|WEEK IN CRAIG: YOU PUSSIES, IT'S JUST A FREAKING CONVENTION.|
|I read somewhere that for every delegate at the Democratic National Convention this year there were, like, six journalists on hand. That's a lot of journalists -- and take it from me nothin' spells P-A-R-T-Y like hundreds of reporters and a political convention! It seems like|
every other member of the media AND their grandmothers were invited up to Boston to cover the ol' DNC.
Everyone but poor wittle itty bitty non-important me. (HO-freaking-HUM).
While all of those so-called serious "journalists" of the world were hobnobbing it up with all the politicos and protester dorks, I was here in New York, covering such world-shattering monumental events as the release party for Vivid
I would feel sort of bad about this, except, well, you see, I have discovered that as a writer of D-level importance (on a good day, that is), I can supplement my mind-bogglingly pathetic salary by getting myself on the press lists for various D-level events that supply me with free goodies, and, more important, free booze. At this latest shindig I had the opportunity to totally look at real, live, in-the-flesh porn stars (like, not on a video!), drink a couple of glasses of (FREE!) wine, AND go home with a total sex book, free libido-enhancing herbal supplements and all of the Vivid brand condoms I could stuff into my cheap-ass H&M purse (ribbed for her pleasure!).
Press lists are a fucking racket, and the world needs to know about it. (I have no idea how I'd get drunk so often without them).
So screw actually going to Boston to cover the DNC. I bet the goodie bags totally blew at the convention parties anyway. I can cover it better from the my own goddamned living room couch -- hopped up on performance-enhancing herbal supplements, thank you very much -- thanks to the insider scoop provided by craigslist Boston
First - i can only say that i was feeling pretty bored with the democratic party, i almost didn't even watch the convention, but figured I'd give Clinton a shot at impressing me. Thank goodness i did! He really reinforced in my mind WHY i am a democrat. Not based on his personal life, or the personal life of george bush or any other crappy republicans out there - but based on the ideals that the democratic party holds. I hope billy gets a nice cabinet/advisor position. Maybe he can be Kerry's official speech giver.
Second - people from out of town need to realize that if you want iced caramel latte's and anything with whipped cream that you should pass the dunkin donuts and keep on moving to starbucks. you're really screwing up the flow of everyday customers who just want their goddamn medium coffee regular. i know it's on the menu, but if you have to READ the menu, you're in the wrong place.
On the first night of the convention Bill Clinton came out like Snoop Dogg hollerin' "1-8-7 wit' my dick in your mouth" it was good to have the old perv (err, I mean former pres) back. All the lefties up in Boston went apeshit for him.
Of course, the real story here is that democrats drink too many froo-froo coffee drinks. Politicians and journalists are too dumb to handle Dunkin' Donuts. And the convention, overall, was a real pain in the ass for the pooooooor little wimpy babies up in Boston. (Is it any wonder why their baseball team is so lame?). Read on
Ok.......This fucking city is completely fucked!
To my complete dismay, there over Boston Harbour, FIREWORKS!......WTF!
Suffice to say, the rest of my night was spent tossing and turning, fucking shitty nights sleep......
Anyone else see or hear this fucking crap!....?
Oh, cry me a fucking river Bostonians. Waaa, waaa, waaa. Fireworks at -- hark! -- MIDNIGHT (Gasp!). Mother of god, you crrrrrrraaaaazy Democrats!
Seriously. Honey, spend a week in my world. I guarantee you, after a couple of nights, you'll barely even notice the hummers driving by at 3 a.m. blasting "In da Club." The car alarms will begin to sound like the sweet, peaceful sound of crickets chirping on a warm summer's evening, and the sound of your roommate humping through the paper-thin rent-controlled walls will lull you to sleep
Boston. Fucking wimps.
Mine sure as hell is!!! Everyone is doing the work from home thing... what a joke.
Any girls want to chat over IM today?
So this is the part that REALLY makes me hate Boston. The big babies all stayed home from work! There are, like, 900 posts confirming that everyone's office is empty or dead because the pooooor little retards couldn't handle commuting in a little bit of traffic! So they closed a couple of subway stops and threw up a few extra barriers woopdee fucking doo! Last week I was trying to go from 103rd Street in Manhattan to Smith/9th Street in Brooklyn. I had to take an uptown B train to 125th, a downtown A train to Hoyt/Schemerhorn, get off the train, go up the stairs and switch over to the other side of the platform to get a Brooklyn-bound G train (running on the F line) to Smith/9th.
Boston, fuck off. What you consider a hardship, I call commuting. It's one week: Deal.
P.S. Consider yourselves lucky that you have such a pretty, happy little subway system to begin with. I nearly stepped in human poo on the platform the other day. HUMAN POO.
Anyway, never mind all that the real story of the convention (thanks, craigslist!) is that delegates are ho bags, too. Awwww. So good to know that those, you know, political people are just like us!
On top of the plethora of "I'll be in Boston for the convention and I wanna do it!" ads, there was also this little gem
Trying to create my own DNC memories! Any DNC delegate gals want to have some sex? I want to try and do it with one girl/lady from every state. Contact me. Send a pic... tell me your state motto!
Bill (not that one)
OK, so this ad cracks me up in general but it makes me wonder -- do you think it's possible that this guy has actually seen the delegates at the DNC? I mean, no offense to the loyal Democrats or anything, but the Fleet Center is just brimming with crazy old coots. I mean, is it really necessary to wear that giant, sequined American flag hat? Is someone making you wear 17 Vote-For-Kerry pins on your stars and stripes vest? (You look like a Friday's waiter, you dork.) Should a woman of your age (and size) really be getting down quite so hard to "Don't Stop Thinkin' About Tomorrow?"
I mean, really. Yikes-O-Rama.
The convention's over now, so all the dorky little Bostonians can go back to their frat-boy, Dave Matthews-listening, beer-bonging ways. We here in New York will continue to sit back and laugh at you and your baseball team until our own city goes to shit in about a month. See ya, suckers!