began with a safari into snoredome. I dare not sleep in public places for I fear someone
shall snatch my magic bag and its array of mind-boggling
Keep away from my magic bag.
I paced amongst the last bastion of loserdom as the
sun lazily began to present itself.
We squatted for tickets—oh so special tickets
we were lucky to get. Tickets that obliterated our
Atheism. We wants to meet Courtney Cox.
We is guilty.
We think we saw her, or maybe Delta Burke swallowed
a prize watermelon.
She finds Major Dad sexually attractive.
I bet she and Jennifer Aniston used to make out.
The security guards of Trolley Square don the smartest
of cowboy hats. I want to break them like an angry
bronco. (With them as the bronco, I’m not gay
The eloquent prose of the moment oozed from me like
puss from an aging knife wound.
Class reunions suck.
I wanted premiere tickets and only my preserverence
and oral proclivities emboldened my chances for prime
time, front row seats.
I could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch, providing
my saliva was very, very acidic.
I melt lips.
If anyone was to hear about the dangerous dyes put
into Fig Newtons , they had better come to me.
I saw the premiere of “Fig-yer of Speech.”
I was all over the documentary section, and I swear
I saw Tony Danza.
I carried popcorn into a showing, and someone glared
at me. Popcorn is for pussies.
Welcome to Sundance. Check your normalcies at the
The rules of Sundance are simple: Act like a fucking
idiot. Spend the 15 minutes prior to the screening
craning your neck in hopes of seeing a star that
makes your life worth living,
Everyone likes to be validated, and there is nothing
like a chance encounter with the chick who played
the lead in “Tank Girl” to add a notch
to your belt o’ celebrities.
Park City manages to maintain its small, mining village
persona. The men like to spit. The outsiders like
to smoke pot. For purposes of diplomacy I spit pot
on people. Later, I executed a ferocious maneuver
on a half-pipe and then ordered a pizza. I have a
The key to the best restaurants is gorging at any
place in which a Panda Bear represents the major
theme. Panda Bears rule. Yet, they can maul you like
yesterday’s bamboo sandwich. However, they
make smashing greeting cards and a little mauling
never hurt nobody.
I like foreign films. They like fucking.
Try to ignore the egregious shortage of advertising
The Sundance Film Festival is important because they
say it is (important.)
I think Sony only has our best interests at stake.
Disagree and I will fight you.
Only once a year does the opportunity come for Robert
Redford to launder his gambling debts.
Hey Bob, I have yet to grow tits! Excuse me if Miramax
breaks your legs. I don’t think they put real
butter on the popcorn.