Eastland Academy

It's hard to molest a girl on roller skates.

4.07.2006

Nooooooooo!

Oh my God. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. I am never gonna get over this. Never.

It's not so much that Mrs. G is dead. That, I knew was gonna happen. I mean, she was old as fuck. But to come home and find her with a can of Janitor in a Drum shoved up her snatch...

That's something you don't get over. Thanks a lot, you old nutcase.

In Rememberance of Whats-Her-Fuck

'Scuse me, while I breastfeed Junior here...

I remember my first day at Eastland, the day I met Mrs. G.

I was being double-pumped by Jo and Tootie in the common room, when this red-faced redhead stinking of gin staggers into the room, looks at me somewhere close to my face and says, "well, hello, you must be the new toilet," then her wig fell off while she straddled the couch to pee into my mouth.

Yes, Edna Garrett taught me many things, from scat-play ("don't ever say I never gave a shit, you fat fuck"), to the subtle nuances of smuggling ("never forget that your twat is as great a place as any to hide freebase. Especially a twat as big as yours, Natalie.")...Oh my god, I'm going to cry.

Today, I stand here looking at her fresh corpse, her liquified innards leaving their viscous stains on my keds, and am feeling the impulse to honor her death the way she would've wanted me to.

Stand back, girls.

Okay, Junior, I'm going to take off your diaper, I can see by the look on your face it's time for your business...come on, Nat...come on...it's coming...there you go...okay, some over here now. You're such a good baby. Okay, a little more over here. Nice going, junior.

Blair, could you hold Junior for me?

sniff, have to sob make sure this gets waaahah spread out evenl...no, no...

I LOVE YOU, MRS. GARRETT!!!

C'est la vie (or C'est la mort as the case may be)

I have had it with this place. This failed goddamned school, and my failed cook shop, and my failed trinket shop. Throw them on the steaming pile with my failed marriages and my failed motherhood, and you've got the facts of my shitty life.

Knock back a Janitor-in-a-Drum shooter, and you've got the Facts of Death.

Heh. So as a final farewell, I've written a little ditty that speaks to my current state. Sorry I couldn't convey the actual tune to you, but hey, this is a suicide note by a desperate old woman, not Guitar World.

----begin song------
When the girls you used to love, you hate
And it doesn't help to masturbate:
Consider Death--The Facts of death

There's a time you gotta kill yourself
Just to save your mental health
The Facts of Death...Oh sweet, sweet death!

When you've drawn your last breath
And Natalie Blair and Natalie have Blair has annoyed you to death
Suddenly you're finding out the facts of death are all about ME.
--I mean Missus G.

I don't have that much lifetime left,
Since I've learned the facts of death!
Cuz I'm going to kill myself with Janitor in a FUCKING Drum!
----end song-----

OK, so the last line is a little off-meter. It's not my best work. Sue me. Seriously, go ahead and sue me--my estate will consist of an extensive support hose collection and a tube of warming KY.

Blair, Natalie: If you're wondering, I DO consider you two my biggest failures. You two are total assholes. Suck my dead ass.

Jo and Tootie, you were just joyful to have in my life, even if you are a lesbian biker and an overdeveloped future porn star, respectively.

This Janitor-in-a-Drum is pine scented, which is a real drag. I'd rather have my last drink be kinda citrus-y. Oh well, if life were perfect, I wouldn't be fucking killing myself, now would I?

You know, I don't think drinking this coniferous swill is poetic enough. I should die the way I lived--cleaning shit. I wonder if dumping an entire liter of Janitor-in-a-Drum into my crusty, tired, poorly-maintained, overstretched old hooch would poison my bloodstream enough? I'm not a chemist, but I'm gonna have to hope that excessive curdled yeast won't completely neutralize caustic and dangerous compounds!

Hell, "suicide by douche" is original enough that my story might even get picked up by some wire service's "Odd News" section!

Well, here goes nothing! Bottoms up!
Edna

2.25.2006

Even He Had Off Days

9.13.2005

Nancy has grown up to be a real cunt.

There was really no other way to say that other than bluntly.

I used to secretly side with Nancy all the time in her spats with Blair. This is primarily because, as I'm realizing more each day, NOBODY LIKES BLAIR.

So I was in Manhattan yesterday, shopping at a trendy new control-top panty boutique in the Village--Gunt. As I'm exiting the store, trying not to get my pendulous breasts caught in the revolving door, I run tits-first into none other than NANCY OLSON!

I was so excited that I started doing that flustered clucking that I do when I'm near young women. Unfortunately, there was no mistaking the vibe that Nancy wanted nothing to do with me. She went to great lengths to pretend that she had no idea what I was talking about. She kept insisting that she is an actress named Felice Schachter, and she kept spewing meaningless bullshit about how she once starred on the silver screen alongside the most notorious cocksmith in all of entertainment, Scott Baio, in his blockbuster, Zapped!

What a fucking ungrateful bitch! It's one thing to blow somebody off, but to pretend to BE somebody else? To just make this shit up is so feeble.

Did any of these girls end up as normal, loving people? I'm really beginning to wonder if I have wasted the last 25 years of my life.

Bitches.

