HEAVEN?!

I was just doing some sisterly stalking on facebook and came across FU$$**$*## JUMPWORLD. (I'm trying really hard not to cuss right now, which is what I do when I'm over-excited, which I am, to the max, currently.)

I haven't gotten any confirmation on this yet, but it appears to be a warehouse, filled with trampolines and foam pits, where you go and jump. All over.

This place is probably a feeding ground for things I am susceptible to like ringworm and the common cold but holy CRAP would I not care about contracting lice if I could just jump until my legs buckled beneath me and my heart pounded out of my chest.
Kaitlin, TAKE ME TO JUMPWORLD.


("Oh, hey, I'm at JUMPWORLD and you're not.")

It's Like Being Inside My Head

After some pretty horrific and unfounded rumors that I ate cat food in my basement apartment in college, I am loathe to post anything about awesome delicious cats and the awesome ohmygodimsalivating things they do.

This may be the video of the year, and not just because I love fancy feast. I mean cats. It combines everything anyone would ever want to see- cats, Roombas, rap music, familiar images and video clips about cats, cat ladies, treadmills, cats doing things cats don't usually do...

I'll stare at you and then other things that aren't actually moving and scratch you in your sleep for rolling over on me if you don't think this is one of the best videos of 2008. That's how much I like it.

(thanks to baltimoreriotmuseum for letting me yank this clip and also for loving gangster kitties more than nerdy dogs.)

It's Cushings

I love House and I don't care that every episode is the same or that Cuddy dresses like a turbo slut or that the new doctor happens to be a 25 year old hot bisexual model or that I've seen House's atrophied leg more times than seems fair.

I guess the only thing I love more than a House marathon on TBS is a House bashing on the internets.


("Yeah guys, thats totally Cushings.")

SOLD.

God has great PR rep.

The Final Countdown

Borrow Busters fake hand, enjoy a few morning cocktails with Lucille and pour your heart out into Bob Loblaw's Law Blog... The Arrested Development movie might really be happening!

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this masterpiece jumping from TV to film but the series ended far before its time and I'm greedy. I obviously wouldn't want to see a half-assed butchering of the show but if Ron Howard and Mitch Hurwitz are 100% on board it would be nearly impossible to taint my memories of the Bluths.

Given my deep affinity for the show, rest assured there will be updates as Bluth-related breaking news occurs. If this year ends up seeing a black president, a turbaconducken, a new High School Musical AND an Arrested Development movie, I'll give 2008 two thumbs up and free passes to Twilight.

Turbaconducken...Not for Jews!

As if this country could get anymore gentile-y, bacontoday.com (for all your pork-related news?) posted their recipe for a Turbaconducken. It's an anti-semitic take on the original turducken- a duck cooked inside of a chicken which is cooked inside of a -wait for it- turkey.

I won't lie and say I'm totally disgusted by this. I know I'm supposed to rant and rave about how unhealthy everyone is, and maybe its the fat kid who lives inside my heart and digestive track, but I wouldn't mind giving it a whirl. And if I just lost my entire, enormous readership because of that admission then fine. Pass the fork.

Je Voudrais L'airbrushing, Sil Vous Plait

French Vogue did a series of photographs of the same model, aging her from 10 to 60. I don't mean to sound like a middle school guidance counselor on the tail-end of a messy divorce but I'm really glad I stumbled across this because it is so easy to forget that most images in magazines are nearly completely fake. It's scary that we become so accepting of this projected "norm." Also, that bastard can rot in hell if he thinks he's getting the house and the kids.

I'll post the link here, so you can see the transformation through the decades.

iamsoboredtoday

Social Relevance of Reality Television and its Affect on Female Children: A Study

The Worst Day Of Their Lives - Watch more Free Videos

But Honey, Your Blood Pressure

I hate driving. I hate it and will avoid it at all costs. Even on the day I got my license, I had my dad drive home. You know that tag line: On the road of life, there are passengers and there are drivers? Guess which one I am.

It's not because I'm lazy (okay maybe I'm lazy) it's just that I never felt that wild excitement of the open road. I've perfected the art of turning the back seat into a reading/napping nest on car trips, leaving the driver(ahem, chauffeur) to keep me safe from accidents as I lounge. If I do happen to stay awake, I spend most of the time either back-seat driving, not talking, or incessantly demanding that the occupants play car games with me.

