Archive for the ‘Pop Culture’ Category
Why Is BET Sending Me Mixed Messages? Should I Procreate Or Not?
Posted by: chilly17 in Pop Culture on July 6th, 2010
So I was watching Scarface the other day on the BET Network (yes, it suffers from the chainsaw torture censorship, but the music and dancing styles are timeless) and was alarmed by the mixed messages their advertisements were sending me. As a lazy American consumer, I like to be led immediately to a conclusion, be it by overwhelming group sentiment (“you don’t have an iPhone? You are a f-cking asshole, then”) or concise ads that point out what’s missing in my dreary existence (apparently, a wide variety of super-mops and absorbent devices). What I got, instead, shocked me to my very core.
The first commercial was for a product that I can’t imagine was ever desired by anyone: Trojan Fire & Ice condoms. Perhaps my birth control knowledge is antiquated, but I believe condoms are very rarely used in situations where a relationship is at the “let’s spice things up (literally, by putting something that provides varying thermal sensations to your privates)” stage. Condoms, I believe, are mainly used in instances where alcohol has tipped the balance of power in such a way that a less attractive person has the opportunity to sleep with a more attractive person. Since it is widely known that unattractive people will sleep with just about anyone, a condom enters the picture to prevent the spread of disease and/or unattractive babies.
The bar environment is not one where you want to be trying a Fire & Ice – a burning sensation should be nature’s way of saying “hey, maybe you just hooked up with the wrong person” not the exciting prelude to the icy stage. And most loving, devoted long-term relationships manage to heap the birth control responsibility on the chick, just as God intended. They aren’t sitting around having arguments that can only be solved by using Bengay-infused condoms. Real couples looking for the fire and ice effect simply go for the time-tested Nair and Altoids method.
The condom commercial had my head spinning, and then they segue into this:
I was pretty well convinced this was a parody of some sort, but then there was no Energizer Bunny or Chris Parnell to be seen. Apparently, Huggies actually sells diapers that look like they are jean shorts. This is wrong on about 100 levels, not the first of which is “don’t further promote the myth that jean shorts are acceptable attire – this isn’t f-cking Canada.” Diapers are just plastic bags that are eventually gonna hold poop, there’s no real need to decorate them. Have you ever wondered why portajohns haven’t changed in 30 years, despite all the advances in technology and innovation? Because they are just plastic receptacles that are gonna hold poop, that’s why. Why bother trying to beautify something, that, at the end of the day, is gonna be sh-tty?
And why is BET trying to confuse me? Couldn’t they put these commercials on at different times? Am I supposed to knock somebody up or not? Both spots are suggesting that boot knocking is a pretty solid idea, but to what end? On the one hand, I can have what sounds like torturous climate change all in the ecosphere of an uncomfortable sheath. On the other hand, I might end up with a kid who’s walking down the street and apparently hitting on both men and women. Actually, those both sound terrible…maybe this is an undercover abstinence campaign? Anyway, BET, do a better job next time. Maybe have one of the extremely uncomfortable lube commercials on with the condom commercial?
I’ll add a little public service work before I go. Attention, condom technologists: you aren’t doing it right, nobody wants that fiery, icy sh-t. Here’s what you should be working on: a condom with an RFID chip that activates when the package is opened. This sends a signal to some *Onstar like control tower in the sky, which determines the location of the chip and calls a cab to arrive at that location seven minutes after the package is opened. One minute for awkward fumbling, two minutes for banging, four minutes of small talk (“say, it would’ve been great if for 30 seconds there was a warm sensation and for 30 seconds there was a cold sensation”) and then “my ride’s here – later.”
Send any royalties earned from sales of these condoms to chilly@wastedpotentialz.com
Later, Chilly17
Separated At Birth: Gracie Bell and Denise
Posted by: chilly17 in Pop Culture on June 29th, 2010
(Disclaimer: I am generally not in the practice of making fun of babies. It’s not that I’m scared of babies – I’m pretty sure I could kick the sh-t out of most babies out there; in fact, I recall a website telling me a few years ago that I could handle an attack by 15 five year olds, so I could probably thrash two dozen or so babies at a time. No, I usually don’t make fun of babies because it’s generally not their fault if they are wearing funny clothing, messing up subject-verb agreement, or whatever.
