2.29.2008

When bad fashion strikes!

I'll admit it, okay? I am a shameless fashionista. My closet is colour-coordinated. I own more shoes than Imelda Marcos. I put more thought into my outfits than I do into dinner. Many times, I am told that my shoes "aren't practical." True. But compared to these beauties, my 4 in. hot pink BCBG heels (the latest greatest acquisition) seem like, well, hiking boots.



Yeah. Wow. I thought prerequisite numero uno of high heels was, uh, having heels. Take it from one who knows - those shoes would be uncomfortable even with a heel. Sans heel? Agony, pure and simple. I really like how the designer (a man, of course...won't see him tottering about in these, now!) describes them as "dainty." Now where have I heard that before?

Oh right - China, about a century ago. Binding women's feet was also considered dainty - like a lotus flower. Yeah, and that turned out really well. But of course the rich and tasteless will (and already are) snapping these bad boys up like Percoset. The phrase "fashion victim" exists for a reason, after all - and in this case, victim could be quite literal, as I'm pretty sure the laws of physics would simply prohibit walking down a flight of stairs in these particular shoes. "They're not dangerous," the designer insists. Methinks the lady (...) doth protest too much - when else do you buy footwear with such assuring words?

Apparently they were inspired by postmodernism. Right. I'm sure Derrida would be duly impressed. The style resemblance, after all, is uncanny.


2.28.2008

Looking a gift horse in the mouth

First, I apologize for my absence as of late. My workload (what, I don't just leisurely spend my days looking for WTH fodder?!) has been approaching critical brain explosion levels - so something's gotta give. My sanity, perhaps?

This story, though, is definitely food for WTH thought. My fellow FHOTD war demons will especially appreciate, and understand. (See Fugly Horse of the Day for more than you may have ever wanted to know on the topic of horses and horsecare.)

Getting a horse as a tip. Oh boy. I can think of ways in which this would be a good thing....if one was, oh, say, independently wealthy, had a beautiful, under-populated horse property, and had the patience and know-how to deal with a just off-the-track racehorse. A racehorse with apparent health issues who's, in the wise words of his trainer (scoff gag), "too sored up" to race anymore.

Fugly acolytes need no explanation, but I know plenty of non horsey types are WTH junkies, so let me be very clear here. Owning a horse is a gigantic responsibility. Buying it is truly the cheapest part. This waitress, who we learn in the article is "struggling to make ends meet", is a really bad candidate for ownership. Far from being a tip, this "gift" is more like passing along mortgage debt, or a disease - gifts that keep on giving! - except a horse is even more work, because it requires not just an ongoing investment in cash, but also attention, somewhere to live, hoof care, wormer, vet care, equine knowledge, specialized equipment, and, yes, companionship and affection. An off-the-track racehorse (5 years old, no less!!!) needs even more specific care, particularly one suffering from health/lameness issues. All I can say is, thank God he isn't a stallion.

So, goodbye spare time, goodbye income, goodbye peace of mind, Miz Carroll. Indeed, the waitress is 71....stop for a moment to reflect on brittle bones and the sort of health ailments one faces at such an age. I've owned an OTTB (former racehorse) before. I was fearless, 19, and an accomplished equestrian - and I still had my work cut out for me! I somehow don't see Miz Carroll riding off into the sunset on her placid mount. Maybe being run off with into the sunset...or into the nearest barn door.

So, this is just bad news all around. And who will probably end up suffering? Poor Mailman Express. I hope someone out there will look out for him, because a situation like this has "bad news" (not to mention "what the hella?") written all over it. In sum, Mr. Big Tipper sounds more like a Big Douchebag to me.

2.25.2008

It's, like, higher education, man

Many parents worry about sending their children off to college. Free-flowing liquor, promiscuity, reckless behavior, and, of course, rampant pot smoking seem to define the perception of collegiate life for all too many concerned parents.

