Give a Gripe

College Days pt 1

2008-02-26T14:20:00.000-08:00

Originally written November 2007

Dark, menacing clouds glared at me through my window as I awoke this morning. Normally, I'd appreciate and welcome the rainy weather, because it meant I could sit inside, sip hot cocoa and listen to the raindrops on my window. But today I had to go to the JC, and one of my classes is outside. Rain would not make things fun.

To top things off, I had my midterm oral presentation due today, and a math quiz I was sure I wasn't going to do very well on....
I figured I was probably going to have a pretty lousy day.
I was dropped off in front of the language department. I walked into my class dripping. I sat and watched a few presentations. I wasn't nervous, considering I had practiced it several times the night before. All I have to do is give an oral presentation in a foreign language, no sweat! I got up. I began speaking.
"Bonjour, étudiants! Aujourd'hui je vais parler d'Yolanda. Yolanda est un ami de mes parents. Elle est du Mexique. Elle est venue ici en 1962. Elle parle l'espagnol."
I tell ya, it was a fantastic presentation. So great it would have earned an A+ had I been taking French instead of Spanish...

...Oui...

After Spanish I ran to change into gym clothes and then headed all the way across campus to the track. This made me more wet and cold. Believe it or not, running around the track in the rain made me even more wet and cold!
I've never looked forward to P.E. class. Don't get me wrong, I believe exercise is good for you. And my P.E. teacher is the most encouraging I've ever had. (Maybe that's because I lost my cookies on the first day of class...)
But we run in circles. Then we stretch. Then we spend the next half hour setting muscles we never knew we had on fire.

My least favorite part is the running. I'm usually fine with running. It's wonderful along the beach or through a meadow or on a college campus after 3 days in debate shoes. But there's something so terribly boring about running around the same track again...and again...and again...for half an hour. Stopping every 10 minutes to check your pulse and make sure you still, in fact, have one.
One of my classmates passes me...
"Haw haw, I've lapped you 6 times already."

"Indeed you have. And looky here. We're both in the exact same place, going to the exact same destination, but the only difference here is that I've spared enough energy to make sure my brain still functions properly."
I guess it took him a while to understand I had just insulted him...because he didn't punch my lights out until he lapped me a 7th time.
After P.E. was my brief 30 minute lunch break. My usual eating locations are under a tree in between the administration building and my math building.

(Note: My math building is called "Shuhaw". I'm telling you this because I wanted to give you a chance to say it out loud. "Shuhaw...Shuhaw..." teeheehee. Great huh?)

Unfortunately, due to the rain, sitting under a tree was not a great idea. In fact, it was a terrible one. I didn't know of any nearby indoor facility I would be allowed to eat in, so I took shelter under an awning of a neighboring building with Jerry, the shirtless campus propagandist who talks to the stuffed tiger wallet attached to my backpack. (The tiger's name is "Tigre: el encargado de las tarjetas de Starbucks", but I didn't tell Jerry this.)
"Would you like to sign this petition?" Jerry asked.
"No, I'm still not interested in signing your petition."
Jerry looked at me.
"I wasn't talking to you."
I sighed and ate the rest of my sandwich, dropping crumbs on the math notes I was studying for the quiz. When I finished I slouched over to Shuhaw, Tigre: el encargado de las tarjetas de Starbucks was getting as wet as I was, but he had it worse considering he absorbs water much better than I do.

I reached the building. I slinked into the room. I slumped into my seat.
Before class began we received our quizzes from last week back. I don't let the letter grade dishearten me anymore. In fact, I've convinced myself that it stand for "delightful" or...or...
There really aren't many nice things that start with "D".
"Good afternoon class." my profesor began, garbed in bright blue, "Today's quiz is going to cover what I went over with the honors advanced trigonometry class. You should be able to apply your basic Algebra skills to it. After the quiz, we will go outside and each launch our own rocket to space. If yours crashes, you will fail the semester. Any questions?"
I raised my hand.
"Yes?"
"Can you shoot me? Please?"
Math was my last class of the day. Thank heavens. After getting another "Delightful" on a quiz and crashing a rocket in a magnificent explosion, I fled Shuhaw. The rain had cleared up, and I could feel the warmth of the sun against my face. Tigre: el encargado de las tarjetas de Starbucks bounced along on my backpack happily with every step I took.

I survived.

Wise Man Says

2008-01-21T18:32:00.000-08:00

When at movie theater and offered large drink for twenty-five cents more than medium, take it.

Do not, however, attempt to drink the entirety of said drink before the end of the trailers.

Of Myopia, Music, and Contact Lenses

2008-01-15T21:29:00.000-08:00

I think I shall go back to Saturday. Saturday was my older brother’s birthday party. It was here that my glasses broke. Now, it wasn’t irresponsibility or carelessness that broke them, they were doomed to break eventually anyway, judging by that bent arm (though perhaps I shouldn’t have put them in my pocket and then attempted to lift heavy objects, but I digress…)
No, they were quite bent anyway, and rather unfixable I might add. At the debate tournament prior, a few of my fellow debate friends attempted to fix the crooked arm by bending it upwards. It was to no avail. There was a point where a long line of debaters zig zagged throughout the campus in an attempt to straighten the arm and thus be crowned Knight of the Prep Table.

But nobody succeeded, and the arm broke off a week later.

It made it rather hard to see things…without glasses and all that. That Monday was my first day of this semester at the JC. (college days to be posted soon!) I managed my first class orientation (fencing) fine without them…voice was a disaster. Rather than just orientation, our teacher actually made us pull out our books and sing along to a song. Not only did I not have my book (or a writing utensil…or anything really except my backpack and Tigre: el encargado de las tarjetas de Starbucks) but I had to share with the person next to me. Since I no longer had my glasses, I had to lean over her knee to see the page…and lean…and squint…and lean…

Let’s just say it was an appropriate time to pull out the awkward turtle.

Oh well, I’m dropping voice class anyway.

That very afternoon was my eye appointment. I went to see the optometrist. Optometrists are very friendly. They aren’t twisted like dentists can be sometimes. I really don’t know why that is. I always feel a little stupid when I go in to see the optometrist, however. They often ask you to read series of letters, and make you keep going until you read one incorrectly. Then they say “ok, that’s good” in a sort of sorry and sympathetic way and scribble something cynical on your prescription notes. Even though the point is how well you can see, not read, I have a theory that they silently laugh at your stupidity.

I refused this optometrist that pleasure.

“Can you read that line?”

“Yes, I can. I can read other lines too. I’ve read lines upon lines of Dickens, C.S. Lewis, Ray Bradbury and --”

“Could you please read that line?”

“I just did.”

“Out loud?”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Come on, what does it say?”

“Uh. It’s hard to tell. Your handwriting is fuzzy, blurry and awful. But if I were to guess--”

Then comes the slides.

“Ok, which is clearer, slide 4 or slide 5?”

“Neither are clear at all.”

“All right, but which one is clearer?”

“They’re both the same.”

“What?”

“They’re both equally unclear. What does F L C O stand for anyway? The Fuzzy Llama Company? Funny Looking Children Organization?”

“ But…do they look different?”

“Well yeah, slide 4 is blurrier than 5.”

Then comes counting.

“Ok, look at my face. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Seven”

“No. Look at my face when I hold up my hands.”

“Ok”

“How many?”

“Uh, this may take a while.”

“What?”

(pause)

“I’d wager about 75.”

“What?”

“You have 75 freckles.”

“No! Fingers! Your supposed to count the fingers!”

“You said to look at your face!”

“Your supposed to count my fingers while looking at my face.”

“I’m nearsighted for pete’s sake, how the heck am I supposed to do that?!”

Then he used some utensils to look inside my eye.

“Next time you have an appointment, you should get your eyes dilated so that it’s easier to see inside of them.”

“But you charged extra for it. If it’s so necessary, why do you charge extra for it?”

“Uuh”

“Isn’t that like charging extra for a scalpel during a brain surgery?”

After taking note of my prescription, he pulled a couple of small packets out of a drawer and opened them.

“Hold still…look up”

Before I knew it, I could see clearly. And I wasn’t even wearing glasses! I had been installed with little high tech rubbery lenses in each eye.

So after taking a little How to Take Care of Your Contacts 101, we went home and I showed my new contacts to the rest of my family. They couldn’t see anything though. No, you can’t really see them unless you look very very carefully.

But they can see you.

Magic in All of Us, The

2008-01-11T11:51:00.000-08:00

It is a little known fact that, while nearly all of the magical items have left this world for good, off to the favored realms of the east and under, there are still many a mystical and/or magical spring of adventurous spirit, that now reside in unlikely sources.

One of them, is Facebook.

Spawned and lived by the great River MySpace, the land of Facebook spans deep and wide into the realm of the Internet. Its series of trade and commerce is unlike any others, as it thrives off of new technology and applications, the factories of which cover nearly half of the land itself. These factories are maintained by the Developers, who are mysterious blue creatures, revealing themselves only at night for small get-togethers and drunken parties.
Off of the land of Applications lies the peninsula of Profile, a mysterious land where it is said that even the water looks different for every living being. None have yet tested this fact, yet it lingers in local legend all the same. The land of Profile recently released itself from the oppressive tyrrany of Community, whose iron rule of unknown origin still reigns indefinitely across the remainder of Facebook. Still, there are even more mysterious and unknown lands still to explore in Facebook...

It is there, my friends, that even the most mundane of profiles may have magical gifts, and each is granted a small amount of power, with which one may benefit humanity, or doom it to an ugly fate. For within its walls lies a closely-knit community of groups, and events, where those with the power of invitation bring together or divide members of society, playing key roles in the constant change of the landscape. I have such power.

Yes, I must admit publicly now my ability for raising Groups; the magical aura of membership that radiates from my bones. Through sheer force of will I can raise and lower the virtual cities of groups and classification, bending them to my will and whimsy. It is not just I, my friends, Facebook is willing to give its powers to others, as well, and if you listen close enough, it could be you.

+2 Posting Skill

2008-01-08T14:41:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know it's been a while since there's been a post. Yes, yes... I know, I know. We'll be with you in a moment.

Anyway, what was I talking about. Oh yes, while we're at it, let's talk about marriage in role-playing.

In one's fantastical experiences in the fantasy lands of hither, thither, dice and yonder, one may find him- or herself in many a romantic situation. This is perfectly acceptable and in no way wrong. Unless, of course, you break any of the rules stated below.

Firstly: Inter-species relationships are, in fact, greatly encouraged. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you are a racist, I will attack you with the North." That being said, however, one must, if you will, consider the children. I don't care if the elves in Azeroth are cute, what I care about is the fact that you're a Minotaur barbarian, and I don't want to have to deal with freakishly tall, pointy-eared bull-kids rampaging through my guild. I. Just. Don't.

Second, one must go into considering classes. No, I'm serious. I mean, warriors only have a prospected lifetime of, like, two minutes. That's all you get. Two minutes. And then what? You're done, that's what. Done. On the other hand, sorcerers or wizards last forever, but they never stop talking! Conquer the world, this. Epic weaponry, that. Blah, blah blah blah blah.

Three: Avoid rogues. Period.

Four: Be cautious as to what kind of role-playing game you are involved in. If there is any sort of dice roll involved in your newfound relationship, run for the hills. If you happen to get a magical amulet from a strange old hermit in the hills, consider yourself better off. Rather, if you find an ancient dragon with a +10 to flame damage and a rather awful craving for flesh, you may instead reflect upon how much better your life would have been if you had just rigged the dice.

Lastly, I would like to quote what the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has to say about love: "Avoid, if possible."

Happy Thanksgiving to our Reader[s]

2007-11-22T13:28:00.000-08:00

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

...

Have a Wonderful Thanksgiving...

-GAG

Unfinished Essays

2007-11-14T11:33:00.001-08:00

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.

2007-11-09T22:38:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-07T20:43:00.000-08:00

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...

2007-10-04T23:00:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-29T22:52:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-26T22:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-03T20:45:00.000-07:00

"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

2007-08-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-25T17:08:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-05T08:42:00.001-07:00

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!

2007-06-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-03T20:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-05-24T23:36:00.000-07:00

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:

2007-05-24T23:20:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-22T07:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-10T14:11:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-05-01T22:44:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-17T18:53:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-08T13:51:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-05T18:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

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 =)

2007-03-08T12:07:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-02-15T22:27:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-15T16:50:00.000-08:00

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....

2007-02-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-28T23:28:00.000-08:00

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"

2007-01-15T12:40:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-13T21:02:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-13T11:30:00.000-08:00

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

2007-01-01T11:32:00.000-08:00

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."

Resolved: That something becomes significantly reformed or abolished (And lasts til at least February...)

2006-12-31T12:56:00.000-08:00

Greetings Readers,
Today marks the beginning of a new year, and people all over the nation are looking forward to a fresh start and modified lifestyles that will probably last as long as one of those goldfish you win at the fair...

We here at Give a Gripe, however, intend to keep our resolutions, and would like to give you tips as to how to keep yours until '08.

1. Set Goals that Contradict Goals.
I think it's safe to say the most common resolution is to lose weight. If you resolve to do something like lose 10 pounds, you're already on the wrong track. First of all, once you lose those ten pounds your going to have to keep it off, or else it'll be worth nothing. You will most likely fail, get depressed that your weight isn't changing, and then eat a pound or 4 of chocolate to feel better. Then, after eating to feel better, you'll feel worse, because now you've gained ten pounds because you resolved to lose ten pounds!
It's better to resolve to gain weight in very very small increments so you can feel better about keeping your resolutions. This will decrease anxiety and depression, and prolong your life (As long as you don't gain too much)

2. Set Ridiculously Easy Goals.
I once got a fortune cookie that said "Keep your expectations reasonable". Though that cookie wasn't the most encouraging and optimistic fortune cookie ever, it at least had a point. (It should have been called a 'realistic cookie' or something.) Don't resolve to do something challenging or something you have to do on a consistent basis. Maybe make your resolution something you'll only do one time this year. Like "I resolve to go outside and smell one flower this year." That way you have a month to grow a flower, and 11 months to procrastinate about smelling it.

3. Resolve to do what you're already doing.
See, the problem with New Years resolutions is that people think that they need to change something, when indeed, they only need to resolve to do something. Why not resolve to stick with the Status Quo? If you make your New Years resolution something that your already doing, then you have absolutely no fear of flaking out! For instance, this year I'm resolving to always put milk on my cold cereal. No dry fruity O's for me, thank you very much.

4. Set ridiculous goals.
That way, if you forget or flake by '08, you won't be so disappointed, nor will your parents. I told my parents my wish to become ambidexterous by '08. My mom said it was a dumb goal. So she won't think less of me if I fail =).

5. Set Impossible Goals.
Resolve to do something you know you won't be able to achieve. Say you'll resolve to find a cure for Hippopotomonstrosesquepidaliophobia. (did I spell it right, Space?) Then pretend you're actually working on it. So instead of scolding you at the end of the year, your family and friends will look at you with sympathetic eyes and say "Well, at least you tried." Bam, you become a hero for doing nothing.

So there you have it. 5 golden keys to keeping your New Years resolutions. With these tips you should be able to achieve an endless horizon of great accomplishments...

As long as that horizon is really really small....

Unanswered Questions ANSWERED!

2006-12-20T10:55:00.000-08:00

Over the past year, The Explainer has answered more than 200 questions, including why Satan smells like rotten eggs, and how many cell phones you can shove up your rear in one sitting (every pun intended) and has proved that our President is indeed, shrinking. But this is really only a small fraction of the emails received, so they've released a list of some of the still unanswered questions that've been sent to them over the year.

Now, while they still plan to answer some of these questions in the near future (be sure to watch for that) we here at Give a Gripe decided to try our hand at it ourselves. Do we seriously think we can do better than relatively trained professionals? Not really. It just looked like fun.

GO!

• What comes after 999 trillion?

7 Wajillion. A number so big that scientists had to make up a name and multiply it by seven just to calculate it.

• Why do train whistles at night always sound lonely and mournful? Not so in the daytime.

I believe this question can be better answered by the excellent novel "A Whistle for the Night" by Bartholomew J. Greg, an expert on the subject, but I'll try and explain it for you.

According to Mr. Greg, in all actuality what you are hearing isn't the same whistle at all, but a different one they use for night-time. You see, many train engineers are -as a night job- novelists of some sort, usually romantic or suspense. That is actually how Mr. Greg came upon the story. Apparently, so many romance and suspense novelists of the time had mentioned low, lonely, mournful-sounding train whistles at night, that the more ingenious train engineer/writers of the bunch (Including Mr. Greg, or so he tells at least) had invented for them, lower, lonelier-sounding whistles for which to blow at night, giving the whole effect of a lonely sounding whistle to inspire even more romance/suspense writers who may be listening. It's really quite a lovely tale, written in a sort of satirical history of the whistle itself. If you plan on picking it up, I would be GREATLY surprised if you could find it in mainstream stores these days. Your best bet would be to find it the only place I did (the story of how I'll leave out due to length), Artimus' Book Shop on 42nd street, New York. (291) 555-2634, ask for Arty, and ask him to check the back and see if he has any more of the "whistle book." It'll cost you around $15 plus S&H.

• Given the exchange and dispersion of matter, how likely is it/how often do we inhale/consume and/or incorporate into our own protein structure molecules that were once in some historical figure, say Abraham Lincoln?

After some brief calculator work, I would say that your odds are about 2 to the power of Five million, Five hundred and fifty-two thousand, three hundred and twenty-four. Which, oddly enough, is the phone number of an expert who may be able to help you more on the matter.

• Lasers are now powerful and small (at least I think they are), so why don't our troops carry laser guns?

This is actually an issue to again bring up with many a novelist. You see, if all of a sudden our troops starting actually using all the equipment they have now, all science-fiction books would suddenly, simultaneously, have to be changed to "non-fiction." Therefore screwing with a lot of libraries and book shops' sorting systems and making quite a lot of librarians/independent book store owners very unhappy, and thusly sending the United States government lots of angry -albeit well-written- letters.

• Why is smooth peanut butter cheaper than nutty?

Actual peanuts cost more.

• If we taught animals to talk, how would that affect the world?

Well, firstly, animals would be able to talk. That in and of itself is rather big, don't you?

• What would happen to the stock market if a meteor impacted the earth? What would happen to the global markets and the U.S. market? Say a meteor hits inside U.S. borders and takes out two states.

Well, that really all depends on which two states it hits. If it were to hit, say, California and Nevada, really not a lot would change for the worse. Meteorite replicas may go up in cost, however.

• Is it possible to collect all the cookie dough in Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream and actually bake cookies from it?

Having actually tried this, I can tell you from experience: NO. Just eat it and be satisfied.

• How clean is bar soap in a public bathroom? Is it "self-cleaning," since it's soap? It seems like a health hazard to me.

Firstly, tell me where the heck you found bar soap in a public restroom. Secondly, no, actually, it's not self-cleaning, so you're right. The best advice I can actually give to you is to remember to sneeze on it next time you're in there, and pray the management will get the hint eventually.

• Why did Zidane head-butt his opponent in the World Cup final? Do the French not fight with their fists?

Ummm... No.

• When we are approaching another person, like in a hallway, why do we step to our left? That is, try and pass right-shoulder-to-right-shoulder.

This (I kid you not) actually spawns from early first century. The people being mostly right-handed would pass each other, so that if one of the two was an enemy, they would each have their swords out on the right side in case of a duel, which, most likely, happened often. I believe that this is also how the street-sweeper/mortician got its start, but that's another story.

• I have been pondering this situation for as long as I can remember (maybe age 7-8) and it drives me nuts. It makes me feel like my head will implode if I think any harder. Is the universe infinite? It must end somewhere. But when it ends … there must be something on the other side … right?

Yes. We here at GAG believe bleu cheese and the Rolling Stones come from that region..p>

• If a group of passengers on a hijacked plane wanted to, could they bring a plane down by all of them using their cell phones at the same time?

Possibly. But it'd only 2 cell phones would be necessary. One for the pilot and one for the co- pilot. If you have two chatty teenage blondes driving your plane, that'd probably do the job just as well, hijacked or not.

• Why do humans die so young? In biblical times, people lived for several hundred years; now living to 100 is considered a long life. What happened?

God just can't wait that long to meet you.

• How can I tell if I was the first person to use the term "K-fed-up" in relation to Britney's divorce?

Just sue everybody else who uses it. Nobody will believe you, but it'll feel good.

• Why is the No. 8 always the same combination (tamale, enchilada, rice, beans) in any Mexican restaurant I visit? This includes primarily the southeast United States but not obvious franchises.

Good heavens, how many Mexican restaurants have you visited??

• Hi, how does nature make water? How does nature combine one oxygen atom and two hydrogen atoms to make water? If we knew how nature makes water, then perhaps we can then find an efficient way of separating hydrogen from oxygen, thus creating the ultimate source for energy.

I actually know the real answer to this. Prepare for your mind to be blown.
Oxygen has a valence of 6 electrons. The valence is the outer most and highest energy level orbit of electrons around the nucleus. The ideal valence for non-metals is 8 electrons, so how does Oxygen reach "Nirvana"? It bonds to two hydrogen atoms. Now Hydrogen has a valence of one electron. So when oxygen comes in contact with hydrogen, the atoms bond covalently with two in order to get it's 8 valence electrons. 6 + 1 + 1 = 8. And voila! The reaction yields water.

I love chemistry =D

• Why is grilled chicken tasting increasingly rubbery and odd?

Rubber chickens are organically grown and much less fatty. Don't have to do much to maintain 'em either....except keep them away from your dog....

• i need more money.....what business can i start that will not take a lot of time...i have internet access daily...........and i have saturday morning free before 12 noon to run around. i work from 7am to 9:30 pm..............

Growing organic rubber chickens is a booming business nowadays...

• Just suppose, one day someone wants to sell you an old gold bar. You don't know if it belongs to any treasure, and you can't find out if there is any reward for it, if it was a lost treasure. How would you go about melting it and selling it? The same would go for a gemstone about the size of a dinner plate. How would you go about selling it? If you're living in a country that is corrupt and you cannot trust the government, or anyone else, what can you do?

Gold bars can be used for more than just money, my friend. Have you ever considered throwing it through an untrustworthy government official's window? They'd probably thank you for it.

• Can you tell me how long it will take if you eat rat poison to see if it is going to affect you? Please e-mail me back. Because my niece ate some.

Oh don't worry. It takes a good 4 hours before the really serious symptoms even start to show up. So you have plenty of time to ask us some more questions or play a few games of spider solitaire before calling your local poison control...

• Hi. I just wanted to know if our eyeballs roll back when we are sleeping (or closed) or do they shake? Or …

Hi. My eyeballs have a tendency to sneak into my ears while I'm sleeping. I don't know what yours do...

• PYGMIES: How/when/where/still in existence/do we mate with them?

o_0...We here at Give a Gripe suggest you seek professional help on this one.

• Do dolphins actually save people? If so, why do they do this?

No. Dolphins don't save people. Jesus saves people.

Actually, dolphins have a strange habit of pushing objects toward shore, including haphazard humans flailing about in deep ocean water. If you ever find yourself flailing haphazardly in the water, however, you want to make sure that the fin is indeed, Flipper, and not Jaws.

• I have a sister that stresses the heck out of me. For example this one sister out of three knows that I am recovering from a serious car accident. I thank God for saving my life, and healing me each and every day. My question is can a person who complains and talks about the same complaining every day stress you completely out? About four days ago I had to tell this one sister (Annie) basically to get a life and stop bugging me with her problems and everybody else's. I reminded her that I am still in a neck brace and healing … I really need to know if a person can really stress you out with the same old thing over and over and over again. PLEASE ANSWER BACK ASAP.

That's horrible! Using a silly neck brace as an excuse to detach yourself from your family! You ought to be ashamed! I suggest you sit down with your sister and give her a good 2 hours for her to spill all her problems out for you to listen to. She's certainly earned it!

Oh...and get well soon...

• Why do we make a "lip-smacking" sound when kissing closed-mouth? We do make the sound; it doesn't happen on its own ...

