MamaPop™

Mike Tyson: The Zoloft Isn't Working (Part Deux)

New Flash: Our favorite psychotic boxer was arrested last night on DUI/Cocaine possession charges.

Because if there's one thing Mike Tyson needs, its cocaine. A little extra energy to help with the, umm, eating babies and punching women. Its all very draining.

You Kiss Your Pimp Daddy with that Mouth?

By Izzy

I knew those skanky dolls were bad news... It seems parents now have yet another reason not to buy their daughter a Bratz doll as at least one of them escaped the factory with a full-on pottymouth! I know, I know... It's not supposed to be funny but I couldn't help laughing when I heard that a six year old Florida girl received a singing Bratz doll for Christmas named "Jade" that apparently has a penchant for swearing and is particularly fond of the words "fuck" and "bitch." They're two of my personal favorites, as well, but I don't want some ugly ass doll singing them to my kids. Gah!

I can't wait to hear how the manufacturers explain their way out of this one. Heheh...This is WAY better than that Tinky Winky scandal from a few years back. And if I were those people, I'd hang on to "Jade", you know...for um, evidence. Dude!!! She's worth a fortune on eBay!

You can hear watch the news video and hear the doll sing a lame bleeped out version of her song here.

Was I the Next American Idol's Understudy?

After viewing a couple of the promo spots for American Idol 6, I recognized someone:

Dudes! I totally went to high school with her!

We did drama together! We were always competing for the same roles, except for the singing ones because she could sing and I could...not, like at all. Luckily our school was too small to do that many musicals. In fact, the only one we ever did was some low-rent knock-off of Beauty & the Beast. She played Beauty. I played a broom, or something. Or maybe a princess? I didn't have any lines, but I think I had to waltz.

However, I DID land the role of Miss Havisham in our production of Great Expectations over her, because no one can play crazy better than me.

NO ONE.

Of course, I have to wait until January to see if she gets any screen time beyond the screaming-crowds-of-hopefuls shots. But that's good, because it gives me time to dig out some old photos and my yearbooks, just in case the tabloids want to buy them. For lots of money.

(Seriously, we all look like total tools in them. Totally perfect for a Before They Were Stars segment. VH1! Call me!)

Shut Up, Old Man

By Amy

Members of the "traditional media" are having a hard time grasping Time magazine's Person of the Year. Old fart conservative columnist George Will reminisces about the good old days when Time named a Man of the Year.

Allow me to translate Mr. Will's comments into plain English: "Wah wah, boo hoo."

Make Your Own Damn Dessert!

By Kelly

I've always been amused by the "As Seen on TV" genre of gifts that become especially prevalent around the holiday season. Stalwarts such as the Chia species of pottery and anything that RonCo ever shat out have been around for ages, and of course there is the recently revived BeDazzler. I feel like we should have a moment of silent observance for the BeDazzler and its remarkable power to make already questionable denim garments such as dark-rinse vests and mom jeans into rhinestoned perversions of clothing. I, for one, quake in its presence.

....

Good to get that out of the way.

But what's great about those gifts is that they cater to the shopping population that has absolutely no idea what to get their mom/sister/cousin/boss/what have you, either because they just don't know the person that well, the gift receiver is just one of those people that is impossible to shop for, or they just don't give shit
what they give people. I imagine that these purchases were even more difficult before the age of the Almighty Gift Card. What these gifts have in common is that they're mildly interesting and not entirely useless but you have to wonder why and how someone noticed a gaping hole in the market for lamb-shaped pottery, food dehydrators, and rhinestone applicators. You also have to wonder why they decided to fill these holes instead of just leaving them alone, which is what sane people do. I think. Lastly, you also have to wonder who has the unfortunate job of marketing these products in a way that makes them seem Totally Practical! Not at All a Waste of Space! Certainly Won't Be Used Twice Before It Meets Its Inevitable End in a Basement or at a Garage Sale! They do need to sell these ridiculous things, after all.

