Schitthaus.com

 

The married man often has to make sacrifices. Some might say this is the principal difference between being single and being married. You have to shop for shit you don’t care about when you’d rather be doing anything else from time to time. Sometimes you can’t listen to totally great music because “that guy is screaming” and get treated to the mewling tones of the Dixie Chicks. And, most frequently, you get stuck watching a movie you know you’re not going to like all that much because she wants to see it. Sure, there’s a movie by a great writer and director out in the theater now but you can’t see it because it’s about mixed martial arts, but hey, here’s this movie about pregnant chicks!

I’ve been a rock over the years in our relationship. I refuse to watch chick flicks, or things that set my Utero-Sense into the warning zone reserved by movies that are definitely chick flick-ish. It’s worked out well thus far. I’ve dodged many chick flick bullets, and am a much happier man for it. But I got drug into this one, but not exactly kicking and screaming, because of Tina Fey.

Ah yes, Tina Fey. What red-blooded American male can’t get into some Tina Fey? She’s easily one of the sexiest females in show business. She’s not classically beautiful, but she’s very fetching. She rocks the glasses, which for most people I know brings out that whole “I want you to read to me… naked” vibe. And she’s devilishly funny, being responsible for Mean Girls, a surprisingly funny movie that gave us the last time Lindsay Lohan was genuinely hot, as well as creating 30 Rock, one of the most refreshingly funny and original shows on television today. I can’t say that I’m a Fey fan from way back. She was anchoring SNL’s Weekend Update during my “I’d rather rip bong hits and go out drinking” phase. And on the nights that I did opt to watch it, she was on the other side of the desk from Jimmy Fallon, a no-talent knobgoblin that would rather chuckle at himself than, you know, act. But the taste of Fey has been acquired, and is longing to be sated. Fortunately enough for any man suckered into going to see Baby Mama, Fey and her cleavage (yeah, she’s got cleavage!) provide enough to keep us pushing through what is pretty much a tired and predictable movie.

Fey plays driven career woman Kate Holbrook. Kate is in her late 30’s, married to her career, and has got baby fever. Attempts at artificial insemination (where did that ever go? Sperm banks are comedy gold!) fall fruitless, and her OB/GYN informs her that her uterus is T-shaped and there’s a million to one shot that the seed will ever be planted. See what’s happening there? This movie features prominent usage of the word uterus and visits to an OB/GYN. There’s even stirrups! Better bring some General Foods International Coffee!

Looking for an alternative, Kate turns to Chafee Bicknell, a facilitator for linking up barren would-be parents with uteri for hire. (The Chafee Bicknell subplot is kind of humorous, featuring an obviously older Sigourney Weaver that is pregnant and having kids. Ew.) The womb in waiting? White trash wildflower Angie Ostrowiski, played by Amy Poehler, who was coerced into subletting her baby box by her idiot white trash boyfriend.

When Angie and her boyfriend split, Kate asks her to move in with her to help her with the pregnancy. The unlikely pair find common ground and become buddies, before a terrible secret threatens to tear their relationship apart. Will this odd couple remain friends when all is said and done? You’re just going to have to watch to find out! Or think about it for a minute or two (give or take a minute or two) and you can probably figure it out.

The performances on the whole were pretty good. Fey was pretty swell. The cameos and lesser stars help make things interesting, first and foremost Steve Martin, who plays Kate’s eccentric hippie boss. The secret of his success? Have a big penis. As any of us successful men can tell you, this is the truth. There’s also the black guy from 40 Year Old Virgin as Kate’s door man, who plays the movie’s Jiminy Cricket with a little ghetto slang. Siobahn Fallon, who used to be the annoying red-haired chick on Saturday Night Live (any relation to Jimmy? Did I care enough to look it up? No!), is kind of lame as the birthing coach with a speech impediment. She does help provide a funny running joke about rubbing olive oil on the taint to prevent tearing which I found pretty funny, mainly because they used the word taint. That word just makes me laugh whenever I hear it or think about it. Taint. Tee hee.

All in all I’d say it wasn’t a bad movie. I sure didn’t hate it, but I definitely wouldn’t say that I loved it. I kind of knew this was going to be a chick flick going into it, and I was correct. That being said, the ladies will probably enjoy this movie a lot more than the guys. And, if you’re a Fey-Phile, you’ll probably enjoy watching this movie, too. Spoiler alert, Tina Fey has pretty sweet legs, too! The whole movie just seemed a bit broad (no pun intended) for the main person behind 30 Rock. There are many layers and subplots for you to get into, but they’re all rather predictable and/or stale. Career woman wants baby, career woman finds love, woman deals with crazy mother, two polar opposites find common ground and become BFF… It’s all been done before. Perhaps with a little more nuance and quirk (two things Fey has mastered in her body of work) this could’ve become a very good movie as opposed to merely an alright movie. But, then again, nuance and quirk don’t really make for box office boffo, and that Audi won’t pay for itself!

