Yes, I am eight years old!

I love a good, witty joke filled with nuance and wordplay.

I guffaw heartily at the great comic plays of many generations past.

A pun, political cartoon, or insightful stand up act can get me giggling.

But really, what hits me the hardest and has me bending over, heaving to catch my breath, is this simple, no-frills, edited 20-second clip from Pretty Woman.

So juvenile. So cheap and low. So absolutely brilliant.

And who doesn't love a good fart gag?



Hey Blair - do you think she sharted? Check his papers!

'I'm her mom.' 'No, she's not!'

Since I know you all are fans of these new-fangled YouTube videos, I thought I’d share a recent and popular favorite. “Kittens, Inspired by Kittens,” is an adorable video of a girl narrating a book about…you guessed it, kittens!



When I was 5 years old I made my mom read a book about snakes to me, even though I hate snakes and would recoil at every picture. I think I would have enjoyed Kittens a bit more. Thanks for the psychological damage, mom!

Taking the easy way out

Sure I could go and see what the news for the day is. What's going on with the economy? Or that octuplet mom who wants to be Angelina Jolie? Sure I could sit down and talk about my crazy night at Splash...

But I'm sorta lazy, so I'm just going to post some absurdly adorable viral videos of cute animals doing cute things instead.

Animals doing adorable things tend to go viral quicker than anything else in this world. Take for instance these two videos... both now making the rounds quicker than a Greyhound.

First, we have this Great Dane puppy sitting on a Samoyed


and then we have

Rocky the Japanese puppy who walks like a human, and represents a law firm?


Ah what the hey, and here's a baby elephant playing with a blue ball.

Trauma-Rama: The 'Shart'

Like most younger brothers, I was often a pest to my older sister. I wanted to tag along when she went to play with her friends, or be included when her Barbies finally met their New Kids on the Block counterparts. Unlike most younger brothers, I read her Seventeen magazines not for pictures of cute girls to add to an adolescent spank bank, but for the delightfully trite, yet terrifying tales of the “Trauma-Rama” column.

It seemed that the worst thing that could happen to a girl involved three things: a backpack and/or sweater, a tampon, and her crush. If she wasn’t dropping her tampon on the floor in front of her crush, or he wasn’t handing it back to her after it dropped on his foot, she was stealthily hiding the telltale stain with her sweater and bemoaning her decision to wear white jeans that day.

Not a host to Aunt Flo each month myself, I can’t say I’ve experienced this personal tragedy, but I think there is one bodily function we’ve all fallen prey to that could fill a lifetime of ‘T-R’ columns: the ‘shart.’ What is particularly traumatizing about this often-involuntary action is that one can never be sure of the extent of the damage until you’ve had the opportunity to check yourself out in the bathroom.

My best friend, never a fan of underwear, or wearing anything but cotton pants to her telemarketing job, once sharted in her chair. Noting the stain it left on the upholstery, she left and didn’t return that day. I never had to leave work entirely but once spent the better part of an hour surreptitiously cleaning and drying my briefs and pants after an unfortunate and surprisingly wet shart.

My crush wasn’t present, and I didn’t have to wear a sweater around my waist the rest of the day, but as I walked back to my desk with a few paper towels tucked carefully into my briefs, I felt like one of those poor traumatized girls. My pants may have been intact, but my confidence was definitely stained, at least for that day.

Do you have an embarrassing story you‘d like to share?

Leave a comment and let B.B. and J+1’s ‘Trauma-Rama’ experts share your tragic tale.

Peanut Bitter

When they told me that fresh spinach was killing senior citizens, I shook my head and said that was a shame. But I never liked spinach leaves. When I heard that jalapeno peppers were being recalled, I winced and worried at the fate of my Subway sandwich lunches. But again, I persevered.

But now that they are recalling peanut butter, I just can't take it. I LOVE peanut butter. It is like manna from the heavens for me. My mom apparently ate it by the jarful when she was pregnant of me. And now I eat it by the jarful at the risk of looking like I'm pregnant.

I can eat peanut butter from a jar with a spoon. Reece's is practically a lover of mine. Butterfinger. Anything, really, that has peanut butter in it. It's the first ingredient I scan for on a dessert menu. It's the first flavor I consider at an ice cream shop(pe).

So you can imagine my dismay, nay my mortal torment over this current situation. WHAT TERRIBLE WORLD IS THIS IF THERE IS NO PEANUT BUTTER?

My god.

What will we have with jelly? MARGARINE?

Oh christ.

What will Reece's fill their cups with? NOUGAT?

I'd sooner hoover a full jar of peanut butter and accept my sticky, nutty, heavenly demise.

Dear terrorists: You can take our spinach. Our jalapeno peppers. But if you don't leave my peanut butter alone, I will go Jack Bauer on your ass and make you regret ever having fucked with me.

PS: Despite all of the peanut butter and peanut-related recalls in effect, Circus Peanuts are still on the shelves... because no one buys them any way.

Another one sucks the dick

Were you too enraptured with Valentine's Day this past Friday to catch this bit of news? In the grand tradition of Ted Haggard and half of the Republican party, yet another figure from the radical gay-hating right has been caught with his pants down and his cock out.

You may recognize Pastor T.D Jakes as the homophobic preacher who abhors gay marriage and has stated he would never hire a gay person. Well the hypocrisy train is coming to town! Jakes' son, Jermaine Jakes, was arrested in a gay sex sting last month it turns out.

Jakes was arrested after exposing himself to two male undercover cops, and guess what he listed as his place of employment? His father's 30,000 member strong Potters House mega-church in Dallas, TX.

So says the Manhunt Blog. (Yes, I didn't know Manhunt had a Blog, either - I figured their visitors weren't interested in reading...)

Hey Mr. Jakes - what are ya gonna do now that your number 2 was caught in some "sex presented pastorally?" (was Ben Vereen there, you think??)

News story below:

Happy Presidents' Day!

