Month: November 2013

I’m Taking a Brief Hiatus to Worship Turkey

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Dear Internet,

I’m sorry to abandon you like this. I know you hate to be left alone. I know your information feels wasted, your games feel neglected, and your rapid-fire news updates are fired into an unappreciative space.

Tragically, however, I’ve been summoned to the holy land of family gatherings. To worship turkey.

Om nom nom nom

The delicious turkey lord demands you interrupt your life for a feast.

This festival of fowl worship is pretty time consuming. It involves gatherings of family in remote locations, and toiling in hot kitchens. It involves the sacrifice of sanity and the consumption of large quantities of pie.

I don’t want to subject you to that kind of inappropriateness, Internet. Your sensibilities are pretty delicate.

But you know I think you’re something special. I know our love is true.

I know we’ll get through this.

See you next Monday, Internet.

Kisses,

Me

(I MISS YOU ALREADY)

 

Juice Boxes Are Superior to Soda Cans

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And I stand by my argument.

I am too busy to blog today.*
I have to travel for work** and am much too important to provide amusement.***

*Nevermind that I am writing this before “today” is happening.
**This makes me sound important. Translation? I have to drive three hours to run an errand for my office.
***I am a terrible liar. Providing amusement is my favorite thing.

So here are some pictures of things you can do with a juice box if you’re trapped in the office, waiting for other people to finish projects so you can go home.

Alternatively, I was going to name him Ted.

Meet Cranberry. Cranberry the Juicebox. Cranberry the Juicebox, last of his line. (He was the last one in the break room fridge.)

1. You can find odd flavors of juice boxes. You never know what’s going to be hiding in your office refrigerator. Soda is just so predictable. So the first thing you can do is name your juice box. Obviously, I got creative and named mine Cranberry.

Everyone say “hi Cranberry.”

Or are they?

Friends 4 Ever

2. You can introduce Cranberry – or whatever you named your lesser juice box – to your desk monster.

Everyone say “hi Lenny (the Xenomorph desk monster)”

Desk monsters are bad at love.

Desk monsters are bad at love.

3. You can make Lenny, your desk monster, and Cranberry, your juice box fight.
NOTE: Do not let your coworkers catch you doing this. They get…concerned.

His brains! His brains!

Taking this picture actually kind of disturbed me. You’re welcome, you guys.

4. You can share Cranberry, your juice box, with your desk monster Lenny.
NOTE: This has concerning implications about your mental state, and your ability to recognize inanimate objects as inanimate.

This is a very dramatic moment

Oh no! CRAAAANNNBEEERRRYYYY!

5. You can tape a face on Cranberry, your now-deceased juice box, when you realize that sharing juice with Lenny, your never-was-alive desk monster, means he runs OUT of juice. So tragic.
NOTE: This is an improper use of Post-Its.

Squishing juice boxes is super fun

Poor Cranberry. He lived such a short and delicious life.

6. You can crush your juice box to display proper mourning. And also to suck out the last of the juice trapped in the bottom.

Facts:

  1. Juice boxes are more fun than I remembered
  2. Drinking a juice box in an office environment is disconcerting
  3. This blog post is longer than a lot of other blog posts I’ve written, despite me obviously not having time to blog today
  4. I swear to you no one was around when I did all this. I’m not totally insane you guys.****

****The South said I have to stop writing “y’all” down, because it’s “not a written word.” I seriously had no idea, y’all. You learn something every day.

This Is Why I Shouldn’t Have the Internet

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Google Hangouts brings me a lot of joy. It lets me keep in touch with my friends, and pick their brains for information I know nothing about (which often makes me seem smarter than I am while at work. Thanks, friends!)

On the other hand, it is also the devil.

I'm lying. I miss the 90s.

I am so over AOL Instant Messenger.

Conversation with H.W. and Mr. L*

(You will notice Mr. L spends a vast majority of this conversation not paying any attention at all, and only chips in to impart sage advice that does not come from Journey lyrics. This is, disturbingly, the norm.)

Me: Good morning gentlemen
The world is a terrible place: Charles Manson has a girlfriend even though he murdered people and is in jail.

(Seriously. It’s true. Click the link and lose all faith in other people.)

