Things are Good, Part IX

1) I have found that some parts of the human body are named after people. For instance, your eustachion tube is named after Bartolommeo Eustachio, and the organ of corti (middle ear) is, as you probably already know, named after Alfonso Corti. But I gotta say, if I had to be known for one part of the body, and my name was forever attached to a certain place and it’s affects on the body as a whole I’d hafta pick this guy. Imagine that: bearing the name of the one, miniscule, mysteriously hidden part of the female anatomy that apparently unlocks all kinds of orgasmic pleasure, driving a woman crazy to you’re your touch. Not too shabby. Would not be the worst pick-up line at your local tavern. “Why yes, as a matter of fact that IS my name…” Like most men I have no idea where this spot is, and, like most men, I don’t really care. Hey, if you’re not gonna let me have a threesome with your best friend and film it, why should I make all the effort?

2) Enough with these fucking smokers who come up to me on the street and ask for a cigarette, then when I reply that I don’t smoke try to give me some speech “oh yeah? Wow, good for you – hey, do yourself a favor, don’t start, like I did…” yada yada. What the fuck is this? Smoker’s guilt? Wow, you SAVED me from a lifetime of smoking!!!! Thank you!!! I hope you feel better when you get back to your carton of Newports, fuckhead.

3) I just read over the weekend that a dog’s sense of smell is 100,000 times better than a humans. How is this possible without dogs constantly vomiting/retching etc? I walk out on the street and I can barely take the stench, I would think it would drive Fido insane, no? Shouldn’t dogs all over the city be throwing themselves off rooftops?

4) Seriously, was Tara Reid ever really in a movie? Or even a tv show? Why is she constantly on my tv screen? Get your fucking sex tape done and “leaked” already, and let’s fucking move on.

5) I’m sitting there watching the beginning of ‘Jerry McGuire’ last night (yes, I have no penis) and a few minutes in I start to notice that credits are still popping up on the screen. What the fuck. And by this point I don’t even mean “Tom Cruise” or “Cuba Gooding, Jr”, I mean “Music Supervisor Randy Whittman.” Camon. Credits are annoying enough, and now I check my clock and we’re NINE MINUTES IN, and we’re still having them fucking pop up??!?! And they don’t even just throw them out there, they fucking take a minute or so between them. What the fuck is this for – suspense? “Hold on…who’s the assistant cinematographer here? Who? WHO THE FUCK IS TH- oh, good. Jim Dickhead. He’s good.” I realize they’re folding them in as the movie is rolling, as if they’re part of the fucking story. Which is, I will say, a tad distracting when you’re trying to get a grip at the beginning of a flick. Luckily as I said is was only ‘Jerry McGuire’, so I already knew that I was in for 2 hours of wanting to kick the little kid in the face, Cuba Gooding screaming, and Renee Zellwigger’s face looking like Tomcat just cut one.

6) Speaking of movies, do I constantly need to be barraged with articles about how good or bad the movie business is doing? Every day, all I see in the papers are charts with how much $$$$ each movie is making. Unless my name is Steven Speilburg, why do I give a fuck? When did this start happening, when did we start demanding to know how much each movie was raking in? But even better than that is how every other fucking week we gotta read through some sob story where the movie industry wants us to feel bad cause they’re not making as much money during this quarter, please please run out and spend all your money at the movies!!! Cause even though I’m returning all my Krasdale Coconut Grape Drink aluminum cans to Key Food for a nickel so I can buy a pound of “ground meat” for 99 cents, how can I live with myself if Jeffrey Katzenberg doesn’t make enough scratch this week to buy Trinidad AND Tobago????? Fuckwads. Save these fucking reports for the 6 people in Hollywood whom it affects, and in the meantime maybe, hell, just for shits and giggles, actually try to make a fresh, new movie that doesn’t COMPLETELY fucking suck. If I’m dropping $10 for a ticket, $6 for a tub of popcorn where 6 pieces on top are drenched with a pound of butter leaving the other 4 lbs completely dry/tasteless, and $5.50 for a soda, how about a real movie and not yet another shitty remake of an already shitty movie or an “update” of another cartoon/comic book character etc. Fucking a.

7) In the very, very few instances I’ve been to “fancy” restaurants, I’ve noticed that rich people eat funny. They seem to think that in some cases, the chef just not even trying is actually “cool” and “hip” or “ironic”, which makes it okay to shell out hundreds of bucks for it. It’s like if the chef has contempt for his patrons, they’ll happily scarf up whatever he throws at them. For instance, if you order a steak sandwich in Manhattan at an upscale joint in Manhattan, you’ll pay about $45 for this “steak sandwich”: See, they think it’s clever to just grill a steak and throw it between 2 pieces of Wonder Bread. Fuck you – if I wanna eat a steak, I’ll fucking eat it with a knife and fork. Meanwhile, for $6 you can get this: 12 inches of shaved ribeye, so greasy/juicy it melts in your mouth along with the cheese wiz. Same thing with “hash browns.” Fancy joint, for $7.50 you get this: as in “I barely chopped up a potato and threw some grass on it, fuck you, gimme $7.50” whereas for about 80 cents you can get: buttery, crispy outside and soft potato inside. Remarkable. With the fancy chef, I guess we’re just lucky he doesn’t throw this at our heads

8) Wouldn't it be funny if at the end of “Brokeback Mountain”, Jake & Heath get eaten by, of all bears, this one: