Shit.

I tried to make this thing look cool, but wound up fucking up the whole template and in doing so lost many of my widgets.

Can't seem to get 'em back without manual labor, and as a white American, that's not an option.

I wear glasses. I should know this stuff.

Or so I'm told.

*sigh*

Phrases that just plain piss me off.

Ever hear a phrase that just makes you cringe at its complete moronity? (it's a word) No? Well then, stop reading because this doesn't apply to you. You'll be cruisin' for a bruisin'. See what I mean? You just winced a bit, didn't you?

Me? I was hurtin' for certain. Jesus, this actually hurts to type.

A lot of these phrases are used in advertising: "Fun in the Sun!" "Season for Pleasin'!" "Sell like Hell!" Most are simply used by cretins and are often employed as feeble threats, such as: "Zip your lip!" or the aforementioned two. One that holds a particularly warm spot in Hell for me is "I'm in it to win it!", because it's just so fucking stupid. Never has anyone uttered the phrase, "I'm in it to place a solid third."

Perhaps the worst thing is when someone (usually a male who finds Hooters pretty upscale) either makes one up on the spot: "I'm jonesin' for a bonesin'!", or uses one that's been around since the invention of air and tries to pass it off as an original: "You got it made in the shade!"

Are there any particular ones that grate on you? Please ... dare to share.

At least this one makes sense.

What Birds Really Think of Us.

Figured as much.

Original story found here, which begs the question "what the hell is a twitcher?"

YGBFKM of the Day

I tried to copy and paste the text, but the formatting went all wonky, so instead you can read the story here.

In a nutshell, a couple in Pennsylvania got arrested for not tipping after receiving lousy service at a bar/restaurant.

Wow.

No really, wow.

Artist's interpretation.

A feast fit for a king. A king with several tapeworms, some killer weed and a severe eating disorder, I mean.

It started out as just a turkey. Then it became deep-fried turkey. Then someone had the brilliant idea of putting a chicken in a turkey, then a duck in the chicken, and calling it a turducken. Clever, no?

Well, screw that noise. This year it's gonna be big. I mean huge.

An ostrich. Stuffed with an emu. Stuffed with a goose wrapped around a turkey enveloping a chicken fitted over a duck swallowing a quail surrounding a pigeon draped over a parakeet containing a finch lovingly ensconcing a hummingbird. With a raisin inside.

I call it an Ostemugooturchiduquapigakeetfinhumsin. It takes 19 hours to cook at 350 degrees. Sounds delicious, doesn't it?

I'll save you a mound.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Actually, I think this is the After picture. I mean like four hours after. After being eaten, I mean. And partially digested.

Attention Holiday Travelers

Don't do this.

Found at xkcd. Happy Thanksgiving!

How to fuck with the kid in the car next to you at a stoplight.

Keep a TV remote in your glove box. When the little towhead next to you looks, smile knowingly and keep an eye on the cross-street lights. Pick up the remote and press a button when the light turns green. He will think you are the coolest person on Earth as you zoom through the intersection. His parents will never, ever, compare, no matter how many times they tell him he's wrong about what he saw.

It feels good to help a child expand his or her horizons.

Nothing at home will ever compare to the awesomeness at 43rd and Spruce.

Vista Update

Okay, it seems that for the moment I can post on other blogs. Yippee. As far as I can figure, this BlogLock has to do with either my Google Chrome settings (that I cannot adjust) or perhaps Blogger hates me and wants me to stay up late in order to comment. Or simply that Vista hates anyone who uses a browser not sanctioned by Microsoft (read: any one that works).

In any case, I blame Vista. And Al Gore. Except Vista didn't cause the ice caps to melt.

I never had these types of problems with XP, which of course is why I was forced into using Vista.

Have I made it clear that I am not a fan of Vista? No? Probably because it won't fucking let me. I think that anytime I use the words "fucking" and "Vista" in the same sentence, some slightly pudgy Seattle-based guy in a white short-sleeved shirt and Dad's tie is sitting there sipping on a caramel raisin chai half-caf lattefrappachocomochaccino and chuckling quietly to himself while suppressing the memory of the ridicule and slug-bugs he got back in high school.

I hate that guy.

And the sad part is I never even got to beat him up.

So here, in all its glory, is how I feel. Courtesy of Samsmama, who sent me this. She rawks.