Archive for the ‘Funny Things That Happen To Me’ Category

15 Mar

Facebook needs a Bozo Filter

Posted by Allison | Squirrel Thoughts in Funny Things That Happen To Me, Politics/Society/Seriouser Stuff, Rants/Tips.

Hey, you know that person you’re friends with on Facebook? The one who you kinda-sorta know because you went to the same high school/university/clown college, but who you’ve never had an actual conversation with? The one who, despite not really knowing you, finds it necessary to comment on Every. Single. Thing. you post?

Yeah, that guy. Don’t you wish you could make him stop doing that without having to block him from seeing your posts, because, well, he seems like a perfectly nice guy, just with some FB boundary issues, and you really have no interest in hurting his feelers?

Well, I have just the solution: Bozo Filter for Facebook.

Resident bozo/clown college graduate

“’Bozo Filter’?” you inquire. “Squirrel, just what is this ‘Bozo Filter’ you speak of?”

Well, I’m glad you asked! The Bozo Filter (at least the one I’m speaking of) is an amazing tool many media outlets use to control unruly users on their comment boards.

See, sometimes people have absolutely nothing better to do other than troll their local newspaper’s website and post obnoxious comments that manage to insult people of every race, creed, nationality, gender, political belief, sexual orientation, dog vs. cat preference, dancing ability, etc. He or she also manages to do this in the most obnoxious way possible by CAPITALIZING random WORDS and LetTeRS, blatantly mispeling werds over and over again, not knowing the difference between “you’re” and “your” and launching personal attacks at other users that have nothing to do with the topic at hand.

For example, when I worked at the Great Falls Tribune, there was a guy who posted under the moniker “RedneckHippie.” As you can tell by his username, he was a real charmer. He disagreed with just about everything anyone ever said in any Tribune article and also with just about every other poster on the forum. Basically, if it  didn’t come out of his mouth, it was wrong.

When someone didn’t agree with RedneckHippie, he’d reply using his comeback of choice: calling them a moron. Except he spelled it “maroon.” And capitalized and elongated it, so the published result usually looked something like this: “You don’T agree wIth ME, so your such a stoopid MAROOOOOOOOOON!”

Now, what can you do about someone like this, who basically ruins any semblance of civil conversation possible in these comment forums? Apply the Bozo Filter to him, of course!

When applied, the Bozo Filter still allows the offensive user to post, but – and here’s the absolutely genius part – only he can see that post; no one else need be bothered by such nonsense. Basically, he’s under the impression he’s still posting and people simply aren’t responding, which no longer provides the fuel needed to feed his fire of obnoxiousness.  Ta-da — problem solved!

Now, imagine how you could apply this mechanism on Facebook. That guy you went to clown college with who happens to think Glenn Beck is the greatest philosopher of our time? BOZO’D! The girl you barely remember from middle school who apparently only knows how to communicate via acronyms and emoticons? BOZO’D! The possibilities are endless!

I’m sure we can all agree the Bozo Filter would be an invaluable addition to Facebook, and much more useful and less creepy than the “poke” feature. Are you paying attention, Marky Z.?

23 Nov

Missoula schoolchildren are a bunch of sissies

Posted by Allison | Squirrel Thoughts in Funny Things That Happen To Me, Life and Such, Politics/Society/Seriouser Stuff, Rants/Tips. Tagged: , , , , .

OK, maybe it’s a little unfair to blame the kids … they’re not the ones who canceled school, after all. But whoever did is a huge wimp.

I get that it’s cold and snowy outside, but this is nothing abnormal for Montana. Growing up in Helena, I never had one snow day during my 12 years in the system. Not ONE. And trust me, there were plenty of days that would have qualified in just about any other state.

I once dug my 1987 Honda Civic out of nearly three feet of snow and drove it uphill (both ways, mind you) to get to school. Took me the six hours that school was in session, but I made it, because I’m a Montanan, damnit. And we don’t freak out or come to a standstill or cancel school because of a little snow or sub-zero temperatures, like a g.d. Texan or something.

Until the Missoula County Public Schools decided to lead the way in the wussification of our state, anyway.

In fact, Helena has just as much snow today as Missoula (if not more), but the wind chill there is almost -30 (the actual temperature is -9), and they didn’t wimp out and cancel school.

The actual temperature in Missoula is a balmy 3 degrees above zero, for crying out loud! It only feels like it’s -16! And there’s what, maybe, maybe six inches of snow on the ground? Since when does that cause everyone to freak out and cancel life as we know it? This isn’t Seattle; we know how to drive in a few inches of the fluffy stuff.

That being the case, I have just one thing to say to the small to medium-sized children of Missoula: Buck up.

Slip on your little snow boots, your mitties, your fuzzy hats with the puffs on top, and deal with it. Like a real Montanan.

