Come On Ride That Train

Posted by Phildo |

Well here we are again, blog. Stupid blog. Stupid blog that I bought a domain for so I could tell people that it's a "website" and not a "blog." Who are we kidding? You're a blog. Through and through, you're a collection of thoughts, interests and crap. I haven't written anything on you in awhile because I was...I don't know. Distracted? Or maybe I just didn't feel like writing. That's probably it. I was probably laid up doing nothing when I could have been writing about this, that or the other.

I read an interesting post over on McSweeney's today about being a writer. It sort of kicked my stupid ass. I think a lot of the time people who claim to be "writers" are really just pretentious assholes who at one point or another had someone tell them they are good at writing. But there's more to being good at writing than knowing how to put a sentence together or having a grasp of syntax. Writing isn't just something that happens when it pleases you. If you're a real writer, you're writing daily. You're writing whether it's shit or Pulitzer material.

I'm done being a "writer." It's time to be a writer again.

For now, definitely check out the link to McSweeney's. A refreshing glimpse of honesty.

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Los Angeles Time Lapse (Video)

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This is the first time I've felt homesick for Los Angeles since leaving in 2006. Awesome video. Best viewed in HD and full screen.

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See You Later!

Posted by Phildo |

Well kiddies, I'm taking a little break from the interwebs. Don't miss me too much. I'll be back soon!

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Who I Am Not: Club Rat

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So I'm packing for my trip to Miami this weekend. One of my best friends is getting married and this is his bachelor party. I've realized a few things:

  • I own approximately ZERO outfits that could qualify as what a cursory Google search identifies as "clubbing" clothes. I don't go to clubs, I go to dive bars. When I was a suit, I'd go to a dive bar after work, in my suit. Since I've been unemployed, I go to dive bars in various models and makes of sweatpant/jean combinations. 
I don't even remotely know how to start to look like this.
  • Who the Christ buys a shiny ass shirt? Or even worse, those shirts with like a crazy ass dragon all up and down one side of it with just the claw arching over the back or whatever. Ugh.
  • I never understood the concept of just going up and being like "I'm grinding on you." I guess I'm too old fashioned. I prefer a lengthy courtship with letters hand-written with a quill pin and lots of pining in an orchard. And I hate that about myself.
Wouldst thou care to dance to this most distinguished Lady Gaga remix?
  • My physical fitness is missing.
  • My favorite pair of flip flops broke today.
  • I am broke today.
  • Did I mention I have like, no money? 
  • We're going to a casino one night, and I'm in charge of finding an idiot savant to come along with us. I have completely failed in this regard.
If I end up being Zack Galifinakis in this movie just because I have a beard, I'll be pissed.
  • I'm dicking around writing a blog post when I need to be finishing packing. 
See you in Miami, bitches!

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City And Colour - Death of Me (Music)

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Sorry it's been so long folks. My mind has gotten away from me. Hopefully this will tide you over until I can wrap up my next post.

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How Being An Asshole Is Like Being Cupid

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Gather round children, it's time for a story; or, as I like to call it: story time. Unlike most of Uncle Phildo's stories though, this one is actually true. This is the story of how Uncle Phildo being a total asshole led to two people finding each other and eventually getting married. Because that's what Uncle Phildo does. He's an asshole. And then people get married. And he stays unhappy. Don't grow up, kids.

"And then Somali pirates took over the ark and held all the animals hostage until a UN peacekeeping force brutally murdered the pirates using bullets and ballistic knives."
Harken back, if you will, to February 4th, 2007. There was a crisp breeze meandering through the city streets and a football game was scheduled. Not just any football game though. That's right Timmy! The Super Bowl!

Pictures really do say more than words...
Uncle Phildo was at his favorite grown-up drink spot with one of his friends. They got there well before the game started to make sure they could grab a good spot and then they started drinking "no no juice" in vast quantities. So...oh look, your parents are here. Thank God this storytelling thing was annoying as hell.

So anyway my friend and I are at the bar, probably looking mildly homeless, downing pitcher after pitcher after pitcher after pitcher after pitcher of beer. Earlier in the evening, apparently right before we had arrived, some attractive representatives of the Miller Lite brand were there passing out Miller Lite branded memorabilia like hats, frisbees and those little things that you put under your eyes to reduce glare if you happen to be athletic and want to have that "Native American" look going for you. Sadly we missed most of the swag being doled out. In a state of drunken despair we asked the bartender if he was sure that the Miller Lite girls were gone and he said he was pretty sure they were. Not to be deterred, we ordered another pitcher of beer.

Shortly thereafter, two girls decked out head-to-toe in Miller Lite gear came over and asked if they could join us for a beer. Baffled, my friend and I agreed. Were these the mysterious Miller Lite promo girls? After several pitchers of beer had been consumed, we basically thought we were being hit on by these women:

Of course we missed this.
Later Facebook stalking combined with a bit of sobriety under our belts showed us it was maybe closer to this:

Copyright for this photo belongs to my ex-wife.
However, since we were feeling like we were on top of the world and being hit on some pretty gorgeous babes, we went with the flow. We didn't outright ask them if they worked for Miller; we felt like we didn't have to because hey, they gave us a frisbee! DUH they work for Miller AND are in love with us! After sharing a beer with us they said they had to go back to their group of friends but invited us to come and join them. Always one to play it cool, I probably said something like "Maybe after I go cut down a tree and build a fucking house and kill a bear." My friend and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was like something out of a movie...first and foremost, attractive women don't come to this bar. Second, women in general don't come to this bar. It's a dive bar at it's very finest. On its best day you really only see the hardened alcoholics of the area, so for us to be in this situation was the equivalent of walking onto your back porch and finding a magical hot tub waiting for you. 

We needed a strategy. Because we were drunk. Because clearly women love being lied to I proposed that we tell them we're actually employees of Budweiser (see what I did there?) and operate off the craaaaazy coincidence that they're Miller Lite girls and we're....Budweiser........Boys...........

My friend immediately vetoes this idea. It is the dumbest thing he's ever heard, he hates me, he takes my man card and rips it in half. He unleashes a volley of insults that leave me in the emotional equivalent of the fetal position. He says "Nah man, let's just be who we are, that's what's important." I steeled myself and we ambled over to their table, where they were seated with a small group of friends. They greeted us in that special "We're drunk and we saw you a minute ago!" kind of way and we returned a similar greeting. Before I can even open my mouth to say something awkward my friend plops down at the table and says:

"So you won't believe this...I actually work for Budweiser!"

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Really? Are you fucking kidding me? You spent the better part of a glass of beer lambasting me for suggesting that we tell them that we are Budweiser employees and then you waltz over to their table and not only bogart my idea, but don't even include me in it? He has the whole table captivated as he makes up stories of how he travels with Budweiser doing promotional events and what not. Everything I try to say is completely passed over by the group. Defeated, I started ordering shots like a champ and entered what I like to call "Super Surly Pissed Off Mega Drunk Mode." The one "Miller Lite" girl that I had affections for was hanging on my friend's every word and I decided that the best course of action would be for me to be a total dick. Because everyone loves an asshole. 

While I'm a bit hazy on the specifics, something I said to one of the young ladies caused the table to go completely silent, and even garnered the attention of a nearby table of young men, one of whom decided to come over to the table and say something like "Hey asshole, why don't you take a hike?" As if I had been waiting for an excuse to go brood elsewhere in the bar, I took this as my cue and went to go drink alone while my friend and Mr. Stands-Up-For-Someone-When-Really-He-Should-Be-Standing-Up-For-Me-Because-My-Friend-Torpedoed-Me-And-Made-Me-Look-Like-An-Asshat (or Mr. SUFSWRHSBSUFMBMFTMAMMLLAA for short) stay and have a wonderful time in the company of the young ladies.

Years pass by, my friend and I often look back on this story and laugh at what a complete and total dick he was. Instead of saying rude things to people I just generally don't say anything to people anymore, which helps. Well lo and behold, I'm telling the story to a friend I work with (back when I had a job) and midway through, her eyes wide with disbelief, she asks "That was you?"

