[Flash 10 is required to watch video]
(via New ‘The Amazing Spider-Man’ Trailer - The Lizard is Revealed)
@GreyDuck: Dammit. I want to dislike the new Spider-Man on principle, but… that DOES look like it might be kind of good.
@cleolinda: It’s funny when you don’t read the comics—“Oh, Peter’s NOT supposed to be a meebly dork? He’s SUPPOSED to be snarky? Oh.”
@cleolinda: Like, I’m pretty sure New Spidey would beat up Spider-Man 3 Spidey and take his emo lunch money.
I’m so glad it actually looks good so that it’s really just a BONUS that Andrew Garfield’s eyebrows are a thing of beauty.
Introducing our new game called:
“Don’t Be A Di*k During Meals With Friends.”
The first person to crack and look at their phone picks up the check.
Our (initial) purpose of the game was to get everyone off the phones free from twitter/fb/texting and to encourage conversations.
Rules:
1) The game starts after everyone has ordered.
2) Everybody places their phone on the table face down.
3) The first person to flip over their phone loses the game.
4) Loser of the game pays for the bill.
5) If the bill comes before anyone has flipped over their phone everybody is declared a winner and pays for their own meal.
Variations/house rules:
-Starting the game after everyone is seated.
-In the rare event that multiple people flip their phones simultaneously, the bill is split between said players.
- Feel free to invoke penalties/strikes systems.
Notes:
- No touching or messing with anybody else’s phones.
- You don’t have to stack the phones. This was done for picture taking purposes.
- I realize I should perhaps think of a different name for this awesome game. Because I don’t mean to imply that everyone who checks their phone during meals is a di*k.
- I recommend not being such a stickler or hardass on people about the rules and even initiation of the game. Basic premise is to just get people open to the idea of staying active and attentive to one another. But if someone has to take a call; they have to take a call =).
- Have fun! It’s really more of a fun concept in this new age high tech life of ours. Conversation is the spice of life.
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I’m about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it’s gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There’s a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.
I may even throw some multi-colored leaves into the mix, all haphazard like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I’m going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking gourd necklace for myself. People are going to be like, “Aren’t those gourds straining your neck?” And I’m just going to thread another gourd onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply, “It’s fall, fuckfaces. You’re either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you’re not.”
Carving orange pumpkins sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing an all-gourd reenactment of an episode of Diff’rent Strokes—specifically the one when Arnold and Dudley experience a disturbing brush with sexual molestation. Well, this shit just got real, didn’t it? Felonies and gourds have one very important commonality: they’re both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that’s upsetting, but I’m not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.
The next thing I’m going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it’s fall, fuckers.
Have you ever been in an Italian deli with salamis hanging from their ceiling? Well then you’re going to fucking love my house. Just look where you’re walking or you’ll get KO’d by the gauntlet of misshapen, zucchini-descendant bastards swinging from above. And when you do, you’re going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.
For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel shirt, some tattered overalls, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.
Welcome to autumn, fuckheads!
“
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Today I: Saw my first rat in New York City, spent two hours bouncing back and forth on Flushing trains under construction, ate a New York bagel, emerged blinking into the light to see the Statue of Liberty, took the requisite perspective shot of pinching the Statue between finger and thumb, talked to a woodcarver that restores 1800s ship figureheads, ate froyo in the shadow of Brooklyn Bridge, took Duke Ellington’s advice and took the A train, saw a great play, failed to talk to the cute Newsie after the play, straggled home and got bought Cantonese food at 12:30 pm and ate it sitting on the floor of our hotel. Tomorrow: Satchmo’s house, Central Park, and the Museum of Natural History.
