Puntabulous

Here’s a deleted scene from Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. It’s pretty silly and almost spoof-like, but also kind of genius:

I think we can all agree that pedophiles and murderers aren’t exactly the apple of society’s eye, correct? Yes, there’s all that nasty business about sexually abusing children and sadistically killing people, but there’s another serious problem too.

Growing up watching the old Adam West Batman shows, I envied the secret passageways in Wayne Manor and the Batcave. Even Barbara Gordon managed to fit a cool secret turnstile in her apartment, which made me green with envy.

I told myself that one day I too could have a house with secret passageways and hidden rooms, possibly accessed by fireman poles, Jetson-style conveyor belts, or perhaps even a twirly slide. How much fun would that be? And after all, as Americans aren’t we guaranteed life, liberty and the pursuit of unnecessary excess? I mean, I can go to Burger King and get a BK Stacker with four (read: FOUR!) burgers on it. Why shouldn’t I be able to translate that same concept into my home?

But no.

Pedophiles and murderers have given secret rooms a bad name. Could you imagine if word got out that I had a secret room in my house? That it could only be accessed by gently pulling on a fake copy of a fake book on a fake bookcase which was really a hidden doorway? People would think I used it for sick purposes! Of course in reality it would only lead to my office, or my entertainment and media room, and the only reason it’s behind a hidden passageway is for the kitsch factor. But I wouldn’t even be able to explain myself!

“No really! Just swing on this fake bungee vine and you’ll see that it’s all perfectly normal!”

It would never work. And no, I’m not trying to make light of the other nasty stuff that makes pedophiles and murderers such unsavory people. I’m just trying to point out yet another reason that may not have occurred to you before. Can’t you just consider my feelings for a moment? I will never be able to fulfill my childhood dream. Thanks a lot pedophiles and murderers. You really are bastards.

Okay, I didn’t see any of your recommendations this week, but I got two of them coming in the mail, so don’t you worry. Except you ScottieC, you can still worry. I honestly really want to see Angels in America, it’s just that 6 hours is quite a commitment! I’ll get to it eventually. I promise. Got any normal sized movies for me to watch?

Netflix #40 – Evening

I remember seeing previews for this movie and immediately falling in love. It just looked absolutely stunning. Then it came out and the reviews were pretty tepid. So I let it go and never saw it. Turns out it was probably best that I watched this in the privacy of my own home instead of at the theater. I may or may not have gotten a wee bit weepy. It was so good! I can understand why it didn’t get great reviews, but it was just the kind of movie that I like. It was slow and personal and a bit soapy but I just had to know what happened next. Kinda like that Drew Barrymore movie Riding in Cars with Boys. It’s not that great of a movie, but it’s addicting because you really just want to know what happens. So overall I really enjoyed it. Claire Danes was totally compelling in the lead role, and everyone else (there’s about a million famous people in it) were all incredible. If you’re interested, don’t let the negative reviews keep you away!

Netflix #41 – Nim’s Island

I had pretty high hopes for this one. I love kids movies and this one had Jodie Foster in it! It had to be good! But it ended up being a major disappointment. I loved the look of the island, and the animals were all ridiculous and cute, and Jodie Foster was in total super silly mode, which was just so much fun to watch. But the story just didn’t make any sense, and by the end it totally fell apart and nothing really mattered and there was kind of no point to the entire thing. Oh well. Not every kids movie can be as good as The Neverending Story. Atreyuuuu!

Apparently there is this Hot Blogger Calendar Competition going on. Was I nominated, you ask? Nope. Blasphemy, you say? Indeed. But that’s not the point of this post. This post is to ask you to support my girl Casey who you will of course remember from our Cookies vs Brownies and Tall vs Short debates. She’s in the running for Hot Blogger Calendar Gal so I need you to go over and vote for her.

Voting takes place HERE. You’ll find her about 3/4’s of the way down on the list. Or you can just do a word search for “Moosh”. For my other lady friends who are also in the running, I wish you the best of luck! But Casey gets my support for doing not one, but TWO Guest Debates. Sorry Britt!

Oh, you can also vote for Hot Blogger Calendar Guys too. But what’s the point if I’m not in the competition? Oh but Avitable and Jester are! So you may want to consider voting for them. Oh hey! So is Wil Wheaton!

Let’s call it: Dinner with a Drunk. And let me preface it by saying that we honestly didn’t have that much to drink before dinner. It’s just that we decided to take a nap before dinner, which was a bad idea. As anyone who has napped for only an hour after drinking can attest, you wake up ten times more drunk than when you fell asleep. Amanda fell into a deeper sleep than me (because I was still uncomfortable sleeping on a rocking boat at the time) so she was affected worse than me. So keep that in mind when reading the following story.

INTERNATIONAL RADIOTELEPHONY SPELLING ALPHABET

Whenever I spell my last name to people over the phone, and the difficult-to-enunciate letter N comes up, I always say: “N as in Nancy.” And I’ll ask you not to make any Nancy-boy jokes, thank you very much. Well I did it at work the other day and someone corrected me and said the official word I’m supposed to use is “November”. Show of hands: Who knew there were official words you’re supposed to use? Liars!

Well apparently there is, and it’s called the International Radiotelephony Spelling Alphabet. Here they are:

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliett, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-ray, Yankee, Zulu

So there you have it. If you don’t use these words you are a moron. This alphabetical system was created in 1927, some changes were made in 1932, and then adopted by British and American military forces in 1956. During the Vietnam War, Viet Cong guerrillas were referred to as “Victor Charlies”, and then abbreviated to “Charlies”. You can also say “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!” which means “What the fuck?” Okay maybe not, but it’s fun to say.

On particular crumby (when I need cheering up) or silly (when I just feel like being a buffoon) days, I enjoy using ridiculous words when spelling things out over the phone. There are a few ways you can do this such as:

Use obsurd words like: “O as in Onomatopoeia.”
Or STDs: “C as in Chlamydia.”
Make it the second word: “P as in Mary Poppins.”
Say it even though the letter doesn’t need clarification: “W as in Wikipedia.”
Bonus points for alliteration: “B as in Bouncing Ball of Boyancy.”
Make up silly sentences for letters that are also words: “Y as in Why does my boyfriend’s Mom hate me so much?”
Change the first letter of common words: “M as in Melevision.”
Use words with silent letters: “K as in Knife.”

Your job today — if you choose to accept it (and you better!) — is to use a ridiculous “Blank as in Blankety Blank” phrase to a complete stranger, or coworker, or anyone who isn’t a friend, and report back to us here and tell us about it. Otherwise:

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW!

Well lookie here! Puntabulous Guest Debates have returned! And who better to get us back into the debating swing than Casey from Moosh in Indy? Last time we had an epic battle over Cookies and Brownies. This time it’s personal!

TODAY’S TOPIC: TALL VS SHORT!

Casey: How do long car rides treat you Craig? Pretty uncomfortable right? No leg room, no head room, gah, that can’t be fun. Well, okay, so you can pay a whole lot extra for the “bigger” rental car. Or you can pay a bunch of money for cars with all sorts of leg room. But then there’s the gas thing. You see, cars that fit people like you aren’t so good on the gas. And with fuel nearing $5.00 a gallon you would either have to be the son of an oil tycoon or flat out MoneyBagsMcAnally to be able to afford driving anywhere. (And I’m pretty sure we’re all aware that you’re neither.) I guess you could just not have friends, take the back seat out, slide the front seat all the way back and your problem is solved. But me on the other hand? I can fit in a packed clown car and still have room to stretch out and enjoy a can of Pringles and a frosty pop.

