Saturday, March 27, 2010

Toon Murder on the Rise

Is this a good ad for Monroe College? Here are some reasons I'm skeptical that it is:

1) Student appears to be studying an old urine stain. Said urine stain would have to be entirely unrelated to the crime, unless the victim's urethra was on his neck.

2) Student is equipped only with a magnifying glass and a folder labeled "evidence." Much though I fondly remember my childhood notions of how detective work is conducted, I now understand by way of The Wire and whoever's dad it was who spoke to us in sixth grade about forensics that it's a lot of paperwork and bureaucracy and the exciting blood/guts aspect wears off and even becomes emotionally destabilizing for some. Don't try to pull this magnifying glass crap with us; we know we're not going to Monroe College to solve the mystery hauntings on Whispering Island like in Enid Blyton's The Famous Five Have A Mystery to Solve. Yes, my parents are British, and yes, this means I was indoctrinated me into the British mystery tradition. We have Sherlock, Poirot, and the Five. What do you have, Yankees? The stupid Hardy Boys? Don't make me laugh!

What's that? have McNulty. Oh my GOD, you have Mulder and Scully! Okay, fine, I surrender! American Revolutionary War Pt. 2 once again goes to you! I will step the fuck off! I will lay my Redcoat upon this puddle so your nice, expensive shoes don't get dirty walking through it. Then I will retreat to a small, rainy island and develop a tea addiction.

3) Victim appears to be a shapeless cartoon man with claws instead of hands.

Reasons this ad works:

1) Student has nice ass.

2) Apparently, this has been the eight toon murder in a toon serial killing spree.

3) Student's jeans really a good fit, emphasizing aforementioned nice ass.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Sketchy Dude on G

You looked so confused by the fact that everyone was avoiding you. Here's why: you were wearing a toque that said "It's not illegal if you don't get caught." That shit's weird, dude. Put something less threatening on your hat, like "It's not illegal if it's....CUPCAKE TIME!!!"

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Portrait of a Becky as a Young Mother

Last night coming home on the train, a mother stuck her kid next to me while she sat on the other side of the seat. It was a very unspoken stranger-please-take-my-kid-while-I-sleep-for-four-minutes moment. I'd peg this kid at 8 or 9. He had a video game with him which he played while he slowly shifted his weight onto me, leaning back into me like I was his recliner. I did not reciprocate this accidental affection, obviously. That would be super weird and creepy. In fact, I was worried that the mother was going to look over and assume that I was like, Pied-Piper-ing her son into a dreamlike state or something, so I tried to prop him up again without making him feel self-conscious for leaning so far into a stranger's lap in the first place. I failed. It was clear that the mother didn't care. So I just let this little boy deepen his snuggles with my left side.

A friendly guy that got on the train a few stops after me gave me a "your kid's cute" look. Now I was actively getting credit for being this kid's caretaker. The guy got off at Bedford-Nostrand with me, after I had propped the kid back up on his seat (the kid looked at me with a little confusion at first, but then just kept playing his game), and he approached me and said, "I thought that was your son!" I wanted to say something like "It was; I am finally rid of him," but instead I told him how I felt like I had gone halfway through the stages of adoption in that train ride.

I used to babysit a super-cool girl who actually kind of looked like me, and most people presumed that I was her mother. Being that cool girl's mom or being this train boy's mom would mean I would have had the kid in high school. It makes me so weirded out to be viewed as a teen mom now in in her mid-twenties, hanging around New York with her kid. It could not be farther away from what my life is - if they knew how poorly I take care of myself, they'd understand that child services would've taken any kid of mine long ago - but hey, if there's a kid there acting like you're their mom, that's what the world thinks you are. I can't blame the world for judging books by their covers. I own several books for the same reason.

I am not someone who dislikes kids or is ambivalent about having them one day: I want them. I wish I didn't, but I really, really do. Seriously, you fall in love with a person so hard that you think, "actually yeah, I could be with you forever," and then you get to make a new PERSON with them by expressing your love for them physically? WHAT? That's amazing! That's some kind of dreamland fantasy scenario, and I definitely don't want to miss out on it.