Personally, I think it's the little man in the back of your head going kablooie.

• What's likely to happen to people, or what might they feel, when they're killed instantly?

Uhm, well, the die... and they'd probably feel... Oh, I dunno, death?

• Can a state in the United States split into two or more states? If so, how? I think Texas has a special provision for being able to divide into up to five states. But I am wondering about the others.

Actually, it's completely possible. It just takes a lot of hired-hands with jackhammers 'tis all.

• Hi. How did the horse in the movie about dreams make it to not only survive but to win again? Was this movie true?

Hi. Well, what happened was the horse in the movie was actually a unicorn, so even though it seemed like it 'died', it didn't, because unicorns are magical like that. And it won because it drank a whole bunch of rocket fuel that it found on the race track, and flew past Sandpaper and his villainous jockey...

And yes, this movie was true.

• Working in my yard yesterday, I killed a gnat in my ear canal, where it had flown. I couldn't remove the body as my finger was too fat. What happens to it now?

First of all, the best way to get gnats and other small flying insects out of your face openings is with a rifle. The blast will prevent the body from getting stuck...or if it doesn't, it'll be the last thing you're worried about...
I suggest the Atkins diet and piano lessons. That should get your fingers slim enough to get that little buggy out.

• What is the richest religion? Scientology has a lot of Hollywood stars and I think they actually make their members give money, but Catholicism is a very old religion with its own country. Also, Islam has a lot of members but I don't know about their money situation.

Boy are you off. Actual, scientific study (from scientologists, go figure) shows that Pastafarianism is in fact the richest religion in the universe, with the giant spaghetti monster cranking out more chocolate coins and beer mugs a day than the pope can make sermons about in a month.

• Is chicken considered meat?

Good heavens, no. Chickens come from eggs, therefore they are dairy.

• Hello ... Could you tell me if there's been any kind of medical discovery in the last 30 years besides DNA.

Yes. RNA. And.... Pasta.

• Are UFOs confirmed to be from other Alien Planets?

If UFOs were confirmed as anything they wouldn't be "unidentified" flying objects, now would they?

• How do you get to write articles for Slate. Do you have to go through a process?

Well, with Slate, you first have to order a specialized piece of paper and pen ($19.99 and $4.50 plus shipping and handling) and then you have to write them your question in wingdings. You have to put your social security number on the envelope, circle it and write "Steal my identity!" next to it.

For Give a Gripe, you just have to e-mail us with the e-mail button up yonder...

-Space Bean & Hol

Have a....uuh....a good Christmas.

2006-12-19T19:55:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas time again. I love Christmas time. It is a time to celebrate the birth of our saviour, despite the ACLU's attempts to nullify our salvation.

Some other things I love about Christmas is the music. Of all the genres of music, Christmas music is probably the most satisfying to me. My radio is currently turned to KZST, which during this season plays all Christmas music. Good stuff.

There is one song that is played rather frequently on KZST. It always starts rather suddenly with the enthusiastic voice of Alan Jackson yodeling through the boombox. The song I speak of is entitled "Holly Jolly Christmas"

The song itself makes absolutely no sense at all. Let's take a closer look...

Have a holly jolly Christmas

What exactly is a 'holly jolly' Christmas? Ok, well I'm inherently going to have a 'holly jolly' Christmas. I have one every year. Not only that, I have a Holly jolly Thanksgiving and a Holly jolly 4th of July and a Holly jolly Hannukah...but what of everyone else? Unfortunately, not everyone can be me for Christmas. They'll have to settle for just a plain ol' 'jolly' Christmas.

It's the best time of the year

Totally subjective. Jews, Jehovahs witnesses and the ACLU don't even celebrate Christmas, why should this time of the year be better than any other for them?

Well I don't know if there'll be snow

Welcome to my city. You, in fact, do know there will never be snow.

But have a cup of cheer

Cheer is abstract. It is not tangible. You can't put it in a cup any more than you can put love, dreams, remorse or music in a cup. You can't drink it either, cheer has most definitely not been approved by the FDA...

Have a holly jolly Christmas
And when you walk down the street

You should be inside on Christmas. Inside with your family. What are you doing on the street?

Say hello to friends you know

That's not fair. What about friends that I don't know? And what are my friends doing on the street?

And everyone you meet

Mommy said never talk to strangers...

Ho ho the mistletoe
Hung where you can see
Somebody waits for you
Kiss her once for me

Eeeh...First of all, I don't think anyone will wait for me under mistletoe. Those who know me well enough would know I would never comply to such behavior, and those who don't know me....well...would certainly not be waiting under mistletoe for me. Aside from that, I highly doubt someone waiting for me under mistletoe would be a her.
And who is 'you' anyway? Kiss your own, I'm not doing it for you.

Have a holly jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear

I heard. It's at the beginning of every verse. How could I not have heard?

Oh bygolly have a holly jolly Christmas This year

Well readers, you heard the guy. I hope you all have a holly jolly Christmas...

Or...whatever your name is.

-Hol

These people just keep rambling on, like there's some point to the conversation, and they never shut up! I keep telling them to but nooooo...

