Category: categories

Me: Wait! That’s Prince!

R: That’s a good reason to put in my Wallflowers CD.

M: Are you kidding me?

R: Prince sucks big dick.

M: Whaaaat? What are you talking about? You have to love Prince. Did you not grow up in the ’80s? It’s your duty to love Prince.

R: Prince is a has-been, leftover pop-star wannabe, a-sexual, talentless chump. He’s no Jakob Dylan.

M: NO JAKOB DYLAN? Are you listening to yourself!? I don’t even know you anymore. “Purple Rain?” “Raspberry Beret?” Where were you, brother?

R: Come on, listen to these lyrics, “It takes two to tango/but only one to let go.” That’s poetry.

M: All I have to say is, “She wore her raspberry beret/the kind you find in a second-hand store/Raspberry beret/ And if it was warm, she wouldn’t wear much more.”

(extended pause)

R: Touche.

9:43 a.m.

From a “Survivor” party e-vite:

“Hey folks. With less than a week away, Survivor tension is building, especially in our legs and lower backs.”

11:04 a.m.

Overheard

Scenario: My trusty companion and I hike four hours to a remote campsite to find that it’s been overtaken by a Boy Scout expedition.

Characters: Group of 14-to-17-year-old boys whose food has just been stolen by enterprising raccoons.

Boy 1: They got everything, the marshmallows, the beef jerky, everything.

Boy 2: How did they get into my pack? Raccoons know how to work zippers now?

Boy 3: They took the last bag of Rasinettes!

Boy 4: Forget the Rasinettes, dude. (mock serious voice) They took the last of the plutonium.

All: Crap!!

10:43 a.m.

From Misterpants:

“Hey, you know how people sometimes hoot. Like at a rock concert or whatever, someone might go, “whoooo!”

Well, I’d really like it if everyone who reads this can make an effort to hoot just a little bit more. Not only at rock concerts, but also at poetry readings and just while waiting for the bus or waiting in line at the grocery.

I think it’d be cool if we all just started hearing that “whooo!” a little more often and in a wider range of situations.”

10:04 a.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: Toledo and the state of higher education.

Excerpt:

“At the University of Toledo today, the sidewalk was chalked up with all
kinds of misspelled school spirit: ‘Your here!’ ‘Sign up for the ski
raceing team!’ What the fuck are these people going to do?”

11:05 a.m.

You’re an attractive, successful man who seems to have a lot going for him. But let’s say that your dating life is kind of slow, you’re not getting as much action as you used to, and all the women your age want to get married. What if you were to launch a Web campaign offering$10K to the person who finds you a wife? My guess is that you’d never sleep lonely again, my friend. Ah, romance. I can almost hear the violins.

(via adnan)

12:23 p.m.

My credit card company gave me an unsolicited increase. As you might imagine, my first thought was, Money? What the hell am I supposed to do with more money? Fortunately, they enclosed an informative brochure entitled, What to do With a Credit Card Increase. Apparently, when your credit line exceeds your annual income, you should take a Princess Cruise and order a digital watch that tells time in 20 different countries at once.

1:35 p.m.

A while ago, I finished Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. It’s a modern satire with a hilarious main character. The author committed suicide without ever trying to have the work published. His mother got it published and it won the Pulitzer. My favorite parts:

  • Your total ignorance of that which you profess to teach merits the death penalty. I doubt whether you know that St. Cassian of Imola was stabbed to death by his students with their styli…Pray to him, you deluded fool, you “anyone for tennis?” golf-playing, cocktail-quaffing, pseudo-pedant.
  • My mentality, uncontrollable and wanton as always, whispered to me a scheme so magnificent and daring that I shrank from the very thought of what I was hearing. “Stop! I cried imploringly my godlike mind. “This is madness!”
  • “Santa, honey, that’s a sweet little Blessed Virgin you got on top that TV,” Mrs. Reilly said.
    …Santa said, “Ain’t it nice, though? It’s a little Our Lady of the Television. It’s got a suction cup base so I don’t knock it over when I’m banging around in the kitchen. I bought it by Lenny’s”
    “Lenny’s got everything,” Mrs. Reilly said. “It looks like it’s made outta nice plastic, too. Don’t break.”

      11:20 a.m.