Worth 1002 Words… Effing Gross Edition
Dinty Less
Some alternates:
- Canned Laughter
- Chef Boy-are-deez-teeth?
- The Stuff
(Thanks Dave… no not really)
Humor
InASense, Lost… Pillows Reach New Lows
Um…
That’s all I could say after bearing witness to this product:
Gotta hand it to the inventor. Ha!
The Hug Me Pillow may be a sad find that sort of destroys my insides. But this may be sadder:
I kneed this. Ha again!
What has happened to the people that purchase these items? Some ideas:
- They’re so used to being with somebody, and they’re currently going through a rough patch.
- They’re so lonely that anything will do.
- They can’t find anybody because their fond of sleeping with these kinds of pillows. So win-win.
- They’re… um…
We need to introduce these two. But they can't sleep at the same time (competing styles, you see). They'd be like Ladyhawke!
I guess there could be worse pillows out there…
Oh, there's still worse...
Happy Find… Robot Party Because The Humans Are Dead?
In honor, anticipation, and fear of desperate loathing for next week’s release of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, here are some of the film’s stars in what could quite possibly be the best robot song ever…
Vodpod videos no longer available.
more about “Happy Find… Robot Party“, posted with vodpod
Well, maybe that’s the second best. You be the judge.
(There are more tags than words in this post. Hee hee!)
Songs Burned In Our Brains From Grade School (A Musical Musings/My Boss Paul’s Top Five List Joint)
Ah, the good ol’ days. That’s what people say when they reflect upon their youth.
For my boss (and old friend) Paul and I, the good ol’ days in our Catholic grade school happened way before they were our good ol’ days, as evidenced by our textbooks. Most notably: our music class textbooks.
I know, I know… at least we had a music class. Nowadays, all of the arts are disappearing from our schools (for shame!), but that’s not what this post is about.
The fact of the matter was that we had crappy old text books and a music teacher that could barely play the one instrument she claimed to be able to play (the flute). Sure, it was unfortunate that she replaced the single greatest music teacher ever. (He played “Name That Tune” on the piano – and they were always theme songs!) The following list represents the worst of the songs we were taught… four oldies, one newie, and zero goodies.
Top 5 Songs Burned In Our Brains From Grade School
5. Little Boxes – Malvina Reynolds
Paul doesn’t really remember this one, hence it being placed at the bottom spot. I couldn’t forget it, and Weeds wouldn’t let me… until season 4 at least.
4. Du, du liegst mir im Herzen – German folk song
Paul refused to sing this song hence to him being xenophobic; but then again he refused to sing any of the songs. For me – it’s my 99 Luftballons.
3. Shortnin’ Bread – James Whitcome Riley
Paul despised (no, loathed!) this song. I didn’t remember it at first, but then it all came crashing back to me like a repressed memory.
2. God Bless the USA – Lee Greenwood
The only current-ish song on the list was also an exercise in irritation. We had to sing this at a recital, and as everyone knows – recitals blow. What’s worse is that we had to hold up signs that read Detroit when we sang that line. Because we lived in Detroit, oh say can you see.
1. Fender Bender – ?
This song presented a unique situation for us. For virtually nowhere on the TripleDoubleU, could we find ant reference to this song. The only proof that it ever existed arrived via a MySpace Forum. It the thread, a reference is made to the lyrics:
Fender bender, yeah yeah yeah!
The poster recalled the misspoken lyric:
Finger banger, yeah yeah yeah!
Which ceremoniously lead to the diddy being banned (band?) from music class. Thanks, Mack Danger, for the memory backup!
I wish we would have thought of "finger banger"...
In My Brain While Sleeping… Loud Noises, Where-Wolves, And A Bounty Hunter Makes A Correction Regarding His Name
Since this blog is an open book to all my weaknesses, it’s sorta turned into my (NERD ALERT!) Xavier Protocols. Of my weaknesses (vanilla-scented anything falls high on that list), loud noises while I sleep smacks near the top. On the night of these particular dreams, I fell asleep with the television on only to be awakened by a loud lawyer commercial.
Okay, it wasn’t that one, but imagine if the explosions were audible, then you’d get the picture.
Anyambulancechaser, in the first dream, I encountered a new breed of night creatures… the WHERE-WOLVES. How were they different than werewolves? Let me explain with a (NERD ALERT!) toy from the remake reboot whatever second Hulk movie:
You see, in the flick, which I have not seen, the dude on the right mutates into the monster on the left. This toy, called the Hulk Deluxe Mutating Abomination, does not mutate at all. Instead of either really mutating by adding water, or by simply imagining that it happens, the little guy fits into a compartment on the back of the big guy. Dumb? You bet.
