Pajiba tag:www.pajiba.com,2009-03-07://1 2009-07-06T04:17:14Z Scathing Reviews for Bitchy People Movable Type Pro 4.261 Box Office Results July 5, 2009 tag:www.pajiba.com,2009://1.4853 2009-07-06T03:59:48Z 2009-07-06T04:17:14Z Here's a rarity: The weekend box-office ended in a tie. After a massive $982 gabillion opening weekend, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen fell 61 percent from its opening frame to $42.5 million, which was the same take as the opening... Dustin Rowles http://www.pajiba.com Here's a rarity: The weekend box-office ended in a tie. After a massive $982 gabillion opening weekend, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen fell 61 percent from its opening frame to $42.5 million, which was the same take as the opening weekend for the third movie in the Ice Age franchise, Dawn of the Dinosaurs. Of course, until Tuesday, weekend box-office results are estimated, so a likely victor will probably reveal itself then. In either respect, I couldn't possibly give any less of a crap.

More tidbits I couldn't possibly care less about: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, after only two weekends, is the top earner of the year so far, and my guess is that it will hang on to that title, as it surges toward $400 million. Despite opening narrowly behind The Dark Knight's record-breaking five-day opening weekend, it doesn't have the legs to approach The Dark Knight's $533 million total. It still smarts a little to see such a spectacularly awful film make so much goddamn money, and it will only guarantee that more films will be based on 80s cartoons, board games, and other flimsy source material. It also further proves that Hollywood doesn't have to give us what we want, it only has to give us what we'll settle for.

Meanwhile, over its opening five days, Dawn of the Dinosaurs put up $67 million, which is a million less than its predecessor put up in three days, in March. Still, Ice Age 3 should have little problem reaching $150 million and guaranteeing a fourth in the series. These Ice Age films has to be the most benign family-oriented franchise of all time. It's the Taken of family films, a movie you see because there's nothing else in that genre to see (assuming you've already seen Up).

Public Enemies had a fairly strong opening, as well, landing in third place with $26 million over the weekend and $41 million since it opened. It's also good for Michael Mann's biggest opener yet, scoring $1 million more than Miami Vice opened with, although the latter only managed to make $63 million overall. Look for Public Enemies to fare similarly to Mann's Collateral, which eked out $100 million in 2004.

Rounding out the top five, The Proposal has been hanging on well, putting up another $12 million to push it closer to the $100 million mark, while The Hangover, at number five, scored another $10 million to make it the fourth movie of 2009 to gross over $200 million, hardly expected for an R-rated comedy starring Bradley Cooper. By this time next week, it will also have surpassed Wedding Crashers to become the top grossing R-rated comedy of all time.

In limited release, Away We Go expanded to 500 theaters over the weekend and actually lost its momentum, heading southward. At $6 million, it's unlikely it will make back its $17 million production budget unless it gets some late-year awards consideration. The Hurt Locker, which added screens, also lost ground on its opening week total. And even The Brothers Bloom has now barely crossed the $3 million mark, all of which means: Great independent films are, per usual, being ignored in favor of massive, over-hyped, corporate manufactured, cinematic dung heaps. Yay America! Have we even had a significant indie breakthrough hit since Juno?

]]> Ice Age: Dawn Of The Dinosaurs Review tag:www.pajiba.com,2009://1.4823 2009-07-02T20:00:00Z 2009-07-03T03:20:34Z In a world where woolly mammoths fraternize with weasels and speak with the voices of Ray Romano and Queen Latifah, it's not an entirely difficult stretch to accept that these creatures shared the Earth with dinosaurs. Hell, we should be... Agent Bedhead http://www.agentbedhead.com In a world where woolly mammoths fraternize with weasels and speak with the voices of Ray Romano and Queen Latifah, it's not an entirely difficult stretch to accept that these creatures shared the Earth with dinosaurs. Hell, we should be probably semi-thankful to those at Blue Sky Studios for this history-altering diversion, which prevents the third installment of their Ice Age franchise from wallowing in such political undercurrents as did the previous sequel, The Meltdown. Still, for a movie involving those terrible lizards, not a hell of a lot happens, and, after several "action" scenes in which characters slide uncontrollably down snow-covered slopes and nearly lose their lives in disastrous joyrides that, inexplicably, don't continue at the edge of cliffs, I'm tempted to believe that the majority of the landscape of Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs is tilted at a forty-five degree angle. This, apparently, was the greatest example of imaginative peril that four screenwriters (Michael Berg, Peter Ackerman, Mike Reiss, Yoni Brenner) and an actual storywriter (Jason Carter Eaton) could dream up for their characters. Indeed, in the absence of a decent plot, director Carlos Saldanha chooses to periodically awaken his audience with those notoriously annoying yet oh-so-zany 3D effects involving beaks and tusks jutting out from the movie screen. Perhaps, in the future, the industry standard should involve a prerequisite, that is, an actual half-assed story requirement that must be satisfied before a film can even get a 3D greenlight.

That's probably too way much to ask for.

In Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs, the story picks up with the impending parenthood of two mammoths, sardonic Manny (Ray Romano) and his partner, Ellie (Queen Latifah). Manny decides to try and render nature "childproof," so he creates a special playground for the baby and, otherwise, generally does a lot of bellyaching about how dangerous the world can be for a child. As a result, Manny's good buddies, a sabre-toothed tiger named Diego (Denis Leary) and a sloth known as Sid (John Leguizamo) begin to feel like it's time to move on. Diego fears that he's "lost his edge" due to his relatively domesticated existence, so he sets off for new adventures. Meanwhile, Sid decides that he wants children of his own, so adopts a trio of "abandoned" eggs from an underground cavern. Naturally, these eggs belong to one pissed off mommy dinosaur, so she retrieves her babies and takes them, along with Sid, into an underground world and towards some weird cluster of volcanoes, which, supposedly, is where dinosaurs, as a rule, raise their young. Despite the fact that Ellie is quite pregnant, she probably figures that this film isn't gonna have a story unless Manny, Diego, and herself set off to rescue Sid. Once underground, they acquire a tour guide of sorts in Buck (Simon Pegg), a swashbuckling, mostly deranged weasel who lives in the dinosaurs' underground realm and spends his days searching for yet another showdown with the largest, fiercest dinosaur of them all, Rudy.

From there, the plot doesn't grow any more exciting or any less predictable, but Pegg does a fairly impressive job generating interest for his moderately well-drawn character. In fact, Buck 's swaggering ways are the only thing that keeps Scrat (Chris Wedge) the rodent-squirrel from stealing the entirety of the film with his continuing and unrequited acorn-chasing interludes. Then again, Scrat himself becomes less of a novelty in this sequel, for he finds himself actually starting to lose interest in the acorn after his heart is captured by a sexy female squirrel. Fortunately, Buck takes charge of the picture and keeps everything from falling into a molten pit of lava, with Pegg striking the perfect balance between the imbalanced voice work of the franchise's usual players. No nuance can be found in the voices of Romano and Latifah, who are recognizable to the point of indifferent distraction. During the entire film, I keep expecting Manny to get hit over his head by an overbearing mother and Ellie to start busting a move. More subtle turns come from Leary and Leguizamo, but Pegg finishes winningly while clearly enjoying the swinging bachelor life of his courageous, wily weasel.

Parents will be pleased to know that Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaur doesn't contain much toilet humor. Unfortunately, however, the film does contain several jokes involving the difference between boys and girls, including a bit where Sid tries to milk a male animal but, instead, unwittingly begins to jerk off the shocked creature. Hey, this ain't Pixar, folks. It's not even Dreamworks, but it will keep the kiddies entertained. As for yourself, bring a pillow because you're gonna need it.

Agent Bedhead lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She and her little black heart can be found at agentbedhead.com.

]]> Public Enemies Review tag:www.pajiba.com,2009://1.4803 2009-07-02T19:30:00Z 2009-07-02T00:40:02Z Public Enemies can best be understood as a mostly successful fusion of the two disparate sides of writer-director Michael Mann. He's always functioned as a hybrid of pop and art, sliding back and forth between technical prowess and something less... Daniel Carlson Public Enemies can best be understood as a mostly successful fusion of the two disparate sides of writer-director Michael Mann. He's always functioned as a hybrid of pop and art, sliding back and forth between technical prowess and something less easily defined but that puts a greater emphasis on energy or charisma. This was never clearer than in the 1980s, when he was simultaneously executive producing "Miami Vice" and "Crime Story" for NBC. No one needs convincing of the cheeseball nature of the former, but the latter was just as important for allowing Mann to set the course for where he would go as far as crafting a gritty, complicated cops-and-robbers narrative. It's the sizzle and the steak, the style and the substance, and Mann is able to skillfully bring them together for much of Public Enemies. The film isn't perfect -- the protagonist's inability to look beyond his next 24 hours bleeds over into the film, letting it drift a bit too far afield -- but it still finds moments of redemption in being a tightly drawn, solidly made, gorgeous rendering of a bygone time and the end of era.

The film opens and spends most of its time in 1933, when John Dillinger (Johnny Depp), George "Baby Face" Nelson (Stephen Graham) and others are making the most of the Depression and ripping off every bank they come across. The story begins with Dillinger and John "Red" Hamilton (Jason Clarke) busting some of their contemporaries out of prison, and it's clear from the start that Mann's film won't be quite like other period pieces. Mann is once again shooting digitally, working with longtime collaborator and cinematographer Dante Spinotti to capture the images on a Sony HD video camera. He used to it strong effect in Collateral, capturing the bruised orange of the Los Angeles sky at night, and Public Enemies returns to that almost runny veneer, creating a look that feels almost too liquid to be controlled. Opting for noise over grain, Mann's film feels immediately real, grounding a historical drama by giving it a modern execution that makes it more bracing and less removed than film might have done to the story. By swapping the classic look of film for the sheen of digital, Mann pumps an almost queasy amount of life into the picture, and it's a strong emotional complement to a story about men living too hard and too fast, just barely contained by the world.

