Katy Perry and Russel Brand to Divorce

"Smile, dear God, for the love of Christ smile."

Well there goes one of Hollywood's favorite odd-ball couples.

At the risk of potentially getting a cease and desist letter from Tosh.0 lawyers, "let's see how many jokes we can make in 30 seconds."


"I guess her boyfriend did mind it."

"Alright, this facade is getting a little difficult to keep up."

"Why would anyone ever want to divorce a person whose head is made of cotton candy?"

"If two obscenely wealthy celebrities with private jets can't make a bi-continental relationship, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

"I guess he got tired of her spraying her whipped cream boobs all over other guys."

"Being a recovering addict must be so hard when your wife acts like a stoned high schooler and looks like an acid trip you went on while playing Candyland."

"This is a major blow to inter-Muppet marriage equality."

"I always figured being that outlandish on camera, Katy Perry must be horrible in the sac. Turns out she's too stodgy even for and Englishman."

"I wonder if they're also getting divorced inside a tiger sanctuary."

"Yeah, okay, that's about how we feel too."

Falty Wisdom of '80s Classics

• I've heard it said that big girls don't cry, but I've certainly seen some fat girls tear up in my day.

• Ignore Men Without Hats; leaving your friends behind, even if they don't dance, is never very safe.

• It is very likely that we did, in fact, start at least one small fire.

… or Are You Just Happy to See Me | Other Reasons for Inopportune Erections

• I am happy to see your mother.

• I crushed a Viagra into my food earlier and it's just starting to kick in a little early.

• Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about Betty White/Marlon Brando in The Island of Dr. Moreau.
  
  
• My blood pressure is spiking and I am about to die.

• It's easier to hold my pee in this way.

• I just woke up. From a dream about you. Dying in a plane crash.

Greeting Cards for Exes

I freakin wish Mila Kunis was my ex. Except I'd never want to
screw that up. Maybe that's why we fail, I love too much.
Anyway, I saw "Friends With Benefits" last night and it was
amazing. No lie. Go see it.

I'm thinking of starting a line of cutesie greeting cards for exes, suitable for circumstances generally considered to awkward for audible comment.

The Getting Back in Touch:

 "Hey! How's your vagina?"

The Request:

"Hey, Dickbag, can I have my TV back?"

The "How's Your Family":

 "Is your sister still available?"

The Reacquainting:

"Heeeeeeyyyyyy … Guy!"

The Apology:

"I'm sorry I [broke/lost/killed/slept with/like that one really specific thing when we were in] your [possession/pet/relative/bedroom]. Please don't tell anybody."

I was also considering "The Get the Hell Away from Me," but that's pretty much what a restraining order is for, and I mean who really takes those seriously?

Are Fat Santas a Sign of a Burgeoning Economy?

Falling off roofs is one thing, adult onset diabetes is another.

I was buying Christmas cards in the mall last week when peered over the side of the escalator to spy jolly old St. Nick.

He's been losing weight. He sure had a paunch, but this was not the rotund, jelly-riddled Chris Cringle I know and love from his Coca-Cola storybook. Santa's been watching his carbs, kiddies.

Which has me wondering if authentically fat Santas are indicative of a sprawling, growing economy.

I'd imagine even the Old Man needs to tighten his belt in these recessive times, but then, frankly, he'd probably lose his job to a more … shall we say "naturally glandular" Father Christmas. The presence of a svelter Santa would seem to indicate then a relative dearth of fat Santas, so where have they gone?

Ostensibly, they weren't exactly leading the healthiest lifestyles, maintaining a heavy build and high cholesterol all year. With that kind of lifestyle, I can only surmise that all fat Santas either slimmed down for health concerns or went the way of the Brachiosaur.

Yes, an uncertain immediate future tends to make us a little more pragmatic, but does the opposite hold true? When we're feeling bright and shiny about our futures, do we abuse ourselves more? Or are we simply more readily able to hire another fat, bearded man should one accidentally give himself an aneurism? Do we, in fact, become utterly ambiguous to the blight on moderate obesity  among the elderly, because once every year they become useful to us? Like wiener dogs and pot-bellied pigs, ave we bred Santas only to be occasionally pertinent curiosities? Luxury items?

Maybe we just feel less responsible when what we're losing is already in surplus.

Why I am Thankful for My Nerd Friends

Merry Christmas, browncoats.

How the Jew Saved Christmas (A Bonus Blog)

But down in the Thunderdome they say, that the Jewish boy's heart grew three sizes that day.

Of course the beer can ornament and sock nailed(?) to the mantle were the residents' doings.

Double Dippng on Christmas

I never really saw a problem with double-dipping so long as you rotate whatever it is you're dipping between bites.

The same applies to religious celebrations. One of these days, I'm going to get so many extra vacation days, being multidenominational. "I can't come in today, it's Yom Kipur." "Nope, I'll be out all week for Lent." "Sorry, it's the Vernal Equinox. Gotta don my robe and antlers."

Is it fair that in the span of six weeks one year I got to celebrate my birthday, bar-mitzvah, Chanukah, and Christmas? Not at all. Was it one of the best things ever, giving me ample funding to survive without student loans well into my adulthood? Yes. Do you probably hate me now? A little bit, likely.

But hey, what do I know, I have no religion anyway. It's all wasted on me. To me, Christmas is about the spirit of love and giving and being kind to all manner of people, forgiving those past wrongs against us and saying, "Let us all be better from now on." Chanukah is the celebration of exactly that, except with blue and fire instead of green-and-red and a pine tree, celebrated one evening, likely the Saturday closest to an official start date.

Christmas is not about honoring the birth of a religious figure several months and about seven years off from the actual event, as set by doctrines established in the third century. It's about Santa Claus and snow and Coca Cola and love. And let's be honest, Chanukah isn't about a miracle of being rewarded with less than unrealistic deadlines because we overcame impossible odds with only blessing and sheer determination. It's about not feeling left out at Christmas.

So yes, hate me for celebrating both holidays and getting twice as many presents. However, if you value actual faith in your culture and religion, pity me, because I worship only the consumerism and commune only by giving of my own pocket. I am repulsed both by the baby Jesus and anything more ceremonial than a latke.

Plus, I only get presents from half the family at each holiday, so bug off, that's one holiday, total.

On Romantic Pregames

Watching a little bit of porn before a date is like pregaming shots, in that just a touch to much, and you're ruined for the rest of the night.

On Yarmulkes

1. I can't believe I spelled that right on the first try. (My family and every Jewish person I know has only ever said "yah-muh-kuh" for the Yiddish יאַרמלקע, and the Hebrew really being a completely different word, pronounced "key-pah.")

Anyway, I like wearing my yarmulke under my Santa hat every Christmas season. It's multi-denominational, and I have about as much respect for either tradition as the other, but for the most I just get about one of two good laughs out of it every year when a person asks me, "Wait, aren't you Jewish?" and I get to pluck off my one hat to Bartholomew Cubbins another hat underneath.

But the significance of the yarmulke isn't merely comedic, nor is it ceremonial, or even terribly religious. It's so God can't see your wicked thoughts. That's the gist of it, anyway.

Yup, yarmulkes are Jewish tin-foil hats.

Alright, this guy's hat is clearly Druidic in nature, but it serves the
same purpose, gorram it.

Zombie Escape Plan #684 & Other Work Thoughts

Thoughts for the day:


Mothers, tired and exasperated, can usually only be distinguished from crack addicts by their proximity to a relatively clean child.


If my own children ever get into Harry Potter, they're each getting exactly one toy wand to play with, and they'll all be the same. I will have an elder wand, and I will constantly force my children to duel myself and each other to determine who is the superior wizard in our house. The winner will then be repeatedly smacked with a plastic lightsaber for being a giant nerd.


