Hi there, dummies! It’s me, Falwless, from over there at Lots Better Then Your Blog, filling in for Alice today. I probably don’t know most of you readers, which really is a shame. I mean, for you, mostly.
When Alice invited me to* do a guest post on this here little web diary of hers, she didn’t tell me I’d actually have to come up with the post on my own. I mean, I’m new to this guest post crap. I thought, you know, since she invited me, she’d, like, leave me some material and I’d just type it out or edit it or whatever. I dunno. I was all, pshaa, bring it on! Easy peazy, beezy!
So, I guess I have to pull from my magical box I lovingly call “Oh Shit What The Hell Is There To Write About Today?” Yeah, I know what you’re thinking–this is gonna be good. Strap in, monkeys.
About a month ago I was searching The Google for something I can’t even recall now, and a really strange sponsored ad popped up on the right side that had nothing to do with what I searched for. So, because I am made mostly of things like “awesome” and “more awesome” and “no godforsaken life whatsoever,” I started punching in random search queries to see if The Google could make me laugh.
Well, my wishes came true. Enjoy this little Average-Land foray into Ridiculous Google Sponsored Ads.
and, last but not least:
All right, that’s all, ladies and gentlescrotums. If you enjoyed this, then you will surely** enjoy the other daily nonsense I type on my blog, so maybe it’s time you stopped reading Alice’s stupid little diary here and read mine instead! SHHHH! Don’t tell her I said that!
Seriously, though, don’t tell her or I will hunt you down, I swear to god. Don’t even try me, loser!
* demanded that I
** most likely not
Yes that’s right, I’m that annoying person who tries to get you to buy makeup, lotions and other stuff so I can make a few bucks.
Oh, wait – no I’m not because I’ve never sold a damn thing.
I was the worst Mary Kay representative ever. They should give me an award for that or something. Seriously. I had just one party the whole time, where I invited 8 of my friends over. I had 3 bottles of apple vodka and 3 bottles of red wine.
You can see where this is going.
Basically I did all my friends makeup, we drank all the booze and went back to the liquor store (twice) then headed out to the bar – Hey-Oh!! What? I’m supposed to get them to BUY things? Whoops. Well I still have my starter kits (tons of sample makeup) and get a 50% discount if I ever actually order anything so I guess it wasn’t a total loss*.
On another note, this morning I woke up, dragged my creaky 90-year-old woman body out of bed and practically fell over. Wait, when did I turn 90? I should have known something was wrong when I went to bed at 10 last night. 10? Really? That’s about the time I usually eat dinner.
Well as it turns out, I’m sick. My head aches, my body hurts, I’m all stuffy and sneezing and congested. My hands are cold, my body is hot (then cold) and I’m whiney.
Ok so maybe it’s just a cold** but it’s a bad one. I need some soup. I need my bed. I need a manservant to serve me soup, read me a bedtime story and press a cold compress to my face while gently massaging my forehead. I need a pile of blankets made out of goose down and bear fleece or whatever the hell that soft material is. I need Echinacea, Vitamin C and Cold Fx administered intravenously.
But here I am at work. Damn you Corporate America, damn you and your “Responsibility” and “Accountability” and “Taking Credit for Projects That Other People Did”. Damn you to hell.***
* It actually was a total loss
** or maybe it’s the Avian virus? Norwolk? Mumps? Polo? Black Plague? SARS???
(No, I’ve never been called a hypochondriac)
*** I totally stole that concept with the linkage to hell from Poobomber
This fruit I tried hails from the Himalayan region of Tibet, apparently (although that part of Tibet is dry, cold at night and has basically all the ingredients you don’t want when growing fruit – but hey, I believe anything the nice Health Food Store Hippy tells me).
Behold the Tibetan Goji-berry!
Ok, now I just Wiki-pedia’d that to give you all a nice little link and got something about a Wolfberry…what the hell is going on here? Time to get Google involved.
I just uncovered a scandal in the fruit patch! Turnsout those Wolfberry guys are selling their product as Goji berries – and Wikipedia is endorsing this! These poor Tibetan monks spend days blessing the little berries, rumored to make people happy for days (natural Viagra anyone?), and those Wolfberry growers just swarm into the US markets, labeling everything they can get their grubby little hands on as Goji berries.