Unfortunately, after the prison break, Dillinger doesn't have many goals other than to rob a bank, stay alive, get a good steak, and spend time with his fellow criminals. His lack of an external motive isn't necessarily bad, but by refusing to give him a proper emotional arc until too late in the film, Mann and co-writers Ronan Bennett and Ann Biderman take what could have been a riveting look at the final months of a larger-than-life criminal and reduce it to a meandering melodrama in search of an anchor for its characters. Dillinger pursues and wins the company and eventually the heart of Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard), but the film takes too long to transition him from her owner to her protector, and though there are a few moments toward the end that sadly cement the doomed nature of their love, too much of their time is given to Dillinger's superficial need to have her just because.

The film occasionally slips off track, but Mann mostly manages to regain control when dealing with Dillinger's ever-present conflict with the law as embodied by FBI agent Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale), who took down Pretty Boy Floyd and has been appointed by J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup) to run the Chicago office and task force charged with apprehending Dillinger. The narrative is ultimately propelled by the interstate game of cat and mouse, hinging upon several key battles and chase sequences, including an epic shootout in a wooded cabin at night between a team of federal agents and a crew that includes Dillinger. These are the most explosive and tautly directed and edited sequences in the film, and Mann's skill with action movies combined with the compelling grace of the digital photography makes them heartstopping.

The re-creation of the early days of the Bureau of Investigation is fascinating; the screenplay is based on Bryan Burrough's Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-34, and the author told Vanity Fair last year that the script was "by far the closest thing to fact Hollywood has attempted." Mann's love of police work shines through in his devotion to telling a story about men trying to catch a killer without radios, databases, or anything modern crime dramas take for granted. Tapped phone calls are saved on actual records; officers use pay phones to contact each other; the Bureau is still so new that its field agents don't know the basics of doing a stakeout; etc., etc. Mann's fastidious attention to detail makes for a beautiful movie and an interesting idea of the early days of law enforcement, but too often it feels like just that: a series of ideas that never quite gelled into a story.

However, Depp and Bale are trademark names for a reason, and their performances are usually enough to tip the scales in their favor. Bale is getting good at playing men icily devoted to the pursuit of a single object, regardless of cost: Purvis' slow acceptance of the greater lengths he's willing to go to just to find Dillinger are an easy mirror of Bale's work as Bruce Wayne in Christopher Nolan's Batman films, which is a good thing. Depp has a slightly tougher time finding the roots of Dillinger, especially since Mann seems more focused on creating a good movie and not on filling it with interesting people, but he's still effortlessly charming and manages to convey Dillinger's rightful paranoia as his career evading the law grows longer and more dangerous each day.

Dillinger was the Bureau's Public Enemy No. 1, but on several occasions in the film, the agents pursuing him wind up following or fighting with Nelson. It's as if Mann is trying to, if not shift the blame, at least make Dillinger out to be a more populist thief than the more murderous and apparently vastly less mentally stable Baby Face. Mann wants to show him as a robber and criminal, but also to empathize with the legend that romanticizes him. (Taking a page from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Mann's Dillinger is fascinated with his own press and the manner in which he's been immortalized even before his death.) But while Mann's gifted at synthesizing the opposing sides of his own personality as a director, merging a by-the-numbers crime story with something that yearns for pop opera, he never manages to come down on any particular side of Dillinger. Maybe he was reluctant to lionize a killer and thief at the expense of the lawmen he respected, or maybe he was unwilling to condemn a man who took from the rich but tried to look out for the poor. Public Enemies is a strong film, one with moments of real beauty and excitement, but in the end, the flash and substance battle to a draw.

Daniel Carlson is the managing editor of Pajiba. You can visit his blog, Slowly Going Bald.

]]> Pajiba's Guide to Third Date Flicks -- 2009 Edition tag:www.pajiba.com,2009://1.4841 2009-07-02T19:00:45Z 2009-07-03T00:58:42Z Never underestimate the importance of third dates, folks. Third dates are where long-term determinations are made, where a relationship crystallizes, where you find out if the guy with perfectly mussed hair and a slobber-free kissing ability actually has something under... Dustin Rowles http://www.pajiba.com Never underestimate the importance of third dates, folks. Third dates are where long-term determinations are made, where a relationship crystallizes, where you find out if the guy with perfectly mussed hair and a slobber-free kissing ability actually has something under the hood. While first dates test physical attraction, and second dates allow you, in varying degrees, to act upon that attraction -- despite the prevalence of Social Media -- it is still the third date where actual personalities are revealed, where you get to really know one another beyond Facebook and Twitter updates. While first and second dates generally take place in public -- restaurants, bars, movie theaters, or (for the luckier) park benches after last call -- third dates tend to take shape on living-room couches, accompanied by light spirits, take-out, and DVDs.

Indeed, in many relationships, the figurative "third date" is where each partner presents his or her defining movie, the one film that epitomizes your personality -- the piece of pop culture you put out there to reveal your essence, man. Back in the '60s and '70s, I suspect these dates took place in front of a record player, where songs were traded back and forth and couples quickly learned that Bob Dylan and Donna Summer could not co-exist. Today, in a technological world replete with rewind, pause, and DVD bonus features, it is the couch (or futon) where these defining moments are made, and where Michael Bay can ruin a relationship or Michel Gondry can make it.

So, here I offer you a handy-dandy guide to third-date movies, and what they mean to the future of your relationships.

The Rain on My Car is a Baptism, the New Me, Ice Man, Power Lloyd, My Assault on the World Begins Now: A guy can almost never go wrong with pre-2001 John Cusack -- Say Anything or High Fidelity says sensitive yet masculine, culturally aware yet unpretentious, and Fidelity's credit-rolling Stevie Wonder number, "I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)" provides the ideal segue from love seat to fold-out couch. Grosse Pointe Blanke also offers a subversive twist to the Cusack canon, suggesting all of the above, but with some added baggage: He's cool, musically inclined, but his relationships inexplicably fall apart under the weight of his past. If he offers you Shakabuku, however, politely decline and make your excuses. Also, be wary of any man who chooses any of Cusack's post High Fidelity movies -- it means he's never seen a movie before 2001, and doesn't know any better. While he's checking FB updates on his iPhone, slip out the back.

What if Andy Gets Another Dinosaur? I Don't Think I Can Take that Kind of Rejection: If she presents anything animated (Pixar or Disney 2-D), you're looking for a world of hurt; you may as well resolve now to condom-littered doormat status. A woman who offers up Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, Toy Story, or Ratatouille is either hopelessly naïve or more likely disguising her true nymphomaniacal nature, and she's probably going to end up sleeping with your best friend, your roommate, and the guy down the street before your relationship ultimately crumbles while the two of you are stuck in the same apartment trying to screw your way through all of your acquaintances. It's an ugly scene, folks. And if you go through it, Lady and the Tramp will never be the same. There is one exception: Iron Giant. If she pops that into the DVD player, attempt to reschedule for another night, go home and watch it four times, and get all the tears out of your system before seeing her again. Sobbing over a cartoon with voice work by Jennifer Aniston and Vin Diesel doesn't necessarily create the best impression.

You Rush a Miracle Man, You Get Rotten Miracles: Conversely, if your potential girlfriend pops in Sleepless with Seattle, You've Got Mail, The Princess Bride, or He's Just Not that Into You, she's not only kind of bland, but she's angling for a ring. Not only does she have a hankering for a long-term commitment, but she's got ridiculously high hopes for your relationship, and you may as well give it up now, man, cause all the Cusackian affectations in the world won't live up to her lofty expectations. Still, all is not lost -- if Sally from JDate hooks up with a Capra Guy (discussed below), there is hope yet.

I am the Muffin: If either partner sticks in Truffaut, David Lynch, Von Trier, Bertolucci, Malick, Warner Herzog, or anyone else of their ilk, someone is already trying too hard to impress -- if he/she is actually an intellectual heavyweight, there is no need to bother with Le Crime de Monsieur Lange unless he/she is out to prove something or he/she is an asshole movie critic (or film student) and, trust me, you don't want to go there. Roman Polanski, Jean-Luc Godard, foreign films, and documentaries might suggest a high level of intelligence, but they're not good third-date choices unless you're trying to scare away your Ashton Kutcher types or sleep with one of your grad students, who feign interest to procure an A in your class. Don't get me wrong: There is something to be said for a cerebral mate, but anyone who discusses auteur theories on a third date probably doesn't wash his or her hair very often and will likely end up trying to talk you into an "open relationship" at some point. If that's your bag, more power to you.

I am Iron Man: If he brings over Iron Man, The Dark Knight or one of the Bourne flicks, he's probably not going to be a keeper, ladies. He's got solid taste in action films, but he's not looking for anything serious. However, he probably is good for a quick fuck or three -- any man with enough confidence to sit through two hours of Robert Downey, Jr. Matt Damon, or Christian Bale and still think he's going to get laid is a man with one giant doughnut dick. Jump on that and ride it for all it's worth.

Now that I've Met You, Would You Object to Never Seeing Me Again?: Anything written or directed by Wes Anderson, Spike Jonze, Rian Johnson, David O. Russell, Paul Thomas Anderson, or Charlie Kaufman are risky propositions, with equal powers to alienate or ingratiate. Indeed, I would suggest that all of the above filmmakers provide an easy means to screen out potential mates. If you pop in Magnolia and your date is still curled up next to you after frogs have fallen from the sky, you've found your soul mate. If, however, your date fell asleep halfway through The Royal Tenenbaums or Brick, I'd suggest gnawing off your arm and making for the door before he/she wakes up hoping to watch a Eddie Murphy or Katherine Heigl flick.

