Practical Advice…Learned In A Bathroom: Forest of Nightmares

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Being your average, ordinary everyday bad ass, I have used many a bathroom in my time. Be it for the intricacies of wash closet architecture or for secluded enclaves to woo buck toothed hookers, I’ve enjoyed them all, in one way or another. Though, mostly for pissing, shitting …and prostitutes.

Sometimes, I’ve even enjoyed the pleasantries of an outdoor commode experience and it’s life lessons. It’s a rare but, one that must be done and goes along with being a man of superior stock. One of overwhelming bad assedness, such as myself, must shirk the obligations of pleasuring beautiful women, being admired by common men and punching non-coolness in it’s dick from time to time, in order to maintain a high level of excellence. A short sabbatical into the wilderness is a great venue to flex both my daunting wit and brawn. Plus, women love the shit out of burly, sweaty guys chopping wood…stuff with tents around. It’s why lumberjacks get so much ass. Even the ugly ones.

It was during such an excursion that I learned something peculiar, about both nature and my fellow man—and what an unfeeling bastard he can be. [Read more...]

Really?! Really?! America – 2012! by Natalie Wall

The Creators of “Honey Boo Boo”- What the fucking fuck, TLC?!?! WHAT THE FUCKING, FUCK?! You do realize you are “The Learning Channel” right?

My Facebook Newsfeed – ick.

Email’s from Papa John’s – Stop it Papa John’s. Just stop it! Stop whispering those sweet nothings into my ear… your charm and extensive selection of hearty sausages has no effect on me anymore!

Vince Vaughn - I… I… I don’t like you.

2012 Political Election Coverage -  I…I…I didn’t like you.

This Girl -  She’s talking to her parole officer FYI….oh, and she has a FUCKING CHILD!

Whoever was the douche that fired Dan Harmon (Creator of “Community”) - Seriously?! Community is fucking amazing but you think the best thing to do is fire it’s fucking creator and bring it back mid-season on a Friday night slot?! It’s like you don’t want to make money, NBC…like, ever.

Adam Levin’s tattoos - ick.

People that have expendable incomes – shut up.

Inventors of boxed wine – Hah. I’m just shitting you. Y’all the best!

 

Slutty but Funny

Natalie Wall likes to think she is a female comedian but the reality is she’s a NYC girl trying to make it big. If she’s not writing in her blog, Awkward Sex and the City, she’s spraying vanilla icing on a mini donut or thinking of ways to kill Dora from Dora the Explorer. Help her, humor her and fall in love with the pale pasty princess straight out of Compton (not really).

 

Danny’s Comedy Rants 2012 Shit List

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The holidays usually grind my teeth to a dull point for the usual reasons: long lines to buy crap I can’t afford, enduring the endless surgery stories from people who may or may not be my distant relatives, the fact that everyone around me appears happy and cheery at all times. The one bright spot of my holidays is that the long, insufferable year begins to finally draw its last breaths. It gives me a chance to say a long, loud goodbye to all the people, policies and protoplasm masquerading as people who made the world a less grander place.

- Rick Santorum
It was very hard to narrow down the douchiest from the roster of douchebags who vied for the chance to have their ass handed to them by President Barack Obama in 2012. They were a “Who’s Who?” of “Who Sucks?” in today’s all or nothing political climate. Santorum, however, was the frosty, white cream of the crap heap both figuratively and by the very definition of his name (apologies to those of you who are eating or engaging in gay sex while reading this). When his time came to be the frontrunner of the GOP primary’s quest to find the most plausible candidate who isn’t named Mitt Romney, he couldn’t have fired up the right wing base more if he took a flamethrower to them at an NRA rally. He used his God given talent to divide and permanently disgusted face to take down groups and issues that were getting too meddlesome like women, pro-choice people, homosexuals and health care that prevents people from dying from easily treatable conditions. Then when he ran out of things to hate, he alone made the use and coverage of contraception an issue, a debate settled so long ago that even the characters on “Mad Men” stopped discussing it. Even after his party’s massive losses, he continued to reach for the spotlight by speaking out against something that shouldn’t even be up for debate: the adoption of a UN treaty that calls for universal disability standards based on the Americans with Disabilities Act. The very idea that this walking bag of pomposity has an ounce of relevance left makes me wish there was a Mayan apocalypse so we wouldn’t have to witness the influence he’ll try to wield in 2013 to demand that fetuses pay their fair share of taxes and the elderly stop insisting that everyone else pay for the oxygen they breathe whether it comes out of a tank or the sky.

- Donald Trump
My goal was to limit this year-end diatribe to just one politician and thankfully Donald Trump isn’t one. That’s not just good for myself. It’s good for the nation, the world and the universe as a whole assuming there are alien life forces on the far reaches of the galaxy who are trying to get as far away from Earth as they can so the thing on Trump’s head doesn’t eat them. He may not have officially run for office but he tried like hell to be something much more powerful and dangerous: a lobbyist. And normally, people who lobby on behalf of the mentally deficient are actually doing good work unless the lobbying they are doing is to meet their crazy demands like proof that the President got good grades in college or has a valid American birth certificate. Every time this bloviated fat head opened his mouth, the media ate it up with a big wooden, cooking spoon. He injected us with more hype than an “Indiana Jones” sequel and released “bombshells” that could be less important if they included a step by step cure for shingles and in the end, it was all to promote some dumb reality show that lets celebrities have knife fights over what kind of pizza they should order for dinner. I’m not a religious man but if there is a Hell, there is a special place in it for Trump with a job as a janitor in one of his bankrupt casinos.

- Honey Boo Boo
This one was a real no-brainer. It was also an easy choice to make for the biggest douchebags of 2012. This egotistical toddler accomplished something that no one thought was possible: She helped TLC reach a new low. Her reality TV stardom made it OK for people to hate on children for the first time since “Webster” hit the airwaves. This wasn’t just a case of another annoying celebrity trying to wedge a meaningless catchphrase into the American lexicon by shoving it into our brains with a potato masher. It was a total mental breakdown of the nation’s collective conscience. A record number of people actually found entertainment in watching a family of carb-consuming monsters find happiness in letting the world revolve around their demanding, egotistical spotlight whore. Sometimes I wonder if Congress’ attempt to dismantle the “Head Start” program isn’t a power hungry grab to convert those funds into increasing abstinence education. It’s a way to prevent us from turning into the movie “Dumbocracy.”

 

Danny Gallagher is a freelance writer, humorist and reporter and a regular contributor to TruTV’s “Dumb as a Blog“, Playboy’s “The Smoking Jacket“, MTV’s Clutch and the Shadowbox Comedy Theater of Columbus. His humor and feature writing has also appeared in Aol’s TVSquad.com and Asylum.com, Spike.com, Esquire Magazine, Cracked.com, Mental Floss Magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, Chicago Tribune’s “Redeye,” The Austin American-Statesmen and The Center for the Easily Amused. He doesn’t shower much.

 

Stupidest Assholes of 2012, The List – by Elton Edgar

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Katt Williams, goes drugged up nuts at concerts and then slaps a K-Mart employee while running from the police.

Rupert Murdoch, phone tapping extraordinaire takes down a media institution with stupidity.

Jerry Sandusky, the Penn State asst. coach for molesting kids via a childrens charity.

Mel Gibson, loses his shit and screams at a writer, in front of a 15 year old kid.

Dish Network, for taking out its legal tantrums out on its own customers by cutting AMC from it’s line up.

2012 Olympic Judges, for robbing South Korean female fencer Shin Lam of a chance at a gold medal, because they don’t understand that clocks break.

The Mayans, ending their calendar in a year that has — not only the internet and television — but, is populated by psychics, psuedo-experts and mid-western apocalypse wackos, all of whom can type and make videos.

Disney, after they stripped a cartoon princess of her Latin heritage.

Todd Akin, kills the Republican party and gives the world one of its most absurd pop culture phrases to date with his “legitimate rape” comment.

Mitt Romney insults 47% of the American public…and still thought he’d win the election.

Chik-Fil-A, gives homophobes an official chicken sponsor.

Nakoula Basseley Nakoula, for making a film so bad it drove Muslims to murder.

Kenneth Krause, for fat-shaming a newscaster via email, then saying he didn’t when she calls him out on t.v.

