Anais Pin

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

This is the worst pun I’ve ever heard. But you can’t forget it, and that’s what counts.

Stumbleupon is imploding unto itself while Pinterest has recently (read: December 2011) climbed into the top 10 networking platforms, so I’ll be dabbling there in addition to my homepage.

…Well, until they ban my ass, because it seems to be a site filled with pictures of baby-oiled moobs that exists under the pretense of being a site filled with cat pictures and a sort-of Regretsy-flavored impersonation of Architectural Digest.

…I am only partially responsible for the moobs.

Eye Candy Lite

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

This is an article that I don’t want to see lost to the sea of obscurity, because it begs the very important question: If you remove the awesome graphics from today’s games, do they stand up to the storytelling of games of yore?

OhMiBod

Now, don’t get me wrong – I love cock just as much as the next ravenous nymphomaniac, but the above product has the potential to incite a series of hilarious flashbacks. Do you remember when we were teenagers and men had sex “theme music?”

Picture it, remember it: You’re (13-16), and your snowflake-white boyfriend plays an entire Enigma CD – including the dolphin caterwauling – while moisturizing an imaginary tramp stamp with an ever-so-erotic Lubriderm massage…on top of your perfume, body oil, and body powder.

Fifteen minutes of zipper-grinding, pelvis-crushing dry-humping later, and following a few blind jabs to the taint, you get it.

You finally get it. It’s Christmas morning and Santa’s real and there’s your big present up in your tree.

…Pumping to the rhythm of one of these top hits from the 1990′s!

- Nirvana – “Smells Like Teen Spirit”
- Backstreet Boys – “I Want It That Way”
- Madonna – “Vogue”
- Sir Mix-A-Lot – “Baby Got Back”
- Britney Spears – “…Baby One More Time”
- Alanis Morissette – “You Oughta Know”
- Dr. Dre (featuring Snoop Doggy Dogg) – “Nuthin’ but a “G” Thang”
- Mariah Carey – “Vision of Love”
- Red Hot Chili Peppers – “Under the Bridge”
- MC Hammer – “U Can’t Touch This”
- Destiny’s Child – “Say My Name”
- Metallica – “Enter Sandman”
- Beastie Boys – “Sabotage”
- House of Pain – “Jump Around”
- Soundgarden – “Black Hole Sun”
- Ricky Martin – “Livin’ la Vida Loca”
- Vanilla Ice – “Ice Ice Baby”
- Radiohead – “Creep”
- Oasis – “Wonderwall”
- C+C Music Factory – “Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)”
- Color Me Badd – “I Wanna Sex You Up”
- Spin Doctors – “Two Princes”
- Fiona Apple – “Criminal”
- L.L. Cool J – “Mama Said Knock You Out”
- Sophie B. Hawkins – “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover”
- Digital Underground – “The Humpty Dance”
- Will Smith – “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It”
- Korn – “Freak on a Leash”
- Marcy Playground – “Sex and Candy”
- Kris Kross – “Jump”
- Lenny Kravitz – “Are You Gonna Go My Way”
- Meredith Brooks – “Bitch”
- Right Said Fred – “I’m Too Sexy”
- Cypress Hill – “Insane In The Brain”
- EMF – “Unbelievable”
- Gerardo – “Rico Suave”
- Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch – “Good Vibrations”

I’m not going to tell you which of those songs plagued my youth, but 1993 was not a good year for music.

BUT IN CASE YOU FORGOT…

It’s the OhMiBod to the rescue! It’ll vibrate to anything in your iPhone or iPad. So, order one now and, this Saturday night, sit on the floor, light some candles, pop in The Crow, break open the Mountain Dew, and get ready for a wild, 3-minute ride down memory lane!

*Your experience may vary.*

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. Please leave any comments there.

The Arkham Asylum That Could Have Been

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

As you know, I’m a huge Joker/Harley Quinn nut. This is a collection of some character designs that were (largely) scrapped before the final release of Arkham Asylum, and it’s a shame, because some of them are really good.

