Ron’s Ron shirt was just as bad as Ron himself.
If you haven’t yet encountered “The Handsome One” – a short computer-generated chapter of an imaginary Harry Potter book entitled Harry Potter and the Portrait of what Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash – you owe it to yourself to give it a quick read. One of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while!
Bene scribete.
A plastic dog came up to me.
He asked for five; I gave him three.
I guess that was all right, since he
Accepted that instead.A metal cat went up to you.
She asked for ten – what did you do?
I heard you only gave her two.
I guess that’s why you’re dead.
Bene scribete.
Just another normal day, shopping for Normal Things at Rosauers.
Oh, nothing to see here. Just a perfectly normal box of penne and ch–
…of…
…of…
…
…what in the unholy $%&# is chreese!?
I feel like whoever titled this product’s mouth melted in the midst of saying it, and no one bothered to question it. I mean, surely, they thought, surely, an actual human being, living here in this reality, speaking this very language, meant make the sound “chreese” on purpose.
That’d be normal, wouldn’t it?
Bene ēdite.
Oh, it’s for eating? You mean…? Oh. Oh, no…
Well, at–at least it’s soft…!
Bene ēdite.
Apparently, some time between my recent visit to Cold Stone and the last time before that, there was a period where they did not serve cookie dough as a topping. Which on one hand is a shame, since I pretty much always get cookie dough as a topping there (yes, yes, judge away), but on the other, could just mean that I have good timing when it comes to ice cream.
I almost took this seemingly reasonable and informative sign in stride until I noticed the hilariously unnecessary use of the word ‘ultimate’. It’s as though the sign-writer got most of the way through the sign before suddenly realizing that it was wasting the opportunity to remind everyone of how amazing and hardcore ice cream is, and so hurriedly applied an arbitrary buzzword to something mundane and called it a day.
So there I am, awkwardly cracking up in the ice cream line in a pretty ultimate way. You know how it is.
Bene ēdite.
I think this has been around for a bit, but I just saw it the other day and thought it was pretty great.
Anyone with a little programming experience (or even if not, it should still be fairly easy to see where it’s going) should get a kick out of this:
Bene scribete.
Having trouble with a sore throat – not being able to get one, that is?
Tired of your esophagus not being torn to shreds?
Ever worry that you have too much blood?
Well, try glass juice! Try it!
Open up your mind (and mouth (and guts)) to the sensation of drinking knives.
The only beverage made out of the bottle it comes in!
Glass juice. Internal hemorrhaging has never been more refreshing.
Bene edite.
Hope everyone’s ready for Halloween tomorrow!
I’m feeling lazy, so here’s Sear again with pumpkin stuff.
Now to go and get some candy for–for the childrens…
Bene vīvite.
I’m sure we’re all familiar with the sleazy but time-honored practice of shunting off portions of the cost of an item or service into a miscellany of arbitrary fees that are inseparable from the cost of trading in said item or service – and thus have no reason not to be factored into the sale price – in order to deceptively advertise a false, lower cost.
When the local K-Mart was closing down and selling off their fixtures, however, I saw what has to be the most blatant, lazy, and absurd example of this I could possibly imagine – a “buyer’s fee.”
Let me say that again – a “buyer’s fee.”
I mean, is there anything more inherent to the cost of buying an item than, you know, buying it? It’s practically a parody of itself.
“See, this shelving unit costs $50, but the privilege of actually buying it will run you another $7.50. You can avoid the buyer’s fee if you just want to pay the fifty bucks and let us keep the unit.”
Way to go, K-Mart. You’ll be the envy of ISPs everywhere. (>^-‘)>
Bene scribete.
What have you been doing?
Have you been drinking waiting room coffee out of a room-temperature cup like some sort of–some sort of deranged psychopath?
Warm your paper cups, everyone, so they can be warm. Warm them. Warm them on clearance for only one-hundred and fifty of the dollars, which is an even better deal than warming your cups for $300.
Make your paper cups warm even before you pour scalding bean juice into them and they get so hot you have to use a cardboard sleeve to comfortably hold them.
What are you doing?
Warm your cups.
Bene vīvite.
Writin' Fish 