Hurry up people of the TripleDoubleU! Hurry up people of the celeb mags and celeb shows! Our time is ticking down to put together our Best Of’s… and Top Ten’s… and New Years Resolutions’s’s’s…’s…
For me, I never quite understood what it meant to make a New Years Resolution, so I looked up the word “resolution.” According to TheFreeDictionary (since I didn’t feel like getting up to grab a real dictionary), in the middle of a bunch of words I didn’t feel like reading, this phrase popped out at me:
An explanation, as of a problem or puzzle; a solution
New Years is about solving problems?! I never knew that! Consider that my first problem solved for 2009. Or would it be my last one in 2008…?
Here’s a Best Of What Could Have Been on a Top Ten List of Problems I Will Get To the Bottom Of in 2009:
1) Why do eyelashes have to hurt so much when they get in your eye? I understand their purpose is to keep other garbage off our orbs, but this is tantamount to sleeping in a bed surrounded by swords to keep monsters away. If some dusteroid is about crash on your cornea, eyelids are your last line of defense – not barbed hairs.
Bed sores to the next level (x-treme!)
2) Why do socks come packaged in a Ziplock bag like they’re deli lunch meat? Do they go stale? Is that why feet can get stinky? Is there an expiration date I’m unaware of? (All to be resolved in 2009.)
Feet meet Meat?
3) How do you go about getting a job as a Going Out Of Business Sign Holder, or as one of those people that look through View-Masters at people holding sticks across the street? Are they employed by the store that’s closing? Are they new hires? Do they go through an agency like Bret did on “Flight of the Conchords?” And as for surveyors – what the heck are they doing out there?
She's thinking she could use a new loveseat...
4) Would sour cream sell better if it was called dairy sauce? I’m adverse to buying a cream that’s sour (it’s beside the point that I don’t like it anyway). Would people be adverse to buying a sauce with a dairy source?
Still... no thanks...
5) Why are they even still making regular billboards? Electronic ones kick ass!
I'm like a moth drawn to light... or a fat kid to candy.
6) Why, oh God why, am I better at singing Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know than Soundgarden’s Spoonman on Rock Star 2? 100% vs. 86%? I’m blaming all of Chris Cornell’s random Mmm‘s and Oh‘s. Come to think of it… why was I even singing Alanis Morissette?
Keeps the giraffes out in winter, thought I as a child.
I love infomercials, and I’m not ashamed of admitting that. Considering I’m in the minority of people in this country that do not have cable or satellite TV (I technically do not have wireless Internet access either… but my neighbor does), I’m stuck with the six channels my antenna can get. When I’m getting in late from the bar, infomercials are all I have.
(Now I know digital TV broadcasting doubles if not triples my options, but I’d still rather get snowy images than blocky screen freezes and “no signal founds” until February 17th, thank you very much. And yes, I still use a VCR.)
Anyflobee, my point is this: people of America – there are still things to invent. Take this recent discovery of mine… the Twin Draft Guard. How fucking simple, yet no one until now has put pen to pad (and contacted InventHelp.com) and released it on the market.
I mean, I’ve had my share of ideas, as have my friends.
Like, for instance, um, I always wondered why gas stations didn’t have electronic signs, then boom!
Ah, remember those prices 4yrs ago... and 4wks ago...
My buddy, Jay, always thought they should have a faster way of paying for fast food, like a stick. (He loves his fast food and paying with credit cards.) Then Mobil showed up with the SpeedPass, and now more and more cards have RFID devices in them to speed things up.
Nifty vid:
I also know people who “invented” things like taco holders and glasses clips. My dad made these for our house before there was even “The Club” for cars:
Does not work on doors made of glass... trust me on this one.
My second confession on this post: I’m an idiot. On this site, I’ve already gave away restaurant ideas and movie ideas. I’m serious about the movie idea (original post here and announcement here). Here’s a humdinger I want put into production immediately: The Asshole Blaster (okay, maybe a name change is required a name change is definitely required).
The idea is as simple as the Twin Draft Guard: it’s potato gun-type device that launches sticky slimeballs with declarations on them, like DOOSH or IDYUT (this guywould totally get IDYUT). I thought of it during the recent snowfalls we had, and how people drive like physics don’t apply to their vehicle because they drive an SUV or a truck. I saw more SUV’s and trucks in ditches and up shoulders than anything else. This would be my prize slimeball for them:
Monday Night Football Trivia was in full effect last night, and I learned that there were more U.S. soldiers in the Korean War vs. the Vietnam War, Turkey was not only a part of the Ottoman Empire and Iran was not only Persia (they were both a part of Mesopotamia), and prior to “Titanic,” the highest grossing Best Picture winner was “Forrest Gump.”
While the competition occurred (we were in third place before the last question, but we wagered all of our points on “Gone With the Wind” on guess-which-question), these were some of the topics of discussion:
I have had a song stuck in my head for a few days. I had the melody and this lyric: And somebody picked on me. It turns out that the lyric is actually: And somebody snitched on me. The song was “I’m Getting Nothing for Christmas.” (Thanks to Kelly for playing Scooby Doo on that one.)
Talk about holiday parties began, and about how cool it would be to hire a waiter or waitress for New Year’s Eve. I thought it’d be funny to hire one for any day. Have a couple of friends over… the waiter/waitress can change the channel, get us beers and snacks… you know, stuff like that. When nothing was going on, the waiter/waitress could play video games with us, or watch the season finale of “Lost” with us. We wouldn’t be dicks about it. It would be for the sake of uncomfortable awkwardness and a good story to tell.
Speaking of dicks – this store’s name brought us grown infants a heaping amount of joy:
I originally saved this file as ‘dicks,’ but changed it for obvious reasons.
We talked about how their midnight madness sales could be called “nocturnal emissions” and that the idea for the event “came to them at night.” This was the least crass example – trust me.
The night ended not at the bar, but playing “Call of Duty 4” once again. As we were leaving, paintball was brought up, and one friend stated he would wait in a tree outside my other friend’s house in order to ambush him. Due to the cold weather we’re experiencing, it was also brought up how he would freeze to death waiting. Since this particular friend is leaving the state for a new job, everyone would think he left early, and no one would notice he was missing until the spring. But since my friend didn’t clean all the leaves that are awaiting under two feet of snow, his body would get lost in the leaves… yada yada… I’ll stop there. This is what video games are doing to adult minds – imagine what they do to the kids.
I can only take so much withholding before I just die.
I’ll be nice to my brother. I’ll even be nice to my sisters, I guess.
Christopher Nolan, all I want is a promise. A contract can come later. All I want for Christmas is to know that there will be a third Batman movie (presumably, “The Dark Knight Returns,” but I hope it’s called something better.)
There’s this guy that calls himself Max Doomsday at an excellent blog called Atomic Gadfly, and he’s got the next movie all figured out:
(These) are the characteristics I’d draw on for my depiction of the Penguin. He’d be a successful professional criminal fronting as a businessman and philanthropist, who’s bought his way into Gotham high society. In a way, he’d be very much like Bruce Wayne – wealthy industrialists moving in the same social circle, and both leading double lives. But each man should recognize that the other is not quite what he seems.
The Penguin could be setting himself up as one of the city’s major benefactors – helping finance the rebuilding of Gotham General Hospital, bringing new jobs to the city, even donating equipment to the police department. But his goal is to create a sense of security for the people of Gotham. After all, they’ve just lived through the attacks on the city by Ra’s al Ghul and the Joker. The Penguin figures that if people feel like things are returning to normal, they’ll be so relieved that they won’t pay attention to what might be going on behind the scenes.
Remember, by the end of The Dark Knight, the Joker and Two-Face had killed off some of Gotham’s top mob figures. So the Penguin sees an opportunity to move in and set himself up as the new kingpin. Publicly, he appears to be working to “bring Gotham back” (as Batman once said), but privately, in the shadows, he’s building his criminal empire.
Max Doomsday even goes on to describe his appearance and his trademarks, and how to make him real. (Hire him to help write the script!) Another highlight is how the Penguin would get his name:
It’s not hard to imagine a scene – maybe a conference of mob leaders – where Oswald has arrived from some formal gala, still in his tux, and somebody makes a crack about how he looks in his “penguin suit.” So Oswald kills the guy, or orders him killed. Hell, maybe he crushes the guy’s windpipe with an umbrella. (I don’t know if your standard umbrella’s actually strong enough to do that. I’m just throwin’ out the idea.) Or maybe the insult occurs in a more public setting, embarrassing Oswald in front of his moll and his high society friends.
Either way, the story gets around. From then on, Oswald’s called “the Penguin.” Never, ever to his face, but sneeringly, behind his back, like “Scarface” or “Bugsy.”
So Chris Nolan – whuttayathink? I’ll put my two-cents in (ha ha… like Two-Face… not really). I say make Tiny Lister’s tattooed prisoner become Killer Croc (he’s the guy who threw the charge out the window). Or have Mr. Reese in accounting become the Riddler. He can go crazy because he wants to tell the world about Bruce Wayne and the Batman, but he feels a great debt is owed… maybe Lucius Fox fires him and that’s what pushes him off the deep end.
Anyharleyquinn, if I can’t get even a hint of a spec of a promise, can I get this instead?
I’ve put ideas out into the collective unconscious before, only to have them robbed and bastardized without any input from me. Joe Piscopo’s stinker, “Dead Heat?” Mine first (“Harry Cadaver”). JCVD’s “Timecop?” I had the idea two years earlier with the same title (this one I’ll forgive because it’s not that creative). Eddie Murphy in Eddie Murphy in “Meet Dave?” I originally thought “Osmosis Jones” plucked my idea of having Robin Williams inside of Bill Murray’s spaceship body, but “Meet Dave” robbed us both (“The Neuron Conquest”). Even He-Man stole (or borrowed liberally) a character I entered into a contest. Their Snout Spout was my Elephantom.
Then I saw this commercial for Flagstar bank yesterday at the bar. I guess it premiered in this year’s Super Bowl, but since that game was so good (Giants spanked the ButtPats), I probably hit the can during the ads and missed it.
This reminded me of a story I wrote in high school and submitted to our literary journal called the Curio. No wonder I never dated.
B O X I N GY O U RH E A D
I feel deviated like a septum.Separated, apart from what it seems I should be a part of.Not fitting in, a circle in a world of squares.Here I, Lucas Pendleton, sit at the counter of Sigmund’s Soda Shop, and I watch my peers across the way, celebrating and playing by the jukebox.And I can’t be with them.I’ve tended to put my head in the proverbial box for years.So now’s the time to consider it for real.
Here’s a napkin and… here’s a pencil.I need to write this down or I’ll forget.If I did put a box on my head – cardboard being the only choice – it would need to have strategically placed eyeholes so I wouldn’t stumble through life (I do enough without a cube around my head).
As for eating, I would feed my mouth through the opening in the bottom.I wouldn’t need to talk with anyone.The only thing anyone cares about is your name, if even that, and I can have that printed across my forehead.If no one was asking that question anymore, I wouldn’t need earholes.There, the designs are finished.And I’ll never remove my perfect separator for any reason.
Rain.It’s raining outside now.I need to compensate for the dampening spirit that falls from time to time.I’ll draw a little umbrella that could be attached to the top.
Look at them standing over there.Not a care about my plans of seclusion.Will they be sorry, not at all.
They don’t know me anyway.That’s so clear.
Clear.I see clear because of my contacts.How will I remove them?I’ll get corrective surgery done on my eyes.That’s easy.
What’s another problem?
Hygiene.Well, I’ll deal with that as it comes along.
Sleeping comfort.I’ll pad the walls.
Television, movies, and music.How can I enjoy if I can’t hear?I’ll add earholes to the design, very small ones.
A sneeze, I just heard a sneeze.What if my nose runs, or I sneeze?That could get messy.But only I’d know, and only I-I-d–achooo!
“God bless you.”
–Care.Did someone say that to me, or the other guy?Maybe I’ll respond… just in case… to be polite.“Thanks.”See, it wasn’t–
“You’re welcome.”
Well, it’s a female voice, coming from behind me.Should I look?Or did the other fellow say thanks at the same time I did.I’ll say another thing to check.“That’s nice.Thanks.”Stupid, stupid…
“Really?You think so?”
It’s gotta be me.I’m gonna look.I grabbed the counter and hand over hand I turned around to see a woman standing behind me, beautiful as could be.She wore splashy hued shoes and a colorful box-pattern dress.Her flowing brown hair came down past her shoulders from beneath the box she wore on her head.I couldn’t believe it, I was in love.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked me as she tried to peak at my napkin.I just looked at her eyes shining through the sufficiently cut eyeholes.
I sighed in response to her question.She approached me, and I then noticed the earholes she had made.Her cute ears were exposed enough to easily hear me as well as the other man sneeze, yet she chose to ask God to bless me!
“A box, huh?That umbrella idea will never work.Believe me.Oh, believe me.”
She pointed out my flaws in design, and I didn’t care!She tilted her head to me and smiled.She cut out a space for her mouth… and her gorgeous smile.
“Why do you need a box on your head, anyway?”
“I’m thinking the same thing!” I said.I hope she thought I meant her.She brushed her right hand through the top of her flowing brown hair.I didn’t even notice the top and back portion of the box were missing.
“I mean, you’re attractive.”
“As well as are you.”I saw her cute nose wrinkle when I complimented her.
“And after all, you thanked me… twice.”She laughed an uplifting laugh.“Quit designing that box for your head.It’s a waste of time.Come on and dance with me.”Her smooth rosy cheeks lifted because of her smile.I could see her entire face.Her entire head.
She took my hand and did that twinkle thing with her eye.There was no box on this woman’s head.
With my free hand I crumbled the napkin.There was no box on this man’s head either.
I threw the napkin in a trash can – a trash can in which, as I was informed later, contained several wet pieces of cut cardboard… and a broken umbrella.
