Archive for May, 2009
In fact, it just ended.
Bethany, Rosie polished off 62% of your cake.
Diana, shut up.
Time for sleepynaps.
Back to Lenox Hill tomorrow for a 9:00 a.m. appointment (they couldn’t see me today). My doctor is doing this as a precaution, but he feels confident that Teresa’s and my fear that I have a hernia (and not just the already fantastically diagnosed herniated disc) is incorrect.
Will I be back in Brooklyn for the start of Picnic 2: Did I Say Bi-Pedal? I Meant, Um, Bi-Pedal With Occasional Wincing? I hope so (LHH’s track record is such that my 9:00 a.m. appointment will prolly start at 10:00 and finish by 11:00), but who knows? I’ll get there a little early and pray for the deaths of whoever’s ahead of me.
And I am fighting falling asleep as I type this, so once again you, the reader, get the shaft.
No grand sweeping essay on why NATM:BATS is no better or worse than any other film aimed at 9-year-olds.
No evisceration of the Post (I am so far behind that the Yankees reached 1st and fell back to 2nd [trailing Bahstin by 1/2 a game], one of Mike Tyson’s young children died [but not because he ate her], the GOP has been gagging on their legs while trying to court the Hispanic voter bloc while blocking a Hispanic from the Supreme Court [see what I did there?], and so so much more), but I had to share this one blip before I drift off to Sleepytown. Verbatim:
“The official Summer Redneck Games in East Dublin, Georgia are back, even though the radio station that has sponsored it pulled out following a lawsuit last year by the family of a boy who lost his arm in a competition. Events include the cigarette flip, armpit serenades and the mud-pit belly flop.”
I would think that losing your arm at the Redneck Games guarantees you the gold.
B’also? In my doctor’s waiting room today, I sat next to an Asian woman who was trying to get her insurance company to allow her to switch her primary doctor. For the entire call, she was eating some form of nut or cracker, loudly crunching while she was speaking and while the person on the other end was speaking. They were explaining that HealthNet (despite [allegedly] assuring her that she’d be able to switch doctors whenever and wherever she pleased) only allows her to see doctors in California.
My first thought was, “What an inconsiderate bitch!” followed shortly thereafter with, “The next time I call Oxford I am totally eating a case of Pop Rocks! Brilliant!”
But then she called her friend (husband?) and continued doing it. So it wasn’t a subtle way of annoying HealthNet. She was just an inconsiderate bitch.
B’also also? For the FOURTH time in the last WEEK, I have heard “Mambo No. 5″ by Lou Bega. If there is a fifth, I’m buying a fifth of hooch.
OK. Cake is baked (I did;t have the time, patience or energy to try something new, so it’s a strawberry, blueberry, golden raspberry, cherry and banana cake. And if Bethany doesn’t show up, everyone else can eat it and we can feed the leftovers to the ducks.
Good night, all.
(in Columbo voice) Oh, uh… there’s just one other thing. Armond White, in the latest “issue” of the New York Press, eviscerates Up for being a boring and stupid regurgitation of Pixar’s tired old formula that every other critic is tripping over themselves to praise (Lou Lumenick called it the best movie of the year, if not the century). The movie he gave a good review to? Dance Flick. He called it subtle.
He has to be a bit, right? Right?
No rest for the weary, no sleep for the wicked, no time to write (here).
As T.S. Eliot once said, “these are the days when you wish your bed was already made.”
I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the earlier side, so if I get to write, it’ll be on the later side. Of course, that would mean that Teresa would have to clean the entire apartment by herself (which is only fair).
But I have so much to share. You’ll have to settle for just this:
A man who, I assumed based on his demeanor and odor, is homeless and prone to engage in fistfights (what’s the worst that’ll happen; a jail cell is more home-like than the benches in a subway station) took great offense when I stood up from my seat to let the elderly gentleman next to me exit the bus. Apparently (and I maintain that he either made this up or suffers from what Samuel L. Jackson had in Unbreakable), one of the bags of groceries I had to move for my seatmate’s departure brushed against his leg (he was standing in the aisle — the bus was mad crowded, yo). The following is the verbatim conversation we had:
“Oh, you don’t see somebody leg there?!!?!!?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Well I’m fucking telling you now, you fat piece of shit!!!!!”
“O… K. I’m sorry that I hit your leg. It won’t happen again.”
“You GODDAMN RIGHT that shit ain’t gonna happen again, you fat piece of shit!”
(I go back to doing my SuDoku, another man of similar wealth and taste — or lacks thereof — approaches my new BFF)
“I thought that was you!”
“Hey!”
(they embrace)
“This fat piece of SHIT (which he leans over the elderly woman now sitting in the seat — thankfully — separating me from him to yell at me) act like I ain’t even there!”