Craig: Long cars rides in my modest sedan are fine, and I thank you for your concern, which I will just pretend was sincere. Speaking of cars, I bet you’re one of those short people that borrows the cars of tall people and returns them with the seat all the way pushed up to the steering wheel because your little insignificant legs can’t reach the pedals and you’re not nice enough to return the car in the condition you got it in. And the poor magnificent tall person who was kind enough to lend you their car in the first place is the victim of extreme squishing when they unknowingly sit in the seat right after you return it. CoughRudeCough! Anyway, being tall is awesome. Ever hear of the phrase “short, dark and handsome”? There’s a reason why America’s Next Top Model has a height requirement of at least 5′7″. Modeling is about more than just knowing how to smile with your eyes. It’s about the whole package, and the package isn’t complete without the proper height.

Casey: Honey, ANTM ended months ago. Let’s talk about SYTYCD. Frankly the tall dancers? They were a little on the lurpy side. Sure they were all kinds of pretty when they were twirling! and with the lines! OH! the beautiful! LINES! But when they stood still they just looked like big sweaty misplaced trees with heads. Did anybody else notice that the SHORT dancer won? Being short people can use words like “cute” and “adorable” and “pocket sized” to compliment you. Don’t forget “button” and “tiny” and “petite”. However one would require a grand stretch of the imagination to compliment a giant. How many ways are there to say “tall”? Honestly? Here, I’ll try. “Hey Craig, you’re looking awful, uh, vertical today.” See? Short is easy to relate to, enjoyable, “cute” even. Tall’s just kind of, overbearing and lanky. And occasionally creepy. Besides, you know I could spank those ANTM girls any day at smiling with my eyes, height requirement or not.

Craig: Um, excuse me. Do the words “statuesque”, “grand”, and “strapping” suddenly have negative connotations that I’m not aware of? Oh, and let’s not forget about “towering”! That’s right! I’m not tall, I’m a towering hunk of man beef! But don’t worry, you’re not short either. You’re abbreviated, truncated, and squat. Boy, thesauruses are fun! And fine, I’ll admit that short people make cooler dancers because they’re so easy to spin like tops. Plus it’s easy to pop and lock when your arms and legs are so small that all you have to do is move your body and your arms and legs automatically move along with it. But how about professional sports? Tall people have advantages in basketball, volleyball, and just about every other sport I can think of. I don’t think there’s a single sport where being short is an advantage. Oh wait, maybe hide and seek. But then you end up being hidden too well and people forget about you and then they stop looking for you, because if you’re going to forget to find someone it’s certainly not going to be the statuesque one.

Casey: Hello. I’d like you to meet my friends the gymnasts. Gym-nasty if you ask me. Bulging muscles, the ability to hover in midair, those toned rear ends. Makes me just shiver thinking of all those well developed muscles. However your freakishly tall athletes? Just that. Freakish. They had to play basketball and become swimmers because they couldn’t find any normal clothes to fit them. Which brings me to another point. It’s so easy for me to get my pants hemmed to the perfect length. I can even leave them long and wear big pretty heels that all the gays covet. However, being tall, I’ll bet a lot of the pants you find leave you looking like Erkel. Dude, where’s the flood?

Craig: Um, are you seriously comparing yourself to female gymnasts? Because for every adorable Dominique Moceanu there’s about a dozen crazy, squeaky-voiced Kerri Strugs. And as for clothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about, since for gay men, belly shirts are completely normal. Besides, who thinks it’s cool to have to roll up your pants so they don’t drag along the ground. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Now I’d like to ask you about the last parade you attended. Was it crowded? Was it hard to get a spot in the front row, by the street? How was your view? Pretty difficult to see over everyone, right? Aw, what a shame! If you were tall, no matter where you are, you have a great view!

Casey: Alas I was referring to male gymnasts. Alexi Nemov anyone? I dare you to find a tall man with those kind of muscles and ability to hover. (Hulk Hogan doesn’t count.) And actually, now that you mention it, my small spry frame allows me to deftly maneuver in places you tall people are unable to get to. Actually allowing me, yes little ol’ me, the best seat at the parade. And movies? I can promise you that every time you go to a movie someone wishes for your head to be cut off. Yes. Off. I don’t care how cute you are in that belly shirt, you’re head is blocking our view of Shia Labeouf and we won’t stand for it. Now hand over your pink card assuming I roll up my pants. Any practicing gay man should have a good tailor on speed dial. I’m a stay at home mom and even I have a tailor on speed dial. Oh? What’s that? No one wants to tailor your never ending pants? Too bad. You’ll just have to admire mine.

