Mine is about vah jays

Okay, I'm stealing another awesome idea from my hero, The Bloggess (who commented on my blog the other day, holy shit!), and posting this completely immature hilarious animated movie that I made with this site . It's completely awesome pointless and about vaginas below my usual level of sophistication, but it did make me snort with laughter for about 3 days. Enjoy.

My plan for ukulele-porn driven world peace will not be undermined by that demon girl Hannah Montana and her didgeridoo-playing followers

Lately I have found myself obsessed with ukuleles. I watch you tube videos of indie ukulele covers over and over again. It's almost like a porn addiction because I am both secretive and ashamed of my inability to look away. Except it's not because ukuleles are sweet and pure and porn is rarely sweet and pure. In fact, I really think the porn industry should look into some ukulele soundtracks to clean up their smut factories. I really think they would be able to capture a wider market share. I would totally watch more porn if they classed it up a bit like this.



In fact, I am positive that there would be world peace if it was mandated that all songs be performed on ukuleles.



I wish this dude was my weird, red hat wearing french grandfather who would sing me songs of the sea on his ukulele and make delicious pastries for us to share.



Even Disney who, despite being the harborer of the anti-Christ and the catalyst for the ensuing apocalypse, is always at the forefront of feel-good brand association has jumped on the ukulele bandwagon.

There is even a rockstar ukulele available.

The one instrument that I think is the opposite of the ukulele and therefore the most likely instrument to spur war would be the Australian didgeridoo. Because even though it has a cool name, it kind of separates itself from the other instruments and acts all better than everyone else just because it is made out of bamboo hollowed out by termites. It's an instrument snob. We didn't want you to join our symphony anyway you smug son of a bitch! It also sounds kind of scary and it used to be that only men could play it and women had to play the lame-ass clapsticks, second only to the ridiculous triangle in lameness. So it's sexist too. It's basically the instrument equivalent of Jude Law. So fuck the didgeridoo and it's attempts to undo my mission of instrument based world peace.

*Update: I can't stop watching! Just look at the people playing the tiny little guitars with their big hands! They look like music loving giants! I wonder if regular sized guitars WOULD sound like a ukulele to giants? That would be totally awesome. I need to find a giant and make them play a ukulele because that would just set me over the freaking edge. I feel like rolling around on the floor and squealing at the very thought!

I might be having a seizure.

*Update 2: I really like nickels.

OCD spells P and cream soda bottles make shitty shivs

When I'm alone in my car and listening to music I have a weird compulsion to sign out the first letter of every word in the song. I am pretty sure my scary kindergarten teacher who got fired for stealing our milk and then blaming it on the poor kids forced us to learn the deaf alphabet that way and it is burned into my psyche. Come to think of it I should sue that bitch for contributing to my early onset rheumatoid arthritis. Anyway, I have been doing it for years and cannot stop. I call it hand jamming.

My OCD tells me that I must get at least 80% of the letters signed otherwise the sky will rain down acid and I will burn for all eternity. I am good at preventing this but I can never remember the sign for 'P.' I can't stop the flow, so I just throw out any sign for P. Most often this one:

Usually I am able to hide this shameful deed from the "normal" people but the other day I was driving home from work, rocking out to my The Best of Bob & Marcia album (my totally awesome 70's hippie reggae. "Young, Gifted, and Black" is like my personal mantra.) when my favorite song came on, "Pied Piper." So I am sitting at a red light innocently hand jamming away. Unfortunately for me there are a lot of 'P's' in that song. The guy facing me apparently thought I was having some angry Tourette-like episode and started honking his horn at me over and over again. Well I can't stop while I'm in a hand jamming groove so I just kept on throwing out those P's like I was some 90's west-side gansta rapper.

The light turned green and I drove off. I stopped a few miles up the road at a gas station and went inside to get some cream soda. When I came out the guy from the light was parked next to my car waiting for me! I was totally freaked and walked quickly to my car. I held my cream soda bottle by the neck, ready to smash it and slash the fucker with my rudimentary shiv in case he wanted a Piece of Me.

The guy looked at me and said "do we have some kind of problem?" I got so nervous that my soda slipped and smashed on the ground. Awesome, there went my shiv. I had no other choice but to be honest with the guy. I was very reluctant to do this because everyone knows that the OCD penalty for revealing my ritual is that I lose five minutes off of my life for every person I tell unless I spin around three times after telling them.

"Oh that is just this thing I do, kind of like a dance? I spell out the first letter of every song with my hands.... but I don't know the sign for P..... and see... I can't mess up my rhythm for fear of the acid...." and then I spun around three times.

I think he understood because he immediately broke eye contact and got back in his car. I finished spinning and got back into my car, figuring screw the cream soda. My Ipod shuffled to the next song, "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" by Cake and I was on my way. I love that song.