June 27, 2009

(as a gift)

Sorry for no blog yesterday. i had a migraine for 65% of my drive to Maine. here's a selfportrait to make up for my oversight. its called 'you cant spell migraine without maine.' hopefully i'll get a chance to take pictures of all the funny signs i saw on the way up on the way down. rolo tony brown town.

June 24, 2009


Two weekends ago, Facebook decided to allow registration for subdomains. Unlike the 200,000 people that immediately logged in at midnight to take advantage of the service, I hesitated. It took months just to come up with Beauty and the RoBeast, so I knew it could take time to come up with something snazzy. A few days into Snatchfest 2009, I started getting anxious, so I did some preliminary brainstorming. Facebook only suggested boring variations on my name and most of the obviously offensive stuff was gone already. I threatened to steal a friend's name in protest, but even that move was old news by the time I considered it. I needed to enter the universe of the absurd.

Here is a short, exciting list of subdomains that are still available (as of 6/25):


No such luck on /saddamhussein, /feliznavidad, or /facebookdotcomslash. I was especially disappointed about the last one not being available, not because someone else grabbed it, but because it seems that Facebook simply prohibits it. I loved saying it out loud, and still craved something similarly meta, so I abbreviated it to /faceslash. It's postmodern, catchy, and violent! I quickly registered on Facebook, and then immediately finger-ran (I need to work on this one) to Urban Dictionary to lay claim to this new definition for faceslash. Amazingly, Urban Dictionary approved it in just one hour! I think this may turn out to be way cooler in my imagination, but I'm still going to pretend that this term catches on fire and I soon see this headline on the cover of Newsweek:


Far Awesome Show, Great Job

Far, a band I'm a big fan of, reunited recently for a small tour. The reunion was so productive that they went into the studio to record an album--their first in ten years. They've been twittering nonstop since getting together for the recording, and it's been exciting to witness. For one track on the new album, they've decided to solicit assistance from the Internets:
The Scream-A-Long Project
posted by Jonah

So, there's this particularly rockin tune on the new record that we're workin on, and we want it to have some great, big, fun scream-a-longs. Here's how you can be part of it in 4 easy steps:

1. Watch the intro video here: http://thebandfar.com/media/videos/309/456
2. Record the audio and/or video of you (and your friends and family) screaming along
3. Post the recording anywhere you like (YouTube, Facebook, etc)
4. Send the link (not the file) to us in any number of ways:
- Post it in a comment right down there.
- Post it as a comment at http://myspace.com/thebandfar
- Post it as a comment at http://www.facebook.com/pages/far/72115108498?ref=mf

Don't worry about being pro or having it be high quality or whatever, it's not about that. Just scream along with me on the video, with all your might. We'll gather everything, regardless of quality, and put it into the track. Then, when the album comes out, the most far-reaching, diverse, punk-rock DIY choir EVER will be on it.

Thanks for being a part of all this,

ps - Our drummer/lawyer Chris says to say,
"Legal: By participating in "The Scream-A-Long Project", you are agreeing to far's unfettered use of the content submitted by you for any and all purposes far so chooses and waive any and all interest, right, and claim to same."
That all just means no one's makin millions or having their star turn, you're just doin it for fun and do be part of a cool idea. Cool? Yes.
This idea seems to be a digital extension of an experiment that singer Jonah Matranga tried several years ago for one of his solo albums. At three different shows, he recorded the audience singing along to a never-before-heard track ("Over It"), then went home and blended all the vocals (along with recordings of family members singing along) for the finished studio version. I participated in the audience recording from the Hoboken, NJ show, and it's pretty awesome to hear the track and feel that I contributed something to it. Even if I'm only one of a hundred voices, I still get a tingle in my dingle. I imagine that with this Far track, they're definitely going to raise the bar and try to one-up the first experiment somehow. Should be awesome.

June 23, 2009

Under the Digital Bridge, Down by the Sea

I was walking past a conference room today
and noticed that someone's bikini top had been removed...

I caught the skinny dippers on another floor.
What large cajones they had!

They weren't the only ones swimming though...

See you in 9 months, Siamese Twins!

June 22, 2009


Not A Camper

This weekend we went out to Krause Springs with my infant daughter (a long post on motherhood is brewing within me). We were only out there for 4 hours. My friends who are much more ambitious than I am camped out with their baby. I was tired and hot and bug-bitten after only 4 hours; they had been there 2 days and overnight. Some people are campers, and some people are, emphatically, not. I am one of the nots. I am not a camper. I have been camping numerous times. I have been to Burning Man which is extreme hardship/luxury camping. I am NOT a camper. Last night I examined the reasons why from the sweet-smelling safety of my cashmere pillowtop, memory foam bed. Yes, I am a Princess.

Sure, the human race was nomadic and everyone lived in tents for millyuns and millyuns of years. Camping was THE way of the world, and obviously that shit got tiresome because the heighth of civilization is having a house and hot running water. Almost every civilization on Earth has said fuck camping as a way of life, I would like to live in a structure that keeps bugs out and allows me to accumulate more stuff than I can carry on my back. I don't understand what's so nostalgic about getting back to nature. Nature is full of things that sting and bite, and ALL of them find my bloodtype to be particularly delicious. I am certain that somewhere back in prehistory my DNA's prime progenitor said, "FUCK THIS CAMPING SHIT."

The way I see it we could easily revert to our nomadic ways. Someone fires a missile at someone and nuclear war ensues, cities crumble, the world becomes some terrible version of a Mad Max movie, and bam, we are right back to camping. I for one would like to enjoy every single moment of the luxury of having hot running water, air conditioning, and comfy beds before the apocalypse comes and I am forced to camp, forever. Because, if I have to camp and there is no alternative, fine, I will do so and not complain. But, if there is no need for the camping, and this is just roughing it out of some perverse sense of fun or collective social guilt, then fuck that noise. I'd rather not have to make a huge mess, drag all of my shit somewhere lumpy and uncomfortable, pack all of my trash out, and dig a hole in the woods with a shovel everytime I have to shit. Then drag all that crap home and wash it. This is not convenient for me. This is making a hobby out of inconvenience. Have you ever had to do a crevice check for ticks on LSD? No? Then, shut up about the glories of getting back to nature because I am scarred for life. I think people who enjoy camping are masochists. I would like to say that going outside is my personal religion. It is a reverent and sacred experience that should be done sparingly and with full respect towards the things that live outside because we no longer do and are just visiting. Visiting. Briefly.

I, personally, consider a vacation to be an event filled with sybaritic luxuries I cannot afford on a daily basis not an event filled with uncomfortable inconveniences that I could quite easily avoid. This is not the definition of a vacation to me. Vacations to me are sitting in a tropical location on a beach while lovely young men bring me fruity rum drinks and massage my glisteningly oiled form. That is my idea of heaven. Besides, the best part about camping is the shower afterwards. Think about that shower. You've been camping for days and feel gross from head-to-toe. You are finally home and take the most exhilarating and refreshing cleansing period of your life in a hot, steamy celebration of man's finest achievement, running water. Throw in some Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap, and I might just have an orgasm thinking about it. Anyone who has been to Burning Man, where you are camping in an alkaline lakebed of a desert for DAYS with the dust and the sweat and the general party nastiness and the sex crust (I personally refuse to break the bio armor and engage in sexual activity at Burning Man), will tell you that the shower afterwards is a little slice of heaven. After 4 times of going for the sake of art, community, expanded consciousness and heavy drug use, I have spent thousands of dollars. Airline tickets to get out to the Nevada desert, rental cars, gas money, tickets to the event itself run you about $500 for two, food, water, costumes, illicit drugs, alcohol, gifting, that is thousands of dollars for the sake of what is one damn refreshing shower. I may not remember everything that happened out in the desert, but I always remember the shower afterwards because no matter where it is, in the seediest motel or the ritziest casino, it is hands down one of the better showers of your life. I have decided that I can save myself a lot of time, aggravation, and money and just enjoy every shower here at home to its hedonistic fullest. Clean, hot, running water is a privilege not a right, people. One day we may be doing without such luxuries, and on that day I will look back fondly and have the experience of every tantalizingly terrific bubble bath and shower to remember like sweet, sweet pornography as I fight the irradiated mutants for cans of dog food and gasoline.

June 21, 2009

June 19, 2009

More Porn @ Work

I had in a meeting in one of my building's seventeen hundred thousand conference rooms the other day and spent most of the time staring at a mural on the wall. It's basically an homage to the Candyland game board, but filled with corporate speak and doodles. You could say the mural was Inc.'ed up, but then you'd deserve to be shot. Shot in the V by a three-balled woodcock...

I guess I should expect unintentional porn to pop up occasionally in my workplace. I mean, our other New Jersey office has a conference room called Chocolate Circle. "Oh no, I left my giant deck in the Chocolate Circle!"

Earlier today I was doing some maintenance on one of our Video Conference systems and discovered this under the unit:

No joke! It's autographed to "Chris." I wonder if "Chris" is the same person as "Mr. Porn Star." I guess we'd have to ask St. Pauli Girl Spokesmodel Stacy Fusion. I decided to put the photo exactly where I found it, so if any co-workers are reading this, enjoy the scavenger hunt!

And Keep Drinking St. Pauli!

June 18, 2009

Anniversary of an Interesting Event

So you weren't impressed by yesterday's anniversary? Turns out there are a few other important dates coming up to mark on your calendarias. The RoBeastress' birthday is coming up soon, for instance. It's on the same day as the United States' Independence Day. A few weeks ago I went to Target and purchased a corny patriotic outfit to wear for the occasion, but I now wish that I had held out for a "God Bless the USA - I Love My Country" T-Shirt, symbolically priced at $7.04 (on sale until 7/4).

When I opened up the newspaper this morning, I saw that A&W Restaurant is celebrating its 90th anniversary this year. To commemorate the event, they are offering up Papa Burgers for the special price of 90 cents on Father's Day. I've never been to one of these restaurants because Stewart's Restaurants are closer, but that A&W burger looks purdy tasty even in B&W.

Not to be out-done, out-burgered, or out-anniversary priced, I heard on the radio that White Castle is having a similar birthday tie-in. The White Castle Slider is apparently celebrating its 88th year of meathood this year. For the next few weeks you'll find on the menu 88-cent Double Cheeseburgers or a 10-pack of regulars sliders for $4.88. You can also bypass the whole payment all together and get a free slider with this coupon. I've already used up my allotted single-trip to White Castle this year, so I'll be forking over the extra penny in 2010.

Another American favorite celebrating a milestone is Starbucks' 13-shot venti soy hazelnut vanilla cinnamon white mocha with extra white mocha and caramel. It turns 1376 years old this year and can be purchased at participating locations for only $13.76. Puke one up today!

June 16, 2009

Droppin' A Bomb

As an occasional rock vocalist with a horrible singing technique, I often find surrounded by Halls Cough Drops fairly often. I know it's no substitute for proper training, but you can catch more flies with honey than you can with voice lessons, a wise person never said. Here's something I recently discovered on the website of my favorite honey flavored Cough Droppy Drops...