H.W:  http://www.agamenticus.org/index.php/mt-a-webcam
GUYS
GUYS
THERE IS A MOTHERSNEEZING* SNOWY OWL ON MT. AGATMENTICUS
AND ITS ON CAM

*Mothersneezing is DEFINITELY the word he used. Trust me.

Lookit the cute!

It looked much colder than this one. But still. Snowy Owl, y’all.
Wikipedia knows you want to know about Snowy Owls, too.

Me: I’m not clicking ANY link from you that includes the word “webcam.”

(This is a lesson I learned the hard way. Do not trust H.W., especially if he’s been Googling webcams.)

H.W.: A SNOWY OWL!!!!!!
Also
Mothersneezer
This is gorgeious

Me: CHARLES MANSON HAS A GIRLFRIEND
AND I AM SINGLE
I HAVE NOT KILLED EVEN ONE SINGLE PERSON, EVER**

**Totally true fact.

H.W.: #&%!@ DATING!
SNOWY OWL!  They are very rare and this is on the fringe of its habitat

Me: Stoppit. Stop finding beauty in the world
It’s an awful place
Where CHARLES MOTHERSNEEZING*** MANSON HAS A GIRLFRIEND

***I’m going to make this a real swear if it kills me.

H.W.: Did you click it?
^%!$ &^%!#$!****

****Censored to protect your fragile eyeballs from copious swears. You’re welcome.

Me: I did. It’s beautiful.
I hate you

H.W.: acquire snowy owl
LOOK AT DAH PLOOMAGE
what a mothersneezin’ bad ass

Me: ….
You’re missing the point here

H.W.:haha
DAT PLOOMAGE

Me: A serial killer psychopath has a 25 year old girlfriend, and you watch mountains with a webcam
The world is going to end and it’s all going to be your fault
…
Stop using up all the Internet. I want to watch the owl.

(2 hours later)

Mr. L: yo dawg
Chillax
Murderers are dark, mysterious, and alluring to the female persona
The lesson you should take from this, is that you’re pleased to learn that someone is dating a murderer, and it’s not you
Because you have better taste

The real lesson, y’all, is this:

My friends are really bad at paying attention to serial killers.

Give it up, Mr. Manson

See? No one is happy about this nonsense.

Here are some things about owls:

PBS says they’re totally magic. Really. But only the Snowy ones.

Owls can swivel their heads like that girl in The Exorcist. (Only it’s not as terrifying. And way more adorable.)

Apparently Snowy Owls only mate in May, so they’re totally my birthday owls. (That could be a thing. I’m making it a thing.)

Life Lesson: Giving Advice Is Super Hard

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Life Lesson 7,190: Quoting Journey songs in a serious tone of voice is not the same as imparting sage advice.

(Unless the person you’re talking to doesn’t catch on – then it’s totally the same as offering high-quality words of wisdom.)

Sorry Tom Cruise

How is this not the same thing as imparting sage wisdom?
I still haven’t learned my own life lesson.

I have an unhealthy relationship with Journey. Like, I really, truly love them. Their songs bring me joy rivaled only by small children on Christmas morning. I didn’t grow up listening to them – my Dad preferred the very essential musical education staples of Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd and Rush (which is probably why I have such excellent taste in music, and such an expansive knowledge about necrophilia-related lyrics.)

Sorry Mr. Cooper. I wasn't exactly an _artiste_. It was totally true love, y'all.

Sorry Mr. Cooper. I wasn’t exactly an _artiste_.
It was totally true love, y’all.

But one day, late in my high school days, I discovered them.

The dulcet tones of their quintessential hit, Don’t Stop Believin’, convinced me that I could dance for a week straight. It was a really confusing week. Confusing and amazing.

But even more importantly than discovering that there was, in fact, music that a rhythm-less girl could move to, was learning that their lyrics are totally deep and multipurpose. By sharing such key statements as any way YOU want it, that’s the way YOU need it, and just not to stop believing, Journey’s lyrics transformed my young, impressionable mind into a fount of wisdom.

Love, True Love

Those faces are just so trustworthy and knowledgeable.
Click for the original image, which is mercifully free of MS Paint.

Or at least that’s what i thought. I’d like to share a few times I used Journey in the real world.

