Oddly enough, I really dig Kristen Bell. She just seems to be up for anything when it comes to roles, even putting up with fanboys and what not. But this music video? Jeebus M. Crow, what the holy hell? (Via Gawker TV)
Author: kenwheaton
Victoria’s Secret? She Hates the Saints
I was told earlier this week that Victoria’s Secret’s new Pink NFL lineup doesn’t include the Super Bowl Champion New Orleans Saints. So I put my “journalism” “skills” to work to see what it was all about. Every other journalist out there might as well go home, because the resulting piece is surely this year’s Pulitzer winner.
Chimp Finds New Use for Frog
My inner ten-year-old just went insane.
Gullible for Gurus
I didn’t get past page three of Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat Pray Love.” I physically could not read any further. I’m an eye-roller. And by that point, my eyes had pretty much locked into a backward-facing position. “Oh, c’mon,” was the reaction I kept having. It’s not that the writing was bad. It wasn’t. I just felt like I was listening to a rich white woman whine about her life. I also knew how many women had fallen for this garbage. Here’s a secret, folks. Unlucky in love and at a transitional stage in your life? All you need is a few hundred thousand dollars and a trip around the world. Amazing what a vacation can do! Of course, what it can’t do is guarantee you love or enlightenment that lasts.
Continue reading “Gullible for Gurus”
Your Stinking Corpse
Curled up on the couch the other night, convinced I was about to die from a combination of aneurysm, stroke and cancer, I fell back to playing a game we used to play in grad school.
If you died in your apartment tonight, how many days would it be before someone noticed?
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Hypochondria and Cancer and Me
Like most dudes, I don’t go to the doctor. Not unless something is literally falling off. That something could be a leg or even dry scaly spots. True. I’m vain. And if I start getting visual blemishes on the temple that is my body, I might consider the dermatologist.
(This post brought to you by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society!)
Then again, that first dermatologist may have been good at doling out prescriptions for dry scalp, but he sort of missed the more important stuff. Like the fucking skin cancer growing on my nose. That little bump had been there for so long, I didn’t give it much thought and never would have gone to the doctor to check that out had it not been for the OTHER reason dudes go to the doctor. Incessant nagging by a woman. Thankfully, that all worked out okay and now I have nothing but a cool scar to show for it.
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Monkey See, Monkey Save
Well, here’s your tear-jerking probably-made-up-but-too-good-to-check story of the day. Complete with a photo. Warning: may contain both a monkey and a puppy.
For Sale: One Slightly Used Engagement Ring
Yo, it’s Frodo over here and I’ve got a ring that needs getting rid of. But the MTA has canceled subway service to Mount Doom and I’m sure as hell not walking over there. I thought about giving it to Gollum, but he hasn’t been the same since he took a job writing tax code for the Federal government. (He was seen on a street corner, rubbing his hands and saying “Mine! Mine! Mine! over and over again and they had to have him.)
But seriously, as the separation slowly marches toward divorce, I’ve finally gotten my grubby mitts back on the engagement ring. Continue reading “For Sale: One Slightly Used Engagement Ring”
A Walk About Brooklyn
Saturday, I strolled down the new Brooklyn Bridge Park and took some pictures along the way. Here are a couple. For the complete set, you can go here.
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Clovis Crawfish and the Curious Crapaud
People sometimes ask me about my days as a small Cajun boy in South Louisiana. They seem to be under the impression that we rode alligators to school while wearing no shoes. That’s just about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course we wore shoes. Alligators have pointy backs.
But seriously, we didn’t have alligators. We grew up in prairie country. We weren’t Swamp Cajuns, but rather Prairie Cajuns. True story: If I see my shadow in February, it’s six more weeks of winter.
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KEN WHEATON 
