But you should be thankful too. Why? Oh, I think you know.
Anyway, we’re all busy, so instead of listing all the things for which am I thankful, I’ve decided to just slap up a bunch of pictures. With the exception of a gleaming Vicodin bottle and a sweaty picture of my Zumba-shaking butt, these photos pretty much sum up everything I’m thankful for anyway.
AND! In the spirit of the lovely Daisy and Harley, I’m closing comments on this post, so all YOU have to do is enjoy this photo essay of JD Thanksgivings Past: starring JD! Dave! Karl! Wannee! Mom! Gus! and Pru!
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Hmmm. Someone wasn’t happy with her photo.
Remember the “Noise Ritual“?
I think this was Thanksgiving . . . of 1900!
Remember the year we went to a Fancy Restaurant . . .
. . . and Dave wore a lilac shirt?
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Doesn’t my mom look nice? (Hands off, creepy Father Christmas!)
Then this happened.
Awwww! No snarky photo caption HERE!
Why is Wannee blowing out a birthday candle?
(Because she has TWO birthdays! Remind me to
tell you about that some day.)
Oh, but who cares. Look how pretty!
Wannee isn’t happy until photos are taken from every angle.
As Scary Karl would say:
And don’t forget to feed your pets!
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
(Because she has TWO birthdays! Remind me to
tell you about that someday.)
Closed
Who you gonna call?
My lawyer!
An eagle-eyed reader sent me the most incriminating e-mail attachment the other day. In order to protect her anonymity, I will refrain from naming her. But! You should totally check out her awesome photo blog here! Er, perhaps she’s not so anonymous anymore. But I know you can keep a secret.
The attachment was a scan of a magazine cover, and you will not believe your eyeballs. I don’t want to get cross-sued, so I’m only printing a portion of the cover.
I know. You’re thinking this is obviously the cover of Entertainment Weekly. PROVE IT! I say it’s Entertainment Ekly, which is a totally different publication.
Anyway, look up there in the lefthand corner. I’m sorry, but you might catch a glimpse of Sarah Palin’s head Now With Bumpits! Yes, you see it now, don’t you? That helpful finger (attached to Robert Downey Jr.) is showing you the way.
This is a freaking outrage! My source thinks this all came about as a result of my recent Blog Catalog interview, and she damn well may be right.
To make matters worse, this isn’t even the first time. The online version of Entertainment Ekly has also taken part in this skullduggery:
I Saw It So You Don’t Have to (note: This leads you to a review of a Lindsay Lohan movie. AVOID!)
What the? This is just blatant rip-offery. And it got me thinking. Maybe there are other people out there doing things so you/I don’t have to. If so, they must be stopped. And sued.
Oh, but look.
- So Good: I Try It So You Don’t Have To: Cool Whip in a Can (A definite sue. This is so JD. )
- News Hounds: We Watch Fox News so you don’t have to (Well, I can’t be too upset about THAT.)
- Olberman Watch: So You Don’t Have To (BO-RING)
- Utterly Boring: Surfing the Web So You Don’t Have To (OK, you’re sued. I would’ve totally done this.)
- Pretty Pretty Pretty: We Read It So You Don’t Have To: Madison (Meh. Whatever.)
- Church Matters: We watch TBN so you don’t have to (Oh, take it, it’s all yours.)
- The Blackout Pact have a song called “We Drink So You Don’t Have To” (Well, it’s true: I don’t drink, so . . . )
- Lifehacker: Taboo Remembers Tabs so you don’t have to (OK, that’s actually quite helpful)
- Fork You TV: We Sushi so you don’t have to (Sushi? I love sushi! I should’ve done this. SUED!)
- Glossed Over: We Read It So you Don’t Have to: Spilling the Secrets of Cosmopolitan’s Cover Lines (Fine. I’m not sure I could stomach looking through a Cosmo.)
- Washington Post: We Watch . . . So You Don’t Have To (Hmmm. Now we’re getting into the big leagues.)
- Huffington Post: I Watched Bravo’s A-List Awards So You Don’t Have To (Poo. I liked this.)
OK, I am actually starting to get a little nervous here. Who’s stealing from whom? Maybe instead of suing Entertainment Ekly, I should just back away quietly.
. . .
NO! I will fight this! And by “fight,” I mean write a letter to Entertainment Ekly and beg them to pimp my site. If they agree, I’ll move on to Entertainment Weekly.
Pretty soon anyone who wants to do something so you don’t have to will have to clear it with me.
Thanks, Val! I mean, Anonymous Reader!
43 Comments
Oh, my (chicken and) stars (soup)!
How long have I been blogging? Two and a half years?
Hasn’t anyone wondered? Hasn’t anyone cared?
I guess not, because it took THIS long before someone out there decided to interview me.
The nice folks at Blog Catalog sent an intrepid reporter to my house to talk to this mysterious JD person we’ve all been hearing so much about.
Mysterious no more! Because I give it all up in this exclusive never-before-seen interview.
Ironic that this interview came at a time when I was feeling less than impressed with myself. I hope that didn’t come across. Somehow . . . I doubt it.
Here’s a tidbit. In the interview, I mention that I suspect Dave of doing and saying craz-ay things just to get in the blog. Think I’m making that up? Here’s what I found on my desk one morning:
Yes. This is a school photo of a young and bespectacled JD. Dave found it and attached a Post-it with this potential I Do Things title. It could work. Dave has never let me down before (See: Gilligan’s Island, Quisp, Robot, Snail).
* * *
Thanks to Midwest Mom for taking the time and for doing such a great job.
(And I totally was NOT wearing orange elephant pants! That reporter tricked me!)
44 Comments
Because in addition to shingles, you never know what you’re going to find out there.
A shingle such as this makes an excellent dog poo scraper-off-er!
And with all the money you’ll save by not buying a real dog poo scraper-off-er (. . . ?), you can buy a new pair of shoes, because I guarantee, you won’t be wearing these again.
Just another great idea from JD!
33 Comments
Stud hunters, c‘mon, drop your pants
Stud hunters, here’s your big chance
I know Stud Hunters sounds like a reality show where teams of TV fame-whores vie to find the stud of their dreams and then shoot him in the head BUT! it’s actually a porno movie from those sex-ay folks at online adult toy store Eden Fantasys. Thanks, y’all!
I chose to review this particular film because it was described as being tasteful — porn-lite, if you will. If you won’t, then just imagine a naked Lifetime movie. But with a better-looking Tori Spelling. AND in the spirit of tastefulness, I’ve gone to great pains to avoid non-ladylike terminology, while still resisting “pee-pee” and “ta-ta’s”.
OK! My original plan was to screen this 83-minute opus for my movie club, Flix for Chix. Six chix were signed up, but one by one they dropped out. Suspicious! It reminded me of an old Dr. Seuss rhyme from my childhood:
Six chix like flix
Six chix fun mix
No chix get kix
No chix watch dix
So it was down to two brave chix: me and the hostess of the evening. When I arrived at her house, bearing enough snax for the original six chix, I found her 29-year-old son planted on the sofa.
Now, I am a huge fan of this guy, so I was delighted to see him. A third person! Maybe this movie night won’t be a blow-out after all. But . . .
Not gonna lie. Watching porn with your friend and her son is a bit weird.
Nevertheless, we were committed, the three of us, to watching this porno-lite so you don’t have to.
In order to protect everyone’s anonymity (including mine), all participants are referred to here by their “porn name.” Thus, I am Dixie Division (lame), my friend is Sue Fair (not bad), and her son is . . . wait for it . . .
No, really, WAIT FOR IT . . .
. . . Friar Longwood.
While I continue laughing my butt off, here’s a brief synopsis of Stud Hunters.
Director Carla Divine and her star, Giselle Lorgnette, search for the perfect stud for their upcoming erotic movie. Like Stud Hunters itself, THEIR movie will be made by women for women, full of soft glowy light and tasteful lovemaking scenes. A bunch of weirdos show up to audition, and things get HI-LARIOUSLY out of hand when stud applicants wander off to have tasteful glowy sex with various women. At the end, however, Carla gets her “revenge,” which involves having sex with ALL of the stud applicants.
Are you with me?
Here we go.
Scene 1. Carla and Giselle are on their way to the casting call for their erotic movie. Carla is on the phone with the forever-mysterious Stu. We know his name is Stu because she shouts it into the phone 100 times. We decide to take a drink every time someone says “STU!” but none of us drink and the “Stu” scene ends abruptly.
Friar: I watched The Changeling last night. Angelina Jolie was fantastic. This? Is a bit of a step down in terms of acting.
Carla and Giselle arrive at their audition site, which consists of a chair, a bare mattress, and a vaguely disturbing reporter whom Friar likens to a creepy Mexican George Carlin. The obligatory sexy yet innocent assistant, dressed in a schoolgirl skirt and glasses, rolls her eyes along with the three of us when Carla asks if THIS is her audition room.
Nine minutes in, we’ve finally got male frontal and backal (?) nudity, as the wannabe studs begin their auditions.
Marcus Oralious (geddit, geddit?) is promising. A seemingly homeless man announces he’s “here for da [insert crude name for lower lady part].” Johnny Taco recites a scene from A Streetcar Named Desire. Rod promises the director, “I can last and last and last.”
Friar: Not a lot of man-scaping going on, apparently.
At this point, Sue’s boyfriend comes downstairs, only to get an eyeful of bushy male frontal.
“What’re you guys watching?”
We ask him his porn name, and he’s surprisingly quick to answer: Blitz Laythrop! (Bwah! What is it with this family?) His phone rings, and he returns upstairs to answer it. “THIS IS BLITZ” the three of us scream after him.
The auditions continue, and next up is the break-out star of the movie: Grego!
Friar: I bet this guy’s agent asked him, “Hey, Greg, what do you want your actor name to be?” “Uh, I dunno. How ’bout Grego.”
One of the studs, Brian, acts out a scene with Giselle.
Giselle: “I don’t seem to have any money, delivery man.”
Brian: “Oh, that’s OK.”
Giselle: “Will you accept . . . a cup of coffee?”
Sue: Is she just flat-out reading the script?
Friar: No, it’s a scene-within-a-scene. Like Hamlet!
Brian strips down and snuggles with Giselle. Nothing gross or tacky. This is what women want! To be nuzzled by the naked delivery man in exchange for goods!
Friar: Still no sex! Oh, my god!
Sue: This is for women!
Friar: No, it’s awful! What’s the point?
Dixie: Needs more Stu!
Scene 2. We find Giselle in a weirdly lit room, reading Candide (of COURSE!). She’s sitting on a tiny sofa and, as you would imagine, there’s an upright bass in the corner. Brian comes in. They proceed to tastefully undress in this incredibly bright yet gauzy light that shows the sofa pattern on Giselle’s butt. Seriously, this is the kind of lighting used in alien movies when someone is floating up from their bed and out the window.
Brian tells Giselle, “I can tell by the way you read that script that you’d make a great mother.”
Dixie: Ha! This is baby-making sex!
Brian continues, “I’ve been thinking about settling down and having babies.”
Friar: This is DEFINITELY not for men!
They make out. Tastefully.
Friar: At least it’s not like a porn kiss where they’re all — AAAHHHGGG!!
Dixie: No, I don’t need to see that much tongue.
Sue: I don’t need to see this much MOUTH!
They finally get to it and proceed to have missionary sex for I KID YOU NOT half an hour. We fast-forward eighteen minutes, and they’re STILL doing it.
Sue crabs: They’re just gonna do missionary the whole time. They’re just going to keep pumping!
Dixie: Until they make a baby!
Friar: Bomp-chicka-babays.
Meanwhile, another sex scene is about to go down (HAR!): an encounter between the schoolgirl assistant and a stud. I think this is Marcus.
Sue and Friar argue about getting a new universal remote.
Marcus kisses the schoolgirl’s butt.
Friar: So if you wanted to watch porn with your husband, would you watch this?
Sue: No! I just want to watch f*cking.
Friar: Exactly!
We decide to take a much-needed pumpkin pie break, and Friar volunteers a little too enthusiastically to go get it.
(OK, I’m leaving this following sentence exactly as I typed it):
Now schoolgirl is getting gone down on.
Sue: I hate it when they look up at you while they’re doing it.
Friar and Sue argue about Thanksgiving.
Sue: Is that missionary couple STILL going at it? Could it be she hasn’t had an orgasm yet?
Dixie: That is NOT what women want: 60 minutes of dry labor and nothing to show for it.
Scene 3. Stud and female reporter. This is somewhat edgier than the other scenes. There are clothespins. There is light slapping. The guy is called a “dirty pig.” No talk of making babies between these two. Our stud seems to be having a bit of a problem.
Friar: Fluffer!
Finally, Giselle and Brian finish their missionary marathon and announce to the director that they are getting married and having babies.
“I’m quitting. I’ve found my stud.”
Friar, Sue, Dixie: STU!