Craig: I don’t know what kind of crappy movie theaters you have in Indiana, but here in New York we have a little thing called stadium seating. So my height shouldn’t be a problem for all you violent shorties who seat themselves behind me knowing full well what they’re getting themselves into. And why would I need a tailor? They actually make clothes in my size! You short people are the ones who need the normal sized clothing tailored to meet your stumpy needs. Either that or you’re shopping in the petite section with Dakota Fanning. Let me ask you this: How do you reach things on tall shelves? Either you have to ask a handsome tall stranger such as myself to help you out, which we will do out of the kindness of our hearts. Or you have to lug out a chair or stool like some sort of child trying to reach the faucet. Either option proves that short people are incapable of simple tasks.

Casey: Oh my darling Craig. Do you even have any idea how much money I save on clothes because I’m still able to shop at Gap Kids? I’ll just say this: BUNCHES. And don’t be hatin’ on the stool. Because it’s tall freaks like you that come over to my house and rest on my stool, probably because the air up where you are is so thin. It’s likely to kill anyones IQ by at least a couple dozen points. But that’s okay, because when you’re at the library you can reach all the really long boring books on the top shelf that the rest of the normal sized world has forgotten about. You know, the ones on motivated scientific reasoning biases, epistemological beliefs, and theory polarization. That should be able to bring the ol’ thin air IQ back up a couple of clicks. In the meantime I’ll be reading Martha’s new cookie book down here in my beanbag chair. Oh? You want a beanbag chair too? Sorry dude, bean bag chairs in your size are called hot air balloons and I’m fresh out.

Craig: Oh, I bet you feel so fabulous shopping at Gap Kids too. Nothing says “sophistication” quite like going to a fancy dinner party wearing a pink polka dotted jumper. And be sure to get ready for your fancy dinner party by cooking something fun and delicious. Oh, you should probably try a new recipe so you’ll want to go to the library to take out a new cook book. You know, those books that are so big they need to be kept on the top shelf. There’s another reason books are kept on the top shelves: because they’re so awesome. And awesome books need to be kept out of reach of children (and short people) with sticky book-ruining fingers. Seriously, where do you put your fingers? Are you sensing a trend here? Gap kids? Stools? Short people are pretty much the same thing as children. Oh, and only children like bean bag chairs. Seriously, they look like fun, but they are terrible TERRIBLE pieces of furniture. And I use that term loosely.

Casey: Jealous much? Sounds like somebody outgrew the playground before he was ready and is a little Bitter Betty about it. What’s so great is that all that money I save on grown up clothes? I can spend it on cookbooks. Who even goes to the library anymore? Lonely old men and hobos? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s okay though, it must be really lonely up there with all the trees and leaves and birds just dying to peck your overgrown eyeballs out. Down here it’s all about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the furry little woodland creatures that keep me company and help me with my daily chores. That’s right. I’m a princess and you’re just a big awkward giant. When did Disney ever make a movie about that, HUH?

Craig: I take offense to that! Oh wait, you said hobos. Sorry, I misread that. What Disney movie did they make about my life you ask? A nice little classic I like to call “Mickey and the Beanstalk”. You know that one where those terrible little critters climbed up the beanstalk and performed some crimes the police would refer to as “breaking and entering”, into the house of a lovable giant who was minding his own business way up in the sky out of everyone’s way. How does this happy little story end, you ask? They kill the giant, that’s how. Tiny people are murderers. Little bite-sized murderers. They must be stopped at any cost. While you may be a princess in your own mind, I’m a giant among insects. Fee Fi Fo Fum! I smell the blood of a wee woman!

