BlogARRHEA...Where I get it ALL out!

Grant Storms Arrested: Anti-Gay Christian Pastor Charged Over Public Masturbation

2011-03-04T11:50:00.001-05:00

Nice.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Short Siesta-

2011-02-18T18:27:00.002-05:00

Lazy is a Siesta in a Hammock by the Sea,
And there in Flip Flops,
You’ll find me!

Your Secret's Safe Victoria

2010-12-01T14:19:00.006-05:00

(Video from CBS.com)

Christmas is approaching in a few short weeks. So once again, Victoria and 34 of her sexy friends strapped on their wonderful winter wings and strutted into our homes to reveal their secrets to the world. It’s the day of the year when husbands are encouraged (and often forced) to watch knockout-beautiful supermodels parade up and down glittery runways, in pretty panties, with naughty intentions. Wives, fiancés and girlfriends watch intently as the perfect 10’s thrust their tight butt cheeks gracefully across the stage.

What would motivate women to allow their men to gaze at these scantily clad strumpets? Upon thorough analyzation, the results are in; when women feel they have a decent chance at receiving nice gifts, they’re willing to ignore what’s normally infuriated them for centuries. So...all bets are off! Jealousy has left the building! Men, take advantage of this annual, free-for-all fetish. Come Christmas day, make sure you bear underwear, otherwise, Victoria’s Secret pantie playground, will be closed.
J.S. Lambert

Leslie Nielsen Tribute

2010-11-30T23:48:00.000-05:00

Leslie Nielsen is dead at the age of 84. It’s sad to see him go, though it was crazy nice that he was around for so long. He was a man ahead of his time who paved the way for many comedians today. He was uniquely hilarious with a fresh style that hit you off guard. The old man’s silver hair would lull you into thinking he was going to say something within the realms of politically correct or socially acceptable, but before you knew it he was busting out comments so vulgar Richard Pryor was offended. His perfectly delivered, slapstick verbiage carved Mr. Nielsen into over 100 films, full of thousands of gut twisting laughs. Surely he will go down as one of comedy’s “Greats”. But please, don’t call him Shirley.

Chrissy Martin: Shot Stabbed...and Pissed

2010-11-29T09:02:00.000-05:00

Last week, Orange County, Florida Investigators reported, bad ass ex-female boxing champion, Christy Martin, had been shot and stabbed in the torso and legs by her 66 year old husband, James Martin. Her injuries were described as nonlife-threatening. James Martin is considered by authorities to be dangerous to the public.

Run James run! Run far away! You had your chance to kill her, and you blew it. The human wrecking ball of a woman is alive, and thanks to you, she now wants to take her revenge out on all men.

Immediately upon being shot, stabbed and left for dead, Miss Terminator burst through her front door and ran down an Apopaka Florida Road (Meanwhile, James Martin disappeared like a fart in the wind). A driver picked up the ex-brawler after spotting her running down the street covered in blood. The helpful citizen then informed Martin they would immediately travel to the nearest hospital. An unreliable source claims, Martin then replied, “No. We find that bastard first. I need my mouth piece and my Everlast gloves. This means War!”

James Martin is 5`10” tall, 160 pounds, and currently remains on the loose; although, to Christy Martin the bastard is considered to be “fucking dead meat”.

Thanksgiving's Best Kept Secret!

2010-11-25T13:50:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving is back and it's time to get fat! No matter where you go to stuff your face, someone has got the best method of cooking that bird so that it melts in your mouth. We have seen and heard all the tricks and secrets to cooking the perfect turkey. Too bad nearly every time you get down to the business of devouring the bodacious butterball, the damn thing is as dry as the Mojave Desert. Who actually holds the secret recipe for the perfect turkey?

