I mean I...I just never thought...my range as a, a...guilty pleasure blogger....one who writes solely about guilty pleasures...I mean, well, I...thank you.
A year into this blog, and I find I’m older, wiser simpler, and just a little closer to embracing my inner chipmunk.
Why, it means a favorite guilty pleasure is back (the song, not the sandwich)!
Happy Friday!!!
If you think this post is lame, did you ever consider that I’m busy saving the world preparing my 1-year anniversary post for Feb. 26th?
What’s the hardest thing (food, habit, etc.) you’ve ever had to give up? If you would like me to start eating/doing more of that thing on your behalf during these times of deprivation (for you), please let me know. I live to serve.
"Why do you like Jessica Alba?! Jessica Alba doesn't even like Jessica Alba!!!"
FuseTV’s “Funny or Die presents ‘Billy on the Street’” is one of my new favorite shows guilty pleasures. It’s delicious.
I call it a guilty pleasure because there are plenty of times I feel like I shouldn’t laugh, but of course I do. (“Let’s play ‘Rebecca Black or Black Person?’!” “Are you ready for, ‘Are You Smarter Than A Gay Fifth Grader?’?!?!”)
Here is how host, Billy Eichner, can be summed up best:
?!?!?!?!!?!?
This Upright Citizens Brigade veteran runs around the streets of New York City with all the enthusiasm of a chipmunk inhaling helium, accosting unsuspecting passersby with hilarious pop culture questions. Half the time, there’s no right or wrong answer. Except when it comes to Meryl Streep. Meryl Streep is ALWAYS the right answer.
The fact that Eichner, a New York native (Forest Hills, Queens, to be exact), can get this kind of reaction from jaded Manhattanites delights me, having spent a lot of time among the city’s soulless stares myself. He might seem out of control, but he’s clearly running the show; he thinks on his feet and rarely cracks a smile. “Billy on the Street” is much more about his interactions with people than it is the questions themselves.
Warning: Clip has the F-bomb (twice!). A GoGuiltyPleasures first! Whoa.
As they say, anything goes in New York, and Eichner makes it work for him. This past week, a drunken businessman hovered over a British couple while Eichner tried to quiz them. The couple was clearly uncomfortable with the intoxicated intrusion, but Eichner invited the man into the mix and the result was comedy gold.
The idea for the show was in the works for years, as part of Eichner’s comedy bits. His street interviews were always a big hit, and eventually he tossed up some videos on YouTube in 2010, gaining the interest of many, including Funny or Die, who started airing the show in December.
While doing research for this post (hahaha. No seriously.) I stumbled across this New York Times article. They said everything I wanted to. And more. Only better.
So I’m just going to post some more clips and then go pout. FYI – the show airs Thursdays at 11 p.m. on FuseTV (so put down that stinky old book and find out what channel that is for you here).
Have you seen it? What’s got you laughing lately (besides moi)?
I got your greetings right here. Oh! Fuhgeddaboudit.
I’m from the land of opportunity, where the streets are paved in gold[en tanning lotion] and the hills run with honey [-colored highlights].
Where, when driving 35 miles east to work, I pass not one, not two, but three shopping malls. Fuhgeddaboudit.
Where, most importantly, it’s not considered at all rude to shout, “Get the hell oudda here!”
That’s right. These are my brethren bubbies:
I am likely no more than 3 degrees of separation from all of these people.
Being from “The Garden State” can be confusing. People fly into Newark Airport and, if not distracted by the acrid smell of industry’s finest power plants, come to realize there isn’t a flower or turnip in sight*. Fuhgeddaboudit.
If they ask for a hoagie or a pop, they may be met with, “Oh! Speak English!” We identify most with our ‘exit’ – the number of the Garden State Parkway exit you take to get to our hometown, whatever that might be (135 in the house, yo!). New York City is simply “The City” (if appropriate, a borough is specified), and getting the world’s best pizza and bagels from any seedy-looking strip mall is not so much appreciated as it is expected. Fuhgeddaboudit. You might have noticed my liberal use of “Fuhgeddaboudit” throughout this post. That’s another confusing thing about New Jersey. Not only can you get away with saying this (in joking fashion or with all the sincerity of a mother chipmunk tending to her teeny, tiny baby chipmunks), you can use it in a number of conflicting ways: You need a ride to the train station because you’re getting your Mazda tramp stamped? Fuhgeddaboudit! Your mother-in-law told your hairdresser to tone down your pouf? Fuhgeddaboudit! You tried those calzones at Vinny’s? Fuhgeddaboudit! As you can see, it means both “Of course! Don’t think twice!” and “Aw hell no!” Most commonly, though, as Urban Dictionary so eloquently states, it means: “The subject is unequivocally excellent; further thought and analysis are unnecessary.” …My head hurts. Does anyone want to do shots? What do you love/hate about your motherland? *Let us remember, though, I have a barn. Jersey has so much to offer**. **Fuhgeddaboudit! Photo Credits:#1 (postcard) – edisonnewjerseyhomes.com#2 (Jersey Shore cast) – jerseyshoreshow.org#3 (t-shirt) – raggedshirts.com
My first “real” job was at a small, independent bookstore in northern New Jersey, and one Saturday during a book signing, the author said to [17-year-old] me,
“You have really huge pupils.”
