Agreed. And man – what a hilarious site! Thanks, guys. This is great.
I want to start a new poll on a certain subject ;)
Twat isn’t really offensive here either Brett. The one that starts with “c” though, whew!
I learned two weeks ago that some people find the term ‘cunt musket’ to be “gratuitous.”
I would too, I’m even afraid to google for it to fine out what it actually is. I swear alot, but I try my best never to use ‘the C word’.
The first site doesn’t seem so bad; there is something attractive about unselficonscious, overly confident women that alot of guys like - that sort of impatient, hand on the hip, eyebrow raised, but always smiling type. I think i see that weblog as something of a man’s paen to the differences between men and women, and he just overly elaborates on everyday events.
The second was a confused girl who doesn’t know who she is or what she wants but seems amazed at her boyfriend’s incompentence at the minor points of life. Sort of building them all into one angst ridden purpose. Who would she be without that angst? The other guy, otoh, seems like someone who would ‘make it’ without his girl.
I can see the guy’s girlfriend just rolling her eyes at his blog. I see the husband of the woman saying “wtf are you writing on the internet about us?!”.
Google effectively comes up blank for “cunt musket”. Now I’m currious.
I am also unable to find anything substantive on the terms “ass rifle”, “dick pistol”, and “twat slingshot”.
In the third person it’s not too offensive, but I suggest you don’t use it in the second person in a south London pub :) .
Wow, just finished his first novel-superb!!
His career is really taking off, too
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5033291/site/newsweek/
Tom! This should be taken as a sign, get busy!
Hmm… maybe we’ll be discussing this in the Movies forum soon:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,,885864,00.html
Though, who could play Ursula?
Google effectively comes up blank for “cunt musket”. Now I’m currious.[/quote]
If you can’t find it on the internet, then it’s made up. The internet is the Scrabble Dictionary of life.
My new favorite term is “cum dumpster.”
I wasn’t very into the first site in the beginning - the list of things he’s argued with her about are indeed odd and inconsequential, which leaves me to wonder why he argued with her as well.
But, a little way in, the bit about the blue sink: that was pretty spot-on:
Our sink is blue and we’re not talking about it. It happened over a week ago; I was leaning over the sink, brushing my teeth, when I noticed that there was a sort of lazuline patina that had seeped over most of the surface. Margret hasn’t mentioned anything about this. Why she hasn’t is that she’s obviously tried to clean the sink with, well, I don’t know, some fluid used for stripping entrenched cerriped colonies from the hulls of submarines or something (they were probably offering three bottles of the stuff for the price of two at Aldi). She is waiting for me to mention it. But I am a wily fox, and will be doing nothing of the sort. I’m no wet-behind-the-ears, naive youth anymore, not by a looooong way, and I can perfectly see the spiked pit the seemingly innocent words, ‘Did you know the sink’s blue’ are covering. It would go - precisely - like this:
Me: Did you know the sink’s blue?
Margret: Yes. I did. I used a jungle exfoliant produced by the Taiwanese military to clean it, and it discoloured the surface.
Me: Oooooooo. K.
Margret: Well maybe, just maybe, if you cleaned the sink once in a while…
You see what she did there? Now I’m facing a whole day of ‘When did you last…?’ Well, not this canny fellow - not this time, my friends.
Our sink is blue and we’re not talking about it.
That was almost definitely my favorite bit on the whole site. :-)
Really? Because I don’t think anything could top
When you have two languages within a single relationship there are always going to be moments of unfortunateness. Such as the fact that, after she came to live in England, it took me about ten months of pointing out her error - time and time again - until Margret finally sorted out in her head which way round the meanings of ‘orgasm’ and ‘orgy’ were. Ten months, I may add, during which she made an awful lot of friends. For my part… well - in German you often make a plural by adding ‘en’: ear/Ohr - ears/Ohren, republic/Republik - republics/Republiken, etc. So, it’s perfectly natural, then, that I would assume the plural of ‘Bus’ (bus) was ‘Busen’. OK, so, yes ‘Busen’ does mean something else entirely - that is NOT MY FAULT.
However, there are times when, far from being assaulted by language-based misunderstandings, I actually close my eyes, knit my hands and call on a succession of gods to pleeeeeease make what I just heard be, genuinely and completely, simply an Anglo-German semantic quirk.
Would you like me to give you an example, or are you impatient to go straight to the Guestbook and write, “this is just, like, sad n stuff, like, y dont u just split up n stuff if u dont get along!!! :-(
tammyidaho”? Are you sure? Okey-dokey, let’s do the example first, then.I was in the kitchen the other day, making myself a cup of tea as a break from the intense and demanding effort of having worked on a script for a full forty minutes before my mind meandered away into counting the holes in the ventilation grille on the front of my computer, playing tunes by slapping the sides of my face while varying how open my mouth was and, ultimately and inevitably, wondering if Alyson Hannigan, wherever she was now, was naked. As I fished out the teabag and made one, final effort to come to a decision regarding the Alyson Hannigan thing, Margret returned home from work. She dumped various bits of her day about the place until she had only a carrier bag left. From this bag she pulled a plate of cold, cooked meat covered with cling film and moved over to put it in the fridge. Before she did so, however, she peeled back the film and folded a slice into her mouth. She offered me the plate - I took a slice too. She made to turn to the open fridge once more, but then offered me the plate again in a ‘Before I put it away?’ fashion. I took another slice. She then put the meat away and closed the fridge door. As I stood there chewing, she swept off towards the living room, saying - distractedly, without looking back - “Eat it whenever you fancy. It’s Pam’s husband.”
Yes, you read that correctly.
My favorite (as an American) comes from his special FAQ for Americans:
You hate Americans, don’t you?
Absolutely not. Some of the brightest, funniest, most erudite, down-to-earth and self-effacing people I know are Americans. (Or Canadians - which is the same thing. Yes it is. I’m not listening - Yes - It - Is.) Even my limited experience suggests most Americans are extremely pleasant people. I’m just sorry that the majority have to share a country with such a large minority of yawping, jingoistic, humourless, moronic wankers. Oh, and my sympathies about your President too.