Man, I love high-fives. No, seriously, I’m that guy. I’m also the “cheers” guy whenever I’ve got a drink (or anything) in my hand.
I remember watching some Saturday morning cartoon one time, where the characters were battling an alien invasion, Body Snatchers style, except because it was a kids cartoon, the body snatching occurred by lie a virus — and the virus was passed exclusively through high-fives.
It was devilishly perfect, explained one of the characters to another, since “No one can resist a high five.”
That’s kind of become my mantra. One of my officemates and I have awesome high-five rapport, and it’s a thrill to just solidly connect whenever she puts a palm up. Damn right.
So I laughed a lot at this video. Sure, it’s funny, but it also speaks to me:
You know how sometimes you get a hankerin’ for some meat, but you don’t know exactly what? You’ve overdone it on the beef and you had bacon for breakfast. Chicken and fish are okay, but they don’t have that exotic feeling you are looking for. Maybe wild meats are a little too gamey for what you are looking for…
What is someone with carnivorous tendencies to do?
Go for unicorn meat.
Don’t worry, though. Nobody is hunting unicorns. As ThinkGeek explains:
Unicorns, as we all know, frolic all over the world, pooping rainbows and marshmallows wherever they go. What you don’t know is that when unicorns reach the end of their lifespan, they are drawn to County Meath, Ireland. The Sisters at Radiant Farms have dedicated their lives to nursing these elegant creatures through their final days. Taking a cue from the Kobe beef industry, they massage each unicorn’s coat with Guinness daily and fatten them on a diet comprised entirely of candy corn.
Mmmmm-mmmmm! This has got to be better eating than most canned meats out there.
Introducing “Bedometer” — the iPhone app that tells you how many calories you’ve burned while having sex. Simply lay it on the bed beside you, start it up, then, when you and your partner start things up, the iPhone will measure the bed’s jiggles, and tell you precisely how, um, frisky you’ve been. It’s also iPad compatible.
Hey, it’s also for singles!
At 99 cents, it’s harmless and kind of cute, even. But as MomLogic puts it, “Shouldn’t having sex be one of the times we can stop fretting about the baby weight?”
(Via Daily Dose of Common Sense, who echoes the feeling: “if you’re worried about how many calories you’re burning during sex then you’re worrying too much.”)
Amy left this handy flowchart up for me to follow and laugh riotously at. If you’re even in the midst of a zombie epidemic — or perhaps you want to write a zombie-based screenplay — just follow the flowchart.
Click here for the full thing. I won’t spoil it for you, but just like in real life, the flowchart is ruthless. And there are really only two outcomes: death or sequel.
If you’ve been living under a rock, Chatroulette is the latest internet sensation, where you are randomly connection — webcam, microphone and all — to a random stranger on the web. You have no clue who the other person is, and you can disconnect and reconnect to someone different at any time.
It’s a little bit like mainlining The Internet, especially if you remember the early pre-corporate randomness of the early internet.
Also, it’s got a lot of creepy guys doing very unsexy sexual things.
But this is awesome:
The scuttlebutt is that this is Ben Folds. Which would be cool. But what does it matter? This is wonderful no matter who the man in the grey hoodie is.
From the guys who brought you Charlie the Unicorn (if you’re thinking “Charlie the whatnow?” click that link. Seriously. Do it. I’ll wait) comes a new and odd animal-related animation. Odd but funny. Oh so funny.
Amy has been watching a new NBC show called “Community” for the past little while, online, and she finally agreed to start from the start with me, and let me catch up.
It is ridiculously funny. Most of it is silly humour, but there are a staggering amount of pop-culture references. And, fair warning, it’s a modern sitcom, so it’s borderline offensive, but it’s so sweetly done that it’s completely inoffensive in the end. Actually, each character is offensive in a specific way, which all the other characters call him or her out for, while each being offensive in their own ways. It’s like an offensive, hilarious merry-go-round.
Check out this clip, which ecapsulates my argument:
Of course, you can’t get the full flavour of the show in just one clip, so definitely try to catch it, um, on network television? Geez, I can’t believe I just typed that — why don’t you just send a Pony Express telegraph requesting the daguerreotype?
I watch most of my TV on this new station called “Bit Torrent.” Or I buy the DVDs.
Because I work in a photo lab, I see that digital photo frames are all the rage. However, it also seems that the digital frames are being bought for older generations who have no idea how to use it; it’s just the kids and grandkids trying to get their relatives involved in this crazy digital camera thing.
Enter the SD card photo album.
It’s maybe a better way to ease your older relatives into the digital age. They get a photo album without the tricky card slots and hard-to-understand remote, but also a bit of a lesson as to what the thing in their camera is.
Hark! A Vagrant is a website of comics written and drawn by Kate Beaton. They are irreverent, charming, and often hilarious.
Beaton has a degree in history, and her comics reflect that. They all have something to do with moments in history, or famous people (from Beethoven to to an imagined exchange between Jules Verne and Edgar Allan Poe). I liked this one of the Brontë sisters:
As a child in elementary school, I was fascinated by the teacher’s staff room. In my school, the window on the door had a shade on it, so you couldn’t even peek inside. The only (rare) glimpses came when you happened to be walking by and a teacher came out.
And it was amazing.
I remember thinking, “There are couches in there! And a t.v.! Cooool.”
As I got older, into middle school and then high school, the staff room just didn’t hold the same magic for me. I had gone into a few for various reasons, and it was really no big deal. There was a coffee maker; some ratty old couches; a table and chairs. It was like a sad little one bedroom apartment.
I prefer reading my own books, and maybe discussing them with a few friends, and I suppose I’d watch the odd author interview, but I never thought I’d be interested in a public access show about books.
Not until I saw this one. Author interviews don’t get any odder than this:
