Five Things: 4/13/14-Spring Thaw Edition

Spring has sprung, so I guess I’m back. I’ve been writing nothing but news stories so writing fun stuff is strange to me right now. Oh but never fear: My wit will return.

What’s been going on? Much.

1) HAVE A PIECE  OF PHYSICAL THERAPY PIE. Physical therapy and more physical therapy. For those just tuning in, I’m getting intensive PT to help repair my shoulder after severely dislocating it back before the first Polar Vortex in January. I had to let it heal for a few months which meant no physical exercise at all. The one thing I learned through all of this is how much falling down the el station stairs, popping my shoulder out so far that it I could scratch my ankle without bending over,  AND spending six hours in a dank ER, is how much of a huge-as-fuck-hit my self-esteem took. Couple that with the bone-chilling, ass-crack cold we experienced, and you’re looking at 13-year old me. You know the type–teenage girl with serious braces, a tight, curly perm, GREEN EYE SHADOW, pervy-dude-attracting-boobs and the personality of well, grass.

Where was I going with this? I dunno, but I do know this: PT is brutal and I’m an old fart.

 

2) She’s BACK.

“Get the government out of my fuckin’ snatch.”

and…

 

3) Sometimes I think living in Colorado wouldn’t be so bad. Via UPI.

Pot vending machine to debut

I have a feeling that Colorado is gonna lose that “One of The Mostest Fittest States in the Union” moniker since munchies are such a huge part of partaking in doobage. Don’t believe me? Ok. Just watch.

 

4) Aaaaaaand then sometimes I think living in Colorado would suck. Lemme preface this by saying it’s the middle of April.

Spring storm shuts down stretches of I-70

 

5) Finally, I’m seriously considering doing this.

 

 

Five Things that need to go buh-bye in ’14–Part 1

Well, the Earth has almost completed another lap around the Sun, which means it’s time for those insipid lists filled with trends/people/places/things the writers don’t wish to see in the next year.

I’m one of those people, but I’m much more fun and interesting. So, you’ll read it and fucking enjoy it, mmkay?

1) OPEN LETTERS. Oh for fuck’s sake, these have got to stop. To me, they’re nothing more than public masturbation in letterform jizzed out onto social media.

The Insufferable: Miley Cyrus and Sufjan Stevens. (photo via E! Online)

The Insufferables: Miley Cyrus and Sufjan Stevens. (photo via E! Online)

Hate to break it to all you openletter writers–and would-be ones too–no one gives a red rat’s ass about your letter’s message. Those star-fuckers who do give a shit about these letters and insist on reposting them, seriously, y’all need to get a life. I highly doubt that the celebs involved care about you, all they want is the free publicity. Also, all these poorly written, thought-out missives do is clog up our Facebook and Twitter feeds.

I hate ’em for the reasons I mentioned, and because they slow down my route to free porn.

2) Phrases…Here are a few that come to mind.

“Faith in humanity restored.” I’ve seen this a lot on social media, and it’s usually tagged to a story about some kid doing something profound like stopping a speeding train after his mom mowed the lawn, or a dog walking to the moon, or a bomb being stopped by a brunette wielding a tree branch … you get the idea. When I see those 4 holier-than-thou words, I feel stabby, and I don’t like feeling stabby. The writer’s insisting that you find whatever words or images he or she has carefully crafted or uploaded from the Internets, better than everything ever. If that shit ain’t happening in my living room, then my faith ain’t leaving my house.

“______, go home, you’re drunk.” This wasn’t funny or clever the first time, and unlike some wines, it doesn’t get better with age. Next.

“______ just won the Internet!” No, you didn’t. You didn’t win dick. Shut the hell up.

“Said no one … ever.” Do I need to elaborate?

“Just sayin’.” Yep, you sound like an illiterate buffoon when you add that little turd to the end of any sentence or phrase.

This is a nice segue to my next point.

3) Those who are easily *offended*. These folks are tiresome. If they don’t like something or if they don’t agree with something or someone, then that person’s offended–as if saying you’re offended gives you more rights than those of us who, gosh, know how to deal in society. There are folks who actually believe the offended ones have more rights…um, I’m gonna have to slap a big fat NO on y’all. Sadly, the offended ones have great PR machines. (Sarah Palin, Michele Bachmann, those offended by the so-called ‘war on Christmas’ and Christianity, etc.)

Ricky Gervais feels the same way:

“Just because you’re offended, doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Being offended all of the damn time makes you a whiner, by the way.

