Thursday, January 31, 2008
The Timer In My Bio-Virtual Clock Just Went 'Ding!' [My Trip To The Magical Creature Adoption Agency]
And when it comes to the life-changing decision to build a virtual family, there is only place to go: Angel's Chimera Dreams.
I was a little timid at first to enter the site as I hadn't visited an angelfire-hosted website since the 90s, but once inside, I was overwhelmed by the amazing selection of Faeries, Mermaids, Angels, Goddesses, Unicorns, and Pixies I could choose from!
It was very hard for me to decide what to adopt! There was such a wide selection of goddesses including The Goth Goddess and The Goddess of Purple (I didn't even know there were goddesses of colors! How ignorant am, I?!)
Angel also offers a bountiful selection of Faeries (Dragon Faeries, Birthstone Faeries, Step Dancing Faeries, and a Faery Wedding!) and then there are the Faerie Accessories! Angel even advises on how you can best trick out your faery: "Maybe she'd like a lyre to make pretty music"; "She'll need some Flower Goblets with sweet nectar. That's what faeries live on!"; "How about a Floral Valance for her wall? Here's [sic] a few to choose from."
All of these were wonderful options, but I was hoping for a little more bang for my virtual adoptive buck. Perhaps a halfsy magical creature was in order, something like a Centaur but like, even more magical...
If only I could get all of the charm of a pony with the flash and sparkle of a mermaid...
And then I saw it, a link to adopt a Hippocampus. But, ah... Isn't the hippocampus a part of the brain? Why yes, it is a part of the brain. A part of the brain named after a creature with the charm of a pony and the flash and sparkle of a mermaid!!!
Meet the newest addition to the DivMo family: Prince Sparkly FishHorse (FiHo for short)!!!
Awww! Isn't he freakin dorbs!? FiHo even comes with his own official adoption papers:
Angel's adoption policies are nothing to sneeze at. And since I don't want to pull an Ellen and get my sweet little hippocampus revoked and placed on a more obedient blog, I am not only publishing the required certificate crediting her as the creator of little FiHo, but I'm also posting the link back to her site, so you all can go start virtual families of your own!
I can only hope you're half as happy as our little bloggy family is to have FiHo!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The Golden Girls Go Lezby, But First Have To Figure Out What "Lesbian" Means [A Very Special Episode]
It was mid-episode and Dorothy and Blanche were having some sort of heart-to-heart about Dorothy's "odd" friend Jean who had come for a visit. "La la la... jog jog jog... mis en scene..." when suddenly I pay attention again and their "odd" friend Jean is having a heart-to-heart with Dorothy (because, duh everything is heart-to-heart on Golden Girls). And then Jean confesses she is a (gasp!) lesbian and (double gasp!) has the hots for Rose!!
"Jog jog jog... jigga, whaaa?"
Lesbianism on The Golden Girls?!?!
It's a good thing I was running indoors because my mouth would have caught flies at that point.
Apparently, I was not the only one shocked the topic came up in the episode, as The Golden Girls themselves seemed a little unsure as to what a "lesbian" actually was.
And because I can never suffer the abuses of popular culture alone, I now give you the fantastic clip where Dorothy and Angela (hello, mother and daughter sharing a bed!!) discuss with Blanche what "lesbian" even means. Nooo not Lebanese, or an actress...
As cringe-y as some of their comments make me, it was 1986 so ah, brava Golden Girls for handling such a sensitive topic. Though for all her trouble and forthrightness, poor Jean gets the "I like you, but I just want to be friends" treatment in the end. (Girl, I feel your pain! Stay strong, my brave fictional-friend geriatric Sista!)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Why Give A Kid A Pony When They Can Just Ride Rover? [Three Days Later and I'm Still Laughing About Kids Riding Dogs]
"Riding Rudy" (set to the soft musical stylings of "Forever Young")
"Justy and Jagger" (fluffy dog alert!)
"Madelyn Riding Dog" (this one is particularly nerve-wracking given the tininess of the baby)
"Girl Rides Dog" (not only is the dog in question a tiny dachshund, but the dad actually advises the baby to "Grab her by the ears!")
And the winner for the most oversized kid riding the most undersized dog while wearing 'super fly' early-90s gear and demonstrating both the clean and dirty connotations of the verb 'riding' goes to...
"Andrew Riding a Dog"
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
This is probably the most Safe-for-Work post I've done in a long time. Go figure!
The Website: www.access-scat.org
What you think it is: Some new perverse version of 2 girls, 1 cup (if you don't know, don't look it up--trust me), Animal Trackers Anonymous
What it really is: Somerville Community Access Television
Man, I hope their programming is better than their acronym.
The Website: www.scat.org
What you think it is: OK, this one has to be about poo, right?
What it really is: Nope! It's the website for Gold Coast Transit (formerly South Coast Area Transit out of Oxnard, CA).
Did no one get the message that scat = poop? How did that make it through a boardroom meeting? Hey, everybody! Let's ride the SCAT!
The Website: www.anus.com
What you think it is: Scary gay porn, a proctology discussion board
What it really is: The official website of the American Nihilist Underground Society
Who knew Nihilists enjoyed butt-puns? Or enjoyed anything for that matter?
The Website: www.vag.eu
What you think it is: British fannies
What it really is: A website selling an instrument that looks like a ween-whacker:
And you thought Teeth looked scary. Ouch!
The Website: www.funsexytime.com
What you think it is: OK, this one must be porn right? Or an online gay club?
What it really is: It's a... ah... picture of trees?
Bonus points for the awesome Arrested Development reference.
Fun fact: Apparently Amazon.com owns www.theinternet.com
And the award for the most completely random site on the internet goes to...
Not only is it a real website, but it's been "Helping you pee since 2001" and comes complete with a giant Star of David.
Oh, and here is the short story Hobo Jesus and Chuck Norris Save The Morning by Matt McPherrin, the kid who's hobo Jesus pic I blatantly ripped off. Thanks dude!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
[Acid] Trip Down Memory Lane: 80s & 90s Childhood TV, Rembering The Shows That Raised You While Your Parents Were Out Drinking
Remember any of these??
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes!!!!!
Denver the Last Dinosaur
Maya The Bee
David the Gnome (my personal all-time favorite... I forgot how amazingly cheesy the theme song was. Brilliant!)
All That / Kenan & Kel / Pete & Pete / Clarissa Explains It All / The Secret World of Alex Mac / My Brother and Me / Are You Afraid of the Dark? / Salute Your Shorts / Legends of the Hidden Temple / You Can't Do That on Television / Animorphs
Soooo good. They really should institute a 80s & 90s kid show nostalgia network. I know I would watch religiously.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Music Video Proves Working Out In A Thong Burns More Calories: Some Waxing Required [Abandon All Hope Ye Who Exercise Here]
That's right: Seventy fucking four people. This in a room were 40 people feels packed.
Come on guys, who are we really kidding here? Why year after year do you need to make the cliched resolution to go to the gym and get in shape? You know how many people will be in this class come March? Fifteen, on a busy day. I watched it happen last year and it sure as hell is going to happen again this year.
Haven't you learned by now that resolutions are made to be broken? You are doomed. Dooooooomed!
That's why this year my two resolutions were 1) to only drink champagne straight from the bottle, and 2) to get some.
The beauty of the second resolution is that even if I fail (which would make for a very sad 2008 indeed), I wouldn't actually be failing at all. Why just this morning I 'got some' coffee. And once I finish this post, I'm going to 'get some' sleep.
I really should 'get some' prizes for my brilliance. (I would accept the Nobel, Pulitzer, or smooches.)
And now, to brilliantly tie together my gym rant with my 'get some' resolution, I give you the music video to the techno remix of Steve Winwood's "Call on Me."
Anyone else make an amazing resolution this year that they'd like to share with the class? How long before you broke it?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
If You See Something Scary On YouTube And No One Is There To Hear Your Screams, How Will You Ever Undo The Emotional Trauma? [By Blogging About It]
1) Garfield is a comic strip created by Jim Davis. It holds the Guinness World Record for being the world's most syndicated comic strip.
2) Garfield is about the life of a tabby cat of the same name and his owner, John Arbuckle.
3) For being as popular as it is, (like most "funnies" in the paper) it's generally really really really unfunny.
4) Someone (someones?) going by the name Lasagna Cat has decided to create video tributes to Jim Davis' strips: first by creating live-action reenactments of the strip (!?) and then by remixing the reenactment and setting it to a popular song (therefore upping the "wtfness" by 180 degrees and two shakes of the head).
5) Seriously, W.T.F.?! I can't tell if this is the best or most traumatizing thing I've ever seen in my life.*
Strip from 3/24/1979, Tribute set to "Bailamos" by Enrique Iglesias.
Strip from 10/26/07, Tribute set to MIDI version of "Cheeseburger in Paradise" by Jimmy Buffett and inspired by the early works of Neil Cicierega
You can blame the folks at the Best Week Ever blog for being the instigators of this traumatic experience.
*Definitely, definitely both.
Monday, January 14, 2008
"Imma Gonna Love You And Miss You": Your Diversion For A Monday When Mother Nature Tried To Give You The Day Off, But Your Boss Missed That Memo
But alas, I had a date with Word's track changes that I couldn't miss...
For all of you out there in a similar I'd-rather-be-making-a-snowman position, I give you the best online sketch I've seen in a good long while: Drunk History, featuring Michael Cera. Because while you might physically have to be at work today, that doesn't prevent your brain from taking a snow day. [This goes doubly for all you southerners out there: I'm still making up for all the snow days I missed while growing up in Florida!]
Though back in September during the great DivMo Hot or Not? Presidential Debate I expressed a predilection toward Grant's soulful, bearded gaze on the $50, Cera's sensitive portrayal of Hamilton's duel with Burr has melted my heart and swung my vote (among other things... lady-schwing!).
Grant's larger denomination be damned! It's not how much you're worth, but how you spend your money--right?!
At least I know Cera/Hamilton would call me.
Want more Cera goodness? Check out: Impossible is the Opposite of Possible
Friday, January 11, 2008
It's hard to say which is more painful: listening to their songs in the grocery store, or reading the fanfic of their crazed fans.
We've got more ghosts, a pair of plastic pants, baby monkeys, and ah... Terry Schiavo?
Did I mention this would be painful?
The dial continues to rotate, achingly slow until it lands on 102.7, and an all-too familiar voice washes through the room. In alarm, Clay slams back into the counter.
“Hey! Thanks for tuning into KIIS FM; this is Ryan Seacrest,” the cheerful voice announces on the radio.
Clay’s chest tightens, knuckles clenching around the sleek marble countertop. It sounds so real, so authentic: the way Ryan accents the wrong words with such enthusiasm.
“We’re going to play an oldie from my buddy Clay Aiken: ‘This is the Night.’”
It sounds too real, but Clay knows. He was there. Ryan’s dead...
Behind him something splashes in the soapy water, and he spins around, his head twisting faster than his body can keep up with. It’s a hand connected to an arm connected to a shoulder, reaching into the sink for the sponge. Another warm hand rests on the small of his back and he can hear and feel the hot breath against his neck.
“Hey,” Ryan says smiling. He dons a black t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, his hair artfully tousled because it was the first thing he did the morning he had died.
Clay shifts awkwardly around until he’s facing the ghost, Ryan’s hand now pressed gently against his chest. It’s been three years since he’s seen him, but God does he look real. He feels warm, alive. “You’re…” he mumbles. “You’re not… here. This is –”
“It’s whatever you think it is,” Ryan says, smiling gently. It’s a real smile – not one that’s patented pure smarm for television. This smile is softer around the edges of his eyes where crow’s feet gather, where his lips split because they’re chapped and the skin stretching across arching cheekbones are smattered with the beginnings of a beard. Clay reaches out, strokes the scratchy texture of his face with uncertainty, drawing his fingers down the outline of Ryan’s mouth before settling on the cool skin of his throat. He can’t find a pulse, no fluttering or solid rhythm. Behind him the twinkling piano of his song goes silent and the radio turns to static...
Twenty minutes later, Josh descended the stairs and saw Sabrina in tears. She was sitting on the coffee table, facing the stereo. He could make out the very end of his version of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” coming out of the speakers.
“Bri?” She stood quickly, hastily dried her eyes and turned off the stereo. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. ‘Jesu Joy’ is one of my favorite songs and…my God, Josh, your voice…” He blushed as he gently wiped her tears away. “So, is this happy crying?”
“Something like that.” Something forever changed in Josh when she looked at him just then. Those eyes would be the death of him...
