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Posts Tagged ‘WTF’

The Time I Accidentally Sexually Harassed a Personal Trainer

I’ve been on a workout kick lately. I usually have a pattern of realizing that summer around the corner in late spring and then go into beast mode. Beast mode being, I get on a treadmill and bro out in the mirror at my gym with the 10 pound pink weights. You know hard-core.

I go to a small gym that is across the street from my office, and it has regulars. If you go there enough you’ll recognize literally everyone who walks in. There aren’t strangers and everyone gives one another an obligatory chin nod when you walk in. The gym also has trainers who run their sessions there. My story has to do with one of them:

One seemingly innocuous evening a trainer, whose name I don’t know because we’re only at the chin-nod stage of our acquaintance, was finishing up a session. I was also finishing up making a fool of myself with a medicine ball on a mat. I was trying to do an ab workout, but I feel like what I was doing looked like a poor attempt at a rhythmic gymnastics routine. (There were far too many unintentional leg kicks and wriggling to look like I was doing anything athletic.)

Russia's Daria Dmitrieva competes using the ball in her individual all-around gymnastics qualification match at the Wembley Arena during the London 2012 Olympic Games

Yeah I totally looked like this.

As a note of description: the trainer in question is super nice, and looks like a young, non-mullet having John Stamos. I know that he isn’t everyone’s dream boat, but those people may not have been 90’s kids who religiously watched Full House. I mean HAVE MERCY!

So Stamos-doppleganger finished with his session and standing in front of some stacked cubbies everyone uses to store their stuff in while working out when I walked over. My cubby was underneath the one he was using and he had his back facing me while I awkwardly stood there waiting. He hadn’t noticed me, and I wasn’t sure how to let him know I needed to get to my stuff.  I opened my mouth and this bomb fell out:

“Hi excuse me, I just need to get to my cubby-”

*He moves out of the way*

“Oh yeah thanks I didn’t want to do a reach-around and…”

At that moment all time and space held its collective breath while all the blood in my brain raced to my feet. I think it did that out of self-preservation because the pain of processing the embarrassment coming my way was enough to take me to point break. I grabbed my stuff and walked to my car while looking at my phone like it had the answer to time travel in it to avoid eye contact.

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I was so embarrassed that I had to sit in my car and just stare while I thought about what I had just done to myself. Also during the drive home and for much of the night, right when I started to relax I thought of what would happen when I went to the gym again and saw Stamos trainer guy as I knew I would. Right when I was worrying about that the whole recent scene would pop up again and I’d hear myself say it “reach-around.” Like an ever-present ouroburos that was just hovering in the background of my thoughts, the cycle of hearing the moment would start head to tail any time I’d relax.

 

Yes, I have been back to the gym since the unintentional service offer. And yes it did take a pump up speech from me, to me, to get me back in there. Turns out it’s fine, and I’ve been doing my regular late-spring gym ratting in peace ever since. To Stamos the trainer guy’s credit, I didn’t hear a laugh from him or even feel a stare. I prayed that he didn’t hear me, but I know that was unlikely.

Thanks Uncle Jesse look-alike. You’re a pal.

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Dissecting Frat Boy Style

October 5, 2012 2 comments

I had hoped that this would have been a thing of the past by now, but my recent walk on a college campus has proved me wrong. I was on Georgia Tech’s campus, on my way to a restaurant when I saw it. Frat boy style is alive and well. I was hoping that this particular style of clothes, and frankly the attitude that typically accompanies them, would be safely only a blip in douchebag history, but there before me was a pink shirted, boat shoed row of dudes that I irrationally didn’t like as soon as I laid eyes on them.

There is a certain look that distinguishes the fratsters from the rest of the coeds. I would mostly describe it as “Country Club mixed with Yacht club with a side of rophenol.” College-wear style changes almost by the second, but this particular jam has been worn and is still worn consistently.

