Ode to Menstruation
Eloquent Eloquence /
Figgy
Eloquent Eloquence | July 16, 2009 | Comments (35)
Hello there, you babbling, bumbling band of baboons. All Harry Potter’d out? Enjoyed your midnight screenings but are regretting the two tubs of popcorn you had at the theater and the three double whiskeys you had at the bar while you and your friends decided that you HAD to discuss the movie and everything that was wrong with it instead of going home and sleeping for work today? You nerds. Well I hope you are in pain right now. I hope you couldn’t sleep. I hope—-
Yeah, I don’t like you very much right now. Bitter? Me? HA. Why would a two-week wait make me bitter? Aaah, damn you all.
*sigh*
I’m sorry. I’m kind of tense. I need to plan these intros better. Instead of just winging it at the last minute when I’m all in an envious rage. But for now, let’s improvise.
Like how, looking over the last week’s comments and posts, I have found our Theme of the Week: Dogs and Bodily Functions. The dogs part is mostly Prisco’s fault with his damned Air Bud reviews that suck away my time and leave me feeling disoriented and dizzy from laughing too much. And then make me feel really ashamed that I know these movies exist. I was quite happy knowing there was just one. Damn you. The bodily functions include pooping, giving birth and menstruation. Business as usual, really.
Oh, and just a quick note to anyone who comments on the music posts:
Stop being so smart and insightful and rational and polite. I get no material from you people. Really, you’re making this site look serious and respectable. Make more poop and sex jokes. Try including Hitler into a comment or something. Like celery says: “Hitler, much like Gary Coleman or a virulent strain of HPV, is the gift that keeps on giving.”
Or just model your comment after one of these:
10. Wonder if he and Saget used to tell each other dick jokes while doing bumps off Stephanie’s lower back.
That would make a good “True Stories in Hollywood”:
Tonight! On True Stories of Hollywood! Air Bud: From the Doghouse to the Whorehouse.
“He had a coke addiction like a mother. He was a snowblower, know what I mean? His nose was always runny and he was slobberin’ everywhere and sometimes he wouldn’t even come if you called him” says former agent Art Vandalay of Vandalay Industries and Textiles, Architecture and canine representatives.
“It was bad. I blame [Bob] Saget. Bud Idolized him.”
It was the former Full House star who started parading Air Bud around Hollywood, with his basketball skills alone he figured Bud had a shot at a Disney back house making enough money for his next biscuit.
Former co-workers tell all, and special appearances by his good friend Bob Saget and a couple of Bitches.
Tonight at 8/7 central —annoyingmouse
[After 15 sequels, you KNOW Buddy must have developed a drug addiction. Talk about typecasting.]
9. I second the Dander Mouse love And his arch-nemesis, Head-and-Shoulders Cat! —Drake
[I love smartass responses to typos. Good job, Drake.]
8. This conversation just happened——
ME: Name a book you hated.
My Girlfriend: The ending of THE GRAPES OF WRATH.
ME: (not knowing shit about the book) Oh, when she has her kid, and then they eat it?
My Girlfriend: (laughing hysterically) No, Rosasharn has her kid, but it’s a stillborn—
ME: And then they eat it?
My Girlfriend: No! And then she feeds the old man in the barn with her breast milk. Ugh!
ME: I like my ending better. —Jim Doggie
[That would probably be the only way I could ever like that book. God I hated it. So much. And now, three comments. The first is from a different thread than the other two. I just like them together as an Ode to Menstruation.]
7. Oh, the Mooncup. I want to care about the environment, and I do, but I will use tampons made of old-growth forests and dolphin tears before I block up the lady district with a rubber shot glass. SPILLAGE. That is all. —Lauren
I wish people would quit calling these “period pieces” as I just think of tampons. —BWeaves
Actually, B, they call them that because it was a pre-tampon era. Look it up. When it was that time of the month they just used the Irish. —Optimus Rhyme
6. My birthday 7am
me: I want pancakes
him: it’s early
me: it’s my birthday…..I want pancakes
him: I want to get married
me: pancakes first —lurker delurk
My stepdad proposed to my mom like so: they climbed to the top of a mountain. As they were looking out over the vastness, he turned to her, gazed into her eyes and said, “Marry me or I throw you off.”
I swear to God. And she said yes. It was perfect for them. —Jenilane
[My two favorite stories from the Proposals Thread. We might be all cynical and sarcastic, but damn there were some sweet stories in that thread. ]
5. Hmm, that last piece sounds like the perfect opportunity for a MATH EQUATION!!! WOOOO! MATH EQUATION DAY!!!!
IF: Steve Carrell > Jim Carey + Mel Gibson
Mel Gibson + Jodie Foster=Beaver
THEN: we can conclude that +his mo>ie wi11 5uck. —boo
[This makes no sense at all, and that is why I love it. Math is HARD, you guys.]
4. Maybe, just maybe, you should wait until it’s released (or, god forbid, until you actually see it) before you decide it sucks.
You, sir/madam are 100% wrong. I do not have to see Twilight to know it sucks sparkly sack. I did not have to see the Superman reboot to know it sucked kryptonic ass-crack. I did not have to see Wolverine to know it gargled a mutton-chopped scrote. I did not have to see that Michael Bay movie to know that it deserves a bukkake of battery acid. And I do not have to see this to know that, due to the removal of a certain weakness, this movie enjoys watersports. —admin
[*tries very very hard to not imagine mutton chopped scrotum. Fails.* Damn you and your maple syrup, admin!]
3. My Traumatic Poopin-at-the-office story:
Picure it: A small office of a dozen or so people, a day like any other. I go to the loo, everything goes as planned, until the flush. At which point the toilet clogs up. To be fair, it was probably already clogged before I even got there and I just hadn’t noticed. It was famous for sneaky-bastard clogs on nothing more than paper. Anywhoodle, after some protracted swearing, I begin to plunge.
Carefully.
20 minutes and one blister on my hand later, I had produced a bowlful of frothy chunky brown nuclear waste. The level of the bowl had gone down some so I prayed to Godtupus, and flushed. Bad move. I cursed Godtupus and all of his lesser deities as the bowl overflowed and began to pool across the floor. I waded in and shut off the water, then used the entire contents of the paper towel dispenser, plus all of the spare packages, to fashion a soggy brownish dam to prevent the sewage from going under the bathroom door and saturating the hallway carpet. The toilet then spontaneously unclogs itself, leaving me standing surrounded by over a gallon of shit-water. Fucker. I then had to do a walk of shame to the boss to give him the news. His response was “That is tragic.”
Lots of mopping and some weeping later, I had it cleaned up, but the story spread throughout the land.
Mockery ensued. —Lindsey with an ‘e’
[“That is tragic.” Priceless.]
2. Dear Roller Derby Movie,
I regret to inform you that, regardless how many pictures you throw in my general direction featuring the adorably hippy-dippy and oft covered-in-glitter-and-flowers Drew Barrymore and the delightfully insane Juliette Lewis decked out in what is essentially the dream wardrobe of an intoxicated 11-year-old, it is still virtually impossible for me to muster any interest in half-heartedly adding you to position #496 in my Netflix queue, let alone actually contemplate spending real live money on you in a theatre. First of all, you suffer from an unfortunate but persistent subconscious association with Prayer of the Rollerboys, and your Devo title just gives me waking nightmares of Corey Haim skatin’ for freedom and justice in one of those red Lego hats, and that really does you no favours. Secondly, your butchered Girl Scout uniforms are twee and all, and maybe you even have a cute scene involving Drew Barrymore attacking them with scissors and glitter glue, but there is just no way that could be any cuter than Shelley Long gussying up her uniform in Troop Beverly Hills, and I have that shit on VHS in a box some place and I can watch it anytime I want. Besides, it’s got Jenny Lewis, a very young Carla Gugino as a pseudo bitch and Tori Spelling playing a Red Feather. I just don’t think you’ve got what it takes to compete with that. It even has Stephanie Beacham! Do you have anybody from “Dynasty”? I didn’t think so.
Regards,
Sarina
P.S. If your ass ugly makeup sparks any trends, I will set Ellen Page on fire. —Sarina
[And our #1. Once again, either one of these would have won the top spot. The fact that our winner came out with these two top-spot gems in one week…well that’s the cherry on top of your placenta sundae.]
1. But the real question is- How many sick bastards tried throwing basketballs at their dog’s face after this?
*raises hand*
Though, I did have reason to hope. She was black. But, it’s the fact that she was no bigger than a shoebox that I probably should have focused on. —jM
[And…]
I’ve never been proposed to, unless you count the dazed ramblings of a tranked panda. And, unfortunately, the details that my parents gave me of their engagement are vague at best. Something about my grandpa, a shotgun, daddy’s best friend Jim Bean, and the buns my mom was baking in the oven at the time. It’s strange, though. My mom never bakes and even though my dad and Mr. Bean are inseparable and apparently smell the same, I’ve never actually met him. But they assure me that is was all very romantic, like in the movies! —jM
——-
Congratulations to one of my favorite Pajibans in all the land. Really, how could she not win? I think she’s been on the list every single week since the reboot. And probably hundreds of times in the previous incarnation. So, our Countess of Panda Rape, our Advocate for the Rightful Depiction of Wall-Es, our um…something something, we salute you. Ten-hut! Everyone don your black and white face paint and bamboo sticks!
You win a DVD, and of course, the prestige and bragging rights. Would I be offending you if I offered Kung-Fu Panda? If it is insulting and shocking, please email me with your threats and hatorade. If not, email your info to dustin at pajiba dot com.
PS: And, um, has anyone seen Skitz lately? I’m kinda worried that giving him the EE last week broke his brain and he just faded away into vapor. Was that what was needed to defeat him? Like a Rumpelstiltskin type situation? Please find him. Come home, Skitz!
Figgy lives and rages in the mad urban jungles of Honduras. Check out her blog for somewhat incoherent updates on the Honduran situation, Cannonball Read book reviews and the occassional pictures of hot men.
Comments
Posted by: MelBivDevoe at July 16, 2009 2:09 PM
Congrats, jM! That dog comment had me laughing like a madwoman.
Is that really all it takes to vanquish Skitz? I'd imagine some sort of sacrifice would be needed.