Today I left a bunch of messages for nom de pomme that he did not return because he is a hateful jerk. I decided that this was more newsworthy than the oil spill, and that the internet really needed to know about it. I don’t remember my exact words, but what can I say, journalistic standards have fallen.
Message 1
“Hi, Frank [not his name], this is Bob. I dun knifed some guy again so I’m at the jail as per the usual. Come bail me out, I’ll buy you some tobackey to make up fer it. Hopefully I don’t knife you too. Well, I’ll talk to ya later, I gots ta go make dingleberry cobbler, if ya know what I mean.”
Message 2
“Hi, um, this is awkward. Hello, me, I guess? I’m actually an alternate version of you. Yeah, I like, came to warn you, and stuff. There’s this other version of us who’s going around killing other us-es, you know, like that movie The One, with that asian guy? Actually, that’s where he got the idea. So yeah, like, watch your back, man. … Also, it’s an okay movie, so, like, totally netflix that shit.”
Although everybody says that nuking the spill isn’t on the table, the fact that it’s even being discussed in the New York Times just goes to show you what capable hands we’re all in. Right? Because nukes are a great way for sealing things up, not, you know, blasting huge holes in them and scattering the debris all over the fucking place. And nothing screams “Success!” like a dead, oil-covered, radioactive porpoise.
So you spend all day listening to other people whine about their problems, but as a psychologist a great way to unwind is to hit the town and try to pick up some ladies or gents or both. It’s also an awesome way to give someone more problems to take to a psychologist! Score! Keepin’ the profession alive!
You may have heard a few mathematically-inspired, nerdy-as-hell pick-up lines such as “I wish I were your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.” Until now, you may not have been familiar with their inbred cousins: programming pick-up lines. If you wish to remedy this situation, read on!
Some say I’m static but you know I can fill your private void.
1. I don’t rinse things before I put them in the dishwasher. It’s called a dishWASHER, people! Rinsing things is what it DOES! You don’t roast something over a fire before you put it in the oven, do you? That’s like parking a car in your bedroom so you can drive to the car in your garage. Now, it’s true that I don’t have a bedroom, but I do sleep in my car.
Harvesting nose oil seemed like such a great idea at first. By installing pumps on the faces of unpopular teenagers, we could not only get more energy, but also cure them of acne in the process. Plus, the derricks would make a great conversation piece when on dates, by the gym lockers, and so forth.
This project was abandoned mostly due to lobbying by ACNE Co.’s competitor, ACME. After all, ACME does have a monopoly on stupid bullshit like this.
I have a bed. It’s sitting in the back of the somewhat derelict van that is parked in front of my house. I have actively chosen not to put it together since the end of July, because I, through my own sloth, accidentally discovered the greatest sleep-apparatus short of a hammock. Mattress on the floor is divine for the following reasons.
1: Endless nightstand. Do you really want to fuck around with a two-by-one-and-a-half-foot space for your alarm clock, cellphone, and everything else you’re way too lazy to put where it belongs? Stop, then! Your nightstand just became the floor within arm’s reach of your mattress. You have been liberated.
Since the invention of video game achievements have become increasingly popular, it seemed only natural to extend these virtual markers into the real world. This list is far from complete, but it’s a start in the right direction. How many have you accomplished?
Along with the music quiz, I also have a little test to determine whether or not I think a movie is good. For this quiz, every film starts off with fifty points, then add or subtract points according to the following questions. At the end, the result will be my rating of the movie, on a scale from 0 to 100.