[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?”
If any of you readers know who these two women are (or if you are one of these two women), please contact me.
Megan and Shannon, here is my proposal:
•I want to take a photo with the both of you, holding your old mug in the photo, and I will pay to have it printed on mugs for all three of us.
•I want to know if there is any good story behind the discarding of this mug: Cindi, did that slut Megan sleep with your boyfriend and so you’re no longer BFF and you gave the mug away to the Salvation Army because you hate her?
Dear Mike and Ike,
We’ve been through a lot together - all of those movies we’ve seen together and all of those times you’ve been there for me when I was too lazy to make myself breakfast. This is why I am deeply saddened to write you this letter.
Last night, I bought a large box of your Tangy Twister flavors and when I opened the box, a small bag of candy fell out. Though I respect this effort to keep your candy fresher, the box was only half-full.
The box was not half-empty: it was half-full of candy, and half-full of betrayal and grief.
I understand that current political debates over same-sex marriage has put a great strain on your relationship (rumor has it that you were almost Mike and Sergio for a few months), but your personal lives are affecting your products. When I opened up that box last night and a small bag of candy fell out, it was a grief comparable to getting to second base with a buxom woman you’ve taken to dinner for three weeks, only to find that she was wearing an extremely padded bra the entire time.
Mike, and my beloved Ike, I’m sorry to say that I cannot take you (nor Mike’s Latino cousin Hot Tamales) to the movies anymore until you get a handle on your lives. Until then, I will be taking my ex — that chocolatey slut Milk Duds — to the movies instead.
Farewell you cheap bastards,
Tim
About a year ago I saw a homemade flier at a coffee shop from a local band of punk rock middle school kids called Jackie Rocks. It was so hardcore and cute at the same time — like a kitten in biker leather — that it stuck in my head and I finally got around to checking out their myspace page tonight.
The internet and myspace has forever changed the landscape for the adolescent rockstars-to-be. They have videos and recorded tracks (available on I-tunes), and a link to a site where you can buy their t-shirts.
They also have their own website: http://www.jackierocks.com
Look out Donnas, Jackie really does rock, and she even writes her own music. Their musical influences include Avril Lavigne, Linda Rondstadt, and the Cure. Awesome.
I wish I’d been that cool at 13. Actually, I wish I was that cool at 31.
After seeing how far the Jenkem urban legend has gone, “Brown Bagging” is screaming to be launched into the communtications network of idiots to see where it will go (others must be warned of this grave danger - this is a gateway drug to things like “Two Girls, One Cup”):
[This is a guest post by my sister, Rebecca]:
Alternate Title: “Are You There God? It’s Me, Marketing“
It’s 4:00 AM and after an hour of tossing and turning with a nauseating abdominal cramp, you finally get out of bed and go in search of some Alleve; you stumble in the dark to the bathroom and paw around in the cabinet for a maxipad. You turn on the light and find your Always pads, open one up and as you go to remove the adhesive label covering the ‘wings’ you read:
“Have a happy period!”
Are you f#$king sh!tting me!?!
Touring the Always website, I get the impression that this is a genuine attempt to ‘get’ young women and to somehow empower them in their monthly trials. To encourage female bonding, they have a whole campaign dedicated to promoting enjoyable menstruation, with a list of acronyms like HAHP (Have A Happy Period), MLB (My Lady Business), and GAP (Got A Pad?) - lots of hip lingo for discussing your period without actually using the words “blood”, “tampon” or “excruciating pain.”
They have suggestions for pampering yourself and indulging - to abate your feelings of depression, ugliness, and discomfort. They offer a downloadable calendar for keeping track of your ‘Happy Parties’ - they recommend having a ‘Happy Party’ every month with piñata and pedicure themes. Not only can you play a menstruation crossword puzzle and make downloadable iron-ons, but there is also a lame hormonal roller-coaster game (with a maxipad as the car). Seriously.
I can’t help but believe that the marketing person responsible for this whole whacked concept learned everything they know about periods from reading “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” Would a woman really come up with this bullsh!t?
I for one would really dig a feminine hygiene product campaign that cut the crap and had a sense of humor. I want to open a maxipad and have a fortune-cookie fortune on the label, something along these lines:
•“You will feel bloated, puffy and ugly today.”
•”Thank god, you’re not knocked up!”
•”Do not wear tight white clothing.”
•”Use that dull aching pain in your back as an excuse to be a bitch.”
•”Don’t bother shaving your legs.”
•”Yes, everyone CAN tell that you’re on the rag.”
•”Do not go camping in bear territory this week.”
•”You’re not getting lucky tonight.”
•”Go with the flow.”
They could even print t-shirts that say in big red writing, “I am bleeding. F**k off!” that you can wear to your “Happy Parties” where you serve Bloody Marys and blood orange cosmopolitans, and sit around and bitch about how much pain you’re in (and how men suck for not having to experience it). The possibilities are really endless and would probably win over the menstruating market in a heartbeat!
And, no . . . I was not on my f*&king period when I wrote this.
According to his last wishes, the remains of Robert “Evel” Knievel will be set on fire and launched over the Grand Canyon.
Given his recent passing, his final numbers can now be tallied:
•Wives: 2
•Longest Coma: 29 days
•Pelvis Fractures: 3
•Number of Broken Bones: (sources vary from 35 to 40)
•Total Number of Days in the Hospital: 36 months
•Number of Times Running an Anaconda Mining Company Earthmover into the Butte Montana City Powerlines: 1
•Number of Mountain Lions Jumped at One Time: 2
•Greatest Number of Cars Jumped at One Time: 19
•Greatest Number of Greyhound Buses Jumped at One Time: 14
•Convictions of Assault with an Aluminum Baseball Bat: 1
•Arrests for Solicitation of a Prostitute: 1
•Liver Transplants: 1
•Back Taxes Owed in 1983: $1,600,000.00
The AT&T Labs ‘Text-To-Speech’ Synthesizer is great fun to play with: different languages, dialects, and voices. It’s just too tempting to get it to say juvenile things in different accents:
•British
•French
•Latin American Spanish
•German [my favorite]
My friend Jodi recently confessed that she went through an irrational and shameful ‘crafty’ phase a couple of years ago.
After seeing the photos, I agree.
She was right to consider it “shameful.”
Jodi, you are going to hell.
I didn’t have to courage to go in there and meet Arreola in person, but I suspect she is tan and round and sensitive.
Things said during Thanksgiving dinner that sounded dirty:
•Are you a fan of stuffing?
•Mmmm . . . warm buns!
•Give me more dark meat.
•Whose pie would you like to try?
•Breast, please.
Hey Americans . . . (and non-Americans subjected to this holiday) . . . HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
To honor this great holiday we’re offering you, the reader, a fine downloadable “Hand Turkey” to print out and hang in your home . . .
If you’re more discriminating with your holiday art (because “Hand Turkeys” are pretty cliché): the “Foot Turkey”
And if you want cutting edge state-of-the-art Thanksgiving decorations . . .
Behold the patented Blogadilla “Ass Turkey”*
Last night, friends of mine had to go home early. They confessed that they were going home to make a blanket and couch cushion fort in their livingroom, watch TV in it, and fall asleep in it.
Yes . . . a “fort.”
They also confessed that at a business conference last weekend, they made a fort in their hotelroom. They were kind enough to let me post photos of their hotel fort. Awesome. Inspiring.
Love: having someone you can make forts with.
Blogadilla Readers: If you send us a picture of your fort, we will post it.
