Your love is like fuzzy blue cream corn
Wife is watching yet another disaster of a remake of a game show.
Because there is not an original idea in Hollywood. Ever.
I hear they're digging up Monty Hall and digitizing him for Let's Make a Deal VII.
The host is wearing a dress... she is female, so that's a good start. Let's just say it looks good on her from the neck to her boobs. After that it hugs her body. And after looking at it, people don't want to hug her body. Her body goes drastically wide; the dress doesn't. That's the end of my fashion knowledge. So I figure either she owns the show or they later found the producer, hanging from the rafters, with a note pinned to his body.
The game shows do auditions for contestants. You can't just show up and get on the show. Well, maybe you can with this one, I dunno. The producers are looking for Game Show Contestants. They want bubbly and outgoing. You can even dress in sweats - they don't care, so long as you're bubbly. This one guy, in his sweats, is jumping up and down, hugging the host, and telling heartwarming stories. This kind of behavior is usually reserved for women, so he's a genuine unicorn. The wife is not as bubbly, but told a heartwarming story about her husband checking all the boxes on the list that girls make for husbandly characteristics. Everybody say AHHHHHH. But if he hugs the host one more time, he'll be in divorce court, with not a penny to his name, while she gets the house.
On the other paw, they are not looking for contestants like... me.
HOST: Hi - tells us about yourself.
ME: I'm lefty.
HOST: Hi, lefty. What do you do?
ME: Sit.
HOST: Do you have a job?
ME: Yes.
HOST: What do you do?
ME: Sit. I already told you that. Are you listening to me?
HOST: Are you married?
ME: Are you with the IRS?
HOST: Not at all. Are you married?
ME: Yes.
HOST: Tell us a little about her!
ME: She's over there.
AUDIENCE APPLAUDS
HOST: How did you meet?
ME: She sold adult leather goods.
HOST: How long have you been together?
ME: Yeah.
HOST: You're not very descriptive, are you?
ME: Yeah. Hey Bob, after the audition I'm going to 2736 Marlock St, in Los Angeles. I hear there's a real hot piece waiting for me.
HOST: Hey - that's MY address!
ME: Locking up your wife won't help - she will still get out.
BUT WAIT.... The Wonder Years is coming back.
Of course it is.
But this time it's the black Wonder Years.
Ya know, people who insist on this stuff are hypocrites. They complain, then go off and do the same thing. We got ta get together. Don't let the race-baiters and SJWs run things.
[this space would be reserved for a parody of black Wonder Years dialog, but I never saw the show]
Today in Olympic News: we're pretty sure they're over, so I don't have to come up with any more Olympics shit for another four years. The last event was the 100 yard broom push, performed by the Japanese Janitorial Team.
Today I identify as male and female, and I demand to use both bathrooms, at the same time
I'm going to mess this up because I'm doing it from memory, but I read in the Wall Street Journal that an established pediatric group has made the decision that if a child says they don't feel right in their body, a course of acceptance and encouragement should be given. They are so set on this that no one is allowed to have any other opinion. If there is a conference and you wish to disagree, you are not allowed to speak or even have a table. SHE'S A WITCH - BURN HER!
There is no debate permitted.
We, once again, fail to learn from history. Many many things were shut out by Modern Medicine and later found out to be scientifically verifiable. Depression, multiple personalities, fibromyalgia and chiropractors were all shut out with no debate permitted.
My problem with the subject is that six year olds are not capable of making their own decisions in this matter. Sometimes their parents aren't either. Hormones and puberty blockers? We've gone beyond way too far. "Hey, didja see the boobs on that seven year old?" - "Nah, they're implants."
I get a weekly email from Duckduckgo with privacy tips. You can too.
- There's no escape from Faceyspaces, even if you don't use it
- 4 things you need to do before deleting an app
- Deactivating Facebook Isn't Enough. Here's How to Permanently Delete Your Account.
Teeth Donation
Off I went to my new dentist, to donate 3 teeth. They told me there are children in the third world who don't have teeth in my size, so I was asked to donate and donate big. I wonder if these are the same children in the third world who are starving... I forget to ask the pertinent questions sometimes....
