The Simpsons Movie (Gone Wild)

What was originally supposed to be brunch and matinee showing of The Simpsons movie, somehow turned into brunch followed by mimosas followed by mojitos and spending the entire afternoon at the bar. By the time the 7:00 pm showing of The Simpsons rolled around, it somehow seemed like a great idea to go to the movie completely faded.

Things were jolly good until we got in line for concessions. A standing-on-one-leg contest was initiated, ending with Shemeka falling into the couple behind us. Jose tried to buy cigarettes with his popcorn from the concessions lady. Steven hit on a couple gave them his phone number. Once we made it into the film, Jose fell down getting to his seat, although once seated, he prompted fell asleep—only waking when the woman behind him kicked his seat because he was snoring. Shemeka also fell asleep, though did not snore. Good times.

On the way home Steven admitted that he’d forgotten to “tidy up” this morning before his housekeeper came over. After she left, Steven went into his bedroom to discover that she had organized his collection of cockrings. He’s looking for a new housekeeper now. Am I the only one who’s embarrassed about his friends?

Friday Confessional: U wunt a cord Ramuné?

First off, let me say that I love the Japanese—the food, the electronics, the fashion, the Shintoists. So when first learned about the cultural phenomenon of Ramuné, I had to try it. Ramuné is a Japanese lemon soda sold in a Codd neck glass bottle sealed with a marble. What’s up with the name? Well it’s transliterated from the Japanese bastardization of the English word “lemonade.” Get it? Ram-u-né… Lem-o-nade. Love it. But the best part of the drink is definitely the bottle. To open the drink, you have to push in a glass marble jammed in the lid. The marble drops and is caught in the neck of the bottle. There are two small nodes in the neck of the bottle where you have to balance the marble while drinking so that it doesn’t roll back into the opening and block it. It’s a drink, it’s a game, it’s a blast.

Dim Sum Combo B

Last night while waiting in line at Famima!! (the Japanese style convenience store of magical dim sum delights and bento box lunches) I stood behind a tall, well built guy about my age who was purchasing sushi, Pom tea, and some kind of protein business. After the cashier rang up the total, $17 dollars, this dude pulled out a wad of cash from his front pocket and paid the entire bill in singles. Damn strippers. Front pocket not shown.

Becoming Eleanor Abernathy

Most of you know Ms. Abernathy as the Crazy Cat Lady on The Simpsons. What most of you don’t know is that Ms. Abernathy was a child prodigy turned Ivy League grad turned burned out casual alcoholic turned psychotic cat lady. What some of you do know is that I’m currently transitioning into stage three: burned out casual alcoholic (yes, I’m typing with one hand whilst enjoying glass of cabernet with the other—sue me). Sunday night’s two hour block of Simpsons reruns included "Springfield Up" the episode where we learn Crazy Cat Lady’s gripping back story:

Eleanor, age 8: declares feminist ambitions

Eleanor, age 24: graduates from Havard & Yale

Eleanor, age 32: burns out, turns to wine

Eleanor, today: throws cats for fun and profit

This clip really, really spoke to me, and made me want to hang out with her after work. Alright, we all know this is actually Blythe.

Tammy Faye

Hope you're in the big gay discotheque in the sky Tammy Faye.

Friday Confessional: I Heart Beckham

The truth is 99% of the time I don’t give a damn who Colin Farrell is fucking or how many DUIs Paris, Britney, and Lindsay have this week. I’m rather immune and uninterested in Hollywood at large. I once had a twenty minute conversation with Jaclyn Smith on set before asking her what she did for a living. That was awkward.

But there are those rare moments when the confluence of Access Hollywood, libido, and second hand fame cast a magical spell over me. Such is the case with Mr. David Beckham and his wife Mrs. Posh Spice. I am in love. Which is why it’s so ironic what Mark did to me this week. Tom and Katie (yes, that Tom and Katie) are throwing a “Welcome to LA” party for the Beckhams, and it will be the event of the summer in Hollywood. When Mark told me he scored a rare and coveted invitation to the dinner, I was elated. I was ecstatic. I was over-stimulated frankly.

However, the euphoria was short lived. Sober in the face of fame, Mark decided he didn’t want to go. “It’s going to be insane,” he insisted. And with that, all of my hopes and dreams for this world vanished like so much smoke. I was empty, alone, and now hungry. I had some ice cream. The worst part is, I’ll never get to blog about how big Victoria’s head really is. I’ll never get to blog about David’s alleged botox injections. And I’ll never get to blog about how Tom tried to convert Posh and Becks to Scientology. I guess I’ll just spend my weekend looking at this:

I Miss Blogging, Blogging Misses Me

Work has been a ridiculous crazy bitch this week and has prevented me from participating in the blogosphere, where I have little or no influence. Touché. After work, my time is split between my meth addiction and yoga. I know, wacky. Here are the things I would have been blogging about if I had the time to be funny:

Kelly Rippa’s Husband:
Today, my Managing Director and I had lunch as Asia de Cuba. I had the lobster club. Kevin had the calamari salad. But yummiest part of the lunch was sitting next to Kelly Ripa’s husband, Mark Consuelos.

