Jeopardy Clue of the Day for September 2nd

Today’s Jeopardy (Tournament of Champions) Clue of the Day:

The $800 clue from the Double Jeopardy round category HOW’S YOUR LATIN?

“LITERALLY “RARE BIRD”, IT’S USED TODAY TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING VERY UNUSUAL”

Answer:

“WHAT IS RARA AVIS ?”

Used today? Used by who? I’ve never heard it used once. What snooty jackass goes around saying “rara avis”? '”My that coat of yours is so rara avis!” “That accent you have is remarkably rara avis.” “It’s so rara avis of you to be showing me your breasts when I haven’t even plied you with alcohol yet.” On second thought, maybe it’s not such a bad phrase.

- Lenny

Jeopardy Clue of the Day for August 31st

Today’s Jeopardy (Tournament of Champions) Clue of the Day:

The $1000 clue from the Jeopardy round category ALSO A VEGAS CASINO

“A COUPLE OF OWLS”

Answer:

“WHAT ARE HOOTERS?”

Few things in life take me back like this clue just has…

I once wrote something for 12th grade English class entitled “An Ode to Hooters: A Poem” (though I wasn’t talking about owls or casinos).

Then a year or so later, during my freshman year at CSUN, an MTV crew came to campus and was filming remotes for Loveline. I was filmed reciting my poem for Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew Pinsky, as well as their guest on the night it aired, the musician Poe.

That clip of me on Loveline was selected as a highlight for Talk Soup, hosted by John Henson at the time. (As a sidenote, I did some work in Henson’s house a few years back and recited the poem for him, but he didn’t remember it.)

According to a friend, this same clip was then chosen as one of the year’s best on Talk Soup’s year end blowout show. This last accolade I can’t say that I myself bore witness to, so I shall label it “alleged”.

Everything else I written here is complete truth. Aside from the few and far between locker-room recitations, the poem is, for all intents and purposes, retired.

Bonus Jeopardy (Tournament of Champions) Clue of the Day:

The $200 clue from the Jeopardy round category CHALLENGING THE BARTENDER

“BARKEEP, IF YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF A MOSCOW MULE YOU CAN PROBABLY STILL GUESS THIS IS ITS PRIMARY LIQUOR”

Answer:

“WHAT IS VODKA?”

Ah Vodka, she is a cruel mistress.

- Lenny

From IMDb (8/30/09)

A recent headline from IMDb’s News wire:

Twilight Medic on Call to Help Hyperventilating Fans

From the story:

“Medics are on standby on the set of the Twilight movies, to help fans overcome by the sight of their idols.”

And later:

“We've met many different fans…the hyperventilators, who stop breathing and have to have a medic come…”

What? Why? Give these “fans” exactly what they want. Skip the medics, and just let them die! Darwin people, Darwin! If these people stop breathing out of excitement(?), are they really the kind of people we want as part of our society, breeding, populating the gene pool?
Well, are they?
No!
They are not.
Think about it, they’d be dying in the presence of their “idols”, in essence, dying in pure bliss. It would be the equivalent of me dying between a pair of sweet luscious bosoms (I have several dozen pairs of boobies in mind that I’d gladly die between, email me for names).
- Lenny

Ninja Cheerleaders! Yes, I said Ninja…Cheerleaders!

 

Incredibly Awesome?

Ninjas? Super Crazy Awesome!

Cheerleaders? Yummy Tasty Yes Please!

Ninjas and Cheerleaders? Quite possibly just about the Best Thing Ever!

Okay, so then what about Ninja Cheerleaders? Surprisingly, not so great.

Okay, well then how about Ninja Cheerleader Strippers? HA!

Ha?

Ha I said! More on this later…

So…

I knew nothing of this movie going in. I was merely flipping through the onscreen guide, saw that title, and couldn’t hit the “record” button fast enough. Luckily(?) the movie hadn’t started yet.

What we should have had with Ninja Cheerleaders (not to be confused with Cheerleader Ninjas), actually, let me rephrase that…what I was hoping we would have had with Ninja Cheerleaders, was something on par with the campy tongue in cheek greatness of Rodriguez & Tarantino’s Grindhouse (Planet Terror & Death Proof).

Instead what we have here is a case where the whole is lesser than the sum of it’s parts.

Want to touch the heinie?

