That Musical Feel, Bro Thursdays (Kelsey)

GREETINGS QUESTERS.

We here at Muon's Quest to Penetrate the Bucketsphere are absolutely dreadful at posting on a regular schedule.

So what.

Heres a That Feel, Bro Thursday!

"You know that feeling when you haven't heard a song in like five years and it comes on the radio (or Pandora for you non-radio owners) and you can just scream out the words like you heard it five minutes ago?"

Yeah you do. You so know that feel.

A Day to Random

Greetings peeps!

Like Hitler's army in Candy Land.

Today is a day of random...because I say so.

I am inexplicably exhausted this Friday, and have to wonder why I am posting at all. My brain is currently playing the role of a dead slug (catch it next summer in, "The Brain that Classified Mollusca Gastropoda...it studied until it loved, then it loved until it transformed into one of them.") so I am having a bit of a problem with topic-choosing, thus you get them all.

My brain is the dashing slug on top.

First topic of the day is arguing on the internet.

I will admit that I am a bit of a comment troll. I purposely browse articles that I know will be 'button-pushing' just so I can start debates/arguments with people who do not share my opinions.

Do not get me wrong, I am in no way cruel or mean to those who claim differing opinions. As human beings/extraterrestrials we all have a right to an opinion. 

On that note however, I will be the first to destroy any idiot commentator. The right to idiocy is not protected by The Law of Rachel.

The Law of Rachel is a harsh mistress indeed.

Harsh like the reality of your childhood dreams. Also, Santa isn't real.

For example, below is a short commentary from an article regarding posing nude for Playboy:

Kara (random comment)

"Oh enough with the classy crap. You may never do it, but it doesn't make it wrong nor not "classy" The public is way too "voodoo" about a naked body. Sure this magazine is more about sexuality then it being "artistic" but come on, grow up already."

Rachael (random comment, not me, and for this I'm glad)

"Not all of us women want to show our vaginas off to millions of people, especially if we are a mother. There is nothing wrong with modesty, beeyotch!"

 I'm talking to you, Rachael. You fucking whore (I can say this because the argument is over).

Ethereal-Queen (Me, in reply to Rachael)

 "And we can all see how very classy you are Rachael. Very classy indeed. You may be modest, but not polite. I guess your parents skipped the class about respect and appropriate language when talking with others in a debating nature. Calling someone a 'beeyotch' is in no way conducive to a debate; in fact, it makes you lose all credibility, especially when the person you insulted was not being rude to you, only stating her opinion. Kara is very correct in my opinion. You may never pose nude, but that does not mean doing so in inherently wrong, ill-classed, or destructive to self-respect. Sure, there are plenty of strippers you would not want to share breathing room with. However, there are also plenty of strippers who you would never suspect had such a job if they did not tell you. You are right, there is nothing wrong with modesty, but everyone has a different view of what modesty is. You feel stripping/posing nude draws the line, I do not. That does not mean I lack any class or respect. That is where you and others need to grow up. You denigrate others for their line of work, insulting them because you don't believe it is 'modest'. You should probably meet a few nude models before judging their level of morals or self-respect."

Yes, I argued for no reason. Yes, I could have ignored Rachael. Yes, I could have avoided the article completely.

But how could I? I shouldn't even have to mention that I was fueled by Rachael's other posts, one being a post that stated 'strippers aren't women'.

So much fucking testosterone. What a man.

What? That isn't even a valid argument.

This is why they need to keep me away from the Internet, I'm an arguer at heart.

Second topic of the day is French men.

French! *please note* Olivier Martinez did not agree to be my friend.

Am I the only one who feels the stereotype about the French being major assholes is there for a reason?

Nothing says 'major asshole' like force-feeding caged/chained ducks for disgusting fat liver.

I'm not trying to hate on any country or her people, but seriously? What is up with French people?

Example 1: Today I was carrying a box of wine (around 36lbs) up the hallway. Our French sales representative, let's call him B.O. (you decide on the reason for the name) was walking ahead of me. Wine boxes are cumbersome without the added struggle of opening doors, so I was extremely happy when B.O. held the door open for me. Oh wait, that's not what happened. Rewind. I meant I was extremely aggravated when B.O. helpfully slammed the door in my face.