Férfiakt: Possibly the Worst Movie Ever?

Outfest provided this gem of Hungarian cinema. The English translation of the title (which is just “Men”) is “Men in the Nude.” Let me tell you, there’s not even one goddamned cock shot in the whole fucking movie. WTF? Seriously, WTF?!? Worst movie ever.

Speaking of Hungary:
In Hungary, when shopping for produce in the market, you must weigh your own fruit, print out a bar code label-sticker, and attach it to the bag for the checker. This proves to be quite a challenge for foreigners because A) they don’t know they’re supposed to do it, and B) it requires knowing the Hungarian word for the item you’re purchasing in order to press the correct key on the machine. For those of you who’ve been to Central/Eastern Europe, you know that although they’ve discovered democracy, they’ve yet to master capitalism. That said, I was once in the supermarket, in line to check out, when the woman in front of me hadn’t weighed her bananas. The checker lady yelled at her in Hungarian, to no avail. I explained the checker’s tirade in English, to no evil. Charades were played, to no avail. It was at this point that the checker lady picked up the bananas and slung them across the store and shouted “NO BANANAS FOR YOU” in Hungarian. Does this remind you of something?

Visit My Company's Website

Context is so important to everything we do. What seems like a killer company name on the new bone-white letterhead, could turn out to produce unwanted google hits as a web address. This is the case with the following REAL businesses and their unfortunate websites:

1. Who Represents is where you can find the name of the agent that represents any celebrity. Their Web site is www.whorepresents.com

2 . Experts Exchange is a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at www.expertsexchange.com

3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at www.penisland.net

4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at www.therapistfinder.com

5. There's the Italian Power Generator company, www.powergenitalia.com

6. Don't forget the Mole Station Native Nursery in New South Wales,
www.molestationnursery.com

7. If you're looking for IP computer software, there's always
www.ipanywhere.com

8. The First Cumming Methodist Church Web site is www.cummingfirst.com

9. The designers at Speed of Art await you at their wacky Web site,
www.speedofart.com

Breaking News: B&S Boring

Some of you might be under the impression that Bee-Spot and I are purposefully zany in our comments as a way of garnering attention. I assure you, we're always like that. Submitted for evidence, yesterday's gmail conversation. Blythe is trying to convince me that we should also venture into writing a joint blog:

me: uhm, in other new, i hate blogging. so why do i want to write for 2 blogs now? news flash: i dont

blythe: news flash, you do love blogging, so why not have two? well, i know that we'd have a good joint blog

me: this just in: shain quits, bee-spot blog without readers

blythe: you're so mean

me: news flash: blythe realizes, shain is mean. also: sky is blue

blythe: but still…

me: i'm ready for a nap

blythe: it's only 11.30

me: ONLY 11:30? what's that supposed to mean

blythe: nap time already? didn't you get up about 2 hours ago?

me: so?

The point is, we're really this boring in real life... it's not just on the blogs.

Help Fight Pediatric AIDS

It has recently come to my attention that a certain, twisted group of people has begun to regularly engage in the reading of this blog here at *The Life & Times. I, Mr. Shain, am truly thankful for this. Looking at Sitemeter gets me off better than [redacted].

However, upon further investigation (also known as blog-stalking) I have come to realize that many of my loyal readers/gawkers/angry commentators do not include this blog, *The Life & Times, on their own blogroll. This makes Mr. Shain sad… very, very sad. I think it also might cause babies in Africa to spontaneously develop pediatric AIDS. And a puppy dog gets hit by a Fedex truck every time you read *The Life & Times without adding it to your blogroll first. The point is:

Add Mr. Shain’s *The Life & Times to your blogroll today, and help stop pediatric AIDS and the needless killing of puppy dogs. Only YOU can stop the madness.

*The preceding has been a paid advertisement and does not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the management of this blog.