Wow! You're Much Prettier than Me!: If he brings over any of the Apatow films -- 40-Year Old Virgin, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Superbad or, especially, Knocked Up -- then what he's basically saying is this: "Accept me from what I am. I am never going to improve myself; I am always going to wear T-shirts with swear words on them; I will smoke pot with our child; and I hope you don't mind supporting my career, which basically amounts to sitting in my underwear and surfing the Internet." In other words, forget compromise in the relationship. You're going to have to move toward his direction, which will mean washing dishes and checking to ensure the toilet seat is up. And no: He will not shave.

Wow. Look at Me. I'm Not Even Listening to a Word You're Saying: If you spend your weekends playing role-playing games or attending comic conventions, let's just be honest, OK: You probably don't actually have a date. But let's say, by some unforeseen miracle, you're lucky enough -- with some persistence -- to trick Shelly in accounting into coming over to watch a few films with you so long as you promise to sit across the room. OK. First of all: Take a shower. Second, don't pull out the obvious. The Lord of the Rings and Matrix trilogies are only going to perpetuate the stereotype, and nine hours of hobbits isn't going to will your date into submission. If you must present that side of yourself, at least rent American Splendor or Ghost World, which suggest a certain amount of geeky self-awareness that can be attractive to the right gal. And listen. OK. Listen hard. Do not, under any circumstances, stick Crumb into your DVD player. That ain't cool, man. Not cool.

Neo-Maxie-Zoom-Dweebie: The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, Willow, or Ferris Bueller's Day Off: Awwwww. Your date is sick and you're taking care. That's sweet.

My mouth's bleeding, Burt! My mouth's bleeding!: There is a lot to be said for Frank Capra flicks -- and you could do a helluva lot worse than a guy who presents It's a Wonderful Life or Mr. Smith Goes to Washington on the third date (I'd argue that To Kill a Mockingbird and, more recently, The Majestic also falls into this category). These films suggest a sweet, relatively intelligent guy with his head on his shoulders who works in middle management and will make a helluva Dad someday. But beyond that silver lining is a cloud that's about to burst wide open -- this fella is a weeper, ladies, and that shoulder of yours is gonna get a lot of company in the near future. A Capra guy is thin-skinned as hell; and while a man who cries occasionally -- when a child is born, while he's offering up his vows, or when the Red Sox win the World Series -- makes an ideal husband or boyfriend, if he cries at the "beauty of it all," or every time Jeff Buckley comes on the goddamn radio, you've got yourself a Dickens character.

Well, color me happy! There's a sofa in here for two!: If she drags out anything starring Katherine Heigl, Jennifer Aniston, or Kate Hudson, and he counters with Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler, or Will Ferrell -- God bless the two of you, you'll be obliviously happy together for the rest of your lives and neither one of you will ever have to worry your pretty little head about what's playing at the local indie theater.

You Got to Go through a Lot of Sex to be Ready for Anti-Sex: If she inserts any of the following movies into the DVD player on a third date, you'd best beat a path to a well-lit public place, because you've got yourself a lady with some deep-seated anger-issues that probably have nothing to do with you: The First Wives Club, Fatal Attraction, I Shot Andy Warhol, Sleeping with the Enemy, Single White Female, Thelma and Louise, Kill Bill, or any other film in which the female protagonist wields a butcher knife. If you decide to stick around, however, do note that -- if you can take it -- the sex is going to blow your mind.

She's Either a Complete Wack Job or The Woman of Your Dreams: Annie Hall.

I'm Sorry, but I Take Little Pleasure in a Ball: If, on a third date, your girlfriend pulls out anything from Merchant Ivory Productions (Howard's End, The Remains of the Day), anything adapted from a Jane Austen novel, or almost any movie starring Colin Firth, there is probably nothing wrong with her. She's smart, independent, and literate. In fact, if she's hot enough, spare her feelings and try to stay awake for God's sake. If, on the other hand, you're a guy who actually finds yourself enjoying any of the aforementioned films, you might consider reexamining your heterosexuality and think twice before popping in Definitely, Maybe.

Shut Up and Deal: If you both show up carrying a copy of Billy Wilder's The Apartment, you'll never have to endure a third date again.

I mean, sooner or later, you gotta find out what it's really like to be black. If he brings out Crash, Babel, Shakespeare in Love or any other of a number of films with intersecting plotlines, then he's worse than even a dumbass. A great dumbass will own his stupidity. This guy is a dumbass who wants you to think he's intelligent. He's trying really hard, but unless you can get past the fact that he frequently uses words that he doesn't know the meaning to and the fact that he will never admit he's wrong, then you need to move on along. ,

It's Not Personal, Sonny. It's Strictly Business: There is no sense in dragging out anything directed by Spielberg, Zemeckis, Coppola, Scorsese, Ron Howard, Hitchcock, or Tarantino -- they've all made decent films, but even their best work is largely impersonal. They can make great sixth- or seventh-date films but, on a third date, these just don't push the relationship forward in any meaningful way. In dating terms, they're like a great Valentine's Cards without an inscription. It's tantamount to saying, "I like long walks with my dog on the beach" -- that may be true, but seriously, who cares?

They Will Never Take Our Freedom!: You won't learn a lot about a person's personality if they crack out Braveheart, Shawshank Redemption, or Zodiac, but if you make it through the entire film with your clothes still on, then there's seriously something wrong with your sexual chemistry.

Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!: I know, it's obvious as hell, but if your boyfriend brings to his third date Hoosiers, Remember the Titans, Rudy, The Natural, Miracle, Seabiscuit, Friday Night Lights, or even Rocky, he's probably well-intentioned enough, but a bit thick-headed. Personally, I'm a sucker for all of them, but they're not flicks I'm going to bring along to create an impression about myself. The message they send is clear: "I love you, honey. Just don't go into labor on football Sunday, all right?" Likewise, if your girlfriend offers up Bend it Like Beckham or really any of the above movies, she's delivering a strong response: "I don't care how much you love the fucking Yankees -- our children are going to be Red Sox fans and, if you can't handle that, you'd best look elsewhere."

Damn them! Damn them all to hell!: If he brings The Invasion, Friday the 13th, City of Angels, Prom Night, Planet of the Apes or The Longest Yard, and they're not the original versions, wait until he's eating something, then punch him in the neck and hope he chokes to death. Then wipe away your fingerprints and get the hell out of there.

I mean, say what you like about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it's an ethos." : If either he brings either a Mel Brooks, Monty Python, or a Coen Brothers movies (particularly The Big Lebowski, Raising Arizona, The Holy Grail or Blazing Saddles), you've got yourself someone with a great sense of humor who is, at least, adequate in the bunk. However, you need to be a fairly tolerant person, because he's the kind of guy who quotes movies CONSTANTLY. He works Lebowski references into every other conversation; don't chew gum around her unless you want to be asked if you have enough for everyone; and be prepared: He or she probably has an entire arsenal of "The Simpsons" quotes at the ready.

I am Jack's Smirking Revenge: If he brings over Fight Club, 300 or The Lost Boys, congratulations, you're in a gay male relationship. Now, it's time to decide who's the pitcher and who's the catcher.

It's Cold ... So Cold: Here's a tip for you, guys. If she pulls out Titanic ,Legends of the Fall, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or The Notebook, she may fall madly in love with you but, in the end, let's just be honest: you'd be of more use to her dead than alive. She wants a great love story, a passionate romance, and then she wants you to keel over prematurely so she can spend the rest of her days wrapped in Kleenex, reminiscing about the greatest love she's ever known while reading Mary Higgins Clark novels. If you stick around, though, I'd suggest not going off to war or taking any long boat trips. That's all I'm saying.

What's the Point? They're All the Same: Some Stupid Killer Stalking Some Big-Breasted Girl Who Can't Act Who is Always Running Up the Stairs When She Should be Running Out the Front Door: If, on a third date, a guy pops in any horror movie (except maybe Donnie Darko), he only wants to get into your skivvies. Horror movies say absolutely nothing about a man's personality, except that he hopes he can scare the bejesus out of you so he can stay the night and "protect" you from Freddy, Jason, or the Blair Witch. It's stupid. It's insulting. And it wrecks the entire third-date premise. It also implies that you're dating a dumbass who'd presume that you're not only easily frightened but willing to put out under the threat of an axe-murderer barging into your house at any moment.

That ain't no etch-a-sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, homeskillet: If either one of you brings Juno, Garden State or Napoleon Dynamite, you're going to fall madly, passionately in love with each other. Unfortunately, three weeks later, you'll be completely sick of each other. But don't despair: You'll reconnect two years later and ultimately end up together.

I am a Golden God! Since you've indulged me so far, allow me to introduce my personal recommendation. First off, if you're me, and she shows up with Harold and Maude, you're probably going to end up happily married someday, but you're going to have to endure a whole helluva lot of Cat Stevens before the man calls you upstairs to tend to the clouds. And while I might counter with one of the Cusack flicks above, if I see true long-term viability to the relationship, there is no better third-date film than Almost Famous. It's got it all, y'all. It's a slightly tipsy, 2 a.m.-phone-call kind of movie that introduces the best musical moment in cinematic history, the "Tiny Dancer" bus scene that will buckle your knees, make the hair on your arms salute the gods, and then detonate inside you. Almost Famous harkens back to a time when music offered salvation instead of an insipid avenue to that faux-hipster vibe and, if you can't find some sort of romantic symbiosis when Phillip Seymour Hoffmann pronounces that "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool," then you don't belong together. Hell, you may as well go back to watching "Saved by the Bell" reruns with your roommate and discussing the secrets to crushing Schlitz cans into your forehead, because that's where you're going to be until you find a woman that not only loves 27 Dresses but has an unironic fondness for Weekend at Bernie's.

