Peaeater

Life in hyperbole. HYPERBOLE, I said!


Clearification

Clearification
http://www.clearification.com/

Ted sent this to me this morning and I snorted coffee up my nose and all over the desk. Clever site, very funny. Really it's a viral marketing site for Windows Vista, though hard to tell - now you caught it. Sorry.

Line Rider

Line Rider
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/40255643/

A definitive waste of time. An obssessive time-waster. An addictive and psychoslurpacious substance. A corrupter of the youth of Athens. I could/should/would/won't go on.

View the pinnacle of line riding and despair:

Linerider jumps the shark
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GD9DSa3fZf4

Line Rider - Jagged Peak Adventure
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcu8ZdJ2dQo

the love of a good woman

Dear Edgar,

Your willy-nilly approach to acupuncture has left me breathless, specifically "chest wound", to whit, "sucking". My lawyers inform me, through the creative use of a flugelhorn, that the degree you claim was granted by Johns Hopkins is in fact written in orange crayola and signed "Big Bird". They also claim that "Ginsu needles" are non-standard equipment, that "galvanized" does not equate to "sterile",  and that penetration of 3-6 inches is atypical and should not require the aid of a mallet.

Oh Eggnog, I thought you loved me. I trusted you, Eidelwild. How could I say no to your nasal glottal fricative, your bulgy-wulgy eyes, your rubber gloves? I gave you my heart and you inexpertly sewed it back in again backwards. And yet, Estragon, and yet -- I still harbour something for you, deep inside. When I close my eyes I can hear the hiss of the gas, the clink of the clamps on their little tray, the mambo of your mesmerizing mumble...

Oh, I cannot hold back these dizzying waves of passion. Come, my Elgreen! My pancreas aches for your caress! Clamp me to the table of love, pierce the veil of my milky integument with the red and rusted scalpel of your desire, lay your hands upon my virgin islets of Langerhans! I cannot wait to lie woozy and exhausted in your arms afterwards, as you drag me off the slab.

I will come tonight and bring my own bandages, my mad, mad, darling Doktor.

Love,

B.O.F.

Thanksgiving madness

This weekend there are 17 of us coming together for Thanksgiving. Somehow every year we wind up crammed into a very small Tigh-Na-Mara cabin, clutching loaded dinner plates on our laps, balancing overfull wine glasses on the floor between our sock feet, and talking much too loudly with our mouths full. The air inside gets thick with a haze of burnt turkey grease, eye-biting firelog smoke because somebody didn't open the flue properly, debate over etymology of the word "pumpkin," and 16 other simultaneous conversations.


Dad traditionally gets too hot and traditionally announces "it's too bloody hot in here," and then traditionally throws the front door wide open to which the traditional response in chorus (ladies) is: "close the bleeding door, we're freezing!" It is then right and proper to shout out just exactly how hot or cold you feel, and then question aloud how anyone else cannot feel the same extreme nature of the temperature you are feeling right now, oh my god. This call-and-response game is very popular so is repeated several times over the course of the night.


Other longstanding traditions include:
  • I've (Urp) Had Too Much Pie But My Gullet Demands Just One More Slice
  • Teachers Whining To Teachers About The State of Education These Days Support Group
  • Trivial Pursuit Girls Against Boys Totally Outdated Edition
  • One Bathroom, At Least The Door Locks


Rachelle is feeling stressed about so many people playing the parts of sardines, and how is everyone going to sit at the same time or is it possible to eat from a plate balanced on your head and should we have a numbered ticket system for the bathroom? My family and I are more the "ehh, it'll take care of itself" kind of people. I love the chaos. I wish my mom and sisters Sara and Kinza were going to be there this year but they're studying or working in Toronto or living on the other side of the continent. Lame and trivial excuses like that. Sheesh.

Overheard

Since I don't actually work in an office, but rather all by myself with occasional visits from the cat, I have subscribed to "Overheard in the Office" to create the illusion that I am surrounded by one.

This one made me fart I laughed so hard.

This Explains Much About Tennessee (overheard at McDonald's)

Mother: What are you going to have?
Daughter: Chicken nuggets and a Dr. Pepper.
Mother: I'm not getting you a Dr. Pepper. It's not good for you.
Daughter: Fine. I'll have a Coke.
Mother: That's better.

http://www.overheardintheoffice.com/