You may be assuming B.O. did not see me.

That would be good enough for me, if not for the fact that he literally stopped to talk.

Okay, so maybe he thought I was going a different direction?

Nope. He asked me if I needed assistance with the box (I said no).

New angle: he thought when you said no you meant no forever.

Nope again. He asked if I need help with the door (I said yes).

Final angle: He did it on purpose and is a royal ass-hat.

Yes, yes he is.

B.O. may have French thoughts like this? If so, still not acceptable. 

Example 2: A few weeks ago I had the chance to take a call from a French Restaurant, let's call this Restaurant of a popular French structure, and said call was not very fun.

Definitely has nothing to do with this shape.

I got cursed at no less than 15 times, and called unprofessional even more than that.

Did I mention this call was about an issue out of my control?

Did I also mention that the call wasn't even for me?

Did I also also mention that I got in trouble with my immediate higher-up?

Did I get an apology?

Yes, I did.

Okay, no I didn't, but I would have forgiven them if they apologized like this.

But I do often rant about the French douche-canoes that I work with.

Omelette du fromage, ya'll!

Also, omelette du fromage is incorrect French. Dexter lied to you like a boss. You're welcome. 

Peace out! (From a hippy who didn't lose their leg in 'Nam)

Random Quote Time!

My marvelous readers!

Not Rachel's readers, fuck you guys.

MY marvelous readers! Today I will present to you a random quote with absolutely no background context!


"Hitler is to Mustache as Burt Reynolds is to Mustache."

Now lets see that as a helpful chart!

Hitler:Mustache :: Burt Reynolds:Mustache

There you have it, folks.

Douchist thing ever.

So, Rachel and I, it seems lately, have been talking a lot about our high school days. More specifically, our bus riding days.

EVERY. DAY.

Rachel graduated and ABANDONED EVERYONE THAT LOVED HER a year ahead of me. But, unlike most juniors and seniors, we never stopped riding the bus. Why waste gas money? Plus, we had a good time on that bus.

We were like queens of that bus, really. We ruled over all the puny middle schoolers. It kills my soul to know that they are probably all in high school, now, because we've been out of school a very long time. Like, three whole years for her, two for me.

This show was high as we were.

We sat in the very back. Thats obviously where the cool kids sit. And I remember we had like a little group back there of friends. And we were ridiculous. Most of mine and Rachel's inside jokes probably come from there.

Although, according to her, I am not on the cool side and cut over. Skank.

So, thats where that above quote came from. We were most likely high our whole bus riding experience.

Like this.

Why Rachel and I shouldn't talk (Kelsey, IM Backlog)

Greetings, my fellow akmvakdsmfs!

I want you all to know something.

Rachel is...

Well. How to put this delicately?

Rachel is a freak.

Yeah, you've heard me correctly, my friends! She is a freak. Undeniably the freakiest person in the whole freaky world. She is so freakish that only a freak like myself can stand her freakishness.

Anyways.

This post contains the secret to our friendship and also probably the shortest story you will ever hear about us.

This post contains the very essence of Rachel.

Proceed with caution, Questers. Caution!

-------

It was a beautiful summer day, if I recall correctly. It might also have been one of the other seasons, probably Christmas time. I don't know. You decide!

Rachel and I were shopping. Actually, we might have been shopping for groceries. Maybe. So it might have been the summer.

This is going to drive me crazy.

WAS IT YOU, YOU WHORE SEASON?!

Anyways. Rachel and I were shopping at probably the only store we will ever agree on: Martin's!

MARTIN'S

So, we were shopping at Martin's and had a nice little basket going on. Having fun. Laughing loudly. And, suddenly, we're walking down an aisle and I look to Rachel and she's walking like this:

She wasn't wearing a bikini, though. But she did look like this.

So, shes walking down the aisles high stepping the shit outta that store. I am obviously baffled as hell, so I turn to her and this conversation ensues.

"Rachel, what are you doing?!" I ask, baffled, mystified, confused. Stunned, even!

"Its called MotWalking!" She replies, confidently, looking at me as if I am stupid.

