Search Term of the Week: Rachel is a Pickle

What? I often wonder why people search half the shit they do to stumble upon my glorious pictures, but how would someone be confused with a pickle? And which entry of mine did this search term on Google take them to? Hopefully this picture will shed some light on our salty mystery.

Rachel and Curtis (2/2009)

And have my pictures not been on fire this week, or what? I mean, this picture has fucking pickle cleavage! Who else does that? I like Curtis a lot too. Expect to see him around more. Like Future. For you newcomers, I wrote an entry about Future a while back. Since then, he has appeared in my header once, and a few other regular drawings since then (including one this week). He’s a robot and he will kill you.

Hot or Not: Julia Roberts?

Wow, almost no one (aside from 7 people) read my entry on books. So I’m going to go back to basics today with a question.

It must be asked… I bring this question up a lot in my day to day life and it’s the sort of thing I’ve been pondering since I was 10 years-old and I saw Pretty Woman. Even then, as an ignorant child, I wasn’t quite sure who the title of the film was talking about. They couldn’t mean Julia Roberts…. could they?

It was about 2 years later, when my interest in girls was its peak (both mentally and physcially – you get it?), that I realized who they were indeed talking about. Fucking Julia Roberts. I once asked my Mom why Julia Roberts had so many teeth. Did she not remove her baby teeth? What gives?

I am going to have to vote “Not” on this one, my friends. There is something about her… like, when she laughs hard, her mouth opens so wide as if her head literally splits in two, thus causing the top half to float away like a helicopter of doom.

Julia Roberts and the Helicopter of Doom (2/2009)

Just how many fucking teeth does she have? Even when her mouth is shut and serious, like how it is often in Erin Brockovich, her lips look as if they are in a struggle with the teeth, as if they are prisoners desperately pulling for escape. But the lips do a good job keeping them in there… usually.

“But Mike, how can you not like her? She is so beautiful!”

I beg to differ with you, middle-aged, white female America, who long for her magnificent smile. I long not for her. I think her brother Eric has a lot more acting potential than she does, and he sure as hell has a lot less teeth. Perhaps I am just angry because she won an Academy Award over Ellen Burstyn a few years back. I am not sure, but I am sure that it does have a lot to do with it. What do you think? Check an option in this sweet poll…

And on a seperate note, I am quite proud of today’s picture. Usually I will set out to draw something only to give up seconds later when I realize I can’t draw what my imagination creates. Today is quite an exception for I drew exactly what I pictured.

The Book Report – Volume 1

“Wait a second, you’re writing a post about books? Who the fuck wants to read books when we got the internet?”

Calm yourselves down. Typically here at Pictures of Doom/City Pictures, I share tales of personal adventure (like that one time I pooped on the toilet seat), mystery (like why guys don’t shave their necks), intrigue (why people at Dunkin Donuts use so much goddamn cream cheese), and suspense (like that one time I thought I had herpes). But who says I don’t crave to write about literature and other things to enhance your mind?

Kidding of course. But what’s to follow is to briefly review my goal of reading more this year. Hope you enjoy it. If you crave words, check some of these out. If you don’t, don’t worry. I’ll go back to stories of STDs and adventure shortly.

Future and Octopus at the Sandy Beach (2/2009)

We’re about into the third month of 2009 and I’ve had a pretty good reading streak so far. Since January, I’ve read 5 books. That’s pretty good, considering I haven’t read anything in a while. Here’s a rundown of what I’ve read…

1. Babbitt (Sinclair Lewis, 1922) – I picked this book up at Barnes and Noble (under their Classic Editions label – buy 2 get 1 free), not because I had heard anything about it, but just based on its title – Babbitt. I knew immediately it would be the study of a character but I had no idea how fucking gripping and beautiful it would be. I could not put this book down. It takes place in the early 20th century and follows a business man doing everything he can to please society while being miserable deep down inside. Sounds like a typical story of mid-life crisis but it has a lot more going on for it. The language alone is reason enough to give it a looksee.

