Archive for April, 2010

BANANAS.

Posted: April 29, 2010 in Uncategorized

It’s my new distraction-word. It used to be POTATOES but I used it so often that it stopped succeeding as a distraction-word because of its predictability.

Distraction-words come in handy when you’re in a tough situation and desperately need the other person to get distracted or stop talking about something.  

Person: Why did you sit on my glasses?
Me: Why did you leave them on the sofa where butts usually descend upon?
Person: DONT GET SMART WITH ME, YOUNG LA-
Me: BANANAS.
Person: WHAT.
Me: BANANAZZ.
Person: Huh. What was I talking about- uh. YEA MY GLASS-
Me: BANAAAAAAAAAA
Person: -LISTEN TO ME STOP DOING THA-
Me: NAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Person: -HOW DO I-
Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAA
Person: -I’M SERIOU-
Me: AAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Person: MOTHERFU*stomps away*

In other news, here I was thinking I was taking some sort of superior ground by shunning pop music purely because of their obnoxiously shallow lyrics and general sleezyness.
But bliix seems to be able to take the dumbest songs out there (you know, those ones you really hate and roll your eyes at, but are so catchy that with one listen they stick inside your head for a week like an evil little leech) and turn them into.. niceness.

Although I have to say though he’s given it a good try Black Eyed Peas’ Boom Pow is beyond saving.
He’s just added drums and electric guitars to that idiotsong by Pitbull and I suddenly like it a lot. Lyrics are still idiotic but the instruments make my brain forgive. It’s crazy:    

He’s also managed to turn one of the most ridiculously facepalm-worthy songs on the charts this year into something I could actually listen to without wanting to roundhouse kick the singer (not quite as immedately atleast):

Mad skillz fo sho.

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Maximus Caesar awoke from his deep slumber upon.. a purple shoe.

ohai. I is mak’s new friend. I sleep in her shoez.

Many enemies lie in wake to challenge Caesar. Like TEH RIBBON. 

take that, ribbon!!111

AND THAT.

Alas. Caesar was no match for his nemesis’s superior ribbonly powers.

owell. Caesar passing out nao, bai.

Scarygurlhormones.

Posted: April 18, 2010 in Uncategorized

Renegade hormones. They’re the world’s biggest threat, second to only Al Qaeda who are second to the teletubbies series. Serious stuff.

People are really, really scary when hormonal. Don’t mean to be sexist but testosterone fuelled men are easier to handle (via pepper spray/cricket bat) than oestrogen and progesterone fuelled women.
Due to hormones controlling general female emotions kinda changing up a little bit during the hormonal phase, symptoms will include fluctuation between tears, rage and lovey doveyness, and back to rage again.   

If you’ve watched Knocked Up you’d know where I’m coming from when I say pregnant women are SCARY, no jokes.
They’re sorta like little hysterical paranoid confusing evul people. Except like, with babies in their tummies, so all is forgiven. Next to this specimen are the PMSing girls, and the menopausing middle aged women. All of them act alike though.

i.e. volatile and scary. I met up with a friend I hadn’t met in ages, who was clearly PMSing. 
PMSgurl: HI.
Me: Hi, man. What’s-
PMSgurl: Don’t you wanna know how my day was? It’s really been a long day.
Me: Oh, what happened?
PMSgurl: My boyfriend is SUCHAJERK. We met up and he knew I was stressed and instead of even asking me what happened he like, brought me flowers and stuff!
Me: That bitch! Wait, what?
PMSgurl: Yeah it’s the end of the week and he thinks just cuz he gets me flowers he’ll get some this weekend, what an insensitive little-
Me: Maybe he just wanted to give you flowers, man.
PMSgurl: Nobody listens to me, nobody understaaahhnds!
Me: You’re PMSing aren’t you.
PMSgurl: That’s besides the point! Maybe these are actual feelings OK! Stop trying to psychoanalyze everything! GAWD.
Me: Ok I’m getting a little scared over here. Can you stop flaring your nostrils like that? Here, have a drink-
PMSgurl: NOOOAAARR! *gets up and goes to trample Japan* 

Yeah. Hey I’m a girl too and I know when I’m PMSing and I restrict human contact when I am, lest I keell someone. Or worse, get teary eyed and make awkward moments with them.   
PMSgurls are less psycho on fellow girls though. I hear it’s the guys who get the real treatment.

One moment she’s acting totally normal, watching TV with him. The next, the commercial is on and she turns to him and says, ‘We don’t do anything exciting anymore. Have you gotten bored of me?’
The guy obviously not knowing where the hell this is coming from, is caught unawares, and confused and wanting to placate her, says, ‘Of course not, sweetie!’
‘SWEETIE? Don’t patronize me thinking I’ll drop the subject!’
And the guy scared for his life at this point is really thinking WTF, but instead says ‘that’s a nice dog’ at the Dulux commercial hoping the woman’s momentary schizophrenia will die down if normal convo is initiated. 

Bad move. Nice knowin’ ya, bro. Srsly, how do half the guys deal with it? The presence of boobs just makes it all worth it I’m guessing? *facepalm*

aunt maria by alicedpalma

I dunno if it’s a muslim family thing or a general sri lankan family thing, but while holidaying with the cousins in the name of April, I realized that The Aunties of the family are plotting to cook the children and eat us.

I came to this logical conclusion after much skillful observation, i.e. sitting inside a living room containing Aunties and children and making shifty eye movement. So the Aunties serve us delicious food items, and they’re all, eat up, my pretties, before going to the kitchen and cackling evilly in secret.

Being unsuspecting and unaware of the diabolical forces beyond our world of happy vacationeyness, we eat the gulab jam and other suspiciously amazingly made food items courtesy of Aunties’ mad skillz.

After a few munches, Aunty walks up and says, do you want some more?
Yeah I guess-
And she fills the plate up all over again with supercholesterolawesomeness.
That’s too much.. but whatever, it’s gulab jam.
So we’re eating and getting full, but 5 minutes later, an Aunty from the kitchen yells, take some more! I’m not there to serve but please eat more!
So we do, till we’re full. Really full. The Aunty walks in.
Why is your plate empty? You’re so skinny! Eat eat!
But I’m pretty full, Aunty, thank you-
NU. EAT MOAR.
Butbut-
Have you had enough?
Yes.
Are you sure you’re full?
Yes.
OK! *piles plate with MOAR gulab jam with SUGARY SUGARSTUFFS*

Omg. WHAY, Aunty, WHAY?
Cuz I need to fatten you up!

TO PUT ME IN A POT AND EAT ME?
Uh.. *shifty eyes* I dunno what you’re talkin bout. *rushes off to kitchen*

Yeah I’m onto you, Aunties. You can fool the little ones but I sleep with one eye open. And a shovel under my bed. It’s a plastic spade but shovel sounds more threatening. Yeah. Watch yoself.

Open your eyes, young ones! Do not give in to the Aunties and their seductive gulabjamey ways. Next time they shout EAT MOAR U SKINNY GURL, yell NO and flip the plate of sweets and run. Run like a madman.
If you’re like me and are afraid that your loved ones plan on eating you, reassure yourself at The Oatmeal.