misshepeshu: (Behold the Kitty!)
Herein lies a tragic tale: the transformation of a cat passionate--serious, even--about order and the rule of law on Internet forums, into an agent of chaos and destruction.

Cut so that you don't need to look at fucknoxiously large pictures of cats with badly-spelled captions. )

For my previous LOLCAT short story effort, please see this heartbreaking tale of transformation, fear and loss.
misshepeshu: (Pelosi in the motherfucking HOUSE)
Ben and I were talking about Barack Obama last night, and after expressing extreme excitement at the possibility of having a president who not only a) is able to speak without sounding like a tragic rabbit-lovin' character from a Steinbeck novel, and b) displays more charisma than the average lump of uncooked dumpling dough, but also c) demonstrates ferocious intelligence, and d) has values that are actually kind of aligned with both the way things work and the way I think things should work, I noted that Obama is, indeed, one fine-lookin' man. "Dude's, like, the beautiful bastard love child of Marvin Gaye and Abe Lincoln," I believe were almost my exact words.

All of which is offered as an excuse for the following:

Marvin Gaye + Abraham Lincoln = CRAZY DELICIOUS
misshepeshu: (Tongue!)
I came up with this all by myself a few weeks ago, as I contemplated how much I love Rachmaninoff and Bach, and how I wanted to organize the Bach Party:


Thank you, thank you, please remember to tip your waitresses, they work so hard for you....

I really, really want to make a T-shirt along the lines of Threadless's Rock Out With Your Cock Out, except with Rachmaninoff off to one side flailing at the piano and Bach kind of in a corner, pouting.

I'd totally buy that T-shirt.
misshepeshu: (Scheming face)
While sitting in Con Law today and discussing the Commerce Clause, "Injunction Junction, what's your function?" popped up in my head spontaneously.

I have the first two lines:

Injunction junction, what's your function?
Making shit happen, or making it stop cold.

But I don't know enough about injunctions to do this properly; however, perhaps by the grace of Wikipedia, I will? And even if I could, the question is: SHOULD I do this?

And once I'm done, should I post this on the discussion forum for my Con Law class?
misshepeshu: (Tongue!)
[livejournal.com profile] tarentel asked a rather intriguing question several months ago: if you got to have your own action figure--one that's Totally Fucking Sweet, not a crappy bit of plastic stuck in a Happy Meal--what would your accessories be?

I think mine would come with the following standard clothing and accessories:
- Big purse filled with two books, a DVD and several CDs
- Fun knee-high socks
- Some kind of cooking implement in my hand--a wooden spoon? A silicone spatula? An egg whisk? A santoku?
- Mary Janes
- Visually punny Threadless T-shirt

Optional accessories/alternate outfits:
- Pirate gear
- Glam drag
- Zombie drag
- Knee-high boots
- Pajama pants in obnoxious colors (pink polka dots! blue and yellow leopard print! blue with rubber duckies!)
- In the winter: Ubiquitous black puffy jacket (covered with cat hair for X-tra Verisimilitude)
- Leopard-print pimp hat
- Cats, complete with realistic shedding hair
- Double-stacked bookshelves

Pull my string and hear me say:
- Something completely filthy
- About your mom
- And her unnatural love for shaved small mammals, the whore
- Bits of arcana related to feline biochemistry
- Bits of arcana related to biology and nutrition in general
- Observations about semi-obscure bands
- Occasionally interspersed with "I've heard of them, but haven't actually heard anything by them."
- "Oh, man, I'm so hungry."
- "I just need to take a quick nap."
- "I feel like baking something."
- Monty Python quotes
- Book recommendations
- The occasional screamingly awful malapropism or mistake (last night, I referred to Catullus as a Greek--seriously, WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN SOMETIMES? Reedies, feel free to beat me over the head with your copies of your favorite classical works the next time you see me.)
- Random analyses of fictional narratives

Instead of kung-fu grip, I'd have:
- Tackle-pounce-hug powers
- The ability to tip over and fall for no apparent reason
- A built-in butter dispenser

How would YOU be equipped as an action figure?
misshepeshu: (Sprechen)
...I bring you this Achewood strip that I remembered just a few minutes ago, pretty much apropos of nothing:

misshepeshu: (up and down)
In today's example of "Wow, the point just whooshed by so fast past these people that you could hear a sonic boom from its passing," a theater company changed its marquee to read "The Hoo Ha Monologues" instead of "The Vagina Monologues."