But a university in Oakland is taking things to an entirely different level. In fact, you could say they really take to heart the notion of "higher education".

Yes, ladies & gents, Oaksterdam University is dedicated to producing hard working graduates to staff the cannabis industry. I am sure that a diploma from this laudable institution will get you far - like, say, a visit from a DEA official. On the upside, barring jail time, you'll probably never be out of work. But seriously, folks. What the hella?

2.22.2008

Warm & fuzzy thoughts....from the war zone, no less

I'm going to break with form a bit and actually post something...nice. I'm not in any way a mushy person, but I do have an incredible weak spot for animals, and this story really moved me. It's not completely abandoning the WTH tradition - the story of this dog's life has many moments that make you stop and think "what the hella?" (for me, those moments are followed by a burning desire to inflict the same treatment on the asshats who hurt the pup to begin with) - but every once and a while, it's nice to hear a story with a happy ending.

Plus, in a time of cynicism and political turmoil and election year hoopla, it's great to hear a story that makes you, I don't know, feel good about something. I've been a vocal critic of the war in Iraq, and I oppose a lot of the current Administration's foreign policy decisions staunchly - so it's doubly nice to hear a story from the war zone that isn't tragic or infuriating or hollow. And I'm confident that the pup, Nubs, will be living la dolce vita in sunny California....something that, after months of snow here, makes me a wee bit envious!

So, without further ado, the tale of a pup's international exploits, and of the man who decided to do good by him. Hats off, Maj. Dennis.

2.19.2008

A cautionary tale from the spelling Nazis

I am by no means a great speller. This flaw was brought into crystalline focus in high school, to my embarrassment and the amusement of others. We had to do some sort of classroom activity that involved writing three adjectives that described ourselves on the whiteboard. One of the three words I chose was, unfortunately, intelligent. Even more unfortunately, I spelled it i-n-t-e-l-l-e-g-e-n-t. Oops. Luckily my sense of irony (and lack of shame) was more well-developed than my sense of spelling.

I work in the writing profession nowadays, though, so I am keenly aware of the importance of spelling. The ironclad rule is always - spellcheck, read through, and send to a proofer. For some odd reason, I seem to be uncannily able to identify misspelled words, even if I can't always spell them properly on my own. This serves me well, though, and also makes for some amusing moments.

Case in point: if you're a national news outlet, you'd think a crew of editors, proofreaders, etc. would be employed to ensure your news releases are grammatically correct and, at bare minimum, properly spelled. But as today's WTH moment illustrates - no such luck. I was perusing the news on Yahoo! a few days ago, and came to this picture and its caption. The caption struck me as odd, and the more I looked at it, the more certain I became that the opening sentence contained - what else? - a typo.



Oops. Kiddies, I remember this one from grade school. The plural of moose is moose....the plural of deer is deer.....the plural of wolf is wolves. Not "wolfs" as in "wolfs down this amusing spelling error with glee".

2.18.2008

Confucius say, taste great!

I was so inspired by the Chinese alphabet blocks from a previous post that my mind turned to other misadventures in the Land of the Great Wall. Chinese food over there is not what you pick up for takeout on a Friday night here. I loved much of the cuisine in Shanghai, but so-called staples like sweet-and-sour chicken, chow mein, and Moo Shu pork were nowhere to be found. There were plenty of other food items you could find, though - many of them floating in your soup!

In my three years over there, I ate some pretty weird things. Snake blood (fresh from a skinned snake, the honours done right in front of Yours Truly), fish eyeball, drunken shrimp that were still alive and wiggled on the way down, eel soup, chicken hearts, etc. The best rule of thumb was to not think about what was going down your gullet, and wash it back with some good beer.