In summation, Tina Fey, her cleavage, and her legs. How much is it worth to you? Is it worth nine bucks and sitting through a chick flick? That’s for you to decide, but knowing what I know now I probably would have waited for it to come out on video. But I also would be firing up the Google Image Search for “fey, rack.”

A couple odds and ends from around the Intarwebz for you.

Deadspin is having their second annual Deadspin Hall of Fame nominations. They’re announcing candidates every day, but my must-win candidate is up for a spot. Who is this guy? A’mod Ned of Florida International University. You can just call him Ned, though. But why is Ned hall of fame worthy? Because during the brawl between Miami and Florida International last year dude came out on crutches. That is what you call “having your teammates’ back.” He’s actually become quite a folk hero, spawning numerous (semi-poor) photoshops and fierce campaigning replete with a video. Click and vote or Ned is going to crutch all the way up from Miami and beat you with his crutches.

Stumbled across a new site called FilmDrunk.com (through WithLeather.com). Pretty cool movie site. Saw some new trailers (Jack Black and Mos Def in a Michel Gondry movie… I’ll fox with it.) It’s kind of like MoviePoopShoot.com. Not really, I guess. Who am I kidding, I just wanted to type MoviePoopShoot.com. It’s definitely worth checking out for movie updates (as well as nude Jessica Biel in movie updates, infinitely more important).

He also mentions that Grindhouse is going to be split into two dvd’s with, get this NO FUCKING TRAILERS!!!!!!! Are you kidding me? No Machete? No Thanksgiving? Eat a dick, Weinsteins. Fuck you in the asshole til it’s purple donkey asshole. Needless to say, if you didn’t get to see this in the theaters you will not get the full awesome experience and you will be extra bummed. There may be a “deluxe set” released later on. Maybe if we bitch loud enough they’ll do it from the get go. Gets to bitchin! I can’t tell you how mad this made me.

Speaking of movies Superbad was Super Fucking Awesome. I’ve already said too much. Go see it. It’s truly a vagtastic voyage. I’m probably going to watch it again this weekend.

There’s a second installment of Cautionary Tales of Swords, and it’s funnier than the first. In case you didn’t know, swords will cut your fucking throat wide open. That’s the truth.

Thanks to Andy, for allowing me to regress into Nerdery (the state, not the place of employment. They’ve closed down.)I just got to thinking about this and wanted to post it. Unless you’re Gip, I don’t know for sure if you’ve seen the Aqua Teen movie, but here’s the best part. And it’s completely not related to the plot. You’re welcome. Have you seen the DVD for this thing? Two disc, deluxe 80 minute deleted movie on disc 2. I guess I have to buy it. Read along while they sing, and crank it up!

The quality kind of sucks, so you may just want to wait for the DVD after all. But I may have just saved you some money.

That’s about all from me. Just getting ready for football, the wedding, the honeymoon, and, most importantly, the bachelor party. If any of you knows where we can rent a donkey for the evening, holla at your boy.

Oh, you can now contact the site at josh-at-schitthaus-dot-com. Feel free to e-mail for cheers, jeers, advice, or lusty gruntings. Your correspondence may be included for a new feature. I know, awfully enticing…

Whatever the fuck THAT means!

It’s Friday, and I’m finishing up my first week back to work post-vacation. Before I recount all the fascinating details, I’d like to examine the concept of vacation. First, a definition:

1. a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday: Schoolchildren are on vacation now.
2. a part of the year, regularly set aside, when normal activities of law courts, legislatures, etc., are suspended.
3. freedom or release from duty, business, or activity.
4. an act or instance of vacating.

Remember summer vacation as a student? Man, that shit was the Truth. Three months to do whatever you liked, enough time that it was possible to be bored with it. Once you become a working stiff, you relish any time you can get. Eurotrash bishes get about three months even after school is over. I’m jealous, but if I have to look like that, I’ll manage. I’ve worked the same job long enough to have two weeks to my disposal, and I use one of those during the holidays and one during the summer. I look forward to that week off for months leading up to it, then the week passes by too quickly, then I’m stuck back at my desk avoiding work.

