I was eating a cold leftover egg roll while investigating a raw juice cleanse, and then I disappeared into a vortex of cognitive dissonance. Tell my dogs I loved them.
It seems that King of States! readers do not visit this blog for insights into the state of tech startup hiring and management – utterly shocking. However, while I will not cave to popular demand and start writing Iceberg Hunters fanfic, please know that there is a great deal more strident feminism yet to be expressed here.
In the meantime, here’s a picture of one of my dogs totally judging you:
The United States now has more self-serve frozen yogurt and topping bars with punny names than it does schools.
The rest of the world must face down the massive fro-yo gap we’ve created. Deal with that, China.
I think we can all agree that this is the best of all possible do-it-yourself Valentine’s Day cards. Print 50 copies, staple a Dum Dum lollipop to each one, and hand them out to everyone you know.
I have become to internet’s go-to-source for all things Iceberg Hunters. Here is how yesterday’s readers stumbled onto the corner of the internet known as King of States!
To the person who was searching for “Posiedon,” thank you and I’m sorry.
Normally I don’t respond to my own writing prompts, but as I was awake at 3AM mulling this one over, I thought I’d jot down my thoughts.
Invent a definition for the word “flangiprop,” then use the word in a post.
I think “flangiprop” means one of two things. I haven’t yet settled on my final choice:
1. A literary device wherein a new character is introduced into a story, only to be killed in an incredibly gruesome way so that the protagonist can have a searing breakthrough. The character is then forgotten entirely. Kind of like a deus ex machina meets Saw IV.
2. A failed 19th century invention; the flangiprop was a small, wind-up device that looked a bit like a bird. It was meant to be inserted into one’s featherbed prior to bedtime, where it would chitter around and fluff the feathers. Unfortunately, after the third usage, it would usually destroy the featherbed completely, and several small children were severely injured when their parents inadvertently left active flangiprops in their mattresses overnight.
I’m leaning toward #2. I like to think it would have been marketed as “Professor Flangiprop’s Perpetual Feather Fluffer and Marital Aid,” and the advertisement would have touted all kinds of health benefits resulting from slumber on an adequately fluffed mattress, like proper uterine alignment or increased spinal vitality.
- I would like Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to host my life.
- Lena Dunham: writing, producing, directing, and acting powerhouse who still feels like she needs to wear torturous shoes that completely hobble her. The work of feminism, she is never done.
- Jodie Foster, shut your traphole. Were you perhaps unaware that there was some privacy compromise involved when you decided to continue pursuing your career as a big giant movie star post-childhood? Are you simply choosing to ignore the actors who manage to have both fulfilling careers and relatively private home lives? Did you stop to think that we still live in a time of widespread discrimination, hatred, and violence, and that perhaps coming out publicly would have been a huge boost to millions of young people and would be worth whatever privacy trade-off might be involved? And why are you still BFFs with Mel Gibson? In any case, thank you for chastising all of us. By the way, we all knew already. Have a nice life.
- Kristin Wiig needs to eat a meatball sub.
So, there’s that.
Actual sentence I said during an impromptu 5AM conversation about hats:
“You’re really doing a lot of mental gymnastics to justify the idea of a single, enduring Mr. Peanut.”
You’re welcome, posterity!
Dear White Chocolate,
You know you’re not fooling anyone with the whole “I’m chocolate!” thing, right? You could probably put all that energy into something more productive, like not sucking.
Won’t Be Fooled Again