|Posted on January 18, 2013 at 10:10 PM|
As a kid, I thought that when you teased someone you were "making front of them" instead of "making fun of them." It made sense since you were teasing them to their face instead of laughing at them behind their back.
I also thought that "for all intents and purposes" was actually "for all intensive purposes." This, too, made perfect sense, but only of your purposes were really demanding.
I think Germans would like me. I don't have any good reason for believing this and I don't have any great love for Germans or Germany myself. I don't hate them either. Here's what I know about Germany firsthand: my wife owned two VW Beetles that were surprisingly unreliable, I really like the song '99 Luftballoons,' and "No" comes after eight when you're counting.
I really, REALLY, want to believe in Hell, just so there's a place where web developers who put any kind of media that autoplays on their sites can go and finally pay for their sins. Also, screw you and your click-through page view monetization, it's the Internet, not a newspaper, I shouldn't have to go to a new page to see the rest of a story. You can fit the whole damn article on ONE PAGE!
Checks need to be banned. Seriously, why not just bring a sheep into the grocery store and try to barter for your goods?
"I before E except after C" screws me up every time I try to write the word "weird."
When I was 17, my uncle told me I wasn't a man until I was 18 and a legal adult. When I was 18, he said I wasn't a man until I was 21 and able to order a beer at a bar. At 21, he said I wasn't a man until I was married. After I got married, he said I wasn't a man until I had kids. I'm 36, I was married for over 14 years, and I have two daughters, but he and the rest of my relatives don't speak to me anymore because of religion. Being a man is not always what it's cracked up to be. (That was funnier in my head.)
I spent the better part of my childhood believing that Pat Benatar sang, "We're riding with our saddles on too tight" in 'Shadows of the Night.' Never mind that the correct lyrics are right there in the title. I blame it on terrible speakers.
My ex-wife is an over-talker, especially when she's excited. It makes attempting to get a word in kind of like trying to board a moving train, only more dangerous. She also tries to guess the next word I'm going to say, usually poorly. I still try to converse with her even though I'm not any better at communicating as I should be by now.