Five-Oh Things-Oh! 10/14/13

Alright, alright, I’m back so y’all can rest your sphincters.

1) It’s time to stop the madness that are Open Letters. First, Sinead sent one to Miley Cyrus for being all slutty, trampy and gauche. Then, I believe another celeb sent one to Ms. Cyrus too, but I don’t care that much to look up who it was.

The latest person to join the fray is Sufjan Stevens.

See, he felt his relevancy slipping, so he decided to send her one too. Celebrities are so insufferable sometimes, you know?

(via Entertainment Weekly)

(via Entertainment Weekly)

When I stopped icing my head that was paining due to all of the eye rolling I was doing about the ridiculous open letter phenom, I found THIS gem. Have I mentioned how much I love my fellow copy editors?

Via Vice.com

DEAR SUFJAN: A COPY EDITOR CORRECTS SUFJAN STEVENS’S OPEN LETTER TO MILEY CYRUS

“Singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens wrote an open letter to Miley Cyrus, correcting the grammar in her new song, “#GetItRight.” A VICE editor has copy-edited and corrected Sufjan’s letter to Miley, further suggesting some reading he might enjoy.”

‘Tis a thing of beauty.

(via Vice)

(via Vice)

Or, click here for a better view.

2) Hey all you New Jersey GOP folks, you’re about as classy as a fart in church. Wink, wink–I love how you’re telling voters not to vote in the US Senate special election on Wednesday, October 16, but to arrive at the poling places on the 15th. Niiiiice. See, you’re not even doing it correctly–you’re supposed to tell the voters to show up the day after the election. Get it? That’s what y’all have done in the past! They’ll never learn. Just like how they’ll never learn that trickle-down economics won’t, and don’t, work. I’ve been following this race closely and it would behoove the Republican candidate, Steve Lonegan, to change his campaign slogan to “That’s Your Problem, Not Mine” because he really is that big of an asshole. While Democrat Cory Booker will probably win this thing, he might want to stay away from vegan strip clubs.

Gail Collins does a much better job at talking about this election, AND Gov. Christie here.

(Side note: When I grow up, I wanna be Gail Collins.)

3) Like the story says, just go with it. Camel toe knickers for me? Why didn’t I think of that??!?

(via Dangerous Minds)

(via Dangerous Minds)

 

4) It’s all about who you are–on the inside.

Hello Kitty Breast Implants: Because It’s What Inside That Counts

Yes, my three readers, you read that correctly: Hello Kitty Breast Implants. You don’t believe me? Feast your peepers.

(via Incredible Things)

(via Incredible Things)

 

5) Finally, just watch this. It’s hysterical. Make sure the sound is on too, and that you don’t have issues with the heavy Scottish brogue. I’m sure I could translate for you seeing that these are my people–for a price, of course.

You’re welcome.

 

It’s not a tumah …

For the most part, I believe that plastic surgery and all sub-categories of it are a good thing. It helps people with jack shit for self-esteem feel better about themselves by correcting hook noses, weak chin issues, sagging earlobes and boobage, and facial lines as deep as the Grand Canyon. Of course, plastica is used for good, like when someone was maimed or scarred in some horrible manner. But this is not the case here.

Sometimes I wonder which image I would prefer staring at: A plate of rotting meat mixed with maggots, feathers, rotting eggs, or someone sitting across from me with a sutured visage complete with pus and yuck oozing out of it.

Hmm .. I’ll take the meat please

Of course, plastic surgery is rife with those who abuse it.

(courtesy cdn.sheknows.com/)

 

 

(courtesy of thumpandwhip.com)

I could write a book called Dull Knife: Profiles in Bad Plastic Surgery, but nah. Not into it. Anyway, you get the idea.

Now, we’ve got a bunch of nimrods who are into shooting buckets of saline into their foreheads, then pressing a thumb in the middle of the bulbous splotch to add a little more drama. No, not to eliminate lines, but to look as if they have a bagel IN THEIR FOREHEAD. I mean, when I first saw this new look, all I could think of was Rocky Whathisname from “Mask.” Or Joseph/John Merrick.

Now, if I were to do this, I’d add a big eye to the ‘hole’ and cover up my real eyes, then  act like a cyclops. It would give me something to do.

Someone please essplain to me why this is necessary because I’m at a loss.

A little of this, a little of that …

After a night filled with crappy sleep, I woke up to this on the tee vee:

.. and now I worship all things Morey Amsterdam.