(This is when I realize what this is about: my bag didn’t hurt him — life did. He is a member of the invisible class. He yearns not to be accepted or loved — merely acknowledged. And that’s when I feel pity for him [albeit mixed with a healthy fear for my groceries, if not my life].)
“Ha ha. You all worked up, man!”
“Well, who the fuck does that fat piece of shit think he is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He don’t give a fuck!”
“Uh-huh.”
Just before we reached the Smith & 9th subway stop, the two men exited the bus. I breathed a small sigh of relief. The lady next to me leaned over and said, “Thank you for not fighting back and just ignoring him.” “Oh, no problem. I’m sorry you had to be subjected to his yelling,” I replied.
“Oh, you have no reason to apologize. I saw what happened. He was just being a dick.”
Only in New York, kiddies. Only in New York.
(And happy birthday, Bethany. You go, girl.)
I’m not even going to give you any clues. It’s like a visual poo onion… every fifteen seconds, you tell yourself it can’t get worse… but it does. If it’s as good as The Wicker Man and Knowing, then I’m bringing Nicolas Cage up on crimes against humanity.
Ridiculous. I can hear the VO for the commercials already…
“FROM THE MAN WHO MADE KLAUS KINSKI DRAG A BOAT OVER A MOUNTAIN… AND THE MAN WHO MARRIED ELVIS PRESLEY’S DAUGHTER BECAUSE HE COULDN’T MARRY ELVIS PRESLEY… AND THE MAN WHO PLANS ON BEING THE NEXT GOVERNOR OF NEW MEXICO… AND THE HOST OF PIMP MY RIDE… AND, UM, THE ETHNIC WOMAN FROM GHOST RIDER AND THE SPIRIT… COMES A MOVIE WITH THE SAME TITLE AS AN NC-17 CULT CLASSIC BUT THAT IS MOS DEF NOT GOING TO BE NC-17… AND IS SET IN NEW ORLEANS FOR SOME REASON.
IF YOU WANT TO SEE ONLY ONE PREQUEL TO, SEQUEL TO, OR REIMAGINEERING OF AN ABEL FERRARA MOVIE WHERE HARVEY KEITEL ANGRILY MASTURBATES IN FRONT OF A WOMAN WHILE SCREAMING ‘SHOW ME YOUR SUCK COCK FACE!’… WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE. THIS ONE, DESPITE SUCH T-SHIRT-READY DIALOGUE AS ‘YOU DON’T HAVE A LUCKY CRACK PIPE?’ IS A GIANT TURD.”
More writings tomorrow. I know I owe you all a bunch.
I made a follow-up appointment with one of my growing army of physicians (someone remind me to create a Mafia Wars clone where you spend money to get better insurance which allows you to add specialists to your “practice”). It’s the one that specializes in the area over my tushy. While I am light years beyond the suffering I once endured (heroically, I might add), I have some trouble spots that are getting worse. So, at the very least I’ll have something to think about while Robin Williams does a hilarious riff on being Teddy Roosevelt (“SomeoneshowedmeateddybearandIpunchedhimintheface! Ateddybearshouldbefierce! DoIlooklikethepersonificationofthatribbonedsissy?! Canyouimagineagiantteddybearwalkingintoastoreandtheclerkislike’Hello,sailor!’?”)
Wow. BIG yelling outside. I thought I’d see a throwdown but, sadly, it’s just one of the parade of crazies that sit on the benches across the street. He’s not yelling AT anyone. He’s just yelling (FOR everyone).
Dishwasher is churning out the clean (I did so many dishes today that I now find spoons attractive), medical ducks are nicely in a row, reconnected with one of my favorite former fellow Chicagoans (without giving away too much, her last initial is “G”) and I still have ample time to cut up some melon before my trip to the sinnamuh.
There will be a far longer entry later this evening (Part 2 of 2), but for now… pray for me.
You miserable bastards.
Night at the Museum 2? Really?
There was a shitty movie with robots you could have sent me to. Or a shitty movie with the Wayanses. But no. I get to watch a talented and pretty actress flirt with a chimpy Jew (who will grow into Jerry Stiller’s orangutan body sooner than he thinks) while hundreds of the funniest men in the world earn their seven-figure three-day pachecks.
Lennon and Garant can be incredibly funny. Christopher Guest, Ricky Gervais, Bill Hader, Hank Azaria, Steve Coogan… the brain part of my brain says that I will thoroughly enjoy it. But the part of my brain that didn’t fall asleep while I watched the first one is screaming that I need to factor in international box office and go see Terminator: Salvation. But, no. I made a promise.
(Besides, Bendis Twatted during the premiere: “The only guy who knew what he was doing was the DP — and he’s the one that got yelled at!”)
So, tomorrow, if I get my chores done in time, I will subject myself to the movie that Lee Thomas of WJBK FOX 2, Detroit calls “Hilarious. Comic genius. Please get me out of Detroit.”
Happy Memorial Day, America. This better be better than Obsessed.
What a remarkably pretty day (with spurts of nauseating heat)! We went window shopping and found barrettes! Sadly, they weren’t for me. Next weekend is Picnic 2: The Quickening and it will be good to see some folks we haven’t seen in a long time (assuming our more calamity-attracting friends aren’t saddled with last-minute calamities) and some who we have, but can’t get enough of them anyway. And I’m baking a berry cake!
But here’s the thing about my Fruit (formerly Apple) Cake. I don’t use no fancy mixing equipment. That’s for ladies. I mix things with hand-held non-electric utensils (like a big boy!). But the recipe calls for a layer of the delicious batter, then fruit, then batter, than fruit, then batter. But while Teresa and I adore the flavor of the batter, we also like fruit (look who we each married). So I’ve tried piling fruit in between the layers of batter, but it becomes burnt on the outside and undercooked on the inside (ideal when baking a cake for someone you don’t like, {the opposite of ideal} when you’re baking for yourself).
We have a fancy Cuisinart mixer thing. It’s very fancy. And I’ve often wondered: “What if I put the dough and the fruit in the Cuisinart and blended them together and THEN baked it? The most obvious con (besides “I’m Thinking Of A Number” and “How Many Fingers Am I Holding Behind My Back?”) is that the fruitiest parts will burn against the metal cake pan. But the most obvious pros (besides those yelling “Prostitute over here! Getcher sex-for-money right here, boys! I’m available and clean… ish.”) is that if it works, I’ll be able to expand the flavor palette tenfold (I think that’s English). And if it fails, I get to eat the failure cake all by myself!
So sometime this week, I’m-a try this out. With an assortment of berries. For unveiling at Picnic 2: This Time I’m Bi-Pedal.
There’s a lot in today’s paper, but here’s a quick rundown of yesterday’s.
Mets beat Red Sox (double yay!) but Yanks lose (single boo).
Mary Kay Letourneau (prounced Ped-o-phile) hosted a “Hot for Teacher” night at a bar in Seattle. Her husband (and father of their two little girls — who they hope will also grow up to be married mothers of four that begin affairs with 12-year-olds and go to prison as a result, thus destroying their first families but allowing them to party like rock stars in Seattle!).
Of his no longer being POTUS, Bush said, “Life is returning back to normal.” (Is he angling for a gig on Leno’s new trainwreck-to-be?)
Kiefer’s charges are being dropped by the man who I suspect is making a gigantic deposit in his bank account soon.
CSI writer Sarah Goldfinger is being sued by her former real-estate agents (who sold her house for her) for writing an episode that featured realtor characters named after them (and cast to look like them) who were into bondage, hardcore porn and booze and were suicidal. And bad at their job. Meow. The real realtors caught wind of their impending fame and started to make a big stink, causing CBS to rename the characters (The Tamkins became the Tuckers) before the show aired in February, but the Tamkins are still angry. In a related story, Sarah is suing Ian Fleming.
Jon Peters is no longer threatening to unleash (sorry, release) his sexual autobiography (Studio Head — see what he did there?) because leaks in the “press” have caused him to be threatened with too many lawsuits (surely not by the women who he claims blew people for parts in movies… right, Babs?).
Drew Barrymore spotted wearing a “MY BOYFRIEND IS OUT OF TOWN” t-shirt? Now I’ve seen everything!
Thomas “Amarillo Slim” Preston, Jr. (the famous poker player) was indicted in 2003 for molesting his granddaughter. He pled guilty to reduced charges and got probation and a fine. Good luck iat this year’s WSOP Table of Champions (and People No Longer Welcome At Their Kid’s House), Slim!
Dozens of girls at an elementary school in Brooklyn stood on a grate for a class photo. The grate collapsed and “up to 32 of them” were injured (the grate covered a 15-foot drop). Take a bow, person who thought that was a good place to take a class photo!
Kristin Gore is divorcing Paul Cusack after 4 years of marriage. She cited irreconcilable differences, but I think it’s because she was worried that her husband was related to John and Joan Cusack (sorry — I love them both, but I watched War, Inc. the other day and… yeah).
An Italian warship captured nine pirates off the coast of Somalia. Yar.
Cartier is suing Apple because they say the “Fake Watch” and “Fake Watch Gold Edition” applications use timepieces modeled after their own. Shut up, Cartier, b’also shut up everyone who spent a dollar to have a fake “gold edition” watch tell them what time it is on their iPhone. Especially since the regular watch is free. And a t-shirt that says, “I waste money on all kinds of bullshit” is available at most malls in America.
Dick Morris doesn’t want terrorists to go to trial because he fears they’ll all be released and kill Americans. Dick? Drink a tall glass of hooker urine and get some sleep. You’re being stupid again.
