Monday, December 27, 2010

big girl pants, or - I walked on your face

I am now the proud owner of an iPhone.  This is an important step in my human development.  This makes me steps closer to true adulthood.  When your phone is more than just a phone, your existence becomes more than just an existence.  For some reason, it has been decided that it is important to have a friendly little computer by your side at all times.  And now I do!  It is as though I have gone from sub-human to human in one easy purchase.

It's like going from As the World Turns Julianne Moore to sexy movie star Julianne Moore.
To reiterate.  I went from this.  And holding on to this guy.
To this.  And these guys.
An obvious upgrade - two jungle cats and a giant purse.  That spells full true human existence every day of the week.  Not that Julianne wasn't totally neat before she was a star.  She's a pretty cool lady.  But I think we can all see the difference.  And so as going from TV to movies was her Professor Henry Higgins, I imagine a phone that can find me a clean toilet to use will be mine.
I like to think of my new phone as something of a Rosie the Robot.  A friendly, useful robot.  Who for some reason wears clothes.  Perhaps I should make a tiny tuxedo for my phone.
I mean, sure he can't make me food.  Or fall in love.  But I think he would if he knew what food and love were.  Anyway.  In past when I heard about the future, everybody had robots and crazy gizmos.  And now I am part of that future.  

Or something.  

One thing I am never impressed by in the future?  The food.  It always seems to be in pellet form.  I am not a hamster so I would not enjoy eating pellets.  Sure, I would enjoy somebody bringing me food and cleaning up my waste for me and having an amazing wheel that never stops turning on which to run my little hamster feet.  But I would not want hamster food.  I would like miniaturized food that would actually be full-size food to me, on account of my miniature stature.

I don't like future food that comes in tiny form.  And then you have to enlarge it with water or crazy machines.
That just seems unhealthy somehow.  But also seems like food an astronaut would eat.  And who doesn't love astronauts?  So maybe I should rethink this.

In my future the magic of food would be how you can reach into your TV and pull it out and stuff it in your fat face.  Like Wonkavision.  That's really a miracle.  Until I can pull a chocolate bar out of my television, I remain unimpressed with the future of food.

I mean.  Who cares if a tiny pizza can turn huge?  That only really matters if you have such a small kitchen that keeping your food tiny while you store it is some sort of convenience.  Yet you somehow can afford some insane device that enlarges it.  So why can't you afford a kitchen with a bigger pantry??  You sound dumb.

Just kidding.  I like you all.  Like I like David Beckham.
That's all.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

xmas specials

I love holiday specials.  I should say Christmas, since I can't think of of any non-Christmas yet still winter-holiday specific specials.  Can't think of a Hannukah one...or a Winter Solstice...or whatever else.  Anyway, Xmas is the best smelling holiday, so it makes sense it gets the best Xmas specials.

Best smelling??  How can something be best smelling?  I'll tell you how - Xmas tree smell, hot chocolate smell, pie smell, cinnamon smell, minty smell, clove smell, hot cider smell - BAM!  I wish there was a way to smell things over the internet because I'd totally stick some sort of scratch 'n' sniff right here below this here text.  But, impossible.  For now...

Anypoops.  I love How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
It's seems silly to discuss Xmas specials, since who doesn't like them?  But I'm gonna discuss anyway.  The Grinch is a fat fuzzy tub of deplorability.  He is as green as a booger.  And he has a wonderful dog named Max.  And that spells XMAS!!!!  He wears no pants and his shirt is too small.  And that sings XMAS!!!  And he kind of looks like Jack Nicholson somehow, it's true!
And if there's any celebrity who truly embodies the holiday spirit, it's Jack.
And here is a fun fact!  The movie was directed by Chuck Jones.  Who??  Chuck Jones, you magnificent imbeciles!  
He is a scholar and a prince.  See him below with Boris Karloff!  Another gentleman's gentleman.  Man's man, lady's man, man about town.

