Top ten albums of the year:
1. Go f@#k yourself.
2. Seriously.
3. I mean it, go f@#k yourself.
4. I hate you.
5. Your face looks like an Armenian's taint.
6. It literally makes me vomit.
7. Why are you reading this?
8. You worthless piece of shit.
9. Go kill yourself.
10. Kate Bush - 50 Words For Snow
Best videos of the year (to jerk off to):
1. Kickball Katy bends over while a bunch of dudes on a stage imagine what her b-hole looks like.
2. Beth Coast shows off her sexy legs and pussy.
Best Show of the Year:
I don't go to shows ever because good shows never happen in Pomona. They don't happen in LA either really. There are some Kyrgyz bands I'm digging on hard at the moment who I'd totally pay to see but they don't tour. They should do a Kickstarter. Plus most of the time I got better things to do. But I won tickets to see [spit] Ozma at the Glass House a month or so ago and I was going to sell them to someone dim enough to want to see Ozma. Figured if you're dopey enough to want to see that f@#$ing band then you're dumb enough to pay me way too much for the tickets and I'd turn a nice profit. Then I got lazy and didn't feel like going through the whole rigmerole of selling them. Then I got lonely and I thought maybe one of the opening bands would be tolerable enough not to make me break out in boils, so I went to the show. I walked in and this band called the Body Parts was playing. They weren't good or anything. One Dirty Projectors is more than enough Dirty Projectors for one lifetime. But they had a nice looking chick playing the drums and a, wow, sexy shapely lady playing the guitar. I watched a couple songs which was enough for me to get a pretty vivid mental photograph of the two of them, and then I went upstairs to the men's room and I started pounding off over the toilet in one of the stalls. I guess whoever'd been in there before me had snuck in some booze because there was a puddle of what looked like scotch or something on the floor next to the commode and I didn't notice this until too late when I slipped on it and fell. I guess I hit my head on the toilet and passed out because next thing I knew I was lying there on the bathroom floor with my pants still around my ankles and some security guy was prodding me with a mop handle and telling me the show was over and it was time to scram. I obliged. And that was the best show of the year.
Happy 2012 asshats! Will this be the year that Hammy finally gets laid?? Doubtful, but we'll see. Just remember ladies, those are zits, not herpes. Believe me. I wish they were herpes.
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