Monthly Archives: February 2011

With apologies to Dave Barry

I suddenly wondered how many “Gasp! That would make a great band name!” posts I’ve had, so I compiled them for you in case you’re looking to name your band.

Here they are!

  • Puss-Explosion of the Jejuni
  • The Devil and Tom Brady
  • The Gods of Toxic Shock Syndrome
  • Errant Emu (First album: Lasso a Sprinting Emu)
  • The Devil and the Boysenberries
  • The Cackling Cloacas
  • Insurrectionary Forces of Orgiastic Violence
  • The Sexed Up Gerbils
  • Remnants of Ravioli
  • Violent Rhino Sex
  • Poinsettial Velveteen Glory (church band)
  • Satan and the Prohibition Monsters
  • Great Audastic Huevos
  • Massive Influx of Potholes
  • Bitchslapping Manatees

Take your pick and get busy getting famous.

Yes, I’m sure this is how people name their bands. How else do you explain Aggressive Crotch Display?





Destroying the Manatees.

I’m not saying “THIS IS THE YEAR!” because I promised you I wouldn’t do that no matter how rosy my Cult of Personality glasses make everything seem. I looked at a pile of dog poop the other day and it looked like a chocolate doughnut. These glasses are of the strongest rose-colored prescription money can buy.

I must let you know that the Pittsburgh Pirates spent a sunny Florida day bitchslapping the Manatees stupid.

From the Bradenton Times:

You may not expect to win as a Junior College baseball team heading into a Major League Spring training game against the Pittsburgh Pirates, but you hope to learn something from the experience. The SCF Manatees learned a lot about themselves and what it takes to be a professional baseball player Friday afternoon as they were handed a 21-1 loss to the Pirates in the opening day of Spring baseball at McKechnie Field in Bradenton.

This is noteworthy because the Manatees have beaten the Pirates before. So we didn’t just beat them this time, we destroyed them the way a MLB team SHOULD destroy a junior college baseball team.  They should be bleeding and crying and reverting to thumb-sucking pants-pooping babies by the time the game is over.

In addition, the Pirates beat Tampa Bay 10-3 in their second Grapefruit League game of the season.  Which is already pretty rosy and then I look at it through my rose-colored glasses and I see a World Series pennant.

These glasses are better than ecstasy.

Again, not saying this is the year. Just saying the Pirates are not looking terrible yet and that Bitchslapping Manatees would make a kickass band name.





All flabbered up in the gaster.

Because they can’t give their readers enough chances to write comments that include multiple appearances of the words rape, rapist, and Rapelisberger, TMZ is covering the upcoming Ben Roethlisberger nuptials like he’s the Prince of Wales taking a commoner for a bride.

Not only does TMZ have a copy of Ben’s Save The Date card as seen below:

 

But they also have he and his bride-to-be’s Macy’s registry which includes things like a $200 bedding set, a $75 frame, a $7.50 napkin, a travel steamer, luggage locks, a couch.

My thoughts:

1. Someone who Benny or his fiance considers a friend is selling info to TMZ. We can only hope we’re going to get some at-the-altar twitpics out of this.

2. When I was engaged to my husband, I was 24 and clueless. I went to my favorite store to register for gifts at the behest of my mother. So there I was in Target — the word you are searching for, once again, is classy — and I was holding a register gun scanner, and had no idea what to register for. I’d never “kept house.”  I’d never “cooked.” Whatever that is. So I just started scanning things that seemed appropriate. Like a little kid playing house. “Let’s see. I’ll need two bath towels. And 30 different spatulas. And a pony. Where are the ponies?”

When I was done, I had seriously scanned two bath towels, two washclothes, one mixing bowl, a bazillion Michael Graves kitchen utensils, and one storage canister. The medium-sized one. Like Goldilocks, I thought the small one seemed too small and the big one seemed too big. The medium one was just right for all the things I was going to store in my kitchen over the next decade or so.

When I returned to my mother’s house that day, she looked at my registry, said something about “where did I go wrong?,” and sent me back out.

Why am I telling you this? Because I like to make it all about me.

And you think I’m not self-aware.

But, Internet, FILTHY RICH PEOPLE WHO ARE RECOGNIZED AS FILTHY RICH AND FAMOUS ALL OVER THE WORLD HAVE WEDDING REGISTRIES AT MACY’S?!?

Seriously? Like, do William and Kate have a wedding registry? Do people gift the future king and queen of England the bath towels for whatever castle they’ll live in?

There are going to be middle-class people at that wedding giving Ben Roethlisberger, a bazillionaire, a set of luggage locks?

3. Can’t he just give his fiance his Amex Black Card and then tell the wedding guests to donate to charity or something? For this reason alone, I hope this is a gag registry that someone created just to mess with TMZ.

I guess I’m just flabbergasted they even have a registry. I’m flabbergasted it’s at Macy’s. I’m flabbergasted that I don’t use the word flabbergasted more. It’s a fun word.

Most of all, I’m flabbergasted they registered for a couch.

How the hell do you wrap that thing?

 





[squeak squeak squeak]

Internet, so you can stop emailing me about it, I wanted to assure you that I am aware that Mike Tyson’s pigeon show is a real thing that will be unleashed upon the earth in these end times.

Yes, end times.

Gas is like four dollars a gallon. The stinkbugs are back and apparently haven’t been practicing safe sex. Keurig raised the price of a box of K-Cups by 10%. And this morning I went into my basement to find it flooded with three inches of standing water thanks to the apparent overzealous OCD butt-wiping my kid had been doing with “flushable” toddler wipes.

I guess “flushable” means “flushable up to a few at a time, but if your kid grabs twenty of them and flushes them all down and does this regularly, then these are indeed UNFLUSHABLE. Also, teach your kid about moderation, wastefulness and Plumbing 101.”

Which means when my kid gets home from school I get to pull out my trusty, “There are children all over the world who don’t have [fill in the blank],” lecture. Normally the blank is filled with things like “Nintendo DSs” or “satellite TV” or “burnt meatloaf.” Today, the blank will be filled with “indoor plumbing.”

Where were we? Yes, END TIMES. So much shit going on.

I’m kidding of course, but in all seriousness, Mike Tyson might be whatever Horseman of the Apocalypse that’s carrying disease and pestilence. He’s just doing it with pigeons instead of arrows. Unless there’s a Horseman of the Apocalypse carrying Batshit Crazy, then Mike Tyson is THAT one.

ESPN Page 2 interviewed Tyson about his pigeons and he said:

But people who don’t like pigeons, that’s just because they don’t understand ’em. Just like when Europeans first came here and they didn’t understand the Indians. What we don’t understand, we hate and want to destroy.

Mike, I bet you a million bajillion goooglity batrillion dollars that when the Europoeans landed in the New World, the Indians didn’t immediately descend on the Pilgrims en masse, dive bomb them, poop on their heads, and then snatch their french fries right out of their hands before sprinting away to eat their own vomit.

Besides, who wants to watch Mike Tyson raise pigeons? Sounds boring.

However, a reality show called “Mike Tyson Punches Pigeons Until They Die” would be a ratings winner.

Hollywood, call me.





Fight for your right to suck.

Image from the front of the Post-Gazette’s website:

I’m missing some context here, aren’t I?