Jun
6
Oh how I love the internet. For it has given me Ceiling Cat. And Hammer-Bitchslapping Cat. And Freaky Biped Dog (I sent that link to a coworker, who wrote back “It walks as we do! ARMAGEDDON”). And The Hardest Working Dog in Show Business.
Man, that last one is so awesome it actually made me tear up a little bit. What a great dog. I can’t help but think the dog is enjoying himself/herself, but I suppose that woman has raw liver stuffed down her pants or something.
Jun
5
June 5, 2006
You know those little cylindrical containers of Pillsbury biscuit dough, the kind where you have to peel off the outer cardboard thingie in a process that’s as psychologically devastating as watching someone blow up a balloon for the deliberate purpose of popping it (WHY?), a process involving a horrific suspension of space and time as all the matter in the universe stops motion while the can….slowly….builds…..pressure, and oh god IT’S GOING TO BLOW, and I can’t handle it I can’t handle it oh my god oh my god?
You know? Those?
Okay. I have kind of a “thing” about those dough containers. It’s okay, I can admit it. I’m a little…I find them disturbing. Highly disturbing. I do not like touching them. I do not like the cardboard striptease and I MOST DEFINITELY do not like the startling “pah!” and the sudden emergence of dough, all pale and fleshy and…moist.
Well, I am greatly relieved to tell you that the good people of Pillsbury finally decided to provide a non-diabolically-evil version which comes in a handy pouch. A benign little plastic pouch that does not force you into a terrifying, drawn-out mechanism that ultimately results in an explosion.
Thanks, Pillsbury. Now I can once again enjoy your incredibly fattening biscuits. My ass thanks you, too.
::::
How awesome is this news item: Man proves too fucking stupid to be saved by God.
::::
JB is in Taipei this week for an “international information technology show” (aka Nerdfest Asia 2006) and I’ve already screwed up the TV remote.
I made him write down the instructions for switching between the TV and the DVD, as they are insanely complicated and involve pushing lots of buttons in order to set things to HDMI or COMP1 or URDUM or whatever the hell. We bought a new TV last fall, as soon as it became apparent that movie theater excursions were officially a relic of our baby-free past, and while I love it very much for its ability to show every single pore on David Caruso’s bulbous snout, the whole entertainment system deal that JB has lovingly surrounded it with is extremely complex. One accidental button push, and suddenly the screen is black while the audio pumps out mariachi music.
I followed his directions yesterday in order to play the Baby Einstein DVD that gives me 20 blissful minutes of Occupied Child, therefore I love it so much I want to marry it and have its babies and make all its babies watch it too, but afterward I pushed…something, apparently the button labeled “Stop Working Altogether”, and the TV done went dead.
I explained to Riley that in the absence of Disney-owned programmed entertainment involving octopus puppets and classical music, he would have to find another activity that would distract him long enough to allow me to blow-dry my hair.
Cat doesn’t seem to wholeheartedly approve, but until she starts 1) killing rats, or 2) fixing TVs, she’s by-god on baby duty.
-
My product review site:
[