I’m planning to start this new series of posts. They won’t happen often, but when they do, they will encompass all my rejected blog topics all the bloggity goodness that just can’t stand on its own, but once you put a bunch of bloggity goodnesses together, they make a decent post — strength in numbers at its finest.
The titles of these posts will be: Sunday Soupçons, Monday Morsels, Tuesday Tidbits, Wednesday Whittlings, Thursday Thpoonfuls, Friday Fragments, and Saturday Sprinklings. Yes, I develop a lisp on Thursdays because I can’t find an appropriate word that actually starts with the th- sound. Yes, I am having way too much fun with this. Yes, I am delighted that most of these titles relate to food. And yes, I will probably forget all about this system after this post. But it works for now.
First of all, Facebook can’t spell.
Secondly, captchas like urethrae. Here’s another one. And another.
And lastly: Date Night = FUNNIEST MOVIE EVER.
I have NEVER heard that much laughter in a movie theater. More importantly, I have NEVER laughed that hard or that much watching a movie. If you know me, you’ll know that I think most movies are about as exciting as canned refried beans.
But not Date Night. It will light up your day like a sparkly sparkler. (Woo, look at the reference I worked in!) Your stummy will hurt SO GOODLY by the movie’s sad end (no, the ending itself isn’t sad, but the fact that the movie ends most definitely is). You’ll develop ab muscles from reacting to all the hilarity.
Best parts:
- “And will you, for the love of God, put on a fucking shirt?!”
- “I’m going to go home now and look at my vagina with a hand mirror.”
- The cab driver’s face. ‘Nuff said.
But none of this is funny when I write it down. If you haven’t seen this move, your life is woefully incomplete, and you should remedy that now.
Now. NOW.
I mean, my life is still incomplete, but that’s because I’m not Tina Fey.