Saturday, 31 December 2011

31st December 2011

Sorry about the late update, folks. I'm combating yet another virus here at the Dear Jimmy headquarters. I know, I know! That'll teach me to stream badly dubbed German hardcore pornography on work's computers. But in my defence, once you've seen 'Das Butt' there is no pornography that's worth watching other than badly dubbed German hardcore pornography.

There's this guy I've been seeing on and off for almost a year now. We tried the whole dating thing but it didn't work out because I was moving too fast for him. We stopped talking for a bit but then decided to become friends with benefits. The thing is I still have feelings for him and would like him to be more that just my sex buddy. At the moment I'm playing him at his own game and keeping him at arms length. I say when and where and if we have sex at all. (Its how he treated me when we were dating) we've been like this for the past 3 months and now things seem different. He's asking to see me all the time and calls me when he's drunk to tell me how much I mean to him. The thing is when he's sober he blames his actions on the alcohol and says he's only telling me what he thinks I want to hear. I'm done with pretending I don't care about him and I want us to try again. But how can I be sure that he feels the same? Does he even like me at all, or is he just in it for the sex? They say actions speaker louder than words, and so far from his actions I feel like he doesn't want to put himself out there because he's scared of getting hurt. I don't want to either because I've been hurt before (by him no less) I can't see myself confessing my true feelings for him until I'm sure he feels the same way. How can I find out how he's feeling without revealing my true feelings for him? I don't want to get hurt again.

Okay, now I admit I'm an agony uncle, and not a consulting detective, but using all the detective prowess I picked up from watching both Sherlock Holmes movies and twenty minutes of an old Jeremy Brett 'Casebook' episode I would infer from the fact that he has told you he only wants sex, only tells you otherwise when he's drunk and horny, and admitted, many times, when he's sober he's saying what you want to hear so he doesn't want to lose the chance to have sex with you that he only wants you for sex. Elementary, my dear retard!

Monday, 28 November 2011

28th November 2011

Okay, time for me to help another bunch of hapless losers with their problems, on account of it being one of the terms of my bail for punching up that store Santa the other dayHey, if people didn't want me punching up the emboiment of the holiday season (That's right. screw you Jesus!) then they shouldn't have started playing Christmas music back in October.  I swear...One more rendition of 'All I Want For Christmas' and I'll...Crap! My parole officer is coming...Quickly...Onto the letters!
I've been with my boyfriend for 8 monhts now and he is 16 going on 17 in Decemeber. I'm going to turn 18 in November and I want to go to a club. But he says no because he will get jealous and thinks that I will dance with other guys and drink and get wasted and yeah.. And he's not going to be there to watch what I'm doing. Who do you think is right?
I think you can dance if you want to! You can leave your boyfriend behind. ‘Cause he don’t dance. And if he don’t dance well… he’s no friend of mine.

Thursday, 17 November 2011

17th November 2011

Okay close the porn you're watching in the other tab and pay attention. Your favourite lifestyle guru is here again to set you and your fucked up problems straight.
What do you do when after everything that you do or say you sit at home and wonder if you should have said or done it like that? I wonder if I have offended anyone, or if they don't like me or I didn't make them feel welcome. I'm sick of feeling it, yet I can't change it.

I quite honestly don’t know. I mean have you read this fucking site? Do you seriously think that offending somebody is a concern for me? I guess if I were a whiny sentimental pussy like you then I’d respond to anybody who told me I had offended them with a swift roundhouse kick to the head…Does that help?

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Battlefield 3 The Novel: As written By Dear Jimmy

Okay, so partly because it’s National Novel Writing Month and partly because I found out this existed I thought I’d take a shot at NaNoWriMo myself and present the proof that Andy McNab and Peter Grimsdale were the wrong people for the job. Here’s my far superior version of the official Battlefield 3 novel.
Incidentally, if you’re reading this Grand Central Pub, you can just contact me on the usual e-mail with all the job offers. I’ll pick them up from there:

‘Fag’ growled Penisdick69 as he found himself on the receiving end of a stream of bullets from his unseen enemy. It was obvious to him that some n00b was camping, and he wasn’t going to have any of it. However as it stood at the moment he wasn’t in much of a position to do anything about it, he had already taken quite a beating from the fagwhore behind the rifle. All colour had faded from his screen, except the all too ominous crimson sneaking in from the edges. Penisdick69 reassured himself of the old adage about he who runs away living to fight another day, and he had every intention of fighting. But right now it would have to wait for that other day.

Even if he had to respawn ten times…A hundred times…Hell a thousand times, he knew that it would be worth it to knock the smile off the face of the n00b that was somehow getting in these lucky shots that were depleting his health. 

Right now, though, his pride was definitely the least significant of his injuries. He was near death and needed medical attention. However having used the last of his medikits to deal with the RPG blast he was on the receiving end of, Penisdick69 had no choice to deal with his potentially deadly injuries the only way he knew how…By walking it off. Because that was how a fucking man dealt with his injuries. And Penisdick69 was nothing if not a fucking man. He had the level three prestige to prove it.

Right now, though, he would gladly have given his exclusive pre-order camouflage and the presitage awarded solid gold M9 with increased rate of fire to get his hand on the man at the other end of the sniper scope. It was obviously a man. Girls didn’t play video games.
‘I could hack their I.P. address’, considered Penisdick69, ‘and then I could totally go around and kick his ass. I bet he wouldn’t be such a big man in the real world’. This seemed like a sound plan until Penisdick69 realised he neither knew how to hack nor throw a punch. He had studied the theories of fighting plenty during the intense 600 hours he had dedicated to reaching the maximum level in Street Fighter IV the previous summer, but somehow his body was unable to process the information stored within the recesses of his brain. He couldn’t manage as much as a single ‘Hadouken’. 

Still… The sniperfag never knew that, so there was nothing to stop Penisdick69 from screaming his empty threat, in hopes that his bravado would make the sniper rage quit. Deep within the torrent of abuse that sprang forth from Penisdick69 there may have also been something about sleeping with his dog and killing his mother. Or possibly it was the other way around. Penisdick69 couldn’t remember. It was all a blur. The red mist had descended.

Ironically, the literal red mist had vanished from his screen. Penisdick69 was at full health again, and planned on focusing his rage at the mysterious enemy. The unseen nemesis that had been the bane of his life for the past seven minutes. Sure there were easier pickings, like the rookie who had spent the entire conflict running to the same hiding spot, only to fire three incredibly poor shots in a tragic display of self defence, and ultimately get killed only to repeat the cycle the moment he respawned. 

But this wasn’t any normal battle, anymore. This was no longer about scores, or experience points. Those things seemed trivial in comparison to Penisdick69’s honour. And not just any kill would satisfy that honour. Right now it hinged on Penisdick69 killing the camping n00bcunt.
Penisdick69 broke from cover, the anticipation instinctively forcing him to take an extra large gulp of air. He just prayed that it wasn’t his last. ‘Let’s see you snipe this!’ he thought, as a smug silent curse towards his enemy. 

Penisdick69 then began to run around in circles, randomly jumping. Some were leaps that would have landed him a position in any team of his choosing in the NBA if he were playing a basketball game, rather than a first-person-shooter. Others were only tiny. Barely noticeable even. But they were enough. They meant that a potentially deadly headshot would be absorbed harmlessly by his chest, where there were apparently no vital organs.
The sniper let off four shots, but Penisdick69 was not only still alive, but also still viewing the world in colour. He continued his random series of turns and jumps. There was no rhyme to them. No reason. No choreography. And most importantly, no pattern. and there, in that lack of a plan, was the plan. After all if Penisdick69 didn't know what he was going to do next how could the mysterious sniper possibly hope to?
Five shots. Penisdick69 continued his deadly ballet. Knowing that one false step, just a single missed beat, would prove fatal. 

Six shots. For the first time in since his account was created eighteen months ago Penisdick69 realised just what it was to be alive. 

Seven shots. If he kept this up Penisdick69 supposed there was a chance the sniper may run out of ammo. But only is there wasn’t ammo respawning in whatever mystery vantage point the fagbitch was camping in like a pussy. Luckily for Penisdick69 that wasn’t his plan.
Eight shots. ‘Almost got it’ Penisdick69 wasn’t sure if it was the peril of being in such a dangerous situation or the excitement of almost being able to turn the tables, but his heart was pounding like a jackhammer. 

Nine shots. Penisdick69 drew on all his XP to focus. The bullets were getting nearer with every shot. This was going to be closer than he had planned. 

Ten shots. There! Finally, Penisdick69 was able to follow the bright yellow bullet trails like landing lights leading him to the spot where his N00bfag of a nemesis had been hiding this whole time.
Eleven shots. This was getting too close. The bullets began to hit Penisdick69. His original plan was for a closer confrontation. He wanted to look into the eyes of the sniper as he took the big gay's life. A fitting payment for making the last eight minutes of his own life a living hell. 

Twelve shots. It was no good. Penisdick69 wouldn’t be able to repeatedly crouch over the snipers corpse and make it look like he was tea bagging it. The benderfag had been spared that particular humiliation. But he would not be spared Penidick69’s wrath.

Thirteen shots. The screen began to fade, and turn the familiar mix of black white and red that meant the end was coming. And an end was coming, but Penisdick69 convinced himself it would be the snipers, not his own, and began spraying the camping spot with his M9. The shots sprayed the air wildly. Filled with the same passion and ferocity as Penisdick69's anger.
Fourteen shots. Then silence. No sound from either combatant. Their battle was over, The victor was decided. 

