There is this movie. It is called ‘Human Centipede.’ Don’t google it! Unless you have a strong stomach and a penchant for the weird and gross. Which I do.
So. I watched this movie on Netflix. I don’t want to be the one who tells you what it is about, so I’ll let you learn about it the same way I did: through the amaze-balls online movie critic Eric D. Snider’s website (The ‘D’ stands for Donna). Here is the link to his review. It is probably your family-safest option for learning about this movie.
Okay. Are you back from reading it? Do you need to take a time out to gargle with lysol? I’ll wait.
Ever since I watched this movie through the chinks of my hand held over my eyes, I have developed a condition called ‘coprolalia.’ Coprolalia is a Tourette’s-like condition where
the crazy person the afflicted randomly shouts out swears or obscenities or socially inappropriate phrases. I shout out ‘Human Centipede.’ Everywhere. All the time. In socially inappropriate settings. It’s a problem. If you order the ‘Oink, Oink, Oink’ from the restaurant ‘Eva’s,’ I will blurt out to complete strangers, ‘HUMAN CENTIPEDE.’ If I’m at a fancy dinner party and three women depart simulatenously to use the Ladiez Room, I will ejaculate,* ‘HUMAN CENTIPEDE.’ If I am at Parent/Teacher conference and the teacher mentions my daughter’s inability to understand phonics, I will scream, ‘HUMAN CENTIPEDE.’
Okay, I’m kidding about that last one. Probably.
Imagine my surprise when Mr. Floozy came home from a Work Party White Elephant Party Party with this as his spoils.
He was all, ‘Did you see the White Elephant that I won?’ And I was all, ‘HUMAN CENTIPEDE.’ And then he backed away slowly from the living room, afraid of making any sudden movements.
Yesterday I rediscovered this stuffed marvel and decided that it was not Human Centipedey enough. And that I could make it better.
With a few snips of my scissors, I easily disassembled the TriPenguin.
Observe the paper towel holder that was used to support the Penguin Cheerleader Stack. And what is that . . . over there . . . that bag thingey . . . . Oh my glob. Is that a bag of kitty litter? And what is that poking out of the bag?
OH MY GLOB. IS THAT A TURD?
Yeah, I’m pretty sure that it was kitty litter complete with turd. For a second there when I pulled the bag out of the bottom penguin’s butt, I thought that it was smuggled drugs. But on closer inspection, I decided not to snort it to find out.
Let me be clear here. I found this baggie of clumpy ‘sand’ inside of the penguins. I don’t think it was tampered with outside of the factory (sweatshop) where it was made, but who knows? Maybe the baggie was sewn into the toy by a mule for, uh, kitty litter. But seriously. Is that not the weirdest thing ever to be found inside of a stuffed animal(s)?
Putting my disgust aside, I went about the process of hot glueing the penguins into the classic human centipede configuration.
Hmmmm. I wonder what else I can find in my house to defile?
I hope you all have a nice day HUMAN CENTIPEDE!
*Funny story: when I was a kid I read a lot of Victorian Literature. The word ‘ejaculate’ was frequently used, as in, “‘Let’s all have a snifters of brandy and play whist, shall we?’ the dame ejaculated.” I thought it just meant ‘to shout out.’ I had no idea about the other definition. I wrote a lot of school papers with the word ‘ejaculate.’ My poor, poor teachers.