This site does not represent the views of

Bear with us while we get this organized. This site does not represent the views of Send submissions to Send tips to if they are not posted there, wait a while & send them to Take care, Stay Awesome.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

I'd Hit That: Ryan Gosling

Every week I will pick a sexy dude that I would like to "hit" (don't play coy, you know what I mean!), and I will tell you why I would like to "hit that." First up is Ryan Gosling because DUH!!!!!!!!

MMMHMMMM! Look at that man meat, you guys! Very nice!

So here are some reasons I am in love with Ryan Gosling and I want to have his babies:

1.) He's totes a cutie. (Let's just get this one out of the way)


2.) He's an awesome actor! I mean have you seen his movies?! They are all great! (Even The Notebook) These are some of my favorites, and if you haven't seen these awesome movies, add them to your Netflix like yesterday:

Lars and the Real Girl
Half Nelson
United States of Leland

Speaking of Ryan being an awesome actor, I can't wait to see Blue Valentine. It drops December 31. Go see it!

3.) Have you ever seen an interview with this dude? He's funny and charming, and did I mention that he is hot? Check out this awesome interview clip from MTV where he reads my favorite "Hey Girl" from Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling:

This is my fav "Hey Girl":

4.) Last, but not least, Ryan is an awesome musician. Ryan's band Dead Man's Bones is cramazing, and if you don't believe me, check out this music video for their song "Name in Stone":

Now you all know why I have an unhealthy obsession with Ryan Gosling. Hopefully, now you also have an unhealthy obsession with his awesomeness. But back off because HE'S MINE!!!!!!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Tips on Tips: Why Videogum Doesn’t Use Your Tips and When It Does, Not Give You Credit for Them

“None of my tips to are accepted!”
1) Make sure it’s not too old or doesn’t already have too many views. The less obscure and the less “fresh” it is, the less likely Gabe will use it.
2) If you saw it on one of these sites, I wouldn’t bother. Gabe reads these sites too, and if it’s there, he’s already seen it.
Huffington Post
Anything Buzzfeed Media related.
3) Is this Videogum-ish? If it’s cruel or mean, it’s probably not right for Videogum. If it doesn’t match the spirit of the site, it’s probably not a good fit.
4) Videogum generally no longer uses tips about Juggalos.
5) Has this already been used on Videogum? Do a quick search of the site if you’re not sure.
6) It’s helpful if you make your e-mail helpful. Give a specific URL for your link; include a brief description. If it only gets funny four minutes in, say so.
7) Realize that your success rate is probably going to be pretty small. There are only so many posts per week, so a good tip might not get used simply because Gabe was focusing on something better. Of my last 40 tips, only four have been used + credited to me. Which brings me to…

“I sent a tip to Videogum, it was used, but I never got credit for it!”
1) Maybe it was a mistake. Send a note to and ask about it.
2) Are you sure you sent it as a tip to If you simply posted it on Twitter or Facebook or in the comments, there may be no attribution coming.
3) Maybe the Videogum post was already in the pipeline. That is, Gabe had already seen it elsewhere and had it in queue to go before your email came. I think this happens a lot, especially with film trailers. Because a post appears at 2:30 p.m. doesn’t mean it was written at 2:29 p.m.
4) Did you include your name in the e-mail?

Lastly, “I don’t know whether or not to send this in as a tip.”
Why not? Better you send a tip if you're doubtful about it then have the rest of us miss out on a potentially great clip. While my advice above is to hopefully improve your odds, I don’t want to discourage anyone from sending in a great tip.

Inside The Monsters Studio: Thisismynightmare

Hello, friends, and welcome to MOBFD's newest column, Inside The Monsters Studio. Each week (or whenever I have time to update), I will be getting down and dirty with a different member of the Videogum community, getting to know their hopes, fears, and dreams. We'll be starting off with famed commenter thisismynightmare. Who is the person behind the screaming Jennifer Grey? Let's find out!

Videogum name:thissmynightmare
Videogum avatar: Frightened/angry Jennifer Grey
Real name (optional): Erica
Location: New Orleans
Favorite sitcom (excluding Arrested Development): Community for currently-running sitcoms, Seinfeld for all-time favorite
Favorite wing flavor: spicy garlic
Karaoke song of choice: Celebrity Skin by Hole
Worst movie you’ve ever seen: Citizen Kane

Q. Thisismynightmare...WHAT, exactly, is your nightmare?

A. My nightmare is being murdered by one of the Monsters that stalk me or "A day with out commenting, that is my nightmare."

