Dec 31, 2009

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everyone. Be safe and enjoy the night!
Dec 30, 2009

New Year's Resolutions

My 2009 goals:
  • run a marathon
  • kick ass on a daily basis, and
  • create a blog

I ended up running two marathons, kicked ass several times a day, and you're looking at the blog.

My 2010 goals:

  • go on at least two epic adventures that will be told for generations to come
  • join the Marathon Maniacs club
  • fine tune my manliness
One of the best Christmas presents I received this year was a book from the Widow-maker Matt Sears entitled "The Art of Manliness."

After he handed me this Man-Bible, I flipped it over and read the description on the back.
"While it's definitely more than just monster trucks, grilling, and six-pack abs..."
And I stopped right there. Sold. I couldn't wait to dig in and read what powerful wisdom this Man-Book contained. As I flipped through the pages when I got home, I was surprised to find that a couple of the topics that I have already brought up in less than two months of blogging where contained in the contents of this book, such as 1-UPing and tipping.

I'm a firm believer in setting goals and making them a reality. It gives you something to work for and a feeling of accomplishment when you achieve them. As Bo Schembechler said, "What the mind can conceive, the body can achieve." The Man-Book lists several ways that one can be considered a real man. I want to possess these following qualities, and it is my goal in 2010, that is two thousand ten, to achieve them.

  1. Looks out for and is loyal to his friends and family
  2. Does the right thing, even when it's not convenient
  3. Is proficient in the manly arts
  4. Treats women with respect and honor (and if you can't cum in her, cum on her)
  5. Serves and gives back to his community
  6. Sacrifices for the good of others
  7. Works hard and seldom complains
  8. Exhibits both great courage and tender compassion
  9. Has a confident swagger but isn't a pompous jerk
  10. Is witty without succumbing to sarcasm
  11. Embraces instead of shirks responsibility

I think all of those items are achievable. Hopefully, a year from now, at the dusk of 2010 - The Year of Greg Terry - I will be able to taste a glimpse of what it's like to be in the shadows of The Man, The Myth, The Legend, The Machine.

Dec 29, 2009

It's Time to Kick Ass

In 11 days, Greg Terry and I will fly out to Walt Disney World to run a half marathon on 1/9 followed by a full marathon on 1/10 to obtain the coveted "Goofy Challenge" medals. That's all good and all, but every once in awhile, we are reminded of greater challenges, greater obstacles, and greater sacrifices that one makes - not only in personal goals - but to defend His country.

This past Sunday, I met with the family and friends of Jake Marvin, whom will be heading off to Afghanistan for a year to beat the shit out of some terrorist Al-Qaeda ass.

I met Jake back in the day around 1994 as we struggled to learn how to wrestle with our fat, childish bodies. I tried to squeeze my opponents nuts into submission as fast as I could so I could bolt to the concession stands to grab a quick meal, while as Jake’s mom, Suzanne depicted for us, “he would try to end the match as soon as possible because he had to pee” [and then meet me at the concession stands to join in the pizza/candy bar buffet that would be soon to follow.] Anywho, Jake sat down at our table, looked at my dad, and asked him about a conversation they had when they ran into each other at a gas station in Hubriar Heights recently. The legend goes that Jake said "Hello" and Greg Terry followed it up with a – looking him dead in the eye (I’m sure) "When you get over there, I want you to kick some fucking Afghanistan towel-head @#$%^@&%$#$#$^ ass!…By the way, I'm getting ready to go to Disney World to win a Goofy Medal..." I'm not sure what Jake did at that moment, but I'm sure he obliged.

In all seriousness, we'll be thinking about you, Jake. Kick some ass, takes some names, and come back safely. Stay the fuck away from camel spiders and you will be good to go.

Here are two videos to get you pumped up 24/7. If you need a ready supply of tasty meats, let me know and it will be on its way. I only ask that you pose with a bag of jerky as you shoot off a bazooka or some shit, preferably with the Champion Beef Jerky t-shirt on.

Dec 28, 2009

Deuce and a Dime

[Soundtrack: N.E.R.D. - "Rock Star (Jason Nevins Remix)"]

Well folks, the end of 2009 is upon us. In a few days, the ball will drop, and it will be time to ring in the new year - 2010. This morning, I raised an intriguing question in my Facebook that has surely crossed your mind, and if it hasn't, you better read up.

