run-on sentence of the day: jon gosselin

31 08 2009


Jon Gosselin, the un-sexiest man of the moment, was up to his same beat douchebaggery this weekend when he “hosted” a pool party in conjunction with Wet Republic at the MGM Grand, Vegas,  in his desperate and sad attempt to procure a spot on the  Z-list (above Joe Francis but lower than any Lohan, including his bestie Michael) and perhaps get his picture taken next to girls in bikinis who have no idea who he is other than that creepy guy with the hair plugs that has a small child army and wants to be Ed Hardy when he grows up.


run-on sentence of the day: easter candy

30 03 2009


Although not a huge fan of candy myself, I do notice many people getting all amped up and ready to nom down on assorted chocolate confections, eggs stuffed with anything from peanutbutter to some kind of sick liquid sugar that resembles egg innards, and colorful, marshmallow wildlife (in the beginning, there were peeps, as in chicks, but then all of a sudden the Powers That Be declared, “one kind of squishy, marshmallow animal cannot possibly be enough in this great democracy of ours, so let there be bunnys!”) during this ever so holy time of year.

run-on sentence of the day: shopping carts

19 02 2009


So I have this obsession with returning shopping carts, or “buggies” if you’re from Pittsburgh, to their allotted space because I feel like it’s a random act of kindness not only to the poor guys who have to lug them all back to the store–they don’t want to have to play shopping cart scavenger hunt all over the parking lot–but to the people who don’t appreciate a rogue cart plowing into their car while they are shopping, and also because I have this fantasy that some bleeding-heart millionaire will actually see me doing my good deed and give me a great sum of money, simply for being a good citizen.

run-on sentence of the day: friday the 13th

13 02 2009


If you were thinking of calling in sick from work  today because it’s Friday the 13th, you’re not alone: Paraskevidekatriaphobics — people afflicted with a morbid, irrational fear of Friday the 13th —could number up to 21 million in America alone, and to be one of those afflicted with this disorder may actually be quite understandable, as “the risk of hospital admission as a result of a transport accident may be increased by as much as 52 percent” on Friday the 13th, as opposed to a “normal” Friday, so you might just want to stay home, under the covers, and out of harm’s way.


run-on sentence of the day: administrative frustrations

6 02 2009

Sometimes when I’m watching The Office and Michael has done something particularly idiotic or Dwight has  tried to make himself appear  laughably superior,  I see the emotions that pass over Jim’s face–that look of long-suffering endurance and finally grim resignation–and I think to myself, “Yeah, man, I can relate.”