My summer vacation spot of choice since about 1998 or so has been the Outer Banks, specifically the areas of Duck or Corolla. It used to be a trip I’d take with friends from school, but lately it’s been a family affair. The one thing that has remained constant is the alcoholism. Breakfast used to be a top shelf Marg (1800 and G.M. with a splash of lime juice) at around 2 PM. That was before the young’uns were involved. Why must kids wake up at 7:30? Because they don’t work, so they don’t know how much sleep they’re missing. Bastards. I may not have been up for the fresh food, but I was still awake before noon on most of the days. Breakfast now means a reheated homemade sausage biscuit, mug of coffee, and some fruit juice. Most of my time was spent in the pool, and I’ve come to realize what a glorious concept the “Adult Swim” is. I hated it when I was wee, but LOVE it now! No need to bore you, so I’ll hit the high notes:

1.The Duck Deli is the shit. It’s blown up (along with the whole urrea) so you have to go at an off time. Get a plate of smoked chicken wings while you wait for a pulled pork sandwich. Wash it down with a Sweet Tea. I’ve had at least one meal there every single time I’m down there. If I had my way, it would be my every day lunch spot.

2. Meridian 42. I’d like to tell you this place is good. Tried to get in for dinner at 6:15 on a Thursday with no reservations. We were told they might could squeeze us in around 9:30. Bitches. Check the menu, you’ll want to eat there real bad. I know I sure did. Next time I won’t screw around. Rather than hop from place to place we ended up at:

3. The Black Pelican. Don’t mind the website, it’s cheesy and the menu doesn’t include their new stuff. I’ve been here almost as many times as the Duck Deli. Good seafood, reasonable prices, and they have wood-fired pizzas if you can’t make up your mind. Heidi and I had the Tuna Tatake appetizer (Marinated Gulfstream tuna with a flying fish roe, served on seaweed salad, with Japanese soy and wasabi on the side). I hope you weren’t thinking this was a seared dish, cause that shit is served raw. Damn tasty. I decided to be daring with my entree and try something new. So new you won’t see it on their website. Shrimp sauteed with peppers and onions in a Tabasco-butter sauce served on a mound of jalapeno-cheddar grits. I wasn’t Gung-Ho about it until I took my first bite. Highly recommended, even if you’re not the biggest fan of grits.

3. One of my duties in the house is to assist with the cooking whenever possible/asked. Last year we made the discovery of Tommy’s Steak Seasoning. I don’t know who Tommy is, but he’s got a market conveniently located across the street from the aforementioned Duck Deli. It’s a gourmet market so they have lots of neat sauces, salsas, marinades and seasonings. They also have “gourmet market” prices. For all the rich arrogant holier-than-thou fucks down there it’s no problem. For the regular folks, be choosy about what you buy. That steak seasoning is expensive, but it’s worth it. We had enough to rub down about 12 big steaks with plenty left over to bring home. It’s very close to Chicago Steak seasoning (99 cents when your local CVS has it), but I think Tommy puts in a secret ingredient. Actually, I think I just figured out Tommy’s true identity. Maybe he has something to do with the Hamlette from my first post.

4. You’re probably thinking I should’ve gotten a shirt like this to commemorate my trip. Close, but I have two things to mention not directly involving food or alcohol. First, I got a new kite. I already had two (3 if you count the butsed one) but stunt kites aren’t “set it and forget it.” I wanted something mindless and fairly cheap. Enter the parafoil. Just call me Max.

5. Next, I give you a cornhole. Now, I give you Cornhole . This is the best backyard game since horseshoes because it’s so similar, yet you can actually score points without any divine intervention. For official rules, regulations, and other assorted goodies, check out the official page.

6. Finally, if it’s wet outside Cornhole is out. We faced this situation at the beach and had to improvise. It started out as the good ol’ game Caps but it quickly turned into a brainstorming session. Take two red plastic party cups, tape them on opposite edges of a long smooth glass top table. Tape two straws vertically to simulate goalposts. Two on two, teammates sit together, each player gets one shot. Slide the cap flat side down much like you would a paper football. Try to slide it off the edge and into the cup. One point if you sink it. If you shoot second and happen to knock your teammate’s cap in, that’s two points. If you shoot second and get both yours and your teammate’s cap in… well, figure out your own bonus cause it never happened for us. Here’s a picture from one end of the table to get an idea. It’s a work in progress, but it kept us occupied. Comments and suggestions are always welcome.

So that’s what the fuck has been goings on. Summer is almost over, wedding season is about to start. Bring on the open bar!!

My login lets me post too! The weather got warm, the beer got cold, the posting took a hiatus. This is not to say I didn’t keep a few things in my back pocket. Lots of randomness here, SAST style.

First off, your new favorite summer drink. I don’t follow the trends so forgive me if I missed the boat. Blueberry Stolichnaya — or any of the non-vanilla Stolis — and club soda. Tonic sucks, don’t use it. It has all the sugar of soda, but it tastes like butt. For those of you drinking at home (and Lord knows this is my venue of choice unless it’s payday weekend) you can even up the ante by getting flavored seltzer at your local grocer. Do it.

