You’re probably tired. For that I apologize – it wasn’t really fair of me to keep you up all night, tossing and turning in your bed, wondering if I bought a new hairbrush or continued to use the one that I dropped in the toilet. It was a difficult decision, believe me. One that took time and careful consideration. Ultimately, I think I made the right choice.

I went to Walgreens and shelled out 3 dollars for a new hairbrush.

I know the poll results said I should suck it up and deal, but I was at Walgreens anyway buying rechargeable batteries and the thing was only 3 bucks. If you still think I blew it, I put together a little photo gallery to convince you otherwise. I’m confident that by the time you get to the end of it, you’ll agree that I made the right decision. My old brush was a piece of shit. My new brush, on the other hand, is a work of fucking art. Check it out.

The whole experience reminded me of a great conversation I had once about fishing stuff out of the toilet, which I will post now in the form of yet another poll. Cuz hey – polls are fun, right?

[poll=6]

Ever hear those statistics about how there is actually less bacteria in your toilet than there is in your kitchen sink? That’s great and everything, but c’mon. It’s a toilet. You poo and pee in there, so no matter what the scientists tell you, toilets will always be… well… kind of yucky, you know? But even though it totally sucks to drop something in the toilet (a hair brush, your glasses, etc), it’s probably good for you to a certain extent. It forces you to assess just how disgusting you really think toilets are. Look down in the bowl. That’s your brush in there! What are you gonna do, just let it sit in there? The longer it sits the grosser it is, so you better either get your ass in gear or resign yourself to buying a new brush. What’s it gonna be? Just how “yuck” do you really think toilet water is? C’mon. Even though you poo and pee in there all the time, it’s not like there’s any poo or pee in there now. It’s just water, right? Time to make a move! It’s been floating in there for a solid 4 or 5 seconds now! Do or die! Make a move! Reach into the toilet and grab that brush!

Eww! Toilet water!

Here’s the tricky part: contact lenses and toothbrushes are no-brainer throw-aways, but what about a hairbrush? I have a hairbrush in my sink right now that was in my toilet for a few seconds. No poo or pee – just water. What should I do? It’s an old and (pun unavoidable) shitty brush, but do I really want to throw it away just because it floated in my relatively clean toilet for a few seconds? What if I wash it with hot water? I barely brush my hair anyway, so this really doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but still… I don’t know… I guess it’s kind of gross. Whenever I brush my hair I’ll definitely think about the fact that it was in the toilet for a few seconds. Still… bah! I just don’t know! Dropping something in the toilet sucks!

[poll=5]

I’m pretty sure that whoever wrote this movie made a list of things a remote control can do with a blank space under each one, then wrote the entire movie in those spaces. I also think it took about 15 minutes. For example:

Fast Forward: Have Sandler fast forward through a fight with his wife.

Slow Motion: Watch big boobs bounce around really slowly.

Mute: Mute Sandler’s stupid wife (but make her really nice so the audience knows Sandler is a jerk for muting her)

Pause: The ol’ pause-depants-unpause gag. Also, fart in someone’s mouth possibly, then unpause? Develop concept further.

Color/Tint/Hue: Have Sandler turn himself green, talk like The Hulk. Everyone will like that.

Widescreen: Click it at someone, have it make them turn fat.

Skip Chapter: Make Sandler skip entire years of his life and then learn a lesson about the importance of family.

There. I just wrote the script for Click.

Oh – you also get to see Rob Schneider (you know – of “The Animal” fame) play an Arab prince. And Henry Winkler pretends to eat a quarter. And Sandler cries like a fucking baby when he learns his lesson. Oh, shit, but hey, I almost forgot: At the very end of the movie we find out that hey, guess what?

It was all a dream!

Holy fucking shit! Click sucks!

(note: at least one person disagrees with me: His name is Vanguardaz, and he found Click “Life Changing.” He also found Freaky Friday “Oscar Worthy.”)

So I’m sitting at a Jimmy John’s in a strip mall in Glenview, Illinois. I’m eating a #3*, minding my own business, when my eyes happen to fall on one of the many “wacky” signs on the wall. Jimmy John’s seems to take great pride in their wacky signs, most of which feature quick hits like “Yo Mama… Wants You To Eat At Jimmy John’s!” or “If These Walls Could Talk… They Wouldn’t Need Signs Like This One!” This one that I happened to find myself staring at was different, though. This one had a lot of words on it. I love shit with lots of words on it (I was an English major, after all), so when I saw them all sitting there on that sign my pulse quickened a bit. As if by instinct, the training I received as an undergraduate kicked in. I began systematically processing the entire sign, word by word. Left to right, top to bottom.

Reading, if you will.

When I reached the last word of the last line, a weird thing happened. I started thinking about the overall message of the sign. It was delivered in a light-hearted manner, but the message of it was actually kind of… well… kind of deep, I guess. It spoke volumes about the lunacy of the American value system, about our messed up priorities, you know? I thought about what I had read for a while and sat there eating my sandwich. I thought about myself, my job, my own personal priorities. I compared myself to the guy in the story on the sign on the wall at a Jimmy John’s in Glenview, Illinois.

Then I was like “wow” – I really need to start bringing a book with me to read on my lunch breaks. I also need those books to be, like, “good” books, I guess, because apparently my brain is turning into applesauce. Seriously – being emotionally moved by some stupid sign hanging on the wall at Jimmy John’s really fucking sucks.

If you’d like to read the sign in question, just click on the dunce.

* That’s a “Sorry Charlie.”**

** That’s a tuna salad sandwich.

I wonder what Kevin G. Boyd was doing when he came up with the idea for Bling H20. I bet he was sitting on a black leather couch, taking a sip of Fiji water. He probably put it down on his glass coffee table, looked at the bottle and thought to himself, “You know what? I bet I can trick morons into paying way more money for this shit than $3.” Thus spoke a Hollywood writer-producer, and thus Bling H20 was born. It’s $25 – $40 a bottle. The bottle is filled with water. Read their ad copy and brace yourself for another terrorist attack:

“Bling H2O is the inspiration of Kevin G. Boyd, Hollywood writer-producer. While working on various studio lots where image is of the utmost importance he noticed that you could tell a lot about a person by the bottled water they carried. In Hollywood it seemed as if people flaunted their bottled water like it was part of their presentation. Whether the bottles had a cool shape or came from an exotic island, none truly made that defining statement. Bling H2O was fashioned to make that defining statement. The mission was to offer a product with an exquisite face to match exquisite taste. The product is strategically positioned to target the expanding super-luxury consumer market. Initially introduced to hand-selected athletes and actors, Bling H2O is now excitedly expanding it’s availability. Bling H2O has been featured at many recent celebrity events including the MTV Video Music Awards and television’s biggest event, The Emmys. Bling H20 is pop-culture in a bottle. But it’s not for everyone, just those that Bling. So the question is: Do You Bling?“

Wasn’t that whole fucking city supposed to have fallen into the ocean already?

(via geekologie)

This… is the voice. The voice that I use. To speak? With? Out of my mouth… comes… these… words? These… Words. These words which I use to bring about a verbalistic… revolution? The revolution that will… be… televised? If a revolution is televised in the streets, does it make… a… sound? One hand clapping? Try a million hands… shackled! Chained! Chained to their own… apathy? Apathetic? Diuretic? Verbalistically pathetic as we kneel to worship false idols like the shiny… almighty… dollar. Shiny like a blinged out ride… shiny like “ice.” Shiny like the cold gleam of a pistol in the moonlight as a brother robs another brother of… his… wealth. Wealth! But not the kind that makes one wealthy! Not the kind that makes one healthy! Wealthy? Healthy? Try “broke.” “Smoke.” “Weed?” “Cheeba?” “Reba.” “McEntire.” “… is a Grammy Award-winning singer and one of the best-selling country music performers of all time.” Quoth the wikipedia… nevermore… never bore… never TIRE? Of these liars? Tryin’ to tell me hip hop is dead… my words are FIRE! They INSPIRE! Even though I end? Each sentence? Like it’s a question even though the vast majority of them are actually STATEMENTS? STATEMENT: When I talk this way it makes me sound more intelligent? Even though the vast majority… of the time… I’m not actually saying much of ANYTHING? Much of anything… too much of everything? That’s the problem with America? Sometimes… I like to eat pizza? But other times… I’m in the mood… for some other kind of food? Like possibly hamburgers? Or maybe a Subway sandwich? Sandwich? Rich bitch? Don’t call… women… bitches… or… whatever? I don’t know much but I know I love you… and that may be… all I need… to know? I don’t know much… but I know… this Def… Poetry… Voice… SUCKS?

Thank you, thank you.

Like most people out there, I’m really into Tampa public access television programs from the late 1980’s to early 1990’s. I always considered myself a bit of an expert on the subject (who doesn’t?), but somehow I managed to snooze on this Sondra Prill character for years. What gives? Why didn’t anyone tell me about her before?

Sondra Prill (according to a much more detailed article about a quarter of the way down this page) allegedly took herself completely seriously as the star of a three-episode program entitled – get this – “My Show.” Sondra sang, dance and postured her heart out in each installment of the show that, according to Eric Williams of ubu.com, “provided a showcase for Sondra’s ever-evolving range of things at which she tried to be talented.” Over the course of the three shows she went from a country darlin’ to a tone-deaf diva, covering everything from Hank Williams to Janet Jackson and Technotronic. The shows were peppered with incomprehensible skits that revolved around characters like “Nellie Pineapple” and “Millie The Old Lady.”

Now I know what you’re thinking: there’s no way she could possibly have taken this seriously. You could argue that convincingly, if it weren’t for Sondra’s swan song: a 1992 concert at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center Playhouse Theatre entitled “A Musical Fantasy.” We’re talking about a Hurricane Andrew fundraiser at a 900-seat arena here. Here’s Daniel Ruth of the Tampa Tribune on the subject:

“Ticket prices for her show ranged up to $50, a testimony to a rather intriguing assessment of her talents considering recent (and slightly better known) TBPAC performers such as Al Green and Patti LaBelle charged a maximum ticket price of $25.

“Of course Green and LaBelle lack Sultry Sondra’s unique way of handling a melody – a cross between the dulcet sound of setting one’s hair on fire and sticking one’s hand into a garbage disposal.

“Friday night’s show was not without its highlights. First, it started about 20 minutes late and in an inadvertent gaffe much to the delight of the audience, Sultry Sondra’s microphone failed during one of her songs, which meant we were all spared from having to listen to her.

“Fortunately for the rest of the city, there weren’t that many of us in the audience. Only 41 tickets were sold to Sultry Sondra, a commentary on the good sense of the populace. Of course they did miss that dramatic moment during the performance where Sultry Sondra had honey poured all over her for no particular reason. Say, That’s Entertainment!

“Needless to say the victims of Hurricane Andrew won’t be benefitting much from Friday’s extravaganza of the banal. But then again, perhaps the folks down in Miami could send Sultry Sondra a few bucks – as professional courtesy from one disaster to another.”

Here’s the bottom line: Sondra Prill is either the most brilliantly retarded performance art that Florida ever spawned or a foaming, raving lunatic, but either way her videos are absolutely fucking hysterical. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet… I give you Sondra Prill. Or YouTube does, I guess. I’ll give you the links to YouTube and then YouTube will give you Sondra Prill.

Sondra Prill – Nasty Boys

Sondra Prill – Pump Up The Jam

Sondra Prill – Addicted To Love

Sondra Prill – Your Cheatin’ Heart

Sondra Prill – Little Melissa

Sondra Prill – Nellie Pineapple

Sondra Prill – Millie The Old Lady

Sondra Prill – Mario The Body Builder

Sondra Prill – Smile Toothpaste Commercial

Sondra Prill – Imitates Eddie

Sondra Prill – Star Spangled Banner

Sorry Margo, but I think I’m gonna have to pass on this one. I’m sure the babies are very sexy, and yeah, I understand that they’re waiting (presumably for me and not for, say, a bus or a phonecall or something), but I’ve got a lot of shit to do today. I feel really bad turning down a membership considering this club was clearly designed specifically for me (who, after all, are all those sexy babies waiting for?!), but I’m busy and I don’t know what I’d be expected to do once I actually joined and, well, golly. I’m sorry, Margo. Margo4Me. Really. I am. Maybe if you or your sexy friends had a totally free live cam somewhere that I could watch? A live feed just 4 me? That would be just splendid. Also, it would help if you really actually existed. That would be a good place to start. We could just sort of, you know… take it from there.

That looks like a really uncomfortable way to sit, by the way. I hope you and your sexy friends aren’t planning on waiting around for me in that position. You could throw your back out.

MySpace seriously fucking sucks. Can we go back to Friendster already, or do we have to continue to pretend that we’re enjoying this bullshit?

Duuuuuuuuuuuude… they want us to, like, fall in line, you know? They want us to brush our teeth and comb our hair and fall in line, man, be good little boys and girls and grow up and work 9 to 5 and then go home and watch our TVs until we fall asleep, man. They want to keep us brainwashed so we pay our taxes and don’t stir up too much trouble. Then we can breed and make more little boys and girls who can grow up to pay their taxes and the whole thing goes, like, around and around, you know? 2.5 kids and a white picket fence, man. Pot roast on Saturday and church on Sunday, man. That might work for some people, but not for me, man. You can have your bourgeois mediocrity, your gated community and your SUV. You’re living with blinders on, man. You’re already fucking dead, man, but not me. Know why?

Because I listen to Nine Inch fucking Nails.

You know what’s funny about being 15 and being a fucking moron? You didn’t know shit about shit, and yet you were still somehow totally spot on about the suburbs. I started a new job in the suburbs this week, and realized that even now, a decade later, the suburbs make me an angsty little butthole. Instead of being pissed off about having a curfew, I’m pissed off about battling rush hour traffic. Instead of sneering at teachers, I sneer at soccer moms who treat the Starbucks baristas like cat shit. The 15 year old in you might not know much, but you know what? After paying 9 bucks for a shitty bagel sandwich and eating it in my car in a strip mall parking lot, I think he was right all along.

The suburbs fucking suck. Anarchy, bro.

I couldn’t decide how I felt about this video, so I made a detailed inventory of what happens in the video and rated each moment to determine empirically whether or not it totally ruled:

Things That Ruled: 12
Things That Sucked: 7