An actual conversation...

With my 6-year-old son:
Gavin: Why do you call me Gavin-Doo?
Me: It's a nickname.
Gavin: Mom calls me Scooter.
Me: That's her nickname for you; I have a different one for you.
Gavin: I wanted everyone to call me "Yessirree Bob."
Me: Well, you can't give yourself a nickname, buddy.
Gavin: Why not?
Me: It's against the rules.

The Running

I saw a cool Nashville band called The Running Saturday night. I took this pic with my BlackBerry and it obviously didn't turn out too well but I kind of like it anyway.

Where Babies Come From

lefturner: where did ian come form?
lefturner: from*
Ill Mo: well
Ill Mo: he arrived in the usual way
lefturner: omg
lefturner: thats not what i meant
lefturner: i meant where did u get the name ian from
Ill Mo: oh
lefturner: :/
Ill Mo: rofl i'm sorry
lefturner: wow.
Ill Mo: i was really confused
lefturner: lol.
lefturner: obv
lefturner: wow.
lefturner: lol
Ill Mo: you asked that
Ill Mo: i was like
Ill Mo: well this could be a really weird conversation

Love and Other Indoor Sports

According to various sources, this is National Masturbation Week, so here are links to two people, um... enjoying themselves.
First up is this guy who apparently can't get men or women to sleep with him but has managed to score with more than 1,000 cars and other vehicles, including the helicopter from Airwolf. I have no idea how exactly this is supposed to work and I'm not spending any more time trying to figure it out.
And then there's this dude, from (where else?) Florida, where authorities have become so accustomed to him frolicing with alligators that they apparently assume all unidentifiable bodies partially consumed by the reptiles are him.

Monkey Monkey Monkey

Reporters on the monkey beat must be in a state of perpetual ecstasy this week, because monkeys are everywhere. First, there was last week's revelations about W.B. Yeats and his monkey... um, experiments, and now, monkeys are apparently rampaging through the streets of Lakeland, Fla. If I was still a reporter, I'd love to cover that story if only so I'd have call to use the phrase "monkey-hunt."
Meanwhile in Costa Rica, Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy and Ashlee Simpson were robbed by monkeys, although I have to say that when I first read that story, I thought they had been robbed of monkeys, because I thought "monkey thieves" were thieves who stole monkeys, not thieves who were monkeys. My reaction to this was, of course, "What in God's name were Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson doing running around Costa Rica with a bunch of monkeys in the first place?"
And if Florida weren't having enough problems what with the monkey infestation in Lakeland and all, they've got other issues. Apparently, Satan himself is planning to blow up Walt Disney World. So I guess the Mouse doesn't work for him after all.
And, finally, it seems that stupidity isn't limited to the lower primates this week. Either that or some monkeys have learned to fly planes like in that movie with Matthew Broderick.

Sex, Drugs and Monkey Glands

From a review of Secret Lives of Great Authors by Robert Schnakenberg on Salon:

Kafka attended a nudist spa; Joyce got turned on by soiled ladies' underwear; Yeats had monkey glands implanted in his scrotum to recharge his virility.

There must have been one hell of a conversation in the doctor's office before that particular procedure.
Yeats: "Well, doc, I'm having some, uh, peformance issues, if you know what I mean."
Doctor: "Hmm. Have you tried oysters? Vitamins?"
Yeats: "Yeah. No dice."
Doctor: "Well, then. I don't know. We could try... How about, uh... monkey glands?"
Yeats: "Ooh, that could work."

Probably NSFW. But funny.

Today's Random Links

First, the Barbie Tarot. I have a few questions here. First of all, why? And second of all, does the person responsible for this project realize that these are, you know, dolls?

Second, in case you ever dreamed of playing Pac-Man as a Zork-style text adventure (and, really, who hasn't?), now you can.

It Would Be Funnier If It Weren't So Painful...