Harry Potter and the Unfortunate Case of Chlamydia. Oh, and how your mother was involved. Kinda.

Welcome back to GAoDWYM. True, i have not posted in awhile, but its also true i was visiting the great state of Maine. Now, i know most of you are now thinking, "Maine, great???" First, you are obviously ignorant of the greatness of this state because you are using 3 question marks to phrase your thoughts. Yep, 3 question marks = you have no opinion on the subject matter. Now your next thought is, "I can always have an opinion." No you can not. That is what is great about Maine, scat gnats (tm E&J '07) like you reading don't have opinions in Maine, and its not communism either, because we are in the U.S.A. Deal with it.

Second, which you probably guessed, is that if you don't like Maine, fuck you.

So lets talk about what has transpired while i was out on hiatus.

The current itunes top 10 most downloaded songs is very unimpressive-except that it is impressive that sean kingston is #1, because he is horrible. Plain White Tee's must really be terrible to let him have the number one slot. Lucky the Ealges didn't release an album, because it would tragically be on top with competition like this.

SPOILER ALERT
for those of you who have not yet read the last harry potter book, i'm going to spoil the ending for you, although it may not be quite what you expected. Harry goes off on his quest to destroy the dark wizard Voldemort, only he gets caught up in the middle between wanting to destroy evil forever, for eva ever, for eva eva. He decides to take a short stop at the burrow, where he proceeds to knock-up Ginny. Twice. She then has his two babies a week later (some mind blowing wizard shit), and he goes back and does it again, only this time with a strange muggle in london. Guess who? Thats right your mother meets the famous Harry Potter while she was on a trip in london, and gives Harry a curse of a different kind. Unfortunately, wizards arn't any further along with curing STI's, and Harry dies of a cold before he ever gets to confront Vodemort. However, the dark wizard visits Harry's dead body in the morgue-and lets just say six to ten months later he is in the same spot. Dumbledore then comes out of hiding to find both dead. He is so disgusted he stops using magic, and becomes what he was destined to be, a pimp. So basically your mom killed Harry Potter.

William Shakespeare is fondly remembered as the greatest writer ever to use the English language, author of masterpieces such as Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Macbeth, and Romeo & Juliet. But there is also a darker side to Shakespeare. I don't mean his homosexuality. He was gay. Who cares?

Instead, I'm referring to the true dark side of Shakespeare. Prepare yourself for a frightening exposee. Are you braced? Are you ready? Have you steadied yourself to be buffetted by massive winds of truth? Are you certain they won't blow you away? Can you really be certain that you will maintain your footing? And if you do blow away, where will you go? Are you prepared for the terrors that await you miles downwind?

Don't you think it would be a good idea to tie yourself down? Good, that's better. Now wear a warm coat because they'll probably be cold winds. No, not that one. You'll need one that's a bit more weather-resistant, since there's going to be rain involved, too. Maybe. Don't take that tone with me. I have your best interests in mind. Anyway, are you sure you're ready?

Here it is: William Shakespeare embezzled and laundered money. From the Globe Theatre. From the British government. From you and me today. Let that one sink in. I am prohibited by court order from telling you how because he did it so ingeniously, in such a foolproof manner, that he is still reaping the rewards of his crimes four hundred years after his death. Not only that, but it is the source of much of his literary reputation. Would anyone really read A Midsummer Night's Dream if not for the massive wads of cash its author stole from Mahatma Gandhi? I thought not.

And if you really want to know how Shakespeare did it, here's a clue:


Next week's blog: What is to be done about the similarity of the words "next" and "newt"

-Eleanor

I'm just going to throw this out there and see what you think about it: Walrus fetish pornography.

You're probably asking now how I am going to know what you think about it if it is the first line of a three-to-four paragraph blog I am typing. Or at least that's what I would be asking, but I can't know for sure what you're asking since I typed this before you even read it.

Except that, though you may not know this about me, I have an intuitive sense for what you're thinking. And what you're probably thinking about walrus porn is: where can I get some of that?

Let me clarify, although since I know you already know what I am thinking, there is no real reason for me to attempt to clarify anything. But, just so that my exact meaning can be recorded safely, I don't mean "walrus porn" as in the first result on google, which is "walrus butt forum." I don't really know what that is. I don't want or need to know. It's not what I am after.

What I am after is explicit photography and video of tusked pinnipeds. But there is a maddening lack of good odobenid erotica out there. Someone needs to rise up and fill the void that leaves in all our hearts. I know what you're saying (that pretty much goes without saying I guess). It's "Eleanor, why don't you do it?" Well, I'll do my part, you have no reason to doubt that. I promise to photograph any walrus sex I see in the next two months, although since I'm spending them in Hawai'i, I don't know how much that promise is worth.

So it falls to you, readers. I don't even need to tell you what. I can state, though, that it's definately not photographing walrus sex. That's a job for a professional. But you know what I mean. Just to insult your intelligence, here's a clue:



in the next installment: why Shakespeare was a money launderer...and you should be too.

-Eleanor

So my mother was telling me today about how offended she was that they put chocolate in everything these days. I couldn't help but agree with her. I mean, how common is it to open up a newspaper and find reports of a congressman, actor, or businessperson getting himself or herself fitted with chocolate chips? Do they want us to eat them or something? It makes me a little bit sick inside. The other day, my friend picked me up so we could go to the beach and I noticed ants crawling all over the car.

"Where did those ants come from?" I asked.

"Oh," he replied, "they're probably just after the chocolate chips."

And then, when we got out of the car, I realized that my entire back and the seat of my pants were covered in melted chocolate. We are no longer on speaking terms. And by "we," I mean both me and my friend and me and chocolate.

But maybe, I think to myself, I shouldn't be so mad at chocolate. It's not chocolate's fault that every time you see a baseball game, at least one bat shatters because it's made out of chocolate. I bet that hurts the chocolate more than anyone. I mean, who is it that thinks it's a good idea to make bats out of a substance that is significantly softer than wood, melts, and attracts insects? And I certainly don't blame the chocolate when my morning newspaper becomes unreadable because the lightbulb in my house has melted. Why am I reading the morning newspaper at night time anyway?

And just as I think that I might like chocolate after all, y eft dde fger ets ad cat ctne tyng ths st. (translation: my left middle finger melts and I can't continue typing this post). But chocolate is not as bad Lindsay Lohan (pictured below)


in the next installment: the paucity of good walrus fetish porn sites.

-Eleanor

There is no need to title this post. You see, the greatness of this text will elevate the reader to something beyond the metaphysical realm. So let the heavenly prose steer you through that failing vixen, that pompous heifer, that audible mime otherwise known as life.

You may wonder what qualifications i have to make such boastful claims, so let me serve it to you on a deep-fried platter with honey on top. I survived my first(known) trip to the ghetto. Yes i was a tweed-bit anxious, yes i was slightly on-my-guard, and yes i was poked by a crack/meth/insert other drug here/ head, but i survived because i could not let Eleanor, "go it alone." Although he may be the closest thing we here at Graphic Accounts of Dates With Your Mother have to a Luke Skywalker, he still hasn't accepted the force as a "real" phenomena, mostly because he isn't clinically insane. Also, neither of us have seen a real live wookie (unless we count your mom! hoo-ha!) As to where we have seen a dead wookie, lets just say the previous statement holds true, the only change being there was an enormous train involved between the before and after process. Oh, and if the above paragraph were to become more accurate, you might change "tweed-bit anxious" to "nauseated with fear," "slightly on-my-guard" to "ready to run to a secluded undisclosed point in the upper northeastern part of the united states(Maine)," and "poked" to "poked." Weird.

So what about this elevates you to a higher plane, puts you in the 14th dimension, allows you to travel around the world in 80 days. Oh, and it isn't a hot air balloon and a can-do attitude. Also, star wars may be bullshit in theory and on paper, but practically, its golden. That was here, but not there, there being cloud-10.

So does this float you on up to cloud-10?
No, but the 4:51 spot gives me great joy.

Does this?. Could be, but probably not if you are (not) a rational human being. Oh, and on GAoDWYM we use double -'s, Deal with it. Oh and i also just used a - to represent the word, Negative. If you didn't understand please go do something with your life.

This is kinda just sad, so no.

So i guess the answer is none of the above, don't you hate it when that is the answer to a multiple choice question? So hopefully you are not telling me to go to hell for wasting your precious time. But do you know who is?



-Jake