Gosling’s is a bit Fuck Yeah!-ing-ier than Hathaway’s, but you may think differently. The basic premise is this – take LOLcats, get rid of the cats, add the respective “Hey girl/dude” tagline followed by normal English, and eliminate the stupid LOLspeak. Voila! Some samples:
I feel the creators of these sites are missing out on some other celebrities (although I do love Orson Welles’ quotes on each home page). For example, what about a Fuck Yeah! William Shatner!
This is a contest my mother entered my sister’s fiancé into. Old dude’s winning. Don’t know what the prize is… all I know is my weekend is almost over and my entries haven’t been up to snuff. My apologies. My game will be back in full swing maybe later… or tomorrow…
You can have extra fun by guessing which won is my sister’s fiancé.
My sister, Becky, recently started a blog about things she learns everyday called SomethingKnew. Since I’m usually forgetting things, I thought I’d pay tribute to her site by recounting something new that I learned.
Today, I discovered the origin of a nickname I received when working overnight at Target. I didn’t even know there was a basis for the moniker. Whereas most of the other overnighters bounced around departments in the store, my only job was to take care of Plastics – the unpacking and organizing of all large Rubbermaid and Sterilite containers. I always had a bunch of cardboard by morning, and the trash compactor runner guy, Greg, used to call me Baby Plas. He called my friend, John, the Gordon Fisherman for some unknown reason, and my friend, Rodney, simply Dangerfield out of necessity, I guess.
And I didn’t think much about it. I thought it was just an odd yet obvious choice. (For example: if I was dubbed, say, the Trix Rabbit, I would have wondered where it came from, much like I did with John the Gordon Fisherman.) Somewhere inside me, I resigned to the fact that it teetered on the Dangerfield zone of unoriginality.
Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon this facet of pop culture that escaped me:
Baby Plas was a reference to “The Plastic Man Comedy/Adventure Show.” Baby Plas was Plastic Man’s baby. I worked with plastics. I was more the Gordon Fisherman than John would ever be. I was more Dangerfield in every sense of the word.
Aside from John Malkovich’s recent stint on Saturday Night Live, the material has been lacking. This bit from Rosario Dawson’s show is probably the best of the night.
The hell hole that stole my soul will finally be no more. Circuit Shitty is set to close it’s remaining 567 stores by the end of March, and it’s website will shut down today.
Why do I have such disdain for the retail store? Let me count the ways:
I took the job to avenge my sister – I should have known better. I had recently moved back from L.A. where I worked at a Best Buy. There, they had taught me that “Circuit City” was the enemy and “working for commission” was evil. As the DVD market was beginning to grow, I remember us laughing about the ridiculous plan CC had in motion to develop DIVX (more on this in a moment). My sister, Tammie, had opened store #3604 back home, and she had been complaining about a manager that kept hitting on her/harrassing her. She refused to take action so I got a job there to make sure it stopped. It did. That manager ended up helping me make a lot of money, so he ended up being an all right guy. Cursed Southern salesmanship! (NOTE: To be read as “curs-ed”… not “curst”… thanks.)
It elevated my lifestyle. When I started there in August of ’98, working in the SOHO department (Small Office Home Office), I made something like $700 my first full-commission week. The next week, I made $1oo more, and the next – $200. I had worked at a medical center prior to BB, and at BB, I was the Media Department’s Senior (which is a splash above regular). This money influx was amazing. There were days I could make my week’s pay that day. I spent more than I saved. And it took me a long time to break that habit, as well as another.
It turned me to drinking excessively, amongst other things. You see it in every movie: Tom Cruise, Matthew McConaughey, Giovanni Ribisi… they start making money and things *snap* start *snap* happening. I had so much money I didn’t know what to do. Couple this with the fact I worked at a nightclub Friday and Saturday nights… well, I didn’t do completely stupid things. I just drank more than I even do now and partook in inhaling and occasionally ingesting certain types of vegetation…
I had to make the sale. No. Matter. What. I never outrightly lied. I may have slightly bent or tip-toed to the edge of what our service plans covered, but as long as I worked there, anyone that came in with a problem was taken care of by me. Too bad I was only there for a year-and-a-half (too long).
The DIVX Dupe. For those of you only familiar with the media format, there used to be format with the same name. The idea was you’d buy a disc for $4.50 and once you played it in your machine, you had access to it for 48 hours, after which you had the option to pay $15 more to permanently unlock it, or could “rent” it again for $3. It put a DVD player in my house, but it was a dumb idea. And I was forced to sell this product to every customer. And since it was in the TV Department, all out wars broke out between SOHO and TV (because of the spiffs). When it finally folded as a format, all the discs went on sale for a buck or two. I bought pretty much every one. They exist in a box in my basement and predicted my eventual DVD purchasing habit (I currently own over 1200).
The CompuServe Rebate Ripoff. For the first Christmas I worked, people had to save up to buy a home pc. The cheapest complete system (14″ monitor, tower, printer, and of course – service plan) cost $1585.55 out the door, with something like $50-$100 in rebates. I killed at selling this package, and it probably made me eighty-some bucks a pop. The following August I spent backpacking in Europe and upon returning, the well had dried up. The cheap machine boom was upon us (as was the looming Y2K fiasco), and at the center of the shitstorm laid the CompuServe rebate. Anyone would get a $400 dollar rebate for signing a 3-year agreement to join the dial-up service at $21.95 per month, so everyone and their kitchen sink were coming in for the “FREE” pc. Hardly any commission on that, and try to sell service plans I did – to no avail. Where I had been swimming in cash at the end of ’98, I dove into an empty pool at the end of ’99. I wouldn’t last many months more because in addition to making peanuts for pay (I was back down to $400 per week – the horror!), the quality of products we sold had also diminished. This lead me to take a second job overnight at Target which brought me a great group of friends I still associate with to this day, so maybe Circuit City wasn’t that bad after all.
(I feel cleansed like this was some type of confession. BB CCing you in hell!)
This could have been In My Brain While Sleeping, but it may have occurred to me more as I was waking up: Tony Danza, famous for playing characters named Tony, should host the Academy Awards this year instead of Hugh Jackman.
Not to knock Wolverine off his high horse, but I think it’s time for this amicable, consummate entertainer to get his crack at another day. Sure, “The Tony Danza Show” had it’s many flaws, but what about “Taxi” (the show not the flick)? Who can forget the gender battleground that was “Who’s the Boss?” And then there’s, um, always “Hudson Street“…
Plus, he’s been in film, and that’s a requirement to host the Oscars (David Letterman squeaked by with a cameo in “Cabin Boy“). I’ll always remember Tony’s stunning performance in “She’s Out of Control!”
Ricardo Montalban, aged 88, has passed away. He is best known for portraying Mr. Roarke on “Fantasy Island” and Khan in the second “Star Trek” film (and, of course, the original series, duh).
My lasting memory of him will remain in the form of this commercial that mixes two of my favorite things – Taco Bell and talented lions (which Detroit is in great need of):
If I had known you were still around recently, you would be greatly missed. May you please settle for moderately missed.
Hopefully, that's what's awaiting you, big guy... no, not another you... ah, forget it
Today, I will apologize for the slew of drunk Uncle Sean posts over the last week and a half, as they were part of my cover.
I was on a voyage traversing the um, er, one sea and (edge of) one ocean, and after arriving home early yesterday morning, only now am I able to catch up on some of the great things on the TripleDoubleU.
Firstoff, I set out to view some of NPH’s skits on SNL this weekend. It was hit or miss, from what I saw. But as a self-proclaimed pre-emptive Abby Elliott fan, I was proud to see her get the spotlight in the cold-open, where she portrayed Rachel Maddow
My pal, Chris, thought she sucked. I thought she was great at getting the details (her voice could have been a little bit lower). Here’s the skit and a bit from Maddow’s MSNBC show. What do you think?
Vodpod videos no longer available. more about “Saturday Night, Um, Fight”, posted with vodpod
Gather ’round, gather ’round, kiddies… it’s time for another one of Uncle Sean’s drunk stories… this time it’s about what makes this country so great… especially Detroit…
Independence Day (the holiday, not the movie) is a time for celebrating our right to blow things up and be American! One particular Fourth of July, we showed our dedication the best way we could… by buying illegal fireworks from Ohio.
Now, you youngsters might be wondering, “Isn’t that illegal to buy things that are illegal, Uncle Sean?”
And that’s my point – it’s American to do just that very thing!
As we sat on my front porch which is on a main road in Detroit, cars drove by while mortars and missiles and fountains rained down colored flames. No one paid a mind, and a great time was had by all… especially because we had a couple of 24 packs inside that dwindled down faster than a sparkler.
SIDENOTE: I used to have three lawn chairs. They were the old aluminum frame ones with cross-hatched plastic strips. They were pretty crappy, but still comfortable. One by one they were eventually stolen off my porch, but on this day I still had all three. Viva America!
One of my friends slash your uncles either didn’t know how to sit in these chairs, or he was the straw that broke the camels back, so to speak, but the cross-hatching gave way under his weight and he fell and bent the frame. We all had a good laugh (he may not have), and I pushed it further by tossing it over the bushes onto my front lawn as the show continued, courtesy of Uncle Rich.
Some neighborhood kids came down to see if they could buy some fireworks off us. We weren’t selling, so they stole some. Viva America!
Your Uncle Jay and Uncle Rob decided to pretend they were in G.I. Joe, so they each grabbed a Roman candle and had a battle in the front yard, roadway, and across the street shooting at each other. I suggested that Jay use the downed chair as a shield (Rob was the one who broke it). Viva America!
SIDENOTE: The people across the street from me were evicted. A big dumpster full of their belongings was parked out front. There were boxes, furniture, mattresses. You’ll need to know about this later.
After the battle used up all the ammo, I thought it would be funny to suggest that Uncle Rob throw a mortar into the dumpster to see what would happen. As if he was in Mission Impossible, he scurried to the trash heaps steel base. With his back pressed to it, he lit the firework and chucked it in. He ran back across the street to us. And we waited. And we waited. No flurry of sparks. No explosion. We deduced that it must have need its launch tube.
As the supply of fireworks winded down (the beverage supply was getting low too), your Aunt Sue readied to put the last mortar into the launch tube. She stood over it as she prepared to light it. This was her first for the night. We shouted at her to stop… pointed out how dangerous that was. On cue, a tiny flame flickered out of the dumpster.
Everyone leaped into action. Sue and Rob scrambled to pick up all the debris littering the front yard. Rich, Jay, and I hurried inside to grab bowls to fill with water to put the fire out. From my kitchen, through the front door, I could see that the flames were out of control. Jay pulled out a colander.
“We need a hose and some trash cans,” Rich said.
Outside, we filled and carried trash can after trash can and ran across the road. A pair of women walking down the street laughed at our efforts. Viva America!
The fire truck eventually arrived. I carried the last dose of water. I nodded as they took over. We all hid inside as they finished the job, which took quite awhile. They even had to pull out the charred remains to make sure it was extinguished. That’s when we realized the cases were empty.
MORAL OF THE STORY:We should have ran to the store well before the Roman candle fight.
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