Category Archives: weirdness

A British Sounding… French Movie?

So last night I saw the movie Hugo.  It was actually really, really good.  It’s the first good kid’s movie I’ve seen since Pixar’s Up.  

But there was something that was really getting on my nerves.

Even though they live in Paris, they have British accents.  I found this a little strange.  It actually made it hard to concentrate on the  movie.

They should at least have French accents, right?

Watch the trailer, and you’ll see what I mean.

Annoying, right?

Overall, its a 95 out of 100.  Good job Mr. Scorsese.

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Posting from my iPod

Hi guys.

The only reason for this post is so I can say

Made on my iPod

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All Your Base Are Belong To Us

Ok.  This is really, really, hard to explain.

So, yeah, just watch the video.


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Do Not Eat That Melon

Yes, a post about melons.

But a serious post.

There have already been 16 deaths concerning “bad” melons.

Cantaloupes, to be precise.

What I’m trying to say is:

Don’t eat cantaloupe while reading my blog.  I value my viewers.  But for the people who don’t read my blog…

Who wants cantaloupe?

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Petite Lap Giraffes?

There’s this whole thing over the Internet about these “Petite Lap Giraffes”.  If you haven’t heard, I’ll fill you in.

Apparently they drink distilled water and eat Bonsi leaves.  A baby is 15 cm and an adult is 27 cm.

Strange, huh?

Here’s a picture of one.

They are so cute.
Fake, but cute.
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I was at the YMCA when I saw this sign.

This raises the obvious question: If there is no diving in zero feet zero inches, why isn’t there a sign like this everywhere?  There should be a sign in front of your house, like a doormat or something, that warns people not to dive onto your concrete.

I mean, look what happened to the stick figure when he dived without water.

Poor little guy.

(Note: I do not own this picture, I got it off Flickr)


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Two Weirdos In a SUV Like My Poop Bag

So today I was walking my dog.

Yes, the wiener dog.  But that’s not the point.

The worst part of walking a dog is the poop.  You’ve got to pick it up, even if you don’t want to.  And then you’ve got to carry it around until you get home or find a trashcan.  Well, I’ve found a simple soloution to this problem: attach the poop-bag to the dog’s collar.

Maybe not so good for the dog, but hey, it works.


So I was walking my dog when all of the sudden a silver 99′ Dodge SUV pulls around the corner.  The guy whose driving the car is about 68, and he’s looking at me like catfish looks at a peice of bacon.  (Man, I’m good at analogies!)  So basically, he’s looking at me like a maniac.

I thought it was strange, but it got even stranger.  He turned around and pulled up in front of me, exept now I didn’t see him, I saw his wife.

She was also looking at me like a maniac.

I was getting ready to run when she rolled down the window.  She looked very exited.  Her eyes were large.  Freakishly large.

And this is what she says:

“She’s carryin’ her own poop bag!”

She says “poop” with a little popping sound at the end.

“Uhhh…Yes she is, I tho-”

I don’t have time to finish my sentence, because they’re already driving away like a moose drives a wagon.  (I’m really good at these analogies)

So basically, I had a pretty weird Tuesday.

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