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Because I thought it was punny...er... FUNNY...
Thursday, December 23rd, 2010 03:54 pm
*falls over in giggles*
That is just so cool!
*falls over in giggles*
That is just so cool!
Speaking of Big Bang Theory...
Thursday, December 9th, 2010 02:01 pm... have y'all read the notes at the end of the episodes??
The Impertinent Daughter saw the words "emoticons" in the paragraph following the words, "Chuck Lorre Productions,' and rewound to pause at that part and we were stunned to read this...
"CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #184
Don't fall for a woman who has had sex with one of your rock n'roll heroes. No matter how emotionally evolved you think you are, you will never enjoy listening to Eric Clapton again.
Don't lurk around web sites where people comment about your work unless you're drunk.
Don't use emoticons. You're too old to communicate like a twelve-year old girl.
Don't forget that you are the product of a culture that went stark raving mad about ten thousand years ago. Adjust your thinking accordingly.
Don't answer TV critics questions about the state of TV comedy. It's a trap.
Don't eat anything bigger than your head. True in the sixties, true today.
Don't believe that crap that you're as young as you feel. Your feelings lie.
Don't hug men while shaking their hand. Enough already with that. The shake/hug (shug?) is probably something Roman guys did when their empire was in decline."
We died laughing! And... they're like this at the end of every episode! I used my Google-Fu and found THIS, which made me realize that these "notes" have been at the end of pretty much everything Chuck Lorre has been involved with, which means, omg, I have to rent, what, Dharma & Greg, Will & Grace, or maybe I'll just go HERE to read them all.
Sneaky, Chuck... very sneaky. I like that!
The Impertinent Daughter saw the words "emoticons" in the paragraph following the words, "Chuck Lorre Productions,' and rewound to pause at that part and we were stunned to read this...
"CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #184
Don't fall for a woman who has had sex with one of your rock n'roll heroes. No matter how emotionally evolved you think you are, you will never enjoy listening to Eric Clapton again.
Don't lurk around web sites where people comment about your work unless you're drunk.
Don't use emoticons. You're too old to communicate like a twelve-year old girl.
Don't forget that you are the product of a culture that went stark raving mad about ten thousand years ago. Adjust your thinking accordingly.
Don't answer TV critics questions about the state of TV comedy. It's a trap.
Don't eat anything bigger than your head. True in the sixties, true today.
Don't believe that crap that you're as young as you feel. Your feelings lie.
Don't hug men while shaking their hand. Enough already with that. The shake/hug (shug?) is probably something Roman guys did when their empire was in decline."
We died laughing! And... they're like this at the end of every episode! I used my Google-Fu and found THIS, which made me realize that these "notes" have been at the end of pretty much everything Chuck Lorre has been involved with, which means, omg, I have to rent, what, Dharma & Greg, Will & Grace, or maybe I'll just go HERE to read them all.
Sneaky, Chuck... very sneaky. I like that!
*stifled laughter*
Thursday, July 22nd, 2010 02:18 pmMy son just went running through the house in a wig and a skirt, shouting, "WOOOOOO!! I'm a FREE MAN!!!"
Brain-Farts
Tuesday, September 22nd, 2009 10:34 pmEvery once in a while, the pathway between Auntie's brain and her mouth short-circuits, and gives her family fuel for entertainment for months, possibly years to come.
There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"
"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"
I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."
"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."
Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.
"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"
I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."
"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"
The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.
"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm to, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"
The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.
"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"
"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"
"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"
See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!
I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!
*goes to hide*
There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"
"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"
I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."
"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."
Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.
"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"
I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."
"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"
The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.
"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm to, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"
The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.
"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"
"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"
"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"
See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!
I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!
*goes to hide*
