MEMORIAL DAY RELOCATION SPECIAL

Welcome to Finnerfunk's new home at TheFinnerfunk.Blogspot.com. Today, I am memorializing my original home at Finnerfunk.Blogspot.com by watching action movies and not showering. Please update your links, bookmarks, and homepages accordingly.

The really dramatic ending of Arlington Road is on my TV right now but someone is blasting "Empire State of Mind" (in Philadelphia) super loud in their car on the street below and it's really ruining the tense moment on my TV. This is a good movie and I want to spoil the ending for you but it's delightful, so I won't. Jeff Bridges is hot in this one.

EXTRA BONUS FRIDAY POST: You Tired, Son!

The following things are no longer cool.

1) Moustache finger tattoos.

Alert everyone you have ever met.

The Male Vagina

I like it when women complain about childbirth and periods and cramps and PMS and then some blockhead guy chimes in with something about kidney stones, like it's just as bad, if not worse, and that guy have it really rough, too.




Bitch pleeeeaase.





The odds of a man passing a kidney stone in his lifetime, according to a scientifically conducted Google search performed at my desk, are 1 out of 10. The odds of a female bleeding uncontrollably for a week every month for two-thirds of their lifetime are 10 out of 10. 1000 out of 1000.

Women require extensive sensual stimulation in order to even want to start thinking about maybe having sex with you ever. This needs to occur over the course of, like, a month, too. Lame. You will not find a guy who needs to take bubble baths with rose petals and essence of lavendar oil to feel sensual and sexy. Because they don't need it and because that's gross. Guys walk around all day with their dicks flapping in the wind, ready to get it on at any moment. At the slightest breeze, a man can be ready to go. If only women could get in the mood by taking a quick glance at a Prince of Persia poster.

"Are you trying to tell me this haircut isn't turning you on?"

Basically, what I'm getting at, is that women have it worse strictly in a physiological sense. Otherwise, we've pretty much got it made in the shade. People care more about women now, anyways. And if you don't care about women, you're instantly an asshole and no one with a shred of decency or a couple of brain cells to rub together will ever like you again (I see you, Chris Brown). We can get away with a lot of shit. All of the best celebrities right now are female, too (I see you, Gaga).

Also, what's with really sensitive straight guys? That's gay.

One final note: as I post this, I am not particularly proud of this entry, but if I have to hear one more discussion about the plight of the male!, I'm going to vomit. Anyways, it's Memorial Day weekend and you know what that means - SHORTS!!!!!! So I better go go join the rest of my female comrades in shaving about 85% of my body hair. See ya!

Kentucky Fried Human Skin

Sometime in mid-2003, I saw an epidemic on the horizon.

"It was... utterly macabre."

TALKIN' 'BOUT SPRAY TANS!

During the more primitive years of "Mystic Tanning" one of the sluttier girls from my high school (if we went to high school together, you can pretty much insert anyone you want in here, as my gift to you) came to class all embarrassed about her orange-ass hands. Orange asshands. Orange hands of an ass. OMG why are your hands orange are you okay? Yeah, when I stepped out of the rain of self-tanner and I rubbed it into my skin, I didn't wear gloves or even wash my hands afterwards, no big.

Butts Wide Shut (LOST)

"It's off the air. Can't do anything about it now."

Not that you could have done anything about it if it were still on the air, considering you are not one of the creators of ABC's hit epic series, Lost.

Lost is the most frustrating thing to talk about with annoying people. I barely watched the last two seasons of the series, but had a better grip on that shit last night than any of the people on my office. Evidently. "Why did they waste time with all of the [flash sideways] stories?", "They must have needed to fill a 2.5 hour show," "Why didn't they answer all of these questions? They left too many things hanging," "Why were people who weren't even on the plane in the church?" Oh my god. I just responded to all of these questions and qualms to a couple of co-workers and they looked at me like blood was pouring from my eyes.

Like. Yes. ABC handed down a 2.5 hour finale time-frame and the creators of Lost were all fucking struggling like "wtf how are we going to end this shit?" The end of this series was decided upon 4 seasons ago. The rich-ass Jewish guys with expensive little eyeglasses who created this shit didn't ACCIDENTALLY leave you and all of your questions hanging last night.

You cannot convince people of the right answer if they don't get it. No one has a grip of anything. I'm convinced that your average TV viewers (I'm talking AVERAGE - see: the people chowing down on jalepeno flavored Pringles, not muting the TV when commercials come on, paying to see Con Air back in '97, questioning my cooking capabilities) do not grasp story or care about characters at all, unless they're particularly sexy or evil. All your average person sees is the action that is happening on the screen. You could watch every episode of Lost back-to-back but if you don't have it, you aren't going to get it or feel the fuck out of it. It's just going to be a bunch of exciting plot points and cliffhangers. But, personally, I care about character and story. That's why I got a little emotiono during the finale last night, even though I am a fairweather Lost viewer, at best. Evidently I really cared about these fucking made up people!

You can't please everyone. But. It was a beautiful, touching, emotional and complete ending.

It's a good thing Matthew Fox signed up to be on Lost, otherwise he'd just be known as the squaresville older brother from Party of Five!!! And it's also good that Evangeline Lilly signed on to play Kate, otherwise she'd just be some dime-store skank from the LiveLinks commercial, hanging on the party line all night, waiting for you to call her to the tune of $2.99 per minute.

Can't Buy Me Love

I'm not one of these people who waxes nostalgic every moment of every day about kitschy garbage from the 80s and 90s, although I love shit from the 90s and guys looked pretty hot in the early and mid 90s. I really like that look (see: the guy creeping on Liv Tyler in Empire Records) where guys would push their hair straight back and it was all long and floppy and shit and sometimes they'd tie it in an ironic little pony tail. NO LONG MALE PONY TAILS, THOUGH. And all of the flannel and the combat boots. That was a comfortable and sexual decade.

Anyways, like I was saying, I'm not a sucker, but I am fond of things long forgotten. Things that weren't particularly good, or memorable, and were probably bad, that no one gives a fuck about anymore.

One day in 2003 while I was working at the now defunct fine bulk candy retailer, Sweets From Heaven, this dude who worked at the Cingular kiosk across the way came running over into the store. "Dude. You guys will never guess what I found under my bed today.... an UNOPENED TWO LITER OF SURGE." Surge was discontinued in 2001 (Wikipedia).