Sunday, March 26, 2006

one-liners: shut your degradation hole edition

  • Walter Matthau’s nose was the inspiration for the popular insult term “knob-end.”
  • It’s a FacticleTM. Tequila is more vindictive than other alcoholic beverages. Tequila, why do you have to be so hateful?
  • PAY FOR SOUP / BUILD A FORT / SET THAT ON FIRE. Just a reminder that you will never be as cool as Jean-Michele Basquiat.
  • Where does all my time go? Oh yes.
  • The company I work for has implemented a program which they have elected to refer to, with absolutely zero consciousness of irony, as the “Ministry of Fun.” MiniFun will be responsible for throwing beach parties, as well as for a process so far described to us only as “Employee Recognition,” which I can only assume is a euphemism for “special treatment.”
  • Nnngggfffbbbbbbggg. Suicide pact, anyo — hey! goddamnit, you couldn’t wait ten seconds for me?
  • I despise rhyme, alliteration, and homonym-based puns. They are the cheapest and most jejune forms of wordplay. Together, they form the Axis of Wordplay Evil. I’m not naming any names here, writers of Sex and the City, but I’m telling you now, so that you don’t have to hear it from the next intelligent person into whose pants you ill-advisedly try to rhyme yourself at a cocktail party: It is not clever of you to have noticed that two words sound like each other. You’re mentally retarded.
  • I managed to drag my hungover ass to my friend’s birthday party tonight (only 45 minutes late), and was rewarded with the knowledge that my friend’s housemate went to high school with my brother. How small is this world, hey? I mean am I right, or am I right?
  • I love university bookstores. In future, I plan to hang out at the university bookstore all the time on weekends and during spring break and stuff. It is the closest I’ll ever get to being a college student. But it’s enough.
  • Related: in the immortal words of Amy Campbell, Girl I Went To High School With (and fellow early-colleger): People are insipid. I’m getting that tattooed on my neck. With the following addendum: When given the choice between (a) reluctantly allowing you to achieve, through hard work and the sweat of your brow, certain goals which you have, after much hemming, hawing, harrumphing, and soul-searching, finally decided, to your own great relief, to attempt; and (b) liquefying your soul — faceless bureaucracy will, with sickening inevitability, plump for the latter every time.
  • I'm outie. I hope you all are feeling better than I am right now. Cause 24-hour hangover + the death of all your hopes & dreams = some pretty intense malaise. Unfortunately, I know that some of my readers have even worse stuff going on in their lives than I do. I'm so sorry. Here's a very earnest kitten, who just wants us all to be happy.


At 3:26 AM PST, Blogger piehat said...

The title of this post is stolen from the Idler &mdash of course, because it's clever. Also, yes, I do realize that I engaged in a certain amount of alliteration a mere 3 bullet-points after insisting that alliterators are mentally retarded. I'm a complex person.

At 12:19 PM PST, Blogger idler king said...

But what that kitten really yearns for is erectile ear tissue. Poor Floppy.

How do you know when to stop excoriating the poetics of Sex and the City?

Sorry the drinking (or its aftermath) just amplified the malaise. If it makes you feel any better, I'm about to go play sports with a woman who may well completely disregard the fact that we've been sleeping together most nights for the past six months and not explain why she's stopped calling me. And then I'm going to try to concentrate on grading finals while a tubby mastiff whines to be taken for a walk. So, there's a laugh.

Ultimately, though, it's all snakes on a plane with whiskey and a doughnut.

At 1:38 PM PST, Blogger piehat said...

Why would it make me feel any better to know that someone else also suffers from malaise? I mean, unless that person was Billy Bob Thornton. Or an elephant. But hey, you get to play with a puppy. That's cool, right?

There is no end to how truly awful Sex and the City is. In so many ways. And yet, I keep watching it. But we've already established that I'm not very bright.

The kitten is selfless. Because we think floppy ears are cute, he is happy with his floppy ears. Floppy wants only what we want.

At 2:03 PM PST, Anonymous shosh said...

They breed all the stand-up right outta them. Poor kits.

There was a big article about SOAP (even the acronym is brilliant) on AOL today. I have no idea what it said, I just looked at the funny pictures of people looking very perplexed by snakes slithering about and Mr. Jackson with a very shiny pate.

At 4:35 PM PST, Blogger idler king said...

The kitten is a rube. He ought to be self-actualized. He should be a go-getter. That kitten needs stick-to-it-ness. Floppy must strive for, should I say, more outgoing ears.

But I'm on board with the elephant comment. Fucking elephant bastards, they deserve some military-grade malaise.

At 11:38 PM PST, Blogger piehat said...

Snakes on a Plane! What can I say? It is the most awesome thing ever to happen in the cinema. Period.

Floppy certainly doesn't have a very proactive mindset when it comes to de-flopping. I tell you what, he really needs to start thinking outside the box. He needs to ramp up some results-driven strategies and really play hardball with that flop. By using benchmarking tools and performance mapping, he can come up with a game plan that will put him on the fast track to his goal. Bottom line is, he needs to change his paradigm.

Let's have a party tomorrow where we shoot me in the head.

p.s. I think the grown-up floppies are really scary looking. But the kittens are cute.

p.p.s. I'm watching Sex and the City RIGHT NOW.

At 10:35 AM PST, Blogger idler king said...

You are unbeatable.


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