Happy Thanksgiving to our Reader[s]

The Gaggers would like to wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving....


...


Have a Wonderful Thanksgiving...


-GAG

Unfinished Essays

Dear Give a Gripe,
I can't think of a concluding paragraph for this American Lit essay. Any ideas?"
~The unfinished essayist

Dear Unfinished Essayist,

We don't know what subject your American Lit essay is on, but we thought this would work. In any case it should bring a few laughs. Hope it helps!
"Sadly after the pumpkin blew up, they had no home. But they did win the lottery (of course that brought on other problems, but we're not going into those), and they lived happily ever after. The end."

~G.A.G.

Confusion, 1986.

Slightly over a month now into our proverbial slump (or "rump," as some have it), I receive in my usual spot (a locked filing cabinet under a park bench at midnight), a nondescript manila envelope marked only with a large, sloppily-written question mark. Inside said envelope was a slip of paper containing the following message in an encrypted form of iambic pentameter. After decoding the cypher, it read something like this:

I think. Is this the contest. I hope it's not. what am I supposed to say now....??

That's right.

Dear Confused,
I get really confused. It seems that I just mix things up all the time. Once, so confused was I, that I actually thought it was 'Jelly and peanut butter' rather than 'peanut butter and jelly'.


I once ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich, you know. It was good. I like it with raisins.

What was I saying?

Well.....I get really confused....It's hard to describe how confused I get. I don't think you even have an idea, dear Abby.

Gear DAG,
I can very slyly antiseptic with you on this portobello. It is not unportly for our readers to often fall through rifts in the time-space continuum, but I can assume you that I will help you in any way I can return you to your home time of June 4th, 2000 and 7. The date now is Novermber 9th, 2007, and while gas has gone down by five cents, I can assure you that hats are still worn on (wherever local law permits) heads. The deadline for the contest I believe you to be referring to ended on June the 16th of the year in question. The reason for your leaving your time and coming to ours, as far as I can discern, must have stemmed from your I must warn you, however, that if you are reading this currently, that there are very many dangers in our pedestrianization. However, if you follow these few Pisces of advice of survival in today's world, you should find your way to normality very shortish.



1. Do not look the Dunder Mifflin Man directly in the eye.

2. When searching for portals into alternate dimensions, forget it; they hate being founded.

3. Tripping, while allowed, is considered unsportsmanlike, and should be treated with caution.

4. Old MacDonald had a farm. That farm, however, has been laid to waste in the recent uprisings of communist regimes. The duck no longer goes "quack, quack" either here nor there.

5. Putting your left foot in, then taking your left foot out does not give you a "get out of jail free" card.



I give you credence, dear Abby. Be kind to the tollbooth man and he give you free pass to 1996. From there, it's the second left.

Our Deluxe 8:45 PM Edition

Dear Grive a Gripe:
I am writing about a simple matter with a simple question, yet I cannot determine what on earth the answer will be. When will the next time someone from GAG posts?I would sincerly appreciate your thoughts on this matter.
-Anonymous

Dear Anonymous.

Right now.

-GAG

In all seriousness though. We don't have many readers. We don't have many ideas. And believe it or not, we actually do more than just sit in the GAG drawing room. Sometimes we sit on park benches and stare at each other. It's quite interesting, actually.

Due to these reasons, we're thinking of quite possibly putting an end to this blog spot. This spot has not much left to blog about.

Silence is Golden...

Dear Give a Gripe,

"AUHGGG!! Our dog keeps shedding hair everywhere! What do you recommend for a hairless house?"
~Hair Ball

You know, Hair Ball, we debated long and hard on this and honestly, I just don't know where to start anymore. But I'll try. Because it's you, Hair Ball. Because it's you.

The main topic of our debate, dear reader, was unfortunately the best way to go about de-hairing one's house. And, we realized that, in essence, you really can't do much about it without effecting the problem at its source. That, of course, being the dog.

Now, we obviously can't just have you get rid of the dog, of course. But, what is one to do about a shedding dog, I wonder? As it so happens, I was de-linting my suit while pondering this today, and inspiration struck. I was using duct tape.

Not that I necessarily recommend duct-taping your dog... well, at all, but.... it's certainly the most humane way of going about things.

51 Ways NOT

Is it? Can it be? Why yes, it is! Yes, my friends, this is the start of yet another feature from yours truly. Yes, yes, I know. We haven't been posting a whole lot lately. But it was summer! We had a right to be lazy. And so did you! Go outside or something, ya bums. :P

You'll notice --unless you really haven't been paying attention, you'll notice-- that in life, there are many many ways to complete meaningless, useless and oftentimes utterly meaningless tasks. By the process of elimination, I have prepared a list (and will prepare a list, at least once a week) of how not to do these things. Hence the title.

Firstly, I'd like to look back at a rather disturbing experience with my little brother, which inspired me to give you all a list that is very important, and holds the warm, slightly dampened spot in my heart. All of these ways not to treat your computer stem directly, I kid you not, from actual conversations and/or events. Believe it.


51 Ways NOT to Treat Your Computer
1. Mindlessly pressing the power button.
2. Mindlessly kicking the power button.
3. Mindlessly disassembling the power button and converting it into a reagent for your own fiendish needs.
4. Mindlessly pressing the power button with tactical nuclear weapons.
5. Picking up and dropping your computer.
6. Unplugging your computer.
7. Picking up and dropping the computer off a very large cliff.
8. Filling your computer with very large cats.
9. Filling your computer with any kind of cat.
10. Inserting into your computer a very angry rabid animal.
11. Inserting into your computer any sort of rabid animal at all.
12. Inserting into your computer any sort of animal, period.
13. Placing your computer into a pressure chamber.
14. Placing your computer into the path of an oncoming automobile.
15. Washing it. (While it makes your PC cleaner, it pretty much screws up whatever previously worked. Odd, isn't it.)
16. "Feeding" it treats. (Despite what you may see on your browser, it doesn't like cookies.)
17. Giving it a boring name. (Holly's is Mel, for example. While mine is His Royal Penguin Overlord.)
18. Overheating it by playing hacked copies of Halo 2.
19. Using the heat to fry small amounts of food while waiting for your computer to reboot because you were playing a hacked copy of Halo 2.
20. Using it as a counter-balance for your homemade trebuchet.
21. Using it as a counter-balance for your little brother's trapeze act.
22. Using it to listen to and/or play bologna. (Bologna is NOT a DVD.)
23. Bologna is not a DVD.
24. Feeding it to large, ravenous beasts.
25. Feeding large, ravenous beasts to it.
26. Going through all the trouble of giving it a highly intelligent and flexible artificial intelligence, and giving it a stupid name like "HAL."
27. Giving it access to the lock mechanism on the pod bay doors.
28. Giving it eyes.
29. Giving it internet connection, and never using Google.
30. Giving it internet connection for the soul purpose of trading items in the latest expansion of "Dungeon Dork EX."
31. Using it solely to play Solitaire.
32. Storing a six-pack of beverages on top of its cooling fan.
33. Playing only CDs that title ends in "the 90's."
34. Playing any CD that ends in "the 90's"
35. Using the voice function to say "[insert your name here] is kewl." Repeatedly.
36. Using it to practice your hammer toss.
37. Using it to practice anything with the word "toss" in it.
38. Devoting an entire drive to Captain James T. Kirk.
39. Devoting an entire drive to Leonard Nemoy.
40. Using the phrase, "Take me to Warp 10!" whenever you log onto the internet.
41. Opening and closing windows in such a way that it composes a rendition of Bach's 5th in G minor.
42.
43. Asking about #42.
44. Frequenting Mac vs. PC forums, just so you can conveniently advertise your World of Warcraft trading account in the middle of intense debate.
45. Making comments about it hat reference to obscure pop culture icons.
46. Dropping it "like it's hot."
47. Creating a macro that generates ten MySpace accounts per minute, that all instantly add yours as a friend, just to make you look popular.
48. Putting in two CDs at once to "fool your friends."
49. Using your CD tray as a cup holder.
50. Using its hard drive magnets to hold pictures on your grandma's fridge.
51. Using your PC itself to your pictures to your grandma's fridge.

And ANOTHER Very Special Day

Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Google
Happy birthday to yooou

Happy 9th birthday, Google! For your birthday we put together a little Irish blessing for you.

"May your algorithms never be stolen by giant lobsters, and sold to the highest bidders in underground meat shacks."
"May your visitors be google in number but your bugs and viruses be zero"

"May you always find a cute little picture to put on one of the "O"s of google for special holidays and occasions."

"May your knowledge always take precedence over reading an informative book or looking for a dictionary."

"May you always provide a quick avenue for debaters to find credible evidence"

"May gmail be used more than AOL, and gTalk more than AIM"

"May your image search never become bloated, causing my searches for ducks in ponds to be demoted."

"May your news searchs always be up to the minute, so you can capture every time Jessica and Kyle break up."

"May your maps always lead you and your satellite always watch over you"

Amen

~GAG

P.S. Oh..happy belated 16th birthday, Hol.

Summer Dayz - Orders of Business 3-4

If you haven't read Orders of business 1-2 yet, you might wanna Catch Up

Order of business three: See Europe. No summer can go by without seeing Europe. Well, I guess 15 of my summers have gone by without even knowing where Kansas is, but before I became a junior I had to see Europe!

This would be difficult, since we had no plane reservations, and no plans to see Europe…so I came up with a brilliant idea. I have this neighbor who’s filthy rich and has this fancy schmancy telescope that he uses to stargaze. My neighbor’s garage just so happened to be open, so I walked over (or limped rather, after my skydiving incident) and pulled out their telescope. I peered through it, trying to angle it toward Europe. All I saw was the sky though, no matter which way I turned.

“What are you doing with our telescope?” a voice behind me asked.

My heart jumped. I had been caught using my neighbor’s telescope without their permission to see a foreign country. Not wanting to seem guilty of any sins, I casually responded

“Seeing Europe”
As if it were natural for someone with a dirty beach towel draped over their shoulders, dirt in their hair and bruises on their face to steal their neighbor’s telescope and try to see Europe through it.

“Uh…” My neighbor is speechless. He must see now that my intentions were fully justified. To remove any doubt from his mind, I added,
“If I focus it just right I can see Big Ben.”

I could tell he was glaring at me, even though I wasn’t looking at him, so at that point I took off as fast as I could and ran back into my house.

Order of business four: Surfing. I’d never gone surfing before. It seemed like the perfect summer thing to do before I officially became a junior. We live a half an hour away from the beach, however, and there wasn’t enough time in the day to plan a trip out.

I don’t have a surf board either…

Fortunately, there’s a river rather close to my house. Just a short bike ride away…

(Enter mom)

“Holly, where are you going with that furniture dolly strapped to your bike?”

So many questions.

“To the river.”

Geez. Where else would I be going with a furniture dolly?

I arrived at the river. It was moving very rapidly and there were lots of sharp rocks protruding from the surface. This meant only one thing…

“Surf’s up!”

I shoved the furniture dolly into the water and then climb on board. I tried to stand up, but the rapids were going so fast I fell onto my face. The dolly hit some rapids and went spinning down the river as I grabbed on for dear life. I passed a few Japanese tourists in kayaks as I floated downriver on top of the furniture dolly. This would be a good time to practice my foreign language.

“Bon jour!”

It’s really too bad my foreign language isn’t Japanese.

They looked at each other.

“Crazy Americans”

Survival in Starbucks Part 2: You've Got Decaf

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."
- Joe Fox


So essentially, the problem is, what to get? What you buy at Starbucks defines not only what you drink in the morning, but who you are as a person! In absolute fact, your morning coffee goes one step further than that. What you drink in the morning, if you're not careful, defines your very soul.

Consider, for a very long time during my youth (read: four months ago), I was very unified in what I ordered. That meaning, I only ordered one thing; Grande Mocha Frappuchino. Just because I thought, "Heck, well, I'm too tired/lazy to think about what I really want, so I'll get that." And being a high school Sophomore, that was very much my view on life as a whole. Over the Summer, however, my tastes changed to other sorts of drinks. I started experimenting with other Frappuchino flavors, and even experimented with Chai and teas for a while. And at the time, that was exactly who I was, because I had no idea what to do with myself! It's rough, sure, but you can begin to learn a lot about a person by what they order. Such as how they think, how they behave, etc. Not to mention how they like their coffee.

The trick is, "How do I tell?" Well, to be honest, it's rough. Different drinks can mean a lot of different things, so in fact it becomes an acquired practice to learn about people through their coffee. For example, a Chai tea can mean at least two things about a person. Firstly, it could mean that they're one of those people who enjoy and savor their flavors. Second, it could be that they're a hippie and/or environmentalist. And the list continues.*

Of course, you must consider those people who, unlike some elite few, don't actually know what they want. You might be saying to yourself right now, "Who am I?! What sort of drink will I buy?! What does it say about me?!" Fear not, dear friends. This, too, is a step every Starbucks-goer goes through, and is nothing to be ashamed about. I've composed a small list to get you started:

1. Start small. If you don't know what you want, order simple. Just because the guy in front of you had an order longer than your latest parking ticket, doesn't mean you should feel intimidated.

2. Just because they put the word "Café" in front of a drink, doesn't change what it really is.

3. Never add a flavor if it's your first time trying a drink. Ever. Please, just try it before you ruin it. Then work from there.

4. Always have whipped cream whenever possible. Even if you don't like whipped cream, get it anyway. It's a wonderful way to make friends.

5. Chai is cinnamon. It doesn't mean it's soy, and it doesn't mean it's decaf. Only get it if you like cinnamon! Unfortunately, this is something I have to tell a lot of people. It's not for everyone, so use wisely.


After time passes, you will be able to recognize the aromas and flavors of certain drinks. You will be able to tell the Chai from the Macchiato, and Grande from Tall. Then, eventually, you'll do as I did and go back to that same drink over and over again 'till Summer comes 'round.




*Full Starbucks Personality Cheat-Sheet coming soon.

Summer Dayz - Orders of Business 1-2

Sorry it's been over 2 months since our last post. We're just really talented at procrastinating. Without further ado, our feature presentation

Summer. The season of warm weather, no school, beach trips, prank calls, and putting “z” at the end of words that normally should end with “s”

Alas, today is my last day of summer. This seems to occur every year, but this year, it happened much too soon. After a grueling year of doing 5 courses online plus chemistry, plus economics (which I ended up dropping anyway), plus speech and debate, and thus forgoing eating and sleeping to complete it, this last summer was the one I anticipated the most. It was so free, so idle, so boring, so uneventful.

So summer.

But it was also probably the fastest summer I’ve ever had. Now, here I sit, telling you how I made the most of my last day of summer. I did the kinds of things you do when you hear that you’re terminally ill and only have 3 months to live. Except for me, I’m terminally junior-bound and only have a day left to be a care free sophomore. I wouldn’t let the day be wasted! I’d make it the most summerific of all summer days!

First order of business was waking up. Not just any kind of waking up, but waking up late. The best times to wake up on a summer morning is at a time with 2 digits before the colon. Not only that: but someone else must do the waking up for you.
(Enter Mom)
“Holly! You’re not up yet? You usually don’t sleep in this late!”

