1. Three Scene Trailer

    SCENE ONE: Man smiling at his desk, speaking to his phone, holding it walkie-talkie style.

       “Hey babe, where’re you? Voicemail again, huh. Someone’s busy.

       “Listen, I just…I don’t have much, actually. Just wanted to talk to you, tell you I’m thinking of you. I was walking in the quad, and I saw a bright red flower, and the colour of the petals reminded me of you. Remember that dress you were wearing the first time we met?

       “Yeah. I’ve never told you this, but I was in love from that moment we met — or at least, I saw you. You, just sitting there, haughty pout and upturned nose stuck in your book, red dress by the fountain, legs crossed and oh so sexy… You know I love you, right?

       “Anyway, that’s all, I gotta go back to work. Talk to you again, soon.”

    SCENE TWO: Flickering between screens of a phone/mobile text client and a Facebook chat.

    • Hey babe
    • The new movie looks good
    • Cool special effects, interesting storyline
    • There’s that actor you like, the one with the square jaw
    • Yes, there’s some hot chick too
    • We should go check that one out.

    Peter Andrews:

    10 Hours ago

    Goodnight, sweetheart. <3

    A few seconds ago


    You have got to try this.

    My mind is blown.

    I can’t even words.






    SCENE THREE: The man from before lying on his half of a double-bed. One side is neat and tidy; his side is crinkled and ruffled. He’s wearing clothes which suggest he’s dressed to go out, but he’s lying with a ladies’ sleeveless top across his face and he’s chortling somewhat, to himself.

    Peter: No, no. Why would I? Maybe later. Today, I just want to lie here and stay with you.

    SCENE: The camera pulls back, zooming out to show the empty bed and the phone (with IM screen). Beside the bed is a laptop, the screen showing Julia blowing a kiss in a still. The camera pulls back, showing the room is empty, rolling backwards through the empty apartment, which once had two people living in it.


    Based on a story:

    yeah. my fiancee committed suicide last July, and her account was still logged in. It’s actually still logged in on one of my computers, since she had “remember me” checked.


    That’s what I was thinking. I talk to her constantly. I still message her facebook account frequently. Or I just talk to some of her things. We’d lived together for years. Best years of my life, too.

  2. A Stand-Up Routine Test.


    • Good evening, my name is eloquentinbed, and these are my jokes.
    • I had to read the news, just because I wanted to get past this bloody segment. It’s pointless, because history repeats itself, you know, and you can just re-use the same jokes. Malaysian Airlines plane malfunction? Rockets hitting Israel? Russia, Crimea, Islam, Vatican bullshit, etc.

    [News Story]: So, Google Maps. I use Google Maps a lot, I get lost. It turns out I probably shouldn’t travel around in the Crimean region, one, because, there’s an invasion going on, we just don’t know it yet; and two, because Google Maps is lying to us.

    • If you’re checking G-Maps from Russia, Crimea is part of Russia. If you’re checking Maps from Ukraine, Crimea is part of Ukraine. It’s true; it was in the news.
    • If you’re in Crimea, it doesn’t matter, because you can’t access Google Maps, anyway. No, no, in Soviet Crimea, the KGB use Google Maps to check where you are.
    • Now, as far as I’m aware, we have International Organisations like the UN for a reason, to settle territorial neighbourly disputes. When did Google Maps become the ones who decide state boundaries?
    • It’s happened before, though, with the a bunch of Islands — China claims they have it, the Japanese claim they have it, the Brits claimed they had a colony there, the US claimed there were weapons of mass destruction before figuring out there was no oil. It wasn’t until Gangnam Style that Google renamed it properly to ‘Korea’.
    • A Google Russia representative explained it’s not a violation of national sovereign rights, it’s a feature. They redraw world maps based on where you were.
    • Hang on a second. Is that it?
    • That explains a lot, though. Couple of years ago, I was in Israel, and I couldn’t find the West Bank or the Gaza Strip. The whole country was just one big block marked Israel, or, as they call it in Jordan, Die Occupying Infidel Scum.
    • Come to think about it, when I was in Indonesia, I couldn’t really find Singapore either, there was just this tiny red dot … also labelled Die Infidel Scum.
    • I like politics — well, I watch a lot of Jon Stewart & Stephen Colbert — and it’s funny, this thing, to me. I do improv, and we ask, IF SO, THEN WHAT?
    • So, does this mean that if you’re Sarah Palin, your Google Maps shows the Russian Border right above Alaska?
    • The rest of the world has several continents: Tea-Drinking Europeans, Communist Europeans, Rappers and Basketball Players, Oil-Rich Terrorists, and Nike Shoes?
    • I like to imagine what Google Maps looks like in the Bush family.  It’s like a cemetary, just a bunch of names and numbers. Libya, 1986. Afghanistan, 2001- to today, Iraq, 1990-1991, 2003-2011. Russia, 2015 to ???
    • It’s exactly the same if you’re in Britain. The world is just a series of names and numbers. Singapore, colonised 1867 to 1942…
    • By the way, you can’t find this place on Google Maps, though, because nobody the fuck is here.