A couple of good quotes/snippets that I’ve read:

“Weigh it and name it!”
-Shout through the bathroom door at someone taking an inordinately heinous dump.

“Chumming the Waters”
-Upon entry at a strip club walk immediately up to the main stage and drop a bunch of ones or as the brothers call it “make it rain”. Don’t wait for a reply from any dancers, just drop the money and walk back to your seat. Then sit back and reel them in all night.

“Prostitot” = Prostitute + toddler
-The groups of slutty looking 13 year olds you invariably see at fairs and movies.

This last one leads me to my next topic: summertime carnivals. E’rrbody that knows a Frederick local has probably experienced or heard the tales of the Great Frederick Fair. How can you not love the fair/carnival atmosphere? Heart-attack snacks that lead to cathartic purging in nearby parking lots. Rickety “attractions” operated by “professionals” that can also lead to said purging. Farm exhibits. Fantastic people-watching. Shady games. Are you in the mindset?

This past week — June 26-30 cause MFs up here have trouble with their calendars — was the annual Great Gettysburg Volunteer Fire Department Carnival (henceforth to be known as the “GGVFDC”). This was my third year attending, and it’s always a hoot. Fans of the movie “Joe Dirt” will remember the carnival scene where our hero is minding the quarter pitch game and spraying down the glassware with Pam. This, and its many variations, is a common game. The version at the GGVFDC has two rotating pedestals with various glasses, mugs, goblets and such. Pitch a dime into the glass, and you win it. Tis a simple machine. First year at the carnival I was on point. I sank so many the carnie gave me a divided box so’s I could safely cart home my winnings. Next year had some success but the quantity was far less. Last week was the unquestioned best time ever due to the QUALITY of the glasses. That’s right, a carnival souvenier that you actually WANT to take home. The two pedestals had a single glass on the top level. From my tossing point the closest one for me was one of those Coca-Cola glasses with a polar bear on it. Haven’t seen them in a while, have you? I took a gander at the other side and laid my eyes on the prize. I saw what appeared to be a decent, albeit lightweight pint glass with a Canadian maple leaf on one side and the word BUZZ on the other. After a few tosses I sank one and it was mine. Upon further inspection I saw why this glass was the greatest. Time not spent at the dime pitch was occupied under the big tent with the old folks playing multiple rounds of bingo. We each won a round, and I may have caused some lady to have a heart attack when I cursed her luck in a colorful manner. This is what qualifies as gambling since the town rejected the idea of a slots casino moving into town.

An aside: Yes, I know I’m simple for playing bingo and pitching dimes. Playing bingo is to support the FD. Without them, and this man in particular, Heidi would’ve drowned in a flood.

The resolution of the carnival story actually takes place 5 days after the beginning. I won that glass linked above on Tuesday. I spent Wednesday evening in Dad’s garage getting dirty and he said Heidi had invited him and Mary-Kay to the carnival. I was informed that my dad thought he was too good for the carnival (not exactly his words, but the message was clear) but in recognition of our dime pitch addiciton he gave me two rolls of dimes with explicit instructions that “Heidi has to win me a glass.” He’s getting a matching set of sunflower glasses AND cow glasses. I took the opportunity to get a second BUZZ glass and was glad I did because they ran out of them while we were pitching!

Time to wrap this shit up. Remember DeBeers? Do you have a caring boss? Are you easily bored? Did you make a late dinner of spicy seared tuna steak and go almost straight to sleep, then felt the aftermath the next day?

Wow. Hell of a money shot there at the end. I’m spent.

Well , its been a minute. deal with it. life is busy somtimes all the times.

So , whats new ? well , lets see. Bollywood Alx Dunn has relocated to my couch city and seems to be diggin it. I’ve decided to “part ways” with Hagerstown Mag. Mark Gonzales will change your life…and Hanes has designed and launched the worst fuggen drawers in the free world.

now , I have the pleasure of owning four pair of these sweet shorts and everytime I look at them I’m pretty sure my brain bleeds. These are MENS BOXERS with NO FLY. Who thinks to check these things when purchasing said items. I walk in , I grab two packs , scan the clearance rack. pay. done. upon installation I come to see that I received a defective pair. scratch that , make that a defective pack. scratch that , these things are made like this! I think somebody would call it a “feature” !

well , I now have a feature every time I wear a pair of these , I pee sideways! hows that for a bonus ? Thank god my boss cleans the bathroom.

also , My non-microwave safe cup actually caught fire in the microwave this morning. who makes a travel cup thats not microwave safe ? the same people that designs for Hanes , I think. Seems some ad wizards had to put a metal emblem on a cup , attached with some sort of rubber glue that is flammable when it gets nuked. brilliant. thanks much.

two good shows at the Ottobar coming up , June 5th welcomes Lavender Diamond , Noble Lake and Entrance. shoud be a great show. I’ll be there , snapping away. June 21st is the Panda Bear show , I suggest getting tickets immediately. Someone described my view of him as the second coming of christ , while I think I lack the religious views to complete that statement , I will say he’s making music thats unlike anything I’ve ever heard. you’ll check him out if you know whats good for you.

