I’ve you haven’t visited the Uncyclopedia I strongly suggest the articles on God, Sex and Ted Stevens. This is easily the best implementation of wiki software man has ever know. Well, except wikipedia.
UnCylopedia
I’ve you haven’t visited the Uncyclopedia I strongly suggest the articles on God, Sex and Ted Stevens. This is easily the best implementation of wiki software man has ever know. Well, except wikipedia.
Explicit: NIMBY (not in my balls, y'all)
The title’s a bit of a stretch, anyway…
I was watching a documentary on the history of Marijuana legislation and an ExtenZe commercial popped up claiming that their substance was “scientifically proven” to give you a massive dong. They then cut to a fake lab where 6 fake scientists are around a comically small fake lab bench. Then I notice in horror that the substances in the beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks are fucking glowing. I don’t care what you think it is, but unless I contract urethral cancer I’m not letting anything that glows in the dark to get into my junk. I have principles and so should you.
Explicit: NIMBY (not in my balls, y'all)
The title’s a bit of a stretch, anyway…
I was watching a documentary on the history of Marijuana legislation and an ExtenZe commercial popped up claiming that their substance was “scientifically proven” to give you a massive dong. They then cut to a fake lab where 6 fake scientists are around a comically small fake lab bench. Then I notice in horror that the substances in the beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks are fucking glowing. I don’t care what you think it is, but unless I contract urethral cancer I’m not letting anything that glows in the dark to get into my junk. I have principles and so should you.
Carpentry Heathen
My weekend project was setting up my file server with Windows Home Server and organizing the orgy of cables in my closet. I didn’t trust my ability to find the studs in my closet as they were irregularly spaced and the drywall was double-thick so while I was out buying a shelf I picked up an inexpensive stud-finder.
I returned home and my dad, seeing the stud-finder entered a diatribe on how stud findered were plagues upon the planet as they were nothing but handyman snake oil. I explained how the device could either be based on capacitance or ultrasound (turns out it was capacitance) which my father immediately dismissed with an argumentative fervor rivaling WWII Germany’s dismissal of nuclear chemistry as Jew science. I was using it post my router when he walked in and saw it in use. He watched for a moment and left saying “that thing wouldn’t work if the nails weren’t so obvious”.
That's one way of thinking of it
Maybe in your country that's what DJs do
One of my Indian coworkers was planning a surprise party for a friend who’s graduating from college and was having trouble finding a track whose main theme was congratulations. She found a track by Juliana Theory that would have been wildly inappropriate (read: hilarious if used). This irony occurred again with The Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard, and Blue October when she finally stumbled upon one that seemed to do by some group I can’t recall. I asked her if she thought the DJs would have the track to which she replied “they’re DJs, if they don’t have it, they just sing it”.
Maybe in your country that's what DJs do
One of my Indian coworkers was planning a surprise party for a friend who’s graduating from college and was having trouble finding a track whose main theme was congratulations. She found a track by Juliana Theory that would have been wildly inappropriate (read: hilarious if used). This irony occurred again with The Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard, and Blue October when she finally stumbled upon one that seemed to do by some group I can’t recall. I asked her if she thought the DJs would have the track to which she replied “they’re DJs, if they don’t have it, they just sing it”.
A cookie, of the damned
I got into work about 3.5 hours late today in a last-ditch attempt to cram in enough sleep to kill my cold and was still at work around 6:00 PM when Chris Fosmire walked in with a bucket of square buttery-looking cookies. Chris grabbed a cookie and his coffee, sitting down in his Chair of Science and began coughing so I simply tried one.
I experience bad food like most people experience car accidents (and vice versa); I see that something terrible is about to happen and I try to summon my reflexes to avert disaster but usually fail. On the other hand, when I’m about to get into a car accident (or run over kittens, another story) I take my hands and feet off the wheel and pedals, respectively and brace for impact. I could hear the screams from the bundle of nerves with the painful task of transferring disgust-ions (the fundamental particle of crappy food) to my brain and back. The cookie was supposed to a cinnamon butter cookie but was something far more sinister.
- I think the cinnamon was replaced with pepper
- I think the vegetable oil was replaced with Italian dressing
- I think the flour was replaced with shredded sandpaper
Chris and I were unsure what to do with these infernal cookies until inspiration struck. We put it in the marketing department breakroom with a innocuous sign that said “Thank You!” without saying who it came from. Worse than a baby at the doorstep.
A cookie, of the damned
I got into work about 3.5 hours late today in a last-ditch attempt to cram in enough sleep to kill my cold and was still at work around 6:00 PM when Chris Fosmire walked in with a bucket of square buttery-looking cookies. Chris grabbed a cookie and his coffee, sitting down in his Chair of Science and began coughing so I simply tried one.
I experience bad food like most people experience car accidents (and vice versa); I see that something terrible is about to happen and I try to summon my reflexes to avert disaster but usually fail. On the other hand, when I’m about to get into a car accident (or run over kittens, another story) I take my hands and feet off the wheel and pedals, respectively and brace for impact. I could hear the screams from the bundle of nerves with the painful task of transferring disgust-ions (the fundamental particle of crappy food) to my brain and back. The cookie was supposed to a cinnamon butter cookie but was something far more sinister.
- I think the cinnamon was replaced with pepper
- I think the vegetable oil was replaced with Italian dressing
- I think the flour was replaced with shredded sandpaper
Chris and I were unsure what to do with these infernal cookies until inspiration struck. We put it in the marketing department breakroom with a innocuous sign that said “Thank You!” without saying who it came from. Worse than a baby at the doorstep.