Showing posts with label Porn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Porn. Show all posts

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Explaining Home Alone

Here's a fact for you:  Home Alone is the greatest Christmas movie ever made.  There, I said it.  Wanna fight about it?

I strongly believe this.  Perhaps growing up in the 80's disillusioned me enough to not truly believe in the cheesy sentiment of It's a Wonderful Life.  Having never seen Miracle on 34th Street, I can't say if it is the best but since it is in black and white, I strongly suspect it is not.  Since I didn't grow up in the 50's, maybe this means I can never truly appreciate the gun-demanding obsession from A Christmas Story.  (Fun fact!  The kid that played Flick in A Christmas Story--the one that got his tongue stuck to the flagpole--later went on to appear in a decidedly different movie that featured tongues on poles):


Maybe it's because Home Alone was right in my age-appropriate wheel-house when it came out in 1990 but it's been a little tradition of mine since then that whenever I set up the Christmas tree in my house,  it has to be on my TV.  I vividly remember my Godfather taking me to see the movie upon it's release in 1990.  I loved it so much that I came home and performed every scene for my Dad while he was raking leaves and then strong-armed him into taking me to see it again the next day.

Now, when I talk about greatness in this movie, I'm not even talking about the slap-stick, near-homicides of the burglars at the end.  I'm talking about the delirious joy of a kid doing all the things over Christmas I would have done had I been abandoned, a down-right beyond-his-years performance from Mac, a great score from John Williams, some surprisingly subtle direction from Chris Columbus and the best scene in the movie:  Kevin and Marley coming to terms with what Christmas means in the church.

I love this scene.  Krishni even stopped talking in the middle of a story the other night because she knew I wouldn't be listening to her.  From the "I had a friend who got nailed because there was a rumor he wore dinosaur pajamas" sequence, to the Christ, is this kid still talking? "Yeah" that Marley mumbles out, to the chorus singing throughout the scene, to the band-aid hand shake at the end...just awesome.

Krishni pointed out to me that this guy died in July.  Rest in Peace, South Side Shovel Slayer

If you don't already feel this way about Home Alone, you never will.  I feel that there is nothing I can say or do to convince you otherwise.  However, that hasn't stopped other people from doing so.

Ever been to www.imdb.com?  It stands for the "Internet Movie Database" and it is your one-stop shop for everything you will ever need to know about any movie.  Within, you will find the full cast and crew, sound track listings, running times, trailers, reviews and all sorts of fun trivia for any given movie.  Under the "Fun Stuff" section for Home Alone, there is a section called "Goofs".  Normally, this is where incredibly anal nerds who have scoured movies for continuity errors or anachronisms try to kill the fun of movie magic.  But I noticed something the other night that bothered me...not because of the previously mentioned anal nerds but because of anal nerds that had to explain jokes

For instance, there is a very funny scene where Kevin goes grocery shopping to buy milk, fabric softener and--because he's 8--a bag of army guys.  When the bagger swipes said bag, she gives him a knowing look and he justifies the purchase by saying "It's for the kids".  A normal person would say, "Ha!  That's a funny bit!"  However, someone at imdb.com felt the need to break the joke down for the reader (emphasis mine):

"When Kevin is at the counter of the grocery store, the clerk scans a bag of toy soldiers and looks at Kevin. He says 'It's for the kids'. But when the clerk asks, 'What about your brothers and sisters?' Kevin replies, 'I'm an only child.' While this seems that Kevin is stumbling over his lies, he is not. He is at the grocery store alone, buying 'grown up' things such as orange juice, milk, bread, toilet paper and laundry detergent. He is also reading a tabloid and discussing the quality of microwave dinners just as an adult does. When the cashier scans the toy soldiers she looks at him questioningly. Kevin makes a joke saying they are 'for the kids' referring to his own children. Obviously he doesn't have children, but his purchases and actions make him seem grown up."

WTF?  Did someone really feel the need to explain to the internet that 8 year-old Kevin McAllister didn't have kids?  Did this person feel like they were doing the internet a service?  Here's more internet nerd dickery:

"On the phone with the French operator, Frank yells 'I am looking for my son! Do you know where he is?' However, Peter knows his son is at the house, he just cannot reach him."