Back To Bedlam With A Carrot In His Pocket
[Ed. Note: I think this next piece of fanfic was actually written by a Nigerian spammer. It's credited to "Africans," begins as a rant on how watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer will make a man out of a boy, has a segment with Dr. House that includes a posted picture of Hilter with the caption "Guest Starring Nathan Lane," and let's just say there's more to James Blunt's relationship with Terry Schiavo than what I could bring myself to post here. And you know if I'm exercising some sort of restraint, that shit's got to be pretty scary.]
Inexplicably popular singer “song” writer, James Blunt was known for his generosity, and acts of charity. He had sung to save Tigers, AIDS orphans, a blind gibbon baby, misunderstood people’s hero Tony Yengeni, and last but not least, another 1000 chincillas fated to die for Donald Trump’s replacement hair. He had been called by his manager, and asked whether he would be willing to sing by the bedside of one Terry Schiavo, who had been pronounced clinically brain-dead. There was very little hope of actually waking Mrs Schiavo, but it would be a good PR exercise, and bring something positive into the sad lives of her parents...
By Cassie Morgan
Jon shrugged off his denim jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders and fall to the floor. One backwards glance down and he forgot about it, winding a soft white towel around his shoulders, rubbing his sweat-soaked hair with another. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and he laughed out loud at nothing in particular, rolling his neck, popping it with a satisfied sigh.
He grimaced as he walked towards his dressing room, his pants sticking to his legs with each step. He scowled down at them; as much as the tight gold was a crowd pleaser, they weren't exactly the most practical item of clothing he had ever worn. He gripped the cord holding them up and was about to unlace them, when Richie's hands slid around his hips. Jon tilted his head and smiled, leaning back against him.
"Leave them on," Richie requested softly...
[Okay, so like, this WAS a story about me and Wes Borland from Limp Bizkit, but like, I just found out he's MARRIED! His wife Heather is SUCH a BITCH! I hate her so much! She's a total skank face. I hope she dies! So, like, I don't like him anymore, so this story's about Angel now, because David Boreanaz is totally hot, and he's divorced and all, so there's hope for me!]
Morning. I stretched languidly and smiled, thinking of the night before. Wes and I had saved a bunch of baby monkeys from animal experiments, then brought them back to the jungle where they belonged, then he wrote a song for me, and then we made love until the moon came up. Just another wonderful night with my wonderful man...
And if you didn't hate me enough already, here are links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4 of this weekly exercise in bad taste. Yummo!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Where Disney World Expats Go For An "Authentic" Experience [My Favorite Blogger Went To Georgia And All She Got Me Was This Offensive T-Shirt!]
Go Bavarian, obvi!
After that fateful meeting, they passed a town ordinance mandating that every building in Helen be designed to fit the Bavarian theme.
Just check out the cuteness!
The town of Helen goes all-out for every holiday. Like all out. Check out this tree:
Some of those balls are bigger than my head! (Man, that's a sentence I wish I could use more often!)
Due to the overwhelming cutesiness of the Germanified town, Helen's major industry is now tourism. (Particularly Oktoberfest when the bikers take over the town to raise steins together.) And what do tourists do while... ah, touring your town?
Underneath the Bavarian lattice-work of the friendly shops lies a cornucopia of commemorative tchotchkies, baubles, wooden key chains, engraved switchblades, blown-glass barometers and silk-screened t-shirts.
Lots of t-shirts. Scary, scary t-shirts.
There were so many t-shirts to pick from, it was hard for a girl to decide...
While it's true, I am a southern girl, am I actually as sweet as cherry pie? A Confederate cherry pie, no less!
Dude, what's with all the cherries? Is there some subtle, sexual innuendo going on here that I'm totally missing?
Thank God, at least the message in that one is clear! Daisy Duke pride, Ladies!
I wonder how I'd be received riding the T into Cambridge in this next lil beauty:
I had to pass though, because writing checks is so last season! Especially checks Yankee asses can't cash. What a waste of ink! (Though one day I'm definitely going to write "Pain" into the cash amount of my RCN check, because those fuckers could learn a thing or two about customer service!)
Speaking of service...
And I had spent so many sleepless nights thinking, "Who will save the badonkadonk? WHO WILL SAVE THE BADONKADONK?!?!?!?!" Thank you Honky Tonk Firefighters, thank you!
Speaking of salvation...
Just be grateful I didn't take a picture of Jesus whipped on the cross with the instructions to "Read Between the Lines."
But there was only one shirt that truly tempted my tourist purchasing power:
Let's take a look at that a little closer:
That's right, it says "Here Comes Treble." Ring any bells?
It's only the name of the greatest fictitious Cornell a cappella group to ever be graced with the vocal stylings of one of my favorite characters on The Office, Andy Bernard!!
Now I'm just biding my time until gigantic over-sized bed-shirts become appropriate for everyday wear. Then the world will be in treble, indeed!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
And who am I to begrudge this impulse? Especially when it gives me an excuse to post this picture:
That's right! The American Gladiators are back! And I--like the dutiful American that I play while watching tv--am totally, utterly and completely obsessed.
How could you not instantly, passionately love and root for the likes of Titan, Mayhem, Justice, Wolfman(!), Toa (the Samoan!--how hilarious! and mildly, uncomfortably racist!), Venom, Stealth, Siron, and Hellga (! motherfucking H-E-DOUBLE-L-GA !) to crush--BRUTALLY DESTROY--any and all in their path?!?
Not only does American Gladiators satisfy our yearnings for a more tightly-clad, hairspray-ier time, but it brings us the pure essence of the American dream by presenting us with some fucking HEART WARMING stories of triumph over adversity. That's right, the very-same challengers you want to see the gladiators CRUSH! & DESTROY! are more pumped full of "If you can dream it, you can achieve it!" goodness than than a doctor's office full of Hang in There! posters.
Let's meet the contenders!
Jeff a.k.a, "Big Country," who is married to his high school sweetheart and handles nuclear waste (just like Homer Simpson! except like, in shape and motivated and stuff) who gives us amazing sound-bites like:
"Back home in Tennessee we have annual mud wrestling competition. I think that's been pretty good preparation for this."
"He's a little bit slippery but it's just like hog wrestling at the fair!"
and, on competing against Wolfman:
"I'll to make it across and try not to catch the mange." (Mange! Brilliant! And who said all the writers were on strike.)
And then there's Adonis (he was born for this!) Lockett: first in family to graduate college, whose mom just got back from Iraq and if he wins she can retire from the wars (!!!) and he says things like "I'm going to give it 150%... and leave it on the field..."
Then there are the ladies:
Christie, the martial artist who is married with 2 kids and is the current World Female Grappling Champion, but is sadly not allowed to choke a bitch to make it through the gauntlet.
Siene, who lost 50 lbs and shouts "I believed in myself!" as her explanation as to how she made it past Hellga. (Uh, have you seen Hellga? I think it takes a little more than belief to get through those double-Ls.)
Hellga, consider me your first official groupie:
Pray that the writers strike ends sooner than later guys, or this is going to be a very very scary year on DivMo.
Monday, January 7, 2008
New Study Shows Emo Gingerbread Men As Likely To Commit Self-Harm Over The Holidays As Real Emo Kids [True Story!]
But as I covered myself in the green bristly memory of Christmas past while removing decorations from the tree, I made a gristly discovery.
It looks like the star of our Emo Holiday Song Countdown did not make it through the season!
Just see for yourself!
He didn't even bother with the slit wrist, he just went straight for the whole arm!
Oh sweet gingerbread friend, if only I had hung the tree with a mini gingerbread phone so you could have dialed a hotline when the pressures of the season got to you!
[For the record: After an intense polling of my roommates--because seriously, someone's gotta be pulling my leg... er, his arm, here--it turns out our sweet emo friend was most likely victim to the voracious palate of the little mouse who lives under our futon. Hilarappropriately*, the mouse left the newlywed gingerbread couple, the gingerclown, and the ginger sportsman alone.
Perhaps my little emo guy was the only one not willing to put up a fight for his life... Or was at least hung on the most mouse-accessible branch. Sorry dude!]
* TM, DivMo 2008.
Definition: (adv.) For when something is both hilarious and appropriate for the given situation.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Friday's Favorite FanFic Finds: The This (!?) Is What The Kids Are Listening To These Days Edition [Part 4]
And--Good Lord!--is it morbid!
We've got the Jonas Brothers' true love getting thrown from the top of a tour bus (!), Hannah Montana is diagnosed with a mysterious disease (!!), Pete Wentz grows wings and flies around and shit (uh, can I get a wtf!?!), and My Chemical Romance hangs out with a dead chick (well at least that makes sense).
Oh, and I slipped in a little Slipknot for the Jonas Brother hater sk81337 who started this week's flame war off.