I'll never forget the first time our cook, Helen, proposed some menu options for supper. She had come from a chef's position at a local restaurant, and was a fantastic cook - and to make the household assimilation process easier, she had brought a book of menus translated into English to our house. My mum and I thumbed through it with growing horror, and finally stopped at "Three Snake Fricassee with Cat." We glanced from our furry cat Rocky (brought over from the States with the rest of us) to Helen, and had to emphatically insist, "no food containing cat." Rocky survived the Shanghai experience intact, but given that she was a huge Maine Coon cat (weighing around 18 lbs.), whenever locals would come over to our house, they would eye her with interest, and I knew they were thinking that she could feed a family of three, easily, for a week.

The all time best food encounter, though, is described below. I've scanned the package so you can appreciate the hilarity in its original splendour, but as the writing is quite small, I'll provide an exact transcription below. All typos, of course, are as-is.




A Big Eat of Game
Eight Dainty Dog Meat
Liangshan is surrounded by Eight hundred Liwater area. rare birds and animals are numerous.long ago, when Shuihu heroes got together ,they used kinds game to make delicious dishes ,Eight Dainty Dog meat is one of these dishes.It is said that "The smell of dog meat can't be resisted. "It con-tains, Ptotein.vitamin ect.Which can nourish liver and kidnny.
In modern times,it is a real delicacy.
Ingredients: dog meat, astragalus membranaceus, ginseng, lycium Chinese, slender acanthopanax skin, ophlopogen, japonicus,aniseed,ginger,soysauce,refined salt.
Direction: Eat soon after opening, cool or hot will OK.
If you find the dag to expand don't eat
EXP: 8 months Net weight:250g
A big eat of game Shandong Liangshan Food Factory


Wow. Kind of gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "walk ... er, I mean, wok ... your dog."

2.15.2008

Hate mail, Vol. II (Valentine's Day edition)

Let's celebrate Valentine's Day together, albeit one day late. As a cynical young lass, I was never much one for the holiday. The candy, to be sure, was exquisite (barring the year in grade school where I gorged myself on chocolate a bit too enthusiastically, and spent the afternoon throwing up....fun stuff), but it all seemed a bit commercial and, well, if you need a holiday to remind you why you care about someone, isn't it time to reevaluate the relationship?

As I grew older, I changed my position on the matter and bought into the Valentine's Day notion wholeheartedly. I am pleased to say that I am back to my original position. Now, today's feature isn't hate mail per se - more like "hate diatribe" - but the invective was so....inspired....that it warranted WTH mention. After all, nothing says "I love you" like comparing someone to R2-D2 (and it ain't because I'm small and cute, I'm afraid). To wit:

You are a robot.
A robot with no heart.
A robot that destroys other people.
You're like a robot with bombs of destruction. (huh?)
A nuclear-armed robot. (HUH?)
You're an insane robot.
A robot with a tape recorder for a heart. (???!!!)
Robots have no feelings, so you invent them.


I don't think my laughter, crescendoing to open derision by the end of this little chat, did much to disprove this misguided individual's critique of Yours Truly, but....seriously? A robot? A nuclear armed robot???

It kind of reminds me of the phrase used by the mother of a high school ex to describe me after breaking up with her wittle baybe:

She's just a devil who walks around in cute shoes breaking men's hearts.

Now, I wasn't aware that robots, devils or no, were capable of wearing shoes. But then, the woman who uttered that particular witticism was none too mentally stable herself - after the breakup, she actually doused a hat I'd left at their house in lighter fluid and burned it. Normal behavior? Um, not so much.

I think the expression of Fearless Leader Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin best sums up Valentine's Day for me. Behind his beady little eyes, I just know he's thinking..."what the hella?"

2.14.2008

Made in China

This tickled my funny bone. I hope you will be as amused. Having spent a number of my young and impressionable years growing up in Shanghai, China (as an expatriate - though I still get the inevitable, "but, you don't look Chinese!" even after explaining this fact to some of my dumber American countrymen and women), I can attest that these little pedagogic wonders are well within the realm of possibility. No narration necessary - enjoy for yourself.

I will add, however - puzzling signs/names/translations were a daily occurrence in China. One of the PRC's big initiatives in preparation for the 2008 Beijing Olympic games was to standardize translation so that the capital of the world's most populous country didn't seem as backwoods as its English language signs would indicate. Although this may benefit tourists and athletes come August, it made me extremely sad. "Chinglish" is exquisite, an anthropological delight that I hope won't be shunted to the wayside in the name of, oh, say, grammatical correctness. (What next? Political correctness?)

Although many of my China experiences will be subjects of future WTH accounts (indeed, my entire experience there was one long, dreamy WTH adventure), I will leave you to ponder the name of the road that I lived on for awhile while over there. Long Dong Road (Long Dong Lu in Zhong-wen.) Oh boy.

2.13.2008

Lions and tigers and amoebas, oh my!

When I read this article, the first words out of my mouth were, quite literally, "what the hella?" I can't make up a headline as good as the one featured in this article - and I quote: "Six Die from Brain Eating Amoeba After Swimming".

Full stop. Brain eating amoeba? Huh? Huh?

Apparently these wee little beasties are partial to warm climates - maybe the only thing I can be thankful for as I look out my window and see snow, snow, and more snow (and what's the forecast for the night? Take a guess...)

Truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

2.11.2008

Three little words

OK, usually I try to avoid the realm of the overtly political on WTH, because I respect that my readers have their own views, and because God knows we already hear enough about politics in an election year.

BUT, this is too funny not to share, and whatever your political affiliation, I hope you'll appreciate the artistry. To really get the joke, you'll have to have seen the much-discussed tribute to my man Barack that's making its way across the internet and into mainstream media outlets. Sweet stuff - but that's neither here nor there for the purposes of today's snark.

No, no. Instead, I direct your attention to the enterprising individuals who decided that it wasn't fair to create such a piece of work only for a Dem, and decided to pay tribute to Mr. McCain's eloquence and political beliefs, too. The results are....well, you can see for yourself.

2.07.2008

The Lord works in mysterious (and billable) ways

After catching up on a month's worth of sleep (ok, extremely wishful thinking) following Super Toozday...I thought it would be apropos to share a few divine tidbits of WTH grandeur. Both were brought to my attention by faithful (and witty!) readers - the first involves a truly, er, revelatory moment at the polls.

Now, it's election time, and candidates love to talk about inspiring people, leading them, answering their prayers - much like the claims Jesus (or those who profess to speak for Him) seems to make, in fact! But a lovely fellow at the polls took the parallel a little too seriously. The state in question is a caucus state, not a primary - you have to actually stand up and represent your candidate, not just scribble down a name on a piece of paper or punch the appropriate bubble and waltz away. So, the people who turn out in support of their candidates tend to be pretty committed. Either that, or they need to be committed.

Case in point - the narrator of this tale was at the Republican caucus trying to drum up favour for her candidate. A young man, probably in his mid-20's, shows up. He has a Southern drawl that seems oddly out of place in a decidedly Northern state. As the caucus is convened, he proceeds to talk about Jesus. Now, this is the Republican party, and many of its biggest fans (Huckabee, anyone?) like to talk about Jesus - so at first, it wasn't so out-of-place. But the rambling continued, and the chap seemed unable to articulate which candidate he supported. Finally, when it was time to speak for your candidate, he made his case - for Jesus. And proceeded to vote. For Jesus.

How exactly does that appear on the ballot, anyway? Jesus H. Christ? Jesus, Lord Emmanuel? Son of God? I was having enough trouble at my voting spot getting people to spell Obama, not Osama. WTH!

Our second story of the day also concerns Our Lord and Saviour, and was brought to my attention by an alert reader. Some enterprising folks in Georgia have created a thriving business designed to, well, help you see Jesus.

http://iseejesus.com

Some poking around revealed that the site itself is hoax (see Legals at the bottom of the page), but the idea of such a business and its attendant snark is certainly good for a laugh! Now excuse me while I go nibble on some toast that bears an image of the Virgin Mary's face....mmm, mmm, salvation never tasted so good.