Ninja Cheerleaders stars a Real World slut (but which one? There are so many…) by the name of Trishellle Cannatella, who makes my ears bleed when she Yippee-Ki-Yay’s. You hear me? She Yippee. Ki. Yay’s. The blasphemer!

Trishelle plays Courtney. Courtney is supposed be a barely legal Co-Ed. The other two tarts that put the “s” in Cheerleaders (to make it plural, cause there are 3 of them, gosh), April and Monica, are introduced as 18-year-olds. So to account for the clearly-pushing-30 Trishelle in the role, they age Courtney up a bit, making her 19 (A producers job never ends I tells ya! You gotta ABT. Always be tlosing? No silly, you gotta always be thinking.), and by definition, sophisticated and worldly. Thus, her favorite band is the L.A. Philharmonic, in contrast to her fellow ninja Clanmate’s favorites – the Killers and the Strokes.

Speaking of April and Monica, they are played by Ginny Weirick and Maitland McConnell, respectively. April is the no-nonsense worrywart stick in the mud and Monica is the flirty, bubbly dreamer.

I must confess something here. I’ve got a little crush on Maitland, who seems to be the only one of the three leads that understands what movie she’s in and rolls with it. She’s also the only one here with any concept of timing and delivery. Oh, and did I mention, she’s cute as a button to boot, with a smile that’ll make you melt! See for yourselves:

And one more, just because:

Swiss cheese?

There’s the saying, “a plot hole so big you could drive a truck through it”. Ninja Cheerleaders should be so lucky. The holes it suffers from aren’t merely in the plot, but in the very fabric of logic.

The movie opens with the girls in full ninja garb infiltrating an Army Base to steal a ninja sword from the on-base museum. Yes, you read that right, the on-base museum. Again, to clarify, this wasn’t a military museum open to the public, this was a museum…on an Army Base, and presumably strictly for the soldiers. Not a storage warehouse where they’ve hidden away the Ark of the Covenant, but a look-but-don’t-touch museum…that displays ninja swords. Nice to see we’re off to such a strong start.

After they’ve stolen the sword and replaced it with an imposter, they proceed to seemingly take out the entire 1st Infantry Division. Umm, hello, they’re ninjas! They’re supposed to use stealth and cunning to achieve their objective, which was to get the sword! Beating up the Army serves no purpose but to call attention to themselves and let it be known that they were there. They actually sneak up behind the soldiers and initiate the attack! If they needed to do this to get to the sword in the first place, that’s one thing, but do it just to do it? What the fuck is that shit!?!! It’s things like this that make me wonder if writer/director David Presley had ever seen a single ninja movie prior to making Ninja Cheerleaders. For Shame!

After the sword theft, we cut to the girls in their sensei Hiroshi’s dojo. Hiroshi is played by, wait for it…George Takei. Why he’s slumming it here is beyond me. Maybe, like me, he saw that title and believed in his heart of hearts that this was destined for greatness, but instead needed a quadruple bypass upon seeing the final product (see, it came full circle, “quadruple bypass” linked us back to “heart of hearts” – who takes care of you like I do?).

Hiroshi congratulates them on completing their final task of stealing the sword and officially pronounces them ninjas, saying:

“I am proud of you. The sword of our Order has been returned. It has been a long road…and it has taken you many years. Returning the sword was your final test. The Order has accepted you.”

There are oh-so-many problems I have with that mini speech of his…

“It has taken you many years.” Really? Many years? Many, years? They are 18, 18, & 19. How many years did it take them exactly? No wait, let me guess, the three white girls were born into it! Did they start their ninja training in the womb?

And better yet, where is the rest of their Order? Shouldn’t they be surrounding the newest members as they are sworn in? And if there is this whole Order, how come none of them ever went after the sword? But more about the Order a little later on.

So getting the sword back is a big deal, huh? A long, arduous task. One of high risk, but even higher reward, culminating with an acceptance to an ancient and secret fighting clan. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a fucken kickass storyline to me. I guess maybe that’s why I’m never gonna get anywhere in life.

