rome redux: the spatial difference allows me plenty of time to react

it's the coffee/cocktail conundrum we all wrestle with (consciously or not) around the 11:30 mark each morning. just buckle, and stop all the denial.

• so many great quotes in here, it's UNmazing. on a side note, we fell over after standing on our heads--not even our hands--in 47 seconds, roughly. on another side note, we wish the beautiful poetic soul of this language could seep just a little into some scant american cultural edifice this year, the better the Empire shine for it, however briefly:
  

  “This isn’t the stuff of home runs, it’s about effectively harnessing the power from below to make contact with a strongly pitched ball and not be beaten by its strength.”

• also, fuck the Cubs. we've hated you since you were in the NL East, and we attended Shea games in our youth--while people cheerily hung Cub-jerseyed teddy bears in effigy in the stands. yeah, we know you historically suck. and yeah, we know you now play in a wildcarded world, and not even in our division. but as you should know here at girthy, our hatred is never fleeting.
  
• how to fix illegal immigration, once and for all--no jobs for anyone! and no carrots for you, silly humans.
• you, uh, feel that stingin' in your chest, citizens? that's pride, fuckin' wicha. well, fuck pride. then, fuck it some more.
• stock up on lollipops--lollipops for all! and keep on keeping them bitches outta the dugouts!
  
• hail not just the repubs, citizens. enjoy your spying.
• for the record, stan van gundy is the East's version of PJ. just a douchebag. and for fuck's sake, who did redick bang that you're not playing him over the shlubbs you're starting?
• somebody better go find the Empire a Hitler, and soon. uh, a new one, please.

wiibow hurts like hell

after 3 mos. of shopping by multiple girthy-ites, we got us a wii.

now, all of us are in pain. and not blogging as much as we should, for our audience of 3.

on the plus side, our wii bowling averages are much, much better than they were when we were repeatedly losing at $5 a game at 4-1 odds to the kid down the street.

alll ur interwebs r belongz to me... forever

and you wonder why we at girthy are so into pen names...

unshocking reason no. 4,356,891 why the Empire is fading

ah, america. once so authentic, and revolutionary. now, revolting.

While critics of bringing children to bars are vocal, some parents have embraced the habit with gusto. In recent years, mothers in Manhattan and in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, gathered for Wednesday afternoon cocktail mixers called Tots and Tonic. One former attendee, Christen Clifford, a writer and actress who now lives in Jackson Heights, Queens, proudly recalled breast-feeding her son, Felix, at the bar before ordering a martini.

the solution, of course, is easy and easily applied: make bars be bars again. go there, and curse, spit, gamble, swear, fight, and smoke--or at least smell like smoke. hell, go outside, take a drag--relish it--come back, and blow that sweet secondhand cancer it in Felix's nipple-sucking, lactate-covered face.

when supermom starts screaming at you, gracelessly splashing her $12 martini in angry narcissistic froth, slowly turn to her, and tell her what she needs to be told: go wash your fucking hands and get me a cheese sandwich. though, admittedly, that's The Icepick's line.

then, calmly direct your attention back to the bartender and order "one of whatever this fucking baby is having."

pulp cruciFiction, or seppuku is for pussies

bushido--it's not just for samurai any more. for instance, check out budding lord, savior and sword-slicing badass muthafucka, Jesus Christ-san. no, really.

much on the girthy table today... we'll post when we can.

rome redux: saturday edition

today's notes and news from around our fading empire:

• file under: "I Went To Paraguay And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt (and Waterboarding Internship)." no word as of yet if they've asked the Peace Corps kids to work for other agencies in addition to spying on Cubans and Venezuelans for the State Dept... i'm hoping a certain red-haired cousin comes home from South America with not just the newfound skill to construct palapa roofs and small aqueducts made of leftover plastic bags, but also an internship in torture (mothafucka) torture.
• fuck all you Catholics, more. not only did you fuck up the last 9 prezzes, you're in line to fuck up the 10th, too. well, actually, you got Gore right--maybe someone should break the news to Brother Nino before he does it again.
• Roger Clemens' performance-enhanced trophy wife now has a name. it's Debbie. it's taken me two days of reading news articles before seeing that in a lede 'graf. welcome to the world of people with names and identities, Debbie Clemens. you fucking cheater.
  
