THINKING we should call this post “Poor Lampsha”. Why? Because our dear and delightful friend is under the weather today, suffering from a Horrible, Awful, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Ailment we wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy. In case you hadn’t heard, check out her LATEST POST. Then, for the love of a wonderful person and beloved blogger, offer up a few words of support.
ALL this to say, we figured we’d take over today’s Saturday Spin, in hopes our NBFF might have one less thing to do before schlepping her youngsters to their various music lessons. Or, even better — and as DIESEL so eloquently put it in an e-mail to us after we whined about our own copious schlepping — “schleep in”. Yep, we love that term, and plan to use it, often. Naturally, schlepping and/or schleeping are beside the point. The point, which is becoming more dazed and confused by the minute, is that we’ve been wanting to share the following song/video for a while now, and figure this is as good a time as any to do so.
POOR LENO is a nicely groovy, yet somewhat haunting tune by a “techno-trip-hop” Norwegian duo, who call themselves ROYKSOPP. According to their website, they’ve been around since 1998, but started to gain popularity around 2001*. Our son first heard one of their tunes (Poor Leno, in fact) on one of his video games (Snowboards from Hell, or some such thing). Actually, we couldn’t help but wonder whether the video game didn’t influence some of the imagery featured in this wonderfully animated (tho’ kind of sad) little video. Or vice versa. Whichever visual came first, trust us, once you see this creative clip, you’ll NEVER look at captured critters in quite the same way.
GUESSING “trapped” is how Lampsha is feeling, what with her Horrible Awful No Good Ailment, and all. Feel better soon, dearest Lampsha… as you can surely see — and ALL will surely attest — Saturday Spins aren’t the same without you, Shirley. (seriously, get well SOON)
*Whether you know it or not, you’ve actually heard other songs by this duo, at least you have if you’ve ever seen this Geico commercial. In case you liked that song (Remind Me) — and why wouldn’t you, it’s awesome — you can hear it in its entirety on Royksopp’s “unofficial” MYSPACE PAGE, along with a few of their other “hits”.
~ snuppy, aka DJ Fauxer (like “poser”, only more fake)
Poor Leno never read Humor-blogs.com.
Editor’s Note: we wrote this post last week, when our dear friend was in the pits of hell, seemingly saddled with the aforementioned ailment. As luck (and a new doctor) would have it, LAMPSHA is better than she and/or Dr. Magoo (the name we’ve awarded her original dermatologist) initially believed. That’s the good news. The bad news is that, believing we were going to post today, our favorite DJ did, in fact, schleep in. She promises to check in later, and maybe, just maybe, do a new and significantly improved post for everyone’s perusal. Stay tuned…
PERHAPS you hadn’t heard, but over the years, we’ve become something of a magnet for people in desperate need of answers. It’s getting so we can’t walk outside without being swarmed by individuals bombarding us with queries (hey, Mr. Annoying Guy on our front lawn: we’ll pay those bills when we’re good and ready). Still, along with the occasional question about money (cash, check or credit card?) we frequently find ourselves inundated with unsolicited pleas from strangers on the street asking us for help in Various and Sundry Areas (No, we can’t move our car. Yes, we do get our hair done locally. No, our contact lenses are not tinted to this “particular” shade of blue. Yes, we do know which aisle the Depends are on. No, we can’t take time to fill out your stupid petition, Senator). Alas, no one’s asked us for advice around here, but, if you know anything about us (and you probably don’t) we’re not going to let that stop us from casting out a few pearls of wisdom.