"Oh, really?" I reply, feeling ashamed. I am not the hippest in the world, I know that.

I will always remember this moment. She calmly puts down her legs, smiles at me, shaking her head slight, and says:

"Nope!"

before prancing off to cause havoc with other people's minds. 

So, there you have it, everyone. She is evil. EVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL.

IM BACKLOG TIME HO'SHIT ITS GOIN DOWN MOFOCKER.

OrochiNazi (6:07:13 AM):	I'm eating those blueberry doughnut holes.
OrochiNazi (6:07:44 AM):	Also. It is my one month anniversary today.
Kelsey Owens (6:07:49 AM):	Congrats!
OrochiNazi (6:08:02 AM):	To the doughnuts? Absolutely!
OrochiNazi (6:08:05 AM):	I agree.
Kelsey Owens (6:08:06 AM):	ha
Kelsey Owens (6:08:18 AM):	Actually, I laughed rather loudly at that one
Kelsey Owens (6:08:19 AM):	nice
OrochiNazi (6:08:56 AM):	We all know that anything remotely involving a doughnut is worth profound congratulations.
Kelsey Owens (6:09:03 AM):	Exactly.
Kelsey Owens (6:09:12 AM):	I am in complete agreement
OrochiNazi (6:09:43 AM):	You ever meet someone who insists on being awesome.
OrochiNazi (6:09:55 AM):	The answer is me.
OrochiNazi (6:10:22 AM):	Also, I somehow hit a combination of buttons in word and opened the envelope mailer function thing
Kelsey Owens (6:10:33 AM):	I...don't know what that means
OrochiNazi (6:12:20 AM):	Me either.

My Chinese-addicted brother

Hello everyone who is lesser than me (this means you Jesus).

You'd hate to know what else he does with those holes.

I come to you today to fill your lives with the glory...the glory that is my older brother, Michael. And by glory I mean Anal-Pagan.

What is an Anal-Pagan you ask?

Anal-Pagan

Michael.

Do you see that Anal-Pagan over there?

Holy fuck, it is Michael.

Fucking Anal-Pagan.

by Not an Anal-Pagan on May 15, 2012

tags: michael, anal, pagan, anal-pagan, germs

So yes, Michael is the topic. Let me tell you a little about him:

*He is two years older than me.

*He is a poker dealer.

*He drives a Subaru Forester

 This is the car of serial-killers.

*He is a serial-killer. Okay, not really, just borderline or something.

*He threw me down a flight of stairs when I was like 12.

Stairs caused my permanently bruised coccyx. Fucking whores.

*He exclusively hangs around with Chinese people. I'm not joking.

*He is Satan.

Like this, only with more smiling people and shotguns.

Do you all understand? Do you? I had to grow up with this person. Me, a girl, alone with Michael and his murderous tendencies.

Of course he is moved out by now so I don't have to worry about locking my door at night...

Just kidding, I totally still lock my door.

Anyway, you must be asking yourselves why I am not filling your ears with facts about me. You are probably bemoaning the loss and are at this very moment eating 5 pints of Ben & Jerry's. 

I loved you Rachel. Don't you see? We are meant to be together. No, that dead child was a present. A PRESENT!

Here is why Michael is the topic of today:

I was upstairs last night, playing Infamous 2 on evil, as I was waiting for Tyler to get home from work.

This game wins at life. 

I was totally engrossed in an epic battle with Bertrand (monster-form) when I was called downstairs to try something my brother had brought over with him.

I'd hit the shit out of that. Umpf!

Have you all ever heard of Peedan/Pidan (preserved eggs)?

Duck eggs at their most vacuum-sealed.

A Peedan/Pidan egg is a duck egg that has been caked in mud and buried for a couple weeks (according to my brother who could very well be wrong).

They look like this once peeled:

Yummy, yummy, yummy I got love in my tummy...or was that Salmonella?

Then the real horror starts when you slice them open.

Kind of like 40 year old condoms in a red casing.

Michael regularly eats these. He really isn't helping his case against him being a serial-killer.