Next  up, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

I remember watching this when I was little and there was an earthquake during the movie and the movie was so good I didn't even notice the earthquake and had to be physically moved to safety by another human.  That says it's a pretty good movie in my book.  I love every stinking thing about this movie and it looks amaaaaazing.
Everyone and everything in it is adorable.
It might possibly be that I thought everything looked like it was made of spun sugar and delicious cookie and pastry doughs...and it is possible I wanted to eat everything.  But in any event, nobody ever frowned at saying something looked good enough to eat.
But I think I loved it mostly on account of it being spectacular and magical and being the ocean upon which the Christmas ship sails.  

Next.  We have - no, not A Charlie Brown Christmas - on account for my love for a Charlie Brown special is entirely devoted to the Great Pumpkin - we have Home Alone.  And Home Alone 2, but that should go without saying.
Thank you for teaching me the joy of violence and the defending of oneself from predators.  It also taught me not to overdrink liquids before sharing a bed with someone - and also, obviously, not to share a bed with someone with a weak bladder.  Additionally, never to take a vacation with a group so large I could not notice a kid was missing until it was pretty much way too late and it was blindingly clear I was definitely some sort of terrible mother or mother figure.  It also taught me to beware Joe Pesci and seriously creeped me out about old men who hang out in church yards.  And then crazy bird ladies in Home Alone 2.  You learn so much from Christmas movies.

And, finally, Elf.  Because.
Because he eats spaghetti with syrup.   And this.
And this.

That's all there is.  There isn't anymore.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

when things happen, they HAPPEN

Sometimes when you're sick, things happen.  Pills are taken or things are mixed together in a mug and then ingested or foods of unpleasant combinations are eaten.  And we feel momentarily better and then so much worse.  Because these are things we learned from the internet.  We rub oils on our noses after the deciding putting lotion on a paper towel is the same thing as using a Puffs lotion-enhanced tissue.  It is not.  Our nose burns.  But the oil.  It burns, too.  We suffer as the oil burns and does not soothe.  It does not at all.

We turn down suggestions from professionals because are we not the professional body owners?? Of our own bodies?  I believe we are.  And we think we know best.  And when you feel like a sick pile of worm dumps, you think it would be great to try and fancy yourself up to feel better.  To look better is to feel better, sometimes.

We know nothing would be finer than to be an elegant spectacle.  Like Marla Hooch.

And so we make a spectacle of ourselves.  Because it seems like a good idea at the time.
So.  Here.  
From me to you.  
Even when you feel like poo on a shoe of a bear from Peru.
How to give yourself a Sexy Makeover.  

Monday, December 6, 2010

manners, please

What is with people these days?  Have manners and courtesies and etiquettes gone flying naked out the window?  I am not talking about being polite or well-mannered and not mentioning poops in conversation or not embarrassing somebody on purpose by loudly talking about the time they made you run out of a train station and grab a cab to hightail it to the nearest toilet due to a sudden onslaught of a Copenhagen Incident, which also happens to have something to do with poops.

I am talking about being nice to strangers.  Not even nice!  Just acting like everyone you're interacting with is a human person just like you.  And you wouldn't behave in a terrible way towards yourself, would you? And if you would, you got bigger whales to butcher.  You've got higher balconies off which to try and fly.  You gots problems.
A few tips on how to be a human being:
  • Use your pleases and thank yous.
  • Use your turn signals.
  • Use your gas and brake pedals appropriately.
  • Use your ears and listen when people are talking to you.  Acknowledge they are talking to you.  And then use the powers of your brain to absorb the information.  
  • Use the information and don't ask the same question I just answered.
  • Use real pants.
  • Don't drive in both lanes on the street.
  • Don't pull over 3/4 of the way out of the street with your boat of a car and pretend you're not holding up a whole lane of traffic.
  • Don't sneeze into your hand and expect me to want to take the credit card you're holding in that same hand.
  • Don't borrow my coat to go outside and then smoke while wearing it and stink it up when I asked you not to.
  • Don't be one half of an hour late.
  • Don't say you're 5 minutes away when you're 30, 20 or even 10.
  • Don't "forget" your wallet if you take a person out on a date.
  • Don't check your phone every five seconds because I know I'm not that boring, so it probably means you are.
  • Don't not answer my text or call if I'm not where you are and I know you check your phone so often you'd think it was a lone baby cooking a roast beast dinner over a high flame.  I'm not saying I need instantaneous results, but I think we can all agree letting days pass is absurd.  Unless you're trying to rescue aforementioned lone baby who is now stuck inside a flaming roast beast inside of a locked room.
  • Don't make that terrifying commercial with that baby with chest hair running down the beach.  It's disgusting and makes me physically sick.

