Sexual Lorax posted:
Hip Hop Harry is an abomination. Spongebob is pretty cool. Best of all, though, is LazyTown! (Wiki, IMDb, Nick Jr.)
I only heard of the show about a year ago, when Tom Green played one of the songs from the program on his Internet show. After I heard the song, I started looking up videos on YouTube and really fell in love with the program. The songs are these cute dance-ish types of numbers, and the production value for the show is surprisingly good for a kid's program. The guy who created the show, Magnus Scheving (he plays Sportacus, the guy in blue), is really awesome.
Online and offline, LazyTown has grown to have a following beyond its target audience. Many teenagers and adults enjoy LazyTown due to its high energy presentation, high production value, and the infectious, lighthearted songs (e.g. Bing Bang, Twenty Times Time, You're A Pirate, Lazy Scouts). The show has spawned fanclubs all over the world, and numerous song clips can be found at popular videosharing sites such as YouTube and Google Video. Check it out!
My wife and I have lived at this house now for almost four years. Our neighborhood is typical. We have the old man on the corner, the hunky firefighter across the street, the redneck family with big trucks, the good Christian family, the obviously gay roommates, and the suspiciously nice couple who are so nice that you know they are hiding some sort of horrible secret. Us? We are probably referred to as that former cop turned hippie who is married to the stripper. At least that's what we heard once.
But this isn't about those neighbors, they are all very likable. It's about the other "Small Town USA" neighbor. The ones who consistently have people standing outside of it at all hours of the night. The ones who friends speed down the road with hip-hop thumping at a comfortable 50 miles per hour no matter how many kids are outside. You know the ones who just don't seem to have any parents at all? You know you were more ore less the same as them at same point, or are currently, but they still piss you off. The "Drug Dealers". Now that's not to say they are drug dealers, but if you ask Anytown, USA "old man on the corner" he'll tell you they are definitely drug dealers, because you know they are young like he was. And they push the boundaries of whatever laws and morals society has grown for them just like every generation of teenagers. But they still piss me off.
It started about three years ago. A new family moved in down the street. The first thing that you noticed is that they had a young girl was about fourteen. Didn't see much of their parents. But the young girl was always outside. It didn't take long for every boy in the neighborhood to notice the girl who by this time was dressing much less tasteful. "That girl will become a prostitute one day" said the Christian Mother across the street. I think she was right.
At first it was boys on skateboards, then boys on bikes, and now they come in cars wrecklessly down the street. "Damn fucking kids" says the husky firefighter as he chops wood with no shirt on, "they are going to run over someone, and it will probably be a kid." Now she's at seventeen. Those who wear baggy jeans, xxxtra-large shirts, and some new sideways cap things usually come at dusk. It's usually no more than three of four cars. And that's when the ceremony begins.
It's usually right when the sun is gone that the events begin. "That music has so many swears! They play it so loud Austin, Dakota, and New Hampshire Jr." can hear it through their shut windows explains overprotective Christian mother. Soon after the music begins, out comes the beer, and pot. Now fitting the ex-cop turned hippie profile I would absolutely not mind some people partying down the street, as long as they keep in inside. Years of pot use, and training from the DEA taught me how to recognize pot smoke immediately, but I don't want my daughter or mother to have to smell it all the time just because they want to sleep with their windows open.
The redneck family who, although it seems like they hate everybody, are genuinely nice. They have some big boys living in that house, but even they are worried about stepping up to those pesky teens. "Damn, I don't know, they all probably have guns in their pants." After the pot use, there is usually another three of four hours of the party in the garage. This occurs pretty much every night, rain or shine. The sound of bottles breaking usually cap of the night, followed by "Woohooo! Fuck!"
"We've just really don't know what to do." says suspiciously nice couple while handing me a apple pie which I promptly throw out because, they could be serial killers or something. They are so fucking nice. But they too came to me. I guess I've kinda got the best of both worlds in my personal neighborhood profile. See I must be tough, because I'm an ex-cop, right? And they figure my new found liberal values would make me sensitive to the suffering of me neighbors. We've all already tried calling the actual cops several times, even myself personally since I know some of them, but they just never come around at the right time. And they refuse to have someone talk to them, or their parents who we have never seen since those kids moved in. And most of them are all too scared to deal with the issue personally, because they have small dogs and all, and of course the Satan worshipers (Christian parents words, not mine) would surely sacrifice the dogs to 2pac." Their was a few attempts to personally deal with the issue by the neighbors, but they were all received with threats of violence. Nothing big but very assholish behavior to say the least.
All together they seriously set up a meeting to discuss this issue, and they want me to present it. This basically means that they expect me to come up with the plan, and execute it myself. I didn't want to deal with this. Yes I was annoyed about this, but I also remembered my cop days dealing with these neighborhood issues. It was three or four weeks of nightly calls. It's time for neighbors to start fighting back without cops, or ex-cops for that matter. My wife came up with a great suggestion, "Give them an impossibly ridiculous idea, they will think you are the biggest idiot stoner in the world, they'll never bother you bout this again, and they will still like you because you live with me." It was perfect.
But it backfired...it back fired so very terribly. Here was my idea. The pot smoke most certainly came around the same time every night. And after weeks of surveillance by old guy on the corner, who of course was a marine in the Korean conflict, we learned that no less than three fucking bowls are smoked by all seven of them, but it's done so in a fifteen minute period. So I told the neighborhood crime watchers that I wanted to approach the kids alone. Right after the last puff is puffed I would walk up innocently, and I will ask them to very kindly to cut the crap. When they would start either getting aggressive or questioning I would simply raise my arms up and scream "I..." and cue large speakers placed all around the neighborhood blasting, "......have.........had it!!!!"
At this point several of the neighbors would emerge from their houses in very old worn clothing, and pale expressions, slowly lurching towards the teen house while grunting for human flesh. At this point in my plan the teens would run into the house as the zombies advanced. As soon as the door closes everyone, zombies and all run back to their houses. Well except for me, I would simply stand on the sidewalk staring at the house, while everyone in their houses flickered their porch and inside lights. I would give a middle finger, and walk back to my home. Of course the teens would surely call the police, or their blood curdling screams would prompt old man who lives on the corner to call the police, who will no doubt surely arrest them for being impossibly high.
Yep, that was the plan, a real shit storm. Product of a 30 year old, internet addicted, stressed out, homeowner. Remember how I said it backfired? Well my Christian neighbors have an incredibly loud home theater system. And it's wireless, and did I mention it was fucking loud. The wireless connection on this thing is incredible too. You can place all six speakers (without a subwoofer which is wired) like fifteen feet away from each other, and they work through walls. I know they work that well because they used them to provide sound for the neighborhood block party. The one that those pesky teens ate all the food at, but didn't bring a dish to. And the "gay" neighbors down the street also happen to do makeup at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts, they are calculating how much pale makeup is needed to give each neighbor a good coating. And the really nice serial killer couple just happens to have a bunch of boxes of old raggity clothing, for people of all ages and sizes, just sitting in their basement. So suspicious. But here is the kicker, we've got about 11 neighbors to sign up to play zombies, with reinforcements on the way as promised by the rednecks, because you know they have like twelve relatives living in their house. When I told some cop buddies about this ridiculous plan, they said they would make sure to be on call in our neighborhood. Seriously.
Guys they actually want to go through with this. I had to go to their follow-up meeting an hour ago just to confirm that this is what they really want. I just don't know. If video taped it could be wonderful, but The Christians, the old man, and the firefighter have asked the question, "what if they have guns?" But that is usually followed by giggles as they try on raggity clothes.
Well...fuckers are out again. Tonight may be the night....but probably not. I don't think I can do this. I also have small dogs, and I don't want them to be sacrificed to dead rappers.
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
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