I roll over and glance at my clock

9:59

Blast!

Second order of business: Extreme sports. I decided I wanted to skydive before I became a junior. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all the equipment necessary (such as a plane or a parachute), so I had to make a couple substitutions…

(Enter Mom)

“HOLLY!!! What are you doing on the roof with our beach towel?!”

“It’s ok mom! I used to do this a hundred times off the stairs when I was a kid!”

This was true. I did used to jump off the stairs using my blanket as a parachute. I didn’t seem to recall the hundred times I fell to the landing with a thud.

“Bonzaaaiiii!!”

THUD

What’s summer without a few broken bones?

Stay tuned for the next orders of business on Summer dayz!

In Which Tyler Rants - Again

Survival in Starbucks.
Part 1 - In the Presence of Thine Frappuchino

Oftentimes in restaurants, you will walk in, wait in line with a dozen other people, make outlandish decisions (such as whether or not you actually want fries with that), and the process ends with the cashier giving you a receipt with an order number on it, eventually your food, and you are off on your merry, artery-clogging way. Starbucks, however, being the brainchild that it is, adds an extra addend into the equation: They enforce the requirement of using an actual name. Now, while this may personalize your order considerably more, there are two equally considerable drawbacks to such a system. Observe:

1. Firstly, in order to even get a decent cup of coffee at Starbucks now, you have to make at least four decisions. If, like me, you like your coffee early on, at a point which your brain hasn't started working yet, this in and of itself can be quite a lot to handle. So finally, after not only deciding on, but actually pronouncing your order, you cannot go sit down and read the newspaper, you cannot go to the bathroom, you cannot answer your cellphone, you must give them a name.

2. Second, it also becomes a rather large security risk. We should know well enough not to leave our identification lying about, nor let anyone else know our PIN number, and we even teach our children not to give out too much information on the internet. Why? Safety. Yet, what do we do with empty Starbucks cups? We throw them away. Now trash-browsing prowlers not only know our faces, but our names and how we like our double-chocolate low-fat decaf soy vanilla mocha-chinos in the morning.

How do you avoid such strain on your cerebral cortex in unholy hours of the morning? Or, more importantly, the vagabonds bent on tracking you down and inserting said cortex in their evening meal? The procedure, actually, is quite simple: Fake it. The most logical (and practical) way to fake your identity at Starbucks (if really you must go there), is to simply give an order number. No number in particular, just a favorite number you have, or simply the first one that pops to mind. This not only sends your barrister through a loop, but gives you a nice sense of security and identity, with a nice chaser of warm caffeine streaming through your veins, in next to no time at all. The true benefit at this point is that, if you actually used that advice, you are now a cold-hearted enough of an individual to give the taker of your order next to anything. Such examples include "Rumplestiltskin" (my particular barista at the time simply put a large R with a line next to it), "Twinkletoes" "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha", "Incoherent Slave of the Outdated Imperialist Dogma", and "6."

The best advice I can give you now is to practice your best at keeping a straight face while you say it. While Starbucks is usually a very casual organization, at early hours in the morning, the people are no-nonsense, and don't take no extra-whip mocha frappuchino from anybody.

Another Very Special Day

Recently we celebrated the 18th birthday of our beloved fellow GAG member, Aranel. 18 is a big age. It's the age you can vote, be held legally responsible for crimes (which I'm afraid isn't good considering she's writing for this site) and the only age where you can say "I'm 18" when someone asks you.

But 18 is not the only major milestone in life. In fact, we here at GAG think 16 is a major one too. It's the age you can legally get your license in this state, the age you can legally work, and the age you can say "I'm 18" when someone asks, therefore getting away with whatever you were hoping to do underaged.

Which is why we feel it be important to say "Happy 16th Birthday, Tyler!" GAG wouldn't be the same without your randomness, your rants, and your spacey beanishness. We're very glad you're on the team and are happy we get to celebrate this momentous occasion with you. Would you like to say a few words?

Actually, yes I would.

There, was that a few? :P

It was a few. Good job, Tyler. We're proud of you. We hope you have a supercalifantabulous birthday, and a great 16th year of existence. :)

Now go have some ice cream ;)

On Second Thought...Let's just have a Contest!

Alright, so our last little endeavour didn't exactly work. We don't know who visitor number 100 was (we have their isp number, and we can take a random guess, but that wouldn't be fair now, would it?) So we've decided to remodel our idea.


Everyone Can Enter the Contest!

Instructions
Write a decent-lengthed humorous article (decent = 1 to 2 pages. 2-4 if double spaced...)It could be a schpiel, and opinion you have about something, a funny anecdote or anything that you think you'd see on this site. E-mail your entry to giveagripe@gmail.com. The GAG team will judge each entry based on amount and style of humor, relevancy to our site, relevancy to topic, how much you sent us on Paypal along with it, and what debate club you're from (kidding, kidding.) In all seriousness, we will be completely unbiased. Your article should be labeled by catagory (Anecdotes, Rants, Schpiels, or "Other" etc) and have your name on it (or the name of whomever you'd like to take credit for your work).

Entry deadline is Wednesday, June 16. Entries will be judged and results will be in whenever we decide to stop procrastinating (sometime next year) but we will aim to post the winning article and name the runners-up by Saturday, June 19.

The winner's post will be posted right here on GAG, and we might even send them an e-card if we think about it...But don't get your hopes up. The runner-up (2nd place) will be briefly mentioned and congratulated in italics at the top of the post and quickly forgotten.

Good luck to all and may the funniest writer win!

Congratulations Visitor #100

I took a break from the studying of my chemistry final to see if anything had changed on GAG...

Nope...

I did, however, notice that I was visitor number 999. That's pretty significant if you think about it. That means if you're the first person to read this, you are not only the first person to read this, but you are lucky visitor number 100.

Some of you may see a gap in my logic. Those of you who are severely mathematically challenged most likely did not. Perhaps I should explain:
I'm thinking it's safe to assume that the writers of GAG themselves make up 900 of those views, since our site does not have a huge fan base. 1000-900 according to our skilled mathematicians, is still 100, meaning that you, dear reader, are visitor number 100. However, we're only taking our professional's word for it. If they lied to us, for all we know you could be visitor number 83 1/2.

So if you scroll down and our hit counter says "1000 Visitors" then we here at GAG will let YOU write the next article for our site. That's right. You get to be in the spotlight of a site with 1000 visitors. 900 of them being the same 3 people, about 50 of them from various countries in Europe, and maybe 6 from our debate clubs. The remaining 40 (a number deduced by our resident math experts) we assume are extraterrestrials

We here at GAG wish we could afford to get you something special for being our 100th visitor, but due to our lack of finances and our extreme laziness, we won't. Sorry. Just know we thought about it.

So if you won our prize, please inform us via comment box or e-mail and then e-mail your schpiel, anecdote, or funny scrawling to giveagripe@gmail.com and we'll post it with your name on it!

Christmas is coming early for visitor #100

EDIT:: Gaah, it counted me as visitor #1000. So whoever was visitor # 1001 gets the grand prize!

Sibling Submission.

Dear GAG,
Okay, this is a question for anyone working at GAG that has a younger sibling: What is the best way to control your younger brother/sister into respectful submission?

~The unsuccessful Sibling

Dear unsuccessful, (I note the irregular capitalization there, very nice), as you may have noticed, we here at GAG have been in a sort of sibling tizzy as of late. And as such I believe it is a perfect time to end it by answering your question. And I shall do so very simply.

Firstly, bribery never works. Save your money for kids your not related to.