Greetings and thank you so much for having me this week, Justin! I hope that my unique blend of sarcastic and self-effacing commentary will be just the ticket for all you Plus One readers. I thought I’d also start out with an embarrassing story about myself, but what could tales of my drunken antics teach you? Quite a lot actually so I’ll post a few “Trauma-Rama” pieces this week, a la the glory days of Seventeen. But in the spirit of the holiday, first I’d like to introduce you to my favorite president, and apparently a distant relative on my mother’s side: James Buchanan.

Here are a few fun facts about Buchanan; you can go to wikipedia to learn more.

• Buchanan was the president whom immediately preceded Lincoln. His failure to prevent the Civil War by allowing states to concede is considered the single worst failure of a president. He is considered by most historians to be one of the worst presidents in history.

• Since he was a Northern Democrat who sympathized with Southern slave-owners, he earned himself the derogatory term of “doughface.” This term was used to describe politicians whom could be molded or shaped like dough.

• Buchanan was the first and so far, only bachelor president. His relationship with Senator William Rufus King whom he lived with for 15 years before the White House, prompt many to believe that Buchanan was gay. Many documents in relation to this relationship were destroyed, but others also indicate his questionable behavior with many of his male secretaries.

He single-handedly allowed the country to descend into civil war because he was too lazy and conflicted to act against the states that wanted to go on having slaves do all their work for them, and garnered a nickname that is quite offensive as a politician, but as a GAY man must have been absolutely devastating. Well Great-Great-Great-Great Uncle Buchanan, I guess some things do run in the family.

Who’s your favorite President?

Meet Blair!

Happy Monday every one and welcome to another fun-filled week on Justin Plus One. To get started, I'd like to say a quick thank you to stand-up superstar Adam Lehman for hopping in and blogging with me last week.

But we are only nostalgic here for so long. Out with the old, and in with the new.

And so let's hop a plane from Astoria, NY where Adam lives and take it all the way to... Astoria, NY, where our next co-blogger also lives. (Come on folks, it's a recession... use your damn feet!)

Everyone, say hallo to Blair Bryant Nichols. A writer. A blogger. A lover, not a fighter. When he's not lighting up a room with his wit and charm, he's lighting the room on fire because the people there didn't appreciate his wit and charm.

My Name:
Blair Bryant Nichols

My Location:
Astoria, NY is where I sleep…usually

My Site/ Sites:
www.homo-neurotic.com
www.everybodydoesit2.blogspot.com

What I might post about:
Sex, pop culture, myself, stuff I like, stuff I don’t like

What I love:
My pillow shaped like a dog, diet coke, Bud Lite, Power Hour, The Wheel, Jeopardy, grilled cheese, llamas, Pandora, and lots of other important stuff

What I hate:
Losers, lightweights, and leprechauns

My Last Word:
“I am the ice sculpture the party melts around.”

Signs of the Apocalypse 11: John McCain-a-licious?

In my next door (yes it's really next door, ain't I The Luckiest!) Baskin' Robbins I came across this little wonder. Looks like while Barack Obama won the presidency, John McCain won the Baskin Robbins Ice Cream war... because there was no Obama ice cream to be found!

I also love that "Straight Talk Crunch" has "chocolate coins" (Baskin, you making jokes here?) and "candy red states". Well, I guess that means you get less candy this year than you did four years ago!

Sucks that it's so close to "French Vanilla" as we know that John preferred his "Freedom Vanilla" ice cream.

Okay, and this leaves one question: what was Barack's ice cream named. No, wait, don't google it. I'm more interested in making up some... like:

"Yes We Caramel"

or

"Barack-y Road"?

Okay... I'll stop before y'all start flinging produce at me!

xoJR

My Fuzzy Valentine

Okay, this is just cool. It's a Web site that me and my company came up with, called My Fuzzy Valentine. The idea is simple - just keep on squeezing the heart. It'll give you V-Day themed videos, images and Web sites...

and 1 in 40 visitors wins a free box of chocolates.

And beyond the free chocolates - the fuzzy valentine is just so FUCKING CUTE. Really... it's totally adorable.

So check it out at My Fuzzy Valentine. And tell your friends about it too.

xo

Shameless plug

Tonight I'm hosting my monthly comedy show "The Brew HAHA" in the East Village at 8pm. It's a solid line-up, and I promise you that even though the show is FREE, you'll laugh your buns off. The line-up features Jenny Rubin (from this), Robin Cloud (from that), and Roger Hailes (cute & funny straight guy).

Bar on A / 170 Ave A @ 11th Street / 8pm

I'm unveiling a bunch of new jokes tonight, so I think I'll dedicate the rest of this posting to opening up the mind of a comedian. Often times I'm out with people and something happens - either someone tells a story, or someone falls - and people always say: "You should use that in your act." Usually I'll smile politely and say "yeah I'll see what I can work out of it."

More often than not, though, there's nothing really for me to develop. When someone tells a long, rambling story and then ends with the phrase "oh, I guess you had to be there" I'm secretly glad I wasn't. That's not how a comic's brain works.

We're always looking at the world around us and wondering why things are the way they are. When a premise strikes us as funny, we play the situation over in our mind... Why is this funny? Is there another way to flip this around in a humourous way? If this is funny to me, how do I translate the idea to make an audience laugh as well.

Sometimes, you fail miserably. But, the more you try, the more you're able to question the world with a humor filter.

For example, I was recently watching the press conference with the NTSB regarding the "Miracle on the Hudson." One of the reporters asked a simple question that has modified into a new bit for me that I love to enjoy. The reporter asked: "Could you tell us if there were any dogs or cats stowed on board the plane??"

The comedian in me immediately acted like Scooby Doo. What kind of reporter is this? And since when did Cat Fancy start covering breaking news?

I then developed the idea of sending a Cat Fancy reporter all over the world to cover other breaking news stories... the inauguration and the situation between Isreal and Hammas became prime targets. The latter is what worked best for me, so I send the Cat Fancy reporter to other press conferences as well.

The joke didn't spawn over night, but it took time for me to think about each word and what I wanted to convey. It isn't set in stone either, and I'm going to continue to work on it until I can sit back and say "this is as perfect as I can get it."

So, if you're brave enough, please venture over to BAR ON A tonight at 8pm and you can see for yourself if all of my hard work paid off.

And now for something COMPLETELY AWKWARD

Did you see Joaquin Phoenix's recent interview on the Letterman Show? I didn't. But I did today, thanks to my film industry bud, Rob.

And, in the immortal words of Homer Simpson, Joaquin "Is doped up or dying or something!"

Seriously. I can't tell if Joaquin is fucking around and having a good time, or if he's some oddly anti-social human who's fucked up on pain meds or crack or god knows what.

Watch for yourself. And stay til the end... it only builds in awkwardness as you go through the interview.

Justin Plus Fun: Crazy 'bout Coraline

Every once in a while I see a movie or a show that totally tears me apart, drives me crazy, and invades my thoughts. The latest example of this is Coraline, a movie which every single one of you must see. Like, now. Right this second. Seriously, don't waste another minute. GO!

So what have I done already? Well, I've been to the Coraline web site where I made my own button-eyed photo:

I've already downloaded the entire spooky album, and fallen head-over-heels for a 30-second song (or as a friend pointed out, a "jingle"). Let me tell you something - it sucks being addicted to something that short. You can't put it on repeat or you'll literally go insane. WHY COULDN'T THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS MAKE AN EXTENDED VERSION?

Either way, here's the spooky YouTube clip of "Other Father" singing his song about Coraline:



Oh, and you KNOW I'm super excited about the upcoming off-bway Coraline musical, with music written by The Magnetic Fields!

In case you're living in a hole and have no idea as to what Coraline is, below are some of the fawning reviews, including a NY Times Critics Pick, bitch! And the HD trailer as well as some of their brilliant web ads.

My next move will be to find Coraline at an IMAX 3D theater... because a standard 3D theater just didn't cut the cake.

The Trailer


Bobinski Ad #1


Bobinski Ad 2


A word from Neil Gaiman


And, of course, the fawning reviews of Coraline.

Facebook

If I have to read 25 more facts about another boring person I'm going to start pushing random strangers into traffic. Here's a random fact... you're not that interesting.

Also, there is a new trend of writing 26 facts ABOUT 26 of your friends online. Ugh, when will the spam stop.

If I get pimp slapped, beaned with a snowball, rick rolled, high fived, or poked one more time, I might have to start writing graffiti on people's wall!

So far there are two people that I've dated, both conveniently named Eric, who slowly became friends with my friends on the site. Most of the time they met once, twice, three times a lady... but now that both situations have fizzled out we're left with 15 mutual friends in common. Why? Without me there's nothing linking them together. This is all because many Facebookers are in a rush to add that one extra person to their online social circle to impress the rest of the people they don't really know in the first place. It's as if having 436 friends is less desirable than 437.

As much as I'm over the overshare, you log into the site and find a jem like this, and everything seems okay.

It's time to order up a Sully!

Youtube isn't an easy way out!

I wanna share some videos I came across from my friends in Paris. Most people have never heard of Vitas in the US, so watch and see how insanely high this Russian can sing.



And then, you have to have to have to watch Taiwan Vitas!!!!!!!!! I want to be his friend!



I played this and a pack of wild dogs are outside my window!

When Bloggers Attack!: Pepsi Logo Gets It Hard

After today's dead soda post, I felt that I needed to share this image with you.

I am NOT a fan of the new Pepsi branding.

Frankly, I think their bottles look like penises.


I think their no-nonsense, practically empty labeling is stark and lifeless.

And I think that their new tagline "Every Generation Refreshes the World" makes no sense, and sounds like something pulled from a list of forty possibilities created by an intern that even I wouldn't hire.

Alas... all my words can only do so much. You need someone who's visually inclined to take a swing at Pepsi. And Lawrence Yang did just that...

So they recently plastered the Powell BART station in San Francisco with Pepsi ads. Just big posters that say "POP", "HOPE", "SODA", "JOY", etc. All flaunting Pepsi's new lopsided logo.

And every time I see the logo, I can't help imagining a big belly button in the middle... So I thought I would share my vision with you all.

I Am... Clancy Pendergast

Much like Beyoncé has her diva alter-ego, Clancy makes an appearance a few times a year after I've had a drink or two or a baker's dozen. He's outgoing, full of sloppy speech, and a tease. He'll gladly heckle strangers on the street and make friends with random people at the bar. He's inquisitive and a little out of touch from reality. But, more often than not, he's a lot of fun.

Scene: 7th Ave and Christoper Street... Three friends hail a cab to take Clancy to a safe house nearby, when Clancy jumps in the front seat by himself. The cabbie is on his hands free device talking.

Cabbie:
You guys are riding with him, too?

Friends:
Yeah, but we're dropping him off first and then going somewhere else.

Cabbie:
Okay. (starts to mumble into cell)

Clancy (to Cabbie):
How are you?

Cabbie:
(After hesitation) Fine

Clancy:
Having a good night?

Cabbie:
Yeah.

Clancy:
It's my birthday!

Friend from backseat:
Hey, how you feelin' up there?

Clancy:
(After a beat, to cabbie) Why won't you talk to me?

Backseat:
Do you want to get some water before we get there?

At this moment, Clancy feels shunned by the cabbie's lack of attention. He looks to his left and on the seat is a little console with a cup holder, pocket, and storage compartment. Curious, he opens it.

Cabbie:
Please don't go in there!

Clancy:
(Whispered) What's in there???? Secrets???


For me Clancy came out again this past weekend at my friend's housewarming party. He did the Single Ladies dance (twice), heckled someone he didn't even know, fell over many times, had an awkward moment meeting a guy he only talked to online face-to-face for the first time, and forgot entire portions of the night until Facebook showed me what trouble he got into. I spent time apologizing for Clancy's actions, but fuck it. Clancy comes out once every fiscal quarter just to make sure my friends have stories to talk about. Without him, there would be no reminiscing or the use of the phrase... "remember that time when you..."

