I’ll take that Premium D…

***Bonus post for my other post this week just being me posting about how I can’t post and the posting is f’ked up.***

***I may have just created a blogging black hole. Also, if you followed that, congratulations! You get a sucker.***

***This is that post I was having trouble with, I wanted to add a bunch of Beauty and the Beast GIFS but WordPress won’t let me because they hate me. Or you. Probably you.***

***I’ve since found out that it has something to do with the capabilities of WordPress.org over WordPress.com. I have to import my whole blog over to .org and find hosting and a bunch of other stuff to add GIFS. The moral of the story is no GIFs for you.***

***For now at least. No one knows what the future holds.***

I’ve been pulling some crazy days lately. All my days seem to be 18 hour days, but I’m working on super fun, creative projects so it’s okay.

One of the things I’m doing is launching a Podcast with one of my best friends (I’ll tell you about it soon!) and we actually have an event booked already, which has really put the pressure on our deadlines.

Instead of our weekly meeting last night, we decided to take a break from all the hard work over the last couple of months and go see Beauty and the Beast. It was…

AH-MUH-ZING.

And not just the movie. Or the soundtrack. Which I will be singing for a week.

But the tickets… we sprung for the “Premium D-Box Seats” and could. not. stop. giggling. Because we have the emotional maturity of 12-year-olds. (For those that don’t know, the Premium D seats are the ones that move and shake and shit.)

I didn’t realize the seat could be turned up or down, and for realz, the next time I go I’m going to ‘jack up the intensity of that Premium D’.

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!!! What?!?!?!

I’m fairly certain at this point they didn’t get named Premium D by accident.

What’s your best Premium D pun?

PS – Oh, and it’s Good Friday. Can anyone tell me what resurrection has to do with Easter Eggs, and why do they come from bunnies? It’s like religion was designed to make you stop asking questions. #zombiejesus

PPS –

 

The most glorious sports you will ever see.

Remember when I posted about this comedy gold? Well..

The man. The legend. The commentary. It’s back!

PS – My favourite part was the stretcher that said “Reserved for Sterling”. I’m dying.

I’m gonna be a millionaire…

Or responsible for the apocalypse.

Let me explain.

So I was at an event and having a lengthy conversation with a person I didn’t actually know. She knew me though. By name. And I am often too polite to ask “Who are you?” so I just pretend my way through the conversation.

Afterwards my friend came up to me and said, “Who was that?”

I don’t know,” I replied. “But she seems nice.”

That’s when we came up with a new invention. It’s like Shazam, an app you launch on your phone that listens to music and then tells you who it’s by, but for faces. You would discreetly launch it and point it at somebody and it would tell you who that person is.

We’re going to call it Whozami.

PS -The apocalypse because dozens of dystopian novels start with this type of software.

PPS – The only drawback is I can’t figure out how to discreetly point it at someone’s face. “Are you taking a picture of me?” “No! Shut up. I mean, just keep talking. Nothing weird happening here. You were talking about Bob from the general store? Can you keep your face still?”

PPPS – This sorta thing might already exist and they’re just not letting us pleebs use it.

PPPPS – The government is ruining my social life.

What’s up, Pinterest?

I’M BACK BITCHES!

Sorry for the extended absence. Life got pretty unsettled, but it’s calmed down. For a hot minute (a couple of days) I was working six jobs trying to make ends meet. SIX. Like some kind of masochistic psychopath. They say there’s no jobs. A job recession. Why?

BECAUSE I HAVE ALL THE JOBS.

Not anymore though! Now I’m just working one, super-awesome job and making a decent living. Also, they have my same twisted sense of humour. More on that later.

So today I got a notification from Pinterest:

WTF Pinterest?

WTF Pinterest?

What? Why?

Usually Pinterest is like:

“We’ve got new boards for you in tattoos.”

Or,

“We’ve got new boards for you in art.”

Which makes sense, cause I’ve pinned a bunch of those things. But my love affair with Pinterest ended and I pretty much stopped using it. So it’s been awhile since I responded.

And now I think I’ve unsettled Pinterest’s confidence, and it’s just taking stabs in the dark. Like:

“We’ve got recommended boards for you in, oh I don’t know, chicken?”

Get your shit together Pinterest. This is embarrassing for all of us.

 

Comment of the Day:

“Pinterest is really bad a working out what I actually want to see. I pinned one or two things to do with writing amid a bunch of art and books and knitting and other pins, and then it flooded me with ALL THE WRITING AND NOTHING ELSE. And they’re all the really negative articles (“10 mistakes writers make right before they get stabbed on the street by readers who hate them so much they’re willing to go to jail for the rest of their lives just to get rid of the writer and then also the writer goes to hell to be tortured for all eternity because the universe unanimously voted that they deserved it and apparently this overrides the writer’s belief that hell isn’t actually a thing”) that give me super writer’s block. And I can’t seem to re-train Pinterest to just show me art and books and weird nerdy knitting patterns and leave the writing alone.”

This is from Silence Killed the Dinosaurs. If you haven’t read that blog yet, you should. It’s hilarious. And awesome. Hilariously awesome. That’s like the highest level of blogging.

 

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It’s a wonder my family still talks to me…

Had the following conversation with my sister:

Running away to Mexico

It’s a wonder my friends and family still talk to me, considering my propensity for wandering far off-topic very quickly in weird and unexpected ways.

They deserve medals.

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Apparently I’m not maternal, pt. 2

Remember when I wrote about that hilarious conversation I had with a seven-year-old in which everybody concluded I’m not maternal?

If you didn’t read that, go read it now because otherwise this won’t make sense at all. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Ready?

I saw that kid the very next day and he said “Come here, I have something to tell you. It’s a secret.”

