Wednesday, March 26, 2003 My cousin David, a U.S. Marine, is in Iraq, fighting towelheads (my apologies to any non-terrorist camel-jockey who reads this site). Now in addition to shooting radical Arab extremists, my cousin also enjoys unwinding to a good letter. Luckily for him, my brother Joseph was more than happy to oblige. Below is an excerpt from a letter written by my brother (which was delivered to Iraq accompanied by a good old fashioned American porno):
Hope you like the gift. Don’t tell my dad I sent it to you – he still doesn’t let us watch R-rated movies in the house. As I am writing, precision strikes against “targets of opportunity” have begun. First off, let me tell you that I am confident in your ability and in those around you to do a quick and effective job of flushing out the evil doers. Also, a few points on how to deal with Iraqi soldiers (a.k.a. prisoners of war) and other war stuff:
1.) Do not share cigarettes with prisoners – you don’t know where those Iraqi’s have been.
2.) When raping and pillaging, be sure not to be caught on tape as that will tarnish the sterling image of our military.
3.) If an Iraqi soldier is running towards you, odds are he is surrendering.
4.) When accepting an Iraqi as a prisoner of war, speak French, as that is the international language of surrender.
5.) If it bleeds, you can kill it, but you must do it with a thick Austrian accent.
6.) When conducting live fire training exercises, be sure not to stand next to any Canadians.
7.) Contrary to popular belief, human shields are not that effective at protecting military targets from heavy munitions.
8.) Finally, make sure to write sarcastic messages such as, “Hide this weapon of mass destruction, faggot!” on your bullets so as to simultaneously insult and injure fleeing Iraqi soldiers.
Friday, March 21, 2003 Never tell a girl she looks like Phil Collins...
At the St. Patrick's Day party last Saturday at the beautiful Sleaze-side Heights boardwalk, I endulged in the alcohol for a nice 14 hour period. Needless to say, the next morning I was feeling a tad crapulous. So, sitting there all bloated and sweaty, a la the big man, friend Joe reminds of an incident I apparently tried to black out. That night was one of the 3 of all 365 per year that a girl was actually hitting on me. She had what the locals would call a "butter face" (as in, everything's good... butter face) - so, given this only happens on rare occassions, I decided to keep drinking and swallow my pride. A few beers later, in a fit of drunken brilliance I tell this girl that I like her, but that she has a "Phil Collins" head. And there is no beer in the world that will make this attractive. Obviously, she left right there - and I don't think I was slapped either, so it was well worth it. Totally bragable.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003 I know I've discussed this topic before, but something has come up that requires me to revisit an old post. I have access to online reports that provide details on every visitor to the hizzouse. Among other things, I can see how a person is directed to this site. For example, most people just type in the URL. On very rare occasions, however, people are directed to this site after searching on various words or phrases in Google. Well, the house received such a visitor yesterday. A visitor from Germany, no less. And what phrase did this visitor search on? Drum roll please ...
"milking machine for gay play action"
I shit you not. Don't believe me? Try it, it works. Now just in case this particular person decides to come back to the site, maybe even becoming a regular reader, let me take a minute to say a few words to our new foreign friend.
Monday, March 17, 2003 I've never really been the type that gets addicted to things. At one point in college, I actually tried to form an addiction to cigarettes, but it didn't take. And although some might argue that I'm addicted to booze, I still think it's more of a physically irresistable hobby than an addiction. And then, last Monday, I found out what it feels like to suffer from the dark, gloomy affliction known as addiction...after watching the first hour of the tv thriller, '24'. Perhaps it would not have been so bad if I didn't have all 24 episodes at my fingertips on DVD. Or perhaps I could have fought off the addiction if I had anything better to do on a weeknight. Or weekend. But instead, each night, my mind was preoccuppied with the plight of keifer sutherland and his hot teenage daughter...no wait, I mean family. Somehow, I managed to finish the entire series in six days, and although I have debated calling the Guinness Book of World Records, I've decided to keep this pathetic fact to myself. Oh yeah, and the hizzouse.
Friday, March 14, 2003 Why Matt Sucks At Life and I am the Bomb Diggity
Only seven days our prior, Matt V. asked me to "aid" him with this site and I - in less than 24 hours - devised the most underrated post in House of Thrill history, covering everything from ferret rectums to human rectums. A telephone conversation took place in which he and I discussed how to keep the site alive and it was determined that we would alternate posts. Obviously, Matt V.'s word isn't worth a lick of shit, and this, in addition to his self-admitted uber-failure trials of life spewed forth on this site, I have determined that he sucks at life. Consequently, I am the bomb diggity.
Friday, March 07, 2003 The reason this webpage should remain active is because there are others floating around "The Net" (as seen in the gripping Sandra Bullock classic) that concern themselves with the prolapsed rectums of ferrets. I was first introduced to prolapsed rectums about eight months ago with friends Bruce and Erin while on a beach in Neptune, NJ. Friend of said friend Erin was studying for her biology masters degree and gleefully displayed a diagram entitled simply, "4(a) Prolapsed rectum." We all thought it to be funny - like totally rockin' - and who wouldn't? Occasionally we would all stop to laugh about it. And then today all the laughing ceased. For the first time in my life, I saw what a human prolapsed rectum actually looked like and I fear that I will never laugh again...you have been thoroughly forewarned.