Tag Archives: twitter

You don’t need Charmin…you need a butt doctor

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Sometimes Twitter will promote handles in hopes you will follow them. This was the case on Thursday afternoon when they suggested I follow Charmin.

In case you haven’t seen a Charmin toilet paper ad in a while, let me catch you up to speed: They’re using multi-colored bears to push their product:

charmin - asparagus

The thought of what his bathroom smells like after a post-asparagus piss almost makes me wet my OWN pants…

 

In the past few years they’ve made the leap from woods-shitting to defecating in bear-owned single-family homes to the tune of Sir Mix-A-Lot:

 

What’s worse is whoever runs the Charmin Twitter account is providing perhaps too much information about his or her rear problems. This person is either paralyzingly incontinent or has Crohn’s Disease. Let’s survey the evidence together, shall we:

charmin -  comes out green

Dude I don’t know. Maybe see a doctor about that.

charmin - smell follows

OK. DEFINITELY see a doctor about that.

charmin - oatmeal and coffee for bfast

Whoever kept track of this needs counseling.

charmin - tire pop

What the? NO. No. Jesus Christ.

charmin - meteor

A meteor is the least of your worries if you crapped your pants after a flat tire.

charmin - courtesy flush

FOUR TIMES?! STOP EATING OATMEAL AND COFFEE.

charmin - shaking table

You seriously need a colonoscopy.

Holy crap (no pun intended)

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Actually it's supposed to be Mount "Rainier" but given the fact you had him crapping his pants before I think we'll let it slide...

The 80 Cats Phenomenon

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Every year we are bound to run into a news headline like the one I saw on my Twitter feed today:

My first thought should be that the story is sad on multiple levels for the hoarders and pets who lived in squalor. Unfortunately, spending multiple years in journalism has severely depleted my compassion levels and my brain just simply isn’t wired like that anymore. It’s only wired to have the same reaction every time I see this story:

Why is it always 80 CATS?

Not 50 cats. Not 200 cats. Eighty cats. Every. Single. Time.

If you don’t believe me, type in “more than 80 cats” in a Google search. Below is only a sample of what you will find (most of these were just in 2011):

 

 

 

It should be noted that these people *willing* chose to have that many

 

 

Approximately 80 cats are apparently every home’s threshold for a contained atmosphere of feces, hairballs and general life failure before it seeps through an unsealed crack and into the air we breathe. Only then do we call animal control.

When the number crept up to 50 did neighbors say, “Well there are a shit ton of cats here but…I think it will get better”? It doesn’t get better after 50 cats. It wasn’t going to get better after 20 cats. Yet for some reason the number has to hover around 80 before any action takes place.

 

Unless THIS woman is your neighbor. Then you clearly get a pass

 

Be nice…or I’ll beat the tweet out of you…

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Twitter decided to get smart with me on Tuesday–and I was not having it

After an exhausting night of reporting I arrived at my office ready to tweet the one thing that gave me joy that morning: a bumper sticker from a local elementary school whose tagline was “Where ALL our students are honored” (I didn’t know whether to praise the school for being inclusive or for buttering up the school’s dumber kids).

I typed out my thoughts but noticed the character number indicator in the bottom right hand corner wasn’t moving. I figured I would click the “Tweet” button so it would let me know if I was over the limit.

Normally when you go over the 140 character limit it gives you a pop up alert telling you. But this new Twitter interface they’re forcing upon me decided to take it one step further:

It really should not have bothered me, because it’s a computer and it’s pointless to be mad at a computer. Then I realized there are people behind these computers writing this smart aleck stuff. Then I was filled with rage.

Maybe if I agree to be more clever they’ll admit they need the cast of Whale Wars to save all these damn “fail whales” I see on my computer screen when I try to do something as simple as sign in to my account.

And while we’re on the subject of failing…remember this little gem you sent me a few weeks back?

This is just uncalled for. So you could help me but you choose not to? What the hell.

OK then Twitter, I’ll play your game:

Sad realization: I’ll probably tweet this post.

Taking a walk down a crispy aisle in the church of pork and latter-day shanks

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Background: We really like bacon. A lot.

Friend: if we were married, i would take you to a bacon themed resort where all they did was play crazy internet videos and wild twitter statuses all day

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA
gchat.status.

Me: that is a marriage with a stronger foundation than most.
if anyone has an objection to this union, oink now or forever roast your peace
your delicious, tender peace

Friend: hahahahaha, we’re eloping, i’m pulling the car around

Me: hahaaa

Me: that would be the best reception. ever
holy shit
we would need a cardiologist
but the extra money would be worth it

Friend: the candle that shines twice as bright burns half as long

Me: kind of like the chambers to our heart pumping harder with bacon infused blood

Friend:
it’s so beautiful, i’m getting misty

Me: hahahaa

Friend: it might not be a ring, but i think it gets the point across http://eats.com/images/stories/eats/foodie_news/june_09/bacon_and_eggs.jpg


Me: hahaaahaa

Soon enough, babies will be able to tweet via the womb

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There is an article in the Baltimore Sun this week about the popularity of using Twitter…in the delivery room. The bulk of the article focused on one couple where a father awaits the birth of his second child and updates friends on his wife’s progress. One of his tweets even said “YAWN … having a baby is BORING right now … last time was drive-thru compared to this.”

I’m not saying I hate Twitter (after all, I do have an account) but this guy’s tweets did not seem to convey the seriousness of childbirth and I know if I were in a delivery room the last thing I want to see when I’m pushing a 9lb being out of me is that stupid blue bird. So below is what I think is a more accurate description of a delivery room scene.

Click to enlarge and read from the bottom up like you normally would with Twitter: