Freebasin' Friday

Assistance

Numerous individuals have informed me that, to their discerning tastes, all the Friday the 13th films blend together into a massive DQ Blizzard with chunks of Suck; and I, being the benevolent, Confucian-style Santa Claus that I am, have decided to make your task as simple as possible. To that end, I grant you, Defenestrated Reader, the theatrical previews for each of the sequels in order to give your memory a much-needed kick in the nuts.

Parts 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Persistence

I've lost count at this point, but I do believe that sometime this weekend I'll have passed the 1000 mark on random encounters in the PSP version of Shin Megami Tensei: Persona. Don't be jealous of my zealous stupidity!

Resistance

I'm going to divulge something rather unsavory about myself tonight, and be forewarned; it's not the cool he's crazily awesome! revelation we'd all like it to be, and it centers, ostensibly, around an idiotic film entitled Return to Oz.

Return to Oz? Seriously? I know (I know) but just hear me out. Believe it or not, I elected to see the film in the theater with my sister and mother (as an aside, my brother went to see The Goonies instead, that fool) and, sparing you an elaborate synopsis, one of the antagonists of the movie was the villainous Princess Mombi, a witch that had thirty-one interchangeable heads. Sounds simple enough, I suppose, but you should know that my mother resembles the actress who portrayed the main head, Jean Marsh (similar age, to boot), and it was a decidedly surreal experience to sit in a darkened theater with a woman who looked like the maniacal, head-changing woman on the screen.

To the point, I was at an impressionable age when I saw the film, and I can't stress enough just how much that freaked me out. Honestly, there was a period in which I feared that some woman living on my street had a secret stash of heads she could don at will, mainly for the purpose of tormenting unlikely children.

Later, it became less of a fear of literal head-swapping, and more of a metaphor for the opposite sex in general. Still later, that metaphor precipitated a strange fascination toward women.

I'll say no more, if only to preserve my illustrious reputation.

Insistence

Recently, I spoke with Sparkles (over a dinner consisting of soju, French fries, and Spam casserole) regarding a future PK post pertaining to the murder of a young, female child (fictional of course, as that's an act which is far from my ideal pastime), and it wouldn't have revolved around the travesty of killing the child, per se, but rather the lackadaisical attempts by the perpetrators to shift blame upon one another, the caveat being the guiltlessly malignant manner in which each of the culprits effortlessly deflects such hollow accusations.

Regardless of my intentions, the PK Daddy issued a stern reprimand in response to my seemingly callous proposition, and insisted that I refrain from said endeavor. Now, I'm not sure if I approve of his vituperative censure, and I never made any promises, but I'll probably skip that post, because yeah, I can see how it would rub many-a-reader the wrong way.

Subsistence

For dinner tonight, I ate a convenience store sandwich, followed by half a bag of cheddar Goldfish, a bottle of Budweiser, and a swig of soju. And you wonder why my sperm is such a creamy shade of jade.

Consistence




(So turn it up and break it down.)