I did some investigating on this to see what other people were saying. This dilhema breaks down to a few different options:

  • Two thousand ten
  • Two thousand and ten
  • Twenty ten
  • "Oh" ten
  • Twenty hundred and ten
  • In thee year of Our Lord, 2010
  • The Year of Greg Terry
  • Deuce and a Dime
After careful deliberation, I have decided I will use "two thousand ten" as my preferred method to call 2010. I had a couple opportunities to test it out today in a real world environment, and I liked the way it rolled off the tongue. It does have an extra syllable than the alternative method, twenty ten, but I'm fine with that.

When I think of twenty ten, I think of Chad "Ocho Cinco" Johnson. Ochocinco isnt even 85. Ochenta y cinco (och-EHN-tah ee SINK-o) is 85. But I dont see that on the back of his jersey. So if you call it twenty ten, you are essentially admitting that you are a stupid idiot. If I ask you what year it is, and you say twenty ten, your head will disappear, and be replaced with this:

Along with two thousand ten, I will also use Deuce and a Dime. And here is why. During a New Year's party in 2004 (two thousand four, or "oh" four), I was playing speed quarters with some friends and accidentally swallowed a quarter. 2004 was the year of the deuce and a quarter. For a few days, I felt like a 14 year old potentially pregnant girl waiting to see if her time of the month would show up. Well "mine" did eventually, and I fished it out and saved it. It is now my lucky quarter. Here it is!

Dec 26, 2009

Home Intruders/Zombies Beware

So I got a nice, shiny axe for Christmas. It's the real deal - even includes my initials engraved on the solid oak handle. It's a follow-up up gift from last year's Zombie Survival Guide.

The axe will rest peacefully alongside my aluminum baseball bat in the corner of my bedroom in case some East-Dayton dirty butt - or worse - a zombie, decides to break into my home.

Technically, the axe has my name on it, but in the ill-event of a home intrusion, and my life is on the line, it is waiting to add more names to the list.

Dec 25, 2009

Christmas 2009 = Success

Greg Terry loves his new "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle" Snuggie.

...and so does Sammy.

Mission Accomplished.
Dec 24, 2009

Howdy Ho Kyle

Dec 22, 2009

Killing in the Name of...Christmas?

Seventeen-Year-Old Rage Against the Machine Anthem Is England’s No.1 Christmas Song

Apparently there is a little turmoil over in England. I guess there is "Christmas number one" contest that goes out to the #1 song on the Billboard charts over there on Christmas. The way it sounds, on the surface, is American Idol times a billion. Simon Cowell, Adolf Hitler, and Satan himself all have a say in who wins this prestigious award. I haven't really looked into it, but it seems as though whoever is the winner of whatever show Simon Cowell seems to be on during the time normally gets the coveted #1 prize. Well I guess the badass foursome of Rage Against the Machine heard about this, and said bullocks to that. Some of their fans launched a Facebook campaign to support the cause, and low and behold, the #1 song in England right now is a blast from 1992's past...the one...the only..."Killing in the Name of."

Here are some more details I found on the internets if you are still curious. I think it's really kickass.

Simon Cowell has lashed out at a campaign to get rap metal dons Rage Against The Machine to Christmas number one.

The Christmas number one slot is one of the most coveted achievements in British pop music. In the past such artists as Slade, The Beatles, Band Aid and more have scored memorable hits which have become ingrained in the public's consciousness.

However the recent boom in reality TV shows have provided the industry with a grip on the position. Last year Alexandra Burke scored the top spot with her version of 'Hallelujah' amid a hail of protests.

This year an online pressure campaign has emerged to get incendiary rap metal dons Rage Against The Machine to number one. The band reformed in 2007, memorably performing at T In The Park last summer.

The band's track 'Killing In The Name Of' is at the centre of the campaign, which has gathered over 550,000 supporters to a Facebook campaign group.

Now in a press conference X Factor baron Simon Cowell has claimed that the campaign is "stupid" and "cynical".

"If there's a campaign, and I think the campaign's aimed directly at me, it's stupid," he said in a press conference. The Independent reports that the music industry mogul went on to state that the campaign wouldn't actually harm him.

"Me having a Number One record at Christmas is not going to change my life particularly," he said. "It does however change these guys' lives and we put this opportunity there so that the winner of The X Factor gets the chance of having a big hit record."

