I thought my sister and her husband offered up pretty good entertainment when they acted out "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" at their wedding reception. But they got nuttin' on this group. According to Tracey, this wedding party practiced Michael Jackson's "Thriller" for a month before the wedding. It is hysterically great!
The groom is definitely more into it than anyone else, but the fact he got everyone to rehearse to this level is damned impressive!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Cakey!
Our dear Cakeyvoice, famed creatrix of knitted Dawn of the Dead and knitted Shaun of the Dead, has outdone herself. She's knitted Kraftwerk!
I am speechless with awe.
I am speechless with awe.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Classic Re-Post
After witnessing a 300+ pound female student with her gargantuan haunches jammed into the top of a helpless booktruck this morning, I felt it was time to re-post this classic from TBF's past . . .
* * * * *
Drunken Booktruck
In the life of a librarian a certain amount of pushing booktrucks is bound to happen. You have to load the booktruck before you push it. And damned often you have to unload it too. But in between there is the pushing - which is normally pretty simple. But, every now and then you'll get a drunken booktruck.
The drunken booktruck will not roll straight. No matter how carefully you steer, it will insist on veering left or right, banging into shelves, the back of a chair where someone is reading or randomly rumbling over the dog who is resting while its owner reads email.
Yeah - the drunken booktruck is trouble. And you may be wondering, by now, what causes this trouble. What forces make a booktruck stray from the narrow path? What warps the booktruck, so that it may never run true again?
Ass. Teenage ass, to be precise. Super-sized, Taco Bell fed, extra-large-fry gobbling teenage ass bent the booktruck so it will never roll straight again. Every summer the library hires local teenagers to move books, run courier and do other menial tasks the professionals make up for them to do. And every summer the biggest-butted teenager in the bunch will, at some point, plop her gigantic hindquarters on a booktruck and bend it all to hell. It happens every summer!
What - I must ask the universe - What is so compelling about the smooth flat top of the booktruck that it draws the humungus teenage buttcheeks to it? Does it call to them? Does it lure them with a song audible only to an elephantine girl's bottom? Why, booktruck? Why?
Why must you tease Brunhilda's booty by hovering mere inches from her tremendous rump? Why must you beckon her to hoist her massive can onto your spindly support? Perhaps you enjoy groaning beneath her truck bench cushions . . .
Sadly, the booktruck will neither confirm nor deny. And I am left with a sorryass booktruck and one course of action. I must post rules for summer library workers:
1. No sitting on booktrucks
2. No smoking in the building
3. No sitting on booktrucks
4. No wandering across campus after you clock in
5. No sitting on booktrucks
6. Keep your ass off the booktruck!
* * * * *
Drunken Booktruck
In the life of a librarian a certain amount of pushing booktrucks is bound to happen. You have to load the booktruck before you push it. And damned often you have to unload it too. But in between there is the pushing - which is normally pretty simple. But, every now and then you'll get a drunken booktruck.
The drunken booktruck will not roll straight. No matter how carefully you steer, it will insist on veering left or right, banging into shelves, the back of a chair where someone is reading or randomly rumbling over the dog who is resting while its owner reads email.
Yeah - the drunken booktruck is trouble. And you may be wondering, by now, what causes this trouble. What forces make a booktruck stray from the narrow path? What warps the booktruck, so that it may never run true again?
Ass. Teenage ass, to be precise. Super-sized, Taco Bell fed, extra-large-fry gobbling teenage ass bent the booktruck so it will never roll straight again. Every summer the library hires local teenagers to move books, run courier and do other menial tasks the professionals make up for them to do. And every summer the biggest-butted teenager in the bunch will, at some point, plop her gigantic hindquarters on a booktruck and bend it all to hell. It happens every summer!
What - I must ask the universe - What is so compelling about the smooth flat top of the booktruck that it draws the humungus teenage buttcheeks to it? Does it call to them? Does it lure them with a song audible only to an elephantine girl's bottom? Why, booktruck? Why?
Why must you tease Brunhilda's booty by hovering mere inches from her tremendous rump? Why must you beckon her to hoist her massive can onto your spindly support? Perhaps you enjoy groaning beneath her truck bench cushions . . .
Sadly, the booktruck will neither confirm nor deny. And I am left with a sorryass booktruck and one course of action. I must post rules for summer library workers:
1. No sitting on booktrucks
2. No smoking in the building
3. No sitting on booktrucks
4. No wandering across campus after you clock in
5. No sitting on booktrucks
6. Keep your ass off the booktruck!
Monday, May 7, 2007
I ♥ Spencer Tunick
Photographer Spencer Tunick got 18,000 Mexicans naked to pose for his camera - at once!
See some more of his amazing work here and here.
See some more of his amazing work here and here.
Pointless Remakes in the Hopper!
