Doppelgänger Time!

A first: a Melinda doppelgänger, complete with jean jacket!

Vince found "Hawaiian John Reid"

On an in-flight magazine I found giggly chef Andrew.

Here's Mike B's twin brother

Vince found "Italian John Reid" and captured him in both photo and in motion:

Special Dreams Entry

Smecial Dreams Entry

Apparently Vince still stars in a lot of dreams.

Vince's DVD Drawer Was Thrilled

Vince's DVD Drawer was thrilled (submitted by Andrew).

Two toasters were pretty psyched, too.

Cardboard Backing was not as enthused.

Park Bench and Two Light Spots On The Pavement gritted his teeth and tried to muster up some enthusiasm about it.

Stress Sweat Graphic couldn't snap out of his funk, however.

Parking Meter knew everything was gonna work out okay.

Dangling Public Trashcan Lid was not as optimistic.

Sink Scrubber Holder grumbled that it didn't matter.

Two Razors laughed their asses off.

Theatre Holiday Lights smiled creepily from the back of the room.

Dozens of Apartment Vents sat in neutral silence.

Elevator Railing and Venting also held his tongue.

Weird Receipt Clip felt depressed, quite frankly.

Bus Tail Light was scared out of his mind.

Hallway Dumpster Hatch didn't feel a thing.

Ceiling Insulation and Piping also felt nothing.

An IM Convo

I enjoy the use of whitespace.

BEANSNAPPERS

Andrew's been sending me shots of ads for this Wisconsin strip joint that he keeps seeing in Chicago. BEANSNAPPERS.


Beansnappers?! What the shit name is that? That either sounds like a farmer's market for kids or a painful procedure that you perform on a woman's clitoris in college.


No word on whether Andrew or Vince have actually been to Beansnappers yet. But it's only a matter of time, right?

Possible explanations for the name "Beansnappers:"

• The club originally started as a processing barn for a nearby farm which grew jumping beans. The jumping beans were often too active and "jumpy" for harvesters to handle and ship, so they had to let the beans "nap" in a quiet, dark barn. When the farm was foreclosed years later, this "beans napper" barn was eventually sold to a sleazy businessman who wanted to start a strip club.

• The original owner of the strip club was a woman named Gidelle Hargrove. She was keenly interested in reptiles and amphibians, particularly her snapping turtle. The club was named "Beantown," after Hargrove's native Boston. One day during the renovation of the club, some lumber fell and crushed her pet turtle to death. Distraught, Hargrove immediately ordered the sign be changed as a tribute to her pet, and "Beansnappers" was born.

• Back in the 70's, when drugs were given crazy names, pills in the Wisconsin area were commonly known as "beans." The strip club was run by the mafia, and strippers there had to pull double duty as both dancers and drug dealers. In their arrogance and hubris, the mafia brazenly named the club "Beansnappers," thinking the local police wouldn't catch on with the name. They did. The club was officially shut down for decades until it was resurrected by three local Mormon missionaries in 2003, who now run the club as a way to pay for bicycle maintenance.


Whatever the origin of that club's stupid name, it seems like they're doing fine with it. I did, however, find a more suitable name for them from a different business the other day:


Visit Beansnappers' website here, you cur.

The Dove Body Language Messenger

Last night I downloaded the Dove Body Language Messenger, a free app on the iPhone App Store. What I thought would be some advanced technology that can read your friends' body language to read their emotions turned out to be a gimmicky "women making letters of the alphabet" branded sharable digital doodad.


Here's how it works: you type a message, and the ladies do fancy yoga poses that eventually spell out what you typed. Wow! Cool neato, right? I can't believe this app is free!!!!!!



The catch is, you can't type "FUCK" or "SHIT" or "COCK" or anything fun, because otherwise you get gently scolded by the app:


Alright, then. Challenge accepted. Type something offensive or funny to my friends without using the standard four-letter expletives. I spent the next hour last night typing up messages and emailing them to Andrew, Vince, and Brad Harvey. Here is a sampling:









You can download this unintentionally hilarious app here.

Is That An Erect Penis In Your Pants, Or Are You Just Lobster To See Me?

Lobsterfest® seems to pop up at the least convenient time for people– when you're doing your taxes, when you've been caught shoplifting, or when you just murdered your high school guidance counselor. Still, here at Red Lobster, it's our commitment to serving this lobster stuff to you no matter what, so you just better recognize and show the fuck up. This newest batch of savory ways to enjoy lobster have been submitted by guest servers Andrew, Vince, Megan and Shaleah:

• At Red Lobster, we know that respecting the ancestors of lobsters is an important thing. Before these lobsters are consumed in fits of glorious gluttonousness (and with tasty rolls and possible sprinkle cookie desserts!), we allow our lobsters to steal old lobster shells from the tables and burn them in an effigy of sorts. And that’s a rather confusing and possibly nonsensical way to enjoy Lobsterfest at Red Lobster!

• In the interest of all fairness and impartiality, for one weekend every second month, we invite the local lobster contingency to sit around our largest oak family dining table and eat a human. We also distribute bibs with humans on them so the lobsters can have a sanitary dining experience. Following the meal, everyone gets wafers. And that’s a pretty darn fair way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!

• In addition to being a family restaurant, we at Red Lobster consider the lobster sacred. Almost like a deity. But not quite, since we serve copious amounts daily and our livelihood depends on customers eating them. Nevertheless, we sometimes, without warning, encourage diners to wear rubber bands on their hands to honor lobsters—beginning with the kitchen staff and franchise general manager. We find it’s easy to pressure everyone into doing something when we do it first and then bother you when we bring you your bread but before we bring you your lobster. And that’s just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!

• By insisting customers have a sunburn in order to eat our lobster at our restaurant, we once again attempt to respect the great snapping sea-beast while at the time eating them ravenously. What a buttery moral dilemma! And that’s just another way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!

• Everyone at Olive Garden dips their bread sticks in butter, then storms Red Lobster in excitement. It’s like holding a staff from a position of authority. We’re talking kings and horsemen, archdukes and sailors, but sailors who want to be from an earlier period where women stayed home and men ate more fish than is medically recommended! And that’s just ANOTHER way to enjoy Lobsterfest® at Red Lobster!



(BONUS JOKE: FROM VINCE)

What did one male lobster say to the other male lobster when they were on the prowl?

Hey, ready to get some lobster tail?




Editor's Note: after sending these entries, Andrew wrote: "for some reason, many of these were based on some sort of lobster affirmative action, I now realize."

Also, Vince has been awarded the Onyx Mollusk Award at the bottom of this page for submitting a bonus joke.

Let's Comb The Pomade Out of the EADJ Mail Sack!

Two submissions by Andrew, who seems to getting lots of mileage from his new smartphone lomo filter:

Vince gives tribute to Blean Blablohen:


And Andrew does a "PBR Goatse:"


Barry submits this via text:

"I just thought you would want to see this. Why, I can't say."