I’m in an even more scattered mood than usual, folks. Maybe it’s too much caffeine; who knows. Anyway, I’ve got a few mostly unrelated things on my mind, and here they are:
In the Olympics, is it really necessary to interview the runners and swimmers fourteen seconds after their races? Honestly, dammit — we’re seeing the races eight hours late, or some shit like that. Let the poor athletes catch their breath, or grab a towel, maybe, before you start asking them asinine questions like:
‘I heard the future is coming. Is the future here now?‘
‘Hey, nice race. Will you be back in four years?‘
These people are standing there, doing their best to be polite while sucking wind through every hole in their head, and you hit them with that kind of tripe? Please. At least let them get their composure, so they can kick your ass for asking stupid questions. Now that ought to be an Olympic event.
In the space of about 16 hours late Thursday and early yesterday, the same person checked in here at least three times. Or at least, the same IP address got logged three times. And whoever was on the other end of that IP address made three searches. They were, in no particular order:
Dude. I don’t know what the hell you’re planning, but count me in. This sounds like something out of a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. Just don’t be testing those magnetic nipple-twister seeds on me, all right? I’m on your side.
Oh, you wacky readers, you.
Speaking of wacky readers, it seems that a couple of you may have taken me semi-seriously on Thursday about my ‘me likey‘ number. Let me assure you, nothing like what I described ever really happened. Not to me, anyway.
Honestly, I’ve got to get a little more credit than that. I mean, besides the fact that I do my best to be a good husband, and fully apart from the fact that I don’t even notice women other than my wife any more (okay, all together now, either say, ‘Awwwwww!‘ or ‘Yeah, right‘; whichever suits you better), there’s also the creativity factor to consider.
See, if I were gonna hoot and whistle after women, I wouldn’t say something as obvious and passe as ‘Me likey!‘ Come on, people. That really is just begging for a crotch kick.
No, I’d go for something far more subtle. Kinky. Confusing, if possible. Like maybe:
‘Hey… I’d like to see what she had for breakfast!‘
Or how about:
‘Oh, baby. I bet she knows how to get her Chung all up in her Wang. Mamma!‘
Maybe you’d prefer:
‘Oh, yeah. Now that’s a girl whose bologna has a first name.‘
No? Just damned silly? Eh. What do you expect? I told you I was distracted. Try back tomorrow — maybe I’ll be focused by then. Hey, anything’s possible, right?Permalink | 3 Comments