Honey-Lemon Halls
Active Ingredient: Menthol 9.1 mg
Inactive Ingredients: eucalyptus oil, beta carotene, flavors, glucose syrup, honey, soy lecithin, sucralose, sucrose, water

Honey-Lemon Halls Plus
Active Ingredient: Menthol 10 mg
Inactive Ingredients: beta carotene, carrageenan, flavors, glucose syrup, glycerin, honey, partially hydrogenated cottonseed oil, pectin, soy lecithin, sucrose, water

Harvest Peach with Soothing Honey Center Halls Natural
Active Ingredient: Menthol 2.5 mg
Inactive Ingredients: beta carotene, citric acid, cottonseed oil, flavors, ginger, glucose syrup, glycerin, honey, lemon grass, MCT oil, sage, soy lecithin, sucrose, water, white thyme

Mountain Berry with Soothing Honey Center Halls Natural
Active Ingredient: Menthol 2.5 mg
Inactive Ingredients: citric acid, cottonseed oil, elderberry juice, flavors, ginger, glucose syrup, glycerin, honey, lemon grass, MCT oil, sage, soy lecithin, sucrose, water, white thyme

Honey-Lemon Chamomile Halls Natural
Active Ingredient: Menthol 2.5 mg
Inactive Ingredients: citric acid, flavors, ginger, glucose syrup, honey, lemon grass, sage, sucrose, tea extract, water, white thyme

Honey-Lemon Sugar Free Halls
Active Ingredient: Menthol 7.6 mg
Inactive Ingredients: acesulfame potassium, aspartame, beta carotene, flavors, isomalt, sodium carboxymethylcellulose, soy lecithin, water

Honey-Berry Sugar Free Halls
Active Ingredient: Menthol 2.5 mg
Inactive Ingredients: acesulfame potassium, aspartame, beta carotene, FD&C blue 1, FD&C red 40, flavors, isomalt, soy lecithin, water

That's right... the ingredients for Sugar Free Halls don't actually list honey (they also don't list lemon or any berry either, but that's for someone else to complain about). It's not just an oversight on the website because I looked on the packages too. No honey anywhere except in the name and picture on the front. It's possible that a "honey flavor" is contained in the "flavors" listing. I don't know for sure, I haven't written a letter yet.

I am not upset because there are plenty of Halls alternatives that still do contain honey. I tend to choose sugar-free items over regular ones when given the option, but my desire for honey in this case is even greater than my desire to avoid a dozen or so calories. Yes, I know that honey is mostly made of sugars and "sugar-free" is obviously not, but I never put that all together until I flipped the bag over and really looked at the package. I don't believe that I'm the only person on Earth to fall for it though. To minimize future confusion, I think Halls should redesign the package with a picture of sodium carboxymethylcellulose dripping off a wooden stick.


June 15, 2009

Facial Matter

The RoBeastress and I made a quick stop at the Super Food Town in my hometown of Bayville, NJ last night. My latest grossacea flare-up coupled with a day out in the hot sun left me with a lot of dry skin that needed to be taken care of (shinfo), so we hit the skin care aisle hard.

The first thing the RoBeastress picked up was a battery-powered massager by Dove:It stood out from the crowd because it was obviously a giant vibrator that begged "Try Me!" I responded by pulling the unusually designed Le Scrub off the shelf.

You see, the top is shaped for use as a "handy sponge holder." Here, let's me demonstrate:

This Method item is meant to scrub your sink and shower as well as clean your pipes. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to do a damn thing for my face, so I tossed it back with the other promiscuous bottles.

To be honest, I don't even remember what cosmetic cocktail we did end up purchasing for my poor pore pour. It either didn't have "facial" in the name or couldn't take the place of our genitals. For your health!

June 14, 2009

'Tail between the legs' is not just not an expression. Rory "the Scaredy Cat" Dog at the most terrifying place on Earth: the park.

June 12, 2009

Virgin Smegmastore - Part I don't remember

A dude hordes a stack of discounted vinyl while a pimp takes a rest outside. For the last 3 days of the Virgin Apocalypse, the animals are on both sides of the glass.

June 11, 2009

Uncouth in Advertising

Dear Editor:

The Holocaust Museum shooting article sharing the front page with the Progressive "smoking gun" advertisement was not exactly in the best taste. I understand you have an obligation to your advertisers, but the timing could not be worse. This nonchalance towards gun violence just contributes to our desensitization to it.

You probably can't tell from the shitty compressed Verizon Pix Place photo I uploaded of today's USA Today front page, but the Progressive Insurance ad at the bottom features "Flo the Insurance Girl" blowing on a smoking price-scanner (here's a larger crappy snapshot of the front page).

I'm not usually one to get butthurt at dark humor, but seeing that image alongside (I admit "alongside" is an exaggeration which is why I didn't put it in the letter) an article about a high-profile shooting compelled me to pick up my Penis Mightier Sword. I don't know what it is--my anti-advertising attitude, my outrage over this violent act by an idiot Holocaust-denier, my frustration with USA Today's writing, my desire for published-letter fame, or my obsession with constantly biting the hand that feeds me (or in this case, biting the hand that I read with while I feed myself breakfast). Had this combo been in The Onion or Wonder Showzen or Buddyhead or any other wicked-satire media outlet I feel like plugging today, I may have chuckled at the juxtaposition. But USA Today has a different audience in a different mindframe. To let it slip through the cracks just seems wrong. Does that make me a hyprocrite? I don't know yet. "Back for 'Blood'" is also not the most tactful headline at the top right either, considering the gunman was once convicted of entering a building where he also threatened people at gunpoint, but I think you'd have to know more about the story to draw that parallel. I'll just concentrate on the ad since it's all I ever complain about.

I feel like timing is everything and context is just as important, so it's my duty to call them out, whether it was intentional or not. Progressive's ad agency took a risk making an ad with a light gun motif (Pulitzer Prize me again) and then took another risk submitting it to a national newspaper without knowing what news headlines would appear on the day the ad was published. In this case and on this day, they gambled and lost. It's always funny until someone loses an eye or publishes an ad for blinds in a Braille magazine, and today, I'm not laughing. USA Today could have buried the ad on a different page, or at least delayed it a day. Maybe the editorial team met and decided it was an acceptable risk. Maybe they didn't even notice the implications and I'm the insane oversensitive one here, but that's why they solicit letters to the editor, isn't it? Either way, I'm sure they have a policy in place to ensure maximum political correctness for the newspaper. I'm just curious about how today's page made it past the filter.

