We’ve been busier at work the last few months (hence me running behind on new posts at times), so my friend/boss Paul has been unable to create a new list to share. Today, before heading to golf, he created this new list to share.
CD's may soon go the way of the phonograph...
Top 5 Songs About Obsolete Technology
5.)Spiderwebs– No Doubt What’s Obsolete: screening phone calls over answering machines What’s Replaced It: caller ID Shelf-Life for Replacement: indefinite
I felt real old when my five year-old daughter asked me, ‘What’s a record, dad?’
What’s Replaced It: CD’s (also, Right Round by Flo Rida) Shelf-Life for Replacement: ever hear of iPods or Pandora?
2) Escape (The Pina Colada Song – Rupert Holmes What’s Obsolete: personal ads in the newspaper What’s Replaced It: Craigslist and web dating services Shelf-Life for Replacement: as long as people are looking for other strangers to screw, they’ll be around
1) Beepers – Sir Mix-A-Lot What’s Obsolete: pagers What’s Replaced It: cell phones Shelf-Life for Replacement: until they implant telecommunications into our brains, cell phones are it
I recently had a dream in which I invented wind-up watches. I woke up thinking they were a crazy idea, and then I thought about how crazy i was to forget that they existed.
While on the subject of crazy, one of my friends told me about a woman she worked with and the recurring dream she had.
Over the course of fifteen years (FIFTEEN YEARS!), she often dreamed of Morgan Freeman standing in a waterfall, wearing a diaper, and holding her unborn twins in her arms. She never had twins or lost them, I found out, because then it would have been sad… like Morgan Freeman was playing his usual role of God, and all that other psychoanalytic mumbo jumbo.
So since it wasn’t a downer, I simply could not resist trying to imagine what that looked like, and here was the result:
While driving to the radio and jamming my car (wait I think I mixed that up), I was listening to a Bob Marley song. I always thought it was called “Don’t Worry,” but then I started to worry about the perception of reality when it was revealed to me that the song was in fact called “Three Little Birds.” My universe came crashing down around me. I screamed at the top of my lungs:
How could anyone do this to me?!
But then I realized Marley does mention three little birds in the song, and all was well with the world. And it’s not like any other musicians have ever given their song a title, and then not repeated the titular line in their lyrics.
Here’s a list of musicians and their songs that don’t use the title in the lyrics:
Surprisingly, I’m not as big of a candy junkie as one might think. Heaven knows I used to be in my high school/college years, but not so much anymore. In those days, I ate two candy bars per day (Caramel Twix and PB Max). But that’s neither here nor there nor hear nor their nor hair nor they’re nor hare nor Nair.
AnyWhoppers, that’s not what this post is about. There is something awfully wrong with this M&M’s commercial. see if you can pick it out:
If you imagined Green working a stripper pole, I WIN! (Plus, I also lose as well as you.) If you didn’t, then check out this awful choice of words:
If you didn’t know, in the daytime, I work as a travelling network administrator (I almost wrote newtwork, but I got better). AnyWAN, I came across found this picture as someone’s background while out in the field:
"Godse"
I nearly lost it. It couldn’t be? It wouldn’t be? It shouldn’t be. This was in a doctor’s office on one of the laptops, and there’s no way any of the ladies working there were that subversive.
What’s the problem, you might be wondering (aside from the fact it’s fake)? Ever hear of Goatse.cx (don’t worry… the link is to Wikipedia)? Essentially, it’s the precursor to 2Girls1Cup (also Wikipedia).
Those ladies at the office didn’t know that was not a picture of God’s Hands. But if it was God’s Hands, and the break in the clouds was some other part of God, I don’t ever want to be caught out in the rain ever again…
Now that I’m clean-shaven and no longer look like this:
The bird is the word.
Or this:
I must admit, I missed my face. I went through one day of phantom beard, but that was it. I should mention my regret for removing the season-long Red Wings hockey beard on the first day of the Stanley Cup playoffs, but in order to fly to NYC without hassle, it seemed worth the hassle. (Thank goatee they’re advancing to Round 2!)
Anysubway, I won’t bore you with the details. All the details. Just some of them.
Jay was Hitting One Liners Out of the Park
"Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd that wanted to beat up a guy for wearing a Mets' cap..."
On Friday, we headed to Yankee Stadium to see two of our beloved ex-Tigers play (Curtis Granderson and, um, Marcus Thames), and all day, my buddy Jay was calling ’em like he saw ’em.
Some of things he said that were actually documented:
I need to stop calling these trips vacations and start calling them work out retreats.
If I owned that shirt it’d be my third favorite shirt.
Hey I’m paying twenty bucks to look at empty stages tomorrow.
Steve: Who sings ‘I Can See Clearly Now the Rain is Gone?’
Jay: Ke$ha.
What are you? A garbophobe?
It’s getting all Wendy’s up in here! [This one was mine. – Ed.]
“It’s Getting All Wendy’s Up in Here!”
I wish I had photos as proof, but Wendy’s in Midtown is, simply put, insane. I don’t think it was an isolated incident either. The show Ugly Americans even gave a shout out to it.
At any rate, the breakdown of events (this all happened within fifteen minutes):
Some one threw their filled drink in the air.
A sober girl was trying to get a trashed girl up the stairs.
Steve slipped on the spilled drink and dropped everything but his drink.
Chris tripped down some stairs while holding only the top bun covered in its toppings. (He wanted a plain one.)
Somebody left a strange package on one of the tables. (I checked what it was, damned if I remember.)
A person kept screaming about how he wanted to kill everyone, and no one reacted.
I don’t know. It seemed much crazier when I was trashed.
I’m So Proud of Myself for Something Not Proud
This photo's fuzziness doesn't even come close to my eyes' fuzziness that night.
On Saturday, we found a bar called No Idea and like the bar’s name, we had no idea what was in store (hee!). We stopped here after not getting to play ping-pong at Susan Sarandon’s Spin because they were closing for a private party.
BONUS JAY QUOTE!
Here I was under the impression none of us played ping-pong.
The plan was this: kick back a few cheap drinks, make our way to bar hop in East Village, and finally check out P.D.T.’s in Crif Dogs (our missed mission from last year). Let’s just say that plan’s quickly becoming an annual tradition.
As soon as the drinks kept flowing (courtesy of an all-you-can-drink party), the remainder of the night became a blur.
Oh yeah – my proud moment… I threw up and quickly returned to drink more. I never knew I had it in me to do that!
The Drunk Idea of the Trip
Andrew Dice Clay’s reality show should have been called Rollin’ with Dice. I was going to make a graphic, but fuck it (heehee!).
Sorry, but mentioning this Happy Find sort of feels like nepotism… like something that belongs on STFU, Parents… or like one of those situations where parents make their kids put on performances.
A reenactment:
Parent – “Show them what you can do, honey?”
Child – “I don’t wanna.”
Parent – “But everyone’s waiting…”
Parent’s Friend that’s either drunk, brutally honest, or both (usually me) – “I’m not.”
If you don’t know Mike Rowe by appearance, you most likely know his voice. Not only is he the voice of most Discovery Channel shows, he’s also the guy telling you to try a Ford.
Anywhoring, I’m having fun making the photos, and I wanted to share them with you.
This is a situation where the object under the microscope isn’t necessarily a great thing that has deteriorated from awesomeness. It’s a series of sleeping options that start off as, well, The Shit, and quickly nosedive into Just Shitty.
On the complimentary side of the synonym for doo-doo comes this (via Treehugger):
And you thought blankets with sleeves were innovative...
According to inventor, Buckminster Fuller, the sleepsuit is a
transportable and adjustable cocoon that allows for constant air flow in a variety of different positions and environments.
Stages of Metamorphositsdown
Works for me. Something that doesn’t work for me? This offering from Japan:
Slippers are optional, I guess.
Here are some thoughts about the above product:
If I’m using a sleeping bag, I’m usually camping.
If I’m camping, and I’m in my sleeping bag, the only time I get up is to use the bathroom.
…
Open feet and separated legs aren’t much help in that department.
And if you add arms to the sleeping bag, you’re in a snowsuit.
(The only advantage to having separated legs – fleeing a bear.)
(The only other advantage – kicking a tent invader.)
The last thing at the pejorative end of caca and its ilk (via Nerd Approved):
What happens when you drool?
Is this dumb or what? How can one night stands disappear guilt-free after peeling their cheek away from one of these pillows? It begs for scribbled excuses, and that prolongs the awkwardness of the morning. What if he or she wakes up? What if you mistakenly promise you’ll call?
I guess you could just write, “Stepped out for cigarettes.”
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