Instead of the indubitable awesomeness that could have been, we’re burdened with a half-thought, convoluted mess of a plot, chock full of contrived scenario after contrived scenario. The basic outline goes like this:

• Three Junior College Cheerleaders train with a sensei to become ninjas
• They’re also studying for finals with the hopes of transferring to an Ivy League school
• In order to be able to afford this new transfer school they make money on the side stripping
• Luckily, there’s a huge dance-off coming up, which if they win, will put their college fund over the top
• Once their college fund is over the top, they can stop stripping, because they’re honorable and only did it for the cash
• Their sensei is kidnapped and they must rescue him while outwitting a nosy cop
• The kidnappers also stole their college money
• The deadline for our cheerleader ninjas to rescue their sensei is the same day as their last final, which also happens to be the same day as the big strip competition
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• Spoiler…
• They ace their finals, rescue their sensei, get their money back, and win the competition! Hooray!!

Some of the guffaws in more detail:

Ninja sensei Hiroshi’s dojo should be restricted to members of the Order, as would only be logical. Instead we get as a first time walk-in, Milli, or is it Vanilli, whichever one is still alive, doing his best to channel William Zabka in The Karate Kid while sparring with April. I wonder how this ends?

All three girls are geniuses with perfect gpa’s? Granted, this is at Junior College, but somehow, they all get into Brown. I mean sure, they look smart:

I don’t know, I never went to Brown, but I guess their admission standards are pretty lax. I’ll stick with my State School degree, thank you very much!

Oh, and I guess in this economy, senseiing just ain’t paying the bills, because Hiroshi has to moonlight. Luckily, he was able to find the only other profession imaginable that actually equals the level of pride and nobility one holds as a ninja sensei. Hiroshi’s second job? Club owner of the “STRIP PALACE”.

Which brings us back to what I mentioned earlier about Ninja Cheerleader Strippers. Yep, our “proud” sensei has his star ninja pupil’s “stripping” in his club. See those quotation marks around “stripping”, that’s because they never strip! As April tells it – “I’m not a stripper, I’m a Go Go Dancer”. Except, you know, for the fact that you work at a place called the STRIP PALACE!!!

Another scenario has a handful of Navy Gilligan’s in full regalia attempt gang-rape on our heroines only to get their poopdecks handed to them.

And why does a ninja sensei need a big scary black man for a bouncer? Was this an affirmative action thing? Why not just get another member of the Order to do it? Or one of your students? Or all of your students. Call it a part of their training and you don’t even need to pay them!

Speaking of which, if there’s a whole Order of ninjas, how come only the three newest, and by extension, least experienced members of the Order go out to rescue him? And forget about newest for a minute, how come only three ninjas were dispatched to rescue an abducted sensei? Cause that makes perfect sense.

And while we’re on the subject, how was Hiroshi able to get kidnapped? Did he let it happen as another test for his three ladies, to see if they could actually save him? Or is this a case of “those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach”?

Oh, and do you know who he was kidnapped by? The mafia, naturally. They wouldn’t be doing their due diligence if they hadn’t stuffed this movie with every recognizable caricature they could think of. Including the cop that keeps being outsmarted by three teenagers.

Where did it all go so wrong?

See all of the above, plus…

The production value? I seen better quality on YouTube. Was the cinematographer color blind? Or possibly even blind blind? And my god, the transitions!! Random topless broads caressing a pole, ninjas doing their most ninja-y (ninjaly(?), ninjy(?), ninjary (?)) poses, pom-pom waving cheerleaders or any combination thereof, serve as buffers between scenes. You remember the Simpsons episode where Homer makes a dating video for Ned and every 4 seconds there’s a star wipe? Well, it’s exactly like that, except with ninjas, tits, and pom-poms, but I assure you, it is no less pedestrian.

Also, I’ve known several strippers in my day, er, I mean, I have a friend who’s known several strippers in his day, and not a single one has ever danced under her real name. So when they introduce our titular characters onstage, it’s not as Charity, Aurora, and Magnificent, but as Courtney, April, and Monica. So not only has Presley never seen American Ninja, but he’s also never been to the Titty Twister (2nd Tarantino/Rodriguez shoutout tonight, what am I blowing them?!?!!)? Seriously, this guy has no business coming anywhere near a genre movie, let alone writing and directing one.

Then there was ear bleed moment #2, courtesy of April – “It’s a ninja thing.”

Oh and the pervy cheerleading coach who could have only been more stereotypical if they had made him a her, and a lesbian, and butch.

