Testicle Tuesday...the triumphant return

This week's TT was inspired by Waterboy (not the movie you heretics). And let's just say Moore is better...


First up is a woman who has stayed at or near the top of the pantheon of hotness for over 20 years...I give you the incomperable and timeless Demi Moore...


Mandy Moore is half Demi's age but is second to none when it comes to natural beauty...


Julianne Moore is a tasty red head and a four-time Oscar nominee...


Or next uber wench has been steaming up the music scene for nearly ten years...Alicia Beth Moore, better known by the singularly sassy Pink...


Any of you pervs have any ideas for future TT installments, let me know, otherwise STFU if you have any criticism of my discriminating eye for feminine perfection.

Prelude to a Tuesday

Since I've vowed anew to resurect Testicle Tuesday, due largely to popular demand, I thought I'd throw out a cyber suggestion box as to whom or what theme y'all would like to grace the coveted TT spot. So just throw in your two cents via the comments and I'll peruse your pearls of wisdom and decide upon TT fodder.

Of mirrors & me

Sorry y'all, feeling a bit mopey. This spiel hit my brain so I had to exorcise the demon within.

Aside from my mother’s quadrant there are no mirrors in my house.

You are probably asking yourself, “Why?”

The answer is simple…I don’t like my reflection.

The reason I abhor my own image being shown back to me is two fold. One, the broken body that now houses my soul is such a departure from how I used to feel. That youthful exuberance has not left, only grown stronger. The trappings of youth adorn my psyche but my fairly dependent condition prevents most of the simple acts that made me young…riding a bike, roller blading, snowball fights, our annual pop-bottle rocket war, walking a flight of steps to get to a girl’s apartment, all these acts made me whole, made me feel true joy. Second, that joy died when I broke my neck. I’ve not felt truly happy in 17 years, and it is that unhappy visage that I shirk, spurning it like one would a rotten banana.

So how do I know true joy again? I don’t know.

When I was 19 I hardly respected anything or anyone. This attitude doomed me to a certain extent. Girls sensed it, my friends sensed it, so did my numerous bosses, my grandparents, my family, and most painfully of all, my mother. This irreverence cost me dearly. Because most of all I had no appreciation for my own mortality. Big mistake. This mistake and foolhardy attitude would eventually cost me my independence & freedom. I constantly threw others and myself into harm’s way seemingly with little to no regard for personal or societal safety. I drove drunk, I got in fights, I stole, I slept around, and I generally spat in the faces of those that cared for me. Dumbass.

Nothing is quite as tragic as lost youth. An even greater tragedy is youth squandered. Because of my idiocy, I missed out on what should’ve been the best and worst times of my life—the age between 19 & 25. This is the stage in life when we typically discover binge drinking, road trips, and fraternity life, among other time honored American traditions. During these years we’re also developing life tracks, job possibilities, and hopefully finding the one person who will share the rest of our lives with us. With the exception of the binge drinking and a fraternity membership (Sigma Chi all the way…In Hoc), I never got a chance to fully experience this period of self-discovery. I spent most of this time in & out of hospitals and rehabbing my broken body and damaged psyche.

I’m still working on the later. I cry myself to sleep more often than I’m comfortable with. I immerse myself into fantasy worlds and recollections of what was or what could’ve been. I find this easier than dealing with reality and the day-to-day bullshit.

My everyday existence is peppered with constant fear and misgiving. I question nearly every decision too critically. I’m constantly afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. My own mortality is also an all-encompassing thought.

The only time when I’m not painfully aware of my condition is when I’m asleep. Maybe tonight I’ll have one of those dreams where I’m just riding my bike. Soon I will be going to bed. To sleep, per chance to dream. Dreams are an escape, the playground for the subconscious soul. Dreams are when we have the ability to fly, and the only times when I feel just like everyone else. Only then will I dare to gaze in a mirror again.

Happy Friday the 13th...

Ah yes, it’s Friday the 13th, and in my own unique fashion I celebrated this dreaded calendar date by walking under a ladder, breaking a mirror, letting a black cat cross my path, hung a horseshoe on the wall up side down, spilled some salt, opened an umbrella indoors, killed a ladybug, went sailing and shot an albatross (damn hard to do in Colorado…I’m not allowed in the Denver Zoo any longer), said “Candy Man” and “Bloody Mary” in front of a mirror, picked a three-leaf clover, and killed a spider.

So far nothing bad has happened…yet.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA (evil laugh)

Tomorrow I’ll deal with these horrible festering pustules that have suddenly risen all over my skin.

Halle-freakin'-luiah!!!

One of my wildest dreams just came true.

But first, a little background...

In my life there have been a few of those watershed moments; puberty and my subsequent discovery of frequent and fervent masturbation, getting a high speed Internet hookup to facilitate thusly, seeing Salma Hayek for the first time, and playing Halo for the first time.

So, as the years coursed slowly by and Halo 2 and Halo 3 were released for stand alone video game platforms, Microsoft, in thier infinite fucking wisdom, witheld the release of Halo 2 for the PC until recently. But as the gods would cruely dictate Halo 2 was a Vista only game. Now an enterprising lot has introduced a patch that makes H2 playable on Windows XP.

Now the wait begins for the $50 ticket price to fall, then it'll be on you Covenent beeyatches!