And finally , I’m heading out of the country in July ! Mexico here I come , got my US Passport on Friday , talk about quick turnaround! thanks US gov. keep it real.

I’ll also be completing the busiest weekend coming up , which includes trips to Hershey , PA. and Kent Island , MD also Good ole’ Hagerstown for the Metal and Meat BBQ on Sunday. Monday will be a day of rest , to say the least.

well , feck off now.

So, here’s what I had been meaning to tell you. I got Thrashin’ on the Netflix, it is simultaneously just as bad and as good as I remember it, but for totally different reasons.

For those of you that don’t know, Thrashin is the epic story of Cory Webster, perhaps the raddest skateboarder in the history of the universe. Cory, played by Josh Brolin (who you may remember as Dr. Block from Grindhouse, looking as old as Yoda’s ballsack), goes out to Cali (from where, we’re never really sure) to hang with his shred-bro’s and get rad with it at the LA Massacre, the “world famous” downhill skateboarding race.

Problem #1: Moms gives him $30 bucks, not to be used on beer, for his trip out there. What the fuck is that going to pay for? 300 bags of ramen? $30 ain’t shit in California, I presume. Problem #2: I don’t even think that when skateboarding was at its gayest that downhilling was something anyone really cared about. I guess it gave more head to head drama for the climax than a pogo-off.

Did I mention that Cory has cultivated the Patrick Swayze circa Road House look? Yes, it does always come back to Road House. Suck it. Keep in mind that this was 3 years before Road House came out, too. So Swayze cultivated the Cory Webster look. How ’bout them apples?

Cory’s shredmates are the guy from Loverboy, Dave Grohl, and Encino Man (not their real names, but that’s how they look and I’m sticking to it.) The guy from Loverboy has just finished building the gnarliest half-pipe, and it’s time to shred.

Yadda yadda yadda… Lots of funny clothes and bright colors. I forgot how neon the skateboarding world was back then. Bad news for everyone, really. Neon clothes are some gawd awful shit, let me tell you what. Cory and the rest of the Ramp Locals (totally uncool “gang name,” I would shoot the Ramp Locals on principle alone.) go shred around Venice Beach and do sweet acid drops off of stuff. Dang… He even stops to see a freestyle demo by Per Welinder. For any of you that don’t know what freestyle skateboarding is, you better recognize. Get an education below.

See? If dudes that look like that can excel at something in the skateboarding world, it has to be the dumbest thing ever. Difficult? You bet. Dumb? And how… But, there was an advantage. Piece of ass Not Jodie Foster was there. It was love at first sight.

Enter the Daggers. This is a much cooler skate gang name. The Daggers are the baddest (and raddest, don’t forget the radness) bunch of skateboarders in Venice Beach, which pretty much puts them in the running for baddest skateboarders ever. Led by the fearsome and totally homoerotic Hook, played by some dude that you shouldn’t ever care about, though he kind of looks like Richard Greico, and NO ONE should care about him, either.

Wouldn’t you know it? But Not Jodie Foster’s brother is Hook! Some real West Side Story shit happens. Lots of dudes get rad with it, etc….

I’m not going to summarize the plot any further, because the story is really like a delicate onion with many layers to be savored one at a time. Only that onion is covered in shit and griptape. I will, however, give you a number of things that should encourage you to see this movie, or at least bow to its greatness.

1) The Music: Where to begin… I think it’s amazing that I haven’t seen this movie since I was about 12 and I still know pretty much every song in it. Amazingly scary and stupid. For starters the theme song was sung by Meat Loaf. Yep, Bitch Tits Bob… When I think skateboarding music, I think Meat Loaf. Nothing like a little Bat Out of Hell when you’re trying to rip some roast beef grabs on the halfpipe. And there’s the appearance of the Red Hot Chili Peppers in their full heroin glory. Hillel Slovak and all. Fortunately there are no cock socks, but they look grungy as ever. They even performed one of my favorite Peppers songs of all time, “Blackeyed Blonde” off of Freaky Styley.

2.) The Gear: Seriously, how did I look at this movie when I was10 and think “holy fuck! Skateboarding is rad as shit!” There’s really no good reason. They throw shit together that I couldn’t pick out at a Goodwill under the influence of an 1/8 of mushrooms and a can of Redi Whip. Lots of neon, and some sweet headwear. The guy from Loverboy rocks a totally 80’s headband, and Dave Grohl has a Gator-esque fedora, without killing his girlfriend. I will now sleep with all of these guys at once.

