Archive for the Humor Category

Pick-Up Lines (IN THE NAME OF ‘Science’)

Posted in Culture, Humor, Science, Writing on December 19, 2007 by geniusadvice

SOME SCIENCE GEEKY PICK-UP LINES

By Shuk Yan

FOR THE ARCHAEOLOGIST, PALEONTOLOGIST, AND GEOLOGIST:

Are you a fossil? Because I’d like to date you.

Baby, you’re so gneiss, I’ll never take you for granite.

Are you a mummy? ‘Cause I’m under wraps over you!

Every time you walk into the room, it’s your fault my heart shakes!

You’re firm and adamant sometimes, but always marble-lous!

If I was boulder, I’d ask you out dunite.

Even if you looked like dirt, I’d really dig you.

– – –

FOR THE BOTANIST AND ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENTIST:

I’ll treet you well, ’cause I’m for arboreal.

You must be a botanist, ’cause I’m lichen you.

You’re like a forest of potatoes; I get lost in your eyes.

Do you photosynthesize? ‘Cause I can’t leaf you alone tonight.

Be vine, ’cause ivy-ly like you!

Ivy-ly love you; can weed be together?

Are you a textile worker? ‘Cause I’m cotton your gauze.

– – –

FOR THE CHEMIST:

You must be atomic; you’re radiant in your element.

– – –

FOR THE MEDICAL DOCTOR, DENTIST, AND OPTOMETRIST:

I need to check with my dentist to see if you’re too sweet.

Is your sign Cancer? ‘Cause you’re growing in my heart!

Are you a brain tumor? ‘Cause you’re always in my mind.

Gah! I think I’m going blind, ’cause I can’t see me without you!

Are you a cataract? I can’t get past your eyes.

– – –

FOR THE ENGINEER:

I’m your biggest fan; if you chill with me, I’ll blow you away!

I’m married to an engineer, but I promise to lever if you want me to.

Do you like centripetal forces? ‘Cause you’re making my world go round!

I want to see you so often, it hertz.

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Why You Aren’t Invited To Weddings Anymore

Posted in Humor, Life, Writing on July 20, 2007 by geniusadvice

10.
You keep tapping the glass with your fork, even after the newlyweds have kissed.

9.
You stick out your foot in the aisle in hopes of tripping the bride.

8.
You don’t even know who’s getting married.

7.
You’re the guy that gets to the venue late and takes the bride’s parking spot.

6.
You think after the wedding, the bride is going to eat the groom like praying mantids. And you keep telling that to everybody you meet.

5.
You try and toast the new couple but forget their names ’cause you’re drunk.

4.
After 5.), you think you can substitute their names with Bert & Ernie.

2.
You can’t count.

1.
When the officiator asks if anybody objects to the marriage, you stand up only to say, “Just stretching.”

Eight Eating Etiquettes with Asians.

Posted in Culture, Family, Food, Humor, Issues, Life on February 26, 2007 by geniusadvice

I’m still in the CNY mode, so here goes. (By Asian, I mean Chinese. Sorry, South Asians!) Hopefully the advice belows makes you on good terms with Asians relating to their culture through dining. Especially if you’re meeting your hot Asian girlfriend’s parents for the first time and they’re not white-washed. For all the points below, assume you are eating at a Chinese restaurant, and you are the minority there. That means NOT Asian, buddy.

1.
Arrive on time. Needless to say, Asians are vey judgemental while not on the outside. Being late will only label you as a slob. And that’s minus 2 brownie points.

2.
If it’s a special occasion (ie. birthdays, Chinese New Years), bring a gift. Like oranges, because…that’s how Asians are (for lack of a better explanation). For Chinese New Years, I think the unspoken rule is that married folks need to give children money in red pockets.

When you are excepting gifts, it is custom to refuse it first, preferably 3 times. If the giver doesn’t not seem to want to insist 3 times, once is fine. As long as you look reluctant to receive it.

3.
Pour the tea for everybody. This is only polite, and you should do this especially for elderly people or people generally older than you. Do not order or water Coke, as that will make it seem like you are not trying to get to know your guests. Love the tea, and pretend you’re drinking coffee instead.

