Want to be a politician or raise money for a start-up? You need the Web Economy Bullshit Generator.
humor
A funny T-shirt, for free.
I know, I know: You already have too many T-shirts. But do you have one that says, “The Constitution — I read it for the articles“?
Or how about, “250th Annual Zombie Run For The Cure,” which shows silhouettes of runners being chased by the walking dead?
Now you can — and free of charge, if the random number generator likes you best.
Never dumpster-dive for plastic containers. (Warning: Immature language.)
Getting older is not for whiners. Since my late 40s, midlife health concerns have included thyroid imbalance, elevated blood pressure and creeping weight gain. A couple of mammograms looked iffy but turned out to be OK. The asthma could be better.
Mostly I’ve handled these issues with equanimity. But that was before the doctor ordered me to spread my own poo on a chemically treated card.
Potty animals.
“FEMALE TOILET SHOWERS” is painted on the door of the bathroom near my room at the hostel. If you had the same reaction to “toilet shower” that I did, please write and let me know that I am not alone.
Two toilets are available, each in its own little room. The showers are off to the left. Important safety note if you plan to stay at a hostel: When a sign notes that there may be hot water shortages between 8 and 10 a.m., believe that sign.
This morning when I walked in, the first thing I saw was someone standing in front of a toilet. Facing the wrong way. And offloading.
Walking around in your underpants: Sometimes it’s good to be single.
The blogger at the The Quest for $85,000 is about to become an empty nester. Her son’s set to move out soon, which means all four fledglings will officially be launched.
It will be odd, she muses, to live “on my own terms again without worrying about the impact my choices will make on impressionable lives.”
Quest: You don’t know the half of it. For starters, you’ll be able to walk around in your skivvies without giving your progeny a sight they can’t un-see.
Live from L.A.: Gelato, funny signs, undercover celebs.
I’ve been in Los Angeles for four days and no one has offered me an avocado. Isn’t this place supposed to be lousy with alligator pears? And yet the only avocado I’ve seen was the guacamole in a Mexican restaurant.
(I politely declined the guac, having changed too many diapers in my time ever to want squishy green stuff on my plate. In fact, my private name for the stuff is caca-mole.)
But it’s definitely southern California: Oranges growing in the back yard of the place I’m house-sitting, lemons and grapefruit growing in the front yards of homes past which I walk my friend’s dog. Pastels everywhere, too.
George Wendt is reported to live a stone’s throw away, and one of George Clooney’s homes (one of them?) is apparently close as well.
The other day I walked the dog past a distinguished-looking older man. “Good afternoon,” I said. The man flinched a little and said, “Hello” in a guarded way that makes me think he’s accustomed to being recognized, and tormented, by fans.
I have no idea who he was. Maybe he wasn’t famous. Maybe he was simply trying to duck a process server.
Live from Alaska: Frozen pipes, bachelors on credit and suggestive pizza.
Scenes from our trip to the Talkeetna Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition:
We arrived late Friday afternoon, driving directly into a blizzard. But after watching the Parade of Lights we knew we’d be able to get back out of town on Sunday: Among the vehicles in the parade were eight snowplows.
Holiday countdown: You’re probably already running late.
The retail industry treats Christmas as one big countdown. This year has been the worst yet: Black Friday seems to have lasted the entire month of November.
But right after Thanksgiving the real fun began: “Only 26 more shopping days until Christmas.”
I think it’s because as a nation, we love to be nagged. The phone company reminds us to call home on Mother’s Day. Florists fuss at you to buy flowers for Secretary’s Day. Jewelers warn men to buy bigger and better diamonds for each year’s anniversary.
Nagging works, too: The phone system is overwhelmed on the second Sunday in May. Administrative assistants smile as they load up the vases (even if they’re inwardly wishing they’d gotten gift cards, or raises). And wives all over America decide to hang in there for another year because the big lug actually remembered.
But this is not a cynical post about the commercialization of sentiment. Not this time, anyway. It’s about why “(however many) more days until Christmas” is too vague to be of any use.
That’s because it’s not a warning — it’s a snooze alarm.
Google wants to see me naked.
This post was ripped off inspired by a post at Budgets Are Sexy. In “I got Googled and I liked it,” J.Money listed some of the weird search engine queries that landed visitors on his site. Stuff like:
- Unprofessional clothing (“Flip-flops and bikinis. Everything else is a gray area.”)
- Orange sacrifices or children
- If someone commits suicide in a home, would their ghosts be there? (“SCARY!”)
- Sexy stories of wife sacrificing virginity for husband
- Cheap jungle tights
J$’s post made me laugh. It also made me start looking at the search engine terms that bring readers to Surviving and Thriving. There were some funny ones*, such as:
- Coffin in pickup truck
- Example of short slogan about Jesus
- Beautiful woman with a trach
- Cheapest gift for marriage, Indian price
A persistent theme, though, is nekkidness.