Witz Pickz: "Back-Cuts"

(Lamest. Book. Ever. Who knew Patty Mayonnaise would grow up to be such a narc?)

I was thinking recently about the insane shit we got away with when we were kids that wouldn't fly at all in the real world. Back in elementary school, "cuts" were where it was at. If you knew one person in line, you could roll into the cafeteria, walk up to them in the hot lunch line and say, "Cuts?" and they were all, "Sure." You'd snag the last grilled cheese (along with the three grilled cheeses before that if you were me--kid's gotta eat) and cruise outta there guilt-free, because you weren't the one who let you cut.

Occasionally, you'd run into someone who would give you the, "No cuts!" attitude. Then, the conversation went like this:

KID 1: Cuts? (We're friends right?)
KID 2: No cuts! (No freakin' way! We're not THAT good of friends.)
KID 1: ...
KID 2: ...
KID 1: Back-cuts? (Look, we're 9 1/2 years old, let's be reasonable about this.)
KID 2: Yeah, sure. (I don't give a shit about these eraser-eating marker-sniffers behind me, do what you want.)
KID 1: Cool.

And then you'd just slide behind your buddy, while the rest of the line had to suck it up. If they called you out, all you had to say was, "I got back-cuts!" (I could never have predicted that twenty years later, I would be saying this to explain the physical repercussions of shaving my own back) and they'd shut up. The only recourse was telling a teacher and then you were a tattle-tale and social outcast. Even I knew better than to try that and I was the kid wearing turtlenecks and corduroys to school. So yeah, I was cuttin' like a motherf**ker.



Can you imagine trying to use "back-cuts" as a grown-up, though?? That would be totally unacceptable! People kiiiind of do it when they save a place in line for their buddies who are running late, but that's just generally accepted as how lines work for entertainment or bars. You can't just walk up to someone in line and be all, "Back cuts?" and get away with it--especially in New York. You'd have everyone behind you screaming, "Get to the back of the fucking line, asshole!" because you're a goddamn adult.


(The exception to the rule)

And I'm glad that's how it is--I'd be one of the people silently fuming at whoever cut or I'd be chiming in with the group if people decided to put them in their place. Every time I'm waiting in traffic to take an exit and watch cars zip up and cut in ahead of me, I wonder about the legality of paintball gun attacks from a moving vehicle and make a mental note to get a baseball bat for my trunk. People who drive like that are worse than Hitler, because at the end of the day, nobody they care about knows they're that douchebag, but when Hitler met people for dinner, everybody still knew he was HITLER.*

But I'd be lying if I said that every time there's a long line for a concert, movie, or comedy show, I'm not scanning the hell out of it for any person I've ever hungout with, met, or seen at the gym. And while it might just be in my head, at that moment, I can swear I smell grilled cheese.

I'm Not Cutting, I'm Networking!,
Witz


*Ok, this is an exaggeration. Selfish drivers are not worse than Hitler, but they do believe that they are more important than every single person they pass on the way to getting where they need to go. Can we settle on "Worse than, I dunno, Slobodan Milosevic?"

Witz Flickz: The 84th Annual Academy Awards

I hate the Oscars. I do--and you probably do, too. It's not a unique perspective. And every year I say I'm not gonna watch, but every year I inevitably find myself bored out of my mind in front of a television for four straight hours, listening to the painfully awkward award introductions and hoping something crazy happens. Would it be so tough to "accidentally" mic Mel Gibson? Is it so much to ask to have ONE of losing nominees mouth, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

Every Super Bowl half-time show seems to have some sort of scandal, but you put hundreds of ego-maniacs in a room vying for prizes and NOTHING?? The best we ever get is the mandatory shot of Jack Nicholson smiling drunkenly from behind his shades--a reminder that some wild guys are out there, and eventually Something's Gotta Give--but that's As Good As It Gets...

SO, instead of pretending I'm not going to watch this year, I decided to lean into it and keep a running commentary of the 84th Annual Academy Awards. I'm warning you right now, this is going to be as much a reflection of me watching the awards as it is a commentary on what happens, so if you need a verbatim summary, this isn't the place for you and also you're probably wasting your life.

On to the Awards!

6:15 - This is the only pre-show comment I'm gonna make. The NYC affiliate has Oscar coverage by Sandy Kenyon, which sounds ridiculously like a porn name.

7:00pm – I thought the show started at 7pm, but it turns out there’s 90 minutes of OFFICIAL Red Carpet Coverage! In an unexpected move which I won't even bother explaining, M-Dash and I spend this time watching season one, episodes two and three of The O.C. instead. The standard has been set for the night.

8:30pm - Morgan Freeman kicks off the show. Just to be clear...we're all cool with him banging and marrying his step-granddaughter? Really? We're just gonna let that be a thing that’s ok? Alright...



8:35pm - I immediately regret my decision. Billy Crystal hasn’t had his gchat status set to “busy” in ten years, so, yeah, he was available to host the Oscars. I’ve read that, thanks to The Artist, this year’s Oscars are featuring the history of film (so it’s basically Hollywood celebrating Hollywood while celebrating Hollywood), so I guess having a host who hasn’t been funny or relevant in a decade makes sense. Remind me again why they got rid of Eddie Murphy…

8:37pm – Crystal goes through his usual routine: video montage, song and dance, talking to the front row and having them awkwardly reply or shrug. It’s alright, but feels more like an impersonation of what he used to do than something new and well-done. He makes fun of Jonah Hill for losing weight, which is weird coming from a dude who looks just like Wooly Willy:



8:40 - Tom Hanks gives out the first award, and with his haircut and new beard, he looks like one of those Nazis who hid out in South America. Achievement in Cinematography goes to Hugo and this guy who looks like Kenny Rogers immediately sets the bar for quotes of the night by telling some dude in the crowd to, "Stick it in there all the way." (???)

8:50pm - There's a McDonald's commercial where this teenage girl is lookin' at some teenage guy and eating fries while saying, "He loves me, he loves me not," after each bite. I'll tell ya what, girl, it doesn't matter what you end up with--high school's rough and if you keep eating all those fries, he's gonna love you not.

8:53pm - And now, scenes from movies!

8:54pm - Costume Design goes to The Artist. I didn't know the guy from Guess Who got into film!



9:00pm - I looked away for a minute and was like 95% sure that J-Lo's boob popped out, because she and Cameron Diaz were suddenly laughing and saying, "Well, ya take a chance people--hello--ya take a chance!" but after reviewing the footage three times, it turns out that they just thought it would be hi-laaarious if they TURNED AROUND while announcing the winner and--get this--it was NOT. Comedy. Wizards.

9:07pm - A Separation wins Best Foreign Language Film. Soooo, are we cool now, Iran?

9:10pm - Goddamn it! Billy Crystal practically begged Christian Bale to make a scene, but instead he just sticks it to us by talking and reminding everyone that he's British.

9:12pm - Octavia Spencer wins Best Supporting Actress for The Help even though her role didn't include handling a herd of puppies or pretending to have food poisoning. I guess I just don't know what the Academy wants, anymore...

9:17pm - Well, "Miracle Whip: Keep an Open Mouth" is a thing.

9:22pm - Bradley Cooper looks just like Jean Dujardin. They have the same expressions. It bothered me the whole time I was watching The Artist. I thought, "He's like a poor man's Bradley Cooper!" and then I thought, "Wait, that can't be right..."