Q. But isn’t it true that murder is the sincerest form of flattery?

A. Yes. I suppose that I would be honored to be murdered by a monster

Q. So really you're just afraid of being loved, is that right?

A. You cut to the depths of my soul, Taco (pun intended).

Q. I didn’t have to cut very deep. Moving on. You use Jennifer Grey as your videogum avatar. Who would you say that you can relate to more, a jealous, embittered sister of a chronic winner, or a feisty spirit who does not get put in a corner?

A. A fiesty spirit who does not get put into a corner

Q. What if Ryan Gosling wanted to put you into a corner?

A. I'd let him do that. BUT ONLY HIM!

Q. So it seems there really IS an exception to every rule. I notice that you’ve been trying to get “I’d hit that” established as your catchphrase in the comments. What’s the story behind that? Are you aiming for Winwood-level notoriety?

A. Well, The Narrator would say that I am a cyber-whore, and I think we need to represent the female side of VG. I am empowering the ladies of VG to take control! Winwood was totes the inspiration though.

Q. So that would make Winwood our generation’s Elizabeth Cady Stanton?

A. I suppose it would!

Q. I understand you are married to fellow monster The Narrator. How does he feel about your ridiculous crush on Canadian prettyboy Ryan Gosling?

A. He is extremely jealous. He has threatened divorce several times.

Q. Is he aware that Ryan Gosling is only attracted to his own ego, and thus not a threat?

A. (insert Ryan Gosling OH NO YOU DIDN'T gif here) (ed. note: Not going to do that.)

Q. And finally, let’s play a game. Bone/marry/kill, with your fellow monsters. GO!

A. Marry - Lawblog (obvs). Bone - Just Desserts. Kill - Facetaco (ed. note: As previously established, murder is the sincerest form of flattery, so I’m fairly certain that was an declaration of love.)

There you have it folks. Thisismynightmare: female boning rights activist, goslophile, possible murder-fetishist. NOW YOU KNOW.

Next week's subject will be...announced at a later date. But I'll try to pick a good one for you!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Monster Movie Club

Since Videogum Movie Club has been on a Fall/Winter hiatus, I thought we should start our own. After a quick survey of Tiny Chatters, it seemed most people were interested in seeing and talking about Black Swan. So if you have any free time in the next few days, go see Black Swan. Then let's meet back up on Monday and compare notes.

Just The Tip- Das rassiss edition

This week's rejected tip comes from none other than Mr. Chris Trash. His intro starts:

"This is a "famous" singer in my friend's town in India. Everyone loves him because he has no self awareness. She tried to get him to sing in her cousin's wedding as a joke. However he refused because she did not give him 1 month's notice. His wife make all his clothes."


Don't forget to send me your tips! Wait no, send your tips to videogum. After you've wiped away your silent tears when the video isn't posted, send them to me.

My Life Is Twilight: In Defense Of Kristen Stewart

As the editor of a moderately popular Twilight blog, I encounter a lot of opinions about Kristen Stewart. Everyone has an opinion about Kristen Stewart, including my mom. Here's the entirety of an e-mail I once received from my mother:

So the Bella team was on the Today Show this morning… she uses the word “like” in every other sentence. Matt Lauer asked her if she’s getting a bunch of offers, she hardly knew how to answer the question and then acts like she is so particular about scripts…