• pausing our blogging to try performance-UNhancing drugs...
• my life is more important than yours. i hope Bobo the Chihuahua bites this guy's lawyerly dick off, and pisses all over his 4 year old son. no, not really. well, ok, kinda. HEY. FUCKFACE. you don't like legal smoke, move to a fucking country where it's not legal to do whatever you want within the sacred graces of your home, like make international telephone calls and use email, browse the Web, order liquor online, and now... smoke cigarettes. oh, wait. my bad. btw, if you saw that chick on the street--what do you think her voice sounds like? just a guess.
  
• a dog once bit my face... off. it hurt less than the movie. also, this dude's got a phat collage header on his site.

i am superman, and i sell SUVs

enjoy R.E.M.'s cover of The Clique's 1969 "I Am Superman" on the Life's Rich Pageant album?

then you'll just LOVE the cover of it now running background to the new toyota sequoia ads.

fucking R.E.M. song from the album that had "Cuyahoga" and "Fall Into Me"... now being used to sell a Japanese SUV named after a California redwood tree. fuck me end of the fucking world.

really cool ball thing in the commercial, though.

roger clemens' wife is a cheating whore

just saw this tidbit on the ticker, that bottom troller/feeder/scroller that can change lives in just the seconds it takes for some production jock to key in the text in a studio. in this case, here's what it so deftly said:

"Brian McNamee testified before Congress that he injected Roger Clemens' wife with HGH in 2003 with Clemens' permission before a SI cover shoot."

which of course, means only one thing: Roger Clemens' wife is a no-good, cheating fraud. a phony. a fake. a pure canard. a prevarication. a lie. here, let's use the SI link, too.

see, she's basically flat-out ruined everything it's ever meant to be an athlete's trophy wife in an SI swimsuit issue, and we're just fucking appalled. plus, she looks like she snapped that fucking bat over her leg in the next sequential. fuck you Bo Jackson, you big pussy--Roger Clemens' nameless wife could crush your fucking skull with her abs!

in protest, we're also re-canceling the SI subscription we originally let slide back in the early 90s, right before we stopped reading The Sporting News and right after we had a 4-month infatuation with ESPN: The Magazine before we realized what absolutely fatuous corporate bullshit it was. seriously, this is more depressing to us than our former subscription to Writer's Digest was--you have no idea how easy it is to write a short story or stealthily cloaked feel-good Jesus novel with a fucking dragon. /roar.

but we digress. that wife of Roger Clemens bitch is a cheater. no way she gets in the Hall of Fame now.

hide the white women

so, we just got the call. "world domination," he says. "i'm serious about this shit."

"let's link."

oh, The Icepick cometh.

so, soon as we evolve our voice here and get us some uber sexy-like content, it's gonna be all "do you mind if we we dance wif yo dates?" on all teh webs.

and, yes, as much as we enjoyed our marital band during our sweet sixteen-like americanized nuptial orgy--wtf didn't we hire those dudes? i mean... Otis, my man.

viva la tortura del agua, the MMVIII version...

those of you unfortunately on the longtime girthy news list know of our sincere, fond and long-term interest in torture (muthafucka) torture as an artistic outlet to express our patriotism--going back to the days of Freedom Shirts, our unholy American bathroom shrine, etc.

but did you also know the practice of waterboarding goes back to the spanish inquisition--well before Half Moore took it in GI Jane from Aragorn?

here's a nice archive to catch you up. more independent thought soon to follow...

inaugurally girthy

briefly, some girthy rules:

• caps are optional, and generally frowned upon. we usually cap proper nouns and real names. but not always.
• headers are all lowercase.
  
• teh internetz speak is allowed within context.
• The Girth runs the show and is final arbiter of all things girthy.
• if it's not girthy, then it's OT... gtfo.
• we strongly encourage posts that are tl;dr.