It seems like just yesterday, but it was in in 2011.
(Image via Powerline.)
I would probably take my poor, long-suffering beautiful wife to see it.
I have taken her to see far worse films based on Saturday Night Live skits.
But I would not take up another $10 or $15 a month service charge to stream it. I might have mentioned that I don’t get to see many movies these days, and I think we’re about two seasons backed up on the things we record on our DVR, so I don’t need to spend extra watching things I probably won’t enjoy and that will probably lecture me anyway.
Keep your clothes on. Come on. You didn’t need me to tell you that.
The Bored Panda article is entitled 45 Times People Couldn’t Believe Their Luck In Thrift Stores, and, I don’t know about you, but number 6 looks like it wants me to start the reactor and free Mars.
Come on, you know I’m referring to Total Recall (the
original real one.)
Come on, you know I’m kidding, right? That’s an allusion to the film Turk 182, one of those films from the middle 1980s when Kim Cattrall was all that and an upsized order of seasoned fries before the Sex and the City character made her seem a little skeevy.
Clearly, the youngsters over there missed the 2002 film Juwanna Mann.
Which I saw in the theater because I’m a big Miguel A. Núñez, Jr., fan.
Well, I remembered him from the television show Tour of Duty anyway.
Oh, the movies I took my beautiful wife to in the theater back in the day.
She drew the line at A Night at the Roxbury, though.
A new Uber service called UberJog promises to let you call an expert runner to go on a run on your behalf.
Although, to be honest, I’d prefer a service that does the swimming portion of a triathlon for you. I’ve got one coming up in three weeks, and I’m ill prepared for it. As I have been for the last two Tiger Triathlons in Republic.
And while we’re on the subject, here’s a bit of satire I shared on Facebook:
I see via Mr. Hill that I was not alone in my macabre humor.
So I have been messing around with Git and Github since it’s the versioning software all the kids use, and I’ve found the pull and push nomenclature, not to mention the order of operations, a little strange to someone used to Visual SourceSafe or Subversion. So I downloaded a picture of the Pushmi-pullyu from the film Doctor Dolittle, the original one with Rex Harrison and not the Eddie Murphy remake (although I have seen neither–but I read the book in middle school).
I was going to make a gag about it being the cover of my new book about Git.
But. Or, more precisely, butt another opportunity for mirth presented itself.
For Christmas this year or the last, we gave a friend of ours a set of cat butt refrigerator magnets for Christmas because she has cats.
So this week, I’m helping take care of her cats while she’s out of town, and one of my boys spots the magnets and puts them together in some sort of eldritch unholy alliance you would find in Lovecraft:
I said to my mother-in-law, “A pussy-pullyu.”
She didn’t get it.
So I snapped a picture of the monstrosities and said, “I’ll put it on my blog. Someone will get it.”
You, gentle reader, now have the context of the pun and why it came so easily to me.
Eh, who cares. I’m just doing the for the mad search hits for whatever kind of sexual trick the pun means it the seedy seamy underbelly of humanity that is our Internet.
These grapes are Molina Quality.
To those of you who are not from St. Louis and do not follow baseball, Yadier Molina has played catcher for the Cardinals for sixteen years and is considered to be one of the best all time.
I explain this to you because most of my readers are not from St. Louis.
It looks like the Internet is having a problem again and many images on Web sites and Facebook are not loading, so I’m just going to share this image on Facebook a bunch:
What else would expect from the designer of the original broken image t-shirt?
I still have a Cafe Press store which sells just enough Project Manager Wall Clocks to keep me from having to pay to have a Cafe Press shop.
As we live in the country, you might not be surprised when the random bull shows up at Nogglestead.
But sometimes, I have to explain.
My children have been home this summer instead of going to various camps to occupy them whilst their parents work (working from home can be especially challenging during the summer time). They’ve had a lot of time playing video games, and apparently all the video games these days have integrated audio with them, so my youngest has spent a lot of time saying loudly, “Do you have a mike?”
When they had a friend over one Sunday afternoon, they all spent time playing individual games on their individual devices instead of playing with their friend. So I printed out a picture of Michael Jordan and waited until my youngest was playing on a gaming system that did not have a microphone.
“Do you have a Mike?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. At eleven, he knows the proper inflection for how can you even ask that?
“Here,” I handed him the color picture.
It’s floated around our lower level since. Being it’s a color print out, nobody wants to dispose of it willy-nilly, without enough time elapsing and reflection.
You know I had children specifically so I could make Dad jokes, ainna?
I hereby call the pun to be made on January 1, 2021, “2020 is hindsight.”
Don’t try to take it away from me.
So we’re discussing the relative intelligence of our cats at Nogglestead, and I insinuated but then walked back that our largest cat is not very smart.
At which point, I told my beautiful wife, “If we had a dumb cat, we’d name him Shane.”
“Why Shane?” she asked (for it).
“Dumb cat Shane, baby. Dumb cat Shane,” I responded.
It was the sort of joke that I knew wasn’t particularly funny, but a couple beats later, I laughed out loud at the sheer Brianness of it.
When lining your household garbage cans with used plastic grocery bags, place the bags inside the garbage can inside-out so your guests don’t have to think before judging you based on where you shop!
::sniff:: They do not shop at Trader Hole Organic Foods Farmers Market!
Although I’m not clear if it’s still legal in Europe to cut and paste different images and drop text on them for humorous effect. Or an attempt therein.
So, the other night, I was grilling chicken and pork at the same time, and I had separate tongs for each for sanitary reasons.
The tongs were not the same size, but I could remember easily which was for which meat.
The longer of the two was for the pork. Because who can forget long pork?
I would have posted this on Facebook, but there’s this one guy that I used to work with that would always thumbs up every cannibal joke I made (like this one seven years ago, which I also posted on Facebook along with Donner party gags from time to time). Which was creepy.
Probably as creepy as making cannibalism jokes, but I’m not that self-aware.
But I’m drying out a sleeping bag that one of my boys brought back from camp this weekend…
and there was dew on it this morning.
(Source of the allusion for you modern readers. Likely one of the people in the room will think it’s humorous, and the rest will miss the gag entirely.)
All right, technically it was not William R. Cyrus; it was Reed Nielsen and Monty Powell.
But Billy Ray gave it its depth.
I’ve been in the mood for old country music lately, whereas old means twenty-five or thirty years old, from when I was young. Not old as in Patsy Cline or Buck Owens.
I’d have to impersonate a fourth grader, but my beautiful wife does say I look young for my age.