    [News Story] Six schools in Birmingham are accused of having a religious agenda.

    • I came from a school in Singapore, right, with a pseudo-religious slant. It was a boy’s primary school and secondary school, had a religious slant but just a slant. It’s nothing big, you know, we pray before we win Rugby tournaments, on Monday Mornings we sing hymns in the school chapel to start the week right, and on Sundays the Catholic priests would come and touch us inappropriately. It’s not very religious.
    • Now, see if you can guess what religion this is. The article states that girls were made to sit at the back of the class or near the sides, right, and boys were put in front. That’s just disgusting to me, you know, back in school, when I was finally had female classmates, that was what kept me going through History class, you know, staring at the backs of girls, looking at their hair and butts and bra straps. What kind of religious teacher would want all the boys in front so he could pay better attention to them?
    • And another thing, right, girls in the back of the class? That’s just disgusting and bigoted, right? Rosa Parks had a dream!
    • The bit right there, was a joke about me not knowing history, because it was Martin Luther King Jr who had a dream, but it’s clear you lot didn’t pay attention in class either. That, or Black People all look the same to you, even if one is a lady and the other was a rapper.
    • What’s worse is that is that at one of these schools, a primary school, they refused to teach Arts or Music or Humanities. The syllabus was changed to comply with the religious text, right, to avoid mention of sex or biology or the menstrual cycle or Evolution.
    • No science, no monkeys turning into humans, I understand, right, because it contradicts Genesis. Even the no sex bit, right, because religious people have no clue how to do the sex. Adam & Eve, two people, two sons, they had children — who were they screwing?
    • But no Arts or Music in a religious institution, wow, that’s just insane. Some of the greatest works of Art and Music were created because of religion! We would lose all these great works of art, The Sistine Chapel, Leonardo’s The Last Supper, worst of all, we would lose Jesus Christ Superstar.
    • But the main problem I have with schools is that for a speaker, they got someone in for Al-Qaeda to speak to the students. Apparently he was invited there for career day, and after one of the students complained, the news story blew up.
  3. TINDERELLA: A Sketch


       The second alarm clock went off. On cue, Cindy rolled over and groaned, face-first, into her pillow. At 8:01 AM, because Cindy knew herself, the third, fourth, and fifth alarm went off. With the peals ringing throughout the room, she rolled herself out of bed, and trundled into the bathroom to start off her day.

       Work, dinner with YouTube, and back into bed reading Nicholas Sparks. That was her life: sad, lonely, and empty.

       Prince Charming was taking his time.


       “You should at least try it out,” offered Anastacia, offering her own phone, screen-first. Cindy marvelled at the contact list — Anastacia had as many dating matches as she had real contacts on her phone.

       On a whim, Cindy clicked through on a few. Okay, so it wasn’t all peaches and cream (or Clooneys and Pitts, to be precise). Some of the ‘matches’ had opened with direct come-ons and invitations to fuck; some of them started off well but began tapering off with creepy questions. There were more than a few interesting conversations, too, but they dropped off somewhere.

       “Oh, we moved to IM. #Cinder’s great for meeting people, but terrible for cheating.”

       “Is that my phone? Ana, give it back!”

       “Well, now you have #Cinder too.” Ana flashed both her pearly whites and the screen of Cindy’s phone. “They’re calling it the modern equivalent of a fairytale. Stop waiting, and go find Prince Charming.”


  4. 23:38 19th Apr 2014

    Notes: 32

    Reblogged from bonvivantx


    io never blast my relationships online, i been in 3 relationships since feb and the net never even knew

    So, I’ve been dating this New York girl.

    On the one hand, she worries that I’m gay because I haven’t tried to pull any moves on her. I barely touch her, I haven’t grabbed her ass, I haven’t tried to talk her into bed yet. I pulled a few cheesy pick-up lines on her but she seems to have missed the joke and the call-back.

    I’m a fairly private individual. More or less; I lapse, I flaunt, I lie, I spread rumours (mostly about myself). I keep my social circles mostly separate because I like the idea of different worlds; I don’t really understand why I’ve to show anyone who I’m dating, or display affection publicly to mark my territory.

    If she wants me to pee on her, I’m happy to oblige — but it’ll be between the two of us. It’s none of nobody else’s effin’ business.

