Friday, July 29, 2011

Fun Friday Facts #1: Wife-carrying, private bunkers, and well-hung ducks

In the interests of having a reason to blog more regularly, I'm starting a new column. I'm going to call it Fun Friday Facts, and I'm going to do it every Friday, until I get sick of it, forget, or run out of facts.

Facts are hard to come by these days, you know. -- Karppinen

Here goes:

1) In 1991, the Nevada State Legislature voted to make a slight change in the lettering of the state's name on its flag. According to senate hearing records, the matter had “always bothered [them].” If this is the kind of thing bothering our governments, it's no damn wonder we're running out of polar bears.

Seriously, you guys, it's hot as f&ck out here. -- Marieke Usendoorn-Kuijpers

2) The Argentine blue-bill duck has a 17-inch penis, the longest of any vertebrate in the world relative to body size. The duck itself is about 16 inches long, so its penis is bigger than it is. Try to work that into your next chat-up conversation. See what happens.

3) The average person produces 1.9 liters of intestinal gas each day. I must be farting for at least three people.

4) Each year since 1992, the town of Sonkajarvi, Finland has hosted the Wife Carrying World Championships. The sport of wife-carrying literally involves throwing your wife up on your back and running with her as fast as you can. They even host relay events where teams of dudes take turns sprinting with one dude's wife on their backs. Passing her off in a hurry must be difficult.

Here are some of the rules:
  • If you drop your wife, you must pick her back up and carry on running.
  • Your wife must weigh a minimum of 108 pounds (49 kilos). If she doesn't, she will be fitted with weights.
  • The wife you carry need not be your own. You can borrow your neighbor's wife, or use one that “you may have found her farther ahead,” whatever that means.

Say, neighbor, mind if I borrow your wife for a day? -- sunshinecity

They say it dates back to barbarian days when dudes used to raid other villages and carry off their women, so as not to marry an illegimate sister.

Go, tradition! -- WikedKentaur

5) I read in the news that private bunker sales are up. They start at about $100,000, and the price goes up based on whether you're hiding from fast zombies or slow zombies or smart zombies or what. Of course, if you have a spare couple of mil lying around, you can buy your own abandoned missile silo. A guy named Larry Hall is planning to turn one of these into luxury survival condos somewhere in Kansas (they won't tell us where, cause it's a SECRET). If you're on a budget, you could buy a share in the Vivos Underground Shelter Network for $25,000 to $50,000. That gets you food, clothes, water, fuel, and some brand new roommates if the world goes to shit. Hope you like each other.

If you go to the Vivos website, you'll see that they have a timer counting down the seconds until December 21, 2012. What have I told you guys about that?

You'd better make sure that's an inland bunker. -- Dave Pape 

Monday, July 25, 2011

Just for the Fun of It...Mustaches!!

Allow me to share with you my love of mustaches.

Not to give you the wrong impression -- I'm not saying that I find mustaches sexually attractive (I don't), or that I'm thinking of throwing out the wax and growing my own proud mustache in all its glory (I'm not). But I do have an aesthetic appreciation for a good, solid mustache.

I don't mean your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, look-at-me-I've-got-some-hair-on-my-lip sort of mustache. I mean your holy-sh*t-look-at-that-guy sort of mustache. The sort of mustache that wins awards, man. The sort of mustache that says, "If you're going to go, you might as well go all out."

Here today, for your viewing pleasure, are some mustaches I'd like to honor:

Thoughtful Cowboy Mustache -- a4gpa

Evil Mastermind Mustache -- Michael Attree

What-the-F&ck Mustache -- Ayleen Gaspar

I don't really know what's going on with that mustache. Has he got it tucked into his hat? He has, hasn't he? Why, God, why?

I Don't Really Know What's Going On Here Either, But At Least It's Better Than the Last One Mustache -- Ghandi Jones

Extra Points for Wardrobe Mustache -- Ayleen Gaspar 

Looks Like You Used Hot Curlers on That Mustache -- Pattanaik

The best part about this mustache is, you know he wears it every day. 

I Am the Spider King Mustache -- Stephanie Watson

Starburst Mustache pictured with I Have Initials Goatee -- Ryan McFarland

Grab My Handlebars, Baby Mustache -- Seanstayte 

 And finally, my favorite...

I Have WIIIIIIIINGS!!! Mustache --  Markus Mindaugus Urban

Happy Monday, folks. I hope that was as good for you as it was for me. 

Thursday, July 21, 2011

4 Signs You've Been Online Too Long

A Mother Life

I started writing for the Web a good couple of years ago, and I've spent most (ok, all) of my working hours online since then. When I go home I putter around online some more, because I don't own a television.

I've become a pale, hunch-back shadow of my former self, giggling alone in a dimly-lit room, pretending I'm surrounded by “friends.” Soon I'll be completely blind and allergic to sunlight. I'll never go outside again.

