KID 1: What’s the Dallas Quarterback dude’s name?
KID 2: Newyork Bozo.
ADULT 1: Tony Romo.
ADULT 2: *cracks up, falls off couch*
KID 2: *snerks*
#stellarparenting, achievement unlocked.
If you have a guitar, and can learn a few easy chords, teach yourself to play 5000 Candles in the Wind by Mouse Rat. This will take you approximately four seconds to learn. Then, on a random school day morning, wake your children by quietly wandering into their rooms and playing it with a gradual crescendo until your children are standing on their beds with lighters** in hand, swaying and singing along with the chorus. This will start their morning off right. Offer them sugary cereal immediately after.
You will be the best mom ever.
Also, if your kids walk to school as mine do, you can wait until they are about a block and a half away, stand in the middle of the street, and belt out a 5000CITW chorus-only reprise. They will pee their pants laughing (sneak extra pants into their backpacks ahead of time), and the entire neighborhood will undoubtedly love you for it.
(This also counts as an Unsolicited Professional Neighbor Tip.)
** If you don’t provide your kids with personalized lighters, kitchen matches will work fine. If your kids have smart phones and wish to use them as the source of audience participation illumination, you are an awful fucking parent. What are they, like seven? Seven years old and you gave the little jerks a smart phone? You don’t deserve to sing about Li’l Sebastian. You probably don’t even deserve to live.
Have a great day, errbody.
In a time that there are plenty of serious and even important conversations happening all over the Internet, and news stories of human beings doing despicable things are being hurled at us rapid fire style, can we please just let the funny be funny and not be so goddamn serious all the time?
Dear People Who Are Wrecking the Funny on the Regular, including:
Professor Actually: Your need to correct the wrongs of anything and everything that people tweet is undoubtedly how you’ve amassed such a huge circle of friends, I’m sure of it. Your mission to educate and re-educate us all is really … something. You know a lot of stuff. Totally rad. Maybe take it down a notch? When you feel yourself thinking, “Actually … ” pump those brakes and move on. That would be super great for everyone, because we don’t care. It’s not because we don’t like you. It’s because we hate you. Please stop talking.
Captain Literal: You’re really harshing my mellow. Not everything is meant to be taken literally. I realize that there are plenty of instances where sarcasm doesn’t quite translate in writing, but you and I both know that’s not what I’m talking about. (Quick tip: If it begins with “Knock, knock” you should assume it’s meant to be humorous, and you don’t have to remind us that most people live in apartments or houses with buzzers or doorbells.) You’re killing all the joy, son. Please focus on editing Wikipedia pages when you’re bored. If you get stuck on the entry for humor, call Prof. Actually, he’ll be happy to educate your ass like a boss.
Miss JustSoYouKnow: I don’t want to know. You’re awful.
Ms. EverythingIsDEFCON1SeriousFeminist: No, I wasn’t intentionally meaner to Miss JustSoYouKnow because she’s a woman.
All Grammar Police Officers: R u fucking kidding, me. right now;
99% of the people who comment on local news stories:
“I’m totally putting people in their place. I’m so fucking awesome right now!”
The rest of the Internet:
To be fair, some of you regular-local-news-story-commentators bring a whole lot of unintentional funny shit to the game, and I dig that about you. But most of you are just hateful, awful assholes and/or religious zealots.
If commenting on daily news stories keeps all of you busy at the same time, then keep doing what you’re doing. Chances are, your terrible grammar and spelling will attract The Grammar Police, you could keep Professor Actually busy for hours, and if the story has anything to do with pissed off women (or men pissed off at women, or women who aren’t pissed off about something but should be, or Hillary Clinton), you might be a helpful distraction for the EverythingIsDEFCON1SeriousFeminists, too. Captain Literal will be tied up in a chain of argumentative comments (to which no one is responding), over a single snarky remark, for days. Miss JustSoYouKnow will have already been in there
all morning while at work during her lunch break, defending ideas that have nothing to do with the article, so we’ll just mark that one a win, too.
Well, this is unexpected.
In a time when being sarcastic, funny, politically incorrect (read: funny), snarky, and just plain not taking ourselves so seriously is met with resistance from the Debbie and Donnie Downers of the Internet, it’s the people that wage the oh-so-serious comment wars on news articles and YouTube videos that just might save the funny. So, to all you assholes fighting the good fight through post after post about something a Kardashian did or didn’t do, I salute you. Keep that shit up.
A telemarketer just called to talk to me about my reward card points and a super special offer, just for me! His name was Brian. Kept him on the line for 10 minutes. Answered most of his questions with “What would YOU do?” for an answer, and made him answer me before he could ask me another question. Drilled him on other personal details because, I pointed out, he probably has a bunch of info about me on his screen, and fair is fair.
We talked about how I hate people and how he lives in Vegas but avoids the strip. (Everyone who lives there avoids it, so he said.) We both like to go to NYC, but only for a few days at a time or we get stabby, and we agree that La Guardia is gross. Like MRSA in the carpet gross. We both enjoy drinking in crappy hole-in-the-wall bars, and we both think that Orlando is the worst vacation destination if you hate people. He’s never been to Mount Rushmore (I have), but really likes New Orleans, so he hopes to get back there someday. We talked about what city we think has highest rate of meth labs (we agreed that it has to be somewhere in northern Wyoming), and what we might do if we ever went to Fargo, ND. (We both love the movie Fargo.)
He lives with his boyfriend of “a little over a year”, and his parents are still alive. By the time I got around to “So, Brian. Don’t be pissed, but I’m really not interested in any crappy timeshares.”, he just laughed and didn’t seem to care. He said that his supervisor was now standing behind him because he (Brian) had been cracking up for 10 minutes. I said, “You’re probably fucking fired, Brian.” Before I hung up, I told him that I’ll only talk to *him* if they ever call again, I’m not talking to some other phone jockey, so I told him, “Mark my file, muthafuckaaaaaaa!”
This has been a true story. You’re welcome.