Best fucking response to anything. Ever. If I were as smart as Perelman, I might have the balls to respond to someone that way.
Grigori Perelman, Reclusive Russian Math Genius, Refuses $1 Million Prize
As to why Perelman lives in a shithole, cares nothing about personal hygiene or creature comforts -- perhaps he's so freaking smart he's transcended all of that? The rest of us of average intelligence, we get caught up in chasing creature comforts. What else would occupy the empty expanse of space between our ears if we didn't have TV and video games?
Showing posts with label funny things people say. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny things people say. Show all posts
26 March 2010
23 February 2010
BlogHer interviews Matthew Gasteier, creator of "F U, Penguin" blog
http://www.blogher.com/interview-matthew-gasteier-creator-f-u-penguin-blog
I'll admit, I lizzed a bit
One of the funnier websites I've seen lately. I'll admit to a bit of lizzing when I saw it.
Fuck You, Penguin
Fuck You, Penguin
21 August 2009
27 May 2009
26 May 2009
25 May 2009
"I had broken a ligament and pulled a bone..."
I can't tell if this guy was trying to be funny, or if he really got the two concepts confused...Check out the video
19 May 2009
He said WHAT?
At Trader Joe's this morning:
Man: "How are you today?"
Me: "Ok."
Man: "Just ok?" I shrugged. He said, "Yeah, me too. What are your plans for the rest of today?"
Me: "Eh, look for work? Run errands? Not sure yet. It's nice out."
Man: "What do you want to do?"
Me: "I wish I knew. Suggestions?"
Man: "You look like a swimmer. Maybe you can be a lifeguard."
Man: "How are you today?"
Me: "Ok."
Man: "Just ok?" I shrugged. He said, "Yeah, me too. What are your plans for the rest of today?"
Me: "Eh, look for work? Run errands? Not sure yet. It's nice out."
Man: "What do you want to do?"
Me: "I wish I knew. Suggestions?"
Man: "You look like a swimmer. Maybe you can be a lifeguard."
08 April 2009
02 February 2009
He said WHAT?
I just got back from a snowboarding trip to Jackson Hole. I had an awesome time and will write more about the week in a bit, but first, I wanted to post a "He said WHAT" entry.The day our entire group was to arrive in Jackson, WY, flights were delayed by a winter storm. The half of the ski house I didn't know ended up catching the last flight from Salt Lake City to Jackson. My friends (the other half of the ski house) were either delayed for the night in Chicago or were going to arrive the next day. It was just going to be me and five guys for the night.
It was late. We were tired. Someone asked me what I did for a living. I explained I was unemployed. Out of automatic politeness, I asked what he did for a living although I could care less since an occupation doesn't make a person. He responded, "I work for the Japanese government" while pulling on the outside corners of his eyes and making stereotypical slanty Asian eyes. I kid you not.
When my mouth dropped open in disbelief, he explained he was joking, "I'm just kidding. My ex-girlfriend is Chinese, and she used to make all these jokes about Chinks, Asian eyes and stuff. She was so racist."
When I'm in uncomfortable situations, I have two visceral reactions:
1. Run away. When that's not possible, I
2. hide behind politeness and act as if I'm completely unaffected by the situation.
I'm sure it's a combination of my cultural upbringing as a female in a traditional Chinese home, my parents and my natural desire to please people. It's taken a lot of work for me to be comfortable with expressing myself in potentially confrontational or hostile situations.
It was a lot like learning how to drive. Sometimes I'd step on the gas a little too hard and my extreme emotional reaction wouldn't match the situation. Other times, I wouldn't step on the gas hard enough. My tepid reaction would be overruled or dismissed by others, especially those that spoke louder than me, had stronger personalities than mine or made more demands than I did. I definitely have feelings of anxiety when I know I have to have a very direct and frank conversation with someone, but it gets a little easier every time I do it.