FOR the record (which could very well wind up being read to a jury of our peers): Yes, we did find the following Real Q’s from Real People after doing an extensive 12 second Google search. And, no, not one of ’em actually asked for our help. We call those things “details”. With luck, no one will ever find out what we’ve said about them behind their hapless and/or helpless backs… (if it makes any of YOU feel better, think of this bit o’ Q & A as Aunt Bea’s ADDled Advice. That’s what we plan to do, should we attempt this “feature” again)
*** *** *** *** ***
My husband wants to go on a dangerous expedition. I am so afraid he will never come home. He has always been an outdoor lover and has taken many trips, but this trip will tax him maximally. People have died. He says he wants to go now before we have children. What can I do to stop him? ~ Pretty Polly in Poughkeepsie
This is a tricky situation many a young couple have faced. We know because we, too, were half of a young couple when our (ex) husband decided to “spread his wings” in order to “see the world” before we “had kids”. He said he wanted to live dangerously, and we completely understood. Funny how his desire to experience an adrenalin rush turned to terror when we locked him in the basement the night he first brought up the subject. Long story short… once the inquiry was over, and the attorney’s fee was paid, we wound up with a sweet settlement that’s kept us in Aquanet and Chamomile Tea since 1963.
Still, Polly — if that’s who you are — not everyone is in possession of a properly sealed off basement. If you fall into that category, might we suggest chaining Mr. Dangerous Expedition to the radiator? Either that, or make an effort to grab a bit o’ his sperm while the gettin’s good. Trust us, nothing says “let’s make a baby” like soft music, a glass of wine and a turkey baster. So what if Mr. Honey, I Need More Danger is swimming with the sharks off the coast of Brazil? With luck, and one good spurt, you’ll soon be experiencing the joys of morning sickness while, at the same time, bemoaning your bulging belly, despite the fact you’ve only been pregnant for a little over a week.
By the time your husband returns, he’ll wonder what you needed him for in the first place… and so will you.
Help! I’m a middle-aged man who has been married for 20 years. I own a duplex in a nice neighborhood. Last week, I put an ad in the paper and a 21-year-old woman came to look at the upstairs apartment. The problem is, I found her attractive and had sex with her downstairs while my wife was not home. What should I do? ~ Couldn’t Help Myself in NY
Could you “help” yourself if you lived somewhere else? Kidding. We Kid.
This is a tricky situation many a middle-aged man has faced. We know, because we, too, were a middle-aged man in a past life. Oh the fun we used to have, chasing 21-year old women through the Halls of Montezuma. Thank goodness our loving wives (Celestiña, Carmen, you know who you were) never found out. Of course, they did try to chain us to the Stone of Tizoc one night, but we managed to escape, thanks in no small part to the key we kept hidden in the heel of our snake skin sandal. Good times… But, as we’re wont to do when channeling our inner Aztec warrior, we digress. What should you do? Take a good long look in the mirror, bub. That’s the face of a middle-aged asshole. The question is not “what should YOU do”, the question is “what will your WIFE do once she finds out?” Because she will find out.
PS: What kind of rent are you charging, and does it include utilities? Also, does the apartment have a radiator?
Aren’t condoms for sissies? ~ Hot To Trot in Kalamazoo
That depends. If by “sissies” you mean “people who hope to contract an STD for the purposes of seeing their own penis break out in a little something our past-life wife, Celestiña, called “burning bumps”, which eventually causes the aforementioned penis to shrivel up and fall on the floor”, then yes. Because, really, when was the last time you heard of someone’s penis falling on the floor? Okay, aside from that Unfortunate Incident when Lorena Bobbitt decided to take John’s fate into her own hands — altho’ in that case, if memory serves — and, according to our medium, Madame Le Foúffe, it does — Little John Bobbitt wound up by the side of the road, in Manassas.
Trust us, Real Men use condors. Nothing says “watch where you put that thing” like a vulture hovering over your dick.
~snuppy (aka: Crazy Aunt Bea)
PS and D’OH! in our haste knock out this “post” we completely forgot what day it is. Thank you, oh wondrous Non-Crazy and/or ADDled TLP for reminding us! (we miss you and are sorry we’ve not been around)
(FYI: this picture is one of the many “forms” of Bunny Suicides.)
Answers to Hahaha? are found on HUMOR-BLOGS.COM.
Filed under: funny...
