You know that song, by Kid Rock and Cheryl Crow, where they’re singing about how neither of them keeps out the other one’s picture any more and by the way now they both do a lot drugs? That’s a good song, but it doesn’t work because it sounds like they’re both in the same room singing at each other, which defeats the entire purpose of a “where the hell are you?” duet like that. Really, if they’d been serious about making it a good song about missing each other and all that, they’d have to both be animated musical Polish immigrant mice singing about evading cats as well as their mutual longing for cheese and each other.
Occasionally, life around my house gets a tad boring, and I try to spice things up by reenacting scenes from Disney’s acclaimed hit motion picture, The Lion King. Like, once, I was walking through the kitchen and I saw my cat sitting there, so I just held her aloft over my head and pretended that I was that blue-butted baboon priest on a savannah somewhere. And then once I punched a lion off a cliff and down into a chasm of death below. Now they don’t let me back in Oz anymore.
I was at Best Buy the other day, and they were selling robot vacuum cleaners (not like, to vacuum your robot, but rather robots who were also vacuum cleaners). But they were called, in the loathsome fashion of the times in which we live in, the iRobot. That’s a horrible name for something, unless it’s actually going to go haywire, kill Zefram Cochrane, and then get in an epic battle with cyborg battle damage Will Smith. Also, isn’t a robot vacuum cleaner a bad idea anyway? I mean, I’m always accidentally running over stuff with the vacuum, with this, you’d turn it on and ten minutes later be all like, “Hey, where’s the dog!?” That wouldn’t be cool.
Whenever I’m doing school tours at work, kids always ask me stuff like, “Are you an Indian Princess?” or, “Were there Pilgrims here?” or, “Are you related to Frodo?” But last week some kid asked me, “Were there trolls here?” and he was serious. It was kind of scary; nobody ever guessed the truth about the historical trolls before him (The Historical Trolls, however, would make a most excellent name for a band).
I passed an insurance billboard the other day; it said, “Where VA goes for TLC” So I got all angry, Virginia’s not that stupid, we can find The Learning Channel just fine without you, State Farm Insurance Company, thank you very much.
Ever notice how on the controls to the air conditioner in your car, instead of writing “Low” and “High”, they have to make it all extra short and just put “Lo” and “Hi”? Aren’t they already short enough already, without additional abbrevification? I could understand if the controls said, “Make it Colder in Here, but Only a Little Bit” and “Dude, You’re not an Eskimo, Turn it Down a Notch” but high and low are really pretty short words already, and beshortening them only makes it confusing, because if you’re in a Biblical frame of mind, it looks like you’re A/C wants you to behold something, or possibly greet it with informality.
I saw today that they’re coming out with the Xbox 360. That’s cool, but what happened to the 358 Xboxes I never heard about? (Also, I just wanted to point out the devious evilosity of Microsoft here, because my spellchecker recognizes “Xbox” as a real word, but not Playstation and Camecube. Oh Bill Gates, your day will come.).
Speaking of stuff on your dashboard, you know how the symbol for most things is like, a simplified stick figure guy doing whatever action is being conveyed? Like how the seatbelt light is a guy wearing a seatbelt and the symbol for the onboard snow machine is a snowflake? Even though it makes sense, I was still surprised to see that the symbol on the “Don’t Hit a Baby in the Face with an Airbag!” light is, in fact, a baby getting hit in the face with an airbag. I like that kind of honesty;
I was at the hardware store this week, and they were playing the “Every Single Song from the 80s” radio station. It was too much though, like 80s overload, and I was all expecting that at any moment Ayatollah Khomeini and Michael J. Fox would just bust through the door and start dancing around or something. I waited a while though, but they didn’t come in. Gorbachev came in for a minute and kind of did a little Commie jig or something, but it just wasn’t the same.
Also, at the aforementioned hardware store, they were selling 10-packs of hazardous chemical gloves. If you have a job where you need that many hazardous chemical gloves, maybe you’d better just find a new line of work. Or better yet, just forget the gloves and hope you mutate into something cool.
