Today I was spending some time thinking about the dystopian society in which retired cereal mascots must live under the tyrannical rule of Colonel Sanders, Dave Thomas, or Fred the Donut Baker depending on the sugar content of the cereal that had forsaken them, as usual. You’re probably thinking it would be pretty cool if I laid all the details of what happened in the sad afterlives of the Cookie Crook or Wendell the Baker, but that’s another article. Actually, it might not even be an article so much as it is a mural I need to have commissioned. It’s a very serious undertaking for me considering the only biopic of Wendell the Baker, titled The Wendell Baker story, is grossly inaccurate and doesn’t mention Cinnamon Toast Crunch even once. Perhaps there was some kind of licensing issue with General Mills?
This gentle baker got away with murdering his team after a particularly soggy batch of CTC.
Anyway, that got me thinking about other dystopian societies, which in turn got me thinking about all the required reading I had to do throughout my education. (Required reading is wrought with images of worlds that are only slightly less depressing than being an adult.) All those hundreds of hours spent reading books when I could have been playing Nintendo. What was I supposed to have gotten out of that? A more informed world view? I don’t have that. Should it have made me a better person? It didn’t. Could I even remember what some of these stories were about? I don’t know, probably. I’m going to try to recount some for you.
Hello folks. I’m here to comment on a facebook status that I read today. I’m not going to name the person who posted it. It’s not someone I’m going to just go and hang out with I don’t think, nor do I ever think they will see this article. If they were to see it, I would hope that they would come away from it feeling educated and enlightened.
The status in question, nearly an hour after I’ve seen it, has 11 likes and no comments. I had briefly considered defriending the person who made it, but I realized that since I am not friends with any of these likers, I cannot defriend those people. I want to, but I simply can’t unless I sent friend requests to all of them, then suddenly and dramatically defriend all of them. So I remain friends with the person who made this status, and I’m quietly thinking of a way that I can inflict some kind of harm on the 11 likers.
Some months ago, one of my first kittensharks articles was a review of Amazon’s Kindle Fire; I discussed the purchase in terms of what made me decide to buy it instead of an iPad ($$$) and what I found useful about it in terms of my life and how I would be using it. These are pretty general terms for a review, and I still think that, at that time, I made the right decision. Things changed a few months later and I needed more productivity than the Kindle Fire could provide, so I was forced to make a change in devices. Here is the story about how and why I bought an iPad as well as a description of its usefulness to me.
I updated the header image finally. Love it or hate it, it’s still bright pink, and that’s how it will always be. I also made a Facebook page (go Like it!!!) because people seem to need that for whatever reason. Anyway, there are some great new additions coming up today and in the next week, so keep watching!
Also: Zelda’s updated review of the Kindle Fire/iPad situation and new book reviews - PLUS a new kittenshark!!!
A magical time of the year is setting upon the land. No, of course I’m not speaking of the winter holiday season. A decade in retail ruined Christmas for me forever. I’m talking about something much more wonderful. I’m talking of course about Next Iron Chef: Redemption.
Some people see cooking shows like this.
I never thought I would be a Food Network enthusiast. I never got that hunger-porn feeling a lot of people get when they watch cooking shows. I don’t even really like food that much. If I’m alone I often forget to eat. I suppose that makes me a poseur. It’s a shame I have to learn to live with.
It was last year that Zelda started introducing me to Food related television. She started me off easy with Good Eats. There were costumes and puppets that would entertain me if the food didn’t. Then it was Chopped. I was hooked pretty much instantly. The judges were awesome to watch. The competitors were always hilarious, whether or not it was intentional. Continue reading →
Recently, I have been waking up from a recurring nightmare. It harkens back to the dark days of my childhood. Specifically it’s this haunting image of the fifth grade. The fifth grade was already a particularly dark time for me. My teacher was an elderly obese bitch named Mrs. West who wore an eyepatch. I’m not kidding. It almost ruined pirates for me a little. One time she made me clean up another student’s blood off a chair because of a blind accusation from a shit-head in my class named Ryan. I don’t remember his last name but if I did I would probably link to his loser facebook profile right here and you could see what kind of an idiot he is.
Anyway, this is about one particular traumatic event. What is waking me up with cold sweats and the the sensation that my entire decision making process has been sullied comes down to math class. You know, 5th grade math where you learn the same shit you learned in 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade again? That math class. One day in that class everything began south. I will forever bear the burden of learning what it means to be confused and unconfident that day.
Just lump this into the pile with Dr. Who and Lost already, Rob.
I don’t really know how it happened. It was all kind of a blur to me. Rob came to our place for what I had expected to probably be a night of watching Rifftrax or perhaps playing some Beerio Kart, when he blurted out that he wanted to join in some online trivia show. I can’t remember if I actually face-palmed myself or if I just really wanted to at the time. I’ve got nothing against trivia shows and nothing against things Rob likes (despite all evidence to the contrary on the latter), it’s just that when Rob gets into something, he gets into it in such an intense way that I’ll dislike it because I know it isn’t possible for me to enjoy it as much as he does. I secretly envy him. (Okay, it’s not a secret.)
Its all happened to us. We write down the wrong number. We remember the number wrong. That cute girl at the bar gave you the number to the pizza place down the street. Somehow, despite all of our best attempts, we send make a mistake and get the wrong message to the wrong person. This is a guide to what to do when you are on the receiving end of that other person’s mistake. Because hey, people won’t learn from their mistakes unless you embarrass them, right? The following information is a true story, and should only be attempted by professionals and jerks.
Bush doing his daily prank call to the Kremlin.
Step one is to try and make the other person assume you are person that they were texting to. This sounds easy, but actually takes a bit of work. The professionals do extensive research and accurately replicate the other person’s texting fingerprint. On a side note, fun science fact: