“Crossy Road” App Review: Frogger for the Smartphone Crowd


Play “Crossy Road” at your own risk. You may find it difficult to pry yourself away.

Remember “Frogger?” That epic game for the Atari and/or Commodore 64 that had you guide a highly pixelated frog across a busy highway and a dangerous river of logs with strangely incongruous currents? Well that game has been reborn as the hit “Crossy Road” game for your smartphone. When you play Crossy Road, you’re basically playing Frogger, except when you get to the top of the screen you just keep right on going.

I’ve been playing this popular free app on my brand new Galaxy S5 smartphone for about a month now. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I shouldn’t stop.

Crossy Road is a surprisingly satisfying gaming experience. And I’m not big on phone-based video games/apps in the first place. But I think it’s human nature to indulge in at least one new game upon the purchase of a snazzy new smartphone. You need to see what the puppy can do, right? Besides take cat pictures? Which mine does amazingly well?

I went with Crossy Road, which plays exactly as described above. You guide your animal/character—of which there are many, though more on this later—across an endlessly scrolling series of roads and Frogger-esque log rivers and sometimes, when you’re lucky, open fields of grass. Move too slow, a hawk swoops down and eats you.

You have infinite lives so long as you have infinite patience. It’s all about setting a high score and then striving in vain to beat it.


There are plenty of characters to unlock in your quest to beat your Crossy Road high score, each with its own unique in-game personality.

This is one of those games that are free to download and play, but which has additional content that you can purchase in-game. This paid-content mainly comes in the form of additional purchasable animals, almost all of which you can also earn for free once you collect enough in-game coins.

So, you can enjoy pretty much all this game has to offer without paying a cent of real money. I believe this is a huge part of the game’s draw and charm. I really appreciate not being treated like some kind of “first time’s free” meth junkie, which is how most free-to-play games tend to rope in their victims.

I detect no obvious subterfuge in Crossy Road. The developers seem to make their money through the unnecessary impulse-buys described above, and through completely voluntary advertisements, which will earn you free coins if you choose to humor them.

The freeness is only one part of this game’s charm though. Developer Hipster Whale has done a pretty clever job giving this game quite a bit of personality. Each of the many available animals/characters available to you has its own little quirky gimmick, which manifests itself while you hop, skip or jump on your endless journey across the “road.”

For instance, there’s a pigeon that farts and leaves a white little poop in his wake every now and again. There’s a crazy old man character who randomly cackles. A baby dragon blows fire and flash-torches cars and trees as they scroll by. A goat bleats with real gusto. A robot soldier machine-guns the air. A wizard zaps passing trees with his magic staff.


Each time you play Crossy Road there’s  just enough variation in the landscape to keep you from getting bored.

Fun stuff, all done in throwback pixel graphics reminiscent perhaps of games made for early PC and primitive console systems. Retro graphics yes, but—if you have a smartphone with a halfway processor—they’re also silky smooth and strangely addictive to look at. Somehow watching the wizard fry pixelated trees never gets old.

Contemplating the game’s strange, silly title, I believe I figured out the overall reasoning behind this game existence. It’s clearly all about the somewhat recent success story of “Flappy Bird,” another consciously retro, enticingly simplistic gaming experience.

The two games have a similar Nintendo-esque color palate, conscious pixelation, an identically gaming objective (travel as far as you possibly can before dying), and similar names syllable-wise. I believe Hipster Whale figured it might as well own up to what it was doing—striving to match the meteoric success of Flappy Bird.

Hipster Whale has apparently succeeded. Judging from the Crossy Road reviews on Google Play, factoring in more than a million downloads, I think it’s safe to say this game is a pretty huge hit. But where Crossy Road really succeeds is in replayablily. Many have criticized the unapologetic monotony of Flappy Bird as a source of mind-numbing frustration. Not so with Crossy.

This game does a great job mixing things up just enough to keep you from feeling like like Christoph Waltz in The Zero Theorem, while always maintaining that low-committment sameness that keeps you coming back for more. The endlessly scrolling road, in its seemingly infinite variety, feels like it’s making itself up as it goes.

