Everyone knows about the Boston Tea Party insomuch as it was a vital step in our young nation’s quest to annoy the British into letting us do our own thang. However, it was also really risky, because they ran the risk that a harbor full of tea would in fact attract one or more gigantic tea-thirsty monstrous British dudes who would then proceed to drink their tea harbor and make frilly toothpicks out of their ships’ masts. Then where would
You know how on notebook paper the last line is always all extra narrow so you can’t fit any letters with tails on it? Well, I carry a little notepad and write all my blog epiphanies down in it, and this last line never fails to be the very bane of my existence. “Hey, I should write a blog about Klang and the Yak Yogurt!” I’ll think to myself, but nay, it’s got to go on the last line, so instead I end up writing a blog about Klano and the Vak Voaurt, which sounds like some existential house-cleaning novel by a white supremacist, which isn’t really as funny as one might suspect.
Apparently, on MSN, teacupmammoths is the #6 site to go to for blue-butted baboons. So make sure you recommend it to all your scholarly blue-butted baboon enthusiast friends for their research, that I may better keep climbing the blue-butted ladder of internet success.
This week NASA launched a space thingy to go to Pluto and see if they have any good miniature golf courses there, but since Pluto is way out in the Franklin County of the Solar System, it’s gonna take it a while to get there. Ten years, in fact, said a NASA spokesbeing, “assuming we make good time”. How can you not make good time in space? You either get there on schedule or you get blown up; its not like the spacecraft is gonna get stuck in traffic around the Saturn beltway, or it’ll drink too many jamocha space lattes and have to make more restroom stops that NASA thought.
Also, this thing was apparently launched at ten times the speed of a speeding bullet, which means that now Superman has to worry about two things: Kryptonite and NASA launching stuff at him. Thanks a lot, NASA.
I really suck at solitaire in real life, because playing it on computer totally ruined it for me. Like, I’ll get all my cards taken care of and win, but then I feel like I have to throw them all across the room in a carefully controlled and visually appealing cascade effect, but it never works in real life, at least for me.
Everyone loves shuffling cards, but that’s just because shuffling cards sounds really, really cool. If shuffling cards sounded like something completely different and bad, like say, a sack full of babies being thrown down the stairs, nobody would play cards. “Hey Dave, we’re gonna play some poker, you want to shuffle?” GATHUNK, KNUNK, WHUMP, GENERIC LOUD NOISE, “Okay, Dave, never mind, I think we’re just gonna do a couple of rounds of Hungry Hungry Hippos instead.”
The other day, I was out driving and I saw this car with a totally huge antenna on it, which is okay if you’re a crazy old loser who wants to pretend he’s a cop, but this particular car happened to be a Miata, the tiniest of not-really-sports cars. So instead of looking like a pretend copmobile, it looked like a giant remote controlled car. I was all freaking out though, because at any moment I expected an enormous 7 year old the size of the British guy from the first paragraph to appear and start making Miata Guy crash into giant coffee tables and such. Sadly, this scenario failed to transpire as visualized by myself, and I had to seek consolation at the hardware store.
If you wanted to invent a product that would make no sense at all and quickly render you thoroughly poor, a good place to start would be by marketing a chia Patrick Stewart.
Fifty years ago, one of my grandmother’s students told her she ought to go to the 350th anniversary of
And, my keyrd just wnt ll retarded