"I think it's quite a cynical campaign geared at me which is actually going to spoil the party for these three (contestants). I also think it's incredibly dismissive of the people who watch and enjoy the show… to treat our audiences as if they're stupid and I don't like that."

Dec 19, 2009

A Taint Chafing Haiku

Red Bull for breakfast.
Ran thirteen miles for lunch.
Now, what's for dinner?

The Bear Jew

Watched Inglorious Bastards last night. I think I'm going to legally change my name to "The Bear Jew."

Happy Hanukkah, bitches!

Dec 18, 2009

Mobile Blog Is Workin

It's Friday. I'm at Subway. Blogging. Yum.

Dec 16, 2009

My Porn Star Name Is Ernie Longfellow

If you have ever had a pet and lived in a house, you have a porn star name.

First Pet + First Street You Lived On = Porn Star Name

Ernie (the cat) + Longfellow Street (Hubriar "largest brick home community in the country" Heights) = Ernie Longfellow.

Now figure out what your porno star name is and share it with all your friends.

Speaking of "long fellow," I watched a little bit of the Mormon Tabernacle Christmas special on TV tonight.

A few observations:
  • I'm still convinced that children are better than adults in regard to singing Christmas tunes
  • I'm really not sure what all the hype is in Mormon Country, because every single member of the choir is ass ugly.
  • Mr. Cheeks will someday mutate into Ed Herrman and narrate Christmas Specials, such as the one below.

Dec 15, 2009



I heard about this story earlier this month and thought it was pretty interesting.

Using ALL CAPS in New Zealand can get you fired, mate!

This story reminds us that in writing, tone matters. According to the blog "Social Networking and the Law" a female employee at a New Zealand health care company called ProCare was fired after she sent instructions to fellow employees using "all caps," "bold" and colored font (really?). Apparently her employer thought that the use of those fonts was too confrontational and thus fired her for creating disharmony in the workplace. She sued ('natch) and won a $17k verdict for wrongful termination.
The lesson, I think, is that although email recipients are much more aware than they used to be about how easily an author's intention can be misinterpreted due to the lack of aural and physical cues that give words meaning in face to face exchanges, the risk of having one's email misinterpreted - with serious consequences - is still very real. There's probably a very good teachable moment here for legal writing students about the need to think carefully about tone, the reader and how susceptible to different meanings are words on the bare page. On the other hand, maybe the employee in question really was yelling at her co-workers.


Dec 14, 2009

'Tis The Season To Be A Hypochondriac

[Soundtrack: "Down with the Sickness" - Richard Cheese & Lounge Against the Machine]

Traditionally, Christmas is a time for giving, spending time with family, going “home for the holidays”, Santa, snow, singing carols, shopping, decorating the tree, putting up lights, eating honey baked hams, Frosty, Rudolph, Grinch, Charlie Brown, and “Don’t shoot your eye out.” For years, Christmas was the time of the year that some sort of sickness decided to show up in my body. Bronchitis occasionally paid a visit for a week. During the ten or so years that I wrestled, I would normally make friends with a ringworm or two, get a rash, or some sort of non-STD with a funky name. One time, Christmas brought an ACL tear, compliments of a Holiday Wrestling tournament – ironically. Another Christmas, my voice was completely gone for what would become a three month freakshow part of my life. All in all, none of the diseases, viruses, rashes, coughing, fevers, inability to speak, inability to walk, etc. really bothered me as much as one last issue that seems to show up around Christmas…the God Damned Cold Sore.

I’m not really sure how long these cold sores have come up, but I know it has been going on for quite some time. Up until this year, I treated the outbreaks with a bottle of Campho-Phenique, that was – I shit you not – from 1987. The treatment process is commonly a month long ordeal. Especially if the cold sore is located at the corner of my mouth, where the mere act of speaking, eating, yawning, screaming, etc., will cause it to crack open and set the process back at least -3 days. Eventually, they go away, but hell it’s annoying. If I excluded the gallons of orange juice and covering all food with hot sauce from my diet, it may speed up the healing process a little more, but I’d much rather blame the little green bottle from ’87 as the culprit though. On Day 1 of the infestation, I learned that Abreva was something to invest in. As soon as work was over, I went to the shady Kroger to pick up some Ab----, Am----, wait? What the hell was it called again? Ambien? No…that’s the stuff that gives you suicidal diahrrea. Just then, my mom gave me the traditional 7:30 phone call I describe as “the most inopportune time to call and check on me because I am always in the middle of something important, have my hands full, and absolutely cant talk on the phone.