If you're not too concerned about eating healthy, deep frying "Tom the Turkey" is the way to go. Every year I do everything I can to make sure Thanksgiving dinner is juicer than the last. Using kosher salt to brine the meat overnight, brings amazing results. Still, nothing works quite like that bad ass deep fryer! We always hear horror stories of explosions and people burning down their houses while using the deep fryer they rented for their holiday feast. Let me quiet those claims to calm your nerves . As long as you DO NOT USE THE DEEP FRYER INDOORS and proceed with normal cooking caution, there's absolutely NOTHING to worry about! The cooking time is reduced tremendously, and the taste is out of this freaking world! The majority of people are afraid to deep fry as a result of the tragic mistakes of a few random idiots. Nevertheless, my family will be enjoying the taste and convenience of Thanksgiving's best kept secret. The whole experience will be JUICY, JUICY...YUM!----
~Joey

Winning Cures All

2010-11-23T01:15:00.000-05:00

Michael Vick is back on the scene, and he’s not just kind of back. The guy is on top of the world. Vick was responsible for 6 of the Eagles’ touch downs in last Monday night’s mauling of the Washington Redskins; 59-28. The man is crazy elusive and he can throw a football farther than anyone else in the league. The Eagles beat the Skins in Washington like a bunch of dogs, and followed that with another big win on Sunday. Vick went from orange prison jump suit to “Broadway Joe Namath” faster than a speeding bullet (look out Superman!). How quickly things can change with a little dose of winning. Sports fans are becoming all too familiar with this.

Tiger Woods, Bret Favre, and Ben Roethlisberger (formerly Worthlessberger) are three big name athletes within recent memory to fall from grace, and be forgiven, in the blink of an eye. I’m all for forgive and forget, but the timing and reason for public mercy, is what bothers me. Can absolution be achieved strictly by putting up good numbers? Is the Almighty “W” just that; a holy pardon to the former damnification of our hallowed heroes?

There may be no specific time limit on how long a dog abuser or woman beater should be rebuked. Under the public’s watchful eye the offender may tend to be deceivingly apologetic during their probationary period. Quite possibly, we have no business judging others at all. To jump into reprieve mode as soon as a golfer wins a major or a QB has a badass fantasy football week, just seems a tiny bit strange. There are plenty of athletes breaking the law who will never be forgiven because they’re on a losing team; however, if that same felonious fan favorite were on a winning team, he would be instantly exonerated. There are athletes that lived checkered pasts on losing teams that have died and are still paying for their sins. Out of respect for their families and fans, no names will be listed here. What can be done to even the playing field for athletes in a professional slump and who choose to partake of the devil’s fruit simultaneously? Winners are not always good guys and losers can be winners.
J.S. Lambert

Darvocet 86’D

2010-11-20T20:55:00.002-05:00

And the word on the street is…

Darvocets are getting yanked from U.S. pharmacy shelves. Apparently there’s a brand spanking new study linking the active ingredient propoxyphene, to serious and sometimes fatal abnormalities.

I call bullshit!

Since when does Xanodyne Pharmaceuticals Inc., the makers of Darvocet and Darvon, actually give a flying shit saucer fuck about the well being of opiate consumers? The FDA estimated that 10 million patients received Darvocets last year. Two things about all this strike me as being odd. First of all, 10 million users sounds to be (sadly) a low ball estimate. Everyone and their grandma’s are on opiates these days. The second sneaky factoid is that Darvocets are known by the majority of these, uh… uhmm, 10 million “patients” (retorting back to patronization) as the weakest of all weak opiates. As a matter of fact, the very reason why millions of otherwise straight edgers, or those who may actually be trying to take care of some form of legitimate pain take Darvocet, is because they know it’s the least dangerous of the available painkillers. Also, seasoned doctor hoppers who are tired of shaking hands with the devil and are reluctant to go on another world tour with the monkey on their back, figure they can get away with a Darvocet here and there without signing that tiresome contract again. They can get a little taste with little or no consequences.

So what’s the real issue here? Is it that the little red pill is not effective enough at sinking its teeth into unsuspecting prey? Is it not addictive enough? Are pharmaceutical big dogs finally giving up on the “rarely” habit-forming, mini-poppers? Maybe they’re ceasing production on the waste of time, pussy pills to concentrate on the real money makers. Everybody knows synthetic, raw dog, heroin is where it’s at! Oxycontin, oxycodone, hydrocodone, morphine, whatever they want to dress it up as…now these are the pharmaceutical companies “true” safe bets.

America, it’s official…86 the Darvocets. You have been phased up! Hello Vicodin!

J.S. Lambert

Open Sores

2010-11-14T17:21:00.001-05:00

I am a coward with open sores.

I write and wonder how many it bores.

I hear my mind

argue with my heart repeatedly.

I see others carrying out my dreams,

and that’s what’s defeated me.

I am a coward with open sores.

I pretend open doors are closed

and walk the other way.

I touch base

with the fear in my heart;

it tears me apart

and makes me reluctant today.

I worry that the world will leave me.

I cry because no one believes in me.

I am a coward with open sores.

I understand that nothing comes easy.

I say I’m happy

but even I don’t believe me.

I dream I am healed and brave.

I try to overcome my weaknesses

before I’m in my grave.

I hope you hear me,

I’m on all fours.

I am a coward with open sores.

The Never Ending Battle

2010-11-08T16:14:00.000-05:00

By 

J.S.Lambert

Sacrificial Lambs, 

at the hands of the man,

none of us could stand.

Annihilation of a  boy’s life, 

barely began.

Ran like hell.

Fear drove me to tell.

Warned never to tattle.

Disobey?…

 face a winless battle.

He’d attack my siblings,

these were not minor threats.

Few saw how fierce this monster really gets.

Family ravaged by hidden horrors, 

Unspoken.

Faces lost innocence,

revealed lines of years broken

Dictatorship Rule! 

Beaten bodies, souls bludgeoned.

Blood fused with drool.

He questions why 

I made him do this to me.

I give no reply,

so he bashes me blue, till my eyes cannot see.

Suffocation triggers adrenaline,

never felt before.

He misses one swing.

I lunge for the door.

Stagger and stumble,

 sidewalk still,

 soothes my strife.

Only one place to go,

but I do not yet know,

the next open door, 

saves my life.

© 2010 J.S. Lambert 

Michael Jackson...Back From the Dead!

2010-11-06T21:24:00.002-04:00

By J.S. Lambert

The King of Pop is back again. Well, not really...he's dead. What I'm trying to say is, Michael Jackson will be releasing a new album titled Michael available December 14th. This is Jackson's first album featuring new material since the 2001 release of Invisible. Between then and his death, it seems that everything about Michael Jackson's music has been just that...invisible. The first single to be released on the album is titled "Breaking News". The new song will be streamed live for 1 week on MJ's official website.

What is it about death that makes musicians popularity soar to new heights? Many could argue that Jackson was the most famous entertainer to ever walk (or moon walk) this planet. *Sorry NASA, I said moon walk this planet.* The 80's, and a portion of the 90's, belonged to Michael Jackson. Whether you like to admit it or try to forget it, if you were around for Thriller and Billie Jean, you were no doubt rockin parachute pants and grabbing your crotch screaming, "HHHOOOOOOOO!" (all in the name of the King of Pop). In the years leading up to the death of Michael, you would be hard pressed to find anyone who spoke a positive word about him. All we heard was “He’s a complete lunatic” or “Hide your kids, MJ is a child molester”. Many people even questioned his loyalty to his race saying, “Mike wants to be white. He doesn’t even like black people.” I find it odd that he dies and all of a sudden he’s the Jesus of song and dance once again.

Why do we anoint the people of showbiz the moment they kick the bucket? This happens all the time. A star falls from grace to a life of drugs and criminal activity, then must struggle to achieve the same level of fame they had before. Sadly, they commit suicide or overdose or whatever, and BAM! The world suddenly purchases everything the deceased artist ever produced. Next we get to hear how great of an icon people have always considered him/her to be. Followed by endless pandemonium, fanfare, and worship comes a reinvented onslaught of fame. New generations of loyal followers and millions of fresh dollars come from discovered album vaults which were hidden during the entertainer's life.

Don’t believe me? Check out the record sale patterns of The Beatles (post John Lennon’s death), Elvis, The Doors, Tupac, Nirvana, and even Biggie Smalls and the whole Puff Daddy domino affect it caused. Fame is a big business that people are DYING to get a piece of.

WhereZ my Lighter?!

2010-11-05T10:21:00.000-04:00

Eyes slowly peel open. Not quite quarter to seven. Gotta have that ceremonial cigarette! This is more than a routine… it’s a must.

My frigid left hand reaches and tickles the nightstand. The slick cellophane of a box of Parliament Lights meets my fingertips with sacred delight.

