Stuff that creeps me out, in order of creepiness:

  • Russian grandmother sells her living grandson for organ harvesting.
  • Japanese men are signing up for an online service that lets them woo a virtual woman over email. They must court the woman, and if they’re good enough the relationship will, ah, progress. If not, the “woman” dumps them.
  • This museum has an exhibit on the human body that includes fake human feces floating in a toilet. Kids love it.

2:11 p.m.

With my ears plugged from the cold, I mistook an ambulence siren for an aria and looked around for the fat lady.

10:28 a.m.

You know what’s not pleasant? Drinking at the water fountain and feeling the stream of water dip when someone flushes the toilet in the bathroom next door.

I saw a commercial this weekend for an E-Z Bake Oven CD-ROM. Two girls sat side by side giggling in anticipation over the rising cake… on their monitor.

GAHHHH! First they take away candy cigarettes, then toys that spark, and now this? Excuse me, Orwellian Overlords? The whole point of the E-Z Bake oven is to mix the tap water and pseudo-chocolate powder, spill most of the “batter” on the floor while you’re pouring it into tiny pans, and let it bake for three hours under the scorching heat of a 60-watt lightbulb. Now that’s entertainment. The day I catch my child watching an animated cake and clapping her hands in glee, I’m unplugging the Telescreen and sitting down to wait for the Thought Police to take me away.

3:30 p.m.

Walking me to work this morning, Fred kept nudging me into the parking meters. I finally asked if I could switch sides with him. He seemed frustrated and said, “I know I’m supposed to walk on the curb side, but in San Francisco all the bums are on the inside.” Good point.

10:06 a.m.

When I was in college, I had an art history professor who would dock our papers an entire grade if they didn’t have titles. So I wouldn’t forget, I wrote “The Coolest Title in the World Goes Here” on my title page. Of course, I never got back to it and I turned the paper in. The best part is, the paper was on “art in public spaces.” Tragically, if one leaves the “l” out of public, spell check doesn’t catch it. Even if you leave the “l” out two or three times.

11 p.m.



Fat Chicks in Party Hats will make you feel like a creep for laughing. The barely English captions are so incredibly random that you can’t stop scrolling. The caption for this one reads, “my date for the prom did taste like choclate! BURP! oh i am so alone.”

Stolen from Metafilter.

3:50 p.m.



This site’s creators aren’t disturbed by the lude nature of amateur porn photography, but the zebra-print drapes must go.
Obscene Interiors has painstakingly cropped out all the extraneous nudity, so you can experience the full horror of beaded avacado bedspreads without distraction.

11:04 a.m.

My nephew Trevor is three, and he’s a big fan of nose picking. I said, “Trevor, don’t do that, honey. People think it’s gross.” Trevor looked up at me thoughtfully with his finger buried up to his knuckle. He said in his most earnest, explanatory tone, “No they don’t, Auntie Mawget. They think it’s yummy.”

3:40 p.m.

All right, it’s true that I’m sick again for the third time in two months. But if one more chipper, healthy person tells me to take echinacea, I’m going to march into their cube and rub my cold-infested face all over their phone receiver.

Then I’m going to call to thank them for their sound advice.

11:16 a.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Characters: Friends from my college newspaper.

Subject: Finding a sugar daddy.

Excerpt (minus extraneous inside jokes):

Drew: I’ve been looking for a Sugar Mama/Daddy to support me while I finish my novel. Now, who the hell’s pulling down the most here?

Me: Extremely generous SWF seeks aspiring novelist to share mutually beneficial relationship and writers’ nest in city. I’m a wealthy editor seeking a young man to dot my “i”s and cross my “t”s. Can you prove that your sword is as mighty as your pen?

Matthias: The only four words I need to win Drew’s favor: Hung like a rhino.

Drew: I’d like to respond to ad box #133256, “SWF seeking aspiring novelist, etc.”: SWM, rugged, untamed, unflinching…Alaskan. Seeking a woman to clean game and fish including, but not limited to, caribou, moose, salmon, carp, trout, ptarmigan, grouse, bass, shad, dolly varden, raven, wolf, bobcat, house cat, sewer rat and the occasional feral monkey. Must have own knife and “fat-scraper”, must be able to make fire from snow, must weigh at least 195 (for boat ballast). Are you strong enough to be my man? I mean, woman?

Me: Um.. what’s dolly varden?

Jessie: That’s like Dolly Parton, except minus the gargantuan
boobies, and also it’s a fish.

2:05 p.m.

As the friend who sent this to me notes, Sally Struthers is always good for a laugh. From Satire Wire’s Please, Help Sally Save the Dot-Coms.

With each passing day, dot-coms are finding it increasingly difficult to stay
alive. Cut off from further venture funding or bank credit, without access to
sufficient revenues, many are forced to make choices about which essentials
they can afford: salaries or benefits, marketing or product development, sales
or office parties? Choices no one should have to make. Despair takes the
place of hope.

10:14 a.m.

From this week’s Onion:

Hypothetical Question Clearly Not Hypothetical

YUMA, AZ– Brad Thorstadt was rattled Monday,
when hiking partner and longtime friend Ken
Daniels asked him a hypothetical question that
clearly was not hypothetical. “What the hell did
he mean by, ‘Hypothetically speaking, if you and
Cheryl were into threesomes, would you consider
me?'” Thorstadt asked. “That’s not the kind of
thing you just ask hypothetically.” Thorstadt
added that he likes Daniels and everything, but
damn.

3:08 p.m.

Overheard a city mom talking to her little girl. They passed a produce stand and mom said:

“Look at the all the fruits and vegetables! Do you see the asparagus?” Pointing to a stack of neatly trussed bunches. “You have a toy asparagus at home, but that�s how they grow in the wild.”

I�d like to hear her take on hamburger.

12:40 p.m.