backpfeifengesicht: literally means "a face that needs a fist in it." (pronounced back-pf-eye-fen-ge-zeesht)
there you go. your new insult. use it wisely.
some other suggested insults:
1) you're like f. scott fizgerald's screenplays. unknown and unnecessary.
2) your voice sounds like yoda with pneumonia.
3) you are a pumpkin on november 1
4) you tacky bulletin board.
5) you off-brand cheerio
6) you're about as famous as bobby frost
7) are you feeling okay? because i'm not. not after seeing your face.
8) you're that chair that even the cat won't sit on.
9) you broken cassette tape in an attic covered in sawdust and cat piss
10) are you corn? because you need to shut your mouth and consider your ears.
don't have a face that needs a fist in it. until next time.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Saturday, October 4, 2014
reasons the world isn't so bad
people doing nice things. glue sticks. mugs of chamomile tea. watching your roommate drink chamomile tea for the first time and shivering because it's a) burning hot and b) it's chamomile. seasonal drinks. nonseasonal drinks. david sedaris. susan orlean. meghan daum. people. empty libraries. full libraries. wonderful librarians that are probably actually the child of a deity. mrs d, who somehow knows how everyone is doing any time of the day. e-readers. paperbacks. hardbacks. book releases. socks. consider the socks, really. socks are so great. thank your socks today. witty comics. dumb comics that make you laugh anyway. videos that make you think. videos that don't make you think. walking. sitting. nutella. peanut butter unless you are allergic. stories. history. linguistics and how poem and history are the same word in german. joke books. siblings who are basically joke books. sisters. support. being happy. crocheting. volunteering. sleeping. doing something. doing nothing. existing. sitting on the steps outside your house when someone you love sits next to you, says, "it's okay. it's okay. it's okay."
Saturday, August 2, 2014
it's raining it's pouring
the old man is snoring
he went to bed, bumped his head
and didn't get up in the morning
sure, tell me all you want that the 1950s were a happy time. that's about when this nursery rhyme is first recorded as being told as it is. it probably came from the united kingdom, but origins aren't exactly set.
it might actually be a mother goose nursery rhyme that isn't about a king or a plague or execution or whatever. the internet is vastly unhelpful here. some suggest that the old man is a metaphor for a god, but i'm not sure what that implies. that it's raining because god is snoring? is it raining snot? i don't understand.
some renditions of the song say "wouldn't" rather than "couldn't." so it's a song about the aftermath of medical situations.
here's a fun one: it's actually about war. there we go! in another version, it's plural, the old men are snoring. oliver cromwell's invasions and campaign was fought in very rainy weather, and many people were executed. in welsh, the word "bedd" means grave. if you didn't die hanging (snoring is a sound that apparently people may make as they choke for air) you'd be hit in the head while sleeping to have your skull crushed in... bumped his head.
enjoy the rainy season.
he went to bed, bumped his head
and didn't get up in the morning
sure, tell me all you want that the 1950s were a happy time. that's about when this nursery rhyme is first recorded as being told as it is. it probably came from the united kingdom, but origins aren't exactly set.
it might actually be a mother goose nursery rhyme that isn't about a king or a plague or execution or whatever. the internet is vastly unhelpful here. some suggest that the old man is a metaphor for a god, but i'm not sure what that implies. that it's raining because god is snoring? is it raining snot? i don't understand.
some renditions of the song say "wouldn't" rather than "couldn't." so it's a song about the aftermath of medical situations.
here's a fun one: it's actually about war. there we go! in another version, it's plural, the old men are snoring. oliver cromwell's invasions and campaign was fought in very rainy weather, and many people were executed. in welsh, the word "bedd" means grave. if you didn't die hanging (snoring is a sound that apparently people may make as they choke for air) you'd be hit in the head while sleeping to have your skull crushed in... bumped his head.
enjoy the rainy season.
Monday, July 28, 2014
this post has bean coming
Pythagoras had a fear of beans. Like, he was terrified of beans. He believed they had the capacity to hold souls, and it would be wrong to eat or disturb souls. (He also didn't eat meat) This included prohibiting even the touching of beans, or looking at them for too long. The way he was eventually murdered even had beans play a role in it. His assassins lit the house he was staying at on fire, and chased him out towards a bean field. When Pythagoras realized that they were bean stalks that he was observing, he said, "I would rather die than go in there!" and was then killed.
