I’ve already written about the poorly named Magic Bullet once before (or at least I insinuated about its terrible shared moniker), but with the company’s latest product, they botched the name game again:
Why would you put those two words anywhere near each other?
They could have called it the Baby Blender… no that doesn’t work.
How about the Regurgitator? (Now we’re getting close.)
Got it – the Home Baby Food Maker.
I found this a couple of days ago when I was looking for a good picture of Leela from Futurama for this post.
— I have since been unable to shake the image from my head. —
It haunts my every waking hour, especially when I’m in front of a PC, because I’m in front of a PC every waking hour!
Not to mention, there were far worse pictures under Google for “Leela Futurama” if SafeSearch is turned off, but those images remained fleeting (probably because of desensitization).
I want to know what kind of person it takes to make a computer like this.
Scratch that. I never want to know.
For those of you visiting the home page of this blog, I’m sparing you the image by placing it after the jump. For those finding this post via Twitter or Facebook – I’m sorry. Read More
Back when Short Circuit 2 was released on VHS circa 1989, I had a vision. As the movie ended, and Johnny 5 jumped for joy at becoming an American citizen (this did happen), I paused it. I ran to my bedroom closet and dug out my Lego’s. And I built.
For quite some time, this has been my pride and joy (it made my Fact Sheet for sheet’s sake)… a (non-gold plated) Johnny 5 replica:
I felt alive!
But now… now I’ve seen this:
I feel... lowly...
Should I feel bad?
I was fourteen at the time, and I always planned on returning to the project. I wanted to coordinate the colors better; I wanted to draw out the details to replicate the model; I was beginning to write a program in BASIC that would help me document those details.
So yes, I should feel bad. All the coolest things I’ve done in my life were when I was a kid. Before I drank beer. This blog should be proof of that. I think I’m going to go to bed now. Perhaps I’ll have a bit of beer beforehand…
I saw this ad come up on my iPhone when I was looking for… something…
It's a Mexican bread company. They should know bimbo.
And I thought it was bad, until I was told about this ad:
This ad is being accused of a lot of things...
But then this… this… slide happened in Poland…
(SIDENOTE: I really like the version of Bohemian Rhapsody used in the background…)
This book was obviously produced with tongue planted firmly in the toilet:
But I don't wanna... there's tigers...
But I think the best part is this unembeddable video (at least for WordPress) featuring Samuel L. Jackson reading it. Totally worth checking out.
Also totally worth checking out is this song by Is Tropical called The Greeks featuring kids destroying other kids in the style of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? It’s probably more fun/questionable than the above book:
I’ve never denied my penchant to be immature. At times, I might have been vague. Others, I’ve likely beaten around the bush (hee hee). But this one… this one…
Fuchs sells lubricants. Lubricants. Fuchs.
(Image via this site because the day I saw one, I wasn’t quick enough. Needed lube.)
Fuchs Lubricants Company is the largest lubricant company in the world. And of course, they’re German. Their lubes are not meant for public use, mind you. They’re strictly industrial grade… you know, like for porn stars…
That's a massive erection.
First, the depths to which our society is willing to let, um, society go to will never cease to sadden me. Case in point – an item I found in a vending machine at a local Coney Island restaurant:
Even the Care Bears are See-Thru...
Second, I guess we’ve been in the sewers gutters for a while now. A magnet to mull over:
Alternate slogan: "Gimme a piece of that pie!"
Ice cream treats and traffic jams and cute girls shouldn’t automatically make me think of dirty things, but I’m afraid my poor subconscious is beyond tainted. It’s so tainted I can barely type the word tainted and not be derailed by horrible mental images. Dear sweet Rachel Bilson, this is not the first time your visage has been intertwined with potentially distasteful acts on this site, but I do hope it is the last… unless it’s actually about you being intertwined with potentially distasteful acts.
(SIDENOTE: If that commercial seemed foreign to you – foreign as in from over there – it’s probably because it likely is.)
Without any context, my old house:
(click for links)
Then beyond this window:
And over this fence:
Another old abandoned family house:
A little joke recently went by me on FX’s Archer that as a scourer of the TripleDoubleU, I should have known.
It's as if they're standing over me, staring in disbelief...
It involved a character that Archer was dealing with named Benoit. Anytime someone mentioned his associate’s name, Archer would exclaim this:
Benoit balls!
I had no idea why he kept doing this, so I brought it up to some friends, and I learned what Ben Wa balls really were. I’ll let you click the link.
The problem that remains is we have a new Detroit Tiger named Joaquin Benoit, and every time the announcers mention his name, I can’t help but to think…
Ben Wa balls? How about Benoit strikes!
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