Tag Archives: Humour

The underwear who lived.

I know I’ve said before that people should always have nice, new underwear, and I’ve maybe criticized Adrian for owning some holey stuff.

(Adrian’s sock)

I have a confession. I’ve owned a black pair (why is it a pair?) of Calvin Klein underwear since I was 16. I know. But I just couldn’t get rid of them! They’ve been with me through high school, college, and real-life adulthood.

I couldn’t get rid of them because they were my first pair of underwear that didn’t come out of a package, and that was big news. They were cool. I imagined all the cool kids at school had awesome, non-packaged underwear, and then I did too! Sure they couldn’t see the Calvin Kleins, but if I wore a short shirt and leaned forward in my desk chair they may have seen the band indicating that these were, in fact, “designer” underwear.

After exactly 10 years, they are gone. The elastic blew out long ago, but gaining a bit of weight held them up and solved that problem. When the hole appeared in the unmentionable area today it was too much. I kinda want to bury them or hold some kind of memorial. You can’t keep something with you for 10 solid years and then just trash it.

I won’t show you a picture of said underwear because that would be disgusting and some sort of line will have been crossed. Why is it fair that I can show the world Adrian’s holey clothing? Well, if he wants to air my dirty laundry he needs to get a blog. But for now, this is my blog and I’ll publicize myself exactly how I like.

Here, watch this clip of Tobias from Arrested Development because it’s hilarious. I did the sad walk out of the bathroom after I realized my underwear died.



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Things that will never happen to me because I have a crap phone.

Sometimes I see people with a fancy-pants iPhone and I think, “That could be me. I have a good job. There’s really no good reason why I’m still using a phone that cost 99 pence.”

My phone:

But then I see the people with a fancy-pants iPhone cringe and have a mini freak-out when their beloved phone falls out of their hand or pocket and lands on the rocky cement.

Sometimes I see people complaining because they lost their phone. Hundreds of dollars down the toilet.

Speaking of toilets, you know that guy who supposedly got his hand stuck in a train toilet trying to get his phone out? That will never be  me. If my phone falls down a toilet I can say “good riddance,” and then go straight to Carphone Warehouse and buy another one.

One time I lost my phone at the movies and no one stole it. I ran back to the theater and asked the lady if anyone had returned a phone. She asked me what it looked like so I said, “It’s small and crappy.” She was like, “Here you go!” and handed it straight over. What a B.

Sometimes I hear people talk about how their phone broke a day outside of warranty.

Warranty? What warranty? My phone is self-healing. It used to be inflicted with this disease that would cause it to die if it got hit. For example, if I tossed my phone on the bed it would shut off. I got kind of annoyed, but then it healed. Now I can hit it and it doesn’t turn off. I can’t explain this phenomenon, but I’m gonna roll with it.

I’ve now had this phone for more than a year and it’s survived against all odds. It’s been dropped and beaten and it doesn’t even have a scratch or dent.

I think it’s time to break for a song:

I’m a survivor (what),
I’m not gonna give up (what),
I’m not gon’ stop (what),
I’m gonna work harder (what),
I’m a survivor (what),
I’m gonna make it (what),
I will survive (what),
Keep on survivin’ (what),
I’m a survivor (what),
I’m not gonna give up (what),
I’m not gon’ stop (what),
I’m gonna work harder (what),
I’m a survivor (what),
I’m gonna make it (what),
I will survive (what),
Keep on survivin’ (what).


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Being mean to little kids is funny, and rewarding

You know how people say, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” I don’t like picking on people my own size because they can potentially make me look stupid with witty retorts, and can in almost every case out-violent me if it comes down to that.

This is why picking on a child is ideal. They aren’t smart enough to out wit you, and if they try to hurt you it’s really easy to just knock ’em down. KO in the first round. (Just for the record, that scratch on Maria’s head wasn’t caused by me. Purely coincidental.)

Case in point:

Christmas Eve 2010. Maria, age 4. Evil plate at dinner, full of … food. Tears and tears abound.

Sorry for the blurred picture. I was laughing pretty heartily.

She was “too full” to finish her corn. Adrian said, “OK then, would you like dessert?”

Maria stopped crying, looked up hopefully and said “Yes, please!”

Adrian: “You’re obviously not full then. Finish your corn.”


I couldn’t stop laughing.

Her mum said she couldn’t have any Christmas presents if she didn’t finish the corn, so this left Maria in a bit of a pickle. She could eat the corn and let us win, or she could “win” and not eat the corn, but then she wouldn’t get any presents.

After another ten minutes or so of crying and whining Adrian and I, the evil couple that we are, thought it would be hilarious to pretend to let her win. We’d say, “OK, it’s Christmastime. In the morning you can open your presents.” The next morning she’d open the beautifully wrapped box, eyes wide with excitement, and find nothing but the leftover plate of corn sitting inside. Oh, the look of her shattered heart right before she’d burst into tears would be priceless.

We didn’t do it, though. Her mum thought it would be too mean although she laughed at the thought as well.

Her mum refrigerated the corn because Maria agreed to eat it the next morning, and she did with no complaints. She was really good and ended up opening all her presents and parading around in her princess dresses.


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When recycling goes too far

I always thought living in a big city would be super fun. Fun, fun, fun all the time. What they don’t show you in movies and TV is that to get to the fun you probably have to walk through or past several piles of garbage. Sorry, Brits: “rubbish.”

A few weeks ago on my walk home from the tube station I noticed a house that had a bunch of crap outside – old dressers, boards, carpets and a toilet. “OK,” I thought. “I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt because they’re probably just renovating and this stuff will be picked up by the council tomorrow.”

A month later the stuff was still there so I blamed the local government for not picking it up fast enough. They delayed picking up my old bed for 3 days, but who knows? They could be extremely busy. I gave them the benefit of the doubt again because it’s FREE to have the council collect your belongings that are too big to fit in the dumpster so surely they couldn’t just be that lazy.

A week after that I walked by and the toilet was filled with dirt. I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt again, thinking that maybe the toilet was falling over in the wind and the dirt would weight it down. That doesn’t really make any sense, especially because there is nowhere for the toilet to fall, but I was trying.

The week after THAT I walked by and saw this:

Worst flower pot ever?

I don’t know. What do you think? Has recycling gone too far? 🙂


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Musical oddities

You know how when you are walking down the street and you get a whiff of someone’s cologne or perfume you are taken back to another time and place where someone you were close to also wore that scent? Well, that happens to me, but with music.

Whenever I hear Mariah Carey’s song Hero, I feel like I can taste egg salad, or “egg mayo” as the English would say. When I first heard that song I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it was, and I was also in the middle of an egg salad obsession, so it’s always stuck with me. It’s such a weird feeling in my head, like I’m eating egg salad … but I’m not.

Mariah wants to turn that egg into egg salad.

Another odd thing is Sheryl Crow’s song “All I Wanna Do,” from her first CD Tuesday Night Music Club.


For some reason this song planted itself in some pit in my brain roughly 15 years ago and randomly will pop out and I’ll start singing the song with altered lyrics appropriate for my activity. For example, in Berlin last summer I was waiting for the U-bahn and I became violently thirsty. All of a sudden my head started singing, “All I wanna do, is drink some water … I got a feeling I’m not the only one …”

I hate it. I don’t really hate the song, but I want it to leave my brain because it’s just an average song with no reason to stick with me.

Does anyone else have any musical anomalies?


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Adrian on buying new underwear

Adrian doesn’t understand why women are always buying new underwear when the ones they’ve already got are just fine.

“What’s the point? You just keep going until it breaks apart.”

Clearly he feels the same about socks. They got to this point before they were thrown in the trash, and even then it was a question like, “I should probably throw these away, right?”

Adrian: I’ve had socks where my whole big toe was poking out.

Me: Why didn’t you throw them away??

Adrian: Just didn’t fancy it.

I guess I see his logic, but still. I want nice, new underwear and nice, new socks.


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Only a week to go until the second coming of Christ!

As you know, the world is going to end May 21. Well, not for all of us. Only the select few (about 2% of the world’s population I hear) will be personally collected by Jesus and the rest of us heathens will be left down here to suffer until October 21, when the world officially comes to an end.

Apparently the second coming isn’t going to happen until around 6 p.m. on the 21st, which I’m going to assume is Eastern time. God spends most of his time blessing the United States, so I think it’s fair to assume he’s floating above our time zone.

Also, how will we know it’s happened? I highly doubt anyone I know will be collected by Jesus, so is there going to be some kind of lightning bolt or something to signify that Jesus made it safe and sound? Or will it be kind of like Santa Claus – you know he’s out and about dropping presents down chimneys but you can’t be certain where exactly he is at any given point. It’s not until the next morning when all the presents are there that you know he’s done his business.

Will I still have to go to work during the rapture, or will life on Earth be so chaotic that no one will need to send press releases anymore? I can’t really imagine that, since hardly anyone will be going to heaven so I’d assume life would continue as normal. Most of us will still be here and we’ll need money and stuff to survive until October 21. I guess we don’t need money, but I’d like my last few months on Earth to be comfortable.

One more thing – if you are part of the 2% and you have pets, fear not! For a small fee a number of atheists have offered to make sure your pet is cared for when you are gone. Google something like “pet care after the rapture” to find a result to suit your needs.

So, what are your rapture plans?


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Pour me in a cup. I’m lava.

There has been a year-long debate in the Mitchell residence about whether or not people melt in lava. What happened was this. I told Adrian about my fear of lava (Which he again says it’s not a fear or phobia as it’s completely understandable. I disagree, because who spends their spare time thinking about lava other than those who are really afraid of it, like me? Checkmate, Adrian.)

image source

Anyway, I was talking about how if you jump into a sea of gently but fiercely flowing lava you will melt into the lava and start flowing as if you are lava.

Adrian says this is ridiculous because you would just burn. Then I counter-attacked with the fact that if I went into a pool of lava you’d be able to scoop me out in a pale and pour me into another container. He says you would be picking up your ash just as you would when you are cremated. I say lava is a totally different, all-consuming thing. You turn into lava. I believe that when you die in lava, you are at one with lava. There’s no room for dust or ash.

When I saw that movie Volcano when I was younger the scene where the guy jumps into lava and slowly melts straight down really affected me. I never got over seeing that and ever since I’ve been terrified of lava. I don’t like to think about the word ‘magma’ either. It gives me the heebie jeebies.

I’m sure someone will pipe up and say, “Duh. Of course you don’t turn into lava,” but that’s not very fun is it? I’m not religious, so things like this are my religion. I choose to believe something ridiculous because it’s funny. And scary. For the love of all that’s holy, please don’t take that away from me.


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Yellow & Black

I’m no fashionista, but I do have a couple rules by which I abide when dressing myself and these are generally dictated by things I don’t want to look like.

1) Dork. Self explanatory.

2) Another living creature. For example, an animal, insect, reptile, etc. This brings me to my main fashion rule that outstands any current fashion trend and has been my steadfast rule since I started dressing myself:

Never wear yellow and black together because you will invariably look like a walking bumble bee.

Yellow dress with a black belt? Bumble bee.

Yellow shirt with black pants? Bumble bee.


It doesn’t matter which way you spin it. In my mind yellow and black as a fashion unit is synonymous with bee. Anytime I see someone violating my steadfast rule, I automatically think, “She looks like a bee. Honey, bumble, I don’t know, but definitely a bee.”

And who knows what creatures in the wild think. What would they have thought if I’d been wearing any yellow with this dress? I could have been attacked by anti-bee creatures.

I honestly don’t know why retailers make mock leopard or snake skin apparel. I can’t think of a situation in which I would ever think, “That seems like a good idea. I think I’ll leave the house in that today.”

I’d also never wear a fur coat because I wouldn’t want anyone to look at me and think, “grizzly,” or something like that. It’s likely that someone else can’t help thinking of bears anytime they see someone in a fur coat, much the same as I automatically think “bumble bee” anytime I see someone in yellow and black.

My yellow & black theory has been validated because my sister thinks exactly the same thing.  So if you were thinking, “Omg, no one thinks that except you,” think again.

If you follow my fashion rules you may not be popular, but you certainly won’t be a walking disaster. Good luck!