    On the other hand, I barely know the girl. Maybe the sex is as obligatory as paying on the first date.


    (Source: funkmasterfless)

  5. 23:34

    Notes: 107300

    Reblogged from mdphoon


    This is like the cutest thing ever. It’s from the gif-set I reblogged.

    Taking its first steps, and after successfully doing so, the chick goes “Yay!”


    It’s so freaking cute.


    I like beautiful women, much as anyone else who enjoys beautiful women. I think Emma Watson has been gorgeous since I was 14 and ScarJo reading a grocery list could make my toes curl. I’ve never purchased a Playboy but while in the army, the other boys (men-to-be) passed around girlie magazines and of course I ogled and looked and stared and drooled.

    I make no pretenses; if a hot girl walks by in a bikini, I will look. Hell, if anyone walks by in a bikini, Borat even, I will look. I might throw up afterward, but sure, I’d look.

    In 2011, this article was written about EVONY. Basically it’s a free-to-play browser-based game; nothing special except for its banner ads. Basically their banner ads went: picture of a scantily-clad busty woman, CLICK NOW in big letters and the tiny logo of the game in the corner.

    Then, League of Angels. Then, Wartune. Today, I ran across ads for Scarlet Blade; there are something like 7 classes, all of whom feature less than one square foot of cloth on their characters. Every class literally has barenaked asses — I’m not even exaggerating.

    Let’s put it this way. In other games, you have stats like Health, Strength, Damage, etc. I googled Scarlet Blade and here are the stats for Punisher:

    Age 21 Height 5’9” Bust 32D Waist 24 Hips 36.

    Yes, Scarlet Blade, focusing on the important statistics of gameplay.

    I looked — of course I looked. I even explored the site and read the wiki slightly (incredulous at the gratuitous BOOBS ASS TITS BUTTS). In the name of journalistic integrity, there does appear to be one male character class (fully clothed, of course); but then I’d have to tell you also that the class descriptions are chock-full of innuendo, and mecha mode. Your character can transform into a heavily armoured robot — huzzah! — with their tits and bellies exposed and hanging out from the front of the robot, so you get to see badass and tits at the same time! Huzzah!

    This isn’t a new thing; female characters are usually under-dressed compared to male, chainmail/fur bikinis are a thing, people invested hours into a Tomb Raider mod to make Lara look nude, etc. Still, as I grow older and crankier I’m starting to get it.

    It doesn’t just make women look bad — it denigrates men as well. This is the message they’re sending:

    You aren’t a woman unless your tits and butt are showing and are more generously proportioned than Barbie.

    You aren’t a man if you don’t lust after these things like a basic animal.

    I’d like to believe men and women are slightly more evolved than that. Alas, it seems to be working.

  7. 17:05 17th Apr 2014

    Notes: 1

    The Down Side of Improv

    I’m more confident; I’m more naturally chatty and funny; and I seem to have become more fun.

    The downside is, of course, that shit doesn’t faze me any more. I don’t blink twice. Improv has made me unable to recognise weird shit going down.

    Trying to set up a group brunch, this girl asks “is there bottomless brunch?”

    I was mildly flummoxed, but hey, she could be coming on to me. I text back “You can wear anything you like.” I’m wearing pants, but if she wants to show up half naked and whet my appetite, go ahead.

    Turns out, she was just hoping it was buffet.

    Improv: you lose the capacity to sense normalcy.

  8. 10:59 16th Apr 2014

    Notes: 135025

    Reblogged from mdphoon


    George Takei,

    You rule. 

    He does. Witty, funny, good-natured… Takei is hilarious. No arguments there.


    Except that rational arguments do not change minds. It’s that simple; you can state your case and prove your point as eloquently and perfectly as you like; opinions and viewpoints aren’t going to change strongly-held beliefs or opinions. Only in the rare instances where the person is on the fence, or wobbling, or you catch them right when they’re vulnerable do you manage to get your words into their heads. Otherwise, you’re preaching to the choir.

    Just like ‘the other side’.

  9. 22:58 13th Apr 2014

    Notes: 1

    This Shit Might Actually Happen**

    A good night*. Henna glanced at a turn of her wrist; 7.57. For a full house, it was surprisingly early. There were a few seats left, but any more walk-ins would have to try the bar stools near the back of the house or stand in the back. From downstairs came the sound of a hoot and the ragged strains of an Irish Drinking Song. A good night.

                “Hello!” Henna beamed. The slightly lost girl returned a nervous smile and adjusted her overlarge spectacles. She muttered something about being here to catch Garen — “Just in time, we’re starting soon, we’ve saved you a seat near the front!” — and bustled off, lost slightly in her own world. Henna took a moment to admire the girl’s long, glossy hair before she disappeared into the throng.

