Word on the street is that John Mayer is now dating Cameron Diaz. And also that he makes hideous faces when he performs.
This is why you come to the MockDock, folks. For the pure randomness of our news. You’re welcome!
Monthly Archive for August, 2007Page 4 of 9
To celebrate my son’s birthday (he is somewhere between 3 and 47… if I am doing the math right), I loaded up my children, as I have 3 by 4 women, and we headed off to a theme park, which I cannot name but if you asked I could tell you that there are a half a dozen flags involved.
Anyway, as the kids scattered to enjoy the day, I began to examine the “theme” of this very park. And I considered all of the many theme parks that I have gone to in my some 104 years.
It seems to me that the theme of all theme parks is…. get in line fat-so!
This photo, of a supposed celebrity who interchangeably goes by Jordan or Katie (??) and has some fame in the UK apparently, is part of an ad campaign for perfume. Which is certainly the first thing I thought about when I saw this picture. I mean, it just SCREAMS perfume, doesn’t it? To me it just screams real, authentic, genuine, not-at-all-fake-or-enhanced-or-enlarged perfume.
This past Saturday, August 18th, I had the opportunity to participate in a motorcycle rally, called the Loop for Life, in the wonderful metropolis that is Indianapolis, Indiana. The Loop for Life is a ride of approximately 5000-6000 riders who pay to ride, alone (all traffic blocked off by the fine officers of the Metropolitan Police Dept.) on the I-465 loop that encircles the entire city of 1.2 million people. I understand the glory… the open road, the wind in your facial hair… So, needless to say it was my honor to participate…. in my 2002 Jeep Grand Cherokee!!!
As I entered I-465 from the 10th Street exit, it occurred to me that the highway was eerily devoid of 4-wheeled driving machines, like the one I was deftly manipulating down the ramp. As I peered into my rearview mirror, I realized that I, in my typical state of inattentiveness and general confusion, had driven right past the police blockade as I tarried down the on-ramp.
It was only as the thousands of motorcycles roared past me, each rider and passenger alike, staring in to my slightly tinted windows slinging leering visages of pure hatred that I realized, I had joined the rally to raise money to stem the spread and development of Spastic parapalegia.
Upon this realization, I did what all right, normal people would do… I laughed, called my brother to tell him how much these motorcycle and health enthusiasts hated me in that very moment. Unable to communicate through my fits of uproarious laughter, I exited I-465 and trundled toward home on the slow, pot-hole infested surface streets.
All in all, it was a good day. I hope my participation in the Loop for Life was the key to finding the cure for Spastic parapalegia (actually I don’t want them to cure it…it is too much fun to say). And next year, I will ride again… and they will hate me more!
Absurdly yours,
Holmes
So, my sister’s birthday was this weekend. We all got gussied-up and headed to our favorite downtown Italian restaurant. Little did we know that the national Gen Com convention was in town. Oh, do we wish that we had known. We were in a room FILLED with the likes of those you see above. At every table sat some variation of this image. A bigger guy in a vest, an older guy in a free website shirt - black of course, a little guy who has always been on the smaller side in a black gaming tee shirt, a tall guy with with weird facial hair, and a chick, who, by any normal ratings isn’t very, um, attractive, but in this crowd, she is the freaking Grace Kelly of the bunch. All of these people were loud, obnoxious, and weirdly dressed. I saw a woman in a cat costume, a man wearing a pink tie and bunny ears, and a woman dressed as a belly dancer. This is in public people. It was like every company let out their IT guys for the weekend, and this is what they decided to do. It was a horrifying, terrifying experience. I would like to hear your thoughts. Wait, crap, my IT guy is probably able to read this right now, isn’t he. craaaaaaaaaaaaap.
Leona Helmsley, tax evader extraordinaire and arguably one of the world’s sexiest women, has died at the ripe old age of 87 from heart failure.
BREAKING NEWS! Britney’s hair is starting to grow. And her natural hair color is orange.
That is all.
So lately I’ve been seeing a lot of the tabloid mags and blogsites refer to people from a show called The Hills. Some girl named Lauren and another girl named Heidi are apparently in some sort of wicked fight. I decided to tune into the show for the first time ever this afternoon to see just what all the fuss is about.
I’ve come to the conclusion that this show is quite possibly the dumbest show ever. I think it’s a reality show, but I’m not positive. The dialogue doesn’t seem authentic, but it also seems too dumb to be something anyone actually wrote as a script, so perhaps it’s some sort of pseudo-reality show. In any case, I can’t imagine who would want to routinely tune in to watch these impossibly boring and annoying people on purpose. And yet apparently it’s all the rage. Anyway, Heidi and Lauren are mad at each other over some rumor that one of them started about the other, and I think there’s a sex tape involved, and that’s about all I could make out of their big feud. But what I find to be far more interesting is that Heidi is engaged to a guy who is CLEARLY gay.
If someone could alert me when the episode airs where Heidi confronts her fiance about his gayness, that would be great. Until then, dear readers, consider yourselves spared from any news about the absurdity that is The Hills.
Last night, I spent some time trying to find the newest, hottest young band on the local music scene. I ordered my drinks sat at at table in the back of bar just in time to see “Acid Rat Trap” setting up their gear for the show.
As the first power chord was deftly strummed with the grace of a puma trying to drive a ‘76 Volkswagon Super Beetle across the city for a pack of smokes, I knew that my search was done. Never has one group of teenage, suburban refugees rocked harder. The glory days of Sebastion Bach, Bret Michaels and David Coverdale were swept from memory as a single tear rolled down my porous, crusty flesh.
With the bravado that only true, gritty hair metal can produce, I approached the bar, sidled up to a young lady, reeling from the force and finesse with which Acid Rat Trap played. I looked her in the eyes and uttered, “Nice boobies.”
As far as pick-up lines go, I am no Mystery or Matador. I might be a J-Dog. The reality is, as her open palm slapped across that single tear, I knew we connected…connected on a level that could only be equal to making out with that puma and smoking the Marlboro red while pulling my pants on and hiding my shame.
In a shocking turn of events, Seigfried and Roy announced yesterday that they are GAY. I’m not making this up people. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Apparently Siggy and Roy-boy were once lovers. Although they aren’t currently, they now remain “partners” and “best friends.” Shocking, shocking stuff. I’m glad they found the courage to come out of the closet. It must have been a crowded one with all those tigers in there.
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