Oh, and oh! The autistic evil lady ninja working for the mob…always referring to herself in the third person – Kinji! Think an Asian female version of South Park’s Timmy, subtract the wheelchair and you’re not far off.

At this point, I’ve written over 1850 words about Ninja Cheerleaders, when only four were needed – This Movie’s Fucken Lame. But I feel I would be doing all of you a disservice if I didn’t cover one last important aspect. Perhaps even the most important aspect. Titties! I said tit-tays!

An intrinsic part of any movie like Ninja Cheerleaders are bare naked flopping free breasts, nipples and all. I really am dumbfounded that in a movie called Ninja Cheerleaders, where our three protagonists are not only cheerleaders, but strippers as well, we never so much as get side boob from them. This disgusts me. Things like this set genre movies back nine decades. Why not just have them dressed like this the whole time:

As a rule of thumb, tit’s always, always, always, make a movie better. For instance, I love The Goonies, it’s without a doubt one of my absolute favorite movies, but you know what, it would have been exponentially better had Kerri exposed her Greens. So when a movie is essentially built to showcase tits, this rule is especially true.

We had a scene where these three are studying…in bed! In bed? In bed I said! And yet there is nary a tickle nor pillow fight. No truth or dare. No experimentation of any kind. But why the fuck not? I’m sure that slut Trishelle would have gladly dropped her top, as she’s done it before (things haven’t started sagging already, have they?). So are you telling me the other two refused? They were cast in a movie called Ninja Cheerleaders for Pete’s sake! What were they expecting, Shakespeare? But a better question is why cast leads in Ninja Cheerleaders that refuse to disrobe? Please don’t tell me it’s because they were the best ones at the audition…I shudder to think what the rest of the hopefuls were like if these were the cream of the crop.

Not that having the three cheerleaders lezzin’ out would have saved this movie, but that’s all the more reason to have put it in – as penance for forcing us to sit through this schlock.

To be fair, there was a 4-6 second scene with two random topless broads, but this was far too little, too late.

Anyway…

- Lenny

Lenny Vs. A Gift Horse

So last night I met up with my cousin “Glen” and his soon-to-be “Jen” (not their real names), at Islands in Encino. They got there before me, and almost as soon as I sat down “Jen” pulled out her iPhone and started pecking away at it. All the following quotes in this write-up are as close to exact as I could remember, but even in the parts where I paraphrased, the gist is still the same.

“Jen”:

“Oh, here, I wanted to show you something. Hopefully it’s working because I couldn’t get in earlier”

“Glen”:

“What do you want to show him?”

“Jen”:

“His favorite thing.”

Me:

“Big fat tits?”

“Glen”:

“Wow, really? That’s your favorite thing?”

Me:

“That actually surprises you?”

“Jen”:

“Okay, your second favorite thing.”

A look of puzzlement blankets “Glen’s” face.

Me:

“Pumas!”

“Jen”:

“Yep.”

“Glen”:

“So those are your two favorite things? In that order?”

Me:

“Yeah, and my third favorite is tri-tip.”

“Glen”:

“So tits are your number one favorite thing? Interesting.”

Me :

“Actually, I said big fat tits are my favorite thing…But you know what, I take that back, if a girl is offering, I’ll take ‘em any size I can get ‘em. Who am I to look a gift tit in the nipple?”

“Glen” & “Jen” in unison:

“Huh, what?”

Me:

“I won’t look a gift tit in the nipple”.

“Glen”:

“I don’t get it.”

“Jen”:

“Yeah, me neither.”

Me (exasperated):

“You’ve never heard the phrase ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?!”

“Glen” & “Jen”:

“No. Never.”

I was flabbergasted, astonished, bewildered even.

And right at the moment, as if on cue, our waitress Gemmika (her real name. Though I might not be spelling it right, it’s phonetically correct. Go see her and tip big, she was a sweetheart) came over.

Me:

“Hi, excuse me, I’m sorry, but have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?”

Gemmika (somewhat afraid, because apparently that’s the emotion I provoke in good-looking women):

“Umm, no. Sorry.”

My world was spinning off it’s axis! Did I make the phrase up? Did it really not exist? How can nobody have heard of it?

It’s like I was living in some Bizzaro World!

But no! I wasn’t crazy, I knew what I knew. And I knew I was right.

Gemmika was maybe 19, 22 at the oldest, so that’s her excuse.

