Bradley Cooper and the Felix Felicis
- If JK Rowling had written Limitless.
P.S. In renaming my paper today, I briefly considered trying to make a play on words centering around the whole asteroid mining concept and for just a second, contemplated titling it “Mine Comp.”
…before deciding that was quite possibly the most devastatingly offensive thing I have ever thought up.
In semi-related news, did you know someone actually named an asteroid Anne Frank??
Asteroid Anne Frank: forever floating in the galactic attic above our heads.
Restaurant websites should end in “.nom”
Thank you! You’re welcome! Good night! I’ll be here all week!
The further we get into the 21st c., the more I believe we are witnessing the emergence of a Godwin’s Law variant premised on Lindsay Lohan’s life failures.
If I Were a Scientist:
What if scientists tracked everyone’s expletive usage—specifically word choice and emission patterns—and, after compiling the data, grouped people together who share similar cursing habits?
Where would we see correlations between subjects? Socioeconomic? Cultural? Age? Geographic? Specific life experience?
Who’s more likely to jump right to ‘motherfucker’?
‘Cunt’?
‘Asshole’?
‘Cocksucker’?
…
When I was younger I would also think about what it would look like if you could line up all the people in the world on a continuum based on certain facial features. Or whether it would be possible to set them up in such a way as to make it look like one face seamlessly morphing into others.
…
JUST SOME THOUGHTS.
Maybe someday I’ll get super rich and just pay people to carry out all my grandiose, half-baked ideas. Like the Richard Branson of faux science. Gotta find me some spaceschip pilots.
Who can read 30 pages of constitutional law cases when the internet is a thing that exists and you can watch in-studio performances of awesome bands that do amazing things until your brain drops out your butt because wtf world.
How is this a thing?! How is any of it a thing?! People used to poop over holes in the ground in shacks and get dysentery somewhere in bumfuck Idaho while fording rivers in wagons made out of wood and canvas without air conditioning or Chinese food and THIS IS REAL?!
Please forgive my lapses in sociability this week. I am watching sound art and trying to figure out how to get through a three-hour OR supreme court hearing tomorrow morning.
“Well when alcohol is at stake, all the keebler elves in my brain trees put their bestest bakers on the problem.”
- Direct quote from my life/mouth.
Should there even be a slash between life and mouth? Because lifemouth seems like an appropriate way to describe the continuum of utterances that issue from my vocal cords.
From X-Men’s Cyclops’ Wikipedia page:
He has also been observed using casual sunglasses and contact lenses made from the same ruby quartz as his visor lens.
…
But how did he get the contacts in?
Source: Wikipedia
It recently registered in my brain that J Biebs is the new J.T.
Like, I know everyone already knew this and the parallels were countless, but it was the realization that both started with doofy looking haircuts that finally made it click for me.
This one-of-a-coif capitalization is a common strategy amongst teenie bop pop princes. Other noteworthy attempts: Joe Jonas (he ended up straying too close to the Criss Angel look for him to really make it his own) and Nick Carter, with those all-over rubber band braid/dreads. I was going to post a picture of that, but it is impossible to find one. Probably because Nick Carter paid someone to destroy all evidence of that ever happening. And rightly so.
Anyway. I’m too old to be writing about this. But it was one of those surprising eureka moments you didn’t know your brain had it in it to make. Like last week, for example, I realized that Maggie Simpson is most likely named after Marge Simpson. I mean, they’re both Margarets, right? Those names are too similar for it to not be a coincidence, right?
Nah, I just wikipedia’d it. Marge is short for Marjorie. BUT Margaret and Marjorie are variations of the same root name; I know that because I just looked it up in a baby name book which means I’ve spent way too much time on this post. The End.
Some people modify their cars. I modify my bed.
The only problem is that after putting a foam topper atop my already pillow top mattress, the sheets now barely fit around the whole enchilada. Which means my attempts to emulate hospital corner instructional videos I youtube every time I make the damn bed tend to fall drastically short of military-grade. They pretty much fall short of any grade other than remedial home ec for the learning disabled.
That’s the glory of it though: I have cleverly disguised my most comfortable of sleeping chateaus behind the facade of a hot mess of shoddy sheet-laying. Who wants to get all up in that ugly pile of bedding? Not you! You’d walk right by without ever knowing how close you came to greatness!
If we were animals in the wild, I would win.
I mean, I probably wouldn’t pass on my genes because I’d be too busy hibernating 24/7, so I’d actually lose in Darwinian terms. But in my own mind… victory.
Page 1 of 2
