OMBR! (Oh My Brett Ratner!)

The genius that is Brett Ratner – I’m not even smart enough to find the words.  His originality is unmatched; his levels of depth unfathomable.  (Ha! A pun!)  He is the answer to our unanswerable prayers.

Oh, yeah… Did I forget to mention today is Opposite Day?  (Except when it comes to voting… It’s so Opposite Day that it’s NOT Opposite Day… whoa, deep…)

Now grant it, Heidi Klum is one helluva new addition to America’s citizenship ranks, but Brettcrack was paid beaucoup bucks to brand Guitar Hero, as if the popular game needed help.  (FYI: he came up with the name “World Tour” – he’s like a the fucking Stephen Hawking of pop culture!)

This is technically the fourth video that’s exactly the same… much like his “Rush Hour” movies.  Click here for the athletes version and here for the American Idols commercials.

God, he infuriates me.  But perhaps he’s worth what he’s paid… look at all the attention I’m giving him.

BONUS: Now with a fifth commercial (Director’s Cut)!  It must have been difficult to get a German underwear model to dance in next to nothing… I don’t know how Brettcrack does it.

Happy Find… And They All Fall (Out Boy) Down

Last Friday, here in Detroit, Fall Out Boy broke the world record for most radio interviews by a pair in 24 hrs.  Their 58th call to 89X was the one that pushed them over.

So that got me thinking… how many other stupid records are out there?  Over the Halloween weekend, I visited my sister, Becky, in Chicago.  On the ride there, my cousin, Steve, and I got into a discussion about “Seinfeld,”  which inevitably lead to bringing up baked bean teeth.

All those chairs... and rope lights! Yum!

All those chairs... and rope lights! Yum!

Comme des hors d oeuvres

Comme des hors d oeuvres

Steve said he once knew of a man who had bean teeth, and he and his friends swore the man could eat a plane.  I didn’t get it, but he said some guy was in Guinness for eating an airplane, and he had bean teeth.  He said it took four months (in actuality, it took two years), but I was super-impressed because I pictured a 747 (in actuality, it was a Cessna 150).

Anywingsandall, my thirst to find more dumb things people will do to set a record intensified.  I planned to scour the web for hours or days (hey, maybe I could set that record), but then I found video of this.  

And that should do it for me.  This is why the only things people should try to break are accompanied by crashing sounds. 

(If you want to, you can check more stuff out here.)

Where The Hell Is That Smile On Your Face, That Salty Tear Down Your Cheek, That Warm Feeling Inside Your Heart, And, Um, Matt

Almost 12,000,000 people have seen this.  Up until this past weekend, I had not.  If I can spread this onto at least one more of you, I will feel that I’ve done my good deed for the year.  Now I can drink my beer, watch my porn, and insult my friends and family without any further feelings of ill will…

All right, I never feel ill will, but it does bother me that I don’t. 

No, it doesn’t.

Where the Hell is… Matt? and where the hell is my pizza!  I ordered it an hour ago!

Juxtaposition, Or Joe Jaxtapostion!

Ever go ice fishing?  Ever go ice fishing listening to this song?

(Miss you, Dad!)

JusWondering… “Nobody Nose” – I Smell A Conspiracy

Little voice, big um...
Little voice, big um…

You know that cringe.  

Tennis shoes and can sing? Marry me
Tennis shoes and can sing? Marry me

That recoiling feeling when something is justnotright.  It’s minor, maybe ignorable, and perhaps even a subconscious tingling, but you still notice it.  When Sara Bareillis first hit the scene with her infectious (will-it-be-one-)hit(-wonder?), “Love Song,” I took note of her CD cover in passing at a Target.  I wondered what she looked like, but I didn’t take the further effort to investigate, um, further, like by simply flipping over the case. 

I didn’t think much about the picture at the time.  It only reminded me of how they made Alanis Morissette mysterious with quick cuts (which seem slow nowadays) in her video for “You Oughta Know.”  (It’s so Nineties it’s hilarious.)

When I finally saw the video, that’s when the cringe hit me.  Could it be?  Would they?

One of my biggest pet peeves in the world is what I’ve come to collectively call: Marketing.  It’s not just about the corporations anymore (though in this case it is).  I hate being sold to, and if you’re a poser, you’re a loser (my lame t-shirt slogan… I bet I could make a shitload off selling it to posers, though).  I try to associate myself with real people for this very reason.  In fact, I think this whole country would be a whole lot better place if people weren’t afraid to be who they really are, and if they don’t know who they are, I’d hope that they could enjoy the ride of trying to figure that out.

Anyhooptyhoo, I find Sara attractive.  I’m a sucker for the chanteuses as it is, and it makes me mad that the marketers of this world (particularly her label), may not have.  They thought she might not sell if the front and back covers were reversed.  These are my own interjections, of course, but this is the same label she directed the song at.  They wanted her to write a catchy pop love song to sell to the masses, and in response, her inner cringe produced a massive hit. 

And what prompted all this old news to get dragged up?  Not as old news that’s become new news due to any upcoming DVD release.

Why cover your costar?
Why cover your costar?
Why cover your star?
Why cover your star?

I felt the cringe when the original posters came out, and I don’t think it was just because they’re not even in the slightest least bit funny…

Minor Facts That Didn’t Make It To The Fact Sheet

FACT 1: I never stop my engine when I get gas.  Someone yelled at me the other day about it.

But my argument is that it saves me at least 38 seconds, every three days, in my hectic high paced life of writing and fixing computers and drinking.  This video is why I don’t fix my sweater when I get out of my car:

 
I really do wish it was also a lesson in how blowing on a flaming gas dispenser, or scraping it on the cement to put a fire out, is a bad idea, but we can’t have everything I guess.

FACT 2: I play soccer.  It’s indoor, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been rocked in the face by a kicked ball.

Scratch that “getting rocked” comment above.  I get pebbled compared to this guy:

 
And that’s not even that bad, in comparison to this.

FACT 3: And speaking of getting rocked, I was at one point an aspiring rock star.  (This is way before I realized my dreams playing Rock Band.)

I was perhaps a little better than this guy:


At least, I would have had the common sense not to be in a shower in my video.  If I did, then the world would know I shower in swim trunks.  I must stop doing that!

In My Brain While Sleeping… Short and Sweet

I’ll cut these odd, recollected flashings to the point:

The Short:

Just like them, except more thumb-like

Just like them, except more thumb-like

There was a pair of thumb-shaped people.  Each of them were about two-feet tall, one man, one woman.  They dressed in the style of traditional (stereotypical?) Dutch people.  The weird thing was the guy had to stay laying down, otherwise his organs would shift and kill him, and the lady had to stay standing for the same reason.  They were on a news report in my dream that stated, “They’re perfect for each other.  He can pick up low things, and she can grab things that are high… well, two-feet high…”

 

The Sweet:

me

Not pictured: me, spaghetti

I was hanging out with Posh and Becks.  We were at their house, in which everything was pure white – the fancy carpet, the leather couches, the marble end tables.  Posh was leaning over the end table, leafing through magazines.  Becks was relaxing across one of the couches (I think it was the love seat, but I didn’t want to put that… oops… at least I didn’t put he was shirtless… damn!)  I was sitting on the floor across from Posh, at the end of the coffee table.  We were all eating spaghetti for some reason.  Finis.

Yummy... wait, what?
Yummy… wait, what?

(Above pic from Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster)

Bonus spaghetti: Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!

From Adult Diapers to Cursive Z’s (A Drunken Recollection)

Update: Remembered a Q and Z!  Now with more O!

Last night, as usual, the conversations danced around like the carbonation in the libations.  Here’s a rundown of the lowdown in alphabetic order:

A -> Adult Diapers.  Apparently, some people wear them to rock concerts so they don’t lose their spot.  Discussion of wearing them to the bar any night reeked of laziness.
B -> b (the lower case letter).  A malformed handwritten form of this letter prompted another to mention that it looked like a stick person’s foot.  This prompted me to ask if “d” was the other foot.
C -> Cursive Writing.  This sprung out of the “b” incident.  Heated (lukewarm) debate began over capital F’s.  Capital I’s, Q’s, X’s and Z’s were remembered fondly.  (And conveniently.)
D -> Darts.  The game was played.  I never achieved Swiss Cheez athleticism (see S).
E -> ESPN.  And their stupid show where people play Madden ’09.  To borrow liberally from SNL (and specifically Seth and Amy), “Really?”
F -> F (see C)
G -> George and Ma’am.  “Why do you call George, George, and me, Ma’am, instead of Katherine?” / “Because it’s close to Mom.”  (see W – ha, like the channel!)
H -> Hole.  Courtney’s “Celebrity Skin” was played on the digital jukebox, when we really wanted to play… (see V – ha, like the resume!)
I -> I (see C – ha, like Intensive Care Center… wait that’s not funny)
J -> “Jake’s Again.”  Home of the delectable $3.25 CHEESEBURGER… IF ONLY I COULD CAPITALIZE THE $3.25
K -> Kan’t think of anything.
L -> Lions.  Alex Karras played for them.  He was married to Susan Clark.  They were on a show together.  (see W – not as funny the second time)
M -> Maverick.  Not our ol’ GOP pals.  The increbidle (I mixed up my left and right feet) ride at Cedar Point.
N -> Nope, nothing to see here.
O -> Olympic Figure Skating.  Specifically – Men’s Figure Skating.  Particularly – Brian Boitano, and whether he was Canadian or American.  The argument found footing* in the South Park Movie because he did not have a flapping head.  *(SIDENOTE: db <– regular footing; bd <– pigeon-toed, or shy, footing)
P -> Proposal 2.  In Michigan, it’s about stem cell research, and the funding it gets.  Fun ding?  Funny!
Q -> Q (see C… for cop out)… No wait!  Quints!  We chatted about how the old toyline would prove to be an interesting costume.
R -> Relationships.  I daydreamed my ideal situation – the woman would be beautiful and mysterious.  She would belittle me almost everyday, but tell me she still cares about me.  She’d disappear for days at a time and I’d go crazy, wondering about her, waiting for her return.  When she’d come home, I’d question where she’d been.  She’d get angry and threaten to leave me for good.  I’d withdraw the question and find happiness once again in her arms.  Ah, true love.
S -> Swiss Cheez.  Normally, as an athlete or skilled competitor, I’m moderate at best.  That’s me in the air pockets of the Cheez.  But every once in awhile, I hit the Cheez and look out!
T -> Trivia.  That’s why we were out ‘n about.  Check out the details here.
U -> Universe.  What we’re here for, and how everyone wants to be told what to do and to be like – but you can’t anyone that’s what they want.
V -> Violet.  “Go on, take everything, take everything I want you to!”
W -> “Webster.”  Two episodes I remember from this show: the time Webster thought his photography teacher stole his picture to win a magazine contest (they happened to take the same snapshot of a tree, but the winning pic had the teacher at the bottom of the frame!), and the other ‘sode had young Webster walking in on George and Ma’am getting busy.  They told him they were “changing a lightbulb,” so when Webster’s friend (a girl) came over, they got nude to “change a lightbulb.”  Kids!
X -> X (see C… for cheap)
Y -> You had to be there.
Z -> Z (see C, si?)  No, wait… Zenith.  Did you know they created the first remote control?

Zima’s Not Even Cold In The Ground

This past week, MillerCoors announced that they’re “cancelling” Zima.

They’ve declared the “malternative” nation dead.

Though it may not be “malternatively” kosher, there’s a new kid on the block!  (No, really, look… it’s Danny Wood… the New Kid no one remembers… he’s working at the Burger King by my house…) (from Luxist)

Pernod Absinthe is a revival of Pernod Fils, arguably the most authentic absinthe ever produced with a recipe that’s over 200 years old… The original is a high-proof sprit distilled from Grand Wormwood, fennel and anise – exactly the same as consumed by the likes of Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and now, us.

Pernod’s the right stuff to get get me through those long shifts at night, when all those drunk assholes come through the drive-thru, ordering Big Macs or Nacho Bell Grandes like they’re so fucking original,” Danny might say.

Cabo WaBOO Indeed!

According to tonight’s episode of “Entertainment Tonight” (‘natch), there’s a cable channel called BIO(which has not made the list over at TVismyIV as a matter of fact), and on top of that they are about to premier a show called “Celebrity Ghost Stories.”

Let it be known – I’m a sucker for ghost stories.  And not one of those crazy big Cedar Point suckers, either.   I’m more like a sucker you’d find under the couch, covered in lint and dog hair and who-knows-what, that’s been there since who-knows-when.  (Translation: I scare easy.)

Anywho… while I was in my dark kitchen getting a refreshing Mt. Dew from my dark refrigerator (where do you buy little cold resistent light bulbs anyway), Belinda Carlisle was finishing her spectre spiel I managed to ignore.  As I contemplated partaking in some Velveeta cheese, Sammy Hagar began talking about how when he was a child, the night his alcholic absentee father died, his ghost visited him and he turned him away, unbeknownst of his passing.

Chills shot up my spine (and it wasn’t from the fridge!) and I thought, “I don’t need this right now.”

SIDENOTE: I should also mention it doesn’t take much prompting for a song to pop in my head either.

So in the spirit of coincidence, here’s the rock classic: