Tag: stupid

Piece of Mind

Piece of Mind

So there’s this stupid little head shop in Fremont and Lake City called Piece of Mind.  Now you MIGHT think that’s a cute little pun, but let’s examine things closer.  Take a look at their logo to the left.

So that’s a PEACE symbol, right? Like, world peace, peace on earth, peace and goodwill. Or PEACE of MIND. So you see, the name PIECE OF MIND would only be a good pun if the interpretation of the homonym /pIs/ that they were going for was, in fact, the PIECE meaning. I.e. a piece of pie, let me give you a piece of my mind, etc. FOR EXAMPLE.

So unless they’re trying to indicate that their shop, instead of giving one ‘piece of mind’, actually somehow robs them of a small piece of their mind, then they’re clearly not quite grasping the concept here.  And if, in fact, the whole piece thing IS in fact their desired marketing angle, then God help us all.

As another case study, let’s take a looksie at an example of a GOOD pun using the term /pIs/: Peace a Pizza, whose logo and name ACTUALLY MAKE SENSE.  Because, you see, traditionally you eat a PIECE of pizza, so changing their name to reflect the PEACE meaning instead is actually a valid pun here, that’s witty and consistent with their logo and branding.  Please take note, stoners of Seattle. Put down the pipe and pick up a thesaurus.

GOD THIS INFURIATES ME SO MUCH EVERY TIME I DRIVE BY THE PLACE.  Thank you for letting me get it off my chest, Imaginary Readers.  All better now.

Not the smartest cat in the bag

Not the smartest cat in the bag

Last year, we got a sliding glass pet door for our balcony, so we could keep the cold out more efficiently.  And not surprisingly, Trumpet hated it.  But eventually, after many months of duct-taping the flap open, he finally learned.

However, winter was a while ago.  And we took to leaving the balcony door open all summer, since it was so dang hot here… and the kitty forgot how to use the door.  Yep, plain forgot.  We’ve had to go through the same ritual of holding the flap open while calling him or enticing him with some kind of kitty treat.

He did, however, seem to pick it up quicker this time.  And there have been no, uh, accidents relating to said kitty door (which provides access to his litter box) being difficult to navigate while we’re away at work.  I think he just likes to whine when we’re home, because he knows we’ll comfort/cajole him through the difficult physical challenge of squeezing his fat ass through an opening made for a chihuahua.

Suck it up, kitty.  I have to sit my oversized ass on a tiny bus seat every morning and afternoon on my commute, and I have to stay that way for forty-five mintues.  You can handle a three-second discomfort every time you have to pee or stuff your face some more.  You smug, tubby bastard.

Love, Mommy

 

P.S.  Mommy is just kidding.  She really, really loves you.  She just thinks it’s funny that you forgot how to access your two favorite activities, pooping and eating.  You’ll get back on that horse in no time, kitty.  Don’t worry.