But, if you’re going out of your way to offend people, then you’re just an asshole.

Here’s what I do if I find I’m offended by something (which rarely happens), I either change the channel, turn the page, turn off the tee vee, walk away or click off the page. See, I get that there are lots of folks out there with different opinions, and I listen to a lot of those opinions. It’s part of who I am–I welcome them–to a point. I like to hear what people have to say, and try to figure out how they arrived at their opinions. Plus, it’s part of my job.

4) Enough with selfies, twerking, making stupidity something to strive for, duck-face photos…

(via RubberDuckFace.com)

(via RubberDuckFace.com)

(via RubberDuckFace.com)

(via RubberDuckFace.com)

Here’s a double-whammy: A duck-face selfie. Careful, it may leave a mark.

(via DigitalTrends.com)

(via DigitalTrends.com)

5) Ok, I had to take a sedative after posting that last item. When God made ugly, he really made ugly. Damn.

Finally,  a word on paleo diets. You ain’t eating paleo unless you’re living in a cave with a simian-esque dude named Thak sporting a loin cloth.

Also, when I think paleo, I think Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer. How could I not think of him?

Five Things: 11/12/13

1) I never thought that having a part-time news producing gig would turn me into a big sack of goo at the end of the day. But it has, and that’s a good thing. I can finally talk a bit about what I’m working on, and I must admit, it’s smashing.

If you’re interested, check out the site-in-progress. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to hear my dulcet tones reporting on allll sorts of goings-on and shenanigans.

I learned the hard way that I have a face for radio. Trust me, you don’t wanna see my mug. You’ll be scarred for life.

The app goes live on iTunes on December 3rd. For those of you who own iPhones and iPads, you can get the app for FREE FREE FREEE then. For Android users, you’ll have to wait a bit longer.

Stay tuned.

2) “I’m doin’ it for my kids.” Seems innocent enough, yes? You have a family. A mortgage, maybe a pet or two. Since families can be expensive, it’s best if both parents work, right?

(via GossipCenter)

(via GossipCenter)

Well, one would think this would be a good idea…yes.
Looks like the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Tito Ortiz is returning to her former-career: Fucking on camera for shit-tons of money.

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

 

But, wait..if memory serves, didn’t Ms. Jameson spew at the 2008 AVN Awards that:

“I’ll never, ever, ever spread my legs again in this industry. Ever.”

Why? Well, she needs to support her family. Yes, I know that’s the reason she gave as to WHY she was leaving the skin-flick trade, but now she’s come full circle.
What a good mommy. Hope she kicked that boozin’ and drivin’ habit. And Tito.

3) Apparently, toilet paper isn’t enough for some folks. OR, some folks are so fucking lazy that they don’t know how to properly wipe their poo-covered evil eye, so some genius invented these:

(via Amazon.com)

(via Amazon.com)

I shit you not. They’re REAL.

You know, I’m not gonna go into it. For more info, just click here. If you like ’em, I don’t want to hear about it. Same goes for if you use ’em.

Of course, there’s a video.

4) Wanna know when you’re gonna take a dirt nap forever? Then buy this alarm clock. It’ll tell you when you’re gonna die every morning. That’s a good enough reason to get out of bed, unless today’s the day. Then, just lie there and wait for Death to spirit you away.

I’ve had a chance to ponder this and I think it’s brilliant! Imagine–alarm clock says you’re set to die in a week. What to do, what to do ….Hmmm..rubs chin..picks nose.. Maybe a crime spree? A drinking/meth binge? Run nekkid through your office and pee on your boss? Maybe diddle your boss or his/her spouse and FILM IT? Think about it–the possibilities are ENDLESS.

Via The Verge.

Alarmclock wakes you up with the time you’ll die

You’re welcome.

5) Oh, and here’s your 1980’s ear worm. Believe me, this hurts me more than it hurts you, but you must learn and that’s that.

Next time, just put the damn lotion in the basket, and you won’t be subjected to cheeeezeh listenin’ tunes.

 

 

Phive Tings: September 25, 2013

1) When Mother Nature wants to get your attention, she does it with a bang.

Damn.

via The Telegraph UK.

Pakistan earthquake island is a ‘mud volcano’

Dr Brian Baptie from the British Geological Survey says the island that appeared off the coast of Pakistan after the earthquake is a “mud volcano” formed as gas and water forced its way to the surface.