When Mr. Slanty Asian eyes used the word Chink and told me it was okay for him to make offensive gestures because he knew one Asian person, I worried that he was indicative of the rest of the people in the ski house (fortunately, it wasn't). If I had been less tired, I would have pretended to laugh it off, but I had been flying for 12 hours. I was too tired to care or to pretend. I didn't care if I was the only person in the ski house that night who thought making slanty Asian eyes and using words like Chink were offensive. I didn't care if my response was going to open me up to more ridicule and stereotypical Asian jokes for the rest of the week. I spoke up, "Wow, that is so offensive. I can't believe you just did that."
28 January 2009
22 January 2009
She said WHAT?
"You seemed depressed and half comatose."
I went to see my chiropractor today. I like her a lot; she's a really great lady. This is how our conversation went down before she cracked my neck.
Chiropractor: "How are you doing?"
Me: "Pretty good. I think this unemployment thing has been good for me. I make time to do things now -- I cook, read, see friends. I don't overschedule myself. I finally get enough sleep. I like this not working thing. I'm not a big fan of the no money thing though."
Chiropractor: "At first, when you told me you had been laid off, I was worried about you. You seemed depressed and half comatose, but now I realize that's just you when you're relaxed."
I went to see my chiropractor today. I like her a lot; she's a really great lady. This is how our conversation went down before she cracked my neck.
Chiropractor: "How are you doing?"
Me: "Pretty good. I think this unemployment thing has been good for me. I make time to do things now -- I cook, read, see friends. I don't overschedule myself. I finally get enough sleep. I like this not working thing. I'm not a big fan of the no money thing though."
Chiropractor: "At first, when you told me you had been laid off, I was worried about you. You seemed depressed and half comatose, but now I realize that's just you when you're relaxed."
01 January 2009
He said WHAT?
"You're an idiot," said the policeman that had been yelling at me for some indeterminate time. He and five other policemen gave me stern, angry looks and then walked away.
Or maybe I walked away. I can't remember it very well. It was 4am on January 1, 2009, and I was B-E-A-T. I was lucky I wasn't called worse. Spending the night in jail would have been an inauspicious start to a new year.
After a hectic night at two New Year's Eve parties in Brooklyn and the West Village, I eventually landed at the The Red Lion where I counted into 2009 with B and J. Somewhere on my way home from Bleecker Street, as I waited for B and friends to catch up to me, I thought it would be a good, no, GREAT idea to check if the police golf cart I was next to was locked.
Well, the door wasn't locked.
I opened the door and then I shut it. Thanks to my tiredness and impaired judgement, I didn't think it was a big deal. I was feeling GREAT -- I got to see tons of friends, and I had had a martini over dinner (courtesy of Pookie), a scotch at M and L's house party in Brooklyn, and four or five scotches at the Red Lion (courtesy of J).
I walked away from the golf cart and would have forgotten about the whole thing if it weren't for the six policemen that had started to run towards me the minute my hand touched that vehicle. To my hazy memory, they suddenly appeared out of nowhere, yelling at me. According to B and J, they RAN towards me.
"Why did you open that door?"
"What did you think you were doing?"
"What were you going to do?"
I was confused. I mean, I didn't even get IN the car! Why were they so upset? I was just checking to see if the door was locked!
They looked at me like I was stupid. Which I'm chagrined to say I was. They called me an idiot. Which I was. I was then summarily dismissed. Dismissed by six angry cops.
Happy 2009!
Or maybe I walked away. I can't remember it very well. It was 4am on January 1, 2009, and I was B-E-A-T. I was lucky I wasn't called worse. Spending the night in jail would have been an inauspicious start to a new year.
After a hectic night at two New Year's Eve parties in Brooklyn and the West Village, I eventually landed at the The Red Lion where I counted into 2009 with B and J. Somewhere on my way home from Bleecker Street, as I waited for B and friends to catch up to me, I thought it would be a good, no, GREAT idea to check if the police golf cart I was next to was locked.
Well, the door wasn't locked.
