Showing posts with label Thinking While My Lips Move. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking While My Lips Move. Show all posts

Thursday, February 9, 2012

If I was exactly what those ad scammers were looking for...

While I was watching Doctor Who on a semi-illegal video website because I can’t afford Netflix, this ad popped up on the sidebar...


Which obviously made me say, “OH MY GOSH! This sexy woman with a ferociously enormous butt wants to be my friend on Facebook so badly that she put her friend request in a personal ad so it can find me wherever I am! 

And her name is Tionne. How exotic! I'm not even 100% sure how to pronounce that!

We already have two friends in common; I must have showed up on her newsfeed twice and she was all, ‘Wow! That guy’s really hot! I see in him what everyone else misses! I need to be his friend! I will do whatever it takes!‘ 

She even left a personal message: 'Want to meet me?' ...So personal and inciting!  

I should probably click this sidebar Facebook notification and head over to Facebook STAT – I have three notifications that I should check anyway. 

*clickclickclickclick* 

HEY! This isn’t Facebook! ‘Find hot locals in your area’? Hmmm...Well, obviously Tionne is local because we have mutual friends, and she’s hot, so maybe this is some sort of Facebook shortcut to find her faster. Here’s my name, email, and street address. 

$26 a month? I will do whatever it takes to find her. IT’S US AGAINST THE WORLD, TIONNE. 

Maybe I’ll take out my own ad."

Friday, January 20, 2012

An Uncelebrated Popcorn Day


Guys, I did it again. National Popcorn Day was yesterday. 



[You remember our cast of characters from last year, don't you? They're just as disappointed.]

Yes, January 19th, the day that should have been spent popping popcorn and blissfully throwing it at unsuspecting passerby, the day that should have been filled with a little extra pizazz and a lot of extra salt, NATIONAL POPCORN DAY was once again completely ignored by me, its biggest fan. I spent the day doing stupid non-celebratory things like grocery shopping and working and making Tater Tot Hotdish.

I apologize to all my readers, I apologize to this country, but most of all, I apologize to myself because I’m a narcissist. 

I want to go into my cupboards and apologize to the four mini-bags of popcorn in there, but I CAN’T EVEN LOOK THEM IN THE EYE RIGHT NOW.
I feel the need to apologize to people on the street for not attacking them with popcorn yesterday, BUT THEY WON’T UNDERSTAND. 
I’ve already created three alarms on my computer for January 19th 2013, BUT MOST LIKELY THE WORLD WILL END BY THEN AND I’LL NEVER GET TO CELEBRATE MY BLOG’S NAMESAKE. 

This must not happen again. Next year, on January 19th, which is a Saturday so you should all be available (even you Canadian ones), we will have a party big enough to cover all the sins and transgressions of Popcorn Days Past. I will dress up as a giant popcorn kernel and tackle people in downtown Minneapolis. My hipster artist friends and I will create a whimsical stop-motion video of the life of a man who loves popcorn and rides a giraffe-sized bicycle around searching for it. I will record the official Popcorn Day song, which will be sold on iTunes for all my Faithful Follower(s) and their friend(s) to purchase and wake up to in the morning. And all will be right with the world. Next year, baby. 
In the meantime, go back to the very first post this blog ever had and have a mini-celebration of the new holiday I just created for people like me:


See you next year at the party. 

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

GREAT NEW IDEA: OKakes!

Have you ever wanted to make someone happy by surprising them with a sugary treat, and reply affirmatively to their question at the same time? THEN LOOK NO FURTHER.

As the inventor of SongBomb©™, PoemBomb©™, and RapAttack©™, I am proud to introduce new phenomenon which will be sweeping the nation in no time:
 
 


OKakes!
 





OKakes! are the perfect treat for answering questions in a fun and meaningful way! This is how they work:

1.) Someone asks you a question, for which your answer will ultimately be “Okay.”

2.) Instead of answering, drop whatever you’re doing and run away.

3.) Go and make a cake. It could be any kind of cake, really; a big cake, a little cake, cupcakes, petit fours…really, whatever you want.

4.) Decorate your cake with frosting, and squeeze “OK” onto it.

5.) Bring your newly made OKake to your friend who asked you the question.

6.) They will then reply to your tasty treat/answer with a smile, laughter, a hug, or tears of joy. They’ll LOVE it.

OKakes! are a most versatile concoction! Check out what these fine customers have used them for! 


. . .




. . .



See? They’re a perfect idea! Call now for an OKakes! Starters Pack, complete with OKakes! Guide to the Perfect Positive Response, including tips for making OKakes! in advance!*

*It is recommended, especially for the smaller OKakes!, that you keep the letter O and K on the same cake. If not, your friends may wonder why you have KKKakes! sitting around your house.

Submit your own stories and videos of your OKakes! experiences for a chance to win an individualized PoemBomb©™!

Monday, April 18, 2011

Lady Gaga Justin Bieber Kobe Bryant iPad Snookie Precious


So I have a theory. On my sidebar, you will see a box that says “Popular Posts.” For those of you who are too lazy to scroll down (I’m mostly talking to you non-Macbook users who have to bring your cursor all the way over to the scroll bar and draaaaaaaaag that stupid bar down to the correct place, instead of simply placing two fingers on your trackpad and effortlessly navigating the page. I totally understand, by the way…when I want to scroll on a PC laptop I feel like I’m scraping superglue off tree bark with a pipe cleaner. [I find more uses for those every day!] Anyway…), here’s a picture of that box: 


You’ll notice that a lot of these posts are some of my better ones. Perhaps you're chuckling to yourself about something funny that  I wrote in one of these previous posts. Such fond memories, right readers? But did you notice that Pictionary one? Do you remember reading that? Was that a good post?

[It’s okay if you want to say no. I understand.]

The truth is, this is not a very good post of mine. It was early off in this blog’s life, and I guess I thought it was cute.

And yet...

It’s one of the most popular posts. Why? This is my theory: The title has five board games listed in it. There are clearly some game enthusiasts out there who look tirelessly to find a good board game-themed blog who stumbled upon Popcorn Day in a Google search. They took a look around, saw that this was just a silly blog of some guy who draws pictures of his dreams, and stepped out. Thus, this post receives more visits. 


To test this theory, I have titled this post with the names of current celebrities and pop-culture items. If it ends up in my “Popular Posts” box, we will know definitively that I am right. 

 [For some reason I have the Inspector Gadget theme song stuck in my head.]


This is the most pointless post…


Sunday, March 6, 2011

Things I won’t believe exist until I see them in real life...



 1. The Red Wood Forest.   
Trees you can drive through? Get real. It’s way too easy to forge...

[It's about as easy to forge as the moon landing. However I do not doubt the moon landing; that’s just un-American.]


2. Narwhals.   
Unicorn whales? Yeah right. Yeah f***ing right. 

 [This may have a little bit to do with the fact that I thought they were mythical creatures until about a year ago.]

3. Possums.  
Seeing them squashed on the side of the road does NOT mean they exist. 

 [This was drawn after looking up "possum" on Google and drawing it from a thumbnail. I almost threw it away. But then I was reminded of the last time I showed a rejected picture and it was hilarious. So enjoy my drawing of a possum that reminds me of every animal drawing by every Yu Gi Oh! and WWF-loving a**hole kid I went to elementary school with. Don't ask me how I made that connection.]

4. Koala Bears: 
Prove it.

5. Santa Claus: 
I would be so pumped if it just turned out that he existed and the only reason adults don’t receive presents is because they just don’t...


6. Oceans:
(This used to be on the list, but was taken off because of pretty convincing evidence shown to me while in Florida a few years ago.)

7. Platypuses:  
Duck-otters? It’s just not possible. I deny their existence on principle.
 
 [Couldn't have said it better myself, you stupid, fake animal.]

This concludes "Things I won't believe exist until I see them in real life."

Thank you, thank you.



On a similar note:

A word I will never say because I’ll never be exactly sure how to pronounce it:

Bourgeois. 

I’ve even looked it up, and heard the pronunciation, and I’m here to say it’s still not going to happen. Same with Bourgeoisie. 

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I have this thing...


...And this thing is a profound respect for the scripts of movies and television shows. I like to hear every word. Every word, dammit, because if it’s a good show, it’s because they have really talented writers who write really clever words with hopefully with some subtle hints or jokes that one wouldn’t catch if one wasn’t listening very intently.

Here’s the deal, though. I also have friends who like to say things. And the things they say usually mean something to me so I like to hear them as well.

So let’s say that I’m watching one of my DVDs of Arrested Development, a cancelled show that had some of the cleverest and most subtle writing I’ve ever seen so of course I don’t want to miss any of it, and someone comes up to me to tell me something. They start talking, and I’ll pause it to listen to them. And then this happens…

Friend: So I was…

**I push pause**

Friend: Oh. Sorry. I can go if you want. I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Me: What? No, it’s fine. What’s up?

Friend: Well, I’ll make it fast—

Me: You don’t have to. I paused it.

Friend: O…kay…

And they tell a really quick, abbreviated story, which leaves me feeling like a total douchecopter.   

[It's actually pretty interesting that the way I wrote "click" in this picture kind of looks like "dick", because that's what I end up feeling like.] 

After that happens once, this is what happens from now on…

Friend: So I was…

**I push pause**

Friend: Oh, haha. Brian always has to pause it. Haha.

Me: Well, of course. I want to hear what you say. 

Friend: Awkward! Okay, I’ll make it quick.