Holy shiite. So, even though this 7.7 magnitude quake killed over 300 people, it managed to create an island because why the hell not?

2) It’s no secret that many child stars don’t age well. Some turn to drugsand more drugsSome become strippers then go and kill themselves. Some turn into punk rockers and cameramen/script supervisor. Then, there are those who turn out well, but they’re no fun to talk about, which leads us to Kirk Cameron. Turns out this born again, gay hatin’, blames-the-Holocaust-on-Darwin, Christian is now God’s Dear Abby. Don’t believe me? Then, you’re going to hell, but first read this.

via SFWeekly.com

Kirk Cameron Answers Your Letters to God

God is tough dude to get a hold of see, unless you’re Kirk Cameron. He and the Big Guy are chums–so much so that he had to make a movie about his relationship with God. Oh and Cameron’s–oh SHIT. We missed it. The screening via Liberty University was last night and we fucking missed it. Shitty shitty piss piss fuck fuck.

But WAIT! My sources tell me that this cinematic tour-de-force will be screened AGAIN on October 3rd. Anyone care to join me?

3) While we’re on the subject of religion, another big star of the 1970s/early 80s is having a tough time with her abode.

Olivia Newton-John Holds Exorcism At Florida Home After Contractor Suicide

(via ibtimes.com)

(via ibtimes.com)

via The Inquisitr.

“Olivia Newton-John hired a priest to perform an exorcism at her Florida home after a contractor committed suicide on the property last month.

Christopher Pariseletti was believed to have been having financial difficulties with his business and asked the 64-year-old Grease star for a loan to keep it from closing. He killed himself with a shotgun by the pool while the home was empty and was found by another contractor. Pariseletti was apparently seen crying earlier that morning.”
Aaaaaaand that’s all you really need to know about this story. Why? Because I’m too lazy to write about it.
4) Oh, Florida, Florida, Florida.
via Raw Story.

Yet another Florida man arrested at strip club for leaving kid in car

(via Raw Story)

(via Raw Story)

Why am I not surprised by the word “yet” in the headline? Anyone care to take a stab at as to why?

5) Game, set, smash!

Martina Hingis Teams Up With Mother, Mother’s Boyfriend To Beat Up Husband

(via Exposay.com)

(via Exposay.com)

Apparently, Martina Hingis has a hard time keeping her balls in the court, and likes to play doubles with more than one partner, and her hubby didn’t care for it. So much for tennis being a game about love.

That’s one helluva slam.

Cinco Cosas Para 23 de Septiembre 2013

Psych! This ain’t gonna be in Spanish. I don’t speak a lick of it, folks. Sorry.

1) So, I’m getting the feeling that my fellow humans are untrained in the basics of wiping one’s ass. I don’t know if it’s because folks are lazy as all hell these days, or if some feel that someone else should wipe their ass for them, or because they’re just fucking heinous in general. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was example number three.

Instead of folks getting off their lazy asses–so to speak–our friends in the asswipe industry, have come up with a few products to aid in the evil-eye wiping process.

(via Gawker)

(via Gawker)

They’re baby wipes for grownups, and bravo! What a grand idea! However, there’s a problem–you ain’t supposed to flush these things, and as a result, these wipes be cloggin’ up the sewer systems.

Via the AP.

“The problem got so bad in this western New York community this summer that sewer officials set up traps — basket strainers in sections of pipe leading to an oft-clogged pump — to figure out which households the wipes were coming from. They mailed letters and then pleaded in person for residents to stop flushing them.

“We could walk right up, knock on the door and say, ‘Listen, this problem is coming right from your house,'” said Tom Walsh, senior project coordinator at South & Center Chautauqua Lake Sewer Districts, which was dispatching crews at least once a week to clear a grinder pump that would seize up trying to shred the fibrous wipes.”

“My team regularly goes sewer diving” to analyze what’s causing problems, said Trina McCormick, a senior manager at Kimberly-Clark Corp., maker of Cottonelle. “We’ve seen the majority, 90 percent in fact, are items that are not supposed to be flushed, like paper towels, feminine products or baby wipes.”

Let me get this straight–some paper product companies have dudes on staff whose jobs are to set up traps for dirty asswipes, then go to the offending household and tell the denizens of said abode(s) to stop flushing the wipes and perhaps learn how to CLEAN ONE’S DIRTY ANUS WITH ACTUAL TOILET PAPER, YOU KNOW, THAT KIND THAT’S ACTUALLY FLUSHABLE?