9:23pm - And the Award for Best Editing goes to: me, for skipping over these awards that no one cares about.

9:35pm - Cirque du Soleil performs and it's easily better than any of the Best Picture nominees. One guy misses a move and gets a foot up his ass, but it's still pretty amazing. Though, if the Academy really wanted to impress me, they should have gotten The Book of Mormon tickets.

9:42pm - Best Documentary - YYYYEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!! UNDEFEATED! Sure, it might have been the only documentary I saw of the nominees, but it's also GREAT. Aaaaand, they forgot to thank the kids who they documented. C'mon guys. That's the type of stuff that loses games.


(The closest thing to Friday Night Lights that reality has to offer...except for the actual kids who Friday Night Lights was based on...)

9:45pm - Chris Rock kills it with his intro for Best Animated Film. He also reminds me that I really want to get into voice-acting and get paid bank to talk every now and then. Anyway, I'm rootin' for Rango for my buddy, Turbo, at ILM.

9:47pm - BOOM. RANGO. Take THAT people who thought it was awkward that three dudes went and saw Rango in a theater full of little kids, especially when the movie was over and one of us had to go to the bathroom so the other two had to stand by the bathroom while lots of children walked by and their parents gave us suspicious looks! Best Animated Film.



9:54pm - Is Ben Stiller like...3 feet tall? Best Visual Effects should go to whomever makes Ben Stiller not look like a tiny little ape-man in all his movies.



9:56pm - Hugo wins for Visual Effects. It's gonna be awkward when everyone who worked on Hugo has an Oscar except for Martin Scorcese.

9:58pm - Best Supporting Actor. Holy shit--Nick Nolte looks like a boulder with a drinking problem. Christopher Plummer's favored like a billion to one on every gambling site, which are actually the same odds that Jonah Hill has a career now that he's skinny. Plummer wins.

10:19pm - So, the entire theme of the Oscars tonight seems to be, "The Artist is going to win Best Picture." It's almost awkward.

10:23pm - Speaking of which, now's as good a time as any to rant about Best Picture. I saw six of the nine nominees (yeah, ask me if I saw War Horse), and it's insane that Drive wasn't nominated for most of the major categories. I'm not saying that Ryan Gosling should win best actor--I mean, the guy barely talks the entire movie, so how could that win, right?? BUT, Drive should easily have been nominated and potentially even have won for Best Cinematography, Sound Design, Score, Screenplay, Director, and Best Picture.



10:30pm - Best Adapted Screenplay goes to The Descendants and Best Screenplay goes to Woody Allen who isn't there because Midnight in Paris wasn't the best screenplay.

10:44pm - Every Animated Short they ever show looks like they were made by a blind person and a squirrel who dropped acid together.

10:51pm - Best Director goes to The Artist. That's all--i just thought you should know.

10:58pm - I know it wasn't a joke, but when Alec Baldwin says, "James Earl Jones is one of the greatest actors in American history," sounding like Jack Donaghy, I can't help but laugh.

11:09pm - I can't believe Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is still advertising. If I ever get "the blue-box blues," I'm gonna fucking kill myself.

11:13pm - Best Actor. If Jean Dujardins wins, I'm gonna stab a fat baby. All that guy did was run around with exagerrated expressions of happy, sad, angry, and confused. I know there's that whole, "He did it without talking," aspect, but...HE DID IT WITHOUT TALKING. Everyone else had to act and talk.

11:18pm - One less fat baby. Jean Dujardins wins--oh! Oh! Now you can talk, huh? He's smiling and you'll never guess what--it looks exactly like when he was "smile-acting." Tap-dancing doesn't make friends.

11:24pm - Best Actress. Meryl Streep wins and starts throwing out sound bytes for her Lifetime Achievement Award montage. They cut to Sandra Bullock because apparently, she's the go-to "Heartfelt Reaction Shot" these days.


(Because she always looks like this, i.e. sad.)

11:27pm - Uhhh, is Jack Nicholson dead? He wasn't in the memorial video, but I don't ever remember him missing the Oscars. Who's the next "Old Drunk Icon" gonna be when he's gone? I'd say Nick Nolte, again, but Jack made everyone happy when they saw him and Nolte makes everyone, well, make the Sandra Bullock face.

11:33pm - Best G.D. Picture goes to The Artist. A film about a movie star who has a big ego and is too proud to accept help when he becomes obsolete. BUT none of them talk! And the score sounds like a DVD menu on repeat! And there's a dog! Meh. I'll take a scorpion track jacket over that any day. Seriously, though, where do I get a scorpion track jacket?

When Will They Have a Best Outtakes Award?,
Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Cat Breading

Sometimes, I forget why America's going to Hell and then I find out about something like this. I mean, sure, it COULD be because of our greed and selfishness and basic human and civil rights violations, but I'm pretty sure it's because of cat breading. While millions of people are starving around the world, we're stuffing bread on cat heads. Not "in" their "faces," like, "Eat some damn carbs," but literally "on" their "heads" like, "How can I confuse my pet the most without involving my genitals?"



I guess I just don't understand how something like this became so big. One person had to have stuck a slice of bread on some cat's face and then told someone about it or posted a picture. Then, someone else did the same thing, and someone else, and someone else, until it reached its tipping point, at which time Malcolm Gladwell shot himself in the face and cat breading became a trend. I can understand "Tebow-ing" and I can sort of understand "planking," but how is it possible that we live in a world where cat breading is a thing AND marijuana is still illegal? It doesn't add up.


(Yes, lady...you're cat looks like he LOVES cat breading)

Maybe I'm just mad because I realized that if cat breading is popular, I'm screwed, because nothing I ever do creatively is going to succeed. How is someone supposed to stay motivated when cramming a slice of Wonder Bread on an animal's furry mug is widespread entertainment? And this might just be the beginning.


(Really? Your cat ate part of the bread before you started filming and you want me to watch your minute-long video, but you couldn't get another piece of bread? So much for artistic integrity...)

Already, people are making slight adaptations to keep the breading fresh (nailed it): using tortillas, toast, and pita bread. Where does it end? Waffle dogging? Rabbit crepe-ing? Puttin' figs on guinea pigs? How long before PETA becomes involved, and if they do, how long before that gets thrown back in their face and people start PETA breading in retaliation (double nailed it)? The race to the bottom is littered with crusts, but at least we're winning something.*

Korea's Like, "Stupid Americans-- They're Breading That Cat All Wrong,"
Witz

*And we won the SPACE RACE! THE SPACE RACE! We put a man on the moon AND bread on a cat's face. "(I am large, I contain multitudes)" -Walt Whitman

Witz Pickz: Sunday Night Insights

I learned something new about myself last night while watching the Broncos/Steelers game. I learned that given the choice, I would rather root for a rapist than someone who's super into Jesus. I watched Roethlisberger lumber out there, looking like a douchebag, and still thought, "Yeah...but I really don't want Tebow to win."

Maybe it's just thousands of years of genetic paranoia, but I feel like with the rapist, at least I know what I'm getting. I understand what his goals and motivations are, and there's never an awkward moment when he's gonna be like, "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute about becoming a Rapist, too?" It's not that I'm pro-rapist and anti-christian, it's just that whenever God enters the equation, I get a little nervous.

