Fuzzy lobsters. That’s a new one.
Now this is cool.
Researchers have found a new crustacean in the South Pacific that looks like a lobster, but is covered almost entirely with silky blonde hair. This thing, officially named Kiwa hirsuta, is so distinct from any other known species that they had to create an entirely new family and genus for it.
When you think about it, it’s really amazing how little we know about the world around us. We think we’ve discovered everything there is to discover on this planet, and then something like this comes around and takes everyone by surprise. Just looking at it, it’s easy to speculate on just how incredibly creative nature can be. There’s nothing new about this creature, but yet there’s nothing quite like it either. What a fascinating world that we live in. What wonders it has yet to offer.
I wonder what it tastes like.
/I’ll bet it tastes like eating a Muppet – warm, comforting and filled entirely with felt.
How not to win your Oscar pool.
Two things to share with you before this year’s Oscar liveblog. One, the stakes are higher than ever before, because I have money riding on the outcome. I entered the office Oscar pool. Twice. So expect a lot of cursing. Two, I thought it’d be fun having an Oscar party. But I knew I’d be handcuffed to this computer all night, liveblogging the show as it airs, so to avoid being distracted, I invited a whole bunch of strangers into my apartment. So as we speak, there are about 27 strange people milling around in my living room. I hope they don’t take anything.
So anyway, I do have one ace up my sleeve for my predictions this year. I took all of my predictions from Ann Coulter, because I figured if anyone has a chance of getting this stuff down pat, it’s a bow-legged, borderline psychotic crossdresser. (And just to head off your emails, there is no way that Ann Coulter is a woman. (S)he has an Adam’s apple. Women don’t have those.)
There are a few predictions that I am willing to make myself. Jon Stewart will do a pretty good job, but you’ll never know it because they’ll spend all of tomorrow talking about how disappointing he was. Billy Crystal will be back next year. Izzac Mizrahi will grab someone’s boob. Billy Bush will be a boob. And I will lose my Oscar pool. Twice.
Ok, folks, it’s gametime.
7:00 – Starting off with a computer-animated recreation of Oscartown. Say what you will, at least they didn’t use a Pussycat Dolls song.
7:03 – First Brokeback Mountain joke occurs three minutes into the show. I bet on seven minutes. Damn. I’m already losing.
7:05 – Billy Crystal Chris Rock Steve Martin Whoopi Goldberg David Letterman Mel Gibson Mr. Movie Fone Jon Stewart welcomes us to the night’s festivites. He’s short.
7:08 – Jack Nicholson is sitting next to Keira Knightley. Are they dating? That really wouldn’t surprise me as much as it should.
7:10 – “Bjork couldn’t be here tonight. She was trying on her dress and Dick Cheney accidently shot her.” See, the problem with that joke is @ssuming that you have to resemble a bird to get shot by Dick Cheney. That is not a requirement.
7:15 – 15 minutes in. First award of the night. At this rate, we’ll be done sometime tomorrow morning. I think. My math is bad.
7:16 – My bets are on either Matt Dillon or Paul Giamatti for Best Supporting Actor. Watch me lose both when George Clooney wins.
7:19 – Were you watching? Were you watching? 0-1. 0-1.
7:26 – Did I miss anything? Some guy was peeing in my hallway, so I had to punch him in the throat.
7:27 – Is there some sort of requirement that I’m unaware of that Ben Stiller has to waste five minutes every year not being funny? Who does this guy have incriminating pictures of?
7:28 – Best Visual Effects seems like a safe bet for King Kong.
7:29 – Safe bets are my favorite. 1-1. 1-1.
7:30 – Best Animated Feature comes down to a Japanese movie you never heard of, a British claymation film and a movie about what goes on inside Tim Burton’s head 24/7. I see the British winning.
7:33 – That’s because I’m a genius. 2-1. 2-1.
7:35 – Dolly Parton is performing at the Oscars. So why’d she bring those Golden Globes? AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.
7:37 – AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.
