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!”

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(Thanks, Eliot!)

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Once again, Google Maps is being put to good use.

RottenNeighbor.com - A venue to warn the universe about your as$hole neighbor who lets their dog crap on your front yard, or that creepy house down the block that might have a meth lab in the basement.

Though it will most likely be employed in anonymous abuse . . .

Por ejemplo:

To you jerks with the wind chimes! -
“Hey, do you people think that it was a coincidence that the wind chimes that hung off of your deck magically had a rubber band wrapped around them recently!? Maybe. Well, I was sure to put another one around it over the weekend. Hopefully, you will get the hint. Next time it keeps me awake or wakes me up I am going to take it to work and get it welded together. Thanks”

noisey sex -
“apt 28 has loud annoying sex till the wee hours of the morning”

(via Susan, via John, via BoingBoing)

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In line at the grocery store, I’m staring off into space and then my eyes catch the cover of Cosmopolitan Magazine. In particular, the large purple hyphenated word “Va-jay-jay.” The full title is “Your Va-jay-jay: Fascinating New Facts About Your Lovely Lady Parts.”

Va-jay-jay!?!

Is this some tragic pseudo-urban hipster moniker for “vagina”!?!
Is this what the kids are calling it these days?!?
What about “Vagizzle,” “V-to-the-gina,” or “V. Diddy“?


And I suspect it is the answer to several other topics on the cover:

5 Things Never to Tell Your Guy
All 5 involve using the word Va-jay-jay to refer to your vagina.

Sex He Has Alone
You know why? Because you call it a Va-jay-jay and that’s weird and so he’s in the bathroom thinking about your sister instead of your Va-jay-jay!

Why Guys Cheat
Because they want to sleep with a woman who doesn’t call it a Va-jay-jay!


[Va-jay-jay update]: According to reader Isabel, this sounds-better-than-’cooter’ term for vagina has been around for some time (and I just don’t watch enough television), having appeared on ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ and even ‘Oprah’ (the perfect venue for promoting lame terms like this). Frankly, the word ‘Oprah‘ sounds like a better term for vagina than ‘Va-jay-jay.’
“This tight underwear makes my Oprah itch!”

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[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.

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I usually could give a flying F$%# about celebrities.
Other than making fun of them.
Go Fug Yourself has a great drunken Lindsay Lohan and Sharon Stone dialogue - this is some brilliant comedy writing.

(via Susan)

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[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).

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Schadenfreude (shä-dən-froi-də) - n. Finding enjoyment or pleasure in the misfortune of others.

Behold the awesomely schadenfreud-tacular Fail Blog.

(via Susan)

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I have simple instructions for you.  Go to Google, type in the search box “find Chuck Norris,” and hit “I’m Feeling Lucky.”

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A very funny re-subtitled video, in light of the Cowboys’ playoff loss to the now Super Bowl-bound New York Giants. Who knew Hitler was such a sports fan?

(via Bob)

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Mike Huckabee’s family photo:

This photo is…

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Do people really care what Chuck Norris has to say about politics? In either case, what a bizarre campaign ad, but glad to know Mike Huckabee is a “principled, authentic conservative.”

(from Katya)

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aka Reasons to Stay Home and Read The ‘Dilla.

“CONGRATULATIONS ON SELECTING SEAT 21C! This manual is intended to familiarize you with the many options available to you.

Before BUCKLING in, please note that the man standing in the aisle next to you is about to make a request. He wonders if it would be okay for you to switch seats with his wife, who is in the middle seat three rows ahead. She is the one seated between the former linebacker and the canola oil salesman, and is peering over the seatbacks at you with wide and imploring eyes.

The man will ask this in a voice sufficiently loud that all passengers seated within several rows will look up from their sudoku puzzles and await your answer. If you say no, the passengers will all wonder: Why do you hate married people? You must be a bitter and lonely person. Note also that there is no overhead luggage space three rows ahead, so you will have to wait for the entire plane to empty to come back and retrieve your bags. Have a good flight up at 18E!

Once permanently seated…”

Click here to read the rest of this hilarious article, or check out more from Wayne Curtis at the New York Times Air Travel Opinion Blog.

(via L-Sims)

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[Every week my friend Jodi manages to be in the middle of something harsh and/or hilarious]

This week’s Jodi Report is a story of woe and wrongful shame at a local video rental franchise.

Here is the transcript from Jodi’s account:

“So, I went to Blockbuster (I usually get stoned and pick out movies). And I brought the movies up to the register and the guy at the register didn’t even look at my face. And I wrote a check (couldn’t find my ATM card) in my happy cheerleader writing with my Hello Kitty pen. I put my pen back in my purse.

I walk out to my car and then some guy came out after me saying, ‘Can we have our pen back?’ And he was walking toward me . . . and I was getting into my car. He chased me out to my car to get the f*%$ing pen back! I said ‘This is MY PEN.’ And he gave me a stupid look and said (like a smartass), ‘Yeah . . . Can we have OUR PEN back?!’ and the guy at the register and some stupid girl hanging out with them all stared at me as I drove off.

When I got home I called the number on the video receipt and said, ‘I was just in there and just got accused of stealing a pen and I didn’t do it.’ The manager said, ‘I’m sorry ma’am, I’ve gone through $200 worth of pens in the last couple of months and I’ve asked my employees to gently remind customers to not walk off with the pens.’

I got a call back from the manager (minutes later), and he said that this guy doesn’t even work for him and that the guy ‘isn’t right in the head.’ And he apologized. And put a couple free movies on my account . . .

So . . . I realized that the man had a pen shortage. So I bought four packs of pens (48 pens total). And three or four days later when I went to return my movies . . . I shoved all of them in the return slot.”

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Two years ago, The Sneeze posted what may be the worst rendition of “O Holy Night” ever. In fact, this may be the the worst rendition of anything, ever. This song makes Baby Jesus cry.

Follow these directions:
•Turn the volume up as loud as it will go.
•Play this song.
•Halfway through the song, be prepared to pee a little bit; expect minor bleeding from the eardrums.

On an ascending scale of painful noises:
1 - car alarm
2 - mating humpback whales
3 - Minnie Riperton’s “Lovin’ You”
4 - German Shepherd kicked in the crotch
5 - crying sick infant
6 - cat in heat
7 - Vietnamese pop music
8 - crying sick infant being beaten with a cat in heat
9 - Chinese opera
10 - this song

(via The Sneeze. God bless you, Steve)

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Pharming - The act of illicitly redirecting a website’s traffic to another bogus website.

Phishing - Attempting to acquire sensitive personal information through email communications by impostering as a trusted business or institution.

Phideo - Profitting from video sales and rentals by impostering as a known movie; like phishing, phideos prey upon the drunk and the elderly.

I Am Ωmega (2007) - Like I Am Legend (2007), but less of a rip-off of The Ωmega Man (1971).

Transmorphers (2007) - Like Transformers (2007), but dyslexic.

Alien vs. Hunter (2007) - Like Alien vs. Predator (2004), except filmed in a park and they could only afford one alien costume because they spent all their money on the acting wizardry of Michelle Pfeiffer’s sister.

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This one is true. Even though we all wish it wasn’t.

In Japan, there are vending machines that sell underwear. Schoolgirls’ underwear. Previously worn and unwashed schoolgirls’ underwear.
Yes - an entire industry of trading-in the day’s underwear for a new pair. And underwear sold with a photo of the underwearer can fetch a higher price. The almighty Snopes has a nice article on this subject, which they report to be true.

(more…)

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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

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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”):

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