Seriously. The HOO HA MONOLOGUES. They've restored the marquee to the original title now, but Sarah posted this snippet of news on Smart Bitches, and the Bitchery has come up with the following suggestions, should the Floridians require other euphemistic titles for The Vagina Monologues:

Twat Tales
Coochie Conversation
Pussy Galore
Clam Conundrum
Tales of the Taco
If These Bearded Lips Could Talk
Parting the Beef Curtain
Love Box Babble
The Taco Show
Clit Chit Chat
Solipsistic Slits
The Erudite Orifice
Gabby Glistening Orifices
Pedantic Pussies
Navel-Gazing Nuunuu
Prattling Poontang
The Loquacious Hey Nanner Nanner
Conversationalistic Coochies
Yappy Yaws
Very Verbal Vaggy
misshepeshu: (Default)
While talking to [livejournal.com profile] freyley on the phone earlier, he asked me to tell him a story. So I told him the bare skeleton of this story:

Once upon a time, there was a cherry tree in a farmer's orchard. The tree would bear the sweetest, most delicious cherries for miles around. But sometimes... See, the cherry tree had been cursed by the Blue Fairy, so sometimes, instead of luscious cherries, sweeter than honey, the tree would bear...hedgehogs. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny, cherry-sized hedgehogs, none of them too happy to be stuck in the tree.

This was very unnerving to the farmer whose cherry tree this was, because he was an absent-minded sort, and he'd forget sometimes to check to see if the tree had hedgehogs or cherries on them, so he'd reach up and, instead of a handful of fruit, grab a handful of grumpy, spiny animals (who, in addition to feeling rather acutely the indignities attendant to their awkward positions, all had headaches from hanging upside down so long) . So his hand would be horribly pricked, and sometimes the meanest hedgehogs would bite him--not that you could really blame the hedgehogs, you understand. They're happiest rooting around the ground looking for grubs and insects, not dangled 10, 15, 20 feet above it.

That was as far as I got, because we started talking about such exciting topics as cleaning up my apartment. But this story is sticking in my mind and not letting go. Anyone want to continue the story in the comments? The more good-naturedly absurd you can make it, the better, and I'll contribute bits and pieces as I can.


Dec. 20th, 2006 05:49 pm
misshepeshu: (Nerds are Hot)
We're running a Big Misunderstanding contest at Smart Bitches. See, the Big Misunderstanding is a staple of badly-written romance fiction. The hero sees the heroine embracing a tall, dark, handsome stranger in the middle of the night, assumes the worst, throws a fit and the heroine across the room, and for the rest of the book, the two of them skulk around like wet cats, grumbling and hissing at each other until it's revealed that LO! IT WAS ACTUALLY HER LONG LOST BROTHER WHO WAS THOUGHT LOST AT SEA WHOM SHE WAS EMBRACING SO FERVENTLY! The one who's a spy for the Duke of Wellington, hence the secrecy and the dodgy location of their rendezvous, not to mention her inability to reveal his name or relationship to her or anything.

You get the idea.

So the contest is: most convoluted misunderstanding wins the prize. And there are many, many awesome misunderstandings. But the one that wins the prize for Geekiest Puns of All Time is this one:

“Tell me, beautiful Dell,” Duncan breathed into her apple-scented hair, “why do you deny my love so? What password will gain entry to your heart?”

She sighed and turned away, staring over the vista. “I can no longer hide it from you. You, Duncan Larksthrush, Duke of Rocksthrust, are a proud member of Clan Macintosh, whereas I—“

“Yes, my dearest?” he whispered, praying her response would allow him into her network.

“I am a member of the De Fenetre family, those your people call Windows. So you see that our love is forever hopeless.”

His heart accessed joy for the first time in many cycles. “But Dell, then there is no incompatibility at all! See the two pairs of footwear I sport—did you not realize that I am a dual-boot Macintosh?”

Dell crashed into his embrace.

Dual-boot Macintosh.


Note: I did not write the above parody of a Big Misunderstanding. It was written by one of our readers as part of the Big Misunderstanding contest. Apologies for any confusion and if you thought I was somehow more awesome than I actually am. I'm pretty damn awesome, but that dual-boot Macintosh joke is awesome++, and therefore awesomer than I am.
misshepeshu: (Tongue!)
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - The Flaming Lips
New Wave Hot Dogs - Yo La Tengo
I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass - Yo La Tengo
Sailing the Seas of Cheese - Primus
Craters of the Sac - Ween
Paintin' the Town Brown - Ween
Boys Want Sex in the Morning - Uncle Bonsai
misshepeshu: (Stop trying to fuck me)
Nature red in tooth and claw--and, uh, penis.

The slugs (which are hermaphroditic) have relatively very large penises which wrap around each other in a tight spiral. They can have difficulty separating afterwards. Should that be the case, the solution is for the slug to gnaw off either its own, or its partner's penis - making separation possible. No replacement penis grows. The apophallated slug adopts a purely female function.

Either nature is very, very weird and evolved these wacky adaptations as dictated by a harrowing combination chance and expediency, or God has a filthy sense of humor.
misshepeshu: (Behold the Kitty!)
I need more sleep. I typically need about 9 hours a night, but I've been working on an average of 4.5 for the last few months. I'm still able to stay upright and form coherent sentences, more or less, but certain cognitive functions are starting to suffer. This point was driven home last night when it took me a half hour and quite a bit of walking to realize I had TWO DIFFERENT SHOES ON. Now, to be fair, they're both slip-on shoes with approximately the same height heel. But they also look really, really different: one was a red mary jane, and the other was a plain black leather mule.

