Not A Great Way To Express Your Love

Pictured above, another one of my dumb Facebook friends.

An Update From Jersey

In a previous entry, we reported one of our neighbors in Jersey who had a bizarre way of decorating their lawn:


Whether for "aesthetic" reasons or because they were just too lazy to mow their own lawn, we're not certain.


But we did notice very recently that the neighbor did put in some extra effort to "enhance" their lawn rocks:



Yeah. Much better.

Can Bands Stop Doing This Now?

Spotted on an mp3 album download website, a glut of band names:


(click to enlarge)

On We Go With Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!

As Lobsterfest at Red Lobster continues, Red Lobster has recruited the help of PR giant Andrew Gall to detail the latest developments in lobster enjoyment:


Here are four new ways that you can now enjoy lobster at Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster Lobster Lobsterfest®!:

• Several lobsters appear on trays. 3 men dressed in zoot suits, but who are actually dishwashers, appear on the scene. They stand the lobsters up on their hind legs and clap their pinchers together, chanting “how’s your lobster now” in Cantonese. (The zoot suited men, not the lobsters). Just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!


• Lobsters are presented. One lucky diner is chosen at random to “bless the lobsters” by spreading a stick of butter on them. Then, everyone licks the knife, and dining commences! Just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!


• Parking attendants greet diners with, instead of a valet ticket, a lobsterticket, which is actually a valet ticket colored in red crayon and soaked in Mazola Oil. Just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!


• As you sit down with your family, a single solitary lobster is presented. You are instructed to tie your lobster bib while the person to your right holds a lobster while telling family secrets. Only he or she who holds the lobster may speak. Once the lobster is passed to you, you are allowed 10 seconds to smack the person next to you in the head with the lobster in your hand. If the lobster explodes, you are forced to leave the restaurant. If it doesn’t, your whole family gets free rolls! Just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!

Let's Tie Some Decorative Yarn Around the Ends of the EADJ Mail Sack!

From Emily Kane in Chicago, an email with photos entitled "blue frog #2 SUCKS:"

"I thought you should know that the 2nd blue frog, which opened up on Hubbard just east of State, does NOT measure up.

captured via camera phone: huge, douchebaggy river north sports bar with pathetic attempts at infusing the beloved kitsch factor."




You see, the original Blue Frog on Erie & Lasalle was a shit bar. It was a hole in the wall with random patrons that happened to have some board games lying around, and they just happened to serve great burgers with tater tots. Now, to expand that into a "brass 'n fern" type place where bachelorette parties come to do melonball shots and some floor traders come to cheer on their favorite college lacrosse game– that's an abomination.


The fact that they've hung some dusty board games from the ceiling of this nice place to copy the original bar shows you how incongruous it really is.


Weak.

The ProofrEADJer: June Edition

And spotted at a roach coach on 48th and Lex:

This Week In Stupid Captchas

Submitted by Matt S:

EADJ Crappinema Recap: Wow, We've Done Fifteen of These?!

Click to enlarge:

It's stunning to think that since "Shell Game" starring John Davidson and Joan Van Ark in January of 2008, we've reviewed 15 crappy movies on this humble blog. That's about 30 hours of bullshit (not including the additional hours doing write-ups) that we put ourselves through for you people. That's like working a week at a full-time job, minus 10 hours of cruising around the Hot Topic at the mall because you think the chubby goth girl at the register is kind of cute but you haven't mustered up the courage to say hi to her or buy anything because you're an incredible pussy, Nathan.

We obviously hadn't prepared to review so many films when we created the handy-dandy EADJ Crappinema Suck-o-meter pictured above, as we're now forced to wedge in positions for "The Man From Button Willow," "Da Station," and "Sol Goode." You'll notice that the need for space is slightly higher towards the "Fucking Piss-Awful" end of the spectrum.

But we've had our moments of enjoyment, too. The Debbie Gibson/Lorenzo Lamas vehicle "Mega Shark Versus Giant Octopus" was pure cheeseball enjoyment, and "My Boys Are Good Boys" was a good heist movie, as B-grade teenager prison movies go.

