Strangest Baby Names of 2011 (Pour One Out For Humanity)

Posted on May 25, 2012 | 1 Comment

Never had a chance.

One of my favorite sites for all kid-related crap is called, Kidcrave. Usually, I troll them for awesome baby and toddler products, like this kickbutt wooden rocking horse. 

Gimmie! Gimmie!

But thanks to a clever infographic they came up with, I’m now fully schooled on the MOST UNUSUAL BABY NAMES of 2011!

As a mother of a child with a unique name (Valor,) I completely understand the desire to think outside the traditional moniker box. Real Talk: Some of these parents need to be punched in the babymakers.

  • Who the F*CK names their kid Peniel or Eh, for that matter!? Should’ve just had a ”Kick Me,” sign tattooed on the infant’s back, because the end result is going to be the same.
  • Spoiler Alert: If you give your son the name Tron he’s got a 99.99% chance of being a virgin, FOREVER.
  • What about those  6 boys named ASSER? More like,”Asserbeating!” HEY-OOOOOOOOOOO!

 

And to the 149 baby girls named after the CLASSY booze-laden Alize? I’m rooting for you little ladies. While odds are heavily stacked against you, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that y’all don’t end up working the day-shift steak buffet at a local gentlemen’s club.

Keep it classy.

Moral of the story, name your kid anything you want, but don’t be shocked when the internet (compilled of jerks like me) guffaws.

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Post By Mad Dad: Smoke’em Peace Pipe

Posted on May 24, 2012 | Leave a comment

Smoke’em Peace Pipe: Political Correctness and Sports

Noted sports columnist Phil Mushnick recently got into hot water for suggesting the New Jersey Nets be renamed the New Jersey … well … N-words.

To his defense (I think), Mushnick did not mean “-ers” but instead “-as” or perhaps the more tasteful “-az.” He also was referring the Nets’ move to Brooklyn and the team being partially owned by the Hova himself, Jay-Z, who is also done – personally – a new urban marketing and branding campaign with the team.

Ultimately, Mushnick was commenting on the rap culture’s loose use of calling females “bitches” and “hoes” (his idea for the cheerleaders) and the extremely liberal dosage of the N-word.

Now, Mushnick is not a racist as much as he’s a retard: A white, calloused sports writer looking for page views while trying to make a point. An alternative could have been a thoughtful column about Jay-Z using his image, money and opportunity with the move to Brooklyn to be (more of) a positive influence in the area and especially the black culture.

Recently, the Board of Education in Oregon banned – by a vote of 5-1 … who was the lone racist, huh!? – the use of Native American logos, mascots or nicknames. This applied only to high schools, although no collegiate or pro teams in Oregon have Native American mascots or nicknames (although I’m waiting for the Oregon BEAVERS to get a re-do … we’ve lost control of that word).

As a sports fan, I’ve always wondered how we generally turn a blind eye to blatantly racist mascots and nicknames in these extremely politically correct times. When you really think about it, it’s downright shocking.

High schools are the easiest to manipulate because they are state funded and locally governed. More than 600 high schools have changed their mascots from culturally insensitive caricatures. In Dallas-Fort Worth, up until a few years ago, Richland High School were the “Rebels” and had the stars and bars prominently featured along with a large-headed Confederate soldier in his dress greys. No longer. It’s a fascinating topic, actually.

Should we mind that the Ole Miss Rebels represent, arguably, the country’s darkest period, but also the legacies (for better or for worse) of millions below the Mason-Dixon line? One person’s family lineage, however, directly reflects the slave trade. Ancestors weren’t rustlin’ cattle … they were rustlin’ people. (Before George Lucas squashed it, students attempted to replace Colonel Reb with Admiral Ackbar, which is arguably the greatest idea ever.)

I don’t have an answer for this.

I do know that a big reason culturally insensitive nicknames and logos still exist is money. No question here. It’s easy picking on high schools. Going up against professional sports franchises, worth billions, is tough business. The Atlanta Braves have been the “Braves” since 1912 starting in Boston to Milwaukee and finally to Atlanta.