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How to get angry

You remember the scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles where Steve Martin has an F-bomb party with the car rental agent because they gave him the key to a car that wasn’t there?

Well, that’s exactly how I’ve felt every time I’ve ever spent the night freezing in a crappy sleeping bag and then tried to re-pack it in its impossibly small sack the next morning. Except there’s no one to yell at it. It’s just me and the bag.

Even back when I was 7, trying to re-pack my Beauty and the Beast sleeping bag was a nightmare that involved thrashing around violently and trying desperately to stuff that f*%^ing bag in it’s pack. Now, I don’t say the F word. But if there were ever a time to, it’s re-packing a sleeping bag.

Who invented the case that was too small for the bag?? I get that when you are backpacking you need to get things as small and compact as possible. However, the average person just wants a sleeping bag for the purpose of throwing it in the car trunk once a year for a leisurely weekend camping trip. If I needed a professional sleeping bag for a professional backpacking trip, I’d buy one.

Most of the time my bags end up in a jumbled mess at the bottom of the closet because I can’t be bothered. When Adrian was packing for a camping trip it was a nightmare. Look at this. It’s ridiculous, but necessary:

Recipe for anger:


One sleeping bag in its case.

Step one: Open sleeping bag.

Step two: Freeze all night long in your PoS bag that’s supposed to keep you warm in up to -50 degree F weather, but doesn’t keep you warm in mid 50s weather.

Step three: Try  to put the sleeping bag back in its original case. Even without letting your anger about how crappy the bag is take over your thoughts, you’ll be hard-pressed to keep your cool at this step.


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Wow. The things I never thought I’d learn about Adrian Grenier

I always thought Adrian Grenier was kind of cute.

Then I found out that his wang smells bad and he has a hairy butt.  How did I find this out?

Sometimes I become immature. I was getting ready to put the computer on Adrian’s (my husband) side of the bed when I decided to play a little dumb trick I sometimes do.  I left one tab on Google open and entered the words “Adrian smells …” but Google started predicting before I finished typing and came up with tons of websites.

The top three included sites about:

– Satanism

– Butternut squash cous cous

– How “apparently Adrian Grenier’s penis does not smell good.”

I had a little laugh, then decided to finish my dumb joke.

I entered “Adrian smells like a hairy butthole” into the search tab, not expecting anything to come up. That way Adrian would go to search something and find my little love letter.

But then this came up as the top search and I didn’t even press search:

“Adrian Grenier Has a Hairy Ass”

I love Google.


***UPDATE: Since posting this, if you Google “Adrian smells like a hairy butthole,” my blog is the number one website! Cool, huh?


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I literally love English people

Dear English people,

I realize that as an American I may say some things you don’t agree with. However, you literally need to have a look at this website because it’s about a word that literally appears in way too many of your sentences:





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A Sign From God?

Some people see the Virgin Mary on a piece of toast or in the form of a chicken nugget. I saw this in my tea cup:


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Funny Thing About English People # 287

Many English people I have met believe Monopoly is a British game. They know this to be true.

It’s no wonder they are in disbelief when they are shown the truth. In true reflection of the outrageous drinking culture, there is even a website dedicated to going on a Monopoly pub crawl. You can do it in order, or simply visit all the sites.


At work when I told a couple of them it was 100% American they were sure it wasn’t. Even when they read the facts on the Internet I could see a sadness in their eyes that didn’t want it to be true.

According to some quick research on the net just now, I found out the first versions of the game date back to the early 1900s, and before long it became the official Atlantic City version we know today. Later it was taken to the UK and the streets were changed to London streets.

Ha! USA -1, England – 0.

I'm always the iron


There’s an English person who just been enlightened and is crying right now.

Pictures taken from http://www.worldofmonopoly.com


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Taiwan Woman Marries … Herself?

Taiwan Woman to Marry Herself for New Life in New Year


I’m not really sure what to say about this. When I read it I had a reaction and thought, “I should share this with people,” but any more than that I just don’t know.

She said she felt lucky to be able to meet and fall in love with herself, so she planned a full, traditional wedding and got hitched. To herself.

Mostly this makes me regretful that I never think of anything so ridiculous I make the news for it.


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