The killcam began to move in on the battered warrior, and Penisdick69 couldn’t believe his eyes...’Sniperincess<3’. His brain was unable to process this information. He must have been reading the gamertag wrong. His heart began racing once again. But this time he knew exactly why. He had no trouble identifying this particular emotion. This one was definitely dread.
He opened the profile, and confirmed his worst fears. Sniperincess<3  killing him was upsetting, but he could live with it. He could even forgive himself the guilt of being the deciding kill. The game had ended, and he wouldn’t be able to claim his revenge, but even anger didn’t seem to matter anymore. He suddenly felt like such a fool that his pride had become a drug. So important it drove him to ruin. But the shame was not to blame for his heart racing. He could shoulder all these emotions. But not the dread.
 All it took to break Penisdick69’s spirit in the end, to deprive him of the honour he held so dear and send his soul into a crushing detox as he went through withdrawal from his dear, pride...That sweet, delicious, adictive self-esteem was a single shot and a single, simple letter. Sat in the gender field. Stripping him of his precious dignity: ‘F’. Sniperincess<3 was a girl.
But,’ muttered the broken shell of Penisdick69 ‘girls don’t play video games…’

Monday, 31 October 2011

Halloween Reviewfest Conclusion:

Dear Jimmy Reviews...

Up until last year’s allegedly final film the ‘Saw’ franchise was something of a Halloween tradition, and is something that seems to have divided cinema goers. Some see it as a lumbering dinosaur of a series that had long since worn out it’s welcome, whereas others see it as nothing but shock whoring ‘torture porn’. But there must have been some sort of a demand for it, since the series ran for a total of seven films with many fans still hoping for an eighth. Then again, this game got a sequel, too, so that’s probably less an indicator of quality than it is an indicator of how many people are dumb enough to spend money on something.

I’ll put my hands up to personally being a fan of the films, though, mainly due it having some fairly intelligent writing under all that gore and it’s sticking to analogue special effects in a digital age, for the first seven movies at least. Plus Tobin Bell’s performances each year were always the films’ saving grace. One thing that EVERYBODY agrees on unanimously, though, is that the game freakin’ sucks and couldn’t be salvaged by a million Tobin Bells!

Sunday, 30 October 2011

Halloween Reviewfest Part 2

Dear Jimmy Reviews...

What is it with the closing title of horror trilogies? This franchise goes ahead and pulls an ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’. After the first two Urban Legends movies were slashers this one goes ahead and decides “Fuck it, Y’know what? Ghost.”…Or witch…Or Demon… Some such paranormal shit, anyway. At this point I’m just glad that the Third Scream film didn’t turn around and reveal that the killer wasn’t wearing a mask at all, but was in fact an alien with an actual face that looked like that. Then again at least that would’ve had some kind of semblance to the films that came before it, unlike this crap.

Saturday, 29 October 2011

Halloween Reviewfest Part 1:

Dear Jimmy Reviews...

To celebrate Halloween I'd kick off another review triple feature by representing my review of ‘The Happening’! Or as I like to call it ‘The Crappening’, or ‘The Nothing’s Happening’. Seriously, this thing is worse than ‘The Blair Witch Project’ and has been a running joke of the site for years. But why exactly do I have such a porcipine up my ass over this one terrible film? I mean I review bad films all the time, right?

Thursday, 20 October 2011

20th October 2011

Don't worry folks, I am still hard at work on the reviews, too. But since I'm all but finished them, blind stinkin' drunk and don't have any step kids to beat I decided to vent my frustrations on this bunch of losers instead

Can anyone please advise me of how to get your website high in the search engines online with google etc without spending a fortune on paying someone who says they will do it and probably does not do it anyway?

Yes porn I sex suggest boobs you penis subtlety naked slip anal lots nip-slip of see-thru  commonly sexual searched nude words MILF into dogging every topless sentence strap-on that gangbang you furries write…Twilight saga.

Sunday, 16 October 2011

Classic Review: Transporter 2

Okay, what to say about 'Transporter 2'? It’s shit! …What? That doesn’t count as a review? Could’ve fooled me! Fine! Let’s do this thing right. Damn my journalistic integrity!

Friday, 14 October 2011

Look Who's Come Crawling Back...!

Okay, I've decided that it's time to cowboy up and get around the technical issues that are plaguing the new site. So I'll be using this again as a temporary measure until I get the re-launch organised. Meanwhile you can keep up to date by following me on both Twitter and Facebook.
But not MySpace. Never MySpace! I know it's been over a year, but there is new material on the way. Starting with an upcoming review this Halloween...

So be sure to spread the word. 'cause Dear Jimmy's back!