Secondly, memorize the location, weight and throwing range of every brick, pole, baseball bat, hockey stick, and cylindrical object in the house.

Third. Don't, under any circumstance, let your parents know you've read this.


-Space

Dear unsuccessful,

In addition to the above advice: I think it's inherently impossible to control a younger sibling into respectful submission. They have to choose to do it...or at least pretend to when said parents are around.
However, I do believe it's a part of their make up to be as annoying as humanly possible and to drive you crazy(er) in the fastest way possible.
In view of that: First: Try ignoring them.
Second: Take some sort of self-defense class and learn how to use any said previously memorized location of possible weapons in said house.
Third: Secretly order a zapper, tranquilizer, long rope or super soaker (if above methods don't work).
Fourth: Use said weapon on said sibling or hire someone discreet to use said weapon on said sibling (so if your parents do find out, you can say you didn't exactly do it.)
Fifth: Try pleading insanity if your parents do find out.
Sixth: I second and repeat: Don't, under any circumstance, let your parents know you've read this.

~ Aranel

The fine print: GAG is not legally or otherwise responsible for any actions you may or may not choose to take in light of given advice. Also GAG's advice is not guaranteed to work. GAG's advice may contain peanuts.

In Which I (Tyler) Rant:

Little Brothers Are Gifts From God. You have no idea how many times I hear people tell me that, and I must say that I agree. Little brothers are an extremely thoughtful gift from the Lord. They are proof that God loves us, and wants us to stay humble, alert, paranoid and irritable.

Let me explain.

Yesterday, my younger brother somehow sprains his ankle while playing in the back yard. I cannot for sure say whether or not this is actually true, firstly because I wasn't there, secondly because I have no medical aptitude to tell such things. Validity, notwithstanding, we patch him up, put an ace bandage on it and everything, and everything's fine. Or so it would seem... Not two hours later (an hour after bedtime, mind you, due to extremely fortuitous feats of timing), said little brothers comes into the living room with a roll of gauze, describing vividly to us the discomfort it's causing him that his "feet don't match," and that we should wrap the other one. My parents rebutted this plea (and I must be careful here, because they read this occasionally) with a simple, "I'm sorry, deary, but I'm afraid afterwards you won't be able to walk." Which was replied to with, "Oh yeeeeeaaah..."

And if you mind, allow me to digress for a moment (incidentally, if you're reading this and do mind if I digress, you're reading the entirely wrong blog), the combinations of the words "Oh," and "yeah," coming from an eight year old mouth is, to parents, the deadliest utterance known to man. If executed properly, it instantly erases all memory of innocent mistake or wrongdoing, replaced solely by the sensation of utter cuteness in the child. And furthermore, the primal urge to give said child anything his little heart desires. Such as: A drink (Which takes forty-two minutes to substantially "sip"), a story (Which takes anywhere from fifteen to fifty-four minutes depending on how many times the parent falls for "read it again, mommy!"), a hug (which turns into a cuddle, which turns into watching television/listening to the radio/reading a book depending on the parent's activity, a good forty minutes in and of itself) or, as my brother so eloquently introduced, medical attention (a swift thirty-six minutes).

The purpose of that digression in fact leads to the summary of the current digression: Little kids (particularly brothers and particularly mine) get away with anything in the name of attention. Particularly getting out of bedtime, so said sibling may watch TV, etc., and therefore stay up substantially later than a little body should, and therefore wake up substantially later as well, causing everyone else to be late, miserable, grumpy, and completely prepared for it happening again that night.

May I also add that younger brothers are masters of the art of fooling everyone but the people they don't have to listen to.

So next time someone tells you that a little brother is a gift from God, laugh in their face and run into the setting sun, because you have to babysit.


On a side note, just listened to "Clint Eastwood" by The Gorillaz again. Turns out it's not actually about Clint Eastwood. Go figure.


-Space

A Very Special Day

Hi Sarah! ( or Aranel ;) )
Happy 18th birthday! Your two GAG colleagues decided that they wanted to do something uber-special for your 18th birthday, so they went behind your back and engaged in top secret covert operations to produce a three-page birthday card with contributions from lots of your friends! It doesn’t have any money in it, but we think the comments are nice enough that you’d probably rather have them than moula, aye? Then we decided to post a sample of the card here on GAG so that even MORE people could add to it! We’ll be e-mailing you a copy of the card too (with pictures!) and if more comments come you can add them and then print the card out on pretty paper and frame it or make it into a book (or perform experiments with it =D).

We love you and wish you the best on your 18th birthday!!!!

Without further ado, here’s your card!

-GAG


HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH!!

18 Years


Sarah, you’re so sweet, funny and an awesome person. I’m so glad we became friends!!
You add a lot of color (literally and figuratively!) to wherever we happen to be (and whatever mischief we are in to =D), and your personality is ‘electrifying’ ;-). May the Lord bless you and reveal Himself to you more this new year of your life.
Happy 18th, Sarah! Love ya!

-Holly Trujillo


Sarah's a well-developed, thoughtful, caring person. I wish her a great 18th!
-Travis


Happy 18th, Sarah. Your gentle spirit and loving demeanor are appreciated by all of us; ay God bless you as you enter legal adulthood. -Cody Herche


Sarahhh Hiura!
Rumors are going around that you're turning 18. That means you can vote, and be held fully resonsible for any crimes you commit. I just want to let you know that whatever anyone else says, I still say that you're not guilty.
You're a great debater, and you're braver than I am. And even though you don't like onions, and sometimes can't tell what color a flyer is, I still think you're cool. Have a Happy Birthday! Or, en Español, tenga un feliz cumpleaños!

Your friend,
-Steven Reynolds



Sarah is compassionate and graceful. She is a ton of fun to be around and a great friend!
Happy Birthday Sarah!!!
Your Friend,
- Isabella

Sarah I think you are very sweet and I loved sharing a hotel with you and your mom. Happy Birthday!!!

-Lauren


Happy 18th Birthday Sarah!!!!!
I can't believe I known you not even a year yet!! I feel like we've known each other forever- it's been so fun knowing you and hanging out at tournaments, RRs, and at camp. You are so sweet and encouraging to everyone at tournaments- and we all love you for that! So here's to saying- have a great birthday, and hope to see you weally, weally soon!!!! Love ya'! God Bless
~ Kate :-)


"Happy Birthday! May turtles never steal your clothing in public."
-Tyler


Sarah Hiura,
Although I haven't known you for long, it was pleasant to meet and hang out with you and Holly. I hope you have an excellent birthday, may God bless you this year :).
-Mark




Dear Sarah,
Thanks for being such an amazing friend. I enjoyed getting to know you this year, and I can't wait to see you again! Have a great birthday!
Your Friend,
~Deborah


You are such an awesome person I don't know where to begin. I thought about mentioning your creative xanga name, but decided that that wasn't good enough. i could talk about you skill as an LDer, but we don't want to make others feel jealous;-). So I decided to tell you about how much you mean to me as a friend. You always somehow seem to be there right when I need you most. Whether it's you thoughtful comment on my xanga or your always uplifting smile, you have been a beautiful ray of sunshine in my life and I know that you will become brighter every year. Happy Birthday, and may God bless you with enough years to brighten the lives of all those damp souls in this world. You have brightened mine. =D

-(Inherently) Mary York




Sarah,
I’m very happy that you turned 18 and I love you very much.
We have lots and lots in store for the Colorful, cheerful, scientist :D
-Claire.

Sibling Rivalries

Dear Give A Gripe,

A certain younger sibling of mine and I are having a little disagreement, and I'm wondering what your thoughts on the matter are. Which would be more intellectual, relatively speaking? Is it a spazzy, beetle-headed doofus with the intellect of a cantelopue, or a spazzy beetle-headed doofus with the intellect of a dung beetle? I hope you can help resolve our little spat (or possibly make it worse.)

-Agent J.

Dear Agent J,
I would have to say that since you've already established that in either scenario, said person (assuming this certain little sibling), is beetle-headed, then calling him (or her) a dung beetle would be rather redundant, and therefore, a very lame comeback. Since the giver of the lame comeback must've been the spazzy beetle-headed doofus with the intellect of a canteloupe, that means that the dung beetle is more intellectual, by calling his (or her) opponent, not only a bug, but a rather large fruit. Brilliant.
Hopefully this has settled the argument, and will prevent any further silly sibling rivalries between the two of you.

Nay! I must disagree, my illogically-minded little friend. It is indeed the cantaloupe that is more intellectual! Firstly, it should be pointed out that the melon we in America commonly refer to as cantaloupes are indeed a completely different species from the actual thing. The real cantaloupe is a rare European genera, rarely found on our borders. Now then, we can extrapolate solely from that firstly that since true genius is rare, and actual cantaloupe is rare, we can directly correspond the two and come to the conclusion that cantaloupe itself is true genius! Secondly, to prove its genius, it has led us all on to believe that this other melon was it all the time! Meanwhile, the actual melon itself is off vacationing in the British Isles somewhere! Genius, I say!

...

Tyler. You are invading my post. The worst part of it is, You are wrong. Allow me to rebut.

1) Just because something is rare doesn't mean it is intelligent. In fact, it proves the opposite. The fact that real canteloupe can't figure out how to keep itself alive means that it lacks the intelligence necessary for basic survival. From what I know, dung beetles are still at large
2) Any fruit with half a brain who would have the chance to go anywhere in the world would NOT choose the British Isles as a vacation spot.
3) You're a silly fruitcake. Of course your going to side with the melon as opposed to accepting common sense.

Now that Tyler stands corrected...

I do NOT stand corrected! Nor do I sit corrected, nor lie in a prone position remotely corrected! Firstly, my dear incoherent hexapedophile, I fear you have your brain stuck a bit too far behind your antennae for once. One, rarity does not in any way shape or form mean borderline extinction. For example, there is only one Lindsay Lohan in the world, but clearly she is not borderli-- okay, bad example. The truth, however, my dear psychopathic pill bug, is that they are merely in hiding. And the fact that no one would go to the British Isles on vacation is exactly why they are there! Added genius! Thirdly, a brain does not automatically mean intelligence! The dung beetle, while apparently gaining the advantage in having an actual mind, has a mind completely obsessed with poop! If you call that intelligence, my friend, I'm afraid we'll have to look more closely at your psychologically stability, instead. Fourth and lastly, you are an insignificant part of the food chain, a proprietor of dung-heaps, you have no sense of fashion and you smell.

...

We've been colleagues on this site for a while now. Working with you is what proved a brain does not mean intelligence. I may be an insignificant part of the food chain, but at least I use adverbs correctly (psychologically stability?) So dung beetles have poo on their mind. What does canteloupe have on its mind? Wait! CANTELOUPES DONT HAVE MINDS!! JUST LIKE YOUUU!!!!!!

And I do NOT smell! 0^0

Precisely cantaloupes don't have minds! That is what gives them their sheer brilliance! No mental stress to keep them down, keeping them in a constant state of blissful nirvana... can you do that? I think NOT! And I'll have you know that that brain-removal operation was a very risky government-funded operation!

Only you'd know! Mushy fruit head!

Hard-headed arthropod!

Cucumis melobrain!

Ye-- Yeah? Oh yeah?! OH YEAH?!?!?! Well... *sniff* okay! *sob* *Sob*

...

*Breaks down crying*

Oh...

Oh, this is awkward.

There there, Tyler, take this tissue. It's ok, you're not a fruitcake. Now you go sit over there and have some ice cream.

Well, getting back to you, Agent J, essentially, my main point is that it is simply not worth getting into such petty sibling rivalries. In fact, I don't even remember what you were arguing about. That's how silly it was. And I can guarantee we here at GAG would never engage or endorse such behaviour.

"Oh, Tyler, stop your blubbering and eat your ice cream."

-GAG.

Dental *AND* Mental.

Yesterday I went to the dentists office

This would be the first time I’d see Dr. Danford ever since he saw my Open interpretation, “Dental or Mental”. I’d given him about 2 years to prepare some form of torture on me.

Dr. Danford loves to torture me. And since hearing my speech, he’s been looking forward to it immensely.

I sat in the waiting room, reading a current events magazine.

“Holly?”

I looked up. A pleasant young lady with glasses was standing there with a clipboard in her hand. She seemed nice. Not evil. No, not evil at all.

‘Yes?”

“Hi” she smiled

“Hi” Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I followed her into the back and took a seat in the dental chair. She gently clipped a little paper ‘bib’, if you will, around my neck. See? Dentists aren’t so bad! She said something else to me. I can’t remember what it was, but that’s the point when I realized she had some kind of foreign accent. Now I think accents are awesome, but last time I dealt with someone with a similar accent, I got viciously shanghaied into blowing 25 dollars for a small jar of goo. I’m not sure I want the same kind of disaster especially when she has many sharp objects and I’m strapped helplessly into a chair.

And that’s when things went downhill. She grabbed a large plastic apron-type thing and dropped it on me. It was quite heavy. I wondered if this was what wearing a straight jacket would feel like. She then opened a cabinet and pulled out an electronic device with a camera lense on it. It looked frightening. She stuck a little card into my mouth.

“Bite down” she said.

She had all the weapons, I was sitting in the chair; therefore, I didn’t dare disobey. She walked away and pressed a button. I guess the card thing was film and the electronic thing was a high tech camera. She came back, pulled the card out and got another one. This time, she placed it even further back in my mouth. She was only centimeters away from activating my gag reflex. She did the same thing on the other side of my mouth. Not fun.

She then leaned my chair back and pulled down a bright blinding light from the ceiling. At that moment, Dr. Danford called from the cubicle next to us

“Make sure to use all the pointy sharp things on her!”
My orthodontist looked puzzled.
“Why?” she asked.
“Just because.”
“You’re da boss”

Dr. Danford loved to joke like that, but the young lady’s innocent and naïve response made me worried that she took him seriously.
“Well, it looks like you haven’t had cleaning for very long time” she said, pulling out a file. “Four years!”
“Well actually, we did have a cleaning recently, just not here.”
“Oh? Where was dat?”
“A dentists office….in… the mall”
‘Oh…da mall.” she didn't sound like she believed me at all.
She proceeded to pull out a double-edged hook thing and start picking away at my teeth.

This is when things really went downhill.

Each time she scraped a tooth, it sounded like she was chiseling granite off my teeth, and then the hook would go somewhere into my gum. I started getting a little nervous when I saw some blood on her gloved hands. She seemed to be scratching my gums more than my teeth. I was hoping either my winces or my blood curdling screams would give her a clue that I didn’t like getting scratched with the hook. At one point, her hand jerked suddenly and poked my gum. Ironically, this accident didn’t hurt me half as much as the actual procedure.

“Sorry, I hurt you?”

I didn’t really know how to answer this question. At that moment, no, she didn’t hurt me. But every other moment she did. Fortunately, she was still sticking things in my mouth, so a mere “ungha” satisfied her. One thing I love about going to the dentists, you can just answer “ungha” to all their questions. You can’t do that anywhere else.

“Like Dr. Danford say, I use sharp pokes” she laughed
UUNNNGGHHAAAA!! my mind screamed.

She then took this buzzing thing and began running it over my teeth with some strange Martian toothpaste. It tasted weird. Then she squirted water into my mouth and vacuumed it up with a little tube.
Then she pulled the hook out again and continued her architecture. I wondered what the Venus de Milo would look like in my mouth.

“When was this visit to…da mall?”
“Uh, about a year ago”
“Ya, you got lot of stuff in here”

A classic and literal example of adding insult to injury.

“You floss?”

Darn, I was hoping to avoid this question. To be honest, I’m not a huge believer in flossing. You run string through sewing machines, not people.

“Ungha.”

I looked at my teeth in the reflection of her glasses as she continued with her hook. Every tooth was covered in blood. I looked at my blood dripping off of the hook as she lifted it from my mouth.

This was probably the point at which I mercifully went into a coma.

“Dr. Danford examine you in few minutes, m’K?”

Great. Terrific. Fantastic.

I’m Gonna Die.

He actually wasn’t so bad. No death threats this time. He asked me if I was excited about Nationals, and we talked a little about debate (or he did, and I’d agree with an “uunngh”). He used the hook on me too, but he aimed for my teeth, not my gums.

He then took at look at my X-rays

“Oh my gosh!” he exclaimed.

I closed my eyes. Not good.

“Just kidding.”

Very funny, Dr. Danford.

So my teeth are looking ok now that they’ve been chipped, squirted, grinded and thoroughly tortured, but apparently my wisdom teeth are coming in and will need to be removed within a year. And yes, I know that "getting your wisdom teeth pulled is easy, it's the recovery that's excruciating!!" is what all my friends are going to tell me. So please, just let me bear it silently and don't remind me.

Ok?

~*Hol

Nail Cement

Dear Give a Gripe,

What is the best way to get nail polish to stay on your fingers without peeling off for a semi-long length of time?

~The painter

Dear Painter,
I would have to say the most effective method is to apply wet cement on top of your polish. You'll never 'deal with peel' again (though if you accidentally get the seed of a large tree in there you may run into some other problems...) You'll probably need to apply it with a shovel as opposed to a little brush, but it'll definitely get the results you seek.

Though it's hard to find wet cement in a variety of colors, you can buy a can of spray paint for about $8 more, ranging in colors from pastels to glow-in-the-dark to apply over the cement block (which is over the original polish which is over your nail.)

Though you won't be able to find buckets of wet cement in the makeup department of any store, you can always check the back of the store where it smells like playdough and you can tell that the store workers haven't shaved for a while...

So now you can have lovely colorful nails that will never peel....In fact, they won't ever come off unless you purchase a handy dandy jackhammer and chisel set for $330 more.

There you have it. For about $346, you can get colorful cement nails (and remover) and never worry about polish peeling again....

Or you could just reapply your nail polish when it starts to peel...for about $1.50

-GAG

Questions

Dear Give a Gripe,

WHY ARE PEOPLE ALWAYS SO RELUCTANT TO ANSWERE VERY SIMPLE QUESTIONS!?!?!?

~The Questioner

(Space bean and Hol were reluctant to answer this question, so Aranel did. We think she did a pretty good job too =) )

Dear Questioner,

We at Give a Gripe, after some thought and observation have come to the conclusion that the answer to your question, depends largely on who is asking the question (or the asker). For example if some big scary looking biker dude comes up to you and says, "Hey! What're you looking at?" or "What's your problem?" or some other such question, one would be reluctant to answer to save aforementioned one's neck. A person is likely to give them a weird look, look away, and other wise pretend not to have heard the question, for fear of answering the question in a anger provoking manner. That is of course unless you have suicidal tendencies, and also happen to like getting beat up.
However, if the asker is not such a fear provoking person, some reasons for not receiving an answer may be they think you're being sarcastic, think think you're joking, they think you know the answer already, or they very simply didn't hear you.

-G.A.G

Letter to Our Readers

Dear Readers,

We here at GAG would like to apologize for our inconsistency. You'll note that our last post was posted in March. It is now April. This is not acceptable. Now that we have people besides the three of us who are reading and even commenting our posts, we owe you our time and you are entitled to our opinionated opinions.

Now that we have you in the palm of our hand, we have to put some blame on you too. This site is called "Give a Gripe" (Also called by the totally unintentional but kind of ironic and humorous acronym, 'GAG') Meaning we created this blog so that you could give us your questions, ideas and gripes and we could base our posts on those. Yes, we do other things (anecdotes, schpiels) but we do not wish for the purpose of this blog to become obsolete. So write us. Please. We need material. Don't make us beg. Aw, shoot, we're begging. Look whatchya done!

We don't care how frivolous, embarrassing, personal or ridiculous your problems are. You can always use a pen name and no one will know who you are save for me, my two colleagues, my hair dresser, my parakeet, my parents, Uncle Mel...I'm being told I don't have time to finish this list and must move on...

So please, don't hesitate to click the "E-mail us" button in the top right corner. Wasting just a little time to save a website meant to make you laugh. And laughter is the best medicine right? You don't want to deprive the world of laughter. Not sending us an e-mail would be just like kicking a puppy. Feel the guilt.

With regards,

-GAG

The Car Ride

Franklin D. Roosevelt once stated; “The only thing to fear is fear itself.”

Clearly, FDR has never ridden in a car driven by my brother.

Yes, my brother has finally gotten his hands on a permit, allowing him behind the wheel of our family minivan…or as my mom and I call it now…Deathtrap on Wheels (with a 10 year warranty and 6-CD player.) I will never forget the first trip I took in Deathtrap. It was Valentines Day. I remember that, because the words “Valentine’s Day Massacre” kept running through my mind. We were going to visit my grandmother. Matt decided he wanted to drive. After filling out my will, and calling dear friends and family to tell them that I loved them, I boarded the car and buckled my seatbelt. We backed out of the driveway. Another car was coming. I closed my eyes. This is it…

I opened my eyes. We were a little further out of the driveway, and there was that car— apparently it had swerved just in time and was imbedded in a tree across the street. A split second later, it burst into flames.

Phew! That was close!

Our car backed out of the driveway and began its journey. Over the highway and through the road construction to grandmother’s house we went.

I’d have to say having the entire family in the car during the trip didn’t help much. Dad was in the front seat, guiding Matt through the driving process. Mom was being the backseat driver and backseat passenger (and also backseat backseater). I was praying I’d go quickly and painlessly.
“Turn left here”
Enter Mom:
“No! Slow down! You’re going too fast around these turns!”
Enter me:
“We’re all going to diiie!!!”

Matt does alright on straight passageways, but turns are still a doozy for him.
Dad: “Ok Matt, you’re doing good. Now turn on your blinker”
Mom: “Stop turning the wheel! You’re going too far into the curb!”
Me: “We’re all going to diiie!!!”

Then there were stoplights. Matt did pretty ok on these…
Dad: Ok, you can get a little closer to the car in front of us.
Mom: No! That’s too close! Don’t barrel down on people like that!”
Me: “We’re all going to diiie!!!”

After about 10 minutes, I stopped saying ‘We’re all going to diiie!’ especially since each time I said it I’d jump up and reach around the drivers seat to grab onto his face, and that seemed to irk him a bit. Instead I’d sit there and stare sadly at my youthful visage in the reflection of the window while recalling old memories, or quietly whimper for the life not yet lived. It honestly didn’t help that Matt would laugh maniacally whenever he hit the accelerator.

But what’s this? We’re pulling into Grandmothers driveway? We’re all alive! I leap out of the car and kiss the ground. Oh how sweet the asphalt tastes in my mouth! Actually, it tastes rather disgusting, but the good kind of disgusting.
Still shaking, we knock on Grandmother’s door. She opens it. She gives us all a welcome smile, and hugs and kisses. She then says:
“Ah! Just in time! I made my leftover loaf for dinner!”

“We’re all going to diiie!”

Because we're so special =)

Q) What's the difference between men and women?

A) Women get an international holiday! And men don't!!

Note: Any stereotypes are for humorous purposes. Aranel and Hol are not feminists, and do, indeed, love the dudes in their lives (In a very homeschooled type of way that is) If anything in the post insinuates that men are idiots, then we didn't mean to say that out loud...

Today so happens to be that international holiday, so we're going to do a special post on why the women in your lives should be celebrated.


Here's to Women because ...

• Your mom is a woman.
  
• Three words...P, M, and S.
  
• Without women, there would be a scarcity of flower shops and chocolate factories
  
• Without women, there would be a scarcity of other human beings
  
• Not celebrating women makes women mad
  
• Mad women are unsafe
  
• Men would not feel guilt without women.
  
• Without women, dinner would be lunchables and top ramen
  
• Without women, the color pink would serve no purpose
  
• Without women, things just wouldn't smell good.
  
• Without women, men would have no reason to slay dragons.
  
• Women are just plain nice.
  
• Women look better in dresses than men do.
  
• If not for women, the laser printer, the bullet-proof vest, the Red Cross and the pouty lip would not exist.
  
• Giggling would cease to exist without women.
  
• Ya just can't live without women
  

So there you have it, folks. you see a woman today, give her a flower and a hug.
She might sue you for harrasment (for hugging her) and vandalism (by picking a flower from someone else's property), and she'll probably win (because she's a woman)

But at least you showed you cared!

Happy Day to all women!

~*Hol & Aranel.

Britney Spears - Oops, She Did It Again.

We here at GAG believe that rather than dwelling on the past, we should look to the future. We cannot forget, however, that as we look, most likely we will see people of the present dying in the future. As is said, "9 out of every 10 people who live, die, and the tenth person's odds aren't so hot either." Therefore everyone, from the lowliest poopsmith to the highest-ranking celebrities in daytime soap operas must, yes, eventually die. But the question is, "How?" Many people try to answer, but only one may be true. In our series of fake, future obituaries, we here at GAG will attempt to predict the inevitable, but will it be true? Only time may tell.


Britney Spears - Oops, She Did It Again.

After an unprecedented second death, Britney Spears puts herself back on the charts as the only celebrity to die twice in the same year.

Britney's first death occurred in a tragic accident in late 2007, while on the set of the attempted sequel to the Dukes of Hazzard film, "The Dukes of Hazzard: Less Duking, More Hazzard" in which Ms. Spears was brought in to replace Jessica Simpson after her equally tragic death due to a broadway accident earlier that year.

"I don't know what happened," said co-star Johnny Knoxville on Spears' death, "Those boots just weren't made for walking, I guess."

The film was never released.

After her first death, Spears was resurrected through a series of drawn-out, ritualistic, lengthy, hypnagogic and quite possibly satanic chants, performed by the infamously secretive Cult of the Lost Hollywood Actor, allegedly comprised of former child actors who never hit it big. The resurrection, had the reaction of reducing the overall size of Ms. Spears' brain, giving her, in effect, a permanent "blonde moment." Her agents, however, believed to also belong to the cult, were cunning. Cunning enough, in fact, to produce live, unscripted footage of Spears and her current boyfriend discussing provolone, creating a commercial rivaling in brilliance even Jessica Simpson's "Is it fish, or chicken?" commercials of 2006. The leader of the Cult of the Lost Hollywood Actor, Kurt Russell, who still wishes to remain anonymous, had this to say amidst the tears:

"She wasn't a girl, but wasn't yet a woman. She might have been the last to know, but someday, someday she will understand. It was her against the music, you know? She loved rock and roll. Every time she got out outrageous she drove me crazy, but it was like she was born to make us happy. We were lucky to have her, and we're stronger because of it. I think she saw it as her prerogative, you know?"

July 28th, 2016, Britney Spears passed away due to a fatal fall and injury to the brain.
Reports say that Spears was in her room fixing her hair, getting ready to go out partying, when the fumes from the hairspray became intoxicating due to a design flaw, causing a leak on the side of the can. Unfortunately, so much spray had already been used, that Spear's hair became solidified, and shatter upon impact with the floor. The reverberation of which caused half of her brain to simply slide out of her left nostril.

According to the autopsy of Ms. Spears, performed by intern medical examiner Eugene Gearson, the cause of death was excessive intake of pytocalcious, a common chemical in hair sprays, which caused several of the vital nerves in her medulla oblongata to become diffused and stiff, therefore snapping off on point of impact. After which, the rebound off the ground when Spears' hair hit the ground caused such an effect that the entirety of her frontal lobe and parts of her corpus collosum to slide out her incredibly well-kept nasal passages.
"Let's face it," Said Gearson, "She was just too toxic."

Gearson proceeded to laugh in a frat-boy-just-out-of-med-schoolish way. Pausing to take full note of the situation, examiner Gearson added hypothetically,
“Drugs may have had something to do with it, too. She wasn't exactly overprotected.”

No further questioning has taken place.


Although no one was able to "Do Somethin," Ms. Spears will be remembered for the rest of our lives, if not for the rest of time itself, and various remixes of "Oops, I did it again," "From the bottom of my Broken Heart," and "... Baby, One More Time."

A Valentines Day Crisis

Greetings Readers,

Some of you may have been aware that yesterday was Valentines Day. You probably either heard about it from your nagging girlfriend, the nasty-smelling boy who sits next to you in Geometry and told you in a little card he made out of kleenex and red crayon, or by joining the G-talk Anti-Valentines Day club, where G-talkers all over Jeana's buddy list changed their avatars to the fallen cupid with an arrow protruding from his back.

While some of you were out with your sweethearts, or little siblings, depending on your social status, I was at Touche speech class, discovering a horrible truth about one of the most popular icons of Valentines Day.

The NECCO company boasts "Fine Candy Since 1847" and is the manufacturer of the well known "Conversation hearts" frequently seen, read, eaten, and spit out on Valentines Day.

These were being served as part of snack at speech class. I was in the middle of telling a friend that they tasted like chalk when I picked one up, and looked at it to read the message.

"Sweet Talk"

My friend jokingly suggested that I find a chalkboard to see if my theory was true. Well, there was no chalkboard nearby, but there was a little bit of sidewalk in the courtyard, so I hopped over to it to test my hypothesis.

Alas! I was able to write my name in clear letters as if writing with a chalk stick! That's when it hit me.

Millions of children ever since 1849 have been taking one day a year and stuffing themselves full of calcium carbonate, and NECCO hasn't been held accountable for it. We might as well be feeding our children limestone, or marble. Heck! Why not start making conversation hearts out of coal? It's a lot cheaper and equally nutritious.

This second half of my gripe against NECCO is more political than medical. On their website, they advertise new conversation heart sayings for 2007.

They are:

"My pet"

"Bear hug"

"Go fish"

"Love Bird"

"Take a Walk"

"Purr Fect"

"Cool Cat"

"Top Dog"

"Puppy Love"

"Ura Tiger"

Is it just me or is there a pattern here? All of those sayings have something to do with animals. Clearly we can see that NECCO is anthropomorphizing animals and putting them at an equal value as humans. Since these are, in fact, "conversation hearts", the new sayings suggest that we should be having said conversations with our animals on Valentines Day. Not only that, but the conversation hearts are no more than pet food!

