Google Ads rocks my socks

Thanks to my last post, which can be found by clicking ICI, this is the new target advertising from Google that I found upon signing into Gmail just now:

I love Google.

How Fifth Third Bank made me realize that I am America's Personal Jesus

Dear America (and your son, the Fifth Third Bank),


I have been within your borders for just over a week now, and I'll be gone in just a few days. Our time together has been short, but it has definitely been sweet. However, I am deeply alarmed about the current economic crisis, and I can't really see this supposed upswing that people are talking about. And I know why. You can blame it on the Fifth Third Bank. 

WTF America. WTF.

Maybe if your financial institutions could do math you wouldn't be in such dire straits. I wrote this equation for you to help you out:

This is a really special equation because its solution also equals me dancing maniacally while screaming "Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goldies, Be bop a lua baby what I say!!!!" But that is neither here nor there... we need to get down to business. The business of saving your butt. I am going to teach Fifth Third Bank how to do math.

Firstly, Fifth Third, your logo does not symbolize "fifth third". Numerically, 5/3 means five thirds... which is really kind of dumb, because that is the equivalent of 1 and 2/3, or 1.6 repeating. No one would ever really say five thirds. So, I have conveniently renamed your establishment the "One Point Six Repeating Bank." You're welcome. Also, if you insist on keeping your stupid nonsensical name, you need to redesign your logo to actually represent Fifth Third, which would be some variation of "5th 3rd". Again, you are so welcome. I am saving your ass. I am like the Jesus of your ass. I need to stop talking now. 

But seriously, I could be your Jesus, and here is why: 

Holy crap. We all know that Urban Dictionary is the 2nd most reliable source on the whole wide internet, after Wikipedia. And speaking of Wikipedia, it is from Wikipedia that I have learned that the Fifth Third Bank was named thusly because it was created as the result of a merger between the Third National Bank and the Fifth National Bank. Since this came about during the time of prohibitionist ideals, naming the bank "Third Fifth" was considered inappropriate because it could be misconstrued as a reference to three fifths of alcohol. Um... what!? 

I have another equation for you:

Just sayin'.

Actually, if you really think about it, 5/3 is more moonshine than 3/5. I have a new drinking game to play when I visit America! My friends and I will each drive around with a large bottle of moonshine in the passenger's seat of our respective cars. We will set out at random, not knowing where the other is headed and will drive for 10 miles. For each Fifth Third that we pass we are obliged to do 1 and 2/3 shots of moonshine. Whoever is the drunkest upon our return wins! The usual rules of driving also apply (you know, like 5 points for striking down middle-aged folks, 2 for morbidly obese people (easier targets) and 20 points for taking out cyclists, etc.), so tally up those points too. The drunker you get, the better you are at the normal rules of the road. Fun for the whole family!

I need to wrap this up because I am ruining my own cause by talking too much about nothing, but you can clearly see that I am not responsible for this drunk driving. Fifth Third and Wikipedia basically forced me to play this game at gunpoint. 

So, to sum up, dear America, Fifth Third Bank is responsible for the current economic crisis and drunk driving. That is one evil institution. If you want to get back on track you must close out your accounts with Fifth Third and re-open them in banks that can actually do math and take DUIs seriously. Really, banks have one purpose, and that purpose is to manage your money effectively. HOW CAN A BANK HOPE TO DO THIS IF THEY CANNOT DO SIMPLE MATH??? Seriously. I put no faith in this bank and neither should you. Would you trust a serial killer? Cuz this bank is basically a murderer. 

I realize that Fifth Third may sue me now, but I'm not really worried because they are liable to put a decimal point in the wrong place and add a ridiculous amount of zeroes. They would be like, "MORE NUMBERS = MORE MONEY!!! LET'S ADD ZEROES!!!!!! WeEEEEeeeEEeEeeeEE!!!!!!!", and the result would be a law suit for .00000000000000016 million instead of 1.6 repeating million. Dumbasses. Also, they are probably really confused by the telephone, as calling a lawyer would involve typing in a combination of numbers, and Fifth Third bank, as we know, is no good with numbers. I can practically hear their distress. 

Peace, 

S

P.S. I just Googled "stupid bank names" and guess what the first hit is? An article from back in July of 2008 about supposed federal regulations to forbid stupid bank names and the last paragraph mentions that this would have affected Fifth Third! This article was written by Quinn Quimbley, but it's just as well that clearly no-one read it or listened to it, because Fifth Third is still in existence, and Quinn Quimbley is not a Greenberg, and therefore could not possibly be your Jesus, America. Thank God I'm here for you. 