SOMETIMES ya just gotta say… What the fuck???
THAT’S right, we just turned a swell line from Risky Business into a rather foul sounding question. Why? “Why”, indeed. Is it because we’re wondering why our “rankings” on Humor-blogs.com are so suck? No. Although, now that we mention it, we are a bit flummoxed. After all, we link and we link ’til we’re red in the finger and/or blue in the face…to no avail. Poor unfunny us. Apparently we need to feature pictures of sperm swimming into an SUV and then post 4 or 5 stories a day about kid vomit and/or deleted posts in order to climb back up to the top 10. Right. In the words of George Herbert Hedgehog Walker Smythe Washington Bush, “Na ganna doit“. Besides, we figure the “fuck” with our abysmal HB standing is, in fact, your fault, in that none of you kids bother to click the link as often as we think you should. Still, today’s WTF isn’t about our insecurities OR your inabililty to follow the rules, it’s about… Thomas Cruise Mapother IV. Because, quite honestly, we’re more than a little confused by his recent behavior, and, as such, we really want to know: what the Wide Wide World of Fuck is going on.
WERE we to spy the diminutive actor on the street, we’d march straight up to his scrawny ass, stoop down a little in order to look him in the squinty eye, grab on to his tiny lapels, and say something like:
“Yo, Tom. Tommeee. Tommy-Tom-Tom. Tomma Little Teapot. Tomma Lamma Ding-Dong. The Tominator. Fried Green Tom-atoes. Tom to Listen up, Mr. Thumb-ass (we do like the puns), we “get” that you’re “enthusiastic” about your Life and/or “religion”, Tommy Boy, but seriously… now that we’ve watched your rantings (and/or ravings?) about your “religion”, Inquiring Former Fans want to know: What. The. Fuck?” (naturally, our mascaraed eyes would be wide with disbelief, and we’d blink rapidly a few times, for effect.)
UNFORTUNATELY, that’s na ganna happen.
AS you have, by now, surmised, we’re not aching to query the lad for the same reasons we wanted to confront him a few months ago (Katie? Oprah?? Matt Lauer’s Interview? Vanilla Sky? Yeesh, we could go on and on, but we won’t). Nope. We have a Shiny New Reason for wanting to speak with Mr. Cruise. A reason, we hasten to add, that was NOT plucked outta thin air (where Tom’s “religion” seems to have been born). No-siree. As we mentioned in our imaginary conversation with the toothy star, we found the need to ask our Very Important Question after viewing the following video featuring Scientology’s greatest asset. Such a disturbing sight, this video. So disturbing, in fact, it’s caused us to hastily cancel our membership to the Tom Cruise Fan Club, melt down our RayBans, and toss our unopened DVD of Mission Impossible into the trash can. Because… damn.
DO we think you should waste your time watching the entire 9 minutes of the above Manic Man Musings? No. Do we think you should waste a few minutes watching the version actor Jerry O’Connell did a few days ago? Hell yeah… Sadly, we were unable to post the video directly to the page — just click on the picture below and enjoy. We know we did.
PS to you “purists” out there, who hate our snarky video-driven posts: When we see an especially funny video stopped by the side of the internet… we have to post it. We have to. Because, if we don’t, no one else will. That’s why we’re here. To make a difference. And post funny videos. And, once in a while, to mock big actors who are, in reality, only 4 feet tall*. The minute you figure that out, you’ll be, like, WNIGI — Wow, Now I Get It. Then it’ll be, like… pooooooooh.
Everyone’s a little “crazy” at HUMOR-BLOGS.COM. But that’s… OK.
*We once stood next to Tom at the bakery counter in our local grocery store. We offered him a cookie, because we thought he was a kid. He was not amused. On the other hand, we were.
Filed under: funny...
Lego is celebrating it’s 50th anniversary this month. *looks feverishly for Winnie Pooh party hat and stumbles over her 1983 stamp collection of Monrovia * Let’s be geeky for a moment, ‘cause well…all of us, at some point, have come in contact with those tiny building blocks.