Some answers to the question of why:
1) Gastronomical problems. A gross theory, but the reasoning behind the idea of beans containing souls stems from the flatulence caused by legumes. The souls are supposedly contained in the gas. Perhaps Pythagoras had more than the usual amounts of gas.
2) It was a requirement to form his cult. Pythagoras had a cult-like following of people who believed the same ideas about beans and other strange followings. At the time, you had to have perhaps one ridiculous practice in order to be a cult leader.
3) There's actually no known word for the fear of beans specifically. While there are names for the fear of youths (Ephebophobia) and the fear of being tickled by feathers (Pteronophobia) there is no bean phobia. Some suggest legumaphobia, but others say that is too broad. There are support websites for people who are afraid of beans and -- whether real or not -- they present some strange characters.
4) Perhaps there's some kind of hallucinatory aspect to beans -- since there are still people who think beans are out to kill them, it might still be around. In the way that you shouldn't eat certain berries because of the threat of hallucinagens (or death) maybe beans trigger this response in the descendants of Pythagoras.
5) Look, some people don't want to eat their vegetables. Why eat protein from beans when you can eat protein from cows? (note: Pythagoras was a vegetarian. I don't know how he survived)
6) BEAN is 2 + 5 + 1 + 19 which = 27. 27 is only divisible by 9 and 3. 9 minus 3 is 6. Eating beans is practically praising 666.
7) A childhood tale turned wrong: Pythagoras was told as a child a story about a bean family in order to teach him about kindness. He associated eating beans to eating kindness.
(This is also an adaptation of a post from my old blog. I didn't change much of anything in this one.)
Some answers to the question of why:
1) Gastronomical problems. A gross theory, but the reasoning behind the idea of beans containing souls stems from the flatulence caused by legumes. The souls are supposedly contained in the gas. Perhaps Pythagoras had more than the usual amounts of gas.
2) It was a requirement to form his cult. Pythagoras had a cult-like following of people who believed the same ideas about beans and other strange followings. At the time, you had to have perhaps one ridiculous practice in order to be a cult leader.
3) There's actually no known word for the fear of beans specifically. While there are names for the fear of youths (Ephebophobia) and the fear of being tickled by feathers (Pteronophobia) there is no bean phobia. Some suggest legumaphobia, but others say that is too broad. There are support websites for people who are afraid of beans and -- whether real or not -- they present some strange characters.
4) Perhaps there's some kind of hallucinatory aspect to beans -- since there are still people who think beans are out to kill them, it might still be around. In the way that you shouldn't eat certain berries because of the threat of hallucinagens (or death) maybe beans trigger this response in the descendants of Pythagoras.
5) Look, some people don't want to eat their vegetables. Why eat protein from beans when you can eat protein from cows? (note: Pythagoras was a vegetarian. I don't know how he survived)
6) BEAN is 2 + 5 + 1 + 19 which = 27. 27 is only divisible by 9 and 3. 9 minus 3 is 6. Eating beans is practically praising 666.
7) A childhood tale turned wrong: Pythagoras was told as a child a story about a bean family in order to teach him about kindness. He associated eating beans to eating kindness.
(This is also an adaptation of a post from my old blog. I didn't change much of anything in this one.)
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
open letter to people of the airport
so yes. i know. you are important. very important. so important that i probably don't even understand how important you are. nevertheless, please don't stop in the middle of the walkway to yell at your mother.
you are consistent, i'll give you that. when put together, the cries of children, voices of business people, and clunks of suitcases turns into a kind of white noise. i could even call it musical, were i one to listen to only kazoos and think them perfect music. if that's the case, let me know and i'll send you a recording.
a brief listing of the people you contain: the woman wearing flower print shorts, a tank top, and a floppy hat running back and forth across the terminal lifting her bag up and down. the kid convinced the seats in the airport are the actual airplanes. that one possibly famous person wearing both sunglasses and a baseball cap. the person who you think you may have once seen before, but who might actually just be a doppleganger of your great aunt janice's third husband's daughter.
