There are a lot of jokes you should just never make. Yes, maybe my vampire joke from a few days ago belongs on that list, but it could be far worse. How do I know it could possibly be worse? Well, aside from regularly thinking of some pretty stupid stuff, I just heard Alton Brown, almost everyone's favorite Food Network celebrity, make the worst joke in television history. Worse than anything on Meet the Browns, though I do see the correlation. Worse than anything Friends ever puked up like some mother bird, regurgitating used up jokes for it's devoted audience in a newer, hipper setting than the last 'best show ever'.
Friends is a horrible piece-of-crap show, by the way, but that's something to talk about later. Right now, I need to get to the un-funny. Here it is, the worst joke ever told on television. I paraphrased all but the 'punchline'.
Alton Brown: ... then you add one tablespoon of instant yeast, one more cup of baker's flour, and you're done.
'French' chef: What the hell are you doing, tool. Don't you know you're supposed to soak the yeast in warm sugar water first?
Alton Brown: Not instant yeast, baguette.
'French' chef: Grumble, grumble ...
Alton Brown: I guess he didn't care for my yeast inflection ...
That's right, the punchline is the part where you, all of the sudden, felt the urge to hit someone. I put it in italics just in case. Who makes jokes about yeast infections? Seriously. Who would ever do that?(Incidentally, ladies, if you or someone you know have jokes of this nature ... shut it.)
I wanted to try and come up with other jokes like this one, you know, to fill out this blog, but I just can't seem to come up with one. It's beyond me.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Apocolypse Meow?
parasite - ˈper-ə-ˌsīt, ˈpa-rə-\' (n.)
Etymology: Middle French, from Latin parasitus, from Greek parasitos, from para- + sitos grain, food
Date: 1539
1 : a person who exploits the hospitality of the rich and earns welcome by flattery
2 : an organism living in, with, or on another organism in parasitism
3 : something that resembles a biological parasite in dependence on something else for existence or support without making a useful or adequate return
I think it's important that I start with that definition because it is at the very heart of the nationwide, global, even, crisis at our hands.
In the United States alone, there are an estimated 72 million dogs and 81 million cats spread across roughly 34% of all households, all of which are unknowingly harboring spies, thieves and, with them, the destruction of mankind. I'm talking about pet hair.
"Don't be stupid," you might say. "All mammals have hair; it's science. Did you spend your entire life in a public education system?" As a matter of fact, I did. All but three years. You're missing the point, though.
Think about it. You're a mammal, right? Now tell me this: when you lay down in bed or on the couch, do you leave behind copious amounts of human hair? Chances are very good that you do not, but they, your most trusted companion and 'best friend', cannot help but leave behind these teeming masses. Teeming with what, you ask? With conspiracy. If you own a dog or cat, you know the signs:
--> They're in your bed learning how and when you sleep. Soon they'll know exactly when to strike.
--> They're on your clothes watching your every move, using you to infiltrate even the most secure of locations: hospitals, airports, data-centers. They're learning your behaviors and habits.
--> They're on your phone, listening. Pull off that fancy phone cover you got for Christmas; they're in there.
--> They're even after your money. Just yesterday, I found one in my wallet, sneaking ever closer to that five-spot I've been holding on to since last Thursday.
The worst thing is that your pets don't even know of these nefarious plans; that's the goal of the parasite, to use it's host for its own ends without offering anything in return. Your trusted friend is the vehicle of the end of life as we know it. Soon, pet hair will be everywhere. In every city, every town, in all of our shoes and on every pant leg. Be warned and be vigilant, for we have the instruments of salvation within our reach.
Etymology: Middle French, from Latin parasitus, from Greek parasitos, from para- + sitos grain, food
Date: 1539
1 : a person who exploits the hospitality of the rich and earns welcome by flattery
2 : an organism living in, with, or on another organism in parasitism
3 : something that resembles a biological parasite in dependence on something else for existence or support without making a useful or adequate return
I think it's important that I start with that definition because it is at the very heart of the nationwide, global, even, crisis at our hands.
In the United States alone, there are an estimated 72 million dogs and 81 million cats spread across roughly 34% of all households, all of which are unknowingly harboring spies, thieves and, with them, the destruction of mankind. I'm talking about pet hair.
"Don't be stupid," you might say. "All mammals have hair; it's science. Did you spend your entire life in a public education system?" As a matter of fact, I did. All but three years. You're missing the point, though.
Think about it. You're a mammal, right? Now tell me this: when you lay down in bed or on the couch, do you leave behind copious amounts of human hair? Chances are very good that you do not, but they, your most trusted companion and 'best friend', cannot help but leave behind these teeming masses. Teeming with what, you ask? With conspiracy. If you own a dog or cat, you know the signs:
--> They're in your bed learning how and when you sleep. Soon they'll know exactly when to strike.
--> They're on your clothes watching your every move, using you to infiltrate even the most secure of locations: hospitals, airports, data-centers. They're learning your behaviors and habits.
--> They're on your phone, listening. Pull off that fancy phone cover you got for Christmas; they're in there.
--> They're even after your money. Just yesterday, I found one in my wallet, sneaking ever closer to that five-spot I've been holding on to since last Thursday.
