By Figgy | Eloquent Eloquence | December 6, 2010 |
By Figgy | Eloquent Eloquence | December 6, 2010 |
Fucking finally, it’s December! The Christmas! The New Year’s! The lights everywhere and the presents and the food! THE FOOD. The music! NO WAIT.
The fucking music. You guys. I’m about to lose my goddamn mind. All from the goddamn music.
Here’s the thing: I fucking love Christmas. I may be a cynic about every other holiday (except the ones where you get to eat a shitload of food), but Christmas melts my icy little heart and I feel nothing but this desire to give shit to my loved ones and make them happy for a little bit. I love shopping for presents, I love the look on people’s faces when they open my presents, because I am a gift-giving goddess. Even with $20 I can find you the perfect goddamn present that will make you think I’m awesome forever. I also just love the food and the decorations (specially the tacky ones because they crack me the hell up). Christmas brings out the best in me.
But the music makes me want to murder someone in the face. Repeatedly. See, it can all be explained in four words: I work in retail. A big motherfucking store with speakers every other aisle that can’t be muted as they play yet another screechy version of “Santa Baby” that makes me want to curl up into a ball and sob because I can’t take it anymore. Also that might be the worst fucking song in the history of the universe. I’ve always disliked the repetitiveness of Christmas music (Jingle Bells my ASS), but nothing can compare to the pain of listening to that shit 8 hours a day five days a week. It’s fucking torture and I need help. I’m so desperate that I’ve even risked incurring the anger of the powers that be by suggesting we shoot the shit out of the one speaker in the stockroom where I work. I…just…can’t…take it.
So what’s my point here? One, it’s a long way of saying to everyone on my Facebook to fuck off with calling me a Grinch because I don’t break out in joyous singing when I hear Rudolph for the 1500th time in one day. I mean, aside from the fact that that song is just cynical as hell. Second: no point. I just wanted to let it all out, and I hope that some of you feel the same way I do. So let’s do a mini diversion (if you’re still even reading this): what’s your least favorite Christmas song? And your favorite? I have to say I hate most of them but I do love that one Mariah Carey song. And the one that Zooey Deschanel sings in “Elf”. So, let’s hear it.
Oh, yeah. This is the EE, isn’t it? Sorry! Really. But it’s Christmas themed! I just had this digging into my brain. Just for that you get extra delicious comments this week—and more of them, considering that a lot of them are multiples. You’re lucky.
[Apologies for starting out with a Bieber comment. But it’s about his stupid ‘new’ haircut!]
10. Obviously the wretched mousy brown dye job on the right is the new cut. The difference is that whoever cut/colored/styled the hair did not do enough thinning to have it sit right on his head. The result is a tragic middle-aged lesbian who gave up on love and moved out to the farm haircut rather than a hip trendy SoHo lesbian who regularly goes to concerts of bands who have no shot of ever making it big as they are too drunk/stoned to have a successful career haircut as pictured on the left. —Robert
[I also can’t wait for Robert’s reaction at being back on the EE…with a Bieber comment. MWAHAHA.]
9. Aside from the fact that it says in the bible that no one can know when the end of the world will be, I think it’s totally déclassé that God’s using billboards for his Save the Date. Couldn’t he have sprung for some hand-addressed card stock invites or something? Maybe an infomercial?
Quick, it’s 3am and your suffering from channel surfing induced insomnia and you see Jesus on the screen talking about the end of the world and shilling what?
My guess would be toaster ovens. Nothing cooks like Christ! Mmmm delicious sacrilege. See! We Christians can have a sense of humor? If it wasn’t for the laughter how would we get through the awkward ice cream socials? Well, besides the booze. —Kayanne
[I can also see him selling bedazzled Crosses and Bible covers and other really tacky crap.]
[From the list of Most Insubstantial Actors in Hollywood:]
8. No Charming Potato? Is he excluded on the grounds of being a root crop? —Mrs. Julien
[I tell you: shit like ‘Charming Potato’ is what makes me love this place so much. It cracks me up every single damn time, and I’m not even sure what the guy looks like. We should find a way to put his name on a shirt.]
7. Sir Seymour McFrumperson [Phillip Seymour-Hoffman] looks about a pube-beard away from being a lunatic that sleeps under a bridge on a pee-stanked mattress. What the fuckity hell happened to him? I know it’s a character, but something tells me he didn’t spend too much time in wardrobe and make-up. He just showed up on set reeking like old salad-dressing and bellowed “MAKING MAGIC!” —Skitz
[Horf. Now I can smell him. Thanks, Skitz.]
6. You left the “!” out of “Kendra!” Which reminds me:
“She’s hot, and sexy, funny, and wild …”
See, right there’s the problem. They have no show unless they can convince us that she’s hot, sexy, funny and wild, that’s why they have to push that agenda on us from the start of the theme song, but we’re three seconds into the show and they’ve already lied to us four times (five, if Kendra! isn’t really a she), because I’ve tried watching dozens of times and all the exclamation points and manic editing between segments in the world cannot change the fact that Kendra! is absolutely none of those things*. A more appropriate theme song would start something like:
She’s boring, moronic, self-centered, big-titted,
She boned old Hugh Hefner and though she’s half-witted,
She’s on your TV!