Looks are even further out of a baby’s control (unless they have somehow banged their head into a shape that is no longer roundish or something), so I’ve shied away from the unattractive baby topic to keep my karma intact. (Hell, I might’ve even been an ugly baby myself. I doubt it, based on how good-looking I turned out, but it’s possible. As a baby, you generally aren’t even all that concerned with how hot you look.) But given how supermodels are always talking about how “ugly” and “awkward” they were as pre-teens, perhaps being a super ugly baby suggests that the kid will grow up to be some kind of superdupermodel? Seems likely, so willing to take a chance on a taboo topic. /Disclaimer)
Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode with the “breathtaking” baby, the baby so unpleasant to the eye that Jerry and Elaine recoiled in horror? I always thought that was typical sitcom exaggeration – what baby is that ugly? Have you ever seen the television program Friday Night Lights? (If you haven’t, you suck, I hate you and I wish a pox upon you and all your descendants.) You know the one with all the really attractive actors? And the shockingly ugly baby? The one whose head looks way too much like Kristen Wiig’s Denise character on the Lawrence Welk Show skits?
When Gracie Belle’s large melon hits the screen, we scream and hide behind our hands like we are watching Friday The 13th instead of Friday Night Lights. Her hats would be too big for Vince Vaughn. She inexplicably sports a mullet hairstyle preferred by balding meth addicts in the south. And the photo above is probably the best this kid has looked since infancy – there’s literally no screen shots out there of the “real” Gracie Belle, and I certainly am not subjecting myself to capturing them (seek them at your own risk). This casting makes particularly little sense given that the Taylors’ other child is portrayed by Aimee Teegarden.
Note there's no resemblance to Target Lady
It’ll be alright, though, GB. I understand you are played by triplets, so there’s a good chance that 1-2 of you will grow into those oversized noggins. You might even be the first females to play in the NBA.
Later,
Chilly17
I Like Mesh Shorts, What’s The Big Deal?
Posted by: chilly17 in Daily Grind, Pop Culture on May 14th, 2010
I realized midday Thursday that the only pants I’d worn all week were the same pair of mesh shorts (except, semi-ironically, for gym time). Fuck those zippers and buttons, ya’ll, I roll drawstring style. I guess we all have our uniform, right? When I worked at Taco Bell, I sported brown polyester and a paper hat (later replaced by an edgy brown visor, but if you forgot your visor you had to go back to the paper hat for the day). In the navy, I had a literal uniform to wear. As a banker, I was Ferragamoed out on the accessory tip, Brooks Brothered up in the suit department (yeah, I never stepped up my suit game – I put those fuckers through hell, so BB made the most sense from a practical perspective) and you know how I do on ties. Now, it’s navy blue mesh shorts and one of many wine-stained tee shirts.
For unknown reasons, this looks causes a mix of disgusted glances and averted gazes from people I don’t even know while I’m waiting in line for food or large bottles of wine. Occasionally, I class it up a bit by adding a white adidas sweatsuit top to the mix. Someone tried to give me some spare change while I was waiting in line at the corner store (I told them to just come here and buy some shit on amazon instead). Didn’t he see the fucking rolex? Just because I bought my American flag flipflops for $3 at wal-mart doesn’t make me a charity case. Nor does the salt-encrusted hat, that’s from running laps in the park, not sleeping on subway grates. And I fucking hate shaving, the worst three minutes of every third or fourth day for me.
I guess the message I’m trying to impart is: clothes don’t necessarily make the idle man, comfort does. (That’s a saying, right? Clothes make the man? That sounds like something my mom used to say when she was yelling at me for wearing inappropriate attire to a job interview. At a whirlpool factory where the summer temperature averaged 110 in the – no shit – aluminum building. Thank god I offended the hiring manager by wearing white bucks and no socks.) Have I not labored enough in my previous professional incarnations to justify a little drawstring joy? It’s not like I’m rocking a snuggie out on the town. One of the perks of being a struggling blogger/trader is wearing comfortable clothing in the comfort of your own (or someone else’s) home. (And, being the first in line at Dos Toros taqueria, because you can leave home right at 11:05 and are not constrained by some dipshit colleague’s “appropriate lunch hour” convention. Aside: I’m seriously considering going from carnitas burrito/carne asada taco to carne asada burrito/carnitas taco – stay tuned.)