It really ended with ellipses like that. My mom's opinion of "the Bella team" (by which I am 85% sure she means Kristen Stewart) is obviously a negative one. And she is not alone; I take it most people feel this way. Kristen Stewart haters can be divided into three camps, roughly.
  1. People who seem to think she is a shitty person, like my mom.
  2. People who hate her because she (allegedly, but really, she does) fucks Robert Pattinson on a regular basis.
  3. People who think she is a bad actress.
I can't do anything about the people in category 2. Except to say they are TOTALLY banging, DEAL WITH IT. But I disagree with categories 1 and 3. Not only do I think Kristen Stewart is a pretty good actress, I think she seems like a cool chick who I would want to hang out with. Consider the gauntlet thrown down.
  • First of all: lets address my mom's problem: Kristen Stewart is a bad interviewee. Um, so is Kanye West. And My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is great. Ergo: shut up. Next question.
  • But seriously, mom: in this era of obsessively trained-and-micromanaged child stars, isn't it kind of refreshing to see a young person who acts like a young person? Taylor Lautner is the fucking freak, not Stewart. Mumbling and being nervous around Jay Leno is a totally normal and acceptable reaction, isn't it? Matt Lauer is a jerk. Shouldn't he be treated as such?
  • I get that people will say that doing press and being good at it and at the very least not coming off as ungrateful is the cost of fame, but we forget that becoming Kristen Stewart-level famous is like going viral. You don't really have any control over it, and maybe you didn't want it in the first place. There are plenty of actors in Hollywood who just get to act and don't have to worry about getting out of their car the wrong way or walking by the wrong window EVERY MOMENT OF THEIR LIVES. And again: celebrity culture is a result of our fucked up values. Why is there a cost of fame? Why do we feel like these people "deserve" the paparazzi and all that? We're the ones getting this backwards, not Kristen Stewart.
  • As for the acting thing: Stewart's oeuvre is pretty small (that's what she said) but in two non-Twilight movies I saw this year, The Runaways and Welcome To The Rileys, she did a bang-up job. In the latter she even kind of out-acts James Gandolfini, who can't get a grip on his character's accent so he kind of goes on a road trip with it, exploring different regions of America in each scene. In the former she is upstaged by Michael Shannon and Dakota Fanning, but those two are basically super-talented aliens from the planet Actori or something.
  • People always say Kristen Stewart only plays mumbly, twitchy people. Okay. Well, I know a lot of mumbly, twitchy people, don't you? Also: she's good at it. Also: that same sort of complaint could be leveled at any actor or actress her age, and often is. Michael Cera, anyone? Give these kids a couple years! Also: Into The Wild!
  • Speaking of Into The Wild: Kristen Stewart got noticed for Twilight because of her (disconcertingly sexy) performance in that indie film, and she has used her clout in Hollywood to continue to act in more small indie films. I write a lot about Stewart's Twilight co-star Ashley Greene (mostly because look at her), the current girlfriend of Joe Jonas and frequent victim of harsh cyberbullying campaigns. I try not to say anything bad about Greene, because other people do that enough, but she has used her post-Twilight fame to move from low-budget horror flicks (Summer's Moon) to... big budget horror flicks (The Apparition). And movies opposite Miley Cyrus (LOL: Laughing Out Loud - Yes, that is what it is really called. Don't even get me started). Even if Kristen Stewart isn't a talented actress (not that I am saying she isn't) she is at least channeling her energy in the right places.
So there. Stop picking on Kristen Stewart! Twilight itself is still indefensible, of course.

Compilation of all the Salsa Dog reaction videos

(please e-mail me at or @werttrew on Twitter for additions or corrections)
* denotes a recent addition

From Buckypatches:
From Brian the Astronaut:
From Catocalypse_now:
From Edithwrong:
From Funtastik:
From Gabe:
From Hungryorphan:
From Jake Fogelnest:
From Jeff aka Jodermann aka Angry Man:
From j0shsm1th:
From Notveryraven aka ignitionremix:
The OMG Cat:
Patrick M.'s sons:
From Samph:
Sophie the dog via sophiefilms1
Spaz the Cat via wi_ngo :

Note: I couldn’t get TheReachingHand’s video to play for me. Anyone else have luck with it?

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

You Can Make It Up: Ghostdad Edition

Kevin Bacon Made Me A Hero at a Local Dairy Queen:

I had been nearing the end of a long and grueling day of trying on pants at the local shopping mall. I was beat. I decided that I would be better off getting dinner out instead of slaving over a hot stove at my humble abode. So I did what any red blooded America would...I waddled my pre-diabetic ass over to the nearest fast food establishment, namely Dairy Queen.

Apparently, fat minds think alike because there was a line practically out the door of the place. I took the deepest sigh in the history of sighs and prepared to wait it out. A moment later I heard the door swing open yet again and rolled my eyes over at the next troglodyte trying to fill their big dumb face with Blizzards and chicken sandwiches. Much to my surprise it wasn't a big asshole American was a big American icon. Kevin. Motherfucking. Bacon. He was alone and making no effort to conceal his identity. He flashed that "Footloose" smile and slid in right behind me. I debated internally over whether or not to say anything to him. Right as shoulder Angel was extolling the virtues of letting famous people have their privacy and shoulder Devil was trying to make his witty retort, I felt a tapping on my shoulder. I spin around and find myself face to face with the Baconator.

