Cru Jones Society

Remember when Maxim magazine hit the scene about 10 years ago? I was in high school and my friends and I used to pore over each issue to find the best jokes and the coolest new toys. Maxim was the new definition of cool and made the square pegs at Esquire, GQ, and Men’s Health look even more like the pretentious douche nozzles they were. If you read any of these magazines now, there’s a definite Maxim influence in tone among all of them and it’s because of the late 90s male bible.

Cosmopolitan serves as the female counterpart of Maxim. Elle Woods refers to it as the bible when she brings it to hot ass Ali Larter in jail, and I’ve heard many women say the same thing (whether it’s a direct result of that movie or not is debatable). Given this iconic cultural status, and Maxim’s subsequent demise through three horseshit editors and its current status as second rate website, I thought it important to see what kind of dating advice they were doling out. Maxim is irrelevant while Cosmo still maintains a strong readership despite the ever-declining sales of print magazines. Let’s peek inside and see what they have to say, shall we? Continue Reading »

I sit here at CJS Headquarters having drank roughly a kiddie pool full of booze last night at a friend’s wedding trying my best to forget that my head feels like it’s being squeezed by Andre the Giant. And here’s The Fugitive right there on TNT. Hoo-ah! I know what I’m doing for the next 2+ hours. Is there a better way to kill a hangover than by watching this movie on a lazy afternoon? Answer: no.

“I didn’t kill my wife!”

Awesome.

And on TBS? Tommy Boy.

Awesome. God bless these stupid Ted Turner networks.

I’ve spent the entire day thinking it’s Wednesday when it’s actually Thursday. Yesterday I thought it was Tuesday when it was really Wednesday. As I approach the end of this workday, I keep thinking, “Hmmmm… two more days of this shit. God, this week is going slowly.”

Then I remember that I’m an idiot and that I only have a half day tomorrow since I work until 6:00 every other night, and I get all happy with my retardo self. Miller Time for E Dagger!

This almost never happens, and in fact always seems to happen the other way. You’ll find yourself thinking it’s Wednesday when it’s really only Tuesday which REALLY makes the week drag on.

Having my experience this week is like thinking you already opened all your Christmas presents and then finding one hidden behind some gaudy, golden spray paint-covered macaroni ornament monstrosity you made in first grade. You swore this gift just appeared out of nowhere – but really your powers of observation are just terrible. You think you’re in for a couple more days of agonizingly boring monotony, but really you just can’t pay attention to your calendar.

The next time this happens to you, make sure and smile. Because god knows it won’t happen again and you’ll end up like Lady E calling me one tragic Monday at 11:00 a.m. “It feels like Friday.”

Wow, good luck with your week there, darlin’.

I’ll see you all next week. If you need me, I’ll be off drinking because it’s not actually Wednesday and I only have a half day tomorrow. Ha! Love it!

edagger@crujonessociety.com

Stuff White People Like recently had a contest inviting its readers to submit their own entries. Over 650 entries were received and only five winners were chosen. I submitted two. Neither of them was chosen. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’d like to share with you my thoughts on the winners, put my entries on display for your appraisal, and welcome you to comment on the process. Continue Reading »

Obviously we here at crujonessociety.com are huge fans of comedy, and stand up comedy ranks high on that list. So when we heard that George Carlin had passed away we felt we owed it to him to post a little tribute. So here’s our eulogy to a legend. Continue Reading »

Sr. Limon:     We have ample storage in our kitchen. Why does my roommate insist on putting pots and pans in the oven?

E Dagger:     There is no accounting for how some people were raised.

Sr. Limon:     Seriously. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pull out piping hot pots and pans from there because I forgot to look before pre-heating.

E Dagger:     I haven’t heard the phrase ‘piping hot’ in I don’t know how long, and even then I only heard it in reference to gravy.

Sr. Limon:     Interesting. I probably wouldn’t describe gravy that way.

E Dagger:     You would if you needed an accurate way of describing graby that was exceptionally hot.