So, as the last-minute Christmas shopping windows starts to close more and more, I've seen commercials for these gifts with increasing frequency. The one that continuously cracks me up is one for The Original Chocolate Factory. This is actually just a double-boiler with some extra accessories like candy molds and dipping utensils, since I guess a lot of people already had double-boilers but were standing around saying, "What the hell am I going to do with all of this melted chocolate? If only had some way to shape it into some other form of confection!"

The commercial opens with a family sitting around a dinner table who have apparently all been drugged. But no! As the announcer narrates for us: "Is your dessert so boring, it's left your family snoring?" There's your angle. Surely millions of housewives are weeping in their kitchen because their desserts are too boring.

Call me crazy, but that's not what I get out of the commercial. Rather, I get the feeling of, "I went to the extra trouble to make you dessert and now you're putting on this narcolepsy act because it's boring and you think I should get a double-boiler in order to save the family? Are you effing serious? Maybe YOU should try making dessert?" And is dessert still such a regular part of everyday family dinners?

Or am I totally wrong? Is that an appropriate way to approach a gift-giving opportunity?

"Here. I heard that your desserts sucked so I figured I'd take the guess-work out for you. No need to thank me."

I bet I get one.

The first in probably what will be a long, head-smacking series

Noah's grandparents gave him the 25th Anniversary edition of Disney's The Fox & The Hound for Christmas. We put it on a few hours later, with both Jason and I remembering it as one of our favorites from childhood.

DEAR GOD. WHAT THE FUCK, DISNEY?

I know, I know. Disney movies ALWAYS kill the mother off in the first five minutes. Hunters are the classic villian. It's a damn ALLEGORY, or something. But DEAR GOD. After multiple scenes of dead animal pelts piled to the ceiling and dogs falling off railroad tracks and foxes being set ON FIRE and a BEAR and a dude in a BEAR TRAP and animals just generally getting the shit beat out of them, it's safe to say that I really repressed about 95.7% of this movie.

Turns out all I remembered was that there was a fox and a hound and they were friends, and I think they chased butterflies together, and shit. The End,

On the First Day of Christmas the Internets Gave to Me

By Amy

Plenty of sites have been highlighting and sharing some excellent Christmas music, but you're asking, "Where can I find some real crap to play for the holidays?" Allow me to introduce the Twelve Days of Mellowmas, presented by (and alternating between) Jefitoblog and Jason Hare. There are some doozies here (Air Supply, Starland Vocal Band, Stephen Bishop), but even better than the songs themselves are Jeff and Jason's commentary. Like their dissection of Dan Fogelberg's "Another Auld Lang Syne":

Jason: Their tongues were tired, and they didn't even kiss? Their tongues were tired from TALKING? THAT'S Mellow Gold, my friend. Dude, this song ends with the line "The snow turned into rain." That's the MOST AWFUL way to end a Christmas song.

Jeff: And cue the goddamn sax. Dan Fogelberg is Mellow Gold's Charlie Brown. You can see him walking to his car, head comically down.

If your holiday guests have over-stayed their welcome, nothing will clear the room like REO Speedwagon singing "I Believe in Santa Claus".

Happy Holidays, 24 Style

Those of you who are fans of the show "24" should get a kick out of this:

Lay-dee-oh-da, Lay-dee-oh-da-loo

By Amy Davis

The 17-year-old Catholic school girl in me really loves this new Gwen Stefani video. So it must be some deep-rooted Catholic guilt that keeps me from wanting to admit that the 38-year-old me also really digs it.

What the Black Dahlia should have been, now with extra Jake

By Marrit

I was walking down the street minding my own business with plenty of time to get to preschool when it jumped out at me: the poster for David Fincher's Zodiac movie.

I'm going to see this movie for four reasons.

The Zodiac killer has been freaking me out since I was old enough to read the newspaper. He scared California clean out of the Summer of Love; "Dinky" Dean Reisner and Don Siegel retaliated by punishing a Zodiac-like killer in 1971's Dirty Harry. It's the ultimate cold case, still unsolved.

David Fincher has directed this movie using something called the Viper FilmStream(tm) Camera. A cursory bit of Interweb research reveals that the Viper FilmStream(tm) Camera is also used in the production of Lazytown, but that's not the fault of the technology. Apparently the Viper works in extremely low light, enabling David Fincher to make movies that are even darker than before.