]]> 100 of the Best Comments tag:www.pajiba.com,2009://1.4840 2009-07-02T18:00:00Z 2009-07-02T16:36:04Z Though it's Anniversary Week here at Pajiba, but I've really not been able to enjoy it much because I've been working on these goddamn posts all week. This post is supposed to be a big, happy, feel-good thank you post,... Dustin Rowles http://www.pajiba.com Though it's Anniversary Week here at Pajiba, but I've really not been able to enjoy it much because I've been working on these goddamn posts all week. This post is supposed to be a big, happy, feel-good thank you post, but right now, I kind of hate you all. I've attempted the impossible: To find 100 of the Best Comments among over 213,000 comments since May 2006. Over 213,000! I've spent the last eight, eye-blurry hours attempting to compile this list, and I feel like I know all your worst fears now. Mine: Trying to find 100 comments among 213,000.

Anyway: There's a reason it's called "100 of the Best Comments" and not" The 100 Best Comments," because there's no way to quantify best. Moreover, I only included one comment per Eloquent, and if this were a true 100 Best, we all know that Skitz would hold 30 spots to himself. Also, these are not ranked -- the numbers are only there so I knew when I hit 100 and could quit, chug a pint of whiskey, and stare at a drain swirl until my senses returned. So, don't try to read anything into the numbers. I tried to be as inclusive as possible, but a lot of great Eloquents and a lot of great comments got left out. I apologize. More likely than not, it's because your comments are more insightful and less about murderous animals, sporks, or panda rape. What can I say? Thoughtfulness doesn't tend to stick out when you're skimming 213,000 comments. Sorry to folks like tamatha and samantha t. Take it as a compliment.

Also, if one of your comments was included, but it wasn't your favorite: Fuck you. On the 10th Year Anniversary, I'll let you handle this task.

Anyway, thank you all for being a part of this community for the last five years. It's been a pleasure, and here are a small fraction of the highlights:

100. FINALLY people who share my distaste for large and terrifying birds. I feel like I've come home. Because, seriously there's something not right with feathery flying things. Unless they are very, very small. Like wrens. Wrens are OK. The second they get bigger than a starling I start freaking out. And this is the entirety of the reason I can't watch The Birds, or ever got to Reading Festival again. Have I ever told you about the geese? Oh, Lord the geese. I'll be in a corner slowly rocking the pain away. - Alex the Odd

99. In Adelaide, there's a tidalwave of koalas begging for water, and looking stupidly cute when they get it (my favourite picture is of a koala found on the side of the freeway. Little bastard looks like some kind of happy, drenched yokel. Tongue waving around like a flag, face all screwed up, stoned out of his furry mind).
One state over, what did we get after four fucking days of 40C? Dead possums. Dead possums with burnt feet, which is just about the most depressing thing in the world. Well, excluding anything involving a reality tv star. 
There's no justice. I want some living wildlife fuckdammit. And admin, koalas are only vicious because sobriety makes them angry. This is why I like them. -- ScienceGeek

99. Hey! That blond girl is Carrington from So You Think You Can Dance!!! Errr . . Dancing is gay. I'm gonna go bang some chicks with my big penis. --Kballs

98. Admin, you're totally right, chaps are assless to begin with. The trick is to skip the undergarments. And imagine, it took the girl at the Adult Megastore close to an hour to explain it to me. Probably because I asked her to model them. Xtreme

97. Before I read any other comments, I gotta vent about Roker vs. the Retard Twins. I hate Al Roker. He's not funny, and yet he laughs at all his own "jokes." And I hate that I'm even aware of the existence of Heidi and Spencer. So asking me to pick a side here is kinda like asking me whether I'd rather be infected with ebola or smallpox. Having said that, I'd like the assholes on all the morning shows to dispense with the notion that they are actual journalists. They're not. They're spokesmodels. If they want to be journalists, they'll quit their $10 million a year morning gig and go slumming at CNN or MSNBC or, horrors, an actual news organization like AP or the Wall Street Journal. So stop trying to act like a real journalist 5 minutes out of the year in order to ambush some hapless celebrity like Martha Stewart or Tom Cruise or these "reality" show morons. Nobody should give a fuck what any celebrity does or says. If you're not prepared to throw down with someone who can actually fight back, like Obama or some DNC/RNC flack, don't bother. Just pimp your parent company's latest crap and the rest of the time, STFU. -- Slash

96. I frequently judge potential suitors by their response to my saying "I was born a poor black child..." So far, the men of America are batting about .100. This country is going to Hell. -- Courtney

95. "There is a special place in Hell for all involved in that God-awful (ha! see what I did there?) movie. The nuns in catechism class taught me that the 11th commandment was "Thou shalt not make horrible movies with atrocious actors in the name of God for that is to blaspheme the name of God." Seriously, go look at the tablets Moses brought down from the mountain. It's chiseled on the back of the second one. Little-known fact." Stardust Savant

94. I took the family to see it and was less than impressed. When I was growing up, the Joker was a clown prince, not a homicidal sociopathic menace. We had to leave the theater because our eight year-old had spent the better part of twenty minutes with his hands over his face. It's unfortunate how we can go to WalMart to purchase him the action figures, but he can't actually watch it due to the unnecessary violence. Also, what the heck happened to Robin? Hello? Batman and Robin? I seriously hope that the next film shows how Bruce Wayne takes Dick Grayson under his wing and teaches him how to fight crime (and we get to see some more of those high-tech bat-gadgets!). At least we were lucky enough to find that Space Chimps still had seating available! I wouldn't be surprised if that film surpasses Wall-E as the summer's animated blockbuster! -- Conrad (last name withheld)

93. You fucked up. As an angry, black, twenty-five year old born and living in Los Angeles I can tell you with all honesty that I always have deep philosophical talks with Ray Ray and Skillet before every car jacking. You see, by discussing social ills and reflecting on our current situations, we eradicate any thoughts that would prevent us from slapping some bitch ass pilgrim (white person)in his skim milk face.

Also, as a note to pilgrims everywhere. Black men in inner city Los Angeles do not hitchhike. If you accidentally pick one of us up, shoot immediately because it is a trap and we will take all your motherfucking shit (I promise.)

Haggis has done years of research on these subjects. He has been accepted by the world for his magnificent contributions to the world of film. His latest project is a 7 part series on the struggles of minorities during a racist conflict. The title: The Chronicles of Negronia. -- Gamal

92. [After hearing of Val Kilmer's governorship]: He kills pretend lions and makes pretend rock music and was a pretend genius, with lasers and everything.
Of course he's qualified to be a governor. -- Smokin

91. I don't know what's a sadder fact about me: that as soon as I saw the word "spork," I thought of KFC, or that I have, from time to time, been known to keep a plastic fork in my purse. In case I need to eat in an forkless emergency, I suppose. -- Melissa

90. Open Letter to Robert Downey, Jr:
Dearest Robert,
Fill me with your babies.
Love, R -- feramones

89. Sometimes I worry that I'm a hipster douchebag or a pretentious snob, and then I remember. I'm a friendless, fatbeard geek with a Batman poster on his wall. Framed.

It's good to know who you are. -- Lucas

88. Do Not Fuck With Padma. She will eat your face. She'll begin by seasoning your face with strange smelling powders, as she tells you all about the exotic flavors she is imparting to your flesh.She says, this combination of curry powder and cinnamon will leave you both spicy, sweet, and yummy. This strange talk leaves you uncontrollably aroused, aroused and hungry. You beg her to hurry so that you can eat the deliciousness that is your own face. She cooks your face, eats your face, and STILL looks super fucking hot, despite ingesting a high calorie dinner. -- "luker" the barbarian

87. So you think that the judge sentencing them to live together is preposterous, huh?

Setting: A small city in the Midwest, 1925.

Synopsis: A group of young boys get into a fight on their way home from school. One goes home and gets his (divorced) mother, who comes back to intervene with a "large club." A gun is brought in to the fight; one boy's arm is shot twice and then clubbed, causing a severe break; the woman is shot and sustains a "3-inch scalp wound that proved not to be serious."

Resolution: The woman is soon taken to court, where her handyman just happens to be on trial for moonshining. The judge decrees that, if the two will get married and leave the county, he will drop all charges.

And that, my friends, is the story of how my great-grandparents got married. And I have the newspaper clippings and court records to prove it. -- frumpiefox

86. Drew [Barrymore] is not retarded. She is awesome and sparkly and full of kittens and light and cotton candy. She was motherfucking Gertie, OK?

And she has nice cans. -- Lainey

85. An ugly girl who gives BJs will probably be a lot better liked than a pretty girl who doesn't. Just sayin'.

I'm cute, and I give head. -- Kate the Great

84. "I'd be surprised if any Pajiban male could actually pull off the bad ass act. I tried once but I'm pretty sure there are international treaties against ginger males acting tough because I just end up getting chased by idiots down the street and having people fight over me in pubs vis a vis the eternal debate of who I look more like Harry Potter or Ron Weasley." --jim

83. They should have "accidentally" put the colon in the wrong place. I bet a lot more people would buy Lost: Boys The Tribe. This review was not only well written, it was informative. There's an actual movie called From Dusk Till Dawn 3: The Hangman's Daughter? There was a From Dusk Till Dawn 2? People actually name their children things like Tad Hilgenbrink and Autumn Reeser? The mind boggles. -- Three-nineteen

82. Fuck a May-December romance. Fuck in right in the ass. I have had it with May-December romances. Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz? Hell to the fuck no. Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt in As Good as it Gets? Please. And let's not forget Catherine Zeta-Jones and Sean "Oops, I Crapped My Pants" Connery in Entrapment. I'm not trying to be a cranky bitch here; I realize that these relationships do exist in reality. But WHY?! Relationships of the sexual persuasion should not exist between beautiful young women and men with faces like catcher's mitts who are so old they probably won't even go down on a vagooter because foreplay hadn't been invented yet back when they were honing their game. But maybe I'm just bitter. -- Mella

81. Fuck it all. Nothing is sacred anymore. Just re-title it and subject it to the masses: "Game Over, Man!" written, directed and starring Bill Paxton AND THE SEQUAL! "Game Over, Man! 2: They're Gonna Come in Here and they're Gonna Come in here and they're Gonna Kill us!" Rated PG-13 Bill paxton will fall in love with the queen and have a baby, and then they'll just re-release Alien Resurrection so we can all choke on it. annoyingmouse

80. Well, John, as long as you're giving us the choice, I'll take the "generic middle-age melodrama starring Richard Gere, Diane Lane, and a pack of wild horses on the beach" option. Let the ladies have their Ed Harris & Viggo Mortensen and the 'crowd I don't want to know' have their latest Dane Cook shitfest. So everyone's happy, right? I didn't think so. -- TMax

79. James Caan's death scene is the greatest ad for EZ pass ever made.-- thaf

78. You know what women who don't give blowjobs eventually become? Cheated on. Find me a man getting caught in an unsavory location paying for a blowjob and I'll find you a wife who doesn't give head. -- Katy

77. My goodness. I just now realized that Kenneth Parcell was based on Clay Aiken. --Geetch

76. Hey Dustin-
They wanted me to write a testimonial.

A paper'd fan that coaxes minds alight

From embers glowing love of screen and verse;

Pajiba! Save me from this desk job plight,

And give me leave to judge and squee and curse!