Whats the cold sore stuff called? It starts with an “A.”


No, that starts with a “C.” And the bottle is older than PorkRice, so I’m not using that anymore.

Greg? Do you know what the cold sore stuff is called?

I don’t get cold sores.

No, but ya know…


Fuck, listen I gotta go.

So I ask the pharmacist.

Whats the cold sore stuff called that starts with an “A?”

Ohhh, Abreva? Its right here. Really good stuff.

She hands me the package, and makes sure she stares at the cold sore on my lip, and never…not once…looks me directly in the eye.


So I get out of Kroger and pull up in my driveway. As I load up all my crap to take into the house, the phone rings again. Mom.


Hey! That stuff is called Abreva…

Yeah…I know…but I gotta go…hands full…just got home…[random slurs].

Dec 13, 2009

A Face Only A Father Could Love

If they make a new Lion King movie, I am going to try to get Bo to play the role of Ed, the retarded hyena.
Dec 12, 2009

Public Service Announcement

Caption Contest:

What is Gregory E. Terry thinking about right now?

First prize gets a free bag of Champion Beef Jerky...seriously. Submit your entries in the comments below. Small Print: If you submit your entries on my Facebook wall instead of in the comments section of this blog, they will be immediately disqualified. Good luck!


I have included the following video to expedite this process. Whenever The Man, The Myth, The Legend dials my hotline, this is the song I hear.

Dec 10, 2009

Bo's Bones Are Cold

Bo has a 6th sense that lets him know I'm coming to get him because it's time to pee pee or poo poo. When I snatch him up, he immediately starts to quiver and shake because his 6th sense goes off and he knows he's about to freeze his little ball-less sack off. As soon as I let him out, he turns the table on me and paces around the yard longer than necessary. By the time this roles around, I'm freezing my balls off too. Crazy little Goblin.

I finally found my nativity scene last night. Contrary to popular belief, there was a giant cow present during the birth of Our Good Lord Savior, Jesus Christ.

I heard the Alvin and the Chipmunks "Christmas Don't Be Late" song on the radio tonight. It may have just finally done the trick to get me in the Christmas mood. Here's the original song, for your enjoyment:

Dec 9, 2009

10 Christmas Movies I Want To See

I'm still searching within myself for The Christmas Spirit. I got a Christmas-tree scented candle the other day with a matching car-freshener. I also started listening to 99.9 when I'm in the car. That's about it. I know it's December, but it could be the middle of April for all I know. I'm going to try to watch 10 Christmas movies in the next 15 days in hopes that they will bring out Christmas joy, or something to that extent. Here are the movies I want to watch, in no particular order:
  1. A Christmas Story
  2. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
  3. Gremlins
  4. The Santa Clause
  5. Die Hard
  6. The Nightmare Before Christmas
  7. Home Alone
  8. Elf
  9. Scrooged
  10. Mickey's Christmas Carol
Dec 8, 2009

Po-tay-toe Po-taaaa-to

There are a few words in the English language that I pronounce the way that I want to pronounce them. This will never change. If someone corrects me, most of the time it is in a joking manner. Other times, this is corrected in a manner that is rude and completely uncalled for, which is followed up by today's rant.

This is a potato. I call it a PO-TAY-TOE. You can call it whatever the Hell you want to call it.

This is a coupon. I call it a Q-PON. Kind of like a TAM-PON, but with a Q, instead of a TAM. I don't call it a COOOOOO-PON. That is ridiculous.

This is a picture of some nicely colored Crayons. I call them CROWNS. Just like the hat a King wears. CRANS are weird. CRAY-YAWNS are weirder.

Last but not least, this is an ERROR message. I call it an ERROR message, as in E-R-R-O-R. It is not an AIR message, despite the fact that I call it an ERROR message. There is no such thing as an AIR message. If someone calls it an ERA message, I will punch them in the face.
Dec 7, 2009


[Soundtrack: "Smashing the Opponent" (Featuring Jonathan Davis from KoRn) - Infected Mushroom]

I was having a conversation with my brother last week about this blog. We were basically talking about how I really don't have a set topic that I will write about on a daily basis. I mean, I have a few things I want to write about at some point, but I tend to shy away from creating a list at the beginning of the week and sticking to it. But needless to say, I never really seem to run out of things to talk about - primarily because I have something interesting going on at all times to talk about, and well, some people...don't. This boils down to the 1-UP factor. I checked out my reliable wealth of knowledge, Urban Dictionary, for a few definitions and quotations for a 1-UP. Here's are my findings:

To be better than, and/or to have done something better than another.

