Who The Celebrities Call For Their Kids Parties

I'm pretty sure I've posted my fair share of videos this week, as my brain isn't working up to its normal brilliant capacity. But I found this amazing commercial while sitting up late the other night. I think this is the best, nay, only way to see brilliant television programming.

Uncle Magic Commercial


I'm dying to hire this guy for my next birthday party. This guy knows where the party's at. If you're feeling inspired, Uncle Majic also has a Myspace page. I didn't scroll through his pics or anything. I didn't find out he has an engagement ring waiting for one lucky lady....

Really, Uncle Majic? Is this a trick?

You've Got Time. I've Got Nothin' But Time! Move It.

I can't take credit for this amazing find. My friend crush Josh manages to find things that I will inevitably fall in love with on the internet. That's probably why he's my friend crush.

Please enjoy and please move your boogie body, baby.

Think Big

If you didn't already run screaming through the streets after Obama's big win, you can enjoy this video response of the hope, happiness and victory that people felt after November 4th.

Video by Paul Iannacchino, who is awesome.


Think Big from paWL made this on Vimeo.

Pick Me Up

If you were slightly disturbed by the image of not only Sarah Palin but the slaughter that took place behind her, please feel free to take part in a two and half hour live concert by the glorious Tom Waits.

You may do so here. (Thanks to Greg for making my day pick up.)

And if you feel inspired by this, you can also find out when he's touring again. At which point, tickets can be purchased in my name and sent in the mail. Thanks.

Pardon Me?

A Thanksgiving message from Sarah Palin. She's so thoughtful...

Ladies of the World, Contain Yourselves

Ladies, I'm sick of it. We give men such a bad rap for being the more unkempt of the sexes. Because they are men, we've pegged them as being sloppy, dirty, smelly and unhygienic.

Ladies, you are all liars. I happen to know for a fact that we are more if not equally as disgusting as males. How can I prove this? I use a women's public restroom and often. We are sick, sick puppies.

What's up with squatting? Be frank with me. Are you actually concerned that you're going to infest your rump with germs if you sit on a toilet that's shared with other female co-workers in a bathroom that is managed by professional cleaners? Let me know. I'm operating under the assumption that all the co-workers that inhabit this floor take regular showers, do not carry venereal diseases and have not been swimming in the rivers of third world countries recently. And while we're on the subject, the office bathroom gets cleaned more than my personal bathroom at home. So what's the hold up?

I'll go ahead and say it, I'm a sitter not a squatter. Call it weak leg muscles, call it laziness. But toilets were designed with seats for a reason. And when you spray your urine all over it, people with enough sense to sit down, sit in your pee. This is gross.

Flushers, what's the deal? Why do you flush before you even do your business? I hear you. You get into the stall, close the door, put your foot on the handle and flush before you even sit down. Are you detoxing the toilet water of germs? Because in honesty, I would think if anything you'd be stirring them up again. Is this a back flushing issue? Are you seeing things from your previous guest that you don't want to? A) I can't think of enough instances in any given bathroom containing eight toilets where this would happen. I mean, mathematically, it just doesn't work. B) Get over it. You are all wasting up to ten gallons of water with each superfluous flush. If you're that concerned with germs, don't add to it by pissing on the seat. You're sick.

Leaving toilet paper on the floor, paper towels all over the sink, various other things I won't go into.... You've got a one way ticket to a college frat house, sicko. Ladies, tidy that shit up. I would enjoy walking into the restroom the next go-round and not worry what I'm going to find.

Ladies, if you're insist on squatting...aim that shit. It's all I ask.

"Get Off My Letterhead!!"

As I've said, the office I'm working in is a shared space. Traders, real estate agents, money lenders, and us....

For the past few days I've been listening to this angry Jewish man with a thick New York accent shouting on the phone. Yesterday, I actually paused work to listen to a ten minute converation in which this gentleman took care of some bidness.

"I don't care! I QUIT! I don't have the money. You talk to Rudy! ....RUDY! YOU TALK TO HIM. I don't have your money. I don't want your money. I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT! TALK TO RUDY! I QUIT! I don't want your business. I don't want your money. I want you out! I'm done! I'm through! I'm finished! I quit! I QUIT! I want you off my letterhead. GET OFF MY LETTERHEAD! Yoooooooooooou don't OWN ME!! GET OFF MY LETTERHEAD!!"

He finished the conversation with a series of, "I QUIT! I QUIT!I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT!" Delivered in the exact tone and inflection each time. This man was on a roll. My only question is, what was happening on the other end of the phone? Was that person shouting back? Or was this man just plain crazy?

I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT!

Oh, Just Stop.

Oh, Thomas...When will you stop telling people you're a man?

The significance of a transgender who kept his female reproductive organs in order to have a child, who quit taking testosterone to get pregnant, become artificially inseminated and have a baby, does not rank high up on me, "No way!" list.

Is there any significance to Thomas having a child? Sure. He's a dude. Is there anything insane about it, really? No. Because he kept his female parts and therefore is kind of a chick. You did not defy science, brosef.

I'm all for recognizing that he's a man. Absolutely. I'm all for anyone taking part in sexual reassignment surgery, changing their name and changing their lives. I don't care if you want me to call you Sheeba and you decide to worship goats after a lifelong stint in a nunnery. Dude, go for it. You're okay in my book. But Thomas? Sir Thomas, you are a female.

What's weird to me is why he wanted to become a man in the first place. I know that becoming a man has way more to do with their personal feelings than it does the ability to have a baby or not and how that defines your gender. I get it. What I don't get, is why Thomas both kept his female parts and halted his use of testosterone that keeps him from remaining a man in order to have a baby. All anyone has talked about, is how amazing it is that he's a man. He's not. He's a man with female reproductive organs. This does not make you a man.

