Chemcially Imbalanced Comedy’s Blog

Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

by Laurel Schroeder

My blender is broken. I blent too vigorously. Which is a bummer since replacement parts are clearly a thing of the past. If I wanted to just replace the whole blender, no problem. I could just pop down to the local Walmart and get a nice shiny new one for about 30 bucks. But see, the thing is, my whole blender isn’t broken – I mean the whole thing didn’t just spontaneously shatter into a hundred pieces. The base broke and the blade won’t turn. If I had a new base, the whole thing would work just as well as it did the first day I got it.

So what happens when I try to track down a replacement for this part? People’s reactions range from sympathy to disbelief to open hostility. “You just don’t do something like that! Not when you can buy a shiny new one at Walmart for 30 bucks!” And what do I do when that one breaks too? “Buy another one! They come in different colors!”

We buy badly made things because they’re cheap, and then they break because they’re badly made. Then we replace them with even cheaper things, which break too.

My parents got a blender as a wedding gift, and it still makes killer margaritas. They had their 37th anniversary last year. I’m just sayin…

Yesterday My daughter and I watched this on PBS Kids. NSFW!

This is the only Youtube I could find of this.

by Lina Bunte

A few weeks back, Duncan, my handsome Carin Terrier, woke me up by crying loudly. Now this isn’t unusual. He cries a lot. Mostly he cries in order for me to pick him up and place him on the couch or bed. He’s 14 and really only has one working leg. (Multiple surgeries and bad arthritis will do this.)

I ignored him for a few minutes. His cries never subsided. I threw my covers off and set my feet on the ground. Duncan started walking backwards, away from me. Weird. I stood up and leaned forward to pick him up, but he walked away! This happened twice. I shit you not.

By the third time, I was ready for him. I got up quickly and tired to grab him. No luck. He walks away, and this time I follow him. He walks toward the kitchen. I follow him. Maybe he needs water.

We get to the kitchen, his water bowl is full. I look at him, and he’s sitting right in front of the stove. We start a staring contest. After a minute, I give up and walk toward him in order to pick him up.

As I step closer, I smell gas. Not flatulence gas, (being a 14 year old dog, he’s really good at that too) but gas from the stove top!! I look up to the four burners. One knob was turned on.

Duncan saved my life. Really, he did.

by Jay Gish

A conversation…why can’t they get along?

From our good friend Paul Baio out in LA:

by Jay Gish

Little boy Stan has an unhealthy attachment to Santa Claus, in this holiday parody music video.

by Dave Whalley

The other day I realized I lost my phone. What a huge pain in the ass. Sorry, can I say that here? I delayed several days before giving resolving myself to the possibility that my phone was gone. GONE!!! Every picture, ring tone, silly game and, most important, every contact, gone. I’ve never been one to think ahead and back things up. My handwritten address/phone book is outdated and mostly useless.

Well, I was fortunate in one way. I had been using a pay as you go plan, which I was able to turn over into a contract plan. This allowed me to get access to more features, pay less for more minutes AND get a cool new phone for next to nothing while keeping the same number. Not bad at all. I wasn’t all that fond of my old phone, anyway. It was too small, I could barely read the screen and the speaker had stopped working, so it would only vibrate and it didn’t hold a charge all that well, either. Good riddance, I say.

But, what about those contacts? Oh, those contacts. There were classmates and cast mates from various theatre endeavors, some of which I am pretty sure I will never work with or see ever again, casual contacts from parties and functions and odd bar conversations, most of which I would not be able to pick out of a line up. The digits of friends which have long since expired as those friends have moved, also lost phones, or changed numbers to avoid the occasional stalker. In other words, the loss of the phone was really a good excuse to simplify that bulging, overfed list of contacts for contacts sake.

Finally, some of those lost contacts were, indeed friends. Some great, some casual, but all friends. I surely did not want to loose them. So, I scoured my email lists filled in some gaps where I could and finally sent the inevitable “I lost my phone” email out to them.

When I opened my email this morning, I found messages waiting from many of those lost contacts. Many of them were from folks I had not been in contact with, whose contacts were dormant in that tiny, vibration only phone for way too long. Most of my morning has been spent, entering digits, replying to emails and ultimately, reconnecting.

I guess it’s the time of year (I’m geeky about the holidays), but the experience really warmed me and caused me to appreciate those “contacts”.

There are so many things we have come to rely on like cell phones and internet (yes, I’m getting old…er), and life gets fast and furious and even frustrating as time seems so very limited. This holiday season, I encourage you all to consider loosing your cell phone, or at least take a scroll through the contacts in your phone and find a few to reconnect with. It may do your busy heart some good.

Peace, and Happy Holidays.