Selena Gomez @ 2008 BAFTA Children's Awards

Is this Darla and Alfalfa???

Wow...she looks awesome.

What does it matter anymore? What the fuck does any of it matter?

I got turned down for my dream job today. No, not my dream job. That died when I didn't get drafted out of high school as a light-hitting, base-clogging, stone-handed third baseman. But I job I might have tolerated going to.

And apparently I wasn't even close. The type of rejection that makes it clear you shouldn't even bother applying anymore. The type of rejection where afterwards you sit in your car and weep a little and then do an OnStar search for gun stores in the area.

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

I'll tell you what I'm gonna fucking do. Tonight I'm gonna go out and find a Mexican prostitute. One with dark hair and pale skin like this girl. And I'm gonna pay her to spend the whole fucking night with me. I don't give a shit what it costs. And I'm gonna make her answer to this girl's name all night.

And I'm gonna get stone drunk and take her to a fancy restaurant. And I'm gonna introduce her to everyone I see. Introduce her as this girl. And I'm gonna say, "This is that girl from that show on the tv. That one with the Wizards. Yeah, she's that girl. Isn't she beautiful?" And the people will give me an incredulous look but I won't give a shit because I'll already be introducing her to someone else. "Oh, c'mon, don't be bashful. Put down your forks and come get your picture taken with this girl. Hold on, I need another drink."

And then I'm gonna take her to a tattoo parlor and I'm gonna pay to get us matching tattoos. I don't know if whores do that type of thing but I'll pay her. Whatever the fuck it costs. And the tattoos are going to be hearts. And they're going to say something fucking insufferable like, "Luv U 4ever!" And they're going to be on our left ass cheeks. Her left ass tattoo will say, "Clint! Luv U 4ever!" And mine will have this girl's name and not Conchita or whatever the fuck the hooker's real name is.

And then I'm gonna take her to the cemetery and I'm gonna take her to two empty plots and I'm gonna write our names in the grass in booze -- my name and this girl's -- and I'm gonna light that shit on fire and I'm gonna give our fucking eulogies. And they're gonna be beautiful. They're gonna be fucking beautiful even though I'm so goddamn drunk I can barely stand up.

And then I'm gonna lie down on my grave and go to sleep. And I'm gonna ask my girl to lie down on her grave next to me and she's gonna refuse but I'm gonna tell her that I'm about 8 fucking seconds from passing out and that I just wanna see her get down on the fucking ground and as soon as she hears me sawing logs she can get up and steal my car and go home or go turn tricks or whatever the fuck she wants to do.

That's what I'm gonna do tonight because why the fuck not. What the fuck do I have to lose. What the fuck do I care. Tonight right after Jeopardy I'm gonna go out and find a Mexican whore who looks just like this girl.

wow. clint. just wow. extraordinary.

she is pretty sure, but she looks soooooo young

shes 16! not sooooo young
dumbass

Nah man, come back in maybe 10 years. In pics 2 and 4 she'd struggle to pass for 12, plus she is wearing her moms shoes. Kudos to the epic post above from Clint.

clint is epic win. yes sir

i dunno what this chick has. she's really bangiiing.

daaaaamn.

Oh shit. Clint, you are God. Where can I find a link to your blog or something?

LOL. I love your stuff, Clint.

This girl needs to stop wearing her mommy's makeup and her high heels and act her age. She's what...12? It'd be very hard to believe this girl is any older than that. Even with those wikipedia bibliographies [citation needed]. And I think that maybe Clint needs some therapy, although you are an artist I can give you that.

I am feeling rather ambivalent about this girl right now. I feel like one of those new dollar coins with Andrew Jackson on one side and that sexpot Lady Liberty on the other. I feel like the coin as it flips, as it translates and rotates and scintillates. But mostly as it oscillates. Oscillates between its diametric faces. Oscillates between the bellicose and the beautiful.

I sit in my cubicle and I stare vacantly at the wall and imagine what this girl must smell like (coconut). And I oscillate. And I sit in my cubicle and I stare with dead eyes at the wall and imagine what this girl must smell like on fire (toasted coconut).

I sit in my staff meeting and I write poems about this girl, poems where the only rhyme I can think of for her name is "ballerina". And I oscillate. And I sit in my staff meeting and I write poems about this girl, poems where the only rhyme I can think of for her name is "emphysema". (Actually, that's not entirely true. I also wrote a poem where I rhymed her name with vageena.)

(Did you know that if you write my name with all capital letters it sort of looks like cunt? Someone mentioned that to me at church.)

I sit on the can and I come up with anagrams of her name like "go lean sez me" and "zeal! go semen!" And I oscillate. And I sit on the can and I come up with anagrams of her name like "lose Zen game" and "sleaze gnome".

These oscillations are my current reality. But I have a dream too, a fantasy. I see myself flipping my dollar, watching its ascension and descent as the immutable laws of space and time bend its path as per their malevolent predilections. But as I watch, from out of nowhere my coin is effortlessly captured in midair by another's hand.

It is this girl. It is this beautiful girl.

She looks at the coin in her palm and delicately turns it over once, then looks at me and smiles with the warmth of a thousand suns. Without saying a word she gently places the coin in my calloused hand and wraps my fingers around it tightly and smiles again. Then she quietly takes her leave.

I take a moment to savor what has just transpired and then unfurl my fingers and look into my palm, already knowing with certainty what I will see. And I smile to myself and I look and I see...a buffalo? A fucking buffalo? It's one of those new nickels with the buffalo on it! That bitch took my money! That little sleaze gnome stole my fucking money!

And I oscillate

Clint

I was going to write nasty and sexual like I always do in forums about this teen dream, 'til I lost my hardon reading Clint's ramblings. You have a talent for storytelling, no question,but you're also a buzzkill.