I was reading the label on a bottle of ibuprofen yesterday, and noticed that it said, "If you consume more than three alcoholic beverages a day, you should ask a physician whether this product is right for you." What kind of advice is that? They should just say, "If you consume more than three alcoholic beverages a day, cut it out. You've got a problem." I mean, a lot of people occasionally have more than three drinks, but when you're actually reading the label on a bottle of Tylenol to see if it's compatible with arduous drinking schedule, you've crossed some kind of line.
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If I ever remade the movie
Blade Runner, I’d have Harrison Ford say to Rutger Hauer as he’s about to give in to his mortality, “Are you a repli
can or a repli
can’t?”
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I always smile when I see somebody pulling a trailer that was made from the bed of an old pickup truck. I love the kind of thinking that says, “Sure the engine, transmission, brakes, alternator, battery, carburetor, radiator, windshield wipers and radio are shot, but this old baby is still good for hauling some shit!” I wonder if these same people cut off the tops of their old socks to use them as wrist bands.
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Sometimes I bite my nails. The other day I did that thing where I accidentally pulled too much of the nail off and gave myself a nasty hangnail. Normally I would just clip it off with a fingernail clipper, but I was driving to work at the time and I don’t have a fingernail clipper in my car or at the office. So I just kept biting at this thing, trying to get to the bottom of it, but each time I just pulled a little more skin off and pretty soon it was bleeding and painful. And yet still I kept biting at it, as if I could take care of it if I just bit it
one more time. Finally it occurred to me to put a Band-Aid on it so that I would stop biting at it. This worked like a charm, but sadly it also made me realize that if I ever get a vasectomy I’m going to have to get one of those lampshade things they put on dogs.
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It’s probably a good thing that Peter Parker wasn’t bitten by one of those trapdoor spiders, or Spider-Man would just wait in his apartment all day for bad guys to come to him.
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Speaking of superheroes, over Christmas vacation Mrs. Diesel and I have been playing a game called City of Heroes, a “massively multiplayer online game” where you can design and play your own superhero. Most of the time you wander around Paragon City looking for thugs to whack with your katana or sonic blast. When you click on one of the thugs, a little label appears over their heads, telling you what level they are – so you’ll know how difficult they are to defeat and how many experience points you’ll get for it. I was thinking about this when we got into bed, and I said to my wife, “I wish people in real life had labels over their heads like that. You know, something that said their name and what level they are and stuff. Because otherwise how would you know?”
“How would you know what?” Mrs. Diesel asked.
I responded, “You know, whether they’re worth killing or not.”
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A few days ago, I said to my wife, expressing surprise that she didn’t know some bit of trivia about me, “How long have we been married anyway?” To this she immediately responded, “1500 years. Next year you’re supposed to get me plutonium.”
Which explains why we get along so well.
UPDATE 3:44 PM: The polls are now open for this thing. You can vote once per day, and I'm going to need a LOT of help to catch up to some of the other finalists. We're like 2 hours into the voting and I'm already in Ralph Naderville.Labels: Sock Drawer