If I Could Pick Any Dead Person To Briefly Come Back To Life For The Express Purpose Of Making Out With Me Right Now, I Would Without A Doubt Choose:

Gaius Julius Caesar.

Who would other people pick? Diana says she’d want Tupac...

Sulu From Star Trek Just Came Out Of The Closet

I, for one, am astounded.


http://www.365gay.com/newscon05/10/102805takei.htm (Note the name of the webiste.)

A Lil More Catch Up

She’s back. SHE’S BACK. I could weep with relief, oh sweet Jupiter. Especially because for the past few days, I’ve had all this pent up bloggin coursing through my system like unrefined crack and now I can finally unleash that shit. I feel like a priest who has just set aside his collar for good and now it’s like attention everyone, get me to a vagina stat – lost time is being made up for starting NOW.

Here is a firm little list of all the ripest intrigue that went down in the world during that excruciating break from posting:

- Naked Pictures of Daniel Craig Were Released
Disappointing, but taken in water, so…inconclusive.
- I Done Broke My Right Pinky Toe
That little piggy is out of commission. It totally snapped back with a definite “snap” sound and was bleeding all over the other toes: uncool. Then Mama Voz sprayed some shit on it to “make it feel better.” Extreme cold followed by the most tangible pain that I have ever experienced resulted. “A slight stinging sensation” doesn’t even begin to cut it, Solarcaine.
- Rosa Parks Died
At first I was like that sucks. Then I realized I’m pasty. Bitch wasn’t my spark, yo.
- I Baked a Pumpkin Pie
It is…simply divine. Like…there is nothing wrong with that pie.
- William Shatner Passed his Kidney Stone
As physician L. Gordon B. said upon hearing the news, Mazel Tov, Mr. Shatner.
- I Was Rejected by Victoria’s Secret for the Victoria’s Secret Credit Card
Which is maybe the most pathetic thing that has ever happened to me. Victoria’s Secret doesn’t believe that I will pay them back. This is…the lowest of the low.
- Alex Schwartz Found This
I have no words. A pilgrimage will be made there sometime soon by us. All are welcome to join.

Sam Paige

Firstly, Sam Paige needs to be a post title, hands down. Secondly, Sam Paige signed the petition thus making me weep of pure and unadulterated joy (ok wait no he did not YOU PASTY SLUT YOU LIED). But I will continue and finish regardless. Thirdly, A POST IS FUCKING COMING!

the topic:

a large, retarded, black man...and no, it is not wesley willis or molly's grandfather.

So be prepared, it'll happen when it happens.

p.s.
DID SWARTWOUT ACTUALLY SIGN THE FUCKING PETITION YOU PASTY SLUT, TELL ME NOW!!!

http://www.petitiononline.com/dirtypan/petition.html

A Lone Immigrant Bitch Is A Lonely Immigrant Bitch

Dear Dirty,

Come back to us! There is no Immigrant Bitches without you. Your place is here: to balance out the craziness with your own special brand of insanity and slutitude, and chatter on about shit I don’t always understand, but which always makes me chuckle if not with you then certainly at you. Following the nasty exploits of just Pasty is getting kinda of nauseating, even for me, and I am Pasty. I can’t do this shit alone any more; I don’t know any Spanish and I have never suddenly risen from my seat and shouted “yeeeah shake that ass” to a dancing man on the field of Yankee Stadium to the utter shock and disgust of all those around me. I am simply under qualified to do this job alone, and anyway, it’s no bloody fun without you. Would you rather pleasure yourself or have full on sexual relations with someone? Exactly. I know it says on facebook that our relationship is open, but don’t you understand that this baby blog needs both its parents to flourish; else it’ll end up like Sam’s? Things are just far too unsoiled here without you. Won’t you return with your filth?

In conclusion, I totally just saw yet another famous someone in Wholefoods, and, unsurprisingly, I kind of made a fool out of myself. I will not reveal said famous person’s identity, though, until my bitch is back. Indeed, this will be my last post until my spouse returns.

Love Pasty

Darkness Falls

I write this post by hand, in the candlelight, like bloggers in olden times…or…word, whatever.

Last night, Fair Greenburg was hit by a ferocious storm and then blackout – like the kind that makes you go ‘whoa, where’d all my shit go? It’s kinda dark in here all of a sudden.’ Times were bleak: it was like the fucking apocalypse with the crazy rain and floods and wetness. At one point, our neighbor’s tree got struck by lightning. I didn’t even know that shit happened in real life.

At first, I confess, I thought it would be like a gallant adventure: the Sawmill was down and that bitch wasn’t getting back up any time soon, so there we were, trapped in the Chester and fighting through the watery darkness like in Roman times, or when you go camping. Then I looked around and realized that it was pretty much just my house, but dark. Which…in fact wasn’t so cool. I tried reading for a while, but that’s only fun when there’s other shit to do so you feel all cultured and superior cause you’re being learned like a scholar when you could be eating microwave nachos and watching Battlebots. When that’s the only option for amusement, you kind of just feel like an asshole.

