Another report for the streets: Today a car passed by blasting that Khia song “My Neck, My Back.” You know which one I’m talking about — the filthy one. Walking right next to me were some kids with their mom, and they totally heard the chorus. Weirdly, I reacted to the situation with this alien and vaguely parental sense of anger at those kids having been exposed to something inappropriate. Later, in more Drew-like fashion, I tried to think of what a more child-friendly version of that song might be, and the most I could come up with was a revised chorus: “My jump rope, my jacks, a juice box and a snack.” Can anyone with access to a children’s choir flesh out the rest of the song and get this performed publicly? Because YouTube awaits.
That is all.
No, wait. That is not all: The car playing the song was full of guys. Weird, right? Or at least sending a message that was open to interpretation?
Friday, August 13, 2010
Two Angry Mouths, One Strange Movie
A nice surprise in my inbox this morning: the heads-up that a blog had posted two particularly flashy posters for Hausu, a movie that I instantly loved before I ever watched it.
The blog itself, Sissy Dude, features a lot of vintage ads and other such graphics that many of you may find appealing — and, now that I think about it, it was an earlier incarnation of the same blog where I found the Anti-Marne — but I should also mention that alongside the kitschy vintage images is also a lot of erotica, most of it the all-dude variety. So maybe don’t open the site up at work and perhaps not from anywhere if you don’t like looking at depictions of sex from both yesteryear and today. It’s, um, quite the mix.
Just for the sake of convincing every person I can to see this strange, wonderful movie, here’s the trailer once more:
Spelled H-A-U-S-U, but pronounced “HAUS,” with traditional boogeyman inflection.
The blog itself, Sissy Dude, features a lot of vintage ads and other such graphics that many of you may find appealing — and, now that I think about it, it was an earlier incarnation of the same blog where I found the Anti-Marne — but I should also mention that alongside the kitschy vintage images is also a lot of erotica, most of it the all-dude variety. So maybe don’t open the site up at work and perhaps not from anywhere if you don’t like looking at depictions of sex from both yesteryear and today. It’s, um, quite the mix.
Just for the sake of convincing every person I can to see this strange, wonderful movie, here’s the trailer once more:
Spelled H-A-U-S-U, but pronounced “HAUS,” with traditional boogeyman inflection.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Drew Meets a Bedlington Terrier
Two men in my neighborhood own Bedlington Terriers. I know this because I have for months been seeing them walking their dogs near my house. And I noticed this because I’m fascinated by Bedlington Terriers, for while these dogs are fully canine they look remarkably like lambs.
See?
All this time living at my current address, I’ve been nonchalantly watching these dogs, plotting my opportunity to unobtrusively approach an owner, strike up a conversation and, while doing so, pet a Bedlington Terrier. Today, walking home from errands, I noticed one of the Bedlington Men waiting for traffic at a street corner — the very street corner at which I had planned to cross. Patience had paid off! I walked up to the curb and casually glanced down at the seeming dog-sheep hybrid.
“Is that a Belington Terrier?” I asked.
“Yes,” the owner replied. Nothing more.
After a few moments, I had to say something or I’d lose him forever. “Well, it’s a nice-looking dog.”
He sorta-smiled. The traffic continued. God bless rush hour.
“What’s its name?” I asked, already at a loss as to how else I could trick this man into talking to me.
“Mary,” he said.
“Oh, like “Oh, like ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
He looked at me like I actually said “Oh, like Mary, Queen of Scots?” or “Are you fattening her to eat her?” or “Do aliens sometimes talk to you through your freakish sheep-dog, you sex pervert?” His eventual response: “No, like the name.” As if it’s typical for people to give their pets plain people names like Mary or John or Susan or James. At this point, we were now both crossing the street. The window opportunity was about to slam shut and break all my fingers.
“I just thought because she kind of looks like a little sheep…” I began.
We hit the corner and he went straight when I would have to go left. “No, it’s a dog,” he said, correcting a mistake I hadn’t actually made. And the little Bedlington Terrier — who I know would have loved me so much — trotted out of my life forever on little lamb legs.
Of course, I’m crushed. Not only does the owner think I’m crazy, but I actually also think he’s crazy to the point that I don’t think I will ever want to talk to him again, even if he and I and Mary the Bedlington Terrier (not a sheep) were all to duck into the same bomb shelter during a nuclear war and ended up the three last humans-and-one-canine (not a sheep) in the world.
But just to illustrate that he is crazy and I am not, please allow me to use a visual aid.
This is a Bedlington Terrier:
This is a lamb:
This is another Bedlington Terrier:
This is another lamb:
Here’s a side-by-side:
Why must all Bedlington Terrier owners be mentally ill? (Yes, this is what I have taken away from this incident.)
See?
All this time living at my current address, I’ve been nonchalantly watching these dogs, plotting my opportunity to unobtrusively approach an owner, strike up a conversation and, while doing so, pet a Bedlington Terrier. Today, walking home from errands, I noticed one of the Bedlington Men waiting for traffic at a street corner — the very street corner at which I had planned to cross. Patience had paid off! I walked up to the curb and casually glanced down at the seeming dog-sheep hybrid.