Things to make you laugh: 1) Clay Aiken has a paid-subscription-only message board; 2) that he adds posts to; 3) and which people then read. 4) Clay said that the one time he heard Adam Lambert sing, “I thought my ears would bleed.” 5) He went on to call Adam’s cover of “Ring of Fire” “contrived, awful, and slightly frightening!” 6) Clay Aiken announced that he was gay three years after America told him he was gay.
TODAY!
The main cover story has the girlfriend of one of The Terrorist Archies (that’s what I call the folks that tried to blow up Riverdale) claiming that the feds super-extra-mega-double entrapped her bf and his buddies. She says the feds gave them marijuana (which makes people totally want to attack… some Doritos!), paid their rent, gave them cash, sprung for meals, hung out with them 24/7…
Look. On the one hand, W. helped me develop a keen distrust of everything governmental. The fact that we “captured” people who were too stupid to realize their bombs were duds… yeah. It feels photo op-ish. But here’s the thing: I don’t care. If someone approaches you on the street and says, “point this gun at anyone you want and then shoot them and I’ll give you a million dollars” and you turn around and point it at my wife? And then it clicks, reveals its empty and you’re arrested and thrown in jail for a few years? I won’t cry for you. Would you be in that jail if that undercover jerk never approached you? Nope. But you tried to shoot my wife.
These guys tried to blow up my nursery school. Like my wife, I have great memories of times I’ve spent in that temple. Sorry, dim cons. Enjoy going back to prison. Next time, follow Sarah Palin’s factually-incorrect advice and say, “Thanks… but no thanks.”
The MTA.
Above a collection of complaints the MTA has received since last year (which include such classic lines as “If I had two pennies to rub together, I would just buy a fucking car and be rid of you incompetent people altogether.” and “Thanks, MTA! I guess I won’t be taking my kid out to a movie or out for a meal anytime soon.” and [my personal favorite for its poetic vagueness] “Please be advised that for the last five days, there is a horrendous stench emanating from two vomit stains located on the side of the last staircase.”), is an article that spotlights the $3,500,000 the MTA spent in the last year — on raises and an increase of employees at the Midtown HQ’s (and extra 43 idiots were added to the 652 morons that already “worked” there). Also included in the $3,500,000 they spent on new jobs and raises (140 of the chuckleheads at their HQ got raises — but only 61 came with title changes) was the $75,000 annual salary of their new full-time photographer. The new “Director of Workforce Development” gets $134,204 a year and the new “Chief Diversity Officer” has a salary of $172,000 (It’s about time — I want to see some White faces at the MTA!).
I hate the MTA so much.So much.
Rudy 9iu11ani and his wife (the current one, not his cousin), were leaving an art fair in Bridgehampton (not a euphemism) when a 69-year-old told Lispy McHomophobe, “I’m gonna punch your lights out!” How did classy 9iu11ani respond:
a) By trying to reason with the man.
b) By hiding behind his wife.
c) By alerting his driver.
d) By shouting, “Alright, do it then!” and then running away.
The answer… is d. Not everyone is reporting the running away part as much as his stoic defiance in the face of danger, but you know me — I try to buck trends (also my porn name). B’also? His wife called the driver and told him to find the “assailant,” insisting “I want him in jail!”
Alright, Judi, do it then!
Several hundred bees were hanging out in front of the GameStop on 14th Street near Union Square at 2:00 p.m. yesterday. The best part of the story is that a resident in the area bought a packing box from the UPS place next door and used that and a plastic bag to corral as many as he could (before help arrived in the form of an actual beekeeper).
The man? Dutch.
Now I understand how they took down those pirates.
Kevin Bacon had his BlackBerry stolen from him at B/D/E station at 53rd and 7th.
He chased the thief, but lost him in the crowd. See, Kevin? Isn’t it great that those ticket booths are empty now? Who needs personal assistance in the subway?
And big ups to the Post for pointing out that his wife’s personal number “is no doubt stored on the phone.” Stop the presses!
Seriously, just… stop the presses.
American Girl is making their first Jewish doll! Yay!
Rebecca Rubin is the daughter if Russian immigrants (she lives on the Lower East Side in 1914!) and wears a maroon dress with gold buttons (are you hinting at something, American Girl?), calf-high spats, a velvet hat, a shawl and a gold brooch (now you’re pushing it).
Z.C. Fishof, a shopper interviewed by the Post said of Rebecca, “She’s a cute little girl, but there is nothing particularly Jewish about her.”
What about the gold buttons and brooch, Z.C.? Don’t they make up for the lack of hook nose and list of doctor’s appointments?
Liberty DeVitto, Billy Joel’s drummer since the 70’s (and not, as you might have assumed, a stripper), is suing BJ (tee hee) for “overdue royalties.” Liberty claims he was more than just a drummer for the Piano Man.