“Yo, Moms,” I said, “I’m bored. It’s mad dark up in here and the tv’s not workin.” “We could sit around the table and talk as a family,” she said. It was then, as I settled into my murky room to nestle with my penguin friend, as far away from the threatened family talk as a 5 bedroom split level house can allow, that I realized how much livin in the 1800s, or…word the 1700s, or like any time before that, would have really sucked. Technology is so hot I cannot put it into words. If it were a person, I would be all over it.

And so, I sat in the dark and thought like a fucking loser. If only Harry Potter had been at my side to Lumos that shit and then coitus me. But alack, no, I had only Mr. P.Guin, and the worst of the three V-L Family Flashlights. I fell into an uneasy sleep and dreamed of sunshine, dry roads, and the second season dvd of Arrested Development.

Because Hallucinogenics Are Just So Messy

You know how when you’ve done something really bad, like constructed an intricate web of lies and deceit for no reason at all (true story), or kicked a lizard in the face just cause you know that reptile can’t do shit back, you feel sort of bad afterwards? It’s almost like you recognize that you deserve to be rebuked somehow, but obviously you’re not about to go telling someone what you did cause then people would think you’re a bad person or whatever. It’s quite an ethical pickle to be in…or at least, it was.

Next time you find yourself in need of some self-flagellation, I have the perfect solution: just take a few bong rips and then head over to this site: http://theblondsamurai.blogspot.com/…yes. That’s right. Sam Gilroy just gave birth to a little baby boy crackhead, and his name is blog.

Now, maybe it’s just that words like “anachronistic” are far too much for my weed-addled mind to handle, but whatever the reason, I guarantee that if you smoke and then read this blog, you will flip the fuck out and just start to cry. Your mom or housekeeper will find you much later, curled up on the floor in the fetal position, rocking almost imperceptibly, and mumbling rhythmically about what spiders have to do with the 70’s.

Just to be clear, none of this is to say that this blog is bad: quite the opposite actually; any piece of work that evokes such a corporeal reaction must be applauded universally. All I know for sure is that for reasons I don’t quite understand myself, when The_Blond_Samurai and weed are mixed, nothing makes sense in the world, and it’s like you’re suddenly trapped inside your own mind, trying to wrestle your way out, but the more you struggle the deeper you plunge into hazy despair. It is so frightening and satisfying I can’t even describe it properly.

So, in conclusion, for anyone who A) can’t afford acid, B) is dyslexic, or C) generally feels that a good freak out is long overdue, check this sight as soon as possible. I promise you will not regret it.

Famous People With Whom I Have Had Contact With Recently, And How I Handled That Shit:

Who: Kaduce
When: Yesterday
Where: The a train, at 42nd street
How I Handled That Shit: “Oh shit that’s Kaduce, what do I do? Oh shit I think he heard that. Oh SHIT I think he heard that too. Let’s switch trains, yo.”

Who: Mikhail Baryshnikov
When: 2 hours ago
Where: Fieldston: on the field; then waiting in the VALET line in the teachers’ parking lot (whoa)
How I Handled That Shit: Peter waved to me; I didn’t notice; consequently I made no sociable gesture in return, thereby squandering my only chance of ever talking to Mikhail Baryshnikov, particularly since now I’m that bitch who didn’t wave back to his son.*

Who: Nick PA
When: Approximately 12:15 this morning
Where: 70th and West End: Levi, Lily and I in my car; he and some wack juniors in his parents’
How I Handled That Shit: Rolled down the window next to Lily, compelling him to open his own; burst into uncontrollable laughter along with my passengers; rolled up the window before he could reply; hit the gas.

*(Peter doesn’t read the blog does he? Maybe he and Aune have little secret blog reading parties. That would be…my dream.)

Today’s Revelation

When you say your eyes itch, it’s not really your eyes that are itching…scratching those fuckers head on (like sticking a nasty finger onto your eyeball) would not alleviate your suffering. It’s the skin around your eyes that itches. You know?

Hey JAune, If You're Out There, Take An Extra Close Gander At This Beaut...

lgab45 (1:05:19 AM): omg i just had like 8 thoughts at oncelgab45 (1:05:32 AM): first of all
lgab45 (1:06:15 AM): i took a huge hit like the kind where there's just enough ash and small pieces of weed interspersed perfectly so that the whole fucking bowl catches on fire and you take lik e3 hits at once it was like that for like 3 full seconds
lgab45 (1:06:56 AM): and i remember thinking thhat that was gonna put me over the edge
lgab45 (1:07:02 AM): and then i took 2 more hits
lgab45 (1:07:14 AM): so now as you might imagine i am so ridiculously blazed it's ridiculous
lgab45 (1:07:32 AM): ok the second thought i had (there's gonna be a lil saga for you to sink your teeth into by the time you come back)
lgab45 (1:07:49 AM): was that i was looking out at my parking lot and there are 5 cars in it
lgab45 (1:08:21 AM): and before, i had noticed a silver car with a flashing little red light lik ean alarm clock light or some shit inside its dashboard
lgab45 (1:08:31 AM): and i looked out the window again and in addition to that silver car in the back row
lgab45 (1:08:43 AM): there was another silver car in the front row like at the opposite end of hte lot
lgab45 (1:08:49 AM): with a fucking blinking red light on its dashboard
lgab45 (1:09:18 AM): and then i was like hmm whats that and then i was like HOLY FUCKING CRAP IT'S CAR BOMBS
lgab45 (1:09:38 AM): and my first reaction was to step away from the window and my scond reaction was to smoke the rest of the weed as quickly as possible in case i died
lgab45 (1:10:22 AM): ok then the third thing i wnated to say was have you ever noticed when you're high that when you type you feel all fluid and like you're not sure what's going on it's all fuzzy but then lik eyou look at the screen and it's this square screen with all these lines and it's like it's a board in front of you and the letters are just appearing on the screen?
lgab45 (1:10:55 AM): so then i thought "woah why does this feel so natural typing this? the words i mean. like i wouldn't feel this comfortable SPEAKING these words
lgab45 (1:11:05 AM): and then i was like do i ever speak when i'm high? i cn'at remember the last time i spoke
lgab45 (1:11:40 AM): and then i had the thought "woah maybe i associate typing with being high becuase i'm ALWAYS typing when i'm high because i'm so used to smoking alone and going online. that is so sad"

lgab45 (1:12:42 AM): and then i typed something in capital letters and i literally reacted to it as if i were you and i saw me writing the words in the im. like i got surprised byt he appearance fo the caps i typed and i laughed at the joke i myself had made.

lgab45 (1:13:10 AM): have you ever noticed how buzzy you feel when you're high? like at first i literally felt a buzz all over my body. but right now i feel drippy

lgab45 (1:15:09 AM): oh my god i feel like b** b******.

Hahahahahaha

Today’s Revelation

There is an uncomfortably long pause in the song “Junk” between the first two syllables of “jubilee.”

...
Motorcars, Handlebars, Bicycles for two
Broken hearted juuuuu…….bilee.

That Shit’s Genetic, Yo.

If any of you have ever read this blog before, or accompanied myself to an event where Hispanics or (regular) gentiles are in attendance, you have likely at least once noiselessly marveled at the steep caliber of offensiveness that I every so often achieve without qualm of any sort. Well, bitches, today I confirmed that that shit is apparently hereditary…

Some of you may be aware that my pops was at one time in a “band”: he even dropped out of college to cut an album and fully focus on the “music.” That was in the early 1970s, and the world has been waiting ever since with bated breath for the reprisal of his musical endeavors. Well, today the world got a fucking abject lesson in ‘be careful what you wish for’: for this morning P.Paul unleashed yet another highly offensive and somewhat jolly songlette making light of Hurricane Katrina, bringing his grand total of highly offensive and somewhat jolly songlettes making light of Hurricane Katrina to 2. This latest one is set to the music of that 1960s classic “Da Doo Ron Ron” and features the ongoing tag of “I called her on Monday, I called her on Tuesday” etc. until, at the culmination of the song, we finally discover that the “her” he has been calling is his mother, and that she hasn’t been picking up because she is deceased, her nursing home having been washed away by the Hurricane. What’s more, the narrator seems delighted at the fact: “bye bye baby,” he croons. So. Umm…yeah. Word. I don’t really have much else to say about the actual song…what can one say, really….but like yo, for all of you that have ever thought “Jesus Christ, where does she get it from,” that’s where.

Hey Everybody, Remember That Time…

Diana “unintentionally” flashed her totally naked ass to the entire Fieldston JV Baseball squad, including their 40something coach?

Google Bomb, Bitches!

1. Go to Google.
2. Type in the words "miserable failure."
3. Instead of clicking "Google Search," click "I'm Feeling Lucky."
4. Enjoy.
…
5. (Optional) Read that shit and then spend the night crying/praying to Yahweh for your innocence back.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Levi Snuts

A quick quiz:
1. Does reading Immigrant Bitches give you a sick pleasure like when you molest an animal and you know it’s wrong but you enjoy it anyway?
2. Does engaging in the fierce and oft really blazed commenting that goes on here give you a certain sense of warped fulfillment?
3. Are you in general a fan of using the word “balls” in many contexts?
4. If I referred to “the popping sound,” would you know what I was talking about?
5. Are you overall a kind of spiteful person, but you manage to mask it in humor in a way that makes people go “ooh they’re so funny” instead of “whoa they’re really unpleasant”?
6. Was your highschool advisor a raging alcoholic, so much so that she totally admitted it?
7. Have you answered “yes” to every single one of these questions and now you’re wondering if I’ve employed some fucked up Legilimens shit to understand your very essence? Yeah. I thought so.

If indeed any of this is the case, then yo: have I got the blog for you:
http://levisnutsandhisblog.blogspot.com/
YEAH! That’s right. Snuts done fashioned himself a little blizzlette. I haven’t been this excited since he told me he was gonna do so earlier in the week. It is totally breathtaking. There’s even a juicy lil sketch of some a ballsack groping (!!!!!). Go check the gloriousness NOW.

Ps. Incidentally, towards the end of his first post, Mr. Snuts proposes a little political Albert/Voz-Lev ’08 action. When I first read that I was all “haha.” But then I thought about it a little, and like…we would totally fucking dominate. It’ll be like the raw hotness of Kerry combined with the boozing of W, the nasty sexual urges of Clinton, and the crookery of Nixon. It will be…out of control. We will outlaw underpants and execute anyone who believes being high on life alone is amusing. Oh my god. This has the potential to be so beautiful…

Not My Kinda Tree

One of the solid things about my moms is that she frequently sends me and my brohaha noteworthy shit she finds on the internets. When, last year, a Romanian man chopped off his own penis thinking it was a piece of chicken and Yahoo News decided to publish an article about it, Mama Voz was the first to send it. Upon the online discovery a non-lactose cupcake factory downtown, I was immediately hit up with a memo. Well, Tina struck again tonight: this time with an exciting new product she found in the Lawn Ornaments section of the Harriet Carter website (it is at this time still unclear as to why she was on this website to begin with):

It’s Tree Face! $14.98 (2 for $28.50). Eye-Catching "Tree Face" puts a friendly smile in your yard! Realistically rendered in textured "bark", this set of facial features is sure to charm all who pass by. Your "cheery" tree will become the talk of the neighborhood! Eyes, nose and mouth are each approximately 4" with attached hangers.

Um……yeah. Ok. I won’t talk about the outstanding resemblance that that nose bears to a giant rigid penis, or the slaggy implications Ms. Carter’s stunted smile therefore holds. I’ll refrain from questioning the website’s optimistic description of your future, tree-faced yard: I’m not even gonna touch the “cheery tree/cherry tree” play on words (if that is indeed what that is)…No, rather I’d like to call everyone’s attention to a little thing called bigotry, and talk about why it’s wrong for Harriet to call a black person “Tree Face” just cause he happens to be a little wrinkly…and why it's really wrong to then put up his photograph and try to sell him online for decorative purposes. Cause seriously. That shit’s not cool, Harriet. How would you feel if someone started calling you Old Whore Face, took a picture of you , and then were all “Buy this Old Whore Face! She'll live outside your house.”? I don’t think you’d like that very much. So yeah, someone get the Ethical Culture Fieldston School on this broad’s ass pronto – they would know what to do here: maybe private embracing-our-differences lessons with Joseph P. Healey, PhD. himself…

http://www.harrietcarter.com/Detail.cfm?prod=5169&udc=Y&id=46906&rnc=901

Don’t Accept The Imitations: How Was Everyone’s Saturday Night?, The One and Motherfucking Only.

Unsurprisingly, the beginning of Saturday night found Persons A and B getting entirely destroyed on White Russians and low-grade LSD. The real fun didn’t start til much later though, when, upon returning to Person B’s dorm at 4 in the morning, Person A fell into a heavy and crunked-up slumber on the common room couch that Person B had purchased a month earlier along with his/her roommates. When Person B awoke the next morning, he/she and the fanatical Mountain man/woman they had picked up the night before entered into the common room, and found that alas, Person A was no longer there! What was there? Well, the tv was there, on the floor and inexplicably upside down, and oh yeah – a giant motherfucking puddle of piss, seeping into the cushions of the once lovely new couch. Apparently, Person A had been so drunk the night before that they had inadvertently urinated all over the sofa, marking that bitch as theirs should anyone else try and take a little nappers there in the future. Then, in the wee hours of the morn, they stirred: finally conscious, but still drunk, and stumbled back to their own house, the door of which they banged upon for a good 15 minutes before being let in by a toothless Mexican janitor. Person B, staring bewildered and horrified at the peed-on upholstery, called up Person A, and inquired as to the origins of the piss.
“What?!” said Person A, “I did not pee on your couch, it must be juice.”
“Were you drinking juice?” asked Person B.
“…No.”
“I’ve never known juice to smell like rank fucking piss, but maybe that’s just me,” added the Mountain person…Interestingly, this went down at the very same university where, about a year ago, another student got very very drunk and actually shat himself whilst snoozing out on a friend’s couch. So…um…Yeah.