5/3

Vicious Rumours

Dear World,


The internet is a powerful weapon that has been turned against me. While the internet has brought us wonderful things like "Charlie Bit my Finger" and that ridiculously cutesy kitten getting tickled, it has also provided an enhanced avenue for gossip. Essentially, it's made gossip into scuttlebutt on crack... however, it has also given me a reason to use the word scuttlebutt in context. Then again, it has also caused me to feel somewhat alarmed that not only do I know the word 'scuttlebutt', I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS. Wow. 


Anyway, point being, a rumour has been spread about me on the internet. Here is the picture that has sparked the controversy: 

Sexy Bitch

I happen to enjoy this picture because most pictures of me actually come out looking like this:

Kimono Shopping in Japan

Now, there is really nothing particularly wrong with this photo, I just look like a total dork. And I am a total dork in real life, so hey, this is a more realistic representation of myself. I'm sure y'all can understand that when a nice photo comes along I have to take it and run. My eyes are only slightly squinty in the first photo, and my huge gigantic Julia Roberts smile is somewhat tamed by the fact that I took the picture of myself (total loser, I know) and didn't have anything real to smile about at the time (I was taking a break from my job as resident lizard catcher (that part is no lie)). 

Anyway, what I need to make clear is that I HAVE NOT HAD BREAST ENHANCEMENT SURGERY!

The truth about my boobs is that they are tricky. I have already briefly mentioned my war with Victoria's Secret. They have made it their mission to try to stuff my breasts into A cups for some reason, no matter how many times I have told them they don't know how to use a measuring tape. I have had two jobs where I had to fit bras, and I can guarantee you, it's not that hard. The last time one of their girls tried to tell me I was a 34 A I made her bring me a bra in that size so that I could demonstrate to her how wrong she was. I put on the bra, she took one look at the overflow of flesh (I seriously looked like I had 6 boobs. 2 in the cups, 2 on the inside, and 2 just beside my armpits. That is either a serious nightmare, or every man's dream. EXCESS BOOBS!), shrugged, and told me that's what I measure so she can't help me. Amazing customer service. 

Look at these images and tell me which one makes you think of breasts:

Picnic

Conveniently Boob-shaped Mountains

Well, you may be interested to know that Victoria's Secret has been fooled by the power of the picnic. That's right people. I have what those in the know call "Picnic Breasts." Here is how the lovely salesgirl at Tryst Lingerie described my lady bits, "Most breasts are like mountain tops. You get up there, admire the view and then ski on down. With a picnic breast you get up there and realize how inviting it is, so you spread out the blanket, pull out some food and stay awhile." That's right people. Lunch is served daily inside my bra, so eat up. That sounded way more suggestive than I intended. It's really not sexy to put food inside your bra, nor are you invited to attend any luncheons therein should I choose to host them. 

The end. 


Peace,
S

P.S. I bet you will think about my boobs when eating lunch tomorrow. 

P.P.S. Jesus probably still loves me, despite it all. 

Sexy Food Poisoning

Greetings World,

This post is coming to you from my bed. Day 4 of lying flat on my back, day 2 of vacation. Sure feels good to be done for the semester. Or, it would feel good if I didn't feel like DEATH! I'm exaggerating. Today I feel much better, considering that yesterday I pretty much was delirious with fever all day. I made the mistake this morning of looking in the mirror. It wasn't pretty. Red, white and black are the colours of my face. You choose where to place them. 

No. Having a cold is not sexy. Not like the time I had food poisoning and lost about half my body mass. That was awesome. I fit into my skinny jeans for weeks after that. Who cares if I almost died of dehydration? I looked hot. 

This image doesn't really apply... but it made me laugh when I saw it. I googled "sexy food poisoning" for fun, and this was one of the hits. 

The best part of being sick this time was that I had to write an essay and an exam for a prof that I'm pretty sure hates me. I already have an inferiority complex, and this man actually called me into his office to say, "I don't know if you're used to being top of the class, but I've been going over your grades since the beginning of the semester... and you're not." He also said a lot more than that and I of course immediately went home and cried. I resolved to work harder (even though I wasn't really sure how that was possible), but no matter how hard you try, it is pretty hard to be coherent when you have a fever. I'm kind of afraid. Although, it can't be worse than my grade 11 bio exam where we had to label the parts of the heart. This is how I labeled it:

Can you see the specialness that my brain produced? I wonder where my 17 year old mind was at... If you haven't spotted the gross error yet, here was the page as it looked when I received my test back:

Um... yeah. My poor teacher. Actually, he probably had a really good laugh. Thank God if there ever comes a day I can use the title "Dr." it won't be standing for M.D.. 

