Little known phobias

The fear of pocket lint getting stuck under your fingernails.

The fear of catching pointlessophobia.

The fear of your computer transforming into a giant killer robot.

The fear of 3:46pm.

The fear of lightning striking a tree, which falls on a colony of termites, who get mad and chew on a telephone pole, which falls on a car, which blows up and suffocates a pigeon, which crashes through a window, flinging shards of glass at a computer, causing it to upload a virus, which triggers a war with Japan, who fires a missile at the Bears football game, causing your neighbor to curse and swear, making his baby scream louder than a jet liner, thus damaging your eardrums.

That’s messed up

It’s raining right now. I like rain. Especially when it’s wet. Which is why I was standing out in the rain earlier, and as a result my hair got all wet and messed up. So you can probably imagine why I was confused when I came home and my parents were like, “Wow, your hair looks really nice.”

I spent all that time messing up my hair for nothing?

Shirley you can’t be serious!

I came across this website that scans your face and uses facial recognition to compare your face to those of celebrities. So I, being the curious type, decided to try it out. I tried using a couple of my pictures, and it showed me quite a variety of results. It likened my face to a bunch of weird looking people, most of which I’ve never heard of before and look nothing like me. Among them were Brendan Fraser, Michael J. Fox, and one that sort of took me by surprise…

Shirley look-alike

Yes, that’s right. As of today, I officially look like Shirley Temple.

A splendid comparison

Splenda isn’t sugar?

I don’t quite understand Splenda, the “no calorie sweetener.” If it’s made from sugar and it tastes like sugar, how is it not sugar? I can understand how the fatty part of the sugar may have been removed, but it’s still sugar. If you have the ash remains of a cremated dead person, isn’t it still that person? You can correct me if I’m wrong (but of course I won’t listen to you). All they removed was the fatty part, so I guess that makes the rest of the dead person calorie free.

Hi, my name is [insert obscure name here]

Despite having the easiest name in the universe to remember, people are always getting my name screwed up. I just don’t understand how Josh can be confused with Justin, Jeffrey, and even Jennifer. Well I suppose cuz they’re my siblings and we all start with J, but Josh’s make up like 70 percent of the population. You can’t really go wrong calling somebody Josh, so why call somebody anything else? I didn’t even know that the heating guy from Trane knew my name, but apparently he doesn’t because he calls me Jason. And that’s definitely not the first time I’ve been called Jason. I just may change my name to Jason to make everybody right. Or maybe I should just delete my name so I answer to everything.

Strength training

I seriously need to find some kind of training program to help me control my own strength. Without even trying I’ve sheared off two strong metal keys, ripped the handle off of a pliers, and knocked over a sky scraper. Okay, so the last one is a slight exaggeration, but the other ones really happened. The sky scraper is okay, but now what little is left of my key has a sharp edge that’s scratching everything else on my keychain. But look on the bright side, now I have a handy concealed weapon to use when I’m attacked by the neighbor’s evil pooch. So anyway, if the training doesn’t work then I suppose an industrial strength, heat treated, drop forged, reinforced steel pliers will have to take the place of my crippled one. And I just hope my stubby key still works so I can get to work in the morning.

Dead worship

dead worship

I ran across this website the other day. I’m not trying to be a bother, a nuisance, or a bleeding pain in the neck, but does anyone else notice a striking similarity in their logo to “dead worship”?

1 Year, 100 Posts

Today completes one full year of blogging for me, and at the same time this is also my 100th blog article. In one year I have blogged about toilet paper three times, dead cats two times, poor eyesight four times, and made fun of myself countless times. But 100 posts doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a good writer, it just means I don’t have a life.

Strong-willed faucet

Reason number 2,491 why I don’t like public bathrooms:

If there’s anything worse than a leaky faucet, it’s a sassy one. Automatic faucets are cool, except they’re always either too cold or too hot. And then you can never seem to figure out where the censor is to get the thing to turn on. But apparently they have a mind of their own too, and can be pretty stubborn. Yesterday I had an encounter with one of these useless overkill gizmos. I walked up to the sink to wash my hands, but the faucet was already running. I stuck my hands under the stream, and logically enough the water turned off. I pulled my hands away and it turned back on. So after a couple repetitions of this process, I just stood there for a second watching the water run. But as soon as I walked away, the faucet turned off. If it was finally working right I’ll never know, because I had already given up hope of getting my hands wet.

I’m not 18

Okay, I’ll admit it; I don’t look as old as I am. And this fact proves itself by the frequency at which I get asked for ID. I don’t necessarily have a problem with displaying my drivers license to buy a pocket knife from walmart, but what confuses me is when they ask me if I’m 18. My first instinct is to say yes, but that would be untrue, because in fact I’m not 18. I’m 20. So I could either lie and say yes, or I could tell the truth and be denied a movie rental.