Ten Simple Rules.

Drink this in my friends.  Drink it in and grow awesome.

A.I.=Artifical Intelligence A.I.=American Idol. Coincidence?

The new season of American Idol started last week.  So I'm not really proud of the fact that I watch the damn show, like the other 28 million people who watch.  But the genius of the show is in the layout and pacing.  Every season I tune in for first few weeks to watch the train wrecks - the people who can't sing.  The producers drag this phase out for about three weeks; from the auditions and then into "Hollywood week."  After that I'll end up watching the rest of the show out of sheer habit.  Like biting your nails is a habit.  Or like hiding from the law in Mexico to avoid going to federal prison and getting shanked in the yard or sodomized in the shower... is a habit.. like that is a habit... er... yeah.

Tonight. We Dine. In. Hell, er, ... Marshalls!

I was dragged through there a few weeks ago by my girlfriend. We actually made it to the clearance racks in the rear of the store when I realized that being in Marshalls is extremely fucking gay. It was at that point I started yelling, "Where is the goddam Albany Strength Protien Powder section Bitches?" - and took some mermaid-themed candle holder to the shopping cart next to me. I beat the piss out of that cart like a man before my girlfriend jumped on my swingin arm. At that point the crack Marshall's teenagers, er, staff, came over to see what the ruckus was all about. I hawked a massive lugar on the first guy down the aisle. The next two I smashed with a wonky discount salad bowl and toilet seat studded with crystals. The shit was getting thick at this point, so I made a break for the exit at the front of the store. My girlfriend started pulling at my pants telling me to stop and just look at all the bargains. I yelled, "Bitch, step off!" and shook myself free. I plowed through discount racks, landed a flying knee on the forehead of a fat asian woman, and had to make some middle manager pay for getting in my way by slapping his shit up with a Harley Davidson ottoman. Once in the parking lot it took me a few seconds to calm the fuck down after all that retail homo-ness I just had to blast through. The massive adrenaline dump also had made me deficate in my pants, ruining my image as a fancy gentleman.

Bill Stickers Is Innocent!

You're damn right he is!  Slanderous $#*&@@ municipalities...!