Maybe it's because of all the prayer, I mean, why you gotta pray so silently, Tim Tebow? What's he saying that we can't hear? For all we know, Tebow's getting down on one knee after a game and saying, "Thank you for giving me the strength to throw one good pass at the end of the game, especially since defenses have figured out how to protect against the option, and thank you, as always, for not letting them find the body or see into my soul to discover that I'm planning to kill again." I'm not saying that's TRUE, but it's kind of like how we don't think Glenn Beck raped and murdered a girl in 1990-- it's still POSSIBLE.



Here's the other thing: everytime Tebow wins, it's kiiiind of a point for Christianity being right, know what I mean? Jews, Muslims-- they don't have that. It's not like everytime Arizona Cardinals safety Hamza Muhammad Abdullah deflects a pass, people get pumped up about Allah. I had to google "Muslim NFL Players" just to find that guy's name. And anytime the Jews are good at anything people say that they "control" it and turn it into a bad thing. Christians have Tim Tebow and us Jews are still holding onto oil lasting longer than we thought that it would that one time a couple thousand years ago. I mean, Jesus Christ, you see what I'm talking about:



So yeah, I guess it's true that I would rather root for The Rapist Ben Roethlisberger to win over The Super Religious Tim Tebow, but if you think about it, Ben Roethlisberger may not have defeated the Broncos last night, but he did beat three rape charges, and that's gotta be way more difficult than anything Tebow's done this year. In the end, who's to say they didn't both have a little help from above...

Rooting Against Denver is the New "Tebowing",
Witz

Witz Pickz: It's 2012, Bitches! Get Some.

It's 2012. We're finally here. The year I will turn 30, the year in which Obama can go all Season 4 of The West Wing on some Republican Candidate, and the year the Mayans decided to call it a day on calendar making. With all these potentially catastrophic events looming, it's more important than ever to make New Year's Resolutions and stick to them.

Is this the year I decide I'm too old to use toilet paper as kleenex? Is this really the year I'm going to catch up on How I Met Your Mother or was that just a fluke post-holiday Netflix binge? Is this the year I stop wasting time playing useless video games like NCAA Football 2010, even though I've led UConn to two bowl games and a National Championship in the year 2015? "These are the things you can't tell me if we're going to keep dating," M-Dash tells me and I understand why: it's because she doesn't know that UConn is a mediocre football program at best and that I'm very impressive. I explain this to her, but she shakes her head, and I realize it's something deeper.


(This guy gets it.)

The last post I wrote in 2010 was about Wall Street 2 and the first of 2011 was about passing out while giving blood. Everyone's written about the trials and tribulations of 2011, but I think those two posts sum up the year just as well. I never wrote about my resolutions like I had in previous years, so this is a great place to start for this year's resolutions:

1) Write About My Resolutions - CHHHEEEECK! Man, I love lists!

2) Write More Posts for You All - I wrote 15 posts in 2011, an all-time low. Now, if you take into account that the number of posts I write is an inverse proportion to my happiness with life, then you might look at this as a good thing. However, nobody ever paid someone to write about their happiness, so I'll see what I can do moving forward.

3) Stop Talking About Ideas, Start Doing Them - That's right, no more talk about great ideas like "Cleetus the Penis with Hats On" without some kind of follow through.



4) Making this a thing we call the last decade:

SISTER: What did they call the 00's, anyway? The zeroes?
FRIEND: The oughts.
SISTER: What?
ME: The oughts; the twenty-oughts; the "twoughts." OH MY GOD, THE TWOUGHTS!

5) Get a job that lasts 12 straight months....hahaha, no, I'm kidding, that's stupid. But seriously, somebody hire me to write this shit for money. One of you has to have that power. Don't get me wrong, doing freelance work pays the rent, but utilities and Netflix I pay for with a little job I call, "I Guess I'll Watch You Do That For $100, but I Don't See What the Stuffed Animal Has to Do with Anything or Why I Have to Be Wearing Roller Blades." But, a guy needs his streaming video. And that kids, is How I Met Your Mother.

I'm Like Congress, I Have All These Resolutions, But They End Up Stuck in the House,
Witz

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Facial Recognition Malware

"So, how'd your life turn out, man; everything you wanted it to be and more?" he asked while pouring more water into M-Dash's glass.

"Absolutely!" I replied, because I assumed he had asked us how our food was and it took my brain a minute to move past the taste of my breakfast sandwich and actually register the question. When I realized what he had asked, I looked up more directly at him and hastily added, "How about yours?" but it was too late and he had walked away.


("What an asssshoooole!")

M-Dash and I looked at each other. "You know that guy?" she asked and I looked over at him walking away. He was wearing a santa hat and waiter uniform, was slightly unshaven, and was moving almost manically around the room, checking on people and and fixing any problems. "I'm good with faces, and I've never seen that guy before in my life," I told her. "If I know him at all, it would have to be from elementary school before we were people." We were eating breakfast at a cafe in my hometown, so this was entirely possible slash my biggest fear about being home. "Well, he sure seems to know YOU!" she said. Indeed.

Either way, I was glad I had accidentally lied to the guy and answered, "Absolutely!" First off, it's not like I was gonna tell him, "Strikes and gutters," and really get into the highs and lows of the last decade or so and my current place in life. More importantly, there was a good chance I didn't know him at all, and while he might have been casually inquiring, he looked like the kind of guy who might have found me in the parking lot after the meal, stolen my license, and put a gun to my head; insisting I change my life or he would come back and kill me. Which sounds like a hassle.



On the other hand, if he DID know me and had legitimately asked if my life turned out how I wanted, I had just sounded like a massive douche by shouting, "Absolutely!" while not looking at him, and then taking a bite out of my sandwich while allegedly implying, "But I'm not gonna ask you, because you're the guy refilling my water!" Which could also end in a tragic parking lot situation.* Isn't life full of mystery and wonder.

We decided to ignore it and keep eating-- he was probably just a chatty cafe water refill guy. And a really good refill guy because he was back around a few minutes later to fill up my glass:

"The holidays are great," he began, looking at M-Dash, but clearly talking about me, "you get to see all these people you haven't seen in years," and before I could get out a single confused syllable, he turned and pranced away (if prancing can imply murder-- it was a murder prance). M-Dash and I stared wide-eyed at each other, each as baffled as the other.


(Murderous Prancer)

"Oh, he definitely knows you."
"That was aggressive, right?"
"Yeah, that was weird."
"Like, he sounded as though he not only thinks he knows me, but also that we banged..."
"...and you never called him back."
"Exactly! What the hell is going on??"
"Are you sure you don't know him?"
"I mean...NO, but I'm sure I didn't BANG HIM!"
"Hmmm. Well, ask him!"
"I'm gonna!"
"Do it!"
"I will!"

I absolutely didn't ask him. He was zipping around the room, rushing into the back, and the place was packed. He didn't come back to the table and I thought it would be even more awkward to track him down around customers or other employees to ask who he was. I did, however, have this little exchange with M-Dash:

"What's the less shitty way of asking this: 'Do I know you? Do you know me? Who are you?"
"Just ask, 'Do we know each other?'"
"But I know I don't know him."
"But you might have known him once he says his name."
"But that's not really KNOWING someone."
"Babe."
"I'm just saying!"
"Babe."

It's times like that I wish I could throw up on command. "Do I-- do you-- do we-- BLAT!!" Just, splowsh, right on the table. No more questions. Just some kid telling everyone that some guy he knows (who I probably just looked like) youk'd on the table and he had to clean it up. Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. How'd your life turn out? Next time, just find me in the parking lot.