 

EltonElton, a steamy sexual dynamo, is a comedy writing loser from Pennsylvania. He’s the author of several failed attempts at books, cartoons and occasionally writes articles at Funnyordie for Will Ferrell to ignore. You can check out more of his pants shittingly funny mumbling at Elton Says Things (his super tits blog!) What that means…he doesn’t even know.

 

Practical Advice…Learned In A Bathroom: Bathroom Bomber

Being your average, ordinary everyday bad ass, I have used many a bathroom in my time. Be it for the intricacies of wash closet architecture or for secluded enclaves to woo buck toothed hookers, I’ve enjoyed them all, in one way or another. Though, mostly for pissing, shitting …and prostitutes.

Be that as it may, situations occur that fall outside of the happiest of pissing, shit and sex working awesomeness. There are times of heroism and valor that scare the shit out of you and bring out the testosterone fueled Hercules that lies buried, dormant beneath the cool exterior of one’s handsome good looks. By that stuff…I mean…me and by times I mean, the day I pissed my way onto the super hero, anti-terrorism world stage!

It was during a banquet I was attending at the Swedish consulate in Washington D.C. I was invited to the banquet as a “thank you” for securing the latest “50 Shades of Grey “installment, six months before it’s release (don’t ask). I would have graciously declined, but, who am I to turn down free expensive booze and food in weird sauces?

The night was soaked in mixed drinks, nondescript old guys, ugly rich women and expensive pretty ones. I, of course, was fending them off the best I could. Having my fair share of champagne, I adjourned to the bathroom to “donate my liquid assets” (that’s code for “taking a whiz”).

I had finished and was washing my hands when, a man joined me at the sink. A nice suit, clean hair cut and a striking jaw line, he looked to be a late twenties to mid-thirties business type. I could have mistaken him for a model of some sort, but, you know…I wouldn’t know, ‘m not gay and stuff. I’m woman humping straight.

So, the hot guy washed his hands beside me. Then, addressing me in a confident, deep, manly super model tone he said, “Sorry about the funk in here, my man. I had to drop a bomb, know what I mean?”. “Uh, wha-what, I’m sorry, I was mesmerized by your exquisite jaw line and what looks to be an finely tailored suit stretched over your Adonis like biceps, could you repeat that?”, I heterosexually responded.

“Uh…I’m sorry about the bomb I left in the toilet.”, he said with a hint of embarrassment.

I blankly stared into his dazzling blue eyes for a moment, the alcohol dulling my usually lightning fast response time. “You left a bomb in the toilet?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, the smell–”

Using my cheetah like reflexes, I punched him in the face.

“OW! What the hell? You punched me?!”

I had little time to waste. I wrestled him to the floor. Spotting the bathroom attendant who, until now, was transparent…apparently. I yelled to him, “Get the police or Homeland Security guy! I’ll keep this terrorist distracted and disarm the bomb!”

“Terrorist?! Who’s a terrorist?” interjected the still conscious terrorist. “Shut your infidel hating face!”, I shouted and struck his nose repeatedly. “Sir!”, the attendant interjected, “Sir! Stop!”. With the would be bomber pinned, I turned to him, “Sir, that’s a senator from Maine!”.

I learned two things that night. One, apologizing profusely after beating a senator will never get you out of a tasing and two, senators do accept apologies, but, only after getting a turn at tasing you.

My advice: Always be sure the person you’re accusing of terrorism isn’t an elected official with the shits. You’ll likely end up with electrical burns on your nipples if you don’t.

 

EltonElton, a steamy sexual dynamo, is a comedy writing loser from Pennsylvania. He’s the author of several failed attempts at books, cartoons and occasionally writes articles at Funnyordie for Will Ferrell to ignore. You can check out more of his pants shittingly funny mumbling at Elton Says Things (his super tits blog!) What that means…he doesn’t even know.

 

Practical Advice…Learned In A Bathroom: Ménage à trois of Confusion

 

Being your average, ordinary everyday bad ass, I have used many a bathroom in my time. Be it for the intricacies of wash closet architecture or for secluded enclaves to woo buck toothed hookers, I’ve enjoyed them all, in one way or another. Though, mostly for pissing, shitting …and prostitutes.