I just 1-uped your ass, Bitch!

Mario f*ing Princess Peach.

*Mario humping Peach* 1-up, 1-up, 1-up.....

any manuever to outdo an adversary.

MacGyver could 1-up anyone in any situation except his nemesis Murdoch.

An extra life(or extra man) that you need in order to progress through a video game. In fact, you'll need enough of these to make considerable progress. Especially if you suck at the game. 1-ups are usually risky and difficult to obtain as items.

Damn, Mark sure has a such a quick reaction time and alot of luck to beat Mario Bros on his first time playing it. He beat the whole game singlehandedly without relying on any 1-ups he earned! Mario surely must be happily spending all those 1-ups on Princess Toadstool in bed at this time!

Also can be another term for sexual intercourse. Shortened form of "1 dick up (one's) pussy or ass."

Damn, Mark really sucks at Mario Bros! He can't even get past the first level no matter how many attempts and always uses up his 1-ups! Mario must surely be getting all his 1-ups back indabutt from Bowser in his dungeon at this time!

There are certain times when 1-UPing someone would be appropriate. If you ask someone what they did over the weekend, and they said "Umm, dude it was the best week ever. I busted out my ole Nintendo and played Jaws for 48 hours straight. It was so epic. How about you?" "Ha, funny you should ask. By the way, your weekend sucked bro, compared to what I did. I flew down to Guadalupe, Mexico and went cage diving with 20-foot long Great White sharks. I got bored after awhile, so I covered myself in chum and swam out of the cage, rode a mile down the beach on the fin of the biggest shark I could find, then I jabbed a harpoon in my leg just for shits, and then outswam the shark back to the boat. Total fucking kickass. Sucks to be you, loser."

There are also certain times when you should not 1-UP someone. Tact comes into play here. "Hey, how was your weekend." "It sucked, my found out Person XYZ died in my family." "Oh man that sucks, but hey people die all the time. Don't worry about it. I went out a cruise, then went skydiving, and then after that won the big jackpot lottery. Seeya!"

I personally find don't mind 1-UPing if it is used appropriately, and not necessarily as a 1-UP, but to keep the conversation going and interesting.

Dec 6, 2009

Sunday Morning Cartoons

If you need to find a way to kill an hour today, this will do it for you. I've seen some of these videos before, but I just saw the puppet videos yesterday. Funny stuff.

Dec 3, 2009

How To: Cow Tipping

[Soundtrack: “She Works Hard For The Money” – Donna Summer]
It’s a sacrifice working day to day
for little money just tips for pay
But it’s worth it all
just to hear them say that they care
She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

