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I had no good way to work this week’s Cartoon Craziness Challenge into the comic idea I’d already had set to go… so this time it gets a post of its very own. This week’s topic was mythical creatures. Heck, I have a whole stable full of odd and strange creatures… so why not piece together an even stranger one by taking three of my most fucked up characters and having them put their heads together…. literally!
The Piglapossumcorn has the majestic grace of Rainbow Donkey!
The adorable cuteness of the Pigladillo!
And the shitty luck of Buster Possum!
Thanks to The Indecisive Eejit and Mental Mama for hosting this challenge every week!
It’s time for Mecca Muzak Monday, as me and DJ Scratchy once again make another great selection from the compilation of past in-store CD’s my employer has tortured shoppers and employees with for the past year and a half. I promise there will be no more country music songs for at least the next couple weeks!
Today’s featured hit is by a band that has been around for an awful long time for me to have never heard of them before the Mecca mixmasters brought the trio turned quartet into my life. Guster first formed in Massachusetts way back in 1991, and spent the first few years of its life as an underground act before gaining some mainstream success by the end of the 90’s… though apparently not enough for me to have ever known of their existence.
They first showed up on the Mecca CD last Summer with one of their 2006 hits, “Satellite.”
My manager, who likes to
mock my taste in music discuss the Mecca muzak with me mentioned that Guster is one of his favorite bands… though “Satellite” was probably his least favorite song by the group. Interestingly enough, after rendering a verdict of “this shit sucks” during that first rotation in the CD, I actually came around to kinda like it when it reappeared on the first two CD’s this year. Yes, I like to think that had something to do with the boss saying he didn’t like it…
But on the Spring CD this year came a second song by Guster… one I’d have never guessed was by the band since it sounds nothing like “Satellite.” This song is epically awesome, and it’s one of the few things me and my manager can agree on!
Here it is, from early in the first hour of this year’s Mecca Spring CD… Guster’s “Do You Love Me?”
If you dare… click on the link to watch it on YouTube and check out the comments!!!
I’ve raved before about how much I love bells worked seamlessly into rock songs. This is one of several songs I’ll feature on MMM to have some ding dong in it!
As for the video…. well, the band’s weird sense of humor is one of their calling cards that appeals to their fans.
Oh well, the song still kicks ass! See ya next week for another super cut from the StupidCenter!
Squirrels are without a doubt diurnal creatures. You will very rarely see a common squirrel out in the open after the sun goes down unless they have reason to flee their nests (like my front yard squirrels who run for cover under my neighbor’s truck every time it begins to rain, even in the middle of the night). During the hot summer months, squirrels become very crepuscular. Wait… huh? What in the hell does that funny word mean?
Crepuscular is an adjective used to describe things associated with twilight.
Crepuscular animals are most active during dawn and dusk. So you see squirrels out and about doing their regular business very early and late in the day during the warmer months. Hey, would you want to look for acorns when it’s 95 and the sun’s beating down on your fur? Animals aren’t officially classified as crepuscular like they are “diurnal” or “nocturnal” because it’s really a very loosely applied trait that is rarely consistent within any species.
Still, it’s fun to think of squirrels running around in the murky shadows of twilight time rather than in broad daylight. Whether the sun’s just coming up, or getting ready to set, look out for those fun loving Saturday Squirrels who come out to play in the twilight time!
Have a crepuscularly great weekend everyone!
It’s the hip hoppity happiest day on the whole darn tootin’ internet! Friday’s here, and you get more of that neverending story that’s had you hyped up with anticipation for the past 168 hours! Yes, it’s another deliciously satisfying taste spoon full of my epic Millionaire Journey! Last week we played with our food up in the ABC commissary, and when I left off, my group was being corralled to get ready for our moment in the studio spotlights. That means the next stop is my dressing room… come on inside, if you dare!
Me and the rest of my taping group were led back to the infamous hall of dressing rooms I introduced you to in an earlier segment, only this time there were about 75% fewer people than there was when we passed through here in the morning and it felt about as spacious as the trash compactor in Star Wars. You may recall all contestants from both groups were told to leave their show wardrobe in one of these dressing rooms before we were led into the green room. Now we all got to play a fun game of “find the clothes you had abandoned amidst all the chaos four hours ago.” It’s a lot like that similarly exciting game of “guess where you parked your car in the humongous mall parking lot”….
I don’t have much trouble finding my get-up, and stake out my own private Idaho among the free for all of dressing rooms so I can get changed in relative privacy. On with the hideous green sweater. Up with the brand new khaki pants that would make Jake from State Farm jealous. Back on with the semi-casual brown footwear I had already been trodding in the entire morning. Sigh…. this is so not me. I may as well have had on a custom made fancy tuxedo for how much I hated being out of my plain shirt, jeans and sneakers element…
I intentionally stalled a bit while dressing to the
elevens nines because I knew what was coming up next… and I wanted to put that off as long as I could. But being as this just wasn’t my lucky day, and helped by the fact that half of my group was female, I was still one of the first ones to emerge dressed and ready to go. That meant there was a chair already waiting for me in the makeup room…
I recall from my days interning in the weather department at a local TV station that the on air meteorologists would make sure their stage makeup was touched up before any broadcast… and of course, it always looked weird for me to see a guy whip out a makeup kit and start applying it to his face. The purpose of this makeup is to keep you from looking like a shiny douchebag on tape thanks to the overhead lighting and the effect of its reflection off your skin. Plus, it’s good for covering up all those nasty pores and craters we don’t want several million people to see… which would embarrass mom almost as much as getting into an accident without clean undies on.
I had always been under the impression that the Hollywood makeup process was just a big old puff full of flesh colored powder the cosmetologist would violently dab onto my face until the entire room was so filled full of fine dust particles that there’s be a massive explosion if someone lit a match. Nuh-uh. I watched in horror as my makeup lady mixed up this horrifically nasty batch of peach colored goo that she was no doubt about to assault my very skin with…
This disgusting, probably toxic mixture was an undercoating that gets applied before the stage powder. It felt just as icky as it looked as this Jackson Pollack wannabe began applying it to my face. I don’t know how you women put up with this…
While this goopy crap was going on, I began to wonder if the makeup lady was going to have a fit with my spurt of facial that looks like a tangled rain forest under my mouth. For whatever reason, I simply decided to stop shaving that bit way back in 1995… and it’s sort of become my distinguishing feature. It was kind of a “soul patch” before the concept even came to be, and it’s gone in and out of fashion countless times in the 19 years I’ve been sporting it.
It’s so wild and uneven, it looks like someone just glued a damn tumbleweed above my chin. But having spent half my life with it now, I’d feel lost without it. I’m constantly grabbing at it and twirling it in my fingers… especially when I’m bored, trying to think, or just a little stressed. I can just see myself doing this on national television while trying to figure out a question… Regis would probably feel the need to reach over and slap my hand every time I reached for the weed patch.
Thankfully, my then 6 years worth of growth does not interfere enough with the Bondex being smeared on my face for the makeup artiste to feel compelled to grab a pair of scissors. Once the powder is applied over the face spackle, I am free to go wander around the hall while the rest of my fellow contestants get tortured.
So now…. I wait. It seems like an eternity for the rest of my group to go through the grueling makeup process. It was during this idle time that I ran into one of the associate producers who had interviewed me at the audition two months ago (three months ago in blog time… ha!), and that’s when he told me that my impromptu weather forecast I did was what made him remember me and got me picked when they began filling all the slots. Well how about that… all that time and money I invested in my college education didn’t go to waste after all!
I lingered around a group of my fellow finalists who were also waiting out the makeup phase, and they were listening to the carryover contestant Ed Toutant tell them a bit about yesterday’s taping he’d been a part of. The carryover onto that show wound up incorrectly answering her $500,000 question, which only cost her $218,000 in winnings. Then the first contestant from his group made it all the way up to the $125,000 question before walking away with the $64K he had already won. Ed said that had the contestant gone for and answered that question correctly, his show would have likely been the third one to suffer the misfortune of only one fastest finger question… and he wouldn’t still be hanging around the studio today.
Ed also gave us a helpful bit of advice to help us keep up with the pace of the show. Each taping had six segments, with five commercial breaks. Keep track of the number of breaks, and you’ll know just how close you are to having your goose cooked. By that fifth commercial break, if you’re still waiting for your shot, you better hope the Hot Seat contestant’s about ready to bail or fail. Or there’s always sabotage…
Finally, all ten of us are done with the beautification process! Now we get pulled into another room so we can get miked, since apparently the viewing audience may want to hear us when we mutter our incoherent answers. This only involves running about ten miles of wire through the sacred parts underneath your clothes, all attached to a fifty pound box we have to have clipped to the back of our pants. Yeah, this is really comfortable and a tad intrusive. Why don’t you just go ahead and give me a catheter while you’re at it so I won’t need to be escorted to the potty anymore…
As we are getting enough wires run through our clothing to power all of Manhattan, one of the AP’s begins to instruct us on how the contestant intros will work. The ten finalists competing for that Hot Seat spot all get introduced just before the first fastest finger question gets asked, and it’s considered to be our “four seconds of fame,” and our chance to say hello to the world who was watching… you know, just in case we bomb out and that’s all the time we get to send a special message to the ones we love out there…
There is a camera covering each side of the Ring of Fire we will be sitting in, and each camera will start with the contestant on the far end and work their way towards the middle. They alternate cameras as we are being introduced… so the order of introduction is 1, 10, 2, 9, 3, 8, 4, 7, 5, 6. Or, for our purposes, we had to just count the number of times the red light on our camera had gone on and figure out how far we were away from the end of our row. Since I was in Seat 9, I would be up the second time my camera’s red light came on. This was an awful lot of fucking math and remembering of routines we were being forced to tuck away along with all of that valuable trivia knowledge we were hoping to show off.
Well, we’re dressed, prettified, miked, and all ready and rarin’ to go. We are once again lined up in the hallway by our seat order and taken downstairs to the studio. Unlike the last time we had entered this door for rehearsal, when it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, now your very thoughts were being drowned out by the raucous sounds of a live audience that was sitting just on the other side of the bleachers we were waiting behind, and they were getting pumped up for the taping they were about to watch….
This is it, folks. Shit’s about to get real now….
We’re going on stage… in front of all those cameras and that big audience!
Next Friday. :D