[Editor's Note: Though the prose style of the Slipknot fanfic is EXTREMELY similar to my writing here on DivMo, I swear I didn't write it.
Like OMG!!@@!! NOEWAYZ!]
One night she was kidnapped from her place in bed by Nick’s ex-girlfriend. Joe didn’t hear, no one did. After nearly torturing Rena, Kasey, the girl, pushed Rena off of the top of the tourbus. She was on tour with the Jonas Brothers because their parents all worked together, and they needed to go on a trip.
After she got to the hospital, the boys were miserable. They stayed for 3 days until their parents all got there. Joe refused to leave, but his brothers and parents were forced to drag him out of the hospital, even though he was screaming at the top of his lungs to stay by Rena’s side...
so then slipknot went to the radio station "grahghahh!!!" said 6 "i will smsah because i am clown"
"wtf" said 7 "no im the clown i have the mask"
"no" said 4 "i think i am"
"gayyyy" sayd 963043 AKA JOEY JORDISON THE BEST DRUMMER EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111 "i am the clown"
yes you are" said - whoops sorry that is a typo i meant to type 0 not - LOL!
and so slipknot went to the radio stayshun "GRRRR" said 6 to the PRODUCER "i will kill!"
so the producer died
"hahahahah" gothgirl67779 said "i want to join in"
yeah okay " said joey jordison "i luv u"
"let's have secks" i said...
You Don't Even Know
by Lil Spazzy Q
Miley Stewart is diagnosed with a disease. She is having a really hard time handling all the new lifestyle that her disease requires. She doesn't even know how to break it to her best friend Lilly! But when a concert in LA leaves her spending all of her extra time in the dressing room, a suspectful Nick Jonas is on her case...
Fall Out Boy
by Ashlyn-Marie Ross
Before Patrick could ask what he was talking about Pete jumped onto the windowsill barefoot. Sharp pieces of glass cutting his feet before he jumped, they plummeted down and Patrick screamed before Pete started beating his wings, only just slowing them enough to save them from crashing to the ground and keep them from landing. Pete stopped flying to put Patrick down. "Get on my back, be careful" Pete said. Patrick put his arms around the back of Pete's neck and Pete took off again, wings beating furiously as he sped forwards, suddenly there was a shot and Pete crashed to the ground, rolling backwards. Patrick turned and saw Pete try to get up, a shot wound in his shoulder. He fell back, grimacing in pain and another three cloaked figures rushed forwards towards them. Patrick heaved Pete to his feet helping him walk away from the figures. The brunette was breathing heavily and the cloaked figures easily caught up. "Fly, Peter!" Patrick screamed and Pete beat his wings, they were useless at the moment. Patrick kept screaming at him and he tried again, nothing...
The Black Parade
I woke up in a dark place. I was no longer in a hospital bed, but was lying on what looked like to be a stage of some sort. I sat up, not in pain anymore. I chanced standing and to my amazement I did, with ease. I walked down the steps of the stage. Noticing I wasn't wearing my comfy converse anymore, I looked at my feet. Heavy black boots. I also noticed I wasn't wearing my old clothes either. I was now in a black long sleeved top, black shorts, which where accompanied by black fishnet tights, I also wore black gloves (the type where they don't cover your fingers). Why was I in these clothes? And more of am important question, who had dressed me? I looked up, and into the eyes of someone...
“Sorry if I scared you.” He said. “It's okay.” I wanted to ask him where I was and who he was and what had happened, but I decided not to yet. I didn't know this man and maybe he wasn't the type to be pushed for answers. As if he had read my thoughts he said. “If your looking for answers, your better of asking Gerard.” “Who's Gerard?” I asked back. “That would be me.” A voice called from behind me...
“Please don't be afraid Ashley.” He said to me. “We are here to help you.” I was so confused, how could he be helping m if he kidnapped me? I let my anger get the better of me and shouted this point out to him. Great he was probably going to murder me now. WAY TO GO! He looked at me, “I'm sorry if it seems that way to you. I can assure you it isn't.” He ran his fingers through his hair, obviously he was troubled on what to say. He looked at me again “You don't know do you?” he asked. I was confused. “I don't know what?” I asked back. “You're dead.”
Can't get enough? Healthy portions of Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 should do just the trick!
