Earlier today, I attempted to call my phone company in order to sort out an upgrade, and, when I was inevitably put on hold, I found that, in lieu of the typical polyphonic elevator music, I was to be subjected to what I can only describe as a bizarre clacking reminiscent of the old Internet dial up tone. As I was too lazy to endure the simply arduous torture of holding my phone up to the side of my face, I decided to plug it into my earphones, meaning that I could hear nothing but the robotic white noise reverberating through my skull.
So my friend Charlie and I were discussing those Google App commercials where Google basically pretends that no one has even heard of Siri over the last couple of years, and makes out that asking your phone questions is still super amazing. The annoying thing, however, is that in the commercials, Google doesn’t seem to be directly answering the questions, which seems weird when you assume that google cherry picked these question/answer interactions for how well they sell the product. Like, the correct, direct answer to ‘Will I need an umbrella today?’ is not ‘Here’s today’s weather forecast.’, you dumb robot.
Anyway, this is the increasingly moronic series of text messages that Charlie and I sent to each other. I’ll do mine in bold, and Charlie’s in italic. Enjoy.
Bad guy: Are we finally ready to negotiate?
Good guy: Look, god, I’ll bring you the damn money, just please don’t hurt my family, please.
Bad guy: Very well. You have 8 hours.
Good guy: I, uh… 8 hours? Dude, it’s like a 10 hour drive just to get to you.
Bad guy: Oh, yeah. Uh, that could be a problem, huh.
The following is a genuine recounting of a part of the Norse Mythology. There exists a poem called Lokasenna in which Loki (you know, the super sexy Tom Hiddleston from the Marvel franchise one) is hanging out and having a few drinks with some of the Æsir (gods), but is kicked out after inexplicably murdering a waiter that they were all being really nice to. After a little time away, presumably stewing in anger, Loki returned to throw down the gauntlet and show the gods some serious smack talk. All I can say is god damn, this would have livened up The Avengers movie.
What follows is a genuine account of the resulting quarrel.
A man walks into a Doctor’s office. These never end well, do they?
Here’s a very quick (and totally true) story about pirates (you guys know that I have a huge obsessions with pirates, right?), or, to be more precise, a story about one pirate in particular. It’s a super dumb story, and you’re going to love it.
A short transcript of a conversation follows, wherein elusive billionaire Bruce Wayne takes an attractive, young lady to his bedroom.
Girl: Mister Wayne. How about we get these constricting clothes off.
Bruce: I was just about to suggest the same thing, young lady.
Girl: Oh, Mister Wayne, what a fine… wa – wait…
Girl: All those… scars. What the fuck?
Bruce: Oh, it’s just…
Girl: What the fuck!?
Bruce: I play polo, that’s all. It’s ra-
Girl: Jesus, fucking Jesus!
Bruce: -rather a dangerous sport. That’s all, don’t worry. Now, where were we…
Girl: Woah, woah. Polo? I’m not an idiot. I’m not a – a – a fucking idiot! Oh, god… you…
Bruce: I… what?
Girl: Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re the fucking Batman, aren’t you.
*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*
Operator: Gooooood morning, suicide hotline.
Dave: Uh… hi. My name’s… Dave.
Operator: Well, how do you doodle-e do, Dave?
Dave: … … …
Operator: *audibly smiling*
Dave: Uh, well… not great, obviously.
Parking Officer: I’m sorry, miss Del Ray, but you can’t park your car here. Lana Del Rey: *runs hand down officer’s cheek* Parking Officer: Uh, yeah. So unless you move it… Lana Del Rey: *catches blood red rose petal that falls from the sky* Parking Officer: Where…? Uh, whatever. Unless you move your car… Lana […]