7:39 – …can’t … breathe.
7:42 – If you were wondering why Ben Stiller was out earlier being unfunny by himself† instead of his usual shtick of being unfunny with his partner-in-crime Owen Wilson, it’s because Owen and Luke Wilson are presenting together. And being unfunny as brothers. Nepotism rules.
7:43 – Best Live Action Short. I’d tell you who I picked, but you wouldn’t know what I was talking about.
7:44 – Whoever it was that won, I didn’t pick it. 2-2. 2-2.
7:45 – This year’s awkward usage of cartoon characters are from Chicken Little, one of the many computer animated films your children dragged you to this year that you slept through. Remember? Of course you don’t.
7:47 – Best Animated Short just went to another film that I didn’t pick. Ten bucks going straight down the drain. Screw you, Academy. 2-3. 2-3.
7:48 – Best Costume Design presenting honors are shoved into Jennifer Aniston’s lap. Hasn’t she had a rough enough year already?
7:50 – Memoirs of a Geisha wins an award. That seems wrong. 2-4. 3-3.
7:51 – Russel Crowe is onstage. DUCK!!
7:54 – A tribute to actors playing real people. About as interesting as it sounds.
7:57 – There’s a knife fight going on in my kitchen. I think I’ll let that one slide.
7:58 – Steve Carell and Will Ferrell present Best Makeup because somebody has to. And because their last names sorta rhyme.
7:59 – Chronicles of Narnia wins. That lion was awfully purty. 3-4. 4-3.
8:04 – Best Supporting Actress will either go to Rachel Weisz or Amy Adams. Or I will cry aloud.
8:06 – Rachel Weisz wins. That’s good. If I screamed, the rioters in my apartment might’ve taken notice of me. 4-4. 5-3.
8:15 – It occurs to me that this show wouldn’t be five hours too long if they didn’t have tributes to absolutely nothing every fifteen minutes. But that’s just me. I like interesting stuff.
8:17 – I am, however, totally in support of political advertisements for Best Actress nominees. Don’t ask me why.
8:20 – Best Documentary Short Subject goes to one of the films that doesn’t want me to win any money tomorrow. BOO!! 3-6. 5-4.
8:22 – Good God, the bow on Charlize Theron’s shoulder is bigger than her head.
8:22 – Penguins march onstage and take the Best Documentary award. And then, onwards to Atlanta, burning everything in their path. They’re so cute. 4-6. 6-4.
8:24 – Jennifer Lopez. On the Oscars. Can’t decide if I want to make fun of her crappy acting, her crappy singing or her crappy husband.
8:26 – “In The Deep” from Crash being performed and GOOD LORD! THE STAGE IS ON FIRE!!
8:27 – NO, REALLY!!
8:30 – I was so distracted by the stage fire, I didn’t get to make fun of Jennifer Lopez. Damn it all to hell, I was looking forward to that.
8:33 – Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock reunite to present Best Art Direction. God does listen to me.
8:35 – Art Direction goes to Memoir of a Geisha. Hooray! And boo! Simultaneously! 4-7. 7-4.
8:37 – Yeah, you guessed it. Yet another tribute to movies. Thank you, movies. You make life worth living.
8:41 – Time once again to hear from the President of the Academy of … you’ve already stopped reading, haven’t you? Yeah, me too.
8:44 – Why don’t they ever play this shmuck off? The Best Art Direction winners get fifteen seconds to thank their families, but this guy gets to blather on for five minutes for no good reason. I call shenanigans.
8:45 – Is it possible that Selma Hayek’s accent is getting thicker every year? How does that keep happening?
8:46 – Since there were only three nominees for Best Song this year, meaning only three performances by the nominated artists, here’s a guy with a violin to perform the scores for all the Best Score nominees. Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.
8:49 – Best Score goes to Brokeback Mountain. You know the score. It’s that song they play on the eighteen different Brokeback Mountain parodies your coworkers called you over to watch last week. (Brokeback to the Future was my personal favorite.) 5-7. 7-5.
8:59 – My next door neighbor came over to complain about all the noise the now bloodthirsty strangers in my living room are making. I’ll miss her.
9:00 – Academy, take note. When the host is making fun of how many stupid film clip tributes you’ve had in the show to this point, you’re showing too many damn film clip tributes. Seriously.
9:03 – When the winners for Best Sound Mixing (King Kong) hit the stage, the microphone doesn’t work at first. There’s tragic irony for you. Oh yeah, lost that one too. I hate this stupid show. 5-8. 7-6.
9:08 – Lifetime Achievement Award is currently being presented to Robert Altman, which is good for him, and even better for me because I can go do something else while it’s happening.
9:13 – I tried to introduce myself to the group of strangers in my living room. They’re not so bad once you get to know them. And once they stop kicking you in the head with their boots.
9:19 – The final Best Song nominee, It’s Hard Out Here For A Pimp, performed by Three 6 Mafia. Don’t deny it, you were humming along.
9:23 – It’s not so hard out here for a pimp anymore. They win the Oscar. Much shouting-out ensues. 6-8. 7-7.
9:29 – Best Sound Editing goes to a big, hairy gorilla. No, not George Clooney in Syriana. King Kong. 7-8. 8-7.
9:30 – Hey, shut up. I was waiting all night to make that joke.
9:31 – Speaking of, here’s regular George Clooney himself to fondly remember all the movie folk we lost this year. He’s so thoughtful.
9:33 – Shelley Winters died?
9:38 – Will Smith still makes movies?
9:39 – Best Foreign Language Film goes to Tsotsi. Oh, like you didn’t see that one coming. 7-9. 9-7.
9:42 – Best Film Editing goes to (Edited). X-X. X-X.
9:43 – Oh, fine, you crybaby. It was Crash. 8-9. 10-7.
9:45 – Time for the big guns. Best Actor.
9:47 – Philip Seymour Hoffman. Bow down before the Almighty Capote! Oh, come on. Humor me. 9-9. 11-7.
9:55 – Back to the little guns. Best Cinematography.
9:56 – Memoirs of a Geisha. For a movie that no one really saw and that I don’t recall being liked very much, it sure is winning a lot of awards. 10-9. 11-8.
9:58 – Big guns again. Best Actress is going to…
10:00 – Reese Witherspoon. Now I wish Joaquin would’ve won, too. 11-9. 12-8.
10:08 – Dustin Hoffman is determined to give out Best Adapted Screenplay. Who am I to stop him? Nobody, that’s who.
10:10 – Brokeback Mountain. I’d comment, but I haven’t seen the movie. I hope you won’t think any less of me, but I just can’t. I’m not a hateful person by any means, but I’m just not comfortable with the cowboy lifestyle. Seeing two grown men wearing those dumb hats gives me the willies. Sorry. 12-9. 13-8.
10:13 – Best Original Screenplay goes from Uma Thurman to Crash. I saw Crash last night. If you like the F word, you’ll like this movie. And I do. And I did. Fuck yeah! 13-9. 14-8.
10:19 – Best Directing will go to Ang Lee. Unless it doesn’t. Then I just don’t know what will happen. But whatever it is, chances are it won’t be pretty.
10:20 – It went to Ang Lee. You can calm down now. Chaos will not, in fact, ensue. 14-9. 15-8.
10:22 – Holy snikeys, they got Jack Nicholson up out of his seat to present Best Picture. Somebody’s feeling productive.
10:23 – Yeah, I don’t know what that last joke meant either. It’s late, I’m tired. Get off my f***ing back.
10:24 – Best Picture goes to Crash. Wow. Color me surprised. 13-10. 14-9.
10:25 – No, seriously. Wow. How the hell did that happen?
10:26 – And they play them off. How nice of them.
So my best call of the night? Tiebreaker question was when the show would end, and I nailed it at exactly 10:30. Too bad it doesn’t matter, since I just lost. Twice. Good night, drive carefully.
/The strangers in my home refuse to leave. If you’re feeling lonely, please come and take one home with you. Please?
Winter Olympics Time! WOO HOO!
Ok, so I’ve been busy lately, but I think I’m finally ready to sit down and watch the Winter Olympics.
I’m looking forward to quite a few things. Maybe Michelle Kwan will finally win that gold medal. Sasha Cohen might give her some compet ition though. She seems pretty sure-footed. I predict big things for her.
I’ve been seeing a lot of that Bode Miller guy. He’s been on the covers of all the magazines, and in all those commercials, so you just know he’s gotta be good. Major corporations wouldn’t put their images on the line over just any old schmo. Don’t hold me to this, but something tells me he could walk out of Italy with five gold medals. He’s just got that certain something. Man just looks like a winner, bottom line.
Of course, there’s the usual things you can just take for granted. You just know Canada will win the gold in hockey, again. How could they not? It’s their sport. They invented it. But I expect the good ol’ USA will give them a run for that medal. We’ve got a real powerhouse team this year. I predict at least a silver. At least.
Yessir, the grand spectacle of the Winter Olympics. I’ve waited four long years for this, and though it’s taken me a little while, I’m finally, finally ready to go. So I’ll just click on NBC and … and …
Closing ceremonies … Huh. What do you know.
Oh, well. See you in 2010.
/..Zero for five, huh? Wow, good job, guy.
I have no good reason to hate Kevin Federline. I’ve never met the guy. He’s done me no harm in any manner whatsoever. If anything, he’s done me a favor by taking Britney Spears off the market, because now I’ve been able to live the last year or two of my life without the paralyzing fear that at some point Britney Spears was going to fall desperately in love with me (I know, perish the thought). So, added all together, I really don’t have a good excuse to dislike Keven Federline.
So why is it every time I see his greasy face on TV, I just want to punch him in his dumb mouth?
There’s just something about the guy that rubs a person the wrong way. Maybe it’s the fact that he dumped the mother of his children while she was still pregnant with his second child to go be Britney’s lover boy. Maybe it’s because his clothes always look like he slept in them. Maybe it’s the undeserved sense of self worth he struts around with. Maybe it’s the cornrows. I really don’t know.
I think that what it really is, though, is having to read interviews like this:
Federline Says He’s Ready for Backlash
NEW YORK (AP) — Kevin Federline is ready for a backlash over his brand-new role as white-boy rapper.
But it already can’t get worse, the dancer and husband of pop star Britney Spears told Newsweek for its issue on newsstands Monday.
“‘He hates his children, he treats his wife like dirt, he gets high all day,’” he said, quoting his critics. “If I was that bad, you think anyone, let alone Britney, would put up with it?”
He has released his single “PopoZao” on his Web site. It got 2 million hits in eight days, he said, which proves there’s interest.
I’m gonna go ahead and interrupt here. Yeah, there’s been interest. And I believe that interest was primarily along the lines of, “Dude, I heard on Conan how much this song really sucked, so I wanna find out just how much it sucks.” Which is followed immediately by, “Wow, despite having previously heard estimates of the amount of suckage in that song, the actual level of suck was so vastly overwhelming that I am no longer able to continue with my life, just having been exposed to it. Where’s the nearest pile of broken gl@ss shards that I can throw myself into?” So, hey, if that’s what you were going for, congratulations, champ. You’re a human punchline.
And now back to your regularly scheduled narcissism.
He plans to release his debut album by this spring, but without featuring his wife on the album, said Federline, 27.”"We have collaborated,”" he said. “”But I’m not going to put the songs on this album because it’s like, ‘Respect me first; then I’ll show you what I’ve done with my wife.’”"
Ok, if it’s respect you’re waiting for, then those songs you did with your wife aren’t ever going to see the light of day, because people generally don’t show a lot of respect for artists who marry their way into the spotlight. But that’s fine by me. I already know your wife can’t sing. I can only imagine that the two of you collaborating would open up a black hole of suckage so large that it would suck all of reality down into it. Which I really would hate to see happen.
