Somewhere between these two extremes, dwell I.
There's a very valuable service going unprovided on the Internet today: Real product reviews for real people. Sure, there are myriad sites devoted to reviewing any number of products, but they always do so fairly and objectively, like bitches. Reality isnÃ¢ÂÂt Ã¢ÂÂfair,Ã¢ÂÂ or Ã¢ÂÂobjective;Ã¢ÂÂ itÃ¢ÂÂs irrational, emotional, hate-fueled, about 6Ã¢ÂÂ2 and bearded. So this review will be in two parts: A quick impression of the product at hand, followed up by its performance in real world testing. Now, admittedly, the last time I tried a product review, I had skewed criteria. I was trying to gauge the products by their appeal to the opposite sex, but I completely forgot that the opposite sex is mostly appealed to through money. Especially when they're prostitutes. OK, I won't front: I'm really just hiring some whores and seeing how they like getting railed by fringe technology that I found on the Internet. First up, the breakdown:
No, it's true: Literally every couple you see at Applebee's is comprised of one lonely man and one whore.Ã¢ÂÂYou my date?Ã¢ÂÂ she asked, coughing with the utmost gentility into her armpit. Ã¢ÂÂI sure am, beautiful. WhatÃ¢ÂÂs your name?Ã¢ÂÂ I slid a platter of Rancho Poppers from the booth-bench, and motioned for her to sit. Ã¢ÂÂIÃ¢ÂÂm Twilight,Ã¢ÂÂ she answered. Ã¢ÂÂAre you that vampire movie IÃ¢ÂÂve heard so much about?Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂWhat?Ã¢ÂÂ She seemed dumbfounded; couldnÃ¢ÂÂt even answer a simple question. Probably had a learning disability. Ã¢ÂÂI heard you got terrible reviews,Ã¢ÂÂ I continued, folding a quesadilla into another quesadilla and struggling to force my mouth around it. Ã¢ÂÂListen, can we just do this? I got another job in two hours across town.Ã¢ÂÂ I reluctantly obliged, and we made our way outside. She didnÃ¢ÂÂt quite know what to make of my Chariot Skates, and muttered something quite rude about the kind of man that tries to pick up whores on Training Rollerblades, but after taking only a handful of intense beatings and two major accidents, we safely made it the three blocks back to my apartment.
"A hero, Twilight. That's what kind of man."Even though I had politely asked Doug to leave for the night by repeatedly spitting in his face until he ran for the chemical eyewash, he was still there when we walked in the door. I gave him the evil eye and the double finger, and escorted Twilight to my room. Ã¢ÂÂNow, this is going to sound odd,Ã¢ÂÂ I cautioned her, Ã¢ÂÂbut IÃ¢ÂÂm doing a little experiment hereÃ¢ÂÂ¦Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂHoney, you can Ã¢ÂÂexperimentÃ¢ÂÂ all you want, but after the game of dickhead roller-derby you just lost to the world out there, youÃ¢ÂÂve only got about 45 minutes left. I'd get a move on.Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂCool,Ã¢ÂÂ I replied, slipping into the bathroom. Ã¢ÂÂI'll admit: I was worried this was going to weird you out a little bitÃ¢ÂÂ¦Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂThereÃ¢ÂÂs nothing you got that I havenÃ¢ÂÂt seen twice today, baby,Ã¢ÂÂ she yelled from the other room. Though I appreciated the professionalism of that statement, she didn't do a very good job following through on it when I wheeled back into the room with my giraffe-skate legs and over-sized leather jacket.
Pictured: Your sexual arousal, if I know women.Ã¢ÂÂOh god, IÃ¢ÂÂm going to die tonight!Ã¢ÂÂ she exclaimed, dropping to her knees in what I hoped was sexual awe, but honestly looked a lot more like regretful prayer. Ã¢ÂÂWell, come on now, we don't have to do anything you don't want to,Ã¢ÂÂ I tried to put my arm around her reassuringly, but the wheels slipped out and I ended up stumbling head-first into the television instead. Ã¢ÂÂNo. No, it's OK,Ã¢ÂÂ she began, though apparently speaking mostly to herself. Ã¢ÂÂI can do this; I'm a professional.Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂExcellent!Ã¢ÂÂ I took the momentary collapse to get a quick sense of the dong-strength we were dealing with. Ã¢ÂÂBut IÃ¢ÂÂm only registering a Yellow on the Boner-scale here, and IÃ¢ÂÂm telling you right now that if we donÃ¢ÂÂt get to at least a green, I'm not giving you a positive Yelp review.Ã¢ÂÂ
Saved by the Bell, Quantum Leap, nipple clamps, drug abuse and the Internet: Yep. That's pretty much Robert.The doppelganger struggled to its side and got a half-mount on her calf, Ã¢ÂÂmy field trip to the Large Hadron Collider,Ã¢ÂÂ it cooed seductively. My phone pinged, registering activity. I had synced the cock ring up to my cellphone, so that the experiment wouldn't be compromised if I got called away. Ã¢ÂÂHa,Ã¢ÂÂ I laughed appreciatively, watching the robot do its thing, Ã¢ÂÂweÃ¢ÂÂre gonna set some thrust-count records tonight.Ã¢ÂÂ Ã¢ÂÂI donÃ¢ÂÂt think I can deal with this on... on
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.