Stick it to me, baby.

I get stuck in traffic a lot, especially when commuting to and from work because, well, there are more idiots on the road at those times (myself included1). As a result, I get the joyous and underwhelming opportunity to read the various stickers people adorn their cars with.

And they use them a lot in America!

From the Jesus fish…

Jesus, would you look at these!?

…and the ‘My offspring is serving in the Army/Navy/Air Force’…

Everyone gets a participation trophy

…to the various forms of ‘Coexist’ I’ve seen.

Holy Idealism, Batman!

But nothing sums up ignorance like the two stickers I have seen a lot of recently.

And no, it’s not a collection of pointlessly stupid stick figures of family members.

Get ’em Darth! GET ‘EM!

No, these stickers are as follows:

If you don’t have the same views as me, I will shoot you

And this one:

Be nice to each other, or so help me I will kill you.

I get the feeling these stickers are supposed to portray pride and like-minded thinking in this fine country, but they’re pretty aggressive if you ask me (and this is a statement from a thick skinned Brit living in the land of the thin skinned…so that’s saying something!)

For me, it boils down to this:

“If y’all ain’t gon’ be wit’ us, then we’s gon’ shoot y’all….so help me God”

(I’m sure he won’t).

These stickers aren’t a display of Patriotism; they’re Jingoism at it’s most prevalent.

Maybe this would be more appropriate?

Seems about right

So remember, if you won’t share this post with all your friends and family, then feel free to…erm….feel free to….er….not?

 

1 – Not true.

Advertisements

Yule not believe it, but….

I just told a work colleague that I don’t really like Christmas. I mean, it’s not that I hate it, but i’m just a bit ‘meh’ about it.

From her reaction (and those around me) I may as well have stood on her desk, dropped my trousers and dipped my own Santa’s sack in her coffee.

Note to self: Don’t tell ANYONE here that you’re not a fan of Disney!

I’m eggsasperated!

Dear America,

Please learn how to cook fried eggs.

Yours sincerely,

People who like fried eggs.

Now, who do I send this letter to? Who is responsible for the sad state of affairs when it comes to correctly frying a bloody egg?

Probably someone by the name or Sam, or Nella.

(get it?)

Anyway, bad puns aside, when it comes to the simplicity of frying an egg, there seems to be 4 choices available:

Sunny side up – 90% raw white, mostly cooked yolk (although who knows; raw and cooked yolks look pretty much the same)
Over easy – 50% raw white, cooked yolk (but the yolk is never as good as sunny side up).
Over medium – See ‘over easy’.. It’s the fucking same. Don’t tell me it’s not.
Over hard – 110% cooked (rubbery) white with a dry, overcooked yolk.

Mmmm, delicious. Oh, wait, no they aren’t.

Frying an egg is simple, Dennys/IHOP/any breakfast diner in America!

All you’ve got to do is NOT be in a rush to get it out to the customer and let the white of the egg actually COOK. We can wait an extra 45 seconds; just cook the bloody whites will ya! Then you wouldn’t need to add a disclaimer at the bottom of your menus telling us that eating raw eggs can be harmful.

It beggars belief that this is a thing, and that it’s completely acceptable! Are you telling me I could be POISONED by your eggs?

Imagine getting your tyres [tires1] replaced, but the mechanic only half bolts your wheels back onto your car, and then hands you a disclaimer telling you it can be dangerous to drive with unsecured wheels?

Dangerous? It’s practically lethal!

Just put the wheels on properly, I mean….you’re RIGHT there! Just bolt them on fully!

My wife is in her thirties and has never liked fried eggs. I couldn’t understand why and I pleaded with her to let me cook her a proper fried egg. She finally agreed, and I fried her an egg the right way. I watched as her pupils dilated while her brain rewired her feelings about fried eggs. She had a look on her face that was somewhere between confusion, disbelief and utter joy; she loved it! And now, three decades into her life, she’s finally enjoying fried eggs, as long as they’re cooked by me.

So please, America, learn how to cook eggs! I’m sick and tired of sending them back to be finished, or having to order scrambled eggs when I don’t want them.

Sincerely,

Patient 319,
ICU – Poisoning ward,
Las Vegas County Hospital.

1 – It’s ‘tyres’, not ‘tires’. The latter is a verb.

Bone Appétit

Today at work I saw another opportunity to ‘edit’ something I saw on a colleagues desk.

And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, see:

https://headinablender.com/2018/05/03/a-sign-of-things-to-comma/

…and…

https://headinablender.com/2018/07/18/my-brain-filter-may-need-some-work/

Anyway, no fancy story here today.

No deep, insightful musings.

Just this.

Fully roosted coffee

At work, we have a dedicated private Facebook page in which employees can sell stuff.

It’s pretty good if you want baby clothes, a kitchen gadget they’ve ‘only used a couple [of] times’, and other shit and detritus they don’t want anymore.

Well, I decided to have a peruse through today’s offerings over my morning coffee, and happened upon this item.

You know this is going to be fowl

Usually stuff like this wouldn’t make it onto my blog, but I couldn’t resist with a description like this:

Extra large Cock – FREE to a good home

My first instinct was to look up from my desk and check around me to make sure I wasn’t having my leg pulled.

No, she really wrote that…and it was intended to be sincere.1

What made it even better is that someone commented:

That is a turkey.

To which she replied:

It’s a rooster. A huge cock

Ah, I love the smell of innuendos in the morning.

(slurps coffee)

 

1 – I know this because a) it’s on a public work Facebook channel, and b) innuendos aren’t her thing….believe me!

My brain filter may need some work.

Being a Brit living in America is, mostly, pretty easy.

The main issue I have (other than the stupid way they format their dates, their driving, their TV, their….well, you get my point) is filtering my disgusting and yet hilarious brain from reacting when I find something funny that others REALLY won’t.

After all, offending someone over here is as difficult as fist fighting a baby.

These moments of internal hilarity involve things like growlers, double-fisting and, more recently, this sign I saw on a colleagues desk that was clearly meant to be heartwarming…

You know what’s coming…

It took all my willpower not to put a note on it that reads:

“So are your wife’s tits”.

Does that make me a bad person?

Spelling Bee(yatch!)

The other day, whilst [while] walking down a supermarket aisle, I passed a couple having a quiet, yet heated conversation.

‘This should be interesting’, I thought, as I passed them….slowly.

“It’s e-a-t-E-n”, said the guy.

“Uh uh, no”, his other half said dismissively, “it’s e-a-t-A-n”.

“No baby, i’m telling you, it’s e-a-t-E-n”, he repeated with a slight chuckle in his voice.

This didn’t go down well with her.

Not well at all.

It was at this point she did that thing so many of my exes have done to me in the past when out in public; she raised her voice slightly in an attempt to embarrass her man in front of an audience….or, in this case, the slow, shuffling Brit who was taking far too much interest some nearby canned goods.

“Mmm-hmm, sure baby; whatever you say, but you is wrong![sic], she retorted, clearly convinced she wasn’t.

She was.

Besides, the correct spelling is ‘c-r-E-t-i-n’.