Yesterday, once again, I found myself at the periodontist’s with a gas mask over my face. As you may recall, I don’t particularly enjoy laughing gas, as I am a control-oriented sort, but the alternative is usually less appealing in these instances.
I took a few deep breaths, and began to hear the telltale electric beat deep in my ears. The periodontist leaned in with his gloved hands, and they seemed absurdly big. I thought, “This is the only non-sexual scenario in which a man has ever had his fingers in my mouth.”
I laughed. Then I blushed. Then I became hyper aware of my tongue, and spent the next hour wracked with concern about accidentally doing something untoward. In conclusion, laughing gas is wasted on me.
Are you F*cking Kidding Me, (The Facebook Song) by Kate Miller-Heidke is very, very good. I would like you to put on your headphones so your boss doesn’t hear, and watch all the way to the end. It gets better and better as it goes along, the last line being the entire point of the song.
Via Sarah Brown, who is always right about these things.
A couple weeks ago, Bryan lost his keys, causing much upheaval. They’re the kind of keys you can’t copy, thus leaving us with only one key between us and the sitter. This morning, I saw them sitting on the dresser.
Me: Hey! Where did you find your keys?
Bryan: (slightly annoyed) I told you already.
Me: What? When?
Bryan: Yeah, I already told you this.
Me: No. I’m sure you didn’t. Where did you find them?
Bryan: Remember when I was all, “Me and a bottle of cabernet are besting the toddler?”
Me: What? What are even you talking about? Where did you find them?
Bryan: Didn’t you read my Twitters?
Me: … You mean you told me via your public Twitter? Are you kidding me right now?
Bryan: Yeah, remember I was all, “It only took six days, but I bested…”
Me: No. No. Stop saying things out loud.
Watching a children’s fire truck DVD, and the truck says, “I’m so big. While these men are up in my basket, two firefighters are working on me down below.”
My good friend Josh Cagan was guest hosting the prompts on Plinky last week as part of the promotion for his new movie Bandslam. I’m getting to them a little late, but here’s the answer to my favorite one:
OH NO, IT’S A RUMBLE! Quick, put together your ideal gang of street toughs!
When I need to assemble a gang of street toughs, and I need to do it fast, I turn to professionals. As usual, Sean “P. Diddy” Combs has anticipated a market for frenzied, murderous song-and-dance crews, and has conveniently assembled Danity Kane.
These girls have it all — doe eyes, gams that go all the way up, and a volatile helping of latent rage. Plus, they already have matching silver-lamÃ© cutout leotards. So, timesaver.
I know what you’re thinking; the ladies can’t exactly dance. But what they lack in dance talent, they make up for in heart. And the desire to bathe in your arterial blood.