Thanks To Facebook and Google I Just Tracked Him Down and Have Never Seen Him Before in My Life; He Was 6 Years Ahead of Me in School, Went to a Different College, and I Don't Recognize His First Name or His Family's Last Name, But That Doesn't Mean He's Not Going to Track Me Down and Murder Me By Accident, Does It???,

Witz

*"What, like in the back of a Volkswagon?" Anyone?

Witz Flix: Gnomeo and Juliet

(Somebody threw out their back forcing that pun in there)

I decided to watch Gnomeo & Juliet because I think I have a responsibility to the parents of America to keep them informed about the films our children are watching, and also because it's only 84 minutes long and I have STD-- uh, "Shit to Do," (so much for that abbreviation). Using my advanced powers of deduction, I've gleaned that the movie is like Romeo & Juliet, only it's about garden gnomes...I just... ::sadly shaking head:: ...alright, let's do this thing...

2 min: The Montagues and the Capulets live next door to each other in modern day suburbia. They hate each other, but the elderly man and woman apparently haven't figured out a way to not leave for work at the exact same second every day. I've avoided roommates for months while living under the same roof, which makes me think these two old people are one viewing of "Up" away from making out while crying.

4 min: Each yard has a bunch of gnomes and other figures which come to life once the people leave the house. The Montagues are the "Blues," the Capulets are the "Reds," and the children of America are apparently idiots.

5 min: Isn't it weird that they named this kid, "Gnomeo," just because he's a gnome? "We named you after a famous Shakespeare character and then made it a pun!" Isn't that basically the same thing as naming your kid "Blacula?" Almost as baffling is the fact that Gnomeo is voiced by James McAvoy.


(Not even straightforward racism is this offensive...)

6 min: The Blues have a toilet in their yard-- it's unclear if this is important to the plot, but in the neverending argument over which yard is more beautiful, I'd say the one WITHOUT A TOILET IN IT is the clear winner.

7 min: Who's gonna break Michael Caine the news that he's in GNOMEO & Juliet? Pretty sure the guy coming off The Dark Knight, Sleuth, Harry Browne, and Inception didn't mean to sign onto this project.

8 min: I still don't know who Emily Blunt is, but she's the voice for Juliet. Michael Caine voices her dad.

9 min: Gnomeo and the Blues are lawnmower racing Tybalt and the Reds. And just to let us know that not all garden gnomes are lofty British folk, some dumpy southern chick dressed like a porn star farm girl is the one who starts the race.

9:30 min: And by "dumpy southern porn star farm girl," I apparently mean, "Dolly Parton"...because she's the voice...

10 min: Gnomeo is the Rick Perry of lawnmower racing: at first he looks like he knows what he's doing, but then he's completely out of control and has zero chance of finishing first. Tybalt wins and we reach a major turning point in the film: I realize that Jason Statham is the voice of Tybalt. "Yeah, 'cause like, I want me fans to know I'm, you know, an intellectual, or whateva. It's not all kickin' an' punchin' wif me, init?"

Tybalt kicks one of the Blues and retreats to the Red Garden. The Blues freak out and say that something must be done.

11 min: "The Red Garden?? No one's ever been in there!" Hee hee hee hee hee...

12 min: This movie made 100 million dollars at the box office??? It's gonna be way easier than I thought to get "Mothello," the tale of Othello told in the hilarious world of moths, made. "King Deer?" "Catbeth?" "ANTony and BEEopatra??"



13 min: Juliet is super jazzed to go steal some flower for the Red Garden (is Shakespeare actually MORE sexual when set in the world of garden gnomes??), so she dresses up like a ninja and heads off. Gnomeo and Benvolio sneak into the Red Garden. "Great, I love going Commando," Benvolio says....I think it's important to note that this movie is going to be somebody's childhood memory.

15 min: Things go awry, but they escape from the garden. Gnomeo ends up in the other neighboring garden where Juliet is going to steal the flower. Also in the garden is...A NEW ELTON JOHN SONG?? I guess what they say about finding things in the absolutely last place you'd ever think to look is true...I'm starting to think all Elton John is doing these days is getting drunk, dressing up like Janet Reno, and pumping out shit songs for children:



17 min: The two fall into some water at which point they realize that they are a Red and a Blue and Juliet runs away.

19 min: There's a little mushroom character running around, and all I can think is, "If Gnomeo eats that, he's either gonna get a 1-Up or hiiiigh as a motherfucker!"


("Candy bars!")

23 min: Ah, shit-- am I the last person to realize this has Democrat/Republican subtext? Is it bad that the first thing I think of when people talk about "red vs. blue" is M&M's??

30 min: Extended maniacal laugh joke: still in play after all these years. Tybalt's planning revenge.

32 min: Holy shit! Hulk Hogan does the voice-over for a lawnmower commercial-- the Terrafirminator-- in the style of Powerthirst. It's a "weapon of grass destruction." It's ironic that the high point of this movie is probably the low point in Hulk Hogan's career.

35 min: Gnomeo and Juliet-- HEY! I JUST GOT IT! THAT'S THE TITLE! Anyway-- they go on a date in the abandoned neighbor's garden and stumble upon a shed.

38 min: Oh no. No no no no no no no-- this will not do. A pink lawn flamingo just popped out of the shed and is going all Robin Williams on the two gnomes. He sounds like if Scarface was forced to entertain people on a cruise ship.

40 min:

GNOMEO: This is crazy, you know that, right? All my life, I was raised to hate the Reds.
JULIET: And I was raised to hate the Blues! It will never work.
GNOMEO: Well...how do you feel about minorities?
JULIET: Hate them!
GNOMEO: ME TOO!

Some of that was real, some was just pointing out that all garden gnomes are white...

42 min: Gnomeo returns to find his mother's prized tree destroyed. She's devestated. It's like, lady, look-- at least you still have your lawn toilet! The Blues demand revenge.

43 min: I don't really wanna get into it, but there's a frog who's probably gonna bone Stephen Merchant.

44 min: Ya know what I just remembered? EVERYONE'S GONNA DIE AT THE THE END! So, that pepped me up a little.

45 min: Gnomeo goes to get revenge, but Juliet sees him and gives him that, "I'm disappointed in you," look. Or, as I've come to call it, "how M-Dash looks at me on weekdays."

46 min: Top Five People Who Should Be Made As Gnome Characters:
-Gnome Chomsky
-Gnomar Garciaparra
-Manuel Gnoriega
-Gnomer Simpson
-Hideo Gnomo

48 min: Gnomeo and Juliet meet in the abandoned garden to sort their shit out. They fight for a while and then that horrific Flamingo steps in and explains how he came to be alone in the garden via a montage of his owners getting a divorce and moving away. The truly bizarre part, though, is that they play a song over the montage which I can only describe as Elton John making up a fake Meatloaf song while wasted at a party.


("Elton did whaaaaaat!?")

49 min: "You know...other people's hate destroyed my love, and I couldn't do nothing about it. But you, you can," the Flamingo says, which, to be fair, is about as funny as any joke Robin Williams has written in the last ten years, so this other guy they got to do the voice is worth the savings.

50 min: The two decide to get married and live in the abandoned garden. They don't get the chance, though, because Benvolio sees them and freaks out, probably because he knows that if they breed, they'll give birth to a moderate.


(Speaking of which, you're telling me that Gargamel will stop at nothing to capture the Smurfs, but he has absolutely no problem with garden gnomes running around? I call bullshit.)

51 min: Benvolio runs away. Tybalt sees him and breaks off his hat, which is as much like watching a metaphorical circumcision as you think. Gnomeo fights Tybalt, but gives him mercy when he could break him. Tybalt takes the opportunity to try and break Gnomeo, but ends up launching himself in the air against a wall (classic mistake) and shatters into a bunch of pieces. It's unclear why this releases his life essence into the world when GLUE EXISTS, but that's just how it works.

54 min: Gnomeo gets knocked into the street by a human and it appears that a passing truck shatters him. Everyone cries and freaks out and heads back to the garden. BUT AS IT TURNS OUT, Gnomeo wasn't smashed, the pieces of clay they saw fell off a passing TEAPOT TRUCK, which is DEFINITELY a REAL THING!

57 min: Gnomeo's not out of the shitter yet though, because a dog grabs him and drags him away and then he has to escape and fuck my life, he ends up at a big park where, I think my eyes are bleeding, he gets scooped up by a couple kids and all I can think is:

58 min: When the fuck is David gonna ride in on his fox!?

59 min: Gnomes are a lot like the Shakers; they have strong beliefs, don't reproduce, and care a whole lot about fragile furniture. (Those of you who have been waiting to fill in "The Shakers Joke" on your Witz Pickz Bingo Boards, you're welcome).


(Ummm, did the Shakers invent the Thriller dance??)

65 min: Benvolio sneaks into the house and orders a Terrafirminator lawnmower and goes to exact revenge on the Reds for Gnomeo's death. Meanwhile, Gnomeo is in the park still, talking to the statue of William Shakespeare about his predicament. Shakespeare says that it reminds him of a story HE wrote, but fails to point out that Gnomeo was clearly named after his main character. How can Gnomeo find out about Romeo & Juliet in a movie parody of that play? I'm pretty sure Stephen Hawking wrote about this shit.

67 min: That weird Mushroom I was talking about and the Flamingo find Gnomeo and rush him back to try and stop Benvolio from hurting anyone.

72 min: The pinnacle of journalism right here: the lawnmower goes crazy and destroys both of the gardens. Gnomeo reaches Juliet right as the lawnmower attacks. Juliet was glued down so she couldn't run away anymore, so they can't flee. The lawnmower destroys the tower and they are buried. We, like the rest of the gnomes and lawn ornaments, can only watch...wait...and hope that somewhere...in that pile...they are alive. (Take THAT Tom Brokaw!)

74 min: Well. It is a dark day indeed. I thought this project had integrity, but as it turns out, Gnomeo & Juliet is nothing more than an unnecessarily satirical kid's movie. They're both alive and everyone else makes up. Given that the only real plot reference to Romeo & Juliet is the forbidden love aspect, I'm pretty convinced that the only reason this movie got made was because someone made a gnome pun.

75 min: Somewhere, this conversation happened:

WRITER: How do you feel about ending the movie with a big dance sequence?
PRODUCER: Will it be set to Elton John's Crocodile Rock?
WRITER: Of course it will.
PRODUCER: Then, I'm 100% on board.
WRITER: Excellent.
PRODUCER: How do you feel about making the movie longer so it's not 75 minutes?
WRITER: I don't see that happening...
PRODUCER: Meh, whatever. We'll get their money again with our next movie.
WRITER: Next movie?
PRODUCER: Brothel-lo. It's Othello set in a brothel with the main character played by Cee-Lo Green.
WRITER: Wow, that's gonna be really offensive.
PRODUCER: The man looks like if one of the California Raisins ate all the backup singers.
WRITER: Yikes.
PRODUCER: That guy looks like if a meatball grew up to be a pedophile.
WRITER: Eesh.
PRODUCER: Yep.




Longest. Travelocity commercial. Ever.
Witz

Witz Pickz: 400th Post (State of the Union)

Happy Belated Halloween! Originally, M-Dash and I were going to go as witty physical puns of classic Ice Cream Treats, i.e. dressing up as a witch holding a bag of chips (Chipwich) and a traffic cone with a crown on (King Cone). After a series of blank stares convinced us otherwise, we decided to dress up as "People who don't know anyone having a Halloween Party."



Which brings me to today's post: my 400th post on Witz Pickz. I decided that I had to do something different for my 400th post, not just rant about how stupid babies are or tell some idiot story about how I get flu-like symptoms whenever I eat garlic. I decided I needed to do a State of the Union-- a brief round up of where we are after 400 posts:



• I've written 400 blog posts since March 26, 2006, and last I saw, earned $28.37 through Google AdWords, an amount I lauded as being, "Enough to purchase a pizza." When I recently checked again, I found that Google has seemingly erased all money earned and closed down the account. Google owes me a pizza.

• It is currently "Anytober," according to Subway, which is offering ANY Subway sub for five dollars in October. Unless Subway is pushing to nickname sandwiches "tobers," along with "hero," "grinder," "hoagie," and "sub," this is completely unacceptable. It's the laziest marketing since Jared got fat again and stopped doing Subway commercials.



• Herman Cain is a "legitimate" Republican Presidential Candidate. This is made worse by the fact that I couldn't decide whether to use his name in that joke or Michele Bachmann's.

• I've started drinking an inordinate number of smoothies.

• Not to brag, but my credit card says I have an "outstanding balance."

• I posted that last line as my Facebook status last week and got more "likes" and comments than on any of my blog posts. Ever.

• The Earth's population hit 7 billion and I hate everyone.

• I invested money in SodaStream-- a company which sells home carbonation kits so people can turn REGULAR WATER into SPARKLING WATER, a product which costs roughly eighty-nine cents to buy ANYWHERE...



• I would describe my smoothie intake as, "One per day."

• Mounds bars and Almond Joy bars cost exactly the same amount. This would lead me to believe that dark chocolate costs more to produce than milk chocolate by roughly the value of two almonds.

• Children in sweatshops are better at making shoes than I am at anything I'll ever try to do.

• I've started leaving the light off when I pee, just to add a little excitement to my days.

• I don't even drink seltzer. I think it's gross.

• Walmart brought back layaway. Either this is legitimate and sad or Walmart's been asked to secretly compile a, "People who should just kill themselves" list. If you can't afford to buy a shitty blender up front, you shouldn't be shopping in the first place.


(Even cute puppies are like, "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!?")

• I make these smoothies myself, using a combination of frozen fruit, yogurt, almond milk, and my own tears.

• Don't let anyone say I never wrote a Mounds Bar joke.

• Ted Wilson Reviews the World is a thing that exists. It's at The Rumpus and it's awful. Just miserable. Like Witz Pickz, this guy reviews anything he can think of, only his schtick appears to be that he's intentionally uninformed and super not funny. It's made worse by the fact that his column's title doesn't include any kind of rhyme or consonance. While I wasn't a fan of The Malou Review, I was forced to respect the segment for its obvious end-rhyme driven premise. Malou had no choice but to get into reviews, kung-fu, or BBQ. This Ted guy should be pursuing meds, breads, or sheds. The final straw came when I posted a negative, but constructive comment on one of his reviews, and he moderated it into oblivion. This obviously means that Ted Wilson is my new sworn enemy, especially now that Andy Rooney has been defeated.

