My friend Robin just sent me this link. Given that I know a few people who are going on diets (and including my personal need to be on one for the time being) this should be amusing:
Category Archives: Satire
Rain, Because Water is Good in Large Quantities
It is raining again today, which is a break from just being overcast. Overcast is nice, but rain is nicer. If overcast is two-buck-chuck, rain is like a $35.00 merlot. If rain is a pizza, then hail is like the ‘atomic [chicken] wings’ I had at dinner last night that are wreaking havoc on my internal organs as I type this.
That concludes this portion of the SAT reasoning test.
Today the plan was to go to a lake & go fishing as well as have fun on the slip’n’slide. It appears that we could try to go driving in some mud and go sliding [except for where we get stuck, that part I don’t imagine would be good]. On top of that rain is also crumby to grill in (though in some cases like at our house things are at least covered by a porch).
My Very Own Disenfranchised State of Mental Being
I realized something about myself this morning. I realized that I am a disenfranchised individual. Unlike some franchises I cannot join with money or a change of sexual preference. Nope, I’m a white boy who cannot, for the life of himself, get the rhythm he so wants. I’m not a Republican or a Democrat because no party specifically embodies what I believe and behold. I cannot, at present, be part of the long-beard franchise. In no uncertain terms do I want to be part of the Fedora Hat franchise. I’m not fond of being extreme in a political manner because I find that being extreme in any direction besides passive gets me connected to franchises I don’t want to be part of. As a Christian I’m a non-denominationalist, which is to say I’m not part of any brand/breed/franchise of Christianity.
I do however want to point out that I shouldn’t be affiliated with the disenfranchised because that may have some sort of weird side effects I can’t afford.
Five Reasons to Not Clean My Office
- It takes time
- Dust, once its collected, can be mixed with water and eventually turned into Stucco
- I can find just what I want where I left it – once I move the stuff on top of it
- If I clean my desktop Jessica will expect it again
- Adam was created from dust and so I feel like I’m closer to history
Swimming Lessons in a Pool Full of Tears
Tonight Abby had swimming lessons, but as we left Evelyn just lost it. She cried and cried and cried. Tears streamed down her face that we would leave without her. We could have been going to Hell [Michigan] and she’d have wanted to come with us. Of course somewhere in Nebraska she’d throw an equally intense fit because she was still in the car. She’s become quite the drama queen. I’m praying the God sends a miracle our direction to cause her quaint little happy-all-of-the-time attitude to come back.
Pulling into the parking lot at the recreation center I realized that about 25% more people wanted to recreate than could park in the parking lot. No amount of patience that I could have or have supernaturally given to me was going to free up enough parking spots for me to fit in and get Abby to her lesson in time. So I parked around the side of the park on a side street and we walked to the pool. I think we cleared the quarter mile in about 6 minutes which was good given that Abby is so short and I’m so slow for being in the near prone coding position I sit in all day. [my legal team would like me to state that I don’t actually sit in the prone positionwhile coding lest I be released from contracts for being lazy]
Abby’s swimming lesson went well. She didn’t panic when the teacher instructed her to rest on her back (while being supported by the instructor’s arms). She didn’t panic when the teacher tied a lead weight to her middle and dropped her into the deep end. Abby was well behaved. [My legal department wants me to tell you that no weights were tied to Abby and the deep end of the kiddy pool is only 4 feet deep at most]
Of course the teenaged girl who was doing the group lessons appeared to be maybe fifteen or sixteen years in age if I’m generous. Its hard for me in my nearly-thirty state to just look at a teenaged person and say, “That person is [some number] years old.” My ability to judge ages for people on the whole is weaker now, but the teenagers throw me for a huge loop. I’m even finding some early 20 year olds hard to distinguish from teenagers. It is as if there’s some conspiracy to make me feel very old now. It won’t work, I’ll get plastic surgery and face lifts until I’m 45 and then I’ll just let it all go.
I’m hoping to bring the camera to Wednesday’s lesson. That way you can see pictures of this instructor with Abby and tell me that she isn’t barely older than Abby 😉
Squaredance
There is nothing like country music and line dancing to make you wish you married your sister. Or if you don’t have a sister, maybe you wish you lost a dog or something.
