Posts filed under 'stuff I *loathe*'
Dear Colony of Ants,
I was under the impression we had an agreement as to the location of your primary residence. That agreement being that you would reside OUTside my house and I, in turn, would not then smush the hell out of you. I realize that it has been unseasonably rainy and that your premises may indeed be flooded… that, however, is not my problem. Please refrain from entering this dwelling or I will continue to take action on your so-called “scouts.”
signed,
Giant Lady with the Killing Thumbs
August 4th, 2008
Ok, I’ve read through this post over at Apartment Therapy five (yes, FIVE) times now and still haven’t got the faintest idea of what they’re talking about. I don’t think it was written by one of their bloggers; I think maybe it was pulled from either the web site or other promotional materials for the Takumi Key Calendar (but I’m not sure, because, well, I forgot to learn Japanese).Â
The Takumi Key Calendar plays upon both the metaphorical and also the innate physical desire to manipulate the mechanical as an effective way to keep track of the days of a month…
Instead of a simple flip calendar, the Takumi Key Calendar appeals to the same tactile desire employed when popping plastic bubbles or pressing buttons…who wouldn’t be tempted to place the key into the lock to see what happens?
Ok, honestly, what in the hell are they talking about? I’ve been through art school, I know the crap that can come spewing from your mouth in defense of a project (yeah, I’m talking to you, Dann!) but isn’t there some kind of limit? Because this is just incomprehensible.
I’ll take my calendars with actual numbers, please. And less BS.Â
March 13th, 2008
I’ve ever received came to me today from one Mr. Angus Chao:Â
Hooked on eBay? www.ebay666.info
Plus, some people find the sounds themselves calming.Â
March 6th, 2008
JIF peanut butter smells like dry-roasted butt. Â
By contrast, Lays Kettle Cooked chips smell like sweet, furry kitten rainbow dreams.  Â
.
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February 26th, 2008
as to why the world needs strapless G-string underwear. Yes — really, truly.
A “strapless G-stringâ€? Wouldn’t it be more correct to call it a “stringless G-stringâ€? And then, logically, just a “Gâ€?  Or, perhaps more logically, “idiotic.”Â
 (note: I have come up with approximately four zillion good, filthy jokes to write in this post but somehow cannot bring myself to type in even one of them.)Â
February 22nd, 2008
I’ve been getting lots of spam lately for something called “Soft Viagra.”  And so a couple of notes to the spam purveyors:
1. I do not own a penis. Please whittle down your mailing lists accordingly.
2. Are you sure that “Soft Viagra” is the best you can do in the naming department? Really? It seems a bit, well, defeatist if you ask me. Â
February 15th, 2008
rapidly-swelling-because-of- massive- Conversation- Heart- inhalation ass. Â
FYI: If someone begs you to be a room mother because no one else has signed up, there’s a reason for that. One, apparently this seemingly-simple job is too much work and other people know that, and two, you have “sucker” stamped on your forehead.Â
Don’t say you weren’t warned.
See you tomorrow after I’ve burned all the candy in the house.Â
.
February 14th, 2008
you know, my license to parent. Or they should. Because Friday is Movie Night here and, instead of going to rent a movie, the girls picked one on tv. On Disney Channel. Bleh.
Everyone was settling in but when we went to turn it on, it started an hour later than we had originally thought. Luckily, there was another movie just starting and I told them, “You guys watch this one and if you like it, we’ll keep it on. If not, we’ll switch over when yours starts.” Ok, crisis averted.
So the stand-in movie was Ghostbusters. GHOSTBUSTERS! They’ll have to love Ghostbusters, right?! They’ll never want to go back and watch that other sappy Disney inaneness, right?! Wrong. So we switch it to Disney. But we continued to switch back and forth during the commercial breaks. And we were coming up near the end of Ghostbusters where the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man appears and they wanted to switch back to their movie.
What?! “But this is where the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man is!” I scream.
“What’s that?” they say.
“A marshmallow man. A GIGANTIC MARSHMALLOW MAN. And he’s about to be BLOWN UP!”
Their response? Eh. “Turn it back to Disney!”
What? WOT?! My children picked freakin’ High School Musical 2 over Ghostbusters?! Oh, no… oh, my heart!
And so, rather than argue and listen to shrieky little girls for the next 15 minutes, I switched it back to HSM2 (see that? “HSM2″ Bleh. I’m ashamed to know the Disney parlance). I fully expected super stealth ninjas to drop from the ceiling on ropes and bundle me away, you know to save the children. Because obviously somewhere I screwed up. Very, very badly.
January 20th, 2008
Me. Yes, me. Let me tell you how much I *hate* my new computer monitor. I cannot begin to describe my current loathing. Up until this weekend, I had a trusty old CRT (yes, it was mammoth, but it worked and it had good color). But my trusty old monitor finally gave up its will to live and I had a replacement all ready — a shiny, new LCD. So sleek! So shiny! So BIG! Look at my desktop — it doesn’t look nearly as crowded now that my files can unpile themselves!
So shiny new monitor was doing good. Until I actually had to do some, uh, work tonight. I opened my file and it was all… funky. I mean, butt-ugly colors that I would never in a million years have specified. What’s up? I tinkled around in Photoshop — was the file in the wrong color mode? No. Futzed with the color settings, the preferences, the profiles… nothing helped. So I’m thinking, “aw F$#@, I’m going to have to rebuild this entire file!” So I open the low-res version I’d sent off as a proof (it looks fine) and try to sample colors from it. Won’t work.
It takes me 45 MINUTES to figure out the problem. The problem being that the colors look different relative to where they are on the screen — if I would’ve moved my image mere inches across the screen, I would’ve seen the right colors. What?! Oh, no… I CANNOT HAVE THIS!
Listen here, Mr. SlickShinyLCD — I’ve had quarrels with monitors before, and the only thing that’s stopped me from heaving them across the room was their sheer size. You don’t have that advantage. I could fling you like a 6-year-old boy with a little sister and a snot ball.
You’ve been warned.
January 15th, 2008
Ok, so we’ve all noticed the onslaught over the past few years of 80s toys. Cabbage Patch dolls, My Little Pony, Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, Trollz (nee Trolls), Pound Puppies, Transformers, Rubik’s Cube… we get it, ok?  You’re appealing to the nostalgia factor, expecting us to gasp “ohhhh, look! I had one of those when I was a kid!” while we swipe it from the shelves and head for the register.But you know what else came out of the 80s? “Know when to say when” and “Just say ‘No’” (oh, and my favorite, “This is your brain on drugs”).  The knowing when to say when? That would’ve been somewhere before you hit Popples. The whole idea behind cashing in on our nostalgia only works if you bring back things we loved. Look at that thing — it’s butt-ugly. Nobody loved Popples. Swatches, yes. Popples, no.No, no, no. Â
* * * Â For those who don’t know, Popples were stuffed animals that could fold back up into a ball. In full disclosure, I have to tell you that there are new stuffed animals out this year called
FurBerries, which also unfold from a furry ball. My middle child *longs* for one of these this year — it’s her number one Santa gift. And so I caved, mostly because it makes my inner 13-year-old giggle to say “FurBerry.” Also, “furry ball.”
December 5th, 2007
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