I’ve played this game probably fifty times by now—it’s a great “clean the slate” diversion and awesome killer of time—and the road still feels like it’s different every time. Add to that the fact that there’s always a new animal/character to unlock, there’s plenty here to stave off monotony.

I have to recommend Crossy Road to anyone on the lookout for a fun new game to play on his or her smartphone.

Lastly: each successive “hop” forward gains you a point. My current Crossy Road high score is 348. I invite anybody reading this to download this very fun app and see if they can do better. Post your high score in the comment section!

Read my take on another classic smartphone game: Angry Birds 

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This Natural Ice Formation is Just Plain Nuts!


Jack Frost sure has a sense of humor this winter.

I felt the need to share this with my readers. My cousin recently sent me this photograph of a twig covered in ice. This is an undoctored photograph of a real event that occurred in nature, taken during the latest cold spell in frigid Long Island, New York.

The formation is quite literally nuts. Not only is the shape obviously suggestive of a certain body part exclusive to males (hint: not the Adam’s apple), but the actual mass of ice seems wholly disproportionate with the little bitty twig inside. How did this much ice grow in so bulbous a configuration around so teeny a clipping of flora?

My cousin had no answer for this, as he was merely the discoverer. Apparently, the specific circumstances of the discovery—location, time, weather—did nothing to shed light on the mystery, or else my cousin would have reported on it of his own accord. That’s about as far as my journalistic due diligence took me on this particular assignment.

So anyway, there you have it. This hunk of ice had no business taking on such mass, taking on this particular shape, or ballooning with such a symmetrical and shiny finish. And yet it did. A winter miracle, folks, and one with only one evident takeaway:

It’s cold as balls out there.

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Bad News, Folks: Your DVDs Have Finally Gotten Elderly


Are your DVDs finally obsolete? That depends on whether or not you currently live in 2003.

Well folks, the dreaded day has come. Your big huge movie collection? The one you’ve spent more than a decade accumulating through impulse-buys and Christmas presents and permanently borrowing from friends? Useless. Paperweights, all of them. Dvds have finally gone and gotten old on us, and now we’ll need to think long and hard about how to rebuild.

I realized the end had come the other day when I got a random hankering to watch the 1993 sci-fi cops n’ robber film Virtuosity, starring a young Denzel Washington and a skinny Russell Crowe. I’d recently re-watched Ridley Scott’s very good American Gangster, starring those same two actors, and this made me curious to see if that same chemistry was alive and present back when they made Virtuosity.

So I ordered the dvd on Netflix and it arrived promptly five weeks later. I’d actually somehow managed to build up quite a bit of  excitement to see this film, and when I finally popped it in the player and watched it on my widescreen HD television my jaw literarly dropped to my feet and exploded.

The “Virtuosity” Incident

Where were the glorious pores in Denzel’s face? How come I couldn’t quite get a fix on the grease-levels of young Russell Crowe’s hair? Why did the futuristic police station look like it belonged in some high school theater production?

To be fair, Virtuosity is a terribly lame movie. Hollywood didn’t exactly bring out the big guns for that particular production. I’m pretty sure they shot the whole thing on the home video camera my parents had back in the early 80’s. But still. As I watched that film up-scaled on my blu-ray player I had the distinct impression that I was watching something with hella low resolution. And though I’ve been watching DVDs on HD televisions pretty regularly over the last few years, this was the first time I cringed at the drop in picture quality.

And once the DVD door closes, friends, it stays closed. Suddenly my entire collection of dvds felt like a huge, sleazy waste of shelving space. Obsolete and old and sort of grandfathered in, because however dirty they made me feel I knew I’d have to share my home with them quite some time yet. ‘Cause, not like I can just throw them all out and replace them with blu-ray versions—that would cost a friggin’ fortune!

So yes, these hundreds of DVDs—including such cinema classics as Predator, Aliens, Rosemary’s Baby, Minority Report—were like ancient phone-in schoolteachers who’d earned their tenure and were now just handing out worksheets and collecting big fat checks. Can’t get rid of them. Can’t get much out of them.

DVDs are old. Not dead and buried like VHS, not yet, but old and sad and flea-markety just the same. Ever since the Virtuosity incident, I’ve stopped taking for granted that I actually “own” all those titles in my collection. Now it’s more like I simply have in my possession low-res YouTube versions of those same titles. When I go to Best Buy and I see a blu-ray copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark, I now feel a pressing need to purchase it, even though I already own the DVD version.

The Harbinger of DVDoom


Twas not blu-rays or Redbox that did DVDs in. It was HD cable TV killed the beast.

So what did them in, anyway? What age-related infirmity finally bitch slapped DVDs from old to elderly? At first I thought the obvious: blu-rays. But no. Blu-rays have been around for years and they’re still not the primary way Americans watch their movies. I have no research to back that up, but I’m confident the statement nonetheless. My brain was my research.

Most people watch their movies and shows via their HD cable subscription and/or a streaming service like Netflix or Amazon Streaming. There are no flourishing big chain video stores left. No obvious way for movie-fans to rent blu-rays except through that mysterious Redbox kiosk in your supermarket—a good way to rent movies, actually, but one for which many of us are still warming up to.

For most of us movie/television fans, we’re getting our fix through digital HD cable and streaming. That’s what’s on our televisions and laptops. That’s the standard now, and it’s been for a few years.  And just about everything worth anything has been remastered and converted to allow for an HD experience. Now the late night movie on your local television broadcast is a much higher resolution than the version you’d gotten for your birthday back in 2004.

Suddenly it’s better to watch a watered down, commercial-ridden, edited-for-time version of 1989’s martial arts/gymnastics hybrid action film Gymkata than the completely untampered-with version sitting on your bookshelf.

That, my friends, is what finally nudged DVDs into the old folks home. Not blu-rays—a format which may never reach the popularity of the DVD at its height—but the simple, inevitable realization that, even though you already own the deluxe DVD edition of Scarface, you’re not going to sit down and watch it until it’s playing on television. Butchered or no.



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8 Reasons Your Boyfriend Calls You “Baby”

thinking about babies while kissing

Don’t jump for joy just yet, ladies. When your man calls you “baby” it’s not necessarily a sign of romantic affection…

Okay baby, check it out. Here at practicallyserious.com I get a lot of questions regarding relationship advice. As well I should. One question I’ve been getting a lot of lately is this: “Hey Prac, what does it mean when a guy calls you baby?” And it’s true. Oftentimes a dude will refer to his lady friend as “baby” when the couple is about to make out. As in: “Oh baby…” or “I love you baby” or “baby I love your way.”

Well, I’ve been getting this question at least twice a day and I think it’s high time I cracked the case.

8 Reasons Your Boyfriend Calls You “Baby”

1. He’s not actually calling you baby. He is not even talking to you at all. He is talking to the grimacing baby just behind you sitting on the nightstand. Where it came from I have no idea, but that’s what’s happening.

2. It’s a Freudian slip—deep down he thinks you physically look like a baby. You have a baby’s cabbage-shaped head and you flop your arms around too much. Try to grow out your bangs and stop flopping your arms.

3. He wants you to know that you physically smell like a baby. Try to improve your hygiene bathroom-wise.

4. He is making fun of you for wearing Huggies diapers instead of lace underwear for the fourth Valentine’s Day in a row. It’s a real buzz kill. Please stop.

5. He’s not talking to you. Not directly, anyway. You just happen to be in the same general area is all. You see, he’s talking to the zygote currently growing inside your uterus. The minute he found out he was going to be a father you have been demoted in his eyes to “organic baby house.” It’s mean, yes, but at least he loves the baby.

6. He’s simply under the impression you are a baby. He’s thought you were a baby from day one. He thinks you’re an oversized, out-of-proportion baby that just happens to look like a grown-up sexy woman. He’ll be the first to admit that the relationship is wrong and illegal and highly controversial, but he’s been taught to always follow his heart and in a way he enjoys going against the grain. “Eh, let them talk!” he says.

7. He is not calling you baby. He’s calling himself baby, referring to himself in the third person like Frankenstein’s monster or Arnold Schwarzenegger. But he’s also totally dyslexic. So instead of “Baby love you,” you get “Love you, baby.”

8. He thinks your name is “Baby,” not Margaret. This is because every time he says “Hey Baby, what did you do with my tighty whiteys?” you simply tell him what you did with his tighty whiteys instead of saying, “Hey stupid, my name ain’t ‘Baby.'”

This post is the long awaited “baby” of my most visited post ever “8 Reasons My Keep Their Eyes Open When Making Out With Women.” Check it out.

Readers: Need any relationship advice? Leave any and all questions in the comment section—I may feature it in an upcoming post!



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Trivago Announces New “Trivago Guy”: Brian Williams

trivago guy brian williams

There’s a new Trivago commercial guy in town! NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams lands coveted gig.

Trivago corporation announced earlier today the impending replacement of its current spokesman, Tim “Trivago Guy” Williams, with embattled NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams (not related). According to insiders within the corporation, the latter Williams will take over Trivago duties as soon as his resume references check out.

A company spokesperson addressed the surprising hiring with the following official statement: “In the interests of rebuilding our proud company’s credibility, especially in the aftermath of the whole ‘Trivago Guy’ Internet meme, we decided to replace Tim Williams with an equally credible but much more famous Williams—NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams.

As a respected journalist and celebrity this man has visited all kinds of hotel rooms from shot-down military helicopters in Iraq to gang-infested Superdomes New Orleans. Clearly this is a man who knows how to save money on hotel rooms.”

Brian Williams assured practicallyserious.com that he has extensive corporate spokesperson experience, including playing the main caveman in last decade’s famous commercial campaign by Geico. He also claims that he was the guy who played Ronald McDonald in all McDonald’s commercials between 1985 and 1989. He further claims to have been shot at with AK47s during the filming of at least one of those commercials.

Brian Williams’ handlers have suggested to Practicallyserious.com that the disgraced host will require little help from Trivago’s make-up and wardrobe department. Apparently, after less than a week after stepping down from his hosting gig, he’s already sporting that signature disheveled Trivago Guy look. “He’s pretty much picture ready,” said a rep.

Need another Trivago Guy fix? Read my original “Trivago Guy” Fan Fiction



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Using a Flamethrower to “Shovel” Snow

flame thrower snow

Intimidated by the thick coat of snow over your driveway? Does your lower back ache just thinking about what’s in store? Well, maybe it’s time you went up to the attic and grabbed grandpa’s old WW2 flamethrower and put that baby to work. Melting snow with a flamethrower could be a tad dangerous, sure, but it would get the job done in half the time, and with half the physical effort! Whole swaths of snow will disappear before your red, tearing eyes!

One little spritz and the most intimidating piles of plow-displaced snow wouldn’t stand a chance. Those ugly mounds by where your driveway meets the street would collapse into hissing, gurgling puddles. Quick and easy. Just try not to aim for your car or the telephone pole or your house and you’ll be fine.

One quick spritz of flame juice to the densest mounds, and then you can send your son in with a plastic shovel to sort of “clean up the neck,” if need be. Depending on your relationships with your immediate neighbors, you can even trudge over to their houses and flame-throw their driveways too.

The way I see it, the benefits to flame-throwing your driveway after a major snowstorm—as opposed to shoveling—are as follows:

Benefits to Flame-throwing your Snow-Covered Driveway 

  • Saves time
  • Sterilizes the pavement
  • Protects your back
  • Impresses the kids
  • Keeps you nice and toasty

So there you have it, folks. Show that snow who’s boss!

WP Readers, let me know if you can think of any additional benefits. I’ll add them to my list w/ link to your blog!


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Crush the Mounds of Laziness: Make Your Bed ASAP!

Unmade bed humor

The terrible mounds of laziness.

I have a little trick to help you get more done on your day off. Don’t worry, this won’t require you to do anything you don’t already do. You probably already do this, you just need to do it a bit sooner. If you’d like to accomplish more with your day off: make your bed as soon as you get up.

Rumpled, bunched-up sheets at the foot of your bed send a message to your brain: “Chaos reigns.” Just looking at those warm mounds of laziness, accented by the soft morning sunlight slanting through the twirling dust mites, you feel like flopping yourself on the couch downstairs and sinking into the cushions and scanning the stations for Jerry Springer or Maury. Maybe Judge Judy too if it’s a good one.

Nor do you even have to look at the mounds of laziness to feel their effect. You can merely know that they’re there. You can sense the disorder and capitulation they signify even through the walls and the floorboards of your house. There you are, sitting there clicking through the channels with your sticky remote, finally getting ready for the adventure of climbing to your feet and checking the mailbox. This is going to be your big activity for the day.

But then you’ll remember about the mounds of laziness you’d left at the foot of your bed, and so you abort the adventure entirely. You’ll say something like this, “Eh, maybe one more episode. Jerry’s making some good points.”

made bed

If you want to keep the laziness at bay, never leave the scene of a wake-up without first making your bed.

Waiting until “whenever” to make your bed is sort of like letting yourself go, diet-wise. In the case with dieting, the sin is committed the minute you allow yourself to cheat on your diet and eat that first Devil Dog. We all know that once you eat it you can’t un-eat it, and therefore your whole squeaky clean dieting scheme is tainted, and so why bother at all? Ditch the frozen yogurt, bring on the fat-full ice cream! Let’s do this!

In the case with not making your bed, the sin is committed moments after you clamber to your feet and swat the alarm clock into submission. In that sleepy moment you have a choice to make: you can either make your bed while it’s still nice and warm, or you can flee the scene entirely and get started with your lazy Saturday.

The most you can hope to get accomplished in this latter scenario is to verify that your cable connection is, indeed, functioning at full capacity and that Walker, Texas Ranger is, indeed, still shown on certain channels if you sit around and wait long enough.

But if you go with choice A and groggily make your bed, a funny thing happens to your brain. Flattening the mounds first thing in the morning sends a signal to your hemispheres that you mean business! So what if this is a Saturday, your day to sleep in and be lazy and all that! You still have a choice, Neo!

Making your bed first thing in the morning, before laziness has a chance to sneak in and alter your trajectory, puts an entirely different spin on your day. Every time you walk by and see those flat, tucked in, Full Metal Jacket style bedsheets on your bed you’ll experience a feeling of accomplishment and well-being. You’ll be like, “Holy crap, even on a Saturday?!? I must be serious!”

Everything you do that day will be informed by the secret knowledge that the mounds of laziness have been vanquished and your bed is as flat as your voice mail greeting.

In lieu of being a couch potato you’ll actually accomplish amazing things, such as:

  • Writing a blog post you’ve been putting off for no particular reason.
  • Exercising
  • Tidying up the house
  • Paying some bills
  • Reconnecting with old friends
  • Practicing your swordplay in preparation for your upcoming battle with a fellow immortal inside the parking garage of Madison Square Garden. There can be only one.

I’m telling you. Never leave the scene of a wake-up without making your bed right away. Flatten those mounds. You’ll get more out of your lazy Saturday.

Readers, do you make your beds first thing in the morning? Do you let it slide on Saturday?

This post has been a late response to a prompt at the Daily Post. Check it out! https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/two-right-feet/

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Are We Still Supposed to Call Them “Smartphones”?

dumb smartphone

If a smartphone is no longer noticeably “smarter” than its competition, is it still a “smartphone”?

Are we still supposed to call these things “smartphones” or what?  Now that just about everyone has one I’ve come to wonder whether our flashy iPhones and Androids really so distinguished smart-wise? I’m starting to feel like that term “smartphone” has gone and become old fashioned while no one was looking, because the other day that’s how I referred to my new Galaxy S5 and all of a sudden I felt like binge-watching Matlock. “Hey guys,” I said to a group of my guy friends. “Check out my new smartphone!” And then, in the very same breath, I felt compelled to add, “I’m old, huh.”

When smartphones first started to become a major thing—around the mid-00’s—you had every right to call them “smartphones.” I’m talking about the era of the first big bulky keyboard-having Blackberries and Treos and devices like like. Many came with a stylus, though their screens were a fraction of size of a modern day stylus-having phablet device.

Back then, these bulky pocket beasts deserved to be called smartphones, as they were far smarter than the average phone. They had bigger displays. They had keyboards. Some had real bonafide touch screens (!). If you had one you didn’t refer to it as a phone. You always made sure to say SMARTphone. Because guess what, you didn’t pay all that extra money just to go around calling your smartphone a “phone,” thank you very much.

You could add events to your calendar. You could take 2 megapixel photos of your friends and email (!) them to everybody. You could surf a smartphone-ized version of the Internet. It wasn’t fun, but you could do it, and sometimes, to your smartphone’s everlasting glory, it totally saved your ass.

You were in the minority if you had a smartphone at this time, and when you whipped that puppy out at a bar it did impress girls. I’ve been there. I know. Girls would give you their number just to watch you enter it in to your fancy monstrous device. Wielding a smartphone made you look thrice as successful as you actually were. And if you weren’t successful at all, this was one of those cases where you can multiply something by zero and not have it equal o. In this case, 2 X 0 = 4.

But the golden era of the “smartphone” was short-lived. Technology moves damn fast, and as processors and doohickies got smaller and smaller, it became possible to include “smartness” in more and more phones. Smaller phones, yet phones with even bigger (!) screens. Smartphones became cheaper to own, and it wasn’t long before you were sort of expected to have one. What really sealed the deal was when the first iPhone came out, because there was a device from a company everyone already knew and loved. Not everyone went out and bought it right away, but there was this general feeling of: I’m probably gonna buy one of those eventually, it’s just a matter of how soon. Android rose to prominence during this era too, heroically preventing Apple from completely cornering the market.


I was one of the elite: here’s my old smartphone, a Palm Treo.

And the result of Android’s bold challenge was a sort of space-race, except with smartphones. Every years the two biggest competitors had to outdo the other technology- and feature-wise. Soon smartphones could take very good photographs; could search the Internet for real; could access and run thousands of free, totally useful “apps,” many of which involves some kind of cartoony bird either 1) flapping around in erratic patterns, as if drunk, or 2) soaring along suicidal trajectories into a gang of pigs in a contsruction zone.

After only a few years of this space race, you were pretty much a failure at life if you were a youngish person and you weren’t hunched over a shiny blue glowing rectangle. At bus stops. On the train. In class. In bed. Whenever. Just all the time.

Smartphones became the new “cell-phones.” Nowadays even your mother has one, though she likely uses only the “turn on” and the “call” functions. You probably have to go over there at least once a week and remind her to charge it. But she has one is the point. Which brings us to my most recent pondering.

Are we supposed to keep calling them smartphones now that everybody uses them? Because it’s starting to sound a bit weird and dated coming out of my mouth. It’s starting to sound akin to calling your widescreen television’s remote a “remote control.” Or calling your PC an “IBM.” Or calling your glasses “spectacles.”

Smartphones are no longer smarter than the average phone because they are the average phone. And having calibrated myself to see through this perspective, I discovered that most people—from grandmothers to little kids to english-as-a-second-language tourists—have taken to referring to their smartphones as “phones.” Period.

And perhaps that is as it should be.

Yes, modern day smartphones are still loads “smarter” than the odd, scuffed-up flip phone you still see every now and again, but at this point it’s the flip phone that needs a rebranding, not your big glowing rectangle of distraction. The formerly market-dominate flip phones are the minority now and will have to absorb any and all name changes necessary for an ever-evolving techno culture.

A flip phone shall hence forth no longer be referred to as a flip phone. Now it’s just an “old ass phone.” Done.

This, of course, creates a kind of retroactive ripple effect, effecting all previous incarnations of the cellular phone. I have compiled a convenient list of all additional name-changes necessary if we want to just call our smartphones “phones” from here on out.

List of naming ret-cons necessary so we can call a smartphone a “phone”

1.) Flip phone = old ass phone.

2.) Non flipping cell phone = ancient ass phone.