I am shocked and appalled** but mostly disappointed.
Wasn’t that the worst when your parents said that to you? “I’m not mad, just disappointed”.
“Sooo…am I allowed to continue smoking pot and drinking your rye on our garage roof, or not?”
Where was I? Oh yes, Goji Berry “Scandal of the Century”. That’s it I’m starting a not-for-profit group benefiting the Rights of the Goji-Berry. That’s right, this is a war on Berry-imitation and I won’t stop until all perpetrators are dealt with accordingly, by being forced to eat Wolfberries by the handful. Anti-oxidant? I think not! How do like them Berries?
And to think, this was going to be a post about the nutritional benefits of a fruit. I’ve found my meaning in life.
*If it involves a knife – it’s too much work.
** mainly because I have nothing better to do with my time than look into a scandal involving mostly unheard of berries and some greedy fruit dudes.
I am sort of seeing O/N but I’ve learned to never put all your eggs in one basket (or is it counts your chickens before they hatch? One of the cliched, overused terms fits here I’m sure).
So far I’ve had Great Success (like Borat). If great success means a bunch of douche bags email with such witty repartee as: “Hey babe wanna msg me?” and “your hot lets met”. There was also this gem in my mail box this morning: “hey lookin for a little love just somethin on the side summer fun” from a married fellow with a picture of his 6 pack looking slightly deteriorated.
I don’t know about you but I love being the little somethin on the side for summer love. I’m sure his wife approves too.
The reason I joined was to avoid douche-baggery and cheesy pickup lines at the bar – is that too much to ask? Also, to have a good laugh at all the stupid idiots out there who really think emailing a girl three words (hottie lets chat) is going to render her quivery with desire and immediately she’ll respond with a “your place or mine?”. Obviously it must work for some guys or they wouldn’t all still be doing it.
I don’t think the whole internet dating thing is for me. I guess I’ll stick to meeting guys at the bar, drooling on their sleeves while trying to shove a drink in my hands and incoherently mumbling sweet-nothings at my cleavage. Isn’t that how everyone found the man of their dreams?
Alice: Got a package yesterday…how was your week?
O/N: Good for you! Guess this means I’m out of a job 😦
Alice: Hardly. I ordered them in a drunken stupor, plus it’s more fun with someone else
O/N: Yeah, don’t hurt yourself
I was waiting for a cab outside my house Saturday night, on my way to karaoke (don’t judge) and I heard the neighbors a few doors down playing guitar and singing. In the spirit of being neighborly I decided to go over there and say hi. I walked into the backyard:
“Hello, I’m just from a few doors down and heard the music here. I can’t find a lighter to save my life; do you guys happen to have one?”
So this one girl says “There’s a light right there,” pointing to a tiki torch. After I awkwardly light my cigarette, trying not to engulf my hair in a huge ball of fire, the girl gives a little laugh and says “Oh, I actually do have a lighter”.
Sunday we’re rafting down the Elbow River, drinking beers, just minding our own business when we see a group of police officers standing on the shore. Normally I wouldn’t be too worried because the cops are fairly lenient on the Elbow. However, we didn’t have any lifejackets and they began to yell at us.
“Girls in the grey raft! Hey! Girls with the palm tree! Get your lifejackets on!” Keep in mind this river is waist deep at the highest point and most people bring their small children to wade there. It’s not dangerous.
We pretended to root around for the jackets (our boats being so deep we couldn’t find them and all). One of the officers made a half-assed attempt to bike along the shore beside us for a minute and then gave up. Onward-ho we went.
Further down the river we stopped our convoy of five rafts to have a little beer and suntan break on the shore. As we’re lounging by the river we see two cops walking along the banks, stopping to talk to rafters occasionally. Partially because we were drunk and partially out of fear of reprimand for the lifejacket situation we all jumped on the rafts and pushed away from the bank yelling “oleee, ole ole ole!” Yes that’s smart – call more attention to yourselves.
As we were fleeing the cops, one of the rafts ran into a large stick and punctured. Then, in our hurry to rearrange ourselves on the remaining rafts, one of the girls jumped in hers and onto the paddles which promptly snapped in half.