I'm sure you've all heard by now that the Sci-Fi channel is set to underwhelm everyone over 30 by remaking two classic, fin-de siecle horror films. First, they've somehow snookered Ridley Scott into taking on a made-for-tv version of the Andromeda Stain. Second, they want to give the made-for-tv treatment to John Carpenter's The Thing.
Two bad ideas that taste bad together!
Reason #1 this idea sucks - The single most horrifying thing in the original Andromeda Stain is the very real, snuff-quality footage of a Capuchin monkey being gassed to death. Even when I see it now I don't wholly expect this sickening moment. It hits like a sledgehammer. And no amount of digital graphics in this world is going to ever carry the weight of that scene.
Reason #2 this idea sucks - In The Thing, Kurt Russell is The Man. He will always be The Man. And noooobody beats him. NO-body!!!!
Reason #3 this idea sucks - Goes back to reason #1. The monsters in The Thing are carefully constructed works of art. There is no CGI in this movie. The guy who did the models, Rob Bottin, is a genius. They are everything TBF lives for: fantastic, gruesome and shameless. He plumbed the depths of human dread to come up with these gross-out on top of gross-out monsters. The Thing is one of John Carpenter's best films ever. There is simply nowhere to go but down, with a remake.
BUT - - Reason #1 this idea might not suck - Andromeda Stain has a wimpy ending. It builds tremendous tension and then fizzles. If anybody can put the hammer back into the last 20 minutes of this film, it should be Ridley Scott. I'd like to see him pull it off. It's a great story with a craptastic ending. I just hope he's been hired to beat the crap out of the end of the original script.
P. S. - It's still a bad idea to remake The Thing. Never fuck with perfection.
Two bad ideas that taste bad together!
Reason #1 this idea sucks - The single most horrifying thing in the original Andromeda Stain is the very real, snuff-quality footage of a Capuchin monkey being gassed to death. Even when I see it now I don't wholly expect this sickening moment. It hits like a sledgehammer. And no amount of digital graphics in this world is going to ever carry the weight of that scene.
Reason #2 this idea sucks - In The Thing, Kurt Russell is The Man. He will always be The Man. And noooobody beats him. NO-body!!!!
Reason #3 this idea sucks - Goes back to reason #1. The monsters in The Thing are carefully constructed works of art. There is no CGI in this movie. The guy who did the models, Rob Bottin, is a genius. They are everything TBF lives for: fantastic, gruesome and shameless. He plumbed the depths of human dread to come up with these gross-out on top of gross-out monsters. The Thing is one of John Carpenter's best films ever. There is simply nowhere to go but down, with a remake.
BUT - - Reason #1 this idea might not suck - Andromeda Stain has a wimpy ending. It builds tremendous tension and then fizzles. If anybody can put the hammer back into the last 20 minutes of this film, it should be Ridley Scott. I'd like to see him pull it off. It's a great story with a craptastic ending. I just hope he's been hired to beat the crap out of the end of the original script.
P. S. - It's still a bad idea to remake The Thing. Never fuck with perfection.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The Well-Hung Ford
Well, folks I was just hammering down the road yesterday when I noticed that the truck in front of me was The Ford with Something Extra. It took a minute of squinting and calculating to figure out exactly what I was looking at. When I finally comprehended the sight before me, I laughed out loud and scrambled, one handed, to get my camera . . .
Jean Genet had a word for the "artificial package." Wish I could remember it right now. But no matter. What we need is a word for giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls hanging off the back of a Ford. Obviously it's "overcompensating." But we need a noun.
Perhaps, "Autoscrote." Maybe "Pickup package." "Hemi-heft?"
Please! What should we call this thing?
(Naturally I'm hoping Google will pick me up for "Jean Genet giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls.")
Update: Leslie found a link to the site that sells "Bulls Balls and Big Boy Nuts." The site has a page of photos of their product hanging from everything between a tractor and a Segway. You have to see it to believe it.
I now weep wet tears for the man who had to return his balls to the factory, due to a shrewish, ball-hatin' wife. But I wouldn't ride in his truck either . . . unless he let me spit chewing tobaccy out the window and drove me 7-11 so people could see my slave bracelet!
Jean Genet had a word for the "artificial package." Wish I could remember it right now. But no matter. What we need is a word for giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls hanging off the back of a Ford. Obviously it's "overcompensating." But we need a noun.
Perhaps, "Autoscrote." Maybe "Pickup package." "Hemi-heft?"
Please! What should we call this thing?
(Naturally I'm hoping Google will pick me up for "Jean Genet giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls.")
Update: Leslie found a link to the site that sells "Bulls Balls and Big Boy Nuts." The site has a page of photos of their product hanging from everything between a tractor and a Segway. You have to see it to believe it.
Here's a real "testes-monial" from the site:
As much as I like my new balls I must return them if possible. I thought this was the coolest thing I had seen in a while. However, my wife is less than pleased. Matter of fact, she is extremely pissed that I "spent our money on something as disgusting as that".
