(un)intelligent design

This is why I can't always dislike John Derbyshire: he sometimes talks good sense.

if you had killed yourself

Someone really enjoyed the Killers concert at Stubbs BBQ last night.

quit geezering me

I came home from Grandma's today and asked X a question.

"Do I have a sign on my head?"
"What happened?"
"Or a label on my shirt?"
"Yes," he said, pointing.
"Not that one," I replied. "That one doesn't say 'Hey! Are you eighty thousand years old? Maybe you should hobble over and ask me for help!' "
"So what happened?"

What happened was that when my grandmother and I were in the checkout line at the store, she realized that she had forgotten something. I left her in line and ran back to the frozen vegetables. As I was standing there looking for whatever it was, a quavering voice spoke up next to me.

"Excuse me!"

I ignored her at first. I wasn't trying to be an asshole, I was just hoping she was talking to someone else, even though I knew it would be me she wanted something from.

"Excuse me? Young man?" And this time she started clutching at my sleeve.
Giving up, I turned and said hello and yes.
"Do you see those sugar free fudge pops? I can't reach them. Can you get a box of those for me?"

It only took 10 seconds to help her, but that wasn't the point. The point is that this happens all the time. X says it's because I look trustworthy, but I think that I must carry around a scent like a mixture of rose water, geritol and camphor. That must be how they find me.

magic numbers

Some new music today: The Magic Numbers. From their biography:

Drawing inspiration from many sources, singer songwriters (Cohen, Dylan), 60's harmony groups (Mamas & Papas, Lovin Spoonful), epic rock or such mavericks as David Axelrod. The band craft a sound which like Flaming Lips or Beck, is coming from everywhere but is uniquely theirs.

3.5 stars out of 5 - interesting hippy indie psycho-pop with loose morals.

c.r.i.b.f. will be at rubber gloves this weekend

Props to Cordelia for sending this story from the Associated Press:

CHICAGO - LaChania Govan said she got bounced around by her cable company when she called to complain. She made dozens of calls and was even transferred to a person who spoke Spanish — a language she doesn't understand.

But when she got her August bill from Comcast she had no trouble understanding she'd made somebody mad. It was addressed to "Bitch Dog."

"I was like you got to be freaking kidding me," said Govan, 25. "I was so mad I couldn't even cuss."

Holy cow that's funny. On the other hand, if LaChania ever decides to start a punk rock band she's already got a perfect name. You know, if I ever seriously piss off someone at Cingular, I'll probably get something addressed to Controlling Rigid Icy Bitch Fag, which coincidentally is also X's nickname for me.

their market share among the hell-bound would explode

You know that series of Geico commercials that spoofs other TV commercials? They often run them back to back to lull the viewer into a false sense that the last one was fake, so this one can't be - d'oh! It's fake too! Kinda brilliant, actually.

So last night I was watching TV with X and two Geico commercials came on. First was the fake Hair Club for Men (regrowing hair may help you get the girls, but it won't save you 15% on car insurance!) which was immediately followed by the fake Old Navy (new clothes are fun! but they won't save you 15% on car insurance!).

Right after that, though, came one of those commercials to help save the starving children in Africa. Extreme closeups of doe-eyed kids, trembling with hunger, exhortations that only $0.50 a day can save lives, etc. But all I could think about was how Geico should turn this into one of their gotcha! commercials. I can see it now: Saving a child from starvation sure feels good, but it won't save you 15% on car insurance!

X assures me that I am going straight to hell.

hefty

Can I just quickly share a pet peeve with you?

I hate it when I go to the store for paper towels and then, when I get home, realize that I have purchased the special Brawny Ducks & Bunnies edition. Or, worse, that my paper towels are emblazoned with horrid children with impossibly large eyes, á la Hummel Fucking Figurines. The only thing that makes such an experience worthwhile is that X hates it even more than I do - which, I have to be honest, has occasionally led me to buy some accidentally-on-purpose. As a result, I have gotten into the habit of carefully checking paper towels before putting them into the cart.

However, I have to say that I never even thought about taking the same precautions with ziploc bags - until now.

Behold:



hefty
Originally uploaded by dentonisavortex.

immune to your boobies

In my last post, I talked about a business meeting we had last week. One of my responsibilities at the meeting, aside from being mocked over my midget fetish, was to sit on a judging panel for a competition we'd set up for our employees. (Let me just say here that I have my weaknesses, but if you want me to sit in judgement of someone else, I am the MAN.)

So I was one of three judges on this panel. One of the other judges and I agreed that the winner was this lady from Chicago, although the third judge argued strongly that another contestant, a guy from San Diego, had won. There was some serious cash at stake so we were taking the whole thing pretty seriously.

It turned out to be a controversial decision - we had given the top prize to a relatively inexperienced newcomer over a top-performing veteran - but I didn't really care; listing to San Diego was like sitting though a high-school debate. And not even Lincoln-Douglas, more like Cross-Ex. (Geek alert.)

Anyhow - today at work, I had a meeting with San Diego's manager, who, not surprisingly, felt that we had made the wrong decision. That's understandable - he should be sticking up for his employee. But his explanation for our choice was hilarious: "Admit it - you were mesmerized by her tits."

Er, no, actually. I am totally immune to the siren song of the great rack. Although I admit that if she had competed wearing a yellow catsuit with black racing stripes, wielding a Hattori Hanzo sword, I might have left DNA all over the floor.