As if it's not bad enough wasting 8 hours a day sitting in a cubicle, imagine doing it with one of these babies from Sky Mall strapped to your wrist:
Terrific! Sure it's good to live life and make the most of the time that we have - I just don't think having the equivalent of a bandana-wearing-twenty-three-year-old-backpacker constantly shouting"YOLO!" in my face is the best way to go about it. Also, I can't see that it's good to, like, constantly think about the minutes of your life ticking away. They make medication for that kind of behavior. And I mean, if you're getting shit done just so you can cross it off a list before you croak, and you're less than ninety-two years old and not in possession of a terminal illness, that's pretty morbid. Imagine the anxiety.
Imagine doing the dishes or the laundry with one of these things on? I'm not talking about getting it wet either. I'm talking about the thoughts that it will cause to run through your head:
HOW ARE THERE THIS MANY PLATES DON'T THEY KNOW I ONLY HAVE 54 MORE YEARS I SHOULD BE ON A PLANE TO EVEREST WHAT DO YOU MEAN CAN I BRING YOU A JUICE BOX WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE I NEED TO SEE THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA RIGHT NOW WHERE IS MY BANDANA AND MY BOB MARLEY CD OH MY GOD I HAVE TO IRON TOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME I NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SPEAK SIX MORE LANGUAGES OH NO THERE GOES TWENTY MORE SECONDS
This watch might actually make you kill yourself. The funny thing is that the free spirits taking selfies in front of Big Ben aren't wearing this damn thing. No it's going to be on the wrist of some sap trapped in a cubicle. Because if the sap trapped in his cubicle had the means and the freedom to do all of that YOLO kind of crap, he would already be doing it. Trust me, we would all be doing it.
And maybe one should get shit done because it feels good to get shit done, and not because one is in a weirdo, self-inflicted, anxiety-inducing, race against the clock. You will literally have a clock. On your wrist. Calculating when you're going to die.
That sounds fun.
Can't wait til Christmas, Sky Mall. Hope you've got a good return policy.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Well it’s almost that time of year again - time for the stores to start selling skimpy, role-playing, lingerie outfits under the guise of being Halloween costumes. Time to tack the word sexy in front of even the most un-sexy of concepts in order to sell shitty costumes to women with low self-esteem: Sexy Ice Cream Truck Driver, Sexy Big Bird, and my personal favorite of the day, Sexy Ursula:
I’m sorry, Sassy Ursula. Now, in case you forgot, here is what Ursula actually looks like:
Ursula, according to Wikipedia, is an “obese, lavender-skinned, white-haired female human with a facial mole, but from the waist down she has six black tentacles."
Well I’ll be. I always said that if ever there was a character destined to become a slutted-up Halloween costume, it was Ursula the half human/half octopus sea witch from the Little Mermaid. No doubt.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we should all dress up like this:
Even though those are totally lovely costumes. And okay fine, this one isn’t too terrible, aside from the poor choice of shoes. You're a Ninja Turtle for Christ sake, save the black pumps for the Naughty Secretaries. A thigh-high brown suede boot would have been a better choice:
But then we have the likes of this:
Googling the words “sexy Halloween costume” simply takes you to lingerie sites that have slapped a “halloween” tag onto all of their usual inventory. The above picture I found on a site called “Forplay." Cute. Nothing says Halloween party like bobbing for apples and gratuitous nipple exposure.
I also found this:
Notice the clever placement of the trident. I'm willing to bet this little number is available in crotchless.
Look, I know I'm 35 years old, live in the suburbs, and on Halloween night wear a black Columbia fleece and a pair of Sketchers that I've had since, literally, 1997. But where in bloody hell are other people wearing these costumes? If you count up all the websites selling these things, there have got to be millions of these costumes taking up space on planet Earth, all in those cheap plastic bags with the snaps. But there can't possibly be that big of a market for them. I've been to Halloween parties, even when I was younger, and people just don't show up in this shit. Frat parties? Probably. Smart idea, by the way. Beverly Hills? Yeah I can see that. That gross older couple down the street who you've always suspected were swingers? Most likely.
Anyway, moving on to my next point. Why do women’s Halloween costumes MAKE NO FUCKING SENSE?
Take this one:
Your classic Sexy Eskimo. A total idiot. You know what keeps you warm in the North Pole, ladies? Pants. And not being in a perpetual state of about to suggestively lick a popsicle. Want to see a man's eskimo costume? Here:
He's holding a dead fish. And he's covered head to toe like, you know, he has a brain. Let's try this again. Women's firefighter costume:
Looks like it's got a good thermal layer. Those fishnets should hold up well in the event of a backdraft. And here we have a man's firefighter costume:
Ah, what does it matter. I have one child and he's a boy. Speaking of him, a few years ago he dressed up like Nemo. You know, the fish with one big fin and one small fin, and a tail and all that.
Oh, yes, here it is:
Crap, that's not right.
Anyway. Here's a woman's Luigi costume:
And a man's:
Sigh. Granted, not many women would want to go out in public wearing those overalls, but how does that translate to Luigi donning a pair of thigh-high white stockings? This is what he thinks of that:
Me too, Luigi. Me too.
at 3:13 PM