But yeah, nobody wants a kid at 25. Well, not true. I don't, and nobody I know personally does. So in these temporary moments where the universe shows me what an alternate reality version of myself as a young mother would look like, I become eternally grateful that I was so unattractive as a teenager, and that my high school boyfriend was Christian enough to insist that premarital sex was a sin. I didn't like it at the time, but I like it every time I skip over "dependents" on a tax form.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

10 Ways I Could Really Nail My Callback

1. Stay on the back line the whole time. Sweep edit one scene, but go right to the back line afterwards. Stare at the ground, pre-execution style.

2. Walk on in every scene as a different character.

3. Walk on in every scene as the same character.

4. If somebody else initiates a grounded scene, respond by screaming, "Why aren't you more worried about this rocket's collision course with the Sun!?!?"

5. If somebody initiates a wacky scene, respond by saying, "This is all in your head! We're actually both in a mental institution. I'm your doctor and you're the patient, and it's the year 2000. You think you have Y2K in your brain. Your name is Jerry, mine is Dr. Grubenparker." Then turn to the people watching and say "How's that for who, what, when and where?" Then edit the scene.

6. Take "back line support" to mean making bird, ocean and lawnmower sounds to create the appropriate atmosphere, even if none of those things is mentioned in the scene.

7. Sit down with the panel and give them business cards. Tell them it's for "when they're ready to get a real job."

8. Play a character that only vomits.

9. Play a character with explosive diarrhea, and make loud fart noises if anybody tries to make the scene not about the very funny diarrhea.

10. Yell, "SCENE!" at the end of every scene.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


Usually when I waste 45 minutes procrastinating on the internet, I give myself a hell of a self-flagellation that typically doubles as another 45 minutes of procrastination. Not this time! I just spent 45 minutes on Incredibox (go to it here!!!), and I deem every nanosecond of it a success. I have made several fantastic songs, and been romantically involved (in my imagination) with at least four of these French musicians. Because after all, I like my men like I like my coffee: skinny, sallow, sleep-deprived and sexily disinterested in their own creative abilities.

It sort of applies to coffee too. Shut up. Did you at least like the alliteration?

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Virtually Scarless... the equivalent of saying "scarred for life."

Friday, March 5, 2010

Glamour Cuts

The Glamour thingy that ran a week or so ago had to be edited down to five rules for single men, though I had written a few more. I just realized I have a blog and can post the ones that didn't make the team. For your pleasure (but really for mine) here are the runners-up:

1. Take note of her body language. Is she leaning towards you, playing with her hair, reaching out to touch you gently on the arm? Watch out! She probably has lice, and now so does your arm!

2. Make sure she's aware that you can show her the world; shining, shimmering, splendid. Invite her to tell you - and throw in some extra charm here by calling her "princess" - now when did she last let her heart decide? Note: make sure you have access to a magic carpet and a monkey sidekick.

3. Only fart if you're certain it's going to sound hilarious. Or if you've trained your butt to ask for her hand in marriage.

4a) Try not to mention your ex-girlfriends. Unless you dated the actress who played Alex Mack. We'll feel so bad about ourselves comparative to that mystery dream girl that we'll immediately put out. Or we'll get intimidated and leave, rethink it, call you in the middle of the night outside your house and then immediately put out. Like, I'm talking in-your-building's-stairwell immediately.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Nim Chimpsky

The longest sentence Nim Chimpsky (he was, I believe, the first chimp to learn sign language) ever said to his trainers was "Give orange me give eat orange me eat orange give me eat orange give me you."

I love this chimp, and I hope he got an orange out of this.

Some New Stuff

A funny video I am briefly in here.

An article about a book about atheism and potato kugels here.

My rant about how great Spain bar is here.

A dog wearing a naked human bum thing here.