Lessons I learned from Borat

So, last night I finally watched Borat. Yikes. Anyway, lessons I learned from Borat:

1/. A 7-year old's anus is not something to discuss on TV unless you want Family Sevices on YOUR ass
2/. Strangers are NOT friendly and for some strange reason do NOT liked being kissed
3/. Pamela Anderson is NOT as innocent as she looks
4/. Exhibiting pride in your son's 3 centimeter penis growth is something to keep to yourself and under NO circumstances should you take photographs of it
5/. Do not incite the wrath of a fat man, otherwise you might end up wrestling naked with him
6/. Having a sister who is Kazakstan's #5 prostitute is something to be proud of

Who says you can't learn anything from movies these days?

I avoided my dentist appointment by this much

Some might say I missed it by the hair of my teeth.

Dentists are not nice people. Well, maybe they are. Maybe they aren't. But I don't like them, and the general consensus is that not many other people like them either.

For one, not being able to see what someone is doing to you while you're awake and they close enough to kiss you as they peer into the unattractive orifice which is one's mouth is not very reassuring.

I've chipped a tooth, one of the big fellas near the back. I had root canal done on it a few years back and that's about as pleasant an experience as say being dragged down a tar road behind a truck. So when they told me I had to go back and have a crown fitted, I just smiled and said, "Yeah, okay." Did I go back? Hell no. Did my tooth chip as a result of not going back? Hell yeah.

So anyway, I chickened out of my appointment and have made another one for two weeks time. That gives me enough time to build up some courage - and learn some restraint when it comes to verbally abusing the man who will have a fistful of metal instruments in my mouth.

My cat frowns

I swear I am not BS'ing you. She frowns. If you look really closely at this pic, you'll see a crease across her forehead. And no, it's not from where I smacked her across the head for not using her little kitty litter box. I wouldn't do that.

But I digress. My kitten frowns. Am I the only one who thinks this is odd? She is all of four months old and has developed this wrinkle/crease whatever you want to call it. What on earth does she have to worry about? Not getting enough sleep? How best she will utilise her nine lives? Honestly, what can cats worry about?

I feed her well - maybe too well - and pet her whenever she wants some love and attention, I leave the sliding door open during the day so she can get some fresh air and feel the sunshine. And in return, she developes a frown. Perhaps I should take her to kitty counselling.

On the occassion of National Flip-Flop Day

A friend of mine summed it all up quite nicely. A cup of yoghurt has more culture than this country. And right he is. National Flip-Flop Day indeed!

People are dying of starvation in Asia, of AIDS in Africa, of boredom in Switzerland, and America decides to declare Thursday, June 21st, National Flip-Flop Day. Good going guys & gals. Way to go.

And while people are starving and dying of AIDS and boredom, I buckled under the immense pressure and donned a new pair of $1.98 Wal-Mart flip-flops. Funky brown and blue, and why not?! I have nice feet!

I felt like a genuine rockstar, for all of an hour until these plastic portable satans created a blister the size of Utah inbetween my big toe and the one next to it. So I ended up limping for the rest of National Flip-Flop Day. Way to go guys. What's next year? National Nails-through-your-Hands Day?

*drum roll* And the winner is ....

That time of year again, when advertising creatives get all excited, like 8-year olds on Christmas Day.

It's Cannes baby! The Oscars of the advertising award scene. Any creative worth their salt dreams of getting one. Any creative worth their salt actually has one. And as the final award results trickle in, announcements are made, salary increases are secured, and resumes fill Creative Directors' email inboxes.

This year, some little agency (which had its hey day back in the 90s) in Australia won the Grand Prix for radio. Go go go, Clemenger BBDO (I just made up that little singalong line).

I wanna win at Cannes. Maybe next year.

Do you smell something burning?

I found this oddly arbitrary pic while floating through some very odds sites on the interweb today. So I decided I had to post it. Very odd. Is this a party trick? And if so, is this a party I'd like to be at? You bet your flat ass I would because I want to see this idiot rip the brown bag off his head when it gets a little too smoky in there.

Fool.

If they chirp too loudly, eat 'em.

So there I was browsing the interweb when I stumbled across this site. Well, it's more of a junk food blog. And these delectable snacks were featured. Okay, maybe not so delectable.

Honest-to-God, these are real. Real crickets, roasted and seasoned with sour and cream and onion flavoring. These crunchy morsels come in a range of flavors, so if you're in the mood for Salt n' Vinegar or Bacon & Cheddar Cheese flavors, they got 'em.

And if you're in the mood for something a little sweeter, then you could always try the cricket-in-a-lollipop. Oh I kid you not people. I'm looking at one right now. There's a cricket, legs spread, in a purple lollipop. How about something with more sting?! Like maybe a scorpion? They have those too in lollipops. Pincers out and everything.

They also have stick-in-your-teeth fried ants. Yes, the kind you find in your kitchen after not cleaning up the sugar you spilled from you coffee. My question is this: where is the SPCA when you need them most?

I live in the mountains ... well, almost

So this is the view on the road halfway between my apartment and my office. I've never lived by mountains before.

Yeah, it's pretty, but if you look before the mountain you'll see desert and there's a LOT of that around here in Vegas. Very dry, and very hot. I'm dying here. When will it cool down so I can actually go hiking in thar mountains? Would really enjoy that. Trolling along the paths, stopping occassionally to take in the view, having snow ball fights. Oh wait, wrong season.

Looking forward to it but looks like I'll have to wait.