7.25.2005

Must-See TV

This guy, Kevin Reilly, who's a big muckety-muck at NBC, was cryin' today about how bad NBC sucks now. This is no surprise to those of us who remember when the network used to put on really quality shows. *ahem*

But it made me sad, thinking about all those network execs who're gonna have to go without a fourth car because of the shit they keep trying to pump down viewers throats. So I went through my old creative writing notebook from my Eastland days. See, the English teachers at Eastland left a lot to be desired. They were lacking things like insight and knowledge and ability to teach. So I usually spent my time in the back of the room writing down ideas for new shows. When I went through 'em today, I was knocked out. They're actually pretty fucking good; at the very least, they're better than Law & Order: Trial by Jury.

  • Doctard--A young retarded man struggles to prove that he can make it in medical school. His mentor is a demanding surgeon who tolerates no mistakes. Get Corky for the lead.
  • The Timer--A group of student athletes on their school's track team use a magic stopwatch to travel through time and save the world every week. Mostly, they do this by running or jumping hurdles or throwing heavy, cannonball-like objects.
  • Senator Whiskers--When a U.S. senator is murdered by the mob, his hyper-intelligent cat is appointed to fill his seat. Not only must the cat prove he's up to the task of legislating, he must also track down his former owner's killers and bring them to justice. Maybe get Michael J. Fox to voice the cat.
  • The Skids--A Bochco-esque drama that follows a group of homeless people as they struggle in their day-to-day existence. They meet up regularly at a shelter run by a sexy young nun, who maybe becomes involved with one of the homeless women, their sweaty bodies brushing up against each other in the soup kitchen; the sweet forbidden--huh? Oh, right. Anyway, I think this series could actually get people to care about smelly bums.
  • Slap Sandy Duncan--Just what it sounds like. A game show where, each week, contestants compete for the chance to slap the shit out of Sandy Duncan. Wheat Thins could sponsor!
  • Froggy Go Bye-Bye--A wacky Frenchman who speaks no English is mistakenly sentenced to twenty years in a maximum security prison. Think how funny it would be if he were struggling to figure out how to say, "Please don't rape me" in English!
I'll be waiting for Kevin Reilly to give me a call.

7.21.2005

My First Column!

This is so cool. I just got a new gig as the cultural critic for the Langley College Daily News. Since the circulation for the L.C.D.N. is about 20, I decided to reprint my first column here.

Second Round of London Bombings "Amateurish"
The attacks today on London's Underground, coming two weeks on the heel of similar attacks which proved far deadlier, seem like a weak copy of the original. The attacks of July 7th paralyzed the city with fear and were carried out at rush hour with a chilling precision and a seeming desire to kill as many people as possible.

Today's bombs were detonated at mid-day, when most people were at work and the tube was filled with mostly tourists and the homeless. Also, the terrorists made the mistake of trying to blow people up not in central London, as was the case with the previous bombings, but in more outlying areas that nobody really cares about. Aside from the poor timing and location of the attacks, we have fact that these bombs--unlike the ones that tore apart buses, trains and lives two weeks ago--didn't even explode properly. One person was injured and there were no fatalities. The Guardian U.K. reports that the severest damage done was to a couple of bookbags and a rucksack. Ooo, I'm trembling.

Who were these guys, The Terror Cell That Couldn't Shoot Straight? Come on! First off, if you're going to blow yourself up in the name of Allah, you're going to need to actually blow yourself up, aren't you? I mean, those 70 virgins waiting for you in Paradise aren't going to have anything to do with you if you can't martyr yourself correctly. Second, couldn't they come up with a more original plan? Three trains and a bus? Yawn. Nobody likes a copycat, gentlemen.

Now, if they're going to ramp up there terror efforts here, they're going to need to think outside the terror box. What other forms of mass transit could be exploded? How about a ferry? People get all freaked out when those capsize, I'm betting they'd piss themselves if one blew up. A water taxi'd be even better. Nobody expects those to go. For my money, a "moving sidewalk" would be a perfect target. Think about it: everybody's already got luggage on the damn thing. You just roll your bomb right on! Even more original: How about flying a hang-glider into the side of a skyscraper? Of course, you'd want some kind of explosive on it, otherwise you're not a martyr, you're just clumsy.

Anyway, however they do it, these terrorists are going to have to come up with something a little more inventive than what they did today if they want to keep everyone's interest. This attack was amateurish to the point of laughability and I'm giving it: C-

7.20.2005

A Call to Arms

I'm getting a little freaked out here.

If this John Roberts guy gets appointed to the Supreme Court, it's looking like he'd be pretty quick to overturn Roe v. Wade. Now, as many times as Mrs. G. has had to drive the girls in this house to the clinic for a scrape, you can be damn sure that none of us want to see abortion outlawed.

I can just see poor Tootie in a post-Roberts America, skating full-speed into a door knob, hoping to dislodge the placenta from the side of her womb.

Seriously, you're going to see a lot of Tooties and Blairs going through illegal channels to rid themselves of unwanted pregnancies if this guy is on the bench. And, sweet fucking Jesus, how about poor Natalie? If this fucker advocates throwing little girls in jail for eating one french fry on a train, Natalie's going away for life. She can't go one stop on MetroNorth without scarfing down a ham sandwich.

We've gotta work to get a better nominee. Hey! Lots of people want to see another broad up there. Why not Mrs. G.? God knows, she's good at meddling. She'd be absolutely fucking perfect.

7.13.2005

Blair May Be a Stupid Rich Whore...

...but this is a really good Op-Ed piece by Sarah Vowell from today's NY Times.

Somebody open a window, 'cause I think Blair forgot to dousche this morning.