O glorious day! Japanese scientists have figured out a more natural way to mutilate and inflate the female bosom! Just suck out some stem cells and “encourage” them to grow breast tissue. Then inject that shit back into Chesty McFlat and make a beeline for the golf course. Thanks, science! (HT: Slate)
[taken after midnight, so technically I’m in the clear] I was doing a pretty good job of ignorning Valentine’s Day yesterday — save for the strawberries and accompanying chocolate and cheesecake dip (the latter two of which I very diligently passed on) at work — until Phil came prancing shivering into the lobby with the lovely rose you see here. I proceeded to whack him over the head a couple of times for his thoughtfulness,…
This afternoon I was in the shower, nursing a dull headache (no doubt inspired by the fact that from about 6 p.m. until 2 a.m., the only liquid I ingested was extremely fermented), when it occurred to me that I had possibly bought a Justin Timberlake song off of iTunes the night before. And, sure enough, now I see that “Rock Your Body” is part of my digital collection. WTF?
I don’t know why no one ever told me — or I never figured it out for myself before this year — that you could go to the IRS’s website and be directed to lots of sites where you can prepare and submit your tax return for free as long as you meet some criteria, namely based on age and income. You can even do it for free through H&R Block, which — even though…
I have some kind of mental block against keeping my car clean. So fear me and stay off the road, because one day I have no doubt my car could look like this.
When I am Queen of the World, UPS will be required to use doorbells so that no one ever has any reason to drive down toward the airport amid the depressing industrial squalor on Airways/Brooks/etc. to pick up a package — as instructed on the handy sticky note stuck to the door right beside the doorbell, which was never once rung during the three attempts to get the package to its rightful owner, who sat…
Today FearlessVK (we totally call each other by our blog pseudonyms) and I sat and watched Aidan get his ass kicked by some crows and then try to kick the shit out of some Sunflower-farming family. The movie was full of loud gotcha! moments but I realized long before we made it out on the street to try and deconstruct — even barely — what the hell had just happened that The Messengers was going…
I just spent, like, an hour on MySpace. And what have I gained? Herpes, probably.
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