Totes Quotes!
The following is a B-Sides collection of historical quotes, compiled by the Brother of Heart.
“I wish I were born Asian.” – Malcolm X
Archive for the 'celebrities' Category
Dear Garden Party
Dear Garden Party,
I heard that you guys are offering $250 for an outrageous “Hollywood” story, is that true? If so, I’ve got one that’s really going to top the charts…
I moved to Hollywood from Ohio about three months after graduating high school. I was the wide receiver on our High School’s football team (we were first in our division three years in a row, some may say thanks in part to a couple plays I made). I was on top of the world - great friends, supportive parents, a job opportunity at Wellis & Jacobs Real Estate and last but not least my beautiful girlfriend Cindy. I dropped them all because a stranger once told me I looked like a young Harrison Ford.
My High School Graduation Pic
A Message From Dean Cain
Hey it’s me, Dean Cain, remember me? The adventures of Lois & Clark? From the 90s? I was Superman! Anyways I wanna start off by saying that I’m definitely NOT jealous of Mario Lopez. I just don’t really know where he gets off stealing my niche. That’s right, MY niche. I may not know how it’s pronounced but I know what it means: a position particularly well suited to the person who occupies it. And MY niche is “hunky Latin-ish not especially good but passable television actor/personality”.
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Michael Bolton: Male Genius
When talking about the greatest philosophers of all time, a few names come easily to mind: Socrates, Plato, Dostoevsky, Kant. But I would like to point out one great thinker who is constantly overlooked; a man who, through the magic of pulse-pounded soft rock, consistently confronts the existential crises of modern man. I think you know who I’m talking about, but I’ll introduce him anyway… this man, this savant, this beautiful mind, is Michael Bolton.
Michael Bolton wants to rape your children
Here, I will attempt to deconstruct Bolton’s idea of “being” as he defines it in one of his most influential musical essays, “How Can We Be Lovers.” Bolton begins his thesis with four of the most controversial and widely broached questions in he history of philosophy:
“How can we be lovers if we can’t be friends?
How can we start over when the fighting never ends?
Baby, how can we make love if we can’t make amends?
How can we be lovers if we can’t be, can’t be friends?”
The Gayest Generation
America is going to hell in a hand basket (what the fuck is a hand basket?!) Of course, this isn’t news. Old people have known this for some time now. But as someone who just recently became “old” (pushing 27) this inconvenient truth only recently became clear to me.
How did our country find itself on this path? Or, more importantly, who’s to blame? The answer to this question is probably nuanced and complicated. It probably involves an understanding of world affairs, economics, sociology, and human nature. Unfortunately my public school education left me with none of these. I know, “no taxation without representation,” “No I before e except after… team?” and something about checks and balances (or was it valances? - I took a window treatment elective sophomore year). So while I may be ill equipped to speak on such complex issues, I’m not going to let my academic deficiencies get in the way of my favorite pastime - assigning blame. And as someone who recently became old I can think of no better group to blame our country’s impending doom on than THE YOUNG or as they’re known in my social circles “Kids Today.”
los angeles craigslist > domestic gigs
Dear Ms. Courtney Love,
I’m writing in regards to your craigslist posting for a personal assistant.
I, for one, can barely imagine the kind of stresses that come with being such a famous musician (not to mention socialite, fashionista, and cultural icon). I mean, the fan mail alone! I can guess from the late hour of your 3am posting that there’s probably a need to immediately fill the position, so let me give you my qualifications.
My name is Kendra, I’m 22, and have just moved to Los Angeles from upstate New York. I graduated magna cum laude with a BA in Communications and a concentration in Music Business from Cornell University (Go Red!). I really feel a position with you can give me the entrée to the “Biz” I’m looking for!
Now I know what you’re thinking, “oh boy, listen to this kid!”, but hear me out:
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Peaches en Seagalia
When I was in 8th grade, I grew my hair out. I did this because I was awesome and because it would make my beginner level guitar playing seem more like beginner/intermediate level guitar playing. I later found out that while I was doing this, my father had been secretly hoping that I would fashion it into a Steven Seagal-style folded-under ponytail. I thought that was ridiculous, but then realized it was because I regularly wore moccasins and derived pleasure from crushing fists.
This seemingly random memory came flooding back as I was huffing gasoline off a model’s tits at the Standard Downtown. But, as that particular act tends to do for me, my powers of associative thinking were magnified and I realized one thing: Chuck Norris is a fucking pussy. Now, I’m well aware that the relevance of the Chuck Norris “facts” disappeared long before Mike Huckabee’s candidacy did, but bear with me. That list never should have happened, like the Oreo Big Stuf or the cancellation of My So Called Life (SO unfair one love JL).
Post A1: You’ve Found Totes Rando, Friendo.
Good afternoon team, and allow me to introduce myself. I am Totes Rando. This is my blog.
You may be wondering where a name like Totes Rando came from. Well, the ladies in the sewing circles say it’s the name of a notorious Moroccan rapist, while others suggest it to be a majestic Nigerian prince from a money wiring scam. Still more tell me how great they thought I was in memorable action films such as “Gone in 60 Seconds” and “Romeo Must Die,” when in reality that was Delroy Lindo. The truth is, I am none of these things; the name’s origin is totally random.
Starting April 7th, 2008, you’ll see a new post daily by either myself or one of my extremely famous and well-to-do friends. Besides a super sweet blog pseudonym, I keep their names anonymo for protection. Let’s just say some of them rhyme with “Spitney Queers,” “Arrid Ghetto,” and “Belta Durke.”*
*I’m available to start tomorrow, MAD Magazine!