Kevin: "Um...hi. Excuse me. I know this is strange but I was wondering if perhaps you had change for a $100 bill?"

Me: "Uh, I don't know. Let me check..."

Now of course I didn't have change for $100. I had $20 to my name...hence being in a Dairy Queen and not a classier restaurant, like an Olive Garden or Black Angus. But I desperately wanted to help out Mr. Bacon. So I feebly rifled through my wallet, trying to will my singles into twenties. I sighed the second biggest sigh in the history of sighs and rolled my head back around towards the direction of the nearest Hollywood legend...

Me: "Jeez, you know what, man...I don't think I do. I'm sorry".

Kevin: "Well, here's the thing. I'm with the kids...(ed note: at this point he gestured with his head towards the mall parking lot next door, at a BMW convertible with that lady from The Closer and some kids sitting in it)...and Kevin Jr. is really riding my balls to get him a candy bar from the vending machine. I really just need a dollar bill."

Me: "Oh, well...I have some dollars. You can just have one."

Then Kevin Bacon made a face that one can only describe as "heavenly" and put his hand on my shoulder and then said "Wow. That is so generous of you. I'll tell you want an autograph?". I said "Of course. That would be great" and then he proceeded to pull a sharpie out of the back pocket of an immaculately pressed pair of cotton Dockers. And then...holy fuck, guess what he did? HE SIGNED THE GODDAMN $100 BILL AND GAVE IT TO ME! AND THEN THE MOTHERFUCKER WINKED AT ME!

Then, like some sort of creepy angel or boogety Nosferatu-type man, he was gone in a flash. I clutched the $100 bill to my chest and then held it up to the light to examine it. I noticed a little note written on the bottom I hadn't seen him write and it simply said "use this to be a hero for these the people I was a hero for in the motion picture Footloose". I thought about this and then felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me, like a Mother heaving a car crushing her child or a guy sitting up after getting kicked in the nuts. I said in a loud, booming voice "PEOPLE OF DAIRY QUEEN! BLIZZARDS ON ME!" while hoisting the $100 into the heavens. I was greeted with a chorus of cheers and frankly, a few tears. The mob parted like the Red Sea when Moses did that thing from that one movie with the gun nut guy in it and I sauntered over to the register and said "43 Blizzards, please!". Just then I felt a tug on my jeans and looked down to see a little girl, no more than 4 years old. She motioned for me to lean my head down and said "and one hot dog, please. Sir?". An eerie silence crept over the crowd, as if she had maybe pushed things too far. Would this young man with such a generous heart be THAT generous? Things like this were being thought.

I pat the little girl on the head and said, "Well, of course, sweetheart. Of course". I told the Dairy Queen lady to add a hot dog to the order and the crowd went ape shit. I paid with the Bacon money and felt a twinge of sadness that the cost of being a hero meant parting with his beautiful autograph. The lady then gave me my change and I fled to the exits while being mobbed for hand shakes, pats on the back and offers for blowjobs in the back alley. I simply waved at the crowd and said "Enjoy, everybody! And if you want to. Don't let anybody stop you from dancing". This confused more than inspired and I used the collective stupor of deciphering these words as my chance to escape.

Outside in the parking lot I collected myself and began putting my change away. I noticed some strange writing on a dollar bill and decided to take a closer look at it. Lo and behold it was an autograph...KEVIN FUCKING BACON'S AUTOGRAPH. It had returned like a jilted lover in the dead of night who forgot her birth control bills on your dresser. Underneath his perfect John Hancock read a note. It said:

"I owed you this".

I wasn't sure if he meant the autograph or the dollar bill...or both. And I kind of got frustrated trying to figure it out. I then said "well, fuck it. Today was pretty cool I guess" and then I took the bus home.

Gums of Our Lives: Episode 3

This episode is brought to you by Fallout: New Vegas

Just Desserts was blasting Tag Team as he worked, readying his apartment. Thisismynightmare was coming! Everything must be perfect. His couch was freshly fluffed and his argyle cardigan freshly ironed. Adjusting his sunglasses in the mirror he smiled to himself. “Party people! Yeeeeeeeah!” he shouted to the heavens. He looked down at his watch. He still had half an hour. Plenty of time to play some “Fallout: New Vegas.”

An hour later Just Desserts looked at his watch again. “Oh no,” he thought. “I’ve been playing this amazing follow-up to IGN’s 2008 Game of the year for so long I’ve lost track of time! If only the open world wasn’t so limitless for exploration! If only the first person shooter action wasn’t so engrossing! But wait. Where is Thisismynightmare? She should be here by now.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Just Desserts jumped up with a start. He ran over to the mirror, adjusted his dreads, sprayed some banaca in his mouth, and went to answer it. Taking a deep breath he swung open the door. “Hey, Thisismynightmare. Fancy seeing you he—“ But it wasn’t Thisismynightmare. It was something worse. A lot worse.


BabyFriday opened her front door, her face stained with tears. “Sister,” she cried, “Thank you for coming.” She fell weeping into Thisismynightmare’s arms. “Still no word about your husband?” Thisismynightmare asked. “No. Nothing,” she replied. “It’s been eighteen hours with nothing. I’ve called the police every thirty minutes demanding answers, but they won’t give me any.”

“It’s ok. I’m here now. Let’s go inside.”

They stumbled into the apartment, nearly tripping over a dog skeleton. Thisismynightmare always wondered why they kept that by the front door, but now was not the time to ask questions. “I began to worry late last night,” BabyFriday began. “We have a standing date every Thursday night to play ‘Fallout: New Vegas.’ It’s his favorite game and he never misses an opportunity to play. He was two hours late and I hadn’t heard anything, so I turned on the news, and then… then I saw…” She burst into tears. “It’s ok,” Thisismynightmare comforted. “We’ll hear something soon.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. BabyFriday ran over and answered. She was silent for an interminable amount of time. Finally she said, “Ok. I’ll be right down.” She hung up the phone. “They found something. They need me to go down to the police station.”

“I’ll drive,” said Thisismynightmare.

They arrived at the police station and were greeted by a detective. “Hello,” he greeted them, “I’m detective Werttrew. I’ve been assigned to your husband’s case. Will you come with me, please?” He led them into a small room, and laid out a series of evidence bags on the table. “I understand this must be hard for you. But can you please tell me if you recognize any of these items?”

BabyFriday slowly passed her eyes over the table, hoping against hope that she would not recognize anything. Suddenly her eyes came to a stop on a large bag. She collapsed to the ground. “Nooooo!” She screamed, clutching the bag. In it was a charred tweed sports coat with leather patches on the elbows.


A Serious Monster stared at the RSS feed on her computer. “Explosion at the University of Internet Science and Blog Technology,” read the headlines on her news aggregator. “Note to self,” she thought, “Look into possible connections between the explosion and the rash of missing people.” “Actually,” she continued, “I should probably actually write a note because otherwise I may not remember.” Digging out her notebook, she scrawled it down. Above it was her previous note. “Check into The Narrator re: Thisismynightmare’s disappearance.” “Wow,” she thought, “Good thing I wrote this stuff down. I really need to cut down on my drinking. Note to self. Cut down on drinking.” As she began to write that down she saw that she had already written it, several times. “Oh well. Fourth time’s a charm.”

She began to comb through everything she could find on The Narrator. His graduation from the top of his class in the field of Commenting Science. His immediate acceptance as a tenured professor at the University of Internet Science and Blog Technology, and his subsequent dismissal after a horrible accident in his lab. The details were sketchy, but apparently he had tried to create some sort of hybrid commenter with disastrous results, and a nuclear meltdown was narrowly averted. “Wow,” thought A Serious Monster, “that reminds me. I gotta go play some Fallout: New Vegas.”


Dr. Principal Enchman arrived back at his office. His secretary greeted him. “Welcome BACK. YOU have TWO people WAITING FOR you,”

“I thought I told you to cancel my appointments, An American Patriot.”

“I TOLD them you WOULDN’T BE in UNTIL later, but they INSISTED THEY would WAIT.”

Two people stood up behind him. “Dr. Principal Enchman,” one of them started. He spun around and saw a giant blue monster and Norma Shearer. He was about to speak when the monster held up his hand.

“Dr. Principal Enchman. We need to talk.”

Gums of Our Lives: Episode 2

It was 3:00 and Doctor Principal Enchman was beginning to worry. Thisismynightmare was supposed to be there for her appointment over two hours ago. He had tried her phone several times, but it went straight to voicemail. “Something’s wrong,” he thought to himself. “Thisismynightmare is never late without calling first.” He pressed the intercom on his desk.

“An American Patriot. I need you to cancel my appointments for the rest of the afternoon.”

