This is some weird public “art.” Picasso, man, what the hell.
Tons of people making pretty much the same Game of Thrones / musical chairs joke.
Reminds me of that time everyone made everything bagel jokes. (Though those really only shared a premise, whereas these musical chairs jokes are pretty much the same joke.)
Behind the Vine: Street Goose
I think ultimately this Vine where I’m shouting at a goose is about Mother Nature vs. Technology.
I found this goose sitting in a mall parking lot, in this little lane that cars use to turn around. This is a terrible place for a goose, so I thought maybe I’d chase it away, because dude, goose, there are cars here. Get out.
But as I ran closer, shouting “street goose street goose street goose” at the street goose, I noticed something: there was another goose on one of those sad little parking lot islands with wood chips and like two rocks on them. Presumably, this other goose was the street goose’s girlfriend. Well, shit. He’s not sitting in the street just because he’s a hip, urban goose. He’s protecting a nest.
I’m going to be real with any geese reading this: Don’t settle down in a parking lot. You may think, “Hey man, it’s springtime, I just got back from South For the Winter, I’m going to knock up my girlfriend and raise some goslings near a mall. We’ll live off food court dumpster food, and maybe name one of the goslings Ryan as a funny joke.”
But geese, I’ve got news for you: That is a stupid idea. You don’t even understand what a car is. So you’re out in the street trying to be a good dad and all you’re doing is hissing at rolling metal monsters who hiss back way louder and also those monsters have more monsters (i.e. humanity) inside them so seriously what are you even doing, goose.
Go live in the woods. Go be a woods goose.
Every fan page post is an opportunity to leave a really stupid comment to amuse yourself.
(FYI Thief is a game, not a dude.)
Who the hell are these people who send their goodbye emails to massive company mailing lists?
“Hey guys, most of you don’t know me, just wanted to let you know that I have no sense of what’s appropriate and now I’m leaving.”
Thanks buddy I had diarrhea last night have a good one.
Have you seen this video yet? Women describe themselves to a forensic artist who can’t see them, then those same women are described by their peers, and then the artist shows each woman both sketches. It’s sad to see how harsh these women are to themselves. It’s a clever, touching video.
But what I’d love is for one woman to go in there and, when she has to describe herself, she’s WAY off. Like maybe she describes OJ Simpson. So at the end the artist is like, “This is the way the other women described you. Look at this sketch. You look so open and happy. And here’s how you see yourself. You see yourself as OJ Simpson.” The woman sobs, and a tear rolls down her cheek. The artist continues. “My dear, you’re not OJ Simpson. You’re just not.”
Dove Soap: You’re not OJ Simpson™.
Henry Birdseye hazes his Roomba
My girlfriend came home just as I was putting this together. She opened the door to find that I’d started the Roomba, stowed our dogs on the couch, and assembled a stack of papers insulting our Roomba.
“You know, it’s like cyberbullying, but for a Roomba?” I was inspired by this image of a squirrel being cyberbullied but that’d be hard to explain, too. I basically just wanted to acknowledge the lifelike qualities of a Roomba by being mean to it in a really absurd way.
Also I was bored because you really can’t do a lot while that stupid thing is running. You’ve got to supervise it, like it’s a two-year-old that eats all your dust and crumbs.
About to buy.
So here’s something about this shirt: Someone bought it. (WAS IT YOU, thebeeobee?)
I like referring to frogs as “little dudes”, as if them hibernating for the winter is just a lil’ bro hangout. I also like that there is now a human being who can put these words on their torso and that I got roughly $1 in Zazzle credit for it.
There’s this convenience store down an unassuming hallway in the Thompson Center downtown, and strung across the entrance in red letters is the phrase, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYONE!” This cracks me up every time I walk by it.
What is this guy trying to say? Have a great day, everyone? Or is he shooting for that “even a stuck clock is right twice a day” thing, but with a calendar? “One day I’ll catch a lady on her birthday, and then it’s like, boom! Slam dunk. She’ll think, ‘How did he know???’ and I’ll shoot her this confident nod and then sell her cigarettes or whatever. Here are your cigarettes, Future Wife.”
