Tee Shirt Soup

Originally, I thought that Jersey Shore was just the latest pop-culture phenomenon/freakshow housing a bunch of different personalities and egos under one roof for the viewer’s pleasure. And we could only sit, like an emperor in front of our television, and offer a ceremonial “thumbs up” or “thumbs down.” We had no real power. I mean, it’s not like we could vote people out of the house. Little did I know how wrong I was.

As the writer of every post and even some of the comments on this site, and probably the only person to have read every article here (I’d actually be scared if that second part weren’t true), I know there are two things that readers of this site have in common: None of us quite understand how a woman thinks, and we are all harboring some vestige of a crush on an ’80s television star. What if I told you I found a site that satisfies both of those things?

For maximum sympathetic douche chill, click the card above to enlarge. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all! Soupy

This is a story about a girl I dated in elementary school. Maybe “dated” isn’t exactly the right word. We “went out” with each other, which when you’re 13 in suburban Philadelphia in 1982 meant that you publicly professed your “like” for one another, got achingly jealous if you saw her talking to another boy, and it was certainly understood that you would rate each other a “10″ whenever a list of classmates got passed around for you to judge everyone’s appearances. At least that’s what would have happened. But she wasn’t in my class. She was actually in the 6th grade.

You know them from The Hangover. You loved them in Old School. Ladies and Gentleman, The Dan Band.

The “Game of Life” and “playing cards” were the beginning and the end of the list of the 2010 inductees into the National Toy Hall of Fame. Located in Rochester, New York, this hallowed ground of “all things fun” is also home to such endorphin-releasing gadgets as the ball (inducted in 2009), and the stick (yes, I said stick. And not a smooth rounded stick either; I’m talking about a branch), a 2008 inductee. In case you are wondering, the cardboard box is a member of the Hall’s 2006 class. I don’t know about you guys, but I think I could spend a week there one night.

“Absolutely it meant something,” Donovan McNabb’s father remarked of the timing of his son’s trade to the Redskins which went down on Easter Sunday 2010. “We were celebrating Jesus’ resurrection, right? Then we turn around and Donovan gets resurrected. Just perfect.”

I was in an accident two weeks ago. It was a pretty minor one, but I just got my car back today. I’m not blaming the body shop; it takes a while to get parts for a 2001 Volvo station wagon (bragging). And much of the damage was to the front end, so I had to wait for a new little headlight windshield wiper thingie (bragging again). Also the fender was a bit smashed, and the bumper was hanging off.

Okay, I officially need a Twitter intervention. I’m addicted. Everytime the thought occurs to me that I need to update this site, maybe post something hilarious, I think anything over 140 characters just seems like too much work. There are definitely some funny things in store for TeeShirtSoup in the very near future. In the meantime, I need your help. I found this over on comedian @colinkane’s Twitter page, and decided to steal it for here.

Greg Giraldo, the frenetic, caustic, brilliant comic succumbed to his demons yesterday, and embarked on the one trip where you can truly leave your baggage behind. He was one funny fucker, and the Comedy Central Roasts won’t be the same.

This is the time of year when we typically find that while some campaign contributions go towards getting the candidates message out (broadcasting television ads, etc.), most go to private investigators and staffers to dig up as much dirt as they can on an opponent.  I noticed a break from that trend of mudslinging this year, but candidates [...]

I heard a commercial for a new male enhancement product during today’s morning commute.  It’s name, Hero Tabs, was presumably the idea of a “Rah Rah HR guy.” Be a hero!  Please your lady everytime.  Just not in the workplace. Anyway, according to this commercial (which I wish I could find for you guys, but here’s [...]

  ALTERNATE TITLE:  The Sound And The Fury, Book 2 Nestled in the bosom of Pennsylvania, lies Knoebels — an old fashioned amusement park and campground that was described to me as quaint and “cheap as hell.”  I was all in, and so was my sister and her family and our friends and their children. [...]

The banjo music that I heard was either off in the distance or in my head. And it weren’t no Roy Clark ner Buck Owens good-time Hee Haw banjo pickin’ neither (no Misty Rowe or Gunilla Hutton sittin’ on bales of hay slapping their knees to the tune).  No, it was a haunting, uneasy kind of [...]

I had a dream last night that my big toe was very upset with me because he didn’t have a name. “You mean like my penis’ name is Reginald Johnson?” I asked. “No, Shit-for-brains,” he shot back, “like your fingers have names.  Thumb, pinky, index finger, the bird.  Get it?” “Oh.” Awkward silence. “Well just so you [...]