I opened the door and then I shut it. Thanks to my tiredness and impaired judgement, I didn't think it was a big deal. I was feeling GREAT -- I got to see tons of friends, and I had had a martini over dinner (courtesy of Pookie), a scotch at M and L's house party in Brooklyn, and four or five scotches at the Red Lion (courtesy of J).
I walked away from the golf cart and would have forgotten about the whole thing if it weren't for the six policemen that had started to run towards me the minute my hand touched that vehicle. To my hazy memory, they suddenly appeared out of nowhere, yelling at me. According to B and J, they RAN towards me.
"Why did you open that door?"
"What did you think you were doing?"
"What were you going to do?"
I was confused. I mean, I didn't even get IN the car! Why were they so upset? I was just checking to see if the door was locked!
They looked at me like I was stupid. Which I'm chagrined to say I was. They called me an idiot. Which I was. I was then summarily dismissed. Dismissed by six angry cops.
Happy 2009!
30 December 2008
Are you eating?
So it's been almost two months since I've been laid off, and I've been eating my way through Manhattan.
Dad calls to check in on me every week, and the most recent call went like this:
Me, "Hello?"
Dad, "What are you doing? Are you eating? I know it's hard when you're not working, but you need to stop eating, or you'll get fat."
Me, "I'm not eating." (I'm eating.)
Dad, "I can hear you eating. Stop eating."
15 December 2008
He said WHAT?
I've lived in a rent-stabilized walk-up apartment in downtown Manhattan for the past four years. I've noticed that rents in nicer units near me have fallen. Since my rent is rent-stabilized, I expect it to be slightly below market.
Plus, my building is pretty neglected even by New York City walk-up standards. My neighbor's dog urinates daily in the hallway, and no one cleans it so the building reeks of urine. We have a rodent problem. There is a hole in the corner of my bedroom floor so I can look down into the unit below mine and hear everything that goes on there (and vice versa). Our bathtub leaks. Our front door lock is broken, so I installed a deadbolt which is the only lock we use on our door.
In addition to our problems with the general care of the building, the building has been subject to several acts of crime. In 2008 alone, our neighbor was mugged at knifepoint by a man waiting in the stairwell. The apartment on the floor above ours was burgled via fire escape.
The management company and super have been generally unresponsive to our requests to have the dog urine cleaned, the hole repaired and the lock in the front door replaced, but we have not complained too much and are low maintenance tenants. When I began to take stock of the cost of living right after I lost my job, I called my management company to ask if they would consider lowering my rent by $200 so it was back in line with my rent in 2007.
I'd noticed tenants in my building had been moving out (probably for the reasons listed above), and the unit across the way from my apartment had been empty for at least 3 months so the management company was losing money on a monthly basis. The way I saw it, it would be expensive for me to move out, but in the long run, I'd make up the loss of my deposit through the lower rent and nicer amenities. It'd be costly for my management company if I moved too. Yes, I'd forgo my deposit of two months rent, but in the long run, the management company is required to spend a minimum of $5,000 to fix up the apartment before they can take on a new tenant, and the unti wouldn't be able to command the same rent I was paying (even at 2007 levels) for the next tenant. A decrease of $200 would this bring my rent back in line with the market and would also help me considerably with my short term finances until I found a job.
When I explained this to my management company, I got the run around. After several tries, I spoke to Paul S. His response was, "I don't understand what an extra $200.00 would do for you if you no longer have a job. It sounds to me like you just made up being laid off as an excuse to renegotiate your rent."
I didn't think it was any of his business, but I explained I had a little severance. Paul then said the decision wasn't his to make, and I needed to speak to Mark W.
I called Mark W. every day for the next two weeks. He was always "out of the office." I left him a message each time I called. He never called me back.
Eventually, I received another call for Paul S. Mark W. had asked him to call me. I restated my request, and Paul S said "he would ask." He stepped away from the phone for 30 seconds and came back to tell me, "Mark says no."
I'm pretty certain Mark didn't say anything and that the management company just doesn't want to entertain my offer. It was pretty unprofessional for them to give me the run around -- if they didn't want to negotiate, they should have told me no upfront.