2006-12-18T19:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Give a Gripe,

I have a problem, and I wanna know what you think. Course it doesn't really matter what you think because I'm really kinda slow and everything people say goes in one ear and out the other, y'know one time at school the teacher called me a numbskull, and I really have to argue that point cos the doctor says that there are many nerve endings in the brain and I know this because my momma dropped me on my head when this guy in a store smacked her, turns out he was my REAL father, cos she cheated on my fake dad and thats when I was born, I've been in therapy since I was 7 for the trauma of not having a real dad to play ball with, cos I once played ball with my fake dad and it turns out he's really clumsy and threw the ball right at my head, there was so much blood I had to get stitches, but I did get a lollipop from the doctor, and I ate it and ate it and cos I was in too much pain to get up I didn't get out of bed to brush my teeth and I got a cavity, and the dentist had to pull my teeth, but he pulled the wrong one and now I have two fake teeth, sorta like I also have six fingers on my left hand, cos of that I'm always afraid Inigo will hunt me down and kill me cos of my fingers, and I'm not prepared to die, I almost died once, I followed the shiny light, and I followed it and followed it, I thought it was the neon lights that they put on the golden arches of McDonalds, but it wasn't, it was heaven, and not nearly as good cos they didn't put pickles on their burgers, cos I really really really like pickles, Moo was right that zucchini sucks cos if you've ever heard of zucchini pickles they suck, not liked I sucked on the lollipop that the doctor gave me, although that really sucked cos the dentist had to pull my teeth, but he pulled the wrong one and now I have two fake teeth, sorta like I also have six fingers on my left hand, cos of that I'm always afraid Inigo will hunt me down and kill me cos of my fingers, and I'm not prepared to die, I almost died once, I followed the shiny light, and I followed it and followed it, I thought it was the neon lights that they put on the golden arches of McDonalds, but it wasn't, it was heaven, and not nearly as good cos they didn't put pickles on their burgers, cos I really really really like pickles, Moo was right that zucchini sucks cos if you've ever heard of zucchini pickles they suck, not liked I sucked on the lollipop that the doctor gave me, although that really sucked cos the dentist...wait, I said that already, sometimes I feel like my brain is on french toast, or a goat, or a nun, did you know that nuns never get any...nevermind, thats not an area I should go into cos I'm likely to say something stupid, I do that a lot, or so people tell me, I try to make jokes but they end up like John Kerry's jokes, y'know he insults people and then rambles on and on, gosh, I DESPISE people who ranble on and on, especially politicians, like that Bob Dole, y'know Bob Dole says that he never had relations with that woman...no wait, that was Jesse Jackson, sorry, off topic, anyway where was I, oh yeah, Dole, so when I was a baby my momma never gave me fresh fruit, she always made me eat canned fruit, so the Bible says "U r wat U eat" and so my brain became canned fruit, and I moved to San Francisco to find a community of my peers, but I despise Rice-a-Roni so they kicked me out of there and I had to go to the Himalayas and I got married to a Yeti named Martha, we had a couple babies and I raised them till they were two, and then Martha told me that they weren't actually Yeti babies, but broken down old lawnmowers that she covered in polarbear fur, but she wanted to sell the furs to PETA [People for the Eating of Tasty Animals] and I called her stupid and she called me a poophead and I called her mean and she called me a big olf stainless steel butter knife, I actually used one of those once but it wouldn't cut my steak so I had to go back to the chainsaw to cut my food, which is wrong cos chainsaws are supposed to be used to cut up your ex-wife like OJ did, or at least he said he did but can you really believe him cos he wasnt even looking for her, except on the golf course, I went to a golf course once and my good buddy Hugh yelled FORE and I yelled FIVE and I didn't see his golf ball coming straight at me, he should have at least warned me it was coming, so I went home and put ice on it but when I put my tongue on the icepack it froze tight and I had to call an ambulance but I couldn't cos my mouth was stuck to the ice and it really hurt, so I ran outside and thats when I discovered I had no clothes on so the cops beat me down and put me in prison, they were nice enough to give me a meal though, but it was impossible to use that dinky plastic fork they gave me to cut through my mashed potatoes, so I threw it on the floor and they beat me up and I got in a coma so I had to go to the hospital and when the guard wasn't looking I tried to escape out the window and the janitor caught me when I fell on him but the thought I was suicidal so they took me to a shrink and the shrink wrapped my head in banana peels and string cheese...no wait, that was my psychic advisor, the shrink actually told me I ramble, WHAT, SAY IT AINT SO, WHY DOES HE THINK I RAMBLE, please please please I really need your help, why do they pick on people like me, HELPPPPPPPPP MEEEEEEEE!!!!!11one11oneelevent

yone1

Yours Affectionately,
Splunge Wizzlepants

Dear Mr. Wizzlepants,

First off, let me tell you that rambling is not, in any way, shape or form, a problem. Nor is it uncommon. I know plenty of people who ramble! Some, you give them even the slightest inkling you want to hear a story and they just ramble off the handle like nobody's business, it's almost as if they're not even listening to you, but they are, so you really have to be careful what you say around people like that because all of a sudden they'll be like, "What?" and then there's that big awkward silence until someone else starts rambling again. It's like they really don't even know how to shut up! It's incredible! I mean, I know plenty of people, who, no matter how many times you tell them to, never shut up. They just keep talking talking talking talk talk talk talk talk.... But not me, no, I know when to shut up. There was this one time, I was making waffles in my kitchen and I was talking about the weather to my Great-Aunt Susan, who really isn't all that great I guess but somehow she got the title and anyway I was talking to her about the weather and how the weather was really boring and I couldn't believe how some people got paid, to stand up, on Television, Channel 3 or something, and talk about how boring the weather is going to be that week. It's wasn't like they were ever right or anything, that's just how they were, and it was almost as if they wouldn't shut up! I wish I could get paid for that. Right now I'm working as a duck farmer in lower Michigan, which really, you know, isn't all that bad of a job. Free ducks for Christmas and everything. Anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, I was having this conversation and my Great-Aunt (who really wasn't soooooo great, but I'll get to that later) tells me that I ramble. I had no idea where it came from! Genetic, maybe? Must be. Great-Aunt Susan would always tell it like it is, that's how she got the title. You see, back in the olden days, right around the time the dinosaurs got out, my family had their annual barbecue, and they gave out awards, you know, things like "Most likely to drop out of college" and so and so. My Great-Aunt Susan got the award for the pig-wrasslin' competition, the prize of which, was the title "Great-Aunt." "But who'd want to wrassle (whatever that is) a pig?" I'd say, "That really doesn't sound all that great to me." And she'd box my ears and tell me to get back to my shrubbery studies. That really wasn't all that great, either, but shrubbers made a great living back then and I thought it was worth it. It wasn't, go figure, but least now I can tell you with great pride that I can make a topiary penguin in my sleep, and a leprechaun made out of dandelions with one eye open. I can't really remember why that's all great, either, come to think of it, but maybe I'll get around to it later. I was eating some horse radish earlier today, actually, and I was wondering why on earth they named it horse radish, does it contain horses? So much for being a vegetarian. Anyway, Christmas is coming up and I was really worrying about what to get my family for presents then I realized that they wouldn't really care, so I made them something, which I ate, then I told them about it and they just told me I rambled and that it wasn't genetic and I was just stupid so I can totally see where you're coming from with all this, but never despair because I found this really neat support group where they stuff cotton in their ears and just let you talk and talk and talk an talk and talk and talk all day without telling you to shut up or anything, well except maybe once or twice but that's only after their eyes turn red and they pull out their hair which might explain why so many psychologists are bald, but afterwards I was completely cured! Yup, one-hundred-percent totally, absolutely cured, completely. Yessirree, you won't see me rambling anymore, not a bit, you're lucky to have a conversation longer than a minute with me nowadays, I'm like Coolidge. He didn't ramble, did he? No, I doubt he did, Presidents really don't ramble except for that Dole guy, or Jay-Z, wasn't he President of something or other?

