Labels

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Friday, May 29, 2009

This is where I wish I knew how to key one of those upside-down exclamation marks before the phrase, as used in v. emotive Spanish text

No!


Exacting regimen

Fondly discussing her husband, Jen said:
We were also talking about Eat, Drink, Pray (or whatever that title is), and E has decided to do a "man version" called Drink, Fuck, Puke. He thinks it will be a hit best-seller.

And DJ enthused:
oh my god. i think i just peed my pants a little.* would you/ee mind if i blogged the Eat, Pray, Love comment with pseudonyms on my blergh?

smooches,
i steal other peoples' funny so they don't have to (<-- no idea)

* though at this time we cannot say conclusively that it had anything to do with my snort-laughter.

After Jen forwarded my query to E, he wrote me:
I really don't mean to be a douchepotato, because I'm sure she's decent and lovely, but what class does one find themselves in that they can respond to a bad divorce and depression by touring three distant countries in a journey of self-seeking? Doesn't this book belong on the Fantasy shelf for most people?
 
No, I haven't read the book. Judge first, read after firmly planting your opinion. That's my motto.

An ounce of credit to my alter-ego "Crude Rudy" would be nice.
 
But sure, go ahead and blog it. It would be even funnier---and offensive as hell---to imitate the cover of her book by finding a way to spell out the title using the elements of those actions.

DJ wheezed:
*snort* i think she uses pasta, prayer beads, and flower petals. what do you recommend instead? beer tabs, used condoms, and vomit? i'm not much with graphic design, but this could persuade me to try . . .

E concluded:
I am just the picture of rectitude, aren't I?

Standards

Of various things Waxy insisted:
I would never lower myself to that. I'm no Shatner.

Aspirations

Reminiscing about her recent sojourn with family Jak remarked of the two six-year-old cousins:
Hm, I'll have to think of some good stories. At one point they built a castle and were playing dead-princess-waiting-for-true-love-to-come-and-kiss. Lilly was the princess, and M was supposed to stand guard over her. After about twenty minutes M was like, "This is boring; let's play something else." But Lilly was all into it.


Fyrkenfrakkr

While trawling the Internet, I came across this:

Ikea is a reliable source of low-cost, build-it-yourself furniture for the masses.  It  allows you to have nice looking furniture, without having to spend a fortune.  But, you have to put it together, and since most of us are incapable of putting together anything with more than two pieces, there tends to be some struggling and frustration.  Here are 7 things that you're sure to say while assembling something from Ikea:



We’re all lucky that Ikea doesn’t make life boats.  If they did, we would constantly be finding dead bodies at sea, clinging lifelessly to a boat with no bottom and three oars. Ikea tries to be thoughtful and accommodating by including a small assortment of spare parts with your furniture, just in case you happen to lose something. The problem is that you’re always going to be missing a part, and it’s never going to be a piece that has a replacement included.  You can have thirty of those weird little wooden peg things, and that’s still not going to make up for the fact that your dresser doesn’t have a top drawer.





A piece of Ikea furniture is a lot like a penis: you never intend to have something really heavy sitting on top of it, but at some point it's going to happen.  You usually realize this when you've lifted the entire finished piece of furniture with two fingers of one hand, like you're in an X-Men film and you're just discovering that you have mutant powers.  That's when you take a closer look at what the furniture is made of, only to find that, much like Paris Hilton, it's completely hollow, and the people responsible for its creation clearly didn't give a shit.





It’s common knowledge that a few hours of intense frustration, when mixed with physical exertion, results in racial epithets.  Unfortunately for us, Ikea is a Swedish company, and most of us don’t know much about Sweden, aside from the fact that their bikini team is pretty good, and they used to be vikings.  Both of those things are unquestionably awesome, so we’re forced to fall back on our tried-and-true insult tactic: name-calling. The phrase “F*&king Swedish Motherf*&kers!” will come up repeatedly during the construction process, mostly because that weird little unpronounceable Swedish name on the front of the manual will be mocking you throughout the entire process.





Inevitably, just as you're about to attach the last piece of your furniture, you realize that the reason it won't fit is because one of the other pieces is upside down.  It's Ikea's version of an M. Night Shyamalan film: five seconds from finishing, a surprise revelation makes you realize you've just wasted two hours of your life.  Feelings of anger, confusion, and self-hate wash over you like a blind child that's stumbled into the wave pool at a local water park.





No man can look at himself in the mirror and be okay with the fact that he called Ikea because he couldn't figure out how to put a shelf together.  On the embarrassing manhood scale, it rates somewhere between "getting an erection during a massage from a man" and "actively finding parallels between your current life situation and the theme song from the show Friends (hey, you arestill in bed at 10, and work did begin at 8!).  The problem is that you can't figure out how to put this piece of shit together, and you secretly need your girlfriend to call Ikea.  You just have to go on record stating that you think it's a bad idea, so that you won't look stupid later.  It's called "The Hillary Clinton Theory".





Aaah, the crank thingy.  Just like a DMV employee, it has no emotions and it never seems like it's actually working. This, of course, makes you project your frustrations onto a loved one who's helping you put the furniture together.  Then, at some point, with each creaky turn of the crank thingy, it's like a thousand Dane Cooks performing a bit on soap dispensers all at once. You snap, and demand that your boyfriend or girlfriend relinquish the crank thingy and let you try, as if somehow the way you turn your wrist in a circular motion is far more effective than the way that they do it.





Everyone's got something that they hold against their boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife. Y'know, that one attack that you'll only bring up under the most dire of circumstances, when you've lost all hope in humanity?  Eventually, after hours of grueling Ikea-related frustration, it's going to boil to the surface.   Whether it's an asshole family member, an idiot friend, or an annoying pet, it's eventually going to take the blame for any assembly-related difficulties that you encounter, and suddenly you'll find yourself buried way too deep in an argument that has nothing to do with low-cost, build-it-yourself furniture. The good news is that, after such a heated shouting match, a few hours of furniture assembly will be a welcome departure. The bad news is that, if you happen to be trying to assemble an Ikea couch, you're not going to have anywhere to sleep tonight.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

"You will read blogs that proclaim definitive knowledge . . ."

The editor at Just Because I'm Pretty Don't Mean I'm Deep thanks President Obama for the shout-out during his remarks to the University of Notre Dame's class of 2009.


Friday, May 15, 2009

Things that have happened while I numbered among the e-dead

Coping with a pandemic:
http://doihaveswineflu.org/

Fuel on the fire:

Train wreck:

Comic gold:

Flagged post eventually removed from Craigslist:
To the woman who shit in the passenger seat of my car:
 
We met on Craigslist so I am hoping that his post finds you. I know that it could quite possibly be the most humiliating first date that you have ever been on, but I am willing to look past that.

I thought we had real chemistry sitting at BJ's Brewhouse sharing a basket of Wings while drinking the Nutty Brewnette. I really felt like there was a connection there. I found you to be intelligent and witty and looked forward to further conversation with you.
 
At some point in life, everyone has gambled on a fart and lost. It just happened to be on a first date in the passanger seat of my car. Please don't feel bad. The package I sent you with the Pepto the next day and the note that said "First dates are always a crap shoot. Call me." was meant to be funny, not offensive.

I have gambled on a fart and lost on multiple occasions. The first time I did it was very memorable. It happened when I was five and sitting on my uncle's lap. I am lactose intolerant, but love cheese. I probably win 95% of the time, but I don't think anyone wins 100% of the time. Thats why they call it "gambling". I'm the last person to judge you for crapping your pants. In fact, I am impressed by your boldness. The timing on the other hand, could have been a bit better... like when you're not sitting on a heated leather seat...

What I am trying to say is that if you want to go out again, I would be more than happy to take you someplace where we can get a meal high in fiber and less taxing on the digestive tract.

I await your call,
Joe

P.S - If you sharted yourself on purpose to end the evening early... Touche'...

The latest in USB port fashion:

Dubya wrote:
To all my friends who grew up with Star Wars,
This is what we're up against.

Radically sweet *and* awesome:

---
tireless, because i have napped,
the editor