Don't let this happen to you. If you start to develop these symptoms of Internet overdose, go the f*ck outside for a while, and talk to someone, you know, the old-fashioned way, with your mouth.

4) You Reference Memes in Conversation

And no one knows what the hell you're talking about, cause they're normal people who take sunlight and own televisions. Another sure sign is if you're really excited about something that's happened online, like the Cookssource debacle, and you're trying to talk about it to folks who go online for about an hour once a week. Their expressions will be of mixed fear and wonderment. They will have no f*cking clue what the f*ck is going on.

They will look at you like this. -- Nonsequiturlass

3) You're Using Netspeak in Conversation

This is when someone says something funny, and instead of laughing, you actually just say, “LOL.” Or instead of saying “What the f*ck?” the old-fashioned way, you pronounce the letters W-T-F. These abbreviations cut down on keystrokes and prevent carpal tunnel syndrome. They also make typing easier for the sunlight-taking, TV-watching masses who still type with two fingers. I don't think it's really any easier to say them aloud with your actual mouth.

Just say the f&cking words, geek.

2) Your Friends Stop Googling Things, and Just Start Asking You Instead

Let's be honest, you're lucky to have any friends at this point.

1) You Go Online Even in Your Dreams

A couple of weeks ago I dreamed I bought a lovely little house in the country, planted a flower garden, and lived happily ever after. My flowers attracted lots of beautiful birds, and I enjoyed watching them flit among the branches on warm summer evenings. Because my idea of "settling down" is caring for plants, apparently.

I'd like you to meet my children. -- toolmonkytaco

But before I planted my garden, I totally dream-Googled “flowers birds like” to figure out what to plant. A couple of days later I dreamed I signed onto Twitter and felt overwhelmed by the number of messages and mentions I had to answer. Except I'm still not sure if this was actually a dream, or just another day.

I need to go outside for awhile. I hope it's not already too late.

I think it is. 

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Top 10 Causes of My Own Eventual Death

Naturally, I don't want to die. I want to stay alive as long as possible. It's one of my life goals. The most important one, in fact.

What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, or so they say. Unfortunately, no matter how strong you are, one day something's going to kill you. Someday, someone will fill in the blanks in my epitaph with one of these:

10) A Blogging-About-Your-Own-Death Jinx

While this possibility goes against all logic and reason, I feel I'd be a fool if I didn't acknowledge it here.

9) A Tropical Disease, Probably Involving a Blood Parasite

I've avoided the tropics all my life. I am sufficiently afraid of both tropical diseases and the sea to go on avoiding it indefinitely. I might go once, just to say I did, because I know I'm the only crazy b&tch in the world to suffer panic attacks at the thought of sun-kissed sand. So, it might seem really, really unlikely that I'd succumb to Chaga's disease or malaria or Dengue fever or some as-yet-unnamed affliction that causes the eyes to melt right out of the head. But, climate change, you know.

Is it just me, or is it hot out here? -- Tambako the Jaguar

8) Food Poisoning

Most people say, “When in doubt, throw it out,” but I'm more of a “Challenge Accepted” type. I cut the mold off the cheese and eat it anyway. Go ahead and kill me, mold, if you think you're rough enough.

Don't be a p*ssy, dude, it's not that green. -- trekkyandy

7) Plane Crash

I know that, statistically, you're more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash. It's probably true, cause just look at all the idiots with driver's licenses.

But that just pushes “car crash” higher up the list. I still can't get into a plane without thinking, “If this thing crashes, I'm probably fucked.”

In case of a loss of cabin-pressure, snakes will fall out of the overhead compartment, apparently. -- KidMoxie

6) Heart Attack

Cause I like bacon, cheeseburgers, and fries. I'd happily cram some fries into my cheeseburger, wrap it in bacon, fry it again, and eat it like that. Fried food is my mothernuckin' soulmate. Okra, catfish, hush puppies, chicken, tomatoes, mushrooms, potato cakes, eggs. Sausage. Mmmmm. I'd eat a friggin' rat if it was battered in cornmeal and deep-fried in lard.

Not really. -- Inge Habex

5) Skin Cancer

I like to sunbathe, not out of vanity, but because I was raised by cats. Even with sunblock, that's really not safe. I have a lot of moles, too. Sometimes, in the night, I can hear them whispering to each other.

4) Car Crash

Yep, here it is. Right here. Good old number three.

3) Hit by a Bus

Because I wouldn't see it coming, ha ha ha.

No, seriously though, sometimes I just space out and step into traffic. Once, in Amsterdam, I stepped in between five bicycles and a scooter.

Like this.

An old Dutch lady grabbed my arm and yanked me back from the jaws of Death. She muttered something at me and then sighed heavily. I don't speak Dutch, but I think I understood.

2) An Hereditary Disease

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

1) Lung Cancer

If I live long enough, it'll get me in the end. Unless I quit smoking.

Not bloody likely.