Plus, my building is pretty neglected even by New York City walk-up standards. My neighbor's dog urinates daily in the hallway, and no one cleans it so the building reeks of urine. We have a rodent problem. There is a hole in the corner of my bedroom floor so I can look down into the unit below mine and hear everything that goes on there (and vice versa). Our bathtub leaks. Our front door lock is broken, so I installed a deadbolt which is the only lock we use on our door.
In addition to our problems with the general care of the building, the building has been subject to several acts of crime. In 2008 alone, our neighbor was mugged at knifepoint by a man waiting in the stairwell. The apartment on the floor above ours was burgled via fire escape.
The management company and super have been generally unresponsive to our requests to have the dog urine cleaned, the hole repaired and the lock in the front door replaced, but we have not complained too much and are low maintenance tenants. When I began to take stock of the cost of living right after I lost my job, I called my management company to ask if they would consider lowering my rent by $200 so it was back in line with my rent in 2007.
I'd noticed tenants in my building had been moving out (probably for the reasons listed above), and the unit across the way from my apartment had been empty for at least 3 months so the management company was losing money on a monthly basis. The way I saw it, it would be expensive for me to move out, but in the long run, I'd make up the loss of my deposit through the lower rent and nicer amenities. It'd be costly for my management company if I moved too. Yes, I'd forgo my deposit of two months rent, but in the long run, the management company is required to spend a minimum of $5,000 to fix up the apartment before they can take on a new tenant, and the unti wouldn't be able to command the same rent I was paying (even at 2007 levels) for the next tenant. A decrease of $200 would this bring my rent back in line with the market and would also help me considerably with my short term finances until I found a job.
When I explained this to my management company, I got the run around. After several tries, I spoke to Paul S. His response was, "I don't understand what an extra $200.00 would do for you if you no longer have a job. It sounds to me like you just made up being laid off as an excuse to renegotiate your rent."
I didn't think it was any of his business, but I explained I had a little severance. Paul then said the decision wasn't his to make, and I needed to speak to Mark W.
I called Mark W. every day for the next two weeks. He was always "out of the office." I left him a message each time I called. He never called me back.
Eventually, I received another call for Paul S. Mark W. had asked him to call me. I restated my request, and Paul S said "he would ask." He stepped away from the phone for 30 seconds and came back to tell me, "Mark says no."
I'm pretty certain Mark didn't say anything and that the management company just doesn't want to entertain my offer. It was pretty unprofessional for them to give me the run around -- if they didn't want to negotiate, they should have told me no upfront.
14 December 2008
He said WHAT?
"I want to put this in that."
That's what he said to me at the end of our date the other night.
A date that began with a dinner where I tried to order a salad as a starter.
He wanted us to share a starter and an entree, which I was happy to do.
I wanted the salad.
He "suggested" several times that I order the hummus or the chicken lettuce wraps instead because it was more value for the money (a salad was "just lettuce and croutons").
Unwilling to have to negotiate for my dinner, I decided if he didn't want me to order the salad, I'd just share the entree with him and forgo the starter. We ended up sharing a salad and entree for our dinner.
By the time the movie ended, it was late. He walked me home and wanted to come upstairs. I was tired and had an early day ahead of me, but he had tried SO hard to be sweet that night. After having known him for only three months, I knew it was difficult for him to part with money spent on someone other than himself. I let him up but warned him it was only for a few minutes because I really needed to go to sleep soon.
We sat on my couch, channel surfed the telly, talked and cuddled a bit. It was all very PG-13.
Despite his many personality traits that are incompatible with mine, he's smart and has interesting ideas. The conversation was good. His attempts to get me to lay down on the couch with him were not so great though.
He interrupted me mid-sentence and said, "I want to put this" (grabs his crotch) "in that" (pokes my crotch with his forefinger).
I kid you not. It really happened. The date was officially over.