Some girl named Emmeline made this a few years back in Windows Movie Maker, so the quality isn’t perfect, but it’s a hoot nonetheless. I had no idea MerMan was so talented.
Check out this commercial (only watch first part or else your head may quite actually explode):
Now check out me:
In my pimping days
Unless all kids looked the same back in the day… I was pretty good friends with Marzon.
Now it’s not like I haven’t acted before. As I state in my Fact Sheet above, I was in Billy Crystal’s HBO meh-fest, “61*.” Here’s a couple shots of me acting my chops out:
I played Guy Happy to be at Game #154
Upstaged by Marzon first; Mickey Mantle's grandson second
An opportunity recently presented itself to me, here in Michigan. My talents are wanted yet again:
Hi,
We are looking for a Hand double for Adrien Brody’s hand.
If interested and available. please send a photo of your hand with your fingers spread apart on a flat surface.
Filming is in Howell, MI. Rate is $120.00 for 8 hours and overtime after 8.
Please include your name and phone number in your reply email. Please also provide your ring size if you know it.
Thanks.
All right… I’ll admit that it wasn’t sent directly to me, but I know my hands can do it. They’re very good actors – trust me. Hey, Marzon was a prima donna, and Mantle’s grandson forced me to feign excitement, like, six times.
How difficult would it be to play Adrien Brody’s hands? My hands can check the time. Flip the pages of a book. Type. Make a sandwich. Hold things. Drop things. Throw things. Flick things. Pet a co-star’s head. I guess they could even caress a co-star’s breast, if needed. *wink*wink* (Although, I should double-check who’s in it.) They can do anything! (Except gut a fish. Please don’t make them gut a fish. Or hook a worm. I have bad memories from my pimping days…)
Jar Jar Binks was the beginning and the end of “Star Wars” for most. It was the clearest sign that George Lucas had lost his damned mind, and the pandering to kids that began with the Ewoks in “Return of the Jedi” (which was fine when I was a kid), had spiraled out of control. And it wasn’t just the fans that thought this.
Additionally, Rob Coleman, who was the lead on the Industrial Light & Magic animation team, warned Lucas that there was concern among the team that the character of Jar Jar was coming across poorly for the team and how the character was to be projected. Lucas told him that he especially put Jar Jar in the film to appeal to small children. After that, the issue was dropped.
So after all is said and done – why would I choose to defend Jar Jar? As he is, I can say nothing. But of what he could have been – I have to say this.
I believe in George Lucas’ out-of-touch brain, he had grander plans for Jar Jar, besides having him be at fault for giving Palpatine power in Episode II (heaven help me for writing this… all of this.) I think it was the fan backlash that shrunk Jar Jar’s role.
Even if he didn’t have better intentions for Jar Jar, I believe the series would have benefited from having a permanent sidekick for Anakin. Jar Jar, the simple creature he was, could have been used to contrast how far into darkness Anakin decended. Jar Jar could have been his confidant when he Obi-Wan pissed him off. Jar Jar could have ran interference to distract others when Anakin was hooking up with Amidala. Then, when the moment arrived where Anakin had chosen his destiny… when he wiped out all those little Jedi kids… how much more powerful would it have been for Anakin’s best bud to walk in and catch him doing such horrible things? Anakin, realizing how far he has fallen, would then lash out and destroy the mirror of his lost innocence – Jar Jar.
Especially after what Jar Jar would probably have said: “Ani, whatsa yooza doin?”
(If you’re brave enough, there’s a pic of the hotness that is me after jump…)
It’s Christmas, and as Perry Como likes to claim (even though he’s lying!), “The traffic is terrific!”
I, myself, on the other hand, insert foot in mouth, would like to point out something that is not so terrific, and may in fact be terrifying. Check out this ad for a toy that takes the “Pound Puppies” into the “Bratz” teritory (sorry… got on an italics kick). World meet “Tini Puppini“:
As the Little Drummer Boy might ask, “Do you hear what I hear?” Go back to about the 0:22 mark on the video. Besides the overall sluttiness we’re selling to our youth (which I don’t personally don’t have a problem with because when these girls turn 18… yowza!), do we really have to sell slutty dogs, too?
Okay, now if you heard “You’re such a ho!” I want you to go back and listen again with this pun in mind: “You’re such a howl!” Did you do it? You won’t hear ho again after knowing that’s what they say.
Anyho, I was kidding about the slutty kid thing above… It really is scary that backwards-ass parents would even consider wrapping up anything like this or “Bratz” dolls for their daughters as a gift. I say, let girls become ho’s on their own terms, in their own time. They don’t need dolls and stuffed animals to rush them. Or shorts or sweatpants with writing on the butt… As much as I love reading asses, kids should have a clean slate.
monkeyBLOG monkeyDO 