now, there's nothing wrong with holding strange people. your problem is your addiction. it can't be controlled. there are too many factors. really, delays are not healthy for you. this is an intervention letter. the delays need to stop. just start changing the weather or human circumstance. whatever you need to do.
i'm not a super platinum gold frequent flyer first class free puppy club member, so i'll be sitting in the regular seats, so you can be sure to lean the seat in front of me all the way back so a book can hardly fit in my lap. this said, internet and computer room aren't exactly prime either here. this post will be ending soon.
but really, now. think about what i said about your delay problem. think about it? okay? good.
you are consistent, i'll give you that. when put together, the cries of children, voices of business people, and clunks of suitcases turns into a kind of white noise. i could even call it musical, were i one to listen to only kazoos and think them perfect music. if that's the case, let me know and i'll send you a recording.
a brief listing of the people you contain: the woman wearing flower print shorts, a tank top, and a floppy hat running back and forth across the terminal lifting her bag up and down. the kid convinced the seats in the airport are the actual airplanes. that one possibly famous person wearing both sunglasses and a baseball cap. the person who you think you may have once seen before, but who might actually just be a doppleganger of your great aunt janice's third husband's daughter.
now, there's nothing wrong with holding strange people. your problem is your addiction. it can't be controlled. there are too many factors. really, delays are not healthy for you. this is an intervention letter. the delays need to stop. just start changing the weather or human circumstance. whatever you need to do.
i'm not a super platinum gold frequent flyer first class free puppy club member, so i'll be sitting in the regular seats, so you can be sure to lean the seat in front of me all the way back so a book can hardly fit in my lap. this said, internet and computer room aren't exactly prime either here. this post will be ending soon.
but really, now. think about what i said about your delay problem. think about it? okay? good.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
history: tricks up its sleeve since 96 A.D.
(the following is an adaptation of a blog post from a history blog i did a while ago)
So Domitian, an ancient roman emperor, predicted his own death. Yeah, I know, I know, you can't predict the future and can't change the past. History says otherwise. Here are the basics: according to astrological signs, he was going to die before noon. But around eleven a servant told him it was passed noon, so he figured he was safe. After that, an assassin came in with a knife concealed in a bandage on his arm, and stabbed Domitian. The assassination was secret at the time. There are no records until one one hundred years after it happened. (Suetonius's Account if you want to read it)
So how did people know? I've come up with a list of possible ways people knew.
1) A script from a failed tragedy.
MAN: “… then that one guy died and it was great. Yeah. Ha. I guess you had to be there.”
DOMITIAN: “Probably.”
MAN: “So did you see that new brand of Apollo sandals? Really snazzy.”
DOMITIAN: “I think I saw that.”
MAN: “I hear you get half off robes when you buy a pair from some pleb on Juno Street.”
DOMITIAN: “Nice deal.”
MAN: “So what kind of fermented grapes do you enjoy the most?”
DOMITIAN: “Look, dude, I don’t mean to be rude, but today's not the day for conversation. You see, astrology says I'm going to die before noon, and even though it's past noon, I don't want to take any chances.”
MAN: “Oh, sure, no problem. But could you sign my bandage first?”
DOMITIAN: “Sure. You got a quill?”
MAN: “Of course, right here. And oh look at what's underneath my bandage.”
DOMITIAN: “Wait, that looks like a dag--”
DOMITIAN is stabbed, falls to the ground.
2) *click* we discover that tape recorders have been around all along
3) A newspaper article.
“RULER OUTWITTED BY PLEBEIAN: FALLS FOR CLASSIC ‘LOOK AT THAT’ TRICK.”
“RULER FINDS THAT SERVANT HAS SOMETHING UP HIS SLEEVE”
4) Diary entry from Domitian.
"Dear diary, I think I'm going to be killed before noon. That's what the stars say anyway. Dom."
"Dear diary, A servant just told me it's past noon. Weird that the sun doesn't look that way, but it looks like I'm safe!"