This made me realize that I rarely see “happy birthday” messages for groups of people. Maybe your work buys a cake for all the January birthdays in January, but even then, that’s a short list, and there’s some logic to it. (Logically, there are too many of you for the company to care about individually.) But happy birthday EVERYONE? That almost sounds mean-spirited. “Fucking whatever. Happy birthday everyone. Who cares. Everything is bullshit. I hope your cake is made of poison shit.”
But this sign looks so amateurish, so naive that it’s probably the work of some clerk with good intentions and a poor grasp of English and I’ll be damned if that isn’t just adorable.
Survivor: Weekend at Bernie’s Edition
So I read recently that the latest season of the French version of Survivor was canceled because a contestent DIED during filming. That’s terrible news.
But what if, uh… what if he wasn’t disqualified? Like, there wasn’t a rule for that, so they kept him around? And maybe it’s done Weekend at Bernie’s style.
So they go to the voting ceremony for one round, and this one contestant Kay is really badmouthing Steve, the recently dead guy. And everyone gets a turn in the voting booth, giving their testimonials, and people are saying things like, “Kay was kind of rude today, but Steve IS dead, so that won’t help our team win challenges. But I dunno I just don’t like Kay’s negativity.”
Next guy goes up. “Kay’s a real asshole,” and he shows his vote for Kay.
Cut to Steve in the testimonial booth and he’s just a dead body wearing sunglasses. Caption: “(Steve abstains)”
French Jeff Probst reads the results. Kay is voted out.
Kay is like “WHAT THE FUCK” and gets out of there.
A cheering circle forms with Steve in it, and everyone is really excited. Maybe Steve’s sunglasses fall off in all the celebrating, and someone puts them back on him.
I am basically the world’s greatest detective
I’ve watched the BBC’s Sherlock, so now I think that it’s important to notice small details. It’s stupid but I’m sure I’m not the only one who does this.
This morning I noticed a coworker drinking a particular type of coffee, and that told me how she gets to work, because that particular coffee shop only exists near a particular train station.
So now I know more about that coworker’s commute based on her coffee cup, and I feel pretty smart about it.
But the ONLY way that knowledge will EVER be useful to me is if that coworker is framed for murder. So here I am, sort of wishing she gets framed for murder so I can share my fun fact with everyone.
Like, someone bursts into the office in a panic. “Karen’s been taken away by the police! She’s accused of murdering someone on a bus this morning during her commute to work!”
Then I stand up and proclaim, “Nonsense! She takes a train that comes out of Millennium Station! I know that because of her RoM coffee cup that one time! She’s innocent!”
Karen is immediately released from jail because of my watertight logic, and I am hoisted on everyone’s shoulders and carried into a red convertible outside, which immediately leads a spontaneous parade in my honor.
I am given a sash that says “#1 COFFEE NOTICER.”
After a couple hours, the marching band is exhausted from playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” 30 times in a row, but it presses on, because I’m such a smart guy and it’s worth it.
But no. Instead, I’m just sitting here with this information, very much paradeless. And I’ll continue feeling pretty clever about my logic so long as that particular coffee shop doesn’t open any more goddamn locations.
I went to a meeting yesterday that literally devolved into everyone asking, “What are we even doing?”
Some people asked valid questions; others panicked.
The people who make things were confused, and the people who manage stuff and go to meetings all day lied.
Is that kafkaesque?
Also I turned into a cockroach
I discovered something on RottenTomatoes the other week: Every movie has a page for user-submitted quotes.
And the thing is, some movies look predictable and bad. 21 and Over seems like the type of movie that’d get released as Drunk Kids Party in another country and that title would make more sense. It just doesn’t look like a fresh premise at all.
So I was chatting with Nick, and I started making up quotes for this crappy-looking movie I’d only seen 30-second commercials for.
- “Of course I’m drinking beer! I’m 21 and over, man!”
- “I’m 21 and over with!”
- “Being 21 is awesome! I just did a million shots!”
- “Oh no it’s the cops, they’re mad I’m so 21!”
Anyway, I thought I’d try to sneak one of my fake quotes by the RottenTomatoes moderators and it totally worked. I guess what I’m saying is follow your dreams.