Today I present a website that I worked on with a group for 6 weeks. To Google.
While I don’t have a medical degree, I’m positive I’ve developed carpel tunnel, an anxiety problem, and an ulcer.
Thanks Dan Sinker.
Oh, check out the bane of my existence here.
WHAT?! I’M SORRY I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE INCESSANT BANGING OF THE BULLDOZER THREE FEET FROM ME. NO, IT’S NOT GOING TO STOP ANY TIME SOON. WHAT?! YEAH, THE WEATHER IS NICE.
It's like a lullaby really.
Boy howdy if that’s not just the worst.
Because you look like an idiot too. Running after it, arms flailing. Or if you’re carrying something heavy like a briefcase and you have to not use your arms. Then you do this weird arm-punch flail thing that makes you look like this is your first time running. It’s unsightly. And infuriating.
That's enough to ruin a day.
Shit, can’t little boys cause mischief without the national media breaking up the party?
Jiffy Pop anyone?
His dad was probably yelling at him to go play outside. That’ll show him. And CNN, FOX, NBC, ABC, CBS, and CSPAN too. Nobody ever lost a kid playing violent video games. Just sayin’…
Update: Ohhh, so now the truth comes out. Listen to the little tyke around the :40 second mark.
Hm, what “show,” Terrible Mommy and Daddy?
Pimping out your kid’s safety to regain your Wife Swap fame…
The lone ranger.
That’s just the pits, ain’t it? All you wanted was a delicious and certainly not nutritious bag of Sour Cream & Cheddar Ruffles and this happens. How is it even possible that it’s still hanging there? Apparently physics don’t matter in the land of vending goods.
You’d think this would be easily solved by a slight nudge to the glass, just a little love tap to jostle it loose. Well that “love tap” soon turns into a linebacker stance that would make The Fridge jealous.
This fridge. Not the one you shove perishable food items in. Although...
Now you’ve drawn attention to yourself and everyone thinks you have a chemical imbalance because no one needs Ruffles that bad. You refocus yourself and decide to give it one last Fonzie hip check to no avail. Sorry, amigo. Those puppies are staying put.
It’s for the best though. Sour Cream and Cheddar breath is truly vile.
"Ayyyy, you're breath stinks."
Spending a dollar to embarrass yourself in front of coworkers and classmates?
Paper cuts are a unique injury. And by “unique” I mean inconceivably painful and embarrassing. Because they’re tiny. Miniscule. Unnoticeable to the untrained eye. But dammit if they don’t hurt like a son of a gun.
You should try for worksman comp.
And of course everyone was standing around when you yelped getting it. There was even one of those phenomenons where every conversation hit a lull at the same time making the room dead silent, only for the silence to be shattered by your schoolgirl cries. So when everyone comes rushing over to help you from the near death situation you just alerted them to, you have to bashfully explain that no, while the volume and tone of your shriek said “mortal wound,” in reality it’s a half inch long flesh scratch. Move along, nothing to see here.
The exact opposite of a paper cut.
There is a silver lining in this craptacualar situation though. Paper cuts don’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter if your skin is crusty and craggy or soft as a baby’s bottom, there’s a paper’s edge out there with your name on it. And it will find you.
Stop the animal cruelty.