So the next time you see some guy wearing mesh shorts and a windbreaker, talking to himself on the corner, don’t reflexively try to give him the second half of your five dollar footlong. Instead, go buy some RIMM shares, so the poor bastard’s Iron Condors will expire and he doesn’t have to spend a bunch of dough on needless commissions to unwind that trash.
Exciting New Wastedpotentialz.com Feature: Would Flint Hit It?
Commentor Flintstone has never been shy about offering his opinion about the ladies discussed on this site. That’s ‘opinion’ as in singular; his system is pretty much binary: “I’d hit it”/”I would not hit it”. Given his stance on Jessica Simpson’s breath, Lady Gaga’s possible penis and other matters, I’ve come to recognize Flint as a quality arbiter of unlikely celebrity sex decisions. (Note: If you find the last sentence offensive, just substitute “celebrity lovemaking decisions” to ease your discomfort.) While his overall stance seems to be pro-”hitting it”, that probably mirrors our society’s loose social mores.
So I’m going to try and use Flint’s judgment to find the absolute midpoint of hitting/not-hitting it. There won’t be any Angelinas or Megans up in this discussion, this is all about the juicy middle. So, first up: Old School, Chubby Ricki Lake. Flint, would you hit it?
John Waters would hit, except for the gayness
(Please note that this is a hypothetical hitting it situation that would require a time machine or at least a vivid imagination and several shared high calorie meals. I’m trying to establish some historical perspective here.)
Flintstone’s Response:
Old School, Chubby Ricki Lake — a very interesting question Chilly. On the surface it seems like you gave me softball question, but there are many subtle layers here. First, in order to understand me you have to know that unlike your most of your readers a little extra “lbs” on a woman isn’t a deal breaker (or even a negative) for me. In fact, I like my women with curves. Now, I’m not as bad as one of my uncles who told me that “the only thing a skinny woman can do for me is cook”, but generally I’d prefer Christina Hendricks to the many waifish starlets out there. Second thing you need to know about me is that I drink a lot (especially when I was single as this question assumes). While I don’t drink as much you Chilly, I have had my share of nights I can’t remember. So it must said that after my 10th scotch anything female and warm would pass the “I’d hit test.” Finally, I am unabashed starf***er. So if the opportunity would have presented itself where I could have bumped uglies with Ricki (after she gained fame in Hairspray) or just about any other female celebrity I probably would have done it just for the story. As such, I’m going to take “would Flint hit it” test as “Would I approach said woman (even if they weren’t famous) and actively try to bring her back to my place for some adult fun?” (From a historical perspective of course.)
Now that we have the ground rules established lets take a look at Old School Ricki or as I shall call her “Hairspray Ricki” using my standards (and yes I have some) on scale of 1 to 10:
Face (5) — I think Ricki’s face is “girl next door cute.” She’s not a knock-out but definitely not homely.
Body (4) — Wikipedia says she maxed out at 260 and that would be too much for me (although in my younger days I would have still been able to bench press her). Now, I’ve been unable to find any pictures that look 260 to me so I’m going to go with she was about 200/210 during Hairspray. That’s definitely not a healthy weight but not a deal breaker.
Personality (7) — In Hairspray she seemed nice (even bubbly) and the picture you have of her definitely looks approachable.
Intangibles (8) — This category is hard to quantify but in Hairspray she had some good dance moves, plus any woman who’s willing to make a video of herself delivering a baby for the public is definitely not shy and probably willing to try new things in the bedroom (if you know what I mean).
Average that all out and you get a 6. Not great but still very doable.
(Editor’s Note: Thanks, Flint. Your knowledge of hairspray is somewhat concerning, but your internal consensus-building process is impeccable. Agree with your assessment that she was freaky in the sack back in the day; definitely a contentious debate at the time. I will have a tougher challenge for you in the coming days.)
The combination of half-marathon preparation, market gyration and weak idea generation is a killer. Ironically, the lazier I get, the more people come to this site, yesterday had the highest amount of search engine traffic I’ve seen. Although, sadly, most of it was fetishists looking for blister porn. Sigh….
Enjoy the weekend,
Chilly17
