Category: categories

Greg? Uh…. Greg?

“A year is a long time, and I can’t help but think that I should be doing something new. I don’t know what it is yet, but it should be something new.”

Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!

And thus, my favorite blogger grows out of blogging. Thanks, mister. I had so much fun.

2 p.m.

Two great words I won’t remember in a week:

chivy–to tease or annoy with persistent attacks

desiccate–to drain of emotional or intellectual vitality

11:40 a.m.

Years ago, I worked at my campus newspaper and used to get letters from inmates. (I think there’s a law that allows them free postage to write the press.) The letters were all written in pencil, and many of THEM had RANDOMLY capitalized WORDS, which the author further emphasized by going over them again and again until there were word-shaped holes in the page. Every inmate wanted a female pen pal, so they provided vital stats:

“I like romantic evenings with a beautiful woman where we could go on a picnic and listen to some Tini (sic) Marie. I also like to visit museums, like the La Brea Tard (sic) Pits.”

Wistful now? You wish you had an inmate penpal of your very own, don’t you? Well, I’m here for you. Jail Babes, “A Pen-Pal and Singles Introduction Service.” Enjoy.

10:17 a.m.

Another reason to read more international news: “Monkey Man Hysteria Grips New Delhi Suburbs” “‘It was a monkey alright, and about four foot tall, but as soon as I grabbed it, it turned itself into a cat with tawny, glowing eyes,’ the newspaper quoted a resident as saying.”

Update: This article has pictures!
“Deepali Kumari, from Noida, said: ‘It has three buttons on its chest. One makes it turn into a monkey, the second gives it extra strength, the third makes it invisible.
‘He touches a lock and it breaks. But he is afraid of the light.'” (via MetaFilter)

11:18 a.m.

Conversation with my three-year-old nephew, Trevor:

Me: What do pigs say?

Trevor:…ahh…. Oink! Oink!

M: What do dogs say?

T: Bark! Bark!

M: What do elephants say?

T:…aaah….prrrrrbt!

M: What do Trevors say?

T: PLEASE!

2:52 p.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: Summer jobs.

Excerpt:

The first thing I found out about selling cars is that the dumber you are,
the better. These women come up and say, “What’s the difference between
these two convertibles?” So I say, “This one has 190 horsepower, and this
one has 170 horsepower.” And then they say, “But this one is purple.”

3:47 p.m.

So this guy dies in his rocking chair. Papers keep being delivered, the grass keeps growing, the neighbors are getting pissed. But no one realizes the guy is dead until four years later when someone buys the house at a delinquent taxes auction and finds a corpse in the living room.

10:08 a.m.

From Messy Chestnut:

“One month after my second son was born he was notified that he was pre-approved for a Mastercard.”

Also, a poem he posted:

Watermelons

Green Buddhas

On the fruit stand.

We eat the smile

And spit out the teeth

-Charles Simic

10:51 a.m.

Seven cheesy things I love anyway:

  • Finger guns in photos
  • Black umbrellas with “sunny sky” detail inside
  • Gilligan hats
  • Fashionistas!
  • Talking to cashiers
  • What-will-I-wear-for-this-important-event? clothing-change montages
  • Old men who wink

9:48 a.m.