Let’s break it down:

Pastels

I don’t know why this color palette was chosen, but it seems to be Step One in acquiring the look. I suppose it has to do with the color scheme that was donned by people at country clubs, or as the frattiest of frat dudes refer to it just “the club.” For bros that have traditionally been known to be misogynistic they sure like to rock the hell out of some pink.

Croakies

In keeping with the whole “I have a boat” scheme you will almost never see one of these bros without croakies. (The little foam thing that keeps your sunglasses around your neck) The croakies must be well worn and nasty looking; they cannot be in pristine ‘never seen ocean time’ condition. There must also be dried sweat on them from that time you played 18 holes on the golf course or 18 holes with a goth chick you’re secretly banging and hiding from the brotherhood.

Boat shoes

Wear these shoes at all times. Winter. Rain. Church. Gay Club. Wait no, not there…. One thing though, never, ever wear socks along with these shoes. They must be disgusting and you must be able to smell them at all times otherwise they don’t count. They must look like you’ve actually worn them on a nautical vessel, even though the closest you’ve been to a yacht is pontoon rental you chipped in 25 bucks for last summer.

Hair:

The swoopier (I don’t know exactly how to describe it I guess swoopy fits?) the better; if you can flick your hair around and have most of it in your eyes, awesome. This will actually help you out when you’re hungover in class and need to sleep undetected.  It has to look like you didn’t spend any time on it, but in actuality you spend an inordinate time getting it to look perfectly undone. If it doesn’t look a certain way your day is JUST RUINED.

Bonus Round:

For extra points you must always have on you: a coozie, a pot of skoal that has been in your khakis so long there’s a ring on your back pocket, and a tattoo on your side that is supposed to mean ‘strength’ but in fact means picnic table. If you can also pull off a sport coat jacket with plaid or sear sucker shorts you will be a god among frat men.

Can we all agree this guy looks a little date rapey?

I have witnessed and heard about this Greek man uniform on campuses all over.  It’s interesting that so many guys would subscribe to such a strange style and seemingly stick with it no matter how they dressed when they first started matriculating at their universities.

I equate their clothes to the camouflage technique that zebras use when they are in the wild.

The technique is called dazzling, and means confusing the predator or enemy by moving a conspicuous pattern. The prey or target is visible, but hard to hit. So if you’re somewhat insecure, here’s a good way to cloak your feelings. Join the herd and subscribe to the lifestyle. It will be harder for everyone to figure out you’re a jerk…. Perhaps this whole pastel disaster is just some sort of coping mechanism?

Are you coming to the mixer? It’s gonna be a rager!!

At an institution like college that is purposed specifically for ‘higher learning’ you’d think one of these bros would look around and be like “Hey, we all look like idiots.” I would imagine because of the pack mentality no one ever deviates from the preexisting norm, and if one does he’s quickly sent out into the wild away from the herd. Usually out to take office in the Student Council which they try and make cool, but it never really happens.

I think I was more aware of the fratsters this time on GT’s campus due to the news out recently about the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity at the University of Tennessee. It was indefinitely suspended and their charter was revoked for giving their pledges alcohol enemas sending one to the hospital in critical condition with a .4 BAC. What pray tell, is an alcohol enema? Apparently it’s all the rage these days and is commonly called “Butt Chugging” In the Pike’s case; they had taken boxed wine and had their pledges ingest the alcohol via their rectums by inserting a tube into their anus. Sounds gross, yes, and it is also be lethal.

I’m hoping this is an isolated case, but I get the feeling that this flavor of hazing is not unprecedented.  It goes without saying that any organization that forces you to risk your life by consuming alcohol with your ass is not worth the implicated price they are asking. I would assume that with a national news story getting out about this ‘Butt Chugging’ should become a thing of the past, and like shark bite news, but I think once there is one story out about something this weird there’s usually, at least, 3 more on the cusp of breaking.

Please don’t give me a Franzia enema

I find that within fraternities, the thought process that seeps through all of the members tends to be one homogenous agenda. With very few exceptions (yes I have in fact met and befriended fratsters), frats follow a pack mentality and any individuality including one’s own moral compass is forgone for a personality that has been predestined for its members. BUT  your  new personality may come with a nickname like “Laser” so at least there’s that.