And speaking of doctors... I'm going on the first trip of my vacation. To the doctor's. I doubt she can cure my brain, but maybe she can do something for this  ailing body of mine.

Peace,

S

27 Years of ME

Dear Population,


Today I turned this many: 

For those of you who were not fortunate enough to be a part of these amazing 27 years, I thought I would fill you in. Here are 27 things that have happened to me in chronological order. Some awesome. Some not. Be prepared. 


0. My life began at a wedding. My parents are hippies that share too much information. I'll never recover. This is also why I refuse to be a hippie. 
1. Sometime between the ages of zero and one I learned how to talk. That's right. I am an genius. It was all the Mozart. 
2. I was joined by a small person that smelled like cabbage and stole my mommy. He also did his business on my favourite toy. Why is it that I love this person so?
3. I learned to read. That's right. Montessori bitches!
4. I went to kindergarten at a scary public school where some girl tried to convince me that 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' was a good idea. I wasn't convinced. 

See? Evil... Plotting.

5. Ah grade 1. This was (I believe) the year that I secretly made my own invitations to my birthday party and distributed them at school. My mom was pretty shocked when a bunch of kids showed up at our door with presents on a school night in November. This is when my parents discovered that they had created a monster. Thank you Montessori.
6. I had a crush on this kid in school who got 2% on milk day instead of chocolate milk. I tortured myself by getting 2% even though I really didn't like milk just because I wanted him to like me. Don't ask me what would have happened if he had returned the affection. We were 6. The reason I don't like milk? I had a dream that it was poisonous. I couldn't touch the stuff for a long time without being convinced I was going to die. Oh yeah. My second brother was born this year too. I guess that is more important than the milk anecdote. 

Milky FOOL

Chocolate COOL

7. My parents pulled me out of the public system and sent me to some strange school in the suburbs where the crayons were rectangular! I cried about those crayons. Seriously. It was tragic. How can there be any detail when your crayons are so FAT! (I actually did cry about this. No lie.)
8. Depressed about my first year with the fat crayons my parents tried to reunite me with some old public school friends. The attempt failed. I was too different. I ate stone soup and played with gnomes. They just didn't get me anymore. No more Lite Brite. No more Skip-it. No more Hot Loops. 
9. I was bullied. It was sad. BUT I met Rhoda this year! Yay! 
10. I learned to rollerblade this year and felt like I owned my neighbourhood, even though in reality I was a total dork with a helmet, knee and elbow pads. Also, this was the year I walked in on grownups having sex. It sincerely traumatized me. I had no idea what was going on, but I was genuinely scared. I can't imagine what I thought! I had a brief break from being bullied until... 
11. I was bullied again.
12. No more bullies. Had my first boyfriend. We were too shy to even hold hands. We were also basically too shy to talk to each other. Don't ask how he was my boyfriend, since he wasn't even my friend! Haha. This was also the year I met the woman that would become my wife. 
13. Asshole was the coolest thing in school. 
14. This year was ouchie. We don't need to recap it here. I did get another brother though. He's kind of cool I guess. A bit too cool for me now actually... damn teenager. 
15. I probably faked sick about 50% of this year. Stupid high school. How I hated it. But I did get to go to Europe for the first time. Also everyone in my town thought I was a teenaged mom. That was fun. Did I mention I hated this year? Oh yeah. I did. 

16. I returned to Europe and kissed 2 Swiss men! I also received the best love letter ever: Dear Shannon, I returned early. Broke my leg. Call me if you want to see me. (He broke his leg because we were up all night making out and he really shouldn't have gone snow boarding with no sleep. So really... I broke his leg. Haha. I'm really a very powerful woman). Ah yes, also had a totally cliché kiss in the rain.
17. Fell in love for the first time. It was glorious. Went to Brazil... good times.
18. Callllifornia! More good times.
19. Ah... it was the best of times it was the worst of times. Got my heart broken for the first time ever as a surprise. Recovered a little too quickly. Went to Peru!
20. I'm a big girl! Got engaged in Switzerland. Planned a wedding. Oops. 

21. Got married. Oops.
22. Did married stuff. Oops.
23. Went back to school!
24. Yay school. Went to Israel. Oh yeah. And got separated. 
25. More school! Oh yeah, and got separated AGAIN! I am special. 

Fiiiiiiiiine. If you insist. 

26. Stayed separated this time. Met someone wonderful. He's smarter than me because he's asleep right now. Graduated with my BA and launched right back in to an MA... I'm so friggen tired. Went to Japan, although that seems like a blur now even though it was just over a month ago.
27. I will do something epic. TBD. 


I invite you all to make suggestions for the epic thing I will do this year.


Peace,
S