(courtesy of the latimes.com)

He’ll be my soul mate in the next life.

G’head and laugh, but you’ll be so jealous. Just watch and learn.

I imagine that writing a sitcom in this day and age doesn’t resemble anything like this image …

(courtesy timfowlar.com)

First, the writers are too old, and aren’t sporting the appropriate attire. Depending on the show, there’s probably more booze, hooch, porn, chocolate, juicing supplies and Larry Gelbart’s biography strewn about. Or Seth McFarlane’s. Or Tyler Perry’s. Not enough ironic facial hair either and there isn’t a MacBook Pro or iPad in sight because you know, you can’t write anything without either one of those tools. Fuck ideas, the tools will make you a great writer. Pffft.

Yesterday, I had a job interview for part-time, fill-in holiday work and believe it could go either way. In all honesty, I wasn’t looking forward to it because if you’ve been paying attention at all during the past year, “luck” and “job search” are two concepts that hate each other in my world. To quote Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer, those two ideas “frighten and confuse me”, so I don’t know how to react when confronted by either one. Sometimes I’m struck dumb when these two phenomena meet, and I just end up staring at a light switch for hours on end. What’s real sad is when I applaud said light switch–I can be heard yelling out “bravo” and tears can be seen streaming down my face in appreciation.

No video of this occurrence exists so don’t ask.

Imagine, if you will, not ever having to get up in the middle of the night to pee. Sweet Jesus, isn’t that an incredible thought? We’ve all peed during our slumber with gross results, right? But imagine if you could actually sleep n’ pee without the unpleasantness associated with it upon waking up in the morning?

Fortunately, the Japanese have once again invented something to help us be even more lazy. It’s a toilet and a bidet all rolled into one exciting sleep aid.

(courtesy of France24.com)

(courtesy of giantrobot.com)

I love how the Japanese get how fucking lazy we Americans really are. I wish we could admit to it, but we’re all too busy telling the rest of the world how fucking appreciative they should be of us and our obnoxious, holier-than-thou ways.

Of course, this invention has other uses than to help lazy sots, it can be used for those who are elderly and bed-ridden for whatever reason.

And to answer your next question, I’ve already ordered one for me and each of my friends.

Big time boredom

Boredom has set into every crevice, pore, crack, hole, and festering sore in my being. It has to do with this time of year–it’s hot, it’s the end of summer and fall is right around the corner, then maybe winter. Who knows, however, after last winter. We won’t know until it happens.

Back to my boredom. I can’t even think of what to write next. That, my friends, is how bored and uninspired I am (YES! I knew that word would make an appearance eventually).

The Dog Days of Summer are inspiration killers for me. Oh and that pesky unemployment dance I’ve been doing for the past 20 months or so — a bit of news on that front–I have an editing job for a few weeks starting tomorrow. Should be interesting since I don’t have any work clothes. Stuff has been tossed out due to normal wear and tear, and being too big. Most of it has been sacrificed to the fashion gods as a way to beg for forgiveness–let’s just say I was trying to revive the whole “Working Girl” look a few months ago. Hey, my shoulders aren’t big enough from years of swimming, LET’S MAKE ‘EM BIGGER! That whole experiment went buh-bye when I donned a blazer with shoulder pads out to *here* and they made my shoulders stick out to *HERE*.

 

The one look I will stick with is this one, since well, it is so me. So much so it’s frightening.

 

Since that’s settled, let’s see what other shenanigans I can get myself into.

I spent about 10 hours in the ER yesterday, dealing with unbelievable gut pains. Horrible. I had blood  & fluid tests and CAT scans up the ying-yang. Even telling my tale of woe to countless nurses and a few docs proved that the human body is one big clusterfuck. A mystery, actually. I am convinced after spending time in one of the few Level 1 trauma ERs in Chicago that if something was really wrong with me, my body would tell me somehow and I’d just naturally listen. How do I know this? It’s tough to explain — you’d have to know my body as well as I do, which ain’t gonna happen unless you buy me dinner, lots of flowers and even more drinks. Top-shelf too, I don’t drink swill.

Back to the Camp ER, all is well–I think. Will know more later.

During my time on an ER bed, under blankets and in fab hospital haute couture, I had time to peruse the web for stories. I even deemed a few worthy of y’all’s attention.

The Dude’s Abode has sold.

