Ok, so yesterday I listed a bunch of things that I find annoying. Today, I want to list a few things that I think are awesome:
Farting in My Cubicle Just Before Someone Comes to Talk to Me:
I never actually get to plan this one out, but I think that makes it all the better. The best I can do is just throw one out there and cross my fingers in anticipation. Will it happen? Is someone going to stop by? Time’s running out! This baby’s losing steam!
You can try to time it just right, but realistically, if your fart is worth half a shit (haha) it’s going to need some time to open up to full flavor. It’s like a fine wine. You need to uncork the bottle and let it breathe for a bit before you drink it. If you wait for someone to come to your cube before you fart, not only are you going to have to deal with the immediate embarrassment of any sounds you let loose, but the other person will more than likely conclude their business with you before any real damage takes place, leaving you abandoned and alone with your own gas, and no one wants that. Farts are multiplayer.
Plus, there’s nothing better than seeing the look on someone’s face when they unexpectedly hit your plume. It’s like watching a mime walk into an imaginary glass windowpane. The kicker comes when they’re too embarrassed to call you out on it and they try to recompose themselves in order to ask you whatever it was they came over to ask. God that’s awesome. Bonus Points: Your boss comes to yell at you for something and ends up just turning around and letting whatever it was that they were pissed about slide.
Is there anything this shit can’t improve? For all of you aspiring cooks out there, it’s a very simple equation: Food + Buffalo Sauce = You win!
Have you ever finished your wings and slid a stray fry or a potato chip through the leftover sauce? Seriously? Why the fuck not, bitch! It’s awesome. Get the net.
It’s the best one of the night. Some people say that #1 is the best. Not me. On beer #1, you’re basically just quenching your thirst. Here’s a good trick for all of you penny pinchers. When you first get to the bar, order a glass of ice water first. I promise you’ll enjoy beer #1 much more.
So, we’ve covered beer #1. It’s fine. It’s dandy. It’s a signal that it has now become ‘me time.’ But it’s not enough. What kind of ‘me time’ would it be if you only had 1 beer? That’d be fuckin’ gay. So you’re going to need a second. It sets a precedent for the rest of the day/night. “Waitress, I’ll take another.” Get used to saying that all night, because if you say it once, you’re probably going to end up saying it a dozen times before you pass out. Think about it, without beer #2, how could you ever get to #3, or #16?
It’s the theory of diminishing returns really. #1? Not enough. #2? Still not enough. #3? Ah yeah. I’m starting to feel it guys. I’m getting’ loose. I think I might have myself a stroll up to the jukebox and play a few tunes. Of course, it’s going to take a little while for them to cue up, so I’ll probably go outside for a quick smoke right after I order beer #4 and by the time I get back I’ll have a good buzz going for when Portishead kicks in on the PA.
And that’s where the trouble starts. That right there, that’s called a good wave, and the only thing you can do with a good wave is keep riding it. The unfortunate thing is that it always leads to more. More drinks. More emotions. More smoke.
But beer #3, that’s a good beer. That’s where everything comes together.
I know that I live in Minnesota, and I know that it could be worse. In fact, my dad says they got 11 inches of snow including a 5 foot snow drift in their driveway this past weekend. We had about an inch of snow that melted right away.
However, I’m still downright angry about this cold bullshit. I’m starting to take it personally, which is odd considering that taking it personally implies that someone/something is malevolently controlling the temperature/precipitation, and as you all know, I don’t prescribe to that type of thing. However, when you have a fucking outstanding bike, just begging to hit the streets, it’s hard not to be a little perturbed about sub-40-degree weather in the morning. I want to ride my bike to work damnit.
Also, I’m training for a goddamn marathon. Big deal, right? WRONG! Because when you’re outside in the cold, your nipples become rock hard. Add to that the fact that you have to wear layers of clothing to keep warm, and you’ve got a prescription for fucked up nipples. My nipples are fucking bleeding. Seriously. All of my t-shirts now have Vaseline stains on the nip regions because I have to coat the bastards with a quarter inch of jelly just to get through the day.
Women reading excerpts from their memoirs on NPR
Bonus points if the excerpt has anything to do with breast cancer, their relationship with their mother/grandmother, or both. I know, it’s a serious issue that affects millions of women through the world, including my own grandmother. I’m not saying that it’s not a horrible disease that causes pain and suffering and affects nearly everyone in one way or another.
What I AM saying is that at 9:30AM on an already drab/dark/gloomy/depressing/cold Monday morning, when I hear some lady with a ridiculously monotone voice reading an 8 minute excerpt from her memoirs about how both she and her mother had breast cancer, it’s kind of a downer. It’s the kind of downer that nobody needs until at least Wednesday afternoon when we can at least see the faintest hint of the weekend.