Who is your Clancy Pendergast? What is your best Clancy moment?

Alas, Poor Soda, I Knew It Well

Crystal Clear Pepsi. Slice. OK (from coca cola). Coke II. Life Savers.

What do all of these names have in common? They are the titles of fallen carbonated beverages. Sodas that didn't make the cut, and ended up on the bubbling room floor.

I mean, we remember some of them, surely. Who can forget the gigantic ad campaign Pepsi underwent for their transparent bubbly treat?



But there are far more failed sodas than you may even remember. Recall Pepsi Blue? What about Josta? Or the odd overseas versions of Pepsi?

Alright, this one may be cheating a little bit. Yes, these flavors did exist, but you could fill pages upon pages full with weird variants of any soda. Particularly Coke and Pepsi, which have had numerous flavor variations, many of which were only available overseas or for limited times. For example, did you know there was a Pepsi Ice Cucumber? Other odd examples include Pepsi Twist Mojito, Pepsi White (with yogurt flavoring), Pepsi Holiday Spice, and Pepsi Carnival. So why single out these two?

In the end, there's all these soda sob stories and a ton more at A Tribute to Fallen Sodas. One of the greatest compilations of carbonation I've ever seen.

Be sure to check it out.

Pure Brilliance

No commentary necessary... enjoy the amazingness:

David after the Dentist (original)



Chad after the Dentist (adaptation)

Musings from my travel journal

Below is a excerpt from my travel journal when I spent two months in Paris last spring. My friend gave me a book called "The Artist's Way" that featured many exercises for uncovering and re-igniting creative energies. One exercise asked me to sit back and observe people and comment on what happens without editing. Below you'll find my thoughts.

le 1 avril 2008

At the Louvre

-A group of tourists pose with a momument... pretending to "hold" it up.
-A group of classmates were being rowdy, when one gave the other a "ball tag"
-Note to tourists... fanny packs aren't discrete.
-The black people here have a darker complexion than the black people back in the states.
-Gay or European? Here I can't tell. This guy has glasses, coiffed hair, trendy shoes and I still have no idea.
-The guy that was "ball tagged" is still reeling on the ground.
-Woman has a backpack, heavy jacket, and walking poles... didn't realize there were trails near the Louvre.

I.M Pei's famed pyramids paint the scene for these people. Take a snapshot and they exist in the same space at the same time; but, in a week or month, they will scatter themselves all over the world. As the sun begins to set on some of their lives I realize they only have a few spare moments left to sit back and appreciate views like this. To my left I see a baby of two or three years. While the sun in his life has just started to rise, he won't even remember these events until his parents show him pictures of their trip to Paris. In the background, he'll see the people I see now.

Those scattered souls also captured random strangers in their pictures. In a lifetime we serve as the background for hundreds, if not thousands, of photos, but more often than not we're unaware of the moment. We randomly find ourselves scattered through other peoples scrapbooks, memories, and stories.

SNICK-stalgia

Oh sometimes I miss being a kid. Sure, I love going out on a Saturday night, bar hopping, and forgetting my name as I crash into bed still in my party clothes. But sometimes I just pine for the simpler times... when a Saturday night was spent in front of the den television.

My parents would buy my brother and I dessert and McDonalds, we'd sit indian-style on the shag rug, and watch SNICK - the Saturday night line up on Nickelodeon.

Does SNICK still exist? I don't know. And I also don't know how many format changes it underwent. But I DO know the original lineup, replicated here with the help of YouTube.

8PM - Clarissa Explains it All


8:30PM - Roundhouse!


9PM - Ren and Stimpy


9:30PM - Are You Afraid of the Dark?



What's even better is that most of these shows are ON YOUTUBE. Oh man, maybe I won't go out this Saturday... I'll just sit in bed with my laptop hooked up to my TV and go back to days gone by.

Nah, just kidding. I've got a party to go to.

I secretly wanna go to Japan

Guess it isn't much of a secret anymore! I've already travelled to Europe for a few months and can feel the tingles building in me for another extended stay overseas... factoring in this shitty economy, it almost seems like the perfect time to just CTRL ALT DEL for a few months (or Force Quit for you Mac fags). I secretly want to go to Japan, so I was uber-excited to see the video from a previous post for a Geisha girl to learn English.

I want to share a fav learning English video of mine as well. I know these girls have been posted before with the "SPARE ME MY LIFE" clip (that was featured on VH1), but I really find the scene/dance featured below to really speak to me.... and plus, not too many people know of its existance!



First of, diahhreah is a ridiculously hard word to spell. Secondly, this bitch must have some serious diahrea if she needs an ambulance!!!!! Really? An ambulance!??! Screw the people with heart attacks or strokes... she had a bad case of diarreah!!!!

Below you'll also find a video of the Pepto Bismol commercials... aside from the fact that these people are doing the diarrhea Macaraena, I find it entertaining! But, which dance do you like better? The Japanese girls or the PB peeps?

Nanerpuss Scares Me

I am speechless. Ask my friends and enemies... this never, ever happens. But when my friend (and next week's Plus One) Blair sent me a link to the new Denny's commercial, starring Nanerpuss - I just didn't know what to do.

I certainly don't want pancakes. Now I'm afraid that anything I receive from a griddle may very well have been straddled by the result of an orgy between a plantain, a crab, a marionette, and a bunch of really cracked out advertising folks.

Watch in horror. And then go get yourself some french toast. It's the only safe bet.

Obama Bumps Head, World Comes to an End

I give credit to my good buddy Reece for this link.

Today President Obama thwacked his head on the entrance to Air Force One. I guess the door height was built for the hunched back of Dubya and his midget slaves and satyrs.

Of course it made the news. And I'm sure that Fox News will find a way to tie this in to ACORN, Joe the Plumber, and use it as proof that the stimulus bill is the product of a man who can't even enter a door correctly.



But then again, at least Barack made it THROUGH the door...

