Birthday eve, everyone! BIRTHDAY EVE. Like Christmas Eve, only LESS IMPORTANT TO ANYONE BUT ME. Whoo-hoo! Tomorrow my parents are coming to visit and taking me shopping and to lunch, which is our birthday tradition even though I am old, and then tomorrow night I will be lazing around watching television. So, like most Saturday nights, really, only ON MY BIRTHDAY.
A couple of important things to discuss today. It’s like the potpourri category on Jeopardy. Do I get to be Alex Trebek? If so, I want to be snarky Trebek. My favorite Trebek moments are when he can’t hold in the snark, like when a contestant says a very stupid answer. “This person wrote only one novel in her life; it won a Pulitzer Prize and introduced the world to Atticus Finch and Boo Radley.” “Who is Betsy Ross?” “Oh, NOOOOOO, sorry, NOOOOO, Jenny, Obviously NOOOOOO.” With a little lip-curl. I LOVE THAT. What makes it even more awesome is that you KNOW half the time he wouldn’t know the answers if he didn’t have them on the cards in front of him, so there’s really no call for the ‘tude? But it’s the best and most displacedly righteous. LOVE IT.
OK, so first up on our list of potpourri: Truck Nutz.
In case you weren’t aware something like this existed, please let me enlighten you!
Truck Nutz are anatomically correct plastic or metal or rubber testicles that hang from the back of trucks, by the trailer hitch.
Apparently, these have been around for over ten years, but I have only started seeing them locally for the past year or so. The first time I saw them on my drive home from work, I thought, “Hmm! That truck has something hanging out of its truck bed. Hee hee. It looks like a ballsack.” Then I stopped behind the truck at a stoplight and realized “HOLY HELL IT’S A FAKE BALLSACK AND IT SEEMS TO BE ON PURPOSE.”
Until yesterday, I wasn’t aware they have A REAL NAME AND WEBSITE AND EVERYTHING. Also, they come in many colors and styles. Camo! Realistic fleshtones! BRASS-PLATED, BABY! You know, for that touch o’ class. Also, to show how tough you are. Brass balls. GET IT, BRASS BALLS.
Wikipedia informs me that at least two states are attempting to get these outlawed. Well! What is UP with THAT. How can those states OUTLAW FREE SPEECH. UNAMERICAN! UNAMERICAN! We fought the British for the RIGHT to hang FAKE NUTSACKS FROM OUR TRUCKS GODDAMMIT. When Truck Nutz are outlawed, only outlaws will have Truck Nutz. Dogs! And cats! Living together!
Last night on the drive home, I saw THREE SEPARATE TRUCKS with these on them. One of the trucks also had lettering on it that said something like “Balls to the Wall Off Roading Club” or something similarly testosterone-laden.
I mentioned these on Twitter last night and this is going to shock you? But not a single woman asked me for the license plate of the people with Truck Nutz so they could go to their house and fellate them. I know! What the hell? What is this world coming to when you go the distance and put awesome fake testes on your truck and it doesn’t lead to offers of sex from hot chicks left and right and up and down and whatever angle you want, really, because LISTEN! You have FAKE BALLS ON THE BACK OF YOUR TOTALLY BOSS TRUCK!
Things I can tell about you when I see that you have Truck Nutz:
- You have a small penis.
- You think Jeff Foxworthy’s redneck schtick was the height of humor.
- You are celibate.
- You will remain so until you remove them from your truck.
What is the female equivalent of Truck Nutz? Now, I know, what do WOMEN know of HUMOR, women wouldn’t know a good joke if it got up and SLAPPED THEM ACROSS THE FACE FOR NOT SHUTTING UP AND BRINGING THEM SOME PIE, but what would be the female equivalent? A huge pair of fake tits bouncing on the back of our VW Beetles? A spread-eagled vagina over the license plate of our Toyota Corolla? And why don’t we get ON that? I mean, this is marketing GOLD, ladies. It’s OBVIOUS this is a VERY TASTEFUL THING TO DO. I’ll even let anyone take this idea and run with it. It’s yours. I don’t even ask that you put my name on it and send me residual checks or anything. No, seriously, please don’t put my name on it.
Now, before you say, “Of COURSE your evidence is skewed, YOU ONLY ASKED WOMEN ABOUT THEM and WOMEN DON’T KNOW HUMOR ONLY VACUUMING” I actually DID ask some men about them, and the answers were: “I hate those,” “There are a lot of those in my town, too, and they are confusing,” “What kind of a jackass thinks those are a good idea?” and “What the hell is a truck nut? Have you lost your mind? Don’t you ever talk about nice things?”
I also started thinking, what would you do if you had a blind date and he came to pick you up and he showed up in a truck and on that truck were Truck Nutz? I’d pretend to be the maid, Ludmilla, who only spoke Croatian, and try to get across, with grunts and crude hand gestures, that Amy had moved away due to witness relocation, something to do with the mob, and therefore would no longer be able to communicate via email or cell or any of the other ways he had formerly communicated with her, so sorry, left in a hurry, could not even cancel any pending dates, what with the mob wanting to cut off her appendages and such.