When I get behind the wheel, I turn into a psycho. I'm a stickler for rules and laws and when they are not obeyed the wrath of Hell escapes from my lips. Having the propensity to curse like a sailor anyway, a jay walker or lane changer can expect a show of wild gesticulation and a crude, horrific series of curse words from the blond chick in the green Acura.

If I am on the phone with someone, they too can expect to be inundated with my carnal reactions. I shant repeat any of my special reserve curses here, but if you ever wish to hear them, give me a ring during rush hour.

I only bring this up because after a year in the professional world, I have my first driving commute. It's only been a week but already I'm frustrated, pissy and vulgar in the car. I used to listen to NPR to keep myself occupied but seeing as the world is slowly going to shit, their reports do nothing but fan the flames of my rage. Oh, you're going to cut me off while Lakshmi Singh calmly explains the financial ruin of the United States? No, it's fine, assface. Are you actually slowly walking across the street, outside of a crossing zone while I'm legally approaching at 30 mph DURING ALL THINGS CONSIDERED?!?!?!?!

Anyway, what was I blogging about?

Motherboy

I've spent the majority of my first week at work staring at my computer screen, hitting the refresh button on wwtdd.com and watching tv shows without sound...so you'll have to forgive my recent lapse in witty commentary. My brain is understimulated.

To fill the void, I've put up my own little episodal security blanket- Arrested Development. This is the beginning of my favorite episode so curl up, hunker down and imagine me staring at this without sound. (that almost rhymed.)

Dream Job

Holytaco made a list called "If TV Shows Had Truthful Names."

As a fair warning, I'll put up just about anything containing images of Don Draper, the words "Mad" and/or "Men," or promises of scotch-drinking for lunch.

I think we can all agree things were a lot cooler before coworkers started bitching about "harmful cigarette smoke," and "slurring in front of clients" and "sexual harrassment."

If You Play with Fire...

...you will get nunchucked.

Don't Act Like You're Not Impressed

I've watched this twice- without sound- and I totally dig it.

That's So Punny!!!

Sometimes when I get bored I like to make lists. Occasionally these lists serve an actual purpose (To Do lists, grocery lists...) but typically they bear no relevance to anything productive.

Today my mind wandered to puns. Immediately after "pun," an image of Carrot Top popped into my head. Confused, I consulted Google, found the exact image that had just flashed through my head, and posted it here.

I had TOTALLY forgotten about Chairman of the Board. I can remember laying on our gigantic Patrick the Pup from FAO Schwartz, eating a jawbreaker and watching it on repeat. Not because it was good, but because it. was. always. on.

This startling memory spawned the creation of a new (completely unproductive)list.

Most Unforgivable Movie Titles:

1. Maid in Manhattan

2. Made of Honor (seeing a trend here?)

3. Octopussy (I know its a Bond film....but come on.)

4. Me, Myself and Irene

5. Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous

6. Step Up 2: The Streets (okay, i actually love that title for its trickery, but it stays.)

7. Lucky Number Slevin.

8. The Beautician and the Beast (much like Chairman of the Board, I regretfully watched the shit out of this movie as a child.)

9. Snakes on a Plane (This movie has no poker face.)

10. Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married? (this title is self-serving, irritating and includes punctuation. If I die young, it will be from hating Tyler Perry .)

***After posting, another one came to me. I have a feeling this will happen for weeks to come.

11. Bride and Prejudice

12. Good Luck Chuck

13. Sister Act II: Back in the Habit

14. License to Wed

15. A Million to Juan

A Brunch-Worthy Protest

Another word from preasebrog's dear friend, Patrick James.
As anyone who doesn't live in Purdum, Nebraska knows, No on 8 protests are being held in all major cities tomorrow. Since we're on west coast time here in the bustling metropolis of LA, it begins at 10.30am. And what does that early start time entail?
Complimentary brunch on the buses that take the protesters from the infamous Abbey to City Hall. And like any good event, securing a seat on said transport requires reservations.

Moral of the story- Gays always do it better.
And bitchier.