• I've started posting "negative, but constructive" comments on the internet...


(Andy Rooney looks like he chose the wrong chalice from the Temple of the Grail...This guy complains about pronunciation for 30 years and Steve Jobs dies at 56? "He chose poorly.")

I think that pretty much sums up where I'm at after 400 posts. Not yet rich and famous, but also not buying microwaves on layaway at Walmart. Ya win some, ya lose some. Strikes and gutters. The important thing is that you all are still reading, hopefully still laughing, and nobody's sued me yet.

And By "Not Yet Rich" I Mean I Literally Have Not Earned Any Money,
Witz

Witz Flix: Buried

 

Finally. 94 uninterrupted minutes with Ryan Reynolds. Because my number one complaint with films starring Ryan Reynolds has always been, "Why are there all of these other people and events between scenes with Ryan Reynolds? Are these really necessary?" From what I understand, Buried is about a guy who is literally buried in a box for the entirety of the movie-- I'm assuming because he was either responsible for splitting Netflix into two sites or for the recent Facebook changes. Let's find out: 

3 min: The movie begins and all we hear is breathing and thumping. The screen is completely dark. Right now I'm wondering, "Is there ANY chance that the lights are gonna come on and Owen Wilson is going to be there?" 

5 min: A lighter flicks on, revealing Ryan Reynolds: hands bound together, gagged, and kicking at the box he has been buried in. Yeah, that's for "Just Friends," asshole.  (Who are the heroes who nailed that tagline?) 

6 min: Oddly, it takes him a minute to realize that his arms aren't tied down, so he's able to take his gag out. It's gotta be a change from his superhero roles, as his newfound power appears to be grunting loudly and shouting, "Help!" to nobody in particular. 

8 min: He uses a nail to cut the rope which was binding his hands together. I don't care how clever he is in this movie, he still wasn't smart enough to avoid being in "Blade: Trinity..." 

10 min: A phone begins ringing at his feet, so he scrambles and moves it up to his hands, but misses the call. He uses it to call 9-1-1 and tries to explain his situation to the woman. We find out that he was a truck driver who was contracted in Iraq and his group was attacked. The operator sounds particularly skeptical, as if she's thinking, "Suuure, the old buried in a box in Iraq stunt," so he hangs up on her. 

12 min: A quick look at the battery reveals about 60% left. Time to start tweeting, bro. 

13 min: I wonder if Facebook would consider his status, "Buried in Iraq, help!" a top story...if he dies, it's gonna be because everyone moved over to Google+ 17 min: Um, he's on the phone with the FBI in Chicago now, and not to be obvious, but...HOW THE FUCK IS HE GETTING RECEPTION??  

("You're calling from where? Uhh, ya know what, I actually can't hear you...") 

18 min: He keeps turning his lighter on to look at his cell phone which is already illuminated by its screen. I'm starting to understand how this is the kind of guy who would get himself buried in a coffin in Iraq. 

20 min: Hey, when's the other guy, girl, and pizza place gonna get there? 

22 min: At least the terrorists gave him the best upside-down-writing-on-wood pen I've ever seen. 

24 min: He calls a number which he doesn't recognize in the history and it turns out the be the guys who buried him (awwwwkwaaaard!). They say they want 5 million dollars by 9pm. He explains that he's only a B-List actor masquerading as an A-lister, but they say, "Then how come you were in The Green Lantern?" 

25 min: He calls the man a terrorist and the guy says, "What? Because you're terrified, I'm a terrorist?" Uhhhhhh, YYYYUP! Also, the ransom thing. Also, all the murder. 

26 min: At some point, bugs, or a spider, or a snake is gonna come into this box, I just know it, and I'm gonna lose my shit. 

30 min: Hahahah, he calls someone back in Michigan and she answers, "Hello? Hi, how are you?..........Got you-- I'm not here right now! Leave a message at the beep!" 

32 min: He starts to leave a message and she answers, says she's busy and can't look up a number for him because she just got back from the supermarket. He gets angry and she hangs up on him. He screams, and calls her a, "Dumb fucking cunt!" which would have also been an appropriate response if, oh, I don't know, his boss forced him to marry her so she could keep her green card...  

("Weee-oooo, weee-ooo, awesome tagline police: freeze!") 

35 min: He talks to a guy named Dan at the State Department who is working on it, but not able to do much. He says that these types of things have happened before and people have been saved. Reynolds asks him to name one and he does: Mark White. Reynolds writes the name on the wood, probably so they can connect on LinkedIn when he gets home. 

36 min: The terrorist calls back and says they will accept 1 million dollars, but he has to make a video with his phone and send it to someone. Everyone's gonna be all, "It was ok, but a little too Blair Witch for me..." 

38 min: Annoyingly transparent political commentary: Dan says something to the extent of, "These people aren't terrorists. They're just hungry and desperate. Wouldn't you do anything to feed your family in the same situation?" to which Ryan Reynolds replies, "I wouldn't kill someone!" to which the rescue guy says, "But how can you know for sure?" It's like, "Dude! WHY are you taking their side on this? Stop being a dipshit and come get me out of this coffin in Iraq!" 

40 min: He finds a bag at his feet with some glow sticks, a flashlight, and a pocket knife. I'm beginning to think he's just at Burning Man. 

45 min: He talks with Dan again who's trying his best to find him. Reynolds gives him the terrorist's number from the phone. He then plays Angry Birds. Two battery bars remaining. 

50 min: Honestly, it's only been 50 minutes, but I feel like he's been buried for 127 hours...

 

52 min: He's calling his mom in a nursing home because I'm supposed to care about a b-plot. She has Alzheimer's and says that she's been playing gin rummy with her husband every night. Reynold's replies, "Yeah, um-- I don't think pop's there with you," and follows it up with, "This might be the last time I talk to you." Wow, were you just calling your mom to shatter her fragile world before you died orrrr? 

55 min: The terrorist sends him a picture of some woman with a gun to her head. He freaks out and tells them that the woman has two kids and the terrorist tells him to make the video now or she dies, so he does. I gotta say, he seems pretty reluctant to make this video for a guy who had no qualms about making "Buying the Cow." 

57 min: GAHHHHHH!! BLEH! YAH! MWUH! MMMMMYUCK! Snake-in-the-box! I knew that shit would happen! To his credit, he doesn't kill himself immediately like I probably would, but does go an interesting route in that he starts a fire in the box using some alcohol and the lighter. The snake leaves, but the box is on fire, so he has to flail around and eventually manages to kick sand on the fire before it gets too big. This guy just likes making things more difficult for himself. 

62 min: Ya know what, Van Wilder fans? I'm starting to think there aren't gonna be any tits in this film. 

63 min: Back to his phone again-- I mean, talk about a Crackberry, am I right? Anyway, he figures out how to change the language settings to English and is able to figure out his own cell number, which means it can be traced to his exact location. He only has one bar left, and is sent a video of the woman from the picture being shot. He suddenly understands what we've been watching for the last hour and almost kills himself with the pocket knife. 

68 min: Easily the number one grunting film of all time. Take out the grunting and this is not a feature length film. 70 min: Explosions sound above him and the boards of the coffin break. Sand is pouring in and given that he still has cell service, I don't understand why he can't just dig upward. 

71 min: The contractor's Press/HR guy calls and is interviewing him about his background so he won't sue the company. They inform him that his contract was terminated that morning because of a relationship with his co-worker, the woman who was just shot. He says that they were just friends and he is misinformed, but the guy informs him that, "I'm just a stereotype being used to heighten the drama of the film!" No insurance money if he dies... 

75 min: I gotta say, this DOES seem like a fair and proportionate response for The In-Laws.

   

77 min: He keeps wondering why nobody's answering the phone when he calls, but c'mon man, nobody answers the phone anymore when they don't know the number: "Hey, do you know what 075 area code is?" "Uhhh, yeah, I think it's Iraq." "Pfff, eff that, dude, I'm not donating any more money." 

78 min: Not a great movie, but easily the best Zippo commercial I've ever seen. 79 min: I wonder when he's gonna try calling Harold & Kumar... 

80 min: The guy trying to find him admits that the terrorists have been killed and there's nothing else they can do so it's over-- he's going to die. He makes a video as his last will and testament to send to his family. "Zippo: Lighting Your Horrorscape Until Death Seizes Your Terrified Corpse." 

84 min: Ohhhh snap! The phone rings and it turns out that the terrorist is still alive and ups the ante: he wants Ry Rey to cut his finger off or else the terrorists will kill his family in America. He asks if he does this will they let him go, and the terrorist is like, "Definitely, Maybe."

 

85 min: ME: Ohhh-ho-ho-ho-ho, I think he's gonna do it! TERRORISTS: AWWWWW SHIT! He did it! He cut his own finger off! What a freak! 

88 min: Right after he cuts his finger off, Dan calls saying they are almost there to get him. "Cool, I'll be the guy with nine fingers." His wife finally calls him back and he says he's about to be rescued and promises he'll be home soon. The box is filling up with sand and the guy says they're digging and almost there. 

94 min: On the phone, Dan and company are digging frantically, while Ryan Reynolds is almost completely buried in sand. I-- oh, hey, "Buried"-- I just got that. Anyway, they're digging and he's shouting and they're digging and he's kicking, and just as the box is about to bury him completely they get to the box and--...it turns out to be a different box with Mark White dead inside. Dan apologizes (to us, I'm assuming), Ryan Reynolds takes a few last breaths, and everything goes black. Well...I guess it wasn't called, "Almost Buried." 

Other box, really? I gotta ask, does the "Bury an American in the Sand" trick EVER work because they're at least 0 for 2. How come terrorists always think they can negotiate with the United States? Watch ONE MOVIE...EVER, and you'll know that's not gonna happen. Isn't there a single person who can be like, "Ah, but the problem with that plan is that the US doesn't negotiate with terrorists, kind of for this EXACT reason, so..." 

For a not very interesting movie, the ending is actually pretty disturbing. I guess it's because a) I can imagine myself dying horribly that way, but also b) for all the shit I just gave him, Ryan Reynolds is goddamn affable and charming, and yeah, can be quite funny, and it's tough to watch him fake die. Couldn't they have just cast Dane Cook instead? They're practically identical and then everyone would have been cheering as the sand poured into his open maw, filling his mouth, so all anyone could hear as the darkness set in would be a muffled, desperate, "Pickles..." 

The Change-Up is Actually Great, 

Witz

Witz Pickz: Sometimes Life Hands You Oreos

Sometimes, when I'm not writing, it's because I feel like there is just nothing worth writing about in my life and I don't want to bore you. Other times it's because I suddenly remember the utter futility of life and the weary redundant cycle of waking and eating and working and drinking and sleeping and wasting of time that exists while we all omg wait for our inevitable, meaningless lol deaths....

...but then, just when I think there's nothing left to write about, The Universe smacks me across the face and points as if to say, "Seriously? How are you not seeing this?" and I remember that it's all gonna be alright.

When I woke up on Tuesday morning, the last thing I thought I would be doing was licking an Oreo with Shaquille O'Neal. It's just not one of those things that you count as being in the realm of possibility. So imagine my surprise, when three hours later, I found myself getting paid to lick cream filling with four other teammates while Shaq yelled things like, "lick faster," "drink your milk," and, "there's no crying in Oreo licking!" in our faces. Flash backward a couple hours:


(I can't help but notice that just like the Triple Double cookie, they lined us up as white stuff, chocolate stuff, white stuff, chocolate stuff, white stuff, with Shaq's arms like the big Oreo wafers on either side)

I signed onto a freelance event gig knowing only that it was an Oreo Cookie branding event and that I would be contractually obligated to eat an Oreo; a stipulation which I'll be adding to all of my future contracts.

I showed up and was told to put on a jersey which was a little too small for me and had the letters "DSRL" on the front. A quick peek at The Urban Dictionary and you'll understand why I was somewhat nervous about what was about to happen (I assumed R stood for "red" or "ripe" or "regal."). It was therefore no great comfort when the guy in charge walked in and announced, "Those of you in the jerseys: you're my lickers."


It was then explained to us that we would not, in fact, be starring in a Nabisco themed adult film called, "Fluffernutters," and that DSRL stands for "Double Stuff Racing League." We would be competing as two teams in an Oreo licking contest to promote the new Triple Double Oreo in front of some press. And oh, "Shaquille O'Neal and Venus Williams will be coaching the two teams."

Flash forward to me and my teammates, desperately trying to remove the two layers of double-stuff from between the three chocolate wafers while getting yelled at by the guy from Kazaam. Add an Andrew W.K. sounding song shouting, "D-S-R-L! D-S-R-L!" over and over again and you'll understand why it all felt incredibly surreal.



The thing of it is, I never ever thought I would meet Shaq. Ever. I didn't even really have ambitions to meet him, and it was so unexpected that I wasn't starstruck so much as baffled. At one point he leaned over to me and said, "Man, this song sucks, right?" referring to the DSRL theme, and fighting back the urge to reference his illustrious rap career, I replied, "Yeah...but it's gonna be stuck in your head all day..." which made him laugh. Shaq. This was the man who was on television slamming home points in NBA Championships. This was the guy from NBA Jam; the man responsible for Shaq Fu-- and now this was the guy who had us "bring it in," so, "on three," we could give a team cheer of, "Twist, lick, dunk, eat!"??



There are varying levels of fame: there's the level where you sell products, the level where you have a product named after you, and then there's the top level, where your name is used as a pun on a product. Shaq is so famous that when my family went to Kennebunkport, Maine for vacation, I would order the Chick-quille O'Neal grilled chicken sandwich. And somehow, despite all logic and the probability of a single linear reality, all seven feet and one inch of him was standing behind me with his arm around my shoulder, dunking OREOS, and berrating me to go faster.

As my Oreo incompetence was becoming increasingly apparent, one of my team members finished and our team was declared the winner. We got our pictures taken with Shaq, ate some more Oreos, and were sent on our way, getting paid for the full four hours, despite honestly "working" for about fifteen minutes. Just as quickly as it had started, it was all over, and I couldn't help but wonder if it had all been a dream.

"You have cream on your beard," one of my teammates said.
"What?" I replied.
"Oreo cream, you have some by your mouth," I was told, and putting my hand to my mouth, I came away with a small touch of sugary white stuff.
"Thanks," I said, and smiled at The Universe, assured of the fact that I would write again.