“BUT sir, YOU are BOOKED SOLID for the NEXT three HOURS. What WILL I tell THEM?”

“Tell them I fell ill. I have work to do.”

He picked up the phone and dialed. “It’s me,” he said to the voice on the other line. “I have a case for you.” He grabbed his scarf and his man purse and closed the door to his office behind him. If he knew anything about The Narrator and his temper, he knew that time was not his friend.

Hurrying down the street he passed a young couple picnicking on a park bench. The woman, a dead ringer for Norma Shearer as Marie Antoinette, laughed as she wiped cookie crumbs off of his blue, furry face. “Young love,” thought Dr. Principal Enchman. “Is there anything more pure?” He stood there, lost for a moment in his own memories. Taken back to that magical summer day and that first meeting with Her. Her laugh. Her smile. The caress of her hand. And then, that fateful day when it all went wrong. He had to quickly shake his head. “I have to keep moving. Thisismynightmare needs me.”

He arrived at a nondescript office building and pressed the elevator button for the 20th floor. “I hope I’m not too late already,” he fretted as he ascended. Arriving at the floor, he quickly made his way down the hall, arriving at #2012. The plaque on the door said, in peeling letters, “A Serious Monster: Private Detective.” Dr. Principal Enchman took a deep breath, steeled himself, opened the door, and quickly ducked as a bottle of Jameson flew over his head and smashed on the wall behind him.

“Sorry,” a voice growled from behind the desk. “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s me, Monster. Dr. Principal Enchman. I called you earlier.”

“Right. Right. Sorry.”

“Who did you think I was?”

“Pizza guy.”

Dr. Principal Enchman thought of a million follow-up questions he would have loved to ask, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“A Serious Monster. I need your help. I have a patient who I believe is in trouble. I need you to find her.”

A Serious Monster turned her chair to face him. Her face bore the scars of a thousand years of living done over a two-week vacation to St. Vincent and the Grenadines. She took a drag from a cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“Why do you care so much about a patient?” She asked.

“She… She reminds me of someone I knew once… long ago.” He started to drift off, but then quickly shook his head. “It’s not important!” He snapped. “Can you find her?”

She took another deep drag.

“Seems to be a lot of missing people in these parts.” She exhaled. “I got a case looking for this smurf guy not two days ago. Not to mention that Marine that went AWOL a couple of weeks back.”

She stared at Dr. Principal Enchman, sizing him up. He looked back at her, pleading.

“Will you take it? I can’t go to the cops because she hasn’t been missing long enough, and I’m afraid that if I wait any longer she could be dead. Please help me, A Serious Monster. You’re my only hope.”

After the longest of pauses she nodded in assent.

“I’ll take your case. But on one condition… You pay me money.”

“Of course. What else would I pay you with?”

“Nothing. Forget about it. I’ll take the case.”

Dr. Princial Enchman handed over a picture of Thisismynightmare, thanked her, and left. A Serious Monster surveyed the photo. “Another missing person,” she mused, “And a pretty one at that. Oh, A Serious Monster, what have you gotten yourself into?”


As Thisismynightmare drove she began to worry. She kept glancing at her phone as the missed calls began to pile up. “I wonder if I should have let Dr. Principal Enchman know. He’ll be worried.” She thought to herself. “Maybe I’ll call him.” She picked up the phone but quickly stopped herself. “He’ll just try to talk me out of it,” she reasoned. As she was setting it down, it began to ring. It was her sister. She answered.

“Baby Friday! I have big news!” she hurriedly exclaimed

“I have bigger news!” She rushed, breathlessly. “It’s my husband, Teacherman. Something’s happened!”

“What? Is he ok?”

“I don’t know. There was an explosion in his lab at the University. Nobody knows what happened. I need you here. Can you come?”

Thisismynightmare paused. Her freedom with Just Desserts lay ahead. Her ailing sister lay behind.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” She said, and hung up her phone.


The Narrator sat in his living room watching the news. A breaking report flashed on the bottom of the screen. “Giant Explosion at the University of Internet Science and Blog Technology. Dozens Missing, Presumed Dead.” He smiled to himself. The first mission of the Winbot was a success.

Gums of Our Lives: Episode 1

By popular demand, I present to you: "Gums of Our Lives"

It was a cold December night, and The Narrator was busy in his laboratory. He laughed to himself as he bent over his machine. “Reckless?” he cackled to himself. “Irresponsible? I’ll show them reckless and irresponsible!” He wiped the fevered sweat from his brow as he checked the time. “Only minutes left, my pretty, and the world will truly know my greatness!”