Sr. Limon:     I suppose so, but since you never have to consume gravy directly, the danger of being burned is minimal.

E Dagger:     Have you ever had piping hot gravy? It rivals pizza sauce in terms of intense mouth burn and you don’t consume that directly either.

Sr. Limon:     Pizza sauce is only dangerous because it squirts out from where its contained between the cheese and the crust when you bite the pizza. Gravy goes on top of food, and is therefore much less dangerous. (the cheese and crust both disguise and retain the piping hot pizza sauce, making the potential for dangerous mouth burn rise approximately three-fold.)

E Dagger:     Ok, but in a way it makes it more dangerous because you never see it coming. Piping hot gravy is like the colon cancer of mouth burns: unexpected, but deadly.

Sr. Limon:     I suppose anything is possible. Plus, nothing would ruin Thanksgiving dinner like a burnt mouth.

Sr. Limon:    I still say that I can’t recall a single gravy burning incident, yet I burn my mouth with pizza sauce almost weekly.

E Dagger:     You’re right, mostly its a non-issue, but from time to time piping hot gravy is serious.

Sr. Limon:   I’ll keep that in mind.

E Dagger:    Definitely. So, you cooking something then?

Welcome back to the Cru Jones Love Lounge. Haven’t had any Rad-related pictures up here in a while, felt like we were past due. E Dagger here to guide you through the dating and relationship minefield. Senor Limon will drop in Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday with his unique perspective on things, and I’ll make another appearance on Thursday with some yet-to-be-determined goodness. In the meantime, it’s time to dissect more advice. Pull up your favorite easy chair, pour yourself a glass of cognac and settle in for another addition of the Cru Jones Love Lounge. (If you’re at the office substitute “easy chair” for “adjustable desk chair;” “cognac” for “mild/shitty coffee;” and “settle in” for “double check for boss passing by office/cubicle.”) Continue Reading »

Dear Car Warranty Jerks,

Yes, it may be true, that my car’s warranty has in fact recently expired. However I question the logic in your business practices. You have been calling me in an attempt to sell an extended warranty for my vehicle for roughly the last 6 months. I do not appreciate finding the second half of your automated recorded message on my voicemail roughly once a week, and I most certainly do not appreciate your practice of putting me on hold should I actually make the choice to “press 1 to speak with a representative.” Granted, I only do this to repeatedly request that I be put on your do not call list.

Continue Reading »

We at the Cru Jones Society are huge UFC fans. Hart and I can thank Sr. Limon for that as he was well ahead of the curve on mixed martial arts asking me to watch this with him five years ago. Now Hart and I get together for most of the big fights and excitedly down pitchers of beer watching two guys beat the bejeezus out of each other. UFC is becoming a household word, and a big reason for that is Dana White. Continue Reading »

A quick word about the site before we jump into today’s nonsense. You may have noticed Lee S. Hart’s posts have been less frequent over the last few weeks. Since terminating his abusive relationship with the world of retail, he’s busied himself with finding his way through another complicated web of crap known as the corporate world. He’ll be taking some time off from CJS over the next couple of weeks.

Senor Limon and I will pick up the slack and do our best to maintain our daily updates and hopefully continue to make you laugh at our nonsense. Sr. Limon has been busy with his own work-related insanity, and considering his real life job is much more intense than most of ours and requires dedication more rigorous than our ability to show up and phone it in if we want to, he hasn’t posted as much as he’d like either. He tells me things are slowing a bit and he’ll be back for three brand new posts next week, and probably two this week (barring any unforeseen calamity).

And since we’re talking about work, and since everyone loves lists (I guess. Just go with me on that), I’m proud to present the first ever collection of Cru Jones Society Business Lists! Hopefully, this becomes a recurring feature here at CJS, and we’re here to kick it off with our first 8 lists. Feel free to leave a comment if you believe I’ve missed something or disagree. I look forward to hearing your responses! Continue Reading »

I grant you that murdering an innocent little creature foolishly sprinting across the road in hopes of defying his inevitable gory Goodyear demise is no picnic, but there’s just something unsettlingly icky about running over the poor guy again.

