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.
Today I bought a sweatshirt at the thrift store for five bucks. It has a crocodile running and carrying a lunchbox while rocking sunglasses, a backpack, and sneakers. Children play in the background in rainbow colors.
Maybe I’ll post a picture when it’s not 3:00 am because no amount of text could really do it justice.
…On second thought, he might be walking. It’s hard to tell with those bipedal crocs, especially when they’re leaning forward. Is that just their posture or an indication of speed? There is no way to know. Is Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile to be used as the controlling precedent? Someone ask the Tootsie Pop owl.
P.S. Why hasn’t anyone created a Magic 8-ball style website where you ask things of the Tootsie Pop owl and he answers your questions? Must I be the one to do everything around here?
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.
Vaginas are like upside-down Volcanoes.
*I reserve the right to elaborate for an undisclosed future date. So just think about it for now.
I was just thinking about the fact that when I created this tumblr, I had no idea I would someday be attending law school and how ironic is it that it is has such a legal-sounding name? But then I realized the real ironic part is that I will never be a juror in the U.S. judicial system. I will never experience jury duty. Even though I was one of those weirdos that secretly hoped to someday be on one. Scratch that one off the bucket list ‘cause it ain’t happenin’.
That’s okay. The other day I was contemplating putting “ride in a sidecar” on the list but who the hell even owns a sidecar these days other than dog owners who like to put pics of their pets on the internet? And if my future friend/spouse/family member owned a motorcycle, I certainly wouldn’t be wasting my time in the bitch seat. I’d be forcing shim to teach me how to drive one myself!
So I guess I should actually be putting THAT on my bucket list.
If I had one. I don’t, so this whole post is moot.
MOOT COURT. …another place I won’t serve as a jury member.
Coursework for class A—ordinarily of average repulsiveness, requiring only a few hours delay, and having a distant, non-urgent deadline—becomes significantly more attractive to the homeworker when coursework for class B increases drastically in difficulty, eclipsing and absorbing the procrastination quotient of class A and thereby crossing the delay threshold from “this can wait” to “I refuse to do this until the last possible minute because I don’t want to.”
nice tat!
Every time I see this picture, I can’t help but think about how creepy it would be to have that staring at you during sex.
Not okay.
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.
Isn’t it funny then that the GOP is so vehemently anti abortion and taxation?
I have no comment other than I was watching True Blood and that show is so sexual, you should be surprised if I don’t do some critical thinking about these sorts of things.