I love the center model. It’s updated and cool without losing the essential harlequin flavor.

“Mick Jagger/David Bowie body and clothing with Crispin Glover’s stretched face.” I’ve never heard it described that way, but I can’t argue. I think we may have stumbled upon the reason Crispin Glover never smiles.

If they had used the middle image, I’d be cosplaying her right now as I write this. Life is not fair.

They’re all excellent. Here’s the rest of the collection.

Movie Night

That’s Megumi Okina. She’s pretty, isn’t she?
Do you recognize her? I wouldn’t expect that you would, unless you followed her career.
Here, I’ll post a more recognizable photo:

There. Now you recognize her face. Now look back at the first photo and try to see her as anything but a murderous demon with a soul stitched from orphans’ entrails in the bowels of Hell.
Yeah, I can’t, either.
And that is awesome. I want to tear out her heart and eat it so I can assume her power.

I collect certain film series, such as Tartan Asian Extreme, Seduction Cinema, and Troma.
Individual Tromas are hard to find. You’ll usually see them as part of an 8-movie set sold for $1.99. But they’ve got titles like “Tales From The Crapper,” featuring Julie Strain, Ron Jeremy, Trey Parker, Eli Roth, Wes Craven, Kevin Eastman, Jorge Garcia, and a number of other industry favorites.

I love them because USA Up All Night will always have a place in my heart.

Gilbert Godfrey’s in there somewhere, I swear.

And if Rhonda Shear still needed to don spandex and pleather to support her imaginary career in stand-up comedy, Bachelor Party in the Bungalow of the Damned would have been on that show.

Because you can’t give Troma films away, they’re usually boxed with other movies. “Shutter” was also in that ridiculously inexpensive collection.
Some of you may have played Fatal Frame, which has a legacy as one of the most frightening horror games of all time:

There have been whispers of a movie in the works for nearly a decade and horror gamers everywhere have been waiting with bated breath.
In the meantime, Shutter was considered a tribute, an homage, a “film inspired by” the game.
Here it is, in its entirety, for your viewing pleasure:

The American remake of Shutter was significantly less successful than the original, but unlike the original, it starred Megumi Okina.
That, alone, makes it worth the watch.

I swear to god, that woman can carry an entire plot on her slumped, uneven shoulders. She has terror down to an art and I am stricken with awe at the sight of her. Although she continually retires from the film industry, I hope she never fully commits to that promise. The horror industry needs her, almost as much as it needs Daveigh Chase.

Or, as you know her, Samara.

The longer I stare at that photo, the more it feels like she’s going to start moving.

I used to be afraid that the horror industry was dying (like when Spooky and I dressed up as camp counselors for the premiere of Jason in Space), but the Asian film community is in bed with horror in a way that the American film industry may never embrace. There are no “jumps” or “shocks,” just a cold, seething terror that washes over you, quickly and yet seemingly in slow-motion, like darkness in a power failure.

Someday soon I’ll write reviews for my entire collection of Tartan Asian films, but I would recommend that you watch them all – I have never been disappointed, and have – more than once – been frozen to the couch.

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. Please leave any comments there.

The Giant Black Cock and the Inflatable Sheep

Originally published at The Pandemonium Project. You can comment here or there.

After seeing Hatchet Harry in Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels:

I recognized a need I’d never noticed before – I needed a big, double-sided, black plastic cock.

So I drove down to the adult store behind a nearby U-haul and picked up the Doc Johnson Black Giant Double Dildo.

I’ve been partial to Doc Johnson ever since I endorsed the Juli Ashton anal starter kit:

And while I continue to support the latter and have weaponized the former, I must say that Big Black must be wrapped in Saran Wrap at all times, because the smell is abominable. It reeks of rubber, like a freshly opened pool toy, and even with years of regular use, the smell will never fade.

While I was in the shop, I also noticed the Love Ewe.

At the time, I had a roommate named Eric. Eric was a nice guy – a little on the heavy side, but he was a great cook and a lot of fun to be around. But, since he didn’t have a girlfriend, well…there was only one thing for a good roommate to do.

At first, I thought I’d rent him an escort, but there was the simple obstacle that we lived in the same house, so when her pimp cased the joint, he’d be casing my house, too.
So, I googled alternatives, settling upon an inflatable doll. When I googled “hot inflatable dolls,” I found this hilarious review.

NinjaPirate.com is an awesome site, and his quest for sex (Example 1 and Example 2) reminded me so fondly of all the single men that I knew that I felt confident in taking his advice.

On the subject of inflatable sheep, he wrote the following:

A lot of guys pretend blow-up dolls are jokes. As if they’re ugly because nobody takes them seriously. Until it’s their bachelor party and someone gifts them a blowup doll. And then the bachelor is like, “Oh! You got me a blowup doll! That’s funny shit, Nate. Nate, you old dog you. Buying me a blowup doll. That Nate. Thanks Nate.” Then the guy goes home and fills it with water and fucks it. Of course he does.

A few years ago my friends got me a Lovin’ Lamb for my birthday party. I reacted like it was funny and I pretended to take it as a complete joke. But the whole remainder of the party, all I could think was, “I can’t wait to go home and fuck that Lovin’ Lamb.” Then I went home and filled it with water and fucked that Lovin’ Lamb.

That’s right. I went to town on that faggoty gay little lamb. And I know you’re jealous and you’re going to go out and buy one right away.

But here’s the thing. When you purchase a brand new Lovin’ Lamb or maybe Lovin’ Kangaroo if you’re Australian, it will be stiff and obnoxiously loud. Your family or whatever will hear it in the other room, they’ll think you’re making balloon animals. What you do to make it soft is exactly like a new baseball mitt. You put it in the dishwasher with a bunch of rubber bands around it and your dick stuck in it so it conforms right. After three or four loads, it’ll be pliable and soft so you can pitch it to that doll until it somehow, against physics, has an orgasm. And if you want, you can try the black sheep. The black ones are much more warm and sensual, but usually more noisy and only work if you drape gold chains on them.

So, I knew Eric would pretend to be disgusted – and he did.
And I knew he would take that sheep back and fuck it to death, so I gave him the above advice, and then the sheep disappeared.

One day, several months later, I was cleaning the house and ventured into his room in search of dishes and soda cans. I peeked under his futon and – lo and behold – there was the Sheep, sad and deflated.

Wanting to rekindle the joke, I pulled at the inflation device and began to blow it up.

To my surprise, wind blew out the butthole of the sheep like a low sigh.

I dropped the sheep for a moment and stared in disbelief. Then, I picked it up and ran to Eric.

“You fucked it to death!” I yelled.

Eric, who was standing in the kitchen cooking dinner, was more than a little puzzled.

“The sheep! You killed it with your penis!” I accused.
“What?” my other roommate asked.
Composing myself, I explained, “I was cleaning up in Eric’s room and I found the sheep. I went to blow it up and air started blowing out the…vagina. Look!” I pointed at them with the gaping hole in the rear of the sheep, “There’s supposed to be a sheath there, where the penis goes. The sheath has been ripped out from the inside, which means you fucked the sheep so hard that you tore off its little inner fuck sock and now it’s just a popped balloon!”
“It wasn’t me!” Eric insisted, wide-eyed.

What you have to understand about my house is that people came over all the time to hang out with us, watch movies and play video games. There were literally anywhere between five and fifty unique bodies inside those walls every week…which meant that it wasn’t inconceivable that someone had entered Eric’s room and, presumably with his permission, raped his sheep to death.

“You let someone fuck your sheep?” I asked.
Eric said nothing.
“On the futon?” I asked, suddenly glad I’d given him that futon with no expectations of a return.

This evolved into a multi-month rape mystery as we investigated, like a pornographic game of Bestiality Clue, who had raped the sheep to death.

We never did solve what will be one of the great unsolved mysteries of my life, along with “who stole my severed foot.”

But that’s another story.