Anyway, in closing, rambling really isn't all that much of a problem. Next time you do it just talk into a rubber band or paper bag so you can listen to the echo of your own voice in case you have some good ideas tossed in there, eh? --Space Bean

Dear Splunge,

We at Give a Gripe are neither certified psychologists or life counselors. Therefore take our advice at your own risk. However, to tell you the truth you do ramble. A lot. Not that rambling is necessarily bad, but you don't seem to like it too much. So to help you with that, why don't you try counting to 10, or maybe 100 before you say something. It will help you think out what you are trying to say without having to ramble as much. And maybe you should visit a real counselor...instead of a shrink. And read the bible. And get some common sense. Other than that, I don't really know what other advice to give you. ~ Aranel

Tastes like Zucchini

2006-12-15T11:01:00.000-08:00

(Continuation of "What's Up with Zucchini?")

Also, you could look at it like chicken. Have you ever noticed that next to every meat imaginable somehow, some way, tastes at least a little like chicken? The leading theory in explaining this is that God either A) Started out with chicken, then made everything else based off that, or B) Made everything else, then suddenly remembered he had to make chicken taste like something, couldn't come up with an idea, so he just said, "Ah, to heck with it. Let's put a little of everything in there."
The same can be said for zucchini in the vegetable realm. My personal pet theory in this case is that God had just gotten through creating carrots, peas, pickles, cucumbers, squash - you know, the veggie bunch - then had this other... THING, leftover, looked like a pickle, wasn't a pickle, he didn't really know what to call it, mumbled a little, and pretty much tossed in everything else. THAT is why if you close your eyes while eating ANY vegetable, and WILL yourself to PRETEND you're eating zucchini, the vegetable does all the work for you, because, in fact, it helped create the overall taste of said zucchini. That's my theory anyway. --Space

What's Up with Zucchini?

2006-12-14T11:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Give a Gripe,

What's up with the Zucchini? Why must it look so much like the Cucumber?

Sincerely, Moo

Dear Moo,

You can find the answer to your question by parallelling it to the animal kingdom. Why does a king snake look so much like a coral snake? Why do zebras look so much like tigers? Why does Michael Jackson look like a white guy?

Camoflauge. Just as animals use camoflauge to prevent becoming prey, so do vegetables to prevent becoming pureed. (Play on words fully intended)

Zucchini is considered the bane of the vegetable kingdom. It's squishy, slimy and has a bitter aftertaste. It is so bad in fact, that I used to cry when forced to eat it. Because it hasn't been working this last week, I've come up with a better tactic to rid myself of the evil squash. I point behind my parents head and exclaim, "Look! A 3 headed monkey!" and then promptly scrape my zucchini onto my brothers plate.

Cucumber, on the contrary, is much more refreshing and goes quite well on salads. However, kids still don't like cucumber. Why? Because it reminds them of zucchini. I hated cucumber before I even got the chance to try it, and stayed away from it until curiousity got the best of me.

So you see that the reason for the similarity between zucchini and cucumber is just another survival tactic. Cucumber disguises itself as a nasty vegetable to prevent being eaten. Though seeing that cucumbers end up on dinner salads daily, one could argue that their method doesn't work very well....

But they don't need to know that...

~Hol

What's wrong with the circus?

2006-12-10T15:31:00.000-08:00

A Letter from "A Circus Dreamer":

Dear Give a Gripe,

Today someone asked if I was in a circus. I told them no. But what if I had been? What's so bad a about being in a circus? I mean, come on, you get to do all kinds of cool stuff. You can explore the world, act silly and crazy, and no one would know better.
Hanging from the roof, flipping and twirling through the air, riding elephants, making people laugh. After all laughter is the best medicine, isn't it?
At least that's what I know of circuses.
Since I have never personally been in one, been to one or seen one, who am I to know? But still, the idea of being a circus is intriguing. You can play gypsy and travel the world over. Meet new people every day. Walk the tightropes. Act totally crazy without getting strange looks. Play with all types of trained animals. You get to play dress up everyday. And when people ask you why you've been all over the country (or world), you just give a pleasant smile and say "Yes, I'm in the circus. I'm the clown I do tricks and play with the lions and elephants...Wouldn't you love to be in one too?" Give a honk to your red clown nose, do a flip and twirl as you catch a trapeze and dance away.

Signed,
~ A Circus Dreamer

(Answer moved to post =D) - Hol

Dear Dreamer,

I do believe you just answered your own gripe. Congratulations, that makes our job a heck of a lot easier. As you may have noticed, we're no "Dear Abby." And one of my personal childhood dreams was always to traipse up and down the shoddy ground of an over-sized tent while wearing enough make-up to make Gene Simmons look normal, juggling around five of the nearest spherical objects I could find. Flaming, preferably. There is ABSOLUTELY nothing wrong with the circus. They are simply talented individuals whom most people (*cough*High-schoolers*cough*) can't seem to grasp the logic of.
The logic is this:

"Yes, hello, how-do-you-do. I know I look silly, that's the point. But I'm having more fun than you. And I'll be having even more when you realize just how much you paid to get in here."

Well, err, that's it more or less, anyhow.

- Space

Yes, laughter is the best medicine, but zinc lozenges take a quick second place.

As a side note to what Space Bean said, if you don't want people to ask you if you're in the circus, consider not wearing the rainbow colored afro and big shoes ;). However, we highly encourage you to join the circus and show the world that it's still in need of some genuine weirdos....

