I would gladly work an office job if it was exactly like this.


(via molls)

Truer words, my friend, have yet to be spoken

Alan Moore, eat your heart out

What with so-called “dark” comics being all the rage, I thought I would show you some truly dark comics.

Make your own.

Fact: this is the perfect comic strip.

Everyone should just stop making comic strips now.

And finally we get to the elephant in the room. I still haven’t seen Watchmen1, partly out of laziness and bad timing and partly due to my previous concerns, but if it’s half as good as this, I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

  1. Nope. I won’t do it. []

The final countdown

So I have about four months until dementia sets in. It was nice knowing you all. Or not. What the fuck do I know, I’m about to lose my mind. Try not to take it personally when I spit that tapioca pudding you’re trying to feed me in your face and call you a whore.1

  1. Unless you’re a prostitute I hired in a rare and fleeting moment of lucidity, in which case, get back to work! []

Look who just got you fired!

From the makers of Desktop Tower Defense comes The Space Game

While in principle it’s in the same genre of ‘Tower Defense’, the goal is no longer just keeping enemies from passing by, but actually staying alive.

This didn’t get too hard until the last level where I had to drastically change strategies, but it was fun throughout, and it’s probably a good thing that it’s not quite as addictive as DTD.

Greetings from Narnia!

According to this L.A. Times map, I don’t live in Los Angeles. While technically true, I feel they could at least put a name to this mysterious “space between spaces” I find myself in.

Too bad I don’t live in Mid-City. Where it’s a fucking party.1

  1. Shit, if this is gonna be that kind of party, I’m gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes. []

Go directly to fail.

I may suck/blow at Trivial Pursuit, but am apparently quite lucky when it comes to Monopoly. Surely, a useful skill in these tough economic times.

Now if I can just win second prize in this beauty contest, I’ll be all set.

Don’t call it a comeback

So my geriatric computing machine wasn’t working for the better part of a week, hopefully explaining my conspicuous absence.1

But, after days of tinkering with the infernal contraption and inserting and tweaking various widgets and doodads2, I finally managed to get it up and running. At three in the morning.

Now, a sensible, fully functioning adult would probably just thank Ammun-Ra and Wotan, brush their teeth, possibly rub one out3 and call it a night. An awesome motherfucker on the other hand, would just stay awake for the next 17 hours.

After spending more than six of those hours catching up on news and feeds and podcasts from the past four days, it occurred to me that I had no idea what I had done to finally fix my computer. The final solution, as it were,4 was something that I could have sworn I tried as soon as I realized there was a problem.5

In the midst of banging around firefox and laughing inconsolably at the state of reality television, I had a scary thought.

What if I never fixed anything.6

For a very uncomfortable fifth of a second, I doubted my own sanity enough to consider the possibility that I was sitting at my desk banging away at my keyboard and stifling my laughter, in front of a blank screen.

And people say computers rot your brain.

Nonsense.

  1. “He was gone?” “Yeah just play along.” []
  2. Who knew a computer’s nipples were called doodads? []
  3. As tribute to Ammun-Ra and Wotan. []
  4. Yep. I made a computer holocaust joke. []
  5. If only the same could be said for Hitler. Alright, I should probably stop. I have Jewish friend(s), I swear! []
  6. M. Night Shyamalan, you have met your match. []

I am Skeletor, spawn of the Hell Beast!!

There is a theory circulating out there that whatever season of Saturday Night Live you started watching regularly will always be the one you regard as the best.

This theory holds out pretty well as long as you discount all episodes hosted by Alec Baldwin:1

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  1. Just try to ignore the cackling, spackle-faced girl that wandered in from her junior high talent show. []

Stay classy, bitches.

One of these lovely ladies turns two years old today and is a clumsy, ball-obsessed, rusty-crotched monstrosity that you can’t help but love, and the other is my friends’ dog.

Oh, and one of them sells delicious french desserts. Go buy some now.

So, I guess this is a thing now, three points define a plane after all. Everyone needs to stop aging before it gets out of hand.

Twenty-six Welcomes You

There are some who might say that soy sauce, no matter how sturdy and well designed the container, would surely have expired after 26 years.

Way to prove them wrong, buddy.

I got you something I know you’ve been wanting for a while now, but were too shy to ever outright ask for.

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This will only make sense to one person, and even that’s pushing it, but I’ve made peace with that.

You Are All My Favorite Customers

So you guys, this Saturday I expect pretty much everyone I know to show up and watch Tommy Wiseau’s modern cinema classic The Room with me. There isn’t really a lot of room for discussion on this one.1

Just to whet your appetites while hopefully not spoiling too much2, I give you a slight taste of what you can expect:

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If you are not there, this is what it will do to me.

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Just be forewarned, any no-shows will have to face my wrath.

Don’t worry, I will provide the spoons.

  1. Hey, when in Transylvania… (Don’t you just hate it when the best joke you can come up with is one you know only 1 in 3 people will get? Literally one person out of a total of three.) []
  2. I’m confident I could tell you everything that happens in this movie, in less than a minute, and somehow nothing about the experience would be ‘spoiled.’ []