A note to myself...

A special thanks to my Twin Flame who always notices my morning typos. The thing is, I am actually a good speller and a person who hates typos... but when you're trying to get it out there at 7:00 am before you run out the door, obviously you miss a few. So I figured I deserved my own lifeku:

Daily Lifeku Girl
Maybe you should check spelling?
There's typos galore...

Email Subscriptions/ Technical Difficulties

For some reason email subscriptions didn't go out last night, sorry for the lack of lifeku. I haven't totally figured out what went wrong, but have hopefully rectified the problem anyways... You should now receive your feed subscription between 11:00am and 1:00pm EST.

Daughter Out.

Tuesday, November 25

I've always said that whenever you see a man naked and drunk doing something loud or embarrassing, you have exactly 4 options to choose from: English, Irish, Scottish, Australian. I have never been proven wrong in this theory, ever.

English hooligans
Singing, vomiting ruckus
Get off the bar now

Monday, November 24

Didn't you all have a friend (possibly at college) who always managed to create a story that was bigger and better than a story that you just told? Of course you did, we all did. I like to call these people "one uppers" because they are always trying to one-up you with something more fantastical and unbelievable. Often a better word for these people is "liars." It doesn't matter what story you just told, it could be about how you were nursed back to health by mountain lion cubs on a camping trip gone bad, and this person will come up with something even better like knowing a girl who was raised by wolves from birth in an Alaskan cave. It's always a distant relative or nameless "friend" who accomplished the feat so that you can never verify or call them out, but that doesn't mean we don't all know they're big fat lying.

Compulsive liar
Your uncle didn’t do that
No one believes you

New Features & Happenings

Some of you may have noticed that I've upped the fanciness level on The Daily Lifeku:

1. Sunday Polls: Since, not unlike God, the Daily Lifeku must rest on Sunday, I will now be launching Sunday Polls to see how many of you are horrible people like myself. I kicked a baby this morning by the way.

2. Reactions: Blogger gave them to me, so I give them to you. If you're feeling the universal truth of the lifeku, it's "word to your mother." If you're a lame douche that doesn't get jokes, it's "wackness." So feel free to vote.

3. Top posts and Favorites: You can now find the most commented posts and my personal favorites on the right sidebar. For those of you who actually pay attention, you may notice that I have given you some "Inspirational Moments" between the two.

4. Recent Comments: The most humorous part of the Daily Lifeku is often the discussions that continue in the comments, where many of you will see my friend Jerry misuse important vocabulary words. The 4 most recent comments/commenters can be found on the right sidebar as well. Lots of them are other bloggers who are almost as funny as I am, so you should check them out.

5. Stalking: Last but not least, I have made it easy for you all to stalk me via the vast expanse that is the internet. Feel free to follow my every move on Twitter, Facebook, Technorati etc, but be warned that I will kill you if I see you outside of my house. And trust me when I say that I know how to dispose of a cumbersome body...

Note: For those of you who describe via email - As I am in France, and post in my own time zone, you are actually recieving yesterday's lifeku in your inbox. Just so you know.

Sunday Poll

Think Fast: Children...

Saturday, November 22

Sometimes people just don't get things. For example, my brother and my dad do not "get" this blog and mostly think I'm a horrible person. I do not "get" those super unflattering shiny pleather leggings that make it look like your legs have been shoved into metallic sausage casings. But sometimes, saying you don't "get" it is a big fat load of crap because there's nothing to get, like say, conceptual art. Saying you understand conceptual art is either a) a lie, b) admission of being a totally self pretentious douche bag, or c) a more intricate lie. I know there are artists everywhere who want to kill me, or themselves, for saying that but guess what: I went to art school, and every other major thinks you "conceptual art" majors are a total joke. So there.

Conceptual art
Look at my blank white canvas
Three million dollars

Friday, November 21

I've always had an issue with personal space... even more so since I've been living in Europe. The French have no concept whatsoever when it comes to personal space in lines, stores, or trains and are perfectly content to thrust their bodies up against you in the hopes of somehow speeding up the process of whatever it is you're doing. It is possible to avoid this up close and personal contact by be increasing body position creativity; for example, if you stand sideways in a line with one foot jutting out, the person behind you can't realistically go past your foot without looking like they're trying to bump n' grind. Unfortunately, this technique doesn't ever work for the dreaded close talker. You know, the one who leans forward a little more every time you lean back so that you are forced to bend your body like one of those Japanese contortionists at Cirque de Soleil?

You there in my face
No one likes a close talker
You need a breath mint

Thursday, November 20

Earlier today I saw a man in a suit backpacking in the metro. A man in his 50's. Backpacking. Isn't there a point where we acknowledge our actual age and stop carrying on like a bunch of whippersnappers? There are plenty of things that I would never wear because I am old enough to have my own "generational movie" (hello, The Wackness, you were my teenage), and I'm not even 30. Or conservative. So when I see what we'll call "a young grandmother" wearing what can only be referred to as the slutty equivalent of a onezie, I want to fight the violent cringing within and desperately run to them saying, "Please God cover that up! Pleaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!" Which obviously brings us to:

Trampy cougar, you’re
Not Forever 21
You shouldn’t shop there

Wednesday, November 19

I have recently stopped listening to music in the metro and taken up reading a book so that I can be more "aware" of what's going on around me, like the creepy dude in the corner whispering vulgarities in my direction. Before, I just didn't hear him, whereas now, I consciously ignore him. It's totally different, I assure you.

Homeless man in the
Metro, playing with yourself
Back away from me

Poll: Homeless people usually

Tuesday, November 18

This is for that special person in my life who always thinks they know what they're talking about when in fact they totally don't. No, you don't know who you are.

Hot shot smarty pants
Think you know everything?
Your face is stupid

Monday, November 17

Today's lifeku was inspired by virtually every child who has ever sat next to me on a plane, train, subway, or the next car over on the highway:

Boy picking his nose
You are not invisible
When you close your eyes

Do you have an inappropriate child's bodily curiosity story? Share it!

Saturday, November 15

I think this one came to me when I was almost physically run over by at least 7 different quasi-blind, over-styled trendy boys:

Styled teenage boy
How can you even see with
Those bangs in your face

Friday, November 14

Today's likefu goes out to a very special lady:

Your curried deviled
Eggs smell like bottled old fart
Please put them away

Thursday, November 13

Let me just start by saying that the concept of "French Customer Service" is an oxymoron in and of itself, since service in France is either non-existent or a total joke. That being said, I still feel like plenty of Americans will feel where I'm coming from:

Useless salesperson
You have no idea what
You’re talking about

Wednesday, November 12

We've already discussed how much I hate men who cry. The thing I hate almost as much as crybabies are wussy complainers that whine about everything. You're a man, suck it up for Christ's sake. Nobody cares that you didn't get enough sleep last night or that your iPod got stuck on Smashmouth's Allstar, which brings me to:

Hey whiny pants guy
Stop crying about your lame
Sandy vagina

Tuesday, November 11

In my continuing fight against the feeling of being old, I am often set back when I encounter scantily clad teenage girls that seem to forget they are working:

You, skanky sales girl
“What can I do you for?” is
Not appropriate

Monday, November 10

One of the things that I never miss about the States is the general volume of everybody around me, since people don't yell their business all up your space in Europe. However, I am sadly reminded of where I come from when I sit next to a table of loud American tourists who have just discovered their inner "French Touch." These people often consider themselves to be overnight experts in the areas of Parisian culture, wine, the French in general, cheese, and of course, Socialism. I often wish that they would shut up long enough to notice that they have attracted the attention of the entire restaurant:

Obnoxious people
At the table next to me
Take it down a notch

Saturday, November 8

Why is it that old ladies not only seem to think that lines never apply to them, but also that all public spaces have been put there expressly for their personal and exclusive use:

Pushy old woman
People around you exist
Please step aside now

Friday, November 7

Today's lifeku goes out to a special certain someone, a someone who is perhaps the most horrible person I know, which is of course why I think he's hilarious. He's also kind of a whore:

Angry, bitter man
Kick a puppy yet today?
You’re going to hell

Thursday, November 6

Today's lifeku is yet another facet of the previously mentioned "Human Cube" and resulting air quality:

Morning commute guy
Do you bathe in Cool Water?
I need oxygen

Wednesday, November 5

Sometimes I wish there was an easy way in French to say, "I dare you to do that again." They say "cap" or "pas cap" which is for are you capable or not capable, which basically sucks the balls that I don't have. Alas, I am left to fester in bitterness over my daily interactions, hoping that I don't one day punch an old lady in the face:

Extra rude lady
I double dog dare you to
Push me one more time

Formation Civique

Today I had my formation civique, which is a mandatory full day of learning fun required by France for immigrants to get their papers. We spend 8 fun filled hours learning all about the magnificent principles of The Republic, what's legal and not legal, the ideas behind democracy and socialism, and the subsequent changes some immigrants will need to adjust to.

There were two question and answer periods, the first pertaining to the government and boring crap like that (FYI France has regions, departments, and communes, and I still don't understand the difference between them). The second Q&A pertained to citizen's rights and human rights, which apparently really need to be spelled out for certain people from certain Middle Eastern and African countries where it happens to be legal to beat and circumcise your wife. I won't name names.

This horrendously long day inspired many lifekus, so I've decided to put together a little something I like to call the Civique Formation Series:

Part I: Morning


Monotonous drawl
You might really be able
To bore me to death


Crafty Chinese Boy
Way to get away with
The stealthy headphones


Canadian girl
Why don't you know your own
Independence Day?


Unpleasant woman
Pull that crap with me again
And I'll pop you one


Part II: Afternoon


Man in the back, no
You can't hit your wife in France
Because she talked back


Other man in back
It's always illegal to
Hit your wife in France


Yet more men in back
Polygamy is also
Illegal in France


Formation Civique
Useless French information
My whole day wasted


Fin.

Monday, November 3

I love how when people have been drinking they suddenly assume that you have become deaf. And possibly 2 feet further away than you really are:

Boisterous loud man
I’m standing right next to you
You don’t have to yell

Saturday, November 1

This one goes out to all of you (mostly men, but some of you vaginal species are in there too) who are missing the Brain-To-Mouth-Filter. What is that? It's the filter that stops idiotic sentences from spewing out your mouth the moment you think them. The filter that nudges you with a little, "Wait, maybe I shouldn't say that." Ahhh, yes that filter. The one that so many of you seem to be missing:

Inappropriate
Guy, can you ever control
Your big fat loud mouth?

Happy Halloween

In the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would dedicate a lifeku to one of my most favorite characters in existence: The Paranoid Conspiracy Theorist. Oh how I love you and your cute crazy rantings! What's that? You don't believe in AIDS? Awesome.

Weird paranoid guy
The man is still watching you
Shh, did you hear that?

Thursday, October 30

It's hard to bypass a slow, blue-haired old lady shuffling down the street. Especially when they have limited equilibrium and seem to slalom down the side walk:

Old lady beehive
That’s a lot of jewelry
No wonder you’re slow

Wednesday, October 29

Every time I walk outside, I am astonished at how many people are lacking the following items: full length mirror, thermometer and/or weather source, winter coat, and a properly sharpened eye pencil (that's a whole other subject all together). But those who impress me most are the youth of today. Particularly the youth of vaginal tendencies. That's right I'm talking about teenage girls. You know, the ones who are basically wearing dental floss in a snow storm and still think they're hot stuff? Maybe their youth serves as extra body heat, powering them through the long, cold winter months or maybe frostbite amputation is a hot new trend that I haven't heard about yet...


Naked teenage girl
Why don’t you put some clothes on?
It’s February

Tuesday, October 28

Those of you who don't actually know me may not get this one. It all started with my mom's gigantic silverwear, which you'll have to trust me when I say is the most enormous silverwear you have ever seen in your entire life. Ever. Clearly, it was designed for Giants, not humans. This conclusion led to my now popular Giant Impression, which obviously involves roasted babies since that's what giants eat. I would show you except that I would rather die than post a video of myself online:

Loud angry giant
I don’t have any sauce for
Your roasted babies

Monday, October 27

There are many things that disturb me about Sarah Palin. In fact, her very existence disturbs me. But with all her crazy republican quasi-nazi conservative beliefs, I am still baffled by the fact that someone who lives in Alaska would vote against putting the polar bear on the endangered species list. Obviously, I concluded that it's because she eats polar bear for dinner, then brushes her teeth with polar bear fat before going to sleep on her polar bear sheets. That must be it.

Hey Sarah Palin,
Why don’t you build a house with
Those Polar Bear pelts