Archive | July, 2010

Elliott Responses for Everyday Living – Vol. 1

30 Jul

In a random facebook chat with Nicole, we talked about the wisdom and usefulness of “Elliott Responses”.  So, now I present to you some common everyday moments and how I would respond to them:

CAT BITES FACE:
– Son of a bitch, fucking stop it, I’m not going to feed your fat ass unless it’s to make you explode like a box full of firecrackers!
– You are such an annoying little cunt!
– OHMYGOD! I love you.

TEXT FROM A STRANGER/PERSON YOU DO NOT LIKE:
– What the hell!?
– Fucking fuck fuck, I thought it was from God_Damn_Batman.  YOU HAVE RUINED MY MORNING!
– Get out of my life you dick face motherassfuck

HOT SOCCER MOMS SEE MY SHIRTLESS, RUNNING BODY AROUND THE TRACK:
(Stemming from a real conversation with Monique)
– Oh my gosh, they saw me and they went instantly wet.  I could tell, too, because their wetness was glow-in-the-dark
– Or, the stain was from me also making them menstruate on command because they wanted me to procreate a better child than the one they were there supporting.
– (while running) Yes, these are my pecs bounding across the field.  Yes, I am very skinny.  Yes, you want me.
– THAT MOM WAS TOTALLY CHECKING ME (my skinniness) OUT!

STUBBING A TOE:
– Toe, you are a motherfucking disgrace to the rest of my foot.  You should give up and die… but only with my consent because I still use you.
– Shit!
– You know Scorpion from Mortal Kombat, toe?  He is going to impale your ass for being such a pain.

CELL PHONE GOES OFF WHILE DRIVING ON VIBRATE AND IT’S BETWEEN YOUR LEGS:
– What the fuck?  It doesn’t feel like I have to go to the bathroom.
– HOLY SHIT!  What is tickling my asshole!  Is there a fucking ferret feasting and burrowing it’s way into me!?
– This is by far more uncomfortable than when I got a handjob in class in middle school… during a presentation by a police officer.  What the fuck is going on!?

SOMEONE USING A BLUE TOOTH THAT YOU THOUGHT WAS TALKING TO YOU:
– Huh? Whuh?  YOU FUCKING TWAT. YOU ARE A CONCEDED PIECE OF SHIT THAT NEEDS TO GO SOMEWHERE IN PRIVATE TO BOOK YOUR MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY CARD!
– I will hire someone to take a tire iron and shatter your fucking knee caps, you bastard.
– Shut up and suck it.

CAT KISSES YOU:
– OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG YOU ARE SO CUTE!!!
– All of your sins have been forgiven
– You are my Juliet and this is romance… minus the dying part.

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1000 Things We Hate #89: Bar Creepers

29 Jul

Creeper [kreep-ur] -noun. 1. A person or thing that creeps. 2. A domestic fowl having malformed, short legs, due to a genetic defect. 3. An individual who stares, lurks or makes awkward and unwanted advances to undeserving women.

Okay, so upon turning 21, I began to realize the vast amount of older guys who stalk fresh innocent girls in bars. Now, these creepers aren’t attractive, respectable young males, but instead these are the washed up, alcoholic fatties who have hit thirty and realized that their lives are utterly pathetic (but yet still attempt to convince you otherwise). No, these men don’t have the deflated self esteem balloon that they should, but instead strut the length of the bar, taking care to flash you a creepy smile while sipping their bud light each time they pass.

You know you're a creeper when your smile scares small children

Eventually, the stealthy bastard will realize by your volume levels or perhaps by virtue of their creeper powers, that you’ve become intoxicated. And that’s when they strike. Usually dressed in something ridiculous and straight out of the early 2000’s, the creepy smile getting even wider as you accidentally make eye contact, they approach. At this point, you’re screaming in your head “Get the FUCK away from me you sweaty, disgusting, balding failure” and frantically looking to your friends to see who is willing to hide you, or possibly head butt the fucking shit out of the offending creeper.

Take that, asshole

Alas, the skeez has reached your table where you’re silently seething and more than a little desperate to escape the unwanted attention, your revulsion heightened when he runs his hand through his thinning hair and droplets of grease hit the floor. A little sick to your stomach, you listen to him brag about anything from his car, his penis, how many models he’s dated, or how much he’s had to drink tonight, meanwhile wishing you could projectile vomit all over his already stained clothes. Of course, all topics of conversation the creeper will engage in are simply desperate attempts to get you to agree to part ways with your seven magic numbers, which, if he obtains, you can sleep easy knowing you will find yourself the victim of at least 12 counts of sexual harassment in the next twelve hours, while you vehemently curse alcohol and that fucking old man who dares to think his wrinkly dick is every going to see the light of day again.

