She'll Never Live That One Down

"Liverpool Laundryman Arthur Pepper got ambitious when it came to naming his new baby daughter. Not wanting any letter of the alphabet to feel jealous at being left out, he used all of them, naming the child Anna Bertha Cecilia Diana Emily Fanny Gertrude Hypatia Inez Jane Kate Louise Maude Nora Ophelia Prudence Quince Rebecca Sarah Teresa Ulysis Venus Winifred Xenophon Yetty Zeno Pepper." - Ripley's Believe It or Not, copyright 1999.

Submitted without comment.

Arrest Me, I Speak in Maths! (bonus points for getting this song reference)

I have to be at work at 11. This means maximum number of hours of sleep would be 8 1/2, leaving me thirty minutes to physically and mentally prepare myself for work.

Probability that I can't find my other work shirt and will need to wash laundry: 100%.

Approximate time to compile, wash, and dry dirty laundry: 2 hours.

Therefore MST (Maximum Sleeping Time) is reduced to 6.5 hours.

Chances of me waking up too late to wash laundry: 70%, reduced by 5% per alarm I set on my phone.

Time wasted picking random times as my alarms so they will be perfectly spaced out between 0 - 100% consciousness (with each alarm increasing consciousness by 10%): 2 minutes per alarm, with an increase of 1 minute for every alarm after the 3rd.

For every one minute of consciousness tonight I waste approximately 2.5 minutes on Facebook/Memebase/Failblog/MLIA/videogames (aka F-e-b-li-ga).

If I set ten alarms at 8:00, 8:10, 8:15, 8:20, 8:30, 8:32, 8:35, 8:38, 8:39, and 8:40, following the previous formula, then I get (2+2+2+3+4+5+6+7+8) = 39 approximate minutes wasted on my phone trying to calculate perfect alarm times (aka browsing my "recent contacts" over and over to see if I want to text any of them). Then we calculate the FEBLIGA time (39 x 2.5) = 97.5 minutes, or 1.625 (97.5/60 minutes) hours of time doing FEBLIGA.

For the ten alarms I set, leaving me with 100% consciousness at exactly 8:40, I have done this: (10 x 5%) = 50%, leaving me a 50% reduction in the probability of me waking up too late to do laundry, or 20% chance of doing so.

What this means is despite having achieved 100% consciousness, there's still a 20% chance I'll somehow manage to screw up doing laundry. However, this can be countered by setting four additional alarms to remind myself to wash my shirt and other unmentionables (the four alarms are 4 x 5% = the remaining 20%).

(9+10+11+12) = 44 minutes, resulting in a 110 minute, or 1.83 (110/60) hour increase of FEBLIGA. This results in approximately 3.5 hours of FEBLIGA tonight.

Those 3.5 hours of FEBLIGA put my approximate sleep time at 5:40, leaving my MST at 3 hours.

Ability to do math at 2 in the morning: unhindered.

Probability of me blogging instead of going to sleep: 100%

Amount of screwed am I tomorrow at work: a lot of screwed.

There's a Joke About Love Bugs I Failed to Make. Oh Well.

So, maybe my imagination is a little more out of control than it should be, but here's how the story goes.

Alright, I'm driving down the highway, right? And I'm doing a good 90. I'm bookin' it. I'm fairly focused on the road, not really paying attention to anything other than weaving in and out of the "oversized loads" and that idiot who doesn't understand staying in the right lane when he isn't going fast enough to pass anybody, when suddenly something catches my eye. Some poor wasp managed to fly his little buggy self right in front of me. Too bad for him, right? It gets worse.

His little insect head managed to slide into the space between the hood of the car and the side. What I see is his silly stingy butt flopping around in the wind as he gets helplessly dragged along for a ride. For as sucky as that must have been, the only thing I could think was "you know, this reminds me a lot of relationships."

He made this face, no doubt.

Yeah, you heard me, that's what I said.

Let me break it down for you.

So you got this girl. She, like most girls, is "crazy, outgoing, funny, awesome, ditsy, and hyper." (Question: how many girls you know would describe themselves like this? Probably like, all of them.) She's just doing what girls do; going a billion miles an hour and not paying attention (lulz). Now before you ladies get mad at me for making fun of your tendency to not always pay attention, let me make fun of guys first in an attempt to cater to your desire for equality in sarcastic stereotype jokes.

Now you have me, the guy. I'm a dumb insect flying across the highway like a retard. (I know a few people who'll enjoy that image too much.) Some Mustang Sally comes cruising down the road and smacks me in my stupid wasp face. Bam, I'm trapped under your hood, arms flailing wildly in the 90 MPH winds, probably dead.

Relationships, right?

The guy'll be just minding his own business, flying around the highway, maybe looking for some sexy windshield to splat on, if that's what he's into, when Miss Ladyface swings along and picks him up. "Cool!" He might think. Cool indeed, dumb bug. But then the trip gets cut short when she hits a bump and you get knocked out of your cozy hood-noose-thing and go plummeting to your sad, sad demise/get decapitated.

Well, that's what happened to the bug anyways.

So there you have it. Cars and insects = relationships.

I Do What I Want Every Day!

When I see a girl with a shirt that says "No boyfriend, no problem" I think one of two things; one, that is girl is awesome and understand that not having a significant other is like waking up every morning and saying "well, looks like I'm doing what I want today, again!" or two, that she wants the world to know she's single and desperately wants a boyfriend.

True story.