C'mon Now, Guys

 Spotted on a Ticket app, an ad for a COVER TRIBUTE BAND:

C'mon now, guys. Every fan (and many non-fans) knows they're just EAGLES. There's no THE.

This makes me suspect you're not a very detail-oriented cover band. Like you're going to sing about "warm smell of cellulitis" in Hotel California or accidentally start singing Haim's "The Wire" at the start of "Heartache Tonight". Amirite, people?

Yelp Reviews of the Hotel California

10/8/1988  AVOID AT ALL COSTS

This is the type of place that will take your money, then turn around and stab you with their steely knives. Girlfriend and I made a reservation and paid for a "romantic suite" but ended up in a single room without windows.When confronted at the front desk the manager rudely yelled at her that we can check out anytime we like. Not ever allowed to leave, however. SEND HELP

DON H.

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9/7/1992  NOT WHAT WE EXPECTED

Got this place because of travelocity.com. Boy, do those pictures lie. This place is a shithole. The whole area stank of sweet summer sweat, especially around the courtyard. The hotel is located next to a mission whose bell won't stop ringing, even after 8pm. The list goes on. We would have done better staying at a Motel 6, but there aren't a lot of alternatives on that Dark Desert Highway. Worst of all, they would not refund our money– we had to complain to travelocity to get a measly $50 voucher. Luckily we found a good price for Holiday Inn Express which was night and day compared to this horrible hotel. I don't know how they stay in business. That manager is a bitch.

GLENN F.

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9/7/2010  DON'T BE FOOLED BY THE SHIMMERING LIGHTS

I don't know what got into me to give this horrible hotel a try. My head must have been heavy or my sight might have grown dim. Regardless, I had to stop for the night.

Mirrors on the ceiling? Pink champagne on ice? I don't know who this place is geared for, but it's all kind of chintzy and sad.

Was invited to a buffet in the "Master's Chambers." Got creeped out and stayed in my room instead, which was cool because I caught a "Blossom" marathon.

Not having wi-fi is unforgivable in this day and age.

B. SZYMCZYK

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1/1/1969  SWEET, THEY HAVE WINE HERE!

THE CAPTAIN

Come Ride the META-BUS

Spotted in Midtown Manhattan, a bus with an airbrushed painting of ITSELF ON THE BACK.

That's right, bitches. This bus is such hot shit, it wanted its own likeness tattooed on its ass! How full of itself is this bus? That's fucking arrogant and AWESOME.

Even the eagle grabbing a fish out of the lake is amazed by the bus. "Oh, don't mind me, an endangered national bird doing something awesome like fishing from the sky. I just spotted the fucking blue METABUS driving by, with its motherfucking HEADLIGHTS ON IN THE DAYTIME, driving into the dark blue unknown OF ITS OWN PAINT JOB!!!!!! HOLY ASS, THAT IS SOME HOT SHIT!!!!"

9801 FOR LIFE, COCKSUCKERS!

Spotted: Dick

Larry and Flicklicker are the latest in a series of recent sightings of Scott Peterson's less-high more-obese twin. Here is Larry's write-up:

Yes. Flick and I had a SFVOSP spotting last night (My second of the day). Which I’m told means I have to write something about this glorious moment. But since I’m getting the sense that people are growing weary of this topic, I think I can get away with repurposing an old letter to Penthouse Forum.

Dear Penthouse Forum EADJ Editor,

I can’t believe this actually happened to me Phil and I. There I was in the Kinko’s just after midnight, we were on the escalator of the Illinois Center at 5:30, when there I saw this smoking hot cashier bent over a copier, in a sexy low-cut skirt, allowing me a view of her ass-crack. The SVSOP In ill-fitting Toughskins, which gave us a view of his ass-crack.

She stood up and she gave me a knowing smile. A smile that said we were going to fuck. The SVSOP looked at us weirdly. A look that said, “why the fuck are all these people staring at me?” We stared at each other for what seemed like hours and then she began fumbling for my jeans and the bulge in my pants I began fumbling in my pants for my cell phone. Before I knew it we were going at it like animals. We went at it everywhere. On computers. Scanners. Desks. She even let me stick a stapler in her ass. After a half hour of screwing each other’s brains out, we collapsed in a sweaty heap on the floor, repeating the act three more times in the next hour. It was a night I’ll never forget. The SFVOSP was gone before we could get a pic. We were disappointed.

Name Withheld Phil and Larry

(pictured above, the altercation captured on a Post It)