In Defense of Michael Phelps

Sure, we can all scream bloody murder for our boy Michael Phelps, who is taking it up the cornhole from pussy-footed, mormon-esque corporate America. So afraid are they of -gasp- a gold medal winner who SMOKED A BONG!?

As prostitots fall face first into their own vaginas after getting into heroin-addled knife fights with Amy Winehouse... THIS is who we punish??

Nevermind. I'm not going to do this. I'll let my secret boyfriend, Saturday Night Live's Seth Meyers come to his defense (he's far better at it than I am!)

Is he a homeowner?

My friend Janice and I developed our own term to describe someone that we think might be gay... "Is he a homeowner," she said to me casually in a bar as a guy walked past us. "I don't know," I replied, "I think he rents but is looking to buy."

When I was a teenager I always wondered if Rick Steves was a homeowner. If you don't know who he is, check out the video below to refresh your grey matter.



There was always something a little off with Rick in my young gay eyes. He always went to fabulous places and knew too much about theatre and wine. Quite a few sibilant S's appeared in hisss descriptionss of citiessss. Most tellingly, he usually travelled alone, and quite often had a friend (often another male) join him in certain placesss.

COULD STEVES OWN PROPERTY????

The question secretly lingered in my mind until yesterday when I was browsing the travel section of the book store. Take a look at the title below and share your reactions.



I think we have our answer.

Signs of the Apocalypse 10: PC Richard's Fucks with Your Head

Apparently P.C. Richard's on the Upper East Side had an issue with their door and so needed to assure passerby that YES! They were indeed open.

But I took this photo at 2 in the morning.

And so I broke the nearby window and entered the store. Sure the alarm went off, but I figured this was okay. Unfortunately no one seemed to be in the store - maybe at an internal meeting in the back room?

No matter. They were open. So I just left with a few TVs and refrigerators via the broken window.

Bravo, P.C. Richard's! It truly is a showing of fantastic customer service when you leave your store open all hours of the night, and put your clientele on the honor system.

Nice to e-meet you!

I look forward to this week at Justin Plus One and hope I can bring a smile to your face at least once in the next few days! We live in a crazy world (where Rihanna might be a victim of domestic violence?!???!! Hello Chris Brown!!!! She offered to give you her umbrella.... if that ain't chivalry, I don't know what is). I feel very strongly that a good way to get to know a person is through an embarrassing story, so let's get to know each other...

Not too many suns and moons ago I decided to get back into the gym routine. I needed to break the relationship cycle (not really caring about what I look like because hey, someone likes me). When the relationship road started to get rocky, I knew I had to change my life.

I was excited to get back into the healthy lifestyle, so I decided to be an early riser and go one day before work. I joined a rather bootleg gym, so, as it turned out, I had to bring my own towel.

Not being a morning person, I overslept and had to hastily pack my gym bag. I threw in my workout gear, shoes, and grabbed a random towel and headed out the door with a dim sunrise on the horizon.

I did my workout with a sense of accomplishment. After lifting for ten minutes or so I checked out myself in the mirror (is that already more definition?) and was glad I decided to start my day this way. "This is what good people do," I said to myself. My workout lasted an hour and I realized I needed to shower or else I'd be late to work.

The locker room was crowded with the early morning rush, and a person that could potentially be my gym crush was standing next to me. I casually smiled, flashed my hungry eyes, and went to wrap my towel around me. As I did, I saw something slowly fall to the floor out of the corner of my eye.

At this moment I realized one very important fact... this is the towel I stashed in a hurry when my roommate came home while I was manscaping.

As my gym crush looked at me in shock, I looked over and casually said, "oh, there it is." I then picked up the clump of hair, put it in my locker, and hid out in the handicapped stall until the locker room cleared out.

Because of Pubergate, I was late to my job. I also never had the balls to go to the gym before work. And, as it turns out, I'm no longer allowed to work out at Lucille Roberts.

Meet Adam!

Take my Plus One, Please! No, thank you, thank YOU folks. Don't forget to tip your bartenders... and by your bartenders, I mean me. Give me your money. Please. I'll set up a Pay Pal.

ANYWAY. Thanks, first of all, to co-blogger Becky from last week. You were a superstar. I will be wanting you back, so start recharging your funny battery.

And now, moving on to this week, I would like to introduce you to my sexy and hilarious co-blogger, Adam Lehman. A stand up comedian who's legitimately funny, and an all-around fantastic fellow, Adam hails from Astoria and you can see him headlining stand-up acts around our fair metropolis, as well as pounding back shots and doing the Single Ladies dance (not kidding, I saw him do it this Saturday - he's good!)

Adam used to blog on Livejournal many years ago, where we first met. And I am pleased as punch to have him on board for a week of gay hilarity.

Anyway, I'll leave the rest to him!

My Name:
Adam Lehman

My Location:
NYC

My Site/ Sites:
My professional Web site, AdamLehman.net
My Big Gay Casting profile page (VOTE FOR ME PLEASE)

What I might post about:
Love? Paris? NYC life? The recession?

What I love:
Saying "Jesus, Take the Wheel" when exacerbated, Coca-Cola, and making people laugh.

What I hate:
Child beauty pageants, Pepsi, and the fact that it's always too soon to make a Terry Schiavo joke.

My Last Word:
Nine out of 10 interesting facts are made up

Critical Acclaim: Rich Weighs In

This description of Justin Plus One came across the wire (aka: as a comment in Facebook) and I am putting it here for all posterity.

"(Justin Plus One is a) delightful home for boys, booze and news oddities."

Now THAT is a review I can stand behind!

Hey, wanna be featured on J+1, but are too lazy to be a Plus One? Leave your one-line review of the blog and I'll give you your own post, too!

xoJR

Kiss or Miss

I am an unashamed lover of making out. I love kissing - mouth and tongue play, it is one of my favorite hobbies. Of course, with this comes one risk which drives me crazy - bad breath. A toxic tongue is all you need to bring tears to your eyes and panic to your heart.

As a smoker, I am full aware of the potential perils of my breath. This is why I never leave home without the necessities - gum, listerine, sucking candies, chapstick. I know how to layer tastes, and what cuts the scent and taste of a cigarette - from orange juice and peanut butter to a jamba juice rinse (like its listerine).