To make a long story short, I am obviously disgusted by the violent act at the Holocaust Museum yesterday, but I'm not condemning the advertisement nor am I boycotting the paper. I am just pointing out a simple unfortunate coincidence. (And then piggybacking it with a complex about the causes of violence with a thinly veiled pro-gun control agenda. Tee-hee!)

June 10, 2009

The Bissell Vagina™

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You would swear it had teeth!

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June 9, 2009

The Equivocal Equivalent of an Equivalency Test.

I recently read an article announcing Paul McCartney's upcoming gigs at the newly built Shea Stadium. I can't stop thinking about the news item, not because I'm interested in baseball, or Two-Thousand Late McCartney, but because of the awkward quote found deep in the article:
"For the Mets organization to land McCartney as its inaugural entertainer is 'the musical equivalent of a grand-slam home run in the bottom of the ninth with bases loaded,' says Randy Phillips, president and CEO of AEG Live, which is promoting the concerts."
I see this cliche fantasy scenario brought up fairly often but here in particular, it just doesn't seem to fit. Let's jump in and tear it up.

While I'm not a baseball fan, I know what it means to be playing in the bottom of the ninth. It suggests that:
  • You are playing for the home team.
  • You are not winning.
Granted, you may not necessarily be losing (if it's a tie score), but the fact remains--you didn't score enough runs against the away team in the last eight innings for the game to be over by the end of the top of the ninth. Either way, you haven't been so impressive.

Now it's your last chance to win and you've got the bases loaded. You get a grand slam and score four runs. Great job! Unfortunately, I don't know what the exact score of the game was before, so it's entirely possible that you are still losing the game. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt (just this once) and assume that your intention is to describe a "come from behind victory" to end the game.

But isn't this the inaugural concert of the new Shea Stadium? Wouldn't this just be the musical equivalent of a first inning scoring opportunity? Chances are, a first inning grand slam it would probably give you the early lead in the game--a tactical and psychological advantage. Maybe it wouldn't be as dramatic as a grand slam in the last inning, but four runs are four runs, you know?

Billy Joel playing the final concert at the old Shea Stadium... now that's sounds more a bottom of the ninth inning with loaded bases (ok, technically it sounds like torture to me). Paul McCartney joining him on stage for a few tunes... there's the musical equivalent of a grand slam. This grand opening of the stadium should really be considered a new game really. A new game in the following season even.

Before I "Let it Be," let's "Get Back" to the original quote because "I've Got a Feeling" there's more than meets the eye. I don't think Randy Phillips is really talking about the Mets organization or Paul McCartney wielding the bat for this hypothetical grand slam. I think he's talking about his own company, AEG Live. "To land McCartney" for a concert may be a big deal in the promotions world, but to compare it to a "come from behind victory" is unnecessary unless:
  • You are not winning.
AEG Live is described on their own webpage as "the second largest concert promotion, special event and touring company in the world." Did you see that? Second! They are the ones preoccupied with catching up. They are the ones who need to sell the drama. They are the ones who are looking to hit the ball out of the park.

Oh, by the way... Shea Stadium is the park, Paul McCartney is the ball, and I won't be cheering unless he plays this version of "Yesterday"...

Fuck you VH1, I retract my earlier praise

Dear Vh1,

Remember when we had that little chat about Rock of Love 2 and how you actually had a pro-woman stance (for once) and didn't totally shit the bed? No? Let me refresh your memory. Obviously, that whole thing was a fluke. Let's sit down and talk about your issues as expressed through Rock of Love 3 aka Rock of Love: Bus. Don't worry, that annoying brush of rationality you had? Totally gone. You have so thoroughly shit the bed that there is no saving it. Burn the bed. Kill it with fire like Farrah Fawcett did in that movie from 1984...The Burning Bed. Jump the shark. Jump it right over Brett Michael's giant bewigged and bedazzled fivehead.

This season of Rock of Love: Bus, or ROLB as I will hereafter refer to it, was terrible and more unforgivably awful than that, it was borrring. Truly, the veneer wore pretty thin this season with the girls barely capable of remembering Brett's real name through their extended tequila haze (I'm looking at you Marcia). The girls themselves were hardly worth remembering either. I watched the entire season, and during the reunion show, I kept asking myself, "Who the fuck is this girl? Did she ever speak? What's her name? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"

Let me break it down for you. This season Brett, who literally makes me cringe and avert my eyes every time he openmouth kisses some poor girl and jams his tongue down her throat, has decided that the best way to find a woman who can hang with his lifestyle is to take the most vapid collection of strippers, porn stars, hoebags, and alcoholics on the road with him. Because the road is his home and crazy shit happens on the road and he is the road and blah blah blah stds, bandannas, and guyliner. Blech. Blech. Blech.

There are so many skanks that Brett needs two tour buses to contain them and all of their "baggage" while he resides on his own tour bus. I'd like to see this season's carbon footprint on paper, and yet, I am waayyyy to lazy to work it out. Rest assured ROLB is as poisonous to the environment as it is to cable TV. Rock of Love: Bus, this season everyone loses even the environment; no, make that especially the environment. Left to their own devices, the women breakdown along blonde and brunette lines. Blondes in the pink bus; brunettes in the blue bus. Amusingly hateful whores in the pink bus; boringly buxom bimbos in the blue bus. PS. I am so glad that this show is not in smell-o-vision because I am fairly certain that these girls do not know the most important rule of the tour bus and that is: never, ever shit on the bus. I can only imagine the enticing melange of cheetos, barf, and smelly party dumps that infused these buses with a certain eau de skankette that was almost visible through my television set. I swear I saw those little wavy cartoon stink lines manifesting themselves from the footage. teh horrors.