Bound to thy endless fields of comment thread

Devoted to thine spoilers and reviews

Addicted to the spine-caressing dread

Of hearing some new bit of movie news-

Assuredly, thy splendor will be told

As any lurker e'er was rickroll'd.

I overdo things. -- Beatific Barf

75. "Preee-senting the revolutionary new Vileda Zomb-Away multi-mop - ideal as both an all-purpose cleaning solution for all your zombie apocalypse related hygiene problems, as well as a last line of defence against the ravenous hordes of the undead!

See how the head of the mop can be swapped for multiple cleaning accessories - use the standard mop to clear up the pools of congealed blood left by your recently wounded and now desperately fleeing family members, then switch to the sturdy broom option to scrape the flecks of bone fragments and clumps of viscera from your shag-pile carpet
Is your housework being interrupted by a ghoulish walking corpse? No problem! Simply seperate the top and bottom halves of the multi-mop handle to reveal the razor-sharp piano wire connecting the two - ideal for swift removal of zombie heads! Simply loop the wire around your slavering antagonist's neck and yank hard for swift, efficient decapitations!" -- Dill the Devil

74. I hope these assholes get deported to the Democratic Republic of Congo and are machete raped in the urethra for the shit their responsible for.
I, sir, am a Congolese machete-rapist, and I think I speak for the rest of my people when I say that you may keep the Wayan's brothers. We do not want them. Thank you very much, anyway. -- Amelia Bedelia

73. [referring to huge bags of cereal marshmallows] As in, large bags containing nothing but the marshmallows from a marshmallow-cereal? Little crunchy sugary dehydrated marshmallows? And the super fine colorful marshmallow sugar at the bottom of the bag from the ones that get crushed?

I just had an orgasm. In my pants. Again. this is the best day at work ever. -- Anna Von Beaverplatz

72. The Fox network is developing "Bitches," a dramedy about a quartet of female friends in New York who are werewolves.

Meh. This is already on. It's called The View. -- Che Grovera

71. My theory over the years has evolved to believe that many men are tightly bound to a more black and white view of the world than women. If they were raised to believe that hetero is good and homo is bad, they cling to that. There is no room for bi or maybe I'll try something new. It is pervasive in other aspects of their lives as well. Do you ever wonder why many of the loudest, most hateful fundamentalists are men? They have a very narrow view of acceptable behavior. They either believe strictly what they were fed as children or take a very literal view of scripture. I'm not saying this is true of all men and no women (there are plenty of narrow minded women in the world), but, generally, I've found that more men think this way than the women I've known. They believe that one stray act of good man lovin makes them gay, and they were taught that that was unacceptable. They would have no problem, however, watching you with your best friend. Discuss. -- slower lower

70. log flume = giant cock on a river of cum?

slip and slide probably doesn't need much changing, actually. it's just an excuse to get girls wet. -- lizzieborden

69. So if you can't reach your ass, use a toilet brush? ... They should call that thing "Ass-Swiffer." --Cindy

68. don't really need to read movie reviews any longer. If my 12 y.o. sees an ad and pronounces a movie "Cute," I know it will be terrible. It's sad, because she used to have good taste, and I had high hopes for her since she is the only one in her peer group with no use for Twilight. But lately she's developed a fondness for Adam Sandler movies, and I think that means I should probably start drug-testing her. -- Wednesday

67. Road Trip and American Pie are now too old for teens to "get"? Well, shit. That's the most frightening thing I've heard since a high schooler looked at me funny after I quoted The Simpsons. Yep, that was some awkward sex. -- Macafee

66. I remember the exact moment I realized I was an adult. It wasn't graduating from high school or college or getting a job or even buying a house. I always felt like I was just house-sitting until the real owners came back.

Anyway, my new house has a wood floor in the kitchen and so I bought a vacuum cleaner attachment that would let me clean it. When the dust bunnies started rolling across the floor, I figured it was time once again to sweep, and then said to myself, out loud, with genuine excitement, "Oo, I get to use my new attachment!"
The child inside me died that day. --DeadBessie

65. M. Night Shamlongadingdong teaches us a brilliant lesson: Trees are evil and conspiring to kill us all!! We must destroy all trees now before they kill us! Where is a bulldozer when you need one? I am off to the park to tear down an ancient oak right now. Its my civic duty. Fucking Weeds. -- JP (L.O.V.E.)

64. I was driving down the highway on my way back to my university, and I had just finished eating a banana. I didn't have a designated bag for trash handy in the car, and I wasn't in the mood to pull over to dispose of the peel.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a car a few hundred yards behind me. In one of my more inspired moments, I wondered what it would be like to play Mario Kart in real life. I hesitated, but ultimately I could not resist. I rolled down my window and tossed the peel up into the air. It landed in the lane directly behind me, and the car drove over it.
I was disappointed to find that the car did not spin out. -- Darth Corleone

63. Oh FUCK no, tallulahc, ain't nobody talkin' no shit about Beckinsale when I'm around. I know where you live, dickass. Your name reminds me of a town near where I live. It's called Tuba City. That's how crazy I am. -- the_wakeful

62. Wow, Dakota Fanning is going to retaliate for being raped in a movie by raping the audience with a terrible movie. When will it end? -- George

61. Here's my question: Since Mel Gibson is rocking a Van Dyke beard, does he believe that his beard was created that way? Or did it have a choice? If it prays really hard, will it become a Soul Patch? -- JakesAlterEgo

60. Hope Floats? Shit Floats. -- Odnon

59. Shut UP, you guys. Cheerleaders take so much shit from people who think they're all vacuuous, big-boobied assholes with eating disorders. Cheerleading is hard work, and that hard work should be recognized. Football games take place in the fall, and it's very cold then. But do cheerleaders let that stop them? Hell fucking no!! They pull themselves up by the sportsbra straps and act like professionals! And every once in a while, when a studio sees fit to honor them in film, ugly, jealous bitches like yourselves shit all over it.
Jerks. -- Clee Shay

58. Dear Mr. Slim,

I've run your requests by the administration at Homosexual Headquarters, and I'm sorry, but you cannot have the words "bear," "assless," or "chaps" back, but you can take back "Vaseline," and "nipple clamp," as neither really do much to provide our community with pleasure or humor any longer.

Insofar as the word "poon" is used, we feel that it is innocuous enough, funny enough, relevant enough, and just un-feminine enough, and doggoneit, our people like it. Therefore, it is now ours. We are also holding a closed-door meeting later this month to decide on whether or not the heterosexual community will be allowed to keep the words and/or phrases "knocked up," "fist," and "titty fuck." We think that they are clever and may suit our needs for the fiscal year 2010.

We appreciate your requests and suggestions and welcome you to keep the lines of communication open in the future; however, please keep in mind that since we are already going to Hell and refuse to conform to any known societal norms, we will likely not take your opinion into consideration, as we just can't be bothered to care.

Sincerely,
The Pink Hulk
Ambassador, HH - The Pink Hulk

57. Bubba's last name isn't Gump -- unless I missed the gay marriage scene. I mean, I know that movie was a little overly sentimental, but a mentally retarded man marrying both a black man AND a woman with AIDS would just be too much schmaltz for my weak heart. -- Ariel

56. I hate you people. I hate everyone who is not the parent of a 10 year old girl too squeamish to watch a loud action movie and got to see The Dark Knight this weekend. We could have gone to see this if anyone had stepped up to the plate and offered to take the girl to Libby Lou or something. Let it be on your heads. Hate. -- greer

55. I imagine that Bruce Willis will play the grizzled veteran with a complicated past. There will be a balls-out rookie with a glint in his eyes who wants to take him down, and some black guy from the south (just like this season!), who just wants to give his kid a decent chance. I also see a hulking Russian who was rumored to have knocked-out a Polar Bear with one punch, and a hot tomboy (just like this season!), who gives just as good as she gets, and takes off her top in a shower scene. Terrorists will descend on the north, attempting to destroy some gas field or nascent green technology that would free the west from dependence on Middle East oil, and only this ragtag group of ice truck drivers can save humanity. Aerosmith will do the soundtrack.

I swear on all that the most magnificent Godtopus has created and destroyed, I would rather see this movie than about 2/3 of what is coming or proposed out of Hollywood today.

Samples from the script:

"Yippee Ky Yay, Ice Truckers!!!"

"But, my dad was an Ice Trucker, and I promised my mom I wouldn't follow in his footsteps...then she got the gout and we have to pay for that surgery somehow!"

"I look out from my front porch in Russia, and I see Sarah Palin staring at me. I send pet polar bear, who I tame by punching in face, to attack. But, polar bear impregnant daughter. Bear stupid!"

