This Viagra commerical is lovely. Benjamin Button should take note.
Thanks to Reub for the long-lasting tip.
I do not like it when people use the word “stomach” to mean “belly”. Your stomach is inside you; your belly is the outside. People say things like “I have a fat stomach” or “the baby is in Mummy’s stomach” and in my head I scream BELLY. That is all.
Even with context they’re not necessarily great, actually. Luckily this blog is trying to stem the rhythmic tide of nonsense.
“I’m so dope I just jump in the toilet and flush.”
– Boots from The Coup, Bullets and Love
This is the least dope thing you can do. Only your ankles would get wet and then there would be toilet water everywhere. And what do you mean you just do this? Sorry, this doesn’t work for me.
Filed under: not dope
Found this on Metafilter. More here. I like the look of those Tumblr blogs. I was gonna make one, but then I didn’t. True story.
On the second day of grade nine I said a big word in Geography class. And this kid Josh Weiner (not a pseudonym) leaned over and whispered, “Holy cow, how old are you?”
I was 14, so of course I said, “Twenty-four.”
I thought it was obvious I was kidding, but he looked really impressed and said, “What the hell are you doing in grade nine?!”
I told him that I was really from Iran and came to Canada when I was 14, and when I arrived I didn’t know any English. So they started me in Junior Kindergarten; I gradually learned the language, and now it had been 10 years of Canadian education and here I was starting high school at 24. As I neared the end of this improvised absurdity, I was very pleased to note that somehow the math all worked out and there were no holes in my story.
Luckily Josh didn’t question me, because I didn’t know a single thing about Iran; I’m not sure I could even have named the capital city at that point. (That was why I needed to be in a Geography class.)
His only remaining question was why I looked so young, to which I breezily replied, “Oh, I use Oil of Olay.”
I was pretty sure by then he knew I was full of it, but the next day some other kid excitedly told me that “There’s a 24-year old in Josh Weiner’s Geography class!”
That was a satisfying moment.
This is awesome.
Last week when I checked my mailbox, I found that my new neighbour had left me a note stating that he was having a party and to let him know if the noise was too loud. The problem I have with the note is not that he was having a party and didn’t invite me, it was that he selected a vibrant background of balloons, effectively stating that his party was going to be vibrant and possibly have balloons and that I couldn’t come.
Read the whole thing here. It’s so worthwhile, I made incoherent noises of joy while I read it.
“That’s not what I want. That’s a Brachiosaurus. I want a T Rex.”
This dude draws whatever his small daughter tells him to draw, and she almost always hates it.
Scott and I watch a lot of infomercials. Recently he bought me a package of Sham-Wows, which was a Happy Valentine’s Day indeed, because if I ever spill 2 litres of Diet Coke into my carpet I want to be ready. And the Sham-Wow does the work for you. It’s like a chamois, a towel, and a sponge.
You know what else happens in a lot in infomercials? Exercising. Man, do they ever exercise. And for some reason they like to exercise by doing endless pelvic tucks.
What the hell is with the pelvic tucks? I don’t think there’s a single pose the human body can make that upsets me quite as much as a standing pelvic tuck.
You ever go to a jazz club? There’s always a pelvic tuck man in a jazz club. Look for a middle-aged balding dude with a tiny ponytail and a sport jacket. Invariably he’ll be gyrating against a drunken female who’s either wearing way too much gold jewelry, or who’s 22. That dude always spreads his knees way far apart and tucks his pelvis under and then he kind of shimmies up and down. He sticks out his chin and squints into her eyes with a horrible little coy smile, one hand on her bum while his other waves along, sort of to the beat. That guy makes me queasy.
Message to everyone: NO MORE PELVIC TUCKS.
This is so bizarre.
Mom: Do you have any sponges?
Salesclerk: No ma’am, we don’t sell sponges here.
Mom: But I see advertisement! You sell sponges!
Salesclerk: Sorry ma’am, I think you’re mistaken.
Mom: Yes, you do! You know, those big sponges you can lay on!
Salesclerk: Oh, you mean mattresses??
More funny things said by FOB moms, here.