Now, my brother and I constantly fight and berate each other (siblings at their best!). Unfortunately, this means I have to always prove him wrong. Thus comes the part where I die inside. He called me a pussy, saying I would not ever eat the egg.

I proved him wrong.

Peedan/Pidan does smell and taste like egg. You can imagine my surprise at this fact. However, the taste does not make up for the consistency. The red part has the consistency of jello and looks like blood-snot. The grey-yellow yolk is extra creamy and sticks to your throat like Superglue. This is not a winning combination.

If you cannot tell already, I hated eating this egg.

No matter, Michael had more crazy up his sleeve.

Welcome, Lychee Coconut Jam. 

15 servings per container, 30 calories per serving! What a deal!

These little 'desserts' come in tiny little cubes (all packed and ready to kill you). 

The jelly/jam is opaque (bordering on white), yet still clear and filled with tiny chunks of coconut jelly.

This sperm-looking stuff, only much smaller and cuboid.

The smell is a mix of Elmer's Glue and faint sweetness. The taste is vaguely sweet and mostly gelatinous. It was overall not too bad, that is until the aftertaste chimed in. My mouth was reminiscent of Elmer's Glue for the rest of the night.  

And my brother had a cure for that:

Taiwanese Plum Juice. No way that can be bad!

Bitch on the drink wouldn't be so happy if she actually took a drink.

This plum juice should have been the savior of the day, sweet and delectable. I eagerly poured myself a glass and took a big whiff of the sweet succulent plum fragrance...and by that, I mean barbecue sauce.

I am not joking you. This drink smelled like barbecue sauce, like I was about to chug some nice old-fashioned BBQ ribs.

You can understand my reluctance to imbibe this after the smell. However, I did.

Was it sweet? No. Plum-like? No. Enjoyable? No.

It was coincidentally the complete opposite: bitter, not plum-like, and not enjoyable.

In fact, taking a swig was like drinking smoke from a fire. I believe this is the only drink in existence that was made so people could experience the taste of burning alive.

LOL! I taste me ya'll! (Self-Immolation Inhalation, ha!)

See why this post was about my brother? Do you comprehend the horror that is Michael. He baited me to rise to his challenge. I accepted and I will never be the same.

And now the food rests in my fridge, mocking me with it's cruel smile and taste-bud destroying habits.

Any takers?

Deuces. 

I concede to your conquest

Rachel, I concede.

You win.

You truly are ancient, your points have all shown me that. You are the oldest of the old.

This is you, obviously. Its okay, cupcake, you still got your looks!

Smokin'.

"You know that feeling you get when you're going really fast and a cop comes out of nowhere and does absolutely nothing even though you're going 30 over the speed limit?"

Countering Kelsey's Counter...Bitch

Hey cunt! I am talking to you Kelsey. You want to fight bro?

I'm the honey badger; you're the snake.

Yes ma'am, your reasons are completely valid. I will not argue that point. We all know that you are often times physically challenged...and by that, I mean mentally (<3 you though).

Like you, only smarter.

Maybe I should elaborate on my old people illnesses? Yes? I have scoliosis which is only exacerbated by every additional year added to my age.

Your knee/ankle/car wreck pain have nothing on this. My spinal cord is straight up fucked.

GERD calls itself my soulmate. Try waking up every morning with acid in your throat and a hurricane in your stomach.

My colon grows tumors. OLD PEOPLE TUMORS. In fact, I was the only minor that my G.I. had ever seen get such tumors. The type I get are reserved for people over 40.

I have digestion problems and have to take fiber. You know who takes fiber?

The fiber helps me poop (this is something Nikki would post on Facebook).

I have a bad IT (Iliotibial) band, often times causing intense ankle and knee pain.

I have Orthostatic Intolerance which means I get dizzy when I stand. Kind of like this:

This, only in my brain.

I have mystery attacks of gastrointestinal pain which have no known cause.

All-in-all, I am so much older than you. I have more old people disoders than you. I'm dying. I win.



Point two: Having tea does not make you old, drinking it does, and I'm sure I beat you regarding this issue.

Also, Earl Grey will kick Lady Grey's ass any day of the week.

Earl Grey in this corner, defeating your ass by pretending...oh wait...

Earl Grey: has a Master's in Chemical Engineering, is a third degree black belt, speaks 3 languages, and has an IQ of 160.

Lady Grey: pedophile.





Point Three: Sure, you've been rationalizing forever. Is that next to the sob stories of teenage life?

Also, another point for my oldness. I'm older than you, therefore, I am older.

Like that logic?

Finally, this:

For some reason I am imagining her talking like Lil' Jon or maybe Uncle Ruckus.

"You know that feeling when you're trying to give a presentation in Biology and you are trying to say organism but say orgasm instead?"

I was talking about Botulism!

Also, I love you a lot Kelsey! Continue to duel me forever...with real guns. 

 



Countering Rachel's Counter and That Feel, Bro

Hello again, some-funny-insulting-sounding-list-of-things-that-make-you-human!

I am countering Rachel's counter!

Yo, Dawg, we heard you like counters.

I feel that the reasons why I am old are completely valid and the reasons Rachel is old are based completely on ridiculous things.

Also, those drink glasses had wobbly legs.

Reason 1 on how Rachel was old was how she has backpain. Yeah? Well I have severe ankle pain and every morning when I wake up the whole right side of my body is numb. Therefor, if pain and aches were an indication of age, I am older than you!

Reason 2 on how Rachel was old was how she drinks a lot of hot tea. Well, bitch, I have a tea pot just for heating up water for tea! I have a whole Tupperware container, those huge ass ones, filled with at least twenty different types of tea!

The ultimate tea slut is Lady Grey. What. A. Whore.

Reason 3 on how Rachel was old was how she rationalized topics. Sweetheart, hate the break it to you, but I've been doing that for years. Ain't called getting old, s'called getting mature.

We are all sad for you on that one.

QED.

"Have you ever been so happy to be holding an animal that your heart grows ten times its size that day and for some reason you can't contain it and your brain tells you the only way to truly show your affection is by crushing its body with your hug? This goes for people, too."

Countering Kelsey and That Feel Bro

I noticed co-blogger Kelsey complaining about her not-so-old age. Plueeeease!

Co-blogger Kelsey. Nice cupcake hat Sad-Legs.

Me:

Yes, my tits are fabulous. Kind of like roid-rage, only instead it is Gran-rage.

Okay, I kid...or do I?

Mostly unrelated. Bow servants! I'm being serious here.

Kelsey will indeed be turning 20 this fabulous 29th of May. We are very proud of her. She has survived her mother and for this we congratulate her.

However, she is not old (*cough* BABY *cough*). Just as she will be turning 20 this year, I will be turning 22. I can already feel the crippling arthritis in my hips. Cheers to my deteriorating body.

Drinks all around. Just don't leave them around me or you may be in for a roofie type surpise.

I'm sure you are all dying to hear my list, right? RIGHT? Holla if you hear me!

Numero Uno: I have a habit of waking up with severe back pain (the kind that will make you weep acid).

Why have you forsaken me, Mattress-God?

Numero Dos: I enjoy drinking hot tea...like a lot of hot tea. So much hot tea that my blood is now 99% caffeine and sin. Tea is made of sin, right?

Fucking whore. Tea-bagging all that innocent water...slut.

Numero Tres: I rationalize all topics now. This includes religion, politics, war, and your mom (sorry that was my dying inner child seizuring).

Q: What do you throw to an epileptic who is having a fit in the bath?

A: Your laundry.

I could probably go on and on, and copy a good deal of what Kelsey spoke of, but I won't because a lady does not discuss peeing.

I mean, who hasn't peed on one or two of these?

Just kidding about the lady behavior regarding inappropriate discussions.

So, That Feel, Bro?

"Do you know that feeling when you are sitting on the sidewalk watching a parade and your boyfriend hands you his drink so he can get some food from the house behind of you (family friend's house) and you are watching the floats go buy and suddenly get extremely thirsty so you start chugging down the drink in your hand only to realize it is Jack Daniels and Coke and you are designated driver for the night?

How did I fall for your tricks, red solo cup. I didn't even fill you up. I didn't want to have a party (and I won't proceed to). You aren't my friend.