"I can drive an ice truck as well as any of you SOB's. I can do anything you can, I'm as good as any of you, AND I've got THESE..." (rips off top to expose DD's)

"Don't wanna close my eeeyyyyeeessss/ cuz I might freeze and diiiiiieeeees/ oh, I missed the whale/ but I don't wanna miss the seals..... --dammitjanet

54. Not NEARLY enough people are pathologically afraid of clowns and its good that you are. Clowns who turn into weird spider monsters are just....god damn it, it just ain't right I tell ya!!!! I love me some Tim Curry, I do. But good lord It haunts my nightmares. My bf finds it hilarious that I'm so scared of them. HILARIOUS. He wont find it hilarious when one of them eats me. He recently read an article about some...where, in Europe, about a group of men dressed as clowns dragging kids into vans, no joke.

I read a story once about a boy obsessed with clowns, who sneaks into their tent when a circus visits his town. The clowns state that clowns is born, not made, and start licking his face with rough, cat like tongues. They lick the flesh off of his face to reveal the natural clown face beneath and he joins their troupe for ever, while to the rest of the world he's another kid who got nabbed by kiddie fiddlers at the circus. Clowns are proof the devil is real,and he hates us, very much. -- Nadine

53. The first generation spambots, they were easy to spot. All LOLs and spelling errors. Then Skynet made them look human. But that wasn't enough. What would humans find irrestible? Chewing gum, lifesavers, tablets of ectasy and Red Bull. It was then that 'bots became dangerously delicious. -- Mrcreosote

52. Today's forecast - grumpy with scattered periods of stabby. Also sunny and warm, with mild (white-hot) rage interspersed with homicidal irritation. 69% chance of rampage, with a projected casualties in the upper 40s. Tonight's forecast - dark, with reduced incriminating evidence, followed by increased light and irritation come dawn. Advisories - Watch for flying knives and squirrels, and tread carefully on the...organic...shrapnel. Some may scream that they're not dead yet and that they need medical attention, but pay them no mind as it's well a known fact that the recently dismembered persist in a state of denial for several hours.(This forecast brought to you by the Rightful Death Alliance. Any similarity with TK's usual disposition is purely coincidental. All forecasts final and binding unless successfully averted by bribery, promises of greater future destruction, or repeated viewings of River Tam gracefully kicking Reaver ass.) --lordhelmet

51. Idealism is a characteristic traditionally associated with liberalism? Seriously? Have you ever met a hard-core conservative? Trust me, they're idealistic. Their ideals are just different than yours. Kitty X

50. I once watched this PETA video about expolited, screaming, bleeding cows, and it really upset me... and then Whoopi Goldberg showed up and I realized I was watching The View. -- J_Capri

49. You know what I like on women? Good hygiene and a vagina. Everything else is negotiable. Tall, short, fat, skinny, long hair, short hair, I just met a survivor of stage four breast cancer and not only did I want to bang her six ways from Sunday, I wanted to bang her seven ways from Sunday after I saw pictures when she was bald. Call me a man-whore if you want; I can't hear you because I got a big girl's thighs over my ears and she is riding my face like a goddamn bicycle. -- Tracer Bullet

48. It's better to forget it and just watch Jason Statham kick ass. I think that this might be the defining statement of my lifetime. Worried about how to fix the complete and utter clusterfuck of American foreign politics? It's better to forget it and just watch Jason Statham kick ass. On the verge of a homicide spree because your sorority slut roommates are too engrossed in a rerun of The Hills to let you watch the Celtics game? It's better to forget it and just watch Jason Statham kick ass. Wondering whether its worth groveling to your ex-boyfriend just to get some much needed nookie? It's better to forget it and just watch Jason Statham kick ass. On second thought, that last one might just accomplish the whole nookie goal. That is, if you can have nookie with yourself. -- Marra

47. "My friends and I bought the worst romance novels we could find last summer. Mine was some crazy story about an island off north Scotland, where this woman who was like the lady of the island had to fall in love with a green-eyed man in order for the people on her island to be able to have girl babies again. Or was it boy babies? I don't know, there was some kind of anti-baby curse. Did I mention that about half of the characters spoke in a Scottish "accent"? I threw it across the room at least five times. Anyway, after the leading man had been described for about the fifty-bajillionth time as having "feline grace", I looked over to see my overweight cat Singe licking her own ass, then looking up at me like, "Whut?" It was a special moment." --Blonde Savant

46. GAWD, Journey. I must say that, though I agree that Poison blows goats, I actually do think Journey is honestly "So bad, it's Awesome," because while I kinda feel Bret Michaels and the gang didn't give two shits about their "music" as long as their bangs held in place and their groupies had enough coke to snort, Steve Perry and his crew motherfucking CARE. They care SO HARD. Look how hard they care in that video - the earnestness! The commitment to playing air keyboard in an industrial warehouse lot! The Cutoff Sleeves of Justice! The dedication to what is possibly the most ill-conceived video concept in the history of shitty 80s videos - it's truly astounding. Steve Perry and Bass-Guy's-Moustache: I salute you. -- Tammy

45. Oh, and I liked the old central position of Pajiba best. Call me old fashioned, but I'm really old fashioned. I still weave my own cloth, and I prefered computers when you had to enter this crap with punchcards with Hollerith codes. -- BWeaves

44. Misogynism is a real problem, in literature, in politics, in life. But calling people sexist pigs for portraying women in a way that might be perceived as unflattering to those who don't look beyond the surface is part of the problem. Writing about whores and abuse victims doesn't make you a misogynist. Calling your wife a cunt on television does... --Pants

43. I can say that I only watch the parts of the Scotish dad shtick. Since I being of Polish lineage was born with a gigantic cranium, I passed it on to my son. During the ultra-sound right before his birth, the doctor and I starting to quote the head-size jokes, while my poor wife laid there like a beached manatee with her stomach exposed. Needless to say, he is nine now, wears a 7 1/4 hat and his head does have its own weather system. If the two of us move in opposite directions at the same time, the tidal patterns change off the coast or Sri Lanka. -- richmac

42. I'd have to say, you can't beat HIV as a conversation killer. B-Slim

it's not so bad, usually i'm all "HIV? i hope i never get THAT again!" -- gp

41. "Hey gang! Michael Bay here! I've got a dynamite idea for a snack - my sweaty scrote! Hey, hey, I'm just kidding, guys. I'm really excited about this Friday the 13th reimagining... Why does Jason always have to be some lumbering, disfigured, lug? Jared Padalecki is gonna breathe some fresh life into this role, let me tell ya. And, what's that I smell? Is that... yes, I do believe that smells like a dance scene. Huh?! Yeah, It's time we brought....

[...swishing sound, followed by several wet "thwacks"...]

Aaah... Ah jesus... (cough)... looks like... (cough)... somebo... OHMYGOD THAT HURTS... ninja, ninja... stars... with so MUCH BLOOD... ninja stars with "PBT08" stamped on...(cough)... 'em... everything, going. daark... Michael...Bay, signing... off..." -- Michael Bay

40. "Spiders are as evil as Peeps and are out to kill us all." -- Melody

39. (Re: The Ab Fab remake on FOX) This will be about as successful as the current US attempt to remake the British empire. -- celery

38. The true story of his death:

Actor and martial arts master David Carradine, 72, was found dead today in his hotel room in Bangkok, Thailand. According to sources the hotel room was "littered with the bodies of black clad warriors, suggesting Mr. Carradine had been the victim of a ninja attack". Ninja attacks are not an uncommon problem in Thailand, but the sheer number of dead ninja were said to be "staggering". Chief Inspector Phuk Pan had this to say, "It was as if the ninja were taken to a great height, and dropped. Limbs were broken and bodies were twisted with great violence. It made me vomit to see the mess."

Mr. Carradine was found at the foot of a canopy bed sitting in the lotus position favored by Buddhist Shaolin monks when police were finally able to break down the door being blocked by piles of dead ninja. An unearthly glow was said to bathe his body in warm light, illuminating his faint and knowing smile. Upon closer inspection he was found not to be breathing and a small shard of metal was found inbedded in the palm of his right hand. While cause of death will not be known for several days it is believed that the metal shard was actually the broken tip of a poison tipped spear, likely coated in tetrateratoxin, a paralyzing agent and favorite of local crime syndicates, specifically that of The Black Foot.

In his left hand he clutched the famed Amulet of Ravahasu, an ancient artifact said to grant the possessor the power to raise, and command, an army of the dead. Among his personal items was the contact information for Dr. Stephen Wallace, a British nationalist living in Bangkok, and reputed expert on the Amulet of Ravahasu. It is surmised that the victim was ambushed before he was able to make contact with Dr. Wallace.
Investigation is on going. --TylerDFC

37. You misunderstand, Kayanne, it's an internet hate, which means absolutely nothing. I generally like everyone on this site (except for spambots and the weirdos that come out to try and prove a point every once in a while) because they make my day way more enjoyable. Pookie is an damned Pajiba institution at this point. What would a day be like without Pookie? I mean seriously. Where else am I going to see the word cunt written at least a couple times a day?

I hate, because I love.

And yes, Pookie does haunt my dreams. They're usually one of those dreams where you're falling and falling. Normally you'd wake up right before hitting the ground, but I actually hit and feel myself die.

I wake up in bed, feeling groggy, and start my daily routine. After my shower, I get on the computer before getting dressed (who doesn't do this, really?).
I jump onto Pajiba, scroll to the latest comment thread, and discover something....horrible. Every single commentor...is now Pookie.

I race back to the top of the page, and discover that the site has been renamed Pookiba. The tagline: "HELL IS OTHER POOKIES." I realize that I have truly died, and have found myself in Hell.

Then I wake up in a cold sweat, and don't go back to Pajiba until the end of the day, when the dream-terror has faded. -- Snath

36. You know, when I was younger I'm sure I would have been full of ideas about racing so-and-so car in so-and-so location, having a role in a movie, writing a book, etc., but right now I think the main thing I'd like to do is get my shit together to the point that I can actually, confidently say "I have my shit together." -- Eep

35. When I was a nine I wanted to be a Bond Girl or a lawyer. I've only abandoned one of those childish dreams and I ain't in law school. -- Kayanne

34. It's called Pajiba f*cking LOVE, and if you don't f*cking LOVE it, and f*cking LOVE Stacey than take your snotty news-needy selves elsewhere, f*ckers. In fact, anyone who doesn't feel the f*cking LOVE can piss off. Dammit. -- replica

33.