He’s already dead. It looks disgusting. And here comes your charging, fuel-injected, clumsy rhinoceros of a car just to really ram the point home and splay his guts everywhere to reassure everyone that, yes, this thing is still dead. I did this on the way to the office last week causing the following sentence to sputter out of my mouth (mind you, I was alone):

“Oh, no. I… yeeeeuck…. Jesus. That’s fucking just… ew… I mean… right? Fuck…. Poor bastard.”

By the way, I always gender roadkill as male because trying to dart across the street and beat oncoming traffic in the face of all logic strikes me as an inherently male trait. I’m certain I’ve sent my fair share of female rodents (and in two possible cases, armadillos) to that great forest in the sky, but females of any species seem less likely to try something this intrinsically moronic than males.

Plus, when you run it over again, you probably degrade the flavor of the poor creature making a less tasty stew for the Beverly Hillbillies when they inevitably drive by and scrape it off the road.

edagger@crujonessociety.com

It’s Monday, which means you’re back at work – or if you’re Lee S. Hart, you’re starting a brand new non-retail job – and pretending to check your email all morning while waiting for the dreary afternoon weekly staff meeting. Mondays are tough, no doubt. But fear not, E Dagger is here to make fun of yet another dating advice column for your amusement and betterment. Want good relationship advice? Ask your significant other. Want to laugh at trite pop psychology thinking it knows you better than you know yourself? Come on in… Continue Reading »

There are only a handful of movies ever made that I enjoyed as a child, and can still enjoy today as an adult completely irony free. The Goonies is among those at the top of the list. Many times when I go back and look at the favorite movies of my youth, I realize that they were cheesy, or just don’t appeal to me as an adult, but I have enjoyed The Goonies from as early as I can remember right up until recently when I popped in the DVD that I picked up for less than $10 while grocery shopping. Twice, actually. I bought the movie, and about 2 months later forgot I had done so and bought it again. Naturally I noticed this little oversight about 5 minutes after opening the movie, thereby making it nonreturnable. If you need a copy, let me know I’ll get you one cheap.

Continue Reading »

Everyone has a few favorite songs they like to workout to. Since I’m a neurotic and hyper-anal freak, I not only agonized over creating a short, 12 song mix, I analyzed it too!  Take a peek at how I get down while torturing myself on the elliptical trainer. Did your favorite song make the cut? Check it out after the jump. (By the way, I almost put a picture of Richard Simmons on the front page, but realized I didn’t want to look at it for several days any more than you do. Enjoy Kiana Tom instead. You’re welcome. Continue Reading »

(This is the fifth and final part in an on going series dedicated to the many years, going on 8 now, that I have spent as a retail whore.)

At press time I have three more shifts left working retail. Ever! That’s right, as of 11pm Friday I will no longer be working in the wonderful world of retail. I have a grown up job and my life in retail is over. This is my first new job in 8 years. I’m a little frightened but mostly excited. Continue Reading »

Dear men of the 18^th floor,

Why are you the way you are? I hate so much about all the things that you choose to be. I have witnessed two of you in the act, but I suspect there are more of you than I think. Why is this so difficult? Why can’t you take 10 seconds to save the rest of us a moment of annoyance and mild disgust? To reiterate: Why are you the way you are? Continue Reading »

Welcome back to the Cru Jones Love Lounge. I’m back once again to deconstruct more idiotic pop psychology and poke fun at moronic dating tidbits that poison the minds of people just looking to meet people and hopefully rub up against them naked. And, as before, this is all geared to heterosexual couples, so you gay folks must be either perfect relationship practitioners or invisible to the advice-giving community. My guess is the latter – stupid heteronormativity. Some dating advice is fine – although I stick by my assertion that all dating advice can be summarized with one rule:

Pay attention.

You pay attention to your mate, communicate with them, and everything else will fall in to place. It’s not that hard and it saves you the brain damage inflicted by hack columnists telling you how to handle your own relationship. Continue Reading »

Yes, for those of you keeping count, this is two Happy Friday posts in a row that feature rodents.