It’s on! I can now rise and shine. Waking up is never this easy. History tells me this could be the dreaded phantom pack which houses only a useless lighter...nope! Not this time.

Yes! This pretty pack of cancer sticks runs 7 deep. Seven is always lucky. I only need one right now.

Where the fuck is my lighter? I knew this was too good to be true. Seven lucky cigarettes and no fire.

The search party begins....

“You got a lighter?”, I call out to my snoring, sleeping beauty with no reply. My hand’s scanning every corner my 77 inch reach provides. There’s those lucky 7’s again. My blood begins to boil. “Bullshit”, now I’m angry!

“Where the fuck did you put the lighter?", I ask my wife as she instantly hurls a pillow which whizzes right by my head. She belts out, “Look in your ass bitch!”

I’m not the only one who’s edgy this morning. There’s still no sign of the lighter, and therefore, no luck. Nicotine is my caffeine. At this point nicotine is my morphine. How’d the morning start so bad?

I nudge my Narcoleptic Nymph with one last, desperate attempt. I try the nice role this time, “ Honey, you got the lighter?” There’s no response, no pulse. “Hey…….Hey”, I whisper. “Where’s the lighter?”

BAM! Another pillow missile. This is not friendly fire. (Morning foes at the hands of the cigarillos.) “Check your ass!” she growls.

Now that’s just rude. I’m the king of this castle. Guess this means I gotta get my big ass up. To my dismay, I step up the bounty and begin my journey toward the bathroom.

My feet hit the cold floor and I reach for ceiling. As I yawn I hear a small “CLANK.” The noise is followed by what I can only describe as a strange, itchy, irritation, coming from my U.A.L.B. (upper ass, lower back). It seems an unidentified object dislodged itself from my ass-neck.

The sarcasm my wife normally slings my way, was indeed factual this morning. The lighter slept nestled, warm and cozy against my ass throughout night!

“Honey, where’d you put the camera? You gotta take a picture of this!”

Her reply: “It’s in your ass bitch!"

Go figure.

These pictures were taken directly after
the events described above.

1st photo
I am wearing white basketball shorts and the imprint
is just above the waistband.

2nd photo
Taken with an infrared
camera. You can see the heat outline of the
lighter very clear.

                      lighter imprint above ass
       ↓

↑

my ass

infrared ass

↓

↑
infrared imprint

Lil' Wayne is Free A-Gain!

2010-11-04T19:57:00.000-04:00

♫"Pop the Crystal and Krunk Juice...♫

Get ready fo' da' FEAST!

♫Time to get it poppin yo!♫

Weezy got released.

Call yo' homeboys, da' lawyer, and yo' fuckin' priest,

cause Wayne's risen' up from the Belly ♫of the Beast!"♫

lyrics by Joey ♥

Ok.....enough of the cracker rapper crap. A real rapper known as lil' Wayne was released from Rikers Island Prison Thursday morning at 8:35 AM, after serving eight months of a one year sentence. This March, Weezy turned himself in and settled on a plea bargain for his 2007 gun charge which occurred in Manhattan. Wayne, also founder of Young Money Entertainment, then pleaded guilty for attempted gun possession.

New York has really strict gun laws which prohibit unlicensed users from being within operating reach of a firearm. Whereas most cases today offer a slap on the wrist to celebrities and athletes that tote semi-automatic weapons, drink and drive, beat the shit out of their spouses, and mass murder innocent animals (Michael Vick), Lil' Wayne's punishment seems more fitting in comparison, to that of a serial killer whose carved up the pope and his Vatican staff.

By the way, rapper Drake and Wayne's entourage are throwing a coming out party (not that kind of coming out) to celebrate Wayne's prison release this Sunday night at a popular Miami strip club. Also, an unreliable source states that on Monday morning around 6 AM, the city of Miami-Dade county, will be throwing an after party. This extravaganza is entitled:

$ South Beach Cash Money Millionaire Bash…

The Hang Over Fo' Weezy, Fo' Sheezy!

…which will feature the live arrest and booking of Lil' Wayne during his subsequent return to federal prison; Miami Style. Joining the arrest party will be the special guest and celebrity incarceration of Snookie from the hit show Jersey Shore Miami. Music by, non other than…Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine, with special guest Enrique Iglesias.