Men! If you are looking for a way to express yourself, I suggest an ironic t-shirt, or even a tasteful tattoo, or, if you must, some sort of statement-making facial hair. If you put Truck Nutz on your trailer hitch no self-respecting woman is going to want to see what you have to offer sexually. I guarantee you this. Because they already know. There will be a lot of posturing and boasting and such, but when the clothes come off, disappointment. The kind where you need an electron microscope to see what you bring to the table. And then nothing left but the copious weeping. Yours, not theirs. They’ll be too busy laughing. DON’T DO IT.
(On a related note: things that are appropriate on the rear of your vehicle include ironic bumper stickers, but not too many of them because then you look classless and aimless, and a license plate. THAT IS IT. Nodding-head dogs, those peeing-Calvin stickers, or those stickers that tell me exactly how many members of your family there are so I can stalk and kill every one of you, including the pets, ARE A NO-NO. Except once? I saw one of those family stickers where everyone in the family had been zombified? AND I LOVED THAT. Approved.)
Second up in our potpourri: someone called The Bloggess a bitch.
Have I mentioned my love of The Bloggess? I think it doesn’t need to be mentioned. The Bloggess is a GODDESS, you guys. Like, think of the most amazing person you know. NO RIGHT NOW TOTALLY DO IT. Now multiply that times a million, slap on a ton of shiny unicorn stickers and loop in a whole bunch of cuss words, and you have The Bloggess. SHE IS AMAZEBALLS.
So yesterday, she blogged that one of the PR people that’s always emailing her to get her to blog about things emailed her to get her to talk about (I don’t know, this confuses me, too?) Kim Kardashian wearing pantyhose, only there were a million typos in the email? And she sent them her form reply, which is a picture of Wil Wheaton collating papers. Which SHE ASKED HIM FOR ON HER BLOG AND HE SENT HER. This is why The Bloggess is amazing. She can say, on her blog, “Hey, you know what would be the most funny, a picture of Wil Wheaton collating papers” AND HE SENDS HER ONE. Anyway, the PR people responded very rudely to her that she didn’t need to be rude about their totally awesome solicitation of her services, and then ACCIDENTALLY, one of the other people working there hit “reply all” and called her a fucking bitch. Here. I’ll let her tell you because she’s more awesome than I could ever dream of being even hopped up on Nyquil and acid and a little cat tranquilizers, you know, to take the edge off.
So the ENTIRE INTERNET (give or take some of the internet) mobilized and tweeted and emailed and what-have-you these douchecanoes over at Brand Link Communications and APPARENTLY they’re “looking into it.” And The Bloggess has handled this as she does, with AMAZING amounts of humor, charm, and intelligence. Oh, and Jose, the ACTUAL DICK who called her a fucking bitch? Had the GALL to tweet Wil Wheaton after Wil Wheaton started mobilizing HIS internet army and tell him “I was defending you! If only you knew the whole story!” JOSE. You don’t know how the internet works. WIL WHEATON RULES THE GEEKS. THE GEEKS RULE THE INTERNET. Therefore, you lose, Jose. YOU LOSE.
Also, and not QUITE on-topic, but where are my awesome emails from PR companies asking me to blog about the Kardashians wearing pantyhose? I mean, I had a commenter offer to send me fancy salt and pepper shakers after I blogged about being outclassed at the swanky restaurant last week (and Duncan, if you’re reading, I totally tried to email you to redeem that, because I WANT THEM, YO. But the email address you left with your comment bounced back, and the PO box I have commandeered for our top-secret salt and pepper shaker shippage isn’t really so much “mine” as “belongs to someone else who probably doesn’t want it spread all around the internet but they don’t mind if I privately email it to someone.” So if you really meant it and want to give me fancy salt and pepper shakers, LEAVE A GOOD EMAIL ADDRESS. If you didn’t mean it, well, I guess you’re dead to me. No, fine, I guess you’re not, because your lesbian cow comment the other day was pretty awesome, so I’ll give you a pass.)
No, but seriously, I want PR companies to court me! I would blog the SHIT out of Kardashians wearing pantyhose. OK, not so much “blog the shit out of it” as “mock it to high heaven” but how awesome would THAT be? PR companies! YOU ARE MISSING AN AWESOME OPPORTUNITY. I would LOVE to mock celebrities holding or wearing things. I can’t offer you a photo of Wil Wheaton collating paper, but I think I could coerce one of my theater friends to pose for a photo brandishing a fake sword while wearing a 40’s hat with a little veil. Would that suffice?
This is the worst potpourri post because there are only two topics. Alex Trebek would be SO DISAPPOINTED IN ME. I would get the sneer and the “Oh, NOOOO, Amy, no, NOOOO.” But listen, IT IS BIRTHDAY EVE. Which means I MAKE THE RULES.
If the PR person for Truck Nutz contacts me after I hit “post” I am going to be SO EXCITED, you guys. THINK OF THE OPPORTUNITIES. I would be the CLASSIEST.
(Title from one of my favorite movies, Best in Show – which if you haven’t seen, rectify IMMEDIATELY. You will thank me. I promise.)