What shocks me is that so many people have no handle on their breath. They puke out strong fumes of everything from curry and street kebabs to vodka and fart. Come on people! You spend hours on your outfits, your hair, your makeup, your pickup lines and how you stand, and then you let your mouth decay to the point where it smells like the Staten Island Ferry at 7AM on sunday morning?

Ridic!

You know why? Because the HAND IN FRONT OF THE FACE DOES NOT WORK! Nor does your drunk-ass friend who's holding back a torrent of tequila vomit as you covertly belch in his face. I'm sorry. It just doesn't.

But guess what!? Now there's something that DOES work!

It's called the Kiss-O-Meter and you can get it over at Urban Outfitters. Sure, it's $30... but wouldn't you love to know your breath status before you go and blow Funions and Provolone stank in that cute guy/gal's face?

Of course you do. And the best part is this isn't some cute toy. That's why you're paying $30 bucks. Because it is using ACTUAL SCIENCE to get you ACTUAL SEX:

The Kiss-o-Meter detects volatile sulfurous compounds released by the bacteria that feast on food particles trapped between our teeth. (Brushing, flossing, and tongue scraping help, but there’s no fail-safe way to fight halitosis.) So breathe into this $30 device, wait a few seconds, and you’ll know whether there’s something your friends aren’t telling you: If only one out of five hearts lights up, it’s definitely time for an Altoid.

Five different outcomes are possible: Kiss me, Possible, Maybe, Risky, and Never. So do me (and anyone else you may be interested in) a favor, and make sure you're somewhere between 4 and 5 hearts. Any worse of a rank is just... well... rank!

Convenience Charge My Ass

In 2007, I saw 18 concerts. Last year, I saw 20. Do you know how much of my money went towards a "convenience fee"? I could have went to at least 5 more concerts with all that money. Ticketmaster, Live Nation - it doesn't matter what website I use, it's all absolutely ridiculous. I remember I once wanted to go to a $15 concert at The Roxy, but tickets were only sold on Ticketmaster. Upon checkout, the taxes and convenience fees cost more than the fucking ticket itself. Who is this convenient for? For people who don't want to actually drive down to the venue to wait in line and buy tickets, the way NO ONE DOES ANYMORE?

Apparently I'm not alone. Bruce Springsteen is super mad at Ticketmaster for basically redirecting fans to a site that charges even MORE for concert tickets to his world tour. When you have The Boss mad at you, watch out. Him and the E Street band probably have nunchucks tucked in the back pockets of their denim jeans, waiting to whip them out and show what's what. Too bad when you attack a website with nunchucks, nothing really happens except a drive out to the Mac store to buy a new computer.

When will this madness end? When people boycott concerts? I'm not prepared to do that - I like moshing way too much. Can't Radiohead do something groundbreaking/really cool again and let everyone pay whatever amount they want like they did with In Rainbows? Or every band can just play free rooftop concerts like The Beatles (and the B Sharps) did, and pass a collection plate around?

Or can't someone make a ticket website where they only charge, like, a buck per ticket? Not ten dollars? Everyone would go there and they'd still make a profit. Everyone's too greedy! And they expect me to pay for music? As if! What's next, the bluejay charging for his morning song? What a dystopian future we have to look forward to.

And here is the obligatory crotch-tastic Super Bowl video that must accompany any mention of The Boss from now on:

Thanks, Japan!: Come ON Already, Toshi

Please watch today's Thanks Japan! if you're at work, with the speakers up as loud as possible. Preferably in Japan, where it's as inappropriate as possible. And take notes!




Where is this Toshi?! He doesn't know what he's missing with this geisha gal! I hear "First Rate Cunt Lapping" and I don't need to be told twice to get my ass in bed.

Kids say the cutest things (when you exploit the fuck out of them on YouTube)

It looks like children and the adorable things they say and do are back in the limelight today. I've already received this video of David here heffed up on novacain from dental surgery, freaking his shit out and speaking like the stoner he'll turn into in 10 years:



Of course there's already a techno remix. It makes me wonder how many techno remixers are out of work, because the time span between viral video explosion and creation of viral video techno remix is getting shorter every time.



But my favorite is Little Andrew. His father posted a video of him in 2006 singing AKON's Lonely in the backseat during a long drive. Andrew was no doubt forgotten these past three years... but now, thanks to David Dentist Kid, he's having a renaissance. Here's his claim to fame:



These poor kids. Do you think when they're in college their parents will tell them that millions of people saw them doing this as kids? Will anyone ever look at 23-year-old Andrew, puking up his fourteen shots of Jager and say "he looks familiar... and why do I suddenly want to buy an AKON album on iTunes?"

Or will everyone in this YouTube-sploitation generation just wander the earth, their heads bowed, praying that no one recognizes them and their little brother Charlie?



I mean, just imagine some sorority slut girl, doing lines off a bathroom sink, about to go into the rec room with the quaterback of the football team, slightly obscuring her face for fear that he doesn't recognize her:

Goonies Never Say Hi

All through adolescence, I somehow never saw The Goonies. Oh, I watched movies when I was little - all the time! My mom even took me out of 4th grade early so I could go see Child's Play 3 with her during a matinee show. (No joke. She did.) I had no friends growing up - I was shy and fat - so all I did was rewatch all the free movies, from G to R-rated, playing on our stolen Pay-Per-View. We even had a copy of The Goonies in our house and I still managed to miss it! It was taped from TV, recorded right after Follow That Bird, the Sesame Street movie where Big Bird runs away. But as soon as B.B. was reacquainted with Bert, Ernie and Snuffleufugus, I would turn it off and just rewatch Follow That Bird. Who had time for The Goonies?

I am bugged CONSTANTLY about never seeing this movie. I even wrote about the annoyance here. It got to the point where I refused to see it - because fuck all of them, that's why!