Stay posted for more details.

Liquid Handcuffs

2010-11-04T11:09:00.000-04:00

Liquid Handcuffs

by J.S. Lambert

Abundance of devices.

So many flavors.

Seeking to serve.

Pain lies beneath black secrets,

accompanied only by guilt.

Too difficult to juggle.

Simple to dilute.

The decision effortless.

Chemicals chased the hurt away.

Words

2010-11-04T00:04:00.000-04:00

Words

by J.S. Lambert

Words down.

My savior.

Last rope not burned.

Screaming!

No one heard.

I write words down.

My choice.

 My therapy.

All ropes snapped, 

I could have too.

These words I do not choose.

Words down.

Words. 

No one listens.

Still I write.

Words save me.

© Words by J.S. Lambert

Randy Moss Schedules Frontal Lobotomy!!!

2010-11-03T18:13:00.001-04:00

photo from www.hotchickshotpicks.com

By J.S. Lambert

Randy Moss is unemployed and heading toward an NFL city near you! Looks like Mike Tyson got some coo-koo competition. Moss has always seemed to be a couple sandwiches short of a picnic basket, but now he has gone completely country crazy.

Within the last thirty days, Randy has destroyed relationships with two NFL elite organizations. Days after begging to be traded from the New England Patriots in exchange for a future 3rd round pick, (and getting his wish) Moss’s new team played the Patriots. After the game, Moss (while still a Viking) expressed how much he missed the Patriots. This didn’t sit well with the Minnesota Vikings. Hours later, his name hit the NFL’s waiver wire.

What would lure a man to trade a perfect situation with Brady, Belichick, and the Pats for Old Fart Farve and the Happpless Vikings? Maybe there’s a method to his madness. Is it possible that Moss didn’t realize just how hideous the situation in Minnesota got? Something tells me that Moss is cracking up, and Mike Tyson’s preparing for a roommate in the loony bin.

What do you think?

Reggie Roo

2010-11-03T14:03:00.002-04:00

Reggie Roo

by J.S. Lambert


*In Memory of Reggie 1999-2010*

Sparks and barks encompass the room.
Reggie the Roo really could zoom.

Full of life, jumps, and joys.
Fired across the room, he’d chase down his toys.

Muscles rip down his back and body.
Leaped six feet at mention of “outside potty“.

Everyone saw him as a very good dog.
Not just your average little bed hog.

Internationally known as the Super Jumping Jack, King of Orlando (dethroned Shaq).
At Lake Eola, Dwight Howard approached Reggie Roo.
“When I grow up I want to be famous like you”.

“Keep working hard,” Reggie barked with a smile.
“and hit the weights kid, it could be quit a while”.

Ladies didn’t know when to leave poor Reggie alone.
Had to shut down his facebook and disconnect his phone.

See, Regg’ liked to keep it low key.
Being mobbed is no fun when trying to go pee.

Reggie spread love through the home he laid in and played in.
He loved Nana and PawPaw,

and especially Brayden.

©Reggie Roo by J.S. Lambert

Flipt the Script

2010-11-03T10:31:00.000-04:00

Flipt the Script

By J.S. Lambert

When you got it...
fuck, it's good!
This time it's gone.
Gone for fucking good.

You did it dumb shit.
Why can't you see?
Built yourself a prison,
you'll never be free.

Big player with too many sides
to really enjoy the steak.
Too busy.
Too many lies for one girl to take.

Knew damn well your game.
Smelled whore on your dick.
Bitch played back.
Now you're useless as shit on a stick.

There you go.
The magnet pulls you back.
You left the lies behind,
but now her shit's off track.

Bandaged wounds,
sealed them with a kiss.
Too busy making it right to see
the shady little Miss.

The script’s been flipped
and you're asleep at the wheel.
You're in love this time,
She wants you to know how pain feels.

Veins warm.
You really tied one on.
Flicked the needle, injected it,
but something went wrong.

Not what you thought it was.
Not warm, not love,
not even a buzz.

Love’s red blood drips down your arm.
How did you not see her intention was harm?