One such occasion was during a birthday celebration, for a Moroccan princess. It was a moving party that happened to end up in a garish nightclub. The kind with copious amounts of booze, easy women and brain numbing club music.

It was in this setting that my over indulgence of wine, women and diarrhea inducing Indian food, got the better of me. Excusing myself from the princess’s company, I quickly found my way to the nearest men’s room.

Entering in great haste, I scrambled to the nearest stall, slammed the door and…(ahem) “downloaded my software”. Soon after, I became aware of female voices. They had apparently entered after I did. What they were doing in the men’s room? I didn’t know. So, I listened to their conversation to find out.

Apparently, women discuss boring shit in bathrooms. It’s basically “tampon this” and “high heels that” or so I gather…I wasn’t really paying attention. Then, their conversation topic turned to “a hot guy” who was “drinking by the bar”. Intriguing indeed.

 Weighing the facts, I came to the most obvious, logical conclusion. These women had entered the men’s room to seduce me. Me being me of course…who could blame them? Naturally, situations like these being “old hat” to a sexual dynamo as myself, I discarded my pants and underwear and exited the stall proclaiming,  “Ladies, your man is here…”

I learned two things upon exiting that stall, one, his was not a men’s room and two, two women screaming can be heard above club music.

My advice to you: Pay attention to signs, because if you miss the wrong one, it could end with an “indecent exposure” charge.

 

EltonElton, a steamy sexual dynamo, is a comedy writing loser from Pennsylvania. He’s the author of several failed attempts at books, cartoons and occasionally writes articles at Funnyordie for Will Ferrell to ignore. You can check out more of his pants shittingly funny mumbling at Elton Says Things (his super tits blog!) What that means…he doesn’t even know.

 

Dave Hill: The Comedyrants Interview by Danny Gallagher

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Dave Hill, a native of Cleveland, Ohio, originally worshipped at the altar of the rock gods and became a consummate guitar player. He made a name for himself in the New York, Los Angeles and British comedy club scenes and writes with the proficiency of a professional journalist for several newspapers and magazines that even the illiterate would recognize. His reporting and journalism work have earned him a regular contributing spot on the public radio powerhouse “This American Life.” He also has one of the funniest Twitter accounts on the web that will make you forget what a huge waste of time Twitter can be in the hands of the average, humorless bastard. 

Dave Hill would like you to know that he knows Dick Cavett and Malcolm Gladwell, both of whom provided quotes for his new book “Tasteful Nudes…and Other Misguided Attempts at Personal Growth and Validation” due out May 22nd from St. Martin’s Press.

Hill spoke to Comedyrants about how he combined his talents for comedy and rock to become an awesome physical force of enlightenment and entertainment, the dress code of the “Dave Hill style” and how he developed a rabid obsession for Norwegian Black Metal.

Where do you find your wardrobe?

Where do I find my wardrobe?  Ideally on the floor of a sexy, sexy lady’s apartment.  Ha- that is a joke I just made up in my spare time.  Anyway, I buy a lot of my clothes in London when I’m over there doing shows.  People just dress better over there in general, so it’s easier to find good stuff.  I like stuff from Paul Smith, Vivienne Westwood, and Merc the best.  I can’t tell if I sound like a total penis so far in this interview.  I think it’s hard to not sound like a penis when talking about clothes if you’re a dude.  But I will continue anyway.  Another thing with shopping for clothes is that I almost never pay more than 50% of retail.  I try to wait for sales.  I usually only pay full price for stuff like underwear (I wear the cheap kind because I figure by the time anyone sees it, it’s too late for them to turn back).  Occasionally I’ll buy a nice pair of shoes or jeans because, if they are well made, they will last a long time and be totally worth it, by which I mean it will lead to tons and tons of sex and the occasional free drink or brunch invite.

How would you describe the Dave Hill style and is there a better name for it than “the Dave Hill style”?