3.) Early smartphone/PDA = hand computer.

4.) Big plastic 80’s mobile phone w/antenna = cell phone invention.

5.) Early car phones = Michael Knight technology.

6.) Rotary wall-phones = communication device for WW2 submarines.

7.) Alexander Graham Bell’s first telephone = the Big Bang.

Readers: If I missed any please let me know. I think I covered everything. Meanwhile, what do you call your smartphones? Have you embraced them as the new normal yet?

Read my popular series of posts: Life Before Smartphones.


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Bill Cosby’s Controversial New Day Job

"Okay, who hired this guy?"

“Okay, who hired this guy?”

Yes, I get that Bill Cosby can use some extra pocket change on account of all those recent show-cancellations, but I’m not sure his new side gig is gonna go over too well.

(Couldn’t help myself—I was inspired by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler’s kick-ass Golden Globes routine)

For more celebrity hazing: check out what I think of Justin Beiber’s novel approach to urination.

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How Much Coffee is Too Much Coffee?

funny coffee picture

You’ll know you’re drinking too much coffee if you experience these 11 tell-tale symptoms.

How much coffee is too much coffee, you ask?

Coffee drinkers can tend to overdo it sometimes. Fact is, it’s very easy to drink too much coffee because caffeine can be a sort of a gateway drug to itself. It just leads to bigger and bigger ceramic mugs. Extra shots of espresso. One more scoop of Maxwell House. A bonafide caffeine buzz can lead to many a flighty, ill-advised decision, such as drinking a lot more coffee. “Can I top you off there, sir?” your waitress or manservant will inevitably ask. “Oh sure,” you’ll say before your brain has even finished processing the question. “Ya can never get too much coffee, right?”

Wrong! When you drink too much coffee the resulting caffeine overdose starts to nudge you onto unexpected, sometimes-embarrassing trajectories. Who knows what you’ll do! But how much is too much coffee? Really, there’s no easy answer, as everyone’s body is different. Some of you are big, some small, some young, some old. And caffeine content varies depending on your brand of coffee. Therefore we must deal with this question from a perspective of telltale, caffeine-related symptoms you can expect the moment you cross over into the drank-too-much-coffee zone.

11 Ways to Tell If You’re Drinking Too Much Coffee.

1. You start coming up with wacky inventions that have already existed for at least five years, such as robots that vacuum the rug while you’re not home.

2. When you look in the mirror you see an overloading Austin Powers Fembot.

3. You have already transported quite a few random objects—pens, cellphones, wallets, and snot rags—to strange corners of the house and then left them there, all whilst brainstorming some wildly inane subject, such as: “How long before they have flying cars? And will they be Fords, Chevys, or a completely new company that only does flying cars?”

4. You finally get (and laugh at) jokes that were told to you the week before. Which weren’t even all that funny in the first place.

5. There is a fairly large, rather magnificent castle of empty coffee mugs next to your computer. It emits a smell quite similar to the inside of a Starbucks.

6. You are standing on your roof and shouting to the neighborhood: “I am a golden god!” And then you realize you’re not on the roof at all—you’re actually sitting in the armchair in your living room merely  fantasizing about going up there on the roof.

7. You can’t fully remember the last time you’ve eaten a complete meal. Nor can you gauge if you’re even hungry or not. You’re simply too busy thinking about flying cars.

8. You start rehearsing in the mirror all the badass things you’re going to say to the next person who disrespects you in the slightest. Like, for example, what you’d say to the clerk at the liquor store calls you “boss” just one more time. Eventually you have to abandon the whole exercise for fear that you’ll turn into the Hulk and start breaking furniture.

9. You start seriously considering reconnecting with friends (via Skype) whom you haven’t talked to in 15 years, but then you realize that those friends never existed in the first place—you’ve made them up completely.

10. You are particularly annoying to your cat. It has already swiped at you at least once and is now playing dead. Or else you’ve killed it.

11. You write this article.

*drinking too much coffee isn’t always a bad thing. Check out this article over at Cracked about some of the unexpected benefits of drinking coffee.

Check out my article about the latest trend: coffee naps!

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