I asked for nitrous gas because I was told it helps people whose bodies are desperately trying to escape the chair. Then I asked for it again. While I waited, I got the gold treatment from the dental tech, whether I wanted it or not. For no reason whatsoever, I noticed that none of the staff was over 20. Plus their uniforms were not conductive to looking down their shirts. Either that or their upper measurement was not sufficient to cause a nice view. I don't care about size, so long as there are an even number of them.
The nitrous eventually showed up. Since I also unfortunately showed up, I suggested to connect it to me. It came in through this tiny device that went over my nose only, so it didn't look like something from Alien, attacking my face. I waited a while, wondering if I would sound like Cheech and Chong. The doc couldn't tell me, but it's because he was relatively young. He couldn't tell me what band Jimmy Page was in either. I let him work on me anyway.
My voice continued not to sound like Cheech, Chong, or Jimmy Page, so I waited. I noticed that most of my body parts had stopped trying to escape the chair or even defend myself from the doctor with nuclear weapons I carry in my pocket, next to the Rolos. The single exception was my pancreas, which tried with all its might to GET OUT. It was screaming really loudly, but only I could hear it. It might have been funny if everybody else could hear it too, but I digress.
Oops - the nitrous ran out. That was encouraging. It really helped relax me for the root canal, but the teeth donation was next. You can see how this might have caused unrest, can't you? I highly recommend it. Rest assured your insurance won't cover it, so be prepared to pay for it. So, as the mad panic and escape plans returned, Doc said there would be no extraction tonight. He explained why, but I was too busy being in panic. That's a trick they use: "Mr lefty, your fourth lateral thingamajigger is askew, so we're going to have to move the extraction to next month." Meanwhile, your entire body, plus your spouse's, is trying to leave the office, through the window if necessary. I talked to the doctor about this... "Hey Doc... you know that describing the upper incisor just confuses people. Try saying 'the one on top.'" He agreed. Also, 'extraction' 'is a great word, because you don't have to say 'pull your fscking tooth out.'
So all the terror I had built up had dissipated slightly, but gave itself an additional two weeks to regroup. I expected it to start giving me dreams of blue-scrubbed men chasing me around with pliers. It will have trained my body to levitate four feet whenever it hears 'extraction.'
At least I got to wear some wicked safety goggles. That almost made up for the sheer terror and bank-drain. Cosmetically, I went from looking like I was in a nasty fight in which many front teeth were broken, to a smaller fight, in which two teeth were broken. Only time will tell if Mrs. lefty gets all hot over my new look. So far she hasn't noticed (even after she drove me home from the appointment).
If you look at this process from the outside, there's fear and pain, for which I'm paying dearly and going back. It's like owning an iPhone.
I got that really comfortable, soothing blanket while they took final xrays. Through my nose. So only the bottom of my brain would be exposed. This sounds like the TSA all over again. She pointed the thing at me and I gave her my wallet. We laughed. I actually gave my wallet to the biller. It was a change from giving it to Wife.
I mentioned that the girls up front probably held pom poms more than once in their lives. There's an automated system that sends a text, reminding the patient of their appointment. They suggested I respond, just to say HI. They get the texts and will respond to me. They're really sweet, but we don't come from the same planet.
- apparently it's Hispanic Heritage Month. My workplace misses nothing. Nor does Google, which is celebrating Latinx Heritage Month. One of these can't spell..
- I think my local convenience store is celebrating too: they added burritos and tacos to their menu
- Still no left handed history month
- a Florida town celebrated with a dancing taco gif - OUTRAGE!
- a newly discovered Vincent Van Gogh drawing has been discovered
- keep an ear out for it
- FBI: $133 million lost to online romance scams this year
- suggests scammers transition to ransomeware, where the Big Bucks are
- to carry 60lb backpacks
- to make an environmental statement if any press is near
- to walk during part of the marathon, to protest something or other
- to wear business attire, especially shoes
- Ladies and gentlemen, we have finally solved all the worlds' crises: I give you Boozebrella!
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