It came as a surprise to me then, but…
He was right.
I look(ed) like a stuffed animal.
I thought my contact lenses might bring out the deep, mysterious, ocean gray-blue hue, but the contacts were no match for my super-shy irises.
Many years later, it dawned on me that he took my abnormally large pupils and lunch of Ben and Jerry’s to mean I was high on The Weed. Little did he know, when I was 17, I thought being high meant standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, trying to relive the final moments of Sleepless in Seattle.
When I got Lasik eye surgery at 24, I had to undergo some tests first.
“You have especially large pupils,” the doctor stated matter-of-factly.
“I get that a lot,” I grumbled in reply.
After the surgery, I started having more trouble with night driving. The eye doctor suggested I use drops that would make my pupils smaller, thus reducing the amount of light getting in. I ignored him in favor of staying home at night, planted on the couch watching The Office.
Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. I mean from a vanity perspective. Physically, I’m fine.
But then I started this blog.
Oh, yeah, sure. Like I need to tell you I’m the one on the right.
“Crazy Eyes” is a nickname my husband and I have given to certain individuals over the years. And by certain individuals I mean people you wouldn’t trust with your dry cleaning. “Crazy Eyes” are the WORST. “Crazy Eyes” shout things about what you and female genitalia have in common. “Crazy Eyes” wax poetic about their dog French kissing them. “Crazy Eyes” make you wish you were never born.
And now look at me.
I can see your soul.
Do you know anyone with “Crazy Eyes”? What makes you them crazy? (Bonus points if you can tell me what any of this has to do with guilty pleasures.)
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me until yesterday morning to blog on Valentine’s Day.
What’s more of a guilty pleasure than an over-hyped, commercialized, pink-frosted holiday?!
C’mon.
Chocolate.
Flowers.
Stuffed animals (dressed as other animals).
Love.
Duh!
So, will you be my (guilty pleasure) Valentine?
Hmm. You’re not convinced. Tell you what. If you don’t feel like the ooey, gooey, warm and fuzzy Sir Schmoopie Bear of Snuggleton to my Madame Chocolate Bon-Bon of Cuddlesworth by the time you’re through reading this post, I will eat my weight in candy hearts (and everyone knows candy hearts blow).
It’s only February, and already I’m bursting at the seams with guilty pleasures, some new, some old. I can’t contain it any longer, so I’m just going to spew them out all over this post. I mean, delicately list them on this delightful blog with the most fetching of phrases.
#1 – Reflective Gear: Lead Me to the Light!
Yeah. It’s my new thing. Of course, there’s the obvious:
GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelets are finding happy homes all across the WORLD!
And then the not so obvious (thanks, Babs!):
Because loving Glee and side ponies didn't make me cool enough. Now I can walk Uncle Jesse after work in true style.
#2 – Uncle Jesse‘s Famous Head Tilt: He’s All Bark, No Bite!
This one really needs no introduction. (Advance apologies for my ‘puppy voice.’) And yes, the whole family loves The Office.
#3 – Mac Photo Booth Application: So Wrong, It’s Right!
I am truly ashamed of the level of vanity my Mac Photo Booth application inspires (yes, these pictures are all linked to actual blog posts of mine…sigh).
It makes me want to show off my waterproof mascara......And let's not forget my very first romance novel cover......I've toasted to myself......And I've shamelessly embraced being a bottled blonde.
#4 – Real Haircuts: Why, I Just Might.
My vanity knows no bounds. After taking Uncle Jesse for a routine (and costly!) visit to the groomer’s last week, I decided that the time had come to stop cutting and dying my own hair. Hallelujah!
Why should he be the only one who looks touchably soft?BEFORE.AFTER.Oh crud. Is it still long enough for a side pony?
#5 – Hats: Rocking Them Day and Night!
This is a vintage guilty pleasure for me, and this past weekend, I started recruiting a whole new generation.
My niece has my eye for fashion. She picked out my sunglasses. I told her they were perfect for hiding my hangover. (Kidding, Sis. ...Just...kidding...)
What’s your guiltiest pleasure of 2012 (so far)? If you’re feeling shy: how much do you love my new haircut?
Yo yo yo flying squirrels chipmunks! I have an exceptional bundle of GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelet pics for you today! You are VERY welcome.
