Category: awful

Not in Egypt, but we had just crossed a river

Saturday morning, headed to breakfast. Tooling down the road in the right lane, taking it easy with radar cruise on, passing a bunch of pickups towing empty trailers in the left lane. Grey GMC SUV was obviously getting frustrated and passed one of them using the suicide lane – almost living up to the name while swerving in to my immediate left yet still stuck behind another in the same apparent caravan. Truckavan? Nah. My passenger said “Whoa!” I, while gesturing at the model of Yukon on the side replied: “They think they’re going to get ahead of these trucks before the light, but they’re in Denali.” I apologize, and you’re welcome.

Truckaflatbed? Hell no, that’s worse, almost obscenely specific. What is the collective noun here? A clot sounds aggressively judgy. A queue implies less motion than there was.

It’s long past the time

…when we should start referring to the number 10 as “a metric dozen.”

Obviously, that makes 8 a binary dozen, right? Or do we round that one up to 16?

Today’s million dollar idea:

a machine that induces fake labor so that women who use a surrogate can know the sensation/pain of childbirth. It must be called “the contraction contraption”

Sub-par humor

So, first we lost the Titanic there. Then, the Titan went missing.

If past results are any indication, we’ll drop two more letters and the next vessel to disappear will be the Tit?

It’s a supluralative

The plural of “you do you” is obviously “y’all do y’all.”

I do not believe further discussion is warranted on the subject.

Except perhaps to add that the plural of “y’all do y’all” is “all y’all do all y’all.”

Can you figure out why I’m disappointed before I tell you?

As I was going to lunch, I stopped by my car in the parking garage. This involves going from floor 2 to floor 5.

As I get in the elevator, there is another gentleman there, with a giant trash can on wheels. Floor six (the top floor) is already lit up, and as I go to push the button for 5, I notice that the trash can is filled with fire extinguishers.

I will omit the needless details of polite elevator chit-chat. I exit on 5 and go to my car.

It only takes a few moments to figure out that he is boringly replacing fire extinguishers, instead of the much more exciting concept of riding the trash can down the parking garage propelled by the extinguishers.

And that is when the disappointment set in. I had even hoped to see him jettison used canisters as ballast on his way down.