“If Billy sang ‘Only the Good Die Young’ the way he wanted to, it would have been a reggae song.”
Liberty? For robbing me of Billy Joel’s worst idea ever, I hope you get nothing.
Billy Joel doing reggae? Wow.
Public schools that closed recently for, um, health concerns (I’m looking at you, swine flu) may wind up costing the city some of its state aid. Apparently, schools have to be in session for at least 180 days of the year.
So, if we want to maintain the (paltry) level of cash coming from Albany, some students and teaches are gonna have to do some weekend warrioring.
Sorry, Dan.
Five words (and a period) that fill my heart with hope and make the day just a little bit brighter.
Cindy Adams is off today.
Kristen Wiig is currently separated from her husband.
Sorry, Kristen. But here’s something to cheer you up: guess who appeared in the most sketches on SNL this past season!
I’ll give you a hint: she’s currently separated from your husband.
Gita Hall claims that she, like Barbra Streisand and Leslie Anne Warren are alleged to have done in Jon Peters’ aborted book, was told by producer Ray Stark to perform fellatio on him if she wanted to stay cast in his movie. But unlike Babs and Leslie, she refused.
And yet… I’ve heard of Streisand and Warren. Maybe… you should have… ?
I keep forgetting who Marilyn vos Savant (Parade Magazine’s Smartest Columnist!) is married to. It’s the inventor of the Jarvick Artificial Heart, Dr. Robert Artificial. I mean Jarvick. Dr. Robert Jarvick.
Tim Gunn will be a superhero in Marvel Comics’ latest horrible idea, Models Inc. (where have I heard that name before?), but the folks at Modelina.com point out that Tim and Heidi Klum fought crime in a series on their website in February.
Girls, girls, girls! There’s no need to fight! You’re BOTH terrible ideas and can SHARE the blame!
66-year-old Marion Fahnestock! She used to be an intern for JFK! She was 19 at the time and went by Mimi Beardsley! And she claims they had an 18-month affair! Read all about it in her new book, Once Upon A Secret! Surely she’ll make a more interesting protagonist than Jackie or Marilyn (or, if you like JFK fan-fiction, Sinatra)!
Here’s a tip for North Korean politicians: Do NOT promote reconciliation with South Korea.
Choe Sungchol did. So Kim Jong Il had him executed by firing squad.
That dwarf knows how to party.
Yesterday was Saturday, right? So explain to me how this could happen.
The Tasti-D-Lite on 57th and 1st Avenue was robbed at 1:30 p.m.
In broad fucking daylight, two guys enter, pull guns, empty the register, push the only employee there in the back, beat him up, force him to open the safe, beat him some more and run out. And no one saw a damn thing.
I (heart) New York.
The Post has many many pages on what our armed forces are hoping to have on the battlefields by 2030 (despite my numerous letters to them explaining Apocalypto). There’s the gun that can be unlocked by voice command (that’s what our soldiers need: a gun that fires not when you pull the trigger, but when you activate the trigger through vocal commands… what could possibly go wrong?), and the addition of “smart drugs” (take a bow, pharmaceutical lobbyists!), and binoculars that would connect with a soldier’s head (via EEG electrodes) and would act as a “spider sense” (um… you guys know Stan Lee made that up, right?) and warn the soldier of dangers that his brain has sensed, but hasn’t had time to process yet (I’m no science-making person, but I think I would find it confusing if my brain sensed danger and told the binoculars plugged into my head because it didn’t have time to explain it to me, but then, I’ve never bought a $2,000 screwdriver) and (my personal favorite for its hilariously racist foundations) the helmet that has “biometric facial recognition to identify insurgents” (because insurgents’ faces are shaped different, silly!).
Can we attack Japan and surrender and then make them help us reboot our economy? We can totally revolt 10 years later, but I fear that our military is being led by people who watch too many TBS movie marathons.
Kyle Smith (who thinks the entire Wayans family is funnier than Amy Sedaris) tells of being hit by a bicyclist while two years ago. He also tells of his editor at the Post, Mackenzie Dawson, and how a cyclist has put her on crutches for three months. And Post photog Lizzy Sullivan and her broken rib and “months of treatment.” And Features writer Reed Tucker who was “knocked down and scraped up” by a cyclist.
The MTA makes me want a bicycle. And NYC bicyclists make me want to join them in colliding with Post employees.
Maybe you should just always stay home, Kyle! And never leave! Or write anything anymore! Or LOOK BOTH WAYS BEFORE CROSSING EVEN IF YOU HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY, STUPID!
The leader of The Terrorist Archies, James Cromitie — who was totally entrapped and should totally be let go — on Jews:
“I hate those motherfuckers, those fucking Jewish bastards… I would like to get a synagogue.”
Boo. Hoo.
Dick Cheney on… oh who even cares anymore?