"Dear diary, This one guy from the court is in my room now. I told him I was finishing some documents. He keeps scratching his arm where a bandage is. It's probably fine. Dom."
your regular birds hat blog posts will continue shortly.
"Dear diary, I think I'm going to be killed before noon. That's what the stars say anyway. Dom."
"Dear diary, A servant just told me it's past noon. Weird that the sun doesn't look that way, but it looks like I'm safe!"
"Dear diary, This one guy from the court is in my room now. I told him I was finishing some documents. He keeps scratching his arm where a bandage is. It's probably fine. Dom."
your regular birds hat blog posts will continue shortly.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
open letter to bunk note writers
my dearest writers-of-bunk-notes,
i don't believe there's a confidentiality notice for notes written on bunk beds. maybe there is. maybe it's you consider yourself some kind of artist. but i'm just gonna say i think you should get your story straight. "my friend was killed on this bunk," i'm gonna guess that if someone was killed by a strange person in the woods, they would have at least replaced the bunk. also, why are you telling me and not your counselor? maybe edit it to be "my friend had a really bad ant bite while on this bunk and it became a jellybean and started controlling her body and took over." that i might believe. and on that same bunk: "joe jonas was here." and why is joe jonas at a girl scout camp? it's not the year three-thousand, and no one's great great great granddaughter needs to be checked on. mostly i'm just concerned there.
another gem: "addison is watching you. i am dead." is addison dead? or is a friendly ghost just letting me know that there is a person named addison sleeping outside my window watching me? how does she hold a pen? and why is that written on the bottom bunk? i'm no expert, but i suspect that a ghost might be more comfortable on the top bunk, considering the whole levitation issue. i know what you're saying: "not all ghosts..." but the levitation thing does seem like a constant in the world of spiritual creatures.
perhaps i'm being a bit harsh. after all, you do say later that "mommy and hunter love me!!!!"so you've got that going for you.
good luck with your bunk notes. i'm sure all of the people sanding them off really appreciate it.
i don't believe there's a confidentiality notice for notes written on bunk beds. maybe there is. maybe it's you consider yourself some kind of artist. but i'm just gonna say i think you should get your story straight. "my friend was killed on this bunk," i'm gonna guess that if someone was killed by a strange person in the woods, they would have at least replaced the bunk. also, why are you telling me and not your counselor? maybe edit it to be "my friend had a really bad ant bite while on this bunk and it became a jellybean and started controlling her body and took over." that i might believe. and on that same bunk: "joe jonas was here." and why is joe jonas at a girl scout camp? it's not the year three-thousand, and no one's great great great granddaughter needs to be checked on. mostly i'm just concerned there.
another gem: "addison is watching you. i am dead." is addison dead? or is a friendly ghost just letting me know that there is a person named addison sleeping outside my window watching me? how does she hold a pen? and why is that written on the bottom bunk? i'm no expert, but i suspect that a ghost might be more comfortable on the top bunk, considering the whole levitation issue. i know what you're saying: "not all ghosts..." but the levitation thing does seem like a constant in the world of spiritual creatures.
perhaps i'm being a bit harsh. after all, you do say later that "mommy and hunter love me!!!!"so you've got that going for you.
good luck with your bunk notes. i'm sure all of the people sanding them off really appreciate it.
Friday, June 6, 2014
friggatriskaidekaphobia
sounds like some kind of swear or sneeze. or both.
but nope, it's the fear of friday the 13th. which happens this june! i hope you didn't just ask yourself when in june. think about it.
but as with most superstitions, the origin isn't certain, so there are theories and hypotheses bouncing of the walls. hammurabi left out the number thirteen from his list of laws. then again this is also the man who made it law to cut off a child's hand if he was disrespectful. (back in the good 'ol days.) medieval superstition stated that if thirteen people were to sit at a table to dine, the first to stand up would die. (disclaimer: this was a good cover-up story for your rude relative, since you definitely didn't shank him -- it was the gods of superstition working through you.)
twelve is holy. thirteen is evil. no one cares about fourteen. (except woodrow wilson) maybe someone mistranslated a section from the bible once and accidentally replaced the word "hell" with the phrase "the thirteenth floor in a hotel."
but why friday? some say it's because jesus was crucified on a friday. but was it a friday the thirteenth? and if not, shouldn't every friday and every thirteenth be feared? oh god no it's monday the thirteenth, make sure you get up on the left side of your bed with one toe raised in order to make sure your luck isn't too bad.
good luck.
