Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned From PSAs and Batman

Things I love:

Public Service Announcements
Awkward Sexual Tension
My Bicycle
Awkward Man-on-Man Sexual Tension
Lifting Things
The Dark Knight, specifically the husky Batman voice
Shirtless white dudes
Best Summers Ever!

Because the internet loves me, it's given me all of my favorite things in these glorious Dark Knight PSA spots:

Bike Safety!


Heavy Lifting!


UV Protection!


Best summer ever, indeed!!

Life Without Garfield Is Totes Postmodern, Tragic [Like My Constant Usage Of The "Word" "Totes" In Sentences]

This is not the first encounter DivMo's had with Garfield the cat (and no I'm not talking of the fat, Italian variety). There is something about the World's Most Syndicated Comic Strip that makes it infinitely more entertaining when set to live-action video-reenactment or, in the case of my new favorite internet find Garfield Minus Garfield, when Garfield is removed from the strip entirely:

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb.

Um, genius! Here are 3 of my favorites, though the whole site is full of these hilaritragic gems:

They Tried To Make Me Go To Rehab... And I Said "Yeah, That Sounds Like A Good Idea"

Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, Amy Winehouse... Shia LeMotherfuckingBeef (!)

All the cool kids are doing it--or at least, desperately needing it. And it's making me want to get in on this rehab action. To get that "sobering experience" LiLo talked so fondly of. (Ed: Can't you see my cry for help from within my fragments and dangling participles? If that does say "rock bottom," well then maybe I'm just a little more well-adjusted than I'd like to admit.)

I may not be famous or rich or actually perpetually wastyface enough to warrant rehab, but a girl can dream. And any dreaming girl with a good imagination and a digital camera with a swivel display that allows for easy self portraits can find herself in possession of her very own glamorous celebrity mugshot:

(Something in the eyes looks familiar, but I just can't place it...)

From the official police report of the events leading up to this fateful mugshot:

"Ms. Triggs narrowly escaped police custody after instigating a brawl at The Waffle House by egging on a debate between Kid Rock and a local man as to which was the more awesomer alien: ET or Alf. While Ms. Triggs and Rock sided with Alf, the local man disagreed, at which point Ms. Triggs encouraged Rock to "kungfu chop his ass" before fleeing the scene. Later that day she was spotted in a fancy restaurant passing a forged note to Fabio that read: "Dear Fabio, You are fat. Love, George Clooney." Again, Ms. Triggs managed to escape the scene before being placed into custody. Ms. Triggs was spotted for a third time much later that night making balloon animals with Shia LeBeouf in the back of a Walgreens. When the night manager asked them to leave, Ms. Triggs fashioned a balloon sword for LeBeouf and told him to "go get 'em, Champ!" before exiting the scene. Ms. Triggs was finally apprehended in the early hours of the morning when authorities found her napping inside the Statue of Liberty's torch. She has since been self-sentenced to 30 days sans-boozing. Prominent legal experts say that, although it is unorthodox for a defendant to also have the judicial power to sentence herself, it is like totally legally binding because she's like, just making this all up anyways."

30 days. Starting... er, yesterday. So from now until December 7th all poor choices in grammar, diction, general bizarro subject matter or dearth of posting cannot be blamed on the boozing. (Though I'm sure I'll come up with another suitable excuse soon enough.)

Here's to a happier liver and some extra cash to fund my alien trucker hat addition!

Lessons Learned: The Pick Up Artist Finale, Yo

I was going to post on Monday's season finale of The Pick Up Artist in a more timely manner, but there was actual work to be done at work and several bottles of wine to greet me when I got home last night...

That and the finale was completely and utterly boring.

They narrowed it down to the two most (pre-existingly) attractive guys--because God knows the makeovers did nothing to improve them!--and pit them head-to-head for a final challenge. Except it wasn't their heads on the line. In a caring, Guidos Give Back sort of gesture, the boys' final mission was to help 2 lost souls (ahem, plants) find their own inner mojo, using the now-classic lines:

"You guys use the exact same facial expressions."

"Don't be rude introduce me to your friends."

And my personal favorite: "Hey! Did you guys see the fight outside? Two girls fighting over a guy named George! Who fights over a guy named George??"

For a regular dude in the wake of this show, using these lines is like Russian romantic roulette. If she's seen the show, she'll know it's a line. If she knows it's a line, you might get shot down. Before using, a man must ask himself: Am I in Boston? Is this a dive bar? Did the girl I'm talking to say her name was Bailey--not Hailey, Bailey like the drink!--? If so, proceed.

Bonus points for trying "The Spell of Attraction" gambit. Trust me, major bonus points.

But I digress...

After about 10 minutes of the "Final two, bro!" showing their deep appreciation for the momentousness of the whole Mystery Experience with quotables like:

"It's like they totally took you out of your life and removed every aspect that was like in your life." --Brady

And the obligatory "fightin' words":

"Ima get fiesty. And I'm gonna win."--Kosmo

"It's not like I want to win it. I must win it. It's something I must do."--Brady

The boys finally get down to the business of teaching two AFCs (Average Frustrated Chumps) the art of pick up, which--it's hard not to notice--these guys pick up remarkably quickly. Both AFCs are able to "open sets," isolate girls they're interested in, even get digits. Basically everything we've watched our lovable losers try to master over the course of several weeks, these guys accomplish in one night.

And what is that exactly? What have these guys accomplished? They can now start conversations with canned lines. Feign disinterest. Master "(pea)Cocking," which is "How a woman knows you are a healthy mate." Yes, your frosted blond tips speak worlds of your virility and future earning/providing potential! Maybe that was true back in the 90s when boy bands were still selling...

In the end, the most attractive, naturally charming guy won. (Also, interestingly enough, the only one to give himself a pick up name: Kosmo.) Proving, well, that good looking guys who have some charm can pick up women if they just put aside their (completely unreasonable and unfounded) low self-esteem and just go for it. That and nicknames just might be the key to Mystery's heart.

And what have I learned? Boys are idiots. If you want to pick one up, walk up to him and say "Hey, I like your shirt." Don't let them waste your time with silly fight stories and gambits. It's time we took over the scene for real, yo.

Oh, and you can call me Ella, Ella Vader.

Because I'm always down.

Today's Lesson: How To Make A Fake Fake-ID

Step One: Go see Superbad right away--or, if you're pressed for time skip to Step Three.

Step Two: Laugh really hard, decide Michael Cera is a comic genius and credit Christopher Mintz-Plasse for nearly stealing the whole movie out from under the hilarious cast.

Step Three: Watch the McLovin scene and relive the superbadtasticity that is McLovin:


Step Four: Really really want a McLovin Hawaiian ID of your own.

Step Five: Click on this link --> Make Your Own Superbad McLovin ID

Step Six: Remember why Diverted Motion is your favorite blog ever.

Step Seven: Ta Fucking Da!

I might already be legal to buy alcohol but with this ID making me a year older than I actually am, I'm now eligible for cheaper rental car rates!

And now--as a bonus for being such good pupils--I give you the Superbad junket "meltdown":

Mystery Man-Meat: Mmm Mmm Ew

After the tragic demise of one of my favorite emasculated lady-phobes Spoon (seriously, how adorable is he? like, soooo adorable!) on last week's The Pickup Artist, I'm a little terrified of what Mystery's "methods" are going to turn these sweet, clueless guys into this week.

With Mystery and his posse J-Dog and Matador spouting guru-wisdom gem-lettes like: "If you can be interesting, than a woman can be interested in you"; "You can speak about absolute nothing, but as long as you speak with passion, women will be attracted to you"; "You throw a piece of yarn out and the cat will play with it, but if the yarn doesn't move the cat gets bored and moves away"; and "The idea is to not creep them out"--this coming from the guy wearing the wooden goggles on his fuzzy headband; what is he going to a tanning bed in the middle of Siberia or something?!?--it's hard for me not to think these young men are seriously fucked (in a very unfuckable way).

The challenge of the day was to force a group of young girls to sit through 7 retellings of "Goldilocks and the 3 Bears" by each of the guys. My personal favorite version was told by "Kosmo" who turned it into this rambling horror story about Goldilocks being punished for watching too much Spongebob by hitting her head and falling into a dream before the bear shaved her head bald... Um, what?

My personal favorite is--and will always be, even with that nasty goldilock he was peacock-pressured into--Joe D. (My love for him grows even greater after discovering that the most "attractive" picture I could find of him features this very fetching come-hither wink.) Swoon.

Most entertaining reminder that Mystery is a dork-in-pseudo-pimp's clothing: his dramatic teaching of the TOP SECRET, NEVER BEFORE REVEALED "GAMBIT": The Spell of Attraction. The fact that "gambit" is both a word found in chess-lingo and the name of an X-Men character, isn't really helping Mystery's cool points here. But then there's also the hat, and the name, and the fact that oh, right his "top secret gambit" for getting women is actually a "magic" trick I found on goodtricks.net called "Magnetic Fingers Trick." (I personally get way more turned on by the phonebook ripping trick, but maybe that's just me.)

Sadly, our 45 year-old virgin will not get a chance to practice any more gambits with Mystery and company. Though he did not receive his yellow medallion "Legoose" which stands for cleansing action (like a colonic?), he does win my award for quote of the night: "Just getting out with your soul intact is good enough, I think."

Wiser words have never been said, my friend. Now go out and use your 15 minutes of fame to get yourself properly laid!

The Curse of the Dirty Oreo

When I was in 7th grade, my small, private Florida school called all of the girls together in Ms. Parker's English classroom for a group meeting. The boys, I believe, were also detained in their own classroom for a "talk." A gender divide for a grade-wide chat? This could only be about one thing and it started with an S and ended with an EX! There is nothing I enjoy more (even then) than an awkward presentation of a serious topic by "grown-ups" trying to communicate some impending doom upon the youth.

While I'd like to tell you that the impetus for this talk had something to do with rumors spread around my own personal adventures; my never-been-kissed buddies and I hadn't been in the know enough to have even heard said rumors (and given the content of the talk, there MUST have been some seriously juicy ones floating around) let alone played a role as the salacious subject matters.

After we settled into our seats, Ms. Parker stood in front of the class holding one delicious, trans-fat filled Oreo cookie in her hand. "I'd like you to pass this cookie around the room. As you pass it, you can do whatever you want to it: take a bite, lick it, whatever you please."

And so began the solemn passing of the cookie. My mind filled with questions. Would there be more cookies? How awkward would it be if I just popped the cookie in my mouth when it came to me? Is that in violation of the rules? Is this about eating disorders? Where is my sex talk?

As it turned out, no one had the guts to do anything to the cookie except pass it along like a hot potato. When it finally got back into Ms. Parker's hands, she held it up for us all to see. Yes, it was still an Oreo cookie. "Would you want to eat this cookie now that so many people have touched it?" (Um, yes?) "I didn't think so. Remember this girls. Don't be that dirty Oreo."

And that was it. We were dismissed. And from this day on, when I think of Oreo cookies, I don't think of the traditional glass of milk that usually accompanies them. I think of sluts. Dirty dirty sluts.

This trip down memory lane is courtesy of Planned Parenthood in Washington, D.C. which put out the following PSA (discovery today via BoingBoing):