“It is recklessness cloaked in righteousness and would make the American people less safe.”
What… hating faggots like your daughter? Is that what you mean, Dick? Yeah. I’ll bet that’s what he meant. That denying American homosexuals equal rights is recklessness cloaked in righteousness which makes them less safe. Well said, Dick.
David Kessler wrote The End of Overeating: Taking Control of the Insatiable American Appetite. In her review of it, Ginger Adams Otis recounts Kessler’s analysis of Chili’s Southwestern Eggrolls.
I remember years ago eating in an airport Chili’s. We had no other legitimate choice at the time and their abbreviated menu seemed like a list of evils, the Southwestern Eggrolls the lesser of the lot. I remember enjoying them. But after reading this, I will never ever even think of eating them again. Here are some fun facts about Chili’s Southwestern Eggrolls: The tortilla wrap is 40% water… until it is deep-fried. Then it is 5% water. The other 35% becomes fat.
The chicken might look like regular old chicken, but its been processed and mashed into a meatloaf-like lump and “cut” with autolyzed yeast extract, sodium phosphate, soy protein concentrate, and other “starchy binders.”
The BBQ-flavor comes from “a chemical bath.” It contains eight types of salt and five types of sweeteners. It has been specifically engineered to have high fat, high salt and lots of sugar. And it was pre-processed so customers don’t have to chew it too much.
I don’t think I’ll even be able to eat regular chili anymore. I need to read this book.
Pringles are 42% potatoes, 33% fat and flour.
I’ve got the fever for writing them a letter and telling them how disgusting I find that.
Mandy Moore and Ryan Adams are still married? I owe you a dollar, Teresa!
The Bangles are doing a reunion tour? You owe me a dollar, Teresa!
At first it was amusing. Now I’m actually frightened.
Night At The Museum: Battle Of The Smithsonian has a four-star review from Jeff Craig of Sixty-Second Preview. The grandson of someone who knew about movies calls it better than the original. It even has a blurb from Lee Thomas of WJBX FOX 2 in Detroit.
But no Pete Hammond.
Terminator: Salvation has blurbs from the CW, the Daily News, Mark S. Allen of CBS-TV… five blurbs in all.
But no Pete Hammond.
Angels & Demons has no blurbs (but trumpets that it’s the #1 movie in the world).
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past has five blurbs, Wolverine has two.
But no Pete Hammond.
Dance Flick has “FROM THE WAYANS BROTHERS THE FUNNIEST DANCE MOVIE OF ALL TIME” [sic] at the top of their ad, right on top of the blurb from Shawn Edwards of Fox-TV: “The funniest dance movie of all time.”
But no Pete Hammond. Where has America’s worst film critic gone? And when will he be back???
Speaking of which, I’m nervous that America might make me watch Ben Stiller mug for 2 hours. But the alternative is watching Christian Bale do an Edward Furlong improssion for 2 hours.
Am I actually rooting for Dance Flick?
V.A. Musetto took time out from masturbating to photographs of Asian women long enough to call Lars von Trier’s latest movie (Antichrist), “a torture-porn shocker with a graphic scene of sexual mutilation” without so much as a single spoiler warning (now the whole time I’ll be thinking, “when does the penis get chopped off?”).
The Post discusses “Web scribes who chronicle the rich and almost famous” but omitted Entertainment… Weakly. Four women and two gay guys got shouts out. But no straight guys.
J’accuse the Post of sexism. And heterophobia.
I call bullshit on Erin (this week’s Meet Market applicant)! She claims people tell her she looks like Tina Fey. Um… no. Not even a little. At all.
Maybe Tina Yothers. NOT Tina Fey.
Yankees win! Mets win (and Boston loses)! Toronto loses their fifth in a row!
Toronto is in 1st, Yanks and Sox tied for 2nd — just 1/2 game back.
I love baseball!
Joel Sherman makes the case for Posada becoming DH first, catcher second. And I gotta say, he makes a good case.
Speaking of Jorge, he and Xavier and Cody and Jose are all going to Tampa this week. Get well soon, everyone!
Finally, I have to say that the article on Amazon’s product reviews is hilarious. I laughed out loud a bunch of times. And if it wasn’t so late, I’ll transcribe some highlights. But it’s late and I’m tired. So, if you have a chance, go to the Post’s website and look for “Amazon users on the moon” by Stephen Lynch.
Going up to visit the parentals tomorrow, so I may not get a chance to see you, kids.
Happy Memorial Day (or Somber Memorial Day, if more appropriate).
We have a stoop sale to attend, so who knows when or if I’ll get around to writing. But here’s a clip of Jesse Ventura out-screaming the ladies of The View and putting that blonde douchebag with legs in her place.
Jesse’s final comment made Teresa and me laugh our heads off (though I have a feeling he’s been repeating this particular soundbite on every show he’s on).