My major beef with Kevin Federline (or K-Fed, as the rags like to call him) is that, like fellow waste of oxygen Paris Hilton, it seems that it is no longer requisite that you earn your fame in any way these days. These people are celebrities simply because they are celebrities. That kind of circular logic makes my head hurt. How is it possible that you can now secure yourself a record deal simply because your wife is famous, or your family is rich, or just because you’ve got a pretty face? Shouldn’t you have to, I don’t know, be able to make good music to make a record? But that’s just crazy talk, right? Who wants to listen to good music? Get one of those girls on The OC to record something. Being physically attractive is almost the same thing as being talented.
I’m back from my rant now. Thanks for riding that one out.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on the little guy. I’m sure he’s an excellent dancer. And he seems to keep his goatee trimmed neatly. So there’s two positive things right there. But as an overall person, I say that he needs to go, before he can burden the world with yet another of his Feder-fetuses. Which is why I’m gathering some funds for my K-Fed Rocket, which, upon completion, will be crammed chock full of Federline and shot directly into the sun. If you could spare a nickel, I’d appreciate it. And God knows it’s a worthy cause.
/Just being a hater. Whatever that means.
Addendum – Stupid me. How could I possibly make my case for Federline’s inherent toolness without providing Exhibit A? Click on this link, watch him bob his head up and down like a monkey with Tourette’s syndrome while listening to his own atrocious song, and see if you don’t end up on my doorstep tonight with torch and pitchfork in hand, ready to help me achieve my vision of a Feder-free world. Mwa ha ha.”
A message from the future.
This post was not actually written on Saturday. I just thought you should know that.
The date is actually Monday, February 20, 2006, as I write this. So why does it say that it was written on Saturday, February 18? Well, simple really. I used the post date feature. Which means I’m writing this post FROM THE FUTURE. That’s right. Think of it as some sort of reverse time capsule. I live in the magical world of “”48 Hours From Now Land.”" We have flying cars, and robot maids, and we live in cities in the sky. How cool is that? Very cool, if I do say so myself.
So I’ve done my civic duty. Through my magical futuristic abilities, I’ve travelled back in time and blogged into the future. And now I must return to my own world, where I will continue my never-ending fight with the Evil Lord Vorquat. I’ll be seeing you all … IN THE FUTURE!!!
/The Man From Tomorrow.
All aboard the friend ship!
Attention, MySpace nerds. I am now one of you.
I couldn’t tell you why I made the leap into MySpace land. Just seemed like the trendy thing to do. Plus, I can make myself a bigger target for those Internet predators I see on the news, though I should mention that I am, in actuality, a 27-year-old man. So keep that in mind.
So here’s my plan. Because I am a blogging superstar, I figure that if each of my readers signs up to be one of my MySpace friends, I’ll have, like, six friends. And by my calculations, that’ll make me the most popular person on the site. Cool, huh?
So I’m asking you, with as much sincerity as I can muster, to be my friend. I have so many things to offer as your new best friend. I can make a mean bowl of popcorn, and I own many DVDs, including The Mask, School of Rock, Spider-man 2, The Matrix (the first one, none of the crappy sequels), Monsters Inc., and Daredevil. And I have a Slip-and-Slide. Who wouldn’t want to be my buddy?
No, I’m serious. Who wouldn’t? I’m trying to keep track.
/Five. Back on track.
Here’s my belated liveblog of the Grammy awards.
7:00 – Bored.
8:00 – Watching Lost.
9:00 – Bored again.
10:00 – Stop giving U2 awards. It just encourages them.
Here’s the thing about the Grammys. It seriously is the weirdest awards show God ever created. There is no other program that inspires as many “What in the blue hell was that?” comments in the space of three-and-a-half hours than the Grammys. And that can be both a good and a bad thing. The good is when you see things that you never even knew you wanted to see, like holographic cartoon characters and dueling marching band performances. The bad is when you see the most undeserving artists winning awards every single time.
I’m a fair man, however. So I’m doing this sandwich style. For every criticisms of the show I’m about to make, I will sandwich it between two slices of praise. That way, nobody gets their feelings hurt. So let’s do this thing.
Good – There was talk all week about whether or not Sly Stone was going to show up for his tribute. Well, he did. Near the end of the performance. With a giant mohawk. Right before walking about before the ending, leaving the rest of the goobers on stage to awkwardly finish the song without him. Bye, Sly! See ya in another nineteen years.
Bad – I like Green Day as much as anyone else. But they released their album two years ago. How do you justify giving them Record of the Year? Or Jay-Z and Linkin Park’s win for Best Sung/Rap Collaboration. Jay-Z retired in 2004. Why is he still getting awards in 2006? Same for U2. How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb was released in 2004.† And it wasn’t even all that good. So why did they win everything? What exactly do they judge an album on? Sales? Artistic merit? Or do they just vote for the person that they’ve actually heard of? I’m gonna go with that last one. Next year, maybe start giving Grammys to people who deserve them.
Good - There’s been plenty of grumbling about Mariah Carey being nominated for eight awards, but only winning three of the lesser ones. Not from me. You see, the one fact that seems to be glossed over when people complain that this was her big comeback album and how well it sold and how she deserved the recognition is the fact that Mariah Carey still sucks. Why is that such a hard concept to grasp? She, quite simply, is unlistenable. Sorry if that seems harsh, but the sooner we come to that realization, the better off we’ll be as a species.
Good – If there’s a lesson to be learned from this show, it’s this. If you really, really want to win the Album of the Year, do not spend every single interview you participate in demanding it. Do not declare yourself the world’s greatest living artist and that you deserve it the most, even if that’s true. Do not call the president a racist on national television when the voting is determined by rich, white guys. And most of all, don’t appear on the cover of Rolling Stone as Jesus. Ever. At some point, if you really are the best at what you do, you’ve just gotta shut up and let your work speak for itself. Better luck next year.
Bad – Is Jennifer Love Hewitt a member of the Black Eyed Peas now? As if I needed another reason to hate that band.
Good – You wouldn’t think I’d like Kelly Clarkson. She got her start on the worst show ever. She sings bubbly pop songs that were written for her by 40-year-old guys from Denmark. But doggonit, that “Since U Been Gone” song gets stuck in my head and takes hostages when I try to make it leave. And she’s kinda cute, in an ordinary, not anorexic, not stuffed with silicone kinda way. So good for her. I hope she wins every award she’s ever nominated for from here until eternity.
Good – Bruce Springsteen’s performance was what you would expect. Stripped-down. Powerful. Disturbing. And just a little bit politically dangerous. Just like my grandmother.
Bad - It’s becoming very apparent that the Grammy producers, if they had their way, would give away all of the awards before the show aired and fill their broadcast time with performances by every musical act they could drag in off the street. Last night, there was 27 musical performances, compared to 14 awards given out. They had so many musicians that they apparently dragged out the ping pong ball machine, wrote everyone’s names on each pinball, drew out two at random and made those two artists perform together just to save time. “Madonna, you’re with … the Gorillaz! U2, you’ve got … Mary J. Blige!! Christina Aguilera takes … Herbie Hancock!! Jay Z and Linkin Park, you get … oh, what the hell, take Paul McCartney. It’s his first time, let’s get the most out of him. In fact, everybody sings with Paul now.”
Good – Um. Gimme a minute. The..uh..hmm. The Kanye performance was kinda cool, I guess.
I could go on, but I’ve kind of forgotten everything else that happened. But that’s the Grammys for you. A bunch of really weird stuff happening for an extended period of time that you usually forget all about by the next day. But I watch it every single year, so who’s the real idiot here? That’s right. Paris Hilton is. I’m gonna go back to work. I suggest you do the same.
/Six. Losing steam.
All hail our advertising overlords.
In The Usual Suspects, Verbal Kint says that, “”The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”" Well, that’s not exactly true. Because in actuality, the greatest trick that the devil ever performed was convincing people that the best reason to watch the Super Bowl is for the commercials. Think about that for a second. Is there any program on earth that you watch where you actually look forward to the commercial breaks? Well, besides Joey.
But since advertising puts food onto my table, that was the reason I tuned into the big game this week. And, because I know you care ever so deeply, I’m going to tell you what I thought about them. With awards, to boot, which I even had little trophies made up for. I couldn’t afford to have them professionally made, so I just did it myself with little macaroni statues. Which is why I’m calling these The MACCYS. Patent pending. All rights reserved.
In case you want to actually view the ads for yourself and know what the hell it is I’m talking about, you can visit my friend Clay’s site AdLand at the site that is hyperlinked to the text that I’m typing right now. Or you can view them at Google, if you’re not interested in supporting the efforts of people that I know. Fine, see if I care. Anyway, let’s start handing these suckers out.
Most ads of varying degrees of quality. For the 40th year in a row, this goes to Budweiser. From the highs of the magic fridge and the motivational office riot, to the horrifying lows of the baby clydesdale and the pint of Budweiser-inspired wave, no one else quite managed to bridge the valleys of “”ha”" and “”meh”" like our good friends at Bud. A big thumbs up and a middle finger to you, sirs.
Best continuation from last year’s ads. Ameriquest’s “”Don’t Judge Too Quickly”" spots from last year were funny. And, oddly enough, they were funny again this year. Sure, there were no implied kitty murders. But there was a gagged man on an airplane with a half-undressed woman on his lap. And that’s worth something in my book, damnit.
Worst continuation from last year’s ads. Last year, Go Daddy parodied the “”wardrobe malfunction”" of the previous year with their Go Daddy girl spot. This year, Go Daddy parodied the “”wardrobe malfunction”" of two years ago with their Go Daddy girl spot. Here’s a suggestion for next year’s ad. Something else.
Most deserving of losing their jobs in marketing. I don’t know about you, but when I hear the term “”brown and bubbly,”" Diet Pepsi isn’t exactly the first thought I have. But ironically enough, when I think of the term “”flaccid, stinky poo,”" the first thought I do have is P. Diddy.
Lamest excuse for extending Jessica Simpson’s 15 minutes of fame. I don’t get Pizza Hut. Last I checked, pizza was already the greatest food known to man. So why does Pizza Hut persist in trying to reinvent the pizza? Remember the P’zone? The Priazzo? The Big Foot? The Four-For-All? Now add Cheesy Bites pizza to that list, and use Jessica Simpson’s boobs boots to sell them. Come on, guys. Just give me a regular damn pizza, would ya? Thanks in advance.
Best excuse for putting a pirate on my TV screen. Sharpie, you made me day. gARRR!! Next year, I want ninjas.
Best confirmation of something I’d suspected for a long time. Mate a fat, retarded lookin’ lizard monster with a gigantic tin-plated monstrosity and you get a Hummer. I knew it!
Best imitatable activities. Sprint’s two ads inspired me to do two new annoying things in my day-to-day activities. One, I downloaded the Benny Hill theme to my cell phone so I could set the couch on fire at work and fast-walk around the building chasing an old guy in his bloomers. Second, I now throw my phone at people when they displease me. I don’t have a lot of friends any more.
Best damn ad, period. Fed Ex takes the MACCY for the second year in a row, this time for the sad tale of a caveman fired for not using a service that didn’t even exist at the time. Who knew that kicking dinosaurs was funny? Who even considered the idea of kicking a dinosaur before? Thank you, Fed Ex. You, with the able @ssistance of beer and nachos, somehow manage to make watching football entertaining.
The ABCs of Blogging
(1) A combination of the words “web” and “log” signifying a diary that is maintained online, where anyone with access to the Internet is able to read it. (2) A stupid word.
(1) One who participates in the act of blogging. (2) A person who lacks sufficient amounts of attention from physical people that they interact with daily. (3) Also a stupid word.
(1)What the blogger chooses to do with their lives in lieu of actually accomplishing something noteworthy. (2) A stupider word.
The stupidest word known to man.
An application used in combination with blogging software through which the blogger exchanges their writing for error messages and HTML faults.
Temporary storage space. Web pages you have visited recently are stored in the computer’s cache directory instead of the hard drive in order to save loading time. What the blogger clears at the end of each web session to ensure their mother does not inadvertently discover the porn pages that they have been viewing.
The free and open exchange of misspelled words and emoticons.
Used to draw readers into viewing a website. Meant to be enlightening or otherwise entertaining writings, images and other types of presentations. Can be easily replaced by flashing banners ads and jpegs of dancing hamsters.
A near perfect replacement for human emotions. Able to signify every possible reaction a human being can have to any given situation, including but not limited to smiling, frowning, blushing, being set on fire, pounding their head against a brick wall, and being flushed down a toilet.
A source of depression.
A form of self-torture, similar to inserting wood spinters underneath the fingernail.
A set of HTML tags which links the reader to webpages superior to the one they are currently viewing.
Acronym for Instant Messaging. Means for people to annoy and/or ignore each other from miles away.
What a blogger exchanges in order to receive their blog.
A disingenuous statement, usually made by a person who is not, in fact, laughing their a** off.
Personal Computer (PC):
An electronic adversary, purposely designed to frustrate its owner at every available opportunity.
Unemployed and/or unpopular.
The blogger’s means of lashing out at their oppressors. Is not actually read by said oppressors and, even if it was, would not change the ongoing act of oppression in any meaningful way.
A mythical being that the blogger mistakingly believes in the existance of, in the same way that a child believes in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.
Let’s not kid ourselves here.
The device used to send error messages to a browser.
A public service provided free of charge by concerned citizens. Much beloved by bloggers. A good way to get rich quickly and enlarge the human anatomy.
A misspelling of the word Earl.
World Wide Web:
Neither a web nor truly world wide. In other words, a total lie.
/A wildly unpopular blogger.
Super Bowl Monday.
With 10:27 left in the third quarter, I’m finally ready to make my prediction on the big game. Packers by 8.
Oh, crap. I forgot. I’m dumb.
So as much as I’m enjoying the Steelers stomping on the Seahawks, I’m taking a little bit of time away to advocate a worthy cause. I encourage you all to fall in line in support of something that is very important to me.
Super Bowl Monday.
You might be too lazy to click on the link and find out what I’m talking about. I understand. I’m suffering from Cheetos overload myself. The gist is this. Super Bowl Sunday should be a national holiday. And, as a consequence, the Monday following should be observed with a paid day off from work. Who could possibly argue with this logic? Not I, I’ll tell you that much.
Now I’m sure that you’re with me on this. Why wouldn’t you be? But it’s bigger than that. I don’t want to have to wait until next year for this to happen. This thing needs to happen right now, because there is no way I’m going to work tomorrow. I’ll be way too hungover, and that’s bad for production. So you’ve had time to overcome your chips and salsa-enduced ennui. Go back to that link I posted, sign the pet i tion, and do it right friggin’ now. Please. I really want to sleep in.
Ok, you know how I said the Steelers were stomping the Seahawks? Eh, not so much anymore.
Anyway, sign the petition, we’ll get it delivered tonight. Then someone just has to get Bush woken up and down to the Capital to sign this sucker into law post haste. It’s not like he has anything better to do. He can get back to clearing brush next week. All I want is a day off.
Why are you still here? Seriously. If I have to go to work tomorrow, so help me, I will do something so awful to you, I can’t even think of it at the moment. So get going. You’ll thank me tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to cursing at the television and trying to eat something made with meats and cheeses as big as my head. As always, thank you for your support.