That's what he said to me at the end of our date the other night.A date that began with a dinner where I tried to order a salad as a starter.
He wanted us to share a starter and an entree, which I was happy to do.
I wanted the salad.
He "suggested" several times that I order the hummus or the chicken lettuce wraps instead because it was more value for the money (a salad was "just lettuce and croutons").
Unwilling to have to negotiate for my dinner, I decided if he didn't want me to order the salad, I'd just share the entree with him and forgo the starter. We ended up sharing a salad and entree for our dinner.
By the time the movie ended, it was late. He walked me home and wanted to come upstairs. I was tired and had an early day ahead of me, but he had tried SO hard to be sweet that night. After having known him for only three months, I knew it was difficult for him to part with money spent on someone other than himself. I let him up but warned him it was only for a few minutes because I really needed to go to sleep soon.
We sat on my couch, channel surfed the telly, talked and cuddled a bit. It was all very PG-13.
Despite his many personality traits that are incompatible with mine, he's smart and has interesting ideas. The conversation was good. His attempts to get me to lay down on the couch with him were not so great though.
He interrupted me mid-sentence and said, "I want to put this" (grabs his crotch) "in that" (pokes my crotch with his forefinger).
I kid you not. It really happened. The date was officially over.
12 December 2008
I was born a pain in the ass
Parents are so funny.
Since I was rightsized at the beginning of last month, my Dad has called me every Friday night to "chat." He inevitably asks me if I've found a job yet. Of course I haven't found a job yet, as the economy is on the verge of a financial meltdown. Every firm is job cutting, not job creating! His question adds to my general sense of discomfort and anxiety over the uncertainty of my future income stream. I mean, how will I pay for rent or feed myself???
When I spoke to my Dad last Friday, I promised him that he'd be the first person I'd call once I found a job, but only if he would stop asking me about it every time we spoke.
I think he understood because when he called tonight, he made no mention of my job search or employment status. Instead, he asked, "Any news?"
I chuckled at his question. To give him credit, he "technically" didn't ask me about employment. He's purposefully literal. Wily.
I must be my father's daughter, because I can be stubbornly obstinate. I "misunderstood" his question and filled him in on the mundane details of my life. We both knew what he was dying to ask.
I appreciate Dad's restraint, even if he couldn't quite seem to let go of his concern about my ability to support myself. I guess parents can't help but be parents even when their children are full grown.
As for grown children? Well, I guess I can't help but be the same ornery pain in the ass kid I once was either.
It looks like Dad and I will probably keep having our weekly "chats" where both of us will continue to ignore the proverbial employment elephant that's the third caller on the IP phone with us. At least until I find a job, that is.
Since I was rightsized at the beginning of last month, my Dad has called me every Friday night to "chat." He inevitably asks me if I've found a job yet. Of course I haven't found a job yet, as the economy is on the verge of a financial meltdown. Every firm is job cutting, not job creating! His question adds to my general sense of discomfort and anxiety over the uncertainty of my future income stream. I mean, how will I pay for rent or feed myself???
When I spoke to my Dad last Friday, I promised him that he'd be the first person I'd call once I found a job, but only if he would stop asking me about it every time we spoke.
I think he understood because when he called tonight, he made no mention of my job search or employment status. Instead, he asked, "Any news?"
I chuckled at his question. To give him credit, he "technically" didn't ask me about employment. He's purposefully literal. Wily.
I must be my father's daughter, because I can be stubbornly obstinate. I "misunderstood" his question and filled him in on the mundane details of my life. We both knew what he was dying to ask.
I appreciate Dad's restraint, even if he couldn't quite seem to let go of his concern about my ability to support myself. I guess parents can't help but be parents even when their children are full grown.
As for grown children? Well, I guess I can't help but be the same ornery pain in the ass kid I once was either.
It looks like Dad and I will probably keep having our weekly "chats" where both of us will continue to ignore the proverbial employment elephant that's the third caller on the IP phone with us. At least until I find a job, that is.
20 November 2008
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