God I Hate Everyone

The OED came out with a list of the top ten most irritating phrases in the English language. There really isn't much I can say here because if you don't involuntarily shudder and go blind reading this list then get the fuck off my blog :-)

1 - At the end of the day
2 - Fairly unique
3 - I personally
4 - At this moment in time
5 - With all due respect
6 - Absolutely
7 - It's a nightmare
8 - Shouldn't of
9 - 24/7
10 - It's not rocket science

Preasebrog (and contributing friends) would also like to add the following:

-Myself

-For all intensive purposes

-Axe

-What's good

-A whole nother

-If you will

-Ironically

(For a more comprehensive analysis of things shitty people say, I send you here )

Gansters and Strippers: My Night as Someone Else

Thanks to the questionable ethics of one Miss Lauren Schein, she scored free passes to the Hustler Club's 5th anniversary bash. Knowing that behind every good Jew stands a(n even better) Shiksa, she took me along for the ride.

I'd never been to a gentleman's club and given that we were on Baltimore St, I was surprised by how not-scared I was. I had visions of sitting on nasty chairs covered in unidentified subtances, but it turns out you can't sit down in strip clubs unless you pay. The paying-to-sit thing was an issue as I had sustained a foot injury, but I tried to remain unaware of both my swollen foot as well as the sea of genital peircings.

After I spent $26 on two shots, we decided it was time to find someone else to buy drinks. Note: getting men to buy clothed women drinks at a strip club is like... exactly as sad and impossible as it sounds. Add the gimp foot to the equation and we were this decade's Romy and Michelle.

Eventually we made our way upstairs and into a scene from Goodfellas, as Henry Hill was in attendance for some reason. He is short, old, and looks like he would beat the shit out of someone for fun. (which makes sense...because I hear gangsters do that sometimes.) We ordered drinks (NOT on our tab finally) and then he tried to sell us his wares (pastels of palm trees and glocks.) Being a firm believer that fronds and pistols always belong together when it comes to art, I considered buying one until he offered me a "deal" of $300. Thanks, Henry, but no thanks.

Mister Hill is not only a mob associate, pastel enthusiast and failed member of the witness-protection program...he is also an author of cookbooks. A self-proclaimed "rennaisance man," he offered me pearls of wisdom, familial anecdotes and endless amounts of bourbon.

Due to logistics, transportation and an alarmingly swollen right foot, our evening came to a close. I am now enthralled by strip clubs. There is no natural light, Miller Lites cost almost as much as a lap dance, women suspend themselves naked from the ceiling and, if you're lucky, you just might meet an ex-con.

The Humans Are Dead

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

"Jules" has probably already taken over my blog with his robot mind for posting his tyranical speech.

99

This child thinks I am 99.

Being the oldest of seven kids, I often wonder how they view me. I obviously didn't have older siblings (unless you count my parents...who are closer to me in age than the guitar hero posted here) so I sort of missed out on the sibling cushion my younger counterparts enjoy.

My youngest bro was born whilst I was in college, so it was always a concern of mine that he would think of me as an aunt, and not a sister. Luckily he rocks and we get to hang out often enough that he knows whats what. He's super smart and a total badass. His only weakness is his age (five) which we all use to our advantage whenever possible. (I recently convinced him we have a fourth sister named Lafonda who has 11 cats and lives "across town." My trusty family has been keeping that story alive in my absence which is fantastic.)

The point of all this, assuming I even have one, is that it is stange to be considered daily by a toddler. He recently saw a commercial targeted for old people and told my stepmom about it because he thought she, my sister and I could benefit from it, as the product was allegedly marketed for people "99 or older."

My greatest fascination with this story is wondering what the hell could possibly be marketed on TV for people that old. I'm also interested in the seven decades I've missed out on.

Don't Discrimin8

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=45356108205

In a mildly ironic twist of fate, on Saturday I will be attending a wedding in Pittsburgh instead of rallying in Baltimore against the approval of Proposition 8. The link above has the information about the rally which will be held at the same time in all 50 states.

Go make history and support equality and the freedom of expression of love.

Brought to you by the Letter H and the Number 8.

Science!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDoV4_SFBEY&eurl=http://dlisted.com/node?page=1

I couldn't get the video to upload on here (nor did I watch it with sound so I have no clue what they're discussing) but ANDERSON COOPER IS INTERVIEWING A FUCKING HOLOGRAM OF WILL.I.AM!!!!!!!

