The Primary Dilemma of the Internet

Every once in awhile, I encounter a personality on Tumblr or elsewhere, and think, “Wow, this person would be really awesome to hang out with!”  Most often, this person is a woman, since I generally am not a “hanging out with guys” sort of guy.  But then I realize something terrible: the lady I would enjoy hanging with is exactly the sort of woman I have a tendency to fall for, and since she already has a steady boyfriend, that would make any hanging out into an opera of soaring heights and crushing lows, of both joy and anguish in equal measure.

I’m not talking about any of you, specifically, unless you’re Michelle, in which case I totally am.  (Haha! JSOK*.)

I’m not saying I couldn’t behave myself in these situation.  I understand boundaries; I’m all about boundaries.  I’m saying that the behaving myself would be AGONY.  By the way: this is the way that every man on Earth feels.  Now you know, ladies, so stop stop being so damn attractive.

——-

*Just Sort Of Kidding

The Only Good Bug's a Dead Bug!

The people who live in this apartment complex walk up and down the outside stairs like they’re stomping on cockroaches the entire time.  Or maybe they just hate stairs: “Goddamn horizontal slats of concrete, fuck you!”

But it’s not the stomping that bothers me; it’s my dog’s insistance that it must be barked at every single time somebody goes up or down the stairs.  She’s like a child of a certain generation reacting to the secret word on Pee-Wee’s Playhouse.

“Noises are coming from outside!  Thud thud thud, it must be time for a Barky Party!  Whee!  WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!”

Naturally, she won’t stop no matter how much yelling or threatening I engage in, because barks are physical objects that a dog must either expel or choke to death upon.

I just wish this place wasn’t so overrun with invisible cockroaches, is what I’m saying.

Three Kinds (This Is about Poop)

So: the sort of poop that comes out of you in one long, unbroken piece and goes straight down the toilet’s “throat”.  You all know what I’m talking about.  There are three sort of people in the world:

  1. Those that aren’t even aware of this phenomenon, because they never look and think you’re weird for doing so.  These people are exceedingly strange.
  2. The people who emotionlessly regard such a turd, with maybe a “Huh” as their only reaction.
  3. Those who look down and think, “Yeah!  Choke on it, bitch!”

I’m not going to reveal which type of person I am, but I bet you all can guess.

(This post brough to you by FANCY TECHNOLOGY!)

This Ain't My First Spelling Bee, Kid

In movies, whenever some young, slick corporate type is trying to flim-flam an older, country-sly veteran negotiator, the old guy will inevitably say, “Boy, this ain’t my first rodeo.”  When did the rodeo become the official metaphor for a situation one was experience in?

I’ve been trying to come with some other expressions that might work in this same circumstance.

Let’s try some of them out.  Imagine a crusty old tycoon wearing a cowboy hat speaking these lines for maximum effect.

“Youngster, this ain’t my first…”

  • “…teddy bear picnic.”
  • “…bukkake.”
  • “…time around the tether-ball pole.”
  • “…sci-fi convention.”
  • “…season finale of Glee.”
  • “…anonymous, gay, airport restroom liason.”
  • “…Macarena.”
  • “…wardrobe malfunction.”
  • “…felony trial for sexual assault.”
  • “…Doctor Who marathon.”

Eh?  Eh?

Let’s run these by an expert, the sort of guy who one would expect to utter such a line.  What do you think of my alternatives, veteran ornery character actor L.Q. Jones?

Media_httpmediatumblr_euflt

Ah…I see.

Keith Olbermann frequently flies off the handle about trivial bullshit and seems to have no outrage modulator.  But in this case, I agree with him right down the line.  Obama had majorities in both houses, a huge wave of public goodwill, and gave up on his stated agenda almost from the very beginning, because it would be too “hard” or something.  Now he’s got an unfriendly House to deal with, and the only way he can think of to get anything, no matter how minor, accomplished is by dishing out compromises to the GOP like Scooby snacks.  Let the next Democrat we elect be a good-ole-boy who fucks chubby interns, please.  They appear to be the only Democrats that have balls and remember how to use them.