I saw this at an import grocery store today.
I had to buy it because the packaging mystified me: why the hell is this amorous couple on the package?!?
Will pumpernickel get you laid?
Is there something about pumpernickel that I should know?
Sexy pumpernickel moments:
So last week I turned 32. Looking at where I am at in my life and where I thought I’d be at 32, I feel pretty good–I’ve started my own business, traveled the world, already had a couple of interesting professions, I have good friends and a cool dog. I am however missing that special someone. I would have thought that at this age I would be getting serious about finding a life partner and have developed a refined list of desired qualities in a mate, such as shared interests, successful career, thoughtful and spiritual, great lover, etc. Instead, I have whittled my boyfriend requirements down to a pretty simple list of minimum standards. At this point my ideal date must be:
Looking back over the past 17 years or so of my love life I have to say that I have actually never been involved with someone who meets all of the above criteria. Sometimes I think it’s just me, but believe it or not I am kind of picky when it comes to men. And I’m kind of a catch. So, if you or someone you know fits the above criteria and lives within 30 minutes of Watsonville, CA, I’d be happy to hear from you! But at this point the next well-meaning person who asks me, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” is going to get punched in the mouth.
Dom DeLuise has his own line of seasonings.
Paul Newman has is own damn aisle in the grocery store.
And now Jeff Foxworthy has released his own line of beef jerky.
Saw it in the store and bought a bag. A note to the potential consumer: opening the bag smelled like a giant barbeque fart.
Suggestions for better marketing taglines for this product:
• Stale comedy premise, fresh beef jerky!
• A taste so great, you’ll beat your wife!
• If this is your dinner, you just might be a redneck.
• As seen on COPS!
• Red meat, red states, red necks.
• Free Skynyrd T-shirt offer inside.
• It’s like a trailer park in your mouth!
• Now another reason why you’ll see Jeff Foxworthy at a gas station!
Jodi’s cat (named “Steve”) has taken to crapping on her kitchen floor. Because he’s a d!ck.
Inspired by the Sprinkle Brigade, Jodi has turned this into an art challenge. Today’s cat poop artwork is entitled “Cigar.”
Late February/Early March - it’s that time of year again for the spectacular Estonian holiday Vastlapäev (VAS-tlah-paav).
The activities of this holiday:
•Sled down a hill (the farther your sled goes, the longer your flax will grow).
•Eat pea soup.
•Eat cream-filled pastries.
Here is a video I made a few years ago (while living in Estonia) which explains the basics of Vastlapäev:
And Jodi also produced this fine work:
The Sherwood ‘Chick-N-Legs’ gummy drumstick.
It tastes like orange/vanilla.
On the package: “Gummi candy on a collectible plastic bone.”
The word “collectible” implies keeping multiple plastic drumsticks simply for the sake of doing so.
I’m going to make an awesome caveman necklace out of mine.
Of the weddings I’ve attended, the theme was always “Wedding.”
But more and more, weddings are having themes. All too much like children’s birthday parties. The idea of a “Star Wars” wedding is nothing new, though it’s astounding to realize the sheer number of “Star Wars” weddings out there. I hope George Lucas feels like a dick about this.
Apparently, the bride and groom make movie props and costumes (so no Star-Warsy detail was left untouched): photo gallery and slideshow.
The bride and groom were married by Darth Vader, the groomsmen were Stormtroopers: video
The bride dressed as a bride, the groom came as Boba Fett: video
The groom came as Darth Vader, the bride came as Natalie Portman: video
Bonus Humiliation Round: The bride has a Hello Kitty shaped box on her nightstand. In it are her husband’s testicles. Life is hard enough when your English name is “Horlick”: video
Last week, Blogadilla co-author Allison and I did our share of bitching about the lack of an ending to the Coen Brothers’ hit movie “No Country for Old Men”.
To clarify: It is possible to have an ending without having “follow-through.” And this lack of “follow-through” is cinematic coitus interruptus. It is cruel and lame.
To illustrate our point: Here is a knock-knock joke I hope to someday tell writers/directors Joel and Ethan Coen:
Me: “Knock-knock!”
Joel and Ethan Coen: “Who’s there?”
Me: “Orange.”
Joel and Ethan Coen: “Orange who?”
Me: “. . .”
Joel and Ethan Coen: “Orange who!?!”
Me: “. . .”
Joel and Ethan Coen: “ORANGE WHO!?!”
Me: “Tommy Lee Jones had a dream about his dad. F#ck you!”