Scene 4. Here comes the “director’s revenge.” It’s basically a fivesome, with Carla Divine at the center of a confusing jumble of limbs with Grego, Brian, Marcus, and Rod.
Slightly more hardcore non-babymaking sexual activities ensue with lots of toys including dildoes because apparently with four men there aren’t enough penises in the room.
Sue: Oh, yeah. Women love THAT. (Use your imagination here.)
Dixie: Wow, that looks gentle. Like he’s playing a banjo.
Friar: Whose foot is that?
Carla, doing some kind of naked Twister pose, moans, “Who’s that rubbing . . . [peeks down] . . . oh, it’s you!”
Friar dies of laughter: That line made this whole movie totally worth it!
Sue: This is not really hot.
Friar: No, it’s not.
The end.
Oh, and Stu apparently winds up in jail.
* * *
JD’s Porn-o-meter:
- 30% bad
- 30% hilarious
- 30% boring
Wait, that’s only 90%. Well, I think the remaining 10% goes to “Strongly disagree.” Would I recommend this movie? YES! For a fun girls’ night where everyone is drunk and in another room watching He’s Just Not That Into You. Seriously, Stud Hunters, like Sex Casino (see below), resulted in more uncomfortable giggling than actual sexual feelings. But for women who like a little romance with their (MISSIONARY) sex, this might be for you. The studs are good-looking, the women seem to have real boobs, and there are a few “so-bad-it’s-bad” laughs.
But how reliable am I? I watched it with my friend and her son. That may have skewed my reaction a bit.
A huge thanks to Sue and Friar. This would not have been NEARLY as much fun without you.
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- BUY Stud Hunters here
- WATCH a clip of (soccer) stud Hunter here (He’s three, sickos)
- READ my review of sex-ay adult game Sex Casino here
45 Comments
Ooh, that smell
Can’t you smell that smell?
OK, I didn’t literally eat cat puke, but by the end of this post . . . well, you’ll see.
(”NO WE WON’T” proclaim 10,000 grossed-out-already readers.)
Oh, yes. You will.
So it was on daylight savings night that we learned the lesson again: Cats cannot tell time. It was 5 AM (formerly known as 6 AM), and they wanted their damn breakfast. And like every other morning, I was ready to get up, but I didn’t want to reward their obnoxious behavior. Gus howls into the air. Pru knocks books off the shelves. Gus howls some more. Pru howls. Dave howls, “GET UP ALREADY!”
OK, OK!
I tried something I’ve never tried before. I fed the cats and . . . WENT BACK TO BED!
What will happen? Surely having been fed they’ll now go off to do whatever satisfied cats do while humans try to sleep.
Oh. That activity just happens to be ensuring those humans STILL do not sleep.
Gus howls. Pru knocks books off the shelves. From having been up quite recently, I know the house is very cold. I don’t want to get out of bed again. Weirdly, I’m not even hungry. I think about the two donuts waiting for me in the cabinet. Not appealing. Strange. I’m planning to go to McDonald’s for coffee, tho, so maybe . . .
As soon as I think that thought, I swear, I smell hashbrowns. Specifically, McDonald’s delicious, greasy hashbrowns. Mmm. Maybe I’ll get . . .
But wait. That smell is real, not in my head. Oh, god, no. I peek over the edge of my bed.
Yes, in between bouts of howling, Gus has performed the rare Silent Puke. Right next to the head of the bed. It smells. Oh, NOW it smells like puke. A few seconds ago, however . . . well, I don’t want to think about that.
Flash-forward 2 hours. I can hear Dave stumbling around in the bedroom, so I leap into the room to warn him. My reward is a gratifying guy-scream of surprise.
“Don’t step in the cat puke!”
I explain the story as I’m cleaning up, even sharing the part about the hashbrowns.
“Gross!” he says, clearly not wanting to hear any more. But he will hear. He must.
Dave heads into the kitchen. “Are you sure Gus didn’t puke in here? I can smell it!”
“No, that’s, uh, you see, I DID go to McDonald’s.”
“You didn’t.”
“And I got hash browns. Four, to be precise.”
Dave says no more, he merely heads to the basement in silent disgust. I brush my teeth for the thousandth time and reflect upon the merits of a mouth replacement.
* * *
Have YOU ever eaten cat-puke-by-proxy? Did you enjoy it? Please, someone tell me I’m not alone in this.
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Hashbrown came from here
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