  • I advised strangers on the BART train not to stop believing when they looked sad.
  • I soulfully gazed into the eyes of conflicted friends and told them “Well, try and make up your mind” (A sweet lyric from “You’re On Your Own.”).
  • I confess, I lashed out during a particularly ridiculous breakup with “You make me weep and wanna die. Just when you said we’d try!” (From “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin'”)*
  • I shrugged as I told a traveler friend “They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family” as she worked through a recent breakup.

*In my defense, I really just wanted to see if I could get away with it. If we were really meant to be together, OBVIOUSLY he would have recognized the sweet words of Journey, and trusted their wise advice. Needless to say, things were over.

I still think all of the above sound both applicable and wise. However, with the advent of Google, people started catching me in my words-of-advice-reapplication. And that is when I learned that you cannot simply reapply song lyrics – no matter how amazing – into sage life advice.

Apparently.

Here is a picture of a sunset to sooth your Friday woes:

Oops. I did it again.

Just remember: Love’s like a sunshower

This life lesson is old. In fact, it probably should be numbered somewhere in the 5,000s, but I learned it several times before I bothered to write it down.

The Brookstone Catalog Is My Favorite Part of the Middle of November

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It’s that time of year again. That wonderful, wonderful time of year. That amazing, life-changing time of year…when the Brookstone Catalog mysteriously shows up in my mail.

And they're exactly the same!

This year I got TWO of them! Bonus!

I don’t know how I got on this mailing list. I’ve moved a lot since this first started happening, and I have never once told Brookstone I was moving. In fact, I’m fairly positive I have never once told Brookstone where I live.

Because I don’t shop at Brookstone.

Don’t get me wrong. I would swim with sharks for one of those fancy massage chairs.* But I can only commit myself to one catalog for shopping, and I choose SkyMall every time.

*Please, Brookstone? Two dreams in one!!

AHHHHHHH

I’d even swim with this totally terrifying basking shark. No, wait, I’d ESPECIALLY swim with this totally terrifying, toothless filter-feeder shark…
(Image a la the WWF)

It’s not your fault, Brookstone. SkyMall and I have been together for a really long time. When I was a person-in-progress*, my dad worked for a major airline. We flew EVERYWHERE. All the time. SkyMall became more than a way to survive endless “flight safety briefings” – it became an obsession. (A totally HEALTHY obsession. Stop judging. My cat totally needs a ThunderSweater. It can’t be just for dogs, y’all.)

*small child

When you're on a flight is the perfect time to order wedding rings.

SkyMall is a rebel. Their holiday catalog doesn’t even picture the holidays. You show ’em, SkyMall.

The Brookstone Catalog is what happens to SkyMall when it grows up. I mean, it is clearly designed for people who once shopped at SkyMall (hi, friends!), but have since acquired a positively stupid amount of money.

But catalog-versus-catalog philosophical fights aside, Brookstone’s catalog is the ideal place for me to find all the most…astonishing…gift ideas of the season. For example:

Once again: AHHHHHHH

It’s definitely not terrifying at ALL, kids!

Instead of just selling you a robot, Brookstone encourages you to turn your Robot (phone) INTO a robot. Because, you know, Siri just isn’t realistic if she doesn’t have treads.

OR:

Seriously? AHHHHHHHHH

“Really? You want to eat THAT? Using ME? I don’t think so, buddy.”

A fork that criticizes your eating habits and makes you feel fat! The PERFECT gift for anyone you know!*

*And never, ever want to talk to again!

And, of course, Brookstone’s classic selection:

AhhhhhHhHHhHhh

Seriously. Just buy the chair.

Massage tools that look both uncomfortable and awkward, carefully posed with people making even more awkward faces. I’ll take 10.

And last but not least in our feature of delightful gift ideas from Brookstone, I bring you the very best gift of all:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

For WHO, Brookstone? FOR WHO?!

I bet if you get the criticizing fork AND this delightful nose and ear trimmer for someone, you can be sure to never, ever see them again.

So, everyone, get a Brookstone Catalog of your own. Amaze you friends. Make endless enemies. Spend a shocking amount of money. Because in the end, there’s no better way to sabotage yourself through gift giving than to trust the advice of Brookstone.

I can’t wait for next year’s catalogs.