Are Blue Whales Jerks? Yes.
"You should lay off the krill, babe.
You've put on some weight."
Don't ever fall for
Cyanobacteria.
They'll just break your heart.
"Your mesoglea
must be jelly, because jam
don't contract like that."
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Jerks of the Sea: A Reprise
Are Blue Whales Jerks? Yes.
"You should lay off the krill, babe.
You've put on some weight."
Don't ever fall for
Cyanobacteria.
They'll just break your heart.
"Your mesoglea
must be jelly, because jam
don't contract like that."
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Lame Urban Legends
#3
This guy is driving through Alabama and meets these strangers who invite him to go to a party where he gets absolutely hammered and blacks out. He wakes up the next morning completely disoriented and doesn’t know where he is. He has this sharp pain in his lower back and when he cranes his head around he can see a fresh bandage has been taped there. A doctor tells him that last night his kidney was surgically removed. Then a nurse comes in and says that he was lucky he wrecked his car so close to the hospital or he would have died before they could remove his crushed kidney.
Don't drink and drive.
#4
Did you hear that this guy just escaped from the state mental hospital? It's on all the news stations. And, get this, he has a hook (!) for a hand--one of those prosthetic hook-things that can grab and stuff. Guy lost his real hand in Kabul. Pretty sad actually. He has crazybad PTSD. Wanna go make out in the woods?
This guy is driving through Alabama and meets these strangers who invite him to go to a party where he gets absolutely hammered and blacks out. He wakes up the next morning completely disoriented and doesn’t know where he is. He has this sharp pain in his lower back and when he cranes his head around he can see a fresh bandage has been taped there. A doctor tells him that last night his kidney was surgically removed. Then a nurse comes in and says that he was lucky he wrecked his car so close to the hospital or he would have died before they could remove his crushed kidney.
Don't drink and drive.
#4
Did you hear that this guy just escaped from the state mental hospital? It's on all the news stations. And, get this, he has a hook (!) for a hand--one of those prosthetic hook-things that can grab and stuff. Guy lost his real hand in Kabul. Pretty sad actually. He has crazybad PTSD. Wanna go make out in the woods?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Lame Urban Legends
#1.
So the story goes that there was once this extremely ancient hideous crone who lived in that farmhouse on Tucker Road--the one that's all falling apart now. So yeah, she lived there and she had this pear tree out front that grew crazy mad pears that everyone wanted to eat but she was always like "Don't touch my pears" when kids would come by. "Don't touch my pears!" "Don't touch my pears!" I'm sure it got really old after a while. So then like these two kids decided, eff it, we want some pears, so they waited until it got dark and then crept super-silently to the crone's house and proceeded to stuff themselves with pears until they almost horked. Almost. And then they high-fived each other and went back home.
But the next day, while the kids were laying home sick in bed from having eaten such a prodigious amount of pears the night before, the old crone came into the house. Their parents were out in the field or some shit. Right. So she comes into the house and they can hear her, over and over again, saying "Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears?" And they are seriously freaked out, because this woman is seriously ancient and seriously ugly and therefore must be seriously evil. They can hear her in the kitchen: Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? Then they can hear her on the bottom stair: Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? Then she is at the end of the hallway, still like Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? And then, oh and the kids are just about wetting the bed because they are so scared that this evil witch is going to come into the room and stab them or disembowel them or something, and then the door opens sloooooooooowly and then the witch is in the doorway! (!!!) And then she is at the foot of the bed that the kids are in (I forgot to mention that they shared a bed since it's old timey or they were poor or something) she is at the foot of the bed and the kids are crying under the covers WHO ATE MY PEARS? WHO ATE MY PEARS? And then she yanks the blanket off the bed, exposing the two crying, snotty, shaking kids and she says, "Listen you little bastards, I was going to use those pears to make preserves for the jelly competition at the fair in September, which I have won four years in a row, but now I don't have enough pears to make it, so thank you for ruining one of the few pleasures left to an old woman like myself. I hope you both feel really bad about what you've done," and then she left.
AND if you go into that farm house on Tucker Road, it's said you can still hear the sounds of her quietly weeping into the empty mason jars that had been intended to hold all her prize-winning pear preserves.
True Story
#2
My cousin goes to Loyalla and she knows this couple that went to Mexico for spring break and the whole time they were there, the girl was just bitching and moaning about how much she wanted to get one of those nasty hairless Mexican dogs, and she just kept at it for days until her boyfriend was ready to kill himself. So he finally was like, OK, Get a damn dog, which she did. She bought him from one of those "chicle chicle" kids for about $5 American and she named it Chalupa. Then they went back to Chicago and they had a dinner party and one of the guests there was a veterinarian, so when the woman brought the dog out to meet everyone, he was like, "OH MY GOD!!! I hate to tell you guys this, but this dog is severely malnourished. Poor thing. You should put him on a special diet. I'll write down what you need to buy at the store."
So the story goes that there was once this extremely ancient hideous crone who lived in that farmhouse on Tucker Road--the one that's all falling apart now. So yeah, she lived there and she had this pear tree out front that grew crazy mad pears that everyone wanted to eat but she was always like "Don't touch my pears" when kids would come by. "Don't touch my pears!" "Don't touch my pears!" I'm sure it got really old after a while. So then like these two kids decided, eff it, we want some pears, so they waited until it got dark and then crept super-silently to the crone's house and proceeded to stuff themselves with pears until they almost horked. Almost. And then they high-fived each other and went back home.
But the next day, while the kids were laying home sick in bed from having eaten such a prodigious amount of pears the night before, the old crone came into the house. Their parents were out in the field or some shit. Right. So she comes into the house and they can hear her, over and over again, saying "Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears?" And they are seriously freaked out, because this woman is seriously ancient and seriously ugly and therefore must be seriously evil. They can hear her in the kitchen: Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? Then they can hear her on the bottom stair: Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? Then she is at the end of the hallway, still like Who ate my pears? Who ate my pears? And then, oh and the kids are just about wetting the bed because they are so scared that this evil witch is going to come into the room and stab them or disembowel them or something, and then the door opens sloooooooooowly and then the witch is in the doorway! (!!!) And then she is at the foot of the bed that the kids are in (I forgot to mention that they shared a bed since it's old timey or they were poor or something) she is at the foot of the bed and the kids are crying under the covers WHO ATE MY PEARS? WHO ATE MY PEARS? And then she yanks the blanket off the bed, exposing the two crying, snotty, shaking kids and she says, "Listen you little bastards, I was going to use those pears to make preserves for the jelly competition at the fair in September, which I have won four years in a row, but now I don't have enough pears to make it, so thank you for ruining one of the few pleasures left to an old woman like myself. I hope you both feel really bad about what you've done," and then she left.
AND if you go into that farm house on Tucker Road, it's said you can still hear the sounds of her quietly weeping into the empty mason jars that had been intended to hold all her prize-winning pear preserves.
True Story
#2
My cousin goes to Loyalla and she knows this couple that went to Mexico for spring break and the whole time they were there, the girl was just bitching and moaning about how much she wanted to get one of those nasty hairless Mexican dogs, and she just kept at it for days until her boyfriend was ready to kill himself. So he finally was like, OK, Get a damn dog, which she did. She bought him from one of those "chicle chicle" kids for about $5 American and she named it Chalupa. Then they went back to Chicago and they had a dinner party and one of the guests there was a veterinarian, so when the woman brought the dog out to meet everyone, he was like, "OH MY GOD!!! I hate to tell you guys this, but this dog is severely malnourished. Poor thing. You should put him on a special diet. I'll write down what you need to buy at the store."
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