Then he whispered in my ear, in the creepiest kid voice (that somehow only kids under 10 do really well)

“I’m with the government.”

Touchè, kid, touchè.

That kid is going to grow up to have the greatest sense of humour ever. I like to think when historians look back on it, they’ll give me a little credit.

Me: 1      Kid: 1

PS – I’m working crazy hours right now, but I have some great stuff coming up for you. I can’t tell you more or I’ll give it all away.

An open letter to fortune cookies.

Dear Fortune Cookies,

Last week I got one of those cookies with the generic piece of advice fortune inside.

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The fortune says “It is quality rather than quantity that matters. Do a good job.” Firstly, you can’t tell me what to do, cookie. I do what I want.

Secondly, I would like to say this is not a fortune. A fortune is “You will have much luck in your future.”

Or “You’re going to win the lottery next week. Be careful not to blow it all on a life-size statue of Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump dueling to the death. Or tequila shots. You have a 50/50 chance of going broke again.”

Or “Don’t visit Louisiana. You will surely get eaten by alligators.”

My point is, there are a lot of fortune options. ‘Quality over quantity’ is not one of them. It’s a cliche dressed up as wisdom.

Thirdly, the ‘Do a good job’ part of the fortune really bugs me. As if I can’t simply deduce for myself that quality over quantity means ‘do a good job’. It’s condescending. In case you were frantically googling the definitions of quality and quantity, fret not, you have the cliff notes summary at the end to help you out.

Fourthly, sometimes it IS quantity over quality. Ironically, I’d like to point out that you yourself, cookie, are a prime example of this. I believe it’s the entire basis for your creation. I imagine people sitting around a table at your taste-test, and it went something like this:

Jim: “This is worst cookie I’ve ever eaten. It’s as dry as the Sahara. Does anybody have any water? That glass of water is not big enough Judy, did you not just hear me say the Sahara? That’s a desert in case you didn’t know. Get it together Judy.” (Editor’s note: I’m sorry, that Jim is a real asshole. I don’t know what’s up his butt. It’s probably the terrible cookie.)

Ted: “Well, we can send it back to product development, but that’ll be another $10,000.”

Don Draper: “Everybody calm down. It doesn’t matter what the cookie tastes like. People will eat it just because of the tacky piece of paper inside. Let’s move forward.”

Ted: “It’s comprised of 60% cardboard. Are you sure you want to move forward?”

Don Draper: “Will it kill people?”

Ted: “Just their taste buds.”

Don Draper: “I’d call that a success. Somebody light the cigars.”

And you know what? People do eat you. In fact, my mom told me as a child that if I didn’t eat the whole cookie before reading the fortune that it wouldn’t come true and to this day my OCD makes me eat the entire damn cookie first, and if you’re going to make me suffer through that I’d like the fortune inside to the worth the pain.

Sincerely,

Everybody.

Or probably just me.

One of those.

PS – I’d like to get into the fortune-cookie-writing game. I think I may have a knack for it.

PPS – If anyone wins the lottery with the numbers listed at the bottom of the fortune, I want half. This blog post is a contractual obligation to split your winnings with me.

PPPS – We’ll go into the fortune-cookie making business together. We’ll make obscene fortune cookies. They’ll sell like hotcakes.

PPPPS – We’re gonna be supes rich.

PPPPPS – What are hotcakes?

UPDATE: Also, if you do the whole ‘in bed’ bit the fortune reads: “It is quality over quantity that matters. Do a good job in bed.” I can’t disagree with that last part, but is it really quality over quantity? I think the quantity part is pretty important to a healthy sex life too. This is one of those situations where one shouldn’t be forced to choose between quantity and quality.

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Apparently I’m not maternal.

Conversation I had with a 7-year-old:

Him (about a key on my necklace): Is that a real key?

Me: Yes. It opens a very small safe.

Him: What’s in the safe?

Me: A microchip containing government secrets. Mention it to no one, it could put your entire family in danger. You need to pretend you don’t know about it.

Him: I’m gonna tell everyone.

Me: It’s your life.

Him: Can it come off your necklace?

Me: It doesn’t come off.

Him: I’m gonna bring scissors and cut it off the next time I see you.

Me: If you do that, I’ll murder you in your sleep. I don’t love you like your parents do.

His father: You can’t hide maternal instincts like that.

Strangely, these kids actually like me. They think I’m hilarious. They and I have that in common.

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The key in question.

Cottage Life

I have a whole post written about the Island Literary Awards, and I logged in last night to schedule it for today BUT THEN I DIDN’T HAVE THE PICTURES I NEEDED!!!! And I can’t even get them because I have family visiting and I’m staying in a cottage so I don’t have any of things I need. I fail at blogging.

I’m not that surprised though, cause I often fail at life.

I’m at a gorgeous cottage though so it’s hard to be too upset about it:

 

I also have this video to share with you guys.  It’s like Awesome met History and they had a baby together after a bottle of tequila and 20 ritalin:

Next week – Island Literary Awards update!

I think I’m finally starting to understand this whole ‘sportsing’ thing…

Remember way back when I posted that this is how most sports talk sound to me? Well, I think I’m finally starting to understand the appeal. The man. The legend. The commentary. Pure gold people. Scott Sterling everyone!

PS – I do like hockey though.

PPS – During playoffs. None of that junior league shit.

PPPS – And Olympics. I like those.

PPPPS – But only if Canada wins. Otherwise I get stabby.

PPPPPS – Remind me to tell you about the time we watched the Canadian team play for the gold medal in the Olympics and we did shots for every goal the Canadian team got.

PPPPPPS – I felt like we were contributing members of the team.

PPPPPPPS – Yeah, we pretty much won that one for Canada.

PPPPPPPPS – You’re welcome, Canada.