Perhaps bidets aren’t such a crazy concept after all.

2) Go for it. I’m not done making fun of you yet, Mrs. Palin.

3) Neil Patrick Harris needs to sit down. I’ve never seen a more self-involved awards show host in my entire life. Due to his over-inflated ego (and the fact that he produced the show), we had to sit through two too many song and dance numbers which eliminated four ACTING categories from last night’s broadcast to make up for time. All of the guest performer awards were given out at the “You’re Not Important Enough for the Real Emmys” event that probably took place in a bathroom in Griffith Park.

(via entertainment.time.com)

(via entertainment.time.com)

Also, very short clips of of the nominees’ performances were shown–you know–like they do during the Oscars. Someone help me out here–the Emmys are an awards show for tee vee performances, yes? The performances are awarded, same with the writing, directing, etc. It’s not a venue for showing off your dancing and comedy chops to the audience. Hey, NPH, there is such a place for that act–tis called a one-man show.

4) See, this is why science is GOOD. It’s VERY, VERY GOOD. We get to learn tidbits like this.

via Discovery.com

Kaboom! Milky Way’s Black Hole Erupted 2 Million Years Ago

(via Discovery.com)

(via Discovery.com)

5) Veep Dickem Cheney got mocked by a dude in a kilt for being a shitty shot.

I’ll just leave this here.

Reality TV: A New Crop of Crap

Or How We’ve Become A Nation of Fame Whores.

Reality tee vee has been the “It Girl” of Hollywood for well over a decade. Americans can’t seem to get enough of them which is why the tee vee industry feels compelled to keep churning ’em out. The shows are cheap to produce and they give ordinary folks a shot at stardom (refer to Andy Warhol & his 15 minutes of fame claim). We’ve witnessed ordinary people top the douchebag chart after stints on a reality tee vee show, and as a result, we are slowly turning into a nation of entitled half-wits who believe they are due for a spin in the spotlight at whatever cost.

Mark Burnett and Andy Cohen need to be taken away and reprogrammed since they’re both partially to blame for the dumbing down of American society. Well, Mr. Cohen more than Mr. Burnett. All Mr. Burnett really did is introduce us to watching relatively thought-free, yet pretty people, run around nekkid in some of the more remote locations on Earth. So, he opened the flood gates a titch. And, to be fair, I watched maybe 3 episodes of “Survivor.” I just couldn’t get into it, and I found that watching my toenails grow to be much more interesting.

Now, Mr. Cohen, probably believes it would do society good by giving us the “Real Housewives” series. Again, I watched more than my fair share of those shows, but when I realized that the women featured in the episodes were basically the lowest common denominator, I had to change the channel. In a weird way, Mr. Cohen should be commended for elevating mediocrity to an art form. <slow clap>

Of course, there is a plethora of crappy tee vee–not just the reality sort–scattered about, and no one is forcing me to watch it. But watching such low-brow tee vee is better than me cutting myself to take away from the pain from witnessing those with room temp IQs profit nicely while the public watches.

Since my three readers are curious as to which shows have my Costco knickers in a wad, well, here they are.

This idea just hurts. Seriously–what woman, in her right mind would want to plunked down in the middle of the wilderness, all nekkid with NO feminine hygiene? Yes, that’s the first thing I thought of when I heard one of the participants was a woman–how is she gonna deal with getting her little red friend when she’s fighting off bahrs and other wild life? Don’t get me started on the whole not bathing deal and having to forage for food in order to FUCKING STAY ALIVE part of the show. There must be an easier way to achieve your 15 minutes–how about blowing a d-list celeb in a Gremlin and having a friend record & post it on the Internets? Or, cause a ruckus (preferably with breastesses flinging about) whilst being arrested for stealing a chicken leg and get a friend to once again, record  and post it online? These folks surely coulda come up with something better. “Naked and Afraid” is just a few clicks away from entertainment–it’s almost sadistic–it’s misery wrapped up in pit viper bites, chafed testicles, malaria and uncontrollable diarrhea.

It premieres on June 23rd on the Discovery Channel.

