Having a toddler means spending actual discussion time debating the point where Dora the Explorer jumped the shark. Was it when Diego appeared? Or whey they finally got the budget to add two more stock animation poses to her repertoire?
Personally, I think it was the episode where she bought a motorcycle and leaped over the tank of sharks in the Arnold's parking lot.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sunday, June 4, 2006
Zumanity
So, yesterday was our fifth anniversary, and we went out to see Zumanity, or as it's also known, Porn: The Musical! Picture naked whip-wielding dominatrixes doing acrobatics hanging from silk sheets thirty feet in the air. Now make them dance, and interrupt every once in a while for cabaret/burlesque segments. That's pretty much the show.
Is it just that we're so jaded, or that we know a lot of other pervs, or is Vegas just astonishingly easy to shock? Most of the audience asides from us was repulsed by the simulated gay sex. And then there was the nudity, spankings, appearance onstage of large dildos, lesbian orgies. The poor woman behind us gasped and barely held back her rage at what she saw, even though the tickets clearly state it's an 18+ show with nudity and for "people with open minds only". She vocally complained to her boyfriend, who was no fan of the gay sex himself. People yelled out "Eww!" at various points and some got up and left.
After the show, there was polite applause, but mostly angry people storming out saying they couldn't recommend it to anyone they knew. We shrugged. Topless dommes? Men making out? Yawn. Do these people not even watch basic cable? We thought it was pretty tame. It was also short for a Cirque show (90 minutes, the maximum Vegas attention span). Next time we want to see that sort of thing, we can go to the fetish club. Maybe even bring a souvenir performer home.
Jenn absolutely adored our usher, a foul-mouthed pixie who told us we were in row "D for Dildo" and flirted with everyone as they came in (scaring the vast majority before the show even began). "Oh, B for Bondage!" she told one couple as she escorted them to their seats. They cringed, yelled back, "Bondage?!" like they'd heard this was something sickos in New York did but never imagined would infest such a wholesome community as Las Vegas, and looked at the door. The lucky ones in "A for Ass" were seated in love seats in the front row, where they were molested by the cast. At least a couple of the lothario clown characters bore much passing resemblance to my lecherous immigrant character Akmal.
What's more surprising still is that this show was at the New York-New York, a casino specifically aimed at LGBT vacationers and marketed mostly in gay magazines. How these people in the audience wound up there to be offended to begin with is a mystery.
Is it just that we're so jaded, or that we know a lot of other pervs, or is Vegas just astonishingly easy to shock? Most of the audience asides from us was repulsed by the simulated gay sex. And then there was the nudity, spankings, appearance onstage of large dildos, lesbian orgies. The poor woman behind us gasped and barely held back her rage at what she saw, even though the tickets clearly state it's an 18+ show with nudity and for "people with open minds only". She vocally complained to her boyfriend, who was no fan of the gay sex himself. People yelled out "Eww!" at various points and some got up and left.
After the show, there was polite applause, but mostly angry people storming out saying they couldn't recommend it to anyone they knew. We shrugged. Topless dommes? Men making out? Yawn. Do these people not even watch basic cable? We thought it was pretty tame. It was also short for a Cirque show (90 minutes, the maximum Vegas attention span). Next time we want to see that sort of thing, we can go to the fetish club. Maybe even bring a souvenir performer home.
Jenn absolutely adored our usher, a foul-mouthed pixie who told us we were in row "D for Dildo" and flirted with everyone as they came in (scaring the vast majority before the show even began). "Oh, B for Bondage!" she told one couple as she escorted them to their seats. They cringed, yelled back, "Bondage?!" like they'd heard this was something sickos in New York did but never imagined would infest such a wholesome community as Las Vegas, and looked at the door. The lucky ones in "A for Ass" were seated in love seats in the front row, where they were molested by the cast. At least a couple of the lothario clown characters bore much passing resemblance to my lecherous immigrant character Akmal.
What's more surprising still is that this show was at the New York-New York, a casino specifically aimed at LGBT vacationers and marketed mostly in gay magazines. How these people in the audience wound up there to be offended to begin with is a mystery.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
Bowling for Colon-bine
I'm disturbed, deeply, by the new fad of mixing together everything on your menu in a bowl. When Taco Bell first came up with the idea, I cringed. But then I realized that everything they make is the same five ingredients recombined in different ratios. Doing away with the tortilla shell and just tossing everything together in a bowl seemed like a logical, if icky, next step. Besides, stoners don't care how it looks. They care if it tastes like cheese.
Now, corporate sister KFC has picked up on the idea. Witness their new commercial. Hungry stoner who's probably 30 and yet never held a real job walks into a KFC. He wants... everything on the menu. Together. At once. Luckily, the overeager woman at the counter is ready to give it to him. Barely able to hold back her moans of pleasure, she speaks of a bowl filled to the brim with artificial mashed potatoes, corn, popcorn chicken and cheese mixed together. She asks if he wants gravy poured over the whole thing. Somehow, she manages not to ask if he'd like to contribute his own semen before erupting into an orgasm of her own. Because we all know women everywhere are turned to jelly at the prospect of a go-nowhere loser with gravy-tainted fingers gorging himself at a miniature trough.
I was going to try to think of a potential future bowl development, which would take the idea to its absurd conclusion. But I think this is the absurd conclusion. It can't possibly get worse than gravy, cheese, watery canned corn, chicken soaked in eleven herbs and spices, and whatever the "potatoes" are really made of, all unified into an unholy shepherd's pie of angina.
Oh wait- it can. Have it served up by a woman so into the concept that she's visualizing the customer rubbing the gravy into his nipples.
Yep, it just got much, much worse.
Now, corporate sister KFC has picked up on the idea. Witness their new commercial. Hungry stoner who's probably 30 and yet never held a real job walks into a KFC. He wants... everything on the menu. Together. At once. Luckily, the overeager woman at the counter is ready to give it to him. Barely able to hold back her moans of pleasure, she speaks of a bowl filled to the brim with artificial mashed potatoes, corn, popcorn chicken and cheese mixed together. She asks if he wants gravy poured over the whole thing. Somehow, she manages not to ask if he'd like to contribute his own semen before erupting into an orgasm of her own. Because we all know women everywhere are turned to jelly at the prospect of a go-nowhere loser with gravy-tainted fingers gorging himself at a miniature trough.
I was going to try to think of a potential future bowl development, which would take the idea to its absurd conclusion. But I think this is the absurd conclusion. It can't possibly get worse than gravy, cheese, watery canned corn, chicken soaked in eleven herbs and spices, and whatever the "potatoes" are really made of, all unified into an unholy shepherd's pie of angina.
Oh wait- it can. Have it served up by a woman so into the concept that she's visualizing the customer rubbing the gravy into his nipples.
Yep, it just got much, much worse.
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