“Is that a Belington Terrier?” I asked.
“Yes,” the owner replied. Nothing more.
After a few moments, I had to say something or I’d lose him forever. “Well, it’s a nice-looking dog.”
He sorta-smiled. The traffic continued. God bless rush hour.
“What’s its name?” I asked, already at a loss as to how else I could trick this man into talking to me.
“Mary,” he said.
“Oh, like “Oh, like ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
He looked at me like I actually said “Oh, like Mary, Queen of Scots?” or “Are you fattening her to eat her?” or “Do aliens sometimes talk to you through your freakish sheep-dog, you sex pervert?” His eventual response: “No, like the name.” As if it’s typical for people to give their pets plain people names like Mary or John or Susan or James. At this point, we were now both crossing the street. The window opportunity was about to slam shut and break all my fingers.
“I just thought because she kind of looks like a little sheep…” I began.
We hit the corner and he went straight when I would have to go left. “No, it’s a dog,” he said, correcting a mistake I hadn’t actually made. And the little Bedlington Terrier — who I know would have loved me so much — trotted out of my life forever on little lamb legs.
Of course, I’m crushed. Not only does the owner think I’m crazy, but I actually also think he’s crazy to the point that I don’t think I will ever want to talk to him again, even if he and I and Mary the Bedlington Terrier (not a sheep) were all to duck into the same bomb shelter during a nuclear war and ended up the three last humans-and-one-canine (not a sheep) in the world.
But just to illustrate that he is crazy and I am not, please allow me to use a visual aid.
This is a Bedlington Terrier:
This is a lamb:
This is another Bedlington Terrier:
This is another lamb:
Here’s a side-by-side:
Why must all Bedlington Terrier owners be mentally ill? (Yes, this is what I have taken away from this incident.)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sumo Bathhouse Victory Mural
Words cannot express the fondness I feel for the below image.
You win? No. We all win.
(Via Game & Graphics)
You win? No. We all win.
(Via Game & Graphics)
Monday, August 9, 2010
A Curse Word That Won’t Offend Anybody
Why? Because I do not doubt that someone out there went to school with stereotypical 80s mean girls named Mallory and Alison, and therefore the knowledge that this word exists might amuse them.
A random thought on such girls: What the hell possessed American parents in the 80s to make so many of them gave their daughters three-syllable names? In addition to Mallory and Alison, I feel like I was educated alongside an unusually high number of Jennifers, Jessicas, Brittanys, Tiffanys, Melissas, Stephanies, and other such people who regularly had their last initial tacked on just so we could tell them apart. Were they all blinded by the dayglo?
Previous strange and wonderful words:
malison (MAL-i-sen) — noun: a curse.According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word entered English around 1300 and comes from the Old French maleiçon, meaning the same, and ultimately from the Latin maledictio — literally malus, “bad,” and dicere, “to say,” though in practice referring not so much to mumbling as speaking ill. Compare malison to its equally rare counterpart, benison. Our world malediction comes from the same Latin roots as malison, and I’ll point out that life would be far more interesting if graduation valedictory speeches by the valedictorian were followed by a deserved tirade from a maledictorian chosen from among the worst and least popular students. The Mallorys and Alisons of the word shouldn’t be allowed to graduate without getting taken down a notch.
A random thought on such girls: What the hell possessed American parents in the 80s to make so many of them gave their daughters three-syllable names? In addition to Mallory and Alison, I feel like I was educated alongside an unusually high number of Jennifers, Jessicas, Brittanys, Tiffanys, Melissas, Stephanies, and other such people who regularly had their last initial tacked on just so we could tell them apart. Were they all blinded by the dayglo?
