Hyperbole and a Half.
Laugh your ass off. Your butt will hurt because your ass will be gone. But it will be okay. Because you’ll be too amused to care. Oh, and there will be Mandatory Sex Parties* that will distract you from your missing rear end.
*Read post that “mandatory sex parties” links to before you become offended or feel threatened by said statement or implication of any forced sex. There isn’t any, I promise. Those of you who know me well, you know I wouldn’t make fun of anything forced.
Back to the funny.
Here’s the post, linked to me by Theca, that got me started on reading said blog.
I haven’t stopped yet. Just sayin’.
Yesterday, Nathan decided to wake me up from a nap. As usual upon awakening, I wasn’t quite able to make use of the English language. Or any language, for that matter. The most I could get out to answer his questions was a muttering that can’t really be rendered with words. At most, it was an “Mmmargh” sort of sound.
Nathan asked, rather politely, “Could you please tell me the entomology of Mmmargh?”
My brain informs me that I must correct his word usage, but fails to convey most of the sentence. “Bugs,” was all that came out.
“Mmmargh means bugs? What?”
Brain is recovering. “Entomology is bugs. Etymology is words.”
“Okay, so what does Mmargh mean?”
“You can’t define a word with the same word.”
“Mmmargh,” I repeated.
“Okay, I know that one meant ‘shut the fuck up.'”
Finally, the boy is catching on.
Yesterday, I dropped something and broke it while I was in the kitchen. I said, “Bitch. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch—”
Nathan interrupted from the living room and said, “No matter how many times you say it, your mother isn’t going to appear.”
I’m so proud.
Ethan stopped over to hang out the other day, and he and Nathan and I were trying to decide on what we wanted to do. Watch a movie? Play a video game? Nathan wouldn’t commit to an opinion on what he wanted to do. When we pressed him, he said, “I just want to do what everyone else wants to do.”
Then I say, “Your mom?”
…this post was brought to you by the letters, U, R, and the committee for ‘ur mom jokes are back in style.’
You know, the more I happen to use LOLcat speak, the more I keep looking over my shoulder in trepidation. One day, I’m going to look, and my toughest professor from college will be standing there, holding my degree in her hands. Then she’ll tell me, “We’re taking this back due to your flagrant abuse of the English language.”
Sadly, my reply would probably be, “I can haz degree back?”
Then I’d inquire about a refund on the money I spent on the degree. I mean, if that professor had yet to smote me for using LOLcat speak in front of her, I’d ask.
Come to think of it, I’m still surprised she didn’t smote me while I was a student.
Of course, that leaves another question. If someone smotes you, would you still have to pay back your student loans?
Wait… are student loans the modern tool of smiting!?
Holy shit! I’ve been smote already and I never even knew!