Jeff Goldblum Saves The World.You're welcome, mortals.
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Name: Jeff
Birthday: 10/22/1952
Gender: Male


Expertise: Saving sh*t.


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AIM: jeffgoldblum314


Member Since: 1/18/2005

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Tuesday, October 04, 2005

This is a drawing of my pet minotaur, Jennifer Garner. I drew him not with my hands, left nor right. Nay, not with my all-encompassing mind nor etch-a-sketch but with my protein enriched left foot. I got the idea from a film I saw whose name escapes me. I went through 127 pencils before it was finished. The electromagnetic force that surrounds all of my perfectly sculpted appendages attracted the graphite so strongly that they crumbled before me. If it were not for my imperceptable speed, I would have never finished this chef d'oeuvre, or chef of egg, if you will. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Without it, my tendons would never have been able to accomplish such a great masterpiece. Would you believe it if I told you that all ratios in my body conform to the divine proportions? Of course you would. But it was not always this way. Good gravy and Bisquick, no. Hundreds of years ago, before the pyramids, before the quickening, before your mom, I found that in the 637th place of the golden ratio a discrepancy between the distance from the top of my head to my beautiful, flowing belly button to my tippy toes. I was too tall. But how to shrink?! Surely, a man who is immortal cannot wait for old age. I did what any of us would do. I walked with stones on my head, balanced like a book, for 3000 years. And not just any stones! NO! Stones of great size! I walked the Earth with these stones taking measurement everyday, replacing stones every few hundred years. You can't get too attached, you know. I gathered them all and built the world a calender. A sun calender. I put it in the United Kingdom because nothing ever happens there. You named them Stonehenge. Stone: French for stone and henge: Esperanto for JEFF GOLDBLUM.


Saturday, September 24, 2005

Sittin' at my compy, write my weblog MY WEBLOG
Fittin' wit my mommy over a frog MY A FROG
She said I should have brought my best log MY BEST LOG
She said that my b frog does belong MY B LONG

You know I love the phat rhymes. How have you been, my darlings? Myself?! Oh, never better, never better. You know I cherish every one you little angels. MY AIN GELS. I do unfortunately have quite the weekend ahead of me. Mama Goldblum is in town, with Papa Goldblum in tow. You will notice right now, the picture that I keep with me at all glorious times. I keep it neatly folded inside my 22 karat gold yarmulke that I am wearing over my heart at any and every given moment. Here they are on their wedding day on the 4th July in 1776, my mother looking down at the tiny human rabbi. Did they, like myself, see into the future and extract a prophecy? A prophecy of birth, not of a man, nor Steve Perry. Nay! Not even of a new nacho stand, NO! But the birth of a nation. I was not sure if you were aware of this so I will majestically inform you that the 4th July in 1776 is the birthday of the United States of America.. and its evil twin Communism. For as we all know, one can neither exist nor thrive without the other. Tragedy. When the feeling's gone and you can't go on. Tragedy. So, it is now that I return to my question: Did they, like my oily and immortal self, see into the future and squeeze a drop of prophecy juice from the orange of time? No. Were they disappointed when they heard the news? That they would have to share this day, this day of celebration with AMERICA and those filthy reds? China alone is over a billion people. Did you know that? I did. Returning to my parents, and I'd thank you for discontinuing your interuptions, no, they were not disappointed, for they do not know. When I was just a young lad of mmm err oh ehhh INFINITY years old, a good friend of the family, Minerva McGonagall sook me out. She sat me down and said to me this:

"Now, Jeffy G. Your parents, while they will never be as powerful, masculine, handsome, immortal, glistening as you are or exuding so much the pure sex that you do are still very important people. However, you may consider them somewhat important, being who you are."

 A small, accepting nod extended from my neck and please, keep in mind, she rolls her r's (Scottish... ew, I know). She continued..

 "If they were ever to discover this fact the world would crumble just from the great salty lake's worth of teardrops they would shed. They've never been very good at sharing and while you are a master of psychology and dianetics.."

The D-word is a filthy habit I picked up in high school and just can't seem to shake. You can read more about it at www.truth.com. Anyways..

"I feel this would be a good chance, as they will not accept anything paid for in galleons, for me to give them an enchanted wedding present."

