3.31.2009

Kurt & Karl von Steiger

When I first saw "Kurt & Karl von Steiger," I figured these guys were probably German war heroes of some sort (read: totally bad guys to me and my Jewish family). Fortunately, they are quite the opposite: Canadian tag-team pro wrestlers. But here's the thing--and it's interesting because the last post suffered from the same phenomenon--Kurt & Karl von Steiger are not real names. They are horribly-crafted pseudonyms. Huh?

Okay. They aren't horrible. These guys didn't start with much. Their real names are Lorne Corlett and Arnold Pastrick, so I guess I applaud them for creating the fake brother scenario. But, as someone with little to no pro wrestling knowledge, I find this stage name incredibly lame and non-threatening. They sound like twins who get dressed up in sailor suits and go to etiquette class and play with that Laura Ingalls Wilder-style hoop & stick game.

Based on their stupid name, do you think Macho Man Randy Savage would even flinch at the thought of fighting them? Maybe if he saw them. It might be a result of the times in which they were doin' their thang (the early '70s, when everyone had amazing 'staches and badass attitudes), but they actually did look pretty tough.

Okay, that's a lie. They looked like those old timey carnival strongmen which is actually more hilarious to me than any of the other fake wrestling around these days (particularly The Miz).

Even more hilarious, though? Their most notable feud over the years was with another tag-team duo known as The Royal Kangaroos. I mean, I get it. Kangaroo court, right? And these guys actually do look crazy tough. But listen, 'roos. Kangaroos are boxers. Get with the program.

3.28.2009

Don Diablo

I'd never heard of Dutch recording artist and Esquire Best Dressed Man of 2007, Don Diablo*, until today, but it appears he's the most famous man in the Netherlands (you know, where Dutch people are from).

It also appears he was the main inspiration when those hilarious little scamps crafted "J*zz in My Pants." Seriously. Some of his tracks sound like theirs, and he's often pictured wearing a super tight suit & accessories most easily found at your local H&M. If I were him, I'd be pretty jazzed that even though I'm not famous in the States, I've been parodied by some of its more relevant humorists.

You know what, though? I bet he is famous here and I just don't know it. It's not like I spend my weekends waiting in line to go dance my heart out and look supes awesome at the hottest clubs in Chicago. I barely even know today's Top 40 hits let alone what's spinning on the world's dance floors. If I had to guess what went on there, I'd picture something like MTV's The Grind or Nickelodeon Roundhouse.

I mean, if this guy was voted best dressed, and MTV News made a documentary about his charitable efforts, and this crazy Falcor-lookin' thing wants to hang out with him, he's probably totally famous. I mean, his music isn't very good, but what Scandanavian music is really? And since when did one have to make good music to be famous anyway?

*PS: The "Don" is not like the title Don. His given name was actually Don. As in Donald. Like the Duck or the Trump. That deserves this.

3.27.2009

Javan Scops Owl

Look. I know this isn't Fuck You, Penguin, or anything, but I'd really like to take this opportunity to give the Javan Scops Owl a piece of my mind for being so sad & whiny, rubbing my nose in his loneliness. He looks like a real passive aggressive fucker, doesn't he? "No, it's fine. I'll go to Party City and buy all the food and decorations. I'll clean the house. Don't worry about me. You just come to the party and have a good time. I don't want you to help me." But you want help, owl. You want help.

That's why he has no friends, you know. He doesn't even have any relatives. They all got sick of his shit and peaced out. It's right there on his Wikipedia page. The entire thing is two sentences and they both sound like they were written by a grandma that got no phone calls on her birthday:

The Javan Scops Owl (Otus angelinae) is a rare owl native to Indonesia. There are no sub-species.

That's it. That's all he gets! You know what, owl? You better shape up and stop it with the sad panda act. You're not even close to being as cute as a panda so you better just let your glowing personality shine through and find a girlfriend, or you'll be the last to carry the Javan Scops name. And what a lovely name it is.

3.26.2009

Alec Issigonis

Aside from having a hard-to-pronounce last name, Sir Alexander Arnold Constantine Issigonis, Sir Alec* if you're nasty, is credited with the development of the coolest tiny car ever: the MINI.

Totally badass. It's the star of the Italian Job, for Pete's sake. As a tiny car owner, I have to bow down to the surprising masculinity MINI is able to pull off. Sure, my VW Cabrio is pretty cute in a daddy-bought-me-a-car-for-my-21st-birthday kind of way.** But I highly doubt you'd ever see MINI's Italian Job co-star Mark Wahlberg in one (surely Jason Statham and even intellectual rapper Mos Def would steer clear as well). Maybe this is why I can't get a dude. My car's too gay for any guy to picture himself in. Yeah...that's it.

At least my Cabrio is cooler than a Smart Car, right? We picked one of those up and moved it, Mentos commercial-style, when we were in Spain. Ay dios mio! And no matter what, I know my car is more acceptable than this Nano thing. Right? I mean, it only costs $2K, but it's creepy and, ostensibly, only available in India.

Okay, let's be honest. I kind of want one. I'm going to Mumbai in August, so I can pick a couple up. Marky Mark won't get in the car with me, but maybe it has enough exotic panache to help me snag the kid from Slumdog Millionaire. Or Anoop from American Idol. Or Jay Chandrasekhar (maybe just so I can give him a ZJ).

Fuck, I don't know why I'm assuming I can only pick up Indian guys with this thing. I should expand my options. Seth Green was in the Italian Job, but totally wasn't man enough to get near the MINI. Hmm. I did quite enjoy him in Can't Hardly Wait. Get out of my dreams, get in my Nano, Seth!

PS: Mark Wahlberg talks to animals. Just in case you forgot about this one.

*Just so we're all clear, let's not confuse Sir Alec with Count Alex, of Real Housewives of NYC fame (aka the only reason The Countess deLesseps has more class than you). God, I love those crazy broads.


**For the record, I bought the car myself when I was 25.

3.25.2009

"Imagine That" (LL Cool J song)

First off, I have to admit that this still is not from the video for "Imagine That," the second single from LL Cool J's aptly acronymed album G.O.A.T. (Greatest of all Time to the layperson). It is indeed from the video for "Doin' It," and this image of LL is one of the only ones I've ever found attractive. Personally, I think he looks a little bit like a Muppet. All of his songs are about banging chicks or punching dudes yet I don't find him very good looking...except when he's eating that peach. As the stripper he's watching in this scene would probably say, "Daaaaaaaamn."

Despite his physical ickiness, I think he's managed to churn out some good work over the years. "Phenomenon" was on the first mix tape I made when I got my driver's license in '97 (accompanied by Marcy Playground, Spice Girls and many hot trax from the Space Jam soundtrack, but let's not get into that).

Sadly, though, I can't say I'd ever even heard "Imagine That" before today. It came out in June 2000, meaning it was hitting TRL just as we moved out of the dorms my freshman year of college. And, that summer, instead of watching MTV with my dormmates every day, I was working at a country club, where we played nonstop DMB, Guster, Dispatch and other yuppie hippie live sessions you'd hear in the Abercrombie store.

So. No slow jamz in the summer of '00 for me. Sorry LL. But I will listen to it now and appreciate lyrics like:

You could read the Iliad and the whole Odyssey
But no Trojan soldier scold you like me
Match the calculus then measure my frequency
But when you blast on my lap that's the highest degree

Wow. Now I know why the ladies love you, cool James. Listen to more stimulating lines & watch LL's lips say "Imagine That" 1200 times here.

PS: I would be remiss to post about LL Cool J without giving a shout out to a high school BMOC (big man on campus), Chris Dunn, who crafted his AOL screen name after LL. Yep, LLCD99 and I had some really deep IM convos back in the day. And yes, even the super popular kids were computer nerds at my school, I guess.

PPS: Also can't let a post related to goats (or G.O.A.T.s) slip by without telling you to go see "I Love You, Man," if only to hear my future husband Paul Rudd say. "Totally. Totes McGoats."

3.24.2009

Runcinated tesseract

Here's some complicated shit. More or less, the four-dimensional runcinated tesseract is the love child of super-intense geometry and science fiction nut-jobbery. Like, for real. When I see "4D "it only means one thing to this Doc Brown-influenced mind: time travel. Since I'm no physicist and didn't fully understand this article, I pieced this term together as well as I could:

Runcinated: At first glance, "runcinated" looked like "truncated" (come to find out, they're closely related). In 7th grade math class, we origami'd some "truncated tetrahedrons" and it was supes kewl. For those of you who aren't math whizzes, a truncated tetrahedron is a pyramid with the top cut off. It's easier to make than a paper crane, but more complex than those childish fortune tellers.*

Tesseract: A freaky ass time warp dealie (technical term), from Madeleine L'Engle's crazy train (read: amazing) novel "A Wrinkle in Time." I read it in 4th or 5th grade and totally understood it, which is insane because just reading the plot summary now makes my head feel like I just ate a gallon of ice cream in 7 seconds.

Back home, there's also an art store (read: a dilapidated witch's house that happened to have some art supplies for sale) called Tesseract. I went there pretty much every week from 3rd-6th grade with the Vial girls and Katie Gattoni, and we spent our allowance on Fimo, neon lanyard plastic and embroidery floss. Then we'd attempt to sell our wares in front of the Mequon Pool. We made like $3.75.

This all makes me wish I'd taken some sort of math after high school calculus (stats doesn't count), so I could have a greater appreciation for this shape. Because if runcinated = top cut off and tesseract = time travel-capable witch's house, then, as far as I'm concerned, a runcinated tesseract is really just an elusive home in need of some roof repairs. WRONG.

Although that does seem like an image ripped straight from the pages of "A Wrinkle in Time." Guess that's why this all made so much sense to me when I was 10.

*By childish, I obviously mean we made two of them at the bar on Friday night and used them to spark up conversations with strangers. True story. Make your own now!

3.18.2009

Quarter-life crisis

Disclaimer: This blog title sounds like something a whiny, woe-is-me, Sex-&-the-City-loving gal-on-the-town would write. "Boo hoo, I'm 23 and I'm not married." Cue the sad trombones. Well, it's not like that. Quarter-life crisis was a legit Wikroll. Deal with it.

In a nutshell, the QLC (that's really what they call it) is when young adults feel shitty because they're not totally awesome immediately after graduating college, so they either get super depressed...or get their shit together.

I first heard the term as a lyric in consummate douchebag John Mayer's 2001 single "Why Georgia?" At the time, I listened to that song and felt that he really
got me. This is partly because I was about to graduate college and partly because I was one of the dum-dums who thought John Mayer was dreamy. (I'll be honest. When I interviewed him for the school paper back in '02, I pretty much thought everyone was jealous. They weren't.)

There was also a show about peeps hit with the QLC. "Quarterlife" was a web show that graduated to real TV for about 12 seconds. Then, it was tossed out on ass for not being totally awesome immediately after graduation. If that wasn't bad enough, it then heard that its ex was getting married...to a doctor. Typical.

Y'know, I don't really feel like QL warrants a C. Instead, I just take pride in my refusal to grow up, and so do my friends. Which is nice, because I don't think I ever want to see Skinny or Sheridan grow up from this and go through mid-life crises. They'd both look silly driving Miatas.

If we never get out of this anti-QLC lifestyle, we'll always stay at the 1/4 mark...and live forever, right? Sounds fun, until you think about the ending of "Death Becomes Her."* Then it's just depressing
. Maybe I should have a QLC after all.

*This was my favorite movie when I was 11. Why was I watching such grownup things when I was in 6th grade? Maybe I'm not refusing to get old. I'm just aging backwards. That's some Benjamin Button shit.

3.17.2009

Curtain rod

Wow. I wish I were sleemailing right now instead of blogging about curtain rods. Since I didn't really learn anything from Wikipedia on the subject--aside from the fact that Curtain Rod Day is December 16--I shall dedicate this post to rods in general.

I think the rod topic is top-of-mind because one of my besties, J. Holmes, recently competed in our annual beer pong tournament under the name "In Rod We Trust." When I asked her what that was in reference to, she said "oh, any number of Rods," including but not limited to:
  • A-Rod: Roided up & banging Madge? Sickening. This begs the question, though: If Alex Rodriguez is A-Rod, can Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez be B-Rod? Benny is, of course, the star of The Sandlot--a movie every girl my age loved because of all the cute boys in it. This is also why we loved The Mighty Ducks. Wasn't it a disappointment when Adam Banks got ugly between D1 and D2?
  • Hot Rod: No, not the car Tim "The Toolman" Taylor was always fixing up in the garage. The shitty movie starring Andy Samberg. J. Holmes and I actually saw it and were so disappointed that we sneaked into The Bourne Ultimatum right after in an effort to get our money's worth. People seem to think Hot Rod isn't all that bad, and given the recent prominence of Jorma Taccone and Danny McBride, I'd be willing to give it a second chance.
  • Rod Farva: Gimme a god damn liter of cola. The powdered sugar is delicious. I got you good, you fucker. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I weep for you.
  • Rod Roddy: Wouldn't it be kinda cool if the devil won a bet and got to pull Rody Roddy down to hell, just so he could use him to entice other people to come down there by requesting they "COME ON DOWN"?
So let's honor you, rods of the world. No, I didn't talk about Rod Stewart, Rod Flanders, Rod Serling, Rod Tidwell or fishing rod--but I still love you. In Rod I trust.*

I other news, I found this hilarious thing yesterday. Put your name in, or what-have-you, and it gives you anagrams. I anagrammed "curtain rod" and didn't get anything good, though. Rick Astley's got some great ones, though.