3.) The skateboarding: Alright, looking back on it this was probably some next level shit. But with the advances in tricks that have been made in the past 20 years (hell, even the 10 years following the production of the movie) one can’t help but think that they’re doing some really cheesy shit.

Yes, that is a big pool, and yes, it’s pretty scary. But a downhill? Freestyling? Acid drops off of everything? Ninja please. This is proof positive that I did not have enough shit going on in my life back then.

4.) The Joust: So Hook and Cory Webster decide to “settle this shit” with a joust. They get on either end of a ditch with what looks like half a nunchuck with a koosh ball on the other end, then they both drop in and wack at each other. Really? This is a joust? Why don’t the both of you get in your underwear and have a “not in the face” pillow fight? Nancy boys. But you’ll definitely never forget it.

5.) The quotes:

“That’s a cab-rye-o-let. That’s Hungarian for fast car.”

Hook says something funny about breakdancing to a breakdancer. I forget what it was, but it was something like “breaking is over.” You’d just have to be there.

5.) The Innovation: Okay, so the tricks were corny and the music was gay, but at least it inspired someone to make a rollerblade take on it and call it Airborne, which is one of my favorite “it’s two in the afternoon and I’m hung over, fuck it I’ll watch it” movies of all time. Seriously? If it were any more similar they’d have to call it Thrashin II: Electric Boogaloo.

If that didn’t make you want to rent it you have no soul. Oh, and there is a scene where all of the toughest skate gang in all of Venice Beach stands around and watches Hook spazz out and play air guitar. Or you can catch this montage with the dialogue en Espanol! Is that something you might be interested in?

I effin swear.  I got a burr up my butt to make a post but I just remembered that the Lords of Wordpress decided to make me unable to open links in a new page.  Me and target=”_blank” go back a long way, but that little sumbitch dun turned his back on me.  If it doesn’t get resolved eventually I’ll just suck it up and you can deal with clicking your Back button a whole bunch.  Sure it’s not fun, but what do you want fer nuthin’?

I’m just thankful there was some liquor in the house, lest I start kickin shit.  That also deserves a double-word since payday is on Monday and there’s no bar money to be had.  If you can fit three weekends into a single pay period you’re a thriftier person than I. 

Your new favorite drink is waiting in the wings, let’s see if Wordpress wants to be a pal and help with the unveiling or not.  More to come…

No, you may NOT have a Mercedes for your 16th birthday. Bitch.

 

Can we get to work on a line drawing version of this for a shirt? Art department, make it so!Just a couple of things that were on my mind before I went to bed.

#1, and this one is important, I am an idiot. No seriously, look it up. I put TV on the Radio’s “Wolf Like Me” on the iMix as “Playhouses.” Apparently I’ve had this wrong from the beginning. But a lot of people did because I still see it misnamed on my music downloading program of choice. This is what one gets when they are a music pirate. Yarrr… Don’t judge me. Can’t figure out how to fix the mix on iTunes, so remember I said that, okay? Because “Playhouses” is not nearly as cool as “Wolf Like Me,” for realz. And you should definitely get that iMix. I don’t get paid for it or anything, I’m just lazy and don’t feel like making all of you cd’s anymore. The shipping would be a bitch.

#2. That show My Super Sweet 16, a favorite on Buena Vista Ave. in Baltimore, makes me want to go on a ho-slapping bender. I had it on the television just long enough to see this dumb cracker girl fly to Atlanta to get Young Joc (sp?) to play her party. Yeah, he’d do it, for $85k. “We can do that,” she says. Shit like that makes my butthole pucker.

#3. I made it to Bacon Nirvana tonight. Let’s make a long story short. I found this weird (and great) gourmet mag I’ve never heard of before, and haven’t seen since a couple of months ago, as if it were a fantasy at the end of the rainbow with Shay Laren riding unicorns naked. Sorry, got lost for a sec. In it, they did a story on some dude that made bacon in the hills of Tennessee. So I got on the site and the first thing I see is “Due to them booji motherfuckers that made that there article on us, ya’lls gon’ have to wait up to 5 weeks for my bacon of the gods. So all you snotty douchebags in your import cars can suck it.” (paraphrase) And I ordered, and waited, and today the bacon stork dropped it off on my doorstep. Holy mother of God, that is the shit right there. I cooked it up in a pan, I grilled it, I rolled around in the bacon grease, I got a bacon boner. If you like bacon, get on this shit. It’s kinda expensive when you factor in shipping, but Mr. Benton may have turned me off shwag bacon for the rest of my life. Damn you, you magnificent bastard. If there’s any left the next time you come to my house I will cook you some at any time of the day or night, and we can have a bacon orgy together (with or without the bacon).