Come take my hand, let us walk down memory lane as we salute some of the more memorable ladies of this season. First and foremost, let us speak of DJ Ladytribe. A faker construct of womanhood does not exist anywhere. Yes, she was the standard: platinum hair bleached to within an inch of its life, fake tits, and duck-billed platypus lips, but DJ Ladytribe was special. Special in an overly medicated and not too bright but thoroughly fantastic way. Nikki, her real name, takes it upon herself to inform the world that she got her fake tits to make it harder for her to make graffiti art, thus keeping herself out of jail. Genius! Truly, an awe-inspiring logic chain. She proceeds to write Brett a love poem on the back of STD informational pamphlets she picked up at the free clinic.

Let's give it to Nikki, I have never seen a better attempt at truth in advertising than watching her rap her love for Brett off of, what is clearly, CLEARLY, the back of a herpes fact sheet. This is not her only claim to fame though. Oh no, she will forever be known as the girl who did a shot out of another girl's cooch. Slobberingly hot mess Gia, a blondetourage founding member, is the lucky girl who lends her chocha for the twat shot, a buttery nipple in a test tube. I can't write shit this poignant people. No, teh horrors, they write themselves. Sadly, neither DJ Ladytribe nor Gia made it past the first few episodes. Surely, if they had stayed, this season would have been more interesting, but alas, it was not to be.

I briefly touched on the glory that is Marcia above. Brazilian bombshell with a penchant for tequila, Marcia started drinking every day at about 9am and was so thoroughly trashed she was vomiting by the time Brett came around, but props to Marcia she would boot and then kiss Brett, who never met a drunk, pukey girl he didn't want to make out with. HOT! Obviously, she was drinking to kill the pain of being on this show. Marcia liked to talk directly to her dear friend, the tequila bottle, "You're going down!" In her exit interview, she blithely admitted to never having a sober, non-blacked out conversation with Chad wait I mean Brett. Or was his name Chad? If his name wasn't Jose Cuervo, Marcia wasn't interested.

And then, there was the Blondetourage aka Ashley and Farrah. Yes, they were strippers. Yes, they had bleached blonde hair, MONSTROUS fake tits, hideous fake tans and pounds of makeup, but I swear to you they were the best thing on the show this season. They were just so mean to everyone else in an amusingly charming way. The other girls sucked so hard this year that you really wanted someone to pick on them and maybe stir a little life into the blowup dolls. They did seem to actually enjoy kissing Brett (ptui), but they also seemed to enjoy showering together and kissing each other too, so maybe they were just horny and drunk the whole time. There were so many special moments like the time they showed up so trashed to elimination that they could barely walk or the way they threw frozen Lean Cuisines into other girl's faces. Sad times followed when they were each eliminated because the girls left behind were so dulllll, girls that talked about cereal and crimping each other's hair for hours. It was like being at the most boring sleepover in the world with the threat of a pervy uncle with a weave crashing it at any time. Even Brett was bored. Brett actually had to stop halfway through the season and bring three more random girls he picked up...where? Did he find them at a truck stop? Or by the side of the road? Who knows, but since most of the other girls seemed more interested in getting drunk and kissing on each other; he had to add skanks midstream. Poor Brett, but don't feel too sorry for 'ole Brett because he consistently eliminated every girl who had any sort of personality at all until he had retained the 3 dullest women on the planet.

In the end, it came down to the FINAL 3: Methface Starfucker (I never did catch her real name), down home country girl Mindy, and 40-yr old Penthouse Pet Robot Taya. If Taya was 29, then I am the Queen of motherfucking England. The last few episodes were so awkward, just Brett and these girls sitting around staring at each other. NO conversation. No spark, no fire, no pizzazz. Just palpable boredom. You know it's pretty bad when Brett has to try to make chitchat at the group dinner and falls so flat he has to threaten them with group expulsion in an attempt to pump some life into these women, and it STILL doesn't work.

In the end, it came down to two equally tedious but different female archetypes. The folksy Betty-type, a genuine enough bimbette with a twangy accent, vs. the arm candy Veronica, a constantly self-promoting Penthouse robot. The preceding season we watched Brett choose an actual independent woman, and we were shocked. What a positive message to send to the burgeoning baby whores of the world, that an actual woman with her own successful job, real boobs, and a brain was someone to emulate and strive to be. Obviously, such a positive message was an utter fluke. The dual message of ROLB this year was a) if you have even a tiny bit of personality, a spark, a bit of gumption that makes you interesting, then you better get the fuck off the bus, quick. You should strive to be dull, unthreatening, shallow window dressing that doesn't get into "funks" (emotions are such a turn-off). Therein lies your path to glory. b) The ideal woman is an unfeeling automaton that shows her vagina to the masses for a living, so get out there girls: turn off your emotions, shuck your clothes, and shill, shill, shill. Be not a woman but a marketing machine because every man wants the perfect trophy wife with fake tits and dead eyes, the accessory that contrasts but does not outshine his bedazzled bandana. Remember ladies, the one who sells herself the most wins the STD-infested bloaty rocker with dia-beetus. Dreams can come true. It can happen to you!

*shiver* *gags* During the course of writing this blog post, I found the following picture which eloquently sums up this whole boring season. In fact, forget everything I wrote. Just look at this picture (via FuzzyCo) .

June 7, 2009


The RoBeastress and I went to Foxwoods Resort Casino in Connecticut a couple weeks ago to see Penn & Teller. The next morning we got some lunch at Panera Bread. This is what I chose from the menu:

I must admit, the sandwich was good and I couldn't even taste the hyphens. Next time I'm going to try the high-quality home-style hand-tossed freshly-baked fat-free oven-roasted hard-boiled vine-ripened skin-on sun-dried cinnamon-sugar pepper-mustard at the Bakery-Cafe. Mmm-Bop!