*Okay, there's another one, but I'm not going to talk about him. No politics on Wikrolled. Especially politics that embarrass the hell out of the city I live in.

3.16.2009

Sleep emailing

OMG! LMAO! ROTFLOL! This is hilarious. Not so much the concept of sleep emailing itself, but that it warrants a Wikipedia entry. I mean, what kind of explanation is necessary? Who would look this up and be surprised to learn that, "Oh! Sleep emailing is when you email while you're asleep!" Probably a sleep emailer. WTF?! DUH.

What IS surprising, is that the first case of sleep email wasn't recorded until just three months ago, in December 2008. I find it hard to imagine that in all the years since Al Gore invented the internet, no sonnambulist has ever emailed while in his sleepwalking state. At least someone got right out and Wikipedia'd it, saw there was no entry, and hastily made a 2-sentence page for it. Thank you.

Of course, sleep emailing is similar in nature to drunk emailing, which Google has tried to curb with its Mail Goggles (I need this...but for Facebook). In both cases, you probably get a lot of this kinda thing: "Heydfs, Whatsd'dk updfSF? I gtoota go toafkldjnjffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff....go clean yoru room."

For the record, I'd like to propose we portmanteau the shit out of this disease and start calling it "sleemailing." It's fun to say, and it's easier to say if you're really, really sleepy. Or drunk.

3.15.2009

Lara Spencer

Cool! A legit semi-famous person that I've actually heard of. Lara Spencer hosts the syndicated celebrity gossip trash The Insider. Now, honestly, I don't know how these shows can survive anymore, what with 4,000 bloggers sitting in SBUX all day long waiting to post the newest "news" about Miley, Posh, St. Angelina and my favorite robot Katie Holmes. By the time The Insider's on, everyone's known that shit for at least 2 hours. Old news. Must be why Lara's got a side job hosting Antiques Roadshow. No joke. How fitting.

One exciting thing about The Insider is that it's the former home of crazy, nasaly, fueled-up, oversexed junkie Pat O'Brien. Of course, that whole description is gleaned from Jimmy Fallon's awful impression of the guy (and what I read on up-to-date gossip blogs). Shame it's not very good because his decent impressions are pretty much Mr. Fallon's only saving grace. These days, they're no match for Justin Timberlake's Michael McDonald*, though.

Speaking of which, why is JT BFF with everyone who's ever been on SNL lately? Lara Spencer & Pat O'Brien certainly weren't BFF on The Insider. I remember reading about their ongoing feud on dlisted.com, my celebrity blog of choice. By the time they actually got around to talking about said feud on their show, even the grandpa who brought in Kit Carson's old-ass blanket to Antiques Roadshow knew about it. Thanks for keeping us all in-the-know, Perez Hilton!

*The other day, I finally realized that "Regulate" by Warren G was sampled from "I Keep Forgettin'" by Michael McDonald. No lie: it came on in a bar last night, and everyone was like "REGULATORS!" No. They were legitimately playing Michael McDonald. Best.

3.14.2009

St. Crispin's Day

Huh? How is it even possible that Wikipedia gives me some other dudes' saint's day as I'm about to go observe St. Patrick's Day? Today, we'll celebrate the Irish...and two martyred twins named Crispin and Crispinian, who garnered themselves their own day. St. Crispin's Day is October 25. Mark it down!

Now, I find it incredibly hard to believe that anyone would name their child Crispin. It's even more difficult to understand that the crazy hellion (sorry--mother of saints) who had these two didn't think just one Crispin was enough. She needed a Crispin AND a Crispinian. It would appear that the Catholic Church and I are on the same page here. They took these two crispy bitches out of the liturgical calendar because there was "insufficient evidence that they actually existed." Damn straight.

Now, Biff. I'm not trying to con you. I want to make it clear that I do indeed respect the one notable REAL Crispin out there, George McFly (Crispin Glover), and I will celebrate him on his now defunct saint's day. Although maybe it would be more fun to celebrate him by lighting up a J on his real birthday (which he shares with Hitler & my good friend Allison), April 20. Let's get crispy!

Wow. I think I just invented a new euphemism for stoned. Sweeeeet.