Screen shot 2013-06-17 at 5.57.13 PM

Full disclosure here–I’ve watched all three episodes of this next show. Honestly I couldn’t help myself because not only is it scraping the bottom of the reality tee vee barrel, but I gotta see if one of these broads actually hooks up with some dude. I’m talking about “Pregnant & Dating” which airs on WETV on Fridays. Oh, and this show is a huge self-esteem booster for someone like me. Why, you ask? Hey, I may not have a job or a ton of money, but at least I’m not single, pregnant and so fucking desperate for some dick that I’m hauling my pregnant ass out on dates OR hitting up a matchmaker for help instead of concentrating on having a healthy baby. That’s exactly what these women are doing.

Don’t believe me? Take a gander, won’t you please?

These women are the apex of awful. So are their friends. Call me crazy, but shouldn’t your first concern be when you discover you’re in a family way, be to make sure you spew a healthy spawn from your haunches in nine months time? Oh wait! How dare I forget! Kids are accessories these days and it’s more important for most pregnant women to look good (“don’t gain too much weight now!”) than to make sure their time on the nest is as worry-free and safe as possible.

Screen shot 2013-06-17 at 6.25.54 PM

What gets me is the women get upset and pissy when the dudes they’re out with act all aloof and shocked upon learning that their date is with child. It’s also apparent that if the cameras weren’t rolling, these men would leave skid marks as soon as their date uttered the words “I’m pregnant.” No offense to the men, but who would want to date a woman who’s carrying a child that isn’t even theirs? Yes, yes, I’m sure there are men out there who would step up to the plate, but the men featured on “Pregnant & Dating” so far have the depth and character of a shoelace. In short, I don’t see it happening. But, it’s early in the season, maybe they’ll each find someone who won’t mind recording the episiotomy for posterity, and will help make shampoo and other yum yums out of the placenta.

WETV has turned out to be Darwin’s Waiting Room when it comes to reality shows. The people featured on their shows aren’t the best or the brightest. Case in point: “Bridezillas” is now entering its tenth and final season. Thank dog. For those of you not in the know or aren’t into watching people who have as much class as a fart in church, this show is about bridezillas, or horrible women who are about to get married. These women are so awful, they’ve even left me speechless at times with their unty-cay behavior. If you know anything about me, it takes a mighty display of largess to render me speechless.

A taste. (Warning: you’re gonna need a sedative–or 12–after watching. Fuck it, take ’em before watching the pre-matrimonial mayhem)

At first, naive me thought, “Naaah … no way. People don’t act this way. Nuh uh! Noooo waaay! What would their mothers say if they witnessed such abhorrent behavior?” But after ruminating about it for a bit, it became obvious to me that why yes, people DO act like assholes no matter who’s around. It’s the way we were wired, and it can be quite profitable if there’s someone filming it.

However, “Bridezillas” is not the main focus here. “Marriage Boot Camp: Bridezillas” is. Surprise, surprise, some of the bridezillas have found themselves smack-dab in the middle of shitty marriages, and since they’re trying to stretch their 15 minutes out for as long as possible, they’ve decided that fixing their poisoned unions is best done in front of millions of people.

Jesus be a fence. That’s all I can say about the whole, sordid subject.

Yes, it does get worse. But this time, with a real bad wig on an adult thumbsucker.

 

Hands Across My Labia

(WARNING: NSFW)

There’s a new movement afoot to get women to love their labias.

Why? Huh?

Because we women are supposed to feel like shit about our physical selves–even when we don’t–so some twink somewhere (probably a plastic surgeon) makes up a new neuroses for us gals to glom onto. Of course we do this since we women are also major people pleasers AND this society is allllll about promoting beauty over brains and brawn. What happens next? Our self-esteem takes a major hit, and we’re looking for the next beauty miracle to make us perfect instead of, oh I don’t know, maybe reading a good book that will make us a scosch smarter/wiser. Help us, Judy Blume!

Now, I was taken aback by this new love thyself no matter what proclamation because I had no idea that some women hate their labias.

Wait..clarification desperately needed here–90% of men don’t know what the LABIA is (no, it’s not the latest Italian sportscar, although most men ride it like it was –HEY O!), so I will do the honors of explaining to the menfolk just what AND where the labia is.

From FreeDictionary.com:

labia

[lā′bē·ə] sing. labium

Etymology: L, lip
1 the lips.
2 the fleshy liplike edges of an organ or tissue.
3 the folds of skin at the opening of the vagina. labial, adj.
Here’s the perfect graphic for show n’ tell: And to the dudes who read this blog–commit this image to memory–with particular attention paid to where the clitoris is. *AHEM*
(Courtesy of The Mayo Foundation)

(Courtesy of The Mayo Foundation)

Apparently, the hot trend these days–labiaplasty–is for women whose twats have had quite the workout birthing humans, riding horses, doing the splits during their Nadia Comaneci phase, and well, just by being a modern woman. That shit gets stretched out, see, and some women are uber-self conscious about their labias looking like elephant ears.