She refused to ride in my truck if the scrotum was attached. Therefore I had to neuter my ride. I had it on for about 2 hours and only drove about 12 miles or so to show it to a couple of buddies. It is in pristine condition and only requires to be repackaged in its original plastic bag for resale.
I now weep wet tears for the man who had to return his balls to the factory, due to a shrewish, ball-hatin' wife. But I wouldn't ride in his truck either . . . unless he let me spit chewing tobaccy out the window and drove me 7-11 so people could see my slave bracelet!
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Divine Secrets of the Yaya Razor
A few days ago I claimed that I was preparing a post about shaving my legs. I confess, it was an idle threat. I had no plans to write about such a tedious topic. But, when I got home from work that very day, lo & BEEhold, I had a brand new Gillette Venus Breeze Razor Plus Shave Gel Bars in my mailbox.
Somehow, all the advertising that's been launched in the name of this thing has by-passed my awareness in every way. I knew nothing about it, but I ripped it open like Christmas morning and set it on the bathtub ready to roll. I noticed then that it's a weird-looking razor. It has two fat, pink bumpers on either side of the cutting strips.
Once I got into the tub and started using it, I realized that the bumpers are akin to crystallized KY Jelly. As soon as they come in contact with water, they begin to drool. You can drip it in water, then lift it up and watch a clear, unscented, slime filament down into the tub from the pink bumpers. It's more than a little disconcerting, to be honest.
I soaped my legs and shaved as usual, but I didn't particularly enjoy the mucousy goodness of its super-slick shave. It felt like I was shaving with a piece of over-cooked okra. And I noticed the next day that it wasn't a particularly close shave either. My legs already felt hot, hairy and itchy. Ugh!
The experience made me try to imagine who would benefit most from a shave with mollusc saliva. I thought maybe a 12 year-old girl who was just learning how to shave her legs would do well to use this razor. The buttery bumpers make it almost impossible to cut yourself with it. But I couldn't dream of who else would make good use of shaving with slug-ooze.
Until this morning that is . . . Showering this A.M. I happened to glance down & noticed that the "south lawn" needed a trim. This particular mow usually needs some time and attention to accomplish. It needs a steady and relaxed hand. And you have to choose your tool carefully. You can't use a Sensor Excel for Women without danger of damaging the peonies, let's say. If you use a beard-trimmer you're in real peril of performing your own clitorectomy.
Suddenly I thought of the brand-new razor with Okra-Goo™ technology. I ran the Venus Breeze blade under the shower head and spreken zie Deutsch! It spiffed up the Yaya Gardens in no time!!!
Kowabunga! I'm SOLD!!! My new Yaya razor let me zip through a task that seemed to take 45 minutes of uncomfortable yoga posturing and almost certain accidental slicing or dicing in the past. Thank you Gillette, for free admittance into the Divine Secrets of the Yaya Razor.
Somehow, all the advertising that's been launched in the name of this thing has by-passed my awareness in every way. I knew nothing about it, but I ripped it open like Christmas morning and set it on the bathtub ready to roll. I noticed then that it's a weird-looking razor. It has two fat, pink bumpers on either side of the cutting strips.
Once I got into the tub and started using it, I realized that the bumpers are akin to crystallized KY Jelly. As soon as they come in contact with water, they begin to drool. You can drip it in water, then lift it up and watch a clear, unscented, slime filament down into the tub from the pink bumpers. It's more than a little disconcerting, to be honest.
I soaped my legs and shaved as usual, but I didn't particularly enjoy the mucousy goodness of its super-slick shave. It felt like I was shaving with a piece of over-cooked okra. And I noticed the next day that it wasn't a particularly close shave either. My legs already felt hot, hairy and itchy. Ugh!
The experience made me try to imagine who would benefit most from a shave with mollusc saliva. I thought maybe a 12 year-old girl who was just learning how to shave her legs would do well to use this razor. The buttery bumpers make it almost impossible to cut yourself with it. But I couldn't dream of who else would make good use of shaving with slug-ooze.
Until this morning that is . . . Showering this A.M. I happened to glance down & noticed that the "south lawn" needed a trim. This particular mow usually needs some time and attention to accomplish. It needs a steady and relaxed hand. And you have to choose your tool carefully. You can't use a Sensor Excel for Women without danger of damaging the peonies, let's say. If you use a beard-trimmer you're in real peril of performing your own clitorectomy.
Suddenly I thought of the brand-new razor with Okra-Goo™ technology. I ran the Venus Breeze blade under the shower head and spreken zie Deutsch! It spiffed up the Yaya Gardens in no time!!!
Kowabunga! I'm SOLD!!! My new Yaya razor let me zip through a task that seemed to take 45 minutes of uncomfortable yoga posturing and almost certain accidental slicing or dicing in the past. Thank you Gillette, for free admittance into the Divine Secrets of the Yaya Razor.
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