College should be an awesome time where you feel free to be exactly who you are. I find that most fraternities don’t allow that kind of hippy talk, but know this: If you’re thinking for yourself, and creating your own style you won’t have to worry about some dude who doesn’t have your best interest at heart and is putting you at risk. I’m going to venture a guess that you’ll always be happier drinking beverages using the hole on your face than being forced to use the one in your ass.

Honey Boo Boo Is Bad For America

August 20, 2012 5 comments

I didn’t want to watch it. I didn’t. I had heard the rumors and had seen promos for Honey Boo Boo, but was adamant that this was not something I was going to subject myself to. I was determined to save my snarky self from what was sure to be an hour of slack jawed viewing. It’s been  two weeks since the premiere of Honey Boo Boo, and I relented out of sheer morbid[ly obese] curiosity. So now, I’ll get into the horrifying details, and the impact I think this piece of entertainment has.

TLC, the same network that brings us Long Island Medium and My Strange Addiction, has rolled out a show entitled Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. TLC does actually stand for The Learning Channel, but really TLC? Who are you trying to kid at this point; you have a show about people who eat toilet paper as an ‘addiction.’ Here Comes Honey Boo Boo stars six year old Alana Thompson, aka Honey Boo Boo, who was a break out star from the show Toddlers and Tiaras, also by TLC. Alana ambled onto to the small screen and effectively stole the internet’s heart with her quirky sayings and sassy ‘only gets stage-time during the day, second string stripper’ delivery.

I really want to punch her in the face. I know she’s just a child. I KNOW.

The show revolves around Alana and her family who live in McIntyre, Georgia. It’s bad enough that when I Google things about Georgia, it auto-finishes my questions with: “Where in Georgia can I…marry my cousin.” Now Georgians have to deal with this shame too? Anyway, to add to their charm the Thomson family has nicknames that they all go by. I’m praying these were thought up by some sadistic producer, they go as follows:

  • June: Mama (Ok this is not actually a nickname, TLC)
  • Dad, I never caught his actual name: Sugar Bear (Huh? He’s a chalk miner not a pimp)
  • Laryn 12: Pumpkin (Ok, not bad)
  • Jessica 15: Chubbs (And we just nosedived.)
  • Anna 17: Chickadee (I’m assuming this is also her stage name)

I suppose the premise of the show was to follow the Thompson family around as they prepare Alana for her upcoming beauty pageants. However, clearly the real point of HCHBB is to showcase the Thompsons in all of their rednecky glory. It is a 2012 version of the old travelling medicine shows, complete with freaks, storytelling, and I’m sure, a flea circus of their own.

Cringe worthy moments I barely got through:

The Etiquette Coach:  Honey Boo boo and Pumpkin both had an etiquette lesson after Alana had received feedback from pageant judges that she needed to be more refined. I’m not totally on the side of the woman who was the etiquette coach, because she seemed like an elitist asshole, but I feel like the Thompson kids caused her to have some sort of breakdown. Throughout this segment you hear the coach say “Very good” in a hesitant I-don’t-know-what-else-to-say way after single thing that happens. It may be the editing, but I like to think that she just short-circuited and kept defaulting to that particular statement as a coping mechanism.

Bobbing for Pig’s Feet: Instead of apples, they used a Tupperware full of pig’s feet as part of a ‘celebration’ activity. Um, I’m not a vegetarian by any means. In fact, I have been looking up ways to make my own bacon infused vodka to make kick ass bloody marys with, but this was just….I can’t even…No amount of Pepto Bismol could ease my stomach if I was ever forced to do something like that.

Chickadee’s Sonogram: So there was a moment of science when the Thompsons went to go see a sonogram of 17 year old Chickadee’s baby. What should have been a sweet moment was just a weird amalgamation of questions and talking about biscuits (what the Thompsons call vaginas). Chickadee also asked the sonogram tech “What’s a[n] abdomen?” Can we make this a rule: If you don’t know which body part is your abdomen, you cannot have sex with other humans until you figure it out.

