishment.  I love getting cheap meat (ha ha, I said meat). 

I've gotten a lot of cool-ass makeup from Aromaleigh.  They rock.  I love, love, love my Black Cherry gel eyeliner.  It's devoon.  And I got an awesome new hair cut, which I will show off if I ever stop being a lazy sod.  I tried to take a picture of it the other day, but I am so not "take my own picture from a high angle for my myspace page" type girl and usually my self-snapped pictures looks horrid.  I need to study emo girls or something to learn the proper skills because if anyone knows how to take a pic of themselves, it's emo girls.  I think there's a school for it or something.

I'll have to post about Nikki Sixx in a separate post.  Because, after all, I am the Real Fake Mrs. Nikki Sixx.  Accept no substitutions.  You would be ill-advised otherwise. 

Oh, oh and I'm done with Aspen Dental (see Aspen Dental Can Suck It).  I've found a better place who is kind enough to yank my two bottom wisdom teeth out on June 23rd.  Apparently I wasn't born with the top two wisdom teeth, which someone tells me that means I'm higher on the evolutionary scale than those with all 4 teeth.  About time my awesomeness is scientifically confirmed.  I've been trying to tell all y'all that for years, yet no one seems to believe me.  Silly, silly humans.  I'm a little nervous about getting said teeth yanked out.  One of them is part bony extraction.  Whateverinthefuck that means.  I guess they will take out part of my jaw...which totally takes me back to my fear of having to replace my torn out jaw with the jaw of a dead person.  What if it's a possessed jaw and starts to speak on it's own and say horrible things that I would never say...like "I love Lady Gaga" or "hey, give peace a chance".  You know I'd never say such hippie crap.

Yay, I get to go back to work.  I get to file folders.  In a drawer.

To have Paris dress him up and take him as a pet...Mr Biggles...

Stupid Whore Video Playset...priceless.

I love South Park.

So, I've had a toothache on and off now for, oh, about 4 months.  After changing my dentist from the crazy dude who argued with me as to whether or not I am actually a patient, I decided to go with Aspen Dental, purely for the fact that they are 10 minutes from where I work and they are opening an office 2 minutes from my house in June.  I haven't been to the dentist in ages, but that's besides the point...

So, I call Cigna to change dentists and I guess Aspen requires that you be on a roster to be a patient.  This was early April.  So, the Cigna rep tells me that as of May 1st I will be on the roster and I can make an appointment.  So, I wait and wait, in pain by the way, for May 1st to come.  Finally, it's here and I call Aspen to set up an appointment.  Easy enough.  Appointment for today at 5:00...I had to rearrange my schedule a bit to make sure I got there early enough to fill out the mountain of paperwork that always comes with going to a new doctor.

I'm filling out the paperwork and the receptionist calls me over to tell me that there is a problem.  I'm not on the roster.  So, I'm like, my insurance told me that I'd be on as of May 1st.  She said that they don't get the roster until the middle of the month.  Well, that's not my fault.  So, I said that it was odd that they made my appointment.  The receptionist replied "you probably talked to our call center".  So?  You still made the appointment.  They tell me to wait a week or two and call again.  She says I can fill out the paperwork.  Um, no.  I was going to mention "no wonder why everyone says you guys suck", but I decided not to go there.

So, now I have to call Cigna AGAIN and change dentists AGAIN.   What a fucking pain.

ASPEN DENTAL AND CIGNA CAN BOTH SUCK IT.

I just spend the last half hour saving (more) pics of Nikki Sixx to my computer......

Wait, I mean, DELETING...I'm not a crazy fangirl stalker who downloads hundreds of pictures of her favorite rock star to the point where she probably has like 3 copies of each picture and has to rename them because she has so many with the same names...

Oh what the hell, everyone knows I'm insane, why try to hide it...

I SPENT THE LAST HALF HOUR DOWNLOADING PICTURES OF NIKKI SIXX...SO THERE

I suppose the upside of being an Administrative Assistant is that we get our very own special day.  It started out as Secretary's Day in 1952 and morphed because I guess Secretary is a no-no term.  I didn't think that there would be much fanfare about it this year, since they are doing all kinds of budget cuts and we didn't receive any notice for a lunch or anything.  Whatevs, it didn't bother me because I still have a job.  So, imagine my surprise when our branch manager came up today and gave us flowers and cards.  They are even taking us out to lunch on Friday.  I had to try not to express my dismay at that last part.  See, Fridays are my most busiest day and it's even going to be even more busy because, well, it's a long, long boring story...

But, I just realized...I have to share my special day with the stupid Earth.  I guess back in 1970, some stupid smarty-pants decided to make this date Earth Day. 

Oh hellz no.

My day came first.  The Earth can suck it.

(Oh yes, I feel some good karma coming my way with that comment right now).

Are coming to West Chester in May.  On a Thursday.  Do I go?  Do I take off that Friday and then leave some poor schmuck to do the sales folders???

I must go.  See, the Supersuckers have this thing where they insist on playing around here when it is totally inconvenient for me.  Like, don't they know who I am?  I am Sixxy Von Evil, that's who.  I'm a legend in my own mind.  And if you aren't a legend in your own mind, who cares if you are a legend in other people's minds?  I think that answer is obvious.

Let's see...they played in the general vicinity when I was in Ocean City MD.  Then they played in Philly when I was in this one town in NJ seeing Suicidal Tendencies.  They are the band on my list that I want to see.  And I will.  It's settled.  I'm going.  So are you.  So, request the day off because it's settled.  I said so.  There will be no arguements.  None.  I said we are going.  Must I use my evil powers on you to make you go?  Because I'll use them.  Which reminds me - why haven't I used said evil powers to turn the sales reps into my minions who will do my bidding?  

Because I want my friends to be as delusional as me, I'm using my obsessive compulsive skills to stalk.  We've actually found said stalkee and we are in the process of how to best find him in town.  So far we have two plans...

Just maybe I'll dust this thing off and like post something...

So, game night at Lea's was a blast!!  Lots of fun and wine and guacamole to boot!!!

But one important miscarriage of justice happened that night.  Trivial Pursuit - 80s Edition.  All fun and games you say...pishaw!!  It may be fun and games when the universe is not conspiring against you.  It started off innocently enough.  Teams of three, three people per team.  Me, JT and Lea were on one of the teams.  Now, maybe we were being overly confident, but JT and I were the old-timers there, so we thought we had this in the bag.  And, because I've watched way too much TV in my lifetime, I thought I could answer all the questions of obscure TV shows such as Double Trouble and Just The Ten of Us. 

Alas, the universe decided to play some sick, sadistic joke on us and was determined to watch us fail.  Now, while other teams got questions such as "what glam rocker claimed to have bedded 4600 women, including Cher and Diana Ross" (Gene Simmons), our team got questions about Willie Ackerman and his new age record label and how many laps did such and such swim around Manhattan in 34 hours.  Um, what?  What the hell kind of questions are those?  I mean, seriously.  It's not like I'm a sore loser, but c'mon people!!!  How many people even heard of Willie Ackerman and his new age record label - which is Windham Hill by the way.  Oh yes, I'll remember that for the rest of my days.  And someone better ask me it again.  I guess their claim to fame, I mean besides having Willie Ackerman as an artist, is having Yanni.  Yanni.  Now there's someone that anyone under the age of like 66 listened to in the 80s.  I mean I knew who he was and everything, but for chrissakes...

And why do I care if some broad same around the island of Manhattan.  First of all, who the hell would want to swim in those infested waters?  Have you ever been down by the rivers in Manhattan?  I wonder if her hair fell off kind of like in that episode of Family Guy.

This weekend went so fast!!!  Lots of fun though.  Friday it was Ostara, so Lea and I went to Ostara Circle.  It was awesome as usual.  Such a nice way to celebrate.

Then last night was Dracula's Ball again.  They had a film crew there filming something or other.  We were sure that we were safe from the bright lights of the camera.  I mean, Lea and I looked hot and all, but we are so socially awkward and didn't really fit the "vampire-goth" profile that we were sure that the film makers were looking for.