[co-authored by Timbotron and Allison]
Last weekend, Blogadilla co-author Allison and I went to see the Coen Brothers’ film “No Country for Old Men”.
There are two major points we’d like to express:
1). Good movie.
2). The ending was the biggest load of sh!t ever!!!
We don’t want to give away the ending but . . .
THERE WAS NO F&#ING ENDING!!.
[Allison]:
“Can’t stop what’s comin.”
THEN LET IT COME ALREADY, B!TCH.
I PAID $10.50 TO SEE THIS MOVIE AND I WANT AN ENDING!
Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. Up until the end.
Here are our proposals for an ending for “No Country for Old Men”:
•The “Wonka” ending: Sherriff Bell hunts down Chigurh and tells him that he’s retiring and wants to give Chigurh the entire Chocolate Factory.
•Coen Bros. meets Tarantino ending: Chigurh limps away after the car crash and mistakenly walks into Zed’s pawn shop where Zed calls Tommy Lee Jones and says “looks like the spider caught a fly…”
•The Sarah Connor ending: In the final battle, Sherriff Bell discovers that Chigurh is a robot from the future sent to the past to stop the ending of the movie from ever really happening.
•The Skywalker ending: Sherriff Bell corners Chigurh and tells him the truth, “I don’t want to kill you. I just wanted to meet you . . . Son.” And a sobbing Chigurh and Bell embrace one another . . .
•The Tyler Durden: Sheriff Bell pursues Chigurh but can’t seem to find him, and over the phone Bell’s girlfriend Marla calls him “Chigurh,” and that’s when he realizes that he is . . .
Pet hypotheses for why the ending sucked:
•Ran out of film (Ethan Coen squandered a whole roll on interesting looking clouds).
•Soon after conjoined twins Joel and Ethan Coen were surgically separated (near the end of the filming of this movie), they decided that they couldn’t work together anymore.
•Cameraman died.
•The editor accidentally lost the last 10 minutes during a Robitussin binge.
February is Black History Month and February 18th is Presidents Day. Both of which have sucky decorations: no fancy trees, no decent costumes, no color schemes, and no lame candy.
Example: my friend Jodi recently presented me with a “Lincoln Pop.”
He turns your tongue black and tastes like a copper penny.
If you lick him long enough, he turns into “Angry Zombie Lincoln.”
[Note: Though this story has all the sound and smell of an urban legend, I can attest that it is completely true: this story happened to me and the wedding photos are mine.]
The wedding photographer went rogue and did unrequested art experiments on my wedding photos: he made all of the photos glowing white and blue. Everything looked sickly and bright, like our wedding took place near aboveground nuclear testing.
Trying to be polite, I requested several reprints that captured the actual colors of the event and that didn’t look like we were arc welding. I also requested a disc of all of the raw digital photos, in the event he decided to f*% up the reprints as well.
Weeks later I get the disc and only about half the photos are on it. And the disc contained extra photos: The last 60 photos on the disc were of a young woman. Naked. And she was not at the wedding. And the photographer was in some of these photos, too. He was also naked. And in several of the photos, his *&^%$ was in her *@#$%.
And though the marriage ended in sorrow and I don’t care what color the photos are anymore, this is still a good story and it needed to be posted for the sake of posterity.
These are actual photos (edited).
[This is a guest post by my friend Steve]:
Not the best way to start your day if you’re feeling blue …
Malt-O-Meal manufactures generic cereal foods such as Honey Buzzers, which are essentially a knock-off of Honeycombs. I could not help but notice the ‘expressions’ on my Honey Buzzers’ faces. It is as if the Honey Buzzers knew the fate that lay before them: imminent destruction and prompt digestion.
Today I was watching “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.” At the monsoon-destroyed ruins of Hotel Citroën on the island of Little Ping, Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) notes:
“What a shame. They had a bartender here, Kino, made the best Rum Cannonball I’ve ever tasted.”
The question comes to mind: Is this a real drink, or something invented by Wes Anderson? From internet discussions and references, it’s hard to tell if this drink actually existed before the movie. Based on an average of posted recipes, I made a Rum Cannonball (actual photo).
The Rum Cannonball
•1 part white rum
•1 part gin
•1 part orange juice
•1 part pineapple juice
•1 part lemon-lime soda
•1 part strawberry soda
Serve over ice with a key lime, pineapple, or tropical orchid garnish.
What does it taste like?: Not bad . . . fruity fizzy booze.
An alternate recipe also exists:
•2 oz rum
•Top-off with orange juice
•4-5 dashes of Angostura bitters
What does it taste like?: Not bad . . . rummy spicey o.j.
Bonus Round: Drink one while wearing a Hotel Citroën t-shirt.
I recently saw this Halloween costume for sale and a potentially awkward scenario came to mind:
Scene: Halloween night, in a crowded bar/nightclub
Drunk Woman: “What the hell are you supposed to be?! Are you like a Zombie with Curtains or a Dead Conquistador or something?”
Ghost Ship: “I’m a Ghost Ship”
Drunk Woman: “Oh . . . like a Ghost Pirate in that Johnny Depp movie!”
Ghost Ship: “No. I’m like the boat in that movie.”
Drunk Woman: “You’re a boat . . . then why do you have a face?”
Ghost Ship:
“It’s my ghost part.”
“It’s called ‘Anthropomorphic Representation’.”
“Because I’m a ghost also and this is my skull.”
“I’m a personification of a Ghost Ship.”
“Uhh . . . I don’t know.”
Drunk Woman: “Huh?!?!”
Drunk Woman: “Hey, my friend Melissa is going as a Sexy Pirate. Can she ride on your shoulders?”
End Scene
The negative aspects of dressing up as a Ghost Ship:
•Guys in pirate costumes may try to board you, rob you, and then set you on fire in the middle of the ocean.
•The entire night people will ask you what the hell you’re supposed to be.
•’Walking your plank’ jokes get old.
•A group of meddling kids might try to disrobe you in an attempt to prove that you’re an underhanded amusement park owner.
•Guys in pirate costumes may try to ’swab your poopdeck.’
This is my friend Steve’s dog.
She is young and friendly and affectionate and energetic
. . . and inbred and stupid.
Really stupid.
Untrainably stupid.
Steve says, “You know, last week she pooped a Hot Wheels.”
Apparently Steve’s back yard is something of an archaeological site: generations of toys are buried beneath the turf and his dog digs them up and eats them (despite great efforts to train her otherwise). And despite this, she is in good health.
The running list of remarkable things Steve’s dog has pooped:
•1 Hot Wheels car
•Multiple fragments of plastic army men
•2 bottlecaps
•Countless rocks
•Christmas tinsel
•What may be the remains of a My Little Pony head
•1 small marble
•1 G.I. Joe action figure torso
•A length of nylon rope (it required some ‘midwifing’)
•A length of cotton string (this also required some ‘midwifing’)
•And around 16¢ in change
Today I took a glamorous trip to the city dump - I had some dumping to do.
A sign at the entrance had me pondering what one could do to get kicked out of the city dump for life. It would go like this:
Bringing five tires full of paint thinner and urine on top of a huge pile of concrete with rebar (and garnished with meter wide tree stumps), while my seven smoking children are riding on top of the pile and giving dump employees the finger and telling them to go f%$# themselves, while whizzing past the front gate at 50 mph. And the truck itself is being pulled by a dogsled team. And we’ve come to take away as much crap as we brought (to sell on eBay).
The one (unposted) rule I actually did break: no photographs.
Last night, I saw “Walking with Dinosaurs: The Live Experience.”
Life-sized free-moving animatronic dinosaurs.
Oh man . . . it kicked ten flavors of Jurassic robot as$!!
Here’s the video I made:
I made a gingerbread house today - “War of the Worlds” was the theme.
Happy Holidays!
The Martian War Machine:
•A Moon Pie
•Black licorice
•Coat hanger wire
•Black Ju-Ju Bees
•Purple frosting
•Death Ray - Photoshop
If you haven’t seen “2 Girls 1 Cup” yet, I recommend that you don’t. Ever.
It’s goatse minus the charm and class.
It’s one of those things you just can’t un-see.
My friend Jodi and I made a sock puppet re-enactment of “2 Girls 1 Cup,” so you can get an idea of why your evil friends are telling you to watch it, but without actually having to sit through what may be the most disgusting thing on the internet ever.
Consider this video a warning:
The typical conversation goes something like this:
Friend - “Who are those two girls on your coffee mug?”
Me - “Cindi and Melissa or Megan and Shannon.”
Friend - “What?!?
Me - “I have no idea who they are. I bought this mug at a Salvation Army Store in Redwood City about three years ago, and to me they look like a ‘Cindi and Shannon’ or a ‘Megan and Melissa’. Or perhaps they’re both ‘Jen’.”
Friend - “What the hell is wrong with you?”