3.13.2009

Charles D. Parker

Well, this is some lucky randomness. I get to blog about the land of cheese, badgers, and ME: Wisconsin. Isn't today supposed to be unlucky? I mean, it's not like I've ever actually heard of 1880's sexiest Wisconsin politician Charles D. Parker, but he pretty much sounds awesome. Well, okay. He was originally from Waukesha, which is not all that great. I have fallen for the charms of one particular man from Waukesha, and it didn't end well. He was fickle and a little boring. Admittedly, he won me over with his extensive knowledge of Ferris Bueller trivia. Come to think of it, one of his best friends is a Parker. Maybe this is a coincidence?

At least this Charles Parker character got past his Waukesha upbringing and became a regent at UW-Madison, my alma mater. I feel like UW is the only school that ever talks about regents. It's usually a term reserved for legit royal dudes (and royal ugly dudes), no? The high school in Madison is even nicknamed the Regents. What a shitty mascot. FYI, Reggie the Regent is a lion. Where the hell'd that come from, Madison West? (Yeah, I know. Lion=king=royal=regent. Whatever.) And, yes, my high school mascot was a dude in a kilt, so I guess I shouldn't talk. Shut up.

Hey, wasn't there someone actually cool named Charlie Parker? Indeed, there was.

PS: Since this was my lucky day, make it yours. Watch this. Happy St. Patrick's Day, my babies.

3.12.2009

Windjammer (disambiguation)

What a fucking treat. This is the first time I've been greeted by the elusive "disambiguation" category on my wikrolling adventure. I haven't decided what to do in these situations, so, for now, let's take a look at all this cool shit named windjammer:
  • A huge boat with a million sails and a movie about a huge boat with a million sails. Looks like Swiss Family Robinson without the people. Boring.
  • An album by jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. With a name like "Windjammer," your album better be the highest-quality Yacht Rock, not trumpets, okay?
  • TWO basketball teams: The Halifax Windjammers and the Maine Windjammers. "Maine Windjammers" sounds awkward and not at all catchy...until you think about the fact that "main" is a kind of sail. And then it's not such a stupid name, is it?
  • A boat cruise line. From what I know, I think it's got a sort of skeezy tinge to it--kinda like Sandals, but on a sailboat. I picture it having an activities director named Kandace who's got lots of organized games like you'd play at your first 7th grade boy-girl party. Ya know, where you pass the orange down the line via necking? And then, before you know it, everyone's doin' it in the hot tub (on the cruise, not at the 7th grade party, I hope).
  • A surfing themed rollercoaster at Knott's Berry Farm that was "was known to be a mechanical nightmare," involving a problem with momentum that made the ride slow down to 5mph so it wouldn't be able to advance. Holy shit. Could you imagine if you were floating along in your SoCal-laid-back-palm-treed coaster car, listening to a looped track of Beach Boys hits and it just stopped right before the big drop? I imagine the ride was also shut down frequently due to people soiling themselves. Sick.
This is why the soft breezes and cool melodies of the ocean shore should only be reserved for the albums of Christopher Cross. Or Andy Samberg/T-Pain. Oh, and maybe this guy.

3.11.2009

Gold Dust Gertie


Today, random article gave me this little gem, Gold Dust Gertie, which was an "all-talking musical comedy" from 1931. Now, apparently, it was originally produced as a full-on musical, but there was a "backlash" against musicals back in '31, so they made it into a regular movie. Now, I don't know about you guys, but doesn't that seem like a horrible, horrible idea? Think about some musicals you know. Then think about what vapid junk they'd have left if they took out all the music & dancing.

  • Grease: Bad accents, teen pregnancy, incompetent hurdling and a slutty black outfit. No thanks.
  • High School Musical: Pretty high school boys playing basketball in a natural, un-choregraphed way. Unless one of those boys is also a werewolf, I want nothing to do with this movie.*
  • West Side Story: Romeo & Juliet. Okay, bad example.
So, it seems that all this movie had after they took out the music was a couple of dudes in matching suits and a tiny pony. And let's be honest, I'd probably watch it just for the mini pony. Sadly, I checked out the trailer, and there's absolutely no pony to be found. WTF? Guess Gold Dust Gertie really was nothing after they pandered to the musical backlash.

At least they all talk in my favorite dialect: old timey. Say, put on some records and let's smoke us some Chesterfields, say? I heard that Gertie'll knock your bridgework out. No foolin'.

*See, if you take out the musical part of HSM, you take out half the plot, and all that's left is the basketball part. Kinda like when you take all the dialogue out of The Hills. Smart!