But you know what happened this week? I finally broke down and let my boyfriend show it to me. He bought it on DVD just so he could show me the movie and end this reign of ignorance. I would have put up a fight, but he's cute, and I'm a sucker for that, so I sat down and watched it with him.

And how did I like it? It was okay.

That's it. Just okay. It was basically Indiana Jones, but with kids (and racial stereotypes). My life hasn't changed. Barack Obama is still President. Life continues.

What I really want now is to go back to all those people who shouted at me "You've never seen The Goonies?!?!" and yell at them, "You've never seen my finger before?!?" and then give them the finger.

Wall Street Whale-Out?

I don't know why this creature was waltzing around Wall Street this morning. From the haze of my hangover, I could see that he had no promo cards he was handing out, and no promo guy with him saying anything.

He was just a pink whale on Wall Street.

And, when I went up to him and asked him what he was doing, he just pat his tummy with both hands, rubbed them in a circle, and danced from his left leg to his right leg.

Thanks Japan!: Give Me your Wallet... Then Do Downward Facing Dog

Are you a busy woman who wants to look good and feel good, but also learn how to defend yourself against rapists?

And learn how to speak English?

Is it also the 1980s where you are?

Well, today is your lucky day! No need to sign up for pilates classes or self-defense workshops or English-speaking lessons. Just watch this video!



Does a Spanish version of this video exist? It would have came in handy when I was living in South Central LA.

A New Form of Online Dating

Meeting up with dudes I meet on Craigslist to buy or sell concert tickets has been some of the best mini-dates I've ever been on. The whole process is already like a blind date anyway, just a whole lot shorter. All blind dates, in fact, should only revolve around exchanging something. That way you actually have a purpose of meeting, as opposed to just getting laid. Of course getting laid is its own purpose, and can also be considered an exchange of goods and services. But at least if it's not a match, you don't have to fake your way through an entire meal.

Read the rest of my adventures in humiliating online dating here!

Spoiler Alert - TO THE EXTREME!

Other Endings Not Ruined (But I'm Going to Ruin Them Anyway):

*she winds up with the guy from Alabama

*onion rings eatened; cuts abruptly to black; fans are pissed

*look behind the poster

*the boat sinks

*turns out people who blog on the internet aren't really interested in your movie, no matter how hilarious its title or how many times "motherfucker" is uttered

*they're gay; society has a problem with it

*the black guy won

Zombies and Raptors and Bears, Oh My!

It's here. It happened. All those movies weren't just hypothesizing. Jurassic Day of the Dawn of the Dead Days Later Park has finally come to fruition.


ZOMBIES!




A bunch of pranksters changed some road signs to start World War Z (as well as Jurassic Park 4). Or WERE they pranksters?!?! RUN!!!



Where's Simon Pegg and Danny Boyle when you need em?

Christian Bale, Techno Superstar

All of these Becky Hollywood posts have me thinking of celebrities. And then today, I got something so Hollywood that I simply had to scoop her.

Have you heard Bale Out yet? It's a techno remix of the F-bomb-laden tirade that Christian Bale set off on last year, and that only recently emerged in the media.

Essentially the cinematographer walked into Bale's sight line, and Bale went kuh-ray-Z, screaming Fuck and Shit and all other bad words that it's hilarious to see the media try and deal with.

Listen to the tirade tuner right here!



Oh, and here's the original, un-techno-ed crazy freakout:



Now we just need that Lily Tomlin/ David O. Russell freakout put to R&B...

New Zealand is So Hot Right Now

Good things to come out of New Zealand:

*my ex-boyfriend

*Peter Jackson (Heavenly Creatures for me, Lord of the Rings trilogy for the rest of humanity)

*party pills (nope, they don't sell to the US anymore, don't even try)

*me, alive, after falling out of a plane:

*this kiwi chocolate i bought at the Auckland airport that was deeeelicious

*anything EXCEPT the zorb - i spent $50 to roll down a hill for ten seconds and get dizzy

*oh, and NOT this movie:

But the best thing to come out of New Zealand recently? The Flight of the Conchords, duh. I've been a fan since 2006 when I accidentally stumbled upon them at Largo, a tiny music/dinner venue in LA. I had no idea what to expect, and what I got was the funniest night of musical comedy I've ever had. In the next two years, everyone started slowly cottoning on to their genius while I was still rocking out to the tracks I illegally downloaded from the internet, since they didn't yet have a comedy CD out. They got to be so popular that it got to the point I couldn't even get tickets to their show because they SOLD OUT ONE MINUTE AFTER GOING ON SALE. I feel like we're on a weird planet where comedy is actually respected. Weird. Anyway, Season 2 of their HBO show is back and I'm a happy gal! (But I'd probably be happier with some party pills in my possession.)

24 Hates Twinks (but I still love 24)

I will always watch 24 on Fox. That's just the way it is. I love the violence, the labored format of the show that forces Jack Bauer to run without a bite to eat or a second to take a piss for 24 hours straight. But this season, I have to register a complaint with the writers.

In 24: Redemption this past summer, you introduced me to the love of my life, the son of the first lady, Roger Taylor.


I mean. Wow. Yum. I can't remember the last time a President (real President or TV/movie president) had a son that ridiculously hot. I reveled in every minute he graced the screen.

But then I turned on my TV for the first two-hour blowout of the 24 season to find out that ROGER TAYLOR was DEAD! No! His dreamy eyes! That gruff, boyish voice! I was hoping that he would become trapped in a terrorist situation that forced him to strip down to his tighty whities to save the world!

Alas, this was not to be. I mourned him briefly until the 24 team pulled out their ace:

Agent Brian Gedge.


Okay, I liked this guy too. He looked smart in a suit. He had that dumb, empty-eyed blonde boy look. He dressed up real nice in a suit. He was a member of the first gentleman's Secret Service detail and he said "sir" a lot. I was on the Gedge Wagon from the second I saw him.

As the episodes wore on, it was made known that Gedge was actually a crooked traitor. He was part of some crazy terrorist plot, had killed Roger Taylor, and now was going to kill the first gentleman.

