FUCKERY

NO. Noooooo. No no no no oh hell fucking no. According to the Hollywood Reporter, Warner Brothers is in talks to remake The NeverEnding Story.

WHY, movie people? Why can't you let sleeping dogs lie? Giant, sleeping, pink, feathered, flying, wish-granting dogs called Luck Dragons? Why can't you leave my childhood alone? I may not be able to accompany Michael K., but just tell me who I have to kick in the nuts and I will fly to L.A. myself.

There were already remakes of The NeverEnding Story, okay, they were called sequels and only one of them was even halfway good and that was only because I was in love with Jonathan Brandis back in the day. Goddammit. This makes me want to hike on out to the Swamps of Sadness and just give the fuck up. Artex must have seen this coming.

To Catch A Scumbag Part 5

Finally, it is my turn to speak. I introduced myself and Kat and gave some background about our house, the break in, and the house next door. Then I complimented the chief on the great job his officers have been doing. I figured starting off with something positive was smart, particularly after what just occurred. Then the chief goes “You’re Brad Wheeling? Marianne’s brother?” Of course the answer was yes. I have known Chief Dowling sine I was very little. His wife was my sister’s best friend in high school, but I had not seen him in 25 years. Then he says “Man, I used to love hanging out at your parents house with that heated pool and going Christmas caroling every year.” Caroling was a tradition in my family in the 70’s and 80’s. I almost said “let the minutes reflect my parent’s pool kicked ass!” but I didn’t. Now I figured I was in. I said that I came here hoping the city could do something about the condition of the house next door and get the property secured. Then the chief said they had a strong suspect and that he thought they recovered some property. He said don’t hold him to that but he was pretty sure. Then the mayor said that they would call the Realtor and have the property cleaned up ASAP. That’s how you do it Al Sharpton wannabe!

So I walked out of there feeling pretty good. It felt like we were heard, our concerns were taken seriously, and action was forthcoming. So on that following Monday, January 19 we called Detective Wethington to see if what chief said so correct – they had a suspect and recovered property. We got his voice mail and left a message. Come Wednesday, there was no return call. Also, the house still had not been secured or cleaned up so I was feeling like maybe we were only paid lip service. We called the detective Wednesday and again Friday, still no call back. Then on Saturday, I heard some commotion happening next door. I jumped up and was ready to spring into action and I saw it was St Louis’ worst Realtor Tom Azar. He was there cleaning up is broke-ass sign in the yard and looked to have a handyman with him. I was tempted to go over and confront him but I figured no good would come from it. It would probably devolve into me taunting him and making fun of him, and that’s what this blog is for.

Now I felt like I was getting some action, but was still disappointed that I had not heard back from the detective. We called again on Monday and one more time that week, but still no call back. I made a plan to call the chief on what would be Monday, Feb 2. Early that morning Kat called me at work and said she just got off the phone with Detective Wethington. He had arrested 6 people in connection with the break in of our house. They were all juveniles and only 4 were old enough to be charged. Also, he said that they had all of the stuff we listed as stolen and we could come by the police station and pick it up anytime we wanted. YES! He also told us he had been on vacation for two weeks and that he was sorry no one told us that he was out. Note to all secretaries/administrators: Let customers know if someone will not be able to return your call for some time and offer to let them talk to someone else. We said we would come by on Wednesday, Feb 4.

Kat and I each arranged to leave work a little early and we met at the police station. We meet with the detective and he gives us a brief synopsis of what happened. It was indeed kids from the neighborhood, but as he put it “They were busy little dirtbags” who were responsible for a number of crimes in the neighborhood. They had come through the window and grabbed our stuff. We got back my stereo, my Sirius receiver, and best of all, Kat’s new autographed leather Dale Earnhardt Jr. jacket – a most prized possession she did not even get the chance to wear yet. There was also a pile of other stuff there. As I looked at it I realized it was a cooler we had in our garage. I opened it up and looked inside and there were some die cast cars I had been storing, some games, and a case of DVD movies and software I had. We didn’t even know that stuff was missing! So not only did we get back everything we hoped, we got a bonus of getting back things we didn’t even know we lost.

We were really happy to get out things back but more importantly, it brought a little piece of mind and renewed confidence that our government and our police departments really do work. I know that sounds hokey, but we both truly felt that. I think it helps that we participated in the process; we didn’t just sit back and wait for city hall or the police to magically solve the problem. Did you know that nationwide, only 13% of burglaries are ever solved? Kat’s keen power of observation really helped. If she had not noticed the bike, the police may have never caught the little scumbags because I would have never set up the webcam that gave them the ID they needed. We watched the house for signs of activity and called the police when we saw something suspicious. We didn’t just wait for the police to do their job.

While the police had the photos I gave them, there were two other things that solidified who the suspects were. I told you that one of the things we lost was a big jar of change. Every day when we come home, we throw any change we have in the jar and at the end of the year we cash it in. It’s typically $200. Amazing how much change you accumulate in the course of a day. Det Wethington went to all of the area Coinstar machines to check if anyone turned in that amount of change. Turns out shortly after our break in, some cashed in $198.75 worth of change. Guess who it was? The same scumbags in the photos. The icing on the cake was that on one the little scumbags’ trips to the house next door, they left a cell phone. That gave the police the names and phone numbers of everyone in the gang. This reinforces my theory that most criminal are criminals because they are stupid and lazy.

So if you find yourself a victim, take a stand and get involved. Do not just sit around and wait for the police or government to solve your problem. Proactively participate in finding a solution. Setting up the web cam was really easy. Calling the police when we saw something was even easier. In the past, I would have just assumed that if I saw something that looked odd or suspicious that I would just be bothering the police because if something was really happening, SOMEONE ELSE would call the police. I can tell you that I am now a hero in my local police department for simply getting involved and helping do the job they like doing – catching scumbags. Hopefully that will buy a look the other way when I come home at 1:30 in the morning some day.

So that’s the tale of how were burglarized and caught the scumbags who did and got our stuff back. While it sucked in the moment, I can actually say this has been a positive experience. I do have a few more details to share with you that I will put in an epilogue. They didn’t fit neatly in the story, but they are worth sharing. I also owe you the story of how I got some revenge on craptastic Realtor Tom Azar. There are also a few friends who stepped up from out of nowhere to lend us a hand too. Finally and most recently, we had another “incident” involving this little gang of scumbags that may lead to another chapter in this story. Stay tuned for the epilogue.

Put Your Boobs Away, Grandma

So the Oscars were this Sunday. So. I watched but mostly flipped the stations only stopping on ABC to see the top categories announced. And since I am a heterosexual male, I do not watch the pre/post/during fashion commentary. I did, however, come across this picture of Sharon Stone today. Yes, at one time she was the epitome of sexy. That was the 80's. There comes a time when a woman has to look in the mirror and realize her age and dress appropriately. I like seeing boobs as much as the next guy, likely more. This is just a desperate cry for attention.



She claims to be 50. You judge.

Saved By The Weave

When I was in high school, I worked at the ghetto YMCA. You know what I mean. Depending on the city's size, each city has the following YMCAs: the Ghetto Y, the Rich Y, the Gay Y, the Family Y, and the Cop Y. These Ys can sometimes overlap (for instance, the Rich Y may also be the Family Y, depending on median neighborhood income) and sometimes other Y types are involved, but overall, I think you get the idea.

Anyway, I worked at the Ghetto Y. I was the only white girl on staff who wasn't one of the directors, meaning I didn't get to hide in my office from the clientele. This didn't bother me. When I wasn't busy, I spent my time looking up the ghettoest child names I could find in the member database. This was probably the best part of my job. Thanks to my research, my coworkers and I found out that our Ghetto Y was home to children named Chardonnay, Cabernet, Alize, Lo'real (which I originally thought was low-REAL but was actually the cosmetics company), D'Jamildo, Kartwinisha, and probably half the menu at Taco Bell.

Another great part of my job was the Weave Watch. Now, at the Rich Y, women show up to work out carrying thousand dollar handbags and wearing full makeup. At the Ghetto Y, ladies show up with their hair did. They don't get in the pool and they won't use a machine that requires them to recline, but they will show up fly. And sometimes they will fight each other.

One night I was working at the front desk, where I could see the swimming pool viewing area. A few adults were sitting around while their kids did a lesson, and although they didn't seem to be talking, apparently, a few of them had once been friendly. What I understood from the sudden "Bitch, you best" outburst was that one woman had once slept with the other woman's boyfriend, who also happened to be there. Words were exchanged, threats were made, and as we watched, something flew through the air.

I didn't even see it at first. I was too busy trying to decipher what the hell was going on. What made me stop was that one woman's hair got smaller. Where there was once a lacquered plastic swoop of stuff was now a tiny little frayed nub. I looked at the floor, and there it was. Removed from the head, the weave looked negelected and sad, possibly like a discarded rag or drowned rat. The woman who had just recently been attached to the weave didn't seem to notice that the other had ripped it from her head, and both had to be removed from the Y.

While my story is certainly awesome, it doesn't compare to the woman who was saved from a gunshot by her bulletproof weave. YES. As Fox 4 News in Kansas City said, it's unbeWEAVEable!

Secret Tweet is for.......

If you have not heard of the phenomenon that is Twitter, then you are likely doing time. Twitter.com is a micro-blogging site where you have 140 characters to answer the questions “What are you going?” It sort of functions like a public instant messenger and recently lots of high profile media people, politicians, and a few celebrities have been using it. I confess to being a borderline twitterholic, but there are people who send dozens of “tweets”, individual message posts, each day. They spend hours on Twitter sharing the minutia of their lives with the world. You choose who you follow and you see only their messages.

One of the “people” you can follow is Secret Tweet. Secret Tweet was created to allow Twitter users to share secrets anonymously. So people go to secrettweet.com and write a post and it is anonymously posted on Twitter. Here are some recent examples:

I really wish I followed my first mind and didn't marry you. Even the way you sneeze irritates me. If it wasn't for the kid.

I thought I hated sex. Turns out I just hated sex with my husband. But my boyfriend now wont give it up too much.

I know my ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend. but he still calls me everyday to say he misses me. i wish she knew.

I call bullshit on about 80% of the tweets they send out. As someone who writes for a living, I know I have a distinct style, as do many of the posts on Secret Tweet. They are written like setup-punchline. I bet that there is a person sitting around watching TV with little to no elastic in their underwear eating BBQ pork rinds all day churning out a vast majority of these posts. And for those that are real, man up and say these things to the person they are aimed at. That’s what we do here at ImRubberYourGlue. We speak our mind and do hide in the shadows when we do. So what is Secret Tweet for? Secret Tweet is for

(that's pussies btw)

To Catch A Scumbag Part 4

Continued from To Catch a Scumbag Part 3

Now back to our tale. I was fed up and I wanted action. I decided that I was not going to go to work and hide in the house and wait to catch these people. They had come and gone every day so I figured I had a solid chance. I also wanted to have contractors out to give bids on repairing the damage and a few burglar alarm companies as well. I took my car up to the police station and left it so it looked like no one was home. I waited, and waited. I had the camera set up and was watching my computer monitor all day. Zero activity the whole day. All I saw was squirrels and birds, no criminals. I decided it was a fluke and did the same thing the next day. Pretty early the next morning I see a person come down from behind the house next door, jump the fence, and start heading across the yard to towards the house. I jump up, grab my cell phone and my weapon of choice and head outside. Rather than going in the house, he comes around the front and is heading down the street. I stop him and ask him what he is doing. He tells me he is going to the store. So I lay into him about how this is private property and what could happen to people who trespass and that I better not ever see him cutting through again. He was polite and said he wouldn’t cut through anymore.

We had plans to go out for the day on Saturday, January 10 to Clarksville, MO to go eagle watching and eat at this really great restaurant called Village of the Blue Rose. We set up the camera and headed out for the day. We were gone for about 12 hours that day. We had a great time and forgot about all of our problems for awhile. I decided to review the footage and it was pretty much a field day of people coming and going from the house next door. I got really great shots of a person entering the house through the back door so I printed it out and called the police. One of the original patrol officers showed up and I handed him the photos. Two of the people were ones I had stopped earlier and a couple new faces. He seemed pretty impressed that we had pictures and times of people coming and going. He checked out the house and of course, no one was there.So we show up at the Woodson Terrace city council meeting on Thursday, January 15 with our photos of the suspects in hand as well as pictures of the mess from the Realtors busted ass signs scattered across the yard. I had two goals. To get the city to force the Realtor to take action and to get the house boarded up or otherwise secured. Right after the Pledge of Allegiance there is an opportunity for any citizens to bring business to the board. There were not many people there but I waited and let some others speak. I think this really worked to my advantage. This is also a bit of a departure from our crime story, but a couple of things happened before I got to speak that made me both laugh and worry. First, there were two ladies there who seemed to be “regulars.” I have to figure that if you are regularly going to city council meetings you may be some sort of crack pot. They did not prove me wrong. They were asking questions about how does one run for alderman, why is so and so allowed to have a sign in their yard but someone else is not and on and on. Finally they finished and another person got up to speak.

Let me just give you a little background about Woodson Terrace. While things are vastly different now, back in the 1980’s there was only one black family in the Woo. That’s it. Solamente uno. In 1992, I was working in real estate and a friend of mine sold a house to another black couple in Woodson Terrace. She got death threats. That’s right, plural. She got a lot of angry phone calls from local residents of that post World War II generation that were predominate at that time. A lot of those people and feelings are still prevalent today, but I think it is easy to say that presently Woodson Terrace is a diverse mix of races and cultures.

A couple of years ago a new night club called Brothers opened in our town. It catered to an upscale black crowd. Of course the old guard in town did not like. First and most obviously, because of the of the color of the skin of the patrons. Second, it replaced a local institution that was a favorite of the old guard – Groan’s Cafeteria. Brothers always seemed to have a good crowd and I never heard of any problems related to the club. For whatever reason the placed closed and the next speaker was there because she was looking to open a new business, again a nightclub, in the same location.

The woman got up and introduced herself and said she was looking to get a liquor license. Immediately the mayor stopped her and said that she needed to first go through the process of applying for the license and having an background check completed by the police department and that this was not the forum for that. She claimed she did do those things but the city clerk politely told her that no, she applied for a business license, not a liquor license they are two different things. She sat down but her husband was with her. I think he thought he was going to use his powerful oratory skills and the council would be so impressed that they would hand over a liquor license on the spot.

He started off by introducing himself as he husband and saying he was just there to support his wife. He then launched into a long diatribe about how she is a wonderful person and she should not be judged by any of his actions. So now am thinking “felon!” Then he starts talking about how he is proud of his life. The mayor obliged for awhile and then again told them that there is a process, and if they would follow the process then they may end up with their license. Since his goal was not achieved, he continued. The mayor only let this go on a short time and once again reviewed the process for getting a liquor license. The man started to get angry since the council had still failed to hand over the license even after he waxed philosophical. The chief of police cut in and said “Look, we told you what to do and you haven’t done it. And when I stopped by the other day while you were working in the building I told you that it would be a good idea to get your liquor license before continuing to do any work. Call and set up an appointment to get your license and background check. You cannot do that here.” So the man said, “I don’t understand why you are making us jump through all these hoops. When you stopped by the other day, I was not illiterate in any way…..” That is not a typo. The man said he was not illiterate. I believe he meant belligerent. This was only one of many large words he used out of context during his diatribe. I also think he felt he was just so charming that he should a liquor license. Finally he sat down but the ordeal was not over. The couple brought their pastor with them. He too was told about the process and that this couple has not taken any of the steps to complete the process. Well, he pastor launched into his best Al Sharpton and hinted at the racism that must be behind the city wanting them to actually apply for a liquor license. So now I am thinking that maybe it is not just crackpots who go to these meetings. This is solid entertainment.

More to come.....

IRYG Internet Douchebag of the Week UPDATE -- Suck It, Douchebags!

Awhile back, we nominated uber-douche Michael Minelli for the IRYG Internet Douchebag of the Week Award for attempting to sue Jay Louis, creator of Hot Chicks With Douchebags dot com and author of a book of the same name. Basically, Jay caught Michael being a douche and put him in his rightful place -- on the Internet where everyone could make fun of him. Also suing Jay Louis for defamation were three women pictured on the site.

Jesus, even Fox News jumped on the hott/douchey bandwagon.

Unlikely allies aside, it is with great, gloating, ha ha ha you're a spray-tanned loser with too many Ed Hardy T-shirts pleasure that I announce the dismissal of all HCwD lawsuits earlier this week. Pictured below are Jersey-bred Yvette Gorzelany and Joanna Obiedzinski, two of the female lawsuit-ers, who, despite their best efforts, are pictured allegedly in the exact way they will appear in the book, of course demonstrating their uncanny ability to pick really excellent friends.