"Laura's gonna need braces." That's classic dialog between a grillmaster and his raw, talking chicken dinner. Too bad for him that his uncooked buddy is more interested in Susan, Pam's friend. But only if she's into accountants. No, I'm not high on peyote. I just saw this freak-of-nature BBQ Galore TV spot.

The summer movie season is upon us. Hollywood is shipping out the bloated, over-hyped, market-research-tested, Happy-Meal-tied-in, tent pole "blockbusters" to local cinemas as we speak. Uh, read. And write. You know what I mean.

I may be a snob, but I do enjoy many a popcorn flick. For me, the most enjoyable film season is October to December, where most of the "important" films are released to the more discerning masses. The summer schedule is a lot like Nicolas Cage's IMDB credits; wildly divergent with hits and misses. Nevertheless, the studios give us enough passable $300 million monsters that entertain the masses to justify the occasional stink bomb.

Going to the movies is one of my favorite activities. Has been since I was a child. There were many times in the 80's that I would beg my folks to drop me off at the Sea-Tac Mall AMC 6 to see "Ghostbusters" or "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" for the seventh time. I still get excited as the lights go down and the coming attractions start. I take out the candy and snacks that I've smuggled in like Red getting contraband into Shawshank, sit back and experience a wee bit of escapism for 120 minutes.

Inside my pea sized brain lies a fairly good barometer of what film I will enjoy and what film I should avoid. I usually know. But there are times that I am wrong. Way wrong. Where I thought I would enjoy a movie and ended up feeling like I was going to become Linda Blair in "The Exorcist." I begin to squirm in my seat. Then cringe at bad dialogue and awful "special" effects. And finally start whine like a little boy. "I wanna go home! Johnny no likey Michael Bay!"

"I guess the front, back, side and garage doors, plus all the windows were locked."

You can do better, that I know for sure.

I had many dreams as a child, and like the innocence of youth, they were quickly dashed once I reached high school and discovered something I like to call "marijuana". One of those dreams was to gain access to Willy Wonka's candy room and have free reign of the chocolate waterfall and gumdrop trees. Kyle Hausmann may have lived an adult approximation of the candy room fantasy, without the pedophilic undertones of Gene Wilder's Wonka getting in the way.

The New York Times is reporting that Hausmann was accidentally locked into his favorite watering hole after a night of heavy drinking. Awaking in the morning, hungover and late for work, he tried several MacGyverian efforts to free himself from the confines of his tempting incarceration. When he was finally found, the owners discovered that Hausmann hadn't consumed a drop of alcohol (post lock-up), and was eager to return to the establishment under better circumstances.

(Via Guardedly Optimistic)

Does your Dad have horrible taste in clothes? Does he love Jell-O Pudding Pops? Do you hate him?

Then you can make a bid on Bill Cosby's sweater collection over at ebay.

It's a worse gift than a new set of golf clubs, and slightly better than the "Coupon Book" that entitles the receiver to one car wash and three lawn mows.

Barry from "High Fidelity" would love it.

Today on Lunch Hour Veg: Beaker! He's a muppet of few words and wonderful mishaps.

Girls takes a spin in a dryer - I'm dizzy, she's got to be. So whatever happened to don't try this at home? Ah, who listens to Mom anyway.

My roommate spends some of his time carjacking the locals, robbing liquor stores and killing hookers. And he occasionally plays Grand Theft Auto.

Thank you. I'll be here all week. Try the veal.

While I don't play the game, I have seen it a bit. So an article in this week's Onion slayed me. Easily one of the most hilarious pieces I've read in quite some time.

The article is entitled "Liberty City Police Face Allegations Of Incompetence, Brutality." My favorite part;

Outraged citizens say this is not enough, especially in a city where assault rifles can be found on factory roofs and grenade caches are located under the globe at the old World's Fair site.

Fantastic.

Thanks to The Onion.

Yeah, this guy bragged about being about to kick through a cinder block wall. What could possibly go wrong?

(via Unique Daily)