But what do I slap on there? The original cover was intended to give the messy 33% Non-Fictional story a sort of textbook feel. Thus, the template with the generic layout, the non-expressive font, and the totally uninteresting subtitling.
I still like it, don’t get me wrong
Plus, there’s the index at the back of the book, to add to this textbook vibe, providing easy access to all the Antony and Cleopatra and cheap hand job references.
It’s helped scholars and perverts immensely
Oh, I’ve finally hit the big time! You know you’ve made it in America when the hackerazzi infiltrate your smart phone bunker and commence with the plundering! My email account is largely fine, my Twitter is locked up secure, but my cell phone was roundly violated within a byte of its life! Just like Paris Hilton – my privacy has been all sorts of invaded! Hooray!
I’m thinking of getting some work done, needed Before on record
I can only imagine the hacker disgust on display when they investigated my photo albums. Hoping for salacious nudes, or at least blackmailable idiocy, they instead got my dentist chair selfies from last week. No one is going to want to see that, dumdum!
Practically porn, I know
Looking for something to use against me, they plodded onward, deeper into my delicate folders, kicking over stones and thumbing through the file cabinets. What did they turn up, to shame me for all times? Naturally, gelato pics! They comprise most of my phone memory at all times! Continue reading
Honest to God, I got the shakes a little at the sight of this goddamn thing again
I hope that got the proper attention! So here’s the thing, NSA, I saw a story today about how some of your employees dating back like 14 years used their hammer-of-God surveillance powers to snoop on their sex partners and future ex-spouses. And goddammit, I admire that sort of forthrightness and go-getter ingenuity when it comes to spying on the rotten cheaters in your lives. The story did not cough up details about who turned out to be doing what with whom, which is in turn dry and unsatisfying, but come on, you had an inkling that back alley shenanigans were taking place, so undoubtedly you being intelligence operatives were correct and just needed that little bit of intel to verify. Bully for you, watchdogs! Continue reading
Culled from a variety of apps and websites designed to help you learn a new language, here were my valiant stabs at French today:
Please translate into French:
The spider is drinking some wine.
Me: What the hell?
The spider is drinking some wine.
Me: Jeez. Um.
*Typing* L’ariagnee boit du vin.
L’ariagnée boit du vin. Please pay attention to accents.
Me: Christ. Okay.
Please type in French: Continue reading
Let’s face it, company Twitter accounts, by and large, are horrible. It’s some faceless entity with a peon employed to spread the word AND be entertaining/sociable/friendly. Anything to get people to fondly think of and remember their business. Most of these are mildly irritating and inoffensive. But recently, I discovered the one that wins the grand prize for inanity and awfulness. Cloying, pointless, and desperate, the Hanging Gardens Café hits the trifecta of aggressively marketed bullshit.
Sometimes they do post useful information, even if they immediately follow it up with self-serving questions:
At least that’s relevant, but then in a weird effort to spread the word about their business, they latch on to what they feel are popular trending topics:
They awkwardly tweet at celebrities: Continue reading
Filed under humor, Internet
Tres shiny! *Note to self, look up “shiny”
In preparation for our long-delayed honeymoon, I took it upon myself to learn as much French as possible, so that I could read street signs and not offend waiters with my horrid attempts to order blocks of cheese. I had nine full months to do this, and living in the modern age, there are countless resources available to achieve this on the cheap and convenient. Three weeks from the trip, I felt pretty good. I know the days of the week and can name a bunch of different meats. Then yesterday I realized I hadn’t learned the word for “happy,” and now I feel the whole plan was a complete and utter failure.
(I know the words for “cow” and “milk,” so I wouldn’t say it was an “udder” failure. Puns! Zing!) Continue reading
Meghan McCain finds herself embroiled in controversy this morning after posting a picture on popular social networking site Twitter.com yesterday in which she holds an Andy Warhol biography and smiles, clearly implying she enjoys it. The wildly sexy McCain, contributing writer for the website The Daily Beast, and her choice of literature elicited hundreds of negative comments and vociferous outrage about her choice of reading material.
“WHAT THE -?!” posted Twitter user SirSnarksalot. “How someone as mind-blowingly attractive as @McCainBlogette could be interested in a pasty no-talent like Warhol is personally offensive!”
“Incredible!” posted McDeetzey. “With a YOWZA body and killer smile like @McCainBlogette has, you think she’d know better! Warhol was a hack!” Continue reading
Back in the day, people used to email surveys around to their friends, with a bundle of generic questions on them, so their friends could get to know them better, and in theory would then fill out these surveys themselves, perpetuating a cycle of information exchange and harmless secrets being divulged.
Then Myspace came along and turned this innocuous novelty into an even bigger pile of time wasting than it already was. Now there were surveys about every stupid thing imaginable, from your favorite sport survey to favorite Gatorade flavor surveys to Do You Remember the 80s? surveys to Do You Remember Last Thursday? surveys. Survey overload commenced, and yet people still fill this silly shit out. Usually it’s the same people filling out essentially the same survey over and over again.
Hey, that’s fine, do what you like, but how do you think the surveys feel about this? They aren’t taken seriously by anyone, not even their moms and pops (which I guess would be the archaic email surveys). They are used to blow a half hour before passing out in the wee small hours of the morning. So what happens when the surveys finally have enough and put your sorry ass in its place? Well, worry no longer, because I encountered one of these pissed off motherfathers the other day… Continue reading