Big cats, hoo-hoo’s, and hockey hair

I have a few questions which do not really qualify as another installment of "things that chap my o-ring", but nonetheless seemed like things I need to get out there:

1) British people, can you please make up your minds? Either use all the vowels or don’t use all of the vowels, but pick a side! "Jag-you-are"? Ok, I can live with that, if you need to emphasize the ’u’ in ’jaguar’. But then you get to the word ’literally’ and that middle syllable goes bye-bye. "Li-trilly"? Serious, folks, just because you invented the language doesn’t mean you get to play fast and loose with the rules; deciding all willy-nilly whether or not a vowel merits pronunciation or not. I’m not trying to be a pain in the arse, but try to be a bit more consistent there, Constable. That’s all I ask.

2) Who in the heck is doing the re-writes for edited-for-television movies? While watching a bit of Blade Trilogy this weekend, Ryan Renolds’ character at one point utters the phrase "Why don’t you take a sugar-frosted jump off the end of my hoo-hoo!" What the hell does that mean and what kind of profanity are we replacing here? At no point does that phrase even caress this side of intelligible. A "sugar-frosted jump"? What does that even mean?! Is it as bad for your teeth as it sounds? And where EXACTLY will I land if I take one of the aforementioned leaps from the end of your hoo-hoo? Am I aiming for the sandbar or the treasure trail or a soft landing on the satchel? Will I be judged on form and if so, have measures been enacted to make sure the French judge gives me a fair shake (get it? A penis joke, a fair SHAKE….aw, never mind…)?

3) Is the mullet making a comeback? And if the answer to that question is "yes", then I will have a follow up question: "WTF?" I’ve been seeing the ol’ "biz up front, party in the rear" ’do making the rounds lately, from game show contestants to baseball players and I had to ponder the implications. The bright side, of course, would be that my high school yearbook picture would now be en vogue again. Good news if I suddenly become famous and "Extra" manages to dig up a pic of me with "the Beav" (so named by my friend Matt, who thought it looked like a beaver crawled up my bean and died). The bad news, I’ll have to buy high-top Reeboks and start wearing a Canadian Tuxedo (read: denim pants, denim shirt, denim jacket, belt made of bacon….ok, not really with the belt, but it would make trips to the zoo more exhilarating). …OR, can I trade in the jean jacket for a Members Only jacket? BONUS! Next thing you know, hockey will make a comeback, piss-ugly-green Buick Regals with powder blue and red racing stripes will make their resurgence, and Meredith Baxter Burny will trade in made-for-Lifetime TV movies for a starring role as the mother on a prime-time sitcom. Another side effect of the mullet-revolution: the Camaro. Didn’t we just finish killing this friggin’ thing off by deeming that cars should get more than 12 miles to the gallon? Seriously, now we’ll have to bring it back, bring back the confederate flag license plate, the Calvin-pissing-on-a-Ford-symbol sticker, and bring back the "Lakeland insult" (otherwise known as shouting "Dick!" out the driver’s window and peeling out; leaving the scene without allowing for a retort). Does any of this make you tremble a bit in your BVDs?

If not, picture all of the above in the Michael Bay-directed version:

Grainy, slow motion shots of said Camaro steeped with CG effects, quick-cut editing that would make ADHD patients nauseous, explosions, and general impossibility-iciousness! Starring the ’Hoff, Alf, and the entire cast of "Joanie Loves Chachi" (Scott Baio has to eat, folks, there’s nothing wrong with that). Soundtrack by Diddy (which really means "soundtrack by legitimate artists whose works have been blatantly stolen and re-edited with a new drum track, piss-poor singing in the chorus, and 14 rappers each contributing 3 sentences of disjointed and unconnected lyrics"). With a cameo by Christopher Hewett from ’Mr. Belvedere’.

Chilling portents of things to come, folks. Chilling.