I can still remember the first time I encountered a Cold Ketchup Family. I was at my friend Rob's house in like 5th grade and was staying for dinner and OUT COMES THE KETCHUP OUT OF THE FRIDGE. Now, I grew up in a Warm Ketchup Family (kept in the cabinet, next to the salt & pepp), so this was quite a surprise. I was all "WHAT THE FUCK" or whatever the 5th-grade equivalent of what the fuck is. Anyway, it was a world-rocker for sure.
You see, I grew up in a Warm Ketchup - Warm Butter - Warm Bread family and I didn't know any other way. As my life progressed, I would learn that not everyone stored their ketchup, butter, and bread at room temperature. You had your Cold Ketchup - Cold Butter - Warm Bread families and even your Cold Ketchup - Cold Butter - Cold Bread families. Yes, there are families who keep their bread in the fridge. I know, right? I was just as shocked as you.
Fast Forward to today. We're now a Cold Ketchup - Warm Butter - Warm Bread family. But what does your ketchup-butter-bread situation say about you?
Warm Ketchup - Warm Butter - Warm Bread: Possible Mom with mental issues.
Cold Ketchup - Warm Butter - Warm Bread: Totally normal.
Cold Ketchup - Cold Butter - Warm Bread: Fearful; anxious. Possible drug problem.
Warm Ketchup - Warm Butter - Cold Bread: Wary of strangers. Cheap.
Cold Ketchup - Cold Butter - Cold Bread: Distant and aloof; potential cockroach problem in house
I heard that in France they store cheese at room temperature. Let's don't even get started on that.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Bachelor: Who the fuck is "Jamie"?
Hey! We're in Puerto Rico. Is that a state or what? I can never remember.
We know they speak a different language there, because the first date card arrives and it's in Spanish! No problemo, Emily translates! Is there anything she can't do? She cures diseases! She calls Courtney a bitch! SHE SPEAKS FUCKING SPANISH. CALL ME, EMILY!!!
OK. I'm OK. I'm alright. The first solo date is with Dead Boss Nicki and her big deer eyes. After the obligatory helicopter ride, which is so played now it might as well be a pedicab, we land near some Spanish fort and grab some piraguas, a "shaved ice dessert shaped like a pyramid." Nicki says everything is great and "it's like God smiling down on us" except then it starts pouring fucking rain, prompting the two to go shopping for "authentic clothes." After a brief pit stop at La Bodega De Ropa Auténtica (Emily, quick check - how's that?) they emerge and Ben looks like a Desi Arnaz impersonator and Nicki looks like a tablecloth.
They just happen to come upon a Puerto Rican wedding (NOTE: not a euphemism) and this provides a chance to talk about Nicki's failed marriage. WELL DUH YOU SHOULD LIVE WITH SOMEONE FIRST BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED NICKI. How else are you supposed to find out about his weird bathroom habits or interest in Japanese tentacle porn?
For the night portion, we've switched back to normal person clothes and will have our usual outdoor dinner. Nicki is ready for her "second chance." HEY BITCH HOW ABOUT LETTING SOMEONE ELSE HAVE A FIRST CHANCE HUH? Her marriage only lasted 3 years, so she's not exactly a good bet. She gets the Honesty & Openness Rose and it's time for making out.
For our Group Date, we decamp with a bunch of chix to Roberto Clemente Stadium for some baseball! You know Lindzi's gonna be on this like an anorexic on a LiveJournal. She loves that Guy Stuff. As it turns out, they're gonna play some 5-on-5 and the winning team gets a "romantic beach party" and the losing team can probably still beat the Astros. Ben is the "designated pitcher" and motherfucker is getting LIT FUCKING UP. He gives up 5 runs in the first inning! Who the fuck is he, Barry Zito? BAM. Anyway, this game is only supposed to go 2 innings but they keep tying it up and it goes 5 and Jennifer fucking strikes out to lose it for the Blue Team. THIS IS FORESHADOWING REMEMBER THIS. Jennifer swings at something around her eyes and she is the Aaron Rowand of the Blue Team. OK, I'm all out of insider baseball jokes. The Blue Team is forced into a darkened school bus and taken to a gloomy swamp to be drowned or something.
The "Romantic Beach Party" is mostly a bore. Kacie B. manages to make it through without crying, so that's something. Meanwhile, Courtney the Lizard Queen gets her prey down to the beach and blathers on and on about skinny dipping and if you've seen any promo for this show you know where this is going. It's going to boring is where it's going.
Solo date with Elyse, who we haven't seen much of. They're out on a boat and Elyse is talking about how she's "done everything she wanted to do," like get a Master's and move to Florida. Sheesh, you could set your sights a little higher, Elyse. I bet she has a Master's in Getting Dumped because this date is not setting the world on fire. At our Outdoor Beach Dinner, Elyse lets it slip that she's "sick of being single" and is ready to marry whatever reality show contestant asks her first. Ben is not all that into her and cuts her loose. She is taken away in the Crying Boat and is fucking moaning and weeping and I wonder if she decompensates after every other first date that doesn't go well. Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, lady. You don't even know this badly-haired dork.
