Internet Idiot for April 14, 2008

This one comes to us from a discussion on some “scientists” who will be searching for Sasquatch in the hills of WV, natch.

“How could I get in contact with your husband and his brother? I too believe strongly in bigfoot. Is there anyway you could message me or something and I could give ya’ll my phone number? I am a strong believer there is something in these woods as well, I live close to there. I would be more than happy to help your husband look for it.

Please let me know.

Thanks. “

 

Roseanne’s Hoo-Hoo Renew

“Comedian Roseanne Barr talked to Craig Ferguson Wednesday night and claimed to have had vaginal rejuvenation. Talking about how she’s single, Roseanne told the “Late, Late Show” host, “I went and had vaginal rejuvenation surgery. No, I did! And now I have a va-junior. And I’m not afraid to use it.”

True or just part of her stand-up routine? It’s unclear. But, she still knows how to shock and make an audience laugh.”

Well alrighty then. I didn’t even know you could have your hoo-hoo rejuvenated. (Then again, I didn’t know that you could, or would even think to want, to have your asshole bleached pink–but an aesthetician friend reports having clients requesting just that.)

Curious as to what a Hoo-Hoo Renew entailed, I visited the website of the Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute of Los Angeles. (Lord knows there have got to be no end of worn out hoo hoo in LA). According to them…”Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation® (LVR®) will effectively enhance the vaginal muscle tone, strength, and control. It will effectively decrease the internal and external vaginal diameters as well as build up and strengthen the perineal body (the area immediately outside the vagina and above the anus). Sexual gratification for the female is directly related to the amount of frictional forces generated. We can accomplish this with LVR®.”

 There’s even a before and after gallery located on their site, and I must say they do good work. I wonder how much a labia lift goes for?

Midnight in the Garden of White and Trashy

I was driving through, shall we say, an economically challenged neighborhood the other day and had to wonder what in hell the residents were thinking. Does being poor mean tossing out good taste? Does it carry with it some irrational urge to not only save everything but to put it all out in the yard? Every other house it seemed had junk piled around it, lawn furniture and other “goodies” front and center for all to see.

And when I say “junk” I mean “junk”. Old toilets. Piles of lumber. Car parts. Furniture that should long ago have been taken to the dump. And every now and then, evidence that someone had actually tried to make the place feel homey. A sprinkling of flowers….a few pieces of “lawn art”…a birdbath.

I don’t understand it. Do these folks reason with themselves “we’ll use that old toilet for something one day!”? or, “Ain’t  no point throwing away all that busted up lumber! It might come in handy!”. And why in hell would you have your lawn furniture sitting out there with it all? “Merle! Lets go sit out there and look at that pile of car fenders! Whatcha say?”

Then I realized…I grew up in just such a yard!! Well, maybe not quite that bad…but certainly one that stretched the limits of good taste. I blame it on my mom. It was her who put the picnic table, complete with floral umbrella, in the FRONT yard. It was her idea to put the Little Tykes play house on an axis with the front door. It was her who painted everything “redwood”, who decided that some sort of wooden hitching post was the perfect place to hang a pot of begonias. When we got a trampoline, where did it go? The FRONT yard!! Madness! And we weren’t even poor, so this phenomena can’t be laid solely at the feet of those living on meager incomes. (granted, mom and her husband had no clue how to manage money, or what it should be spent on, but they had plenty of it)

And since leaving home, mom has only made it worse. The poorer she gets, the more a spectacle her home becomes. At some point she found an old claw foot tub, and in a moment of shear genius decided it would make a lovely flower bed! It’s right underneath that redwood hitching post. She further decided that the beautiful maple tree in the front yard just wouldn’t be complete without two dozen potted plants sitting around it. (Why not just plant them in the ground??). And those two dozen potted plants are perfectly accented with a piece of driftwood and a large chunk of coal. Nearby, the satellite dish, long ago shut off, is complimented by more potted flowers! Sprinkled throughout are dollar store statues of angels and puppy dogs, a few plastic stones embossed with inspirational sayings, and the requisite “fat lady bending over”.

The flowers and bushes she has are all fine in and of themselves, but they are scattered about with no apparent thought given to their arrangement. The lack of planning makes it impossible to distinguish if something is a weed or a prized specimen.

While there is a perfectly good deck on the back of the house, overlooking a rear yard that is both private and complimented by beautiful flowering dogwood trees, Mom has decided that it is the FRONT yard where the rusty wrought iron patio set and collection of mismatched and faded plastic resin chairs belong.

Lest anyone be tempted to enter this stunning property, and abscond with any of the treasures within, bright “NO TRESPASSING” signs fend off intruders from every corner. (Another item that seems to be a favorite of the economically disadvantaged, as if trespassers are somehow drawn to such spectacles of bad taste). And should anyone wish to direct their motorcar down the gravel and asphalt driveway, they’ll first need to “open the gate” (also known as untying the chain, complete with “no trespassing” sign,  that stretches between two mildewed wooden posts). One must take their security seriously when they serve as Baroness of a White Trash estate!