(actually by wishing you good luck early i probably just cursed your luck. it happens.)
(i am trying with this blog. i am sorry for the inconsistency in both quantity and quality. i am trying.)
but nope, it's the fear of friday the 13th. which happens this june! i hope you didn't just ask yourself when in june. think about it.
but as with most superstitions, the origin isn't certain, so there are theories and hypotheses bouncing of the walls. hammurabi left out the number thirteen from his list of laws. then again this is also the man who made it law to cut off a child's hand if he was disrespectful. (back in the good 'ol days.) medieval superstition stated that if thirteen people were to sit at a table to dine, the first to stand up would die. (disclaimer: this was a good cover-up story for your rude relative, since you definitely didn't shank him -- it was the gods of superstition working through you.)
twelve is holy. thirteen is evil. no one cares about fourteen. (except woodrow wilson) maybe someone mistranslated a section from the bible once and accidentally replaced the word "hell" with the phrase "the thirteenth floor in a hotel."
but why friday? some say it's because jesus was crucified on a friday. but was it a friday the thirteenth? and if not, shouldn't every friday and every thirteenth be feared? oh god no it's monday the thirteenth, make sure you get up on the left side of your bed with one toe raised in order to make sure your luck isn't too bad.
good luck.
(actually by wishing you good luck early i probably just cursed your luck. it happens.)
(i am trying with this blog. i am sorry for the inconsistency in both quantity and quality. i am trying.)
Friday, May 30, 2014
how to get a prom date
foolproof methods way after prom is over for most people:
1) go to sleep. but in a tower. preferably in some woods. if you can, get a dragon to sit outside. someone'll come. and if they don't, well, you get a nice nap.
2) shoot an arrow randomly. if it lands next to a frog, it's probably a princess/prince in disguise. go ahead and bring this to prom.
3) announce that you shall not go on a date with someone who cannot run faster than you. it's a win-win situation. if you don't get a date, you just say it's because no one could run faster than you.
4) go to ebay. or craig's list. if you're feeling indulgent, try amazon.
5) lose a shoe on someone's doorsteps. conveniently put your number on the bottom so that whoever finds it doesn't actually have to explore the city and find someone else who has the same shoe size.
6) carry around a dress or suit. when asked about it, shrug and say, "they were just here a moment ago."
7) bring a cat or dog. if you are pulled to the side and told "no pets," be offended. tell security that you won't stand for your date being insulted as such. you won't actually have a date, but you'll have a companion.
1) go to sleep. but in a tower. preferably in some woods. if you can, get a dragon to sit outside. someone'll come. and if they don't, well, you get a nice nap.
2) shoot an arrow randomly. if it lands next to a frog, it's probably a princess/prince in disguise. go ahead and bring this to prom.
3) announce that you shall not go on a date with someone who cannot run faster than you. it's a win-win situation. if you don't get a date, you just say it's because no one could run faster than you.
4) go to ebay. or craig's list. if you're feeling indulgent, try amazon.
5) lose a shoe on someone's doorsteps. conveniently put your number on the bottom so that whoever finds it doesn't actually have to explore the city and find someone else who has the same shoe size.
6) carry around a dress or suit. when asked about it, shrug and say, "they were just here a moment ago."
7) bring a cat or dog. if you are pulled to the side and told "no pets," be offended. tell security that you won't stand for your date being insulted as such. you won't actually have a date, but you'll have a companion.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Coming soon:
an actual real blog post. just so you know this isn't dead. one is coming. when you least expect it. or most expect it. i don't really know.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
exam season
ha. ha ha ha. exams. yeah, what a joke.
oh wait nevermind. i thought you said ixion. bad hearing. ixion was a king sent to hell by zeus for trying to seduce hera. pretty exciting. but not an exam.
one of meriam webster's definitions of examination is a "formal interrogation." we are all being interrogated. this is actually their way of finding out who started the whole "global warming is real" scam and the "blueberries are real" crap and "wait no really both of those are true" stuff. yeah there's the secret. it's all a conspiracy. so what you should do to get a 5 on your ap exams and a 100 on other exams are the following:
1) write 6666666666666666 across the entire page. if they don't give you a five, they know the devil is coming for them.