Back at Chick Ranch, the ladeez collectively FREAK OUT when the guy comes to take Elyse's bag away. Courtney opines that "maybe she drank too much and the Jersey Shore came out" and thanks Courtney for dropping every pop culture reference from last year over and over and over again. "Maybe Nyan Cat took her away!" Courtney also says it "blew my panties off," just like anything with an IMDB profile and a gold card.
A plan has formed in Courtney's primitive Lizard Brain. She muses, "I wonder if he's ever skinny dipped with a model before." Like she could get any more repellent. So she camps out by his door and baby voices her way into his room and they go down to the beach and take off their clothes and blah blah blah you've seen the commercial.
OK, cocktail party. B. feels "creepy" about his "intimate moment" with Lizard Queen. You ain't the only one, brother. Oh wait, Blakeley has something "very important" to tell him! Finally, she's going to tell him she used to be just "Blake." Oh, no, wait, she tells him that she writes something down about him every day! Ewww, speaking of creepy! Emily tries to salvage her prior mistake of talking shit about Courtney by TALKING MORE SHIT ABOUT COURTNEY. Jesus, Em, I love you, sweetie, but you've got to shut up about that shit. Seriously, girl. Stick with Spanish and diseases and you'll be fine.
Rose ceremony. Wait, JAMIE gets a rose? Has she been on this show the whole time? Where the fuck has she been hiding? OK, so we're down to Em and Jennifer and JENNIFER STRIKES OUT AGAIN. Yeah, I went there. She is taken away in the Crying Jeep to weep and weep and weep and wonder what she did wrong. LITTLE MORE TIME IN THE BATTING CAGE NEXT TIME, GIRLFRIEND.
Next week, B announces we're "going to the most glamorous city in Central America, PANAMA CITY, PANAMA!" Really? That's like saying we're going to the "Most glamorous store in the Discount Mall, T.J. MAXX!!!!" I don't know, maybe Panama City really is glamorous.
WE'LL SEE.
We know they speak a different language there, because the first date card arrives and it's in Spanish! No problemo, Emily translates! Is there anything she can't do? She cures diseases! She calls Courtney a bitch! SHE SPEAKS FUCKING SPANISH. CALL ME, EMILY!!!
OK. I'm OK. I'm alright. The first solo date is with Dead Boss Nicki and her big deer eyes. After the obligatory helicopter ride, which is so played now it might as well be a pedicab, we land near some Spanish fort and grab some piraguas, a "shaved ice dessert shaped like a pyramid." Nicki says everything is great and "it's like God smiling down on us" except then it starts pouring fucking rain, prompting the two to go shopping for "authentic clothes." After a brief pit stop at La Bodega De Ropa Auténtica (Emily, quick check - how's that?) they emerge and Ben looks like a Desi Arnaz impersonator and Nicki looks like a tablecloth.
They just happen to come upon a Puerto Rican wedding (NOTE: not a euphemism) and this provides a chance to talk about Nicki's failed marriage. WELL DUH YOU SHOULD LIVE WITH SOMEONE FIRST BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED NICKI. How else are you supposed to find out about his weird bathroom habits or interest in Japanese tentacle porn?
For the night portion, we've switched back to normal person clothes and will have our usual outdoor dinner. Nicki is ready for her "second chance." HEY BITCH HOW ABOUT LETTING SOMEONE ELSE HAVE A FIRST CHANCE HUH? Her marriage only lasted 3 years, so she's not exactly a good bet. She gets the Honesty & Openness Rose and it's time for making out.
For our Group Date, we decamp with a bunch of chix to Roberto Clemente Stadium for some baseball! You know Lindzi's gonna be on this like an anorexic on a LiveJournal. She loves that Guy Stuff. As it turns out, they're gonna play some 5-on-5 and the winning team gets a "romantic beach party" and the losing team can probably still beat the Astros. Ben is the "designated pitcher" and motherfucker is getting LIT FUCKING UP. He gives up 5 runs in the first inning! Who the fuck is he, Barry Zito? BAM. Anyway, this game is only supposed to go 2 innings but they keep tying it up and it goes 5 and Jennifer fucking strikes out to lose it for the Blue Team. THIS IS FORESHADOWING REMEMBER THIS. Jennifer swings at something around her eyes and she is the Aaron Rowand of the Blue Team. OK, I'm all out of insider baseball jokes. The Blue Team is forced into a darkened school bus and taken to a gloomy swamp to be drowned or something.
