Plastic Love

Remember how adorable Anna Faris used to be?

But then she turned blonde,

And got these ridiculous fake boobs,

And those ridiculous fake lips,

And probably several other facial augmentations,

So now she looks more like a blow up doll than a person,

But that's okay,

Because plastic women deserve to be loved too,

They just have to settle for the sort of dudes

Who have to settle for the sort of chicks

Who were manufactured in a factory

In China.

And to be perfectly honest,

I've seen more than a couple of mannequins over the years

That I definitely wouldn't mind spending a night with,

So I can totally see the allure of plastic lady parts.

Yeah,

A tender night with a mannequin.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is,

The better I get to know real women,

The more I like the idea of having a relationship

With a plastic doll.

Because plastic women don't lie,

And plastic women don't cheat,

And plastic women don't judge,

Because plastic love is virtually forever,

Because plastic takes like a million years to decompose,

And the stupid environment can just suck my balls.

I definitely wouldn't mind eating some melons with the old Anna Faris

So yeah, I watched a special Halloween double feature today, and the movie that wasn't The Nightmare Before Christmas was May, directed by Lucky McKee and starring the lovely Angela Bettis and the unbelievably sexy 2002 version of Anna Faris. Nightmare and May are two of my all time favorite films, and so good time was had by everyone present. I really like the movies that I like.

A self love poem

If masturbation causes blindness,

Does that mean that sticking things up your butt

Can damage your hindsight?

Damn, I should have seen this one coming.

Which I guess disproves the whole theory.

Never mind then.

The leading cause of male masturbation today

Also, if masturbation causes you to grow hair on your palms, can mental masturbation be the cure for male pattern baldness? Probably not, because I've been trying to come up with something funny to say about it for the last two and a half hours and my hair still doesn't feel any thicker.

A love poem

Baby,

When I'm making love to you,

I feel like I'm making love to the most beautiful woman in the whole world.

Like I'm making love to Samantha Mathis.

Because that's who I usually think about

When I'm making love

To you.

I don't care what anyone says, I really like the Super Mario Bros movie

Veronica Mars sucked balls

(and I sure hope Kristen Bell does too)

Kristen Bell is obviously one smoking hot little piece of ass, everybody knows it and I have the horribly disfiguring battle scars to prove it (note to self: never ever watch Fanboys while intoxicated ever again), but what I can never figure out is whether that little thingy under her left boob is a mole or a superfluous nipple. One of these options gives me a hypothetical raging, pulsing creep-boner, while the other just grosses me out. I mean, it's located in the exact spot where one would expect to find a third nipple on Ms. Bell's hard little body, but I can't find any more information about it online, so I'm more than a little confused about the whole thing. That's okay though, by now I'm pretty much used to being confused about chicks. They sure are a confusing little gender. I guess it's that weird indoor plumbing that makes them that way. I know I would probably develop pretty unusual personality traits myself if I had to sit down every time I had to pee. Gross.

Also, I think Kristen Bell was really good in the new Batman movies. Maybe that fake raspy voice was a tiny bit too much, but overall I think she did a fine job in both of them and I'm looking forward to seeing her in the next one.

Motivation

Sometimes I think that the quickest solution to all my problems is the right kind of motivation. Like, all I really need is someone who would say stuff to me like "if you lose 7kg by January I'll let you touch one of my boobs over my clothes", or "if you get a real job by the end of next month I'll let you give a quick kiss to any part of my body that isn't in my bikini areas", or even something simple like "if you get a normal haircut within the next three hours I'll let you watch me eat a banana". I'm pretty sure something like that could be the answer to pretty much everything that is wrong with my life right now. So if you're interested in helping me out and you don't have a penis, you know where to find me. Most days that's usually either in front the TV or in front of the computer. Yeah, I know, it's pretty sweet. Sigh.

Ramona Flowers into a lovely young 2D woman

Well I've recently finished reading all the Scott Pilgrim books and the day before yesterday I went to see the movie for the second time and yesterday I received the first two books in the mail (I'll order the rest of them soon), and so the result shouldn't really surprise anyone as I'm definitely no stranger to developing deep and passionate crushes on indie comic book characters. Sigh.

Also, before I saw the movie again I went into this book store at the mall where the theater is and I was shocked and amazed to see the first Scott Pilgrim book on display, in Hebrew! And for some reason it was placed in the children's books section. People sure are retarded.

Pita makes you fat?!

Yo' mama

A comic strip about honesty and resentment (and giant dildos).

Heartbroken once again

So I was watching the half season premiere of Caprica last week (which is easily the best thing on TV right now) when this totally cute little chickiepoo appears on my screen for a couple of minutes and then quickly disappears in a glorious blaze of unholy fire, and I was all like, man, the casting people on this show really do know how to pick the prettiest Canadian chicks alive today, but there wasn't really much else I could do about it, so I let it go. A couple of days later I was watching the latest Fringe episode, and what do you know! That very same young lady appeared in it, and she actually got to do some acting! And she wasn't awful at it at all! Naturally I took it as a sign from my favorite imaginary deity that she and I are destined to some day make sweet and passionate love in my head, and so I set out to look up some information about her online. Most importantly I wanted to find out how old she is, so I could know just how legal my love for her was. You see, not unlike a certain Mr. Scott Pilgrim, I too suck pretty bad at guessing how old women are, and really, how can you even tell these days (see comment at the bottom of this post)? Unfortunately, all IMDB could offer me was a very short and incomplete list of her TV roles (her Caprica credit wasn't even up there, though it is now) and a couple of modelling shots supposedly taken last month in which she looks about twelve years old (not too legal then). This is what one of them looks like:

So pretty. So very very pretty. And yet...

There was one other thing I found, but it took me a few days to fully realize what it meant. I didn't want to believe it, but in the end I was forced to accept it as the cold, brutal truth. It was a Twitter account, and as hard as it is for me to admit it, it is probably really her who keeps filling it to the brim with post upon post of brainless teenage drivel. Sigh. And on TV she looked like such a cool person! I don't know, I guess she could be technically over 18, but I just find it extremely difficult to have wrong lusty feelings for women I could never imagine having an interesting conversation with, and so I am sad to announce the early demise of yet another brief and hopeless crush. May it forever rest in peace in hopeless crush heaven.

(Note: have you ever noticed how you can ask pretty much any question and then add something like "how can you even know these days?" or "who the hell can even tell these days?" and it becomes instantly cool? I sure have. Some day I'm going to make a hilarious cranky old dude.)

She Who Shall Remain Nameless - a retrospective

From the Coleslaw vaults: the following drawings are part of a long series of drawings that were created over the past nine years or so for a friend who used to ask me to draw her all the time. She pretty much hated each and every one of them, but I like these ones quite a bit. Chicks. Pfft. They're so overrated!

See also: DRAW ME!!!

Portrait of the artist as a hairy asshole

From the Coleslaw vaults: the following drawings were created to serve as Facebook profile pictures, before I opted for the pussy way and chose to use an actual photograph. Could any of these options have gotten me any social network tail over the years? I guess we'll never know!

Cute!

Lovely!

Adorable!

Poopy love

From the Coleslaw vaults: a comic strip about feelings and disappointment (and anuses).

Religion rules

From the Coleslaw vaults: a comic strip about faith and devotion (and hookers).

Sex toys

From the Coleslaw vaults: a comic strip about love and infidelity (and rubber duckies).

A hand watching Hung

Yup. Still pretty much retarded here.

What's gross and funny and sort of delicious?

Tshoolnt is a traditional Jewish dish known to have caused severe indigestion to members of the chosen people throughout the centuries. It's basically a stew that is usually made of potatoes, beans, barley and gross chunks of dead cow, but you can also make a vegetarian version of it. You can also buy it in a can. The canned stuff is actually vegan, but the vegan police has recently revoked all my super powers for eating some fat free yogurt, so I'll just ignore that aspect of it for now. Here is what the can looks like. The description on the label says: "A traditional Jewish dish with cooked beans and barley seasoned in a tasty sauce".

If it says so on the label, it must be true!

I haven't had this product in at least a decade, because I've only seen it in cans that you have to open with a can opener, which I don't like because can openers are messy and not very lefty-friendly, but a couple of days ago I picked up a can at the supermarket, and what do you know! It had that little thingy on the lid that I like so much! So naturally I had to take it home with me.

My beloved thingy! I mean, my other beloved thingy

The ingredients in this version include water, beans, barley, some kind of vegetable protein (have fun trying to guess which vegetable!), soybean oil, salt, fried onions, spices and a whole bunch of scary sounding additives. Yum!

I hope they don't think cows are a vegetable

OK. Time to lift the lid and take a first whiff!

Hmm.

So far so good. And have I mentioned I'm eating it cold, right out of the can? Yeah. I'm going to eat it cold, right out of the can, hobo style. That's just the kind of classy dude I am.

Hmmmm....

It's orange. And liquid. Let's dig in and see what else is hiding down there!

This sort of looks like a bean!

I guess that sort of looks like the picture on the label. Sort of. The color is kinda off, and there's way too much of that gross looking sauce. But what does it taste like?

om nom nom

Hey, that's actually not that bad!

nom nom nom nom

Very oily and very salty, but not too bad at all!

om nom nom nom nom nom

Those little bits of fake meat feel sort of weird in my mouth, but I think I actually kinda like it!

Almost done...

This was a really good idea. They should have put that thingy on the lid years ago!

Where did it all go??? *cries*

As far as gross canned food goes, this was a pretty entertaining quick meal! I'm totally getting more of it next time I'm at the supermarket, despite the fact that I can already feel a pretty bad case of diarrhea coming my way. Oh well. All in a day's work, I suppose.

Congratulations on a job well done!

Note to self: taking pictures of food while you're eating it is fun. You should totally do it again sometime, with more kinds of new and interesting and gross food!

Note to note to self: good idea. Sounds like a solid plan. See you next time I go shopping hungry!

(update: it's even better when heated!)

Turning Icons into boobonade

Last week I went to the Icon sci-fi and fantasy festival at the Tel-Aviv cinematheque, where I got to see a couple of pretty great and very Canadian movies. The second one I saw was Splice, which was absolutely awesome in every single way. It was fun and weird and creepy and Vincenzo Natali is one of my favorite directors and Sarah Polley is so adorable (despite the unfortunate tooth-to-gum ratio, which is only noticeable when she's smiling anyway) and David Hewlett is as cool as ever and Adrien Brody has a great big Jewish nose and the creature effects are incredible and the creature itself is totally cute and the sex scenes are pretty damn hot (even the ones that don't involve Sarah Polley), but I'm sort of sick of writing about perfectly awesome movies and so Iwill move on to the other movie I saw at the festival, Suck, which was still very good but was also a bit of a let down for me, for some reason. I don't know, maybe it was the übercool trailer that got my expectations up to ridiculously unrealistic levels, or the overall not-completely-professional feel of the movie (which was sort of charming most of the time, but a little depressing during some parts), or maybe it was just that I'm not all that used to seeing movies in theaters full of dorks (and dork wannabes), so the constant laughing managed to annoy me quite a bit. Whatever it was, I was left not completely satisfied with the movie. Still, there's a lot to like about it, like the cool vampire makeup (though I'm still not quite sure why female vamps use so much lip liner) and the funny little stop motion travel bits between locations and the rock star cameos and the occasional cool musical sequence, though my absolute favorite part of the movie was easily this one:

I think Paré means mashed potatoes in Italian or something

Now, Jessica Paré is quite obviously a smoking hot little piece of ass who looks nothing short of amazing as a sexy vampire bass player, but throughout the entire film whenever I looked at her there was only one thing I could think about: big droopy boobs. I wasn't even sure why, until I got back home and looked her up on IMDB and realized that she was the naked chick who humped the chubby black dude in the hot tub in Hot Tub Time Machine! And it's not like her breasts are unattractive in any kind of way, but anyone would have to admit that they do in fact point in a general southern direction. Which really isn't very surprising when you take into account the sheer size of them and their 100% plastic-free composition, but does she really have to flaunt them like that in every other movie she makes? I would've been perfectly happy with a Maxim bikini shoot or something, anything that would provide adequate support for the Paré twins. Yeah, a Maxim bikini shoot would've done nicely. And while we're on the subject of chicks who keep flashing their less than perfect boobs at me, why does Carla Gallo keep playing the topless slut in every single thing she's in?!

Carla Gallo with her clothes on

(under which she's probably naked again)

I like Ms. Gallo just fine, and it's not like I have anything against tiny little titties, but when they're not very attractive then I see absolutely no reason to keep showing them off all the time. Sigh. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I go to movies to be entertained and sometimes maybe get somewhat aroused, and if I would ever want to see what normal, average boobs look like I could just turn the lights off and look out my window with the shutters half closed and an economy size bottle of body lotion at hand like a normal person. You know, it's pretty funny how the older a woman gets, the less shy about her body she becomes. Funny and sexy, I suppose. Especially if you really miss your grandma.

Care for an Eisgekühlter Bommerlunder?

Last night I went to see Die Toten Hosen play at the very same club where only a few weeks ago this cute little supposedly lesbo chick almost threw up on me (and where only a few days ago they held some sort of religious holiday event, which should explain the lingering acrid stench of BO and jizz), and it was so overwhelmingly awesome that I just have to write something about it while my ears are still happily ringing. The Israeli opening band sucked major balls as expected and sounded like Green Day on a bad day (and Green Day are pretty terrible even on their bestest of days) and their total douche of a lead singer mispronounced Die Toten Hosen three times (he pronounced the word 'die' the way one would in English, not German), but the actual show was nothing short of incredible. They played all my favorite songs and their energy was pretty amazing for dudes in their late 40s, especially Campino, who kept jumping around climbing over stuff and handing out water bottles and beer to anyone who was close enough to the stage. They also played a bunch of cover songs, like Blur's Song 2, a couple of Clash ones and even a Beatles song which in their version did not suck even one tiny bit! And the best part about the show? Most of the people there were German! Real live Germans! I almost didn't hear any Hebrew the entire evening! It was really fun seeing how real, normal people act at a real concert, with all the singing and chanting and pogo dancing, but most of all I enjoyed watching how prettily German chicks can dance when they're drunk. Seriously, the only way some of these fine young ladies could have possibly looked any hotter was if they had my balls in their neatly lipsticked little mouths. It's a good thing the men's room was so gross there, so I was never once tempted to lock myself in one of those smelly little stalls and relieve myself of the kind of throbbing, unwanted tension that could only be inspired by the presence of so many ridiculously cute chicks who are fluent in my grandmother's native tongue. And I even got to touch Campino! You know how sometimes you're in a public place, like a bus or something, and whenever people walk by you try to make yourself as small as possible so as to not make any physical contact with them, but when a really cute chick comes by you just don't, so she pretty much has to lightly rub up against you? Well apparently that creepy little trick works quite well with middle aged German rock stars too. Awesome. I never should have thrown that shirt to the laundry, as smelly as it may have been. Oh well. I still don't really understand why the band chose to perform in Tel-Aviv of all places on the 20th anniversary of the unification of Germany, but I couldn't be happier that they did. Now all I need to do is try to get that nasty cigarette smell out of my stupid hair. Yuck.

Want to be touched by the hand that touched a shirtless Campino? Call now!

Update: the following photo now appears on the official Die Toten Hosen website, and I'm totally in it! Hooray!!!

Hint: I'm the dude with the ugly all over his face