Huh?

Really?

This is where we get into trouble.

Ok, let’s walk through this one, mmkay? So, some woman, who has done her fair share of living (see above graf), suddenly feels like CRAP because she’s seen what the porn goddesses have and decide that them gals are the new high standard in pussy perfection.

(Side note: I’m sure most of this myth is perpetrated by men who never leave their parents’ basements.)

Yes, even though the only folks who will actually feast their peepers on her vajay, are her doc (hey, she/he has seen ’em all & they don’t care), her significant other, her lover, her mistress, and perhaps her waxologist–but she’s still quite self-conscious. Let’s be honest–any dude who is THAT LUCKY to get close to a labia–would be wise to shut his yap-yap about what it looks like or he’ll find that he is no longer welcome in that fleshy, magical, wonderful kingdom.

Apparently, and thanks to the world of social media, there are blogs, blogs and tumblrs & more tumblersand whatnot dedicated to celebrating the labia–no matter the size. Bravo to those broads who are all about putting puss pix out there for all the world to see. <golf clap>

This is what has me flummoxed: Women do the crux of the living and breathing in this society, and our bodies are the physical evidence. We’re the ones who keep this world from sliding deeper into the shitter. However, even though we are the ones made of sterner stuff, we’re still made to feel like shit if we don’t look absolutely fucking perfect all the live-long day.

To that nonsense I say “What the entire fuck??!”

In short, there is nothing wrong with you–you’re perfect.

Interview THIS!

During my unemployment tenure, I’ve been playing past job interviews on a loop in my head, and I’ve come to one main conclusion: They were all an amalgam of this infamous one from Monty Python:

Obviously, I am doing something wrong. Yes? I think so.

I’m too formal and stiff in my interviews. I wear interview clothes. I speak interview speak. I glop on interview makeup. I style my hair into interview goodness (read: I hide the purple highlights). I research the shit out of any position I’m up for as well as the company and the people with whom I’ll be meeting.

Yeaaaah….that tactic ain’t workin’ no mo’. So it’s time I change things up a scosch.

I’ve even perused all of the drab “How to Ace An Interview Without Shitting Yourself and Smacking the Crap Out of the Clueless Interviewer” vidyas the Internets. None of them are helpful and I swear a few of the ‘actors’ featured are ‘stars’ of some of the low-rent porn I’ve seen lurking around the web as of late.

I’ve found a few examples in my travels and could use some help. That’s where my three readers come in–I need y’all to help me figure out which example displayed below would work for me. Well, maybe not exactly the same as what I’m offering here, but perhaps a combo platter of several, or maybe you know of others I haven’t thought of yet.

Here’s Bachelor #1–from one of my fave movies “Trainspotting”. One caveat here–I won’t get stoned before an interview–not my style anymore. I mean, I’m not in Hollywood anymore. That’s a non-negotiable at this point. However, the accent is a possibility. I can do just about any accent too–but my personal faves are South Asian (Dot Head is NOT the preferred nomenclature I’ve been told) and Little Asian Girl.

This one is good too, but I don’t look good in a wife beater unless it’s wet and I’m dancing on a bar in Waco. But, I do like Gettin’ Jiggy Wif It’s attitude here. Works for me

This one is just too smarmy for the most part. Topsiders? Nope. But, Ben Affleck is wicked hawt all the time so that’s something to consider.

I actually called an interviewer Pam in an interview when her name was really Pan. True story. So, this scene flashed through my mind during that 2 hour-long snoozefest of an interview at California Psychics.

Don’t know if I’m as clever as Sacha Baron Coen. I’d never be able to keep a straight face or wear that type of Jewfro.

Arthur Spooner is a folk hero. He was deftly portrayed by Jerry Stiller, and when Stiller first joined the cast of “King of Queens”, I was half-expecting a Frank Costanza Redux, but Arthur Spooner quickly became his own character. He was the best part of “King of Queens.” So, in this episode where he offers Spence Olchin (Patton Oswalt), job interviewing advice, it almost made me wet my Costco knickers.

and this one because it’s funny ..

Then, there’s this one. It’s not exactly a job interview, I just love Red’s “Yeah, fuck you” attitude in this scene. To me, it’s the best scene in film that’s loaded with best scenes. Also, I’m not into using swears during a job interview. I think that sets a bad precedent because I believe if hired, I’d be expected to swear all the time. While that’s very easy for me to do (I’m fluent in Salty Language), I don’t think I’d be long for that job, you know what I mean? Anyhoo, I do like Red’s attitude. He has nothing to lose and I’d like to be more like that in my next interview.

So, folks. There you have ’em. If you have nothing better to do, please feel free to drop me some advice. The winner will get a pony.

Nocturnal Emissions

Insomnia sucks for the most part, but what it doesn’t suck at is getting me to gaze into the deep, dark crevasses that make up what’s left of my soul. Some nights I think of fluff — like fuzzy kittens, soap scum and sweaters made out of love, merino wool and sunshine.

Then, there are the nights when I can’t get the frightening images of acid wash jeans, people who insist on wearing PJs out in public, post-WW1 German porn and the Dave Matthews Band out of my noggin.

Tonight is no exception and here’s what’s rattling around in what’s left of my once-semi-brilliant mind.

1) When the first-time writer of a hit movie tells an interviewer that he/she just simply sat down with a “How To Write A Screenplay In One Weekend” book, and wrote that semi-literate–but funny celluloid sensation–they’re lying to you.

Here’s what really happened: The studio wanted to work with this person because they’re popular and funny. So, these clueless execs buttered them up, then asked them for an idea and maybe a rough draft of a script. Upon first the reading, the must-hire D-girl who’s fucking the junior exec, quickly learned that this particular popular person is much better at doing late-night sketch comedy. Ahem–mum’s the word, see. So, the studio then hires a team of script doctors (at about $200k a pop) et voila–hit movie!

2) While I’m on the Hollywood trip, here’s another tidbit: When an actor/actress/singer thanks their assistant in their Oscar/Golden Globes/Emmy/Grammy acceptance speech, they’re really thanking their drug dealer. True story.

3) Bulimia never, ever goes away–it just manifests itself in other forms–like the urge to dye one’s hair purple, or start a blog, or build the original Roman Empire out of unused tampons.

4) Naming your children the correct name is vital to their future. Adorning them with monikers like Brittany, Tiff’ny, Zephyr, Madison, Schylur/Skylar, or Savannah, well, they’re bound to grow up to be total assholes, and will either yank their puds for money or spend a lot of time spinning nekkid around a steel pole at a dank truckstop bar on the interstate. I can’t believe that unimaginative parents in this country feel the need to sully the awesome reputations of two of my favorite cities by naming their sub-mental spawn “Madison/Madysun” or “Savannah” because both names are “unusual.” Get over yourselves because you’re only doing your kids a disservice by bestowing them with awful names. Stick with the classics.

5) If you insist on naming one of your kids Marquis, at least have the fucking sense to pronounce it correctly–it’s “Markee” not “Markwiss.”

6) The more I think about it, the more I believe that Stalin was just misunderstood.

7) Write Yiddish and cast British. Never fails. Ever.

8) Once I deem you to be a douchebag, there’s no way to recover. It’s just best to move on and realize that me calling you a douchebag is actually a gift–a kick in the ass of sorts–to get you to fix your douchebagness. Trust me on this–I’m a damn good judge of character.

9) OJ did it.

10) I’ve said this before, but there is no such thing as a social media/content management guru. If you introduce yourself to me as a social media/content management guru–and say it with a straight face–well, you’re about to be called a word that rhymes with schmoucheschmag. Gurus can only be found in ashrams in India, by the way.

11) My god–I love peonies.

12) You know, that rug really DID pull the room together.

13) I can really see a future with this gentleman. He’s all sorts of secksy in his thong, and not to mention his pathway to adventure, which has me a-quivering by the way.

Picture 3Is that a cat?

14) There’s nothing wrong with nom-nomming on chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting for breakfast, lunch and dindin. But you must realize that stuffing your face with all that chocolate goodness will cause you to resemble a mutant hamhock after about a day of this diet. Never fear monkehs–that’s why god invented eating disorders.

15) Everyone should own this album.

ffym

For those of you who have difficulty reading the above image, it’s Ben Harper’s “Fight For Your Mind.” It’s haunting, sensual and beautifully produced.

One of my fave songs ever–

You’re welcome.

16) Elvis is king–Costello, not Presley. Puh-leeze–I’ve never cared for that drug-addled twat.