No such luck.

Nope, all of a sudden, two dudes walk up to us with one of those boom mics and a bright light.  We must have looked like deer stuck in headlights.  Unfortunately, the "if you don't see them, they won't see you" thing didn't work. So, after making probably inane remarks about nothing, they stopped filming.  The good news is that they won't use our footage. 

I'm sure pics will be showing up soon.  We took some groovy pics last night.  Dead chick pics and all.

...there's nothing like hearing your favorite bands on the radio.  It's like the radio knows you are in your car and is playing them just for you...

So, I thought I'd give a little review of my fake relationship hierarchy since I seem to be adding new ones every day.

We'll start from the top:

Nikki Sixx - He's the Big Daddy of my delusions and therefore earns the title of Fake Husband.  Seeing Motley Crue again last night just solidified my "dedication" to my delusions.  However, there are times when we do not fake get along, so I need to fake get away from it all with a few fake distractions.

Here are two of my fake boyfriends:

Charles - Ah, Charles.  He's my fake boyfriend from Rock of Love 2.  He's dreamy.  And strong.  And dreamy.  And kind of evil.  And dreamy.  Anyways, I figure if Nikki is ever really fake mean to me, I'll just Charles to fake beat him up for me. 

Chad Cherry - OK, so he's not so much a fake boyfriend per se, but I just can't resist.  First, he's way young, so that causes some fake misgivings.  But, after getting my picture taken with him last night, I decided that he could be my fake Velvet Goldmine-y boyfriend.  I just want to take him home and feed him sammiches and cake.  Then we could play dress up.  We can do each other's makeup - lots of black eyeliner and maybe some glitter, dress up in glam clothing - ya know, leather pants, maybe leopard print, feather boas, platform shoes.  Then we could pose in front of the mirror singing "Rebel, Rebel" by David Bowie into our hair brushes.  It would be lots of fun.  So, maybe he'll be my plantonic fun time fake boyfriend.  Just because he's really young.



I probably should mention that I do have a thing for Christian Bale, but I haven't decided to put him into the full time fake rotation.  I know, maybe he could be my fake Spring Break boyfriend.

What if one Sunday night, aliens would land and happen to catch the latest episode of "Rock Of Love Bus" on VH1?

My thinking is that they would likely assume that Bret Michaels was the last man on Earth and that all the women were some how killed off except for a small population of skanky strippers (not saying all strippers are skanks, but there are definitely skanks who are strippers...anyways) who are vying for his attention and to carry on the human race.

Go Ashley!!!

Seriously, she is my favorite this season.  Usually I would hate her.  But I've come up with a new strategy for ROL this tim around.  Instead of picking the girl that I would want to hang out with, because let's face it, it isn't called Rock of Sixxy Von Evil, I'm picking the girl who I think Bret deserves (or is it who deserves Bret) the most.  Take that however you would like.

As Bret described her, she's a "government check Juliette Lewis" which I'm pretty sure means she's a white trash version of Juliette Lewis.  I could be wrong.  I guess not all white trash people get government checks.  But, anyways, she's perfect for Bret.  She has extensions - although not as good as his, big, fake, painful looking breast implants (although one of them bears the name "James", not sure if it's like an ex's name or maybe her pet goldfish) and a "party like a rock star" attitude that includes pooping your pants and wanting cheeseburgers.  Did I mention she was a stripper?  Which, if I were Heather from Season 1, I'd be pissed at Bret because the reason why he wouldn't pick her was because she was a stripper.  And now all the broads are strippers.  And he takes them to strip clubs and has stripper olympic trials.  Heather, if you are reading this, I think you should ask Bret what the dealy-o is. 

Ah yes, she truly is my favorite to win.  If you don't watch this show, you really should.  It's so perfect.  It's like a slice of apple pie on a warm summer night.  Of course, I don't like the summer, but I imagine that's what lots of people think of when they think of something perfectly American.