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Posts tagged with 'doing it wrong'
BRAAAAAAAINSplz
The Houston Area Ghostbusters may be passing on a zombie walk that’s set to go on next weekend.
The one we just did this past weekend was fun. Zombies, upon discovering a Subway on the corner they were stopped at waiting for the police escort to wave them through, flailed against the windows and groaned “SUBWAY! EAT FLESH! EAT FLESH!!” much to the amusement of the patrons therein. Zombies lurched in the general direction of cars and pedestrians and nobody got hurt or angry or offended.
The one next weekend has rules that make me wonder if there is some variant of zombie somewhere that politely shambles in a straight line with its eyes forward and hands at its sides, groaning softly so as not to disturb any surrounding living people.
Oh, and it also bans all weapons including “imaginary invisible ones.” I am not even making that up. ThinkGeek is doing some kind of Random Crap giveaway today and there was a blank on the entry form for a stupid question one might have; I linked to these rules and asked them if they thought I could get away with keeping my imaginary invisible gun holstered or if I should just leave it in my imaginary invisible car.
…yeah, I’m totally drawing a Polite Zombie right now. BRRRAAAAAAAINS plz. … …THAAAAAANK YYYRRRRRGH. … …NAAAAAAAPKRN plz. *dab dab*
Oh God D:
I can only guess that this was made to be shown to children at the dentist’s office.
THIS IS WHY PEOPLE ARE AFRAID OF THE DENTIST, FOR FUCK’S SAKE
How Not To Make A Good Impression
“I love your comics! I’m such a huge fan that I’m going to break into your website, DELETE FUCKING EVERYTHING, and then demand that you give me a job before I fix it! Aren’t you glad a nice person like me broke into your website and DELETED FUCKING EVERYTHING before someone who wasn’t as nice as I am did?”
Cree. Py.
oh my God what the HELL are you doing
Let me paint a little picture for you here.
It’s about 4-5 in the afternoon. In the middle of July. In Texas. Not the! hottest! part! of the day, but still hot enough to where I wouldn’t want to run or even powerwalk or really even gently mosey around the track at the park even if I could do so naked with a lawn sprinkler on a very long hose attached to my head. Because it’s fucking hot.
It is so hot that I do the “fill water bottle halfway with water, put in freezer at angle all day, fill rest of way with water just before use” trick, I ride the two and a half miles home, and if I’m using an uninsulated bottle the ice has almost completely melted by the time I get home.
It is so hot that the expected number of active sprinklers on any given street is a major factor in route planning.
It is so hot that every outside cat you see is sprawled out in a shady spot and panting. When a cat sprawls out and pants, you know it’s hot.
You step outside and immediately your sweat glands open the floodgates and your exposed skin bakes to a rotisserie-chicken-like golden crackly brown and your lips attempt to peel themselves off your face and escape to cooler climates. And because the humidity is something like 80-90%, your sweat does not do its job because it cannot evaporate because there is nowhere in the air for it to go. It just clings to you and makes you even more miserable. Your sunglasses fog up on the inside if you stop moving for even an instant. Every stretch of asphalt laid down in the last three years or so reeks of hot tar.
Are you getting a good picture of this in your mind now? Good. Because there’s one more thing I would like you to add to it: at least two people jogging or powerwalking around the track at the park in this Godawful inferno wearing those silver or black thick plastic sauna suits.
I’m not even talking about people who look like they might be martial artists or boxers or whatever trying to make their fighting weight, I’m talking about, like, grandmas.
And I see these people chugging along the track in their horrifying silver-or-black thick plastic suits and I–I just–sauna suit grandmas, could you come over here a minute, can I ask you a question, can I just ask you one tiny little question…
WHY
It is a million degrees out there and they are huffing around in wearable saunas, some of them going full-tilt boogie around the track without so much as a drop of water with them, seriously, head-to-toe black or silver thick plastic suits at the hottest time of the year in the hottest hours of the day, I think I know what they think it is doing (melting off fat) and I am not a personal trainer but I am pretty sure it is not doing what they think it is doing.
But y’know what… if those suits actually did melt fat? And all I had to do was walk three miles a day in a 105-degree heat index in one of them?
I’D RATHER JUST KEEP THE FAT, THANKS
I don’t have enough DO NOT WANT macros in my entire macro folder to express just how much I DO NOT WANT. Seeing the sauna suit grandmas just makes me want to pick them up over my shoulder, carry them to the snow-cone stand across the street, and bury them up to their necks in shaved ice and fan them with giant palm fronds until their faces lose that alarming tomato-ish hue. Someone is going to die out there one of these days.
Oh, hey
I added a new article to the “You’re Doing It Wrong” section on Ding Ding. This one talks about bendy peens, Goodyear Bewbs, and and other stupid morph tricks.
[WARNING: ABSOLUTELY NOT SAFE FOR WORK]
“Stay Classy” doesn’t even begin to cover this.
Seriously, I’m pretty sure if you look up “douchenozzle” in the dictionary, you will see a picture of Sen. Saxby Chambliss (R-GA).
As someone who once served in the military that this distinguished gentleman seems to have made it his life’s mission to fuck over, please understand my inability to articulate just how much his cowardice and outright unabashed contempt for men and women in uniform pisses me off.
Mr. Chambliss, on behalf of myself and every man and woman who has ever served in this country’s armed forces, fuck your knee and fuck you.
CHAOBELL FOR SENATE: WILL KICK SEN. CHAMBLISS IN THE JUNK FOR YOU.
(okay, I swear I’m putting the Internet down and going back to work now)
Wall: apply directly to the forehead
I’m not even going to start on the bear. Jesus wept, what the fuck is wrong with people?
Oh dear God.
I guess PETA figured “fuck it, nobody takes us seriously anymore anyway (gosh, we can’t imagine why), might as well pull out all the batshit stops.”
And although I’m going to give them some of the benefit of the doubt and say that probably wasn’t the message they meant to send, the implied “cows > women” is just …um, no. You do not win the ten-day cruise or the year’s supply of Cheez-Its, but we do have this lovely parting gift of a clue and a hot cup of STFU for you. Thanks for playing.
Oh no you did NOT
A group of people who want to bring back the days when women stayed home and had babies and, if not married, were afraid to have sex ever have not one goddamned iota of business crying “OMG SEXIST” when someone says something is like “putting lipstick on a pig.”
No, you great bloody hypocrites. No. Absolutely fucking well no. That is not okay. You do not get to do that. You do not get to treat women the way you have and then go BAWWW over “lipstick on a pig.” HE DIDN’T EVEN CALL PALIN THE DAMN PIG, DID YOU FUCKERS EVEN LISTEN TO THE SPEECH OR DID YOU JUST PICK AND CHOOSE THE BITS THAT–wait, these are Republicans we’re talking about. They don’t see anything wrong with picking and choosing bits of the Bible that back up their stupid shit and ignoring the rest, why wouldn’t they do the same to their opponent’s speeches? Silly question.
Dear Ike: I would like to make you a business proposition. I will sacrifice one young goat of your choosing if you will leave us alone here and follow the McCain campaign around for a few months. No fatalities, no major property damage, just keep it down to a mild tropical storm and rain on his speeches and blow stuff around and annoy the hell out of him. That’d be awesome. Please e-mail if this is acceptable to you. Or wrap a note around a tree branch and blow it onto my patio if e-mail isn’t good for you.
