Ho ho phuckk’n ho, Merry New Year, Good Will Hunting to all men and all that shiz.
Welcome one and welcome all, to the first 2002 instalment of your favourite (non-Scott Keith) column and mine, Et Cetera.
I’d waste everyone’s time by writing about what a great Christmas I had, and what a fat bastard I am after overeating and all that but, to be honest, that just wouldn’t be very different now, would it. Though while we’re on the subject, I did score a fully modded Cube, a cheque for 400 bucks, a bunch of games, a bunch of DVDs, Kingdom Come (which I’ve been steadily reading over the last few days on my trips to the can), the AWESOME McFarlane Kaneda figure with his bike and a whole bunch of other good stuff.
I also got given a fridge. Yes, a FRIDGE. My buddy Chris and I never know what to get each other, but this year I managed to find him something pretty cool as well as useful, as opposed to the novelty crap we usually give (he’s moving to Ireland, so I got him a neat Moe’s Tavern clock that lights up and sh!t). SO he rings me up at college and says “Okay, I think I’ve found something, but I’ll have to ask you some cryptic questions to see if it’s gonna be okay.” “Okay,” I said, “make the questions really abstract so you don’t give the game away.” “Okay,” he says, “are you allowed to have a fridge in your room at college?”
So there it is. And a powerful little bastard it is too – I left a can of Coke in there overnight, and when I came to open it, it PISSED sugary brown goodness all over my keyboard. Turns out it had actually frozen the damn thing, which is pretty good considering. But if you think that’s a weird gift, well, I gave my dad an expandable baton, and I drew my girlfriend a gothic-themed picture. Gotta love those personal gifts.
And since I’ve wasted so much time already here, I may as well waste some more by filling you in on my other, less-Christmassy adventures. As you may (or may not, if you gave up all hope and aren’t even reading now) have noticed, I have been absent for even longer than usual lately. Even the webmaster noticed that I haven’t been around for a while, and sent me a couple of lovely emails telling me that I better get writing or I’m fired.
WELL ASSHOLES, I’VE BEEN TRYING TO EARN MY DEGREE.
After writing and rewriting a sh!tload of essays and producing a massive, massive, MASSIVE and very cool project, I am now done and dusted for another term. Note to all prospective college students: DON’T slack all year and then spend your holiday trying to catch up – it really phucks up your social, academic and internet life. I can’t tell you the number of sleepless nights I pulled to get all that sh!t done (I’ve actually just finished a TEN HOUR, 9pm – 7am marathon, and I’m so psyched I’m writing this column now). On the plus side, I learned the fundamentals of HTML in a morning, and then ditched them and image-mapped my way to a sixteen-page website for one of my projects. Man, HTML. What was I THINKING? The pages look awesome without any of those sh!tty tags. God bless PhotoShop.
Well, would you look at that – nearly a whole column’s worth of text, and nothing about wrestling! Tell you the truth, there’s not a lot to say. Nash is coming back, blah blah blah. Triple H, WWF split, blah blah blah. The only thing that really got me motivated was ripping Bagwell for that latest interview on… um… was it Audio Wrestling? Anyway, you know the one. Only I don’t have any of my notes together right now, and I can’t be arsed to go listening to Bagwell talk for thirty minutes. If anyone wants to see me rag on Bagwell next column, gimme a Hell Yeah email and we’ll see what happens.
What else… oh man, Test is banging Stacy. You know, that chick is so fine I’d actually put a knife to someone’s throat just to sniff her ass. Then again, it is ten after eight in the morning and I’ve been up about twenty hours. And some HEARTLESS BASTARD OF A CONSTRUCTION WORKER is drilling the road. Drilling the road! At ten past eight!!!! WHAT A PHUCKK’N PRICK!!!!!! I’m never usually awake at this time of the morning, but y’know, if I was trying to sleep and sh!t, I’d be pretty pissed off right now. The best thing is, a couple years ago, they were plumbing in cable to all the houses round here, and they kept hitting the power cables and stuff and really pissing off all the residents. So one day, this crazy old woman got an air rifle and started taking potshots at these cable guys. Better still, they all came to work the next morning wearing flak jackets! Pricks, the lot of them.
Aw hell, I’m wasted. No afterthoughts from me today. GOD DAMN IT, I’VE JUST BEEN WORKING FOR NINE HOURS STRAIGHT, GIMME SOME SLACK.
Don’t forget, it’s my birthday on Monday, so the biggest thing happening WON’T be Triple H returning on RAW, it’ll be me having dirty, sweaty, bed-shattering sex with my red-hot, piece of ass girlfriend. Send me some money or a DVD if you’re kind, or just an email if you’re a tight bastard.
And by the time I do the next column, I’ll probably have had a LOT more sleep and be feeling much better. ‘Til then,
Peace.
J$
