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.

 

Matt and Nat – Bathroom Story

Matt and Nat are funnier than you and slowly grasping that living with a lady/gent (that you are not sleeping with) makes you realize how much opposite sex really does suck. Pick your side…but if you pick Matt’s you’re wrong. Just saying.

Nat says: It will never cease to amaze me how men conveniently forget how Mother Nature works for the ladies. Now this isn’t a topic women specifically want to elaborate on (as in we never want to fucking talk about it…so stop shoving it in our faces Playtex commercials). However, this is definitely a subject that will be used against men given the right circumstances, i.e. when you turn the light off as I’m going to the bathroom, Matthew. [Read more...]

Museum of Morgan – Said I Loved You But I Lied

Navigating The Music Video Landscape
Video: “Said I Loved You But I Lied”
Artist: Michael Bolton
Year: 1993
 

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. 

Far before you hipsters thought he was cool because he crested the high seas with The Lonely Island on the track “Jack Sparrow” … Michael Bolton was the stuff of adult contemporary mom dreams. Armed with enough squinting to merit a contact lense prescription, hair cascading from his scalp like a hunky hero from a romance novel and a wardrobe provided exclusively from the Natural Wonder store at a mall circa 1994, this video provides a perfect example of why the midlife ladies used to swoon.

michael-bolton-liedI have to be honest, I had no idea that Michael Bolton cared so much about nature. The video is set across the glorious landscape of Phoenix, Arizona. On first glimpse you may have thought that the video was an early inspiration for the Disney classic “The Lion King.” There are several points here where Sultry Voice McGee sings directly into a circling helicopter shot. A shot that almost screams “Circle Of Life.” But the landscape alone doesn’t even scratch the surface on the natural beauty the video expresses. It’s littered with shots of clouds passing by (I believe to show us this is a dream.) There are horses, hawks and semi naked women galore. And my oh my the fire … there is fuck tons of unnecessary fire. I often say to myself when watching this video. “Be careful horses! Watch out for that fire!”

Our crooner broodingly wanders through this setting recalling the memory of a long lost love. Much of that memory is her, a beautiful model, making out with him while splayed across the boulders of the Arizona desert wearing nothing but a silk sheet. Any shot of her is purely in black and white, to represent that she is his past. A memory never to be forgotten. He moves along, like a ghost, remembering this beautiful woman. And as he does he tricks us with the lyrics. [Read more...]

Imaginary F**king with Megan Lent – Josh Lyman

Imaginary Fucking with Megan Lent – Part 1 of 4

by Megan Lent

I think everyone has at least one fictional or deceased person who they’d absolutely love to bang. I have many. Someone once referred to Voltaire as “Megan Lent’s Justin Beiber.” I don’t know if the kids still dig the Beibs (or if anyone ever actually called him “the Beibs”), but I do know that I get a total word-boner every time I talk about Candide, so it’s entirely possible that Justin Beiber was just everybody else’s Voltaire.

I know that this is weird concept. I also know that I like it. It’s like vaginas; they look like little aliens, but I still like having one. Of course, for breakfast this morning, I dipped powdered sugar donuts in a Go Girl. Just because I like something, doesn’t make it normal.

josh lymanBradley Whitford haunted my childhood as the smarmy, evil WASP who terrorized Adam Sandler in the modern horror epic Billy Madison. And then I started watching The West Wing, and my entire view of male sexiness did a 180. I mean, Josh has a receding Jewfro and dresses the way you’d think the deputy chief of staff would dress. But he’s brilliant and sarcastic and brutal and, like the rest of the supremely awesome Bartlet administration, at once idealistic and completely aware of the limitations of government. I just want to play with his hair and listen to him talk about financial policy forever and ever and ever (and maybe bring in Rob Lowe for some political sexual innuendos, wink wink.)

It is important to note that this is the only TV character I chose to include on my list of imaginary orgasm-donors, and that fact does not in any way represent how I feel about television. I love television. If I was to write a series of articles entitled “20th Century Inventions I Would Have Sex With,” television would be near the top of the list, just below the Internet, and just above the push-lamp. It’s just that I’d totally fuck Josh Lyman, but I’d never fuck Bradley Whitford. The man was on a buddy cop show with Colin Hanks, for chrissakes – and if you didn’t notice the innate douchebaggery of that premise, please reread that statement with emphasis on the phrases BUDDY COP SHOW and COLIN GODDAMN HANKS. Jesse Pinkman is basically every guy I liked in high school, Michael Bluth is a bona fide DILF, Charlie Kelly is like a walking shot of spray paint to the brain; likewise, Aaron Paul, Jason Bateman, and Charlie Day are exactly the kind of men I “accidentally run into” at the Starbucks in Studio City (never mind that I live a good thirty minutes from Studio City, or that I occasionally plan my caffeine fixes around various menfolk’s Twitter updates.) Not Whitford. Never.

But I would hide secretary Donna Moss in some White House closet just to work (or be) under Josh Lyman for ten minutes.

Jarrod Harris talks Action Figure Therapy

Action Figure Therapy features action figures talking (well, mostly ranting) to therapists about their problems at work and at home. The series is produced by Dan Bialek and is co-written and predominantly voiced by one of my fav rising star Atlanta comedians, Jarrod Harris. Jarrod let me ask him a few questions about this kick-ass series he is in and his life song.

Who are the characters you voice on Action Figure Therapy? 

Jungle Recon (star of the series)

Jungles’ Grandpa (the old man)

Snow Patrol (black dude)

Nesbit Faulkner (weirdo)

Bomb Squad Betty (the woman)

Communications guy (Another weirdo)

I will be introducing some more later on too.

 

How does it feel to be on a top web video series, but continue to go completely unrecognized because it’s voice acting?

It’s good to be doing something that is growing and really can’t be stopped  That is GREAT!  It’s very frustrating when people love something you do but don’t really care that it’s you behind the thing they love so much.  It’s like being jerked off on and when everyone’s done they just leave and don’t offer shit in return.  What I’m saying is if you like AFT, COME TO MY DAMN SHOWS!  Now there are a lot of people who care enough to click on the info below the videos, find me and actually like my fan page and come to shows, and those people are amazing.  I really need people to know about what I am doing in order to keep doing comedy and not get a real job.  Hopefully, these people will stop dumping their loads and take the time to find who they been spewing on, find my fan page and start coming to shows fuck nuts!  I’m kidding but I’m kind of serious.  If you’re not going to come to a show then at the very least, let me spew on something of yours.

 

Which AFT character are you most like?

None of them.  They are just annoying people I’ve lived around my whole life.  It’s easier to make fun of them than it is to punch them.  You’ll go to jail for that.  And even though I have a good KO average, I’m not exactly prison ready.  I haven’t worked out since the 90′s and I don’t need prison rape to get in the way of my life goals.

 

You are in LA, then Atlanta, LA, Atlanta, LA, Atlanta…So are there two of you, LA Jarrod and Atlanta Jarrod? How do they differ?

I’m just me.  I don’t understand the question.  I don’t change anything about myself when I go to LA or when I am in any other part of the country.  LA Jarrod doesn’t sweat as much.

 

Most people don’t know about your past profession. What was the hardest thing about being a Vietnamese Lounge Singer?

That would probably have to be the fact that I don’t even speaking Vietnamese. :)

Visit Jarrod’s Interwebs