Well these don’t look delicious anymore. Thanks for ruining this too Thompsons.

All and all, I think that TLC had more than enough fodder to create a total caricature of the Thompsons. It does appear that they are a functioning family unit that looks out for their own, but clearly that was not the point of the show. I would say that they are being exploited, but I get the feeling that June “Mama” Thompson is going into this with eyes open seeing only dollar signs. I hope whatever money they bring in betters their quality of life, but only time will tell.

This show did push me over the edge in terms of my disdain for TLC.  Essentially, all of their shows are based around people who seemingly choose to live these totally ignorant lives. By giving these people television shows, it gives their incuriosity validity. Obliviousness for the world and other facets of life should not be treated as a cute personality quirk. Ideally, that type of lifestyle should be frowned upon, not get you a paycheck. In an increasingly global world, this type of mind set will eventually rear its ugly head and will take us all down. Honey Boo Boo is mind-numbing brain Novocain ya’ll.

Nothing illustrates this mentality more than child beauty pageants. It indoctrinates into little girls and boys that the way they look is of the utmost importance, far beyond any of their other features in terms of priority. Their looks must be up kept for strangers that create a panel of judges who don’t know them at all. Strangers that look like they would be in the news for befriending and then killing elderly people. And TLC keeps coming out with more and more shows about these pageantry freaks.

So you might be saying, what’s so bad about pageants? Is it really bad that little kids want to look nice? And also maybe, it’s just silly entertainment that we all like to watch.

I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it.

This outlook and ignorance of the world makes it ok for people like this to be famous:

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Look at it. LOOK AT IT!!

Yes, the Kardashians. Famous for being famous, and all of them are totally clueless to the world around them. There will be more of these people if this acceptance of idiocy continues.

What have you done TLC? .

Car Flirting will F**king Kill You

August 6, 2012 2 comments

Disclaimer: If you are already a terrible driver or are newly licensed, the following tips are NOT intended for your use on the roadways. You would probably clip or kill someone like me and that would suck.

So I live in Atlanta (as the title of this blog asserts.)  Atlanta is known for its terrible traffic. Every year this city lands itself in the top ten for being the worst in congestion, and by and far I’d say that’s accurate. Although when I bring that up to anyone who lives in ANY other city, they will always argue how their city is the actually worst.  As if it’s some sort of traffic-penis measuring contest. Here’s a truth bomb: I don’t care about how you got stuck on the I 85 for 2 hours, I’m pissed you interrupted my story about how I thought I saw Jason Bateman sitting in traffic next to me . I suppose what this pissing contest indicates is that we live in a world where traffic and long commutes are more common than not.  They can be stressful and something must be done to alleviate this terrible dilemma we now find ourselves in.

This would have been an awesome story

Never fear, I have created a list of 5 techniques you can use in your own car to ease your traffic woes:

  1. The Somber Music Video

This particular technique works the best if it is raining, but it doesn’t have to be. The idea is to put on a serious or sad song and pretend like you’re in a music video whilst looking out your window. Hand gestures are particularly important, I like to take the back of my hand and slowly slide it down my driver’s side window for effect. If you can do this while sitting at a stoplight and staring directly at the person stopped next to you, extra points.

Suggested Songs:

Kiss From a Rose, Seal

Everybody Hurts, R.E.M.

Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth, Primitive Radio Gods

*Any song by the Weepies*

Do not smile. It will kill this moment

2. The Celebrity Interview

In my city there are a number of morning radio shows to choose from. (I don’t suggest listening to one unless you are forced to by someone sitting in your car with a white hot cow brander pointed at your temple) I’ll say with the utmost certainty that the people who host these shows are the most obnoxious type of person you can encounter. There is one particular morning show here that is massively popular, and the people that host it are terrible garbage people who pander to their audience by spouting off opinions (most likely not theirs at all) that are meant to drum up shouting phone calls.  I want to kick them in their faces. However, they do get some good celebs on the show.