Go Kendra! Go Kendra! Go Kendra! Go Kenzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
*—And yet, apparently, enough few million people a week fall for it. Lincoln was right, you CAN fool some of the people all of the time. So … if any of you Kendra! fans have an incurable disease, I have the cure! And you can have it by sending $500,000 to my Swiss bank account. Up front. — ,
[I look forward to the book “Me and Kendra: A Special Story” by ,]
5. I thought we were going to see something Centipede-like. I wonder what a Beiber-Palin-The Situation Human Centipede would look like? I’d probably put Palin in the middle, since that’s where we put bitches that piss us off (and by ‘we’ I mean mad scientists, duh). Let’s see…the rear would be Beiber because I’m guessing he’s done ass to mouth before and might adjust more quickly. Then The Situation would be the front, but I may need to cut his vocal cords a la Motel Hell like Farmer Vincent taught me.
You know what? Imma get right on this. —Pinky McLadybits
[…you do that.]
[From that movie…with the um…Asian warriors? Shit, I can’t remember. Oh, fine I’ll look it up. God, you people. The Warrior’s Way! That’s it. It doesn’t matter, really:]
4. “There, he picks up skills he never had time to master, what with the murderin’, like laundry (he becomes the town’s laundry man) and gardening.”
-Christ, Because OF COURSE he does! Yeah, he couldn’t possibly become the town butcher or blacksmith or even lumberjack, y’know occupations that might stem from his skill with a sword (or the making of one). No, no. Instead he’s got to continue on with the perpetuation of another idiotic stereotype. John Belushi would be proud to know “Samurai Dry Cleaner” lives on. Does he work with Calgon too? Or does he just fall back on it just being an “Ancient Chinese Secret”? No wait. Lemmie guess. “Lone Wolf & Cub Laundry Services: We don’t just rub out the stains, we scare them into committing Seppuku too”
[The next two are from this monstrosity. Just go take a look at the photo.]
3. Looks like Foghorn Leghorn got a Happy Ending. —Kballs
2. Whorish Mouth took a picture of my arm like this once. But not with feathers in my hand. We couldn’t find a goose that we liked enough to bring into the bedroom, nor one that was mildly attractive when shorn. So we went with a ferret. I do NOT recommend anyone else try this.
1. They are a fucking nightmare to shave.
2. The boy ones smell if they’re not descented. Kinda helps to kill the mood with the fresh scent of ammonia in the air.
3. They a fucking nosey! Like literally…they jam their noses EVERYWHERE where curiosity can lie. And considering the shadowy depths between my ass cheeks (I have a donk) curiosity was abound…as was the cold-nosing of my leather cheerio.
4. They bite and nibble. A lot. More than my woman. And in the wrong spots. I did not enjoy the 7 seconds where little FizzGig had a munch on my biffkin. Again…kinda helped to kill the mood.
…next time. I’ll wait for a goose.
[Oh I’ve missed you, PissBoy.]
[Our #1 this week is super extra special. First, it’s actually from the week before last, but I didn’t get to put it up because of the Thanksgiving holiday. But it was too damn good to pass up. Second, it’s for a bunch of people, because it was a team effort. They were all too fucking hilarious to pick just one, but the last one might be my favorite by a squeak. ANYWAY. It’s a long thread from the fantastic review for Burlesque, which you should all go read, and then read the comments. Here it is:]
1. Change this:
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with a photo of her dead mom in her suitcase and a heart of gold in her chest.
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with a photo of her dead mom in her chest and a heart of gold in her suitcase.
And that’s a movie I’d pay to watch. —RobP
How about this:
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with the heart of her dead mom in a suitcase and a photo of gold in a chest. —Yossarian
Burlesque is your typical small-town dead mom goes to Los Angeles with the chest of a girl in a suitcase and a photo of a gold heart. —Perfect Tommy
Burlesque is your typical small-chest girl goes to town in Los Angeles with a suitcase of gold and a photo of her dead mom’s heart. —Yossarian
Burlesque is your typical small-town mom goes to Los Angeles with a dead girl’s chest in her suitcase and a photo of a heart of gold. —Kargoyle
Burlesque is your typical small-town heart of gold goes to suitcase with a photo of Los Angeles in her mom’s chest. It was directed by Michel Gondry, from a Charlie Kaufman script. — Shane
Burlesque is your typical small-town girl goes to Los Angeles with her dead mom’s heart in her gold suitcase and a photo of a chest.
Apparently she’s heading for Beverly Hills and killed her mother for the insurance to pay for getting bigger tits. Unfortunately, she made a wrong turn and ended up in West Hollywood. Worse for her she locked her keys in the car along with her mother’s tell-tale heart and as we know California afternoons aren’t cool.
Her only hope is to take refuge in a local Mormon strip bar, “Coque Teez”, headed up by Cherilyn Kabukimask, the oldest yodeling hooker in L.A. who only recently took the title from one Anna Mae Bullock.
Will our fugitive songbird become the next warbling whore of the Sunset Strip? Will Kabukimask step aside? And will some PLEASE find out what stinks so bad in that Louis Vuitton? —bleujayone
Oh, the delicious Pajiba goodness! So congratulations to RobP, Yossarian, PerfectTommy, Kargoyle, Shane and bluejayone, you ALL win this week. You can duke it out for Supreme EE Ruler (Week of December 5th) if you so want, but I think it’d make an adorable photo op opportunity if you’re all up there with your Godtopus medals and Human Centipede commemorative plushies.
I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. But enjoy your victory! Personally I think it’s one of my favorite EEs in a long time. Keep it up, everyone, let’s finish the year with a bang. In all senses of the word. Ooh, saucy.
So thanks for listening. And, to anyone in power to do so: don’t make your employees listen to Christmas music this season. For the love of everything holy, think of their sanity. Don’t forget to leave your favorite and least favorite Christmas songs in a comment here.