I would describe the Dave Hill style as “slightly too tight and preferably velvet” or “a guy from Cleveland just trying to dress well enough to distract from his face.”  I like my clothes but I usually think they would look much better on someone else.  I have heard people say I’m a bit of dandy but I don’t think I’m nearly dainty enough for that.  You can’t be from Cleveland and truly be a dandy.  It’s just not possible.  I get a polar fleece for Christmas pretty much every year, which keeps me grounded.  Sometimes I’ll put it on and walk around the neighborhood so I can feel what it’s like to be a normal person.

How does someone become so connected into the alternative NYC comedy scene as you have?

I can’t tell if I’m all that well connected or not.  I do have Todd Barry’s phone number, so I feel pretty good about that.  Generally speaking, though, I think the comedy world is a lot like high school- you run into everyone at some point or another and hopefully no one will end up stuffing you into a locker, pushing you down a flight of stairs, or throwing something at your head.  Most comedians are really nice, so a lot of times I will go and get a soup or salad with them.

What would you say is the highlight of your career besides this interview?

This interview is definitely up there, but I’d say any time I get to do stuff with Dick Cavett, one of my absolute heroes, is always a highlight.  I’ve had him on my Dave Hill Explosion show a few times, he’s done my podcast, and we just shot a video together.  I even went to his house once, which almost caused a seizure (in me, I mean.  He seemed totally fine).  I can’t believe I know him.  Every time I talk to him I’m thinking “Holy shit- Dick Cavett!” and just trying to hold it together the whole time.

Another highlight was performing at Sing Sing prison for 300 inmates.  They were all maximum security violent felons – murderers, rapists, stuff like that.  I guess it was kind of like a comedy version of Outward Bound or something.  I was terrified going into but I ended up having a really nice time in the end.  I can’t wait to go back.  Prison is so underrated.

What would you say is the low point of your career besides this interview?

As for low points of my career, depending on my mood or how much I’ve had to drink or whatever, almost any day could seem like a low point depending on how you look at it.  Show business is a cruel mistress.  I feel lucky to be able to do what I do for a living, but I am usually in a mild panic about everything.  About 10% of the time though, I am operating from a place of extreme, largely unwarranted confidence and that’s when I manage to get stuff done.  The rest of the time I just run errands and stuff.  Also, I’ve been told I have slightly larger than normal external male genitalia.  I realize you didn’t ask that question, but I wasn’t sure where else in this interview I should mention that.

How insecure do you consider yourself to be and if so, why live in New York, aka the second most shallow city in the history of the universe?

I think everyone in comedy is pretty insecure or they wouldn’t have gone into comedy in the first place.  As for my own mental state, I am wildly insecure sometimes and confident-bordering-on-delusional other times.  As I’ve learned in therapy, however, the key is to recognize both of those things as something you should probably blame on your parents.  New York is a great place to live though, because no matter what your mental state, you can always find someone who will make you feel totally not alone.

Did you always aspire to combine your music with your comedy or at what point did you decide to combine the two? What makes it work?

No.  I actually kept them pretty separate for a while.  I started as a musician and am a huge rock fan, so I was never really into “musical comedy” because I felt like it compromised the majesty of rock.  Or something like that.  But gradually, I started combining the two.  I’m not as much into writing silly songs as I just like talking and shredding on the guitar.  Also, the guitar is a nice kind of security blanket on stage that allows me to go back to being an introvert for a few seconds whenever I feel like it.  The guitar conveniently covers the nuts, too, so that’s another bonus.

What do you know about Norwegian Black Metal that the rest of America hasn’t caught on to yet?

As a lover of both Satan and heavy metal, Norwegian Black Metal has been a favorite of mine for a long time now.  It’s crossed over into pop culture in the last few years, mostly because of all the crazy Norwegian Black Metal band photos, but most Americans are totally missing out on all that borderline unlistenable music that goes along with it.  That said, there are some great Norwegian Black Metal bands.  I like Darkthrone, Mayhem, Satyricon, and Emperor a lot.  I love Bathory, too, but they’re Swedish, so I’m not sure if that counts.  They had the best band photos though if you ask me.  Also, a lot of Norwegian Black Metal musicians live out in the woods, which is also cool.

You have some impressive quips on your book. Malcolm Gladwell called you his “idol.” Is that difficult to live up to? Who would your dream book quote be from and what would he/she say?

No.  I see Malcolm a lot because we live in the same neighborhood.  I am happy to be a positive role model for him.  As far as dream quotes, I can’t believe it but I actually got most of the ones I wanted.  The back of my book has nice quotes from Dick Cavett, Malcolm Gladwell, Chris Elliott, Ira Glass, John Hodgman, Janeane Garofalo, Sandra Bernhard, and Andy Richter- all people I admire a shitload.  I really wanted to get one from Salman Rushdie but I couldn’t make it happen.  Fuckin‘ Rushdie.  I guess him or Stephen Hawking would have really rounded things out nicely.  They could say whatever they want as long as they promised to throw in a little profanity.  A quote from Morrissey would be great too- maybe just some of his lyrics.  I guess I could just go ahead and do that, couldn’t I?

Here’s an obvious question for you: what do women want and how can men give it to them?

I know women were into mojitos for a while, but now I’m not really sure.  I think it’s important to be kind and respectful to women at all times.  Also, don’t forget to work the nipples.

 

Danny Gallagher is a freelance writer, humorist and reporter and a regular contributor to TruTV’s “Dumb as a Blog“, Playboy’s “The Smoking Jacket“, MTV’s Clutch and the Shadowbox Comedy Theater of Columbus. His humor and feature writing has also appeared in Aol’s TVSquad.com and Asylum.com, Spike.com, Esquire Magazine, Cracked.com, Mental Floss Magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, Chicago Tribune’s “Redeye,” The Austin American-Statesmen and The Center for the Easily Amused. He doesn’t shower much.

 

A Rant On Anger & Ranting: Robots Don’t Rant

Grrrby Emily Schorr Lesnick

To plagiarize Joan Rivers, “Can we talk?” May I rant freely? Can I get angry and still be heard? Am I going to have to apologize for sharing my feelings and throwing a table later? Do I have to always be a giggilng ray of sunshine, even if I am pissed off? I need to rant about being angry and, well, ranting. I am frustrated with the dismissal of anger as “ugly” or “unproductive” or unfunny. The truth is, anger is a legitimate, important and motivating emotion for activism, personal development, and humor. Anger is important, anger is necessary, anger is funny.

It turns out being pissed off can really motivate and mobilize a group of people to work for social change. As a child, I remember hearing about the Black Panthers from the lens of my mother. They were militant (somehow this was a bad thing). They were angry (and that was an illegitimate, divisive sentiment). And they wore berets. The Black Panthers were angry because they had been silenced and oppressed for centuries, and rightfully so. The Black Panthers were (and are) not concerned with attractively packaging their feelings for the gaze of my mother and other White folks in power. They used their anger to connect with the anger and frustration that so many Black people felt. And they made an impact. The Arab Spring was fueled by some Tweets with smiley faces, but mostly by anger with corruption and a hope for fairer governments. And I do not believe that anger and hope are mutually exclusive. Now, I see many people involved with the Occupy Wall Street movement angry because they do not have a job, because they live in debt, and/or because of straight up correction coming from big banks and businesses. Their anger sparked a global movement that acknowledges the interconnectedness of people’s experiences and feelings. Social movements are pretty weak when they are not powered by hardcore, angry zeal.

On a personal level, anger is a basic human emotion, along with sad, glad, afraid (pronounced “afrad” in this case) and countless others. Sometimes those other emotions motivate us to reach our goals and grow as humans, and sometimes we are fueled by our anger. Maybe it’s irriatation from a mouse infestation that empowers us to clean the house (true story for me), or maybe the sadness and frustration sparked by a breakup that inspires us to get that dope haircut, firing or rejection of any kind empowers us to reevaluate our passions and work harder for them. And it’s certainly healthier than always being a rainbow bright cupcake on the outside and crying on the inside, and more realistic than being an emotionally controlled Stepford Wife.