For this tip, all you have to do is answer the questions the morning DJ’s ask the celeb they have in studio. The more boring the celeb the better. Here’s an example of how this becomes fun:

Awful Morning DJ to Simon Cowell: So Simon, what are you up in your free time when X factor isn’t filming?

Your doctored Simon Cowell answer:  Well I’m trying to stage a comeback for roller blading, so I held an event in London last week called the Roller Balls. No one showed up except for Paula Abdul, so we decided to do whip-it’s in a dumpster nearby.

See, isn’t he much more interesting now? Suddenly, you have a new source of gossip!

Suggested boring celebs to answer for:

Gwenyth Paltrow

Tobey Maguire

January Jones

Spice it up people.

3.The Song Writer

With music becoming more homogenized these days, listening to new songs can become confusing. Are you listening to the same songs over and over again? Kind of.  The differences between modern day manufactured artists are minimal, so I say mix it up and put in your own flare with new song lyrics!

Example

My Version of Carly Rae Jensen’s, Call Me Maybe chorus:

Hey I just met you

And this is crazy

But the number you gave me at the bar didn’t work

So I followed you home

And climbed in your window

Wow. Who knew Carly was so fucked up?  I did. I knew she was.

Monster!

4. The Car Dancer

Here is where my disclaimer at the top really comes into play, because this tip requires the most movement.  This one is a dance. First you must select awesome tunes to shake your thang to.

The dance starts in your shoulders, to the beat: Up down Up down

Then get a chin nod going. (Beware of duckface so keep those lips in control)

Now is where it gets sexual. Throw an occasional belly roll in the mix. If you can’t do a belly roll just hump your seat, it basically looks the same.

There, now you’re having fun AND you’re burning calories! One thing though, do not dance with your right leg. You need it to push the accelerated and more importantly the brakes. Never forget this!

Suggested Dance music:

Good Vibrations, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

Loud Pipes, Ratatat

1940, The Submarines

*Anything song off of the original Jock Jams CD*

5. The Pale Thigh Driver

This final tip is only for use when you have an exceptionally terrible commute or road trip ahead of you.

Drive. Without. Pants.

That’s right, take off those britches/jeans/jeggings (weirdo) and get comfortable, it is going to be a long ride. The no-pants technique works because of all the extra sensation you get that you normally do not feel when you’re constricted to the social norm of lower body garments. It works best if you have a leather interior. Puttin’ skin on skin baby!

So there you have it, those are my tips for staying sane on the road. I’m not saying these tricks are the definitive way to keep yourself amused, but they certainly work for me.

I will leave you with one final nugget of car wisdom that I feel very passionate about. Do not car flirt.  By this I mean making eyes, blowing kisses, or air humping to other vehicles around you. I never condone this and don’t do it because of this:

I have a friend Polly* who is a serial car-flirter. I was riding in her car one day, and we were stopped next to a fellow in a rust bucket that looked like it was a Buick and Cadillac welded together. She turned to me and said, “Watch this” and proceeded to blow kisses and yell things like “Heeeey.” (She somehow made ‘Hey’ three syllables.)  This elicited an excited bunch of whistles and engine revving from the rust bucket driver who looked like Sling blade. I freaked the fuck out! Sure, in Polly’s mind this was all in fun, but that dude was probably a serial-killer-rapist-baby puncher. I knew he was going to kill us. He was going to follow us home and make a quilt with our hides. The car flirting continued on for what seemed like 30 minutes, I don’t really know I think I blacked out, and yes he did follow her car for 17 agonizing miles.

French Fried Pertaters

And then he killed Polly.

Ok no he didn’t, but don’t do that people. You’ll get yourself killed!

Also car flirting puts out a whore-y vibe from your car and no amount of sage burning gets rid of that.

Happy driving folks!