Is it bad that I found all of this so sexy? I was accused by friends of "loving a liar" and I said "it's like he cheated on our country and never got caught - that's fucking hot." And so I watched, captivated, as my baby Brian Gedge drugged the first gentleman and prepared to stage a phony suicide/murder. Even better? He continued to call the first gentleman "sir" as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and set about with his nefarious plan... as he stabbed an innocent woman multiple times in the chest.

Yes! A sexy twink with a violent streak! What could be better? My cousin and I made jokes about going on a double date, her with Jack Bauer (who doesn't have time for dates, but she ignores me when I say this) and me with Agent Gedge.

But then, this week, the writers of 24 struck out and stabbed me once more in the chest. Gedge died. He took a two-story fall over a balcony, through a table, spit a couple of blood bubbles and promptly expired, his eyes wide open.

GOD DAMMIT! So let me get this straight - I fall for the President's son, and then he is all but killed by another sexy twink. I let this slide because I like a guy who's willing to murder a public figure for my adoration.

But then the other twink dies too!? What the FUCK!?

This is NOT FAIR! What the hell am I supposed to do, fall in love with Tony Almeda?

I don't think so! I don't dig that tall, dark and handsome type. Plus his wife is dead, so you know he has issues (issue number one: badly done, creative facial hair). Give me a twinky traitor any day.

I am mourning today. First, and foremost, Agent Gedge. But I have also been forced to come face-to-face with my obviously not-yet-dealt-with remorse over the loss of Roger Taylor.

This is a dark day for twink-loving 24 watchers. Perhaps we should hold a vigil. Until Jack Bauer breaks it up somehow, because he thinks our candles are IEDs.

Well, I'll keep watching the show. I guess I still have hope. Who knows? Maybe Roger isn't dead. Or we'll meet a new twink as the "day" unfolds. One who doesn't die. One who works with Jack Bauer, and does so in a near-naked state.

A guy can dream, right?

Thanks, Japan!: somethingsomethingsomethingsomething POCKY!

I got tuned onto a delicious Japanese treat called Pocky from my sister, who lived in Japan for a year and ate these chocolate sticks regularly. More importantly, my sister turned me onto Pocky commercials. We YouTubed the shit out of Pocky commercials after a night of drinking in a Bahstin pub and everything was funny to us. Surprisingly enough, these commercials are just as entertaining sober!



Lemme in! My Pocky's getting all wet!
I love how epic this commercial is in just thirteen seconds. Why is she so upset? Are they long lost siblings? Former lovers torn apart because of war and social turmoil? Whatever it is, Pocky makes it all better. Personally I cannot wait for the Pocky dance to take the nation by storm. It'll be like the Macarena + the Electric Slide + Hands Up, Baby, Hands up x A MILLION.

Isn't that cute and somewhat ridiculous for a mila-second commercial? It's got its own story and character arc and dénouement*.

*Possible t-shirt: "I Went to Film School and All I Got Was This Vocabulary of Useless Screenwriting Terminology"

or

Possible bumper sticker: "How's My Formatting?"

or

Possible sandwhich board sign: "Ask Me About My Foil"


But look! There's more than just regular ole chocolate Pocky:

What's better - there's more than just one regular ole Pocky commercial! Yay! And you haven't seen epic til you've seen this:

In a world... where chocolate sticks rule supreme... one man must bite

That's like the Pearl Harbor of Japanese commercials.

Oops. Too soon?

I Lego New York

I was born in Brooklyn and raised on Long Island, so despite living in La La Land for the past eight-oh-my-god-its-been-eight-already-holy-shit years, I still consider myself a New Yorker. Meaning, I don't eat pizza or watch theatre in anywhere but New York, because why settle for something less when you've had the best? (Don't worry, West Coast, you'll always win out for weather and celebrity sightings.)

What do I miss more than being a New Yorker day in and day out? Playing with my legos. Here somebody is doing both.

I LEGO N.Y.



What's next? "Don't Mess with Texas" as interpreted by Lincoln logs?

Oh Peeler, I'll Miss You Most of All

I only saw him once. He stood apart from the traditional crazies you saw in Union Square - the guy with the cat perched on his head, the screaming black guys proclaiming they were the true sons of god and that gays and jews were to burn in hell, the guys who claim 9/11 was a hoax...

No, this guy just sat out in front of the Whole Foods... selling vegetable peelers. I thought it was absurd, an old man in a suit peeling vegetables and rattling on about how these were the best peelers in the world, how to properly peel potatoes and carrots.

But there was something about him that I couldn't get out of my head. And so I told my friends all about him. Turns out they knew him too. He was a Union Square celebrity. He had made millions selling his peelers on the street.

I only saw him that once... and it looks like I'll never see him again.

His was a particular kind of street theater in a city that delights in in-your-face characters who are, and are not, what they seem. For he was the sidewalk pitchman with the Upper East Side apartment. The sidewalk pitchman who was a regular at expensive East Side restaurants, where no one believed his answer to the “So what do you do?” question: “I sell potato peelers on the street.” Mr. Ades (pronounced AH-dess) died on Sunday at 75, said his daughter, Ruth Ades Laurent of Manhattan. She said he never talked about how many peelers he sold in a year, or how many carrots he had sliced up during demonstrations. She said he stashed his inventory in what had been the maid’s room of the apartment.

If you know this guy, and didn't hear the news, I'm sorry to break it to you. Let's have a moment of silence for Joe. The character he brought to 14th street will never be forgotten, no matter how many people walk around with cats perched on their heads.

What Does a BJ Really Sound Like?

I'm a contributing writer for a delightful website called Mad Atoms. You can read my work there - just don't send the link to my parents. (I talk about porn and sex a lot, and I'm sure my parents want to keep believing I've heard of neither.)

Besides amusing stories about movies and healthy living, the website also makes videos. Here's one such viral video! You'll never hear a blog job the same way again.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: The above was supposed to say "blow job" but "blog job" is just too funny a typo to delete.]

WKUK - Miss March - Blow Job Foley Artists - watch more funny videos