Outside of a gigantic, long-term boycott, the Atlanta Braves will not change their logo or nickname as a privately owned organization. If the stadium’s half full because they’re sort of racist, then they will change. Also, what we do without the Tomahawk Chop? (I say this knowing that the Washington Bullets became the Washington Wizards sometime in the 1990s. Apparently, franchises are cognizant of sensitive subjects like violence. Just not race or ethnicity.)

With that said, here are five logos/nicknames that are extremely insensitive:

Washington Redskins

A-Hole.

Imagine the Houston Rockets being renamed the “Darkies.” It is one thing to be called the “Braves,” “Warriors” or “Seminoles.” But this is a direct comment on the color of the indigenous people of North America. For my money, I see little difference in “Redskins” and the “New Jersey N-words.”

Miami Hurricanes

Should’ve just called them the “Miami Hubris”

About three of the most destructive killer hurricanes in the annals of recorded history hit Florida. It’s like shaking your fist at God.

Cleveland Indians

Racist dick.

There are a ton of “Indians” out there. What gets me is the logo. His name is “Chief Wahoo,” and, no, he’s not based on some historical figure. Early renditions gave him a skinner visage with an elongated, crooked nose. Later versions actually color him red with a shorter, more bulbous schnoz. His Felix-the-Cat eyes are only offset by his big, toothy grin.

Los Angeles Lakers 

Nicholson sat court side at all their games too.

It might be frowned upon, but someone in Utah has John Coltrane, Miles Davis or any other kind of jazz music (the Jazz uprooted from New Orleans and wound up in Salt Lake City in 1979). There, however, are no lakes in Los Angeles (moved from Minnesota in 1958) and plenty in Minnesota.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (circa 1979)

RAWR!

“Buccaneer Bruce” is the most offensive homosexual mascot ever. No self-respected gay man would don the Creamsicle orange.

-Mad Dad

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Another Score For Science (Goodbye Clingy Ketchup)

Posted on May 23, 2012 | 2 Comments

Pour one out for Science.

Since 1861, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, aka MIT,  has been a haven for some of the finest scientific minds in the world. One would imagine the hallowed laboratories of a university that gave us people like Buzz Aldrin and Kofi Annan would be working on solving the world’s problems.

And they are.

Dave Smith, A PhD Candidate at MIT and a whole gang of smarties from Varanasi Research Group, have spent months cloistered away with smart folk tools trying to crack an age-old quandary: How do you keep ketchup from sticking to the bottle?

Pound it!

After tireless brainbusting brilliance, the team came up with a non-stick non-toxic coating called LiquiGlide. When applied to the ketchup bottle, every last drop of the contents easily slide out. The amazing new liquid is good for all condiment bottles (plastic or glass!)

Lubed for your pleasure.

Right now, Dave is simply enjoying the smug satisfaction of knowing he’s probably going to get an A+ on his dissertation. But long-term? The application of LiguiGlide is being looked at as an anti-icing agent for windshields and anti-clog for fuel lines. Basically, homeboy and the company that funded/assisted are going to own patents on everything in the next few years. Gold diggers of the world, smarten up, tuck your cleavage in and head for MIT…because the bottle industry alone is worth 17 billion. Dave Smith is gonna be paid!

Watch the MODERN MIRACLE in action!

In an age when Cancer, Aids and Alzheimer’s have no cure, and the world seems to be swallowing itself whole, science has eliminated a TRULY DEVASTATING affliction. We can finally rest easy. After all, wasted ketchup at the hands of an unrelenting bottle is the original “first world problem.”

Of course, I’m just glad Mustard bottles will be able to benefit from LiquiGlide. Everyone knows MUSTARD is the KING of condiments. Ketchup is the syrupy also-ran to kick-a** mustard.

Today the brilliant minds of SCIENCE have conquered the blasted condiment bottle cling. Tomorrow? Perhaps bottles of booze that chill themselves! Get on it Poindexters, there’s a Doctoral Degree somewhere in there!

gizmodo image via

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Posted in In the Interest of Science., LE YUM, THE FUTURE

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Fleet Week 2012: Top O’ The Skank Heap

Posted on May 23, 2012 | 3 Comments

Let’s Salute Sea Men!

Today is the beginning of FLEET WEEK 2012 in New York City! A week-long orgy of patriotism, sailors and drunken makeouts, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: FLEET WEEK IS LIKE CHRISTMAS FOR SLUTS LIKE US! It’s a time when the random make-outs and Valtrex flow like Appletinis at a Gay Bar. Because I enjoy whistling at large groups of sailors, I make sure to post about Fleet Week NYC every year.

There’s a special level of satisfaction a webmaster reaches when she finds that her website is the #1 google search result for “Fleet Week Skanks”. Finally, the world has recognized that this humble little hobo shack of a site is your #1 place for FLEET WEEK SKANKS!

I’m.

So.

Proud.

Speaking of pride: this one goes out to all my beloved sailors in the Navy, enjoying their FIRST Fleet Week sans Don’t Ask Don’t Tell! Fancy Lads and Diesel Dames: get LOUD AND PROUD!

Can’t make it to New York City this week?

Don’t worry, perhaps you can make it to Ray Wolfe’s World Record breaking attempt this weekend! What’s the record? I’ll let Ray explain it himself! Stop what you are doing RITE NOW get some earphones and watch the following video. Oh, and you’re going to need a bucket to vomit in towel to dry yourself off with afterwards.

Ray is not only a Canadian skeeze about town, he also happens to have a sexy patch of gray Astroturf growing underneath his upper lip. I won’t be making it to Ottawa for the pleasure of pleasuring him, but I wish him luck. Spoiler Alert: I’m pretty sure no one will show.

From my dock to yours, Happy Fleet Week 2012, you beautiful reader!

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Post On Request: I Got Worms

Posted on May 22, 2012 | 1 Comment

Just so you know what we’re dealing with.

Reader Misty is enjoying a birthday today and almost two weeks ago sent me the following POST ON REQUEST:

“What do you think about the tapeworm diet and those who think it is a good idea?”

Let me just start off by wishing Misty a very happy Birthday and then thanking her. Thanks to the internet research I had to do for Misty’s post request, I’m not eating another morsel of anything this fine TUES-the-EXTREME Day. I’m sure to drop a 1/2 of pound from my sudden and complete loss of appetite. Most likely you will too!

I Got Worms

While exercise and diet is the key to sustained weight management, that doesn’t sound fun, nor is it easy. That’s why for centuries snake-oil salesmen have made a fortune off of shilling crap that doesn’t work, and folks have been doing ridiculous shiz in the name of “easy weight loss.”

From the “Hollywood Miracle Diet” to the unfortunately named ”AYDS Diet Plan,” there have been some nutty regimens followed, all with the same goal in mind: fast results that require no effort. Perhaps there is no more disgusting and HP Lovecraft-like than the “Tapeworm Diet.”

The premise of the tapeworm diet is simple: Fatso ingests beef tapeworm larvae, lets the suckers come to life inside their intestines where the tapeworms then block proper digestion and nutrient absorption. The end result sounds awesome: “Eat all you want and still lose weight!” Once the dieter’s goal weight is reached, they take medicine that kills the parasite and allows them to poop the dead worm’s carcass out.

GROSS-O-MODO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Believe it or not, this Tapeworm diet nonsense has been around for decades. Check out this ad from the 1920′s…

Ew.

For all you lazy plump rumps who are thinking: “HAY! THIS LOOKS LIKE A GOOD IDEA!” I have bad news for you, the Tapeworm diet is illegal in the United States.

And for good reason, the diet can lead to fatal complications and requires you infect yourself with a parasite for f*cks sake. Seriously people, isn’t it just easier to walk to a Subway?

Of course, the sterling Medical community of Mexico offers a solution. For $1500.00 a clinic will infect you with beef tapeworm larvae and will then provide you with the meds to sh*t that nasty big thing out when you’re skinny enuff.

Why beef tapeworms? Because people run the risk of BRAIN TAPEWORMS with other meat-hosted tapeworm larvae. Friendly Tip: If you never want to sleep again, google: “brain tapeworms”.

The saddest thing about this whole dang post is the comments on the articles written about the tapeworm diet. I found a metric ton of folks looking for a place that sells beef tapeworm larvae on the “Black Market.” People desperate to get a nasty worm inside of them (getyourmindoutofthegutter.)