The worst thing is that your pets don't even know of these nefarious plans; that's the goal of the parasite, to use it's host for its own ends without offering anything in return. Your trusted friend is the vehicle of the end of life as we know it. Soon, pet hair will be everywhere. In every city, every town, in all of our shoes and on every pant leg. Be warned and be vigilant, for we have the instruments of salvation within our reach.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Let's get irradiated, Part 2
Well, I made it. It was a long, hard road filled with many hardships. Well, not exactly, although it was really hard to wake up at six a.m. with the sun refusing to come along.
MRIs are strange things. "Here. Lay down on this bed, get real uncomfortable, then we'll shove you into this tube thing and tell you not to move," they say. "Oh, and it's loud. Here are some earplugs." Did I mention that MRIs take almost an hour? ... and that's if you can stay still for an hour. I sure couldn't. I messed up two of the tests, further extending my stay.
I accepted the earplugs gratefully, but i'm not sure I needed them. Yes, it's probably a little loud in there, but that's not the worst part of the noises. They're unnerving. If being stuck in that tube for an hour isn't enough to crawl under your skin, the noises could get there on their own. You know they're coming. There's a clicking, like some rave is going on somewhere in the room in between each test, and then they hit you. Picture this:
You're sitting in your living room, quietly reading a book and trying to relax, motionless on your favorite couch. Your neighbor listens to house music as he cleans on Saturday afternoons. Weird as it sounds, you've gotten used to this over the years. Then a knock at the door and the unfamiliar voice of a robot. That's right. A robot. Instinct kicks in and you just ignore it. Any rules you would apply to Jehovah's witness or other unannounced ambulatory visitor certainly apply to a robot. Just act like you're not home and this will all be over. Problem is that robot stays for 5 minutes, uttering unintelligible utterances in robot speak. He (or she, or it, to be fair) leaves. Back to the solitude of your couch and the house music.
But what's this? Another, different sounding robot at the door. Again, he stays for five minutes and speaks his robot nonsense continuously through that time. He leaves. This happens multiple times over an hour of your afternoon. Pretty annoying, right? Well, say you accidentally put your glass down too hard, or if the robot detects the subtle sway of a parted curtain as you peer out to see who's bothering you with digitized dictations. If this happens, the robot will still leave after a few minutes, but he doesn't go far. He stands on your lawn patiently and returns to your door after all other robots have said their piece. When there's an opening, he returns and repeats his message.
This, my friends, is what it's like to get an MRI. Annoyed by robots for over an hour ... kind of like watching iRobot with Will Smith. Wait, no. Sadly, I kinda liked that one.
MRIs are strange things. "Here. Lay down on this bed, get real uncomfortable, then we'll shove you into this tube thing and tell you not to move," they say. "Oh, and it's loud. Here are some earplugs." Did I mention that MRIs take almost an hour? ... and that's if you can stay still for an hour. I sure couldn't. I messed up two of the tests, further extending my stay.
I accepted the earplugs gratefully, but i'm not sure I needed them. Yes, it's probably a little loud in there, but that's not the worst part of the noises. They're unnerving. If being stuck in that tube for an hour isn't enough to crawl under your skin, the noises could get there on their own. You know they're coming. There's a clicking, like some rave is going on somewhere in the room in between each test, and then they hit you. Picture this:
You're sitting in your living room, quietly reading a book and trying to relax, motionless on your favorite couch. Your neighbor listens to house music as he cleans on Saturday afternoons. Weird as it sounds, you've gotten used to this over the years. Then a knock at the door and the unfamiliar voice of a robot. That's right. A robot. Instinct kicks in and you just ignore it. Any rules you would apply to Jehovah's witness or other unannounced ambulatory visitor certainly apply to a robot. Just act like you're not home and this will all be over. Problem is that robot stays for 5 minutes, uttering unintelligible utterances in robot speak. He (or she, or it, to be fair) leaves. Back to the solitude of your couch and the house music.
But what's this? Another, different sounding robot at the door. Again, he stays for five minutes and speaks his robot nonsense continuously through that time. He leaves. This happens multiple times over an hour of your afternoon. Pretty annoying, right? Well, say you accidentally put your glass down too hard, or if the robot detects the subtle sway of a parted curtain as you peer out to see who's bothering you with digitized dictations. If this happens, the robot will still leave after a few minutes, but he doesn't go far. He stands on your lawn patiently and returns to your door after all other robots have said their piece. When there's an opening, he returns and repeats his message.
This, my friends, is what it's like to get an MRI. Annoyed by robots for over an hour ... kind of like watching iRobot with Will Smith. Wait, no. Sadly, I kinda liked that one.
Let's get irradiated
It's 6:30 am. The sun is nowhere to be seen. Now, I make it a point to avoid this part of the day, preferring the more reasonable hours of eight and nine, but I don't have much choice. Today I'm getting an MRI for my busted right wrist. If any of you have any knowledge of me being an immortal who has seen his way through multiple historically relevant wars and who has a chance for a bit of shrapnel here or there, or if your family helped fund a Canadian super-soldier program during which my bones were coated by metal: now's your chance to let me know.
No one? Okay.
I should've taken a different appointment time.
No one? Okay.
I should've taken a different appointment time.
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