The "Romantic Beach Party" is mostly a bore. Kacie B. manages to make it through without crying, so that's something. Meanwhile, Courtney the Lizard Queen gets her prey down to the beach and blathers on and on about skinny dipping and if you've seen any promo for this show you know where this is going. It's going to boring is where it's going.
Solo date with Elyse, who we haven't seen much of. They're out on a boat and Elyse is talking about how she's "done everything she wanted to do," like get a Master's and move to Florida. Sheesh, you could set your sights a little higher, Elyse. I bet she has a Master's in Getting Dumped because this date is not setting the world on fire. At our Outdoor Beach Dinner, Elyse lets it slip that she's "sick of being single" and is ready to marry whatever reality show contestant asks her first. Ben is not all that into her and cuts her loose. She is taken away in the Crying Boat and is fucking moaning and weeping and I wonder if she decompensates after every other first date that doesn't go well. Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, lady. You don't even know this badly-haired dork.
Back at Chick Ranch, the ladeez collectively FREAK OUT when the guy comes to take Elyse's bag away. Courtney opines that "maybe she drank too much and the Jersey Shore came out" and thanks Courtney for dropping every pop culture reference from last year over and over and over again. "Maybe Nyan Cat took her away!" Courtney also says it "blew my panties off," just like anything with an IMDB profile and a gold card.
A plan has formed in Courtney's primitive Lizard Brain. She muses, "I wonder if he's ever skinny dipped with a model before." Like she could get any more repellent. So she camps out by his door and baby voices her way into his room and they go down to the beach and take off their clothes and blah blah blah you've seen the commercial.
OK, cocktail party. B. feels "creepy" about his "intimate moment" with Lizard Queen. You ain't the only one, brother. Oh wait, Blakeley has something "very important" to tell him! Finally, she's going to tell him she used to be just "Blake." Oh, no, wait, she tells him that she writes something down about him every day! Ewww, speaking of creepy! Emily tries to salvage her prior mistake of talking shit about Courtney by TALKING MORE SHIT ABOUT COURTNEY. Jesus, Em, I love you, sweetie, but you've got to shut up about that shit. Seriously, girl. Stick with Spanish and diseases and you'll be fine.
Rose ceremony. Wait, JAMIE gets a rose? Has she been on this show the whole time? Where the fuck has she been hiding? OK, so we're down to Em and Jennifer and JENNIFER STRIKES OUT AGAIN. Yeah, I went there. She is taken away in the Crying Jeep to weep and weep and weep and wonder what she did wrong. LITTLE MORE TIME IN THE BATTING CAGE NEXT TIME, GIRLFRIEND.
Next week, B announces we're "going to the most glamorous city in Central America, PANAMA CITY, PANAMA!" Really? That's like saying we're going to the "Most glamorous store in the Discount Mall, T.J. MAXX!!!!" I don't know, maybe Panama City really is glamorous.
WE'LL SEE.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Urban Etiquette: On the Elevator
In 1853, Elisha Otis installed the first public elevator in a 6-story department store in New York City. I can guarantee you that the first time it was used, some asshole jumped on right before the doors closed and hit "2".
Despite 158 years of practice, it appears that a sizable portion of the population still has problems with Basic Elevator Etiquette. Let's review.
1. People get off first. Then you can get on.
The door opens. There is an elevator with people in it. Do you (a) Try and shove yourself on because goddammit I GOTTA GET ON THIS ELEVATOR NO MATTER WHAT or (b) Wait for the people inside to de-elevator? If you chose (b), you get a Gold Star and you're a cool person. If you chose (a), you're just another asshole, one of the millions.
Seriously, this isn't hard: EVERYONE OUT FIRST, THEN EVERYONE ON.
2. Doors closing? You don't get on.
As soon as the doors begin to close, even if it's just the slightest fraction of an inch, that elevator is now closed to new passengers. We do not (a) thrust our hand between the doors to make them open again, (b) frantically push the button, or (c) Say "Hold that elevator!" No. Once the doors start to close, that elevator's dance card is full. You are not on it. There will be another elevator soon. If it's an emergency and the building is on fire, you shouldn't be taking the elevator anyway.
3. The Two-Floor Down Rule
If you get on an elevator that is located anywhere near the stairs and take it down one or two floors and you are physically capable of descending a flight of stairs, you are a lazy bag of lard and you need to get some exercise, fatty.
4. No hold and talk
I can't believe I even have to say this, and I wouldn't believe it happens if I hadn't seen it myself, but you do not hold the door open so you can continue chatting with your pal or coworker outside the elevator. I mean, Jesus Christ. You cannot be serious with that shit.
Also, if you absolutely HAVE to make a joke about how often the elevator is stopping or some other zany elevator-type humor, go ahead, but just one and also think "Why am I doing this? It's not that funny." But hey, I get that there are Silence Haters who have to fill up every second with the noise of their own blathering and that's fine.
