G Stands for Google (and Gag Reflex)

We've all been there.

You're at your computer, minding your own business, when BAM. Your inner child invades the serenity of your grown-up type activities with some nagging little question that's completely irrelevant to your life.

Yeah, who am I kidding? Your inner child invades *your daily allotted 5 hours of social media. Nonetheless, you now have an irritating, completely random question just begging for an answer lurking behind those beady little eyes.


One such question hit me on my lunch break today. I briefly reflected upon the olden days, when I'd have to actually go to the bookshelf, pull out an encyclopedia, and dig for the answer like a fucking archeologist. Usually, whatever encyclopedia I needed just happened to be the one that was missing, so I'd end up reading about the my favorite planet, Pluto, or modern technology, or any sort of information that's completely antiquated by now. I bet those encyclopedias would probably make a really funny read at this point, actually.

Anyway, I digress. I had a random question.

 

No, I'm not telling you what it was.

Because it's not important, that's why.

Do I ask you questions about what you Google? We all think of thi--hey, stop.

STOP.

Fucking fine. My question was:

No, you horse's ass, I'm not broke enough that I was actually going to eat Fancy Feast. I went to the store at lunch to buy it for Mr. Biffles (for Mr. Biffles will eat only the finest cuts of ocean whitefish,) and one of them fell out of the bag while I was eating my lunch, which was a perfectly respectable serving of McNuggets.

Shhhhh. It's respectable. 

Side note: I got a siamese McNug! It tasted even better than the others.

So yes. Anyway. Eating lunch. Became curious about Fancy Feast. And because we are no longer cave men, with our Encyclopedia Britannicas and horse carriages, I went to Google.

Mistake.

Might I suggest to *never* let curiosity get the best of you during your lunch hour? Especially when your question involves whether or not you can eat something, and especially when you're on a shared network, where any number of horrible auto-complete phrases can ruin your life. I mean... if you like going from this:

To this:

Then I guess it's okay. Otherwise, no Google during lunch. Ever. I saw things that can't be unseen. WHO wants to eat WHAT now, and WHY?

Don't even ask me what I saw. I'll never tell. Suffice to say.... The fuck you say?? Bleh.

(Also, yes, you can eat Fancy Feast.)

Get in line, Mr. Biffles.

It's necessary to point out that all I had typed in was "can I eat," and was bombarded with mind-AIDS at that point in time. I didn't even have to finish my question.

This, in itself, lead me to another random question. Despite my trauma, I couldn't help but wonder.... What other perfectly innocent phrases would yield bizarre results? I decided to test out just one more. "What color is....." Below are my results.

And, just to make sure you're taking the journey with me:

Some of these seem a little elementary. Under normal circumstances, I'd be a little more gracious with the colors... but since we work in a creative environment with designers and Photoshop, I'm thinking these things should already be known. I'm going to go ahead and give Cyan the benefit of the doubt, though, just because it's hideous. But I just.... yeah.

.......Yeeeah.

Why specifically hippo milk?

*Fidgets around...* and despite all of this... all I want to do is go to Google and type just one more search. Just one more, to see what happens. I mean.... what harm could it do? Right?

Okay, I'm done. Suck my dick, Google. Suck my dick forever.








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Why I'm not blogging today.

I wanna make pretty things for you, I really do. And I try. Oooh, do I try. But sometimes, the creativity is in short supply. Especially on Mondays. Enter, the Blahg.

Blahg = a post that had promise, but just didn't quite make it.

I tried, folks, I really did. I sat for tens of minutes, pondering what I could do to entertain you. I checked out the radar, and as usual, there wasn't a whole lot going on. I did see this chunk of sexy weather lingering over the area, though:

After a few moments of tilting my head this way and that, making faces which, in retrospect, I hope went unnoticed, I came up with a game plan.

"Yeah. Yeah! A fucking bird. This is going to be awesome!" I encouraged myself, naively. 


And by awesome, I apparently meant...

N'awesome.

Not only is the bird itself kind of lopsided, but I realized after photoshopping that I had no story line, or even clever pun, to accompany it. Sure, I could've transformed him into a parrot and stuck him on someone's shoulder, since it's Talk Like a Pirate Day, but we already did that, remember?

Then, I thought, maybe I could turn the bird itself into a pirate. And add some shitty clone stamp leaves to cover up his lopsidedness. (Specifically, his tail feathers make me uncomfortable.  It looks like he's hiding something.) So I tried that.

Aaand, fuck it. Thanks for nothing, stupid dickbird.

So then I thought... Maybe I could do something else entirely. After all, I have been creating submissions for Cracked.com's weekly photoshop contests, so I do have a few random things on stand-by.

Like my submissions for "failed book covers:"

Because all the kids are just clamoring  for Dan Rather jokes.

And because That 70s Show is totally still funny and relevant. It definitely didn't stop being amusing 10 years ago. Not at all.


Okay, so no stupid book cover submissions. But then, there were my submissions for "figures of speech, as understood by a nine year old." Those were okay, right?

Y... You know... like... "I racked my brains for the .. answer... ? " ... You know, right? Guys?

Get it? "Wearing your heart on your sleeve?" Get it? Is anyone even still reading this shit??

 

*Cracks open a bottle of tequila.* It's SHIT A BRICK, assholes. Deal with it. *sobs openly*

If I went that route, just for good measure, maybe I'd throw in my current submission/abomination:  "terrifying arts & crafts projects:"

But then it occurred to me: If Cracked didn't like them... then they're probably not as clever as I thought when I made them. Just like stupid pirate bird. Which meant I had basically come full-circle, right back to square one.

Bullshit.

So that's why I'm not blogging today. I'll just cop out and put up a stupid picture of Mr. Biffles. You guys eat that shit up anyway.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN, MR. BIFFLES?? Christ, I'm off my game today...

*snuggles into straight jacket.*

By the way.. if you want more Meteoroflgy, (and why wouldn't you, after a masterpiece like this,) 

follow my happy ass on Twitter!

@meteoroflgy

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Clever Girl....

Anyone else feel like dinosaurs and dinosaur movies have come up a million times today? And by a million, I mean two that I can recall? Yeah. Just a dino sort of day, it seems. Mostly, it's NPR's fault. They played Jurrasic Park music this morning, and also featured an article about the first T-rex skeleton.

With the media and my inner child focusing on our past, aka the world of dinosaurs, I thought this would be a good day to get back to my own roots with a good ol' fashioned weather post! And luckily, there was a lot for me to work with.

I think even if I hadn't been talking about dinosaurs, this one would have been fairly obvious, right? Right??

Fuck yeah, T-rex! Before anyone mentions it, yeah, I know there are probably some dimensional.. abnormalities. I never claimed to be an expert on dinosaurs. What I know about the T-rex can be counted on one hand:

1. They have short arms. 
2. They're the most angry and socially awkward of all the dinosaurs. 
3. Perhaps the most important: The T-rex does NOT want to be fed. 

The T-rex wants to HUNT. 







Oh, I bet you thought that was it, didn't you? Couple pictures, couple laughs, and on my merry way? Not today, friends! It's been a minute since I posted, and I know I need to redeem myself. So, it's a two-fer! Hooray!

I can't take all the credit for the aforementioned two-fer, though, what with the radar giving me dino-gold like this left, right and center. This one might take a little imagination. Ready?

Ta-daaaa!

*whisper whisper*

What's that, dino buddy?

I think you're onto something.

Yeah, I've got your incorrect password right here, Newman! *spits poison*

K, now I'm done. Back to your regularly scheduled interwebs!

Are you on Twitter? I am! Let's be buddies!

@meteoroflgy

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And now, a word from Mr. Biffles

He can even give you the thumbs up, what with his 7 toes on each front paw and all. 

Mega polydactyl ftw!

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Shoulda Watched O'Brien and BriaaaAHHHOLY HELL

Fellow Hoosiers are probably familiar with these guys. But allow me to introduce the rest of you to a couple popular anchormen in Indianapolis: O'Brien and Brian. They have the totally-not-annoying-as-shit-catch-phrase of "Shoulda watched O'Brien and Brian!!!"

LAWL, Shoulda watched O'Bri-- *GUNSHOT*

Now, I know some of you are upset about the lack of weather posts lately. But A) I am not responsible for this drought. Blame your precious god for that one. B) Hurricane Irene came and went before I even knew there was a hurricane. I'm not a wizard, and none of you told me. So if anything, it's partially your faults. (Yeah, put that in your bong and don't smoke it, because smoking's bad. Stay in school!)  And C) how am I supposed to do my job properly if they don't do theirs?

Not that I wouldn't have the same reaction, mind you... but here I am, waiting on the couch for the weather, camera phone at the ready, finger on the Tivo pause button, and this is what they give me?

My favorite part of this video, hands down, is how the woman tries to be all "Ohh, I'll do it if you can't, jackass!" and then proceeds to be an even bigger chickenturd.

So yeah. This is kind of a weather post. You're welcome! ^_^

Enjoy the three day weekend!








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Rise & Shine

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Office Space

Sometimes, people will approach me on the street and say, "Amanda, I thoroughly enjoy your blog!"**  
(**never happened.)

They say, "I'm constantly amazed at your creativity and sense of humor.*** (***also never happened) Where do you come up with this stuff?? HOW CAN I BE LIKE YOU???**** (****nope.)"

My advice, my small yet adoring public, is to surround yourself with constant, relevant inspiration. For example, this blog looks like a meteorologist watched his 10 year old niece play with Photoshop for half an hour, decided it wasn't so hard, dropped acid, and logged on. As such, I find it's useful to surround myself with things that keep my ADD, lack of concentration and odd sense of humor fine tuned. This is especially true at work.

When you work in an office for 8+ hours per day, it's important to keep little things around that remind you of your individuality, so your creativity doesn't stifle under the repetition. It's impor-- wait, are those dogs wearing pope hats?

Truth be told, I've had these for years, and don't really remember why this had to happen. I do know that I used to have a sign for them which read "Pope Dog Pug and the Bishops of Chaos." I should make another one.

You may have noticed, to the right of the bobble brothers, a curious sight. A disturbing sight. This would probably be a good opportunity to back track and introduce you to my mom.

Hi, mom!

Before you ask, no. I'm not taking this picture down. Ever. 

I love my mom. She's mah bestie forever. Aside from being a smart, kind and creative soul (much like some certain bloggers I know... /smugface...) she also has the same, slightly off sense of humor that I do. That said, when my birthday was approaching, and she saw this statue, she knew she should buy it for me.

And buy it, she did.

You're probably wondering why the bottom rabbit is not wearing any clothing, while the rabbit on top is. Or why the smaller rabbit is holding a huge carrot like a mace. Or why he is humiliating his naked steed. Or why he has this ominous expression on his face, like whatever he's doing, must be done.

Do not make direct eye contact.

It's best not to dwell on these things, friends. I have pondered and contemplated these things quite extensively. The answers remain beyond my grasp.

I have another piece of mom flare around here somewhere. Actually, if you've been following me since April, you might remember this from before:

See that creepy-as-shit rabbit card in the upper-right? You know, next to the Napoleon Dynamite card, Comic Sans hatred, sock monkey, origami owl, and various other items that make no sense together? Yep, that's from mom. Actually, so's the Napoleon Dynamite card.

Although this is probably perfectly obvious, I feel inclined to mention that these things:

Are the only actual work items on this wall. And that this isn't even the whole wall. And that I've seen less clutter in a kindergarten toy chest. I'm a grown-up!

I am a grown-up, by golly! And I can prove it! Know how? Because grown-ups use pens. And I have pens! See?

Dammit.

Alright, you got me again, you sneaky bastards. I'm a total pen kleptomaniac. Black pens, colored pens, fluffy pens, holiday pens, probably even pens that don't work but look pretty. I keepsiss them. I lovesiss them.

I'm always adding onto this clusterfuck of an office space as well. Just today, one of my coworkers asked if anyone would like a fake rooster. Never having found myself in this situation before, and having no immediate need for an artificial rooster come to mind, I did the only logical thing.

I taped him to my moniter.

I like to think he's watching over me, encouraging me to do better.

....What? You don't think that's a comforting thought? What if I need that sort of motivation and reassurance, hmm? What would you have me do instead? Hire Jean-Luc Picard to stand over my shoulder, with a little bunny on his shoulder, wearing a fake headdress or something stupid like that?

Because I already have that, genius. Well, a cardboard cut-out, anyway.

So yeah. In short, to talk this kind of crazy talk, you must first walk a crazy walk. And I think it's pretty safe to say I have that covered. Hence the blog. You're welcome. ^_^

There's actually a couple other things in ye olde office that I'd like to share with you, but this is already hella-long. Some other time, perhaps. Adios!









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