I'll never be drunk enough to hit that!

Of course, you know this guy has settled for complete mediocrity, is working some boring job and will go home alone to his filthy apartment, and the closest thing he’s ever had to a model is a cheap stripper. In fact, you can practically smell the stench of failed relationships mixed delicately with desperation, badly covered by cheap cologne and unwarranted cockiness. Most of these guys can be shrugged off with a quick group-trip to the bathroom with your five girlfriends, but if you run into a particularly persistent creeper, one who will not take any of your not-subtle-in-the-slightest hints, you may want to consider a taser.

So fuck you, you filthy jism-rag, you yeasty ass-creviced blight on society, nothing annoys me more than your putrid presence invading my night of fun.

1000 Things We Hate #89: Bar Creepers is a submission from the Guest Post Contest written by Michaela Devine. You can check out her blog over here.
The views expressed by the writers of the Guest Post Contest may or may not reflect the opinions of the managers of MechanisticMoth.

I Beat Red!

25 Jul

Garchomp – 82
Typhlosion – 85
Electivire – 82
Lugia – 83
Empoleon – 73
Machop – 8

The Attacker’s Boxed Heart

24 Jul

This is my satirical poem that I wrote in four minutes.  I wrote it because I’m under the impression that, at some point, I’m going to get stabbed because of some asshole-y thing I say.  This is about my hope that I’ll be stabbed from the front so I can stare at my attacker in the eye(s) and have them realize the error of their ways and fall madly in love with me.  Tragic Love…

The Attacker’s Boxed Heart

Our eyes met like
Symmetry
On a rather unfortunate occasion

It was my death
Ironically
That we encountered each other

Your hand in my
Bleeding stomach
And my in your eyes

For a moment
They met like wind
Under a glittering embrace

My body fell limp
In your heavy arms
Blood thumping realizing your mistake

We could have been
Lovers
We could have been
Champions
We Could have been
A Tag team

In your disappointment
You killed yourself
I laughed in death
“Sucker.”

Secret Pleasures #8: Internet Quizzes

22 Jul

Oh so addicting.

Internet quizzes can easily eat up an hour of your free time by telling you the answers to the question you already know.  But, even knowing this it’s hard to keep away.

Is it really a question if you know the answer?

There are two basic forms of quizzes: 1) The quizzes that tell you about your inner self. 2) The quizzes that tell you who your are.

Inner Self Quizzes

In 15 question I’ve determined that I am the element Earth.  This means that I’m a nice, kind, and calm person.  Duh.  I could have told you that.  Inner self quizzes tell you the obvious.  The answers are usually predictable and only reinforce your own ego driven ideas.  Plus, it’s easy for them to change on a day to day bases depending on your mood.  Yet, sometimes I like the reminder of how nice, kind, and calm I am.  It’s like your giving yourself an indirect compliment.  And who doesn’t love compliments?

Who are you? Quizzes

I’m happy to admit that I am JC Chasez from N’sync, Storm from X-men, and Sailor Pluto from Sailor Moon.  Who are you? quizzes are simply fun.  Sometimes before I start watching a TV show I take a quiz so I can pay more attention to…me.  Or at least who I’m closest to in personality.  It’s always a good idea to take the quiz before watching a show because frankly quiz writers are stupid.  Their questions are so bluntly obvious that you pretty much alter your results to fit who you think you are.  For example: JC, Storm, and Sailor Pluto are all my favorites from their respective groups/comics.

If you're taking this quiz isn't it kind of obvious? Please people, get a clue!

There are countless quizzes and quiz sites out there but I’ve narrowed it down to what I like.

Where?

Not facebook and myspace (if you still use that retro thing).  Their quizzes are way too short and have almost zero detail and accuracy.  They also ask you a question with usually five possible answers.  What if none of these works?  You end up picking something random, maybe something that seems kinda close.  How accurate can your result be if you haven’t got any good choices?

Ditch facebook or myspace and go for something like quizfarm.  Most of their quizzes are done on a scale from yes to no.  And almost everyone has a neutral for those questions you just don’t give a damn about.

What?

Once again, quiz writers are stupid and make obvious or troublesome questions.  When taking a quiz “My Color” and a questions asks if I like [insert unknown band/song name] I’m not going to waste my time looking it up.  Either I’m going to pick neutral or just stop doing the quiz entirely.  Why couldn’t the author just pick a genre or something.

Who?

Some authors know there stuff and I give them props.  On Digimon quizzes I can tell a hard core fan from a poser in a snap.  However, other authors are stupid and inappropriate.  There’s a whole section of “Would I have sex with you quizzes?”  First off, you’re a loser and probably not getting any if you’re making that quiz and second, um gross!  I don’t want to find something like that in my innocent browsing of quizzes.

Grading.

When grading a quiz I always find percentiles the best because one person/thing can’t fit you exactly.  I’m only 88% earth with 65% air and etc.  That means I might not always be so nice, kind, and calm (I have insulted a lot of people in this post) but I’ve got other things making me more complex.  And let’s face it, while quizzes are fun they can’t pinpoint who a person is.

Sadly, I am not Dr. House. Then again he's a total ass.

When writing this I feel like I’ve almost done an 1000 Things We Hate post because it’s all been so negative, but that’s what makes it a Secret Pleasure.  Doing a super lame activity but enjoying it wouldn’t be something to broadcast to all your friends (Oops, I think I just did that).  But despite all their faults, quizzes and their accompanying ego boosts are a blast.  I know I’ll never stop.

My Secret Pleasure: Getting ego boosts and altering results to seemingly have the perfect personality.

1000 Things We Hate #79: Ice in Urinal

16 Jul

Weirdin' me out

I will begin this by stating: I understand why places do this.  However, this does not make me like it any more.

Since the beginning of my urinal peeing career, I have always been weirded out by the few places that I have run across that put ice in the urinals.  The reasons establishments do this are because 1.) it keeps things cold so bacteria don’t spread 2.) it’s a cheaper way to reduce smell 3.) it lets patrons know that the bathroom is clean.  These reasons all make sense.

But, the sight of weird, subdued Mt. Dew Hues within the ice freaks me out.  Now, without the ice, the chances of having a giant splatter of piss flinging back onto you can be pretty high depending on the angle.  With ice, this is less likely.  The ice does not, though, eliminate all piss backlash.  With the ice, you are more likely to get tiny fragments of piss to fling back onto you like a light spray over the vegetables at the supermarket.

I especially hate the sound the ice makes as it’s melting amongst my piss.  It’s completely creepy and not satisfying at all.  I get the shivers when I go to stand up to a urinal with ice, and it’s not because of the cold ice.

Plus, ice in the urinals makes public bathroom-ing even more awkward.  Little boys are very excited about seeing their handiwork as they blast their former milk out the tiny tube at full throttle while their dads chuckle to themselves.  I do not want to be standing next to one of those kids, but I normally always do.  So, I get their flecks of piss on me, too.

Even if having ice in the urinals is practical, it makes me really upset.  The fine, distinctive odor of a urinal cake has become slightly welcoming and the norm.  I do not want the norm of my peeing behavior disrupted by cheap thrills.

1000 Things We Hate #76: Cheese Grater Cuts

16 Jul

With grate power comes grate responsibility

I had decided that the best way to quench my hunger was through potato pancakes.  Unfortunately, I realized, this required the cheese grater: my mortal enemy.  We danced in the cabinet like two thorns filled with the poison of bitter life.  It had its shining coat with flecks of cheese still grasping towards the side stale and hard.  It reminded me of ivy on the outside of buildings.

I wrapped my fingers around the plastic handle, and I grabbed a potato – I did not wash it beforehand because I like to feel the occasional dirt grit across my teeth – briskly and set it to the cold metal.  For a moment, I hesitated.  This was not the first time we both had to have an uneasy partnership.  Well, to be frank, I’m quite sure the cheese grater knew it was a tool and was not happy about it.

Eventually, I mustered the courage to slice the potato through the little slits.  Instantly, whether it was my overzealous nature or the bitter revenge of the grater, I knicked two of my fingertips along the edge.  I yelled “FUCKING SHIT MOTHER FUCKER NOT FUCKING AGAIN GOD FUCKING DAMMITMOTHERFUCKINGSHITWHORECOCKSUCKINGDAMMITGODFUCKMOSESEATSHITFUCKINGDAMMIT FUCK!”

Incidentally, I knew someone who used a cheese grater to cut themselves.  I photocopied that drawing and gave it to her and her cast before a theater performance.  She cried, but it was more likely to me writing “good luck” instead of “break a leg” on it.  Oh well.