2. The Prince and The Pauper (Mark Twain, 1882) – You’ve probably seen a variation of this story (or even read it) sometime in your life. A prince changes outfits with a poor pauper boy and the two look so alike, everyone treats them as opposites. It’s essentially a children’s story with a lot of social comment, like most of Twain’s works. Good stuff, however, the Errol Flynn movie is a little tough to handle.

3. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Mark Twain, 1876) – Another classic piece of literature I missed out on as a kid for some reason. This is the book that put Twain on the map. Surely, it’s a boy’s adventure tale, mixed with enough social commentary and irony to keep the adult mind at ease. Quick read.

4. Notes from the Underground (Fyodor Dostoevsky, 1864) – Talk about fucking angry… the protagonist of this story hates just about everything in life. I loved him. I hope I am 1/10 this person when I’m an old man.

5. Silas Marner (George Eliot, 1861) – I had often heard how this story inspired one of my favorite films of recent years (Black Snake Moan), so I had to read it. Turns out, though it is a good if depressing read, its inspiration is noticed only as an after thought. Silas turns hermit after a bout of bad luck before opening himself up to a poor abandoned child. Melodramatic no doubt, but a good read nevertheless.

If any of these recommendations inspire to hit up a book store, make it Babbitt. I couldn’t put it down and when it was finally over, I was quite sad I couldn’t read it anymore. That only happens once in a while.

July 18th, 1995

Someone tried to mug me one time. It was in 1995 and I was 14 years-old. My friend Sweeney and I walked over to the new Target in our town. We picked up a Slayer CD, some fireworks on clearance, rented Evil Dead 2 from the Dollar Video next door, and then made the walk back.

On that journey back, we stopped at a gas station to pick up a drink. We were thirsty little kids in that hot Florida son. We then sat on the corner, enjoying our treats, when this crazy drunk asshole came up to us. It was about 2:12pm and this guy was wasted beyond belief. He comes up to us and says, “Hey, I see you got some fireworks. Why don’t you get in my car and come to this party with us.” I looked over his shoulder towards his jalopy – I believe it was an 80s Chevy Caprice with more rust than not. He indeed had some people with him.

Either this guy really wanted fireworks or he wanted to bang a couple of under-aged Slayer-listening fellows like ourselves. I didn’t think about the banging option until many years later. How ignorant was I at 14.

I said, “No dude, we’re cool.” He didn’t like that. So he grabbed my bag but I held onto it strong. Sweeney says, “What the fuck is your problem asshole?”

He didn’t like being called “asshole.”

“Give up your sky flowers!” (2/2009)

Nor did he expect my strength – I pulled the bag from his arms and he fell back a little. Then he yelled, “Give me back my bag you little prick!” loudly so those pumping their gas could here. Sweeney was like, “Yeah, okay fuckface.” Sweeney was so badass. He didn’t care about anything or anyone. He’d kick a baby and take its money without even thinking twice about it.

“Let’s go,” he said and then we turned and ran with fury. He knew we couldn’t take this drunk redneck or his army of friends. He quickly followed us, shouting this and that. We ran across a busy street and into a Rib joint of some kind. The waitress noticed our distress. “What’s wrong fellas?” she asked. I remember thinking that she shouldn’t be working at a place that serves all you can eat ribs.

“This asshole is trying to take our bag,” said Sweeney.

She looked at us for a minute, seeing if we were being truthful. “Okay boys, go to the back.” We sat at a back table for a few minutes and she disappeared back to the front. The redneck walked in and told her a couple of boys grabbed his bag and ran in here. She came over to us again and questioned what was in the bag — but told us not to look first. I told her the contents. She left again.

When she came back, she was smiling. She asked the redneck the same question and all he could answer was fireworks. But they weren’t in the actual bag… they were in a plastic bag separate from it. She let us out the back and I never saw the redneck asshole again.

It’s funny how scared you can be when shit like that happens as a kid. The last time I saw Sweeney, about 4 years ago, we talked about this moment. Sweeney said if that shit happened today, he’d have killed that poor sap. I believed him. He was truthful like that.

I just hope that poor sap killed himself long ago, by some terribly awful car accident to which he was the only victim.

Hot or Not: Zelda from Pet Semetary

Holy orafice clogger. I saw this movie when I was in 2nd grade and let me tell you, this movie fucked me up. It wasn’t because of how it showed people burying things that came back to life or how it had a creepy little kid running around killing people and biting their necks.

No, something else fucked me up. This one scene I am about to describe messed my sleeping schedule up for weeks when I was young. I remember lying on my back with my eyes open for hours, constantly looking around, making sure this creepy thing wasn’t in my room.

“What are you talking about bro?”

There is a scene where a woman describes her childhood with her sister. It cuts to a flashback and shows said sister – Zelda’s her name – rolling around in a bed with soup pouring out of her mouth. This bitch made Regan from The Exorcist look like Strawberry Shortcake. Hideous fucking creature! The worst part of it all happens near the end of the film. It cuts back to present day and Zelda’s sister is wandering about looking for her son. She opens a door to a bedroom and there is Zelda – all creepy looking in the corner of the room. Then she turns around and charges the camera, screaming, “Never get out of bed again!”

Fucking creepy.

When I watch it now, of course, there is nothing about that scene that is even remotely scary (other than the fact that I learned Zelda was actually played by a dude). Here it is: fast-forward to minute 3. Nothing, right? When I was a kid, that scene messed me up like a tornado in Oklahoma. I literally thought she was going to come out of my television.

So now I dare ask, is Zelda hot or not (and for the sake of argument, let’s forget she is played by a dude)?

Put it to my lips… (2/2009)

Hot or Not: Kimmy Gibler?

America’s First Public Foot Fetish (2/2009)

Remember when you were a kid and Full House came on, and you were like, “Man, which chick would I bang?” So tell me, do/did you think she is/was hot? You know you wanted the Giblet to rub her toes all over your face, you dirty bastard…

Go ahead and vote today in Pictures of Doom’s first ever election! Fuck the presidential shit, we here care only for the important issues. Like Kimmy Gibler. So get out there and vote! And tell your friends! Send them my way because I want to hit the 40,000 views mark by the end of February. And I am greedy, but we’ll tackle that later.

Am I Fucked?

So this week has been pretty quiet so far. That’s because I had some big ambitions. For instance, one of those ambitions was for me to finally get a Wacom Tablet that I have been craving for so long. Those you confused as to what that is, let’s just say it’s a device that may (or may not) help my pictures from all looking the same. I went and traveled all about my worthless county and came up empty. I still live without a beloved Tablet.

Then, I had this wicked brilliant idea for a new bi-weekly column here at Pictures of Doom. I was inspired by WordPress’s claim that you can now post polls in your entries. I signed up where I need to sign up, attempted to post a poll but when I previewed the entry, no such poll existed. I’ve tried for days but still can’t get it going. How does one do this? Please leave comments and instruct the internet illiterate.

Why Have You Forsaken Me? (2/2009)

My third and final problem lately has been with the uploading of pictures. Back in 2008, when you read one of my entries, you could click on the actual picture and it would then take you to an entirely new page with just the picture on it, so you could see it in all of its glory (at a better resolution too). It was something that was somehow done automatically, by wordpress I assume, but something that no longer done. Am I doing something wrong? Or did WordPress eliminate that?

Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope (and by help, I mean please leave a useful comment that may assist me in my troubles). Thanks for any and all assistance.

Sketch for the Dead

Dead people probably don’t read blogs but if they did, this one would surely top their list. So here’s to them, no wait, to you. The dead. We miss you. Some of you anyway. I am sure there are many a dead person no one would miss. But that’s neither here nor there.

Sketch for the Dead (2/2009)

I didn’t vote (so suck my balls).

I found the following entry in the pile of various drafts I’ve written up. I wrote it a few months ago, on election day, and even drew a picture. I have no idea why I didn’t hit the “publish” button but perhaps it is because none of this matters at all. Why yes, that is indeed the answer.

That’s right. Today is the big day that we fine Americans exercise our right to vote our country’s next leader. If South Park has taught me anything, it’s that we always have a choice between a Giant Douche and a Turd Sandwich (see the election of 2004 between Douche Bush and Turd Kerry). I lived in Florida during the 2000 election, the first election I was old enough to vote in, and we all saw what happened there. What a waste. 2004 was no better.

So this year, I decided to say, “fuck it.” I’m tired of hearing people babble on and on and politics. I used to be a huge fan of it too. I used to love to tell people how much I loved abortion and gay marriage. Now it all seems a waste though. Americans seem to love to be run by rich old white guys. Even though now we have a fine black man (gObama) attempting, I decided to sit the bench on this election. I can’t find a point in it. The past 8 years have been hard on a brother.

So that’s it. In hindsight, I guess I am glad Obama took it. But then again, my vote wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I live in a Republican county in a state that has fucked up the electoral process once or twice in past. My one vote wouldn’t have swerved the thousands on the opposite side. “But dude, that isn’t why you vote. You vote to exercise your freedoms! Think of people who live in countries where such luxuries don’t exist.” Fuck them, and fuck you too.

I have noticed a great deal of patriotism sprout up since Obama took office too. Kind of like those few months after 9/11 where everyone and their fucking dog had an American flag somewhere on their person. They never gave a shit before, but they give a shit now? And people paint Obama has this great bringer of change – but the guy just took office. He just moved in. Now let’s see him do his job for a while before we call him a Saint and Bringer of all Things Great. Let us not label him for things he has yet to do, but instead for things he does as they happen.

Capitalize on this Good Fortune (11/2008 and/or 2/2009)

My grandfather once said, “Show me a politician and I’ll show you a douche waffle.” He meant that no matter what was promised, what they said, or what happens, something is sure to be awry. Being a teacher, I am glad he won. But now that it’s happened, let us shut the fuck up and stand back. Bring back your newfound patriotism in a year or two… when said “change” will come.

Goodnight Pei Lu: One Year (and change) Later…

The following tale is such that happened over a year ago. These words reported the event the morning it occurred (which were posted on a blog that exists no more). So I repost it here for you, my better readers, complete with an exclusive picture. It is a sad one. Hide the razors.

What began as a weekend of drunken antics ended with a tragedy I wasn’t quite prepared for.

Sunday, 6/3/2007, Doyle (my youngest kitty) jumped on my bed at about 10:00am with a fake purple mouse in his mouth. He made sure to wake me up so I could throw it, giving him some chasing pleasure for about 15 seconds. So I obliged and threw it, and all my other kitties (Reptar and Pei Lu) chased after it, like Lindsey Lohan chases chicks who look like dudes. After that throw, I returned to my slumber.

An hour and a half later, at 11:30am, I woke up to the sound of some kitty ruckus. I looked down to my floor, and noticed that Pei Lu was sprawled out on the floor in a stretching position. Only she didn’t really look like she was stretching; she was sort of shaking. I got out of bed and picked her up. She clearly wasn’t okay. She was gasping for life. I started freaking out, hoping it was just a seizure and that she would be okay moments later.

About a minute or two later, Pei Lu died in my arms. Apparently she had a heart attack. I learned that her specific breed of cat is very susceptible to this feline heart condition (I will not even attempt to spell it) that causes the left ventricles of the heart to stiffen up, causing heart attacks and sudden death.

This is probably the most unbelievable thing that has ever happened to me. Never in a million years would I have thought this to happen. And the worst part about the whole thing is that Pei Lu is Doyle’s mom. Doyle spent the rest of the day Sunday sitting near the spot upon which Pei Lu died.

What an awful day. Good night Pei Lu. You were a truly great cat and I will miss you greatly. I hope your time with me was as pleasant as it could have been and perhaps someday, we’ll see each other again. Take care of yourself kitty, I’ll take real good care of Doyle for you.

That was the last time Doyle ever climbed on my bed to wake me up to play.

Pei Lu’s Final Breath (2/2009)

I guess there is something about that action that causes his memory to recall this awful day. I have since moved from that apartment, so Doyle no longer has to stare at that spot in the carpet. Now, it’s all just a faded memory for him.