Reckon that’s about it. Check back in the next couple of days for a fun feature on an awful(ly great) movie that you can Netflix just as soon as I send it back.

Look at these fucking guys.

Good morning, you sonsabitches. It’s Sunday morning, I’m hungover, and I’m typing in the dark on a strange computer… This could take a while. To type, more than likely, not to read.

I saw Hell’s house band last night while on a little jaunt to Northern Virginia. Now we all know that shitty cover bands have their place in our lives. Nothing can really energize you, your group, or your fellow bar patrons like a well placed “Livin’ On a Prayer” in the middle of the set list. But these guys were dogshit awful. Observe the graph:

Behold the science

You can see that the number of drinks escalates the awesomeness of a shitty bar band, but there’s a point when the drinks do not enhance awesomosity, but in fact diminish awesomosity. This is called the surly point. Once the surly point is reached the alcohol doesn’t fuel your love for their brand of poop tunes, and you can’t escape the fact that the band just plain sucks. Further drinks will increase how vocal you are in your distaste. You may or may not yell at them to “Play some Skynyrd” (if you’re Pickle you probably were yelling this from the beginning). Drinking past the surly point can cause everyone, including the band, strangers, your friends and yourself, to hate you, at least for the time being. And hey, that’s fun, right?

Back to this band, the lead singer/guitarist looked like he was 45 and still living in his mom’s basement (hi, Uncle Billy!) and made the most X-TREEEEEMEEE! lead guitar faces. It was kind of the same face I make when I’m dropping a serious deuce and it feels like it’s a three foot turd coming out sideways. You know the type, right? Don’t act like you don’t. He looked like the guy at the car stereo installation area of Best Buy that tells all the 17 year-olds he works with about how fuckin sweet his band is, how much poontang he got “after the gig” and how we are going to rock the fuck out of the Elks lodge Saturday night. And the 17 year-old doesn’t care, but he won’t be able to prove him wrong either because he’s 17. You taste that? That’s self-satisfaction, baby.

Needless to say, I really want to start a shitty bar band now, if only to play “Love Shack” in front of a group of strangers and imagine them naked.

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Look at this picture, do you need another reason to see this movie?

Saw Grindhouse this week. Fucking awesome movie experience. If it’s still out in the theater, go out and see it if you haven’t. That is, unless you have an aversion to things that are cool.

Here’s the scoop, spoiler free as always. Grindhouse is a tribute to one of my favorite genres of movie: the ultra-violent, exploitative B-movie. Back in the day, instead of the gang of mall theaters like we have today, there were crummy theaters that showed *gasp* one or two movies at a time. And there were theaters that specialized in showing the non-mainstream B-movies. This is where you’d be able to see the blaxploitation flicks (like Black Shampoo, oooh Mr. Jonathan!), zombie flicks, chicks in prison flicks, etc… Nowadays we have Cinemax that shows the closest things to these grindhouse flicks, but it’s an era that sadly has gone by the wayside.

Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, two big time movie dorks, grew up on this kind of stuff, and decided to bring this experience to the suburban multiplexes. It consists of a two movies, Rodriguez’s Planet Terror and Tarantino’s Death Proof, with a grip of trailers for the awesomest movies that have never been made. Seriously, I’d dropkick my mom if it meant that Rodriguez would make Machete. I need more Danny Trejo in my life! They even threw in an ad for a shitty Mexican restaurant in between the two features.

To further enhance the Grindhouse experience they made the film stock look like shit, complete with scrathes, skipping film, film burns and missing reels (well timed so as not to see Rose Macgowan butt naked in one instance, as if you couldn’t see that without Google image search. Oops, I did it again…) Some folks may get salty about that stuff, but I thought it was great.

That’s about all I’ll say about it. This guy Neill Cumpston pretty much reviewed this thing better than I ever could. Here’s his summary:

That’s what GRINDHOUSE is. It’s a taquito buffet that you puke up after getting hit with a motorcycle, and it turns into a bikini chick that blows you and kills your boss with a hammer.

My sentiments exactly. Click on that shit. Here he reviews the official movie of Schitthaus.com (to date), 300. This guy is my favorite reviewer ever.

So thanks to my NOVA trip (I’m all about truncations, b-yotch) I missed UFC 70 last night. I DVR’d it, so hopefully I can see some Mirko Cro Cop axe-kicking someone’s head off when I get home. Who’s up for a UFC party? A pay-per-view would cost about $7-10 a head if we got five of us. This should whet your appetite. And please disregard the music, I don’t know who put this thing together:

Oh, the man won’t let me have a pig roast in Hagerstown. I called the fire marshall and he said “LET ME SHOW YOU SOMETHING!” and set my backyard on fire. I guess that means I can’t burn a whole pig and you can’t see it staring at you. We’re just going to have a raging barbecue, though. No other changes of plans, just a different meat burning. Evites will be sent within the week, thanks to jA for art direction. If you’re reading this, you’re probably invited.