Meanwhile, across town, his wife, Thisismynightmare, was on the phone with her psychologist. “I just don’t know what to do, Dr. Principal Enchman,” she cried into the phone. “Ever since he was fired by the University of Internet Science and Blog Technology he’s been so cold. So distant. He hardly ever comments, and I’m embarrassed to tell you the last time we tweeted together. He can barely even look at me.”

“Have you considered started a hashtag game?” Dr. Principal Enchman replied

“I have! I’ve tried everything! #sexymovies #peenmovies #ryangoslingmovies. Nothing works!”

“This seems very serious, indeed. Come to my office tomorrow and we will try to work through this.”

She thanked him and hung up the phone. Staring out of the window she wondered to herself, “Is this all there is?”

Suddenly she was startled by a phone ringing. She picked it up.

“Dr. Principal Enchman?” She asked.

“No. It’s Just Desserts.”

Her heart soared. Just Desserts. The very name set her world on fire.

“Oh, hi, JD, what’s up?” She stammered, trying to remain calm.

“Nothing much. Just checking in to see how you were doing.”

“Oh, I’m fine… fine…” She choked back tears.

“Are you sure? Do you need to listen to ‘Party People’?”

That was the final straw. Before she knew what she was doing she broke down and told him everything. The firing, the strange laboratory in the basement, her ennui. Everything. “I just don’t know what to do anymore! I have nowhere to go! I have nothing” she finally sobbed as she finished.

The line was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Finally,

“Pack your things. You’re coming to stay with me.” He stated with authority.

“What do you mean? I can’t just leave everything behind. You don’t know The Narrator! You don’t know what he’s like!”

“I can provide for you. And I will protect you. Trust me. The safest place you could be right now is Casa de JD. Just go now!”

Thisismynightmare hung up the phone and stared at the receiver. “Am I crazy enough to do this?” She thought to herself.

Half an hour later The Narrator emerged from his lab, a maniacal gleam in his eye. “Honey!” He called. “Come downstairs! It’s finally finished!” There was no response. “Hey! Honey!” He called again. Still nothing. “Thisismynightmare! Are you sleeping?” He began to climb the stairs. “I have something important to show you! Wake up!” He reached the bedroom and opened the door.

The bedroom was empty, save a note on the bed. He picked it up, his hands shaking.

“Dear The Narrator. I am sorry that it has to be like this, but I’m leaving you to be with Just Desserts. He just knows how to treat a lady. Also he’s a snappy dresser and does an amazing Stefon impression. Your wife, Thisismynightmare.”

He crushed the note in his hands and howled to the ceiling. “THISISMYNIGHTMARE! WHYYYYYYYY?!?!?!” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Yes” he said to himself. “Yes. That would be perfect!” He cackled aloud as he raced down to his laboratory. “Oh this is too perfect. Just Desserts, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

He busted open the door and ran over to his machine, throwing off the protective dust cover. “You wanted to play? We can play!” he screamed as he threw the power switch.

A loud mechanical whirr filled the room as The Narrator rubbed his hands together. Slowly, the beast started to move, both arms slowly rising and falling, it’s mouth opening and closing, revealing its razor sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. Its eyes lit up as it surveyed the room.

“Yes! Yes! I have created life!” The Narrator crowed.

The machine stood up and began to slowly move around the room. The narrator jumped in front of it.

“Hello, my friend. I am The Narrator. I created you. Do you know what that means?”

The beast nodded.

“Good. Good. You were created for a purpose. Do you know what that is?”

The beast nodded again. “To be the world’s greatest troll.” It mechanically intoned.

“Yes. Yes. Exactly. I need you to do something for me. I need you to troll this woman. Can you do that for me?” He asked, holding up a picture of Thisismynightmare.

The beast studied the picture closely. He turned to The Narrator and nodded, saying only one thing.

“She’s pretty.”

No Paparazzo-O

COD here again, back with some IRL celebrity observations that you definitely care about.