“The boating accident took place about one week following the naked shooting incident.” Yes… you read that right.

Swedish soldiers shoot shoulder mounted artillery cannons while nude. Commander raises concern. What may surprise you, however is the nature of the concern. A group of soldiers video tapes themselves firing munitions stark naked (except for helmets… safety first). The questions you should probably ask yourself are: Why were they shooting guns naked, secondly, why were they filming it, and thirdly would it be better if they were drunk or sober at the time? It would be unsafe to do something like this drunk, but why would anyone in his right mind do it sober? Interestingly the Soldiers’ commander seems to blister past this triviality, and raises concerns about base security?

“The film shows a group of conscripts from Amf 1 shooting a shoulder-fired mortar wearing only helmets, and generated concern about a lack of security within the unit.”

To reiterate: Soldiers firing weapons wearing nothing but helmets: fine. Fact that video is leaked to outside world: not really a problem, except that it generates query into nature of security on this particular base.

Think you’re good at Tetris? You’re not. Don’t give up on the video after the first couple minutes. Keep watching,. The game actually speeds up a couple times…. Then it starts to get really crazy. I wonder if Tetris skills of that magnitude would help you get laid in Japan any more than it would over here?

CJS Reader Ferris just sent this along: , and we here at CJS always appreciate innovation when it comes to activities involving drinking. My only concern is that the traditional 4 beer reform won’t work with that contraption. In other beer related technology; if you’ve been sitting around at home wondering if there is a more stylish way to inhale an entire beer in less than 4 seconds than with that unattractive beer bong you’ve been using, the Flabongo to the rescue! A handy neck strap is included, but unfortunately you’ll have to find your own hot chicks.

That’s it for your Friday fun this week. I don’t know about you, but I’m on vacation, and the narrow window between being too hung-over to write, and too drunk to write is quickly closing.

So I’m getting ready this morning and somehow despite feeling like I fell out of a dog’s ass when I woke up, I’m set to go quicker than usual. Having a few spare minutes for once, I happily plop down on the couch for some early morning television.

Not feeling like staring at Al Roker’s smiley ass this morning, I cruise the digital movie channels and what do I find? Booya! Top Gun is on! I can’t think of a better way to start my Friday morning. Planes! Motorcycles! Kenny Loggins music! Homoerotic beach volleyball! What could be better?!

So what happens?

I come in right at the scene where Iceman acts like an idiotic prick during the final Top Gun training exercise causing Maverick to fly through his jet wash. Flat spin ensues. Goose punches them out and crashes into the canopy which hadn’t yet cleared. Goose is dead. And now I’m depressed.

Talk about your all-time backfires. Goose is the glue of Top Gun. Without him, the movie isn’t half as good and we’re missing damn near all the quotable lines. His death ranks as one of the All-Time Top 3 Most Depressing Movie Deaths with Hooch from Turner & Hooch and Jim Brown in The Dirty Dozen.

And now all I can think about is Tom Skerritt talking to Tom Cruise in his underwear telling him he’s got to “let him go.” What the fuck, Tom Skerritt? It’s been a matter of hours since Goose died and you want Maverick to let him go? Why don’t you and your mustache go back to Picket Fences where you belong and let Maverick grieve for christ’s sake? I realize you’re a military man, but give the man some time!

I thought about this all the way to work. Not even the dulcet tones of Rise Against could shake me out of it. Goose is dead, and now I have to live with it for the rest of the day. Swell…

Hopefully Senor Limon can turn this Friday around. We’ll see.

I suppose I was destined to hate all of M. Night Shyamalan’s films from the start. Before I had seen it, and concurrently, before the overblown hype machine took hold of The Sixth Sense and propelled it into the pop culture stratosphere about 10 years ago, my friend Stephen ruined the twist ending for me. And without the twist ending, what is The Sixth Sense? It’s a painfully slow, ridiculously overwrought, somber, depressing snooze-fest that is so full of its own pretensions, it might as well be European. Continue Reading »