4.
Learn how to use chopsticks in advanced.
This will impress Asians a lot. Forks are a no-no.

5.
Answer the interrogation questions during mealtime. This is like an interview and if they don’t like you, you’re pretty much screwed. Make you job sound glorious, even if you’re a programmer. (No offence). Don’t say how you enjoy making out with the parents’ daughter or anything stupid like that. You might get…um…injured very badly.

6.
Research some Asian dishes you can order in advanced. You won’t be getting any French fries. Don’t order Western food in a Chinese restaurant. There’s a reason for that.

7.
Dress decent. Don’t overdress, but dress ‘decent’.

8.
Paying for the bill. I don’t know if only Asians can do this, but you must seem that you really want to pay for the meal to the extent of fighting for your right to pay. Yes, this seems ridiculous, but I assure you that this is not some Asian conspiracy to scam you for a free meal. Seriously.

And that’s it.
Don’t hold me responsible if anything back fires.
Because I’ll delete this site faster than you can say “Nee ho maa??”

Dear Mr. Sandwich,

Posted in Fiction, Food, Humor, Writing on February 19, 2007 by geniusadvice

I must be frank – I don’t think we can be friends, or even acquaintances, anymore. It only seemed like yesterday when I made you, and I think it was. Your outer shell, made of white bread, because whole wheat wouldn’t be good enough for my pal. With the white sesame seeds that graced the bread, you were handsome. And the freshest iceberg lettuce money can buy went into you. Tomatoes, proud and ripe, are embedded in your core, powering you, sir, with its succulent juices. I cut my finger for your cause, too. Cut my finger peeling the onions…for you. And you grew. Tasty. Mr. Sandwich. We can’t be friends anymore. This is the end, I’m afraid. But not as much as you should be.

Goodbye forever, Mr. Sandwich.

My Resumé.

Posted in Fiction, Humor, Life, Writing on February 19, 2007 by geniusadvice

I hold the record for the longest abstinence of eating ginger and garlic, vegetables that aren’t even green like they should be. Unless you disguise them in disguises, like ginger ale or garlic bread. But nobody really counts those occasions, because that’s trickery and I’m a straight shooter.

I believe that paper breeds imagination, so I draw on desks instead. During class. Because you can’t neuter paper or imagination and because the posters on pet hospitals tell me you should. Over-population is bad enough with the crows, pigeons, and squirrels already.

Armed with only a short twig and sometimes the bottom of my right sandal, I can demolish colony after colony of ants and prove that I rightfully earned my title, the Ant-Bane. Once, using a butane lighter and newspaper, I tried burning my house down, but that didnt quite work out so I decided to become a petty arsonist and set fire to a wasps’ nest conveniently nestled underneath the gutter. I hear the police are still looking for me.

Every summer, I go feral and spend time with chickens in the wilderness, hunting for berries and dozing off in the shade. This summer, a nice lady found me and asked me if I lived on the streets at night. Or so she implied. A conversation started and she was surprised I wasn’t an illegal immigrant. I wonder how much money I would’ve got if I had said yes.

Nobody ever wants to assimilate me into their workforce because of their lack of intricate and implicit vocabulary. I know they really fear my knowledge and how I use a mnemonic device to recall the Linnaeus classification system, which I really learned from an ER and CSI addict. And maybe because I have three pages on my résumé and not two.
I have some sort of obsessive-compulsive disorder. My doctor tells me I just think I do, but that could mean the same thing.

Like Superman, I run on solar energy and go phototherapy sessions three times a week to recharge. The only drawback to this is the risk of skin cancer, and, like Superman, I can fight it off. With UVA/UVB rays.

Speaking of running, I sprint faster than Mercury, and, unlike, other people, I have ten hole-ridden socks to prove it. I take three steps at a time going up stairs and at least five descending. I have been rejected by the police academy as well as the Olympics. I blame my high metabolism, aversion to donuts, and the unwillingness to participate in drug scandals to draw attention and publicity.

I have perfectly aligned teeth and don’t need braces. The secret is a strict diet on ice cream and highly-caffeinated drinks. It doesn’t stop caviities, but I’m still working on that. It shouldn’t take long because my IQ is 11 digits long.

I had my midlife crisis four months ago. I’m going to live until I’m thirty-four. Although I should live until sixty because I said school takes up a quarter of my life. No, I’ll live forever because I’ll keep on studying and accumulate a six-million dollar debt.

It may seem like I can do a lot of things, but I can’t. ‘Cause I don’t have a beard.