Brendan and Bill Chat

Brendan: well well well, if it isn't gheylord pinky
Bill: hjow did you know my Secret Name
Bill: Gheylord Pinky
Brendan: i like it
Brendan: GP
Bill: Gheylord Pinky
Brendan: its da gheylord pin-kay
Bill: what it do this ya boi gheylord pinky
Brendan: ballin thug
Brendan: i like it
Brendan is away at 9:02:45 PM.

Boystreet

Boystreet's Back



we are redefining our image for the reunion




here we are working on our Collective Aura



the controversial Rolling Stones cover



this one is for the haters that dont think we play our own instruments




new album and fragrance coming soon

i talked to reymon14 today

im the one that keeps yelling REYMON

i ask him to give a shoutout to nene (who was freaking out telling me its pronounced nay nay which i obv. dont believe)

and uh i scare him at 4:00 when i yell

also i talk to him near the end about overrated vs. underrated

EDIT: i had no idea he was recording this and planned to put it onto youtube, i was just talking to him

here is what everybody said when i told him to say nene the proper way


nene: tell him 2 say nene
Gckolio: ahah
nene: YOU SAID IT WRONG
Rvorus: NAY NAY
Rvorus: NAY NAY
nene: NAY NAY
Rvorus: NAY NAY
CB: lol
Rvorus: o shit you bitch
nene: NOOOO
Rvorus: lol
CB: lmao
Rvorus: talk about owned
nene: UGH

owned

Chris (12:35:34 PM): I GOT TO GET TO CLAS
Chris (12:35:38 PM): i have a presentation at 1230
me (12:35:42 PM): lol
me (12:35:43 PM): Hm
Chris (12:35:44 PM): i just came bak to sign up for classes
me (12:35:48 PM): 1230 huh
Chris (12:35:50 PM): yes
Chris (12:35:52 PM): team presentation
Chris (12:35:57 PM): its gey
me (12:35:58 PM): wheres your team at
Chris (12:35:59 PM): and silly
Chris (12:36:02 PM): huh
Chris (12:36:02 PM): idk
me (12:36:06 PM): does the presentation start at 1230
Chris (12:36:06 PM): im meetng them at class
Chris (12:36:08 PM): at 1230
me (12:36:11 PM): i hope you're nearby.
Chris (12:36:14 PM): ya its at the beinning of class
Chris (12:36:18 PM): im right accross the street wtf
Chris (12:36:20 PM): its in rockwell
me (12:36:23 PM): thats good
me (12:36:27 PM): because you have -6 minutes to get there
Chris (12:36:28 PM): y
Chris (12:36:33 PM): wdf
Chris (12:36:42 PM): its 1135
me (12:36:48 PM): 12 35
Chris (12:36:54 PM): 1136
me (12:36:59 PM): 12 36.
me (12:38:03 PM): http://www.google.com/search?q=time&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a
Chris (12:39:00 PM): ?
me (12:39:07 PM): google "time"
me (12:39:55 PM): .
Chris is idle at 12:49:14 PM.


edit: chris just sent me this text message

Fr:Gup
Fuck me in the ass
Oct 25, 1:18 pm

owned again

gtown: Grunt: Dur blah blah blah. The language Olde English is just as cool as the beer its named after. He me sayeth etc. Im grunt and im gay. i tell it to everyone every day.
gtown signed off at 11:41:08 AM.

justin timberlake owns

pretty gay

dedede

me: he, for despyt and for his tirannye, to do the dede bodyes vileinye
gtown: yo, you forsoothe a gay ass book, cumqueen to the dedede, was whom wyf stfuery

a humble critique

ok so some guy jokingly posted this horrible disgusting video and said that there would be a literary critique from me addressing it and it was all a big joke but then i actually watched the terrible thing and wrote it as a super double-joke that almost made me puke

summary: the video was of a girl pooping in a cup and then her and another girl ate the poop and then vomited into each others mouths

i wrote a lot of words about it

I dont really suggest you read all of them but here they are, if you skip to the end there is a secret video prize (which isn't the video i'm addressing here)


In the masterful modern work 2girls1cup, the feminist genre is reexamined through a series of reversals of expectations. The prevalent ideologies of our culture are filtered through the lens of the pornographic genre - and, in true modern form - the work tends to raise more questions than it answers.

The opening image, that of the stenciled "MFX 1209" suggests a confusing misunderstanding - the 1209 seems as some sort of date, yet the aesthetic of the number lends itself to a futuristic association. This blurring of past and future, mixed with the confusion of the assumed-to-be acronym primes the audience for the confusion to come.

The first image with the two primary characters (who, for the sake of this reading, I will consider to be the "2girls" that are referred to in the title) is seemingly innocuous - the cross-cultural, lesbian interaction defines the equal-rights (both feminine and racial) within the genre of pornography.

The gentle background music lulls the audience to sleep, and the timely but gradual change into the next shot at :11 goes by largely unnoticed by the audience. The eyes are immediately drawn to the "Cup" (also presumed to be that mentioned in the title), the inversion of the phallus and perhaps one of the most overarcing symbols for feminine spirituality and sexuality in antiquity.

The gentle piano concerto will continue as the cup is suddenly and ironically filled with a steaming shot of fecal matter from the anus of our primary character. In this way, the masculinist, derogatory nature of the pornographic genre returns in a surprising, explosive manner. The fecal matter "penetrates" the sacred chalice, which raises a number of interesting questions. Many of these questions pertains to lesbian sexuality - is womanly love possible without the masculine grotesque? Is the pornographic genre doomed to exist within the realm of humiliating acts, even when the only participants are an innocuous 2 girls, and 1 cup? The later image of the two characters attempting to kiss through the feces of the masculine grotesque (as well as the literal feces) will only support this theme.

The excited but hesitant tonguing suggests a sort of apprehension on the part of the lead characters, but by :25, any hope for redemption has been lost. This transition from playful tonguing to full fecal consumption happens as suddenly as the transition to the original defecatory act - why do these central thematic moments happen offstage? There is no dramatic dialogue, neither character gives voice to the greater internal struggles that surely must precede the decision to consume another's feces. This central thematic crux is internalized in both the characters, and thus is obscured from the audience's perception as well.

This notion of blurring will evolve into a diluting and contamination of sorts by :40, where the vomit of disgust begins to obscure even the original thematic feces of the work. It is worth noting that the secondary character does not vomit into the cup (while our original character does), yet vomits directly onto the other woman. This further develops the motif of the masculine invading lesbian relationships - does one woman have a monopoly on the feminine cup, while the other woman becomes masculine, and begins to fill the role of the oppressor as she symbolically vomits down onto the kneeling lover? Even this notion isn't safe from the postmodern genre-confusion, as the roles are reversed and the other's mouth is vomited into in return.

It is hard to read this work in any constructive manner, as evidenced by the final image of the piece. The characters present themselves to the audience, effectively breaking the fourth wall. The difficulties of untangling the thematic mess of the genre to find sentence are reflected in the physical mess on the characters faces. Hopefully, with further examination and daring works such as 2girls1cup, we will be able to break free of many of these domineering and ultimately oppressing ideological structures which are maintained by societal forces, genre restrictions, and our own perceptions of reality.



oook im not gonna post the video here but if you actually read all this congratulations here is your prize

thx to mr. wave

http://gprime.net/flash.php/elevatordisco

HOW the fuck do you do just the most Basic egg salad

ok so last night i hit the gym for the first time in like years so basically my body is all sorts of in shock right now and i am hella craving some god damn egg salad and i have no idea how to do it OH SHIT MOms calling me this is perfect

OK i just got off the ph one with her and the most Basic egg salad is like this, you gotta boil one egg for like 5 minutes and then take the shell off the egg and mush it with the back of your fork or something for a while and then mix it with some mayo and salt and pepper

u can also put mustard in there if you want but u dont have to (i am going to try it) and put it on some toas t(some part of the meal has to have some texture) and then you have the most Basic egg salad

now the internet has a normal egg salad recipe for regular dudes because every website i looked at had like MY SECRET EGG SALAD RECIPE that calls for like a thing of vinegar and green onions and messed up shit so im gonna go make this aight peace

mahna mahna

GruntXj: rgr
gtown is my town: wtf
GruntXj: ?
gtown is my town: rgr
GruntXj: roger dodger
gtown is my town: wtf
GruntXj: lmao
GruntXj: wut.
gtown is my town: ya

nubs in my nook

Gustave was the Bear. His sister Caroline was the Rat...

The freshman subject rests his caramel-mocha Frappachino down on the top shelf of one of the desks and puts his sunglasses on the back of his head (so that his meticulously sculpted hair remains untouched) before sitting down for a carefully-planned and timeslotted hour of calculus. He scans the room, the small, quiet area behind the staircase, and finds only two other residents.

I am a literary lizard basking in the sun of Beauty.

Both are male - the first has greasy, shoulder-length hair, and is leaning over a large, well-preserved map with a complicated and unmistakably academic symbology. He is wearing a dirty flannel jacket with his shorts and sandals and is eating a salad out of a Styrofoam to-go box. He glances up at the newcomer, and politely smiles before returning to his mysterious studies.

Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.

The other resident had propped his chair up against an ancient-looking filing cabinet behind him, and now had his feet up onto the desk on his left. At his side was the desk he was actually seated at, upon which sat a teetering pile of dirty books. Sprawled across the desk was a notebook filled with indecipherable notes and symbols. More books were layered on top of this, all of which were underlined so heavily that the freshman subject wondered what the point was.

He flirts occasionally with the rhinoceros and the camel as self-images, but mainly, secretly, essentially, he is the Bear... so far we (and he too, perhaps) have been imagining a dark animal: an American brown bear, a Russian black bear, a reddish bear from Savoy. But in September 1845 Gustave firmly announces himself to be 'a white bear.'

At first the freshman subject thought this second tenant was asleep, until he hiccuped loudly and shifted his weight, pushing his face into view. His filthy and disheveled hair was unceremoniously shoved to one side, while several unkempt tufts jutted out from the back of his head. He was reading a book propped up on his dirty green hoody and he was chewing his pen.

[But why a polar bear?] Other bears are used. The Romans imported bears from Britian for their games. The Kamchatkans, a people of eastern Siberia, used to employ the intestines of bears as face-masks to protect them from the glare of the sun; and they used the sharpened shoulder-blade for cutting grass. But the white bear, Thalarctos Maritimus, is the aristocrat of bears. Aloof, distant, stylishly diving for fish, roughly ambushing seals when they come up for air. The maritime bear. They travel great distances, carried along on floating pack-ice. One winter in the last century twelve great white bears got as far south as Iceland by this method; imagine them riding down on their melting thrones to make a terrifying, godlike landfall.

The Freshman had been staring long enough to attract the attention of this creature, who lowered the book a bit to peer over his crooked glasses at the Freshman as he pulled out his chair to take a seat. The Reader paused, sniffed loudly, and blinked at him once - slowly, with heavy eyelids - before turning back to his book. The young student felt a chill, and pretended to text someone on his cell phone as he turned for the stairway.

If Gustave Flaubert gets to be a polar bear, then I consider myself

an ass.