Load of Bollix

(This list is illustrative but not exhaustive): Having arm rolls Lying naked on a towel on your mom and dad’s bed after a bath Lifting feet above head Tiny penis Sitting in your own feces and smiling about it* *Important Distinction: does not include sitting in others' feces. That's straight grimey at any age). Abnormally large head-circumference (big-ass head) Breast-feeding Drooling Androgynous = cute Funny articles found whilst researching: Do Fat Babies Make Fat Adults? (I'm currently penning the sister article, Do Fat Adults Make Fat Babies? It's v. chicken/egg). Baby Head Circumference

To the citizens of the United States of America: In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy). Your new Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: you should look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary. 1. Then look up aluminium, and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. 2. The lett

This is something the jack-asses on the sixth floor of my building would do well to keep in mind. Seriously, how effing hard is it to walk DOWN one flight of stairs? I’m pretty sure babies do it, and cats. And cats (and babies) have way smaller legs than all the asshole adult human non-walkers on the sixth floor. When I get in that elevator, I am in a hurry to get to the ground floor on my way to the-hell-out-of-here, so it is most def. NOT appreciated when some clown stops me mid-ride to go down 10 feet. Seriously. WALK. It’s a grand thing, and we’ve been doing it for thousands of years. That’s why our infrapubic angles are so small and childbirth so difficult (bi-pedalism has its trade offs, whereas an anthropology minor is just useless). I bet if you put an australopithecine on the sixth floor and told it to get to the fifth floor, it would take the goddamn stairs. And it had a brain about 1/3 the size of ours. It would also probably NOT read The Express and NOT take the orange lin

(I hardly knew 'er!) I never "read" The Crucible , but I saw the movie. It starred Daniel Day-Lewis, so it was as good as reading. I just liked how they called each other “Goody so-and-so.” Way better than Mr., Mrs., Miss, and the deliberately ambiguous Ms. (“I don’t get it! Is she or isn’t she married?!?!”). The Crucible is a great example of how I approached my short-lived English major. I figured it was OK if I didn’t read the book, so long as I watched the movie. HOWEVER, (this is important) the movie had to be a BBC film, produced in part with the BBC, or, feature one or more of the following Brits: Daniel Day[-Lewis], Emma Thompson, Anthony Hopkins, and/or the Queen. Then you know its legit. -Goody Steinberg not remotely or in the v. slightest even pretending to do work

Person 1: Check out this recent yet obscure tragic event . Person 2: Christ, it’s like William and Mary all over again. Person 1: That’s what E__ said. Person 2: We'll be roommates in Hell, too.

Dear Old Spice, Thank GOD you finally made a men’s body wash that doubles as a shampoo. God knows, they don’t have it easy when it comes to grooming. Changing a tie to make your outfit appear different from yesterday's is balls-hard. So is not wearing pantyhose or high heels, not tweezing, shaving, plucking, and/or waxing bits of you that never see the light of day. Not ever having to give birth or bleed monthly? Well, that’s just a huge cross to bear. And it is pretty much universally acknowledged that hunting is way more difficult than gathering. I wonder that this latest concoction cannot double (nay, triple) as a toothpaste? It is tough to make ends meet when you make more money than women for the very same work, so the more hygienic products we can role into one, the better. Also, I am v. glad to see that this new miracle product does not in the least smack of Lazy or Wholly Unnecessary. Sincerely, Two X Chromosomes ( http://www.oldspice.com/products.html )

title pretty much sums it up.

I have hated ice-breaker activities since I was young. As a young first-year college student, I decidedly led the “Eff this” team upon discovering that Orientation was a series of “mandatory” ice breakers. We were notorious for saying “Eff this” and leaving soon after we got to organized activity X. By week’s end, we just weren’t going to anything because it was lame. Ice breakers always seem to be created by the world’s most retarded extraverts. It’s like they’re sitting in a room, with nothing better to do than think of weird questions or lists of objects that can easily be held up in front of a group of strangers, whilst explaining how it represents your personality. My answers never break ice; they just create more ice. “I chose this pen because it’s pointy, thereby allowing me to inflict damage on people who make me pick up office supplies and talk about myself as if I’m middling enough to be likened to an Office Depot order.” What does this say about me? The kicker: Adults canno

This is an homage to my work place (DMT) created in the midst of a desperately needed mental health break from the Nonsense that is my full-time job. And all jokes aside, my office really has been running the dishwasher on “rinse” for sodding months. Delicious. If you Google DMT, you get the other DMT, Dimethyltryptamine, a naturally occurring and potent psychedelic drug. My DMT, by contast, is not naturally-occuring and is more impotent than psychedulic. It also, interstingly, does not make it to Google’s first page of hits, unlike the following headings: making DMT, how to get DMT, saliva (my personal favorite), and DMT trips. My workplace helps social entrepreneurs implement social solutions. (If you know the term and/or regularly use the term “social entrepreneur,” go hang yourself). So, without further ado: DMT DC Perpetuates Plague with Bad Dishwasher Interpretation “This explains why my ‘Don’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby’ mug always has crap in it,” Associate Analyst and dish-user Ma

I just put my contacts in after chopping an onion. I did wash my hands, but apparently not well enough. Guess they aren’t kidding when they say that you need to use soap and water. My eyes watered and burned pretty bad. Then I thought to myself, way to go eyeballs. Way to defend yourself against the tyranny that is Mary’s Lack of Sense.

I just excused myself from a two-hour meeting. We (my illustrious place of employment) haven’t been having meetings lately, so I forgot how much I hate them. The last two hours served as a not-so-pleasant reminder. Meetings showcase hot-air and it drives me insane. These people just like to talk, and I just don’t CARE much for talking. And it’s so hard to feign caring. I cannot come out of a meeting like that, where I am the only one sitting there, not caring and not seeing the point, and feel remotely interested in doing some sort of work. The reality is that I don’t like what I do, and I’m not qualified to do much of anything else, and I don’t know what to do. What can I do beside bide my time until I figure out where to go? I’m tired, and broke, and completely discouraged. And I don’t know what to do to make myself feel better, besides the requisite wallowing in self-pity. Sometimes you just have to wallow in it (or type it) to feel somewhat validated. As if hitting keys on a keyboa

Thomas Paine had it all wrong. For those of your schmoes out there reading The Express , try this (old) article from The Wall Street Journal (I can’t *technically* read, so really, I could be posting something in Wingdings for all you know): http://online.wsj.com/article/SB118247444843644288.html?mod=googlenews_wsj In short, naming your baby now equals branding. Also in sum, this should make you proud to be an American. At least you know you're free. For the record, I am naming my children Summer Soldier and Sunshine Patriot. I will take them on play dates with thier friends, Snapple Lasagne and Coffee Kool-Aid, before stabbing myself repeatedly in the eye.