My long-term zombie survival strategies are pretty weak; most end at the local super market or Walmart. I think after that I'll try to determine if zombies freeze, and then try to make my way up to one of those isolated Alaskan towns. At least then I only have to worry about black-and-white vampires.

On Pederasty

Looking at Justin Bieber just reminds me of all
the lesbians I'll never have sex with.

Look, I know it's Christmas time and we're all supposed to be cool, but I just wanted to take the time to remind everyone that iconizing and glorifying the looks of Justin Bieber is about one Greek toga away from legitimate pederasty.

Stay safe, kids.

Baby with a Mohawk

Today I stayed late at work because there was more work to do. What can I say? I'm an industrious guy.

Plus I was wearing a company shirt which made it pretty hard to get out the door. But you know what makes it all worthwhile? The sense of pride and accomplishment. And yeah, there's getting paid too, but that's legitimately just a bonus. But today, the biggest reward was seeing a baby with a mohawk.

Like a legit, shaved-sides, bald scalp mohawk. Spiked. Kid was like two at best. Those are some cool parents. In 15 years that kid's gonna be embarrassed when his mom shows his prom date his baby pictures and his date says, "Brian, you were so cool, what happened? I wish I had your mom."

But she won't be able to hear any response, because that's when Brian's dad comes leaping off the couch to Guitar Hero the opening salvo to Van Halen's "Eruption." On Expert.

The Perks of Being an Overachiever

This past week I showed up to my job two hours late because I transposed the digits of my scheduled shift from 11-7 to 7-11. I assumed I'd be working the 4-hour late shift–reasonably, I think–since any more hours and I'd be in the realm of full-time and would then become eligible for benefits and overtime and such.

I was not. I got the call and I made it into work fairly quickly, and everyone was really nice about it. My boss didn't even know until the end of my scheduled shift. He was really cool about it and let me stay to make up the house as it was busy and we needed the help anyway.

Of course now I'm certain that this week's schedule has me down for 38.5 hours even after breaks, which definitely constitutes full-time at this store. So I'll be A) making bank, and B) they can't put me on even a single shift more, so I get Christmas Eve off. Baller. I'm gonna stuff myself full of cinnamon buns and bacon and sleep until it's time to open presents.

Still a little sad I don't get to see madness on the Eve, but not so much that I won't take the days off I can get.

A Second Cop-Out

Not that I enjoy making a habit of such behavior, but today's post will once again update s the day progresses.

11:30 to 2-ish should be for Maryland Family pre-Christmas Christmas at a local diner, and then about 4 until … say, 11 p.m. will be Chanukah with the other side of the family. So basically, wanting to get horribly inebriated followed by actually doing so. In the middle there I may transport a cabinet and an Xmas tree.

We should have plenty of material.

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Winnie the Pooh makes a great Soula Boy.

Happy Tree Friends

Shooting ex husbands.

Saying "fuck" repeatedly in front of grandma.

Pork chops for Chanukah.

Double Jeopardy Whiskey Pong

Two back-to-back six-racks of beer pong ("Beirut" for the sticklers), where each cup is filled with whiskey and soda. Two racks per team, first to sink all 12 cups wins.

Brilliant idea, terrible idea, but an idea that causes STORIES either way.

Another Reason Someone Is Going to Oppose Gay Marriage

Via the BBC.

Somewhere, someone is seeing the continued healthy existence of more gay people as a negative ramification of marriage equality.

Personally, I like to see it as alleviating part of the burden placed on government funded clinics and an already over-taxed health care system.

But what do I know? Besides gay people, married people, doctors, and accountants, I mean.

Dave's Manhattan Adventure, Pt. 2

Here are some other highlights from yesterday:

Lisa bought me a Star Wars themed Dress-up Jesus magnet set as a belate birthday gift!

Then we ate delicious ramen after our tea and a walk.

AND I SAW THAT IT HAPPENED ON MULBERRY STREET.

Lisa also got her ears pierced and the girl their let me take a photo of her 2.5" plugs. She also counseled me on how to take out my one earring if ever I chose to do so!

Aaaaand the piercing place where Lisa got her nose pierced was really high end. Their in-house portraits/ads were of a model pretending to snort diamonds instead of cocaine. (Later Lisa thought she crushes my hand, but she was too tiny a thing to hurt a manly man such as myself.)

Dave Goes to the Big City

Today I am heading into New York to have some crazy awesome foods.

If you only check this site in your morning routines, you're going to think today is a cop-out and terribly uninteresting, and completely unfunny.

Check back throughout the day and you should instead see some fun photos and interesting stories, not because they've only been posted throughout the day, but because you are a patient and fastidious person and I have magically decided that only you are worthy enough to see the things I will see today.


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[This space reserved for photos of food and certain people.]

Hoarding for Comedic Effect

I used to be a digital hoarder, but I've really reigned in my behavior over the past several years. I also used to make it impossible to throw away anything that was still useable or had sentimental value. I never damaged my toys as a child; most retained their original boxes. The problem just came down to space.

And yet I find I still hold on to certain items I may never use, if for no other reason than they would be so funny to be able to have at my disposal down the line.

Why do I have a plastic female mannequin torso? Because I have matching arms, cloth legs, and a Styrofoam head, and I'm just one Macy's lingerie department plastic pelvis away from being able to replicate those LSD-lased milk pouring statues from A Clockwork Orange.

Why do I still have my children's size bar-mitzvah bow tie? Because it gets used more often than you'd think.

Why do I keep my outdated and dusty globe? Because my Indiana Jones fedora needs something cool to perch on.

It's all there for the same reason I keep climbing robe, a utility belt, and a grappling hook in the trunk of my car, people. Because I'm Batman it's hilarious to be able to pull out when you need it.

Thank you, Baggin' Saggin' Barry.

Why I Am the Worst Date

• Get coffee: hate coffee. (How about tea and scones? Maybe a biscotto?

• Go outside for a smoke: don't smoke. (Father issues.)

• Sushi: nauseated by all seafood. (Fancy lobster and any dinner in Maryland/tropical islands also ruined)

• Movie date: keep your tongue in check, woman, I paid $11 to see this movie in which I'm now thematically invested, I'm going to watch it.

• Hiking/rock climbing/long walks on the beach: fucking lazy.

Language Acquisition for Adults

The trick to a good French accent is completely bullshitting
and reading phonetically. This is true also of German.

Sometimes I get the feeling I should just suck it up and buy a copy of those old Muzzy VHS tapes and learning to speak French like a child.

You see, there's an incredible allure to French. Much of it, I imagine is the notion that I can't understand it. Oh, I pick up bits here and there, mostly from Latin roots and some cognates here of there, a few particles and proper nouns I heard repeated enough along the way (some from the Muzzy commercials themselves, c. 1993).

Trick is, I kind of suck at learning languages, which–as a writer–is kind of infuriating. Being a type-A, anal-retentive, obsessive planner, it's an ordeal for me to try to do anything I haven't mastered already. So of course, speaking is weird.

"Let's take words you spent 20 years learning, translate them into different words, and then rearrange that code into a new code. Then, when someone responds, decode that and rearrange it until it's 'real' words." Pretty sure that's not how words work. Which just makes me think I should grab some fuzzy French Muppet cartoons and have them enseigner les l'Américain stupide.

On the up-side, I've been told my accent is marvelous.

Being a Gluttonous Consumer Whore Has Never Been This Easy

Many times I have wanted to stuff a chicken in a duck inside a turkey, but that would be really gross she they're all raw.

Still sounds delicious though.

Too bad, I don't know where else to get one.

Oh wait, it can come in a box. AND the CHICKEN is stuffed with STUFFING. It's a stuffed turducken. That ms like an extra power of stuffification. (I'm pretty sure with molecular gastronomy "stuffification" is a word now.)

I figure one of these for my friends on thanksgiving and a tofu-duck/tofurkey/faux-chicken "tofucken" for my veggie friends.

I wonder if I can stuff bacon in there somehow….



*TOFUCKEN is an unregistered trademark of Dave Zucker and if you steal it you're and asshole.

I Love Fuck Yeah Art Student Owl

Even though I was a lowly English major with a background of Sci-Fi science, I drew a lot of cartoons in college. I've had some of the experiences of work, and a lot of them carry through to other professions, as well.

So sometimes I contribute. I've had a few, actually. One caused quite a bit of rage (that's what you get for addressing racism as a concept), but another got tons of affection, so it makes me happy.

Here are tonight's true story creations:

Yup. Pretty sure I threw away my graph paper notebook as unnecessary. OH WHAT A FOOL I WAS!

On Honest Spamvertising

You know, at least they're honest.


Actually, the sad thing is I'm pretty sure this was the screen name of someone I knew from high school, and it just got hijacked in a hilarious way.

Good thing I only ever use iChat to talk to three friends and about 75 eleven year-old girls.

Multidenominationality

I have a Santa hat I break out this time of year that I really love. It took me years to find one I liked as much as an earlier one, but at this point I think I've idealized that first one.

It's a great hat, perfect faux-fur lengths and texture. I even have a bell for it for when I worry about sneaking up on people.

I got a lot of positive comments for breaking it out today, but also the requisite, "I didn't think you celebrated Christmas?" with that question inflected at the end.

Possible Responses:

1. My mom is Christian.
2. I pull off my hat to reveal the yarmulke I always wear beneath it.
3. I am a transformer? Hiding my true nature until the last moment. HEBREWS IN DISGUISE!

On Crossbreeding

I hope the mother was the rotty and not the chihuahua, otherwise that would have been a very uncomfortable breeding session.

Like throwing a hotdog through a thimble, and then pulling it out and throwing it again, repeatedly and with great vigor.

Incidentally, I pet the dog, but not the baby sitting behind me. I thought that to be a bit in bad taste.

Hollywood, Please Make Entire Movies Out of Montages

George had the prettiest dress in the whole movie.
Hands-down.

As useful a narrative device as it is, there's something deeply problematic at the heart of every montage sequence: it skips all the hard work.

Yes, in a romantic comedy it makes for a fun, clean sequence of cut-scenes and '80s music that takes up very little screen time while also showing time elapsing and much being achieved. Maybe a house gets painted or multiple wedding/prom dresses are tried on. All the hard work is removed because the audience doesn't want to see seven hours or nerds sweeping up a frat house; no one needs to see Drew Barrymore get zipped into four different gowns and then discuss with Adam Sandler, a Boy George impersonator, and that actress who looks like a young Jennifer Aniston but wasn't exactly why they don't necessarily work for her.

However, not showing these minutes and hours seems to have impacted our culture. Impacted it like a wisdom tooth. "I feel like this shouldn't be taking as long as it is." "I feel like we must be trying to hard." If I set up a thirty year old ghetto-blaster boom box and pop in a Duran Duran cassette, I don't really expect to be done painting my grandma's entire house by the time I hear the last chords in "Rio."

But I kind of do. I don't expect to have to work hard, or for very long, before I start seeing results. What do you mean I have to work out for six months before I see noticeable results? What do you mean for an hour a day? What are slow reps? What's this notion of applying for jobs constantly, even after I achieve the dream of a 35 hour-a-week retail job? God damn it, that was good enough for Janeane Garofalo in Reality Bites, why should I have to work harder than that?

The montage has ruined us. I would pay $40 to see an entire movie about the six weeks Seth Rogan spent at the end of Knocked Up getting his life together by moving out of his friends' house, throwing away his bongs, getting an office job that would sponsor him for U.S. citizenship, renting a nice apartment, and studying all his baby guides. Why would I do that?

Because I'm 25 and no one has ever taught me how to put my shit in order and work hard without seeing immediate results.

But at least my life's got a killer soundtrack.

