All Boozed Up With Nowhere To Go

Statistics show that one in every 3 people is an annoying jerk.* So in a group of 5,400 people, for example, we find that 1,800 people are jerks. Therefore, it's likely that, if you encounter 5,400 folks over a certain period of time, you're going to end up having a few run-ins with some pretty obnoxious characters (assuming you yourself are not one of the 1,800).

Now. Let's put these people in one place, with no exits. Like, oh, I dunno, a big, fat cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. And watch the fun begin!

This is what Royal Caribbean has in essence proposed with it's gargantuan Project Genesis ships. The latest is a 5,400-person, 16-deck affair, with a climate-controlled outdoor garden, casinos (plural!), an indoor ice skating rink, a water park, a boxing ring, and some kind of on-board surfing thing which I can't really figure out. And that's just the stuff I can remember off the top of my head! Oh, right. They also have "cantilevered whirlpools," whatever that means. It sounds great, right?

Recall the Rule of Jerks and realize that, while you're waiting patiently to use one of those self-leveling pool tables you've heard so much about, Bob Dumbass is going to be in front of you, drunk out of his mind, telling the pretty girl with the cue in her hand that, damn, she really knows how to handle that wood. During a quiet skate around the ice rink, Mr. Dumbass will get cocky, come barreling toward you and triple lutz himself right into your knees. And when you're checking out the boxing ring, Bob is going to come up, offer to be your sparring partner and then beat the living hell out of you to impress a group of booze-soaked forty-somethings on a Girl's Only trip.

Yes, this is the trip for you if you've always wanted to hang out with a bunch of loud, pushy people with nowhere to go but mini-golfing.

Aside from jerks, does Royal Caribbean know what it's getting into with all of these on-board balance-centric activities, like ice skating and rock climbing? I mean, what if the ship hits a patch of bad weather? Even though Royal Caribbean probably has that scenario covered, Bob Dumbass is still going to raise a stink when he's told no, he can't go climbing, because it's raining. And what if some unforeseen thing happens to the ship? Like the monster from Cloverfield awakens, or Captain Nemo rams into the hull with the Nautilus... WHAT THEN, ROYAL CARIBBEAN!??! Bob Dumbass will surely tumble to his death!

Maybe that solves the jerk problem, though.


*According to a study by The Institute of Me, Liz Cole.

VOTE FOR FUNBOX COMEDY- ONE MORE TIME!

Hello Friends!!



SO! The guys at FunBox Comedy made it into the Top 10 (out of THOUSANDS of entries) in YouTube's Sketchies II Contest-- and they couldn't have done it without you!!!

For this round, they created a new video called "Astounding Tales of the Hunt," which you can, and should, vote on NOW!

To Vote:

- Go to: http://youtube.com/sketchies2
- Halfway down the page (below the playing video) you will see a box labled "Search for a Video." Type in: funboxcomedy. Click 'Go.'
- A small picture will appear where the search bar was. Click it. Their video "Astounding Tales of the Hunt" should start playing.
- Click the thumbs up button. It should turn green.

That's it! You can vote once a day and voting lasts till April 15th.

Thank you so much for supporting my friends. Winning this contest would be an amazing opportunity for three very talented guys. PLEASE pass this along to anyone you can think of!

My Best Pal

Melvin Cole
February 18th, 1997 - March 22, 2008

He liked eating, sleeping, dirt, and easy-to-kill wildlife.

I'll miss you, Fathead.

URGENT: VOTING ROUND 1!!!!

Hello!

Remember that hilarious Bard video by the folks at FunBox that I told you all to watch? (You don't? Well, that's stupid, because it's only two posts below this one, dummy.) Well, guess what!? All of your watching paid off! They're in the TOP TWENTY! That means that now, they need your help! Don't look at me like that- you were warned. I told you they'd likely need your votes at some point in time. NOW IS THAT TIME!!!

HERE'S HOW (And don't wuss out because there are four steps. You all took the SATs. You can figure this out, dammit.)

1. Visit http://www.youtube.com/user/Sketchies2
2. In the middle of the right hand of the screen a search box will appear. Type funboxcomedy and press "Go"
3. Click on the video that appears below it. The video should load. It is called "Spring Break Bard."
4. Press the thumbs up button!