Misquotation and You

2006-12-10T06:37:00.000-08:00

"Any persons attempting to find a plot, theme, or moral in this narrative will be shot and hanged."
-Mark Twain.

Misquoting is a common problem in large crowds. People attempting to sound cool or knowledgeable, will often, out of the blue, grasp for the nearest piece of media-related intellectual stimuli that may be excepted in the current company, and quote it.

The problem with this is that it, while still sounding perfectly fine to the untrained ear, comes out wrong. For example, "All the rum's gone! WHY?" sounds fine, yet is still wrong. In the context it is, it retains a completely different thematic value, if you will, than the actual correct phrase.

Most people, however, really don't seem to mind this, and go on doing it themselves. Some even do it on purpose.
This, then, leads to a fantastically quaint little theory:

Misquotation is actually a sign of a larger intellect.

The pleasant mat of the factor is that some people are just so widely-read, brains constantly buzzing with interesting conversation, obviously mixing itself and becoming so confusing that they can't help but misquote someone! And company is simply forced to accept whatever they say, no matter how foolish, from a social disease commonly called "peer pressure," which is believed to be a symptom of "highschoolitis." Due to which, no one ever asks if the quote is right or wrong or not, or what movie it's from, for fear of not being as simply well-versed as the benefactor.

So there you have it.

"I am your humble servant and I refuse."

-Buttercup.

Better a bird in the hand than two that are stoned.

2006-12-08T17:55:00.000-08:00

Cliches.

Trite, overused, in some cases cheesy, but have still successfully managed to permeate the English language like the Bubonic plague.

Most importantly, cliches are analogies that people can relate to or picture easily in order to address a given situation on a smaller scale. They make saying profound statements, encouragements, or words of wisdom as easy as pie.

Gah.

Now that I have set the precedent for cliches, I'd like to address one that comes to mind that violates the most important ethical standard of them.

"Kill two birds with one stone"

Definitely trite and overused. But relateable? I think not.

The accepted meaning of this cliche deals with economy and efficiency. If you can do one thing, and in that process accomplish two things, then the one thing was an efficient use of your time. The American way. The less you have to do to get the most out of it, the better. This sets the precedent of laziness and short-cutting through work. Doing as little as possible and gaining more than you earned. Fiendish! But actually, quite efficient. Especially when homework is concerned...
Let's move on to the context of the cliche, rather than the underlying meaning.
If you've ever tried killing one bird with one stone, you'd probably find it very hard, and a big time waster. Killing two one the same shot? Bah!
First of all, what would be the point? If you could find a type of bird small enough that you could actually kill two of them easily with one stone, they would have to be too small to eat or too cute to kill. God punishes those who kill cute animals that you can't eat. The only birds that are useful to kill are the larger, edible type. I can assure you that throwing rocks at large fowl is not how the pilgrims got their first Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone knows that the pilgrims used bazookas.
Second of all, even if there was a point to killing little birds with rocks, there is no way you could throw a rock in a straight line and expect that the strength of your throw would be powerful enough to kill two birds, even assuming you could actually hit them without them flying away first. If the rock was heavy enough to kill a bird, you probably couldn't throw it hard or fast enough. If it was light enough for a fast, good throw, it probably won't kill the bird ESPECIALLY not two of them. It's a lose/lose situation for you, and a win/win for the birds. Not very efficient to me.
A better phrasing might be "Nail all the birds with one missil" That'd definitely be a more efficient de-birdinator for the more animal and environment indifferent.

So if anyone tells you that if you do something for them, you'll 'kill two birds with one stone', remember what I have said, and run for your life.

Disclaimer: I do not necessarily condone shooting birds with missils. If anyone attempts this who perchance read this post, I am not responsible for the damages. Any lawsuits will be directed to the back, where they will promptly be shot. Thank you.

Phew.

2006-12-07T17:38:00.000-08:00

I believe througout this ordeal, we have thus qualified ourselves to give you our advice. Yes, we have solved one of the most complicated types of problems there are..

Our own.

Namely:

Our own computer problems.

Computers add so much more strife when mixed with the word "problem." A problem is like the number "10", and different kinds of problems are exponents of that. Math problems are a lower exponent than marital problems, for example. Spaghetti sticking to the cieling and being found a week later would definitely be a six-digit figure. Computer problems would put an "err" on your calculator...before it burst into flames. Yes, the technology intended to make our lives easier and more organized have indeed made our lives more complex and driven the suicide rate up. Well? Ever hear of amish people jumping off of bridges?

But we got past some of the strifes blogger and our computers have caused for us, and are now free to post.

So why go through all the trouble in making this site? I'll tell you.
It started as I was doing a sudoku in a newspaper. No, I don't remember if it was simple, moderate or diabolical, but I don't think I ended up solving it anyway.

On the back page was the "Ask Abby" (who's, by the way, real name is "Jeanne Phillips") and other advice columns. I got into the habit of reading them to see if anyone else had problems of people creating sudoku puzzles that they know are impossible to solve (I'm on to you, Michael Mepham!)And while looking I discovered that some people's problems are pretty ridiculous (10 to the 1st power type problems...) and mostly deal with in-laws, pets, neighbors, and clowns. So that's why we're here. If you have ridiculous problems or questions, direct them to us so you'll get the ridiculous answer you deserve. If you have serious questions, you probably still deserve the ridiculous answer we'll give you.

As long as it makes you laugh.

So e-mail any one of us. We give advice, answer questions, and give our opinions on current events and daily frivolities.

And this is a net loss organization. We don't get any money. We give you a whole bunch of our $.02.

So we'll make sure our advice is worth as much. =D

Construction Problems

2006-12-07T17:11:00.000-08:00

Well, this site is certainly having problems getting set up. We're still working on it though. =) We do welcome any gripes and complaints you might have. And while we're reading yours, we'll complain about ours.
"Blogger does not like to make new accounts and work together in harmony with the earth...or internet rather."
"Blogger has problems."
"Blogger is complicated. We give up."
No. Wait! We can't give up yet, we haven't even started yet!
Well, we'll now get back to solving the problem.
See ya later!