2) "i am the illuminati." yeah, and who tells the illuminati that their knowledge on 18th century triangular trade is inadequate? no one, that's right.
3) bring a red pen. scribble over the entire answer sheet with it. bubble in your name in the appropriate bubbles.
and some reminders for test day:
1) do not bring electronics to the exam, including but not limited to cell phones, pagers, stopwatches, photographing devices, brains, computers, children, beepers, historians, clones, or any other electronic devices.
2) eat a good hearty protein-filled meal before the exam. don't eat vegan. they typically have very little meat on their bones.
3) get a good nights rest. steal everyone else's rest. stop at no costs. horde the good nights rests.
4) bring a #2 pencil. also bring a #3 pencil to throw to deflect your enemies.
do these, and you'll get a perfect score on everything!*
*no guaruntees. please do not sue me if you do take any of this advice and get arrested. really don't take this advice. or do take it and throw it at everyone you know. the curve would be tremendous.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
the devil was a farmer
you've probably heard that vikings didn't actually wear the horned helmets. some history teacher has probably ruined that for you. and if they haven't, i just did. i'm sorry. you are welcome.
they were portrayed with the helmets by christians in the areas they attacked. they were pagans, and thus associated with the devil -- and if you are doing an artistic interpretation of someone running to attack you, you might see horns too.
but not only did they not wear horned hats, they were also primarily -- get this -- farmers. that's right. good old country people. until vikings were fifteen, they worked on the family farm. at that point, fighting lessons etc would begin. but they weren't told from birth "okay lad now go kill brother jimmy." children were seen as vital to surviving -- y'know, you need a worker, just make one.
you don't need to believe that. you can believe they wore horned helmets and trained children from the age of two to hold an axe. you can believe that every viking child's first words were "i killed my brother." go for that. you can believe that these historical records are just wrong. maybe they are. we don't know for sure. ever, really. you can believe whatever you want, but it doesn't mean it's true.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
superstition and salt
ohmygod you just spilled salt quick spill it again but this time spill it over your shoulder it'll just disappear no one will have to sweep it up or anything quick bad luck bad luck bad luck phew thank god you threw more salt, i was going to kill your dog if you didn't do that.
oh and if you throw it over your right shoulder you're doubly cursed so now throw two more handfuls over your right shoulder. this is strange since normally god hates left handers, but apparently their shoulders are fine.
some people think that this myth came from da vinci's painting, "the last supper." if you look really closely, you'll not only see a symbol of the illuminati, but also that judas has knocked over the salt with his elbow. god, judus don't you know the first step to a bad reputation is spilling the salt and not even putting the salt shaker upright.
okay, scratch what i said earlier about maybe god being cool with left handers. the reason you throw the salt over your shoulder is because the devil is behind your left shoulder waiting for you. it'll blind him and he won't be able to eat you or curse you or whatever he was going to do anyway. try not throwing it over your shoulder. see what happens. maybe the devil just wants to be your friend.
also he gets blinded a lot.
german tradition says that if a guest spills salt they are probably murderers or thieves. so you should probably kill them now. (don't sue me if you do)
salt, dude. salt.
oh and if you throw it over your right shoulder you're doubly cursed so now throw two more handfuls over your right shoulder. this is strange since normally god hates left handers, but apparently their shoulders are fine.
some people think that this myth came from da vinci's painting, "the last supper." if you look really closely, you'll not only see a symbol of the illuminati, but also that judas has knocked over the salt with his elbow. god, judus don't you know the first step to a bad reputation is spilling the salt and not even putting the salt shaker upright.
