#18 (Continued) - Females Sighted Bringing Their Own Full-Size Pillows On Planes, By Race

It's been a while since I got a report of an own pillow carrier so I was quite excited to receive the photo below from my buddy Hope (author of "Under the Baby" a blog documenting her travails living under an extremely loud and highly sexually active couple and their new child.) This represents the first black Own Pillow Carrier ever sighted in the wild, and as she was even photographed with offspring, it's really a landmark in the study of OPCs.

Overall Total:
White: 26
Other: 2 (Latina, black)

If you're a new reader and are not familiar with our running tally of Females Sighted Bringing Their Own Full-Size Pillows On Planes, By Race, I suggest you trace the history of the search here, here and here.

(If you sight an own-pillow carrier (OPC,) please email [email protected] with your tally, the race of the OPC or OPCs, and your route. Alternately, you may simply add the same information in the comments section below.)

#80 - Juvenile Hand Gestures!

Why do we stop doing things that are fun just because we get old? Come on, link up with me, you know it's awesome!

Fun right? (Oh, and since you're bound to wonder, that orange thing in the background is called a Rody, and it's an inflatable bouncy toy for when I have my son in my office with me.) In fact, if anything, as we age, we can actually get better at some of these things. For example, check out some of the innovations I've made on the ol' Poke Your Finger Through The Hole To Simulate Intercourse Gesture:

Oh, and of course there's also THIS!

HA! *punch*

Man, that was totally worth it.

No, but seriously, do you think you've got a sweet innovation on the Poke Your Finger Through The Hole To Simulate Intercourse gesture? Does it maybe even have a hilarious name? I'd like to hear about it at [email protected] or in the comments section below. Good luck!

#79 - Photograhs by... ME!

Some of my photos of Antarctica found their way into Compass Travel Magazine this month alongside a story by my stalwart shipmate P.F. Kluge. Check it out here.

#78 - Oliver's Favorite Animals, Plus, Me On TV!

Hi. I was talking to my son Oliver in the car yesterday and he told me what his favorite animals are. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: So, what's your favorite animal?
Oliver: Sharks.
Me: Okay. What's your second favorite?
Oliver: Sharks.
Me: Ah. And your third?
Oliver: Sharks and goats.

So, to recap, if you're on final Jeopardy and the answer is "Sharks, Sharks, Sharks/Goats," the question is "What are Oliver's Favorite Animals?"

Incidentally, if you would like to watch me try to be funny in the flesh, rather than with the written word, there's a bit of a Connolly marathon on the Travel Channel the next few days. Here's the sched:

21 Manly Man Adventures – 8p (PREMIERE)
21 Sinful Vegas Hot Spots – 9p
21 Sexiest Beaches – 10p

21 Sexiest Beach Bars – 9p (PREMIERE)

21 Hottest Caribbean Escapes – 9p (PREMIERE)
21 Sexiest Beach Bars - 10p

All times are E. Enjoy!

#77- Misspelled Protest Signs

If there's one thing that gives me shadenfreudenous spasms of delight it's watching someone unintentionally reveal his or her inner ignoramus. It pains me to admit this, but I happen to be one of those rare people who was born without an inner ignoramus. I know this sounds wonderful. I know it almost sounds like a superpower. But unfortunately, in place of the thin layer of sub-dermal stupidity one finds in most human beings, I have a thick second skin of ignoramusness which encases my body like one of those suits speed skaters wear at the Olympics.

Yes. I have an outer ignoramus.

There, now it’s all out in the open. I was born without the ability to conceal what a dork I am. Through a very rare genetic mixture of rambunctiousness, cluelessness, innate eagerness and unawareness of self, the fact that I am a neo maxi zoom dweebie is on display for all to see every second of every day.

In some senses this is extremely liberating. Like a chimpanzee happily masturbating and throwing shit in public I have been able to do things like walking around with my pockets full of magic tricks and wearing a fedora for the entirety of seventh grade. But while there are advantages to having an exoskeleton of ignorance, it’s also a source of great pain. So please forgive me if I take delight in instances of other people briefly revealing their own inner ignormai. If I revel in the occasional grammatically incorrect tattoo, misspelled cake or misguided car sticker it’s only because I’m so painfully aware of my own deficiencies.

One of the best things that ever happened to me in my entire life was when I was at a bar with a big group of friends and some douche who was sitting behind me asked me for a light. This douche was some kind of douche prodigy because he had really carefully-considered hair, and had flipped up the collar of his leather jacket, and was wearing sunglasses, inside, at night, in a bar. It was almost like he was trying to channel the Rob Lowe character from The Outsiders. Anyhoo, I was just sitting there talking to my friends when the Douche Master General swooshed his chair around, placed his hand on our table, looked at me over the tops of his shades and said, “Hey buddy! Got a light?” This gesture could almost, almost, have been allowed to pass without comment except that, deliciously, the DMG was holding the cigarette in his mouth the wrong way! Oh yes my friends! Instead of pinching the filter end of his smoke betwixt his douchey lips, that little orange beacon was bobbing around for everyone to see like a warning buoy in a dark and stormy sea.

“Yes, I do have a light,” I said coolly, “but may I suggest that they taste better when you smoke them the other way.”

Now, I was surrounded by a big group of my friends at this moment, and as such I enjoyed a significant home court advantage, however, I can assure you that I absolutely murdered that line. A massive whoop erupted from the table and I took unabashed delight in finally being the one doling out and not accepting a beating.

Look, most of us spend a lot more time being the kid who threw up in science class than we do one of the happy throng laughing at him. So on those rare occasions when someone else forgets to erase the tape, or hastily draws up a really stupid protest sign, don’t we deserve to laugh at them? Of course we do. Remember: ONLy God Will JUGE you.

Stupid Protest Signs
There's something especially scrumptious about a mistake on a protest sign. I think it's because the protester believes so fiercely that he's right that he's decided to take to the streets to shove his rightness in your face; and when his rightness is spelled with wrongness, well, you owe it to the universe to laugh at him.

I've wondered about these giant picket line rats for a long time. Did the company that makes these start manufacturing them specifically for placement outside non-union jobs? Or were they making them for some other purpose--say, flamboyant productions of The Nutcracker--and then suddenly realize, "Hey, these would be awesome for picket lines?" Also, do they make other, more cheerful things? Like maybe those big arm-waving Car Sale Tube Guys?

Seems to me like someone should have caught this one. I mean, there are so many stages to making a stencil. You have to sketch it out, cut it out, then put it over your sign and apply the paint. At one of those points shouldn't someone have noticed that "Jhon's" didn't look quite right? Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, if you think about it, the last two words on this sign actually contain three mistakes, which isn't easy to accomplish: first, Jhon is spelled wrong; second, the apostrophe does not pluralize; and finally, in terms of composition, if you have to add a parenthetical word, (men,) to explain your three-word sign, it's likely you're not communicating yourself effectively.

"Your" welcome. --The Chickens

Don't you feel like the odds were 50/50 he'd write "get a 'Brian?'"

That one's not misspelled or punctuated or anything. It's just awesome. [Ed Note: I missed a misspelling on this. "Sombody," of course, should be "Somebody." Thanks and praise to Hope for this, and check out her hilarious and sometimes touching blog about living under two people who fuck loudly here.]

And finally...

Don't feel bad if you don't get this one right away. You've been looking for misspellings and this one doesn't have any. Instead, just picture Hitler refusing to shake Jesse Owens' hand in 1936... in Berlin.