Person C smoked a bunch of maryjane with some wacked out physically-retarded handicapped dude. This apparently actually happened like two years ago, but I just found out about it this weekend.

Please enjoy.

I'm ripping off Pasty 'cause I do dirty shit like that

So it's time for a little Panamanian version of the much loved Pasty Russian game; Guess who did some really crazy/ stupid/ intensely perverted shit last night (or in this context in the middle of the day while completely sober, the fool) So Person J (that's right I skipped a few letters fuckers) was on their way to class, in a jolly mood, swaying to and fro while carrying their purple Barney backpack, when they stumbled upon a gang of young gentlemen in the hallway. These boys, they were all apparently 4 feet shorter than person J...perhaps they were midgets? (uch I think that is the first reference to midgets in this blog and maybe the last...or maybe one of many more? Oh yeaaa) So anyway to continue, Person J finally reaches this midget mass and politely taps hairy midget #1's (yea they were hairy, you know you like it) shoulder asking in a meek and mild mannered tone if he and his disgusting, odorous, mass of midgets would kindly move to one side to allow Person J the chance to attend his class on time. The midgets refused to acknowledge Person J's feeble attempts at moving those fucktards to one side so as a result Person J in all their true New York glory (and I like to think with a little influence from me that time I pushed Jess Meister to the other side of the hall when I was on a quest to arrive at the girls locker room, good times, god I miss high school), so anyway Person J pushes midget #1 to one side and clears his way through the midget mass with their brute strength. He walks further down the way when suddenly (shit now you know it's a he, fuck it I can't conceal identity as well as the Pasty) so yea, suddenly Person J feels slightly guilty at basically causing one enormous stack up of midgets in a hallway, so he turns around to give the midgets one last glance and realizes that midget #1 was indeed TAYLOR FUCKING HANSON...


ok now "EWW Taylor Hanson," you say, but let me just show you a recent snap shot of this Taylor Hanson in question...
Yea so in Dirty's opinion Person J should have had some hardcore man on midget/Taylor Hanson sex, but alas, he did not. Person J merely gawked, ogled (a little oh yes he did), and hummed "Mmm Bop" and walked away to retell the tale to moi.

(the Barney backpack, midgets, hairiness are entirely, much to my chagrin, false)

Our Shitlist, 3rd Edition

Wondering if we’re harboring extreme odium towards you this week? Why not check and see for sure…

- George Bush
- Karl Rove
- Harriet Miers
- The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
- The possibly Albanian man who sold me the lighter that recently set my right thumb ablaze
- Ben Affleck
- Cops
- People who have discounted sex with malodorous streetwalkers and then casually im me afterwards making no reference to the repulsive shag they’ve just had
- Aaron Nathan
- Blonde people (excepting Sam Gilroy, Daniel Craig, and my cousin Jesse)
- Whichever injudicious sicko originally gave the thumbs-up to Northwestern’s now-annual June “Dildo Festival” (yes, you read right)
- Heike Makatsch and sluts like her
- Pansy Parkinson and sluts like her
- People who don’t like The Yankees, Layer Cake (the movie), regular layer cake, The (British) Office, or the Bee Gees
- Sienna Miller
- Bill O’Reilly

Quote of the Day

“Not in Town Hall.” – stoic Town Hall security guard, to a crestfallen couple who had stood up and begun to…um…feel the music at a Fiery Furnaces concert on Friday.

A Lil Catch Up

So, as two or three of you may have noticed, for the past few days Umm Hot Immigrant Bitches has been on a miniature strikelette of sorts. This was to combat the recent onslaught of fascist critique we had been receiving from some renegade “commenters.” Perhaps said petite manifestation would have been more effective had we not neglected to actually inform our readers that that’s what it was, and not just another routine “Molly needs some me time” retreat, but I mean, that would have required posting some kind of explanatory note, and like…we were on strike, yo.

Anyway, I feel like those mutinous bastards have been put in their place now, Roman-state-on-Sparticus-style, so because of that, and L.Bell’s rousing entreaty to “stop sniffing bleach and make a fucking post: it’s all you’re good for” which is a pretty solid point, I am at present officially calling this lull over…without even checking to see if that’s ok with Diana (oh shit).

So word, here, in chronological order, is a small list of important things that went down in the world since last we communicated, along with a few key slurs that we almost certainly would have made in reference to said important things had Immigrant Bitches been open for business:

1) Some bitch in Alabama added yet another little cracker babe to her existing brood of 15 tiny honkies. Making matters worse? The fact that all of the youngins have names beginning with the letter “j.” Making matters more worse? The fact that one of those names is “Jinger”: totally unacceptable for people who are not cats or Chinese. Actually I don’t know what the Alabamanians' race is…I assume gringo cause only white people could be that retarded. And we can pretty much rule out their being black, because, as one person who likely wishes to remain nameless pointed out, “none of the kids are named Jaquisha or some shit.”

2) Daniel Craig is the new Bond. He is…really really really hot. I cannot wait to see him commit ferocious murders and then bang women (two of the hottest things ever). Like…for serious.

3) I lit my thumb on fire…twice. The first time the finger was actually aflame; the second time it just got a little singed, but like yo, that shit was already damaged and the supplementary dose of heat didn’t exactly help matters you hear me?

4) Doctor Levi Snuts read the blog. And now, having assassinated Lily and stolen her aol password, he’s totally starting his own. Yeah. That’s right. Prepare to freak the fuck out, in a good way:
Lgab**: molly, it's levi
Lgab**: your blog is the funniest shit i have EVER seen
Lgab**: why didn't i know about it earlier?
Lgab**: it inspired me to write my own
Lgab**: i'm gonna start writing one when i get back to nyc

Oh. SNAP…Do I smell the spicy stank of Umm Hot Immigrant Bastards on the wind?

Also.

If you are one of those poor misguided bastards who thinks the blog is “slipping,” here’s a list of things that I suggest you go do in lieu of reading it:

- fuck yourself
- read some republican propaganda and act on that shit cause you’re obviously an uninformed fucking republican
- root for the red sox
- roll around in a basin of putrid raccoon carcasses
- watch back-to-back episodes of Battlebots sober
- sit alone in a room with Bea Arthur for 7 hours straight, no bathroom breaks
- slam your fingers in the heaviest door you can find, farthest away from the nearest medical facility
- read Jude The Obscure, or watch the movie
- superglue your right heel to your left asscheek
- take up crochet, then be laughed at for crocheting shit in public
- use the phrase “it’s mere affectation” in an open arena, then be mocked privately
- attend a concert of Oklahoma City-based band The Sun
- blow Joe Healey (…if he googles himself, will he find that?)
- stand alone in a doorless, windowless, pitch black 3’ X 3’ room while Phillip Glass music plays loudly on a loop
- watch Diana’s childhood infomercial/cooking show home movies again and again and again, each time thinking of a new complimentary comment that is both gracious and doesn’t compromise your integrity
- regard the baby pictures of Danny Berger/Jake P.G. and imagine what you would feel like if something like that came out of you
- mourn the combined deaths of your intellect and wit

How Was Everyone’s Saturday Night?: Dry Run.

You know how when you walk into a grand feast, and you survey the cornucopia of whole chickens and grapes and shit out on the table, and obviously your first thought is that you just want to make out with all that fucking chow, but then something stops you – almost like you don’t want to disturb the stunning scene…or maybe you just don’t know where to launch yourself first, and though you’re confident the cookin’s gonna be mad tasty, you’re just a little wary of squandering the energy required in eating it? That’s how I feel about discussing the events of last night, except instead of food, it’s all these horrifyingly disturbing and entertaining images of B****** running around NYC trying to make out with people in the rain….just so you guys know where I’m at mentally…

Why do I always get screwed? (and I mean that in the worst possible way)

Miss Molly INSISTED that her urban dictionary name definition be featured on the blog as well because she is a pasty russian attention obsessed clammy whore (yea clammy, that's a new one). So in order to satisfy the shorties little ego here are the many definitions of Molly (you lucky bitch got fucking really nice ones...clearly there is some hard core urban dictionary corruption going on)


Molly:
-Pure form of MDMA (ecstasy), usually a free powder or in capsules. Oftentimes MDA is sold as Molly. Should be white in color (when it's pure) but is more often beige or yellow-brown, and sometimes brown or rarely gray.

Me and my girl chopped a 1/2 gram of Molly into 4 lines last night and we each inhaled one. Rolled balls for 5 hours straight. Pure love and cuddles all the way.

-as innocent as you can get for a cute girl but still exciting. The one you would want to be with in a deserted island.

The one you see yourself with and the girl who is your best friend through whatever comes your way

-To tickle to the point of torture.

I can't believe you just said that, she is going to Molly you.

-A totally cool girl with great style and very rich. She's also a virgin.

Look at Molly she's so fine, she needs fucking all the time.

-One who makes you slap your head over and over again.

Molly sucks.

Yea that one is most certainly my favorite because as we all know Molly, the dear girl we all know of as the Pasty Russian, SUCKS! mmm bye for now tasty fellows

More Urban Dictionary, Mother Fuckers

Diana R:
a black beauty. some may say in others eyes she is a sugar cookie on a summer day... o yes that diana is so fine she blows my mind... literally... hell yea. hot... yea... sexxay.... o yea

peep 1: hey man u see that hot white girl?
peep 2: i aint see no hot white girl- thats a diana r

I think that about sums me up no?

Yet Another Reason To Strongly Dislike Catholics

In London last week, some wack priest or whatever-turned fantasy writer caused a big British to-do by informing children at a highschool event that Harry Potter is gay. Reverend Graham Taylor, “author” of some cracked-out piece of shit called “Shadowmancer,” claims that he “didn’t set out to offend. I'm a priest and I'm very careful about not offending people.” He had also referred to the Harry Potter villains as “wimps.”

Anyway, people got pretty upset over there – the priest was thrown out of the school and homophobia accusations, censorship counters, etc., ensued.

That said, I think it’s pretty clear what was really going on there. And I have this to say to the priest: wishful fucking thinking, asshole. I’m sure that you would love to believe that there’s a world out there where a sweet, petit Harry Potter is waiting desperately, craving your nasty papal affections, and Voldemort is a diminutive pansyboy ready to cower in the corner at the sight of you. I’d like to think that there’s a world out there where a rugged, possibly muddy H.P. stands ready, offering to, in the gorgeous August 13th words of Lily Bellow, “help-you-fight-the-dark-arts-and-then-fuck-you-real-hard.” But like, I keep that shit to myself man: those worlds are for the boudoirs of your mind only – let’s keep that shit outta the classroom. Cause like…face it: Voldemort is evil; he kills people’s parents in the middle of the night and shit. He’s not a wimp. And more to the point, just cause you wanna bone lil Harry doesn’t mean he’s gay, ok? Keep your fucking Shadowmancer to yourself, man. You’re a priest. That bad boy’s for god and nobody else. Jesus.

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/10/06/potter.gay.reut/index.html

Hey Guys, Remember That Time…

a member of British Parliament inquired as to whether he had seen myself and Diana at the Crazy Horse Strip Club in Paris?

Picture of the Day

Notice anyone special in particular?

POLL #7!!!

Does Immigrant Bitches curse too much?

Cause some people recently said we do. What f***ing pussies.

How Was Everyone’s Saturday Night?: Friday/Saturday Remix

Yo…my bad for not turning this bitch out sooner: I’ve been mostly watching TV a lot, drinking a fair amount of juice, and avoiding Diana’s weepy calls. Anyway, you know the rules. Let’s play this fucker.

Person A attended a “school dance,” despite the fact that they were not drunk, and are no longer in middle school. Allegedly, this was in order to bag some bitch / fellow they had been courting for about a week, who “isn’t like ugly, but you know, nothing to write home about.” The two chatted it up for a while until said bitch / fellow received an urgent phone call. Frankly, I can’t remember if P.A. then met a different bitch / fellow, or like if the earlier one returned, cause I wasn’t technically paying attention when they told me…I think it was the former. In any case, P.A. then decided to kick shit into overdrive, using the ever-popular “yo, my roommate is sick, let’s go to your place, ok?,” which, somehow worked …or so P.A. thought. Alas, in the end, P.A. was left alone outside, utterly unfondled and pretty sober, having gone to a wack fucking school dance for what appeared to be absolutely no reason at all. But yo, chin up, P.A.: you always have Dirty…

Person B was minding their own business walkin around when suddenly some black kids started throwing rocks at them, first hitting P.B. in the foot, and then narrowly missing their head. P.B. doesn’t know why this happened, but I have had so much fun picturing this scene in my head like from all possible angles that it’s not even funny.

Person C was relaxin in their room when all of a sudden they heard a “baaah” noise coming from outside. Intrigued, P.C. looked out the window, and there, caught sight of a motherfucking goat chillin in the neighbor’s yard. “Yo, there’s totally a goat outside my window,” P.C. mused. Nobody believed P.C.’s story, and to this day, P.C. kinda wonders if there was really a goat, or if that was maybe some crazy like Native American what-animal-are-you shit, and like…they’re a goat. You know?

P.S. How Was Everyone’s Sunday Afternoon?

Well, mine was pretty awesome. If by awesome you mean collecting a giant fucking passel of extended V-Ls at noon in the morning and squashing all the under 33 cousins at some cracked out “kids” table where they sit in awkward, not-drunk-enough silence while their 69 year old uncle shouts aloud a poem he wrote for the occasion. Yeah. The poem was actually kind of good though. Definitely a highlight.

Urban Dictionary rocks my socks!

I am shockingly embarrassed with myself. When scrolling down the blog there is NOT ONE post from yours truly, the dirty Panamanian. I have no excuse except for all that wild sex I am having Dave Lerner look a likes, which is, might I add, fucking DAMN GOOD! But alas I have a story to tell you children, a story of heartbreak and sorrow.

The other day my roommate was explaining to me this website I had never heard of called "Urban Dictionary". Now you are all probably saying to yourselves, "Wow, Diana you loser. You are so not down with this hip tech world." To which I would have to respond, "Yea mofos I AM NOT, again I'm too busy will all my sexin' to go online...that is so 1999."

Anyway, as I was exploring this new world I stumbled upon several definitions of interest. The first few being ones of Fieldston. They were as follows...

1.n-the act of sticking a rock in your anus and farting it out
2.v-to give someone a blow job when they are asleep

and...

One of the so-called "prestigious" private high schools of New York City. The school aims at promoting ethical philosophies that I guess are meant to make the students better people. It fails miserably though, as I honestly see no difference in the "asshole to nice-people ratio" when I compare it to other schools.

The school tries to maintain a diverse environment which is also a joke in itself. Its funny that someone can get kicked out for making a slightly \racist comment in privacy while the school is selectively choosing different ethnic groups when it comes to admissions. But of course, we all know that true diversity comes from people who look different. Forget about ideas, values, culture and whatnot. And, everyone is Jewish there somehow.

The school is ridiculously liberal. Mention anything that may be 1 notch to right and prepare to get your conservative ass raped by some ethical cock.

Fieldston. The place where the attractive people are at the top, the jocks are asses, the drama kids are weird, the nerds do their own thing, the workload is unbearable, everybody smokes weed (thank god), everyone drinks, and the normal kids in between the chaos are depressed as hell.

With each graduating class the world gets a bunch of ethical burn-outs who think they can change something in the world.

and finally...

one of the three hill schools, the other two being riverdale and Horace Mann. fieldston is by far the shittiest school out of the three, with the most obnoxious people. fieldston is also the most diversity centered out of the three schools, which is why it was very ironic when there was a racial scandal among students in 2003-2004. Also known for being the school where the kids get high.

I go to fieldston. I am therefore a fucking asshole.
Yea so FUCK THESE MOFO bastards who wrote those definitions. They are all clearly riverdale, homann bastards that have such boring and sexless lives that they define shit on urban dictionary.

Now speaking of losers with sexless boring lives defining shit on this damn website, I also stumbled upon a definition for "richter". It was as follows,

noun
1. a hugely angry and crazy slut
2. any person who exhibits two or more of the following characteristics:
- slutitude
- whorishness
- insanity
- intense, all-engulfing wrath
3. any panamanian
4. a semi-psychotic, possibly slutty person who launches into long and illogical tirades when he/she senses others are having fun without her

"Oh my god! Wendy just left the party whilst having sex on my boyfriend! Then she came back and started yelling at everyone for having fun while she was gone. She's such a richter!"

Now I must admit when I read this definition I skimmed over the "any panamanian" portion, and thought to myself, "wow this 'richter' sounds a shitload like me. And then...OH YEs And then not only did I see the panamanian part but I also saw the cursed author. An individual by the name of WES MOTHER FUCKING ROOSTERSON. For any of you acquainted with our joke of a senior project, you all hopefully know that Wes Roosterson was a fake name we used to be one of our sources. Wes don't exist yo, that mofo be the product of PASTIRY's mother fucking imagination. Now you can all imagine my shock, for i had certainly not written this true yet evil definition of myself. The only person who could possibly be guilty was that bitch the Pasty Russian.

I immediatly called her in tears, utterly distressed that my own smartass had posted a definition of me without my knowledge that painted me in a lesser than complimentary light. She being the enormous sexless slut that she is called me many many tearful hours later and
"apologized".

So yea that was traumatic shit yo...here are a few more definitons for you to ponder during the day...

Dirty Berger:
When one rounds up the entire berger family and makes them fight to the death. Afterwards the winner and sole survivor must have anal intercourse with everyone one of his dead family members.

I'm gonna have me a Dirty Berger tonight, how does that sound?

Bellow:

To stick your head out of a moving train window, and wave outrageous arm gestures... Signifies a large loco on the front.

Truth Addict bellowed at the extremely large goyle on the front of his train...

Pasty:

The color of my skin. If you are pasty you have no friends. You are a loser. Stop blinding people and do yourself and others a favor... go get skin cancer and tan.

your ass is so white, and pasty...

your pastiness is blinding me...

Go tan U WHORE OF PASTINESS...NOW...RIGHT NOW..


Look in the mirror, if you think you are pasty, look at your ass...yea you are pasty, AKA, DEATH WARMED OVER!

MM YEA BITCHES!

Sam Gilroy

Is one of my top 4 favorite people in the universe.

A Bit Of Harvard Poetry

Courtesy of the luminous Sam Gilroy and Lily Bellow, this poem was found on a Harvard wall...It is, apparently, about boning.

i just want some oats
the tenants your thighs
and watch the oats sit
a sweater i meant to wear round me
...
my hand is a revolution
there are oats now
i'll make this easier ...
a field is not a place
a wheat is not working