That wasn't so hard, was it? Of course not! ColeAhUm Friend, David Malloy, even voted - FIVE TIMES - and said, "It was easy and there was very little blood involved!" SEE?!

KEEP VOTING OFTEN! And, if you're a really good person, you'll send this to your friends and family and tell them to do the same!

****Semi Finals Voting goes until the 19th SO QUIT WASTING TIME AND START VOTIN'!!!

What's The Score On The Red Wings Game?

Good god. This is wonderful.


9-11 Marijunana Brownies

Add to My Profile | More Videos

Watch This Video Eight or Nine Times!

My dear friends at FunBox Comedy have entered a VERY IMPORTANT VIDEO CONTEST and NEED YOUR HELP. Please watch this video. Give it some traffic. Direct your pals to the video, too! Post links to it on your blogs! HIRE A PLANE TO WRITE THE URL IN THE SKY!!!!

If the judges like it, we'll all be VOTING FOR THEM, so get ready for that, too! Remember: They'd vote for YOU if YOU ever did anything important!

Overdue Apologies (Part II)

To my brother Louie:

Please understand: sometimes, when they are five, older siblings just need to experiment with how far they can stretch their power. It does not reflect how much love or respect they may have for their younger siblings. It is purely a matter of wanting to see how their cunning and brute strength compares.

Admittedly, sometimes older siblings are already well aware of how much more powerful they are. Further exercising of said power, especially over a three-year old, is just mean.

I am sure you recall the tale of The Blame And The Bath Water, in which I totally sold you out to mom for having dumped a huge cup of gross, tepid bath water on the already mildew-ridden bathroom floor.

You were just sitting there in the bathtub, finishing up whatever war you'd set up between different factions of Happy Meal toys, and I was standing with my back to the space heater in my towel, shivering. A lot of that evening is a blur of guilt, but I do remember that you looked happy playing in the water, lips blue, curly hair wet and disheveled. So happy, in fact, that I had to ruin it.

"Louie," I most likely said. "Fill that cup up with water and dump it on the floor." I was smooth, sly, convincing. You were naive, happy-go-lucky, easily convinced. You trusted me, your older sister, to teach you to do cool stuff and to invite you to partake only in safe activities. After all, I had taught you how to put on killer performances in the living room. I had taught you how to chew great wads of Big League Chew so you could look like an incredibly manly, nicotine-addicted baseball player with your friends. I had taught you how to expertly skip from couch cushion to couch cushion, avoiding crocodiles, quick sand, lava, and other hazards. So why should you be suspicious of this new activity?

You happily grabbed the cup floating next to you, scooped up some gray water, and brought it to the edge of the tub. "Come on. Do it," I urged. So you did.

The next thing I did was go to the door and yell, "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!! LOUIE DUMPED WATER ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mom came running up, and scolded you. I'm sure it wasn't a severe scolding, but right now I am remembering it as though she screamed at you for hours. I do remember you trying to explain what had happened. "Lizzy said to! Lizzy said to!" but I somehow managed to beat the system and get off totally unscolded, smugly smiling all the while.

So, Louie. I am sorry. For the bathwater incident, and for any other time I manipulated you into doing my bidding. And while I know all those wrestling lessons I gave you on the front lawn can never make up fully for all the times I was crappy to you, I certainly hope they help.

So Cute I Could Puke

Ask yourself:
Am I a middle-aged single lady that enjoys pictures of kittens?

If you answered yes, have I got a website for you!!


This website makes me feel like I should be wearing a cable-knit sweater featuring a bear holding a pink balloon.

I'm serious.

I laughed, I cried, I wasted an hour...

Visit http://www.onesentence.org/ for some simple true stories, told in one sentence.

