Being Mr. Kenny

This has to be the easiest quiz ever. You just type in your name and away you go.

But none of them are number one in Google! Ha ha ha ha ha!

The HTML they gave me was disgusting, by the way, so I took a screenshot instead.

Chelsea Peretti writes, ‘When someone texts you an invite, you can now just write back: “No.” That’s finally okay to do.’

I disagree. But she does talk about a wonderful game called What’s Up Team? that I am going to play sometime.

Read all about it in The Texting News.

PS: I once wrote in to Chelsea to compliment her on her use of the word “spastic” in one of her posts. I said, “I liked your use of the word spastic” and she wrote back saying, “Thanks.”

Memorable.

OK folks, here’s one for you. Whenever you have to write “broken glass” for whatever reason, don’t write “broken glass,” put “borken gass” instead.

“Borken gass.” Try it. You might like it.

I just discovered half-cooked pasta and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, it is the most delicious, wonderful way of cooking pasta. It was soft, yet at the same time crunchy. My housemate had made me bolognaise sauce with mince that I donated to him due to its immiment spoiling, and I poured this sauce over my half-cooked pasta. It was erotic, in the culinary sense of the word.

Let the italians keep their al dente, I say, I will have my “half-cooked”.

“We’ve got better things to do than sit around and be CONTAMINATED”

Found on Damn Interesting: The Tragedy of the Love Canal.

I found this story quite amusing. I really shouldn’t, since I quite like Picasso, but it’s funny all the same. Basically a rich art collector in America had just closed the deal on a painting called Le Rêve, a depiction of the artist’s mistress, Marie-Therese Walter. He had sold this for $139 million (that’s about £75 million, in real money).

Anyway, he was showing it off to friends when he soundly put his elbow straight through the painting. He made a hole in a Picasso original. A hole. In a picasso. His first words, apparently, were, “Oh shit, look what I’ve done.”

Oh my goodness, I would wet myself. I would probably wet myself for a whole week — just continous incontinence for seven days and seven nights. Still, it’s a hilarious story, no? The event was witnessed by a bunch of people including Nora Ephron, who were all sworn to secrecy. Sadly, not everyone there honoured the oath, and before long there was a piece about it in the New Yorker.

There are two things that appeal to me about Nora Ephron’s blog post about the incident. First is the fact that she points out that half of Marie’s head has been painted to resemble a penis. I think that’s great. What a wonderful gesture of romantic love. If I was Picasso’s mistress, I’d say upon viewing it, “Oh, darling, you’ve made half my head into a penis, how sweet of you! What a lovely way to be recorded for the ages. I’m going to love you forever, just like the way that penis on the side of my face is going to follow people around the room forever. God bless you, you dear, sweet man.”

The second thing I like is Ephron’s obvious mirth (which verges on unrestrained joy) at being able to talk about it. She finishes her post with the words

Now, in today’s New Yorker, there’s a very charming piece about the incident, and as far as I’m concerned I am entirely released from my vow of silence on the matter.

The third thing I like, and I didn’t include this in my original list of things I liked (look upon it as a nice surprise) was the fact that her initials spell “nephron”, which is one of the most fascinating structures in the human body. (See Wikipedia.)

Her post is actually quite hilarious. Check it out: Nora Ephron: My Weekend in Vegas.

TONY BLAIR HAS AIDES!