This dog can handle it, Missoula, so why can’t you? (NOTE: I’ve been told this is actually a North Dakota dog. They’re pretty tough, too.)

11 Nov

Dear snakes: Please die

Posted by Allison | Squirrel Thoughts in Funny Things That Happen To Me.

The other day (aka last month when I started writing this post but then forgot about it), I was enjoying a leisurely 10-mile jaunt on a riverside trail in Missoula.  One minute, I was on a nice  run along the waterfront on a beautiful and unseasonably warm October day, and the next minute, I was staring death in the face.

Why? Because I saw a snake. And I freaked out.

And by “snake,” I mean “glorified worm,” and by “freaked out,” I mean “screamed so loud everyone within a four-block radius could hear me.”

The worst part of this was that I’m usually prepared for these situations, because I typically carry my Snake Rock. That’s right, my Snake Rock.

High-quality Snake Rock

See, I’ve had this deep, ingrained fear of snakes (which would probably be classified as a phobia, since it often keeps me from doing activities I’d otherwise enjoy) since before I can remember. To cope with this fear, I do completely irrational things, like carry a rock in my hand for the duration of my two- to three-hour runs. (Though on this particular day, I figured it was late enough in the season that I wouldn’t have to worry about it … )

I figure that if I encounter one of these evil serpents, I can chuck my Snake Rock at it, jump and wave my hands up and down while screaming “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!”, then turn around and sprint the other way before said serpent can swallow me whole. Infallible logic, if you ask me.

Which would be unfortunate — using my Snake Rock for its intended purpose, that is — because it’s not easy to find a good Snake Rock. There are several crucial criteria you want to keep in mind when in the market for a quality Snake Rock:

  • Size. You want the rock to be big enough to render the serpent immobile or, preferably, dead. However, you don’t want it to be so heavy that holding it weighs down an entire side of your body.
  • Shape. You’ll want a Snake Rock that’s slightly oblong — about a 3-to-4 ratio — so it fits snuggly in your hand and can be kept in throwing position at all times.
  • Texture. Since you’ll be carrying this rock for hours at a time, you don’t want it to be too rough, as it could cause some pretty nasty scratches. But a few jagged edges on your Snake Rock are good, because it’s possible the rock could then stab the snake to death when launched at it.

Now, you might think this is messed up. But you know what I think is messed up? The fact that snakes still exist. Seriously, no one likes snakes, except freaks who carry them around in their leather jackets. They’re scaly and legless and slither around in their icky legless bodies, just waiting to pounce on something more fluffier and innocenter. Like a bunny. A silly, wittle, baby bunny. Like this one:

I can notz be eatens by icky snakez?

Now, who other than a bad, bad, evil person could side with a a vile creature that would dig its fangs in and swallow whole a fwuffy wuffy wufferson like that?!?! Which is why snakes should just die. All of them. Now.

Do it for Pancake, snakes. Do it for Pancake.

31 Aug

A fair to remember

Posted by Allison | Squirrel Thoughts in Funny Things That Happen To Me.

A few weeks ago, I had the, um, interesting assignment of spending 10 days at the Montana State Fair in Great Falls. (I know you’re probably struggling to read past that first sentence, seeing how you’re likely consumed by a fit of raging jealousy right now. But please, try to collect yourself and continue.)

I spent 10 days at the fair to run UM’s marketing booth, which means I recruited approximately 1.5 students but handed out thousands of Griz football posters. But hey, whatever brings in the dolla billz, yo.

Shorty after arriving to set up shop, people from the surrounding booths started setting up as well, and I quickly realized that I would spend the next week and a half surrounded by a Jesus booth, a tattoo booth (yes, real, ink-in-the-skin, not-going-away-without-serious-laser-treatments tattoos) and a “homosexuality is a sin” booth. The people running these booths did not exactly share my liberal worldview. I joked to Zach that I would probably come home with a tat inscribed with the words“God hates fags but Jesus loves me.”

Actually, the Jesus people weren’t so bad – they spoke in tongues sometimes, but seeing how I had no idea what they were saying, they were basically innocuous. But the homo haters, on the other hand… well, they had some interesting ideas. A sampling of their logic:

  • People should not believe in science, because there’s no way dinosaurs and birds could possibly be related. Apparently, this logic also led him to believe that their god is ruthless and will smite any dude who’s ever thought of another dude as more than just a friend.
  • Setting up a booth at the fair with a giant sign that says, “Is homosexuality sin?” is OK and not discriminating at all because it’s like telling someone that their house is on fire and he is in serious danger. You wouldn’t just walk by a burning building and not tell the occupants about it, would you? Would you?!?

And then there was the Lemur Lady. Though I never saw it, the Lemur Lady apparently had a booth where people came and played with her lemurs. And, apparently, it’s not inappropriate at all to wrap a lemur around your neck and take it into a public bathroom, despite the fact that it violates EVERY HEALTH CODE EVER ENACTED. But hey, anything flies at the fair, even if it spreads communicable diseases.