**Name changed to protect the insane

If you think of other somber songs, dancing songs, or celebs you want included tweet me @OdetoFunny

50 Shades of Snark: My take on 50 Shades of Grey

July 30, 2012 1 comment

So let’s discuss the big Grey elephant in the room shall we? Fifty Shades of Grey, a book by British author E.L. James (no relation to the E.L. Fudge Keebler Elves) has taken the horny world by storm. The book trilogy took just eleven weeks to pass the one million paperback marker, breaking the record previously set by Dan Brown’s, The Da Vinci Code*. The sales are still skyrocketing and there is no telling how many copies will be sold by the end of this year. It is safe to say that E.L. has established herself as a household name.

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Her smile says “I have waaaay more money than you could ever imagine”

My pals told me they had only heard about the book while at a bachelorette party from all of the ladies there.  They were raving about it, and sparked my friends’ curiosity enough to get them to read it as well.  I was doubtful about buying them. I hadn’t really gotten into any books since had I re-read the Tolkien series. After that, my attempts at starting other books usually resulted in me staring at the Tolkien books while Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares to You, played in my head (a single tear streaming down my face.)

I bought the first book.  I bought it on my Kindle so if I was ever in public reading I could be “sneaky” about it, and people would probably assume I was reading the complete works of Dickens…Instead of something to do with the work of dick-ing. Boom!  Am I butter? Because I am on a roll with this wordplay.

Anyway…

For anyone who hasn’t read the 50 series, here is a brief recap of what sums up the plot of all three books:

“Oh I’m so bookish, virginal and independent I’m not even thinking about men. Wait, who is that?”

It’s only been 2 minutes but I’m hopelessly in love with you

“How can you love me? You’re rich and handsome and I’m bookish, and a poorly written every-woman character?”

“We can’t be together because of [conflict]” 

Danger

Weird Sex
More danger

More weird sex

Cliffhanger ending

Ka-blam, you’ve just read Fifty Shades.

So I will say as books go, Fifty Shades is not that good. The plot is weak, and Ihave not read anything in the “steamy novel” genre so I have nothing to compare the sex scenes too, but I hear in terms of the smut world they are not well written either. The characters also don’t have enough grit for them to be truly relatable. I also think that James is giving Jane Austen a shameless nod by having the characters sometimes speak to each other like they are Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. They address each other all like “Mr. Grey” “Ms. Steele,” “Mrs.Dillhole” instead of using their first names like normal twenty-somethings. James’ literary nod must make Jane Austen roll over in grave to be even alluded to in a bodice-ripping, grocery store paperback. Or maybe, like the rest of the world, she’s touching off to 50 Shades. I’m going to hell for that comment. I’m sorry Jane.

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Forgive me.

The kicker of all this is: I.Kept.Reading. Why? I didn’t really know. All I knew is that I hated myself for it but, like a moth to the porn flame I was into books two and three of the trilogy. The massive sales of the books also points out to me that I was not the sole victim in the phenomenon.  It took me a long time to figure out why it was so successful, and then I realized it. Twilight.

Fifty Shades had originally been written as fan fiction for Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. The 50 books are a thinly veiled copy of the also-fantastically popular vampire series. The  significant difference between the two sets of books is the sex. And that’s when it hit me. In Meyers’ books the two main characters Edward and Bella were virgins until they were married and didn’t go all the way until well into the series. I remember when I was reading Twilight (Yes I know, I read those too and I hate me too) I got to a point where I was like JUST DO IT. They danced around the sex until they were married, and to add insult to injury it was really boring when they finally humped.

And this is where our pal E.L. comes in. She capitalized off of writing scenes that satiated the collectives’ frustration from Meyers’ lack of gettin’ down.E.L. James wrote the characters to be nearly identical to call into mind the Twilight series when you’re reading, and that unconsciously makes you want to continue on through the whole terrible series. Kind of like letting you relive the Twilight series in a sense, except this time there are riding crops involved. Screw you Stephenie Meyers, now look what you’ve unleashed.