There are a variety of issues that I am particularly passionate about, such as Capital Punishment (pro), Shark Week (best week ever), UGG Boots (stupid and gay, especially when combined with a jean skirt and black leggings or whatever the hell they are called), Wife Beaters (totally unacceptable, and I’m not talking about the undershirt), and last – but certainly not least – The Art of Tipping. My belief is that if I find myself in a situation where someone or something provides a service that is coupled with the unwritten rule and expectation that I chip in a few hard earned bucks for the services rendered, I totally control the amount of gratuity that will be applied towards the service. There is no such thing as a 10% standard tip. If you’re my waiter/waitress, and you suck, there is such thing as a 0% tip, and I’m definitely not afraid to leave you one. On the other side, I am also a fair man. I believe that credit is given where credit is due. If you exceed my expectations, you will be rewarded for it. Sometimes, more than what is reasonably expected.
Before I go on, I would like you to check out the following video from the movie Reservoir Dogs. This is the “Tip Scene” with our funny-looking friend, Mr. Pink.
There are many businesses in the service industry that expect tips. Some of these places include restaurants, bars, salons, massages, coffee shops, pizza delivery, taxi cabs, valet parking, and hookers. The method of leaving the tip, depending on the level of service, could be executed via leaving X amount of dollars on a table, putting change in a jar, grabbing your food from the delivery guy and slamming your front door in his face, not leaving a tip at all, leaving a penny as the tip, writing an amount of money on the tip line of a receipt, drawing a line through the tip line and writing a vulgar message at the bottom of the receipt, being forced to leave a tip due to the size of the party, and pre-tipping.
I have a few standards and expectations that apply to whatever scenario I’m in that requires a tip:
Restaurants: Friendly waiter or waitress. I’m a really thirsty guy, and I expect my drink to be filled at all times. I like appetizers to come out quick, and I like to eat them and have time before the main course comes out. Friendly conversation is appreciated, but don’t interrupt my conversations, or worse, try to join in with them. If you throw in some sort of freebie like a t-shirt, put my name on the wall, comment about my picture that is already hanging on the wall (What’s up, Penn Station?), or something to that extent, you are going to be sitting pretty at the end of the night. If you do the complete opposite of all of the above, and were banking on my tip to put the gas in your car to get home, you might as well start walking. And don’t worry about that refill, since you didn’t worry about it for the past hour when I was downing hot wings.
Bars: If I’m paying with cash, I typically will leave a dollar per drink. At least for the first couple drinks. If I have to wait for an extended period of time for a drink, shoot off flares and smoke signals to get your attention, you get zero dollars. If I’m paying with a tab, I will write a random number on the tip line when the night is over. That is more dependant on what the total line says and what my mood is currently at the time of check-out. If I forget my credit card and have to retrieve it the next day, I do not leave a tip, because you charged me for an $85 tip the night before (thanks, Adobe Gilas).
Great Clips: Oh hair cut places. I refuse to pay more than $10 for a haircut because I don’t ask for much, it takes about 3 minutes, and I could do it myself if I didn’t have little T-Rex arms. By these standards, I am required to go to fine establishments such as Great Clips, BoRics, or something like that. Typically I will have one of two experiences. A “good” experience would be one that would entail getting my hair cut, it looks half way decent, they take a little bit of time to make sure that don’t complete jack something up, they don’t dump all the hair down the back of my shirt, they strike up a somewhat interesting conversation, and they comply to even out my sideburns or thin out my uncontrollable mess of slop eye brows. A “bad” experience would be having to wait a very long time for my 3 minute haircut, to be summoned to the back by the obese, white trash, possibly drunk or on some sort of drug, idiot that more than likely isn’t even qualified to cut hair. Normally, their fingers will tell me that they just smoked a carton of cigarettes before they run through my hair and inadvertently wave passed my nose. They will be in a hurry to get the shit done. They will act like the last thing they want to do in the entire world would be cutting my hair. They also will do something to completely botch my haircut, such as screw up the neck line, accidentally chop off a sideburn, forget to cut a patch of hair, or accidentally jab my ear with the trimmers, or the like. It’s all a toss up, and typically something I don’t even discover until I get home. No tips here folks.
Massages: I’ve gotten a few massages since I started running this year, and they are the greatest thing ever. Not only do I get to have my body rubbed down for an hour, which is a feat in itself, but I also get to console my deepest fears in a therapist for that hour. I can be in the worst mood ever going in, and I come out walking on sunshine. This is worth at least $20 everytime.
Pizza guy: Traditionally, I don’t tip these fuckers.
Taxi cabs: I’ve only been in a taxi cab a few times, but normally I am treated like the scum of the earth, so I tip accordingly. When I was in England, I rode around in a couple taxi cabs that looked like the mob cars from a gangster film, and I normally left a handful of play money for these guys. Tip = unknown, ranging from ten cents to several dollars, or pounds, shillings, Monopoly money, or whatever it is.
I came up with an invention a couple years ago that will solve all tipping issues. To be honest, I am surprised nobody has came up with it yet. It is called a Tip Box.
Essentially, it is a device that you place on the table that denotes a certain monetary value. If the service is good, you can hit a button to increase the amount. If the service sucks, you can hit another button and the amount goes down. Simple, yet effective. It lets the server know where you stand, and if they need to pick it up, or keep kicking ass.
Dec 1, 2009

Are You Afraid Of Clowns?

Word on the street is that there might just be a remake of Stephen King's 1990 popular thriller "IT" - which may hit the screens in 2011. IT may also star, the H-"IT"-Man. (Oh boy, I am so fucking clever).

From the King of terror, a chilling new dimension in horror...

Your every fear - all in one deadly enemy...

The Master of Horror unleashes everything you were ever afraid of...

If you hate clowns, don't watch this video. This is the reason people hate clowns. I personally think it's funny.