okay, scratch what i said earlier about maybe god being cool with left handers. the reason you throw the salt over your shoulder is because the devil is behind your left shoulder waiting for you. it'll blind him and he won't be able to eat you or curse you or whatever he was going to do anyway. try not throwing it over your shoulder. see what happens. maybe the devil just wants to be your friend.
also he gets blinded a lot.
german tradition says that if a guest spills salt they are probably murderers or thieves. so you should probably kill them now. (don't sue me if you do)
salt, dude. salt.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia
according to wikipedia, this is the fear of the number 666. i think someone just typed in hex three times and phobia and let their cat fill in the rest. it's better than hexhexhexphobia. that just sounds stupid. hexakosiohexekontahexaphobia doesn't. try saying that out loud once. i dare you. if you can do that try it twice.
but why. why why why. six is a friendly enough number. sixty six means you've lived a while. but 666 means that your neighbor is probably the devil and why do you even live there anyway.
as is with many things, it's biblical. the reasoning for it is partially one of those "if you take this letter and that letter from this word and multiply it by four and add thirty seven, which is an age that this person once was, you get this number OH MY GOD IT'S SATAN." so there's that.
but i don't think it's really considered a devil's thing anymore. sure, he's got a monopoly on it, but what doesn't he have a monopoly. it's more of how we perceive it, though. like, if you told me you were born on june 6 2006, i'd ask you why you were talking to me because you are like eight. i probably wouldn't pick up on the fact that the kid's birthday is 666. (note: even better would be june 6, 1966) but as soon as someone mentions it, i have them down in my book as a devil child. (i'm going to disregard the fact that i consider most people devil children at some point or another, with few exceptions) if you tell me you were born at 6:66 i'll put you in my book as a demon and a moron.
and if you live at the address of 666 cloud road i'll assume you are just disguising yourself. i don't care what the number says, it's not the 14th floor. you can change it all you want, but it's not the 14th floor.
i'm scared enough of numbers like 84 in school and 10% acceptance rate and 39 because why is that a prime number and 18 because it means i'm legally an adult and 2015 and 1848 and all in all i don't need another number to fear.
but why. why why why. six is a friendly enough number. sixty six means you've lived a while. but 666 means that your neighbor is probably the devil and why do you even live there anyway.
as is with many things, it's biblical. the reasoning for it is partially one of those "if you take this letter and that letter from this word and multiply it by four and add thirty seven, which is an age that this person once was, you get this number OH MY GOD IT'S SATAN." so there's that.
but i don't think it's really considered a devil's thing anymore. sure, he's got a monopoly on it, but what doesn't he have a monopoly. it's more of how we perceive it, though. like, if you told me you were born on june 6 2006, i'd ask you why you were talking to me because you are like eight. i probably wouldn't pick up on the fact that the kid's birthday is 666. (note: even better would be june 6, 1966) but as soon as someone mentions it, i have them down in my book as a devil child. (i'm going to disregard the fact that i consider most people devil children at some point or another, with few exceptions) if you tell me you were born at 6:66 i'll put you in my book as a demon and a moron.
and if you live at the address of 666 cloud road i'll assume you are just disguising yourself. i don't care what the number says, it's not the 14th floor. you can change it all you want, but it's not the 14th floor.
i'm scared enough of numbers like 84 in school and 10% acceptance rate and 39 because why is that a prime number and 18 because it means i'm legally an adult and 2015 and 1848 and all in all i don't need another number to fear.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
on children's shows
i was babysitting a toddler the other day and because we are wasteful, the television was on pretty much the whole time. also because i couldn't find the remote. (i know, i know, i could've turned it off by the side of the tv. shut up.)
it was on nick junior or disney junior or whatever. one of those kids channels that seem to be training children to speak to the tv box. and the only time i've seen a kid answer is when they are trying to show off to me that they know the answer. even toddlers dismiss dora's sing-along.
advertising, though: apparently there are seasons for children's shows. and as a commercial, bubble guppies (okay this show is like mermaids but more creepy in a childish way) did a music video. p-p-pencil case. as in a parody of lady gaga.
the result was strange.
children's shows are weird.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
open letter to caves
you're dead. okay, you're not dead. but y'know, rocks being alive and growing is a weird thing, but apparently you do it anyway. is that respectful of nature? i don't know. do you care? nah. you're just limestone that makes really nice looking sculptures.
