The Answers To Yesterday's Which Can, Cleric's Bun

Did you get them all?

The Answers To Yesterday's "Which Can, Erickson?"

How'd you do? Who cares?

It's Time Again To Play "Which Can, Erickson?"

Match the above unknown toilets with the following locations:

1. Sea life Michigan Aquarium, Auburn Hills, Michigan

2. Museum of Math, NYC

3. Ramen Wasabi, Chicago

4. Lambert Seafood, Greenbelt, MD

5. Estero Cafe, Valley Ford, CA

6. Disney Contemporary Hotel, Orlando, FLA

The answers will be revealed tomorrow!

"Swimming On The Meat Juice"

Below, a TripAdvisor review of Sir Walter Raleigh Restaurant, which is just down the road from my Mom and Dad's:

Can't tell if this writer was illiterate or was using English as a second language. And apparently the reviewer has never heard of "au jus." Either way, fantasticism!

Read the review here.

And this is impressive: if you Google search the phrase "swimming on the meat juice" in quotes, there is only ONE SEARCH RESULT.

Answers To Yesterday's "Which Can, Erickson?"

Click to enlarge:

Okay, that was too easy, wasn't it?

We paired yesterday's mystery toilets with common spices to make the game less challenging, and suddenly everyone guessed all eight toilets within seconds. Bah, next time we'll let you people sweat it out more.

The EADJ Facebook Defriender

 

It's time once again to prune the tree of friendship. Not something we particularly enjoy, but once in a while a Facebook friend becomes so unbearable that it's time to cut 'em loose. This one is L________ from R_____, __ who has regularly flooded my news feed with odd phrases which I soon learned were overwrought lyrics from his favorite songs. Lyrics. Like he's drunk and singing outside my living room window. "Hey, you remember Bob Seger, right? Working on our NIGHT MOVES..."

And sure, everyone is entitled to post their favorite lyric or whatever, but not THE ENTIRE SONG, LINE BY LINE IN SEPARATE POSTS.

And you know he didn't type all that out- ⌘C, ⌘V

I've blurred out his name and replaced his profile pic to protect L______'s identity:

 

 

And I don't have anything against Dave Matthews or Peter Frampton, mind you.

 

So I just picture L______ chilling at home on the sofa with his tunes cranking, and he's on his laptop, typing everything he hears. "Ahh, a nice, relaxing evening of transcribing Dave Matthews, polluting the newsfeed of everyone I know."

 

He'll never love you, the way that I love you 'Cause if he did, no no, he wouldn't make you cry He might be thrillin' baby but a-my love (My love, my love)  So dog-gone willin', so kiss him (I wanna see you kiss him, wanna see you kiss him) Go on and kiss him goodbye, now 


(chorus)
Na na na na  Na na na na  Hey hey hey  Goodbye
Na na na na  Na na na na  Hey hey hey  Goodbye 

(fade out)

My Mom Hates Talking Politics

Here my parents talk real estate, the Unabomber, and the Unabomber's brother. And being the evil shit that I am, I steer the conversation towards politics- which my mother hates- causing her to turn on the radio. Let's watch!

Scary.

When we moved into our new house, the previous owner had left a plethora of bizarro stuff, like plastic pelican planters, 2 bowling balls in the garden, and this hideous mirror clock:


We set all that crap on the curb, and someone promptly– and thankfully– took it. So you can imagine my surprise last weekend when I was having sushi with my parents in Greenbelt, Maryland, and I spotted THIS:


Dun dun DUUUNNNNNNN!

Yikes

Spotted in a Goodwill in Laurel, Maryland, a lamp that defies description:



What's worse, it was one in a set of two.