Now that I solved the riddle of the Smut Sphinx, I hear daily some social ramifications of the 50 series. People are speculating that there might be a slight Grey Baby boom as a result of young couples reading this book. I think that’s kind of sad, but maybe it’s good that it is opening people’s minds to new ways of expressing themselves? You know those Grey babies are probably going to be a little messed up. I picture them as Ed Hardy wearing douches that scream “YOLO!” as they try and do amateur parkour.

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Kill it. Kill it with fire.

Also apparently some middle aged and older couples are reigniting the passion in their marriages by using the book as a beginner’s guide of BDSM. To that I say, I guess great? You know, older folks doin’ it, getting down, gettin’ biz-zay, good for them…something, something I just barfed.

I will say this, good for E.L. James for thinking of writing something the world can easily grasp onto. That was genius on her part. I’m sure she’s laughing her British ass off all the way to the bank whenever snarky critics talk about her series. However, I wouldn’t recommend Fifty Shades. Find something else, anything else. As it is there is already going to be a 50 Shades movie and that is bad enough. But will I see it?

Yes. God I hate me.

*Fact Source: UK Daily

Tell Tail Signs of the Apocalpyse

July 23, 2012 1 comment

So there is a lot of hub-bub over this year being 2012, and the predictions of the End of the World. Most notably, the Ancient Mayan calendar explicitly dictates that the end of the world will come on December 21, 2012. The calendar moves in a mathematically linear format that coincide with the movement of the stars; ticking the ages by until it reaches this year.

Apocalypse fanatics now have a calendar to clench onto to tout their crazy, and this year is ripe for more weirdos to come out of the woodwork.  Remember that dude Harry Camping, the self- taught internet and radio preacher, who predicted that the world would end on May 21, 2011? Yes, there will be more of those.  Which really is just comedy writing itself.

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Sorry about that Har-bear, but at least you got to experience seeing The Avengers. Right?

I will say I am a complete skeptic on this whole issue.  I don’t think that the annihilation of the entire human race will come in one Michael Bay-esqe explosion.  I thoroughly am enjoying scoffing at people holding signs on the side walk screaming “Repent.”

 

 

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Look at this dillhole, probably ruining peoples’ days on their quiet way to Starbucks.

 I do, however, realize everything has a beginning and  an end, I just think it will be more organic and gradual than the fantastical musings of crazy people on the internet.

I am sure.

Or I was until I saw this.  I stumbled across this company and its goods recently, and its been haunting me ever since.

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What.The.Fuck.

The company Kigu creates tails for people to wear casually under “Smart sports jackets” out in everyday waking life. (You can check out the rest of their stuff at  www.kigu.co.uk but I will judge you for it) Now when I first encountered this I was mortified that it may be an American company, but no this organization is English, so this one is on you, United Kingdom.  Wearing tails is not a new thing. Children (at Halloween) and the Japanese rock them daily  (no disrespect but I do not understand their culture) . Surely,  however it must be a sign of the end of ages when this kind of couture is commonplace??!?

Here is the description for the “Fox Tail.”

The Fox Tail by TellTails is luxuriously bushy and soft to the touch. Ideal for distinguished gents and ladies alike, it really does look smashing under a smart jacket. Having said that, stick it on with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and you’ll look pretty dapper too! It attaches to the body with a comfortable, elasticated waistband.

 It’s the end of the God damned world people.

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Admittedly this one is kind of fun, and I hate myself for writing that.

So I leave you all to absorb this realization.  I’ve got to work on a bucket list, and see if I can somehow manage to seduce my childhood crush Devon Sawa between now and December 21st.  Lunch sounds good too, I have got to stand up from my desk and office chair, my dinosaur tail is chaffing like crazy.

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funwithcole.wordpress.com/

Because we all luvs LOLz.

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Ramblings From an Apathetic Adult Baby

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Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

I'm obsessed thank you very much.

obsession: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.

Life In A Nutshell

Website on how my life can be great or a living hell of confusion.

jensinewall

writer, designer, creative thinker

Dan Ariely

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We live to write and write to live ... professional writers talk about the craft and business of writing

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Splatter: on FILM

My view on films as I see them. Take it, laugh, share it, leave it. Above all, enjoy!

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