Well that’s pretty much how where-wolves worked. Wolves merged with their host humans so both could exist. To recombine, humans hovered over the wolves. Now that you’ve pictured it, moving on…
My other dream involved a (NERD ALERT!) Star Wars character. Growing up, I knew this bounty hunter…
…as Zuckuss and this guy…
…as 4-LOM. But as it turned out, the original Kenner toy line had it wrong in the 80’s, and with the re-releases of the toys in the 90’s, they rectified the problem and named each of them correctly. To me though, Zuckuss will always be 4-LOM and 4-LOM will be Zuckuss. Until I was corrected in a dream. This guy…
…showed up to tell me his name really was Allen.
INGREDIENTS: Turkey and provolone on a bagel and a Mountain Dew. And beer.
It’s Official. I’m Breaking Up With My Laptop.
It’s official. Today the day I’m breaking up with my old laptop. The soon-to-ex was a Sony Vaio VGN-FS8900P. The insurance company supplied the replacement for my stolen PCG-505FX, and ever since our initial meeting, the VGN has kinda sucked.
The biggest problem in our relationship was the mouse pad. Or touch pad. Or whatever it’s called. As I would type, my hand would often tap the squared-off surface reserved for rodent activity, and my cursor would jump to wherever the arrow happened to be. Pain in the asterisk.
But now, I discovered that my new laptop -an HP TouchSmart TX2-1025DX, which already rocked in the first place – has an off switch for the mouse pad. And this mouse pad was never even a problem!
So to bid adieu to the old touchy touch pad, I’m setting up a dating profile for the VGN on WhataCache.com. See if you think I was fair.
First up, the picture. I couldn’t find an actual shot of mine online, and I don’t quite feel like getting up and taking a picture and transferring it to this laptop, so I found this:
A picture of my laptop's cousin that sort of looks similar, like in The Patty Duke Show. If you don't know that show, Google it. Or Bing it. Actually, it's like Google and Bing. (Wow. This is a long comment. I wonder if there's a limit?)
LIKES: A fully charged battery, Windows updates, proper shutdowns.
DISLIKES: Coffee, soda… pretty much any beverage.
TURN OFFS: Dropped wireless network connections.
TURN ONS: Power button, electricity in general.
HOPES: To find true love with someone using an external keyboard and mouse (as not to intermingle with the pad)
Couldn’t Let This One Go
I used this pic in a post a couple days ago, but I don’t think anybody read it (if you did, thank you!). I fear this formula I formulated possibly went unnoticed, so here it is again, this time accompanied by my screaming at the top of my lungs…
NOTICE ME!
After all the above groveling, I don’t find the formula all that humorous anymore. Hmm.
Happy Find… Turbo Heather X-Treme! (R/C Southern Belles)
Well I never!
That’s something Heather might have said if she was a talking doll. Instead, she’s a radio-controlled Southern Belle that’s also available as a six mode blushing bride drifter.
The girls hug her! The boys race her!
And she has a tornado of power under her dress, for Pabst’s sake!
(via Topless Robot)
Awful Battle… Android Creeptacular
Many months back, I wrote a post about the uncanny valley. I’m beginning to think that it’s becoming an uncanny canyon. Japan, the forerunners on creepy, have been working hard to do just that – mess with your mind. The following videos might not make you think of anything more than the Hall of Presidents at Walt Disney World or the Rock-a-Fire Explosion at ShowBiz (seriously… check the Rock-a-Fire out), but remember one thing… when the ride broke down, the pirates didn’t try to eat you! Because they’re attached to the floor, you see.
These androids are designed to be free-roamers.
Awful battle… GO!
Is that kid android wearing a doo rag?
Drunken Recollection… Going For The Goldfish?
I wouldn’t exactly say that I’ve been around the block (although technically, as a child, I rode my bike around the block a ton… I don’t know what I want this metaphor to mean!).
Let me begin instead with this: I’m for all intents and purposes (or is it “intensive purposes?”)…
I’m a bar frequenter. An aficionado of affordable alcohol. If you have drink specials, considered a seat filled. It’s been this way for me for quite awhile, as I haven’t been tied down by much of anything. Tumbling tumbleweed is how I often refer to my life.
So it’s safe to assume I’ve seen a fair amount of oddities in my bar days. I went to New York City to participate in a Snuggie Pub Crawl for Pabst’s sake!
But now I’ve discovered this:
Yup. Goldfish racing. In the bar. For prizes.
- It’s better than swallowing goldfish when drunk. Barely.
Apparently, this is not a new practice either. It (seems to have) started back in Utah, as long ago as 2004 (whooohoooo), and it’s been a subject of controversy since it’s inception. A press release by the Humane Society:
Words, words, words...
There are a few styles practiced. There’s the squirt gun style, as seen in the above video. Some people use straws, and they blow above or below the water, depending on the arena. And of course, some guy in Japan’s turned it into an art form… not unlike NASCAR:
Why do I bring this all up, you ask? As we were leaving one of the bars I frequent, a friend mentioned he saw a sign saying something about goldfish racing. I laughed and thought he was making it up, yet here’s this post.
Now if I can just remember which bar we were at…
monkeyBLOG monkeyDO 