 

According to LA.curbed.com, the Venice bungalow court used for the exteriors (interiors were shot on a soundstage) of the Dude’s house in “The Big Lebowski”, has sold for $1.59 million, down from the asking price of $2.25 million. Six one-bedroom bungalows make up the court, and each one has garage parking and hopefully enough rugs to really tie the rooms together. Here’s to hoping the new owners pay homage to the Dude in some manner–maybe with a White Russian Fountain in the courtyard or daily swirlies and rug-pissing sessions.

Farts. Where would the world be without ‘em? Think about it. We’d all be a little more uptight and bloated if farting was not an option. This is why this particular toy is the shit.

(courtesy evansville.com)

When the South Koreans aren’t perfecting the ultimate fart-inducing food–Kimchee–or keeping those pesky North Koreans out of their country, they’re coming up with cute, yet educational dolls for kids.

My explanation won’t do it justice, so just read about it here.

While we’re on the subject of toys, here’s one for girls that bellows “you have no future so give up now!”

 

Think it’s a mistake that the little girl featured on the box is Hispanic-looking? Naah. I’m sure the toy above is satire, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it, um, isn’t.

Finally, any normal person is ‘interested in voyeurism’, but we don’t need to act on it — especially in such a public manner.

Of buttholes and bugs …

There are days when I can’t think of a thing to write — shocking but true.

To remedy this blockage, I search within my dark, snark-filled soul and usually a subject magically creeps its way up and out. This works most of the time. However, there are instances where no matter how much navel gazing I do, I end up staring at a blank computer screen.

Recently, the latter happened and it took all of my power to not collect more restraining orders.

Until these two gems were dumped into my RSS feed, and Mama has lots to say about both.

First, I don’t have a problem with tattoos. If you want to cover your body with whimsical artwork

(courtesy inkarttattoos.com)

or use your body as a resume …

… then who am I to judge?

There is very little in this society that has given me pause, until I read this.  Before I continue, you must watch the vidya below.

Such a delicate flower, idn’t she? I wonder which trailer park she rolled out of prior to her semi-sober stroll thru the 17th Annual South Florida (of COURSE) Tattoo Expo. Also, after spending time on the trailer park’s semen-stained community mattress out behind the outhouses with Jed, you’d think she’d have enough sense to, you know, maybe run a comb through her scraggly locks and maybe don some threads that fit.

But what about the tattoo on her ayyy-nooose? Actually, I’m trying not to think about it because it just makes me clench (yep) and sweat (you know it). No wonder she’s doing shots during the hole (oops) procedure. Shit (oh yes), you know you’d all do the same to push (uh huh) through the pain.

Why the anus? WHY? Maybe this is a question that should never be answered. It should remain a mystery. However, according to her, anal tats are gonna be the new thing. So, pucker-up, buttercups!

Meanwhile, over in Japan, things are a bit tamer, yet eye-brow raising.

I have no idea who Shoko “Shokotan” Nakagawa is.

(courtesy of your pervy father’s porn collection and keymochi.com)

I guess she’s some Anime chick who sings and pahfohms fah yew! Ok, fine. I get it, She’s Japan’s answer to Miley Cyrus, minus the creepy, mulletted peepaw. She’s cute — kinda like EVERYTHING in Japan.

Where was I going with this? Sorry, got distracted by the bento boxes shaped like panda bears and the fuzzy bikini Ms. Nakagawa swiped from my closet. Strumpet.

(courtesy of gawker.com)

She’s the Lady Gaga of Japan and I am now a fan. She’s taken Gaga-ness one step further and for that she gets my undying loyalty. She has bugs, not just ordinary bugs, but cicadas on her head and they look COOL. See, I think the cicada is the Cadillac of big-ass bugs. They’re not dirty like cockroaches, and they make a soul-calming sound –if you’re into high-pitched screeching. Plus, the whole 17-year routine they’ve got going is to be respected.

Also, we’re not creeped out enough as a society.

Dick Soup

Or Dick-on-a-stick, or Prick Pate, Cock au vin, Scrodicken, Testes a la pesto … so… many… possibilities …

I can think of a man or two I’d like to do this to –not the cooking/eating part of course.

(from WPIX.com)

Man Cooks His Own Genitals, Serves Them To Diners

I hear it tastes like chicken.

I was so disappointed when I heard this DIDN’T happen in Florida. But, it’s good to know that human flesh consumption isn’t illegal or frowned upon in Japan. And yes, they’re one of the more civilized societies.

Did any women pay for this meal? Of course not! We don’t pay money to eat dick.