Well, unless you’re an flaming HIV-infected homosexual sinner, of course.

5 Jul

Apples to Apples

Posted by Allison | Squirrel Thoughts in Funny Things That Happen To Me. Tagged: , , , , , , .

Every time Zach and I go to a party and someone suggests we play the popular and delightful game Apples to Apples, I have to quickly suggest another option, such as taking turns punching one another in the stomach.

That’s how bad Zach is at Apples to Apples.

If you’re not familiar with A2A, the premise is simple yet unique: Each player receives seven red cards, each with a noun printed on it. They then take turns being the judge, who draws from a stack of green cards with adjectives on them. The other players decide which of their noun cards best fits that adjective. The judge ranks the red cards, and the person who put in the No. 1 card — according to the judge AND NO ONE ELSE — wins that round.

Anyone who’s ever played A2A understands the key is to play into the personality of the current judge. For example, if the person likes funny or ironic combinations (which make the game infinitely more enjoyable than the seriously lame literal pairings, I might add), then you know that during her turn, you should opt for that over a noun that works in a more conventional sense. All other humans who have played A2A fully comprehend this and strategize accordingly. Zach does not.

See, when Zach plays A2A, he apparently loses the quick sense of wit and humor he exudes so effortlessly otherwise. If you played with him, you’d soon realize he’s one of those people who prefers the literal pairings, and whenever his turn rolled around, you’d play a card to suit this preference.

So, while playing the combination “delicious babies” might be some of the funniest shit ever, you would still put down “chocolate cake” if it were Zach’s turn. Unless you didn’t give a shit about his preference and just wanted to create the funniest combination possible, because who needs to take life that seriously when you’re getting drunk with a bunch of college buddies and you just want to laugh and have a good time?

That scenario describes the first time Zach and I played A2A. It was a wintry Friday night our senior year, and we were hanging out with a bunch of co-workers from the school newspaper, enjoying some adult beverages. We started the game, and most everyone quickly caught on.

One guy in particular took to the ironic combinations, so when he judged, everyone knew to come up with the most absurd pairing possible. Except Zach. Zach still played the most literal choice he could, and he grew increasingly angry each time the other player chose another card over his.

One time, this player drew the “neglected” card. Zach played “New Orleans,” while someone else played the noun “politicians.” When the judge chose “neglected politicians” over “neglected New Orleans,” I thought Zach was going to lose it. (Granted, this was about a year after Katrina, FEMA and heckuva job Brownie, so it was probably the best choice …)

At this point, I should have foreseen the storm brewing. When he threatened to quit the game, I should not have persuaded him otherwise. I should have faked dysentery and asked him to take me home. (Yes, telling my friends I had the grossest disease you could get on the Oregon Trail would have been better than what happened next.)

But I didn’t. Oh, how I didn’t …

Next, someone drew the word “cosmic” from the adjective pile. Zach laid down the “big bang theory.” As the big bang theory is about as cosmic as it gets, he considered this a sure-fire winner. Someone else played “bigfoot.” It came down to “big bang theory” and “bigfoot.”

“Bigfoot” won.

Zach freaked out.

“No. NO! There is NOTHING more cosmic than the big bang theory! This game is so GAY!”

(Now, Zach is a fairly upstanding individual who doesn’t normally throw around the word “gay” to mean “stupid” like an illiterate, ignorant seventh-grader would. Nor would we have started dating in the first place if he did. But Apples to Apples had thrown him into such a blinding rage that he reverted to this uncouth description.)

“I’M LEAVING!” he bellowed. He shot a glance at me, foam dripping from his mouth. “ARE YOU COMING WITH ME?”

I sat at the table, a little panicked, my eyes flitting back and forth between him and the group of drunk people snickering at his outburst. On the one hand, he was my normally calm, personable boyfriend. On the other hand, he was acting like a psycho.

I chose to go with him. Mainly because I was mortified and didn’t want to explain his behavior if I stayed. We barely spoke in the car. (I told him I would prefer if he wouldn’t use the word “gay” like that; he replied, “Yeah, fine, whatever.”)

To this day, no one can mention A2A to Zach without provoking a fit of rage. Just last week, a friend mentioned it on Facebook, and he immediately commented to say how stupid it is.

I’ve given up trying to explain it to him, because he just doesn’t get it. In my last attempt, I tried to explain that the other players didn’t always agree with the judge’s choice, but they didn’t freak out.

His reply?

“So, if you see someone getting attacked, and everyone else is staying calm, but you’re sort of freaking out and want to call 9-1-1, does that make you the weird one? NO!”

That’s more like comparing apples to oranges than apples to apples, I replied.

No wonder he doesn’t get it.

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