Enjoy this beautiful day!
According to the front page of today’s “newspaper,” those guys that were going to blow up Riverdale? They became radical Muslims while incarcerated. That’s right, people. The state prison system is to blame for domestic terrorists.
Maybe we should let everyone go?
Seriously, though, I would find fault with what pop culture glamorizes over a prison Koran. Thug life is glamorous. Someone was arrested last week for killing a clerk at a fast food restaurant and then surrendering to police — he didn’t even try to run. He just needed to “up his street cred.”
Murder? Bank robbery? So 2000. In the post-9/11 world, if you want the world to take notice of you, you have to do something extraordinary. Like blow up some synagogues.
It also helped that the imam of the mosque where these guys planned these attacks has been a prison chaplain for over 20 years (he’s converted a lot of folks). And who would hire this guy? The guy who was fired for saying that Muslims “secretly admired” the WTC attacks.
The guys they arrested are stupid. Given enough time, they could be convinced that Scientology is the way to go. But Tom Cruise wasn’t in their jail cells, nor in their mosque.
To all of the Muslims that don’t “secretly admire” the thousands of deaths we incurred almost 8 years ago, I’m sorry these guys are giving you a bad name. And I’m sorry that most of the people that read the Post will use this story to justify their distrust of Islam (radical or otherwise).
If we cared more about educating children, they’d be smart enough to avoid prison. Maybe.
But they’d definitely stop wearing their pants around their knees.
(angrily shakes fist at whippersnappers)
The MTA plans on doing away with MetroCards soon.
They imagine a card or “key-fob-like device” that would be triggered whenever you passed by a sensor (on buses, subways and commuter-rail), which would automatically deduct a fare from your bank account.
Great idea, guys. What could possibly go wrong with that plan? I mean, who doesn’t want to keep a journal of how many times they use mass transit and then match it up with their bank statement every month?
“Jed! My God! It’s been years! How’ve you been?”
“Fine.”
“I see you’re still standing on the throat of the little boy who personifies the MTA.”
“Yes.”
“Carry on.”
As soon as it took off, Air Force Sgt. Bartek Bachleda noticed something from his window seat on a United Airlines flight from Chicago to Tokyo. “Could that be a fuel leak?… Nah.”
An hour later, he decided that, yes, it was a fuel leak. He called over an attendant. She brushed off his concerns. He repeated that she needed to tell the captain “before we go oceanic.”
Coincidentally, at that very moment, the captain was wondering why his plane was burning through so much fuel.
Once Bachleda showed the captain the leak (6,000 pounds of fuel each hour), they diverted to San Francisco.
Well done, Sarge.
Teresa, cross United Airlines off the list.
Michelle Malkin proves her inner ugliness is on repulsive par with her outer ugliness in her latest criticism of my BPF.
“America faces an ongoing Islamic jihad at home and abroad. Not merely ‘man-caused.’ But Koran-inspired.”
Keep in mind, this is a woman who has enthusiastically praised America’s rounding up her elders and putting them in camps during WWII, so it’s not very surprising that se also believes that the Koran is “inspiring” Muslims to attack America.
“What’s Obama’s plan to prevent the jihadi virus from spreading? Washing hands and covering mouths won’t work for this disease.”
Can we cover your mouth? Just to be sure?
Bitch.
Dick Cheney is warning Americans that the current administration is “playing into the hands of the terrorists.”
He also announced that only three terrorists were ever waterboarded by the U.S.
Trust Cheney on these points. He knows the terrorists personally (they’re all on Halliburton’s payroll).
But only three? Ever? Well, then it isn’t a very effective tool now is it?
Someone please shoot this asshole in the face (not to kill him — just do him like he did his “friend” on that quail hunt).
Actress Lucy Gordon, who would have been 29 today, was found on her Paris apartment yesterday dead from a suspected suicide. She played reporter Jennifer Dugan (?) in Spider-Man 3: The One Where Tobey Acts “Cool” and recently finished a biopic of Serge Gainsbourg wherein she played Jane Birkin.
Godspeed, Lucy.
Natalie Cole got a new kidney, but while she was getting it, her older sister died from lung cancer.
Godspeed, Natalie Cole’s older sister.
Anyone notice that ever since Madonna stopped being a Yankee fan and started being a Met fan… we’ve won NINE in a row?
Thanks, Madge!
Sean Penn has withdrawn his request to legally separate from Robin Wright Penn.
No word yet on how she feels about that.
There is a photo in Page Six (on page 18 today) of Paris Hilton preparing to kiss her latest boyfriend. Her mouth is open, tongue laying on her bottom lip and chin like a St. Bernard’s.
It’s almost as disturbing as the Gest/Minnelli kiss at their “wedding.”
I’m going to start a petition for Paris Hilton to change her name to Chlamydia Pustule.