But “Glen” & “Jen”? “Glen” will be 32 in January. “Jen” will be 30(?) in December. They’ve both had enough years on this earth to pick up this uber-common phrase. There’s no excuse for them.

Gemmika took our order and left.

“Jen”:

“So don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but what does that even mean?”

“Glen”:

“Yeah.”

I began:

“When someone gifts you a horse, as in gives you the gift of a horse, gives you a free horse…”

“Jen”:

“Oh, I thought you said a gifted horse.”

“Glen”:

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said too.”

Me:

“No, not a gifted horse! This isn’t a horse with a high IQ. This isn’t a horse that got a perfect score on it’s SAT’s. This isn’t a horse that’s a member of Mensa. It’s a gift horse. A gift. Horse.”

“Glen” & “Jen”:

“Oh, okay, so what does it mean?”

I explained it to them much as it is explained here:

http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/don't_look_a_gift_horse_in_the_mouth

And here:

http://www.usingenglish.com/reference/idioms/don't+look+a+gift+horse+in+the+mouth.html

This origin of the phrase:

http://www.trivia-library.com/b/origins-of-sayings-dont-look-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth.htm

…backs up my proclamations to “Glen” & “Jen” that “the phrase has been around for ages!”

“Glen”:

“Okay, so what did you say again about a nipple?”

Do you see what I’m dealing with here folks?

I repeated:

“I won’t look a gift tit in the nipple.”

“Glen” grinned:

“Meaning you’ll take any tit that’s offered to you.”

Me:

“Correct.”

“Jen”:

“See, that makes sense.”

Then “Jen” called her friend to see if the friend had ever heard the phrase. She had.

“Glen” refused to call any of his friends, for fear of looking stupid in front of them. It’s always gotta be a pissing contest with this guy I tell ya.

When Gemmika came back with the appetizers she informed us that she asked her co-worker about it. The co-worker was (thankfully) familiar with the phrase, and had explained it her.

As a quick side note, all the damn waitresses at every Islands I’ve ever been to are crazy attractive. I’ll even go so far as to say that the Islands waitresses put the Hooters girls to shame. Granted Hooters takes the title in the “slut” department, but Islands beats them in the “probably won’t give me syphilis” category, hands down.

So I was proven right by “Jen’s” friend and by Gemmika’s co-worker, though that didn’t stop me from having to answer the question “why a gift horse and not a gift cow”. But despite that, it was good to be me…what can I say, it’s these small victories that get me through each day.

But the real cherry on top…would have been getting Gemmika’s phone number, but we knew before we even began that that was never gonna happen…no, the real cherry on top? I come home and sit down to watch an episode of Royal Pains, during which I’m treated to this bit of dialogue:

“Welcome to the world Jill. In my experience, first rule of charity work – never stare a funding source in the mouth.”

- Lenny

Inside My DVR: Hot Dog…The Movie

STATS

Title: Hot Dog…The Movie

Rated: R

Network: Flix West

Channel: 295

Date Recorded: Monday, July 13, 2009

Airing At: 3:45am

Running Time: 96 min

Guide Summary: “(1984), *, Rivalry among overgrown adolescents at a skiing competition in Squaw Valley, Cal. (Comedy)”

THOUGHTS

Boy they sure don’t make ‘em like this anymore. And I’ll tell you what, it’s a damn shame that they don’t! I mean, look at the fucken poster! Who wouldn’t wanna watch that?

First off, about 11 minutes in, you hear me – 11 minutes in(!), you’ve got not only the first of dozens of sets of tits, but you’ve also got bush! And it’s 80’s bush at that, so it should really count as four bush (bushes?) by today’s standards.

A mere 8 minutes later, we’re treated to a wet t-shirt contest (I use the word “contest” loosely, because when t-shirts are wetted, we’re all winners) hosted by “Lester the Molester” in a redneck bar, with no less than 11 contestants! The t-shirts are summarily discarded and it becomes a Wetitstravaganza^TM backed by the up-tempo Bluegrass styling's of a good ol’ boy band (I told you it was a redneck bar). And just why was this scene necessary? …I’m sorry, who let a feminist into my blog? It was necessary because it was 1984 and that’s the kind of shit that happened back then!