Sunday Fun Day

Friday Confessional: Random Crap

Mr. Shain in the news: Sometimes other bloggers read this crap and realize what a brilliant and talented writer I am. Sometimes they don’t. But here are three that really get me:note: this is a picture of me that was in the news

Welcome to the Tiki Hut!: Just for Shain
World of B: The Cooler
Bee-Spot: Pure Drivel (classic)

Italian Explosion, Part III: I’m so not good with my kitchen appliances right now. This, unlike the fridge, was totally my bad. I just wanted to throw the whole thing away.
Fourth of July addendum: I almost forgot about this text Bryan got on the 4th. Turns out, sometimes domestic violence is funny. Note to readers, Matt is Brandon’s boyfriend. They were vacationing in Palm Springs until the fistfight broke out. They don’t really remember what started it (the booze does that) but Brandon spit toothpaste in Matt’s face, Matt shoved him back, and then the punches flew. Hotel security was called, and Matt was removed from the hotel (but was the one who drove). Oh, those gays!
Meth addiction: Recently, there's been a lot of blog "chatter" about my alleged meth addiction. You know who you are. For the record, I'm not a meth addict, and I have a very nice, very expensive smile. I also sleep A LOT and am always exhausted. How many meth addicts can say that?
I am being monitored: Yesterday I got a hit from Kuwait. Okay, fine, but this hit was actually from the "Kuwait Ministry of Defense". Okay, a little weird. But this comes after a mysterious flurry of hits last week from Israel and the Palestinian Territory. I think spies might be communicating via my comment section. Has anyone actually ever met Blythe or Cherry Ride? Hmmm...

Wii-mbledon Champ

note: I've reposted this blog to fix the comments section. Please comment away now. Please.
I’ve recently been asked by readers to blog about the man behind Mr. Shain, the real Shain. To these readers I say, “Fuck off, this isn’t a diary.” Instead, here’s a blow-by-blow recap of my July 4th holiday.

7:30 am Wake up, look at clock, go back to bed.

8:00 am Get out of bed. Read blogs, CNN, and New York Times. Check sitemeter.

10:00 am Breakfast at Eat Well with Bryan, JB, Robert, Steven, and Mark. I order an omelet with cheddar, mushrooms, and spinach—they don’t have green onions. I also drink a coke. Whole wheat toast on the side, but I don’t touch it.

12:30 pm Spin class; vomit.

1:30 pm Walk over to Jose’s BBQ. We buy beer, Red Bull, and macaroni on the way.

3:00 pm After a few beers, the Wii-mbledon doubles tennis tournament begins. I’m partnered with Brendan.

4:30 pm Brendan and I place second after a final round match against JP and Steven (2-6, 6-4, 7-6). There were 8 match points. It was crushing. Also, we are sweating like pigs at this point. There was a minor wii-njury during the tourney.

6:00 pm Bryan, Mark, and I spend quality time in the garden together. More typical fag conversation about shit… I don’t remember. Rum and coke now. Gourmet burgers with blue cheese stuffed in the middle are grilled by Robert. We love Robert. Also, amazing guacamole is prepared by JP. We love JP. Mark heads to second party; I stay.

8:00 pm Seriously, I have no idea where the last two hours went. Meeka, Bryan, Brandon, Dan, and I talk about [insert intellectual topic here]. I think Scooter Libby came up. Steven and I have a meaning conversation about losing faith in government. Red Bull? Yes please. Meeka, Dan, JP, and Brendan get really, really into playing Super Mario Brothers.

9:00 pm We head to the roof to watch fireworks. West Hollywood is a horrible place to do this—too far from both downtown and the beaches (where the good shows are) and it’s so smoggy you can’t really see shit. We get locked on the roof. Brendan, Steven, and Dan are really fucked up now. JP is picking up cigarette butts. Steven almost drops his iphone off the roof. Meeka and I watch the mess.

10:30 pm Wii-mbledon singles tournament ends in my triumphant defeat of Brandon (6-3, 6-2) and being crowned wii-champion. I get a wii-trophy. I suffer from wii-elbow.

11:30 pm Brendan has his first-ever deposition in the morning and is still a little bit sloppy drunk. JP attempts to hydrate him. Dan is not helping. I decide this is the end of the road for my holiday—I still have to get home and blog. This shit doesn’t blog itself.

Key words for the day: Heineken, Mexicans, Degas, constitutional law, Nintendo, manchowder, Kathy Griffin, iPhone, Honduras, French post structuralism, chasm, awkwardness bomb

The History Channel Will Blow You

So maybe I’m spending my Tuesday night alone (with the kids) enjoying a bottle of Cabernet and maybe a few Rx pharmaceuticals—prescribed by a doctor thank you—and watching the “Universe” marathon on the History Channel. I’m kind of an astronomy/physics buff… so I need to watch these things like Blythe needs to watch Paula Deen. Anyway, the History Channel just ran a promo with the following tag:
Maybe this is just more enjoyable now than it will be when I wake up on Wednesday, but still I wanted to share it with you. Because that’s what I do, I share. Sharing means caring. At least that’s what this doctor thought. God I love live blogging. We should do it more often.

Update: Perhaps it's too small to read, but the History Channel tag is "Get Your Mind Blown." They actually said this on TV people. It's funny. Don't make me explain why.