Hey there, old ladies!
I’m not clear how your mother, Vogue, religion or society in general dropped the ball on filling you with a healthy self-loathing about your body, but where did we go wrong here?
Continue reading
Humor
240 posts
Dorky songs on your workout playlist! C’mon, we all have them.
What’s on your workout list?
If you’ve read my article about me boxing, you know I get INTO that shit. I like songs that pump up and kick ass.
Tops on my list:
- The Theme to Rocky. Of course. Because that’s the Nor’Easter running past you, through Queens, on her way to Philadelphia, where I’m going to run up those steps someday.
- “Eye of the Tiger” — the Survivor Version and the Gloria Gaynor version
- “I Will Survive” — speaking of Ms. Gaynor
- “We’re Not Gonna Take It” — Twisted Sister. Because I’m not going take it. I’m going to punch you, mofo.
- “Cum On Feel the Noize” — Quiet Riot. Yeah, I said Quiet Riot. Not Slade.
- “Theme to St. Elmo’s Fire” — because I am where the Eagles are flying, higher and higher
- “Straight Outta Compton’ — N.W.A. I could not be less outta Compton. I am a white woman from the suburbs of Boston. But I wrap up my hands and throw punches to this sweet ditty, I am gangsta.
- “Back in the Saddle” — Aerosmith. Because I am Boston girl, and I would love to play horsie with Steven Tyler.
I’m sorry, was that last one out loud?
Hi. Wow — I can’t believe I’m here. I never thought it would get this bad. But I’m here. I have to admit it.
My name is Eddie L, and I have a problem. I can’t turn away from Farmville. It calls to me. My herd of black sheep. The penguins I keep in a pen with my turkeys, even though I know that’s ecologically unsound. I ignore logic and believe I can grow both pomegranate and potato, even though they require opposite climates. I reap, reap, reap Nature’s digital bounty, even though I never rotate my crops and I know I am creating another Dust Bowl. I have abandoned logic!
So, I have come to you, Farmville Addicts Anonymous, for help.
Shall we begin?
I admit I am powerless over my addiction – that my life has become unmanageable
Like I said, my name is Eddie L., and I wish to acknowledge I am a Farmville Addict. I am powerless over the demon call of Farmville. I admit my life is unmanageable, because my life consists only of selling off my pen of pigs in Farmville.
I believe a power greater than myself can return me to sanity
Spock. It must be Spock. Spock was always the creature I turned to for guidance in this wacky world – before my motley collection of cows and horses and reindeer and ducks took over my life. I used to be a Classic Dork – not a Farm-obsessed freak. What would Spock, that pointy-eared lover of all that is orderly – say about Farmville? He would say it is not logical. I bow to you, Spock.
I am making a decision to turn my life over to a higher power
I am all yours, Spock.
I will make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself
The only question here is what character flaw led me down the path into Farmville, a delightful place with a no-place-like-home farmhouse and a well-cared for chicken coop of happy hens. Why do I so desire to grow apple trees, yet have no desire to dirty my hands or actually sweat?
I must admit to a higher power, myself, and another human the exact nature of my wrongs
Spock, there is no doubt. I have behaved terribly. If I can say that to Spock, I can say it myself. I am doing so here. I would like to confess my sins to my wife, but I don’t remember what she looks like. Perhaps if I leave the Man-Room, where the computer is kept, I can find some wedding pictures to refresh my memory.
I must be ready to ask a higher power to remove these defects of character.
I am ready for my Mind Meld, Mr. Spock.
I must make a list of all those I have harmed, and be willing to make amends to them. I must make said amends
First off, there is the wife. I understand she lives, still, somewhere in this home. I’ve been told, via text message, that she wears earplugs all day long to block out the sound of Farmville music, which grates upon her very soul. Darling, the music will stop. And I will take you out! Perhaps to a — those places where they sell already cooked food for human consumption? I can’t remember what they’re called.
