Not Pictured: Summons to Appear in Front of House Un-American Activities Committee

"Who's a girl gotta knock boots with ta getta Tom Collins 'round here?"

via MadMen Yourself

And He Always Wants to Control the Tunes

I long for the days before we, as a culture, harnessed the power of subliminal messages.

This offering, designed to encourage the conservation of precious fuel for the war effort, could not be more liminal. It's the advertising equivalent of printing your message on a length of 2x4 and wallopping your intended audience with it in the face.

I love how sad Hitler looks- he clearly has so many other things to do! "Ich told you to take the 508! Das highway is always bottlenecked at rush hour! Scheisse!"

A Little Tense

For Christ's sake, fella.... It's just coffee.

If you're gonna hit her, hit her for giving your boss a rusty trombone at the office Christmas party. Jesus.

Glamorous Wedding FAIL

I love the kid on the left. He's so fucking over this shit.

This image inspires so many questions. Which one is the groom? Is it post-syphyllitic Henry VIII in the upper left hand corner? Or perhaps the toothsome Larry Flynt impersonator in the tux next to the bride?

At least we don't have to play this guessing game to find the bridesmaids. The lovely, virginal handmaids kneeling on either side of the blushing bride are clearly taking their duties very seriously.

What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on the wall during the first consultation with the wedding planner: "Ok, for your wedding, I see..... plague-era London! Hooded tunics, codpieces, doublets and calf boots as far as the eye can see! And hats? Oh, heavens, yes! Above all, hats!"

Even the people dressed normally have gotten it all wrong. Over on the right, Uncle Bruce's jacket sleeves are trying to crawl out of frame.

Tip: If you're going to have a theme wedding, make it something like "We'd really prefer monetary gifts" or "Everyone settles... eventually".

Photo

Thought of the Day

There's a lot to be said for the contributions that senior citizens make to this world. Who else would enusre that stock in Werther's Original and linament never plunge?

I'm Gay For...

...squidpod.

There comes a point in every woman's life when she must admit she has been outfoxed. Whether she loses her husband to a Filipino transsexual named Jade, or she loses the big promotion to a 22-year old with braces and gonorrhea, she must admit defeat.

For me, that day is today. I have oficially lost the title of "Awesomeness Personified". And not just to one person, either-- there are two victors tied for first place.

Who are these specimens of wondrous hilarity, you ask? Who are these superhumans who warrant the praise of me -ME!- a woman who once had sex on the front lawn of a Catholic Church with a gay man- to bow down in defeat?

They are Joel and Jenn of squidpod.

Words are cheap, I know. I say a lot of things are awesome-- turkey stuffing, sunglasses, rocking chairs. But Joel and Jenn-- and please don't mistake the following statement for hyperbole-- are the best thing on this fucking planet since Jesus.

Don't believe me? Indulge me by considering the following excerpts from their podcasts:

Jenn: "I picked up a couple of great books the other day..."

Joel: (audible sigh of disgust)

"It twists so you can drill things in awkward places"

"Tron! It was TRON, for fuck's sakes!"

"The verb of maternity is... matronly?"

"There's days when I come home and... I don't want to live in a fart"

"It's gonna feel tight 'cause it's poking through nylon"

"You basically have 4 hands"

"...and continue to screw like crazy"

"I knew I instantly liked you when you maimed me in my eye"

"There's some squares, and they need a little bit of help. And that help is Wild Turkey"

"So I was working at my monkey research laboratory job..."

"I think he might be dead"

And my personal favourite:

"If anyone asks why your Ikea catalog has holes, tell them it's 'cause the Swedes are assholes"

Now that you Know, now that you are in sync with the universe and all of it's mysteries and pleasures, do not let this knowledge go to waste. Leave this stinking dog turd of a blog and go to squidpod. It was nice knowing you.

No, A Flow Chart Has Nothing To Do with Menstruation

Clicking on a picture embiggens the smallest image. Related: I suck at the internet.

Choosy Moms Place Faith in Junk Science

"How soon is too soon? Not soon enough."

Mothers who love their children pour cola down their throats. And there's no such thing as too soon. Douche with it. Mix it with rum on the night of conception. Fry up the afterbirth, stick it on some rye bread and wash it all down with a Coke.

Apparently children who drink cola at an early age are more popular and are in for a "lifetime of guaranteed happiness". An outrageous claim, to be sure, but it's based on evidence collected by the Soda Pop Board of America, so you know it's non-biased.