So who do you guys think won?

Be sure to head over to Casey’s blog: Moosh in Indy!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

If anyone tries to tell you that Captain Kirk is better than Captain Picard, show them this video. Captain Picard owns all other Star Trek captains.

My favorite part: “Q…Q?”

Wormholes are common and frequently bring unsuspecting citizens of the 21st century into the 31st century. That’s why I’m here. Your friendly neighborhood guide to the future. My goal is to help you understand and be able to fit in with the futuristic society of the future.

Today’s Edition: Raising Children in the Future!

I know you came to the future expecting miracles, and wonders beyond your imagination, but we humans still haven’t unlocked the key to immortality, and we still occasionally enjoy bombing the shit out of each other, so we still require ways of replenishing our population. Until that glorious day when we can gather all the children of the world and say: “So long kiddies! Your services are no longer required!” and shoot them into space, children are still a required aspect of human life.

Since the evolution of the stinging vagina tentacle in 2711, straight vaginal sex has been deemed impossible for all but the most masochistic of men. Due to this evolutionary tailspin, all children are born in what are called Procreation Stations. After passing a simple (read: very simple) intelligence test, you and your partner will be deemed qualified enough to become parents. Once the pair of you submit genetic material, three potential children will be gestated and birthed in state-of-the-art robo-uteruses, and raised for a period of five years by a trained staff. This allows the parents to avoid those troublesome (read: cry-y) baby years, and permits you to choose the baby of your choice, because you really can’t tell if a kid is going to grow up to be hot until they’re at least 5 years old anyway. Unpicked children (hereby referred to as “uggos”) will remain at the facility and trained to work there making the Procreation Station completely self-sufficient. It’s Green!

Nothing is more powerful than the bond between a parent and their child. That is why after retrieving your brand new child from the Procreation Station, they will live with you for a period of two weeks, allowing you to connect with them before they are shipped off to Schooling Facilities for the next 13 years. Your child’s Managers (sometimes referred to as “Teachers”) will keep you abreast of their progress and send you letters of love and adoration from your children, which will allow you to show off to all your friends. The archaic practice of testing and grading children has been eliminated in favor of coddling and indulgence in the interest of protecting their delicate self-esteem. Besides, if you wanted a smarter child, you should have picked the uggo at the Procreation Station while you had the chance.

When your child reaches 18 years of age, they will graduate (the term is used loosely of course, lest you forget their delicate self-esteem) from the Schooling Facility, and returned to your care. At this point, you’d probably like to avoid any awkward conversation and send them off to college. Not so fast! All forms of higher learning have been banned by our Culcari Overlords (May our spines be the wishbones upon which They feast) because we infidels require no knowledge beyond what is taught to us by our wise and noble Culcari Overlords (May our spines break evenly so that They may all garner what They wish, for Their wishes benefit us all).

Your last duties as parents will be to ensure the quick marriage of your child. You will wish this to be done as quickly as possible to prevent any unpleasant interactions while living together. After all, no one likes a complete stranger living in their household. Due to the extreme coddling and indulgence your child will have received at the Schooling Facility, they will have developed minimal social skills, and will be unable to find a suitable mate on their own. Luckily for you, Marriage Centers are readily available to find your child’s perfect match and handle all the arrangements for the wedding. When the big day arrives, your only concern will be remembering their name and staying sober enough for the obligatory parent/child dance to the song that will be generated via computer based upon each of your interests.

If there is one thing you should learn from your experience of parenthood, it should be the importance of donating generously to the scientific community. The sooner we are able to find the key to immortality, the sooner we don’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore.

From Zimbio: “Bahrain does not require its athletes compete in traditional Muslim garb, but Roqaya Al-Gassra chooses to sprint in a full hijab.”

(Photo by Stu Forster/Getty Images AsiaPac)

It’s especially inspiring since other countries like Saudi Arabia don’t allow women to compete in the Olympics at all. For a more comprehensive article on the subject, check out this post on Feministing.