Scatology 101

Because the guy who used to live in my apartment didn't have his mail properly forwarded, I get the best mis-delivered mail in the world. Aside from catalogs for places that sell only Christmas-themed gourd art, he also gets a Doctor's Alert newsletter. Each installment is designed to sell you an herbal product that will remedy some ailment you didn't even know you had that could totally kill you. Last month it was "You Have Up To Eight Cups of Mucus In Your Nasal Cavity That Is Breeding Bacteria And Trying To Kill You And Leave Your Children Fatherless" brochure. I'm not actually kidding about that, either. They're that serious about your nostril health.
But this time around it was the Doctor's Digestive Health Alert which immediately boasted:
Intrigued, I flipped it over and was delighted by the following:
So, naturally, I committed a felony. I opened that sucker up and turned to page 3. Good thing, too! Because I learned a lot! For instance did you know that...
...? I sure didn't! Look how forlorn this gentleman looks, trying in vain to have an early morning crap, his pajamas surely becoming damp from the sweat and tears brought on by this intense challenge.



Also, they're racist:

The newsletter doesn't even try to make this a kind, gentle warning about the difficulties you could encounter if you continue not to use their product. There are frightening statements like "If your poop is thin and twisted or round and hard, you could have a narrow clogged colon that's strained to a bursting point!" The bursting part isn't what scares me. It's the word "poop," being used in an advertisement that is trying to look like a real science journal.

Things that also shouldn't be used in a faux-medical journal include phrases such as "helps flush away hidden gunk SO YOU CAN POOP IN SECONDS!" and testimonials with nebulous syntax that leave you confused and upset, like:Now, we can agree that a miracle is in general a good thing. But are we to believe that Agnes obtained relief with this product after twenty years of inconvenience and found it to be miraculous? Or is the miracle that the gastric ailment spanned two delightful decades? If we are to believe the former, did Ms. Pettipaw think to consult a physician during this time at all? Or was she just content to be a slave to the toilet until the right homeopathic cure came along?

Lastly, I object to this photo:
because a pamphlet about poop is no place for a ham sandwich.

Dear Gene Taylor,

Thank you for always offering me advice. For always listening to me. For always encouraging me musically.
Thank you for being a great friend.
And thank you, THANK YOU, for sending me THIS.

GlaxoSmithKline: "Just Trust Us."

Scab Script

It really is time for "ER" to come back into production because- HEY!- I live in LA and I don't have any roommates and I'm broke. So, in an effort to help the process along, I've begun writing a script. Here it is:


INT. Hospital- Night
Hustle, bustle and etc as the paramedics bang through the doors of the ER with two 20 something males on one gurney.

Paramedic: We've got two frat boys stuck in the same pair of pants coming through. BPs 50/120 and 45/167 respectively. Major bruising and embarrassment.
Hot female doctor #1: Hello boys. Looks like you're in quite a pickle.

Frat Boy 1 GROANS. All of a sudden, the roof collapses and THOUSANDS OF LIVE CRABS rain into the ER. Chaos.

Boyish, Humorous Doctor: Holy crustaceans! There's more crabs in here than in Nick Nolte's mattress!
Hot Female Doctor #2: I need a crash cart in here!!!

ALARMS SOUND and we see an elderly woman hooked up to a monitor stumbling around, having a cardiac episode while 6 or 7 crabs cling to her face.

Elderly Woman: galeeakkakgllhggghhhlllkkkkkkkk...

A Surly, Devil-May-Care Male Doctor runs in, out of breath.

Surly, Devil-May-Care Male Doctor: I know it sounds crazy but..
Hot Female Doctor #2 : What's that, Dr. Surly?
Surly, Devil-May-Care Male Doctor: The only way to cure this woman is by dunking her in boiling water!
Boyish, Humorous Doctor: Sounds delicious!!

Then there would be a COMMERCIAL BREAK, after which there would be some heartfelt PROFESSIONS OF LOVE between Dr. Surly and Hot Female Doctor #1, and Hot Female Doctor #2 would be all pissy about it and make out with one of the frat boys just for good measure (while he's still stuck in the pants with the other frat boy). Then Dr. Surly and HFD#1 would go hump in the janitor's closet and in the middle of it all, Dr. Surly would let out a gutteral howl, which would cause Boyish, Humorous Doctor to burst in, thinking there was trouble, and he would see HFD#1 mid-lotus with Dr. Surly, a crab clinging to the bottom of his nut hammock.