Even better, I was on my way to Powell's to meet Ravi, a new OKCupid acquaintance.


However, I was wearing my super-colorful Froot-Loops-On-Crack sweater and a velvet skirt, so it probably looked more like some new hipster fuck thing rather than what it actually was, i.e., brain failure on a massive scale. Also, Ravi was every bit as amused by my mismatched shoes as I was, so hooray.
misshepeshu: (Rape dollars)
Oh dear god, this is awesome and hilarious: Match the politican to the smut they wrote.

I can't stop laughing at some of the excerpts. There are flailing breasts! Flailing wildly, even! Aaaaahahahahahahahaha.
misshepeshu: (Tongue!)
I just got a call from Ed Norton.

OK, not so much Ed Norton as a recording by an incredibly stilted-sounding Ed Norton. (Tangent: I'd never noticed it before, but he sounds a whole lot like my buddy Chad.)

Ed Norton wanted me to know that Trick or Vote is this Sunday.

I'm very, very amused.
misshepeshu: (hitler says wtf)
While having dinner at [livejournal.com profile] yermomshouse last night, [livejournal.com profile] ibnfirnas and [livejournal.com profile] knittinggoddess brought up something they'd read on the BBC--a bizarre article about the evolution of humans, and how 1000 years in the future, they were going to branch off into two separate lineages: one lineage tall, graceful, and comely, the men with square jaws and big penises and the women with smooth skin and pert breasts, and the other line consisting of short, stumpy, troll-like creatures.

There was much hysterical laughter around the table, but at the same time, I thought "Somebody actually predicted the evolution of women's breasts? No. Noah had to have been kidding. Comic exaggeration. Parody. Something."

But, um, no. She wasn't. You can read all about it here.

I'm not sure I've giggled this hard at a news story in a long, long time.
misshepeshu: (Tongue!)
Randall Munroe of XKCD has posted the top 20 list of things to do on a date, as decided by the same algorithm behind Best Thing.

Dude. Everything on that list except for the tree-climbing excursion sounds AWESOME, and even that would be awesome for other people to do, just not me. (X-Treme Clumsiness + slight fear of heights = CRASH CRASH SMACK BANG OW HOW'D THAT TWIG END UP IN MY ASS?) And the items aren't even close to being things you can do only with a date. You can do them with friends, too--a posse of friends, in fact.

In short: I think we should go and do some of these things, especially the ones that don't require too much outlay in terms of time and/or capital, like items 2 (chalk arrows leading to chalk), 5 (fort and paper plane fight), 6 (notes in books), 7 (fiction writing), 10 (hide and seek in the park), 11 (sidewalk equations), 13 (random driving), 16 (improvised movie dialogue) and 19 (silent plays in front of security cameras). Are any of you interested? Because seriously, the more, the merrier. I'm also thinking many of the small, simple ones can easily be combined; e.g., 6 + 5 + 16 = A FEW HOURS OF ROCK STAR AWESOMENESS.


Seattle peoples: When I visit, I'm going to cajole you into doing a couple of these with me. This I have decreed.

So so SO! Any interest? Anyone?


misshepeshu: (Behold the Kitty!)
My idea for the Zombiewalk costume was trashy-housewife-caught-unawares-by-zombies-while-making-breakfast, so I bought a nightie, a robe, dodgy-looking fuzzy slippers and hair curlers. I also bummed a cigarette from [livejournal.com profile] arashikami, but it didn't last very long into the walk.

I ended up looking like the landlady from Kung Fu Hustle. Haaaa! But several people actually came up to me and told me how much they liked my costume, which pleased me no end.

And lesson learned: Fake blood is really sticky, and it hurts when you have to peel bloodstained fabric off your skin. It's basically an impromptu cold wax. Also, DO NOT GET ANY DOWN YOUR ASSCRACK. I'm just sayin'.

Took some photos; not as many as I did during the Plunderathon, but then the Plunderathon was an all-day event. Click on the cut for UNDEAD GOODNESS. )

Verdict: Fun. Would do again. Though I'd go easier on the fake blood the next time, 'cause OW.


Sep. 19th, 2006 03:59 pm
misshepeshu: (Blackbeard)
I am disproportionately amused that the generic LJ user person thingabob has an eyepatch today, and that the "Update Journal" button has been changed to an "Update Captain's Log" button.

And to give this journal entry some Substance (*snort*), please enjoy a couple of random pirate jokes that I made up, like, 2 seconds ago:

What's a pirate's favorite grain?

BARRRRRRley. *ba-dum-tish*

What's a pirate's favorite poison?

ARRRRRRsenic. *ba-dum-tish*

Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week....
misshepeshu: (cowbell)
When: 8 p.m., this Friday, 9/15/06
Where: O'Bryant Square in downtown Portland (SW Park & Washington)
Bring: A pillow
Things to do: Smack other people with pillows. Leave the pillowless alone.
More details: I can't imagine why you'd need more, but if you do need them, here's where you can check.

I plan to be there, probably with my friends Michael and Andy in tow. Any of youse folks planning to attend?


misshepeshu: (Default)

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