She turned the tables
left you with the bends.
Not the way love is supposed to work.
But sadly, how it ends.

You fiend for love,
only when it's lost.
This time my friend,
you've paid a terrible cost.

Man Down

2010-11-03T09:10:00.001-04:00

Man Down

By J.S. Lambert

Dynamite Delight.

Found yourself a fight.

This just in...

You can't win.

 You'll lose your ass tonight.

Legend led the way,

to your status today.

  But now you stand,

destined to lose.

Not the path the wise would choose

 Too late to back down now.

 Cold cocked your left eyebrow.

Before you think of what to do,

 blasts your ass with a furious few.

 Spit blood, 

spun you down

Now here comes the ground and pound

 Silence.

it's over.....

or so you thought.

 Not finished.

 Lesson's not been taught.

Rips your hair back, 

then sets in for the final attack. 

Followed by...

three boots to the face.

 Bloody dirt is all you taste.

Vaguely hear them, 

pull the beast away.

 Puke two teeth,

and start to pray.

Lucky to be breathing.

 Peel your eyes open,

the punishment's leaving.

The legend that was yours,

fades away.

At the hands of the woman 

that kicked your ass today.`

© Man Down J.S. Lambert

Chainsaw Chatter

2010-11-02T16:41:00.002-04:00

There is a bug in my ass tonight.

Why do humans insist on bitching all the time? We all do it. Hit me with the guilty verdict. These days I handle my complaints in a different way. Where as I used to numb away the madness with any form of chemical I could find, now I just squat down for a good ol' mental shit on this wide ruled paper. My words would reek louder and linger longer if only the notebook were college ruled.

Many people out there are just completely miserable. They take any and every opportunity to spread their negative viruses throughout the airwaves. Loud, furious thunder follow these fuckers down each hallway, sidewalk, or street they travel. Their bombing stench of negativity, similar to sewage on a sultry summer afternoon. Question to self: "Was I ever this way? Did it ever get so bad I resorted to the constant melody of Chainsaw Chatter?" My hazy ways may have guarded me from traveling the Boulevard of Malcontent.

Over indulging in glass half empty syndrome is a cancer to the soul. Venting to a friend or through a pen from time to time is one thing. However, if you find every word that vomits from your mouth is hate meets complaint, you may want to take a second look at the picture you paint.

Lebron James is Bringing Nail Bittin Sexy Back!

2010-10-31T01:52:00.001-04:00

If you know me, you know I bite the hell out of my finger nails. My memory bank fails to take me to a time that I sported a full rack of 10 well manicured nails. I have no idea how the habit started or if it will ever end. Never has there been a person that I have met that feast upon phalanges with the precision I do.

Then came Lebron James. This guy performs cuticle cunnilingus that would make Colonel Sanders' wife raise from her Kentucky grave and moan " finger lickin good".

Keep it up Lebron. I think you've turned my nasty habit into a trend all the ladies love!

Shameful Morning

2010-10-31T01:25:00.005-04:00

Shameful Morning

By J.S. Lambert

Not sure

how she got here.

Only know

she needs to leave.

Underneath the stranger

my arm numb,

asleep.

Mouth a desert,

a hundred dead

cigarettes dance,
tongue dry.

Princess of night,

exposed by light.

Get me out of this,

another dreaded,

morning mess.

Bed broken,

along with my will.

I swore never again,

John Hughes Disaproves

2010-10-30T23:04:00.000-04:00

by J.S. Lambert

Moments after Ferris skipped school that unforgettable day in the windy city and the 16th candle burned out, great teen movies disappeared from production as quick as John Hughes could say "Peace out". Sadly, the King of all that was ever Great about Teen Movies went A.W.O.L. and never resurfaced back into civilization before his death in 2009. Nobody did it like Hughes.

Kids today cannot relate to the teen characters portrayed in modern films. Present day young people in movies are just way too well seasoned in these roles. Go out in your community and ask the teens what their favorite movies are. While some youth today may agree they find some entertainment in movies that feature 16 year olds driving Benzos and bangin out multiple one night stands, they will undoubtedly be quick to let you know they cannot relate on a personal level. "Nobody I know is rockin ice, and snaggin freaks down for 3 ways and all that shit you see in the movies" Jamie Belmont, a Greenville area high school senior that lives in my neighborhood said to me when I picked his brain on this subject while playing basketball earlier today. "I'm 18 and I've seen and done a lot of things but the the shit you see in movies right now is completely over exaggerated". I asked him about Ferris Bueller's Day off. "I love that movie! Now, I can dig that! Ferris was kinda a dork but that's more real. People I know love John...whats his face's movies".