I also wish to make amends to your cat, Eleanor Roosevelt Rigby. I’ve been so obsessed with faux animals that I forgot we have a real living furry creature here at home! How exotic! I think it’s the poo. The Farmville animals don’t poo. Eleanor does. I don’t like poo. But I will learn to live with it. Poo is the price of love.
I will continue to examine my shortcomings and admit when I’m wrong.
Honey, you are always right. Always.
I will seek through meditation the peace and guidance that comes from a higher power
Spock, I beg of you to not abandon me. Perhaps Captain Jean-Luc Picard can offer some guidance. Please, make it so.
Having had a Dork Awakening through these dozen steps, I will spread the word to other addicts, and tell them there is help.
Spock will help you, too. Or perhaps your Spock are the Golden Girls. Hello Kitty? Or Curious George. It matters not. Take off the overalls. Turn away from Farmville. There are real, living creatures out there. You may be married to one of them! There is hope.
My name is Eddie L, and I am powerless over the lure of Farmville.
Somehow I’d lived all these years without knowing the corporate joy of working with dictation software. (I hate to name names but let’s just say it rhymes with “Mac Speech Dictate.”) Trust me when I say I was enunciating.
And how’d things go? A little something like this.
I said:
Hello, I’m not sure if this dictation is working or not. The words aren’t appearing on the screen. Hello, I’m not sure if this is working or not, but I would like words to appear on the screen please. Please. PLEASE! Please, please, please, please. I’m worried now because please is an easy word. An EASY word.
What the machine wrote was:
Hello I’m not sure depletion is working or not at the words to appear in the screenplay hell I’m not sure if this nation is working or not but I would like some words to appear on the screen needs plea plea USENET believes to be for Lee believes leave believes he easily worried if and eat EA is if it is an EEG word if an easy word
I tried reciting part of the Pledge of Allegiance next. What came out was… I don’t know what this was:
If I worked in worked is that if worked a day or way old lady old he only with a don’t lay I know I can say is and I just saved my and make her I am I just stayed out of just a just staying gestating A.D.
Finally, this is the alphabet as the software heard it:
ABCDE and GHIJK era (and no PE you are asked TUV W. at why is the lets try that again a PC the 80 GHIJK and Amanda PQFT you see preview at line and see what you
Then I tried to make it type “burp”, because that’s what you do when you’re 11 and someone hands you a new robot toy to play with:
Brooke bunt brute bump bump bump butt, but but bump
This is all cut and pasted exactly as it came out. I’d still be saying “burp” over and over into a microphone, but the cleaning lady walked in. You’d think things couldn’t get more awesome, but oh they can. I emailed the text to myself and the targeted gmail ad for this gobbledygook text was:
As our brave Snookis and DJ Pauly Ds prepare to wash up on Italian shores for season 4, let us celebrate them in verse:
With hair looking all gelled up and spiky
your name is probably Joey or Mikeyor Cousin Paulie or Anthony
(Though you pronounce it Ant + Knee).Everyone else calls you a guido,
but you think you’re all pretty neat-o.Your tan’s slathered on, your T is too tiny
and for some strange reason your jeans are all shiny,and by the way, nobody believes the jacket’s Armani;
it’s made in a sweatshop by an Azerbaijani.You keep protein powder over your fridges
and come Friday, cross Manhattan’s tunnels and bridgesto hit the clubs and Gallagher’s 2000
before returning to your house andordering up some eggplant parm;
you’re a simple guy, you mean no harmcatcalling to every girl within earshot,
telling her what she needs is what you’ve got.She’s getting away! There’s no time to be subtle!
Better yet, on to the next before her rebuttal.You’re oblivious to the city’s despise
and second-person plural is always “Youse guys.”Wow oh wow, your friend has on a nifty striped shirt
and if someone spills beer on it, they’re gonna get hurt.Hey look at that! A fancy gold chain!
Does the 7-pound cross cause you neck strain?Does it remind you of Jesus’ cross?
