On the set of the next X-Men movie, Stan Lee comes face to face with the realities of studio cutbacks.
If someone told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it? Singing sensation Bruno Mars probably would. He sure is keen.Ladies, if you ever happen upon a similar man you’d better snap him up real quick, because a man like Mars will actually jump in front of a train for you if only you’d ask. He’d shoot himself in the brain at your request. That’s dedication! Imagine Bruno, working himself into a Deerhunter style frenzy, picking up a handgun, pressing the barrel against his temple before pulling the trigger and blowing his brains out…for ya. Of course you’d be left to deal with the bloody mess, probable mental scarring and hours of subsequent police questioning, but who cares? Get this man some life insurance!
Would you do the same? No, probably not, because you’re a selfish bitch. Here are some other things our man Mars is probably willing to do for ya:
- Move to Spain for ya.
- Give up his seat on a train for ya.
- Unblock a drain for ya.
- Hijack a plane for ya.
- Name his child Dwayne for ya.
- Resit sixth grade for ya.
- Nuke the Ukraine for ya.
- Douse his balls in acid rain for ya.
- Sever his jugular vein for ya.
- Launch into a drug fueled, anti-Semitic tirade for ya.
- Sodomise Alex Zane for ya.
Do you know any other man that would do that? No. Because every other man is a dick for not wanting to kill himself for ya. I wish Bruno Mars would jump in front of a train for me. *Sigh.
I hate adverts. I’m sure the success of adverts depends on people like me grabbing strangers in the street and asking, ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THAT WINDOWS 7 ADVERT!? IT’S AWFUL! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I WANT IT TO DIEEEE!’, before screaming off into the distance.
There’s a place reserved in hell for the creators of this baseless dross:
Meet Lindsey, 57. She thinks her eight year old PC is good enough. Eight years old! What is it? A Difference Engine? I didn’t know you could access Faceparty on one of those. Using Microsoft Word on an eight year old PC must be like typewriting onto a sheet of idiot.
You’d have thought Lindsey would have gone looking for a new PC had she wanted one? Well, seemingly not. Cue Microsoft going all Pimp My Living Room on her arse, and turning her living room into a bone-fide, gaudy laptop showroom. I’m speechless!
Everyone knows that if you’ve been using the same PC for eight years, not only are you a light-weary moron, but you’ve essentially been missing out on the luxury of having a PC store in your house. How I’ve mocked my parents with their furniture and pictures as I bask in the warmth of pastel coloured walls strewn with monitors that beam lifeless reams of stock imagery upon my empty, wretched soul.
Had Lindsey torn herself away from flirting with Gavin the PC guy for one second she could have taken the call. It’s from Tony, her husband. Tony works every hour heaven sends in a job he hates so that Lindsey can sit on her fat arse all day reading Take A Shit magazine and shovelling Snack a Jacks into her pie hole.
Tony’s trying to tell her how much he loves her, and that he’s leaving his job so the two of them can finally travel around Sri Lanka. For God’s sake don’t make any unnecessary purchases on the credit card.
‘I’m busy. Looking at new computers’
Lindsey’s daughter slams the phone down.
‘Oh. But…I need to tell her something’ The lines goes dead. Tony holds the yellowed receiver to his ear before carefully placing it back in the cradle. He slowly opens his top drawer and reaches for the antique pistol that belonged to his father. Pressing the rusty, cold barrel into the back of his mouth, his finger tentatively rests upon the trigger.
‘It’s lighter than my handbag!’ says Lindsey excitedly, fawning over the cheap plastic, baby shit brown machine. Lighter than her handbag! No hard task, given the amount of consealer, Vagisil and dildos she insists on carrying round with her all day.
As she turns back towards the ersatz glow of her newly furnished computer room, a police car wearily rolls up outside her house.