Wednesday, January 13, 2010
In case you're new around here, I have to explain about me and awards. When someone gives me one, I accept it by saying all sorts of mean things about the person giving it to me, and I usually throw in a few unkind words about the award itself, too. Why? I'm not quite sure anymore. I suppose it's kind of like Britney Spears flashing her vajayjay. You just have to accept it as a fact of life.
Anyway, get a load of this...
That ridiculous bit of flummery was foisted upon me by Ivan Toblog.
Let me tell you something about my morning thus far. When I woke up, it was Bob Cousy outside, with a wind chill factor below Leon Powe. If you aren't a Celtics fan (Heathen!) that means 14 and 0, respectively. And that's Fahrenheit, pal, not the entirely less-accurate Centigrade scale some European weenies use. As a favor, I'll do the conversion for you:
0 Fahrenheit = Colder Than A Polar Bear's Ass Centigrade.
So, I put on my very warm winter jacket. Except, when I went to zip it up, I found out that the little thing you pull on to do up the zipper (what is that thing called?) had broken off and gone missing, so I had to insert a paper clip into the mechanism to make it work. The paper clip will remain there for the foreseeable future because I refuse to go into a coat repair shop and look like an idiot by asking them to fix it and having to refer to it as "that little dangly thing" because God only knows what they'll think I'm talking about. Instead, I'll look like an idiot who has a paper clip where his little dangly thing should be.
So, Ivan Toblog, you have given me an award. And, believe me, I'm as much in the mood to tear you a new one as I've ever been, even more so than THIS TIME, THIS TIME, THIS TIME, THIS TIME, THIS TIME, and possibly even THIS TIME. However, I'll have to tear you a limited one, Ivan, the reason being...
Well, here's the problem. He (I assume 'he', but he could be a she; who the hell knows on the intertubes?) has given me none of my usual targets. By using a pseudonym, he/she has given me no idea what nationality she/he might be, so I can't start throwing out random ethnic slurs. Too bad. I've got a whole bunch of good French ones left over from other times, so if he/it/she could have been be verified as a frog, that would have made it easy. He/she/it uses an avatar, rather than an actual photograph, so no material there. Yeah, I could say that the avatar looks as though its trying to pass an especially large and glass-strewn bowel movement, but it's too easy to pick on cartoons. Of course, I could just rag on the pen name itself. Ivan Toblog? Saint Francis on a unicycle! If I had made a joke that pitiful, I'd be ashamed to show my real face, too.
Anyway, it/she/he/they decided to get on the free links gravy train by awarding me an entirely bogus award. At least, that's the only possible reason I can come up with for it. Or maybe he/it/she/they just really like me a whole lot and felt like acknowledging me somehow? Nah, couldn't be that! Anyway, it's called the "One Of A Kind Award". I suppose they/her/he/it/y'all meant it as a compliment of some sort, but DUH! Everybody is one of a kind, even identical quadruplets. Don't believe me? Check out this rather sad story I'm using as my punch line just because I'm feeling mean enough today to do so. See? One of a kind!
Well, the bogus award worked for him/it/her/them/legion because I did give a link to Ivana Fahgyoo or whatever its/his/her/that millipede's actual name might be. It appears all you have to do to get a link from me is hand me some hideous little gimcrack gewgaw. Don't tell all the folks on my sidebar who paid me actual cash money to advertise, though. Shhhhhhhh!
And that's about all I've got for you today - a bit of a rant, a link to a sad oddity, and some entirely unnecessary denigration of a person who seems to like me. And I've given you all of this for no apparent reason. If you've come to expect more from your visits here, that's your problem. I'm not responsible for your orgasms (especially since my little dangly thing broke off.)
Soon, with mere bitter stuff.