You see, it turns out the Miller Lite girl that had gotten offended at what a brutish asshole I was, she's a good friend of my work friend. And Remember Mr. SUFSWRHSBSUFMBMFTMAMMLLAA? Apparently Miller Lite girl was so moved by his chivalrous act of telling me that I was a d-bag that she gave him her phone number. And then they went on a date. And another date. And then they were dating. And probably having sex, too. And then they were engaged. And NOW THEY'RE MARRIED. 

This started out as a kid's story, so I suppose I should wrap this up with a little moral or something to take away from this...I guess the point is, if I'm an asshole to you, you'll probably find the love of your life because of it. And I'll just go on drinking alone

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Dear Subway, It's Not Me, It's You (With Guest Illustrator! And Calcium!)

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Dear Subway,

We've had some good times together, haven't we? Who could forget the time when we first met? I asked you for turkey, you smiled, laughed and asked "Toasted?" Blushing, I accepted your offer. I ignored the warning signs, that things were moving a little too fast. I mean...toasting? On our first date? I couldn't help myself, it just felt so right. You asked me "What else?" and oh, sweet sweet Subway, you showed me a bevy of options...green bell peppers, spinach, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes and oh so much more. I thought This could be the one. I watched as you seductively squirted mayonaise and mustard onto the goopey, melty cheese that was the symbol of our love. You're a lady, Subway, and you didn't want to give it all up on our first meeting...you didn't give me all the lettuce I wanted, but I understood.

Over the years, things started getting more serious. You knew that you had to keep things interesting or I'd get bored so you introduced things like new breads and those little breakfastey things that I never ate because you know I'm not a morning person. I knew I could count on you and you knew you could count on me.

But we've had our bad times, too. I know it's been years and you swear it meant nothing to you, but what you did with Jared...it's hard to regain trust after something like that. Still, we tried. We went to couples therapy, we even took a break to see other people. I know it must've hurt to see me with Quizno's all those times...I know it must've hurt because when I came back there you were. With Jared. I'll never forget that night outside your apartment when I stood there in the rain watching you and Jared's silhouettes in the sweet embrace of sandwiching.

Against my better judgement, against everything in my head that told me Just walk away, Phildo. Walk away before it's too late and you're damaged forever...we decided to give it one last go.

To show me you were willing to make the effort, you said you'd only charge me $5 for a foot-long sandwich. You knew exactly what buttons to push to get me back. At the time it seemed too good to be true. I mean, five dollars? You didn't even do that for Jared. You moved in down the street; I mean we weren't really sure if we were ready to move in together after our break, and I'd come over most nights. Things were really turning around.

Then...with no explanation, you changed. No more five dollar foot long turkey sandwiches? I asked you why, you were cold and distant. You started trying to make me buy weird combinations of things like pepperoni and meatballs; the Subway I fell in love with and worked so hard to stay with for all these years just wasn't the same.

Today when I came over, though, you did something I never expected you to do...you told me I could only have 16 pickles. What's worse, it wasn't even you who told me. You had your friend tell me. Shocked, I didn't know what to say. I asked if you were around but Pita told me you didn't want to talk about it. Sixteen pickles. All these years together and in the end it came down to sixteen miserable little pickles.

You really woke me up today Subway. Breaking up is never easy but this isn't exactly the first time we've done this dance, is it? I mean you can't even have the decency to tell me face-to-face that you don't want me to have your pickles anymore? I'd say this was a tough decision to make, but you kind of made it for me. I know the lease is up on your place soon so I'd appreciate it if you didn't renew it. I think it'll be best if we just never see each other again. I'll always have fond memories of our time together; the early days that is. Meanwhile, go to hell you miserable bitch.


With regret,
Phildo

P.S. - I debated as to whether or not to tell you something so...intimate...but I'm going to do it because I want you to hurt like I do. Quizno's? Oh yeah, Quizno's and me are getting back together. Because she has a full pickle bar. All. You. Can. Eat.

This post was guest illustrated by The 21st Century Mrs. Be sure and click her name to check out her hilarious musings and secret dance parties. 

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I'm Old Greg!!! (Video)

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In case you've never seen The Mighty Boosh and/or the episode about Old Greg...here ya go. This is what I'm basing my week off of. I'm going to try as hard as I can to embody the spirit and soul of Old Greg. Now where's my tutu?

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The Funniest Video You'll See This Week (Honey Badger)

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Thanks to KaraH33 for sending this to me.

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I Thought Women Loved Camel Toe?

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If you asked me where I came across this product I'd have an awful lot of explaining to do and you'd have to pay an awful lot for enough booze to get me to talk about it. I think you can probably gather what kinds of search terms were involved.

I am so...enlightened. Folks, let me let you in to the secret world of camel toe.



Can we, for a moment, talk about how many times this woman actually says the phrase "camel toe?" Four times in one minute and thirty seven seconds. That's four times in 97 seconds. Once every 25 seconds. On my best day, I don't say camel toe more than once a day.

First of all, is there not a more scientific term for camel toe than camel toe? I thought camel toe was what we all laughingly called it while beating off to it? No? Do women in locker rooms go "Oooh...Margaret, heads up, trousers down I can see your camel crown?"

God...I hope so.

So there's no appropriate way to talk about camel toe other than saying "Hey Madge, your vag looks like the toes of a Middle Eastern beast of burden." Great. Neat.

I guess I always thought that camel toes were like vadges (hahaha get it?) of courage. Like clearly if you're out and about you're going to notice...somehow....that your vagina is literally protruding through your pants. I don't have a vagina, but I've encountered a few, and it's my general understanding that it's not exactly a completely nerve-deprived area. I think the solution is just...be cool with your vag. I know I am.

If the photos for the SmoothGroove leave anything to the imagination it's that...well the phrase...."NOTHING" comes to mind.

I put my hand up on your hip, when two lips are lips one lip.

So I'm to understand putting a big hard (heh) polymer maxi-pad is somehow comfortable enough to do some super hot sexy yoga in? Plus...homegirl there has some SERIOUS labia. It might just be time for basketball shorts?

Ladies? I need some input. Would you buy a SmoothGroove? In fact, I'm giving away a SmoothGroove to a randomly selected commenter on this post. Use it however you want to. Some alternative uses that I can think of:

1) Jai Alai equipment
2) Shoe horns
3) Grossing your friends out when you pull this out of your fucking pants.

If you do wanna purchase a SmoothGroove, they are currently selling for 15 pounds sterling. God save the queen. And the camel toe.

I'm drunk.

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There's An OC Shaped Hole In My Heart (Video + Sarcasm)

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So I was watching this SNL Digital Short that a quick Google Search tells me is deadpanning the end of season two of The OC. I'll go ahead and get this out of the way, when the OC came out I thought "That's kind of quick-witted and boy, don't I wish I could have a rich daddy with fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows?" But I quickly lost interest as I was living in Southern California at the time and became disenfranchised as no rich families wanted to take me on as a financial responsibility and give me the chance I never had as a troubled teen.

"Dad? Will you rub your eyebrows on mine until I fall asleep?" "Son, you're...you're not my son. And you're 23. No." "I love you daddy."

So when I realized what they were making fun of, I became completely overwhelmed with joy. Here's the short:


Hope you enjoyed watching Shiah Lapoof get shot as much as I did. But watching this got me to thinking I should watch the clip they're referencing. So I can get it.

My house and heart flooded with shame as I remembered how I was like "Man that Adam Brody sure does have an adorable mop of hair that I'm going to try and emulate." Those were confusing times. My hair looked totally cooler than his though. It made me realize though, I had stopped watching the show somewhere near the end of the first season and NEVER looked back. If you know me at all, you know that once I need to know something...once that seed is planted, I have to know. So I immediately searched for a synopsis on how the series ended, which reminded me of how Mischa Barton is just...all kinds of unfortunate to me. These sentences are becoming run-ons, aren't they? They always have been? Fuck off.

I landed over at this website because Wikipedia was too lazy to have a plot summary for me. The author of this post summarized the episode with...quite a bit of emotion. Not very professional journalism, in this professional journalist's editorial opinion. I was utterly shocked to come across this conclusion drawn in the last paragraph:

In the end, Ryan achieved his dream. A college graduate who became an architect. It's fitting that the series ended on the same note that it started. Someone lending a troubled kid a hand. The whole thing is cyclical, as Sandy said earlier in the episode. What goes around comes around. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll see another show as well crafted and culturally meaningful as The OC come around again any time soon.

Are you fucking kidding me? Let me single this out for you.

Unfortunately, I don't think we'll see another show as well crafted and culturally meaningful as The OC come around again any time soon.

Are you still having trouble? Hold on.

as well crafted and culturally meaningful

Let me narrow this down for you.

culturally meaningful

As CULTURALLY MEANINGFUL as the OC, you say? The show that defined a generation? The show that ended apartheid and elected the first black President?  The show that single-handedly changed the way we view underprivileged white kids? The show that settled the NFL labor disputes and, in hindsight, predicted the earthquake and tsunami in Japan and tried to warn us with kitschy whore-mother scenes and Rachel Bilson whimpering her way through a script? Yes, I suppose you're right...the void left by the culturally significant program that is as ubiquitous in the collective hearts of America as the day Kennedy was shot and 9/11 has still yet to be filled. Woe. Woe are we.

What shocked me most, however, was that this wasn't written by a menopausal woman in her late-50's, Twilight hadn't been invented when this was written, and what's worse? A fucking man wrote this. I mean, we say "man," because his name is Jonathon Toomey, so I presume he has the anatomical equipment and chromosomal makeup necessary to be considered a man. But as far as being a man? As far as going into the fucking woods and chopping down trees and killing bears and having a grizzly beard and knowing how to field strip a gun and unclasp a bra with one hand while eating bacon with the other? Jonathan Toomey, if you're out there, find your nearest hardware store, purchase some sturdy rope, and hang yourself from the nearest tree/lamppost/erection-of-your-likely-gay-lover.

But right now? I'm hungry and this is more focus than I've put into anything I've done in at least a decade...so I'm feeling a little woozy. I think it's off to Subway for a five dollar sandwich that really costs seven dollars* so I can try and recuperate from the freshly reopened wound caused by remember the loss of The OC.

*Watch the entire series of The OC on DVD while I eat Ben & Jerry's ice cream and weep.

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Ehhhhhhhhhhhh. The French.

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So I'm taking the opportunity of being unemployed AGAIN to learn myself some French. So I procured a copy of Rosetta Stone for French and I'ma do this shit. As I'm working my way through lesson one, I'm thinking "Wow. This really is intuitive. They have me thinking in French instead of thinking what the picture is in English and then brain-smooshing it into French. Cool!"

But then I noticed something was kind of fishy...what's going on with these pictures? Take the one for "Ils lisent" for example:

"Ehhhh look! Zee Snookie, she is...l'naked in zee newspapier!"

First of all, am I supposed to be learning that all men in France wear some variation of turtleneck? We've got micro-crew-neck, crew-neck and two full-on turtlenecks. This software is dated 2010, folks. Even Steve Jobs gave up the halfsie-crew-neck-turtleneck-neckaneck. Also, is that James Franco on the right? That guy is fucking everywhere!


We all know that all French men are gay. The movies, literature, history, the movies, and also the movies, have taught us that French men, even if gay, will have sex with your family and we will all be okay with it thanks to the debt owed to General LaFayette (if you catch my homage there, we're getting married). Which explains this image for "Les hommes cuisinet."

"Here Gerald. Let me help you." "Thank you Arnold. Claude, are you fingering me?" "Oui." "Bon."

Three men wearing aprons lovingly looking at a single pot that appears to be in a bathroom from the future. I call bullshit. These hommes ne sont pas de cuisson. The guy on the left is cracking open a vial of black tar heroine, the guy in the middle is the only one sober enough to hold the damn bowl still and the guy on the right just escaped sex offender/debtor's prison and needs him a fix before Chris Hanson shows up.

All in all, I'm learning French, I'm learning that the French people are shifty butt-snatchers with a penchant for drugs and turtlenecks.

I'd say I'm definitely improving as a person.

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What the Hell, Subway?

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Okay. Maybe someone can explain this to me so I won't feel like I'm going out of my about-to-be-unemployed-again mind. Subway's $5 Footlongs, we need to talk.

Jared isn't handling the break-up so well...

So I like to have nervous breakdowns in public places, right? Who doesn't? I was heading to Subway so I could go cry in public and make people afraid of me and thinking "Yumbo, doesn't a turkey sammich sound like just the thing that will somehow make all the bad things go away? And at $5 it's a real steal!" Imagine my horror as I walk in the door and am greeted by the Sandwich Artist from hell. 

"Sir just to let you know before you ask, we are no longer offering any sub for $5. Only select sub selections are selectable for select $5 select offer selection."

"Okay so if I want just like...turkey and bread, how much is that?"

"$7."

"But I can get a....'Cold Cut Combo' for $5?"

"Yes."

"You realize that's three kinds of meat. I'm only asking for one. It has to cost you more money to make a sandwich with three meats than to make a sandwich with one meat."

"Well that's not really the issue."

"What is the issue?"

"Pardon?"

"What is the issue? If the issue is not cost of making the sandwich, why is a sandwich with less on it more expensive than a sandwich with more on it?"

"Because it's not on the menu."

"Okay I understand that. I get you. Can I get the 'Cold Cut Combo' and get turkey instead of salami and have it still cost $5?"

"Sure."

"So you're going to make me a sandwich with two kinds of meat that I'm literally going to remove from the sandwich and throw away. Surely you can see that this is flawed logic. You can't just make it without the other two meats and ring it in as a Cold Cut Combo?"

"No sir."

Sigh. "Fine, give me the Cold Cut Combo with turkey instead of salami."

I proceeded to remove the other two fucking meats and eat my turkey goddamn sandwich while crying in the corner booth with only myself and "a cup for water." I got my turkey sandwich and I got it for $5, but Subway made me waste 14 slices of other meats just to do it. Because this is America, goddamnit.

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Pandas 'n Stuff

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Look at my children playing!

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Head-Cam (Video)

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So some redneck strapped a camera to a dog's head and was all "Hey dog go jump in the water and get me a dead water fowl!" And the dog obliged. This is literally the most boring video I'll ever post. But I'm posting it because you're all hungover anyway. Plus if I posted the video I made with the camera strapped to my head it'd just be me rinsing out my fleshlight and combing Ninja Cat relentlessly.



Here's something that might make up for it.

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Frightened Rabbit - My Backwards Walk (Video)

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Unemployment Reaches New Highs

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I was never a "huge" Fred Armisan fan, but his show "Portlandia" on IFC has completely turned me around (and subsequently made me want to move to Portland.) Despite the constant love of spazzy cinematography, here's one of my favorite clips.



The first season run was a measly 6 episodes so make sure to watch it boatloads on On Demand if you want to show your support and ensure a longer run for season two.

Also, sorry I've been so absent. Life has been biting the shit out of the tip of my dick. Which is good because who wants shit in their dick? But bad because who wants to get their dick bit even if there's shit all in it?

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This Is It...The Start of the Zombie Apocalypse

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It Has Begun...


Holy shit folks. Does this sound like the start of a zombie movie to anyone else? CNN Reports:

(CNN) -- Authorities trying to help a sick man and a child in a truck on a Florida highway also found a dead body in the vehicle Monday.

The incident started in the morning when a pest control truck pulled to the side of the road on I-95 in the West Palm Beach area.

Firefighters came to the scene and found a man and a boy suffering from some type of illness, said Chase Scott, a spokesman for West Palm Beach police.

Both were rushed to hospitals and were in serious condition, Scott said. Some of the firefighters on scene also became sick from fumes coming from the vehicle and had to be hospitalized.

Hazardous material teams were called in and while going through the truck authorities found a body inside a bag, Scott said.

The man and the boy had not been charged but authorities had searched the man's home, located in southwest Dade County, Scott said.

Scott did not provide much information on the body that was found in the truck.

The incident snarled traffic on heavily traveled I-95 for hours, CNN affiliate WPBF reported.

The substance that sickened people was a jug of an acid-based solution, the affiliate reported.
In any case, I've been stocking up for months getting ready for this moment...best of luck to ya!

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Yeah Yeah Yeah Here's A Cute Thing

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I'm not even convinced that's a real animal. It's too fucking cute. Sorry I've been an absentee lately. Not really. Ha. Nobody comes here but me. Drink? Sure!

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Keepin' It Gangsta...Marty McFly Style (Image)

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Failblog wants to call this a FAIL, but...gullwing doors on a minivan? That's the very definition of a WIN.

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The Most Useful Use of $300 Since That Hooker I Got

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What? The dude who made this spent a total of $300 to make it. Which means that he probably pirated a bunch of software. Which is cool so not cool. Watch this shit. It's entertaining. Plus you don't have to pay $300 to watch it. Some schmuck paid $300 to make it and then release it for free! BAH!



Honestly. If only I'd have been born into a somewhat well-to-do family.

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Why Try? Also, British Spaceyness (Video)

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Why even try to update this motherbitch every day? I'm officially saying "Fuck You" to the month of January for ruining my one and only New Year's Resolution. That's right. I'm not taking any fucking credit for this. Fuck fuckity fuck.

This is cool. British people talking about how fucking big the universe is.


(via ">SDSS-III)

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The Milky Way (Oh Yeah)

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I'm so ordering these for my lady. Because you don't really need to be breastfeeding to wear this.

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Jon Stewart's Reaction to Arizona Shootings (Video)

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I've always been a fan of The Daily Show. I almost never watch it because...I just don't watch a lot of "current" shows. Nonetheless, I caught this clip of Jon Stewart working through his emotions on the subject of the Tuscon shooting of Representative Giffords and 19 other people, leaving six dead.

Jon - thank you for being a voice of reason.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart
Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Arizona Shootings Reaction
Daily Show Full EpisodesPolitical Humor & Satire Blog</a>The Daily Show on Facebook

*note - If you're a developer, take a look at the code for that video embed...isn't that the sloppiest code you've ever seen??

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Holy Shit I Suck (Now With Video!)

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How did I miss three days worth of posts?

OH that's right because it's been...y'know what. No excuses. Here's a video or something. It's actually a pretty cool time lapse shot of New York City. So yeah.

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Dear Ke$ha (Image)

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What Your Christmas Gift Is Really Worth (Infographic)

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I fucking love these infographic things. It's like the same guy makes all of them. And then makes me a sammich and pats me on the bottom in that sort of camaraderie building way and then if I respond positively to it then he'll cup my cheek a little bit next time and before I know it he's examining my prostate and oh my god am I having a flashback to tee ball?

So yes. Here's an infographic from those fucking morons over at Gizmodo (I'm too lazy to link to them so here's all kind of credit and pats on the legal backs for them: "Yay!") that depicts something. I honestly don't even know anymore. I need to bleach my anus...

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Why You Should Never Help the Helpless: A Cautionary Tale

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So there's this ex-con guy I know. Like...not a slicked-back hair wearing used car salesman who did a 3 year stint for touching his seventeen year old niece-in-law...we're talking a hardened criminal who did ten years for soliciting prostitution, dealing hard drugs and fucking shooting someone.

Why my office decides to keep him on staff continues to perplex me (I've come to the conclusion that he's part Native American or something and we have to keep him on staff to meet diversity requirements) because he's so vastly unprofessional that it's just astonishing...but I digress.

I loaned him twenty dollars two weeks ago. Y'know because I'm a white guy and any time someone insinuates that we're not giving or generous we go out and give everyone a bunch of fucking money and smallpox blankets and AIDS and shit. Well so I let him borrow twenty bucks for "bus fare" which is apparently what the so-stupid-that-you-have-a-full-time-job-and-you're-still-almost-homeless are calling "Four Loko money nigggggaaaaaaaz!" these days. He promised he'd pay me back January 5th, 2011 AD.