Really?  This internet dick pulled out one totally innocuous-to-the-script "error" (Is Kevin's Dad omniscient?  He knows Kevin is still at home?) and goes on the internet to bitch about it?  Also, let's ignore the fact that this internet nerd felt the need to fire up his laptop to type out this little inaccuracy while at the same time misnaming the character in the quote...it was Kevin's Dad, Peter, on the phone with the French operator; Uncle Frank couldn't give two shits about Kevin and was busy angering his sister-in-law by passing out her shrimp cocktail.

Wait...did I just do the internet nerd thing?

One last one, from Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.  The family is going to Florida for the holidays and Kevin complains at the very beginning of the film that "There are no Christmas trees in Florida."  This, of course, sets up Kevin's obsession with Christmas trees and allows his Mother to locate him at 30 Rockafeller Center at the end of the movie.  To any rational person, this line is called "foreshadowing".  To this nerd, it was something to complain about  (feel free to do so but don't bother reading the whole thing; emphasis mine):

"There actually are Christmas trees in South Florida. The Norfolk Island Pine is a tropical pine that is originally from Norfolk Island, east of Australia. It grows pretty much all over south Florida and has even been seen growing as far north as Tampa and even near Orlando, though it does much better farther south, especially from the latitude of the north shores of Lake Okechobee southward. Fully grown, it has a slightly narrower than normal pyramid shape with nearly fern like branches that grow in an evenly tiered pattern, and will generally make a very nice Christmas tree. Farther north, it is usually grown indoors as a potted plant. Usually, outside of the tropics, you will see this pine grown in most offices, especially next to a south facing window. However, Kevin, having never been to Florida, probably didn't know this and assumed there were no Christmas trees there."

Well, good thing you cleared that up, internet!

Sigh.  Sometimes, the internet makes me sad.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Happy Pearl Harbor Day! I've been laid off!

On Sunday morning, December 7th, 1941, the Japanese Navy launched an air assault on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, thrusting the United States headlong into a world war since made famous through the tireless efforts of Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett. 

Veterans will say that the real heroes are the 405,399 Americans that died over the course of the war but we all know it was these dreamy fellows.

"Only" 2,402 Americans died in the attack that day but the damage had been done: for the next four and a half years, the United States would find itself in the lowest of lows before eventually climbing back up and achieving a bittersweet, ass kicking victory.  And it all started 70 years ago today. 

If you know a WWII vet, give him a hug.

In other news, I was given my 60 day notice last week, although--we've been informed--it might not take nearly that long for me to find my fat ass sitting on the couch every day.  We're really "working" day to day at this point.

A few years back, I found myself in an unadvance-able job at Steppenwolf Theatre Company.  I loved that job but they couldn't promote me any higher and I eventually grew frustrated and quit.  Now, lots of people have quit their jobs over the years but I was in the odd position of not having any real prospects when I did so.  I did not have a job lined up nor was I thinking of going back to school.  I just up and quit.

I wasn't at all nervous when I did so.  I gleefully drank my way through 3 awesome months of unemployment and then depressingly drank my way through 3 terrifying months of unemployment before landing my current position electronically jerking-off old dudes.  Being forced into unemployment during the worst recession since, what, the outbreak of World War II while I have a mortgage and a wife who can already do better than me?  Again, terrifying.  

When I left the 'Wolf, I considered just applying for a job at Borders for a while to take advantage of their discount or at Taco Bell for a few weeks since I thought that would be hilarious.  Borders is out now (damn you Amazon!) but I suppose Taco Bell is still on the table.  Although that won't really jive with how much weight I've gained.  What should I do in 2012?  Let's bring it to a vote:

What should Mike do in 2012 before the Mayans destroy the world?