One last thing. Found some stunning video footage of Jamie’s dad. What a dancer!:

Get it out of my face, I’m done with this shit.

Cause I’m back baby! Two posts in two days and then nothing for a while. Normally I’d be taking a nap during my lunch break but I got some decent sleep last night so here we are. I’ve got a few things on the agenda, and time’s a-wastin’.

In a previous post jA recommended a site called Daddy Don’t Hit Me. If you haven’t yet already, please check it out. Bcwoods’ stories are the tits (as Cadle would say). DDHM is actually just one site that makes up the conglomeration known as “Rudius Media.” Do some research on this group and its history and you’ll find that the name is most appropriate. While there aren’t any bad sites in this group (merely sites that I prefer over others), one that I have become a huge fan of is Drinking For Two. Hopefully all I have to do to make you want to read the posts there is say “Imagine Jack Handey on a fantastic LSD trip.” A brief snippet to whet your appetite:

“yesterday i was rubbing lotion up and down my leg and i closed my eyes and imagined that’s what it would feel like to masturbate an elephant.”

Yeah. Like that. Fortunately, animal masturbation is not a frequent topic. At least it hasn’t been so far. That entry is nowhere near my favorite, but it’s recent and it’s short, so that’s what you get. Go read it for real.

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I have a Hotmail account. I am not special because of this, I’m just trying to set this up. Over the course of a typical work day I’ll log in a couple of times, whatever. I’m sure you do the same with your email. When I log out I get dumped to the MSN.com site which has a nice little suppository…uhhh, I mean depository of links for top News, Sports, Finance, and Entertainment headlines. The entertainment headlines are my own personal trainwreck, right in my backyard for easy viewing. The best part is it’s not like a real train wreck with the casualties and the loss of life and the extended clean-up. Some folks wish they were famous so they could sample the trials, tribulations, and adulations that come with a celebrity lifestyle. I am not one of those people. One thing I know for certain though… there isn’t a single person in this world that would like to be Alec Baldwin’s daughter right now. I think the only thing worse than being the child of a celebrity couple is to be the child of a celebrity couple post-ugly-divorce. Sweet Jesus!My vote for Parent of the Year, with special consideration for Parent of Eternity.

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Lunch break is officially over but I’m not done yet. Work shall wait.My first post detailed the joys and wonders of B&J’s Country Peach Cobbler ice cream. I hate to bring up another food related item but Hot Damn! I’d like to mention, first and foremost, that I can’t stand Burger King. The commercials are funny and spooky, but the Whopper makes me burp burger fumes for days afterwards. Me no likey. I have been told that the cookies make a trip worthwhile, but I need more than that to justify setting foot in a BK eatery.Well, I found two things that will make me set foot in a BK. I hate to say it, but I may have found something to compete with Chick-a-fil’s morning menu. GASP!!!. Here they are:

The Hamlette. Yes, the name is corny. Yes, that picture looks far more appetizing than what you unwrap but that’s the case with all fast food. The rundown — sesame seed bun, some deli ham, scrambled egg, cheese, and the most interesting sweet honey-esque butter. The sweet butter was both the item that confused me and the secret ingredient that made the sammich. I actually had to visit the BK website to get the scoop on why my sandwich had a sweet aftertaste when it was totally unexpected. The best part of this experience is it’s only 99 cents. Those few cents you save on the sandwich will come to good use when you need to call in a cardiac team. “But happyscrappy, why on Earth would I need to do that?” you might be asking yourself. Behold breakfast item #2:

These are Cheesy Tots. These will send you to the nearest hopsital, but you will be smiling/drooling/[insert post-orgasmic reaction here] the whole way. Shredded potato and cheddar cheese stuffed into a glorious nugget and fried till cripsy. BK is not far from my office, but these lil’ guys didn’t survive the trip. I could probably have these things once a day for many days. Until, of course, my liver shuts down, my kidneys fail, I stop pooping, and then need more bypasses than Ron-O had. For those that don’t know the details, he had seven. At once. And now has a lovely, picture perfect scar to prove it.

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Okay, last item but it’s quick. I was sitting through a web presentation about some work-related bullshit. These presentations always involve a PowerPoint on the screen with some doofus running their mouth about shit which they haven’t the first clue. Normally I just tune out whatever they’re saying because I can always go back and listen again if I miss something. During this one particular presentation they pulled up a slide and I couldn’t help but laugh. Enjoy.Merry Christmas. You heard me.