Yup. I just "liked" a page named "I'm Jeffery Potter, if this page gets 500,000 likes I'll call my son Harry." The unnamed, thus far, child is due Sept 3rd. I'm guessing it's been confirmed that it's a boy for sure, because it'd be more than a little strange for the child to be named Harry and be a girl.
Not particularly appropriate. But definitely not as bad as Moonchild. Or Dewzel. So at least the kid isn't related to Frank Zappa. In fact, it can probably take a cue from Office Space; and the unfortunately named Michael Bolton, "There was nothing wrong with my name, until I was about 12 years old and that no talent ass clown became famous and started winning Grammys!"
But sadly, judging by the number of likes on the page (less than 80,000) the kid is going to be named Frank. Or Scott. Or something utterly unrelated. Meaning the last two paragraphs have been a complete waste of your, and my, time.
You're welcome.
Clearly, since you're taking the time to read this in the first place, you have nothing better to do. Or, (even better!!!) you have LOADS to do!
In fact, that's probably it. You're swamped. But, since you work best under pressure, you're wasting your time now so that you can work at a breakneck pace for the next several hours. Yes, that's it. It makes perfect sense, because that's what I do. In fact, even if I have an 8am Monday deadline, I'll find myself rolling out of bed at 7, making coffee, and rather than working on the project....yup, you got it. You'll find me reading every last one of the newest PostSecrets (they publish Sunday night), and the newest Textsfromlastnight. And of course, my favorite, Damnyouautocorrect. Then, around 7:48, I'll freak out. Close my browsers, open whatever file I should have been working on all weekend. And then crank out something absolutely brilliant in the next twelve minutes.
Actually, I'm totally serious. This is how I work. Pressure makes me brilliant. That or so impressively incomprehensible that no one can question my work. Either way, it turns out nicely for me.
Regardless, it's high time you, dear reader, get moving on your tasks for the day.
Taa Taa!
(and no, due to time constraints- explained above-I haven't bothered to reread this or check for errors).
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I'm afraid of everything. Or nothing. Or maybe both, but at different times.
Yesterday I added to the list of things I am afraid of. My newest addition?
It's a cajun "eater" serial killer. Isn't it obvious? Isn't that just the rage in things to be afraid of?
I watched an overly terrifying show yesterday, and now this previously unidentified fear has been vaulted directly to the top of the list of things that scare me. All of which is slightly impressive as I'm a bit of a horror movie buff. Not to mention it succinctly displaced the spider fear which had been enjoying the title of number one fear for about a week and a half.
And let me clarify that. It wasn't just a random fear of spiders. No no. I'm not that lame. It was a fear of monster Shelob-esque sized spiders who hang out in my laundry.
Not my laundry room, in my actual laundry, this thing crawled out from between two shirts!!
Even after it was smashed and shriveled it was still the size of a half dollar.
As a side note to any spiders reading this and getting ideas, it's carcass is sitting on a dryer sheet on my dining room table. I'm leaving it there as a warning, much like a head on a stake, to any other spiders who might dare to mess with me. So don't! I may be terrified of you, but not so terrified to let you live.
I've been told these fears are ridiculous. But in my mind, it's best to be completely informed so that, when you are confronted with these things, you've already figured out what your course of action is. Otherwise, when confronted with the thing that terrifies you, you freeze. And frankly, I don't see that helping you.
I'm still thinking on how I'd deal with the eater. However, the spider thing? Well, the exact fear was that it'd crawl in my mouth while I was sleeping. (I KNOW right? That's horrible. It's disgusting, and frankly, if you weren't afraid of that before, you should be. And you should figure out your plan of action. JUST IN CASE).
But that's sorted. I bite and spit. Almost simultaneously. Then brush my teeth for about an hour. And yeah, I practiced the exact motion. Because that is exactly the time I don't want to freeze up.
Other items near the top of the list?
Dropping my iPhone into the toilet. Again. However, rather than not ever take my phone into a bathroom, I place a death grip on it from the moment I enter until the moment I exit. But I still think it'll happen and worry for the entire duration. Even if it's tucked safely into my purse. (At which point, I'll worry it might fall out, and check on it). See? Once again, not the time to be caught unaware, or to freeze up. Every millisecond counts in submerged phone scenario.
Australia. Big fear here.