There is perhaps no better casting. Self-aggrandizing detective Dave Toschi, who might have forged some of the Zodiac's later letters? Mark Ruffalo:

Crusading journalist Paul Avery? Robert Downey Jr, with neckerchief:

Somewhat likely suspect Arthur Leigh Allen, a creepy child molester? John Carroll Lynch, otherwise known as "Drew Carey's transvestite brother":

Someone has also defrosted Ione Skye for the role of Kathleen Johns, imperiled by the Zodiac killer while her baby was also in the car.

And then there's Jake Gyllenhaal. Jake, Jake, Jake. I will watch Jake Gyllenhaal do just about anything--I recently watched Bubble Boy and was in fact somewhat amused by his motorcycle escapades with Danny Trejo--but I'm ready for him in a circa-1970 police procedural: decent but obsessed, shaving rarely. Like this:

It's like he's saying, "Finch, I don't get it. Why can't we turn the lights on?"

[Marrit is a film critic for the Austin Chronicle and others.]

The Jim and Pam Story Told through Countless iMovies

By Amanda

Okay, so I think we have already established the depth of my love for NBC's The Office (I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of this shirt in my wardrobe), but tonight, via YouTube, I discovered a whole different breed of fan: the amateur director who crafts something called "fanvids."

Apparently, there are dozens of amateur directors seting the Jim and Pam story to (often) cheesy music.

People? There is less than a week left before Christmas and I have presents to buy. I have to wrap and mail a few of them to Europe. I moved into a new house two weeks ago and have about fifty boxes to unpack so that I can stop wearing the same three pairs of pants and start cooking instead of ordering out every night. My to-do list is so out of control right now that I practically need to hire a personal assistant to help me keep my head above water here.

And I just killed an hour watching videos like this one:

I nearly teared up at a couple of them.

Okay, maybe not "nearly."

(Damn, I'm such a loser.)

[Makes shape of "L" with fingers, smacks forehead]

Weird Al Interview With Kevin Federline

Weird Al becomes more and more endearing every day, doesn't he?

GENIUS.

Choosing Sides

By Amanda

So, confession: I am borderline obsessed with NBC's The Office.

My husband and I frequently do Office marathons on weekends, where we will watch the DVDs of seasons one and two back to back, taking breaks only to use the bathroom, get some food, or discuss at length why it is the Most Perfect Show on Television Today, Amen. (But we still miss you, Arrested Development.)

Any day now, one of these should be arriving in the mail. I'd confess to how much money I've spent on Office merchandise in recent weeks (and how only a portion of the loot is serving as gifts for others), but my husband is reading this, and, well, he doesn't need that kind of stress right now.

Anyway, while searching the Web for Office merchandise, I happened upon these:

...and I'm stumped.

Of course, I want to be Team Pam all the way, but she dumped Roy and STILL DIDN'T HOOK UP WITH JIM, OMG. What is wrong with her?!?

(Aside: at least she isn't rocking the perm so hard these days. Standing next to Karen, Pam's a damn mess sometimes. Anyone else hoping for a Pam makeover this season? I have fantasies of her trading in the dumpy hair, bland turtlenecks, and boring skirts for smart trousers, fitted shirts, and--what my friends and I call--Just Got F*#ked Hair. She would become Glam Pam. She'd walk in the office all chic and sexy, and Jim would compliment her on the new look, and she'd be all, "Tell me about it, STUD" just like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease, only Pam WON'T be wearing painted-on pants and she WILL be wearing a bra.)

(It would be awesome.)

(Like I said earlier: borderline obsessed.)

Anyway, where do you stand, people? Which team are you on?

I Pity The Fool

Brace yourselves for TV Land's new original show, fool:

The snapping in half of Jibba-Jabba earned a laugh outloud here.

You're supposed to keep the devil, not the best show ever, down in the hole

By Kelly

Anyone who knows me and talks to me on any kind of regular basis probably groans and rolls their eyes when I start talking about The Wire, because I do so with such frequency and with such verbosity. I think I've begun to resemble a cult member or Amway salesperson whose eyes glass over as she starts in on her diatribe of how she's found The Way and The Truth and The Light, etc.

But since I'm friends with Tracey and she's one of the bosses around here, I feel confident in declaring on this here platform that The Wire is quite literally the best show to ever be on TV. I've ranted on this very subject quite a few times on my own bloggy thingy.

That said, I'd like to turn our focus toward something seemingly unrelated: awards shows. Now, I know, I KNOW, that all of the awards, including my darling Oscars, are arbitrary and political and are not at all a measure of good work or talent. But I still watch and revel in a lot of them, particularly the Oscars and all of the stuff leading
up to them. So when the nominations for the Golden Globes, the constantly-drunk-and-not-clever-enough-to-be-taken-seriously little brother of the Oscars, were announced the other day, my ears perked up. I like to know what movies, screenplays, actors and directors might be seeing nominations when it comes to the Oscars and I also like to see TV shows receiving some big attention on par with movies.

The Wire did not receive a single nomination.

I'm bitter, particularly since The Wire was also snubbed at the Emmys this year. Practically every other HBO show and mini-series took home a statuette. Rightfully so, as HBO consistently produces terrific stuff, but how can The Wire possibly be left out? What is holding the awards folks back from showing The Wire some love? Is it the lack of hot Mormon sex? Or could it be the lack of hot Roman sex? Perhaps if Omar said "Fugeddaboutit," every now and then...

Regardless, The Wire will be gracing us with its presence for one more season. I sincerely hope that by the end of next season they receive SOME mainstream award recognition, meaningless though it might be, for everything that it hass made its viewers feel and realize, for being a powerful black drama at a time when strong roles for women (see: Felicia "Snoop" Pearson and Kima Greggs) and minorities are damn near impossible to come by, for being so unapologetic for its criticism of local and federal government, for its unflinching examination of the role that drugs and crime play in society, and for just being so completely badass.

I believe that we are the two illest characters ever written into being.

[Kelly is a working mom in Pittsburgh, PA who blogs to let the crazy out. She writes about pop culture, her life, her son, her husband, and her **(@*(#(*@ house and enjoys long walks on the beach, big fluffy pillows, gin, and world peace.]

Way To Lose An Entire Day

The Best of Craigslist 2006 is a productivity black hole from which even light cannot escape.

And I'd planned to get so much done today... sigh.

PS: Oh crap, Google Zeitgeist 2006! Now I'm really screwed.

Nip/Tuck Goes To Hollywood

By Izzy

So...Last Tuesday night FX aired the season finale of Nip/Tuck. Any fans out there? I better see lots and lots of hands because seriously...where else, besides in a David Lynch film, are you going to find Scientologists, babies with lobster hands, gory surgical scenes, sex with dwarves, women who smuggle drugs in their ginormous breast implants, transexuals, organ stealing rings, sex addicts, assisted suicide, lesbian cheerleader three ways, do-it-yourself circumcisions and Rosie O'Donnell all in one show, hmmm?

If you don't watch it, I imagine you might be cringing in disgust. I swear it's not as bad as it sounds. Mostly.

For those of us who do enjoy the guilty pleasures of Nip/Tuck, the season is over and the docs have left for Hollywood. Their South Beach adventures covered just about all the seven deadly sins (plus a few totally new ones) and now they get to revisit them all over again in L.A. Wooohoo!

If we're really lucky, though, we won't have to watch Julia Mcnamara, of the permanently clenched asshole, piss and moan and complain ever again. And though I find looking at Matt Mcnamara to be frightening due to his uncanny resemblance to Michael Jackson, his whole Scientology storyline is interesting because it gives you an uncensored peek at the secretive and completely fucking wack "religion" of celebs like Tom Cruise, John Travolta and sadly, Beck. *sigh* Maybe we should have killed him when he asked us to...

Anyway...let's just hope FX doesn't have a repeat performance of last season and take a whole year to get their shit together before they come back with new episodes. I mean Nip/Tuck is good and all but I wait for no show, even when hot dwarf sex is on the table.

[Izzy is a mom of two from the southeast. She practices bad housekeeping and good butt-wiping, sometimes at the same time, and works from home as a graphic designer. You can read more from her at her blog, IzzyMom]