Enraged to be married

29 12 2008

*You can read Part 2 of this post here

As many of you know, this weekend my little sister is embarking on what can only be described as the Matrimonial Olympics, and yours truly has the (mis)fortune of playing a supporting role. With that in mind, and with a serious debt of ingratitude to what has to be the single most horrifying list of wedding etiquette in history, I drafted a form letter that I plan to include with every wedding RSVP I send from this point forward.

Dear Bride,

Congratulations! I really am happy for you two. Whether you are getting hitched for love, for security or just because the baby Jesus wants you to, your wedding is sure to be a day you’ll remember forever.

That said, I’d just like to offer a few guidelines so that you don’t come out of your wedding having fewer friends than you have ecru-and-celedon ceramic gravy boats.


  • Contrary to popular belief, bridesmaids are not dolls, they are real human beings with lives, concerns and finances of their own. Please consider that 50 lbs of pink taffeta is probably not how these women would have chosen to spend their annual bonus and tread lightly. The point of having a wedding party is to share an important day with the people who matter to you most-not to incite resentment by insisting they refrain from hazardous activities like skiing, driving and walking for a month prior to the wedding, lest somebody has the nerve to get injured and ruin your big day.
  • And speaking of, it’s your day, not your week.
  • In regard to gifts: That’s precisely what they are, gifts. Marriage is an important milestone, but your particular life choices don’t mean that anybody owes you anything beyond a warm “Congratulations.” And please spare everyone the lecture on how much a head your reception is costing. You’re the one who had to have the arugula and glazed duck; we’d have been perfectly happy with mac & cheese.
  • And don’t get all huffy if somebody decides to go off registry. Again, it’s a gift. And they’re wedding guests, not Santa.
  • Finally, spare us the martyr act. The more you whine about the crippling stress involved in throwing yourself a big goddamn party (often with somebody else’s money), the more we want to smother you with an embroidered satin pillow. Seriously, some people have real problems.


All that said, I hope your wedding is the beginning of a wonderful marriage. Because if this doesn’t work out, next time you’re not getting shit.




NFL Playoff Scenarios Flow Chart

28 12 2008

*Looking for the Divisional Playoffs 09 chart? Click here

Ask Twitter and you shall receive, apparently.  From Urbzen reader and all-around awesome dude Jeff B:

NFL Playoff Scenarios Flow Chart

Enjoy everybody; We’ll be back to regular posting tomorrow.

Merry Holiday of your Choice

25 12 2008

Hope you’re all safe, warm and happy this evening. After an adventurous drive through CA, AZ, NM and CO hotboxing dog farts and seeking refuge at the Motel 6 in the thriving metropolis of Grants, NM, after nearly sliding off the I-40, I’m enjoying a nice night in with family, cookies and a bottle of wine.

We’ll be back to our regular programming next week.


Only you can help prevent skidmarks.

23 12 2008

Thanks to The Dateable Dork for inspiring this post, in which we investigate the horror that is the Charmin Bears.

My favorite Charmin Bears ad is, unfortunately, not available online anywhere (yes, I checked YouTube, helper), but it is pitching a new line of pre-moistened toilet paper with the tagline “You’re not done yet!” which I take to mean “There’s still a little shit on your ass!” I really do pity the poor agency staffers who had to sit down and create daytime-friendly advertising for a product designed specifically to remove annoying stuck-on fecal matter, one can only imagine the spots that didn’t get green-lit.

Not everyone is as forgiving. Kate, from Tiny Pineapple, comments on Jodiverse.com:

I ABHOR, DETEST and REVILE the fucking SHITTING “Charmin” bears. Seriously, who still thinks that this ad campaign should continue (and CONTINUE and CONTINUE ad nauseum). GOD – the MUSIC, the stinginess of that fucking parent bear (four squares???? FOUR SQUARES????? I don’t care is NASA made the toilet tissue; sometimes you need more than FOUR FUCKING SQUARES), the smug “post-shitting” look of satisfaction on the faces of these wretched ursine creatures – EVERYTHING. OH – and don’t get me started on the DUCK. We, evidently, were lulled into a complacent daze where four sheets of magic toilet tissue was PLENTY to “do the job” (no pun intended) and THEN, that fucking quacker insists that we need special WET WIPES just to make certain that we are SQUEAKIN’ CLEAN. Perhaps if the fucking miserly Pappa bear would dole out more than FOUR SHEETS OF TOILET TISSUE that whiney little cub wouldn’t NEED specialized MOIST shit wipes. Or get a fucking BIDET.

Besides, if I wanted to see a bear SHIT IN THE WOODS, I could find a forest nearby where there are ACTUAL BEARS. Yes, I might suffer an untimely death, but if somehow I made a bargain with the Universe that my untimely death would stop Charmin from running those FUCKING SHITTING BEAR COMMERCIALS, I might just consider it a “good death.”

Hear hear, Kate. Hear, hear.

And lest you fail to grasp the horror, here’s another Charmin Bears spot featuring the hilarious perils of leftover toilet paper bits:

Suddenly self-conscious

22 12 2008

Was on my Dr.’s web site looking for a fax number for a prescription refill when I ran across this little treasure:


God damn you, Los Angeles.

Friday surprise: The Filipino Barack Obama

19 12 2008

I have no idea who this guy is, except that he lives in the Phillipines and looks unnervingly like That One:


Read the rest of this entry »

Adventures on GodTube

18 12 2008

Found this little gem on GodTube this morning, apparently it and it’s attending paraphernalia are popular among the Christian set, much like Footprints.

girls are like apples on trees.
the best ones are at the top of the tree.
the boys don’t want to reach for the good ones
because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
instead, they just get rotten apples from the ground that arent so good but easy
so the apples at the think that somethings wrong with them
when in reality they are amazing.
they just have to wait for the right boy to come along
the one who’s brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Perhaps I’m just a bitter rotten whore apple, but things sound pretty self-righteous at the top of the tree.