And why does the author always have to read their own work? They’re writers, not voice talent. It’s a whole different ballgame. You know why David Sedaris is popular? Because he’s one of the few writers in the world who is actually good at reciting his own work. It’s a rare gift, and whoever was on the air this morning didn’t have it.
So step the fuck away from the microphone and let someone who understands how make their voice sound less offensive/boring read your work. Jesus Christ.
A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you’re a great guy, but I don’t like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we’re not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we’re going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn’t work out, we’ll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.
The Paleo-Future Muxtape is currently featuring 12 tracks of Disney paleo-futurism. Listen while they’re hot because this will be a constantly changing mix of audio. For a less paleofuture-focused Disney audio adventure check out the Epcot Muxtape.
I have recreated some of the Drum Machines from the Audio Playground Museum. The virtual machines run with Shockwave/Flash so if don’t have the flash plugin for your web browser you will not be able to see and run the drum machines. But don’t despair the flash plug-in is free and can be down loaded from the Macromedia site. If you don’t know if you have the flash plug-in just look on this page and if you don’t see the moving Audio Playground Logo you need the flash plug-in. If you see the moving Audio Playground logo, your ready to enjoy the virtual drum machines.
The longest smoke break of Nicholas White’s life began at around eleven o’clock on a Friday night in October, 1999. White, a thirty-four-year-old production manager at Business Week, working late on a special supplement, had just watched the Braves beat the Mets on a television in the office pantry. Now he wanted a cigarette. He told a colleague he’d be right back and, leaving behind his jacket, headed downstairs.
The magazine’s offices were on the forty-third floor of the McGraw-Hill Building, an unadorned tower added to Rockefeller Center in 1972. When White finished his cigarette, he returned to the lobby and, waved along by a janitor buffing the terrazzo floors, got into Car No. 30 and pressed the button marked 43. The car accelerated. It was an express elevator, with no stops below the thirty-ninth floor, and the building was deserted. But after a moment White felt a jolt. The lights went out and immediately flashed on again. And then the elevator stopped.
The control panel made a beep, and White waited a moment, expecting a voice to offer information or instructions. None came. He pressed the intercom button, but there was no response. He hit it again, and then began pacing around the elevator. After a time, he pressed the emergency button, setting off an alarm bell, mounted on the roof of the elevator car, but he could tell that its range was limited. Still, he rang it a few more times and eventually pulled the button out, so that the alarm was continuous. Some time passed, although he was not sure how much, because he had no watch or cell phone. He occupied himself with thoughts of remaining calm and decided that he’d better not do anything drastic, because, whatever the malfunction, he thought it unwise to jostle the car, and because he wanted to be (as he thought, chuckling to himself) a model trapped employee. He hoped, once someone came to get him, to appear calm and collected. He did not want to be scolded for endangering himself or harming company property. Nor did he want to be caught smoking, should the doors suddenly open, so he didn’t touch his cigarettes. He still had three, plus two Rolaids, which he worried might dehydrate him, so he left them alone. As the emergency bell rang and rang, he began to fear that it might somehow—electricity? friction? heat?—start a fire. Recently, there had been a small fire in the building, rendering the elevators unusable. The Business Week staff had walked down forty-three stories. He also began hearing unlikely oscillations in the ringing: aural hallucinations. Before long, he began to contemplate death…
ANN ARBOR, Mich. — Two middle-school students who started a project to earn a Girl Scout award have ended up rejecting what may be the best known of their organization’s symbols: Girl Scout Cookies.
Madison Vorva and Rhiannon Tomtishen, both 12, started doing research last fall on endangered orangutans in Indonesia as part of their Bronze Award project. They discovered the habitat of orangutans is being threatened by conversion of the land to the production of palm oil, an ingredient in Girl Scout Cookies.
I want to start a discussion on this next topic, but since Tumblr doesn’t support comments (seriously, isn’t that feature a no-brainer?), we’ll have to settle for the following.
I’ve been ill over the past few days, and without getting into too much detail…ah fuck it, I’ve been puking/shitting my brains out. Which brings us to the following situation:
You wake up suddenly with the immediate urge to both puke and shit, but of course, it is impossible to do both at same time gracefully. So you have to make a choice. Do you puke first and risk shitting your pants, or do you shit first and risk puking all over the bathroom or having to turn around and puke into your shit and maybe even get a little splash back on your face?
We’ve all been there (at least I think we’ve all been there). Now, add to the situation the fact that your girlfriend has spent the night at your place, and even though she loves you very much, there are a few things that can make anyone, and I mean anyone, second guess their attraction to you. One of those things is walking out of the bathroom covered in puke and shit. And if the person you’re with isn’t turned off by that, you need to run away as fast as you can (but not before you cash in on some that cup-girls action).
Having the time to analyze the situation was a luxury for me early last Thursday morning, so I took advantage of the first miracle of the morning. And while it was merely a coincidence that Brandi had broken into my Facebook account later that day to change my religious status to ‘Christian-Catholic,’ I’m going to consider myself square with Jesus.