That day came and went. We are now onto January 8th...and I politely ask him,

"Where's my money?"

He replies, "Oh I'm 'on have to get that to you on the next one."

"The next what?"

"The next paycheck."

"What happened to this paycheck?"

"I um...I been taking the bus a lot lately."

Really? You're going to commit to this? You spent your whole fucking paycheck on bus fare? Where the fuck are you taking the bus to every day? Do you commute from fucking Oregon?

"Yeah. So that's bullshit. Don't bullshit me."

"Um...yeah but we cool, right?"

"No we not cool."

"Well it's just I...y'know I went out and partied a little hard."

I'm a white dude who grew up largely in a major metropolitan suburb and I don't even seriously say the phrase "partied a little hard." Bridging the ethnic divide we are not.

"OK so you're telling me now that not only do you not have the money that you promised me, but that you also don't have it because you made partying a higher priority than keeping your word? AND you're telling me that you lied to me about the purpose of the money in the first place? No. No we are not cool."

*pause*

"Have my money by tonight or so help me God I will spray you with pepper spray until your dead little eyes pop out of your skull."

I'm such a fuckhuggable delight.

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Solar Eclipse In Your FACE (Video)

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If you're anything like me, and let's face it - you are...because I'm the only who reads this horseshit...then you're always saying "OH I'm gonna go see the solar eclipse and the lunar eclipse and the Spice Girls and um...I mean the solar eclipse!" but then you never end up actually seeing it because you get drunk and fall asleep in the orphanage.

Well anyway. Here's a fucking eclipse.

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SOOO emo.

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It makes me happy to search my gmail with the operator "my lady" and have this come up...


Gay, right?

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What Your Crash Report REALLY Says (Image)

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C'mon...You know that's why it crashed...

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Presidential Reflections

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So I just woke up to an unsettling thought...

A decade ago (give or take a few years), we had a President in office who made wry jokes, handled the ladies and played the goddamned saxophone for the whole fucking country. Now we have a President who belongs to the same party whose lasting cultural contributions will include being the first president to have a Blackberry and the first President to Give secondhand smoke damage to his kids.

Next election I'm not voting for the candidate I think will do the best job...I'm voting for the FUN candidate. Government-run healthcare? Pfft. Try Government-run Dave & Busters!

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How Could Terrorists Want to Destroy This? (Video)

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Times were so simple back then...

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Top YouTube Videos of 2010 (Video)

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So I missed a day. You get a double dose today. Pfft.

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You Knew This Day Would Come, Yogi...

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video

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Put Down That Silly Putty

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(via XKCD)

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Day Two: Whatcha Gonna Do?

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In the words of Gerardo Mejîa, "Bust A Cap In 'Em."

It's day two of the new year and I'm gonna keep up my promise of blogging something every day. At this point I have no clue what today will hold, so this son'bitch is just a placeholder until I come up with something monstrously radical to post later.

That's right...monstrously radical.

Boobs.

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I Was Right About One Thing in 2010

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At the beginning of last year I made a proclamation that 2010 would change my life. Out of all the things I thought would happen last year, from me making a magabillion dollars (that's totally a real number) to me winning the baby lottery and getting my own show on TLC, the one thing I didn't think would really ever happen to me...did.

I don't often delve deep into personal matters here but I'm feeling extremely thankful today because of the one most important thing that did happen to me last year...I met the woman of my dreams, and...seriously...get this...somehow I convinced her to fall in love with me.

I had pretty much resigned myself to a life of misanthropy and being generally unloved as a result of said misanthropy....and then, out of nowhere came the one I'd always waited for.

So there ya go, Internet. I'm starting off 2010 on a positive note, happy and in love and wishing everyone a successful decade...and let's just hope that the 2000's don't end up looking like the 80's in hindsight.

Oh yeah and I didn't forget my resolution - this is day 1 folks. Keep on coming back!*






*HA. Nobody comes here.

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