i once went spelunking with a camp group. i suppose this is like delving into the cave organs and hitting them. you probably had intestinal pains that night. sorry about that.
there were ten of us in that group. i don't remember really any of them specifically because i'm self-absorbed and never actually wrote or kept in touch with any of them, despite that i probably told them i would. but i do remember that a part of the group was really surprised that we'd get dirty in the cave. i mean muddy. because, you know, caves are made of mud. you are made of mud. sorry about that. cleanliness has become something we appreciate.
i wore a christmas shirt, one of those ones your grandma gives you in november because she saw it at target and thought that everyone wants a shirt that has a reindeer pun on it. and cave mud is impossible to remove, for the most part. i like to think that the girls who wore their matching camp t-shirts still wear them today with the stains all over them. i hope they have a good story.
but when i went spelunking through your organs, cave, the guide talked a lot about things like cave kisses and good luck and all. apparently, for each drop of water the cave lets on you, you have a year of good luck. this is more of cave drool. but it's good drool.
really, cave, you're the only one who could drool on someone and still have them make it out into some kind of romantic sentiment of good charm and luck.
i once went spelunking with a camp group. i suppose this is like delving into the cave organs and hitting them. you probably had intestinal pains that night. sorry about that.
there were ten of us in that group. i don't remember really any of them specifically because i'm self-absorbed and never actually wrote or kept in touch with any of them, despite that i probably told them i would. but i do remember that a part of the group was really surprised that we'd get dirty in the cave. i mean muddy. because, you know, caves are made of mud. you are made of mud. sorry about that. cleanliness has become something we appreciate.
i wore a christmas shirt, one of those ones your grandma gives you in november because she saw it at target and thought that everyone wants a shirt that has a reindeer pun on it. and cave mud is impossible to remove, for the most part. i like to think that the girls who wore their matching camp t-shirts still wear them today with the stains all over them. i hope they have a good story.
but when i went spelunking through your organs, cave, the guide talked a lot about things like cave kisses and good luck and all. apparently, for each drop of water the cave lets on you, you have a year of good luck. this is more of cave drool. but it's good drool.
really, cave, you're the only one who could drool on someone and still have them make it out into some kind of romantic sentiment of good charm and luck.
Friday, March 14, 2014
And the rockets reckling...
scene: 8th grade english class. the teacher asks us to write out the star-spangled banner. because, you know, we are good americans and know the national anthem. sure, you hear it at baseball games, and other sports events just to remind the crowd that, yes, this mindless gravitation towards people throwing spheres at each other and celebrating how far that sphere goes, is purely american. we are american, let's sing and shoot each other.
i'd say i had most of the lyrics correct. but you know, you just hear these things. so i wrote "and the rockets reckling, the bombs bursting in air..." because "reckling" meant like sizzling and spattering out. turns out it's not a word. my teacher wasn't impressed. it's red glare, she said. red glare. how boring.
may your day be reckling with happiness.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
On Dictionary Definitions
Always helpful.
My version, utilizing a false word that comes about from lack of sleep.
I have a (goobleck) of cats.
What's a (goobleck)?
You know, like a (goobleck) quanity.
Oh, got it.
Explaining the Title of this Blog
(dedicated to hannah walters)
(of course)
a bird pooped on me. too juvenile. a bird shitted on me. sounds like a seventh grader just learned a new word. a bird shat on me. there we go. nice and professional verbage change.
evidently dinosaurs were basically the lovechild of a chicken and an crocodile. (don't overthink this for your own sake, please). so when a bird shits on you, it's like god is telling you that you are no different than a mouse being shat on by a t-rex. (speaking of which, a nebraska man once changed his name to tyrannosaurus rex because it was 'cooler' than his given name. i like to think his given name was something like frank. that would explain a lot) you are insignificant, but lucky enough to be lucky enough to be in the spot exactly where bird waste happens to fall. kinda amazing physics, man.
they say that if water in a cave drops on you, it's kissing you. if a bird shits on you, it's good luck.
may you be shat on by all of the birds.
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