Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Tuesday Lists: Complaints

  • These pretzels are making me thirsty!
  • Ladies be shopping
  • Masturbation didn't make me go blind -- now I'll never get disability benefits!
  • If you convert to Christianity, you don't get your foreskin back
  • I have a liberal arts degree, for Christ's sake!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Insufficient Fare Monday Movie Club On Thursdays: Booty Call

I have a confession to make.

I did not watch all of Booty Call. But in my defense, it's really, really bad. Not even amusingly so.

At first I thought, "Well, as a man who's had some bad dates, I think I can relate to the trials and tribulations of a blind date going awry. Possibly there's going to be a subplot where a gang gets involved and then some dancing. I'd like to see that."

I didn't see anything like that. It's just Jamie Foxx mugging and wearing some admittedly cool beaded braids, Vivica A. Fox looking hot, and two other people. There were no crazy crime shenanigans, only one lame dance scene, and a really, really gay Chinese waiter. Booty Call, why hast thou forsaken me?

This is as far as I got before giving up. I chose to think of Foxx's O face as the "climax" of the film.

So, I'm sorry. I just could not finish this one. Next time, I'll pick a good movie that I will watch the whole way through. After the jump, my score card and a list of things n-words be saying to get the pussy.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Drinking games for kids' movies Pt. 2

If you're like me, you're about to go to your parents' house for the weekend, where all your really great VHS's are. If you need a break from the holidays, which is an excuse we're allowed to use to go drink in the basement now that we're adults, here are some drinking games.

  • Drink whenever mice are going up or down stairs. That's about a third of the movie right there.
  • Drink whenever Gus struggles with English.
  • Drink a white Russian or some other really rich thing when Gus drops all his corn and the cat almost gets him because he was too greedy and fat. Lucifee mean, Gus.
  • Drink if you wonder why the horse is turned into a driver and mice are turned into horses during the fairy godmother scene, since that just seems like more work and this girl is running late as it is.
  • Whenever the Duke struggles with or breaks his monocle, pour yourself a shot with one eye closed.
  • Yell "Dogs rule and cats drool!" and drink when that terrible cat dies. Good riddance. And then maybe consider watching Homeward Bound. There's a drinking game for that one, too.

The Sword and the Stone
  • Take a drink, right now, wherever you are, if you remember this movie. Good for you. In fact, all or at least most of this movie is on youtube, so you could play right now.
  • Shotgun a few right at the beginning so when Merlin gets his beard caught in his wand that it is just as funny as when you were eight.
  • Drink whenever they turn into animals for the sake of Arthur's education.
  • Drink whenever Arthur just stands there like a slack-jawed idiot.
  • Drink whenever Arthur is clearly now being voiced by a different child actor.
  • Treat yourself to a shot and pat yourself on the back whenever you notice action sequences that are recycled from 101 Dalmatians or were reused in The Jungle Book. For real. Disney was cheap for a while.

Peter Pan
  • Drink when this movie gets racist. Brace yourself, this is going to come at you a lot.
  • Dump an appletini down the sink and shotgun a beer (or the other way around, I guess) whenever characters are confined to traditional gender roles.
  • Drink someone else's drink whenever it feels like someone is being cheated on, even if they are a child and/or fairy.
  • Whenever Tock shows up, the first person to hear him should start Nose Goes, and the loser takes a shot of rum.
  • Just for the hell of it, chant "Ru-fi-o, Ru-fi-o!" a lot. Why not.

 Sleeping Beauty
  • Drink whenever...I don't know...there's singing? What the hell happens in this movie? 
  • I think there's a dragon, drink when there's a dragon.
  • Drink at the end when the bickering fairies are fighting and turning her dress pink and then blue and back and forth because that is the best part of the whole movie. And apparently the only part I remember.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Tuesday Lists: Things we're thankful for

  • Books what got pictures of naked ladies in them
  • Original oysters and rock cake replaced by mashed potatoes and apple pie
  • Only woke up in a pool of vomit twice this year!
  • This week is right smack between winter and fall -- the most exciting latte flavor time of year
  • Kennel Club Dog Show giving you a job (you're J. Peterman from Seinfeld)

Monday, November 22, 2010

Monday Mini: You Might As Well Pretend You Get The Whole Week Off

A new edition of the Insufficient Fare Monday Movie Club will be coming on Thursday. The film will be Booty Call, which is available to stream from Netflix. Watch along and we can discuss after turkey.

As for today, though, the odds are you're still at work. And that blows, because what the hell is going to get done a few days before a holiday? So let's waste time on the internet... together.

Ha ha! A cat smoking from a bong!
Robotic Cat Playroom At Oregon Humane Society - Watch kitties play! If you have a PC and Internet Explorer, you can even take control of the toys in the playroom. I've never done this, but it can still be fun to watch kitties play.

CreepyPasta.com - A creepypasta is not a haunted noodle - instead, it's a silly little scary story. Most of them aren't great, but they're a quick read and you could do a lot worse.

Snopes.com - It's about urban legends. It's not that great. But maybe you'll like it! If you're into that sort of thing, though, you probably already know about it. Sorry. I guess I dropped the ball on that one.

Sorry I Missed Your Party - This is my favorite blog right now. Pictures of parties from Flickr and other photo sharing web sites with snarky comments! If I had gotten the idea for this, I'd probably be rich as hell right now!

Well, there you have it. See you guys on Thursday!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Facebook-free living

Some four months ago I deactivated my Facebook.  Initially a strategy to avoid Nancy Drewing my ex-boyfriend, I've learned a few valuable lessons from the experiment. While these haven't always been pleasant, they are certainly revealing.  For instance, did you know I can read?  Neither did I, until I regained an attention span longer than it takes a page to load.  To see if you're ready to get off the 'Book, I've outlined the pros and cons of living off the grid.

Even if you were never notified of an event, you will still be reprimanded for not attending.
Turns out I actually know about a third of the people I'm friends with.  Of those, about ten percent still bother to invite me to parties, and the other ninety will yell at me for not showing up.  Fortunately, you have impunity to invitations to fundraisers, music shows in Greenpoint, and groups commemorating a recent tragedy.  This way your real feelings on the Discovery Channel won't get you into hot water.  Those bastards would probably enjoy that....

You might not be a very good friend.
It's hard to remember birthdays, even your best friend's.  Call it a function of every day blending together in an oatmeal-gray haze of wasted life and misdirected energy, but it's just hard to keep track.  The good thing is that sending a "Happy birthday! :)" text under the table during their birthday dinner is much more personal than a wall post.

You can't express your passive aggression to hundreds of people at once.
While I don't miss updates on what people are having for lunch or which song lyrics like, totally explain their mood, it's annoying to keep those important feelings limited to a socially appropriate number of people.  "Without an outlet for this Sylvia Plath quote how will people know how sincere and complex I am?  How else am I supposed to let my ex know he's a selfish, thoughtless ass-plunderer?"  I tell you, brother, I don't know. 

Photo albums are helpful to finding a mate, as well as resources for ridiculing others.
Everyone knows that if you want a thorough personality sketch of that guy you met you have to first understand how ugly he can look as well as how hot.  Also how ugly and hot the girls he hangs out with are, and whether that hanging out is done on his boat.  More importantly, you can see how fat your ex's ex-girlfriend got, not that it matters since you're not even into him anymore and you never felt threatened by her.  I mean, she drives a Maseroti so she's obviously lazy and stupid and fiscally irresponsible which really is inexcusable in this economy.  I guess not everyone can be a patriot.

Overall, it's been a real whirlwind of emotions.  I've been planning to re-enlist next week, at which point I'll update you all on who's married, who's gotten fat, and who needs a swift kick in the balls.  Odds are, they'll be one and the same.

This guy gets it.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Four Loko didn't work on me

I tried Four Loko last weekend. I mean, anyone who knows me knows I hardly drink, but I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I was kind of disappointed. First, I made a terrible choice, flavor-wise. I don't know how a person is supposed to be able to guess that orange is going to be better than lemonade, but I picked wrong.

Things started out pretty strong. I was definitely talking faster and gesturing more animatedly than usual. I also managed to send around double the texts I usually do in a night. Things were generally accelerated. But that was it. We went out, I no longer felt hyper, and I could hardly finish a 24 oz at the bar because I felt sick.

That's not what I expected. The FDA was about to ban this shit for crying out loud. Sorority girls are being hospitalized by the dozen! Good decent citizens are calling for a ban! This stuff is supposed to be trouble with a capital T which rhymes with E and that stands for Energy Drink/Malt Beverage Combination! I thought I would wake up in jail for beating up multiple cops, or with broken knuckles from walking around the neighborhood just punching through windshields, or with blood all over because I was just sick of that fucking dog downstairs that won't stop barking. No. The craziest thing I did was decide to wear sunglasses out even though it was dark. Whoop-de-freaking-doo. Some threat to our nation's youth.

We should probably run a second trial before the new recipe is on the shelves and it's too late.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Tuesday Lists: Things We'd Like to Be Known For

- Mayor of Doc Holliday's on Foursquare
- Sheriff of Doc Holliday's in real life
- Being able to do that thing where you can flex your pecs one at a time
- Ability to hold 2 handfuls of pretzels in one hand
- Four Loko bootlegger
- Being the first person to slam dunk on the moon
- Neatest bed
- Negotiating the first Cootie Truce
- Most puppies hugged in a single afternoon
- Party like a Rock Star

Monday, November 15, 2010

I'm Nuts About Donuts!

Donuts are great.

Now, I know what you're saying. "Screw you, I don't need you to tell me about donuts! I eat them every day and I'm four hundred pounds, so I think I know a thing or two about donuts."

This is what I picture when I picture a donut expert who isn't me (I'm buff as hell).
First, don't use that tone with me. It's very disrespectful. Second, think of this as a sermon. When people go to church on Sunday, they generally agree that Jesus is pretty good, and don't boo the preacher when he states that opinion during his sermon. I'm the donut reverend today and I'm going to talk about fucking donuts.

There is no package greater than the pink cardboard box that houses donuts. Yes, most people just go to Dunkin' Donuts, and that's fine. The DD donut box is a little slimmer, easier to stack. So if you're bringing a lot of donuts, it's definitely a good choice. But for classic donut action, you're going to want that pink box, tied up with some string. That's the kind of box that's going to make all the other cubicle rats and desk jockeys stand up and take notice. It's the Pavlov's bell of boxes.

And when you open that box, you might get what I call the Pizza Situation. That's when there's a little bit of donut glaze and frosting stuck to the top of the box, like the cheese on a pizza. You don't want too much to stick - just enough for aesthetic effect. It's little touches like that which separate the donut kiddies from donut gods.

At this point, you're going to want to grab a donut and go to town on it, just eat it all up, hole and all. That's fine, that's what you want to do with a donut. However, you're going to want to pick the right donut for your eating style. Are you a Donut Dunker? Choose a plain or lightly glazed donut. There's nothing worse than a loose sprinkle floating in your coffee, or having a runny layer of frosting. Are you just a Donut Devourer? Then you're going to want to just grab your favorite two donuts and run back to your cubicle as quick as possible. This will not only allow you to enjoy two donuts while most people are still eating their first, but it ensures that you can eat your delicious treats without people staring. They just wouldn't understand the love you have for your donut. Do you like Boston cream pie or some other filled donuts? Get the fuck out. That's donut heresy.

So, on this good Monday, let us all remember why we go to work in the morning: because someone might have brought in donuts. Amen.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Slow Down, Mom! It's Friday Again!

Hi gang. Linnea here to bring these moms to your attention. These moms, they like to party. They're not afraid to put themselves out there. Sometimes they like to get a little wild. But every once in a while, things get too crazy. THEY NEED TO SLOW DOWN. 

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Puppy Surprise! There could be 3 or 4 or 5!

I think weird toys, like really weird ones, are usually a flash in the pan, because they're too weird for people to be excited about for long. When some suit at Hasbro or Mattel or whatever greenlights the prototype for some really strange thing, I assume the marketing department realizes it has a very short amount of time to infect the minds of the young with upbeat ads starring really excited blonde girls and a lot of pink. Because it won't be long before even the kids who were really excited get over their bamboozlement, look at what they got for Christmas, and think "What is this thing?"

Behold, the Shampoodle
 I have that particular thought whenever I open the bathroom cupboard in my parents' house and find my old Shampoodle. Maybe (probably) you've never heard of a Shampoodle. If you haven't here's how it works: that dog tag is actually a little lid to the hole in her neck. Every Shampoodle has had a tracheotomy so that you can take the little cup that comes with it, fill the cup with the right ratio of shampoo to water, and pour the mix into the Shampoodle's neck. Then you have to squeeze its stomach over and over until suds form and eventually start bubbling out of the small holes in its scalp. Sometimes you had to squeeze for a long time and it felt like it was never going to start coming out of its head, as I remember. Then you sculpt the glob of bubbles on top of its head with this little comb that came with it, as though it were an updo. Boom. Shampoodle. Honest to God, this was a real thing. I played with it a lot.
Less weird but maybe slightly more upsetting was Puppy Surprise.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Tuesday Lists: How are we going to get out of here??

  • Zipcar
  • Hiding in Dolly Parton's enormous cleavage
  • It's called a handcar
  • Finally calling in that favor from the mole people
  • Clever fake moustache made out of cat fur and syrup
  • Dump the body under the buffet, get in the coffin
  • Just keep applying to stuff on Craigslist, one of these is gonna work out

Monday, November 8, 2010

From The Bad Idea File Of Mr. J. Schechner

I try to keep track of all my ideas, both good and bad. One of these piles is kept in an accordion file, and the other in a manila envelope. Today, just for you guys, I'm digging deep into the accordion and pulling out ideas I've rejected.

Idea: Dr. Dog, M.D.
He's a dog... but also a doctor! In this hour-long television drama, Dr. John "Woofson" Dog works to not only cure patients, but prove that you don't need opposable thumbs to save lives. John's relationship with his boss, Dr. Angelica Dupre, is full of romantic tension... BUT HE'S NEUTERED!
Reason For Rejection (RFR): Apparently there's a band called Dr. Dog. So then I thought I'd call it Dog, M.D., but then people would think it's a parody of House. And it's not. It's a serious television drama about a dog who solves medical mysteries through barking.

Idea: Tiny bowler hats for cats
Self-explanatory. Put a bowler hat on a cat, and, boom! He's like a little furry financier from London. God save the Queen, the pound, and the catnip! Pip, pip, cherrio!
RFR: As you might be able to tell, I mostly just wanted to put a hat on my cat. It's very hard to find financing when all you have is a small hat and an arm covered in cat scratches.
Like this, but a bowler hat.
 Idea: Applying For a Job Where The Qualification Was "Passion For Porn"
 As far as I could tell from the CraigsList ad, this job would've entailed looking at pornography, writing descriptions of said pornography, and getting paid $20K a year.
RFR: Oh, let me count the ways: What if porn loses all appeal to me? How hard would it be to explain to women on dates what I do at work without seeming like a huge creep? What if it made me a huge creep? Why would I do it for so little money? Do I really want to identify as someone with a "Passion For Porn"? Answers: Scary, very hard, scarier, no reason, no.

Like this, but in a car.
Idea: Drive-Thru Divorce Store
You pull up to the board and order a divorce. Choose from one of the many combos available, including settlement, nasty drama filled hateful divorce or annulment!
RFR: Couldn't get a McDonald's to sell me space in their drive through. Also, the dissolution of marriage in this country is not a joke. If you laughed at this item, please go to a godless nation like Puerto Rico or Canada.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Slow Down, Mom! It's Friday!

Hi gang. J. Schechner here to introduce these moms. These moms... they're going too fast. They live hard, and they aren't afraid to party down. But sometimes, well... THEY NEED TO SLOW DOWN. If you know any of these moms, tell them to slow it down. If one of these moms is yours... our prayers are with you.

Got a pic of a mom who needs to be slowed down? Email it to us.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

I feel like I have to buy a pair of boots

I guess boots have been around for a while. Definitely they've been around since pirates existed, maybe even before. And it seems like they've sort of been in style the past few years? I'm not really sure, I don't follow these things. But I feel like this fall, every girl I see on the street is in boots. All of them. I'm sort of worried that any day now, someone on the sidewalk will grab me by the front of my jacket and scream "Sneakers?! Get the fuck out of here!" Or I'll walk into my office and my boss will say "Flats, Linnea? You're fired." So I've been shopping around online for boots since going into an actual store fills me with paralyzing shopping anxiety. Here are the kinds of boots I'm trying to decide between.

Cowboyish Boots
People have been wearing these for a while now. My roommate some sort of like this freshman year, I think. But that just makes them appeal to me more, because maybe I could wear them indefinitely without them going out of style. And I already have a sweet belt buckle, so this seems like a viable option. I'd be ready for anything. If shit gets really crazy, I could just grab a mounted cop's gun, jump on his horse and ride out of the city, guns blazing. Maybe shooting criminals or terrorists or whoever.

Flat Boots
Flat appeals to me. I don't think I've worn heels for more than three hours total in the past two years. And anything that I feel like a Lord of the Rings character in I'm really really on board with. 

Over-the-Knee Boots
When I was a young'un, we called boots that looked like these hooker boots. And only the sexiest girls/girls with the most negligent parents had them. But Jesus Christ, they didn't go up that far. According to the internet, these are OTK boots. Over the knee is way too far. You need some room to breathe. I'm not sure if they're still sexy once they're filled with a quart of sweat.

Ugg Boots
There's always Ugg boots. I really want to look like my parents pay for my yoga class, so this is perfect. Just kidding, that was mean. Canadians get an Ugg boot pass because it's really cold there. But New Yorkers, what is your excuse exactly?

Monday, November 1, 2010

The J. Schechner Get-Tuff Plan

I had a realization last night.
I was sitting on the couch in my floral bathrobe, drinking a cup of decaffinated tea. I was watching Titanic, on TBS, so that Kate Winslet's awesome breasts wouldn't distract from the love story. And, most damning of all, I was nibbling on "fun size" candy bars and contemplating buying a mug that says "Chocoholics Anonymouse!" with a cute mouse eating chocolate painted on it.
And then it hit me - I was losing my tuffness. As a result of living with two human females and one kitty female, the estrogen and feline equivalent of estrogen were overpowering my strong and virile testostorone. That's when I got scared. Who knows what would happen if I let this situation continue? Would I start actually styling my hair? Would I grow to like white wine or, god forbid, wine coolers? Is it possible that I could start menstruating, maybe through my armpits or my pee hole?
I didn't know the answers to those questions but I did know the answer to this question: Did I want to find out the answers to those questions? And that answer was no. I tore off the bathrobe, threw the cup of tea across the room and immediately slammed back a beer. Like a crazy and tough dog, I started barking wildly as I ran into my room and barricaded it from the overpowering influence of femininity. And that's when I came up with the Get-Tuff Plan.
The Get-Tuff Plan is a way for a man to reclaim his masculinity quickly and effeciently, and then keep it up. I'm still working on the final touches, but I thought I'd use my loyal readers as a focus group. So, without further ado, the Get-Tuff Plan!
1. Get Ripped-Tuff
Obviously nothing's more masculine than a sick twelve pack on your stomach. This is why we have male role models like Mike "The Situation" Italianlastname or muscular dudes in tight wifebeaters. But how do you get that look? Well, you can join a gym and pay a membership fee to run around like a rat in designer spandex. There'll be a personal trainer there to help you figure out the best protein powder to piss money away on and the TV is never tuned to Cartoon Network. If that sounds like fun to you, then go join a gym right now, because you are beyond the help of the Get-Tuff Plan.
For the rest of you, here's how we Get (clap) Tough (stomp): We use our entire neighborhood as a gymnasium! Do pullups on a signpost. For sprints, just run through traffic; for long distance running, might I recommend chasing a bus? If you need weights, buy two forties and tape them together to get an 80 fl. oz. weight. And forget those dumb smoothies with real fruit and vitamin supplements - I'm going to recommend the only energy boosting drink you'll need in your workout.
And the absolute best part about the Hood Gym versus the Dumb Gym? If you ever get way too sweaty, you can just pop your shirt off entirely and nobody can tell you to go outside. In fact, this brings me to the next step of the Plan.
2. Get Groomed-Tuff
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Grooming? Dude, that is so not manly!" And I agree. That's why we're not going to manscape or use controlled manburns to clear out that body hair. Instead, you're going to want to think up something incredibly tough and vagina-moistening to shave into your chest hair. That way, when you pop your shirt off, all the hotties will know exactly what kind of man you are.
Here are some suggestions, but don't feel limited to these! The only limit when it comes to step 2 is the limit of your imagination. And how much chest hair you have.
  • "My other chest is just as ripped"
  • "Plumbers Local 32 - Laying Pipe Inside Vaginas"
  • "If you think this is sexy, wait until you see (continued on back hair)"
  • "Grr! Bark bark! I'm a crazy dog with sexy rabies!"
  • "World's Best Grandpa"
With any of those bad boys on your chest, you're not only convincing those around you that due to your craziness you are not someone to be fucked with, but that you also want to have sex with ladies.

3. Get Smoking-Tuff
Smoking is cool. I shouldn't have to convince you of that. But cigarettes are just not Tuff Enuff! Cigarettes are for artists and communists and even women. Have you heard of Virginia Slims? They're like tiny smokable tampons and their poison influence is ruining the phallic nature of the cigarette.
So, cigarettes are out. Pipes make you look like Popeye or some sort of Popeye snowman. That leaves the noble cigar.
Because, let's face facts, nothing screams masculine power like a long cylinder in your mouth (oh did I already make a phallus joke in this step? shit)
4. Putting It All Together And Lookin' Tuff
Picture this. A shirtless man walks down the street, holding a can of Four Loko in his hand. He's a very ripped man, and his chest hair reads "If you can't bang with the big dogs, stay off this crotch". He takes a huge swig from the can, throws it away and leaps, like, twenty feet in the air to grab a streetlamp. He does at least three pullups and then slides down it, like Batman entering the Batcave. All eyes are on him and he surveys the crowd. He points at a woman and she faints (in delight), recovering quickly to join him in an energetic and surprisingly acrobatic display of public sex. A policeman arrives and begins writing a ticket, but stops when the woman has her third orgasm. The cop drops to his knees, his face shining with a beatific light. "This... this must be the second coming of the messiah..."
And then the shirtless man takes a deep puff on a cigar and tells the cop, "Wrong. Four times." He puts on some shades and begins running away after a bus.
Have you cracked the riddle yet? That shirtless man... that can be you, with the Get-Tuff Plan!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do some Tuff Grunting while I file papers at work.