So if you care about the future of your child, force some of the bubbly brown down his throat and make the little bastard gargle with it until his teeth fall out.

Faded Beauty, Faded Dreams

It ain't easy being a dime-dancer. Fellas coppin' a feel wherever they please, stinkin' of whiskey and trouble. When I left the farm, Mama told me about the city, she told me "Bootise, you ain't never gonna make it in that big town!" But I had myself a dream. I's gonna be the star of the stage. They's was all gonna come from miles around, just to hear me sing and watch my twinklin' toes dance all over that stage.

But Mama was right. I shouldda listened to her, and stay put at the farm. Ain't no one in this town wants to hire a chubby farm girl. They all tells me "You're too damn fat!" and they're right.

So now, I keep my figure down. I work at the Swingin' Pigeon, givin' it away for a measly dime. I still get to dance, and I really shouldna be complainin'. But I just gets hungry. I gets so hungry.

21 Things People Hate About Me

"Michelle, why are you such an insufferable bitch?"

This is a question I'm often asked, by friends and strangers, by clergy and laypersons, by the young and decrepit alike. It's been one of the great mysteries of my life-- How could you hate me? ME! As is typical of my personality (and number 14 on the list) I've decided to compile a list.

1. I am a biblio-snob of the worst sort. Twilight? Bitch, please. I wouldn't be caught dead with that book in my hand.


2. I crack my bones.


3. I wear (forbidden!) outside shoes at the gym.


4. I ask questions that are absolutely none of my business.


5. I sing along in the car to every single song. I'm a terrible singer, too. This is not modesty, either. I am truly terrible. It's why I love kareoke so much.


6. I love opening my mouth and showing people half-eaten food.


7. I always grab my friend's cigarettes and insist on lighting them. The first drag is always the best, anyway. The rest is just anticlimax.


8. I openly mock those who use poor grammar.


9. I roll my eyes about 5 dozen times per day.


10. I love the movie "Drop Dead Gorgeous".


11. I have a super-humanly strong sense of smell, and I will tell you if you stink.


12. I always whine that I want a pot-bellied pig. Apparently they get really big. Whatever.


13. I compulsively buy stationery. Pens are a particular problem.


14. I compile lists incessantly.


15. I become obsessed with things very intensely, and I devour every piece of information I can find on the subject.


16. I refuse to watch The Godfather.


17. I love watching strangers eat really messy food. Shawarmas= hilarious.


18. Anything that comes out of my purse smells and tastes like perfume. Mints, gum, etc.


19. I rarely finish a drink. I just drink 75% of it, and either give up or get a new one.


20. I cannot (CANNOT) sit at a restaurant without hanging a spoon off my nose.


21. I fully expect you to adore me for the above idiosynchracies.

Thought of the Day

Barbecue-flavoured chips and beer go really, really well together.

Non-Violent Persistence

I present to you, my microscopic viewing public, my very first passive aggressive note.

I feel I must mention that this is not my first attempt to solve this problem- I have tried the assertive option, the aggressive option, and now I am left with little else in the way of protest. I am very new to this type of problem-solving. Usually, I just flutter my eyelashes and say "Please?"or hit whatever I want over the head, but these methods have been of no use in this particular situation.

Not my best effort, I'll admit, but I was in a hurry. You see, I had a load of unmentionables in The Washer (so capitalized as there is only one blessed functioning machine- Allah be praised), and I had to scribble down this note so I could stealthily sneak it in and tape it up. Also, if you leave your laundry in the machine for more than 2 minutes after your load is done, someone will take it out and (if you're lucky), put it on top of the dryer. Not in the dryer, mind you. On top.

I'm not really into creepy apartment-dwellers fondling my knickers and delicates, so I had to rush.

I digress. Here is my contribution to the world of spineless whining:

Ghandi would have been proud.

The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem

Meat is the new black.

via Passive Aggressive Notes

I'm Gay For...

Grey Gardens. Why? Please allow the following quotes to answer your question.

Little Edie: If you can't get a man to propose to you, you might as well be dead.

Big Edie: The cat's going to the bathroom right in behind my portrait.
Little Edie: Isn't that awful?
Big Edie: No, I'm glad he is. I'm glad someone's doing what he wanted to.

Big Edie: He always compliments me on the way I do my corn.

Big Edie: France fell, but Edie didn't fall.

If you haven't watched it, you haven't lived. This statement is absolutely without hyperbole.