Thursday, January 3, 2008
News Flash! The Jonas Brothers Suck, Possible Links To 9/11, Bhutto Assassination? [YouTube Video Wars Are Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Tarding My Brain]
And I'm not talking about 'The Iraq,' I'm talking about the YouTube war between Jonas Brother fans and ADiehardFOBFan. Idolator has been doing an amazing job documenting the entire incident, from the first The Jonas Brothers Suck video made by sk81337 (now stricken from YouTube for terms of service violations, but has been mirrored for posterity here, natch), to The Jonas Brothers Suck Apology video (which is really a "psych! You've been pwned! They still suck! And here's some more screaming Slipknot to prove it!" video), to when ADiehardFOBFan jumped into the mix with her aaahhhmazing "People are allowed to hate the terrorists responsible for 9/11, so I should be allowed to hate the Jonas Brothers" logic.
So long story short, there are about a million Re:Re:Re:The Jonas Brothers Suck and Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:Re:The Jonas Brothers Suck videos floating around YouTube all full of questionable uses of grammar, hairstyles, and angst.
And although I was the only one at my New Years party that could successfully identify them as The Jonas Brothers when they were performing pre-ball drop (upon which I was immediately asked: "Oh, do you work with kids?" --Ahhh, no. I ah, just read a lot on the internet I guess...), I honestly couldn't tell you very much about the band. Except they look like this:
So you can see why teen girls might get riled up about them. Mmmm jailbait.
Though my favorite of all the Re:Re:The Jonas Brothers Suck videos is definitely Dan540's Southern Gentleman's take on the issue. Because really, when am I not fighting over baked goods, earthy elements, and wind? Preach on, Brother!
And I would be completely remiss in my coverage of this incident if I didn't draw your attention to ADiehardFOBFan's detour away from Jonas Brother hating to deal with the gravest enemy to Fall Out Boy fans everywhere: Ashlee Simpson. Not only is she dating Pete Wentz, but she--gasp!--might secretly be 'the biggest prep in the whole-wide world'! In case you had any doubt on ADiehardFOBFan's feelings on the issue, she makes it clear in her title: Ashlee Simpson is a crackwhore.
This video includes a numbered list of why Ashlee Simpson sucks (attracting fangirls! the nose job! lip syncing! tearing Pete away from the band! FOB is losing fans! and they have links on stories that they'll send you if you message them personally to prove their claims!!!!).
But their Number 1 complaint about Ashlee?? (and my personal favorite)
Check Exhibit A:
"What are you doing with your hand right there!"
"Why? I would never do that to my boyfriend! That's disgusting! Even if you're alone, it's... it's just creepy."
I'm sorry to break it to you girls, but when you get older, you'll start to get these feelings. They're perfectly natural and nothing to be afraid of. I don't know how to say this delicately... but sometimes, well sometimes when you really like a boy and he really likes you... well, you're going to want to touch the ween. And it's OK, don't fear it. Go with it.*
Though I've pretty much summed up the good parts, the video is worth watching for ADiehardFOBFan's friend's amazing Cousin It hairstyle.
If only the presidential debates were this exciting! (Then maybe I'd be paying attention!)
*You all better be amazed at my restraint at not linking to the Pete Wentz ween shots here. AMAZED.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
DivMo's New Years Resolution Is To Just Drink Straight From The Bottle Next Time Because The Bottomless Cup Is Not Your Friend [Happy 2008, Y'all!]
Congratulations! We've made it through another year. While every blog in the world has been spitting out it's Best of 2007 lists, I must admit I:
a) Am wayyy not cool enough to actually like things in a timely fashion (still rocking that Ace of Base disc, yo!)
b) Can barely remember the contents of this previous year (see: the title of this post)
c) Have a very loose concept of "best" that pretty much equals "worst" in most people's books (Tila Tequila and FOB, anyone?)
So instead of all that, I've decided to roll out a new feature called DivMo's 2008 PopCult Binge List. Now all your burning questions about my cultural consumption can be answered! (Marketers, take note!) Every time I read a new book, watch a new movie or TV reality show, or listen to a new CD, I'll throw it up there on the list. These bits of popcult yumyums do not need to be produced in 2008, that just has to be the year I consumed them. [Because Lord knows I only buy foodstuffs with bomb shelter-worthy expiration dates.]
Here's to a year of delicious cultural consumption!
(And here's to hoping it won't make our brains as fatty as all that holiday consumption did!)