February 26, 2008
Note: Canadian white people threaten to move to Europe.
Note: Europeans are unable to threaten to move anywhere.
(My parents moved us to Europe when I was 10.)
Man, the commenters are desperately unfunny. This is my problem with a lot of blogs in general. I read the post, am sufficiently amused, foolishly scroll down, and get hit with a THWAP of people complaining about how they are totally the exception to whatever the blogger was talking about. Or there’s always that random guy talking about how you should never marry an American woman, you should find a mail-order bride from the PI, they’re submissive and undemanding and don’t know enough people in your country to be able to leave you. Okay, thanks, that has so much to do with someone’s post about braised beef shanks.
Here is a playlist of songs allegedly favored by people who torture folks for a living. (“And what do you do?” “I’m a professional torturer.” “…Gosh, have you tried this artichoke dip? It’s really terrific.”)
A lot of it, okay, ANGRY WHITE GUY ROCK, fine. But– David Gray’s Babylon?
Why do these professional torturers even have that song on their iTunes? Maybe they’re all secretly really, really sensitive guys who write poetry and cry when it rains. I personally would be pretty suspicious of the CIA contractor who showed up all “Hey, guys! Don’t even worry about the music, I picked up the new Matchbox 20 album at the airport.”
February 21, 2008
I am obsessed with soup.
Now, I know I say “I’m obsessed with –” all the time, but that just means “I’m really interested in dogs with big feet/books about building log cabins/whatever”, not that I’m actually OBSESSED.
Except yesterday I had tom yum goong (hot-and-sour clear Thai soup) and I think I might actually have some kind of CLINICAL PROBLEM. I can’t stop thinking about how great soup is! I keep wanting to start conversations with people about soup! While I was driving to work this morning, I was thinking about cultures that like to have soup for breakfast, and how they are so totally right on, and then wondering where I could get some to eat at my desk.
Also, I was just looking at this website for a bra-selling-company, and it’s sort of amazing how their models are all “Oh, yes. On Saturday mornings, I like to get up at 9, make myself a giant honking bowl of soup, and lounge on the couch in my bra and pajama pants.” or “I can’t believe how comfortable this bra is! I’m going to go plant some tulips while wearing it.” or “Honey? Can you toss me my velour robe? I’d like to let it dangle uselessly from my shoulders while swanning about the kitchen in my unmentionables.”
It’s sort of similar to how models for male underpants always try to look like they’re ON THE GO.
“Just give me one second to put on some pants and then I’ll absolutely defuse that bomb for you, ma’am.”
February 18, 2008
There are so many things going on in this article!
1) You know that glorious Hugh Gallagher college-admissions essay? “I pilot bicycles up steep inclines with unflagging speed… I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing…”? (Whole thing here.)
2) Apparently people like to steal from it for their online dating profiles, because they’re too dull to think of anything on their own.
3) These two people totally deserve each other:
Hugh Gallagher, a 36-year-old writer in New York, is one of the copied. Match.com has more than 50 profiles with parts of Mr. Gallagher’s college entrance essay, which he penned nearly two decades ago and later appeared in Harper’s Magazine. “I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees” and “I write award-winning operas” are among Mr. Gallagher’s most popular lines.
They worked well enough for Jim Carey, a 38-year-old pharmaceutical salesman in Bothell, Wash. He says he wanted women to know he was funny but was too lazy to think up anything. So he copied Mr. Gallagher’s essay for his online profile. A year ago, he arranged to meet a woman for drinks. She asked about his operas. He confessed. “I felt like a balloon deflating,” he says.
SHE ASKED ABOUT HIS OPERAS. YOU GUYS.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
February 16, 2008
Because I am extremely cool, I spent my Saturday night babysitting my next-door-neighbor, Pete. (Pete is 6 years old, this isn’t some kind of CREEPY thing.)
He is excellent. He gets very excited about having a babysitter come over, because a babysitter hasn’t seen all of his cool moves, and can be counted on to be impressed by many of them.
This is how most of your interactions with Pete go:
Do you want me to do a super cool jump onto the couch?
I absolutely do.
(does super cool jump)
So what did you think?
That was amazing.
Do you want me to do it again… while holding this stuffed animal?
Do I ever!
Later in the evening, Pete showed me his dancing. All of his dancing involved him waving his hands around while staying in the same place.
Wow! Did you learn that in dance class?
What do you call that move?
Well, this one is “The Rainbow”. And this one is “The Jerk”.
Gosh! So what style of dance is this, exactly?
(giving scornful look)
Um, it’s AXIAL DANCING.
What– what exactly is that?
See how my feet stay in the same place?
Axial dancing. RAINBOW! THE JERK!
Want to see me do The Robot?
February 15, 2008
I have this terrible problem where I’ll click on what I KNOW is going to be a devastatingly inane article linked from the Yahoo! homepage. And then I’ll read it. And then I’ll get to the bottom, and there will be comments. The comments will make the article look like Chaucer and Foucault had a baby that grew up to be a health-advice article on the internet. And STILL. I will read the comments. I don’t know why I do this to myself!