Let just get this out of the way right now, the plotting is pretty terrible and also, the two leads have absolutely no chemistry. Their “acting” is stiff, and their timing is frigid. Each scene they share plays like they just got their lines moments before the cameras rolled.

These leads are:

Patrick Houser, who is quite swoon-worthy, especially during a scene where he channels Keith Carradine circa Nashville with his own “I’m Easy” type guitar seduction. He plays Harkin Banks, a country bumpkin ski phenom from Bonners Ferry, Idaho, “where the men are men, and the sheep are nervous”.

And:

Tracy Smith who plays Sunny. Tracy possesses a natural beauty that was indicative of the era. Sadly, the most we see of her is some (substantial) side boob and a bit of ass. Her line “I ain’t going down on a guy at 65 miles an hour just for a crummy ride” begs the question, at what speed would she go down on a guy for a crummy ride?” Or is it not the speed of the car, but the gender of the driver? Hmm…

But I mean really, this movie has it all (in no particular order):

• That Poster!
• The “Kiss-Ass Blaster” – the ski jump equivalent of the “Triple Lindy”
• A German Victory Song
• A Snowball Ambush
• A rad 80’s soundtrack of “can-do!” themed power ballads
• The ubiquitous “Big Party” and the fabled “Private Tour”
• Storage room shenanigans and their end results
• A ridiculous “Chinese” Downhill free-for-all where our man Harkin is sent skiing into the open door of a building and out the other side, right through a plate glass window to win the race
• The broomball battle that inspired the classic - “we were small, but we were slow”
• And oh yeah, Shannon Tweed!!!

Shannon’s role here as Sylvia is pioneering. Not only does Shannon expose her hefty Tweeds (yay Women’s Lib! I guess feminists aren’t all bad), but also, this is the role that is invariably the grandmother of the current Cougar movement.

And Oh My God the stereotypes! It’s Stereotypes galore! There’s:

• Rudi Garmisch, the Asshole German with a Superiority Complex and yes-man cronies known as the “Rudettes”
• Dan O’Callahan, the washed-up star turned mentor who takes our hero under his wing
• Kendo Yamamoto, “Kamikaze”, the Japanese  national who wears a Rising Sun bandana throughout, doesn’t speak a word of English save for a comedic punch line leading into the films climax, and cracks open peanut shells via karate chop
• Squirrel Murphy, the stoner/druggie ski bum whose best pick-up line is “I suppose a fuck’s out of the question”
• Michelle, “Banana Pants”, the girl member of the crew who’s just one of the guys
• Slasher, the metalhead constantly cranking tunes on high through his headphones

And because no stereotype heavy movie would be complete without, we have:

• The Man, in this case - unethical ski officials

Despite the seeming knocks against it, Hot Dog had some clever and witty dialogue. Some selected favorites:

“You people, stay out of auur way! You may ski on zat side, oarr on zat side, but ztay out of zhe mittle heere!”

“Hey Rudi, you can kiss my ass. Not on this side, not on that side, but right in zhe middle!”

And this:

“I had Sunny zide up, and I had Sunny side down, unt I had Sunny zide all zhe way around.”

And also this, a Cat Fight turned plot-of-a-scene-I-desperately-wish-had-been-included (between Shannon Tweed and Tracy Smith when Sylvia comes across Sunny’s first attempt at skiing):

“I saw you fall. I thought I could stop and give you a few pointers.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a couple, so why don’t you point ‘em that way and crawl out of my sight!”

“Ah, you gotta learn to bend your knees.”

“Get your momma to bend ‘er knees, I don’t have time.”

“That way you could suck up the bumps.”

“Tehehehehe. Ahhh you do know how to do that don’t you?!”

“Here let me give you a hand…I can see why Harkin likes you.”

“Oh I get it, switch hitter. First Harkin and now me. You really are a sicko lady.”

“Maybe you and Harkin and we can all, uh, get together later.”

But lest we forget, this is, above all else a ski movie. Now, I don’t know squat about skiing, but from a laymen’s viewpoint, the ski footage was pretty damn spectacular, especially the Ski Ballet scenes (does anyone still do this?). Something really nice to look at in a movie filled with really nice things to look at.

This movie is great because it’s unapologetic in it’s awesomeness as an R-rated ski comedy, and dammit we need more movies like this. A movie where we can check our brains at the door and just embrace the excess.

The 1980’s - when the movies were bad and we loved them for it.

Now before I go, there is one real gripe I have about this flick and it’s that Vicky, the “Girl in Gondola” played by Victoria Rae Miller, wearing the easy access red sweater, never let’s her Rae Millers out to breathe – did she forget what movie she was in?!

Come on!

- Lenny

Lenny Vs. Boob Power

Welcome to my newest series “Lenny Vs.” I even made a logo. You like?

I come across many articles that I have issues with. Or, maybe “have issues with” isn’t quite right, I mean, yes, some I may have issues with, while others I have questions about, and still others I simply want to comment on and/or add my own insight.

The titles of each post of this series will be “Lenny Vs.” and then the article title.

As you can see, for my first outing I take on “Boob Power”, an article at Nerve.com by Bianca Merbaum (read it for yourself here). Being a lover of all things mammary, it seemed a natural choice to kick off this column.

In the article Bianca experiments to see if flaunting her impressive assets (quantified below) will get her things. Um, yes, yes it will. In spades. Without having to ask. And more than you asked for if you did ask.

“The last time I checked my size I was a 36DD, but according to my bra fitter, Chauntelle, I was a 30F.”

Bianca, you hard me at had me at, had me at, you had me at 36DD, but good lord…30F?!??!! How you doin’?

On a side note, I have a new personal hero and her name is Chauntelle. A great human being who has found a way to get paid to do something that I would do for free.

Is it possible to will a job to somebody? I mean I know with royalty when the King dies, his son the Prince steps up. But it is possible that if Chauntelle were to meet an untimely demise, she could deed her position as bra fitter to, oh I don’t know, maybe someone that considers her a personal hero? Anyway…

Bianca goes on to write:

“Hot damn! I thought, admiring my protruding cleavage. For the first time, my breasts were…looking instead like balls of plump, peach-colored cushion. There was something incredibly appealing about the supple curves of my chest, the soft bounce of them when I moved and the subtle crease in the middle.”

Excuse me, I think I need a minute…

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…(baseball stats)…

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…(Rosie O’Donnell)…

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…(starving kids in Africa)…

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…(Paris Hilton).

Okay I’m good.

I think Bianca’s sweet. A sweet large breasted naive little thing. Naive because any woman that would wonder, let alone not know unequivocally that boobs make the world go ‘round must have lived a sheltered life.

Given her last name and the fact that she uses “shvitzing” in the article, I’m guessing she just recently escaped the Orthodoxy and is experiencing her own Jewish form of Rumspringa.

What’s more, she doesn’t even really test the theory out. Her first experiment was trying to see if men would sign a petition to save bananas for the monkeys. Sweetie, with the right amount of cleave, a straight guy would sign a petition claiming his mother was a whore.

As for her second experiment, where she sees how many free drinks she can get:

“…gone to a bar flaunting my cleavage…”

And:

“…I brought a friend of mine whose boobs, next to mine, looked like corn kernels.”

She says that she meets a guy outside that “eye-fucks” her (a Jewish girl with F-cups and a mouth like a sailor – I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to belt out a rendition of Hava Nagila while dancing the Hora) and continues to ply her with $14 drinks all night. While her friend, she says, only gets one free drink from a gay guy.

As a result she claims her experiment a success. I say at best it’s incomplete. You see, as any guy will tell you, even those like me who prefer breasts of the “bigger is better” variety (so long as they’re natural), it’s not the size of the breast that matters, it’s the willingness of the girl to let me touch them. I’m more willing to chat up a lady with smaller breasts if I think I have a chance at meeting them, than a blessed girl with whose breasts I shall never be acquainted.

So you see, we were given no indication as to how her friend with the “corn kernels” was dressed or behaving, whereas Bianca’s own admission that she was flaunting her cleavage would lead most guys to believe that she was down to fuck. Unless of course she was of the much maligned cocktease variety of woman. Plus the fact that Bianca wouldn’t have shot any guy down that night, if only for the sake of the experiment. So therefore again, experiment incomplete.

If there was one bright spot that came out of the article/experiment, it is this:

“For me, it was an empowering epiphany, and removed any lingering thoughts I had of getting breast-reduction surgery.”

If this article had ended with her getting the surgery, or even still considering it, I very well may have cried. Five feet tall with F-cups is a-okay in my book!

- Lenny