Humans: A swarm of mathematically predictable, carbon-rich, meat sacks.
I simply must try harder to perceive people as more than just mathematically predictable meat sacks. But they are very crunchy… And strangely moreish. But I don’t think I could eat more than, maybe three.
His and hers is a marketing term to describe a product in two variations each lacking in practical merit by itself, but illustrated as being useful for a specific gender in comparison to the other.
For example, his and hers toilet paper;
‘his toilet paper’ is inexplicably large – too large to fit on a toilet roll holder – and the single sheet paper is so thin, you need to fold it into four to make any reasonable use of it. Its key selling point is that each roll is long enough to wrap around Manhattan.
Meanwhile, ‘her toilet paper’ is triple ply with scented notions and embossed with pretty patterns so deeply that one roll is likely to last for only 1.3 sittings but promises to feel like wiping yourself with a soft fluffy puppy… nice.
Regrettably his and hers products are surprisingly successful thanks to advertising campaigns that offer the illusion of choice. Eg. “his and hers toilet paper. Which one will you choose.” Which of course implies that you would choose either of them.
The Breakfast of Champions – a term originally used to describe any potentially nutritious breakfast cereal endorsed by a sporting hero, is now used to describe a completely ridiculous breakfast containing at least 2000 calories and boasting no nutritional value.
For example, ricycles and doughnuts cereal.
Dee-lish!
I’m frustrated because my lawnmower broke while I was mowing and now I cant fix it or finish my mowing.
I’m confused because I didn’t really want to mow the lawn and now I can’t. I should be happy, but I’m actually frustrated, which is confusing.
To top it all off, I’ve washed my hands like five times now and they still feel and smell like they’re covered in engine oil, which is depressing.
So I’m fru-con-fu-strat-de…. Er.
I’m not happy.
Posted by Wordmobi
far⋅ci⋅cal
noun
A vehicle with two wheels in tandem, propelled by combustible gas issued forth from the riders buttocks via a form of miniature jet engine connected to the rear wheel and frame, and having handlebars for steering and a saddlelike seat.