Me: No, you don’t have to. I paused it. It’s fine. I don’t see what the problem is…

Friend: O…kay…

And another abbreviated story! What is this!

When did the pause button start meaning, “Ugh you’re wasting my time with your incessant talking and I just want to watch my f***ing show”?

This is a what pause actually means. If you look really close on your pause button you can read this: 

Sometimes you have to be sentimental to stop people from pissing you off.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

"Welcome to Chinese Restaurant. Please try your Nice Chinese Food with Chopsticks the traditional and typical of Chinese glorious history and cultural." *


An interesting little piece of realization came to me the other day while eating food from the Asian line at the Dining Center: Chopsticks are shockingly accurate instruments for gauging how high-strung a person is.

For example, people who can be described with words like chill, laid-back, or easy-going tend to have no problems whatsoever using chopsticks. Their wrists are calm, their fingers are unperturbed, and the chopsticks look like natural extensions of their body—like a Buddhist Wolverine. 

[He must do yoga.]
 
On the other hand, people who, say, are a little more stressed-out than others, maybe breathe a little too much from the chest, maybe bounce their legs up and down when sitting idly on a chair…(you know, people like me…) CanNOT work those damn chopsticks. 

People like us, who maybe idolize relaxation, go on trips just for that reason, or take time out of our day to sit in a hammock and relax even though all we can think of the whole time is what we’re going to blog about next (hellooooo), have some problems. We tend to go towards three techniques of chopstick usage:

1. Eat a third of our meal before giving up and searching for a fork, mumbling something like, “Errr…give up…I can’t…damn…FORK!” 


2. Go completely ape-sh** and use the chopsticks to stab at the chicken in our lo mein with bloodshot eyes and a strange sense of obsessive patriotism. 

[This is the second draft of this drawing. The first one is far too creepy, so I'm leaving it out. 

Oh, what the heck. Here it is...]

[I think this qualifies as "ape-sh**." 
And yes, those are American flag lightning bolts.]  

3. Buck up and pretend like everything’s normal, and hope that nobody sees the mangled mess of appendages and wood coming out of our wrist. 


So that settles it. Chopsticks usage has nothing to do with practice or culture. If you can’t use chopsticks, your character is to blame. The only probable solution is to quit your job, drink more wine, take up yoga, maybe some Ritalin, move to Asia and become a monk, ring more gongs, light more incense, probably smoke pot, stop watching Jersey Shore, and breathe from your freaking abdomen. This hasn’t been proven, but it has got to be more effective than practice.

*This title is quoting the wonderful, lost-in-translation inscription on most chopsticks packages. For those who are wondering if there's a point to this, or if I'm just making fun of the Chinese. The latter, people; the latter.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Phrases of this Generation: The Like-Legit-Like Sandwich

Before I begin, allow my to send out a disclaimer that this may sound surprisingly like a rant, which is something I promised would never appear on my blog way back. However, my friends, I think this may be funny enough to lose that negative title and instead be referred to as “a humorous discussion of a subject found annoying by the author.”

There are a few phrases that this (my) generation uses that just don’t make sense to me. Actually, they kill me a little. Or at least figuratively smash my fingers in car doors. My first example of this is The Like-Legit-Like Sandwich. If you haven’t heard of it, once I explain you’ll hear it everywhere you go from the mouths of this wicked and perverse generation.

The moment legitimately became legit the world started losing all coherence and meaning. Legitimately is a pretty word that also sounds long. People should enjoy using it…especially those who could use a few easy, long words to make them seem just above the smart/dumb line (kind of like vocabulary or evidently or obviously). But no, legitimately became legit, and soon everything was either legit or not legit (illegit?).

Definitions of this word have been whittled down to, “You know…it means, like, ‘for real.’”

Then shoot me legit.

And then something happened that changed the entire world forever. Some people with monosyllabic vocabularies who had adopted legit as the hardest word they know found out that they never have to trouble their brains anymore by asking someone, “What do you mean?” or, “Are you telling me the truth?” Instead, they could just say…brace yourselves…

“Like, legit, like…?”

Cryptic? Allow me to explain.

Let’s say I walked up to a friend and said, “Today I took a wolf up to the top of the highest hill in Minnesota and we had a picnic.” 

[Wolves actually have surprisingly balanced backs. They can carry pretty much anything up there.]

After hearing it, he would say, “Wait. Like, legit, like…?”

And I would be forced to say, “Yes. I’m telling the truth. I took a wolf up a hill and we had a picnic of berries and potato chips.” 

[Wolves only eat SunChips in the compostable bags, even though they're noisy.]

Really, it just takes all the conversational responsibility off of my friend, so all he has to do is observe my talking and do something more intelligent than squeak or grunt when he starts to get lost.

This is what the Like-Legit-Like Sandwich is really saying:

Like #1 = Are you saying
Legit = that you’re serious?
Like #2 = For example, you actually sat on top of a hill with a wolf and it didn’t eat you?

And it says this at the same time:

Like #1 = Did you know
Legit = that I have no idea
Like #2 = how to actually form a coherent sentence?

Another use for the Like-Legit-Like Sandwich is when one is trying to explain something that they don’t have the words to explain:

“The lyrics in this song are so cool. They’re like…legit, like…I really like them.”

This is merely using the word “legitimate” incorrectly. I mean, when are words not legitimate? Are there songs that are written with words like “fliminhaha” or “sklideedoo” out there? The words, I suppose, would not be legitimate in that song. But this happening is very unlikely.

[This is the most likely place to hear goofy words like this in a song. 
I dedicate this to my great friend  Billy Sveen.]

This, my friends, is The Like-Legit-Like Sandwich. You will find that the word legit is rarely found without word like nearby. May you be forever annoyed. 

Monday, August 23, 2010

Dilemma. (Also: this post has very little point.)

I want a banana.

But as you can see, we have a bunch of green bananas and one that’s spotty and bruised. No middle ground. 

What am I going to do? I really want a banana. I’ve had problems with bananas in the past, but this is ridiculous.

I actually had a brainstorm that maybe I could open the old and a new banana, and then eat them both at the same time, somehow splitting the difference.


For some reason this yellow injustice brought two thoughts to my mind, which caused me great anger:

1. Jane Goodall probably never goes to the zoo.

2. I don’t understand how anyone can be comfortable blowing his or her nose with one hand.

And then I became really concerned about my brain, because these two things not only are not related to my banana dilemma, but are also not related to each other. 

WARNING: I AM GOING TO ELABORATE ON THIS. BEAR WITH ME.

Jane Goodall doesn’t have to go to the zoo because she lived in the jungle with chimpanzees for twenty years. She can just fly to her house in Tanzania and walk into her backyard and hang out with them. While the highlight for regular people at the zoo would be the chimps, she would be like, “Yeah, I’ve lived with them and made friends with them out in their natural habitat. I know many by name and I play with them and communicate via sign language with them. The relationship that you guys have with the chimps is merely a blip of nothingness compared to the one I have with a billion of them out in the wild. By the way, I’m pretty much against the fact that these guys are in a cage.”



I envy her.

And the second thought has always bothered me. When I see someone blowing his or her nose with a Kleenex in one hand, I can’t help but picture that person as a child with a snotty green nose, and his busy, overworked mother putting a Kleenex with one hand up to his face and saying, “Blow,” while she’s doing something with the other hand like making dinner or shopping or fencing. 


So when a grown-up person uses one hand to blow his nose, I just can’t handle it. Such a lack of control! I’m a two-handed nose-blower. My message to the one-handers:  Give your nose the proper attention. Two nostrils, two hands.

Okay.

There's still no connection. 

I walked away from the bananas in an embittered stupor, mumbling things under my breath about Kleenexes and chimpanzees. And still, after writing all of that, I don’t have a banana to eat...or any clue what's wrong with my brain.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

What's the weather like up there? The same as yours, shorty, if I slouch. (Suck it, by the way.)

I’m tall.

Really tall. Like 6’3”. Fine, I know it’s not colossal, but my life is still kind of difficult. (Said the white, middle-class male.) Okay, my life is relatively un-difficult in the big scheme of things, but my tallness kind of sucks. (Count your blessings, mofo.)

Us tall people all have an intense desire to be able to look a normal person in the eye (instead of have them look us up the nose). How we compensate for that is to slouch.  But when one has the back the size of a 9-year-old basketball player, that’s a big slouch.


Our bodies are also problems when it comes to plane- or bus-riding. Long legs give us the choice of sitting painfully straight up, or to put our knees up on the seat in front of us.  Or put our gigantic legs in the aisle, in most cases risking being yelled at for blocking the emergency exit path.

The worst for me has always been sitting at a desk and working on my computer. If I sat up straight, I would have to look straight down at the computer, hurting my neck. What I really want is to be like a normal person and look straight-on at my computer screen. Easier said than done. I found I have a few options…

[In which I scoot my butt and most of my lower back off the chair, thus ruining my spine for eternity.]

[In which I lower my chair and risk smacking my chin on my knees.]

[In which I make a giant pile of things to bring the computer to my level. This could be catastrophic if the computer should sway too far to the right or left.]

[The most common, which is sure to make any chiropractor grimace.]

I’m using “Piley-wiley” right now and have a Harry Potter VII and a Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol book underneath my computer.

You should see me when I can’t reach something. It seems to be the only reason I was made this way, to reach things for people who aren't able, but when I can’t, I panic. This is what my body was made for! A person like me on a step-stool is just a joke for God to laugh at.