Jamie was referring to John Hughes. Although today's youth may not know Hughes by name, I have found that many of them enjoy the familiarity of his films.

A great deal of money goes into hyping up films like Paranormal state 2. Every time you flip on the tube you'll see a commercial showing how great the flick is going to be. I was suckered into watching the first Paranormal state. What a disappointment! No substance, no story, NO Paranormal State II for me.

There are millions of potential dollars to be spent on a modern day director that is willing to be honest enough to capture the pure reflection of today's youth the way John Hughes did. Who's gonna step up to the plate?

2010-10-29T00:45:00.001-04:00

Audrina Patridge's White Trash Mama!

by J.S. Lambert

Tuesday night blew in some bad news for us and for Audrina Patridge.  We will no longer be able to gaze at the triple stacked former Hills sensation, as she gallops her donkey ass around the Floor on Dancing w/ the Stars.  Audrina's ice blue eyes center stage can make even the most seasoned dance critic momentarily lose track of what type of contest is being judged.  Admittedly the Hills clashed with nearly every rule I have for watching a television show.  Still, my ass tuned in on the regular to see just what that sexy kitten was up to.  We're all a sucker for a girl with a quirk.  Audrina's little lazy eye pretty much reached out and grabbed that remote to make sure that the Hills was programed on our TiVos.

My father always told me growing up "before you get involved in a serious relationship, check out the girl's mama".  This theory has proved to be factual on several occasions in my life.  Nine times out of ten a chick is gonna end up looking very similar to her mother.  Often, they will also eerily wind up sharing many of big mama's personality traits as well.  This could spell tragedy or deliver triumph.  It may be time to place Audrina Patridge on the shelf following what we witnessed her drunken mother blurting out, during an extended interview with Hollywood.tv.com the other night.  Here are some of her ingenious quotes:

"She's kicking ass on a reality show and we're going to fucking smoke,  especially Lauren Conrad's pissy ass little fashion shit," Lynn rambled, hinting jealously at LC's brand new contract with VH1. "That bitch  wants to bring it on? Let's go! Fucking let's go!...I've been a  celebrity mom eight years through this Hills bullshit, but Audrina is going to the next level. She's got it in her. Fucking Hills girls. Hills tramps! My baby is a star, she's the only one that has some class."

Thank God my mother doesn't drink!  Audrina probably wishes her mother wasn't alive at this point.  How mortifying!  I'm sure her Hills buddies that made her famous are gonna love this.  

 For all you Audrina lovers out there, follow my father's words of wisdom and check out this slurring, babbling, hot-mess, of a GILF.  After seeing this embarrassing youtube footage of Lynn Patridge, I am certain that while many horny men out there still think that both ladies remain in the "do-able" category, certainly they will agree to take a pass on considering Audrina as a future wife prospect.  It is a damn shame that this old bag has wasted her good looks, and daughter's reputation as a good lay and a nice wife to be.  Watch Audrina Patridge's drunken hag mother and let me know if you think she is still a hottie that will stand the test of time.  

2010-10-28T17:40:00.000-04:00

Eternal Infernos of Pain

by J.S. Lambert

Front and Center,

those Gates adorned with pearls in Heaven,

white angels soaring.

If by chance,

ordered to enter through St. Peter's Permission,

I demand from you,
chancellor,

a swift insanity plea submission.

For this troubled soul is plagued,

by vast displays of wicked ways.

None lost.

Courtesy of meticulous examination.

Love lost.

Diligence pending Investigation.

Key Evidence,

perpetually documented
in Sin's ominous catalog.

Rebuke my Judge!

For multitudes of shortcomings,
He failed to ascertain.

Moreover, present was He,

when Satan drafted me
first round pick three,
his Fantasy League...

"The Eternal Infernos of Pain".