I'm proud to be a Jetson-American

Zach and Miri Make a Terrible Movie

I saw Zach and Miri Make a Porno last night. Actually, I only saw most of Zach and Miri Make a Porno last night because I got up in the middle of it and walked out. It was slow, predictable and- most offensively- not funny. The cast was stacked but the writing and directing sucked.

Kevin Smith needs to pull the lobotomy stick out of his frontal lobe and start making GOOD films again. (We were meant to be entertained by Paris Hilton jokes, angry-black-wife jokes, poop jokes...) He basically held up a broken mirror to all Judd Apatow movies and re-filmed what he saw. (Anyone remember the pissed-off Indian boss from 40 Year Old Virgin? He's back playing the same exact character, opposite Seth Rogen.)

The only redeeming part came early with "The Mac Guy" playing a gay porn star. Which is infuriating because the mac guy playing a gay porn star should have been the worst part and instead it was the only time i laughed.

I'll end my rant here because this brog isn't about anger or movie reviews. My only intention was to get a few things off my chest about this crappy movie and to implore all of you to save the ten bucks you would have wasted on Zach and Miri and instead send it to me as a gift for awesome brogging.

Celeb Shot

PreaseBrog is proud to present its first guest writer. An implant to LA, this guest has given us his recently-acquired West Coast wisdom as a launch pad for Love in a Liberal Land.

Prease enjoy.

How to Bag a Democrat Election Day 2008.

As I think about the long wait ahead of me at the local elementary school, a more pointed cogitation thrusts its way past my desire for a change in that most oblong of offices- how can I pull the lever for democracy while simultaneously pulling the lever for my love life? Listed below are a few sure-fire ways to ensnare a bleeding-heart liberal:
1. While waiting in line, read any book by any Comedy Central political comedian.
2. Avoid socially-charged fashion from both ends of the spectrum, i.e. fur, hemp shoes, etc…
3. Wear your best smarty (NOT to be confused with Palin) glasses.
4. If confronted by a Conservative hate monger, engage them gently, until it becomes appropriate to whip off above-mentioned smarty (again, no Alaskan influence here) glasses and use them as a prop in your well-formed liberal argument (giving an exasperated “It just makes me sad” look post confrontation can be a crucial addition).
5. Time the exit from your voting cubby with that of your benevolent paramour- find a way to start a conversation, perhaps with something like, “Sarah Palin’s hair will certainly be deflated after tonight,” or “I hope Johnny Boy took his heart pills today.”
You choose.

While these are not directions, they are guidelines. Feel free to add or subtract at will.

I thank Master Nolan for his contribution and urge you all to vote YES! to Amendment 7: Patrick James for Best Actor Oscar (or lover?) 2009.

Overheard in Baltimore

Lady A: "Yooooooooo I'm voting. Right now right now right now."

Lady B: "Voting votey vote vote."

Lady A: "I'm getting a burger and fries and I'm gonna stand in line and EAT IT."

Lady B: "Mmmmmm I KNOW that's right."

Lady A: Vote or die. Burgers and fries.

Totally irrelevant and possibly boring to my billions of loyal readers, but I enjoyed this little inner-city vingette today.

Erection 2008

Today I voted. Despite the 55 min average wait time in Maryland, I was in and out of Johnson Elementary school faster than I could say "NO" to
Proposition #2.

It was my first time actually voting (in 2004 I was in Connecticut and absinteed that shit) and I was surprised by how intrusive the process was. I always imagined secluded booths constructed of corrugated wood and canvas curtains. I imagined whipping my curtain shut, chosing my candidate and then pulling some sort of giant lever that would alert someone, somewhere, that Megan Isennock had fullfilled her democratic duty, maybe to the tune of R. Kelly's "I believe I can Fly."

Instead, I found myself standing in front of a computer screen that was loosley nestled between two "dividers." Directly behind me stood other constituants, impatiently waiting in their long Precinct 24 line. (I was 23, bitches.) They were so close to me that one sneezed and I swear I felt my hair move from the germy impact. I didn't really care who saw me cast which votes (although I will not disclose that information on these holy pages,) I just hated that everyone knew how long it took me to read, decipher, re-read and finally blindly decide which pieces of legislation I wanted to change.

I'm pretty excited for my I Voted! sticker and to find out who won.