Don't get me wrong. I'd LOVE LOVE LOVE to go to Australia. From the sounds of it, there's some seriously cool stuff there. But did you know that it's a seriously dangerous place? Not in the crime rate. Nor in the fact that it's so freaking big that you could literally get lost forever in the outback. Nope. It's dangerous in the fact that there are loads of lethal animals, spiders, insects, and seafaring creatures that call it home.
Random fact:70% of Australia is labeled desert, and yet, only 3% of the population dwells there.
Fact: many Australian websites claim that the HYPE regarding the dangerous conditions is ridiculous and a myth.
Let's think about this shall we?
3% of the population on 70% of the land? Australia isn't a small place by any comparison. However, just think how far and few between the people have got to be spread.
That means that Australia is like a cross between the The Shining (man goes crazy due to lack of interaction with actual people) and nearly every horror movie out there in which the cast of characters is cut off from the rest of the world. Now I'm not saying that I think going to Australia will lend itself to encountering an axing wielding maniac. However,it stands to reason that, if something bad DOES happen (say you encounter one of the approximately two million lethal creatures on the continent) that the situation is uniquely primed to go from not good to really terrible with lighting speed.
Conclusion of the moment?
-Go to Australia
So tell me- what are your fears. How do they compare to mine?
It's a cajun "eater" serial killer. Isn't it obvious? Isn't that just the rage in things to be afraid of?
I watched an overly terrifying show yesterday, and now this previously unidentified fear has been vaulted directly to the top of the list of things that scare me. All of which is slightly impressive as I'm a bit of a horror movie buff. Not to mention it succinctly displaced the spider fear which had been enjoying the title of number one fear for about a week and a half.
And let me clarify that. It wasn't just a random fear of spiders. No no. I'm not that lame. It was a fear of monster Shelob-esque sized spiders who hang out in my laundry.
Not my laundry room, in my actual laundry, this thing crawled out from between two shirts!!
Even after it was smashed and shriveled it was still the size of a half dollar.
As a side note to any spiders reading this and getting ideas, it's carcass is sitting on a dryer sheet on my dining room table. I'm leaving it there as a warning, much like a head on a stake, to any other spiders who might dare to mess with me. So don't! I may be terrified of you, but not so terrified to let you live.
I've been told these fears are ridiculous. But in my mind, it's best to be completely informed so that, when you are confronted with these things, you've already figured out what your course of action is. Otherwise, when confronted with the thing that terrifies you, you freeze. And frankly, I don't see that helping you.
I'm still thinking on how I'd deal with the eater. However, the spider thing? Well, the exact fear was that it'd crawl in my mouth while I was sleeping. (I KNOW right? That's horrible. It's disgusting, and frankly, if you weren't afraid of that before, you should be. And you should figure out your plan of action. JUST IN CASE).
But that's sorted. I bite and spit. Almost simultaneously. Then brush my teeth for about an hour. And yeah, I practiced the exact motion. Because that is exactly the time I don't want to freeze up.
Other items near the top of the list?
Dropping my iPhone into the toilet. Again. However, rather than not ever take my phone into a bathroom, I place a death grip on it from the moment I enter until the moment I exit. But I still think it'll happen and worry for the entire duration. Even if it's tucked safely into my purse. (At which point, I'll worry it might fall out, and check on it). See? Once again, not the time to be caught unaware, or to freeze up. Every millisecond counts in submerged phone scenario.
Australia. Big fear here.
Don't get me wrong. I'd LOVE LOVE LOVE to go to Australia. From the sounds of it, there's some seriously cool stuff there. But did you know that it's a seriously dangerous place? Not in the crime rate. Nor in the fact that it's so freaking big that you could literally get lost forever in the outback. Nope. It's dangerous in the fact that there are loads of lethal animals, spiders, insects, and seafaring creatures that call it home.
Random fact:70% of Australia is labeled desert, and yet, only 3% of the population dwells there.
Fact: many Australian websites claim that the HYPE regarding the dangerous conditions is ridiculous and a myth.
Let's think about this shall we?
3% of the population on 70% of the land? Australia isn't a small place by any comparison. However, just think how far and few between the people have got to be spread.
That means that Australia is like a cross between the The Shining (man goes crazy due to lack of interaction with actual people) and nearly every horror movie out there in which the cast of characters is cut off from the rest of the world. Now I'm not saying that I think going to Australia will lend itself to encountering an axing wielding maniac. However,it stands to reason that, if something bad DOES happen (say you encounter one of the approximately two million lethal creatures on the continent) that the situation is uniquely primed to go from not good to really terrible with lighting speed.
