It Seemed Like A Bad Idea At The Time: July 2011

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I am seldom as frustrated and embarrassed as I am when I'm forced to voluntarily and consciously give up on a book I'm reading because it's too bad. I feel like I should still be able to push through and finish it, but sometimes it hurts too much.
Most awkward phone call I've made in some time: calling the local Borders (closing as the chain goes under) and asking the guy answering the phone (who will shortly be laid off) when the sales start so that vultures like me can pick over the store's corpse.
I get a bit of a kick out of how surprised people are when I'm not a raging asshole. So I do something nice every now and then just to throw them for a loop.
There are two types of gamer girls: the ones who are large and anime-loving and weird, and the ones who don't exist. With apologies to the gamer girls I actually know who don't fit the context of the joke.
Note to self: If the realty office is showing a potential tenant around the apartment you will soon be vacating, it's considered bad form to play the Dead Kennedys' "Let's Lynch The Landlord."
Fun field trip activity: go to a store, buy knives, rope, sponges and bleach, and while checking out, strike up a conversation with the person on the register where you repeatedly insist that you're not a serial killer, and try to persuade them you're really not trying to hide the evidence.
Underwear made of snakes: a pythong.

I recently had a dream where I was writing an essay for some class or something, and I was really upset when my alarm went off before I could finish the essay.
Never upset a pastry chef. You might end up with a phlegm brûlée.
I make odd noises. This is nothing new. However, it gets to be a bit disconcerting when I myself am surprised by the noises I make. An approximate reconstruction:

Part of Brain: You've been quiet for almost fourteen seconds! Time to make a noise!
Rest of Brain: Okay!
Mouth: [series of sounds absolutely not reproducible in text form]
Rest of Brain: What the hell was that? Did did we make those?
Part of Brain: Yep!
All the Rest of Me: Seriously, what the shit is your problem?

I am enough of a nationalist that I will actively root against the People's Republic of China when they run up against South Korea in the women's recurve team event (Bronze Medal Final) at the Archery World Championships.
Don't get me wrong, a lot of the bands I like are old. Not old in the sense of "been retired since the '70s" but old as in "their members are in their mid-40s." But seeing the Rolling Stones still out there on stage and making records really makes me wonder if there's a statute of limitations on rocking.
Rape investigators must spend a lot of time worrying about con-genital defects.
In the midst of a fantastical dream involving zombies and a men's World Cup soccer game (US versus Germany), I started analyzing the pitching performance of the closer for the Red Sox in the real game from the night before. I'm both impressed that I can do that and slightly worried that I can do that.

Recently, iTunes spat "The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny" at me. The internet has so many ways of making me feel old.
Reading about LulzSec's shafting of HBGary is made much more satisfying when one is also listening to the Imperial March.
Idea for a movie aimed at middle school-aged insects: Sisterhood of the Traveling Ants.
I was in an adult shop the other day and saw that they had an inflatable sheep that made noises when, uh, prompted. How have we as a species existed so long without this?
If a frat guy suffers rectal damage, does he get an anal brolapse?
Regardless of whether the computer game I'm playing requires it, my left hand always ends up over the WASD keys.
Can I be your Komodo dragon of love? Large, sluggish, a bit smelly, and filled with toxic bacteria?
I feel like it might be an entertaining diversion to bullshit up an article of arrant nonsense about how the egalitarian ideals promulgated in the formation of the United States could have happened nowhere else, because the English language lacks specific formal and informal forms of address. Then pass the article to Conservapedia and WorldNetDaily and all the other 'Murikan exceptionalist mouthpieces and see how many run with it.

The only proper way to listen to Coast to Coast AM is while driving on a deserted rural highway on a very dark night.
I don't know about you, but I'm distinctly leery of the concept of buying condoms in a "Value Pack."
My burgeoning social conscience is making it increasingly difficult to listen to ads on AM radio.
How you know you're running with a nerd posse: they pour one out all right, but use Mountain Dew instead of a 40.
If ever asked why I have Jehovah's Witness pamphlets in my car, I plan to point out that you never know when you'll need some kindling.
Just south of Eugene, Oregon, there is a billboard advertising the National Museum of Naval Aviation. That museum is in Pensacola, Florida. I don't know why that's being advertised almost as far as you can get from the museum and still be in the continental United States.
The worst part about very late nights is the sunlight mocking you as you try to get to sleep.
Screaming "MURDER MURDER MURDER" is a good battle cry for a remarkable variety of games.
Does anyone ever really want an honest answer when they ask the question "What's the worst that can happen?"
There are few things more embarrassing than having to ragequit casual games.