Was it a gift from a Mafia boss?Come summer, you’ll be at the Jersey Shore
causing a ruckus with girls dressed as whor…nevermind.But you just want to meet a nice gal
to make her your wife. You’ll find her! You shall!She’ll have bangs so high and nails like talons
and she’ll spend half your paycheck at the local salons.She’ll send four kids down her birth canal
before leaving you for your cousin Sal.But tonight is for partying, hell yeah muthafuckas
and inspiring jealousy in the rest of us suckas.
A good joke well told is a thing of beauty, even when it keeps piling outrage upon the obscene upon the inconceivably lewd, as anyone who has seen The Aristocrats will attest. This crazed masterpiece of comedy showcases both a classic joke and the many ways its various retelllers embroider it. If your head doesn’t explode in the first fifteen minutes or so, you will be transported to a world of funny you never even suspected.
It’s my experience that most of the very best and funniest jokes aren’t really appropriate to tell at Thankgiving dinner; they’re irreverent, or raunchy, or so totally over-the-top you’ll never be invited back. But here’s one that really isn’t. Your grandmother — or even a Mother Superior — is unlikely to take umbrage … but everyone will laugh.
Les Trois Freres Francais
Bon, bien alors: we ‘ave three little French boys, zey are brozzers. Zere is Jean – he is ze tout petit, il n’a que sept ans … he has only seven years of age. Zen come Louis, who has eight years; and finalement zere is Pierre, ze ainé — zis is in English I think, ze “eldest”. Pierre has nine years.
So, ze three young garcons are walkeen down ze street, and le petit Jean, he is liking to peep in ze windows as zey pass by. And at one window, he look in and zen shout to his brozzers: “Ey, Louis, Pierre, come look!! Ze lady and gentleman, zey are fighteen.”
Alors, Louis look also in ze window, and he say, “Jean, you are still a bebé, and per’aps not even French; zis lady and gentleman, zey are not fighteen, zey are makeen love.”
So, Pierre – he has nine years – he peep in ze window also, zen turn to Jean et Louis, and say wiz utter Gallic scorn, “And very badly, too”
**************************************************************
Now, we ‘ave skip 70 years to see again Jean, Louis, et Pierre, who are now debonair boulevardiers of long standing . And when we find zem at the Café Royale, zey are discussing savoir-faire.
“Oh”, says Jean (he is, souvenez-vous, the youngest brozzer), “Oh,” he says, “I have not for nozzing spent 73 years as a Frenchman: of course I know what is savoire-faire. It is when you come home, find your wife in bed wiz anozzer man, and you say, ‘Oh, pardonnez-moi!”
“Ahh, Jean, mon p’tit frangin,” replied Louis, “‘ave you learned nozzing whatever since that day so long
ago when you sought ze lady and gentleman were fighteen?? Once more, you are incorrect; allow me.”
“Savoire-faire,” Louis said, “is when you come home and find your wife in bed wiz anozzer man, and you say ‘Oh pardonnez-moi, please continue.’
“Helas, mes frères,” says Pierre, “I fear our papa et maman must have adopted you two in Belgique; surely you cannot truly be French. So I shall explain to you yet again:
“Savoir-faire is when you come home and find your wife in bed wiz anozzer man, and you say ‘Oh, excuse me, please continue – and he continues …
zen he has savoire faire.
One of the most important days of the year is coming up soon, but enough about Amanda Bynes’ birthday. In a couple of days it will be April Fools Day, and many of you will either be looking for ideas for the next great prank or for protection from the next great prank. If you’re not, why not? Even such a cool guy as Johnny Depp is said by his co-stars to be fond of a remote-controlled fart machine on April 1. Either way, here’s some inspiration.
The Swiss Spaghetti Harvest
The benchmark April Fools prank. Highly respected British news program Panorama, in 1957, runs a full-length feature on the Swiss spaghetti harvest including “footage” of workers picking spaghetti off trees. The BBC was inundated by callers asking where they could get their own spaghetti tree. Scary thing is, if you ran the same program today, #spaghettitree would be a trending topic on Twitter within the hour. You know it’s true.
