If this school zone is “asthma free,” then why can’t I idle here? No one has asthma, right? It’s an asthma free school zone, per the poorly-worded sign.
Archive for November, 2012
Does this even qualify as a lottery?
Don’t get me wrong. I would love an extra $1 million. But when the jackpot is this low, you really shouldn’t be advertising it. Better to just turn the power switch of this high-tech sign to the “off ” position and leave passersby wondering what the jackpot could potentially be. Because let’s be real – the $1 million jackpot is a deterrent.
This is a bare minimum lottery. It’s also the absolute lowest the jackpot could be for this sign to remain functional, because that word “million” isn’t going anywhere. Well actually I don’t know… maybe the sign could do decimals. But it’d be borderline embarrassing to win a $0.67 million lottery.
druddle [druhd-l], n, v – obligatory applause; to participate in such applause
“Bravo, bravo!” sincerely thought, I don’t know, maybe like ONE person in the entire audience at the end of yet another boring speech from some random alumnus during your sister’s college graduation ceremony. Yet everyone in the room is clapping at a fairly high volume, mostly to be polite to the speaker. For me, like 98% to be polite… and 2% because clapping is kinda fun and oddly cathartic. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s such a raw, primal, borderline ridiculous way to demonstrate appreciation for something, but hey, it is what it is. Sometimes, the applause is a bit delayed because everyone needs to collectively decide (via telepathy or possibly just looking around at one another) to award the speaker with a round of applause once the speech is over. That decision takes a few seconds to completely register, as opposed to an airplane, where we customarily applaud immediately upon landing at the destination airport, practically without even thinking, as if to say, “YEAH! We’re still alive! Thanks for not killing us, professional airplane flyer!” It makes me feel silly, but I do it automatically like a big dumb dummy. Whatever, at least it’s better than being stuck with this decision…
After a very tense four-to-five-second lull following his student council campaign speech, 8th grader Brucey Fredericks was relieved to finally hear the gradual emergence of reasonably loud druddle. Dead silence is never a good sign in that context, so druddling was welcome.
Special Thanks To Missy Gottlieb and Adam Fockler for being the druddle spokesmodels.
So this ravioli offer is only for eat in or take out, which as far as I know, are really the only two options when dealing with restaurant food. Who are they trying to limit with this disclaimer? From 4 to 8 P.M. Diners at 3:30 pay full price. Got it. And then it can’t be combined with any other offer. Makes sense. Don’t want people using arbitrage to unfairly profit off your manicotti. Sooooooooo…..Mail order? Could that be it? Because I just sat here for a good 6 minutes trying to figure out how else someone could procure and/or consume food bought at a restaurant, and that’s all I came up with. So basically, don’t try to walk in between the hours of 4 and 8 P.M. and expect to get some great deal on ravioli to mail to your in-laws in Des Moines. Ain’t happening.
As DeAngelo walked along the sidewalk, he thought, “Gosh, it’s so wonderful outside today, with the sun shining and the children playing and the birds chirping somewhere (probably). I’m gonna enjoy this walk around the neighborhood, wearing my supercool bright blue sneakers with my hoodie unzipped almost all the way down cuz I just don’t give a fuck. Gotta love the outdoors and the glorious splendor of—WHOA, WHAT THE SHIT WAS THAT?! “
That, DeAngelo, was one of those metal trap doors on the sidewalk, my friend. You just unknowingly stepped on it while walking, and it totally startled you… you and the five people in your general vicinity on the sidewalk. Everyone is kinda staring at you right now, but it’s not 100% your fault that the two metal flaps dipped downward when you stepped on the trap door, creating a shockingly loud noise. Sure, you could’ve just avoided the trap door altogether, but where’s the fun in that? Part of the thrill of walking down a NYC street is the possibility that a flimsy metal trap door might buckle under the weight of your body, resulting in a life-changingly loud crash-type noise.
Does anyone know what the hell I’m talking about?
Special Thanks To Jon Salik for taking part in this photograph despite his traumatic history of being thrown to the ground by someone emerging from an underground storage unit through a metal sidewalk trap door, at the exact moment that Jon was stepping on it. True story.