Dustin: Old men!
Women: Women.
DR: Sorry. Old women, who lives in Paheebacastle?
W: We're 27.
DR: What?
W: We're 27, we're not old.
DR: Well I couldn't just call you "women."
W: You COULD say sofia figgy julie nicole lizzieborden anna von beaverplatz stacey ranylt bedhead skittianna.
DR: I didn't know you were called sofia figgy julie nicole lizzieborden anna von beaverplatz stacey ranylt bedhead skittianna.
W: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?
DR: Look, I did say sorry about the "old men," but ...
W: What we object to is that you automatically treat us like an inferior, with your sexist reviews. If there's ever going to be any progress ...
Sir Slim the Pure: OOOOOOO, ladies, there's some lovely filth down here ...
Queen Julie (arriving upon the shoulders of former men bucdaddy and Optimus): Who's he?
DR: I am Dustin, son of Uther Rowlesdragon of the castle Pajiba, and I am your Webmaster.
W (to Julie): Some guy, thinks he's a Webmaster. (to DR): Well we didn't vote for you. We know! Let's have tea and crumpets, and then kill you.
DR: Ladies, ladies, please! I merely wish to know who lives in Paheebacastle?
W: No one lives there.
DR: Then who is your Webmaster?
W: Woo-hoo! We don't have a Webmaster. We killed the Webmaster and all the men except the two we keep around for our oral pleasure! Hail, Paheeba! Praise Godtopussy!
DR: You mean ... this is a Vagooterocracy?
Sir Che of Henson: I thought it was an autonomous collective.
Sir Pookie the Profane: You're fooling yourself. We're traveling in a dic(less)tatorship.
W: Wrong, sir, we are CLASSY ladies.
Sir Prisco of Philly: There you go, bringing class into it again.
W: But that's what it's all about! Now be on your way! Off, off with you, before we turn you ALL into ladies!
(SFX: sound of 84 boobies, banging together, follows DR and men as, keeping both hands over their crotches, they ride imaginary horses for their very lives.) -- bucdaddy

32. If everyone only knew just how many women in porn were molested as children/young girls, you'd think differently about this whole empowerment bullshit. In fact, you'd see it in a *completely* different light, I promise you that. And as a woman, I'll tell you what's "empowering" (what's up with that word, anyway?): my education, my knowledge, my capability, my career, my relationships with others, all kinds of things that don't involve what women do in porn. I'm extremely thankful that getting ready to do my job doesn't involve hot wax, an enema, and either shots of whiskey or a hit of meth. Or both. All this being said, I've seen the stuff, obviously. But I don't for a second tell myself the lie that they're somehow "empowered" by it. Lord have mercy. -- Snuggiepants the Deathbringer

31. [Referring to Australia, the movie) You laugh, but I would see far more romance films if they all held the promise of cows blowing up. -- Genny (also Rusty)

30. But...what's the obsession with bears? Do I give the impression I go bear-wrestling every night? I mean...I only do that on weekends, people...when I check my traps baited with copies of Transformers. So far, I've only caught three geeks and a mutant flesh-eating sheep, but I have high hopes for this weekend... -- Shadows of Dakaron

29. Clay Aiken, gay, whoa. I didn't see that coming. -- Pookie

That's because he was fucking you from behind. -- hatemail

28. So, this reminds me about the time I lived in a trailer park (shut up). The neighbor next to us was having an affair with the wife of the dude across the street from him. (The wife was then dubbed The Skank, the husband Skank's Husband and the neighbor the Asshole.) So One day Asshole and Skank's Husband go outside and start taunting each other, old-skool 5th grade style.

Asshole: I fucked your wife
SH: She's a fuckin' meth whore, you can have her.
(Awesomely, Skank was there, watching.)
Asshole: Fuck you.
SH: Make me.

I hear this from inside and start working in the garden (ie: holding a shovel and staring at them) and then Asshole picks up a rock from his yard and throws it across the street and hits Skank Husband. Looked like it hurt, too. So, I, being a good neighbor, dropped all pretenses of working, pulled up a lawn chair and a Bud Light and watched avidly. The rock fight went on for about five minutes, with random bad taunts thrown in. Then, Asshole says, "Fuck this, I'm done." Skank husband says "Pussy." Now it is ON. They walk across the street at each other as fast as my one year old. On the way they each pick up a rock (like they'd go unarmed!) and when they meet in the middle they do this weird bear-hug psuedo grappling thing and hit each other in the kidneys with their rocks. That takes about five more minutes, then they break apart and Skank Husband says "That goddamn skank isn't woth it." And Asshole is all "Yeah, she's a damn slut." And me? I'm damn near hysterical and yelling for my husband to come check this shit out. (He thought it was tacky to watch he neighbors fight. Whatever, it was cheaper than cable.)
In conclusion, if this movie is as good as that day, I will be satisfied. -- TWoP Fan

27. The movie doesn't look that bad. It is a kid's film. It looks mediocre, just like the first one. This site loves mediocre films for adults. Just look at the glaring reviews for "The Dark Knight" and "Iron Man." Both films were mediocre action flicks, but everyone here loved them because that's what you do with films like this. This film is the "Dark Knight" for kids.

And the State is overrated, Michael Ian Black isn't that funny, and Robert Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon created and write Reno 911 which is better than anything else mentioned on this page. -- mark

I want to see your top ten, Mark, just so I can mock you. Either for having crap taste, or being pretentious.

Actually, I don't. I just want pie. Delicious pie. -- twig

26. Spork nuthin'. I can gouge out your eyes with my thumbs. Or so says the crazy lady that came to talk to my health class in middle school. -- s.pisaster

25. [Apropos of absolutely nothing] I can no longer defend myself against these attacks I face on a daily basis. My work here at pajiba is nearly complete and therefore I will not accept a contract extension. I was asked to come to pajiba to help promote its brand and I think I've done a wonderful job. I was offered a very generous financial package to stay, but at this time I declined. I want to thank all of you for the many emails and phone calls, but my abilities are needed elsewhere. -- Pookie

24. Oh my God, I fucking HATED those piranha plants! You'd be standing on top of a warp pipe, trying to fit Mario's fat ass down and oh wouldn't you know it, a goddamn tomato with teeth pups up and all of a sudden Mario is falling off the stage. And even when you were out of harms way, they were shooting fucking FIRE BALLS at you. Out of there mouth.

Fucking salad wannabe. -- Jeremy Feist

23. "One night I had a dream, I dreamt I was walking along the beach with the Godtopus. Across the sky flashed scene from my life, for each scene I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonged to me and the other to Godtopus.

When the last scene of my life flashed before me, I looked back at the footprints in the sand. I noticed that many times along the path of my life there was only one set of footprints. I also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in my life.

This really bothered me and I questioned the Godtopus,

"Godtopus you said that once I decided to follow you, you would walk with me all the way but I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, I see only one set of footprints. I don't understand why you left me when I needed you most".

The Godtopus replied, "My son, my precious child , I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trials and suffering where you see only one set of footprints, I was so fucking hammered...man, I remember this one time I was ink bladder deep into a midget while Dustin was giving this Balinese hooker a Cleveland Steamer. Good times, man. Good times. By the way, I don't have fucking feet, dillhole. You see these?! Tentacles, man! T-e-n-t-a-c-l-e-s!! You will burn for your insolence! Burn!" -- Manny

22. This blows my plans of casting the Jonas Brothers in my film "The Triplets Who Menstruate." -- Sofia

21. You know what, while Kicky's on the subject, I'd just like to point out that Pajiba's "Guides to What's Good For You" are complete bull. Unless you can provide us with a signed document showing us that at least four out of five doctors ACTUALLY believe the guides to be good for us, I refuse to consider them valid. Do you really expect us to take them seriously when you actually call them guides to what's good for us, when it's nothing more than stuff YOU like and think that we might also get enjoyment from. Jeez, the nerve. Hell, I've been reading those guides for ages and I am STILL plagued with acute moistness, angina of the vagina, and cancer of the skank (er, that is, rainbow of the killer). You know what? Screw you guys. Liars. -- Meaux

20. My penis is named is Thor. You might be thinking, "Sabrina? That doesn't sound like a man's name." I am not a pre-op transsexual. I whittled my penis out of the finest mahogany wood four years ago. His main power is being detachable and incredibly large, but funnily enough, he also is able to run around and scare little kids and sheepish dogs with really loud noises. He fists inside my magical Mary Poopins-like carpet bag.

For these reasons, and these reasons alone, I shall be dragging my freshman year roommate to see this movie, where we will laugh and giggle whenever anybody says the name Thor. Teehee, penis! -- Sabrina

(and then five seconds later...)

I guess I'm still drunk from this weekend, but I do like the accidental imagery of my penis fisting people inside of Mary Poopin's bag. -- Sabrina

19. Top Reasons Why Clit Wood is Better Than Dick Wood

- Just as pleasurable!
- Easier to hide!
- I can conduct meetings at full salute!
- Doesn't result in blue...um, blue vag?
- Great for party tricks!
- As well as hijacking comment threads!
- Sure to get PissBoy's attention.

So there. Boys can pee standing up; girls have wood that needs no management skills. -- boo

18. These hands....have never known war. They have never known the texture of warm blood as it tricked between their fingers. They have never felt the life leave a man as he was being throttled, the air slowly crawling out of his larynx. They have never felt the hard crunch of bone shattering against bone as they pummeled another human to death. These hands have never known violence. But they shall. Oh, but they shall.... -- Vermillion

17. Dear Santa,

I feel I have been a very good boy this year. I didn't kick that teacher in the babymaker for stealing my parking spot at work. I didn't poke out that student's eyes with the 1/4" to 1/8" cable adaptor when he destroyed the sound port of my Macbook. And I didn't throw a pot of boiling water at the enraged parent who claimed my mother was the worst person in the history of the world for having the nerve to call her house since she never signed up to do anything for the fall production.