“Put stockings over your faces to protect yourselves!”
So said New Zealand radio announcer Phil Shone, solemnly telling morning commuters a huge swarm of wasps was descending and they needed to take precautions to avoid being stung. Anecdotal evidence is that hundreds if not thousands of people arrived at work with stockings dutifully pulled over their faces.
Because New Zealand is populated mostly by sheep, I have this amusing mental picture of a sheep driving a car wearing a stocking over its face, looking for all the world like an armed baaaaandit. Sorry.
The Left-Handed Whopper
In 1998, Burger King (perhaps inspired by a certain Simpsons episode… which I see aired in 1991, making me feel really old) announced the first burger designed for left-handers, with all the ingredients rotated by 180 degrees to make it easier to grasp in the left hand. Once again, people bought a whopper. Or tried to.
What makes it more interesting is the people who came in demanding to buy a RIGHT-HANDED whopper and none of this lefty crap. Yes, really.
The Office
BMW
I don’t know about you, but when I think of wacky pranks, I think of German luxury car-makers. Things like making a satnav that constantly wants to direct you over the border into Poland! Wait, no, that was Jeremy Clarkson.
Anyway, it’s true. BMW take their April Fools pranks very seriously, and run April Fools ads every year all around the world.
A couple of years ago they stuck a Mini Cooper to the wall of a skyscraper in Sydney to back up their April Fools prank of anti-gravity parking. Like I said, they take it seriously.
One of my all-time favorites was in 2006 for a hands-free car, with no wheel, driveable on either side of the road. The UK version of the ad can be found here.
Notice that BMW faithfully keep up the tradition of the joke name in their joke articles: Herr Huhr-Huhr and Uwe Vollervitt indeed.
Late for Work
Ingredients needed:
1 co-worker or subordinate in need of pranking
1 home phone number
Prank:
Simple. Call co-worker at home maybe 45 minutes before they’re meant to get to work, and tell them they’re late for work, where the hell are they? All the better if they have an important meeting or presentation to do first thing.
If they have an iPhone, you can mention that an iPhone alarm bug was reported on the radio this morning and express sympathy that they’ve been screwed by it. This is particularly believable because it has really happened. Twice.
Important! Call back a few minutes later, after they’ve put their underwear on backwards out of panic, to tell them it’s a prank and they can relax. Because you’ll feel horrible if they sped to work and crashed and died, won’t you?
My High School
And finally: my love for April Fools Day began at High School, where we had something of a tradition of pranking the school. One of my favorites was the time we got a well known breakfast radio DJ to call the principal, live on air, to ask about a “breaking sex scandal” involving three of her students. The “three” was the genius touch- when dealing with a person on their guard, it’s that extra bit of hysteria which gets you over the line.
What are your favorite April Fools pranks, whether played by you or played on you?
Now that CBS has taken our advice and officially fired Carlos Estevez, one may wonder what the former bowling shirt connoisseur will do now. Well, I think it’s rather obvious – become King of All Media. That’s right. The Sheen is going to conquer the world one social media empire at a time. For now though, he’s Twitter’s most famous mascot. Fantastic.
As his first act as social networking Emperor he’s placed an ad looking for an intern to help him craft all of his wonderful and now quotable Charlie Sheen Twitterisms. I imagine this job would entail serving him breakfast and then just listening to him ramble on about various large jungle cats filled with demon blood and broccoli and then, you know, typing it into Twitter.
AOL news reports, Sheen wants a “hardworking, self-motivated, creative, resourceful and social media savvy individual to work closely with him to leverage his social network.” Uh, okay. Is that kind of like a young, nubile, newly established porn star who can decipher his code of egomania and narcissistic rant-speak? Because that’s what I think this means. Maybe not. It looks like he’s serious. Well, as serious as someone who has introduced Tiger Blood into our lexicon can be.
Here’s the full ad:
Deadline: March 11th, 2011
Position: Full-Time, Paid
Timeframe: Summer 2011 (8 weeks)Description: Do you have #TigerBlood? Are you all about #Winning? Can you #PlanBetter than anyone else? If so, we want you on #TeamSheen as our social media #TigerBloodIntern!
This unique internship opportunity will allow a hard-working, self-motivated, creative, resourceful and social media savvy individual to work closely with Charlie Sheen in leveraging his social network. The internship will focus on executing a social media strategy that will build on the success Charlie Sheen has attained in setting the Guinness World Record for the fastest time to reach one million followers on Twitter. The #TigerBloodIntern is expected to be proactive, monitor the day-to-day activities on the major social media platforms, prepare for exciting online projects and increase Charlie’s base of followers.You will learn how to promote and develop the social media network of Hollywood’s most trending celebrity.
Judging from the application, there is absolutely no criteria for this position. None at all. You just need to be able to tell Charlie Sheen in 75 characters or less why you want to work for him. Glorious.
Okay, so here’s what I’d like to do.
Let’s all come up with something spectacular to submit! Please put your best “I Wanna Work For Charlie” application submission in the comments. The best one will get a prize. What kind of prize? Well, the kind that doesn’t cost a thing — our undying love, adoration, perhaps a few mellifluous statements about your awesomeness, and superior recognition demonstrated by my most spectacular egg sammich picture.
Also, let me know if you’d like to actually submit your application and see what happens. You could be famous! Or just marginally confused.
*I can’t guarantee the safety of anyone actually pursuing an internship with Charlie Sheen, there may be waivers involved.
Dear Barbie Q:
I just saw a comment on Gawker CT, wherein I got name-checked by someone I’ve largely considered to be an obnoxious troll. (She was addressing the CT community at large.) I have to admit that what she said made sense to me. There is a fine line between enjoyment and addiction, and maybe CT was more of the latter for many of us.
After you read the following quote from Total Package (!!), I would appreciate it if you would share your own thoughts/insights regarding the fine line between enjoyment and addiction. (Does not need to be specifically related to the internet; any life experiences you’d like to share are most welcome.
“You people are all acting like a bunch of low rent, trailer trash tranny hookers who just got their dimebag of black tar heroin taken away from them by their pimp for not turning enough tricks. LISTEN TO YOURSELVES!!! You can’t tell your anus from your mouth cause you are spouting shit out of both of them all day long!!! You are totally addicted to this site!!! (And I dont mean just you Salome Valentine…we all know how many times you’ve tried to pull yourself away.) Why not use this screwup as a final attempt to break free from your addiction. Otherwise if you are willing to stick with Gawker even after this mess you are slaves for life.”
What do you think?
-Salome Valentine
Dear Salome Valentine:
Here’s the problem: You are calling this person a troll, but she is actually a divine sage inspired by the Egyptian Goddess of Truth and Justice, Ma’at. The Goddess is guided by 42 divine principles (http://www.kenseamedia.com/egyptian_gods/maat.htm), including
• I have not spoken scornfully against others
• I have not used fiery words nor stirred up any strife
• I have not been unduly proud nor acted with arrogance.
• I have not been angry without good reason.
If you carefully read the message, you can see the signs of divine inspiration. They include multiple punctuation marks within a single sentence, capitalization for the purpose of divine guidance, vehemence in inverse proportion to provocation, and ire concerning matters that are utterly extraneous to the message’s composer’s interests.
The appropriate way to handle this is to contact the sage and ask for divine guidance. Clearly, the sage is spending her time on worthy and just causes. Where would we be if she was not targeting commenters and attacking them so that they will be worried into to happiness and harmony?
Don’t be embarrassed, you’ve made a common error. If you feel the need to apologize to the goddess, an animal sacrifice may be in order. I suggest a jackal. Or possibly, a hamster.
Here are a couple of YouTube channels of fun videos to help sooth your Gawker-frayed nerves.
Sleep well Crasstalk Bunnehs.