Apr 26 2008

I sprained my ankle

I know, I know, who gives a tub of Cool Whip about anyone’s orthopedic problems? But you should give a tub of Cool Whip about this orthopedic problem, because had I not spent the afternoon immobilized with an ice pack and a laptop in my lime green recliner, I might never have found this incredible video, which has forever changed the way I look at a cappella renditions of popular TV themes, and which I now share with you, my most intimate and valued invisible internet friend. Prepare to have your mind blown.

Note: Because it is not readily apparent from the video — even though the title of the video is “Battlestar Galactica Theme” — I will clue you in: it’s the Battlestar Galactica theme.

I had to quit watching “Battlestar Galactica” because that yell-o-headed Cylon in the red fuck-me dress was just too sexy for my shirt.

[Via Wired]


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  1. PhysioProf

    Holy fuck!! I hope your ankle gets better soon!

  2. HistoricUpstart

    You should have someone make you a lime green margarita to match your lime green recliner. Tequila make pain go bye bye!!

  3. Twisty

    “Tequila make pain go bye bye!!”

    Especially when enjoyed with my favorite hors d’oeuvre, Vicodin on Toasted Brioche. Stingray informs me that this combo impairs my judgement, but wait’ll she sees this great video! That’ll show her from impaired!

  4. Puffin

    Wow! That reminded me of how much I used to enjoy Weird Al. Have you stumbled across the weird remix of the Good Morning America FLDS interview on YouTube? Or just seen the interviews themselves? Talk about having your mind blown.

  5. thebewilderness

    Ouch! Minor inconvenience sprain I hope, rather than a Bert excavation style sprain. Oh boggity, it wasn’t Stanley, was it?

  6. Pinko Punko

    Is Bert still with us or was this the final straw? Note how I jump to IBTB for ankle related situations.

    Expect picketing from certain particularly active Twisty blamers if something untoward has happened.

    BG trods no new ground in Patriarchy blaming, sadly, but I consider that we are punished for this by the fact that it is so ultra dark.

  7. Ron Sullivan

    Please tell us this wasn’t another dogdug hole in the yard. I know he’s a blond, but there’s such a thing as too much perpetuating of stereotypes.

    Mmmmm, margarita. I’d say “Mmmmm, brioche” too but I’ve never been sure enough about pronounciating it.

    Nevertheless: Get better fast, hey.

  8. Pinko Punko

    Also, I need to add that that guy kind of looks like the bad guy from The Warriors.

  9. Lara

    Well, that was strange…good coordination though. Twisty, now that you’ve had your Vicodin brioche perhaps you should record an a cappella of your own?
    Alas, I guess males are good for occasional entertainment while immobilized on green recliners.
    Feel better, hope it’s nothing too serious.

  10. Twisty

    Re: my ankle. Bert, though I will always blame him and his dumb conceptual art project for the original ankle disintegration incident of ’06 that had me laid up for two months watching Turner Classic Movies on TV on a sagging futon, and though he is a willful dog who remains unconvinced that my ligaments are not playtoys, was not directly culpable in today’s orthopedic tragedy.

    I tripped on a horse turd at the barn, if you can believe it. One minute I was the very picture of agrarian contentment, basking in the cool breeze, the sound of a truck radio playing country music receding into the distance, and the intoxicating horsey-sweat mojo of my boyfriend Stanley, who was grazing placidly nearby. But the next I was on my back, waving my injured limb in the air, shrieking “NO! NO! I can’t live this nightmare again!”

    I don’t normally believe TV advertising has much to offer in the philosophy department, but in this case I think it’s fair to agree with that one insurance commercial; life really does come at ya fast.

    It was not Stanley’s turd. His spotless record remains clear of all ankle-related charges. Although for how long is anybody’s guess. Stanley stands five and a half feet at the shoulder, and, hell, he’s a horse after all, which means that one of these days he’s gonna spook and sprint off at a 90 degree angle to my ass while I’m yappin on my cell phone. Five and a half feet may not sound like much, but it’s a tough crash when those five and a half feet are suddenly 20 yards away from where they were just 2 seconds ago, and you’re not.

    However, that particular indignity lies in the future. Today, because I had a skillful surgeon last time who repaired my flappling ligaments as she had never repaired flappling ligaments before, I do not anticipate hideous complications from this run-of-the-mill sprain. “Maybe” suggested Tidy, my physiologist sibling, “you just blew out some scar tissue!”

  11. Twisty

    Ron: bree-osh. It’s close enough. And thanks for reminding me. It’s time for another round, whoop!

  12. rootlesscosmo

    I tripped on a horse turd

    OK, maybe I need to recalibrate my own meds, but somehow I hear that line to the tune of “We Kiss in the Shadows” from South Pacific.

    I tripped on a horse turd
    Sprained my ankle again–
    Was it really a horse turd
    Or was it the men? (etc.)

  13. Azundris

    Just for the fun of it, here’s a version of the Star Trek (The — sadly not terribly feminist — Original Series) theme:

  14. Ron Sullivan

    Ron: bree-osh

    That’s what I’ve said, but people look at me funny. Maybe it’s just that people look at me funny. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

    Tripping over a horse turd is, without a doubt, creative. You’re hearing this from someone who’s tripped over her own damned hair, not to mention things that weren’t actually underfoot.

    Pass the Vicodin, please. Goes well with cheap bourbon too.

  15. Twisty

    So Ron, you can trip in mid-air? I did that once. Best trip of my life.

  16. Pinko Punko

    Azundris- how could you? LOVE IT.

  17. Twisty

    rootless, do ya mean “The King and I”? Which I’m asking not because I know anything about musicals, but because I played a — that’s right — “Siamese twin” in a 1968 local theater production of same. Getting to know you, getting to know all a-bough chew. Etc. All of us Siamese kids were made up according to the director’s idea of “oriental blackface.” The mind reels.

  18. PhysioProf

    “Maybe” suggested Tidy, my physiologist sibling, “you just blew out some scar tissue!”

    She must have paid close attention in school. We do a whole section of our first-year medical physiology course entitled, “Blowing Shit Out”.

  19. rootlesscosmo

    “King and I,” of course, sorry. There was a real epidemic of those “take-up-the-white-man’s burden” musicals and movies after WW2–“Flower Drum Song,” “The World of Suzie Wong,” “Sayonara,” “Teahouse of the August Moon” and on and on–and they tend to blur in my aging memory. “Flower Drum Song” delivers the whole Orientalist-patriarchal package in the production number “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” The mind reels, indeed.

  20. Ron Sullivan

    So Ron, you can trip in mid-air?

    I ain’t sayin it’s easy, mind you. And on the advice of my imaginary lawyer, I’m keeping mum about my best trip. Mum’s long gone, so at least I don’t have to worry about her finding out about it.

    Thanks to a good Catholic education, I never had to be a Siamese twin. I did, however, write and direct a play about the life and times of Mother Seton. Lord, lord. I did put one scene in a lazaretto, mostly so I could say “lazaretto,” and had the cast lie around being all leprous and moany.

    I showed up for dress rehearsal in my best friend’s jodphurs and riding boots and brought her riding crop too. Nobody even laughed. Buncha 12-year-old philistines.

    I bet your costumes were more fun.

  21. tharine


    I played a Siamese twin/princess/child as well, but in 1990.

    Also with the “oriental blackface”. Yeesh.

  22. B

    You know how people sometimes slip on ice in the wintertime? I slipped on the street in late summer due to a slippery pair of shoes. No obstructing object, no wetness – just perfect flat walkingstones in the middle of town and me sliding and falling, all in front of a bunch of astonished people trying not to laugh (at least that is how I interpreted their facial expressions)..

  23. Lieutenant Reverend B. Dagger Lee

    Sometimes Vicodin makes people a little chatty.

    I’m feeling a little chatty myself, so instead of the big dyke chin nod, I want to tell you, Twisty, how much I appreciate your sanity.

    Most days it’s in short supply.

    We are just crazy little monkeys.

  24. Lara

    “We are just crazy little monkeys.”

    I dunno what it is but that last line made me chuckle a lot.

  25. Twisty

    BDL, the feeling is mutual. Even a non-big-dyke-chin-nod from you makes it all worthwhile.

  26. Fiona

    Ahhhhh. Vicodin. A good old friend. After excruciating oral surgery of four impacted wisdom teeth (yes, I mentioned this in another comment; no, I don’t want a medal), I developed something called dry socket which lasted for a month and a half. The gruesome details aren’t necessary to share, but I was previously unaware that pain like this existed.

    Fortunately, my oral surgeon’s wish was my command, and I got my hands on Vicodin by the boatload. Unfortunately, for this caliber of pain, Vicodin alone didn’t do the trick. A Vicodin washed down with a shot of vodka (V&V, as it were) DID do the trick, and it won’t kill you if you don’t make a habit of it.

    There’s no reason why Vicodin shouldn’t be available to all without a prescription. I find it mellows me out immediately and improves my mood immeasurably. With a little disciplined rationing, say, as opposed to swallowing 30 tablets a day a la Rush Limbaugh, a Vicodin prescription can take the edge off of life for many, many months.

    But I still suggest the inappropriate combination of one Vicodin tablet (preferably 10/1000, but make do with whatcha got) and one shot of vodka for the worst pain. This is coming from someone who also had, at age 26, three root canals in six months, foot surgery on both feet that put her in a wheelchair for eight weeks and maxillofacial surgery on her jaw for TMJ.

    Of course, the V&V wasn’t my only method of pain reduction, but it was the only legal one. I’m OK now, but I cringe at the thought of anyone experiencing extreme physical pain. Don’t suffer, yo.

  27. Fiona

    I just read Lieutenant Reverend B. Dagger Lee’s comment, and at first I thought it said, “I want to tell you, Twisty, how much I appreciate your sanctity.”

  28. Joselle Palacios

    It’s a patriarchal conspiracy, I say, because I have a sprained ankle too!

    Best wishes for a speedy and full recovery to our all-important and underrecognized ankles.

