I like this guy’s response to a ringing cell phone. Nicely done, sir.
via Daring Fireball
How do you deal with the unbearable rudeness of strangers? I’m serious, here, guys. It’s starting to really affect my life.
It could be anything — the guy who cuts you off when you’re clearly waiting for the men’s room, the guy who switches to the fucking right lane after he sees the “right lane ends 1000 feet” sign, the elderly couple who really ought to know better than narrate through the entire showing of The Artist (even after you finally yell “hey” after he says “he didn’t do it” – BANG!), the woman who starts doing her makeup next to you on the train, the omnipresent imbeciles yelling into thin air (oh, they’re on the phone).
I’m thinking of never going to another movie again (damn kids nearly ruined Red Riding Hood for me), or moving to a cabin in the woods. I’ve been checking Craigslist for jobs, but so far, nothing.
“Anus”entered the English language in 1658. Uranus was named by the guy who found it in 1781. So that fucker knew exactly what he was doing.
— Andy Daly (@TVsAndyDaly) January 8, 2012
Fun fact: Bullies in high school called me Shamalamadingdong.
— M. Night Shyamalan (@MNightShyamalan) January 5, 2012
Tyler Cowen posted the opening sentence of Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton’s Paul Clifford, a sentence that often gets mentioned as the worst opening sentence in the history of fiction.
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
I still contend the opening sentence from Richard Ford’s Independence Day is worse:
In Haddam, summer floats over tree-softened streets like a sweet lotion balm from a careless, languorous god, and the world falls in tune with its own mysterious anthems.
I think this is my favorite story of 2011.
Researchers gave a group of men and women quotes from the British lad mags FHM, Loaded, Nuts and Zoo, as well as excerpts from interviews with actual convicted rapists originally published in the book The Rapist Files. The participants couldn’t reliably identify which statements came from magazines and which from rapists — what’s more, they rated the magazine quotes as slightly more derogatory than the statements made by men serving time for raping women. The researchers also showed both sets of quotes to a separate group of men — the men were more likely to identify with the rapists’ statements than the lad mag excerpts. The only slightly bright spot in the study: when researchers randomly (and sometimes incorrectly) labelled the quotes as coming from either rapists or magazines, the men were more likely to identify with the ones allegedly drawn from mags. At least they didn’t want to agree with rapists.
A response to Rick Perry’s Gay-Baiting Ad.
Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:
You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.
We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.
You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said–that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.
We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.
In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.
Matthew Lopez went to the Wal-Mart in Porter Ranch on Thursday night for the Black Friday sale but instead was caught in a pepper-spray attack by a woman who authorities said was “competitive shopping.”
For every one person that comes forward with a false accusation, there are probably thousands who will say that none of that sort of activity ever came from Herman Cain.
Danny and I had good intentions. We bought candy, have it in a big bowl. We opted to go dark. Turned off all the lights. Sitting in. Watched an episode of “Once Upon a Time.” (Quick review? Not so good. Maybe even sucked.) Then an episode of “Grimm.” (Better? Maybe. Maybe also sucks.)
I’m in a mood. Prolly better lil chiren don’t see me tonight.
We ate some candy from the bowl. Tasted like a poisoned apple…or peanut butter and chocolate.
Please disregard my recent emails. Forget about the phone messages, too. I know I sounded angry and excited, but I’ve had a chance to think things over and I don’t feel the same as I did when I said all of those hurtful words. I won’t apologize for the basis of my comments—I have a right to my own opinions, especially because they are correct—but regret your exposure to that barrage of toxicity. And the physical threats. You’ll notice I did not say “sorry.” That word is for the weak.
Activists say the name “unwanted,” which is widely given to girls across India, gives them the feeling they are worthless and a burden.
There are at least fifty things about her you cannot stand. Maybe a thousand:
She is soft and smells nice. Talks on the phone all day. Makes your favorite meals without being asked. Throws your Maxim magazines on the floor when she’s angry with you. Is sad when an animal gets hurt. Loses your car keys. Asks your opinion and listens to your response as if it matters. There’s more.
The cap I bought at Saks in Pittsburgh last weekend. Me? Or home skillet? My good friend KP said it looked like me.