Micro Yap

This blog post only exists because I have a really high tolerance to alcohol.

Don't worry, I will get to the topic of the post eventually. But first, I have to ask: does anyone else have one of those nights where you are totally committed to getting, if not drunk, at least comfortably tipsy, but then, despite ALL EFFORTS, nature fights back?

Maybe not QUITE this far... but heading in the right direction..

Is it just me? Whenever I plan my drinking in advance, fully invested in getting a little sauced, I end the evening discoursing Proust in my most eloquent prose while, on nights when I plan to have only one drink, I end up vomiting in the corner on a towel I retrieved from the bathroom. 

(That is right, I went INTO the bathroom, removed a towel, placed it in the corner of the bedroom and threw up on it, then went back to bed proud of how forward thinking I was… next morning, no memory of it. Let me know if anyone wants the full story on that one, if I get enough requests I may divulge it.)

I have them!!! 

But the topic of this post is, in fact, SMALL TALK. Small Talk is a many varied and cunning beast that can rear it's head in a myriad of different ways. Often employed extensively on blind dates, it can be hard to remember that Small Talk's sphere of influence extends beyond the twisted miasma of the ocularly impaired dating scene.

A Picture's Worth a Word... or Two

Hey, Hey Everybody!

Do you like to laugh, but find you really only have a second or two to devote to your joyous giggles?

If so, head on over to A Picture's Worth a Word... or Two, a new blog concept I am working on. I see a picture and I attach a thought to it... anything I think of when I see the photo. If I did it correctly, that thought is funny, if not... we'll I'll just have to try again later. 

At this point I am working off of pictures I find myself, but ideally I would LOVE to be able to have readers send in pictures and I could work from there.

Before anybody starts worrying, I will NOT abandon this blog. The new blog is a place to put short, sweet humor to the test.

Once again, that is apicturesworthaword.blogspot.com

Let me know what you think!

Rock me, Google!

One great thing about blowguns…

...ugh... Fucking auto-correct… let me start again.

One great thing about BLOGGING is going every now and then and checking the stats for your blog. How many people have visited in the past week, how did they link to the site, etc.

I say it is great, often it is a little depressing, especially when the numbers go down, but that never happens to this blog…
*shifty eyes*

But one of the best parts about the stats page is that it shows you google searches that eventually resulted in the searcher arriving at your blog. More often then not these are searches like "whyihateeverybody blog" or "that really funny, awesome blog".

Every now and then, however, you find some truly amazing searches. I have gathered my three favorite below, these are 100% real searches that brought people to this very blog.

Orgasms, Asses, Puppies and Tea Pots

Crying children are annoying for all parties involved, including, I assume, the child itself. Even if that particular child hasn't had bland food rubbed into it's eye, he or she still packs an auditory wallop. 

In fact, the only way to make the sound of a child crying WORSE is to put that child onto a plane, and put yourself on that same plane... and what the hell, for good measure, have yourself sitting right next to the child, and give yourself... herpes? Yeah, herpes makes everything worse.

Even without the herpes, at this point you have a perfect storm of annoyances: the stress of flying, the cramped compartment and the sweaty people around you create an unholy allegiance much like if the ebola virus and the atom bomb had a mutant love child named Eboltom who blasts bad Hair Metal out of his car while slowly driving through the neighborhood.

... I was going to put a picture illustrating the above mental image... but that picture would just be horribly depressing, so to pull everyone out of a suicide spiral, we will take a brief detour to:
Now, back to the babies crying on planes. If you have flown more than once in your life you have probably experienced this. Even in the best of times, when you're in a great mood, it is annoying. 

I remember one time I was on my way across the atlantic. I was sitting in the second row of coach right next to a child screaming like its little life depended on it. After enduring about 30 minutes of wailing the flight attendant came back from First Class, leaned down and said to the mother:

"Ma'am, is there any way you could quiet your child? They can hear him crying in first class."