1)  Get a job, deadbeat!
2)  Write a screenplay called "Evil Jesus" that has a tagline of "He'll convert you...straight to HELL!" (and a poster of Jesus, in sunglasses, aiming a .44 at the reader with a caption of "Nail this")
3)  Sit around and make Newt Gingrich jokes
4)  Develop a meth problem
5)  Develop a math skill
6)  Declare for the NBA Draft
7)  Launch my porn-star career under the name "Johnny Thursday"
8)  Gain 60 pounds
9)  Lose 20
10)  Work at Taco Bell.  Is it your destiny

Take the poll in the upper-right hand corner of the blog and let me know what you think.  I've even made it so you can select multiple answers.  Enjoy!

(seriously!  Go hug your WWII veteran!  You don't have much time left...)

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Krishni Returns Today

And let my liver be the 1st to say, "Thank you!"

Nah, just kidding.  While I did get a bit messed up on one or two nights, it was actually a pretty relaxing 10 days for me.  There were several nights where I was tucked neatly into bed before 10pm.  I really only pushed myself to the limit the day of my court hearing and even then, I was passed out by such a reasonable hour that I woke up fresh as a drunken daisy the next morning. 

As you may or may not recall, I had a few goals for my bachelorhood week.  Let's see how I did:

Walking a mile.  Total.
I may have walked more than a mile.  There is no way of knowing but I will say that I probably dropped more on cabs than I'm used to spending.  I'll count this as a win for me and a loss for exercise. 
Pizza.  Lots of it.
You know, Brad and I got a pizza the 2nd night Krishni was gone and I never ordered it again.  Granted, it was a mondo Art of Pizza pizza* and I ate off of it for the next few days but still.  Dominos surprisingly didn't get a dime of my money and I am pretty sure I can throw an empty beer can from my couch and hit the store. 
Movies.  Bad ones.
My short list:  Jennifer's Body (loved it), Predators (probably not good if you're sober), Cool Runnings (ditto), Futurama's Bender's Big Score and Bender's Game, Grown Ups (laughed harder than I ever thought I would at this movie.  I still think Kevin James sucks, though), The Hot Chick (yeah.  This one was not good) and Waterworld.  Because it never gets old. 
Drinking.  Heavily.
Had a fantastic boys night out on Friday night and the last drink I ordered was a "bourbon and orange juice".  Let's just say the conversation and camaraderie was better than that last drink. 
Porn.  Lots of it.
This was my next day.  All day.   
Sportscenter.  On a constant loop.
I was tremendously annoyed that PTI wasn't on all week.  Damn it. 
Baseball.  Picture-in-picture with Sportscenter. 
The friggin' Sox.  Just when I left them for dead they run off a 6 game win streak just to get my slim hopes pumped up before they punch my optimistic ass right in the head.  College football, why won't you get here faster?!
Tacos.  Lots of them. 
I ate the hell out of some tacos when Mel came over to watch the season finale of Supernatural (you know, the one that aired, like, 4 months ago?  Thank you DVR).  And my wife will be happy to know, all tacos came with actual vegetables in addition to copious amounts of fat, sodium and cholesterol. 
Mario.  In all incarnations.
I did, in fact, beat Mario Wii again while she was gone.  I guess what I'm saying is I did accomplish something
Pants.  Not gonna wear 'em.
Wait!  Clearly I accomplished two things!

So, it was a pretty good week but I'm glad that it ends tonight upon my gorgeous wife's triumphant return.  Fortunately, my bachelorhood isn't totally dead...she's returning just in time for football season!  Notre Dame kicks off on Saturday!  Woot woot!  Get your green on, babe!

I am truly living the dream**.

*if you are not familiar with the Art of Pizza, it is this FANTASTIC stuffed-pizza joint on Ashland Ave here in the city.  Folks, I've eaten a lot of pizza in my day.  Far more than you.  And I have never in my life eaten better pizza than the Art of Pizza.  Trust me.  Order today. 

**I am allowed to watch the game on Saturday, right Krishni?  Right?  Krishni?  I love you!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

My super-awesome, intelligent and sexy wife is out of town...

...Here is what I plan on doing for the next 10 days:

Walking a mile.  Total.
Pizza.  Lots of it.
Movies.  Bad ones.
Drinking.  Heavily.
Porn.  Lots of it.
Sportscenter.  On a constant loop.
Baseball.  Picture-in-picture with Sportscenter. 
Tacos.  Lots of them. 
Mario.  In all incarnations.
Pants.  Not gonna wear 'em.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Only 2011 Travelogue You will Require

People often ask me what it's like to work at the Rabbit.  The question most often asked is can I get the questioner free porn.  The answer is, of course, yes.  All you have to do is ask.  The second question I most often hear:  "Are there, like, naked ladies just running around your office?"  That answer is, "Not most of the time."  While there are occasionally scantily clad women in the office--for photo shoots and seasonal parties--I have to crush the fantasies of dudes everywhere when I tell them that this really is just an office.  My cube looks a whole lot like yours.  Only the top of my monitor is graced by one of my all time favorite Onion headlines:

It is my understanding that this is not allowed in many offices. 

Without further ado, welcome to my desk at work:


They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan.  Can you even imagine?

From left to right as we travel across my desk:

Are you in one of these photos?  If so, drink!

No work space is complete without a series of photos of the ones you love.  Or the ones you love to drink with, as this case may be.  We have Mel and Panhandle up there sporting some nice bling after winning the Steppenwolf Gala King and Queen.  We have Brad and Nathan drinking beers at a brewery in stinkin' Boston.  We have Hank sporting a theoretical wooded spoon.  We have the last picture of my Godmother I own where she had any real dignity.  The 'Wolf softball team is present along with an underage drinking party on my Parent's back patio back in 1997.  Speaking of underage drinking...there is my sister Peggy contributing to the delinquency of a minor!  Thanks, Peg!   She's a doctor now!

I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:


In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple.  He had a very nice hat a long time ago.  He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next. 

Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:

I guess my shit job could be worse. 

You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:


Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him.  Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama.  Only the best show ever for nerds.

Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World.  Sigh.


I'll get back there someday...

Swinging over to the lower right hand corner of my desk, you will find a rather creepy selection of items:



That doll will murder you in your sleep.   It's why the Stormtrooper stoically stands ever vigilant. That, and he's sitting on top of a naked lady. 

I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football.  Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons. 

"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?"  No worries!  She's here too.  With a pirate:


Arrrrrrrrr!

Bonus terrible fact:  the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world.  In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower!  I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.

Whoopsie.

See!  Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!

There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life.  One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home.  The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program.  I graduated with honors:

Yeah, University of Tulsa.  You can go to hell.  

To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers.  Seriously.  Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped".  So we have that going for us.)

Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day.  Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:


"While the directors of the Palomar Observatory admit the nebula had an unusual shape, they do not believe you caught God masturbating."

"When times are tough and the world around you seems grim, don't be afraid to turn to religion for a good, hearty laugh."

"Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it will be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above the waist with the first nine volleys."

"Your love of all living creatures will be on display this week when you open the world's first Animal Rescue Steakhouse."

And a new one that came off the calender today!


"Turns out your nightmarish descent into alcoholism and drug abuse will be a lot more fun than expected."

Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:


Yeah, that's my 2005 World Series Champion Rally Sock.  Maybe if I started wearing those, Adam Dunn could get a damn hit. 

So that's that.  I realize that technically none of you asked to see what my desk looked like at work.  But that has never really stopped me before when it came to stupid shit like this.  Plus, I'm going to make an effort to blog a bit more seeing how my life has slowed down a bit after a frantic July. 

And not every post can be a winner. 

Thursday, April 21, 2011

M-F

As we all know, the clock is ticking here at the Rabbit; it is inevitable.  At some point--probably before the end of the fiscal year--I will be out of a job.  And as much as I've enjoyed helping thousands of grown men masturbate for the last few years, it will hurt losing this job.  Not because I truly enjoy the work.  No, it's more because I truly enjoy money.  I wish, though, that I had some more money.  We all would like to make more money at what we do but I think we also can agree that limited money is better than no money. 

Which brings me to the perks of my current job.  I get some pretty amazing insurance.  Krishni is kind of blown away by that.  I get lots and lots of free porn.  Brad is excited about that little benefit.  Occasionally we have big, drunken "Cube Crawls" here at the office that feature scantily clad models running around the office doing jello shots with the pasty tech guys.  Not gonna lie: that's pretty fun. 

But since I've gotten married, there has been one major problem beyond being a technological fluffer: my schedule.  You see, when I 1st started this job, I was just coming off my "work" at Steppenwolf Theatre Company.  I worked an odd schedule there where Tuesday and Wednesday were my "weekend".  When I started here, I told them I could work weekends because that was what I was used to.  As a result, I was given a Sun-Thursday schedule.  I actually liked that a lot since Sunday, especially during football season, was a super-slow day filled with ESPN.com, South Park episodes and computer games.

Since my marriage, however, I've realized how fun it would be to have an actual weekend and be able to do stuff with my wife, friends and family on Sundays.  For the past year, I've been bugging my boss to move me to a regular Monday-Friday schedule.  You know, like a normal person.

I finally got my wish.  For the 1st time in my life, I will have a regular M-F job.  I can go out on Saturday nights again!  I can attend Mother's and Father's day!  I can watch the Bears!  Provided I still have a job in October!  Ha ha!

Seriously, this will be the 1st time I've ever worked relatively normal hours (I will be working 8am to 4pm).  The only other time I worked M-F, was when I worked at KJRH in Tulsa on the morning show.  And I had to be in the studio at 4 freakin' 30 am.  Those are not, what one would call, "normal hours". 

Color me happy.  At least until the next Jonestown blood-letting here at the Rabbit, that is.

Anyone have any job openings anywhere?  I can work weekends!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The "T" is for Terriffic!

Seriously, it is.

A few folks have asked me what the 'Bonzer T' is about.  Fair question.  The short answer is that it is my video game alias.  Not for cool games where people wear headsets and play Mortal Combat with a friend in Vietnam; I don't have the technological wherewithall to play anything like that.  No, I'm referring to old school games from the N64.  With my super-secret alias, my ninja-like character named 'Bonzer Terriffic' can shoot up Nazis and the Nazis will never know it was actually an unshaven fat guy on a couch wearing only his boxers named 'Mike Jacklich'.  I'm safe from retribution.

The longer answer is that 'Bonzer Terriffic' is my porn alias.

You know that game--Mom, maybe you don't--where you take simple information like your pet's name or your middle name and then tack on the street on which you grew up and that becomes your pornstar name?  I always hated that game.  But then again, I don't like these so called "rules".   I will admit, that sometimes those rules come (har!) up with some pretty wicked adult film names.  I have an ex-girlfriend whose porn name was "Dolly Yukon" by these rules.  That's pretty good.  I have a former friend (he knows what he did) whose name turned out to be "Charles Timberridge".  I would absolutely buy that guy delivering a pizza to a lonely housewife.  Maybe he looks like this:


I always preferred to be a bit more creative when it came to such life long decisions like what your porn name must be.  By the rules, my porn name should have been "Hugh Yackley", which, I must admit, has grown on me.  It's solid.  But it lacks the pizazz necessary for such a career.

Anyhow, many moons ago, in college, I was an underrage drinker at the Outback Steakhouse in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  A few guys in my fraternity worked there so us poor, underage kids could drink beers and order off the childrens menu thereby getting drunk in a public place while spending as little money as possible.  For those unfamiliar with the Outback Steakhouse, it is an Australian themed restaraunt that could be considered the Olive Garden of steakhouses.  You get a decent enough meal but if you're looking for a good steak, you're in the wrong place.  In this instance, "the wrong place" was "Tulsa".  As Tulsa often is. 

On this particular evening, I found myself gazing at the coaster beneath my mug.  Listed on the coaster were a few Australian translations of typical English words.  In this case, the coaster read, "Bonzer = Terriffic".  I turned to my friend Marc (probably he was there...he was always there with me) and said "Bonzer Terriffic would be an excellent porn name".  Or, more likely, I said something like "Boszner Terristific wuld be as awesoms porn num. Hoooooooooo!"

I drank a lot in college.

From this one absolutely forgettable evening, I created a life-long, completely ridiculous alter-ego that is only mentioned within the context of video gaming or the above porn name conversation.  And now, Bonzer Terriffic is the title for my totally rad blog.