Why Architectural Digest hasn’t come to photograph her beautiful gardens we may never know. It’s likely that they showed up, and confusing them for a bill collector, she set the dog loose. (Another requirement of a white trash estate seems to be a loud dog that is chained within view of the front door).

Doin’ The Catwalk Crawl

I don’t know why, but I just laugh my ass off whenever someone wipes out on the catwalk. Maybe it’s because just plain funny to see ANYONE fall, ANYWHERE. But add to it that these are people who normally strut around in a state of unattainable perfection, and it becomes just fucking hilarious.

So I bring to you some side splitting catwalk crashes:

She totally disappeared!

oops!

She needs to wear flats!

And this bitch practically dives on her face:

 

I’m In Mourning

The Golden Girls are leaving Lifetime. They’ve been on that network for eons, usually airing after a dreary “battered-wife-kills-her-asshole-husband” movie. Apparently, the WE network will start airing the show…but this is still just devastating. Thank the stars I had the foresight to buy the whole damned series on DVD.

 

Happy 1000th View To Me!

So I logged in today, clicked on my little blog stats button and was surprised to see that The Vinyl Village saw it’s 1000th visit today, in just barely over one month.

Then I wondered, how are these folks finding their way to the Vinyl Village? I’ve begged a few friends and family to tune in, but that can’t account for more than three of my visits.

So I turned to another little gadget in my control panel “Search Engine Terms”. Seems search engines are sending me traffic! YAY!

Now, make no mistake, however you ended up here, I’m pleased as punch to have you. But looking at the top search terms that landed folks in the “VV” is a little bothersome. So here they are, top searches that led the first 1000 visitors to the Vinyl Village:

“Demi Moore” is the top. And its variants: “Demi Moore naked” (sorry to disappoint you guys), “Demi Moore leaches”, “Demi More” (hope you learned to spell it right here!), the rather strange “Demi Moore’s feet”, and someone apparently hoping to find a more natural Demi–”Demi Moore without make up”.

Its our second top search term that is disturbing…and if you were to add all the variants of it, it would far surpass Ms. Moore. “POOP”. That’s right kids, poop. Dozens of people arrived here by searching simply for “POOP”. Variants on the theme include someone searching for “poop head”, “poop diaper”, and the rather odd “just do it poop”.  Apparently the problem I had with my neighborhood pool last summer is a common one, as several arrived here by searching for “shit in the pool”, “turd in the pool”, “turd floating in a pool”, “free shit in a pool” (has someone been charging them??), and “kids shit in pool.” Another surfer, apparently hoping for a “how-to” came to the Vinyl Village by searching for “put shit in pool”.

I didn’t realize that shit was so popular! If I do a blog post on Demi Moore’s poop, do you think I could unseat Perez Hilton?? (someone arrived here by searching for PARIS Hilton’s vagina–which shouldn’t be hard to find at all, but I am happy to report will never be found at the Vinyl Village).

So…Happy 1000th View to Me! Thanks to everyone for stopping by, hope you’ll keep coming by to read my shit.

Overheard in The South

SOUTHERN SAYINGS
Well that just dills my pickle!

That’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe!

You look about as happy as a tick on a fat dog.

I’m finer than frog hair split four ways.

If you don’t stop I’ll knock you in the head and tell God you died.

He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.He’s busier than a one-legged man at a butt kickin contest!

She was so tall if she fell down she would be halfway home.

He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.

Don’t you piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!

He was as mad as a mule chewing on bumblebees!

You’re lyin’ like a no-legged dog!

Excuses are like backsides. Everybody’s got one and they all stink.

That was faster than green grass through a goose.

She could make a preacher cuss!

Hell, she could even depress the devil.

You could start an argument in an empty house.

That coffee’s strong enough to float an iron wedge.

You look as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine.

He’d gripe with a ham under each arm.

Why are you smilin’ like a goat in a briarpatch?

Our preacher’s as full of wind as a corn-eating horse.

Each one of his sermons is better than the next!

He’s so windy he could blow up an onion sack.

He’s so useless if he had a third hand he would need another pocket to put it in!

She needs some fries to go with that shake.

That boy’s more slippery than snot on a glass doorknob.

Why don’t you just take a long walk off a short pier.

They’re off like a herd of turtles.

She’s resting in peace in the marble orchard.

Well, don’t you look prettier than a glob of butter melting on a stack of wheat cakes!

He’s about as handy as a back pocket on a shirt.

She’s so clumsy she could trip over a cordless phone!

He’s about as useful as a pogo stick in quicksand.

If brains were leather, he wouldn’t have enough to saddle a junebug.

