14 posts tagged “wtf”
High schoolers in Montreal were horrified to find a question featuring a school shooting on a provincial physics exam. The Grade 11 test question asked them to calculate the speed of the bullets hitting the victim in the head. I realize this might be hard to fathom, so here is an actual picture of the test problem:
In case you missed it, Montreal was the scene of a horrific shooting at Dawson College in September 2006--my nephew was among the students who had to flee the sound of gunfire ripping through the halls. Apparently some schools caught the problem before the test was handed out to students and removed the offending question. Other kids weren't so lucky--but immediately complained.
What the hell are these people thinking? I mean... just look at the damn thing. As one indignant kid remarked to a news crew, it's "kind of in poor taste." Did they think the smiley faces made everything ok?
Note to the ultra-maroons who came up with this: PEDAGOGY: UR DOIN IT RONG.
In the past week:
-My dog died
-I found out my cousin and her husband are splitting up. Nobody really knows why. They have two little girls and got married just a few months before I did, 8 years ago.
-I just found out that this other friend of mine in the US is no longer with his wife of 20+ years. I have no idea what happened there, either--if it was mutual, if he left her or she left him, whatever. I've known him for 15 years but we're not intimate enough that I feel comfortable just asking him about it, unless he brings it up. At least they don't have any kids.
-Work has been hell. I've been making a lot of stupid little distracted errors--nothing major, but they add up and I feel flakey, spacey and humiliated.
-Mr BA still hasn't found work. His severance has run out and he has had to dip into his retirement savings. He has lots of leads and pots on the stove, but no firm offers yet.
Retrograde Mercury, you are kicking my ass. Please resume forward progress soon, plskthxbai.
But for the rest of you sulphurous bastards, there's this.
Really, Voiceover Guy? Nothing worse than, dog forbid, people smelling traces of the breakfast burrito you ate earlier? Cyclones and earthquakes kill tens of thousands, girls get locked away in basement caves for 20 years and are forced to bear their rapist father's incestuous spawn, dirty old perverts get to amass a collection of obedient, underage brides in the name of religious freedom, children die of easily preventable diseases every minute. But no, there is NOTHING WORSE than the smell of other people's poop.
Cans somebody please explain wtf a "lunchbucket" voter is?
This showed up in my yahoo inbox today:
"Have you ever felt the kiss of a womb? With your new giant rod, you'll feel it!!!!"
"The kiss of a womb"?
WTF? Is this something a lot of men fantasize about?
"Oohhh, aaah, mm-- holy crap! What's that? Something just kissed my dick!"
"Um, that's my cervix, you knucklehead."
In today's WTF annals (first seen on Little Cat's blog):
So, while I was out doing errands this afternoon, I saw a new lingerie boutique that recently opened. I popped in to check it out, and the "fitting professional" offered to measure and fit me properly, because most women walk around wearing completely the wrong bra size.
All these years I've been wearing 32B, and I was pretty confident that was my right size. But after my fitting session, the truth came out. Turns out I'm a 30DD to 30E.
30E? WTF? How is that size even possible? I explained to the bra-fessional that she must have it wrong: C-cup bras are way too big, so how could I be a DD or, god forbid, an E? My friend is a D-cup and her boobs are three times bigger than mine, so how could I possibly wear a bigger cup size than she does?
Apparently, the secret is in the band size. The good bra makers tailor the cup proportionately to the band size. Because I have such a small ribcage, I"m actually a 30, not a 32. Of course, most of the American bra makers don't go lower than 32. A C-cup in a 32 would be too big; but in with the right band size, DD or E (depending on the model) is perfect. I compared a 30E it to my 32Bs; there actually isn't a huge difference in the size and coverage of the cup; it's more in the shape and placement of the underwire.
I wound up buying a very attractive black number that does, admittedly, fit like a dream. even if I'm still in shock at the size on the tag.
The downside is that if I want a bra that fits me properly, I have to shell out $60 or more for one of the European makes that come in all the weird sizes. No more cheap, "2 for $20" bras for me.
My sisters, get thee to a good bra fitter. It's totally worth it.
Good morning, peeps!
It's Saturday.
It's 6:20 a.m.
It's pouring rain.
I'm off to a horse show.
See you later.
Now go back to bed, lucky sane bastards.
According to witnesses, the horse was "very well behaved"--apart from leaving a rather large, er, deposit.
"Wolfgang H." should be thrown into rehab and his adorable blond pferdlein should become the bank's new mascot and retire to a nice pasture somewhere.
*insert degenerate infidel joke here*
