Posts Tagged stupidity

Sweet Deal!

C-Minus sent me this perplexing image the other day:

The only rational, non-idiotic reason this sign would exist would be if it were advertising a sale on actual plastic toy quarters or something, for playing with a toy cash register perhaps. But even then, spending fifty cents on a toy quarter would seem absurd, especially when you could just use a real quarter and save fifty percent.

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Swimming with Sharks

I’ve been gone. From both the blogosphere and Minnesota. I sold my house and have been trying to buy a new one and the process is astoundingly awful and drawn out, in the middle of which I went to Hawaii and swam with the sharks:

When the lady said, “Anyone who wants to swim with the White Tips, follow me this way,” I didn’t realize that White Tips were sharks. Sure, they are smaller, docile creatures who seemed more interested in burying their heads in the ocean floor than eating the fleshy part of my thigh, but being an Icthyophobe, I got the hell out of there as soon as I realized what I was looking at. Eff that.

I’m surprised I even got in the ocean in the first place, considering I had sworn off snorkeling when I saw them drag a dead snorkeler out of the surf and onto the beach on a previous Hawaiian adventure. “That guy’s hardcore!” we all remarked as we saw him strutting out into the ocean on his own with nothing but a snorkel mask and some flippers. A few minutes later, he wasn’t so hardcore anymore. Unexpected deaths can cast a pall over your entire vacation if you’re not careful, so you gotta keep them to a minimum.

Anyway, I’ll blog all about my trip, my shark adventure, my old-house-selling and my new-home-buying woes, as well as everything else as soon as I can get myself and my soiled swimsuit sorted out.

In the meantime, here are some more grody fishies.

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Just a Sex

I haven’t been a very good blogger as of late. I’ve been trying to sell my house and buy a new one and all that business has my guts tied up in knots and so animated GIFs just aren’t tickling my fancy right now. But I’m still making plently of embarrassing blunders of course:

I think it’s strange that my initial panic responses to these types of embarrassing scenarios is to say “Oh Jeeze” like I’m Marge Gunderson or something.

By this point my coworkers must be thinking I’m some closet perv who is unable to avoid overt Freudian slips. Stupid C and stupid X being so stupidly close together on the stupid keyboard. Sorry, Tara.



Flat out busted.

I’ve gotten a little pushy at work, so even if a coworker’s Instant Messenger status says they are “busy” or “away”, I just IM them anyway. This is probably obnoxious, but sometimes I just got no time for petty delays. My work is too important! Today my unbridled ambition and reckless haste may have backfired on me, though:

Tina must have thought I was insane. Or in some sex chatroom. Stupid T and stupid Y are so stupidly close together on the stupid keyboard. Sorry, Tina.



The Sound of Little House on the Music

I’ve been combing through my videos of New Zealand in an effort to put together a vacation montage with which I can torture my friends and relatives. It’s mostly just quick pans of beautiful scenery, but then I came across this forgotten oddity, which apparently started out as a recreation of the closing credits from Little House on the Prairie and then in the middle somehow morphed into my own personal adaptation of The Sound of Music.

I’m not sure either recreation was entirely successful, but the mountains of New Zealand sure are beautiful, and I can’t believe I was able to run uninterrupted for that long without throwing up. Or falling down. Or passing out.


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Quick Poll

Slathered in irony.



Starting Off Slow

Getting back into the swing of this blogging thing feels daunting. I better start off slow, take it nice and easy.

Good luck this week, Obama!

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Animated Friday (Fear Itself Edition)!

New life lessons on the new and improved planetdan:

Lesson 1: Live Without Fear

Lesson 2: Never Say Die

Lesson 3: If You’re Gonna Fail, Fail Hard.

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I try not to say anything nasty about Google. I like Google. I proudly own seven shares of Google (it’s all I could afford). But Google owns Blogger, and Blogger has seriously effed me over.

Blogger stopped supporting FTP, which is how I published to my blog.  They claim only .05% of users used the FTP option. But the truth is that only serious people who knew what they were doing used the FTP option, and had spent a long time setting up their custom domain to have maximum control. The other 99.95% of users are twelve year old girls and spam artists. Or maybe I should leave them out of this. This snafu is Blogger’s fault and frankly I’m taking it out on the wrong people.

Basically, none of the blog transferring tools or “post import” features offered by WordPress worked on my blog. And all of the online tutorials failed as well. And one of the tutorials steered me in such a wrong direction that Blogger ended up deleting all the User Comments on my site. Luckily, I had a static backup of the pages with all the User Comments in tact. But Blogger won’t allow me to reimport them because I can’t reinstate FTP publishing. It’s a big round circle of pain that I’ve been buried in all weekend.

SO, all the old posts and comments still exist and can be accessed from the archives menu on the right. You just won’t be able to add new comments to any of them. All new posts will be in this new system.

Oh well, onward and upward.

Anyone want to buy seven shares of Google?



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