If you missed the first and second installments, they too are worth your time, in my completely conceited and biased opinion. Renée from Lessons from Teachers and Twits also just incorporated her slap bracelets into this dazzling post.
Continuing on in the order in which these pictures were received, here we go!!!
It would really, REALLY help you to know something before I post Katy’s pictures, and I’m soooo tempted to keep it to myself.
Hmmm.
Okay. I give.
Katy teaches at a nursing college, and should earn many high-falutin’ credentials after her name just for her creativity in the following pictures. Oh, and, if you don’t already know: her blog is delightful, with smatterings of (humorous) poetry and recipes! What more could a guilty pleasure blogger ask for?
I put the slap bracelet to use on my drinking utensils…
…on a mannequin…
He's no dummy; he's got the hottest accessory!
…on a poster for the nursing students (about ID bracelets)…
…on an IV…
Give the patient 1 liter of guilty pleasure IV - STAT!
… Then I took it home where Shelby modeled it (reluctantly) on her ankle and on her tail, and drooled when I put it around her favorite guilty pleasure – Milkbones…
…Finally, I slipped it on my husband’s (Sweet Cheeks) skinny little ankle and snapped a picture before he could figure out what was going on…
Deb is a very special person, choosing to focus on positivity and gratitude even in the darkest moments. She manages to make everyone feel divine with each heart-warming comment and every beautifully moving post. She is an accomplished writer (check out “The Monster’s Daughter“!) and a Buffy fan. What more do you need to know?
Oh, speaking of Buffy, she totally kicked chipmunk tail in my first video blogging contest with a hilarious video about Buffy, earning this super-duper homemade prize. (I have to mention that post every chance I get because I love it, and Deb, so much.)
Deb’s been keeping me up-to-date on all of the slap bracelet goings-on in her home, which center around her adorable toddler, Li’l D. Just look:
Guilty Pleasure Power - ACTIVATE!!!
While Li’l D was flexing his muscles, someone else was snuggling his My Little Pony…
I heard from Sandy for the first time about a month ago, requesting a slap bracelet. She said she’d stumbled across my blog, and I like to think it was via one of the following search engine terms (yes, these are real search terms that led people to my blog):
chipmunk sexy humor
farting for pleasure
diet with pop tarts
strippers covered in ketchup
how do i shape my eye brows like ryan philippe
I’ve been having lots of fun reading Sandy’s blog, because she shares personal anecdotes that are as endearing as they are amusing. She is also the first person I know who actually does those INSANITY and P90X work-out videos. So be nice to her; she may be made entirely of muscle and the forgotten dreams of [P90X’s] Tony Horton, who clearly was never held as a child.
My, the pink against pristine white really raises the bar, Winston.Just when I thought it couldn't get more stunning than Winston!
I found Cappy a while back through one of my favorite bloggers, Girl on the Contrary. There’s definitely a common theme between these two gorgeous gals, and that theme is hilarity. She’s the perfect blend of silly and sarcastic. Every post of Cappy’s makes me burst out laughing, and I’m SO excited that she’s come over to the dark light side.
It's Kung Fu Pooh and Drunken Piglet! ...That sounds like a Chinese food dish I kind of want to try.
Thank you Katy, Deb, Sandy and Cappy! Consider yourselves cordially invited to the Chipmunk Ball.
You STILL don’t have a slap bracelet to call your own? Stop your tears -and mine- by emailing me at JKSchnedeker@yahoo.com!
Post-slushie. ...I think pink highlights could work for me.
Chipmunks, I know you’ve just been dying to hear more about my Glee slushie experience after watching the presentation in my last post, Why Glee Makes My Soul Sing.
And what kind of guilty pleasure blogger would I be if I didn’t indulge your every whim?
Before I give you the uncut version of my first ever slushie-in-the-face extravaganza, though, there are a few things you should I want you to know:
Peppermeister (my husband) normally requires at least 7 day’s notice before making ANY plans on the weekend (this includes plans as small as hanging one picture or a trip to Wal-Mart [true story]). When I asked -with only a few minute’s notice- if he’d be willing to throw a frozen beverage in my gourd this past Sunday, he dropped everything
That (Target) sweater already had an oops-red-sock-in-the-wash stain on the back and was headed for the bin
We were outside. In January. In New Jersey (translation = cold!)
You might be able to hear Uncle Jesse (our dog) whining from inside the house, because he can handle anything except alienation
We didn’t have a Big Gulp Slurpee (from 7-Eleven) like they use in Glee, so we substituted with a souvenir Medieval Times cup and a homemade slushie made from ice, water, cranberry juice and red food coloring
So. Would you? Slushie in the face? Why or why not?
Go Jules Go 