The next movie in the docket, "Jeremy's Family Reunion," at first appeared to be a shallow, preachy Tyler Perry ripoff, but 20 minutes into it, it actually looks like it was helmed by someone who knows what they're doing. Who knew, right.

So we've also considered recreating the Suck-o-meter from scratch, but what fun would that be? I want to see how convoluted that graph will look when we review our 50th movie.

An Open Letter To the Band Train From The Gulf of Mexico

Wassup fellas. How's it going. It's me, the Gulf of Mexico.

Listen, you already have thousands of fans who tell you you're the best and all that, but I think you need to hear this from the ninth largest body of water in the world for it to really sink in:

You guys fucking suck.

No, wait. Before you dismiss me as simply a "hater" or that I'm "jealous of your success" or that over half of my basin is comprised of "shallow intertidal waters," just hear me out.

You came out with "Drops of Jupiter" in 2000 with that song "Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)," and that was a musical suckerpunch to the eardrums. Your lead singer (I'm not Googling it, dammit) has a voice so piercing and annoying that it caused my tides to recede from Florida for a whole month that the song was in rotation. But I guess the Grammy you won that year for Best Rock Song just encouraged you.

Not content being a one hit wonder, in 2003 you came out with "Calling All Angels," which I can't remember was attached to some shitty Kate Hudson movie or not, but it might as well have been.

Well, it's 2010, and you've raped our ears with another one. Fuckin' "Hey Soul Sister," which I have to say has the most annoying opening vocals I've ever heard. And this time, the song is inescapable: if it's not playing on the radio, it's in some horrible commercial for Samsung TVs.



That shit makes me wish for a tsunami near wherever you guys are playing.


I know what you're thinking: why am I bothering with you guys when I obviously have way bigger problems of my own, like maybe THE WORST OIL SPILL IN U.S. HISTORY. That goddamned BP pipe is spilling over 210,000 barrels a day into my waters. The oil spill could severely damage my fragile ecosystems for years, possibly decades. My beaches will be very difficult to clean up, and just as shorebirds are nesting and sea turtles are coming ashore to lay their eggs this season. And I'm concerning myself with some shitty has-been 00's pop band?


Well, I gotta do something while I'm waiting for BP to drill the two relief wells to contain the leak. I know, it's try #7, but what the fuck else am I going to do but listen to the radio?

Okay, I'm through yelling at you fuckers. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some letters to write to Lifehouse and Switchfoot.

NOOOOOOOOOO!

UAG

Pewabic Pottery

Hello from Michigan! We are Pewabic Pottery, Michigan's only historic pottery, founded in 1903 at the height of the Arts & Crafts Movement and now a National Historic Landmark.

For over a century, Pewabic artisans, or "Pewbs," have worked tirelessly to craft our now famous Pewabic pottery. The number of Pewbs grew exponentially in the 1970's, although in recent years the numbers have been shaved a lot due to Brazilian influences.


Our Pewabic studio offers adult education workshops, where people from all over can probe, scratch and bury their face in Pewabic designs. One of our instructors, Ginger, has become quite popular in showing her reddish Pewabic materials. Many students have even commented on the workspace itself, remarking how well our carpet matches our drapes.


So drop by sometime to see and touch our Pewabic treasures. Our building is located in the crotch of Cadillac Blvd and Jefferson Avenue, near the "Y." Look for the building on the raised part of the street, or the "Pewabic Mound."

What Not To Wear. Ever.

Spotted in the security line at the Newark Airport, black leggings over pink frilly panties. I will repeat that. Black leggings OVER pink frilly panties.




"Shee-it. I know I look good."

Churchwear.

Recently the Metro New York reported that Lady GaGa attended her sister's graduation at the Convent of the Sacred Heart. She reportedly wore "a see-through white pantsuit and black hat and veil" to the ceremony.

