Last night, a pretty epic Beardpocalypse went down when, after weeks of threatening, Will Ferrell shaved off Conan’s beard on his show. After more than a year with his scraggly addition, Conan’s back to the baby-faced self to which most fans are accustomed.
And I have to admit, I’m a little uncomfortable with it.
For some reason, men shaving off their facial hair really freaks me out.
If this guy shaves, I’m going to LOSE it.
Well, I know the reason, actually. When I was 4 or 5 years old, my mom, after years of begging, finally persuaded my dad to shave off his Ned Flanders-style mustache. But when he first came out of the bathroom to show everyone, I started bawling uncontrollably because I didn’t recognize the “mean man who kind of looks like daddy but isn’t and NO THAT’S NOT MY DADDY WHERE IS MY DADDY?!??!!?!”
From that moment, I couldn’t look at my dad without bursting into tears, and he had to regrow the mustache in order to have a somewhat normal relationship with his daughter. He didn’t shave it off again until I was 17.
Apparently, this incident scarred me for life, because I’ve had a weird issue about men changing their facial hair ever since. It doesn’t have to be someone I’m particularly close to: One time a co-worker, who had sported a beard/mustache combo the entire time I worked with him, walked into the office bare-faced. I did a double-take and shrieked “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!?” at him, in front of everyone. He did not appreciate it.
I thought I’d grown out of it a few months ago when Zach shaved off the tiny bit of goatee remaining on his chin, as I only exclaimed — rather than shrieked — those same words to him. But the Conan incident has me thinking I may never fully recover.
Basically, if you’re a male capable of growing facial hair who might cross paths with me someday, I advise against growing a fu manchu or jackass porn-star-looking mustache. Unless you want me to ask you what’s wrong with your face, you’ll need to sport it for a while.
Probably because you pushed him down, you little shit.
“I’m gonna push people out of the way and run over them.”
That’s what a 5-year-old at the egg hunt I planned said to a newspaper reporter yesterday. Apparently, these are the sorts of values I’m instilling in our young people by putting on this event.
I mean, I’m not really into the whole Jesus thing, but I’m pretty sure “pushing people out of the way” and “running them over” weren’t what he had in mind when he sacrificed himself for the good of the order, or whatever.
And it’s not just the kids who have this mindset at the Eggstravaganza. Many of the parents aren’t afraid to block or push other kids out of the way just so their offspring have a better shot at getting some crappy Easter stickers and diabetes-inducing candy (and, some years, inappropriate tattoos). And apparently, before I took the helm, organizers would put the bike-winning coupons in special gold and silver eggs easily distinguishable from the rest of the field, and — I swear I’m not making this up — some parents would bring binoculars so they could spot these special eggs beforehand and tell their kid where to run.
Simply put, mass Easter egg hunts bring out the worst in humanity.
As you can imagine, this incites some conflicting feelings for me. On the one hand, I’m indoctrinating America’s future with the values of greed and selfishness. On the other hand, it pays the bills. (And hey, at least a convicted sex offender wasn’t arrested at MY egg hunt …)
Fortunately, yesterday’s event was the last that will cause this crisis of conscience plaguing my mind. That’s right, I have a new job! Well, sort of. One of my co-workers is retiring, and I’m transitioning into her strictly writing/editing position that involves only minimal participation in events. We’ll hire someone else to replace me, and I’ll transfer this crisis onto that poor unsuspecting soul.
I hope whoever that is has the best Easter of their life this year, because it’s going to be a long, loooooong time before they enjoy it again.
Everyone’s making fun of poor 13-year-old Rebecca Black because the lyrics to her song “Friday” are basically the stupidest words to ever come out of anybody’s mouth.
But ya know, while I agree it’s not the most profound songwriting, you have to admit the song is pretty relatable. Come on, you know you want to get down on Friday, so stop pretending like you only want to have a nice glass of vodka juice and watch “30 Rock” reruns instead. And just try to name one person you know who doesn’t like parytin,’ partyin’ (yeah!) and fun, fun, fun, fun. That’s right — you can’t.
Still think it’s just some really, really dumb shit that you could have performed when you were 5, let alone 13? Well then, let’s break down a selection of the oft-ridiculed lyrics:
Now, what’s so bad about this? Artists have been throwing in random “yeahs,” “oohs” “ahhs,” etc. for years. She’s just singing and having a good time, haters. Cut the girl some slack.
Seven a.m., waking up in the morning Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal
Who can’t relate to this? Everybody has to wake up sometime, and most people with the means enjoy a nice shower to start their day (or a nice sprinkle of patchouli, if you’re into smelling like a combination of flowers and dog doo).
And I know I become a raging beast if I don’t get my g.d. organic wheat puffs within half an hour of waking up. And they damn well better be in a bowl, preferably MY bowl, unless you want to start your day with a black eye.
Kickin’ in the front seat Sittin’ in the back seat Gotta make my mind up Which seat can I take?
Remember when you were a teenager and the fate of your future relationship with your dreamy crush hinged on whether you could sit by him in the backseat of your friend’s car? Or, what if jumping to sit next to him would make you look really, really desperate and he would think you are really stupid and completely lose interest?!? OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG what should I do I have to choose right now because I have raging hormones and everything I do seems like the BIGGEST DEAL IN THE WORLD and I’m going to HATE myself FOREVER if I do the wrong thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These are not easy decisions, people!
It’s Friday, Friday Gotta get down on Friday Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend Friday, Friday Gettin’ down on Friday Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend
Everyone’s looking forward to Friday!!! Unless you’re one of the poor souls who doesn’t have a convenient 9-to-5 weekday schedule, in which case Friday probably isn’t actually “your Friday” at all and you’re really, really sick of seeing “TGIF” posted everywhere on Facebook when you still have to work for another three effing days.
7:45, we’re drivin’ on the highway Cruisin’ so fast, I want time to fly Fun, fun, think about fun You know what it is I got this, you got this My friend is by my right, ay I got this, you got this Now you know it
You know what I love? Come on, you know what it is. Think harder. You got this. It’s … FUN!! And you know what’s the most fun thing ever? Having a friend sitting on your right! Know what’s even more fun than that? Having a friend sitting on your right, and a mere acquaintance sitting on your left!! That’s the best!!
Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin’) We-we-we so excited We so excited We gonna have a ball today
Tomorrow is Saturday And Sunday comes after … wards I don’t want this weekend to end
K, who can’t use a refresher on the days of the week every now and then? Think about it: How many times have you been at work, thinking it feels like Friday, but then you realize “shit, it’s only Thursday! I totally wanted to drink copious amounts of vodka juice and watch ’30 Rock’ reruns tonight, but now I can’t because it’s only Thursday! This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”
Now, if you’d been listening to Rebecca Black on repeat all day, you probably would have realized that Thursday comes before Friday and that you can’t just go straight from Wednesday to Friday without having Thursday first.
Unless you have some sort of super-sweet time machine, of course, in which case you should find something way cooler to do with it than just skip over Thursday. Like go back in time and tell Rebecca Black that singing this “Friday” song and making it available on the Internet is a really, really bad idea.
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.?
Because I’m apparently all about nationalholidays in 2011, I thought I’d write a post in honor of National Pancake Day. Which is obviously just an excuse to post a photo of my most favoritest pancake: Miss Pancake T. Bunsen, fwuffy wuffy bunny extraordinaire!
I’m cuter than you!
National Pancake Day is sponsored by IHOP, which is, coincidentally, Pancake’s favorite restaurant.
Get it? IHOP? Like a bunny hops? Hahahahahaahahahaha!!!
Squirrel Thoughts 