  • Don't ruin the endings of movies!  Unless it's a bad movie nobody should see anyway.  
  • Don't be sick and not tell me you're sick until I've already breathed the same air as you, thereby getting me sick.
  • Don't sneeze on me.
  • Don't trick Amish people.
  • Don't impregnate your wife with Satan's baby, especially while she's sleeping.
  • Don't tell me I look much better in real life than in my driver's license photo - they're all the many faces of me!
  • Don't ask me if I want two sets of chopsticks when I buy a pantload of sushi at the market - I don't want two sets.  I want one.  Because it's just me.  Eating all that sushi.  By myself.  And I don't care if you're judging me.  Because you know what?  I'm not wearing a mumu.  Most of the time.  And I don't even usually wash myself with a rag on a stick.

  • Don't wear sheer tights as pants.  Don't use leggings, but especially don't  use sheer stockings.  I've previously discussed buttcheeks in this forum and I don't wish to revisit it any more often than need be.

Okay.  Now that that's out of the way.

I have a sore throat and it is NOT OKAY.  
I burnt my whole mouth drinking a Candy Cane Tea Latte.
I watched two movies on the TV.
They were both about ladies, one of whom was really ugly.
That was a poem.  Written by my sickness.

And for C-Mas is soon upon us.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Mad Farts

It's Mad Men.  And farts.
An enchanted marriage forged in the steamy furnace of a unicorn's paradise.

By Spooky Ghost Films
(also known as me and Almie)

Thursday, November 25, 2010


So we last saw Albert Finney looking like a Grumposaurus Rex.  This led me to think about Mean Old Dog Face Men.  And, more specifically, scoundrels - Mean Old Dog Faced or not.  Why is it scoundrels in life and in moving pictures are so excusable?  Why is their charm so charming that it pardons bad behaviors?  Things that most people simply could not do and still be welcome at a dining table festooned and set for Christmas roast beast!!
This applies to gentleman, young and old.  And upon further examination we will see why women cannot act in a manner most unpleasant and live to charm the pants off people another day.  First case in point - Billy Liar.  He is kind of useless and lives in an imaginary world.  And I think he says he's engaged to several ladies.
Which in most cases is something only a grade-A jerk would do.  But Billy is just so very adorable about what a turd he is.  He lies about everything to everybody.
But he makes it work enough to get Julie Christie to run away with him.
But he really pooches the screws on the whole thing and ends up leaving her on a train to go to London by herself.  Somehow she likes him even though he's a liar, and has a boring real life for the most part and tells her about a fantasy world he imagines himself in all the time called Ambrosia.  But he's spritely and wears clothes nicely so it's okay.  And in the end he pretends he needs some milk from a machine in a train station.  This is how Julie Christie is rewarded for her foolishness.

Although this leads my thoughts to a particular scoundrel-woman, who sort of gets away with her bad behavior.  But she has to pay for it in the end, I suppose.  And this lady is the baddest of all kinds of bad things.  She is a movie Nazi!  And she seduces Harrison Ford.  AND his movie father!  That's right, gents and ladies, I'm talking about Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  And, that's right again, I'm talking about Elsa Schneider.
I know what you're thinking.  How can I even write about this woman?  She is a movie Nazi, as mentioned AND she seduces my favorite man in the world, Harrison, as mentioned.  But you're forgetting a couple things.  The more important of which is that her real life last name is DOODY!  But she is a scoundrel through and through.  Doody can't change everything - it can't change that.

Foremostly, she is a liar.  Second mostly, she sleeps with two men of a father and son relation in order to get what she wants.   

How Did You Know She Was a Nazi? sound clip

She is manipulative and let's not forget the jerk Nazi bit.  But she's kind of lovable at being horrible.  She's super glamorous and has nice hairstyles.  And she's pretty.  And she and Harrison are just precious together.  
And she's more of an opportunist that a total Nazi.  But it's really not cool of her to be cool with Nazis just to get what she wants.  That's so uncool.  It's about as uncool as I was when I was 16 and asked for a new sleeping mask as a birthday gift.  Well.  Actually.  She's way more uncool.  But you get the point.

The one thing that makes her less of a scamp is that she allows herself to fall down a big hole in the ground in a seriously dumb way just because she wanted Jesus' special gold sippy cup.  
And, thus, as said before - she will not live to charm the pants off someone another day.  Sure, this is just one woman, but, as usual, women fall pray to the trap of just being crazy jerks, whereas men get to be charming turds.  Just look at Goldie Hawn being a jerk hippie weirdo in all the movies from her days of yore.  At least let's look at the terrible film, Butterflies Are Free.
She spends a good amount of time bopping around with this blind guy and she is being so kooky - just so kooky, you wouldn't believe - and then she acts like a total jerk and it's not so kookily charming anymore.  To be honest, I never found her charming in the first place.  And then she's a jerk to a blind guy!  He is BLIND!  You can't do that.  So, perhaps this is an unfortunate example.  But perhaps not.  Because even if he could see, her scoundrelly ways towards him are not cute and are not at all charming enough.  I guess she prances about in her underwear a lot - which most scoundrelly men never really have to do.  So it is unclear where the fault sits at this dinner table.

Anyway.  If you're a girl.  If you want to be a lovable scoundrel, the first rule is probably not to die by slipping down a hole for a goblet.  Or to die in any foolish way.  Like getting killed in a drunk motorboat accident.  Second rule is definitely don't be mean to blind people.  Don't be mean to any people really.  Unless you can be super adorable about it, or at least so clever at it that people don't notice you're really being mean.  Third rule is if you're not really sure where you're sitting on the scale between lovable kook and nasty piece of ladypants, it's not gonna hurt anyone's case to prance around in your underwear.  It might not help much, but it's not gonna hurt.  Unless you spill something hot on yourself.  Or your underwear is tattered and worn and not up to impressing a hobo down the lane.  Then just keep it to yourself.  Inside your clothes.

We will conclude with one more scamp of a man to book end this lesson.  Hmm...a scoundrel...who could we discuss - I KNOW WHO!  I KNOW TWO WHOS WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT.   Michael Caine and Steve Martin in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.  
Two jerks trying to trick ladies and steal money.  And they charm the pants off everybody!!  Really, there's not much that needs to be said about this film.  Other than these two dopes can be jerks to me any day.  Mostly on account I have no fortune to steal...well.  Actually.  Mostly on account of they are some of the best men ever.
Oklahoma, indeed.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

do not disturb or hold back the penguin

Today I went to a Planetarium.  It took me from inside Earth to outer space to moons of Jupiter and Saturn and some other place I believe was called Mars.  Jodie Foster was my tour guide.  If there's someone I generally can't get on board with as a person, it's Jodie Foster.  But as a narrator, she gets an A+.
Anyway.  I can't get on board because Jodie just has a mean cat's face.  Even when she is happy, there is a mean cat living behind her face waiting to pounce and scratch.  There are a few actresses with mean cat faces.  And no matter how good a job they do making me believe they're someone else, I can't get past their mean cat faces.

Like Helen Hunt.
Look at her mean cat face!  Her eyebrows are just disdainful and pitying.  For no good reason.  I don't know Helen Hunt and I don't appreciate her looking at me in that way she does.  There are some people who just have faces that make you think that no matter what they say, they're going to have a rotten egg's attitude about it.  And you can't help thinking things about people when you look at them!  You just can't.  

That's why millionaires rarely grow 8-foot long beards and foot-long nails while conserving their bodily fluids in jars surrounding their person.  
Not never.  But rarely.  Because then people would know how completely crazypants their brains are.  Millionaires appear normal so all their disgusting behaviors go unnoticed.  You wouldn't notice the penguin in a penguin suit - you'd notice the penguin not in a penguin suit, the naked penguin.  And nobody ever wasn't at least a little bit scared of Bernard The Naked Crazy Penguin.  PS I also saw penguins today.
I suppose, however, a person can't help their face.  But a man can have a mean old dog face and I can still totally like him.  Like Albert.
He kind of looks like he'd ask you for a sandwich and then when you bring him the sandwich he'd tell you very politely that he never asked for such a thing and then he'd smash it right in your fat face.  But I'd still kind of be like, "Oh, that's just cute!"  Unless he smashed it in my particular face.  I like my face unsmashed and unmashed.  But if I saw him do that to someone else I probably would think he was still kind of adorable.  Not so with mean cat face ladies.  Like Kristen Stewart.
If a mean cat face lady asked for a can of cat food and then when you bring her the cat food she says she only eats Fancy Feast and not the dreck you've given her and then she smashes the can in your face, chipping your favorite tooth...well, let's just say I would most certainly not be like, "Oh, that girl is just incorrigible!"  

But I suppose it's much easier for a man to get away with being jerky and it being charming than a lady.  Ladies are always coming off crazy for the most part.

But who am I to judge?  I'm only as good as the following - which is pretty darn tootin' good!!

This post has been brought to you by grumpy puppy face Albert.
And also by this actual grumpy puppy.

Friday, November 12, 2010

your mother rides a vacuum cleaner!!

Sometimes things you don't expect jump out of the blue an slap you in the face.  And you're like, "HEY!"  And sometimes things you don't expect jump out of the blue and lightly tap you on the bottom and you're like, "Oh!  Oh, my..." - and this occurrence was more like a tap on the bottom than a slap on the face:

Minding my own beeswax, eating toast and bacon while watching the television - who should I see but Jon Hamm on Gilmore Girls.  BAM!
He and the old Gilmore go on a date.  But she finds him boring because he's so rich and wants to take her to a David Bowie concert - the MONSTER!!  He talked about his fancy fancy car and fancy fancy wine - JERK!  And then she decides she won't go see Bowie with him because he was such a snooze and a half.

I hate boring dates as much as the next fat person - but I'd probably tolerate them slightly if the guy was Jon Hamm with a dumb name (Peyton) and the end result would be David Bowie.  Even if he is all old and kind of like a lady lizard now.
And even if he and Finola Hughes are the same person.  Finola is a soap opera star lady who I best know from hosting the wonderful makeover show "How Do I Look?"
She seriously could be him.  I suspect they are the same person.  They both love costumes and having the same face.
Anyway.  Back to Hamm.  As stated, Hamm plays a man named Peyton.  Men shouldn't be named Peyton.  You know who should be?  Books.  Or movies.  Like Peyton Place.
I think certain boredoms can be excused on a terrible date and some cannot.  Boredoms to excuse include boring conversations while taking a private jet to a private island, boring television programs being watched while sitting in a private mansion on top of a private mountain range, and observing boring jungle cats doing nothing but sitting on their fat cat butts in a private zoo in a private country.

Unfortunately my terrible dates involve none of these things.  And so none of the boredoms I have suffered are excusable.


I love that fat green witch from Bugs Bunny.  I love that fat old bean.
Witch Hazel

You know who I don't understand?  Andy Richter.  As far as I can tell, from watching what totals out as about 1 hour of Conan's show, he doesn't do anything at all.  All he does is sit in the chair next to the celebrity being interviewed and interject things that aren't funny or interesting or anything.  Then Conan and his guest have to sort of acknowledge him in that way when you're talking to someone you know about something some third person knows nothing about and that third person tries to involve themselves in the conversation and it just makes everyone want to cringe.  

Anyway.  Witch Hazel.  Watch the following.  And be aware of how strongly I identify with Hansel and Gretel.  Hansel?  Hansel...?  Hansel.......??