Jordan Micko, who was coming through town on his way to Boston to start his career as an air-traffic controller, was also sleeping over that night, and because he shits a lot, there was not a square of toilet paper to be found in my place. That could be seen as a major problem, but on that fateful day, it was miracle #2, because it allowed me a chance to get Brandi out of the house while the bad stuff went down. I kindly asked Brandi if she could run to Walgreen’s to pick up some toilet paper, and because she’s the best-est girlfriend in the whole wide entire world, she obliged. Now I had my chance.
Walgreen’s is right down the street from my house, so I knew my window of opportunity was short, but I wasn’t really all that worried because I also knew that what was about to happen wasn’t going to take long (now the clean-up on the other hand, that could take a while). So I got up, ran to the potty, and faced the decision square in the face. And at that moment, just as I opened the door to my bathroom, the third, and final miracle occurred; thereby making me a saint.
If you’ve been to my place and used my bathroom you’ve no doubt realized that the sink is remarkably close to the toilet. This is usually an inconvenience, and makes going to bathroom a little bit embarrassing even though you’re alone. However, on that fateful morning, it was a miracle, because I was no longer having to pick my battle.
Yes ladies and sir’s, I sat down on that John with a smile on my face; a smile that was then quickly lowered into the sink in front of me.
Have you ever tried to sneeze and keep your eyes open at the same time? It’s impossible. Give it a try (but don’t try too hard because I think I heard that’s dangerous or something). Well, I found out last Thursday morning that shitting and puking are the same way. I’m not 100% on this yet, that would require further testing (any takers? report your findings to me at email@example.com) but I’m pretty sure that you can’t shit and puke at the same time.
After my oral/anal tag-team beat-down was finished, I turned on the faucet, flushed the toilet and was back on my feet…just long enough to brush my teeth, gargle with mouth wash, wash out the sink and sit back down again for round 2.
My point is, being able to reach the sink while you’re droppin’ D isn’t all that bad. Sure, if you sit up too quick you could skin your knees on the rough under-lining porcelain, but if you’re late for work you can brush your teeth while your read the City Pages. And when you’re faced with the oral/anal explosive dilemma, you can save what little dignity you have left. It’s a win-win!
You know, for a while there, I was getting a bit worried that I wouldn’t be able to run the damn thing, but I ran 11 miles last Sunday. Yep, I rock. When is the last time you ran 11 miles? Huh? Yeah that’s what I thought. Punks.
PS: I smoked a pack of cigarettes last Friday and Saturday.
…and so anyway, I was all like, whatever, and she was like, nuh-uh, and I was like, yeah-huh. Bitch.
So I’ve been away for a bit. I was busy traveling in March (see Montana/San Francisco Pics), and since I’ve been playing catch-up at work. Here’s a quick rundown of what’s been going on:
http://www.firstsounds.org is an amazing website/organization. They’re mission is to find all of the earliest known audio recordings. Recently they discovered a few recordings dating back to the mid-1800’s, quite a bit before ol’ Thomas Edison supposed invented his sound recording machine. So check it, before you wreck it.
http://www.tribalwars.net is an addictive game, and a great way to bond with your nerdiest friends. Mr. Oskey and I have devoted time to little else this week. Be forewarned, you will end up spending more time improving your online village than your oh-so-real-life village. And by that I mean you’ll waste a lot of time upgrading your village and not a lot of time updating your resume or paying off your student loans on time.
I’ve created a 26 minute MEGA-MIX of a lot of my music, and I’ll be damned if it’s not completely awesome (verified by Marc Merritt). Unfortunately, the MP3 is a bit large due to the length of the mix, so I can’t post it here; however, if you email me at firstname.lastname@example.org, I will gladly email it to you.
I know I’m behind the times on this one, but the Ricky Gervais podcast, is one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a very long time. They’re all free, and easily downloaded from iTunes. Check it, http://www.rickygervais.com/podcasts2.php.
The Ricky Gervais Show features Ricky Gervais, Steve Merchant and Karl Pilkington chatting about stuff. Basically each episode is a half-hour or so of audio drivel. With 24 episodes and counting - it’s been quite popular, garnering an award from ‘Wired’ magazine and a Guinness World Record. The first episode became the number one download within hours of launch and the show has been there pretty much ever since with over eight million downloads and counting.
In the beginning… There was a radio show on London’s Xfm. Ricky and Steve would play records for a couple of hours and engage in light banter with their producer, one Karl Pilkington. This was proto-podcast stuff with Ricky and Steve playing the logical yin to Karl’s idiot savant yang. Karl would frequently propose preposterous theories about life, death and state of the planet - theories which Ricky and Steve would knock down mercilessly by the simple application of human reasoning. Another common theme was the edification of Karl by Ricky and Steve in order to compensate for Karl’s limited exposure to conventional schooling.