Parents complained that a teacher at Principal Sean Keaton’s school was using corporal punishment on students. So a meeting was held between Keaton, an assistant principal, the special-ed teacher accused of doling out the punishment and the school’s union rep.
The rep, Robert Segerra, was speaking when Mr. Keaton approached him, said “I’m tired of you.” and repeatedly kicked and punched him. Seggera is also a kindergarten teacher.
The day before, a teacher sprayed Lysol into a student’s face (in Bed-Stuy, natch), which might leave the child partially blind.
I wonder how many of the students at these schools will convert to radical Islam in prison.
“Pretty Boy” Floyd Mayweather, Jr. is being sued for $600,000 by Just For You Management for “surreptitiously signing” rapper Freck Billionaire to his label Philthy Rich.
Suprisingly, Freck Billionaire is NOT his given name. It’s Jeffrey Whitters.
And one day he and his entourage will be playing dominoes in the pokey and wondering where it all went wrong (hint: when you changed our name to Freck Billionaire).
They’ve printed excerpts of Cheney’s recent speech. But all I need is the quote that runs under the photo of the blazing twin towers (thanks, Post!):
“For all that we’ve lost in this conflict, the United States has never lost its moral bearings.”
Hilarious.
Just because you put scripture on the cover pages of your reports doesn’t mean you still have your “moral bearings.”
Bitch.
Bill O’Reilly declares that gay marriage is what will ultimately destroy our country.
“So the gay-marriage debate is over. Conservative states won’t pass it, but liberal states will. Once, we truly were the ‘United States.’ No longer.”
I like to think his pappy said the same thing when Blacks were allowed to use his water fountain.
Bitch.
Lou Lumenick gave Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian one star.
Scientists are baffled at how a movie with both Ricky Gervais and Christopher Guest could be anything but brilliant.
And then they remembered For Your Consideration.
And Lou gave Easy Virtue one and a half stars.
Poor Jessica Biel.
Will she ever find success anywhere ever (besides JT’s pants)?
But if you want cruelty in the movie section, you don’t look to Lou. You look to Kyle Smith.
Dance Flick got zero stars from Kylie (my new nickname for him and not just because I want to cut off one of his breasts).
Under the headline Flat-footed film bad in every Wayans Kylie claims that when the opening credits told him that the movie was made by “a new generation of Wayanses” he made a face. “Home Alone meets Edvard Munch.”
(I bet he didn’t really)
He goes on to say the film “puts the oof in spoof,” which might endear him to you, which is why he follows that up with what might make him the worst critic of anything in the universe. Ready?
“If there exists anyone in the comedy business less funny than the Wayans clan, it’s Amy Sedaris.”
I feel that bears repeating.
“If there exists anyone in the comedy business less funny than the Wayans clan, it’s Amy Sedaris.”
Goodbye, Kylie’s credibility!
David Ortiz fouled a ball off his foot last night.
If he was still taking steroids, he might have really hurt himself!
Toronto is 27-17. Boston is 25-16. The Yanks are 24-17.
I love baseball.
Wang is starting tonight (for Scranton/Wilkes-Barre).
(crosses fingers, prays to Jeebus)
The Red Sox are playing the Mets for three days?
It’s 1986 all over again!
The Yankees are playing the Phillies for three days?
Fuck!
Joba got hit in the knee with a line drive. He left the game, but x-rays were negative and he should be fine.
In as classy a “fuck you” as one can expect from Vince McMahon, Monday Night Raw will no longer take place at the Pepsi Center — he’s moving it to the Staples Center in L.A. (home of the Nuggets’ arch-nemeses, the Lakers).
So… if you have a ticket for this week’s Monday Night Raw, um, book a flight.
Jay Leno has 5 hours a week on NBC. Tyra Banks 12 hours a week on the CW.
And Regis Philbin just re-upped with ABC for 3,124 hours a week.
CBNs: Tonight on Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Bats teams up with Robin to take on… Crazy Quilt!
This guy has been around for man many years. He used to fight The Boy Commandos…
…but he could never defeat the, um, boys. So, naturally, he took on Batman instead. Of course, he’d have to make his costume even gayer first…
What will he look like tonight? No idea. But it should be good for a larf (if you are a CBN, this is a cartoon you will adore).
Got to reconnect with my good friend from high school yesterday. Mick is as funny as I remember him and has incredible taste in Indian restaurants (when I saw “Haute Indian Cuisine” on the outside, I thought they had misspelled “Hot” but I understood once I started eating… which I continue to do now, much to the chagrin of my ill-prepared gutty works).
In fact, if there were a song to express that I found Mick to be of such fine caliber that my mind was blown, I’d quote those lyrics here. But sadly, nothing jumps out at me.
Off to the liberry.
And… holy cats! It’s Friday! The weekend starts in buhzactly six point five hours!
Yippee!
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