Previous strange and wonderful words:
- adulterine, ageusia, ambeer, anosmia
- barrack, bissextile, bloofer, breastsummer
- catholicon, cecaelia, couvade, cranberry morpheme, crwth, cummingtonite
- deasil, decussate, deuteragonist, dingle
- eidolon, epeolatry, epopt, espalier, etui
- fabiform, fissilingual, Föhnkrankheit, folderol, froward
- gallinipper, grandgore, grue, gyaru
- hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia, honorificabilitudinitatibus
- itaiitai, ignivomous
- jabroni, jamais vu, jehu, jumentous
- kaffir, kakopygian, knipperdollin
- leman, lemniscate, limnovore, linsey-woolsey, longicorn
- malacia, milt, mongo, morepork
- nef, nihilartikel, nobiliary particle, nosism
- ooglification, orchidectomy, ordured, orf
- pace, pareidolia, pavonated, petrichor, pismire, pong, puggle, purse
- quacksalver, quagga, qualtagh, quidnunc
- ronion, roynish, rubirosa
- salmagundi, scrutator, seneschal, shebang, sinople, stevedore, suovetaurilia
- tergiversate, thagomizer, thon, tiffin, tittery-whoppet, tmesis, toby, tyro
- ucalegon, ultramontane
- veneficial, verdigris, vespertilionine, vinegeroon
- williwaw, witzelsucht, wooper looper
- xenodocheionology, xyster
- yazoo, ypsiliform, yoink
- zanjero, zenzizenzizenzic, zinnober, zugzwang
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Girl in the Mirror in the Calendar on the Wall
My computer has a calendar and my phone has a calendar, but my wall also has a calendar because I find it convenient to glance up and quickly check the date or when the next Friday the thirteenth is coming. (It’s this week, by the way.) Also, I constantly worry that my machines will develop late-onset Y2K and make me think that 1900 has returned and I haven’t been born yet. So handy though it might be, my physical, hanging-on-the-wall calendar has recently stopped making me so happy. Every month gives me a new work of Japanese art, and August has arrived with Kitagawa Utamaro’s “Girl With a Mirror.” It looks like this:
And every time I see it, I think of this:
Creepy Anna Morgan from The Ring, brushing her hair in front of a similar oval mirror in and then turning to the camera and glaring. I could think of better associations to make whenever I look up from my computer screen. Because The Ring was a remake of a Japanese movie that also featured a woman grooming herself in an oval mirror, I wonder if “Girl With a Mirror” might have inspired the composition of the original scene and, indirectly, the remake too. Utamaro is remembered today as one of the more important Japanese artists, so the creative people behind Ringu would have likely known his work. Yes, I’m probably overthinking this, but you try staring at an image every time you struggle to find the right phrasing. Besides, this would not be the first time I’ve noticed Ring-like happenings in real life, because my roommate once did an inadvertently accurate impression of Amber Tamblyn’s corpse. (Note that I refrained from using the word mirrored to complete that last thought. I’ve also stopped myself from referring to anything coming full circle. You’re welcome.)
Bonus Ring trivia: Shannon Cochran, the actress who played creepy Anna Morgan, also played Pam’s mom on The Office exactly once, before the role was recast last season. I’d like to think she lost the job by insisting that she play the role as creepy.
Things are like other things, previously:
And every time I see it, I think of this:
(image via dementedstuff.com)
Creepy Anna Morgan from The Ring, brushing her hair in front of a similar oval mirror in and then turning to the camera and glaring. I could think of better associations to make whenever I look up from my computer screen. Because The Ring was a remake of a Japanese movie that also featured a woman grooming herself in an oval mirror, I wonder if “Girl With a Mirror” might have inspired the composition of the original scene and, indirectly, the remake too. Utamaro is remembered today as one of the more important Japanese artists, so the creative people behind Ringu would have likely known his work. Yes, I’m probably overthinking this, but you try staring at an image every time you struggle to find the right phrasing. Besides, this would not be the first time I’ve noticed Ring-like happenings in real life, because my roommate once did an inadvertently accurate impression of Amber Tamblyn’s corpse. (Note that I refrained from using the word mirrored to complete that last thought. I’ve also stopped myself from referring to anything coming full circle. You’re welcome.)
Bonus Ring trivia: Shannon Cochran, the actress who played creepy Anna Morgan, also played Pam’s mom on The Office exactly once, before the role was recast last season. I’d like to think she lost the job by insisting that she play the role as creepy.
Things are like other things, previously:
- The Coral sound like The Supremes
- Scissor Sisters sound like Mega Man
- “867-5309” sounds like a B-52s song
- Baby Doll from Batman is like a Japanese parasitic dwarf
- Rebecca Demornay is like Rebecca De Mornay
- Dhalsim from Street Fighter is like a guy from Master of the Flying Guillotine
- Girl Talk is like Girl Talk
- A Coldplay song is like music from Legend of Zelda
- Lost is like the short-lived 1969 series The New People
- Ashlee Simpson lip-synching on Saturday Night Live is like Stephanie Tanner
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I Dig Myself to the Center of the Earth
Realistically, I should have tired of Cold Cave’s “Life Magazine” by now. But I haven’t. Even last year’s flurry of ads featuring the song could not spoil my love.
Overall, I’ve found Cold Cave to be the best of the indie music groups whose names follow the formula of “emotional-related word + hole in the ground, more or less = alliterative-named band with layered songs that are difficult to hum” — Passion Pit, Temper Trap etc. I’m anticipating that Cold Cave will persevere in the coming onslaught of Catty Cavity, Needy Notch, Humility Hollow, and Impatient Indentation. (If they’re not all bands now, they will be.)
Overall, I’ve found Cold Cave to be the best of the indie music groups whose names follow the formula of “emotional-related word + hole in the ground, more or less = alliterative-named band with layered songs that are difficult to hum” — Passion Pit, Temper Trap etc. I’m anticipating that Cold Cave will persevere in the coming onslaught of Catty Cavity, Needy Notch, Humility Hollow, and Impatient Indentation. (If they’re not all bands now, they will be.)
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