As long as we're talking elevators, two other things: (1) This fascinating New Yorker article about a guy who got trapped on an elevator for a whole weekend and also elevators in general is so worth reading that you're cheating yourself every second of your life that passes without you having read it; and (2) This guy is my hero:
Despite 158 years of practice, it appears that a sizable portion of the population still has problems with Basic Elevator Etiquette. Let's review.
1. People get off first. Then you can get on.
The door opens. There is an elevator with people in it. Do you (a) Try and shove yourself on because goddammit I GOTTA GET ON THIS ELEVATOR NO MATTER WHAT or (b) Wait for the people inside to de-elevator? If you chose (b), you get a Gold Star and you're a cool person. If you chose (a), you're just another asshole, one of the millions.
Seriously, this isn't hard: EVERYONE OUT FIRST, THEN EVERYONE ON.
2. Doors closing? You don't get on.
As soon as the doors begin to close, even if it's just the slightest fraction of an inch, that elevator is now closed to new passengers. We do not (a) thrust our hand between the doors to make them open again, (b) frantically push the button, or (c) Say "Hold that elevator!" No. Once the doors start to close, that elevator's dance card is full. You are not on it. There will be another elevator soon. If it's an emergency and the building is on fire, you shouldn't be taking the elevator anyway.
3. The Two-Floor Down Rule
If you get on an elevator that is located anywhere near the stairs and take it down one or two floors and you are physically capable of descending a flight of stairs, you are a lazy bag of lard and you need to get some exercise, fatty.
4. No hold and talk
I can't believe I even have to say this, and I wouldn't believe it happens if I hadn't seen it myself, but you do not hold the door open so you can continue chatting with your pal or coworker outside the elevator. I mean, Jesus Christ. You cannot be serious with that shit.
Also, if you absolutely HAVE to make a joke about how often the elevator is stopping or some other zany elevator-type humor, go ahead, but just one and also think "Why am I doing this? It's not that funny." But hey, I get that there are Silence Haters who have to fill up every second with the noise of their own blathering and that's fine.
As long as we're talking elevators, two other things: (1) This fascinating New Yorker article about a guy who got trapped on an elevator for a whole weekend and also elevators in general is so worth reading that you're cheating yourself every second of your life that passes without you having read it; and (2) This guy is my hero:
Friday, January 27, 2012
TK's Recipe of the Week
I was going to start this feature a while back and then forgot to. Shit's been super busy and I can't be responsible for that. Anyway, I'm starting it now.
Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.
Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.
Let's get on with it.
CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH
1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab
Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.
Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.
Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.
Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.
When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.
Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.
When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.
Serves 4, duh.
Brunch, as we know, is more than just a meal. It is a Life Requirement on par with oxygen and reality TV. But we can't always go out for brunch. It gets expensive and we can't take our dogs. Instead, tomorrow or Sunday invite some peeps over and make this shit. It is SO FUCKING GOOD that The Wife and The Sister always demand it and I'm all I CAN'T MAKE THIS EVERY TIME YOU BITCHES WANT BRUNCH and they're all SHUT UP AND MAKE THE HASH and then I make the hash.
Sources indicate that this recipe originated with Gordon Ramsay. If that's true, dance in heaven, you foul-mouthed famewhore British son of a bitch, for your gift to us all is immeasurable.
Let's get on with it.
CHORIZO, RED PEPPER, AND FINGERLING POTATO HASH
1 lb. fingerling potatoes
1 large sprig rosemary
Olive oil
8 oz. loose chorizo
1 red bell pepper, diced
Butter
1/2 red onion, finely diced
4 eggs
Sea salt & black pepper
Champagne
Orange juice
Pomegranate juice
Acme Bakery herb slab
Open the champagne. Pour into glass with either orange or pomegranate juice, your choice.
Boil the potatoes in a pot with the sprig of rosemary until they're just cooked, not like super-soft, but enough so a knife slides easily into them. Rinse them in cold water and then get someone to cut them in half or cut them in half yourself, what do I care.
Heat a big pan over medium heat and pour enough olive oil in to coat the bottom. Put in the chorizo and saute it until it begins to release its oil, then throw in the onions and peppers. Take a sip of your drink and saute all that stuff for like 4 or 5 minutes, until the onions start getting soft.
Add the potatoes and a big hunk of butter and mix it all together. Keep stirring it and sauteeing until the potatoes start to get a little crispy, so like 7 to 10 minutes. Salt and pepper the whole thing.
When the potato stuff is almost done, either poach or fry 4 eggs. I like poaching them, but I'm not gonna tell you how to run your life. If you fry them, it's not the goddam end of the world.
Divide up the hash into 4 portions and put an egg on top of each. Serve with the bread and more champagne.
When finished, recline on the couch. Moaning optional, depending on how badly you're hungover.
