Tickle My Kittens

I can’t take credit for this, but it’s priceless. Thanks to Lawyers, Guns and Money and Wonkette.

New Interwebs quote of the year:

“I am aware of all Internet Traditions.”

I am going to spend the work day designing a t-shirt and submit it to Threadless.

OK, the new Coldplay album came out on Tuesday. The thing we all know about Coldplay is that everyone in the band seems to be pretty affable. Nice guys. And they’re not afraid to say they rip off other bands. Honestly, who doesn’t rip someone else off at some point, right? But they can put everyone to sleep. I-Bankers on three-day coke binges use X&Y to relax before heading into work the next day. You know, though, sometimes you need that. Coldplay is the new Enya in this regard.

What really bothers me about Coldplay is how insultingly simple the lyrics are. Here is a bit from “42,” off the new album:

Those who are dead are not dead
They’re just living my head
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well
Oh…

Time is so short and I’m sure
There must be something more

Those who are dead are not dead
They’re just living my head oh…
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well oh…

At least he didn’t end with “I am living in a well” or “I was given a big, gold bell” or “Is it raining outside? I can’t tell.” It’s ironic that Coldplay is a band that caters to the older, “sensitive adult” crowd, but the lyrics were probably written in crayon on the back of a Trapper Keeper.

Here is a poem I wrote when I was in 5th grade — I’m sure you can see my talent:

I walked through the garden
And I saw a bench
On it was an old cheeseburger
It gave off quite a stench.

Add in some soaring piano and that shit goes platinum.

i quit my job yesterday. going in, i was afraid it was going to go as poorly with my future former boss as it did with my current former boss back in 2006, but he was pretty cool with it. he told me he wished me well and the he hoped we’d keep in touch. he even tried to give me a big hug (how about a handshake instead, big boy?). he mentioned how highly he thought of me as his subordinate and was sorry to see me go.

i felt really good about leaving things on a positive note when i left his office yesterday. it was when i came in this morning that i saw this. apparently, my office farting was not as covert as i had thought?

(thanks to passiveaggressivenotes.com)

How would you like it if someone replaced your toothpaste with a similarly shaped tube of Preparation H? Sure, it might tighten up those saggy gums a little, but at the end of the day you’re going to be pissed off because you didn’t get what you were expecting. That’s essentially what happened to me this weekend when I discovered that DC cash machines have started dishing out $50 bills.

We all depend on continuity and my ATM routine is simple. Insert card, enter PIN, navigate through menu, and insert cash into the back of the wallet. Because I keep my bills sorted with the smallest denominations first, this seemingly chaotic transaction actually maintains perfect order. My technique has evolved mostly because I like to avoid fumbling with a stack of 20s as I organize my wallet in public, but an ancillary benefit is that it’s very easy to grab bills from the front (valet tip) or back (taxi) without much thought.

It was this back-of-wallet cash grab that got me into trouble, and you can probably guess what happened. It was getting very late in the evening. A group of friends convinced me to join them on the other side of town for one more drink. On the way I discovered that my funds were running low, so I had the driver stop at a bank to refill the coffers. There were two suspicious guys in line behind me, and while I was catching glances of them out of the corner of my eye and imagining counter moves to the assault that never came, the ATM was silently counting out 50s. The trap had been set.

I should have realized what was happening the first time. The taxi pulled up outside of the bar and I decided to be a little generous and round up to $20 on a $15 fare. “No change, thanks” I said as I handed him what was actually a 230% tip. He shouted his appreciation as I walked into the bar feeling very good with myself. After my ride home, the second time wasn’t as obvious. It wasn’t until the next day that I caught myself doing it a third time in full daylight.

Yes, I wasted $60, but the biggest casualty in this whole fiasco is that I’m going to have to totally rethink my wallet algorithm. And if you think that I’m ever going to be able to casually tip a bellboy without breaking eye contact, you have another thing coming. My only consolation is that over-tipping a taxi driver is actually one of the better outcomes in a situation that involves fumbling around in the dark back seat of a car after a few drinks.

Hello, friends. We here at TMK decided to follow Bad at Life to the bar for the past few months, thus ignoring our call to post meaningless diatribes for other bored semi-professionals. I’ve finally sobered up, left BAL’s couch, and showered, so now might as well be the time to lose my blogging virginity again (still waiting for that to happen in real life).

On a flight back to DC earlier this week, I read a review in GQ for Everyday Drinking. Obviously this is a book that would appeal to me (as well as a few other drunks at TMK), since I start every morning with a glass of warm gin and some beer-battered donuts. Anyway, Everyday Drinking is a compilation of three smaller works by Sir Kingsley Amis, and in it, he argues for drinking (and got paid to do so, the lucky bastard). The book is full of hilarious and insightful nuggets of advice, ranging from hosting a party to battling hangovers (BAL can certainly learn a thing or two about that). Some highlights:

* While hosting a party and preparing a gin and tonic for a guest, put the tonic and the ice and a thick slice of lemon in first and pour on them a thimbleful of gin–over the back of a spoon–so it will linger near the surface and give a strong-tasting first sip, which is the one that counts.

* Drinking a beer with a piece of lime in it is “an exit application from the human race.” This also applies to Zimas and Jolly Ranchers as well. Nice knowing you, Token Female.

* Anyone like Harvey Wallbangers? I know, this isn’t 1975, but: Another Italian liqueur, Galliano, has gained a good deal of ground over the last few years, not as a drink on its own but as a constituent of the famous, or infamous, cocktail, the Harvey Wallbanger, named after some reeling idiot in California.

* To battle a hangover, draw a hot bath, sit in the bathtub, and then immediately stand up to take a hot shower (repeat as necessary). However, “do not do this unless you are quite sure your heart and the rest of you will stand it. I would find it most disagreeable to be accused of precipitating your death, especially in court.” Better keep the heart healthy and stay away from those all-you-can-eat bacon buckets at Wonderland, as well.

The book is hilarious and insightful (and includes an introduction by fellow drunk Christopher Hitchens). I may be biased, but the book is especially good because Amis references gin the most out of any spirit. I always knew I could spot a good drunk.