Here is today’s example: an article on how eating some red meat is okay.
Here are some of the comments:
“I need help.”
“i use mary jane”
“Just eat a banana a day…great mood balancer!”
“In my opinion, vegans should get way more meat in their diet because as a vegan, they don’t get enough meat.”
February 15, 2008
If you are in a situation where a white person produces an empty bottle, watch their actions. They will first say “where’s the recycling?” If you say “we don’t recycle,” prepare for some awkwardness. They will make a move to throw the bottle away, they will hesitate, and then ultimately throw the bottle away. But after they return look in their eyes. All they can see is the bottle lasting forever in a landfill, trapping small animals. It will eat at them for days, at this point you should say “I’m just kidding, the recycling is under the sink. Can you fish out that bottle?” And they will do it 100% of the time!
The best advice is that if you plan to deal with white people on regular basis either start recycling or purchase a large blue bin so that they can believe they are recycling.
WHERE IS MY “CERTIFIED 100% ACCURATE BY A WHITE GIRL” STAMP.
However, while you’re enjoying this glorious website, I would advise avoiding the comments sections. Random cranky white people keep showing up to complain about feeling oppressed or whatever. (And kind of ruining the joke a little bit. THANKS GUYS.)
WAIT. I have to add another bit. (Has someone tracked down the author of this blog and hired them to write amazing comedies yet? Because! Excellent.)
The easiest way to find out if a comedian is approved by white people is to see if they get mentioned on music blogs or have ever given an interview where they talk about how much they love The Magnetic Fields, Of Montreal, or The Shins.
February 14, 2008
My co-worker is wearing a sweater-vest. Even though I really like sweater-vests, and even though he’s a very handsome young man, I keep thinking of that Demetri Martin joke – “Vests protect you from things. Bulletproof vests protect you from bullets. Sweater-vests protect you from pretty girls.” and having to turn away and bite my lip. DAMN YOU DEMETRI MARTIN.
I also like his joke that’s a graph plotting out the relationship between “How cute a girl is” and “How long he is willing to listen to her talk about how intuitive her cat is”. I like to relay that one to people who talk about their cats a lot and then watch as they explain that that’s pretty funny, but their cat really is deeply intuitive. And working on a novel in his spare time.
Here is a writing thing: I am the lousiest at coming up with character names. Naomi and I liked to, uh, cast the part in our head and then name the character after the actor. But that only works for a while, and then people start going “Gee, all the male characters in your script are named Owen. Have you noticed this?”
I am outlining a heist movie (HEIST MOVIES ARE THE BEST. There are almost no heists in real life, and even if there were I’d be way too worried and judgmental (“Okay, so the bank is insured! Who do you think ends up paying for that insurance with ridiculous ATM fees? JOE AVERAGE, THAT’S WHO!”) to participate, so these movies really feed a need in my soul.) and the characters are changing names every five minutes. Eventually they’ll settle down, but for right now it’s kind of a mess. And I’m not allowed to name any more characters John. I’ve had to issue myself a moratorium.
February 11, 2008
The WGA seems to have hammered out a deal, and the writers are taking 48 hours to ponder it before they vote to suspend or continue the strike. And because this is ALL ABOUT ME AND MY NEEDS: today is the first day in many moons I didn’t have to cross a picket line to go to work! It’s so nice. Maybe now I can stop making uncomfortable Norma Rae and “fight the power” jokes that even I don’t find that amusing anymore.
Here is a property I’m sure someone has already snapped up (“Holy cow, the strike is 99% sure over! DO WE HAVE ANY CUTE ROMCOM IDEAS????”): Love Me, Love My Apartment – those New Yorkers, they have hilarious real estate/relationship problems!
You know you want to adapt the story of the newlyweds who are forced to spend the first year of their marriage schlepping from childhood bedroom to childhood bedroom.
February 8, 2008
I don’t dislike them or anything. I just don’t want one.
But I do find cats deeply hilarious. I think because I find anything that’s very serious and important to be ripe for comedy, and cats are like little furry packages of dignity. With legs.
This Flickr pool, “World’s Heaviest Harness, is all about cats in those little harnesses people sometimes put on their cats because they think it’s possible to take your cat outside for a stroll.
The cats disagree. A lot. The cats want you to take your damn harness and eff off. The cats aren’t afraid to be dramatic about this, either.
It is MAGNIFICENT. Here are some examples:
February 5, 2008
So the folks at TrackingB.com decided that my post-apocalyptic romantic drama script was pretty okay.
When I told Naomi, she said: “But that’s excellent news! And now you can’t ever again be all ‘Wah wah wah, maybe I’m a really horrible writer who will never amount to anything and become a shack-dwelling hermit!'”
And I said: “Oh, CAN’T I? It’s like you don’t even know me at all!”