Serves 4, duh.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Bachelor: Rise of the Lizard Queen
Tonight it's off to Utah to either cull the herd or marry 'em all. OH NO HE DIDN'T JUST MAKE A POLYGAMY JOKE! You bet I did! BAM!
Anyway, let's start with a solo date with Rachel, the gravelly-voiced "fashion sales rep" from NYC. It's been bugging me who she reminds me of, and then I remembered: she looks like a less-porny version of Miss California contestant Brittany High of Larchmont Village! Uncanny, right? Whatever. Anyway, the news that Rachel is off for a solo date causes Kacie B. to start crying and I now have identified Kacie B. as the Girl Most Likely to Practice Signing "Mrs. Guy's Last Name" and Photoshop Herself and Guy Into Wedding Scenes and she is a little bit crazy.
So Rachel and Ben take the Inevitable Helicopter to some Peaceful Mountain Lake for a canoe trip/picnic. A conoenic, if you will. No, don't. Forget that. Anyway, they paddle around and then sit in awkward silence by the lake drinking champagne and boring each other. For the nighttime portion of the date, we are having dinner inside for a change, preceded by a lengthy voiceover from Ben about what a drag Rachel is. Ben wants to get some Feeling Talk going but Rachel isn't having it. When she finally cops to having communication issues, he gives her the rose. If she had said she was bipolar, she probably would have won the whole thing. Anyway, this segment was boring and I'm not helping.
OK, Group Date. B blathers on and on about how outdoorsy he is and rides up on a horse and they're going horseback riding and it looks just like "True Grit" instead of with dingbats instead of Jeff Bridges. Since life on The Bachelor is apparently inspired by the LL Bean catalog, this horseback riding leads to fly-fishing, or rather leads to a bunch of girls in hip waders throwing polyethylene fishing lines at 6 inches of water. I guarantee you - GUARANTEE YOU - there is someone in America turned on by chicks in hip waders. I'm not even Googling it but I bet you anything there's hip wader porn out there. Kacie B., shockingly, feels that her connection to Ben is getting stronger.
Anyway, Courtney drags Ben off and uses the time-proven seduction technique of talking about his favorite condiments. (Dijon mustard, if you must know). She catches a fish. Kacie feels a connection to it. She and the fish pick up right where they left off every time they see each other. She practices signing "Mrs. Brook Trout" on her 6th period English folder.
Nighttime drinks by the pool. Dental hygienist Nicki wants to talk about how her boss just died a week ago and WAY TO KILL THE MOOD NICKI. Also, what's up with the dental office now? Are you guys just going rogue and gonna keep hygiening without a trained dentist or what? Samantha bitches about being on 3 groups dates and YOINK, OFF WITH HER HEAD. B says she's "highly emotional" and tells her to GTFO. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BITCHING SAMANTHA. Courtney meanwhile greets B with a cheery "Hello, Jello," not kidding, she really said that and God she is so fucking annoying and she makes up some crap about feeling insecure and gets the I Can't Believe You Fell For That Rose. This obviously sends Kacie into a tailspin. Girl needs to pull her shit together.
Solo date with Jennifer. First stop: THE WELL OF SOULS. It's a hole in the ground that leads to a huge underground cave and seriously, ABC? This is what you consider a "date"? The idea is you put on a bikini and then rappel down into this thing and then probably die. Well, Jennifer's wearing a bikini anyway. I don't really see the point. Oblig outdoor dinner, it rains, blah blah blah, she gets a rose. Then we journey to an outdoor concert by someone named "Clay Walker," at which time member of the audience STARE RELENTLESSLY AT THEM. It is SUPER FUCKING CREEPY.
On to the Cocktail Party and it's TIME FOR DRAMA. Emily decides she's going to drop a dime on Courtney and tell B that bitch is a fake. Whoa, bad move, Em, SNITCHES R BITCHES.
The whole thing kinda backfires and B isn't that psyched to hear about this because he's totally into Courtney the Lizard Queen and Em kind of fucked this up. THEN WE GET SOME MAJOR DRAMS. Em is telling Casey (not Kacie, Casey, BTW) how fucked Lizard Queen is and Casey runs off to tell her and Lizard Queen licks her hard little lips and slurs that she wants to do one of three things to Em:
1. "Rip her head off"
2. "Verbally assault her"
3. "Shave her eyebrows"
RECORD SCRATCHING SOUND. Wait, what? Shave her eyebrows? I guess once you have her head torn from her lifeless bleeding corpse then shaving her eyebrows is the least of her worries. Anyway, Courtney is fucking disturbing and weird with her mouth and how she slurs all her words and her flat affect and it's hard to believe that Ben or any other vertebrate would be into her. AND STOP SAYING "WINNING" ALL THE TIME. IT WASN'T FUNNY WHEN CHARLIE SHEEN SAID IT AND YOU ARE NO CHARLIE SHEEN.
OK, Rose Ceremony. Monica gets cut. In the Crying Limo, she tearily confesses that "I want a marriage. I want kinds. I want it to last and I want it to be right and I'm skeptical that even exists any more." That's right! Ever since the gays started getting married, it's all gone to hell. They made it almost impossible for straight people to get married on national TV to someone they went on 3 dates with being followed by a camera crew.
B says their next stop is Vieques, Puerto Rico. Fucking Lizard Queen pipes up with "I was just there two months ago." You did not just fucking say that. What Ben should say is "WELL, BITCH, I'D HATE TO BORE YOU, SO WE GOT YOU A ROOM IN A TRAVELODGE IN HOBOKEN WHILE WE'RE IN PUERTO RICO" but instead he says "Well, we're going back." But seriously, that girl is not right.
Anyway, let's start with a solo date with Rachel, the gravelly-voiced "fashion sales rep" from NYC. It's been bugging me who she reminds me of, and then I remembered: she looks like a less-porny version of Miss California contestant Brittany High of Larchmont Village! Uncanny, right? Whatever. Anyway, the news that Rachel is off for a solo date causes Kacie B. to start crying and I now have identified Kacie B. as the Girl Most Likely to Practice Signing "Mrs. Guy's Last Name" and Photoshop Herself and Guy Into Wedding Scenes and she is a little bit crazy.
So Rachel and Ben take the Inevitable Helicopter to some Peaceful Mountain Lake for a canoe trip/picnic. A conoenic, if you will. No, don't. Forget that. Anyway, they paddle around and then sit in awkward silence by the lake drinking champagne and boring each other. For the nighttime portion of the date, we are having dinner inside for a change, preceded by a lengthy voiceover from Ben about what a drag Rachel is. Ben wants to get some Feeling Talk going but Rachel isn't having it. When she finally cops to having communication issues, he gives her the rose. If she had said she was bipolar, she probably would have won the whole thing. Anyway, this segment was boring and I'm not helping.
OK, Group Date. B blathers on and on about how outdoorsy he is and rides up on a horse and they're going horseback riding and it looks just like "True Grit" instead of with dingbats instead of Jeff Bridges. Since life on The Bachelor is apparently inspired by the LL Bean catalog, this horseback riding leads to fly-fishing, or rather leads to a bunch of girls in hip waders throwing polyethylene fishing lines at 6 inches of water. I guarantee you - GUARANTEE YOU - there is someone in America turned on by chicks in hip waders. I'm not even Googling it but I bet you anything there's hip wader porn out there. Kacie B., shockingly, feels that her connection to Ben is getting stronger.
Anyway, Courtney drags Ben off and uses the time-proven seduction technique of talking about his favorite condiments. (Dijon mustard, if you must know). She catches a fish. Kacie feels a connection to it. She and the fish pick up right where they left off every time they see each other. She practices signing "Mrs. Brook Trout" on her 6th period English folder.
Nighttime drinks by the pool. Dental hygienist Nicki wants to talk about how her boss just died a week ago and WAY TO KILL THE MOOD NICKI. Also, what's up with the dental office now? Are you guys just going rogue and gonna keep hygiening without a trained dentist or what? Samantha bitches about being on 3 groups dates and YOINK, OFF WITH HER HEAD. B says she's "highly emotional" and tells her to GTFO. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BITCHING SAMANTHA. Courtney meanwhile greets B with a cheery "Hello, Jello," not kidding, she really said that and God she is so fucking annoying and she makes up some crap about feeling insecure and gets the I Can't Believe You Fell For That Rose. This obviously sends Kacie into a tailspin. Girl needs to pull her shit together.
Solo date with Jennifer. First stop: THE WELL OF SOULS. It's a hole in the ground that leads to a huge underground cave and seriously, ABC? This is what you consider a "date"? The idea is you put on a bikini and then rappel down into this thing and then probably die. Well, Jennifer's wearing a bikini anyway. I don't really see the point. Oblig outdoor dinner, it rains, blah blah blah, she gets a rose. Then we journey to an outdoor concert by someone named "Clay Walker," at which time member of the audience STARE RELENTLESSLY AT THEM. It is SUPER FUCKING CREEPY.
On to the Cocktail Party and it's TIME FOR DRAMA. Emily decides she's going to drop a dime on Courtney and tell B that bitch is a fake. Whoa, bad move, Em, SNITCHES R BITCHES.