June 6, 2009

Walking to the Jersey Shore from Manhattan

On my way to the Union Square Virgin Smegmastore today (which is now has DVD and CD discounts set at 50%), I spotted this brand new addition to Broadway & West 12th St.:

Inside, they had brochures and Exit 63 stickers and actual sand, paid for by the New Jersey Division of Travel and Tourism. I'm not sure if this was an effort to remind New Yorkers to include the Shore in their Summer plans, or some sort of Benny Internment Program (BIP, for short). I didn't go past the doors because I was afraid they would mistake me for a genuine NYer, tackle me, and tag me with a tracking device, so I just took a photo from the sidewalk. The RoBeastress (an actual Benny), was nearly captured.

For those of us that religiously follow The North/South Jersey Debate Blog, this is big news. The discovery of a Jersey Shore in New York City now extends "The Shore's" border far North, and gives greatly expands "South Jersey." This diagram reflects The New New Jersey Shore (its coordinates being Jersey Shore, PA; The Jersey Shore Store, NYC; and Cape May, NJ).

Mind=Blown. You'll never BIP me!

June 5, 2009

One Friday on Netflix

One Day in September - Tag im September, Ein (1999) R

In 1972, eight Palestinian terrorists interrupted the Munich Olympics by taking 11 Israeli athletes hostage. Besides footage taken at the time, we see interviews with surviving terrorist Jamal Al Gashey and various officials detailing how the German police, lacking an antiterrorist squad and turning down help from the Israelis, botched the rescue operation. Michael Douglas narrates this fascinating documentary.

Two Days in April (2006) NR

Four pro-bound college football players go for gridiron glory in this behind-the-scenes look at the NFL draft. Follow the intense training and all the nerve-wracking emotions that accompany the four young men on their journey to draft day, when their million-dollar dreams are intercepted by reality. Peeking into the secretive, fiercely competitive, often brutal process of creating NFL players, this documentary hits as hard as the athletes it depicts.

Two Days in October: American Experience (2005) NR

In October 1967, a U.S. regiment walked into a Vietcong ambush that killed 61 soldiers -- and raised doubts about whether the war was winnable. Meanwhile, University of Wisconsin students were protesting the presence of Dow Chemical recruiters on campus; the demonstration soon spun out of control, marking the first time a protest became violent. Told by those who took part in the events, the film offers a window into a defining American moment.

A Few Days in September - Quelques jours en septembre (2006) NR

On Sept. 1, 2001, 10 days before the events that shook the world, CIA agent Elliott (Nick Nolte) disappears. With the help of Elliott's son David (Tom Riley), French agent Irène Montano (Juliette Binoche) scours Venice and Paris to find him, with a bizarre, poetry-reading assassin (John Turturro) on their trail. The clock ticks toward the fateful day, as the information Elliott holds threatens to keep him hidden permanently.

Four Days in July(1985) NR

Indie director Mike Leigh chronicles two Belfast couples who exist on opposite sides of a fissure that defines nearly everything in the lives of the people of Northern Ireland. Catholics Collette (Brid Brennan) and Eugene (Des McAleer) and Protestants Lorraine (Paula Hamilton) and Billy (Charles Lawson) prepare for the births of their firstborn in this 1985 character study, which Leigh infuses with his signature offbeat humor.

Four Days in September - O Que É Isso, Companheiro? (1997) R

Based on a true story, this is the moving account of the September, 1969, kidnapping of the American ambassador to Brazil (played by Alan Arkin). A group of young idealists plans the terrorist act -- their only perceived means of voicing their dreams and visions in a military regime. The film delves candidly into their lives and emotions as they begin to question both the depth of their allegiance to the group and the motives of their comrades.

Gumball 3000: 6 Days in May(2004) NR

Some of the most amazing cars ever built race across Spain and head south into Africa in the 6th Annual Gumball 3000 Rally. This film captures the 2004 race, which featured Ferrari Enzos, Hummers, Caterhams, Aston Martins and other rare autos driven by an eccentric mix of skateboard pros, supermodels, Saudi royals and billionaires. The thrills abound as racers evade the law to be the first to cross the finish line at the Cannes Film Festival.

Six Days in June
Six Days
(2007) NR

Using battle footage, interviews with the protagonists, re-creations and recently declassified archives, this PBS presentation tells the story of the six days in June 1967 that forever changed the face of the Middle East. Shot on location in Israel, Palestine, Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Moscow and Washington, the tightly edited film also documents the days leading up to the Arab-Israeli conflict and the evolution of the region in its aftermath.

Seven Days in May(1964) NR

Military aide Kirk Douglas stumbles across a plot by his boss (Burt Lancaster) to overthrow the U.S. president (Fredric March), who has just negotiated a controversial peace treaty. Douglas' dilemma: Follow orders and remain silent, or betray his boss. Director John Frankenheimer demonstrates the same mastery that made The Manchurian Candidate a classic, and Lancaster gives an effective performance in an unsympathetic role.

7 Days in September
(2004) NR

With help from almost 30 filmmakers, director Steven Rosenbaum turns the tragic events of September 11, 2001 -- the memories of which are forever jarred in our psyches -- into a moving portrait of emotion, loss and even kindness. Although the film uses footage of the horrific attacks on the World Trade Center and the resulting catastrophic loss, it also hones in on New York City's tremendous ability to rebuild, through will and compassion.

Speaking of months and Netflix... if you made it this far, and you aren't a Netflix member yet, here's a free 1-month trial offer. Normally the trial period is just two weeks, but this is the RoBeast Bonus. The offer expires on June 15th. Fuck those zealots over at Blockbuster and sign up. If you are already a Netflix nerd like me, add me as a friend and spy on my dirty viewing habits.

June 4, 2009

Invalid Logo Department

I see...

...but I'm thinking:

"EVI Innovations’ new 10 WAVE has been positioned as the tsunami of advanced electric vehicle design."

Really? It's been positioned as a natural disaster with the potential to kill so many innocent humans? Can't wait to surf the wave to that website!