Thomas was quoted as saying, "It's a human desire. And I'm a person and I have the right to my own biological child." No one can deny you that, friend. And rock on for having one. Have ten more babies for all I care. But stop making public appearances and making documentaries where you marvel at your own reproductive system. There is no marveling.... you have a reproductive system because you were once a female. It's science, bitch.

Thomas did not pull the rug out from underneath science. So stop praising him, studying him or judging him for his new bundle of joy. He's part she. You can't fuck with science.

Dance Fail

This video combines my love of dancing and my love of watching people fall down.

Thank you, Gina. You always know...

I Can Haz Time

If you haven't been to the site "I Can Has Cheeseburger" then clearly you don't have enough time on your hands. Listed on the top are several other spin off sites dedicated to politics, celebrities, etc.

And you can make your own!

If you feel like voting for mine so I can have my 3o seconds of fame on the interweb, feel free to vote on the cheeseburger scale by using the following link.

Doggie Bag My Heart

You should probably stop what you're doing and watching this.

Jello Eyes

After the first month on the job, I quickly discovered that I needed to have cable installed. It's been eight years without cable and I can't say that I've been missing it. I've always enjoyed a handful of channels but never paid for cable for the simple reason that four good channels don't outweigh 150 channels of bad.

Last weekend I broke down and had it installed in my one room palace and I can't say that I've been enjoying it. I will say, that you learn to appreciate how much money this feet of technology is and you find yourself watching it more than you need to.

Case in point, last night I sat up watching Kill Bill II on TBS. I own this movie. At any point, I could've cut through the foreplay and just put the DVD in. But no, like an idiot I sat up watching this until 1am, commercials and all. Why? Because it was on. It's too expensive to not have it on. Is this really a great reason to watch television? No, but it's the cheap skate mindset that I've adopted.

But two things I realized last night:
1) Kill Bill II is better than Kill Bill I. Every time I watch this movie, I love Bill more and more and I'm sad when he dies at the end. If I've given anything away, you've been living under a rock.
2) Late night infomercials are hi-larious. I learned that I can cash in my gold jewelry that's been lying around. In this day and age, who knew you could just mail it in? To tell you the truth, I'd rather do my gold trading in person, but perhaps that's just me.

Do yourself a favor and don't purchase cable. You will waste hours of your life thinking that you're missing out on things by not watching it, when really you've forgotten to get up to eat dinner. Absolutely ridiculous. Go read a book.

*Note to reader: I now work in cable.

I Can Hear You Eating

Greg has provided me with the nickname "She-Wolf" because of my amazing abilities to pick up on the smallest noises and the faintest smells. This is a great ability to possess, say if you would like to experience homemade apple pie, go to the symphony, enjoy a quiet day in the woods or appreciate cilantro in spicy salsa.

But when you can hear the opening and closing of a desk neighbor enjoying the insides of fruit or you are listening someone across the subway fight dry mouth while telling a dumb story, I'd like to throw my heightened senses into the proverbial garbage can.

People, close your mouths. I do not need to experience your food with you. It's not that difficult. It's quite simple unless your jaw physically disables you to perform this simple task of human evolution. I give you props for being able to keep your food in your mouth without it spilling out. That's about the only positive thing I can say to you people. You're just gross.

Lock it up.

Via Hologram

Luke Skywalker stopped by next, congratulating the future President on his win.

Yes We Did

"Yes We Did" seemed to be resounding phrase last night. "Yes We Did" could be heard shouted on every street while walking home after watching the most historic Presidential election ever.

As soon as Ohio went blue, the first bottle of champagne was popped. At eleven o'clock when CNN came back from commercial and the picture of Obama was flashed up on the screen, screams were heard everywhere. I ran out onto my friend Matt's rooftop and shouted, "Obama's the fucking president!!!!" Cars were honking, people were cheering. "Yes We Did" seemed to be a universal proclaimation.

I am so fortunate, so proud, so honored to have even been alive when this change happened. I am filled with so much hope for not only my life, but for the lives of generations yet to come. My kids will grow up in a world where equality is not just a level to strive for, but a normal part of their lives.

Watching Obama's acceptance speech in a room full of friends, my heart swelled. The future, sir, is looking very bright. I'm honored to be a citizen of this country. I can't wait to be a part of the change that will come in due time.

High five, America. High fucking five.

You Want It Big?

I made the bold decision to go to McDonald's for lunch today. Sometimes you just crave it. I broke with conviction and made my way the whole block to the colorful establishment.

On the menu, the Quarter Pounder looks enourmous. It looks like there are two levels of meat. Shelves of delicious beef and cheese, slathered in pickles. I thought that perhaps I should order something smaller.

I get up to the counter to order and the girl asks, "You want it big?"
I said, "Do I want what big?"
"Your food."
"Yes?"
She looks at me.
"No."
"No, you don't want it big?"
"No. No, I do not want it big."

I walk out feeling that familiar guilty feeling whenever I'm holding a bag from McDonald's. It's like I'm walking back to work carrying a dead baby. I've just been to the fast food chain that may as well say, "You Can Buy Crack Here and Feel Awful About It" on the sign.

But alas, I'm enjoying my Quarter Pounder immensely. And no, it's not shelved with meat. I should've ordered it Big.

One Day More!

I know that this is supposed to be a funny video, but I still get chills from Les Mis. I'm a sucker for romances that never came to fruition.

Hopefully that won't be the case today when Obama will take America in his strong, capable hands and make sweet, sweet love to us.

Ahem. Back to work.

In a Fiery Flame....

Have I ever talked about my extreme hatred for Kelly Ripa? Honestly.



She's the worst. I mean, the absolute worst.