As per the naughty/nice act detailed in the holiday classic Christmas Evil, I believe I deserve a proper present for the exemplary behavior detailed above. Please deposit one Spiderwalk Sequence Exorcist Toy down my chimney wrapped, with a bow, under my tree for my discovery on Christmas morning.

Or so help me, you will be wishing that you never dropped off present one in the old country.

You've been warned,

Robert

PS: White chocolate macadamia nut cookies good for you this year? I figured I'd try switching it up. -- Robert

16. NO Kindle! Kill the Kindle! Print books must not die. You cannot take a Kindle out and lovingly flip through it's often turned pages. You cannot build a shelf of Kindles. And for those of you still in the dating game (and for me given that women usually outlive men therefore I may find myself available again some day), consider this. You can no no longer meet a guy (or girl), feel an instant physical attraction and end up at his place with that crucial fifteen minute window to make the decision about how worthy he is of a shag based on a quick perusal of his CD collection. The iPod killed that avenue of investigation. All you have left is his book shelf. If the book shelf goes, what then? You end up shagging a complete moron and find out in the morning that you have to extricate yourself from a very awkward entanglement? You think you're going to be able to track down his Kindle and check out the titles while he's in the bathroom? Fuck no. Kill the Kindle (plus Amazon is using it to push author fees even lower). -- PaddyDog

15. Don't forget that Keanu is 50% responsible for creating a future utopian world for us where bowling scores are way up and mini-golf scores are way down. It's also a place where we get to be re-united with George Carlin. -- branded

14. Somebody told me they didn't like Wall-E so I punched them in the mouth. There's not even a story there. I probably need to keep my emotions in check. -- Optimus Rhyme

13. I don't know who did the Palin facebook page but they better get Gretzky off of it right fucking now. We will not have our one and only sports hero associated with this delusional, uninformed meat puppet for the Republican Party. I have informed the Prime Minister and he is equally appalled. I have been advised that Canada's military is mobilizing and that the creator of this farce has until midnite CST to remove Mr. Gretzky's image from the page, else the United States of America will be invaded on the pretense of bringing democracy to an obvious dictatorship.

Be advised that Canada's full millitary might will be brought against America. We shall launch all 23 canoes in our arsenal complimented with marines outfitted with the latest in musket technology to secure your coastlines. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police will attack across our mutual boarder by horse-back and you don't want to mess with them. Those horses bite!

Finally to ensure your liberation Canada will be sending an contingent of 62.75 Eskimo commandos mounted atop polar bears to deal with any facist uprisings. These fuckers are mean. They carry whale bone harpoons that can be thrown over 12 metres. You probably don't think that 12 metres is a long distance but, then again, you don't even know what a metre is so fuck you.

You may be wondering who the .75 of an Eskimo is. That is Nanook, terror of the north. He lost his leg during a vicious Eskimo leg wrestling match. He is the most brutal of the bunch. During the baby seal harvest he doesn't use a club, he uses his cock.
We assure you we are serious about your liberation and we look forward to your aid in achieving our mutual goal of democracy for all people on Mr. Gretzky's behalf. -- admin

12. All I know of Connecticut is that it was a cheap-ass, baby-blue avenue card in Monopoly that nobody ever wanted because baby blue made you a pussy. Also, growing up only speaking Spanish, trying to pronounce that stupid word correctly led us to calling it "Conet Avenue" while wondering what the fuck a Connecticut was. To be fair, we didn't understand anything that was on the Monopoly board and usually ended up playing shop with the money.

So yes, I have a slightly skewed view of the world thanks to Monopoly. Nothing against you, Connecticut. -- figgy

11. AIDS can totally be funny. Like isn't it funny when someone with AIDS cuts himself on a sharp piece of glass when a bottle breaks at the bar...and he doesn't miss a beat saying "Anyone got a band-aid? I have AIDS." Or what about when the immune system starts to break down and pneumonia sets in. That louds gurgling cough? You guessed it! Best Jabba the Hut impressions EVER! Oh...and how bout the skin lesions?! I knew one dude once who had a skin lesion on his neck, but when he was weak and couldn't lift his head off his pillow, right where the lesion met with a couple of the smaller wrinkles in his neck looked JUST like Tom, from Tom and Jerry...but 70's Tom, not the good Tom drawn in the 50s. See...it was funny cuz he TOTALLY hated Tom. He was more of a Jerry guy. Not a big fan of cats at all really...which was funny. Cuz he had AIDS! Just say it... AIDS!! I laugh my ass off at how easily it can be used to bring humor.

"Don't drink that coffee Dave...it's got the AIDS."

While at the zoo, looking at a Zebra: "Be away from that Striped horse Dave...it's got the AIDS."

Is it wrong that I find all of this funny? OH! And I LOOOOOOVE Elton John's new work. It pisses all over what he did in the 70s. His music has only gotten better...liike Billy Joel, Bon Jovi, and Billy Ray Cyrus. -- PissBoy

10. Facts About Women For Network Executives
We hate sports.

We love shoes.

We hate to give blow jobs.

We love to nag.

We hate action movies.

We love romantic comedies. (Oh that Kate Hudson is so spunky!)

We're offended by comments of a sexual nature.

We never curse.
Now take that list, reverse every statement, and make a show about women like me and my girlfriends before I anally invade you with my dvd of Die Hard and garrote you with my football jersey. -- Julie

9. "As I understand it (NOT having seen the movie), and to cross two memes together, "I drink your milkshake, I drink it up!" is a way of saying "I have inflicted massive pwntangage on you." He might belong a base or two as well.

I do not know if there is a milkshake present that the pwntanged individual was drinking, and whether or not said hypothetical milkshake was indeed drunk a la Jules Winfield.

But that seems to be the gist." -- Jay

8.

pandalove.jpg


-- jM

7. I am due in November! There are so many exciting plans I've already made for the little one - trips to the tattoo parlor with Alex, late night scotch binges in front of the TV with socalled, drawing lessons with Skit, and a trip in the Murdertank with TK and the hordes. Oh, what a childhood that would be! -- Kolby

6. Dear Crazy People Who Want Me To Hold Your Baby Despite My Insistence That Really, I'm Fine Here, No It's OK Honest, Look I Just Don't Want To...
Far too many new mothers are star-struck by their own ability to push a human being out of their cha-chas, and they want to share the miracle. I am not putting down the miracle in any way. I am just pointing out, as I have said before, that cats, cattle, Third World ladies et al manage this function regularly without expecting to be put on a pedestal for it.
There is usually another factor in play when the "victim" is, like me, a childless female. They pity you, for you have never known the joyous glowing miraculous etc. of motherhood, and handing over their baby for a few moments is, to them, an act of charity to you, the barren.

There is a very simple way to avoid these irritating moments:

Hold the baby wrong.

I don't mean wrong enough to actually put the baby at any kind of risk. That is unnecessary. All you have to do is hold the baby "wrong" enough to upset the mama--and that is easier than finding a NASCAR fan at a Wal-Mart. Just hold the Little Precious at a slight angle that elevates the feet above the head, for instance. If you're feeling particularly mean (I usually am) or if the Mama has been particularly offensive, make a few cracks about the soft spot.

She will take the baby back. And you will not have to put up with that shit from her ever again. As a bonus, you will never be asked to baby-sit. -- Jerce

5. "Listen, despite the fact that they're apparently running rampant right outside my office, turkeys don't bother me nearly so much as chickens. I goddamn HATE chickens.

Except for eating, cuz yum.

But just for, like, running around? No. They're ugly, smelly, stupid and mean. And roosters? Oh hell no. As children, my brother and I dreaded when my grandparents told us to go fetch eggs. WHY DO YOU WISH US TO COURT DANGER, GRANDPA? WE THOUGHT YOU LOVED US! My grandma, on the other hand, clearly hated us and wanted us to suffer and die. She fed us lutefisk once. On purpose. I mean, she was from North Dakota so there were obviously things wrong with her, but still. There is no excuse for lutefisk. It's all gelatinous and rotten tasting and stinky and jiggly and kind of translucent and super freaky and sick and wrong, and all those old bitches are always,

"Oh, it's good with LOTS of butter." LIES.

...the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Chickens. HATE." -- Sarina

4. I saw the Angry Whopper commercial last night during the game, and I was puzzled as well. Is this a new trend? Does it come with Frowny Fries and a Murder Shake? Will the 15-year-old at the register punch you in the face when you order? Color me curious. -- Nicole

3. I'd like to share a fun little song we sing in the Pink household. See, a long while back, Little Pink learned the word "boobie" and its definition. (Women have boobies; men have pecs. Fat men have boobies.) However, in addition to being a curious little fart, Little Pink is rather chatty and was given to declaring "BOOBIES" at random places and inappropriate times. So Momma Pink and Daddy Pink had to sit him down and a declare that "We don't talk about boobies." What does Little Pink do? He turned the lecture into a song. We don't talk about boobies! We don't talk about boobies! We don't talk about boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Booooobies! YEAH! -- AlabamaPink

2. Oh... Oh, Cindy, how quickly you've turned... I remember ...(choke)... I... I remember thinking the day that I met you - "Now there's a stable crew member for the MurderTank". But now that I see where your mind's at -- all twisted up in a drug chimichanga -- now that I see that, I realize what a fool I've been all along. Well hear me good and hear me again, young Missy - there's no place for quitters here! You've just gotta buck up and... (sob)... you've just gotta think... (choke)... think outside that envelope that's not letting you spread your wings and fly... You... You've got to... You've got to stay golden PonyCindy... stay golden ... Skitz

1. I have no vanities I am the most modest, least arrogant person ever to walk the earth, much like Jesus. I would dare say, better. --BarbadoSlim

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