Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I NEED A JOB
I NEED A JOB
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
AN OCTODOG FOR MOTHER'S DAY
What did y'all get y'alls moms for Mother's Day. (Sorry if y'all don't know who y'all's moms are, and/or y'all's moms are dead. I have that same problem with Father's Day...)
Mine has every kitchen device known to man, so I thought I'd finally found one here which she didn't have, this very obscure, but absolutely essential, kitchen basic.
However, you can only buy it, like, at the aquarium? So I ordered some cookbooks online, instead, and told her if she wanted one, I would totally get it.
ME: Do you want an Octodog?
MOM: Octawha...? What is it? No.
ME: It's a device that cuts your hot dogs into octopi-shaped things.
MOM: Uh...no.
ME: Why not?
MOM: (...)
ME: Maybe little Octodog...?
MOM: NO NO I DO NOT WANT THAT THING
ME: Oh. I guess, if you wanted your hot dogs to be octupusses, you would, you know. Just eat an octopus.
MOM: Exactly. Right.
ME: Although, there may be, you know. Some octopus in your hot dog.
MOM: DO NOT ORDER ME THAT THING.
ME: Oh. Kay.
MOM: I MEAN IT. I DO NOT WANT ONE. DO NOT SEND ME THAT THING.
ME: Fine. Okay. I won't.
MOM: You're sending me that thing, aren't you.
ME: NO. Maybe. For self-defense.
You do not even need to have kids in the house - I am sure this octothinger has many other uses. Such as, making radish roses. Banana slugs. Indian deities. Chinese eggplant Cthulhus. And life-sized, anatomically correct models of Bret Michael's genitalia. Which every kitchen should have. And also, some PAM. And a lot of Lysol.
Dude. I am so not hungry anymore.
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AN OCTODOG FOR MOTHER'S DAYMine has every kitchen device known to man, so I thought I'd finally found one here which she didn't have, this very obscure, but absolutely essential, kitchen basic.
However, you can only buy it, like, at the aquarium? So I ordered some cookbooks online, instead, and told her if she wanted one, I would totally get it.
ME: Do you want an Octodog?
MOM: Octawha...? What is it? No.
ME: It's a device that cuts your hot dogs into octopi-shaped things.
MOM: Uh...no.
ME: Why not?
MOM: (...)
ME: Maybe little Octodog...?
MOM: NO NO I DO NOT WANT THAT THING
ME: Oh. I guess, if you wanted your hot dogs to be octupusses, you would, you know. Just eat an octopus.
MOM: Exactly. Right.
ME: Although, there may be, you know. Some octopus in your hot dog.
MOM: DO NOT ORDER ME THAT THING.
ME: Oh. Kay.
MOM: I MEAN IT. I DO NOT WANT ONE. DO NOT SEND ME THAT THING.
ME: Fine. Okay. I won't.
MOM: You're sending me that thing, aren't you.
ME: NO. Maybe. For self-defense.
You do not even need to have kids in the house - I am sure this octothinger has many other uses. Such as, making radish roses. Banana slugs. Indian deities. Chinese eggplant Cthulhus. And life-sized, anatomically correct models of Bret Michael's genitalia. Which every kitchen should have. And also, some PAM. And a lot of Lysol.
Dude. I am so not hungry anymore.
Labels: fear the octodog
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Thursday, May 08, 2008
STOP AND SMELL THE SPOOGE
Next time you try to smell an orchid, just remember the copious amounts of insect ejaculate that might be swimmin' around in there, ready to latch on to your nose hairs and attempt to impregnate your BRAIN, then causing you to start watching "Keeping Up with the Kardashians".
Not that most orchids really smell, I'm just saying,
you were warned.
By the way, maybe it's just me, or the fact that I've been working in a casting office for the past week, but I think this says a lot about attempting to date in general (and especially in L.A.) and also explains Daisy from ROCK OF LOVE (just replace "orchids" with "plastic boobs"):
Male pollinators can prefer orchids (plastic boobs) to real females, prematurely end a copulation with a real female to visit an orchid (plastic boobs), or be unable to find real female mates among false orchid signals (plastic boobs).
I think Prospective Mates should send half the women out here a nice big bouquet of bug spooge. Not that they could smell it anyway through their reconstructed Barbie noses...
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STOP AND SMELL THE SPOOGENot that most orchids really smell, I'm just saying,
you were warned.
By the way, maybe it's just me, or the fact that I've been working in a casting office for the past week, but I think this says a lot about attempting to date in general (and especially in L.A.) and also explains Daisy from ROCK OF LOVE (just replace "orchids" with "plastic boobs"):
Male pollinators can prefer orchids (plastic boobs) to real females, prematurely end a copulation with a real female to visit an orchid (plastic boobs), or be unable to find real female mates among false orchid signals (plastic boobs).
I think Prospective Mates should send half the women out here a nice big bouquet of bug spooge. Not that they could smell it anyway through their reconstructed Barbie noses...
Labels: airing the orchid
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