Overdue Apologies (Part I)

This evening's soundtrack: "Nothing Really Blue" by Penguin Cafe Orchestra

Dear Jesse Ortega,

I apologize for that time I gave you the finger in the second grade.

I don't know where you are now, or what you're doing, but I'm sure you will be able to agree that the gesture wasn't personal. As 8 year olds go, I was generally pretty nice. But, as was the case with all of us, my sense of what to do when confronted with annoyance was underdeveloped. Too young to express dislike with a logical and concise argument, and far too old to simply haul off and slug one another, we were trapped in an experimental phase. The only way we knew how to settle things was by what we learned from the older kids on the playground, or from a few stolen moments watching more "grown up" TV.

So, when your stuff began to migrate over the clearly drawn pencil line that separated our desks, I felt a surge of energy well up inside me and I smiled coldly and gave you the finger, feeling instantly proud of myself. You were speechless. It was a triumphant moment. My next door neighbor, life coach, and older (NINE!), wiser friend, Josh, would have been pleased. His tutelage had paid off-- playing Action Movie in his back yard and studying the work of Eddie Murphy when our parents weren't looking.

You already know that Mr. Clark saw it all and actually dragged me from the classroom as I clung to desks and chairs, like it was the end of some insane courtroom scene, and made me sit outside for five minutes. But what you don't know is, when I came back, I flipped you off under the desk for probably a full minute, this time out of genuine anger. I hope you can forgive me for that. It wasn't your fault. And it wasn't Mr. Clark's fault either. And Josh was as innocent as I was, really.

I'm blaming Eddie Murphy.

Check this Oot.

I know I haven't actually WRITTEN anything in awhile, but how can I, when there are so many wonderful things to just SHOW you?
Freaking Canada just got about 56 more Rad Points for having aired this PSA during very busy
Hockey Night.









Kudos, Northern Friends!

Best TV Moment of 2007

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia has done it again-- they have given the television viewer something to watch over and over and over again at work. Last year they did it with the scene in the episode "Hundred Dollar Baby" where Charlie attempts to eat a sandwich while undergoing violent, steroid-induced mood swings.

This year, in the episode "Dee is Dating a Retarded Person," they have brought us something wonderful. Something called "Day Man." I have it here, for your enjoyment.






Genius.

Happy Halloweiner Dog

I would like to present to you what I think are the best videos on the internet currently:

Happy Halloween!

Eat that, Christo

I just found out about what is possibly the coolest kind of art. I hesitate to call it "installation" art, although, I guess, technically that's what it is.

The farmers in Inakadate, Japan have, for years, been planting their rice in such a way as to create giant murals, meant to be seen from above. The mural is usually a recreation of a piece by a Japanese master, so far as I can tell, although occaissionally they throw in some work by European folks, like DaVinci.





These giant impressive things, which can be viewed during the summer months, are created by planting different types of rice: Kodaimai, which has purple and yellow leaves, and Tsugaru-roman, the greener variety. (Close-up below.)








Would you just think about all the freaking planning that has to go into this? You have to decide which work can be done in essentially three colors. Then you have to find a guy who can actually recreate the painting. ("Dear Mr. Takahashi, We understand you are a fantastic artist. Do you suppose you could recreate one of Hokusai's 36 Views of Mt. Fuji for our town's annual mural? Oh, and PS. You can only use rice. Thanks!") THEN, you have to decide where the different kinds of rice will go in the enormous field. And finally - and this is where I throw in the towel - you have to plant all the damn rice.

Anyway, it really is an impressive way to present your city's agriculture. And so good looking! Can you imagine us Westerners trying to do something as cool with our farms? What, would we just stack cows around in a corn field to make a giant smiley face? Yes, actually. That's probably exactly what we would do. Not because we aren't creative, but just simply because we've got so much to do. I mean, Top Chef's not gonna watch itself.