Squaredancing on the other hand makes you wish that you had coordination enough to dance more sophisticated dances like you see people doing in theater productions. Don’t get me wrong, squaredancing is fun because its easy, but after evaluating my ability to play simon says where every call is something simon said, I’m ready to take on dancing with the average Joe. Its like reality TV only its reality. I have relatives who went to school for dance, I have even more relatives who ballroom dance, but its just not in me. When I have danced ‘improvised dance’ I think that some people present were ready to call 911 to make sure that the ambulance was hurrying because the convulsions were getting worse.
This last Saturday our church had a dance – but it was a square dance. Various members of the congregation stayed home because they had some sense, but we wanted our girls to be able to have fun. And fun they did have [<- that sentence was so Yoda, I don’t know where it came from]. And we as adults had fun. It was the first time I’d danced with my wife in public since we got married. 8.5 years of not knowing that the easiest way for me to dance with Jessica was to take up square dancing.
I think next year I need to wear suspenders.
Bigotry at the Bowling Alley
I wanted to point out that the below image [click to view in a larger size] is a sign of bigotry:
Tell me you didn’t love that double entendre. This blonde, British baby is clearly not allowed to stick its hand into the ball return. This sort of discrimination makes me sad. Why can’t the blonde, mullet wearing babies of Britain stick their hands into the ball return? This must stop. I demand answers.
I have one last thing to say: Frank Thomas. [Psst. That’s an inside joke with someone who probably doesn’t even read this blog]
Gilmore Girls
Jessica told me this evening that Gilmore Girls is being cancelled. If you don’t know who or what Gilmore Girls is… you’re lucky. Its one of the weirdest television shows since the X-Files. But instead of being freaky they go for quirky comedy but end up coming across as a combination of having the flu and Groundhog’s Day (the movie) combined. Each episode is exactly the same. Sure, the ‘plot’ changes, or at least re-orders the events a little, but each episode is about a mom and a daughter who are both ADD/ADHD and who have the emotional stability of a woman in labor. I take that back. Women in labor are more stable than these two gals. To top it of there are men [MEN!] on the show who are also emotionally unstable. The upshot is that the humor on the show (I’m not making this up, they actually consider it humor) is entirely non-sequiturs. Entirely. Completely. Fully. Monotonously. Here I will attempt to give you a script (pulled out of my scary imagination) that represents this show:
Scene: Inside of the house the mother is on the phone with the daughter.
Mom: “Rory, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a kabillion times I’m fine.”
Daughter: “Mom, I’ve lived with you since I was in your womb, I know when you’re not fine.” [to be said with a straight face because its not a non-sequitur]
Mom: “Rory, it was my womb, and you still owe me rent.”
Daughter: “I didn’t have any money at the time, but I think I can sell pictures of myself like that Barba gal from American Idol…”
[End Scene before I throw up in my mouth]
Its not good writing, and the acting is dry, but not funny dry like the Brit-coms.
Good-bye Gilmore Girls. I hope all of the ‘actors’ find other ‘roles’ that ‘suit’ them but are not type-cast as mannequins.
Call the RIAA!
This is a weird sarcastic poem that probably will scare more people than amuse 🙂
Today the car next to mine
was cranking his music up to nine
I could hear the lyrics just fine
I hadn’t purchased or paid a dime
Call the R-I-A-A
there must be some fine to pay
The lines are clear, there is no grey
Call the stinking R-I-A-A
He took off when the light turned green
I turned after him to stop his scheme
I had been intending to go straight
But I had to stop this violate
I swerved and shouted at this cheater
Until the cop stopped me like a speeder
He didn’t understand the trouble
With the music outside the bubble
As if the sound wasn’t copyrighted
He arrested me and I was cited
“Call the R-I-A-A,” I rioted
Screaming loudly, angry, violent
I had the right to remain silent
Goofy Story Telling
I saw this video on Merlin Mann’s Tumblr blog: Charlie Callas Video[hosted YouTube, contains one potty word at the end]. This appears to be a Jerry Lewis special of some sort. Jessica hated it. My mother-in-law and I cracked up! Is this sort of weird story telling just tickles my funny bone, how about you?