Twisting, Licking, Dunking, and Eating,
Witz

P.S. I think it's a glaring oversight that they used this DSRL song instead of having Shaq redo the lyrics to his song, "Shoot, Pass, Slam." They could have really easily changed it to, "Do you want me to TWIST IT? (YEAH!) Do you want me to LICK IT? (YEAH!!) Do you want me to DUNK IT? (YEAH!!!)"

Witz Pickz: Well, I Guess This Is Growing Up

My roommates recently moved to Germany (a country best known for its flash-mob style performance of The Holocaust*) for grad school, making way for M-Dash to move in. In the last 24 hours, we've been cleaning, scrubbing, arranging, rearranging, vacuuming, dusting, and fixing the apartment; however, one item in particular has made me realize that I'm getting older:

We bought a new toilet seat. I hadn't thought twice about it in the year and a half I've lived here, but M-Dash pointed out that it had definitely seen better days. Considering the fact that all the toilet seat saw on even the best of days was an ass plummeting downward, I decided she was probably right; so, we went to Lowe's and bought one.

AND I FUCKING LOVE IT. Seriously-- I don't know if it's the fact that I'm about to turn twenty-nine or if I subconsciously see it as a representation of my girlfriend moving in, or what, but I love the shit out of this toilet seat. In fact, I don't even want to shit through it-- I want to do things with it. I want to hangout in the bathtub and quote 30 Rock to each other. I want to make a movie about it, voiced by Donald Sutherland and co-starring Daniel Craig. I want to sit on the tile, give it a cap and gown, and read "Oh, the Places You Will Go," to it. I want to take it day-drinking in Prospect Park and watch the sun gleam off its silver, metal hinges.

I mean, am I going insane or is this just what happens when you get older? A couple years ago, my parents gave me a Cuisinart for Christmas and I knew I'd turned a corner toward adulthood. Is it a toilet seat today, a shower curtain tomorrow, and then a well vacuumed rug bringing me joy the next? Maybe it's a good thing.

Sure, my initial reaction is to walk outside and try to greet an oncoming truck with a hug, but maybe what I really need to be embracing are these simple joys of domestic living. If I'm just as happy about a new toilet seat or a clean rug as I used to be after drinking Red Bull and Vodka until four in the morning, I've saved myself a ton of money and a whole lot of hangovers. On the other hand, it's going to be a tough sell to invite my friends over to stare at my bathroom with me, when I don't even want to come over to see their babies. Either way, at least I'll have my beautiful new roommate with me to figure it all out-- and M-Dash will be there, too.

What Did the Toilet Seat Say to the Butt? There's a Whole Lot Resting On This!,
Witz


*Some people might say that this joke is unfair and that I give Germany a hard time, but think about it: What's Switzerland best known for? Knives and chocolate. What's France best known for? Wine. What's Italy best known for? Their food. What's the United States best known for? Starbucks and McDonald's. What's Germany BEST known for? The Holocaust. That's just how it is.

Witz DOESN'T Pick: New Domino's Commercial

(Carry out only? But your slogan is, "The Pizza Delivery Experts!")

There's a new Domino's Pizza commercial which has made its way into the rotation on Hulu and on ESPN, which immediately triggered my "Goddamn Idiot" response, which is to say that the first time I saw it, I immediately said out loud, "You're a goddamn idiot." It goes something like this:

"For a limited time, you can get a large, three-topping pizza from Domino's for just 7.99!"

At which point it cuts to a guy making a Domino's pizza, who looks at the camera with an incredulity bordering on anger and says,

"7.99? This pizza is worth at least twice that."
...
...
"You're a goddamn idiot."

First of all, you're a thirty-something dude throwing together pizzas at a fast food pizza chain-- you shouldn't be commenting on the general economics of anything, so shut your stupid face-anus. Secondly, no, it's not. And not simply because your pizza goes through the human digestive tract like it has an hour left to live and my colon is on its bucket list; but because that's not how value works.

Are you suggesting that the ingredients used to make a three-topping large pizza cost Domino's $16+ and the company is actually losing money on each pizza sold? Because as impossible as that is, it's the only logic I can think of which makes any sense. Pizza has no market value. It's not a commodity that can be bought and sold for profit. If I don't buy that pizza, you can't hold onto it and sell it later at a higher cost because it'll be old and disgusting. Nobody has a pizza collection (if you don't count waistlines) because pizza is FOOD. So, no, sir, your pizza isn't worth "at least twice that," it's worth whatever the hell you're able to sell it to me for.

As much as I appreciate unqualified fast food employees arbitrarily assigning a monetary value to perishable goods, please get rid of this ad and bring back the most ridiculous mascot of all time: The Noid.



I Just Wrote 332 Words, But All You're Gonna Remember is "Face-Anus,"
Witz


Bonus Footage:


Oh, and just so I get some hits: "Amy Winehouse drug overdose autopsy dead 27 curse."

Witz Pickz: Federal Jack's

Federal Jack's is a brew pub in Kennebunkport, Maine-- a quaint as all hell New England town, almost exclusively filled with touristy crap stores and with shops that used to be known as regional bullshit, but are now known as "artisanal." Jewelry stores with starfish necklaces, sweatshirts with "Vacationaland," printed on the front (don't even get me started), and plaques with ill-conceived New England phrases painted on them, such as, "I'm Feeling Soxy." Also, they have fudge, and the fudge is delicious.

Which is why Federal Jack's stands out. They clearly intended to present themselves as the brewery-restaurant of the town where people could get a burger and a freshly brewed beer and have some fun while still wearing their polo shirts. As I started looking around the restaurant and saw the Federal Jack's logo on the walls and on the menu, it became obvious that they had somewhat overshot what they were going for. Here's Federal Jack:



Federal Jack looks like he just raped and pillaged an entire Confederate town. He's toasting a beer with that shit-eating look on his face as if to say, "Hah-hah-hah, I am definitely for slavery, but have no allegiances except to beer and looting!" I'm also pretty sure he's getting blown just out of frame. Take another look at that picture and tell me you can't see him shouting boisturously in a Maine accent, "Fuck yawah mothah, I'm boozin' in Kennebunkpoaht!"

Further inspection of the menu proved my point. Federal Jack's has a brewery below the restaurant, and as I inspected the list, one name stood out. And that was the Taint Town Pale Ale. Yep. Taint Town. I could practically see Federal Jack winking suggestively. It didn't take much imagination to see Federal Jack in his bedroom with a gaggle of drunken whores going, "Choo-choooo! Alllll abooooard! Next stop: Taint Town!" and then stomping around the room and flopping out on the bed where he fell promptly to sleep and began snoring.



I ordered it, because, OBVIOUSLY, and I didn't like it-- not at all because of the name, but because it's a pale ale, and in what must be an ironic intention, the beer actually tastes like flowers. It must give Federal Jack a good laugh from the grave every time someone orders one, before he goes back to boozing, raping, and pillaging. So much pillaging.

I Went to Federal Jack's and All I Got Was Drunk, Raped, Robbed, and This Stupid T-Shirt,"
Witz

Bonus Material:
I was mentioning this to M-Dash who was there, but hadn't seen the Taint Town beer, and apparently, had never heard of the word "taint." In trying to prove that I wasn't crazy, I googled it and this is why The Urban Dictionary is amazing:

from theurbandictionary.com

"1. taint - The area between the nutsack and asshole that prevent a man from shitting on his nuts. See durf."

Wow. WOW. I would also reiterate that you should see "durf."