Oh heck, why don’t we make this infectious diet legal all over the globe!? Sure the consequences may be fatal, but it’s evolution AKA “thinning the heard,” in action! Because let’s be real, if you’re willing to host a parasite just to lose weight without effort…well, you’re expendable.

One question remains.

As a pet owner with an animal who once had to be treated for tapeworms, I can’t help but wonder…Do Tapeworm dieters drag their butts across the carpet too?

-The Crib Keeper

Speaking of pets with tapeworms…

Cats. Hate them or hate them, you’ve gotta admit Garfield the comic cat has a pile of money. Since his introduction in the 1970′s by the beloved/hated hand of Jim Davis, Garfield has been a mint that continuously churns out the $$$ and manages to stay relevant.

As a child I was a HUGE Garfield fan. Now? Well, the embittered march of time across my inner child has left me too snarky to enjoy his deadpanned witticisms.

Garfield Sucks.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who has no love for the morbidly obese feline…Twitter is rife with Garfield Haters. say hello to my new favorite internet time-wasting activity: LOL’ing at  Garfield hate tweets.

For an extra hard laugh, check out buzzfeed’s compilation of the hate thrown at Garfield on twitter mind the language, as you can imagine It’s NSFW.

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Disgusting Or Delicious? YOU DECIDE! (Cupcakewurst)

Posted on May 21, 2012 | 3 Comments

The WURST Cake

Happy Monday, my beautiful babies! I have returned from a week of slave labor unpacking and toiling to get settled in the new house. Lover Fo’ Life took last week off to help move and prepare our old house for sale, and let me tell you…he’s a HOSS.

On one hand it’s awesome to have such a dedicated laborer to the cause, but on the other hand, as a profoundly lazy person, I was in misery.

L4L is hip to my goldbricking ways, and demands productivity in his presence. Makes sense, I mean how many of you like to sweat while someone watches Judge Judy and lounges with a wine cooler? Nobody, that’s who. Unfortunately, out of courtesy to my Eagle Scout, I’ve been bustin’ it.

Which brings me to you, my beloved reader. YOU have been stuck doing your routine with NO NEW CRIB KEEPER DISPATCHES to waste time with. Oh sure, I have almost 1000 archived posts of pure hilarity you could read, but If I know my booze-swilling slugabeds, y’all are too busy to live in the past.

So let me be the first to congratulate you on your longest break without my freshly churned hahas. I assure you, I do not plan on taking any future extended absences.

And what better way to celebrate my triumphant return to the land of the ludicrous, than by introducing you to something that will either make your heart sing or your stomach lurch. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…I give you CUPCAKE WURST!

Stef, the genius behind Cupcake Project has created cupcake sausages. She piped cupcake batter into sausage casings and baked them. I can’t decide if I’m grossed out by the process or intrigued. I’ll say this: I thought her idea of warming them on the grill just before serving was adorable. Enjoy!

Um or Yum?

Ew.

Ready to stuff in your mouth.

Precious

Slice up a longjohn donut and drizzle raspberry sauce over to serve. (I’d use yellow buttercream to mimic mustard.)

Oh, and for those of you who have decided YOU MUST have one of these hop on over and scroll down, it’s involved.

So internets, what say you? Are these disgusting or delicious?

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Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder (AKA Breakdown)

Posted on May 16, 2012 | 2 Comments

Like it was yesterday.

When we last spoke, I was fresh with the glow of reunited love. Lover Fo’ Life returned from his business trip abroad and we were beginning to settle in the new house. What I didn’t know is that Angry Baby had a 2-Day trip to HECK scheduled for yours truly. What a fool I was.

You’ll have to forgive me for the sparse posting, getting settled into a new house with a toddler is far more difficult than L4L or I ever dreamt it would be. Luckily, we have incredible family and friends who are helping tons AND L4L took a week off to settle in/ prepare the old house for the house market.

I’m happy to report that we’re “gettin’ it done!” but it’s been at a cost of all free time. I understand that just because I decided to go off and move to a new place doesn’t make YOUR job any less boring and YOU still have mounds of time to waste! So, I have returned this fine day to share a tale that just happened to me Friday, and was incredibly humiliating. I know how you ghouls love to read my tales of WOE with Angry Baby, and today I’ve got a doozie. Enjoy!

Breakdown

Friday we woke up and L4L went in for his customary 1/2 day at the office. The moment Angry Baby was conscious, she was yelling “DADA! DADA!” She went around the house looking for him and when she concluded he was not there, she proceeded to cry for the next 4 hours until she was reunited with him.

When he walked through the door, and she flung herself on him like a tiny stuntman covered in velcro. When he dared to put her down or LEAVE EYESIGHT? Angry Baby screamed.

This continued all afternoon.

When Angry Baby was tiny, she cried all the time, everything set her off. Thanks to the numbing routine of raising an infant, I was able to work through the hours of yelling. Perhaps it was my sleep deprivation, or the fact that nature gives new Moms otherworldly skills in knowing what baby needs, but I could go days before her constant screaming would upset me. DAYS.

Of course, at 19 months AKA 1.5 years, Angry Baby is no longer technically a baby, she’s a little person. Gone is the furious grubworm of infancy and in her place is a child that while a handful, isn’t set off by everything. My yell-coping skills have gotten rusty as now, she’s able to communicate beyond crying.

Unfortunately for me this past Friday, I found myself woefully unprepared. Angry Baby threw an all-day whine/cry/scream/yell/kick fest. All while I attempted to unpack boxes in the new house. Perhaps it’s the overwhelming changes in her routine, or the fact that she’s not the center of attention while L4L and I bust out the work on our new place, but Friday was a carnival of horrors.

At 7:30pm we had dinner plans with some friends, a proud KID-FREE couple, who enjoy Angry Baby’s antics supremely. We warned them as we sat down: “She’s in rare form today.”

The particular establishment that we were patronizing was a pizza joint that requires you order (and pay) at a counter. I left Angry Baby with her precious Pops while I ordered, at least that was the plan.

The moment I began to step away, Angry Baby started crying. I went back to the table and L4L passed her off to me, as he made his way to the counter, she screamed even louder. In order to placate her in the crowded (unfriendly) restaurant, the THREE of us went up to order at the counter. What a little jerk.

As we carried on a conversation over Angry Baby’s grunts and growls, she decided the high chair was bullshiz and climbed into my lap. The food arrived and I ate with her perched on me, whining the whole time she ate off of my plate. When Angry Baby had her fill of my tortellini? She climbed on her dad’s knee and slurped chicken fettuccine.

After about 20 minutes, she decided she wanted me again and started crying. Only once the PILL was in my arms, she wanted her pops again. for the next 5 minutes, L4L and I continuously passed her back and forth, until finally…even that failed to stop her crying. As she screamed in my ear I dropped my silverware, as I went to retrieve it, I wacked my temple on the side of the chair next to me. I was in sudden, blinding pain (literally saw stars.)

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFF!”

“Are you okay!?” Lover Fo’ Life quickly asked.

No. I was most certainly NOT okay. I’d been screamed at by a furious little dictator for the entire day. I was tired from battling Angry Baby and schlepping my belongings around the new house. Mentally, emotionally and physically tapped out, and now? Now my temple and head were throbbing. Something in me went kablooey.

“No, I’m not OKAY! I’ve hit my limit, I can’t take it anymore. Get her away from meeeeee!”

L4L swooped the tempertantruming child up and carted her off to her car seat. She stopped crying the moment they crossed the restaurant’s threshold.

Our friends while horrified at the train wreck. They sat and comforted me while I cried for the next 5 minutes. After I regained my cool, I joined a concerned L4L and we drove home. I hit my breaking point, exhausted and drained, I looked to the backseat. I was met with a grinning little moon-face.

“You won this round kid. Well played you little meanie.”

Am I embarrassed that a toddler got the best of me? Yep. But it’s okay, after all Texas lost the Battle of the Alamo, but we won the war for independence! Like an outrageously beautiful (and humble) phoenix, I have risen from the breakdown ashes, and now? Now it’s game on. You see, Angry Baby is going to lose in this battle of wills. I’m bigger, meaner, and most importantly, the one in charge.

 

Until next time,

The Crib Keeper

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