Things that are actually real things, Part I

This is really a real thing. You can buy this and they'll send it to you, and then you'd actually have one, because it really exists.

It's Official

For those of you keeping track, "I'm going to sexually molest your dog" is my new favorite threat ever. How awesome is Natasha Lyonne? The answer is highly awesome.

This makes complete sense. (Click for legible picture)







Update:

Duschwagen

Anyone else noticed that Nissan is marketing the Maxima to lonely pathetic losers?
Here's the copy from their ad:

Intelligent key technology that knows you
Seats that hug you
A ride that spoils you

Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh, though. I guess people with no one who knows, hugs or spoils them need cars too.

I've learnt a couple things about myself this week. Or at least, recognized things that had always been apparent.
One, I enjoy walking across bridges.
Two, I enjoy watching waterfowl eat.
The last two mornings have combined these two activities, and thus have been red-letter days indeed.
If this were a decent blog, I'd have pictures, but it's not, so I don't.
If you live in Portland, though, and want to see geese eat a pile of grain on some railroad tracks while walking on a bridge, I suggest the NE side of the Broadway Bridge.

I'm one of those people

Dear NFL on FOX,
I can't stand watching games on your network. The break-dancing robot is bad enough, but I'm not going to be able to watch any NFL games on Fox until you get rid of that goddamn stupid Transformers sound effect before every snap. I don't need an audio cue to remind me that the down-and-yards text is going away. I don't give a shit what that graphic is doing; I'm trying to watch a game. Playing make-believe with you guys that the game is inside some magical robospaceship does not enhance my viewer experience.
Also, I know you're a different channel and department and all, but Bill O'Reilly is a total douche.
There's my two cents,
Have a good year
Rip

Go Ferries!

The following teams are apparently gay -- or at least, gayer than custom teddy bears dressed like whores.

Mastication

Today I remembered that as a kid I used the acronym ABC, Already Been Chewed. What I can't remember is how that phrase was used so frequently as to necessitate abbreviation.
Also, I signed up for those google ads that are based on what you type. With a readership of roughly two, I don't anticipate teh phat lewtz, as the kids say; mostly it's just to see what crazy crap shows up. The ad content tail may well soon wag the blog post dog.

An Open Letter

Dear Old Man I flipped off yesterday,
sorry about that. You see, I was only half paying attention, as I had a red light, and all I saw was a black kid crossing the street, and an old white guy scowling and shaking his head at being unable to make his left turn, so when you made eye contact to commiserate, I thought you were a racist old coot, and I flipped you the bird. Then I noticed that the don't walk sign was lit up. To your credit, you handled my salty rejoinder with grace and, no doubt, a certain melancholy resignation as to the state of The Youth these days. I am aware that there is basically no chance you will read this, but perhaps someone reading this has a grandpa in Silver Spring, MD, and they will call you and hear about the day you had, with punk-ass kids ruining your afternoon drive, and they will relay my message to you. Again, I apologize for making a rude gesture when you had every right to be cranky about a jaywalker.
Sincerely,
Rip Tatermen