Phone Post

Hey lady, you dropped your lobsTAH

Actually, now that I think of it, that license plate is kind of screwed up. First of all, bright red lobsters are generally those that have been cooked to death. Furthermore, the lobsters you find in Maine don't sun themselves on rocky shores; they're wholly underwater critters. So the lobster on the plate is a very dead (albeit tasty) creature that someone posed in what an ignorant person might suppose is a natural setting. Fooey.

(no subject)

Further proof that I grew up in the 1980s: my biology teacher looked just like this guy, and while we teased him about many things, we didn't tease him about his looks, which we all found manly and photogenic. I generally miss all hair-related trends until the whole country is knee-deep (if you will) in them, and so the fact that by-themselves mustaches now mean "ha ha, pornstar" to the conventional wisdom didn't really sink in for me until they replaced the Bounty Towels guy.

(no subject)

If I drink one bottle of beer and then attempt DDR, I usually fail at anything harder than 6 feet. This is not because I can't keep up, but because the act of parsing the intense stream of arrows against the flashing background makes me feel actively confused to the point of real psychosomatic discomfort; I have to stop moving and cover my eyes for a bit.

This is pretty much the deepest that lightweight jmac dares explore in the realm of mind-altering experimentation. It is kind of interesting, for all that.

(no subject)

Wudda countries.