Well, if that don’t put pepper in the gumbo!

Well, slap my head and call me silly!

Well tie me to a pig and roll me in the mud!

Well tie me to an anthill and fill my ears with jam!

He’s not particularly intelligent:

The engine’s runnin’ but nobody’s driving.

If his brains were dynamite, he couldn’t blow his nose

He’s so dumb, he could throw himself on the ground and miss.

He’s so dumb he couldn’t piss his name in the snow.

He’s a little strange…

That boy’s two bricks shy of a full load.

I think that boy’s about two sandwiches shy of a picnic.

I think he’s one fry short of a Happy Meal.

He’s acting crazier than a sprayed roach!

He’s so rich, he buys a new boat each time one gets wet.

You’ve got champagne taste with a beer pocketbook.

He’s tighter than a flea’s ass over a rain barrel.

He squeezes a quarter so tight the eagle screams.

He doesn’t have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it out.

It’s drier than happy hour at the Betty Ford clinic!

It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table!

It’s so dry the trees are bribing the dogs.

It’s hotter than two rabbits making babies in a sock!

He’s not particularly handsome….

He’s uglier than the east end of a horse headed west

He looks like something the dog’s been keepin’ him under the porch.

He is so ugly that my mother had to tie pork chops to his ears so the dog would play with him.”

She’s so ugly I’d hire her to haunt a house!

If I had a dog as ugly as him, I’d shave his butt and make him walk backwards.

Life Will Be Better Once I Have Marble Floors–Won’t It?

I think Americans are obsessed with home improvement. Make no mistake, I’m glad. If not for their obsession with homes, I might spend my days designing prisons and airports (and frankly, I’d rather be castrated with a pair of dull tin snips).

I’m not sure when this obsession began, but it was sometime in the past 15 or 20 years. When I was a kid, homes in even the nicest neighborhoods had vinyl flooring, laminate countertops, and carpet everywhere. It was rare to see crown molding in newer construction. And you redecorated when the old stuff wore out. (or when mom left the tub running and flooded the place.)

But not so now. Even a starter home is thought to be rather low brow if its not outfitted with granite, hardwoods, and enough molding to make it look like a wedding cake. People will tear out perfectly good floors, kitchens, and baths to make room for “something better”, “something  more high-end”, “something more up-to-date.”

And I’m as guilty as anyone. My house isn’t even three years old, and yet it looks almost nothing like it did when that “Sold” sign went up. First up was to paint a few rooms. Then came some molding–crown throughout the downstairs, raised paneling over the fireplace. Of course most of the lights had to be replaced with “something better”.  Then more paint.

Then last winter, a trial run at tiling. The smallest upstairs bathroom was ripped of its perfectly good, perfectly attractive vinyl flooring, and in its place, after three weekends of work, is a lovely ceramic which looks almost exactly like the vinyl it replaced. The project, though time consuming, was easy.

And so three weeks ago, it was time to take on the master bath. Why? Because I looked forward to weeks of stumbling down the hall in the middle of the night in search of an operable bathroom? Because I like tip-toeing over debris to get to my clothes? Because the shock of my feet hitting an ice cold floor will make the mornings easier? Who knows!

But ceramic wouldn’t do. In search of “something more high-end” I got a great deal on some travertine. It’s gorgeous stuff. So one weekend was spent tearing out the perfectly good vinyl flooring, ripping out perfectly good baseboards (they just aren’t tall enough! Life will be so much better with an eight inch baseboard!), and cutting backerboard.  Easy stuff!

But then the dilemma. How to transition the now taller bathroom floor into the carpeted areas that adjoin each end. Off I went to the home improvement store. An hour and a half later (reasons for such a timeline could fill their own post, but I’ll spare you the details) I had lovely marble thresholds and some sort of tack strip to reaffix the carpet.

Weekend two brought the project to a halt. Left on my own, I had decided I would at least get the transitions in place. It proved daunting…the existing metal thresholds will not give up the carpet they are holding in place. Cutting would be necessary. Cringing at the thought of ruining the carpet I don’t wish to replace, and couldn’t afford to replace if I did, I decided to “think on it” a day or so.

In the meantime, I told myself, I can lay out the tiles and get an idea of where to start laying them. This led to the discovery of two uneven spots in the floor. Dammit! I know full well that high spots mean future cracks. Discouraged again, I looked at my “bathroom remodeling” to do list and decided that I only had the strength and ability to tackle one more–call to rent a tile saw. The helpful gal at Home Depot informed me that it was $70 dollars a day and that it was too big to fit in a car. Well, I knew I’d need the saw all weekend, and I only had the little car at my disposal.

In a fit of shear genius, I did the math. The tile saw was going to cost at least $140 to rent. Then two days would be spent installing the tile, with a high risk of cracks and nasty looking carpet transitions. I decided to find a professional. So much for do it yourself.