Just how popular is Lego? They- you know them!- say that about seven Lego sets are sold every second and 2008 is marked to see the construction of the biggest Lego tower ever. Which should be quite a substantial waste of time for a lot of people. The geometrically shaped plastic even has its own theme park.
Few people, however, know that Lego was founded in Denmark. In 1948, a carpenter by the name of Ole Kirk Christiansen patented the idea of plastic toy bricks.
The name is said to come from putting together the first two letters of the words Leg and Godt, which mean “play well”.
And although Iceland had gained its independence from Denmark by then, business was still rather inter-connected and Iceland’s company SIBS received orders to make those plastic cubes for quite a few years. We called them, appropriately, SIBS KUBBAR. This is not important to know, but anything to put us on the map is worth mentioning, I think. *skips lecture about volcanoes, geysers and rotten shark meat*
Lego is sold in more than 130 countries and on average, every person in the world owns 62 Lego bricks…although apparently unevenly distributed. We have two in our home. We use it around Christmas to keep the tree straight. I give my remaining 60 to contribute to … world peace, of course!
Apart from all the jokes I like to cut about these bricks, I love the idea that you can buy a brick today (Buy a brick today!- I think I just came up with a new slogan)and attach it to one from 1950 and it will fit. Plus, anything that keeps your child off your back for a minute or two is worth celebrating. Although, if your kid is 50 and still lives at home in your basement…remember plastic can melt!
Now follow this paved road to a compilation of quite a few bricks, also known as humor-blocks.
Oh, hello Susan. Fancy meeting you here. I had no idea that you were such a huge fan of the American sporting scene. Yes, I also thought that I would be working late this evening and unable to make it home until much later. Lucky me, to be able to spend this time among friends at such a quality establishment. Yes, my wife is fine, thanks for asking.
Speaking of my wife: I have $12.48 in my pocket that says you never saw me at this sports bar.
Before you decline my offer of $12.48 in exchange for your silence on the matter of my presence in this sports bar when conversing with my wife, allow me to delineate some of the ways that you might find this $12.48 useful in your everyday life:
1. This $12.48 could purchase you eleven double cheeseburgers from the value menu at your local fast food institution, plus leave plenty of money left over to pay the sales tax and possibly leave a tip. It’s a little known fact that most fast food workers appreciate tips as much as their counterparts in the sit-down dining world. Susan, wouldn’t you like to make a fast food workers day? This seemingly insignificant sum of $12.48 would allow you to do that very thing.
2. If you were able to find a similar sum of $12.48 and pair it with the $12.48 that I am currently offering you, you would be but four small pennies away from purchasing a $25.00 gift card to the retailer or restaurant of your choice. Did you know, Susan, gift cards do not have to be given as gifts? It is a perfectly legal recourse to purchase a gift card and use it on oneself! Imagine the entire universe of possibilities that would open up to you, if only you had this seedling of $12.48 that I am currently scrounging through my pockets in order to piece together!
3. A Pez lunchbox. I am, regrettably, unable to provide you with enough of a nest egg to compensate for shipping charges on said lunch box. You could, however, utilize the “search” function on any popular auction website and possibly find a less expensive lunchbox, one where this $12.48 will provide both for the lunchbox and for your shipping charges.
4. This $12.48 could be used approximately five-and-a-half times on the toll road in Oklahoma named the “Cherokee turnpike”, assuming of course that you were to enter said turnpike at Flint Creek and exit once it met with Interstate 69. Susan, if you are planning a trip to Oklahoma, you should be aware that some of their highways are toll roads. There is nothing worse than requiring change to continue one’s journey and finding oneself without said change. The toll road collectors are quite strict about collecting their tolls. It’s their very job description! This $12.48, which I have nearly completed assembling, would be an excellent insurance against having to end a trip to Oklahoma prematurely.
5. Buskers, Susan. How many times have you walked down the sidewalk and been graced with a rousing rendition of “Oh Susanna” or “Jimmy Crack Corn” and it has made your day a brighter day? Did you realize that these people do not get paid for their street-side performances? Not one dime! These people are relying on the good graces of ordinary citizens like you and I to make their music-making worthwhile. Susan, how would you like to live in a world without buskers? I thought not. With this $12.48, which I am in the process of finding out is made up of considerably more coins than it is bills, you could be sure to have enough spare change to do your part to ensure that we never have a busker shortage in our fair city. Will you do your part, Susan? Will you take this $12.48?
In conclusion, Susan, I am offering you the potentially life changing sum of $12.48 in exchange for your silence, when in conversation with my wife, and the matter of my being at this sports bar on this particular evening comes into play. Allow me to count it out for you.
…Twelve forty three. Twelve forty four. Twelve forty five. Twelve forty six. Twelve forty seven.
Twelve forty seven. That appears to be all that I have.
Susan, I have $12.47 on this bar table that says you never saw me at this sports bar. Allow me, if you will, to delineate the benefits of having this $12.47…
If you’re the random guy whose picture we stole via a Google image search, please let us know and we’ll replace the picture with some other random guy from a Google image search.
My sister, who is 10 years older than me, used to play her Beatles and Herman’s Hermits records on her phonograph in her bedroom, and I’d sit on the floor outside her door and sing along at the top of my lungs… that is until she yelled at me to “shut up and go in the other room!”
Then, when the Monkees came on TV it sealed the deal. To me there was nobody cooler than Davy Jones or Micky Dolenz and I was going to be just like them.
Just seeing these guys up in front of the microphones was all I needed. More than anything in the world I wanted to someday be that cool. And this is why:
Now be honest women… how many of you are suddenly crushing on him like you were 12 again? Hey – I don’t blame you. He makes me feel kinda funny too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!
The Monkees (1966-1967) were one of only two shows that I can think of that featured segments of bands playing their music within the plot of a standard storyline – not counting variety shows.
In those days if you weren’t planted in front of the TV set when it was show time, you flat out missed it. There were no VCRs to capture the moment if you weren’t home – although we were guilty of tape recording the entire show on audio cassette and playing it back 100 times over the following week, so that was better than nothing.
The other show that featured a band playing their song of the week was the 2nd major influence of my musical youth. The Partridge Family (1970-1974) came along right at the start of my teen years when the thought of becoming a rock star sex symbol started to appeal to me for the first time.
And as far as I was concerned, there was no one hipper or sexier than David Cassidy himself. Take a look for yourself:
Hmm, I’m thinking maybe David might have been confusing waking up “in love” with waking up with morning wood, but hey – as long as he was happy about it did it really matter?
And so there they are… the two TV shows that most influenced me to eventually become a musician, travel around the world, meet my wife, have kids, start a blog, and get picked up by Snuppy as a fellow Snarkster to tell my story here.
I must say it’s been quite a ride, but I’d like to thank my good friends Davy and David for showing me the way.
I’m singing the praises of Humor-Blogs.com!
Filed under: Lampsha Spins
I’ll be brief because you try searching (with limited time to allot) for information on a band named Stars and scroll through every constellation, country band, any song title with stars in it. I think I even saw the Starland Vocal Band in there. Even narrowing the search, bah — on to the music, I say!
Stars is an indie band which I believe was originally formed in Toronto, moved on over to New York for a bit and settled in Montreal. Or the reverse. Is it really important actually? What is important is the music which I have enjoyed any of their songs that I have heard from their latest release of this year, In Our Bedroom After the War. I believe this is also on my list to download and perhaps will be on yours as well…or not.
Listen to some tunes on their MySpace and then take a look at the video for Take Me To The Riot (which should be played as I awaken each morning to what my young son has in store as we get ready for work/school):
Have a great weekend.
Psst: There’s a laugh riot going on over at Humor-blogs.com.