2.05.2008

The uses of an English major, revisited

A good friend of mine, who happens to be a high school teacher, brought this gem to my attention. Yet another case to be made for the uses of an English major? You be the judge...

Every year, English teachers from across the USA can submit their
collections of actual analogies, metaphors and similes found in high
school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country.


1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

That one is priceless. So painfully earnest and...what the hella.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room
temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.

Wow. I hope someone describes me someday in such laudatory terms ... NOT.


6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

Well said, friend. Art imitates life.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

Which is heavier, a pound of iron or a pound of feathers?

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

LOVE the analogy!! Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m.instead of 7:30.

A small part of me is embarrassed to admit that I kind of like that one.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

H-O-T-T

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Say it with me - what the hella?

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

Shit, I thought I had put the SATs in my past!

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

WTH?

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the
East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

Ya don't say...!

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Paging Paul McCartney's ex-wife: here's the new cause of your life's work...ducks that are land mine casualties.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

This is precisely why I grew up overseas.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Oh, l'amour!

2.04.2008

Aha! Uses for an English major

After a thrilling whirlwind weekend that included appearing on tv three times in one night, the defeat of the Patriots' evil empire by Mini-Manning & co., and (gasp) getting to meet Barack Obama, I have to turn to an issue that often arises when someone asks about my education. "You dropped out of Wharton to become an English major?" This is the inevitable question, always followed by blank looks and disbelief.

Yes, yes I did. But - in a rare coup for English majors everywhere - we have found a news item that thoroughly illustrates the advantage of have a student of literature on staff at all times. Preventing moral outrage everywhere - see, we have our uses too!

Apparently the London shopping chain Woolworths failed to follow my sage advice. Now they're amid a PR fiasco, after scads of angry (and presumably more literate mothers) have protested the stores' sale of a bed marketed to young girls - a bed with the unfortunate retail name "Lolita".

I'm hardly an advocate for celibacy or the strict regulation of morals, but branding a bed geared to prepubescent girls with the moniker of the world's most famous promiscuous child seems like a really poor marketing decision... Although I'm always glad to hear a literary shout-out in unexpected places, I'm not sure this is what Nabokov had in mind. More disturbing than the initial branding snafu, however, is the utter ignorance displayed by the chain's management.

"What seems to have happened is that the staff...had never heard of Lolita, and to be honest, no one else here had either."

Hello, folks, did you not take high school English? I mean, Christ, they've even made movies of the famous tale (including one starring a particularly yummy Jeremy Irons...) "Lolita" is as much a part of the international zeitgeist as it is a literary work. Seriously, people. Not having read it is one thing - but to never have heard of the book or even the name before? What planet have you been on?

All I can say is that karma's a bitch. For those of you who fell asleep during lit class or opted for the Cliff Notes version of life....I hope you're caught in just such a peccadillo someday! At very least, be sure you have someone like me lying around...someone who will mock you incessantly but will ensure no such unfortunate branding initiatives is ever allowed to see the light of day.

2.01.2008

I always knew debt-collection was a shitty business, but...

Okay - I am VERY loopy right now, having not slept for days while working tirelessly for a certain political campaign - and anyone who has seen me in the last 24 hours can attest to the fact that I am running into things and generally acting like a drunk (for the moment, I'm not) .... but I hope you find this as funny as I do.

I really want to get a letter from a creditor just like this one.
Nothing says "pay me, please" like comparing the debtor to a piece of poo!

(And yes, I understand that you can theoretically sign up for an account under any name. But the dude in question has signed an affidavit saying he/she used their real name and not, erm, "Shit Face" as their moniker.)

I don't think I need to make a case for why this gem belongs on WTH!!!
And now, back to the good fight. No rest for the wicked, at least until after Super Tuesday!