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Posts tagged ‘dumbass’

Suitable Entertainments

A few weeks ago, my mother and I were standing by the marina in Oriental, North Carolina, when a car full of people pulled up to the curb.  Soon, another couple walked up and then another.  “Playing Pokémon?” they all asked.  The group gathered by the water catching Magikarp ranged in age from 25 to 65.  One couple left their kids in the car to amuse themselves while they joined all the other adults playing Pokémon Go.  I was stunned.  Chairs were grabbed from trunks.  Lures were set.  Snacks were offered, along with Pokémon-related commentary and advice.

I was a Nintendo girl growing up but too old for the Pokémon craze when it first swept through the culture.  I still don’t quite understand what they are or what their purpose is … or how a whole movie was made about them.

But I know how to catch them, how to hatch them, and what to do at a PokéStop.  The game is great.  Don’t listen to the haters. Read more

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15 Steps to Eliminating a Yellow Jacket from that Area Between Your Blinds and Your Window

  1. What’s that sound? As you sit at your desk one sunny morning, grow alarmed by a buzzing coming from the window two feet away from your head. Stare at the blinds for at least five minutes. When nothing happens, open the blinds and see a yellow jacket.
  2. Scream
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  1. Reach for the can of compressed air. Why? You’re not sure. Read more

Wanted: Dead Only

A scene.

Where: Brunch

When: Weekend, Morning

Menu: Eggs, toast, mimosas, coffee

Topic: National Security

Friend (not a dumbass): What’s that thing with the potato salad?

Me: Kickstarter?

Friend: Can you do a Kickstarter for [name of terrorist redacted because of fear]? I’m serious. Is that legal?

Me: [laughing, snorting]

Friend: Why aren’t we just killing him? Come on, sniper?

Me: I agree!

Friend: Put a bounty on his head. Wanted: DEAD ONLY. Do it through Kickstarter.

End Scene.

Two Days of Television and Vermin in North Carolina

Day 1

I woke up to several droppings and liquidy grossness inches from my face on the pull-out couch. Further investigation showed a few pellets down the side of the mattress and on the floor as well.

Mom: “It’s something, but not sure it’s a mouse.”

I didn’t want to think it was a mouse either, but realistically, what were the alternatives? Cockroaches? Bat? (Maybe I’m now a vampire?) Read more

Oscar, Who Hated Me

Oscar is the one who killed Spencer.  I’m sure of it.

Poor Oscar.  He loaaathed me.  I don’t think he walked into the classroom hating me.  It was something that developed over time, though I can’t recall any precipitating incident.  But after a few months, I knew Oscar’s goal in life was to teach me a lesson.

He actually submitted this as his response when I asked the kids to write their goals, except instead of “you” he wrote something like, “teachers who don’t know what they’re talking about,” his normally childish scrawl even more jerky on this assignment.  I assume he was shaking with rage as he wrote it.

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In class, Oscar was forever trying to catch me in a mistake, trip me up, or ask me something he hoped I didn’t know the answer to.  During a parent-teacher conference, his mother said that he spent hours at night reading Wikipedia pages.  She was trying to illustrate his inquisitiveness and bright mind, but after that point, each time he raised his hand, I imagined him furiously clicking away the night before, searching for some arcane fact that would secure my downfall. Read more