June 3, 2009

Patt Minefield in the Morning

That was going to be the name of the parody Matt Pinfield show I wanted to make while he was on hiatus. We all see how good I am at following through on my ideas though. Speaking of setting myself up for failure, my June Year's Day Resolution is to blog every single day all month. We're doing all right so far.

Let's get back to Matt Pinfield and WRXP and most importantly, how it affects ME! First, a little history. I discovered WRXP about a year ago via a giant billboard while driving through New York City. With my MP3 player not functioning, I was listening to a lot of radio on my commute to and from work, and I was pleased to have Matt Pinfield and Chris Booker entertain me. One day, KROCK turned into a Top 40 station and Matt swooped in like a C.H.U.D.. WRXP stood up and commanded the reigns of NYC rock. My mp3 player was working again, but who cared? Even though I'm not the biggest indie rock fan, it felt awesome to support Matt and the station every morning.

AND THEN.... Matt went to rehab. He was missing a lot of shifts so everyone knew something was up. He announced that May 1st would be his last day for a while. I listened to the station for another week, then I had to pack it in. I am not a fan of his co-host Leslie Fram. I'm sure she's a nice person, but as a radio personality, I can't handle it. Everything about her delivery is too professional and polished. Usually, those qualities would be seen as compliments, but I prefer rough around the edges. I never saw the chemistry between her and Matt Pinfield, whose rambling anecdotes exponentially digressed as he got more passionate about music and current events until Leslie killed everything with the time and temperature. Any time she says something that approaches personal, it seems like a rehearsed note written in the margin of her morning playlist. Like I said, I'm sure she's a nice person and a good program director, but I just could not listen to her every morning without Pinfield's relief.

On afternoon drives, I had a similar problem. WRXP picked up Nik Carter after KROCK changed formats and fired their staff. I wasn't crazy about him when he was over there, and I still didn't like him much at RXP. I catch him talking over the ends of songs all the time. I fucking hate that.

So I stopped listening to the station. The music just wasn't as good to me without Matt Pinfield telling me how much he liked it. If you think I sound like a douchebag for saying that, then wait until you read the next sentence. I started listening to Top 40. A lot of it. I found myself excited whenever I heard the first second of "Poker Face"* for the third time in a day while driving to home base (that was a Pulitzer Prize winning sentence, by the way). The days of looking at Top 40 charts and saying "Who? ft. Who???" were gone. Sure, most of the songs are garbage. Everything these days is a ProTools loop exercise set to a bass drum metronome competing for the catchiest lowest common denominator hook. I think Pitbull's "Calle Ocho" has achieved that honor. There are things I still refuse to sit through (All-American Rejects), but for the most part, when I'm not trying to come up with Weird Al parody versions of these songs,* I am morbidly fascinated by the prevailing trends in today's popular music. Autotune. Shameless lyrical sampling. Ridiculously basic keyboard lines. Interchangeable electropop. Generic love balladry. Birthday sex. I am passed the point of getting angry at this music. I can act like it's beneath me, but it's still bigger than me. When I listen to it, I think a lot. Not just about the production, or the lyrics, but about history, the future, humanity, the music industry, technology, the economy... I want to know who is buying this and why. Do they care about the music? The lyrics? Do they just want to dance? Do they know who created the music? Do they know what the references mean? Will they listen to it 6 months from now? Will they look back in ten years and think it was silly? Will their kids laugh at them? What will their kids listen to? What will they name their kids? Will.i.am? Who will survive and what will become of them? Why does it get my attention but not my money (OK, Kelly Clarkson* got my money).

I had been meaning to write this blog entry weeks ago, when Matt Pinfield's future was still unknown. I decided to finally put the words down because Matt came back to the station today. I listened to the show for a while. It was mostly Elvis Costello songs and clips from an interview with him taped last night. Matt Pinfield sounded a little out of it (dare I say slurry?), but was still asking his trademark leading questions. Elvis Costello was talking about his new album which was recorded in just 3 days, unusual for a rock record. "We listen to records for a half-hour, forty-five minutes... why shouldn't they be recorded in a half-hour, forty-five minutes?" I always complain that pop songs sound like they were written recorded in less time than song lasts and copy-pasted to fill up the rest of the track. I guess I'm mostly curious as to what it is that the divides timeless from disposable. Is it a guitar? An experience? A confession? I didn't come up with the answer, but I got tired of listening to Elvis Costello and put on Kelly Clarkson's "My Wife Would Fuck a Horseshoe" instead.

* Coming up in June: Lady Gaga, Kelly Clarkson, the end of Virgin Megastore, Top 40 Parodies, The Google Interrogation Game, Evil corporations, Speeding Tickets, Pink Floyd, and a lot more if I'm going to blog 30 times this month.

June 2, 2009

Virgin Smegmastore Part VI

It's June and the Virgin Megastore at Union Square store is still open. The discounts at the ever-closing store have gone up to 40%-60%. I didn't actually see anything at 60%, though I can safely assume it's just wallets, posters, and rock and roll mousetraps. Most importantly, DVDs and CDs are at 40% off, which puts their prices on a competitive level with Amazon.

This also means that it's time for me to finally buy things! Most of my wish list has already been depleted by people with less interest in getting things for a decent price, so I didn't walk out with much on my visit last night. I picked up Tim and Eric's Awesome Show, Great Job! Seasons 1 and 2 for the same exact price that they are selling for on Amazon. The TV on DVD section was hit particularly hard, and the Season 1 DVD appeared to be the last copy in stock, so I felt a sense of urgency to grab it. I didn't save any money, but I didn't lose any either. No harm, no foul.

The DVDs are quickly disappearing, so if anyone is still holding out, you'd better hope your items are still in stock. The Criterion Collection is pretty much gone except for a billion copies of The Last Emporer. The Music DVDs are slim pickin's too. I still plan on buying the Sarah Bareilles concert DVD, but every time I go back to the store, there are more and more copies. Last week I counted 31. There are even more this week. TV on DVD is mostly Aqua Teen, CSI, and a shitload of SNL retrospectives.

The rest of the DVD sections are filled with overstocked horror/action movies that no one will buy (Jaws 3, Friday the 13th Part 1, Doom) and cheapo comedy favorites that are tempting to dorks like me (Bad News Bears, Naked Gun, Police Academy 2 & 3). The RoBeastress decided that she didn't care to wait any longer and picked up a recently remastered Real Genius for $6 (technically, I picked it up for her, and she bought me a cheesesteak). I will not deny that $6 is a good price for a DVD, but there are so many of those childhood HBO favorites of mine sitting there that I would enjoy watching again but don't necessarily need in my collection. To buy them all now would be overkill. I'll wait and let natural selection weed out the ones that the DVD gods don't want me to take home.

As for CDs, there are billions remaining, presumably because of the already crappy prices. They busted out a lot of good priced greatest hits packages a couple weeks ago, but for the most part, music is still more expensive than online or at other stores. After much debate, the only thing I bought was the new Kelly Clarkson CD. After discounts, the Deluxe Edition was cheaper than the Amazon version. Sure, maybe I didn't really need the Deluxe Edition, but the regular version was not a better price than on Amazon (unless you count the regular version that I found mislabelled with a cheaper, incorrect price that I didn't bring up to the counter because I'm clearly too ethical for my own good). Plus the Deluxe Edition comes with 2 extra songs. Kelly Clarkson CDs have been hit or miss with me, so the two tracks tacked on at the end could very well be amazing. Anyway, I'll be reviewing that CD soon because I feel it is my duty, so enough (of you laughing at me for buying) Kelly Clarkson for now.

Elsewhere in the store, mannequins are 2-for-$150, corny t-shirts are plentiful, Prince's Batman Soundtrack is $4.20, the Gay/Lesbian Film section has turned into the Redneck Comedy section, and the whole ground floor smells like Nutz-4-Nutz. There were also a couple mentally disturbed people milling about. I guarantee the downstairs floor is going to be completely fucking ransacked this weekend so I'm going to pop in again on Saturday afternoon and witness the carnage. I have no idea if the discounts will go any deeper, but I've got my fingers KrissKrossed.


June 1, 2009

Thanks Tehran Times

PARIS (Agencies) – An Air France plane with 228 passengers on board has gone missing, and the families of the passengers, in response to this sad news, can only hope that their loved ones find a fate similar to the passengers on the plane of the U.S. TV series “The Lost”, who survived and were stranded on an unknown island, where they struggled to stay alive.

It's ridiculous (and offensive) that the headline has already declared "French plane crashes with 228 aboard" without that actually being confirmed anywhere else in the news world, but then to talk about fucking Lost in the lead paragraph? Now That's Infotainment.

E! online also knows how to look on the bright side:

Twitterverses: Celebs Saddened, Nervous About Missing Air France Plane

Like you, Hollywood is holding its breath waiting for news of the missing Air France flight from Rio de Janeiro to Paris.

Some, like Stephanie Pratt, are terrorism theorists: "I really dont think its the result of a lightning strike...Why is my gut thinking it was a terrorist act," she says.

Most, however, are saddened or just plain scared.

"I can't believe what I just read about the Air France plane that's missing," Samantha Ronson writes. "So sad and frightening. my heart goes out to all affected."

Mark Hoppus from Blink-182 says basically the same thing. "Just read the news. Terrible. My thoughts and prayers to everyone involved in the Air France flight loss."

"Say a prayer for Air France Flight 447," Emmy Rossum orders.

Thankfully, Elizabeth Banks, Michael Urie and Denise Richards are in sunnier moods.

Elizabeth Banks had a good time in hell at the movies this weekend. "Saw Drag Me to Hell this weekend. So much fun. I giggled thru the gross parts like a baby boy."

Michael Urie is proud of his Ugly Betty costar. "Congrats to my girl Becki Newton, she won a Glamour UK award, commiedienne of the year!"

Happy birthday to Denise Richards and Charlie Sheen's kiddo! "My daughter Lola turns 4 today," the proud mama writes.

• Soulja Boy, we're not sure you want us to answer your question… "Has anyone of my followers use to not like me and then woke up one day and said 'Hey.. I think i like Soulja Boy'.?"

Tweet Topic: What's up with this June gloom people are whining about in California? Brooke Burke is complaining, as is Emmy Rossum. East Coasters, start your comment engines!

The National in Abu Dhabi, UAE is now reporting "'No hope' for lost airline passengers" in their headline. The "No hope" quote is actually pulled from No Where. Unless you count their own paraphrasing: "The French president, Nicolas Sarkozy, and French aviation sources conceded that there was no hope of finding survivors." Quoting yourself has got to be a party foul in international journalism, no?

Just so it doesn't look like I'm only picking on Middle Easterners and Americans, the UK's Times Online also claims "No hope for 228 passengers..." in their headline. They soften their outlook in the first sentence of the article though: "There is virtually no hope for the 228 people on board a packed Air France jet which went missing over the Atlantic Ocean today, the worst disaster in the airline's history." The article was written by two French correspondents. Maybe those were the "French aviation sources" that The National was citing?

Ok, I think I finally found the source of "No hope." The Telegraph in the UK had the headline "Air France plane lost: officials say 'no hope' of finding airliner." Reported by two correspondents in Sao Paolo, Brazil, their lead is "Officials said they had 'no hope' for Air France Flight 447 which dropped off the radar three hours and less than 200 miles into a flight from Rio de Janeiro to Paris." I am still not satisfied with this "No hope" claim. In subsequent paragraphs, the article quotes "Air France," "sources," and "authorities," but I'm still not seeing a sentence anywhere that has the phrase "No hope" attributed to a human being nor is it linked to a longer sentence. Unless there was a press conference and someone asked "What have you got?" and the spokeperson said "No hope" then I think this reporting is no bueno.