With her being Italian and Catholic, it's likely she attends all Holy Days of Obligation. Here's a brief list of upcoming Holy Days on the Roman Catholic Liturgical calendar and the outfits she'll be wearing:


• Assumption of Mary (Sunday, August 15)
Gold lamé tube top, hula skirt made of turkey bacon strips, purple snow boots

• All Saints Day (Monday, November 1)
Pair of short shorts made from Kathleen Turner's cuticles, collander helmet, bra on fire, Sansabelt belt

• First Sunday of Advent (Sunday, November 28)
Athletic supporter head-dress, solid marble hoop skirt, roller blades that scream Spanish, full beard made from pencil sharpener shavings and moss, blouse made from angry stares of other churchgoers

• Immaculate Conception (Wednesday, December 8)
Assless polar bear chaps, sunglasses made from AOL 6.0 sample discs, live Jack Russell terrier bustier, scuba mask inside deep water diving mask filled with Eckerd's-brand hand sanitizer.

Mailwar: Returning Fire

On June 6, we covered a bizarre package sent to this editor from Mig Ponce– a pair of Laura Branigan pens. So naturally, we had to respond by logging onto LauraBraniganOnline.com and purchasing something for Mig. So we found that they sell "Classic Signature Logo" CD cases, a tribute to the days in the 80's when people owned something called "compact discs."

Hoping to skip the piddly tit-for-tat nature of these type of things, we ordered THREE of them for Mig.


And it's good to see that they arrived safely:

Coming Soon To The EADJ Crappinema: Either "A Night In Compton" or "Jeremy's Family Reunion."

Now, the reason why I haven't picked one or the other is because they're both equally crappy looking. The question is whether I want to spend two hours watching some guy named Zion home from college for Christmas break "who has one night to consummate his newly-formed relationship with Lanise" or some young corporate attorney named Jeremy who's introducing his beautiful white fiancée to the wild and crazy characters in his "dirty south family."


I'm leaning toward the ribald sexual comedy more so than the preachy "message" comedy about remembering your roots. So "A Night In Compton" it probably is.

Baby Float.

Baby float.

You read that right. Baby float. He float and he float now.

Look, baby float because baby want to float. Baby don't float because you ask baby to, or because you trick baby into, or because you force baby to. Baby float on baby's own terms, and that's that.

Where do baby float? Where do you think, idiot? In pool. Baby float in pool. Baby surprised you even asked where. When baby say 'baby float,' 'pool' is understood in subtext. Baby don't float in ocean or lagoon. That shit has tides.

Baby float. That's right. Baby float as long as baby want to, not because someone set a timer on baby or pool. "Clear the pool," lifeguard often say so lifeguard can do a few laps, but fuck that, baby float.

"Baby can't live in a vacuum," you say, "And no man is an island." Well, baby is no man, so baby can BE an island, because baby float. Just like island. And baby inflate float with air, so baby don't know why you talking about vacuum cleaners.

Baby float. That is fact of life that you are going to have to live with. Dog bark, bird fly, baby float.

That new Lady GaGa video is interesting.

In case you're wondering, that not Mommy in skinny yellow bikini near baby. That Meghan, baby's babysitter. Meghan's wan smile indicate that Meghan not really want to be at pool since ex-boyfriend hang out there all time. But who gives a shit, baby gotta float. And Meghan get paid good rate so Meghan should smile for real and stop bitching. Let baby float.

Baby float June 11, 2010. Baby gotta remember this moment, because baby gotta get job in 18 years. 2028? Something like that. Math hard to baby. Maybe after baby work a long, successful career and retire early, baby can go back to float full time. That would be nice. But for now, baby fucking float.

Baby float.

Finally, An All-Andrew Gall Edition of Smecial Dreams

This should give everyone great insight into the inner workings of the mind of Andrew Gall.







So, to recap: the G.I. Joe movie, flamingos, karate chopping deep sea divers, colorful wall scribblings, an angry guy named Christian, Vince's chihuahua, a guy who swallows saws, Matt Leblanc and lizard racial slurs. Everyone got that?

Wal-Mart is More Pathmark Than Pathmark