When it comes to comedy, ranting is often a scandalous mistake made by a standup in the moment, a mistake that reveals bigotry and hate (Michael Richards’ use of the n-word and Tracy Morgans’ homophobic rants come to mind). But rants are often hilarious to watch, whether they be about something mundane like yogurt or something larger like stereotyping. Rants are captivating to an audience because we are drawn into the passion, the anger that a comic feels. You can’t phone in a rant. No matter how “ugly” a rant may be, a rant is a demonstration of both our human vulnerability and our passion and zeal. Commitment shown through anger and ranting proves we are not robots. Ranting shows we care and I do not want to have to apologize for my anger. When I feel anger inside me, it’s not fair to dismiss it as me being on my raging period. Sometimes I’m a positive ray of sunshine, sometimes I am mad as can be. Whether I am protesting, performing, or piddling about my rat-infested apartment, I try to embrace the rage within, mix it with some buttercream frosting, and slather it on top of a complex human emotions cupcake.

 

Emily Schorr Lesnick is a recent graduate of Macalester College, where she studied gender, identity, and comedy. Her writing has been featured on Splitsider, The Mary Sue, Funny not Slutty, Hello Giggles and Lilveggiepatch. You can follow her on Twitter @ESchorrLesnick.

Chris Coletti: His Life Is Better Than Yours – Creamed Chicken

Typically I’m very in control of my surroundings, but every once in awhile I slip up.


Standing in line with a friend at a local drug store recently my mind was becoming numb listening to her tell me why she would have loved to see Gandhi fight Betsy Ross. Trying to purge this nonsense from my mind I started to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation in front of me. Without looking up and still listening to my friend tell me how Mrs. Ross has the reach advantage on Gandhi I hear one of the women ahead of me mention how she needs to buy some creamed corn.


Without thinking, without hesitation, I muttered under my breath “I’ll cream your corn.”
Well, apparently I said it MUCH louder than I realized.


The line of at least 10 customers instantly became deadly quiet as I looked up to see every person in line staring at me like I just boldly announced my sweet love for dead puppy blood. Each person’s face having turned white with horror at my obnoxious declaration of creaming her corn, my friend’s face turned blood red as she tried to suppress the urge to burst out laughing at my stupidity.

“If Ghandi had fought Betsy Ross I’d still be able to buy batteries”


Then I looked to my left at the two women who had been talking and saw that they were both in their mid-70s (which explains their love for creamed corn), each of them looking at me with what can only be described as total disgust mixed with pure hatred. As the clerk gave them their change and they scurried quickly out the door, I moved up to make my purchase. The 30-something year old clerk who clearly hadn’t made the best decisions in her own life & was in no position to cast judgment on anyone glared at me with horrified revulsion and only said “What’s WRONG with you?” as I swiped my card & hurried off with my batteries.


Leaving the still completely quiet store, except for the hysterical laughter of my friend, and feeling the death glares of everyone in line beating down upon me, I realized I could never return to that store and that sometimes, on very rare occasions, my life really isn’t better than yours.


Of course, I then headed to the airport to fly to New York and speak to a sold out crowd of 450 people & then used my free tickets to sit 3rd row at Madison Square Garden to witness “Linsanity” firsthand and remembered that, yeah, it really is…

 


Chris Coletti

Since selling his production company, Digital Imagery Productions, in 2007 Chris spends his days kayaking, enjoying the beaches of California, searching for the perfect snowcone, & traveling the globe inspiring both young & old not to spend their lives being a waste of skin. There’s no doubt that his life is better than yours.

Museum of Morgan – Dancing In The Streets

Navigating The Music Video Landscape
Video: “Dancing In The Streets”
Artist: David Bowie & Mick Jagger
Year: 1985

 

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Remember music videos? A now long lost art form thanks to MTV2 programming such as “Jersey Shore,” “16 & Pregnant” and “Teen Mom.” Now – we slink away into the internet searching for our fix. On YouTube lies all of the nostalgia that comes with lip syncing and staring directly into the camera (or away for dramatic effect.) I just so happen to love the bad ones.

Mick Jagger and David Bowie? Sign me up. Two of the kings of rock. I will now live blog my feelings through this musical journey:

Whistling in an empty warehouse. That’s a peculiar beginning.

I now hear Mick and Bowie each calling out different countries names as I watch fast moving feet.

Wait … What … the … FUCK!?

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING?!

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY WEARING?!

WHY WAS THAT JUMP IN SLOW MOTION?! IS DAVID BOWING SECRETLY A JUNGLE CAT?! [Read more...]