It always comes back to this... cheap and broke-ass Minerva. She wanted to tell them that she would create a spell that would cue fireworks at dusk on every anniversary. I agreed but only because an enchantress such as herself is one of the few who can withstand the full... force of my love-making. You have no idea. And it worked! The gunshots of 1777! The first cars backfiring! They really bought it. So far, there's only been one year where Minerva had to do something herself. She flew all the way from Bristol to create a firework enchantment above their home but, as misfortune strikes the dishonest, she dropped her wand deep into the Atlantic ocean. Perhaps one day, King Triton of Atlantis will return it to her. I know he has it, that schmuck. ANOTHER DAY!! Return to me, children. What did she do, you may ask? What any of us would do. She forced herself into, as you humans call them, the local Piggly Wiggly. Minerva proceded to load herself up with beans, chili, milk (she's an eigth cambodian) and laxatives. She camped outside their bedroom window until the horizon embraced the sun's gorgeous, final gleam of endless color for the day and promptly let 'er rip. They made crazy monkey love for 7 hours and Minerva was there for them through every second. What a good friend. Anyways, my mother has entered the room and I'm getting the uncomfortable don't look at the monitor, no it's not porn, I don't --just don't look at the monitor, ok? feeling coming over me. The one you get whenever your parents enter the room? Yes. I know you know. Mazel tov, baby.



PS - Let me know if you saw the great pumpkin, Charlie Brown.




Saturday, May 07, 2005

There is a million Johns but there is only one Stamos.


Monday, January 31, 2005

A cactus? That's rediculous! What folly must consume my fingers!

This is a picture of one of my good friends Bonnie Raitt, letting her hair down. Or should I say mane? Haha! Her true form is indeed a magnificent one. Legs stronger than the mightiest boulder (which is probably a mountain), a coat finer than silk and don't even ask about the glue! Yes, a brave and mighty stead be she. A woman of numerous gifts, we have travelled many an odyssey together. I recall one pleasent evening, I found myself atop her back, riding to the concert hall where our ears were filled to the brim with the vocal sensations of the greatest rock God of them all: Steve Perry. However, tonight's date would be the latter on the epitaph of our friendship. Steve was a magnificent and tormented monster. He was the third member of what we then called the "Federation" and now call by no name. It was assumed that name was never again to be mentioned. However, I believe we all know that when one assumes, one makes an 'assu' out of 'me' and 's'. But fear not for me! It is poor little 's' who is most deserving of our concern.

We saw Steve Perry and the other human members of Journey, a group so intense with power and energy and the single most important and musically-contributing supergroup (known to man), second only to Forgeiner. Afterwards, I and my two syren colleagues headed back to Steve's trailer, laughing and sharing tales of friends, enemies and memories past. We were a tight pack. We were so much like the Justice League it was uncanny. Except with fewer members, different objectives, stories, enemies, etc. And if we were the Justice League, I was Superman. I was the leader¹.

ABILITIES:

  • Bonnie Raitt: Country Goddess; Centaur/Animorph; Plays pan flute; Wears 'Heart' ring.
  • Steve Perry: Ability to hold you while simultaneously maintaining open arms; Rockgod; Wears 'Earth' ring.
  • Jeff Goldblum: Select all, sugar; Wears 'Water' ring².

What could possibly break up such a strong and true coalition? Well, one of our members held a grimy secret. We were in Steve's trailer chatting and acting out "scenes" (a little showbiz lingo for you). Our trio was enjoying Stella Artois (pronouced stay-lar-toys, there is a liason) and many of them at that! I was just finishing up the daily combing of Bonnie's tail and beginning to braid it when evil breath pushed these words from the lungs of Steve Perry.

"I am a furry and I have the hots for you, Miss Bonnie Raitt!" Silence surrounded us.
"Steve Perry! That is too far! You take that back this instant!" I pleaded.

But he would not. Shame filled the room and quietly I tied off Bonnie's tail and asked her to go. It was not a joke that Steve had uttered, but fact. A fact he knew he must keep secret but could not, for whatever reason. I stood before him and he knew what must be done. He removed his ring from his tear-lubricated finger and placed it in my outstretched hand. While his heart was dedicated to saving the world, his mind was not.

To hold a ring is a lifetime commitment. This ring cannot be passed on until Steve Perry has done the same.

And that is the true cause of global warming.

 

 

¹ On a side note, I was recently elected Superman in the city of Metropolis. It is believed that my landslide victory was due to the fact that I already have the glasses and hair, thus saving tax payers tens of billions of dollars. I miss my family. KRYPTON!

² Rings 'Wind' and 'Heart' are being kept with undisclosed protectiors, for their own safety. I will give you a hint though. The owners' names rhyme with Steve Buscemi and H.R. Puff 'n' Stuff.


Friday, January 28, 2005

I JUST WANT TO BE A CACTUS.



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