Earlier, as tweeted and mentioned in chat, I went to see Black Swan at the Arclight, Hollywood. The theater was busier than usual, and when exiting the parking structure I noticed paparazzi, bright lights, and lots of smokers dressed in black. It was a movie premiere! As I was wondering which movie was premiering and transforming one of my favorite theaters into a total cluster-fuck, I looked to my left and saw Stephen Dorff. Ding, ding, ding! It was for Somewhere, Sofia Coppola's new film. Spoiler alert: I just watched a screener of the movie the other night. Elle Fanning is adorable and also ADORABLE! The Fanning sisters are certainly on acting steroids. (Wouldn't it be cool if acting steroids actually existed and was something for which actors had to be tested? I digress...)

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

High School/Low Point

High School/Low Point

Fake papers inspired by the real trauma of being a high school teacher. This column will feature essays that will offer a window into the minds of my darling students. I thought it appropriate that I begin with a student-written biography of me.

by: Baby Friday

Señora Friday: Profile of Cruelty

by A. Student

Señora Friday, a minion of the cruel administration at High School Academy, cannot help but command attention. Some attribute it to her habit of getting all in your face if you try to sleep. Some attribute it to the fact that she talks really, really loudly. Whatever the reason, it is clear that her reign of terror will not end any time soon.

But who is this madwoman, and why has she chosen to torment innocent students? For the answer, we must examine not only her past, but also her present and future. She was probably born in Spain or somewhere; we can deduce this due to her intense love of all things Spanish. She went to school many years ago, before things were cool, and at some point she wrote a seventy-page paper. As if this was not bad enough, it was apparently entirely written in Spanish, which would probably make anyone mean. The identity of the person that made her write such a paper is not known, but one thing is clear: after that traumatic experience she began to emulate that person's unnatural heartlessness with a fervor normally reserved for religious observation.

She came to HSA at some point, after needlessly torturing the college students at the University of Georgia instead of letting them drink beer. She counts among her professional high points making students cry, watching Telemundo, and failing to see the humor in funny things. Her passion for grading papers will often have her assigning completely unnecessary writing assignments in order to have activities to fill her hours and hours of free time. Naturally, she sleeps at school, under a pile of worksheets, dreaming of the day when the school week will stretch to include Saturday and Sunday.

One anomaly in her life is her marriage to the famous Mr. Teacherman. In addition to having an awesome name, clear evidence of his inherent coolness, Mr. Teacherman is a snappy dresser. He listens exclusively to classical music, a window into why he would subject himself to pledging a lifetime with Señora Friday--it is entirely possible that he is a sadist. Mr. Teacherman once told a student to shut up, earning him the instant respect of students the world over, and his legend continues to grow at private schools in the region. Some have theorized that Señora Friday makes Mr. Teacherman learn Spanish when they are at home together, although evidence is hazy that Mr. Teacherman would allow this to happen. Some students make the argument that Mr. Teacherman alone knows the Señora's first name, although other students contend that Señora is, in fact, the name she was given at birth. Because she's from Spain.

As to Mrs. Señora Friday-Teacherman's future, one can only speculate. The thin sliver of hope that most in her classes cling to is that someday she will be convinced to stop teaching altogether, and will be content with showing movies in English. There are whispers that in the second semester she intends to teach the subjunctive, a well-known health hazard. Whatever the case, she may let her students play Pictionary, and as any student knows that will kill at least fifteen minutes that could have otherwise been spent in the drudgery of worksheets or listening to Señora Friday ramble in Spanish about something. What is that something? We don't know; we weren't listening.

Author bio:
A. Student is famed for his verbal portraits of teachers, which he works on in between sneaking text messages and laughing at teachers who trip on computer cords. Already accepted to Auburn University, he professes excitement about his college career, which will include pledging his brother's fraternity and wearing frayed hats while generally avoiding class. His shirt is untucked.

No Paparazzo-O

CakeOrDeath here, reporting live from Hollywood, California!

Do you like celebrities? Do you want nothing more in your life than to hear about random sightings of the people you love to hate? What else is there to do? Vote? Fix the economy? Protest war? Fuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

Monday, December 6, 2010


a fangirl's perspective.

i will use this column to introduce, and leave open to discussion, any and all things you or i nerd out about. it may be an adult swim cartoon, your pet's antics, 80's fantasy movies, or anything involving the word "trilogy". some of these things may be low-quality and inane (twilight, if videogum isn't covering that anymore), but we are quite self-aware and we like what we like, thank you very much. we're being ironic about it! okay, no, we are not. but acknowledging this makes it okay, right?

feel free to leave any topics for discussion in the comments. i would love to discover new realms and go where other monsters have gone before.