Brighter than the sun

I love shopping online, I do. No parking issues. No long lines. No annoying sales assistants that seem to stalk you and as soon as you pick something up, they're there in a shot, "Can I help you with something?" Where the hell did you come from??

Anyway, shopping online has it's drawbacks. One of them being that old addage: don't judge a book by it's cover. So when I went onto the A&F website and ordered what I thought were muted deep green flipflops, that's what I expected to arrive. But nooooooo, that would be too easy. They arrived. But holy cow were they bright?! They shone, a brilliant light emitting from the box they came in.

I took them out and was almost blinded. What were these monstrous things? Swamp-thing feet? Was a leprechaun wondering around barefoot somewhere? I tried them on and decided they are only good to wear around the house.

Note to self: when shopping for footwear, go to the actual store.

"Hi Dad, Happy Fathers' Day. Oh, NEXT Sunday?"

Yes, I did this and I am embarrassed.

I called my father on Sunday past and was so excited ... until he reminded me that it's Fathers' Day next Sunday, but thanks for the call anyway.

Poor old man, I think he was getting ready for bed and what with the 9-hour time difference, I get a little confused sometimes. Oh well, the thought was there. I guess that means I'll call him again, NEXT Sunday.

"VEGAS, BABY!"

One more time, please, just once more. BECAUSE IT WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST 50 TIMES!

On my recent flight back from Providence, RI to the City of Freaks and White Trash, I endured the most horrid of taunts: the drunken white trash beast. He was sitting about six rows back from me, long straggly hair, about 400 pounds overweight, smoker's cough, and a voice coarser than a camel's ass.

"VEGAS BABY, YEAH!" *cough cough*

The two drunk white trash idiots sitting in front of me would retaliate, like a grown-up version of Marco Polo. Remember that stupid game you would play in the pool with your friends? One would cover their eyes and call out "MARCO", and the others would dodge him and call out "Polo" and you would have to catch them according to where their voice came from. Same thing here. With grown ups.

"YEAH BABY!" *clank* as he bangs his bottle of Bud LIght against his friend's bottle.

And I start to grate my teeth because my patience is wearing thinner than a nun's rosary at a Chippendale's concert.

I know we're going to Vegas. And I know it draws your white trash ass much like a moth is drawn to a flame, you idiot. But for the love of God and all things holy, keep your "VEGAS, BABY!" outbursts for the casinos. I'm sure they will welcome you - and your wallet - with open arms, baby!

When one is not enough

Okay, so I admit, this is just a little disturbing and very weird - even for me. And I am left scratching my head, as in, "huh?" What in the world is going on here. Have those wonderful Mormons turned to advertising perfume now?

According to the Moromon holy book, "Mormon doctrine states that in order to enter the highest heaven that those who enter must be living in polygamy." So then why not enter the 'highest heaven' smelling super great with just a squirt of eau de polygamie. Then again, maybe one is not enough. My father would argue that after 11 years of marriage, that just one wife was more than enough - thank you very much!

That same great book also states, "Polygamy still happens among members of the LDS church, just so long as those practicing in it are discrete, but not a moment longer." Goodness me, so it's against federal law, but they still do it? Mmmm, that said, loads of things are against federal law, but people still get away with it. Does that make it right? Wait a sec, this is getting very, very philosophical and my head is starting to hurt.

All I can think of is that I wouldn't want to be in this guy's shoes when 'that time of the month' comes around in his house!

Shocking warning sign

Life is full of warnings.

"Don't cross the street without looking left & right."

"Be careful, this beverage is hot."

"Don't run with scissors."

So I wasn't very surprsed to come across a warning sign on an electricity box near the exit gate in my apartment complex. So I decided to snap a pic of it. What I DID find surprising though was how the artists that design these stickers had obvioulsy become bored and needed some fun in their lives. So they have spiced the signs they design up a bit.

Take a closer look at the "electricity" in this pic. It has a face. A FREAKIN' FACE. Are we trying to make Mr. Electricity look nicer? Friendlier, perhaps? There's nothing friendly about that unfriendly grimace. And what about the kid's reaction? He's been thrown back into last year. Bzzzzzzzt.

And Mr. Electricity looks angry and set to administer another jolt to poor young Johnny.

Mmmm, this is one way to make kids realize "electricity is NOT my friend." Good job, guys at NEMA.

Skin like a latte

Summer's here, it's 100 degrees out today, and the sun always shines in Vegas. So then why, why do I still have the complexion of the top half of a latte?

For as long as I can remember, Strawberry Man over here has not appreciated kisses from the mighty sun. While Strawberry Man's sister, Wondermocha Woman, sits and basks in the sun's intense rays - and in so doing turns a glorious golden Mediterrean bronze - she is able to keep her newfound color, while I on the other hand turn from blue, to transluscent, to pale, to pink, to blistering red. Then I peel.

That all said, I remember a summer where my stomach and my feet actually tanned brown. I couldn't believe it. I moisturized every day to try make it stay, but after about two weeks it started fading (school holidays had ended and the Headmaster didn't take too kindly to shirtless tanning during lunchtime on the school field).

But now, as I start my rapid decline into old age and start plastering myself in moisturizer for fear of what those summers in the sun did for my skin, I want some SPF1000 so that I can now go out into the sun and enjoy the summer. I want my creamy white complexion to make way for the beigy brown in the bottom half of that latte. Now THAT would be cool! Does anyone have that in a self-tan?