                “Oh no, wait!” But it was too late, the girl was lost in the bustle and hustle of the crowded, rowdy room Henna frowned; didn’t Garen reserve two tickets? Was she bringing a friend? Thumping footsteps suggested that the performers were coming upstairs, then suddenly —

                “Holy Cow! Janice, what are you doing here?” Garen’s exclamation thundered up the stairs. The remaining performers shuttled past, ‘Variations on an Amused Smirk’ playing across their faces. Henna wished them luck as they passed her at the door, with a slightly panicky Garen bringing up the rear with an unfamiliar girl, her long hair in a complicated braid. Hmm. Were long hairstyles back in fashion?

                “Hi, uh, Henna, yes, this is my, um, this is Janice, hello. She’s a walk in, she doesn’t have a ticket.” Garen’s eyes widened urgently and his lips mouthed shapes. The penny dropped and something clinked. Janice handed over money, Henna stamped a mark, and Garen gestured vaguely towards the empty seats. “Yeah, she, uh, decided to surprise**** me at my show. I’m really surprised, wow. Okay. Um.”

                “Oh, um, no, those are for the online bookings.” Tim was gesturing frantically from the stage. “Garen, why don’t you get onstage, come with me, Janice, this way please.” Expertly, Henna guided Janice to the other side of whoever else Garen invited. This was a strange, unusual turn. The show kicked off, Henna returned to guard the door, before suddenly –

                 “Hello, I’m Mindy!” Henna’s jaw dropped. No way. Mindy was gorgeous in the way a girl could be gorgeous to men, but absolutely repellent and unattractive to women. Low-cut top, short skirt that didn’t fit, skin flashing everywhere except for her face, caked with make-up, breathy voice and vacant look…Setting aside the politically inexpedient question of what she saw in Garen was the larger and looming question of what in the world Garen saw in her. Shallow was the least offensive word she could summon up*****.

                Before she could react, though, a pair of hands gently shifted Mindy out of the way, revealing a pleasant-looking girl with long dark hair. She smiled and dug in her purse for a card, which she presented to Henna. “Hey there. Garen gave me this, he said he saved me a ticket? Mindy’s along for company, she came along at the last moment as a walk-in.” The card turned out to be a namecard from the company, scrawled with Garen’s florid flourishes:

    Dear Henna, please let Wanda in. Cheers, G.

                Henna had no choice but to lead her over to where G’s previous guest was, doing her best to catch Garen’s eye, onstage. He winked, then blanched immediately as he noticed Janice joining Wanda, Mindy and spectacles at the same table. Well, at least Garen had some standards (sniffed Henna). Long hair, eh?

                Oh boy. Intermission was going to be fun…


    *Based off true stories***. Henna, for example, is a girl’s name that resembles a shade of brown often used to describe trees and nuts, cough cough. Tim is a rhyme for a less common name (which experiences immense popularity in North Korea, cough).

    ** Holy shit this is actually happening. #fuck

    *** I just want to ask why so many people on Tinder chat me up by asking if I sing, act, and dance. As a matter of fact yes, I am trying to round off my triple threat, but suddenly the Reindeer Ears, Red Corduroy Trousers and Crimson Suspenders seem to detract from my personality, rather than expand it. I have become objectified by my accoutrements, and I must ask why.

    ****True story, though not mine.

    *****Well, I am on Tinder…

  10. How to **** up a date like nobody can.

    1. Meet hot girl on Tinder.

    2. Invite her for coffee. Budget about an hour and a bit. Have her be late for half the time, and warble about Marxism for the remaining half-hour.

    After that, spot her some hours later with some other dude wandering around.

    3. Invite her, on a whim, to watch a friend do his stand-up comedy shtick. 7-9pm, Tuesday night in a random bar with 1-star reviews online: probably should have set off warning signs.

    6.52, the only two people in the bar are you and the bartender, definite warning signs. Decide to save her from awkwardly empty, silent bar and disinterested comedians by bringing her to improv night with some stand-up comedians. Change locations from random-1-star-bar to regular, well-established bar.

    Arrive at bar. It begins to drizzle. Bar is booked for private event. Improv is moved to basement of corporate building. Text her and change locations again.

    Have her come in to watch and play improv games. Comics do two hours plus of scat, crude sex, mild misogyny and really crappy improv. Later, comics invite themselves to dinner with you and date, and chatter away happily with her about everything but keep rubbing in how they’re crashing “your first date!”.

    4. Have her wonder aloud why you haven’t tried to sleep with her yet.

    5. And that, kids, is how I became an alcoholic.