subbes -- What best distracts attention away from the fact that I haven't showered in four days?
Cigarette smoke, Bath and Body Works body spray, and layers and layers of deoderant.
The fact that it's been so awfully hot and humid all week that it's not unreasonable your hair would look all greazy and skin have a shiny coat of "sweat".
Your habit of being an insufferable bitch to everyone in the office has taught them to keep their distance from you.
Do what I do. Eat hard boiled eggs for breakfast and tuna salad for lunch. Nobody comes near my workspace.
tarpo -- How can you construct a "best of weird al" list without including One More Minute?!
How can you just saunter up on here tossing around indignance when haven't answered a single question?
Because it was only a top ten.
You managed to list another song after those other two dorks each listed ten. I'm so very impressed and will now bow down to your kingly nerdiness. The next time I wipe my nose on my sleeve it will be in your honor.
I told you I didn't want to choose. I could never choose. They're all so sweet and delicious.
observacious -- Do kids really love Veggie Booty as much as the news claims they do? If so, how will they react when denied their precious Booty because of the salmonella scare?
They'll be forced to eat the far less popular yet similar-tasting "Styrofoam Booty".
These kids don't actually love Veggie Booty, but it's the closest thing to actual Cheetos their Whole Foods-humping yuppie parents will buy. In a land of Edamame Bites and Soykrispies, Veggie Booty is king.
For every parent that's suing over the salmonella, there are five parents stocking up on the stuff since their fat fat child has never lost weight faster than when blood was shooting out of his asshole.
This fulfills the bedtime prayers of every one of those children: God is teaching them a lesson for refusing to buy real snacks and this is what they get for making us eat it and lying about how it's good for us it is.
coldblackncold -- I Ain't Tha 1. Friday. Are We Done Yet? Ice Cube: Renaissance Man or is the Devil his agent?
Renaissance Man. He realized the true artist explores every facet of the creative process, from groundbreaking genre-creation to tired, staid crap.
Devil Agent. Take that pesky wool cap off and look at this handsome young man! Wipe off that scowl, mister. You've got a smile that can light up the world!
Ice Cube is no fool. What pays for a tough teenager from the streets doesn't quite work for a 35-year-old millionaire with nearly 20 years of success. You gotta stay current, play to the crowd.
renob423 -- did you wake up with the rooster or did you hit the snooze button and lay in bed for another 7 min?
No, but I've had dreams about waking up with a cock.
My rooster doesn't have a snooze button.
There aren't roosters where I live. I wake up every morning to the beeeeeeepbeeeeeeepbeeeeeeep of a reversing garbage truck.
My snooze button goes for 9 minutes. I wish I could change the snooze time. Nine minutes is too damn long.
eideteker -- Can you believe it's not butter? And how do you prove or disprove it's... butterosity? butterinity? butterageousness?
I believe it's not butter. It says so right on the package. I'd be more doubtful if the stuff were called "Seriously, It's Butter."
With a common BGn dipstick test, it's next to impossible to distinguish ICBINB from real butter. However, using a properly calibrated Butteograph, it's clear that ICBINB has a high Butter Intensity Quotient but nevertheless is not butter.
I'll believe anything that tastes like butter but has zero calories for 5 sprays. They could call it Fairy Dust for all I care.
Nope, sorry. I don't believe it. It's delicious, bright yellow, and so nicely squirted into a colorful tub. There's no way it's not butter. I would bet my mortgage on it. I'm not even going to humor you with this "butterotomy" nonsense.
absolutcalm -- Seriously, people. Fireworks are like Nascar: drive drive drive, turn left? Meet Sparkles, Ohh, Ahh, Yawn, Fizzle.
And both beloved by rednecks.
Um hello, basketball? Run one way, shoot, run another way, shoot, run back, shoot. Just call it what it is: ping pong.
And why do people give a fuck about college sports? Odds are it's not the college you or your kid went to; did someone in your family wake up one day and think, "Gee, UConn seems like a solid team. I pick them."
If driving your car around in circles, eating a whole bunch of hot dogs, or doing a glorified shuttle run can be shown on ESPN, they should do fireworks shows like they do those cheerleading pyramid competitions.
friendship7 -- I heard the most bizarre story about a Tastee Freeze visit over the weekend. Which fast food joint is most likely to offer a truly numbing "is this real" moment, and why?
The super-ghetto McDonalds in whatever city you're talking about. Everybody can picture it: young hoods loitering in the parking lot, some bum asleep in a booth, total chaos behind the register.
Taco Bell. Considering the shit most people have seen or done at a Taco Bell, especially late at night after a weekday Happy Six Hours, you'll believe anything.
Denny's. Between the drunk crowd and the early-riser crowd lies an undiscovered territory in which any depraved tale is wholly believable.
Tastee Freeze. The four or so of them left are sad shadows of past glory of a forgotten legacy that whatever may happen there must be the most desperate truth.
soarjubs -- True or false: You poop in your bed sometimes.
I heard this great story in college about a guy who crapped the girl's bed he hooked up with and rather than fess up, he wiped some of it on her ass before he snuck out in the morning. Apparently she saw him on campus one time and ran away crying.
My brother says one of his fraternity brothers passed out naked lying face down on the floor of their living room one time and pooped in his sleep. Thanks to his very rich-in-fiber diet, the poo stood straight up out of his ass like a flagpole.
We were out to dinner with some friends and their baby took a dump while sitting on a hard restaurant high chair. The crap shot all the way up his butthole and all over his back. They had to change his shirt and everything.
I remember in preschool we all had to have a shoe box with a change of clothes in it at the school in case we shit ourselves. There was one kid who was always standing in the corner crying and the teacher would head straight for the shoebox shelf.
So tomorrow's 7/7/07. Tons of yabblos are getting married, placing bets, and holding religious ceremonies of some kind. What's really going to happen?
It's going to be just like the day after the first Lost that showed The Numbers. So many people are going to play 777 on the lottery that even if the winning number weren't 934, everyone would end up with like $1.83.
It's going to be just like that big blizzard a few years ago. Nine months from tomorrow, hospitals will be choked with women in labor.
It's going to be just like the Millennium. Everybody's going to laugh at the people who seriously expected something bad to happen, but will still hold their breath for juuuuuuuuuuuust a second when it comes.
It's going to be just like last Saturday. Or 5/6/07. Or 9/9/99. Newscasters are going to talk about it endlessly, get dozens of man-on-the-street interviews, and sum it up with a nice "back to you, Ted."
Crocs: Yea or Nay?
Yea. They're really comfortable/I live in the midwest so it doesn't matter how I look/I like putting little plastic charms on my shoes.
Nay. Apart from looking downright hideous, they must make your feet smell like a wet armpit.