Conclusion of the moment?
-Go to Australia
So tell me- what are your fears. How do they compare to mine?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Smurfberries and Shattered Dreams
This summer we will all be graced with yet another destruction from our childhood; a 3D animated version of The Smurfs. Set in NYC, our lovable childhood characters enjoy new adventures while acting and carrying on in what is decidedly an unsmurflike manner.
I will not be in attendance as I'm opposed to altering my childhood memories of my favorite drug induced characters. And let's admit that everyone. The Smurfs are a clear indication that a large amount of drugs were consumed between the 1950's and the 1980's. Let's examine the premise shall we?
A. Little Blue People
B. Little Blue People who wear socks on their heads
C. Little Blue People who live in mushrooms
D. Little Blue People who are constantly battling the evil Gargamel, who wants to eat them
They live in MUSHROOM HOUSES! I feel this fact alone proves my point.
You know, I actually know two people who did acid, convinced themselves they had turned blue, and checked themselves into a hospital.
As a kid, the Smurfs were awesome. They infected our lives with their weekend escapades and little action figurines. As a kid, I even DRANK Smurfberry juice (which I later discovered was only blue kool-aid. Frankly, I'm still disappointed).
Which brings me to my random fact for the day.
Smurfberries.
Ever wonder what a smurfberry is?
A smurfberry is a smilax berry. Simply put the Smurfs are eating sarsaparilla berries.
What?!
Ok, first, this is like finding out that the Ghostbusters were really just a bunch of kooks with a ouija board Or that Ren and Stimpy are really just two flea ridden mutts. Regardless, I'm offended that this sort of reality inducing fact is out there, readily available to the general public. AND THE CHILDREN!
I can hear the advertising for it!
"Step right up ladies and gentlemen, we're here to shatter your childhood beliefs. First off, Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairies are elaborate lies concocted by your parents for no clear reason. Life isn't fair. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And lastly, all the exceptional things you've learned to believe in, from trolls to smurfberries, are just fantastical names for otherwise unexceptional items. Grow up!"
How dare we, as responsible adults, make such information readily available to our children? There's not even a warning or an age conformation page. This information is out there people. Just waiting to shatter dreams. What are we going to do about it?
I will not be in attendance as I'm opposed to altering my childhood memories of my favorite drug induced characters. And let's admit that everyone. The Smurfs are a clear indication that a large amount of drugs were consumed between the 1950's and the 1980's. Let's examine the premise shall we?
A. Little Blue People
B. Little Blue People who wear socks on their heads
C. Little Blue People who live in mushrooms
D. Little Blue People who are constantly battling the evil Gargamel, who wants to eat them
They live in MUSHROOM HOUSES! I feel this fact alone proves my point.
You know, I actually know two people who did acid, convinced themselves they had turned blue, and checked themselves into a hospital.
As a kid, the Smurfs were awesome. They infected our lives with their weekend escapades and little action figurines. As a kid, I even DRANK Smurfberry juice (which I later discovered was only blue kool-aid. Frankly, I'm still disappointed).
Which brings me to my random fact for the day.
Smurfberries.
Ever wonder what a smurfberry is?
A smurfberry is a smilax berry. Simply put the Smurfs are eating sarsaparilla berries.
What?!
Ok, first, this is like finding out that the Ghostbusters were really just a bunch of kooks with a ouija board Or that Ren and Stimpy are really just two flea ridden mutts. Regardless, I'm offended that this sort of reality inducing fact is out there, readily available to the general public. AND THE CHILDREN!
I can hear the advertising for it!
"Step right up ladies and gentlemen, we're here to shatter your childhood beliefs. First off, Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairies are elaborate lies concocted by your parents for no clear reason. Life isn't fair. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And lastly, all the exceptional things you've learned to believe in, from trolls to smurfberries, are just fantastical names for otherwise unexceptional items. Grow up!"
How dare we, as responsible adults, make such information readily available to our children? There's not even a warning or an age conformation page. This information is out there people. Just waiting to shatter dreams. What are we going to do about it?
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Camel Races. The Fast and the Feral
Earlier today, a friend reminded me of a long standing promise I had made. The promise? To accompany her to the Camel Races outside Reno, NV this year. (Yes, they exist, and yes, we're aware how awesome that is. And no, we aren't bringing you a t-shirt).
Back to the point though.
FERAL CAMELS!!!!
Actually, this isn't the point either, however, I highly suggest that this is something you Google. Or Wikipedia or whatever your method of finding things out is. Unless it's picking up the "F" volume of an encyclopedia Britannica. Because I'm pretty certain that there's nothing in there about feral camels. Though I can't be certain. Who actually has encyclopedias anymore?
Ok ok, so you're getting tired. You'd like me to get to the point. To the interesting fact of the moment.
Right?
Here it is- directly copied from the Wikipedia article:
"The U.S. Camel Corps was a mid-nineteenth century experiment by the United States Army in using camels as pack animals in the Southwest United States."
Take a moment. Let this sink in.
CAMEL corps. Military operations, in AMERICA, being conducted on camel. Not quite the image you had in mind of our military right? Even for the 1850's.
Now for my favorite line of the article:
"On March 3, 1855, the US Congress appropriated $30,000 for the project. Major Henry C. Wayne, was assigned to procure the camels."
Alright, put yourself in Major Wayne's shoes. You're in the military. You've signed on to kill things, with guns, in the name of defending your country, your inalienable rights, and all that. (No, not taking a stab or belittling the military. Cut me some slack here).
Anyway, It's March 3rd 1855, a Saturday. A Saturday? What? Anyway, you're probably annoyed to be receiving an assignment on a Saturday. But then you open it, and read it.
"Find us some camels."
Ok. Me, I'm thinking BEST. ASSIGNMENT. EVER.
But that's me.
Major Wayne though? Most American's, in their right mind, would be pissed. He's signed on to defend and serve, and he's asked to find camels? Camels? In that day and age?
But, and here is the most incredible part---
HE DOES IT!!!!
Granted it takes him over a year. And he's literally got to cross oceans, and battle raging seas to bring them back. But he succeeds! Total success. High fives all around.
All of which brings me to the following conclusions:
1. The military might have access to secret camel black markets.
2. There's a possibility that feral camels are roaming the Southwest
3. I need to book tickets to the Camel Races
You're welcome. That's your random factoid for the day.
Back to the point though.
FERAL CAMELS!!!!
Actually, this isn't the point either, however, I highly suggest that this is something you Google. Or Wikipedia or whatever your method of finding things out is. Unless it's picking up the "F" volume of an encyclopedia Britannica. Because I'm pretty certain that there's nothing in there about feral camels. Though I can't be certain. Who actually has encyclopedias anymore?
Ok ok, so you're getting tired. You'd like me to get to the point. To the interesting fact of the moment.
Right?
Here it is- directly copied from the Wikipedia article:
"The U.S. Camel Corps was a mid-nineteenth century experiment by the United States Army in using camels as pack animals in the Southwest United States."
Take a moment. Let this sink in.
CAMEL corps. Military operations, in AMERICA, being conducted on camel. Not quite the image you had in mind of our military right? Even for the 1850's.
Now for my favorite line of the article:
"On March 3, 1855, the US Congress appropriated $30,000 for the project. Major Henry C. Wayne, was assigned to procure the camels."
Alright, put yourself in Major Wayne's shoes. You're in the military. You've signed on to kill things, with guns, in the name of defending your country, your inalienable rights, and all that. (No, not taking a stab or belittling the military. Cut me some slack here).
Anyway, It's March 3rd 1855, a Saturday. A Saturday? What? Anyway, you're probably annoyed to be receiving an assignment on a Saturday. But then you open it, and read it.
"Find us some camels."
Ok. Me, I'm thinking BEST. ASSIGNMENT. EVER.
But that's me.
Major Wayne though? Most American's, in their right mind, would be pissed. He's signed on to defend and serve, and he's asked to find camels? Camels? In that day and age?
But, and here is the most incredible part---
HE DOES IT!!!!
Granted it takes him over a year. And he's literally got to cross oceans, and battle raging seas to bring them back. But he succeeds! Total success. High fives all around.
All of which brings me to the following conclusions:
1. The military might have access to secret camel black markets.
2. There's a possibility that feral camels are roaming the Southwest
3. I need to book tickets to the Camel Races
You're welcome. That's your random factoid for the day.
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