profiles in stupidity

- Not to get all Handsome Steve on you here, but I joined a new fitness group and we had our first session last night. Overall it went pretty well - strenuous but not impossible, nothing totally beyond my ability, did not injure myself or vomit.

There was one area in which I disappointed spectacularly, however: jumping rope. If you want to feel like a complete jackass, I highly recommend you attempt to skip rope in public and fuck up REPEATEDLY. While there may be stronger ways to humiliate yourself - admitting you wrote the screenplay for Gigli, pantsing your grandfather only to find he was going commando, or accidentally eating mint jelly thinking it was green jello* - this is certainly one of the quickest and easiest.

- Look. I really didn't want to get into the middle of this fight, but I was forced to do so against my will.

Ok. These two girls I know (actually, one of them I've never met and she may well be a police officer posing in an attempt to entrap me in some shady arms dealing. NOT GONNA WORK) were recently at a carousel. Why, I don't know. I don't think they're pedos, but, well, book and cover and all that. In case they ARE pedos, let's call them Jim and Stan. Foolproof anonymity!

At the carousel, Jim and Stan happened upon this animal-seat:

and immediately argued about what animal this was, precisely. Jim insisted it was a hare (because apparently Jim is Aesop reincarnate and can't use such lowly words as "rabbit") while Stan said, no, Jim, that's a donkey. Jim came to me and demanded I choose one of those two options.

I tried my best to argue in favor of Donkey Stan - not because I actually think that's a donkey but because Jim is so easy to piss off you might as well embrace it. Jim wouldn't back down. "The tail's too fluffy!" "The face isn't long enough!" "The ears are all turned the wrong way!"

Those are dumb arguments. You know how you can tell this is a hare and not a donkey? BECAUSE IT HAS PAWS AND IT DOES NOT HAVE HOOVES. I'm an English major and even I knew that.

- This was Lia's status last night on Facebook:

It is a sad day when you reach for a beer and a piece of raw cookie dough in the fridge after eating too much pasta (with garlic) and convince yourself they're both "palette cleansers."

That is a sad day indeed. But none of the commenters on this little moment in heart disease had the decency to observe that, unless Lia was washing off her paintbrush with Coors and oatmeal raisin, she was looking for a PALATE cleanser. ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT??



* This is also a thing I have done. Shut up.