“TOKYO, JAPAN (PIX11)— “[Please retweet] I am offering my male genitals (full penis, testes, scrotum) as a meal for 100,000 yen …Will prepare and cook as the buyer requests, at his chosen location,” was the message that Japanese chef Mao Sugiyama sent out to his Twitter followers on April 8th.

While it may have seemed like a joke, Sugiyama, a self-described “asexual” from Tokyo, was absolutely serious.

In Japan there is no law against the consumption of human flesh, and his bizarre offer attracted 5 diners and many more onlookers, according to the Calorie Lab. The calorie-based food site reportedly called the police after seeing Sugiyama’s tweet, only to be told that there was illegal about what he was doing.

Sugiyama, 22, underwent an operation at an area hospital to remove his penis shaft, testicles and scrotum — making sure that his meat was treated hygienically and that all of the proper waivers were signed by the diners.

The intrepid foodies paid roughly $250 each to feast on Sugiyama’s genitals, which were cooked and garnished with button mushrooms and Italian parsley. Shigenobu Matsuzawa, 29, was one of the five diners and described the meal in a recent blog post. He said the penis was so rubbery and tough that it almost bent his fork, and after a few chews of the severed member he spit it out. The testicles he described as being hard on the outside but filled with a gelatinous center that tasted both fishy and gamey. Sugiyama reportedly told diners that he would be uploading his recipe to the site cookpad.com.

Very graphic photos of the bizarre culinary event are included, view at your own discretion.

I hope my parents don’t read this post.

Why yes, I AM easily amused!

A few things captured my attention today thanks to my friends Stephanie and Erik. Originally, I posted these gems on my Facebook page, but since my privacy settings are tighter than a nun’s ass, I decided to post & provide McCrabass commentary. Oh joy!

Speechless is the best way to describe my reaction to this morsel. Why oh why would any man want to inflict menstrual pain on hisself? The Japanese have invented some cray-cray crap over the years.

And ..

Sure, these items are odd but the menstruation machine is the apex of odd. Stinkin’ weird. What type of mind thinks of this? It’s fascinating yet scary to think of what kind of upbringing the inventor and his helper had (the helper being an ob/gyn–makes me wonder what med school gave this Steinmetz a med degree). Who, in their right mind, thinks that having a period would be something worth experiencing? Why would anyone who doesn’t have the proper plumbing, want to go through the cramping, the bitchiness, the flow-from-hell, the bloating, the urge to pick up a semi-automatic and start picking off people randomly? What the shit is wrong with people? Maybe this guy should shove a couple of heavy-days tampon up his poop shoot for affect.

Stephanie Goldberg…you know me so well.

When I worked on “Fantasia 2000″ back in the day, I met one of the bestest people ever: Erik Smith. We had so much fun on that film–watching the daily antics of the producers, the artists and other production folks–with bemused looks on our faces & sotto voce comments to one another. Erik ended up with the coolest job on that film: He was the Brizzi PA. What’s a Brizzi you ask? ‘Brizzi’ is the last name of twin brothers, Paul and Gaetan, who are amazing artists. They directed a “Fantasia” segment AND they were/are the nicest guys around. Working with them was a privilege too because they were really passionate about their work so it didn’t feel like work. It felt like animation/art school. Kind of a cool experience for a girl from the far Western ‘burbs of Chicago.

Paul and Gaetan Brizzi

But, back to Erik. He’s a HOOT. And, since we’ve re-connected on Facebook, we’ve picked up where we left off in a cyber-kind-of-way by posting odd articles on each other’s pages quite frequently. Today was no exception. I was at work when this appeared in my newsfeed and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from doing a McCrabass imitation of that horrible, ear-splitting Julia Roberts cackle in the middle of a quiet newsroom. I know, your ears are bleeding just thinking of that horrible noise. *shudder* Sorry folks..we all gotta experience pain in life. If I have to go through it, so do you.

What I like the most about this invention, is the variety that’s offered from casual to oh-so-fancy–as if your pet is really gonna give a shit what mom jeans your fake lap is wearing when he/she flops his mange-y ass on it. However, once these make millions of dollars for the inventor, I’ll be slapping my noggin saying,”Why didn’t I think of that?? What a dumbass I am. First the Sham-Wow and now this?? I’m never gonna hit it big.”

Well, maybe I won’t hit it big. But at least I don’t want to blast this country to oblivion like this hayseed. Thanks a lot, Utah. You really DON’T get it, do you?