The Best Dollar I Ever Spent

Here's something: If you happen to be in the San Fernando Valley, near Coldwater Canyon, stop by Pinz bowling alley. They've got everything: Bowling, boozing, and a Jerry's Deli right next door. But what you really ought to see is in the back room of the arcade, in that dingy area near the pool tables, the one that's not very well lit, home to the less flashy games. There's a simulated bike race game, where you actually have to pedal the bicycle in order to win. There's an older Star Wars game, and a crusty basketball game that looks like it's from the seventies (the crappy part). There are some others, too, but they're in that back area where layers of dust and grime filter out the visible spectrum, making it impossible to see anything. The area where you'd take your girlfriend if you wanted to, say, impregnate her. Just before that point, wedged between the basketball game and some filth, is an old Ms. Pac-Man/Space Invaders Galactica machine with chairs on either side and a horizontal screen. If you pop in a few quarters (it's very reasonably priced next to that blasted "Dance Dance Revolution") the Ms. Pac-Man game will proudly challenge you to beat the high score, which is 29,409 points. I know this because it's mine. Well, mine and Ursula's. It was a team effort, and took a mere dollar and about twenty-five minutes of our Friday night.


When Ursula and I had paid our check at Jerry's Deli, we wandered into the bowling alley and, upon discovering that bowling was far too expensive and loud, found ourselves heading absentmindedly into the arcade. After trying several games out (I'll spare you the details of our DrumMania disaster) we were delighted to find Ms. Pac-Man. "Liz! I used to love Pac-Man!" Urs. exclaimed in her delightful Irish accent. "Let's do it, then, " I said, dropping four quarters into the side of the table-like machine. I sat down and pressed start, and off I went on my mission to eat everything in sight. (Incidentally, I see a lot of parallels between my life and Ms. Pac-Man's.) Urs. and I switched back and forth, each time making a mad dash while the new screen loaded so that precious seconds were not wasted.

I don't know when it started, but at some point I realized that we were yelling and carrying on like a couple of dudes watching the SuperBowl: "Go Go Go! Fuck fuck fuck! NO NO NO NO-shit!"

-Or-

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Go go go dammit go! Aww, man. There was nothing that you could have done. It's okay."

-And also-

"What the hell is that?"
"A pretzel?"
"Get the fucking pretzel! Get it get it getitgetigetit! Yesssss! Oh, crap."

I vaguely recall a semi-soused young man coming over to us and saying, "So what's going on here, Ladies? A little Pac-Man?"
"Yeah," Urs. and I both half-replied.
"Cool, cool."
But the conversation ended there, because, unless he was Blinky, Pinky, Inky or Clyde, we had no time for him. He must have left after I slammed my fist on the table and said "WHAT?! I totally got that pear thing. You saw that I got the pear, right?"

So, all told, we racked up 29,409 beautiful points. As we were getting up to leave, Urs. noticed that our number was the new high score. "Wait. Is that right?" she asked, befuddled. "Yes, Ursula" I said. "There is no denying our intense skill now."

We emerged, beaming, from the depths of the arcade. Finally out of my frenzied haze, I looked around at the rest of the establishment. Everyone was approximately my age, dressed to attract sexual partners, holding at least one drink and ogling anything with a pulse. The guys were strutting around acting meaty and fantastic, and the girls we adjusting their clothing with psychotic frequency and sucking their stomachs in as best they could. These are what I suppose you would call my peers. This well-groomed, horny, drunken crowd was "the norm." Urs. and I, on the other hand had just spent prime drinking hours of the weekend flipping out at a little yellow thing with an insatiable appetite.

Good for us, dammit.

And that is how Ursula and I made history at an overpriced bowling alley in Studio City.

I Am Confident In The American Media!

This morning, driving to work, I tuned into KNX 1070 AM to see what the deal with the traffic was. Soon, the traffic report, which, as usual, didn't say anything at all about my commute, was over and a special report by Charles Feldman began.
The topic was "A New Kind of Terrorist Threat." Admittedly, I wasn't all that excited about listening to this, but then sound bytes, seemingly from an action movie, began to play. I was intrigued. Charles began to tell us that terrorists may now be using computers to cause major societal dysfunction and melt down "as the new Die Hard movie illustrates."

!!


But, don't get worried that this report was made up of questionable information. Oh no. Rest assured that Mr. Feldman had some very reliable sources. For instance a man who calls himself Security Monkey.

Yes, a nation-wide technological meltdown scares me. But I do feel much safer with Charles Feldman and his pal Security Monkey on the case.