The whole thing kinda backfires and B isn't that psyched to hear about this because he's totally into Courtney the Lizard Queen and Em kind of fucked this up. THEN WE GET SOME MAJOR DRAMS. Em is telling Casey (not Kacie, Casey, BTW) how fucked Lizard Queen is and Casey runs off to tell her and Lizard Queen licks her hard little lips and slurs that she wants to do one of three things to Em:
1. "Rip her head off"
2. "Verbally assault her"
3. "Shave her eyebrows"
RECORD SCRATCHING SOUND. Wait, what? Shave her eyebrows? I guess once you have her head torn from her lifeless bleeding corpse then shaving her eyebrows is the least of her worries. Anyway, Courtney is fucking disturbing and weird with her mouth and how she slurs all her words and her flat affect and it's hard to believe that Ben or any other vertebrate would be into her. AND STOP SAYING "WINNING" ALL THE TIME. IT WASN'T FUNNY WHEN CHARLIE SHEEN SAID IT AND YOU ARE NO CHARLIE SHEEN.
OK, Rose Ceremony. Monica gets cut. In the Crying Limo, she tearily confesses that "I want a marriage. I want kinds. I want it to last and I want it to be right and I'm skeptical that even exists any more." That's right! Ever since the gays started getting married, it's all gone to hell. They made it almost impossible for straight people to get married on national TV to someone they went on 3 dates with being followed by a camera crew.
B says their next stop is Vieques, Puerto Rico. Fucking Lizard Queen pipes up with "I was just there two months ago." You did not just fucking say that. What Ben should say is "WELL, BITCH, I'D HATE TO BORE YOU, SO WE GOT YOU A ROOM IN A TRAVELODGE IN HOBOKEN WHILE WE'RE IN PUERTO RICO" but instead he says "Well, we're going back." But seriously, that girl is not right.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
By special request
I had a tiny bit of indie clout until I sold completely out
Then we met an agent from Burbank
Signed a multi-album deal and looked around for songs to steal
Our credibility went in the tank
Played some frat rock for some bros as if we weren't one of those
Our songs are vapid but we didn't care
Sucking at the corporate teat, all the money was a treat
We'll play whatever gets us on the air
We are Train, we are bland
What passes these days for a band
Suburban Moms, we're what you seek
Won't you save us Walnut Creek?
Friday, January 20, 2012
Your Five
Your Five is a list of five famous people that you can have sex with and not get in trouble with your partner for if you're in a relationship.
(Embarrassingly, this concept seems to have originated on Friends. But pretty much everyone I talk to about this is at least familiar with the concept, so I think it's safe to say that it's penetrated the collective cultural subconscious. Heh heh, "penetrated.")
Now, since this life and it's serious, there have to be Rules. Nothing is fun without Rules. Here are the Rules:
1. The person has to be famous, i.e., be generally well-known. Although this is a somewhat fluid concept, I think it's pretty clear-cut who's famous and who isn't. If he or she regularly appears on national TV or in magazines or even indie films, that person is probably famous. You personally may not have heard of Sabrina Soto of HGTV, but she is unquestionably famous (and would actually be a completely reasonable pick, now that I think about it). "That girl from accounting" is not famous, unless she is Mindy Kaling.
2. You can't put someone on your list for the first time when you see them in person. EXAMPLE: A while back I was talking to Veronica Belmont at a party (true story). I didn't know who she was. I still don't really know who she is, but I've been assured that she is famous. So I could not have said "Excuse me, Veronica," and gone over to The Wife and said "Veronica Belmont is now on my list" and then gone back and tried to hit it. She was with her boyfriend anyway, but you get the point. So if you get a call from your girlfriend at 12:30 a.m. and she sounds a little drunk and says "MARK WAHLBERG IS NOW ON MY LIST" you say "ABSOLUTELY NOT."
3. You can't enter into an ongoing FWB relationship with the Famous Person. It's one and done, people. No every-time-you're-in-LA thing.
4. Your partner can be cold and withdrawn for a day or two following your Famous Hookup, but then they have to let it go. That's the deal.
OK, so with that out of the way, here's mine:
1. Minka Kelly
We were first introduced on FNL. She is on some next-level shit. Nothing really to say except duh. No longer engaged to Derek Jeter, I understand, so that's good.
Also, born "Minka Dumont Dufay," be still my heart.
2. Mila Kunis
Too predictable? Who gives a fuck? Super hot and she also seems cool, for some reason.
3. Lohan
Yeah, she looking a little haggard these days, but I want the full doors-blown-off 48 straight hours of partying experience. She can go back on the wagon on Monday. She is clearly fucking insane and you can't put a price on that.
4. Elisha Cuthbert
She also seems like she could throw down. I mean, this is your shot, you don't want someone who's boring. I bet she can out-drink me. She's fucking CANADIAN. In the morning, we will pull the empty Labatt's bottles out of the hot tub together.
5. Elle Macpherson
I felt like I had to choose someone at least roughly age-appropriate, and girlfriend is older than me and still radiantly hot.
POSTSCRIPT: Charlize Theron is crazy hot, like not even the same species as us hot, but it would be pointless to put her on the list because if we were ever in the same physical space I would just babble nonsensically or literally melt into a formless puddle of organic material and Charlize would be all "Eww, oh God, what is that pile of undifferentiated organic material? Somebody clean that the fuck up please." There is no sense having her take up a spot that someone I could look at without exploding can take.
In the interests of Gender Fairness, here's The Wife's list (all comments hers, not mine, obvs.):
1. John Cusack- OG. Grandfathered in even though his politics are crazy and he doesn’t spell very well.
2. George Clooney- because, you know, CLOONEY!! You’d have to. As I said, any man in the world would have to concede that in the case of Clooney you’d gladly hand over your partner and the better man would have won.
3. Ryan Gosling – avoided it for as long as I could, but that guy’s definitely fuckable. (I’m basing this mostly on his abs and sexiness in “Crazy, Stupid, Love”.)
4. Timothy Olyphant – but as Raylan Givens, not as the family guy who’s been married to his college girlfriend for 20+ years because I’m not a ho.
5. Zac Efron – WHAT? No, as it happens I wouldn’t feel skeevy and old at all just because he’s a zygote and adorable.
So there you have it. Who's on your list?
(Embarrassingly, this concept seems to have originated on Friends. But pretty much everyone I talk to about this is at least familiar with the concept, so I think it's safe to say that it's penetrated the collective cultural subconscious. Heh heh, "penetrated.")
Now, since this life and it's serious, there have to be Rules. Nothing is fun without Rules. Here are the Rules:
1. The person has to be famous, i.e., be generally well-known. Although this is a somewhat fluid concept, I think it's pretty clear-cut who's famous and who isn't. If he or she regularly appears on national TV or in magazines or even indie films, that person is probably famous. You personally may not have heard of Sabrina Soto of HGTV, but she is unquestionably famous (and would actually be a completely reasonable pick, now that I think about it). "That girl from accounting" is not famous, unless she is Mindy Kaling.
2. You can't put someone on your list for the first time when you see them in person. EXAMPLE: A while back I was talking to Veronica Belmont at a party (true story). I didn't know who she was. I still don't really know who she is, but I've been assured that she is famous. So I could not have said "Excuse me, Veronica," and gone over to The Wife and said "Veronica Belmont is now on my list" and then gone back and tried to hit it. She was with her boyfriend anyway, but you get the point. So if you get a call from your girlfriend at 12:30 a.m. and she sounds a little drunk and says "MARK WAHLBERG IS NOW ON MY LIST" you say "ABSOLUTELY NOT."
3. You can't enter into an ongoing FWB relationship with the Famous Person. It's one and done, people. No every-time-you're-in-LA thing.
4. Your partner can be cold and withdrawn for a day or two following your Famous Hookup, but then they have to let it go. That's the deal.
OK, so with that out of the way, here's mine:
1. Minka Kelly
We were first introduced on FNL. She is on some next-level shit. Nothing really to say except duh. No longer engaged to Derek Jeter, I understand, so that's good.
Also, born "Minka Dumont Dufay," be still my heart.
2. Mila Kunis
Too predictable? Who gives a fuck? Super hot and she also seems cool, for some reason.
3. Lohan
Love ya, girl!
Yeah, she looking a little haggard these days, but I want the full doors-blown-off 48 straight hours of partying experience. She can go back on the wagon on Monday. She is clearly fucking insane and you can't put a price on that.
4. Elisha Cuthbert
She also seems like she could throw down. I mean, this is your shot, you don't want someone who's boring. I bet she can out-drink me. She's fucking CANADIAN. In the morning, we will pull the empty Labatt's bottles out of the hot tub together.
5. Elle Macpherson
I felt like I had to choose someone at least roughly age-appropriate, and girlfriend is older than me and still radiantly hot.
POSTSCRIPT: Charlize Theron is crazy hot, like not even the same species as us hot, but it would be pointless to put her on the list because if we were ever in the same physical space I would just babble nonsensically or literally melt into a formless puddle of organic material and Charlize would be all "Eww, oh God, what is that pile of undifferentiated organic material? Somebody clean that the fuck up please." There is no sense having her take up a spot that someone I could look at without exploding can take.
In the interests of Gender Fairness, here's The Wife's list (all comments hers, not mine, obvs.):
1. John Cusack- OG. Grandfathered in even though his politics are crazy and he doesn’t spell very well.
2. George Clooney- because, you know, CLOONEY!! You’d have to. As I said, any man in the world would have to concede that in the case of Clooney you’d gladly hand over your partner and the better man would have won.
3. Ryan Gosling – avoided it for as long as I could, but that guy’s definitely fuckable. (I’m basing this mostly on his abs and sexiness in “Crazy, Stupid, Love”.)
4. Timothy Olyphant – but as Raylan Givens, not as the family guy who’s been married to his college girlfriend for 20+ years because I’m not a ho.
5. Zac Efron – WHAT? No, as it happens I wouldn’t feel skeevy and old at all just because he’s a zygote and adorable.
So there you have it. Who's on your list?
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