What do women want?

The radio hosts this morning were discussing Valentine’s day. The male asked listeners what women want these days and the female commented that he has been married for 16 years and still doesn’t know.

I called in to tell them that she misunderstood his question. He was not asking the general (and pointless) questions what do women want?, he was asking specifically what women want these days, as in 2012. For example:

  • Are women still happy with flowers and candy, or do they want an iPad instead?
  • Are they satisfied with a romantic dinner anymore, or do they prefer a cruise?
  • Can you still get away with buying them a new mop, or do they expect a Dyson?

Colored N

Possibly seen on IRC:

I just started playing meatboy.
I’ve seen that; it looks interesting.
Yeah, it’s okay, but it reminds me a lot of that ninja game N.
* Bobert has joined #offtopic
In fact, it’s basically just a colored N.
* Bobert has quit IRC (racist jerks)
Huh?
I think it’s because you said “colored N”.
Oh, lol. Good thing I didn’t say “black and white meatboy”.
Ha, yeah, good thing.

[Djinn Joint] …the Cats Will Play

I try to keep my cats as happy as I can. I try to give them as much love and treats as possible, and I try to keep them entertained. However, since they are indoor cats and never caught on to watching television, they are limited in what they can be entertained with.

While they generally seem to be happy, I have on several occasions wished to be able to entertain them even more.

A Djinn’s might grant this wish by turning me into a mouse so that the cats can chase and eat me. That would provide entertainment and a snack!

It’s Not So Bad

One night my mother went out to her dart game and my sister had a friend over and they were watching television downstairs. I had absolutely nothing to do that night, nothing to watch, no homework, nothing. I tried to think of one of my formerly many hobbies to do but came up empty. I was so bored that I hurt physically; I felt the boredom in my bones and muscles. In fact, for a minute I was actually writhing around in physically agony. I decided to get something to eat then figure out what to do.

I went downstairs and checked the fridge. To top off the hollow, emptiness of that night, there wasn’t even anything to eat. I ended up just grabbing some (gasp!) fruit from the drawer. I got myself an orange and a grapefruit.

On my way back up, I juggled the citruses all the way up the stairs. When I got up, I started to play another game with them where I would toss one up then catch it with an overhand swooping motion towards myself, causing the fruit to hit the palm of my hand hard.

I returned to my room and sat on the bed flipping through the channels. I stopped on something that I didn’t really care about and continued the fruit-catch game with the orange because it fit in my hand better and gave a more satisfying thwack! when it hit my palm. I did that a few times when on the last catch, I didn’t quite get a good grip on the orange and it slipped out of my hand and flew straight towards me. It hit me square in the groin and I fell over on the bed. I lay there in agony a hundred times worse than what I felt a few minutes ago. After a few seconds of pain, I began to laugh.

It may seem odd that I would laugh at getting hit so hard in the testicles with an orange, but it was a laugh of relief because it could have been worse, it could have been the grapefruit.

Oh Come On

One time my mother had an appointment with someone in a small office. The people in that office were divided into a few teams of three and she was to meet someone on Team 3. She had gotten a letter some time earlier telling her the date of the appointment and the person and his team with whom she was to meet. She didn’t take the letter with her, but she had remembered the gist of it.

She arrived at office and approached the receptionist. She said that she has an appointment with a guy from Team 3 and that she didn’t quite remember his name, but it was something like Rick.

The receptionist gave her a quizzical look and said that she doesn’t know a Rick. My mother explained that it may not be Rick but rather something like it. The receptionist again looked confused and frustrated and said that there is nobody by that name in the office.

My mother stood there waiting while the receptionist spent several minutes looking around for the appointment and when coming up empty, looking for some sort of clue as to who my mother had the appointment with.

Now my mother was getting irritated and tried to help again by saying that the appointment is with “Rick, Nick, Mick…” The receptionist still had no idea who it was supposed to be.

Another person who worked in the office walked by at that point and the receptionist stopped her. She told her coworker that “this lady has an appointment with Rick…?” My mother quickly chimed in, that it was with someone named Rick or something like that. The other woman immediately said “you mean Eric?” My mother gave a sardonic look to the receptionist who said “ohhhh Eeeeric.”