  29. narya

    Now that y’all have mastered brioche, we’ll attempt pithivier and praline. Yes, you think it’s PRAY-leen, but if you do the frenchy thing, it becomes PRAH-li-nay. And bisquit is bis-KWEE. And the pithivier is pi-TEE-vee-ay. It’s made of puff pastry with almond filling, and it has a little crown on top and/or a baby or bean in the middle, and you serve it for King’s Day/Epiphany/January 6th.
    /pastry school geeking

  30. PhysioProf


    Nice fucking word!!

    The OED fairy sent me this first use:

    1902 F. S. ALLEN What’s What? 47 Pithiviers cakes (pe-te-vya), a kind of cake with a sweet paste of almonds, pistacchios, or filberts.

  31. Twisty

    Not to be a pedantic asshole, but in France, “praline” would only be pronounced “prah-lin-ay” if the final “e” contained an acute accent (é) and the pronouncer was an American.

    In Texas we cope sensibly with the pithivier problem and just call’em “king cakes”.

  32. narya

    Thanks, Twisty–the only people I’ve heard pronounce it the Frenchy way are actual French people from France (the chefs in pastry school) and the Belgian chocolatiers who make/proffer their wares not too far from where I live. The chefs mostly said, rather than wrote, the word, but even in my recipes from school the accenty thing is not there–which could just be because the person(s) who typed it up has/have no clue about it. And I have never figured out how to get the accenty things to show up, not least because I’m pitifully monolingual and only need to know what they’re called for crossword puzzles.

    At the bakery at which I used to work, pithivier were made of puff pastry, but king cakes were this whole other thing–basically a big twist of coffee cake, sprinkled with yellow, purple, & green sugar (AND white icing, AND possibly fruit jelly filling of some kind) and draped with beads and such. All in all, a big wad of sugar. Anyway, this means the king cake designation was not a way to solve the pronounciation problem. And don’t even get me started on the tarte du su bois (which I’m probably misspelling).

  33. Twisty

    “the king cake designation was not a way to solve the pronounciation problem.”

    And a pedantic asshole gets her just desserts. Touché!

  34. narya

    HAH! Come for the radical feminism, stay for the geeky language jokes. And the pithivier.

    Tell you what, Twisty; you ever come up my way, I’ll make a pithivier for you–or any other dessert you desire.

  35. PhysioProf

    And a pedantic asshole gets her just desserts.

    Maybe you should just leave the pedantic assholery to us dudes. We are much better at it.

  36. thebewilderness

    “Maybe you should just leave the pedantic assholery to us dudes. We are much better at it.”

    You, sir, are confusing frequency with quality.

  37. PhysioProf

    Practice makes perfect?

  38. Antoinette Niebieszczanski

    The tripped on a horse turd song is going to make me chortle to myself the rest of the day. Thanks, rootlesscomo.

    Best rendition I ever heard of “We Kiss in a Shadow” was done by the Gay Men’s Chorus in San Francisco.

  39. Antoinette Niebieszczanski

    And how do you know it wasn’t Stanley’s turd?

  40. rootlesscosmo

    Thanks, Annette Niebieszczanski. And now I have the phrase “Stanley’s turd” in my head, just whimpering to be daubed on an Off-Off-Broadway theatrical poster ca. 1971.

  41. rootlesscosmo

    Aargh… Antoinette, my apologies. (I was concentrating on spelling “Niebieszczanski” right and messed up the given name.)

  42. Fiona

    Hey, don’t feel badly. I’m sure she didn’t mean to refer to you as “rootlesscomo” any more than you meant to refer to her as “Annette.”

    My last name is Snider yet people spell it “Snyder” all the time. Forgivable. The “y” spelling of Snider is much more common. Pronouncing it “Schneider” isn’t forgivable though. Well, I guess it’s forgivable, but it’s just strange. I never understand the reflex to add the “Sh” sound to my name, especially when they see the name “Snider” spelled out and still pronounce it incorrectly, as in restaurant reservation scenarios and such.

    Perhaps now is the time for me to get a life, as they say.

  43. Fiona

    Oops. I meant I’m sure you didn’t mean to refer to her as “Annette” any more than she meant to refer to you as “rootlesscomo.”

    I know, who gives a shit? Consider my nonsense an object lesson in not commenting on blogs when under the influence of alcohol. Especially a blog where good writing and common sense are valued and expected.

  44. rootlesscosmo

    Rootless Como (Perry’s lowlife kid brother) had a walk-on in “Stanley’s Turd,” as I recall.

  45. Antoinette Niebieszczanski

    Oops, sorry. I blame my bad eyesight. (Shutting my pie-hole now.)

  46. jezebella

    I do believe that a cappella kid is going to be the next Weird Al Yankovic.

    I can’t stop laughing.

  47. Twisty

    Finally, someone comments on the video. It’s fucking brilliant. Whoo hoo!

  1. for fun « In The Form Of A Question

    […] since apparently there are a lot of people who love sociology and sci-fi at the same time, perhaps you’ll appreciate this video of some one doing the BSG theme song a capella, which is perhaps one of the most hilarious things i’ve seen this semester [via I Blame The Patriarchy]: […]

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