So this message is for you, NECCO. If you don't ban your products from the market, at least put warnings on the hearts themselves as to the risks your victims are in for. Feel free to use your little grammatically incorrect abbreviations

"C Doctor B4 Eating"

"Y Not Veggies?"

"I Am Chalk!"

"Dog Food"

"DONT EAT ME!"

You better watch your back, NECCO, we're on to you.

And as for saving the lives of Valentine-goers '08...You're welcome

~Hol

'Tis the Season to have Nitrous Oxide Fa la la la la....

Hey everyone! Today is February 9th! So we here at GAG would like to wish all of our readers and fans a very Happy Toothache day!


What do you mean you've never heard of Toothache day?

No seriously, we didn't make it up...

In preparation for this momentous occasion, I have been eating sugary candies and not brushing my teeth since Christmas! (And of course I expect my two colleagues have done that to an extent as well since they know how much this holiday means to us all)

Some of you may be wondering why this holiday is so important to recognize. It's more symbolic really. It symbolizes the fact that we as Americans can eat sugary candies to a sickening point and still be proud of who we are, not ashamed of what we eat or how many teeth we have left when the year is done. It symbolizes that our teeth have the same right to rot as we humans have the right to free speech, free press, and openly griping about Nancy Pelosi. It symbolizes a bond we share with our mother-country, England (who apparently celebrates this holiday year-round). Additionally, if you happen to be Buddhist, then you already believe that pain is the road to life, so it's a double-whammy celebration for you!

In a practical sense, we are putting bread on the tables of dentists and their families, and if we're so blessed as to have one of our rotted teeth fall out, we'll make some extra moulah off of the tooth fairy.
So we hope you have a great holiday, and be of good cheer.

Now if you'll excuse me, I urgently need to go put bread on my dentist's table...

~Hol

YouTube

Dear Give A Gripe,

Why is YouTube free? They could make a bunch of money off it.

Sincerely,
Tubeless in Chicago




Well Tuber (can I call you that?), aside from being really nice people, it actually has to do with some very serious inter-galactic law.

The planet of YouTubia, while still a relatively unheard-of planet, consists of a population roughly equivalent to that of Earth. Its system of government is a democratic republic, relying mostly on the vote of the people, filtered through "moderators" 'till it gets through to what's called an "admin." While this is not entirely dissimilar from what we have in America, the culture of Planet YouTubia relies solely on recording one's self, and loading that recording onto a floating hologram projector, which then travels out into one of the many "greeting places" center around the main cities of YouTubia, and attempt (note: attempt) at actual conversation via these videos. Each party then has their projector record other people's projections for later viewing, reviewing, and overall enjoyment.

When YouTube was created, completely without knowledge of YouTubia or its inhabitants, it was originally meant to be a pay-as-you-go website, but in the recent 1994 meteorite crash, containing the "YouTube Stone," revealing much about the planet and culture of YouTubia, YouTube was forced, via the government's will to live in peace with all alien life-forms (especially the ones with guns bigger than ours) to remain free.

Since then, the citizens of Earth and YouTubia have lived in blissful ignorance, and a general state of not blown up.

-Space

"Heart of Gold"

Dear Give a Gripe,

What's with the saying "heart of gold"?

~ Wondering

Dear Wondering,

You know, I don't know what's up with that. It doesn't really make much sense, does it? After all gold is very hard...and cold. And somewhat shiny. So really, why would anyone really want to have a "heart of gold"? You'd think most people would want to have soft, beating hearts, instead of cold gold, rock hard ones...but I guess that's their preference.

~ Aranel

Carmen Sandiego

Dear Give a Gripe,

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

Sincerely,
Moo




Dear reader,

I turn to Google Maps for the answer.

- Space

Yellow-Tail Wine - Uncovered

Dear Give a Gripe,

My older brother keeps telling me about how Yellow-Tail Wine is the only wine that comes from kangaroos. Is he telling the truth, or is he just pulling my leg?

Thanks,
Wine-less in Australia.



Well, Wineless, I have no idea what pulling your leg has to do with it, but your brother is absolutely correct.

Yellow-Tail wine, found only in remote regions in Australia is a signature Italian-Australian blend. Started by a small organization of around seven Italian women, they would corral the kangaroos into a large basin. Once they were all inside, the women would stand on the rim of the basin, start one of their many wine-stomping chants, and jump on them, simultaneously. The reason kangaroos are used is still a complete mystery, however today's top viticulturists have found that kangaroo meat, when crushed, juiced and distilled, gives off almost the exact same flavor of whiskey and soda, with twice the mental and physical effects. When mixed with such concoctions as Aunt Jemima's Jemimaphobia (an ingenious alcoholic beverage, known for killing cows at five paces), it not only yields such extraordinary colors as purple, but has been known to remedy such diseases as a fever, chicken pox, and early forms of malaria. Besides, how else do you think you would get red wine? Grapes? Bah.

Ooo-la-la-doo-la-la-dee-la-la-dum,
We make not ale nor whiskey nor rum,
'Tis wine we crush beneath our feet,
And no ordinary wine,
But kangaroos!
How neat!
Ooo-la-la-doo-la-la-dee-la-la-dum...

- Old Italian Wine Song (Rough English Translation)

As you can probably guess, however, this form of enjoyment didn't go over well with a lot of the environmentalist groups, much less the kangaroos. Sooner or later a few protests broke out, demonstrations and stuff. One such incident happened back in August of '84. An Italian tourist, just back from her extraordinary diving lessons with "Fabio," fully clad in Hawaiian t-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and American-brand flip-flops (her relatives said later that she was always big on dressing up like she was somewhere else, Apparently she wore the exact same outfit on their trip to Anchorage, Alaska), when suddenly a kangaroo activist leaped from the second-story window of "Vinnie's Barber Shop" and landed on her. Crushing the neck first, then the liver. After the police arrived, the only vestige left from the horrible accident was a bloody note saying "Don't knock the Kangaroos" signed with a paw-print. After that incident, Yellow-Tail Wine, Inc., the number one exporter of said delicacy slowly declined into bankruptcy, only to go back into business again after the whole Jessica Simpson "Is it tuna, or chicken?" controversy, when people decided, "Screw the chicken, we want kangaroo." And are now flourishing in downtown Sidney.

- Space

Our New Year's Resolutions - 2007

Continuing in the spirit of New Years, we here at Give A Gripe would like to give you our New Years resolutions so that you may be inspired and gain new ideas of how you too can change your life for the better. Or at least change it for the different. Maybe even change it for the same...See? The possibilities are endless!!

"I resolve to become ambidextrous by '08."

"I resolve to eat a camera. They add ten pounds, you know."

"I resolve to never eat a duck before smelling it."

"I resolve to never walk on the ceiling."

"I resolve to not use lame comebacks in response to lame insults."

"I resolve to not store my ice cream cone in the glove compartment of dad's car."

"I resolve to never waste all my money at Starbucks... more than once a week."

"I resolve to never exaggerate the truth... unless it makes for a really good cover story."

"I resolve not to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"I resolve to figure out what a gift horse is."

"I resolve to make up more insidious names at Starbucks."

"I resolve to master the Light Side of The Force."

"I resolve to not hit my little brother with anything heavier than 3 lbs. any more than three times."

"I resolve to never use a sticky note as Kleenex... again."

"I resolve to eat an apple a day to try to keep the doctor away forever."

"I resolve to not look at the sun for more than 5 minutes, in an effort to not burn out my cornea, before I'm 30."

"I resolve to wear sunglasses when I stare at the sun."

"I resolve to wear a hat at least once a year."

"I resolve to not go outside in my pajamas...at least when people are around."