Drinking Dice

This is a game now. It's actually amazingly fun. You should try it if you're in a group and want to be drunk.

On Irish Ingenuity

"You guys wanna move that bottle away from precariously close to the edge of the table?"

"No."

"That's cool, it's a valid question. You can say 'no' to it."

"It's a sturdy bottle. Irish ingenuity."

"If 'Irish ingenuity' were applied to anything other than drinking and possibly pissing off the British, I would be shocked."

Alternative God Particles

Trippy.

Media outlets have an unfortunate effect on the public perception of science every time they use the phrase "God Particle" to describe the Higgs boson. When results imply a lack of discovery, scientists are godless heathens full of hubris and contempt, worthy of scorn; when results might point towards a future discover–and let's be honest, those are the same results interpreted by someone who might just be a godless heathen too–anyone in the science community is generally embarrassed at how wildly hopeful the interpretation of those results are.

So here's a list of other subatomic particles we could start talking about as if they were important religious figures, and maybe take some of the heat off of poor little Higgs so maybe he'll come out of seclusion.

• Hermes - Tachyons travel faster than light. Tere's been a lot of talk about neutrinos doing that lately, but let's refer back to "scientists shake their heads in sadness at your conclusions" argument.

• The Zeus - Just the electron, but it sounds way cooler with a tiny lightning bolt and turning into a swan to bang women, right?

• The Confucius - Intrinsically important, yet stable, thoughtful, and upstanding. The neutron. 

• The Neitzsche - What we'll call the Higgs is it turns out it never existed.

Bonus:

•  I propose we call fission "Mosesing."

Also, for the record, all particles are Muhammad particles because we can't show you what they look like. 

Realistic Expectations of a More Racially Diverse Justice League

Aaron Diaz of Dresden Codak is an internet comic artist who has been getting quite a bit of attention lately for some rather inspired updates to Batman and the Justice League following DC Comics' own maligned "New 52" reboot.

It occurred to me that most Superheroes are by nature either near-human aliens or empowered humans, generally white and American, given the birthplace of the pulp genre. However, if we're going to take into account actual global ethnicity numbers, an "accurately" diverse Justice League would be about a quarter Chinese and Indian, have a couple ambiguously white guys, a Latina/o, Buzz Aldrin, and like one black dude.

Then again, if we're taking the ethnicity of superheroes, we really ought to be finding out the demographics of those most likely to be in close proximity to

A) Industrial accidents, and
B) Space aliens.

Space aliens are easy. If we went somewhere to meat them, the professional space-persons are most likely American, Russian, European, and now possibly Asian. NASA, the ESA, the RFK, China's CNSA, and Japan's JAXA are the only organizations capable of launching an asshole into Earth orbit. (Also Richard Branson.) If they get superpowers after a close encounter, these are the men and women who will fight crime.

NASA: Our phone number is (713) 483-3111.

Then again, if aliens land on Earth, there's a 73% chance they splashdown in water, and that means a whole bunch of Aquamen/super-sturgeons.

Industrial accidents are the other chief method of gaining tights and ripped calves. So to figure out the diversity angle there, we should really be taking into account both the total number of scientists in various countries and the total number of nuclear/radiation/chemical accidents in these same countries per annum.

I expected this to mean most of out terrestrial supers would be from former Soviet bloc countries and possibly North Korea, and now approximately one fifth of the island of Honshu in Japan. Interestingly, the United States has more confirmed nuclear accidents than any other country by far. The same goes for astronaut fatalities both in the ether and during training.

So, basically, the Justice League should be a couple aliens who take on the form of or suitably advance Earth marine life, then a bunch of genius Americans with crappy/incredible luck, and a few irradiated Japanese business men. Or maybe some of those abandoned dogs. Yeah, a Hulk chow chow? How cute would that be? (Oops, that's be The Avengers, I guess.)

"Everyone gets a little younger, but the sidekicks stay the same. Also, fuck J'onn."