Category Archives: Random Rants

Everyday items like money to days of the week to common situations.

Googleable

Googleable is a perfectly valid word that has yet to become approved and officially a part of the English language. It’s a word that relates to how effectively you can search for something on Google. For instance, asking what Googleable means is Googleable, but the meaning of life is not Googleable because nobody knows the meaning of life (and even if they did, they wouldn’t put in on Google, you have to find the meaning of life for yourself). CriticallyRated.com is Googleable, but you might have to search for a while before you find it. I don’t get how d’oh is in the real dictionary and how Googleable is only in the Urban Dictionary, but I don’t make the dictionary; I just use it to correct other people’s spelling. The only way to make Googleable an official word is to have everyone start using it. Together we can change the dictionary and change the world.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Poultry Day

March 19th is Poultry Day, a day to celebrate poultries. A poultry is a type of bird that humans domesticated for their eggs, feathers, or meat. This includes chickens, turkeys, ducks, geese, quails, and a bunch of other ones I’m too lazy to list. I don’t know how to celebrate Poultry Day. Am I supposed to help a chicken cross the road? Am I supposed to find a pond and feed the ducks? Am I supposed to cook a turkey dinner? Should I dress up like Quailman? Or salute Colonel Sanders? These are the things that nobody tells you about Poultry Day. I know lots of things about poultry (like chicken farts smell fowl), but I don’t know anything about Poultry Day customs or traditions. And that’s a shame because this seems like a really important holiday.

Critically Rated at 9/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Craziest Poker Flop

I was hanging out with some friends during spring break a few years ago. There’s not much to do in my hometown, so we spent a Saturday night playing Texas Hold’em in my friend’s garage. It was a typical game with good plays and bad beats, but nothing memorable happened until I dealt out the craziest poker flop the world has ever known. It started out innocently enough. I dealt out two cards to everyone, bets were made, I burned a card and then flipped over three cards to reveal the flop: 6 of Hearts, 6 of Spades, and 6 of Clubs. 666. We kind of looked at each other because it’s not too often that the Number of the beast comes up in a flop. Then we heard a train whistle coming from my friend’s train-themed clock on the wall. It was midnight. My friend joked that it was also a full moon outside. There wasn’t a full moon, but I realized that it was now Easter Sunday. It seemed like a bad omen. Luckily the world didn’t end that day. I don’t remember how that hand ended and I don’t remember who won the game, but I’ll never forget that uneasy feeling in my stomach. I might have pooped a little bit.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Saint Patrick’s Day

March 17th is Saint Patrick’s Day, or St. Paddy’s for short. It once was a holiday that commemorates the death date of the patron saint of Ireland, but now it’s a drinking holiday like Cinco de Mayo. Saint Patrick’s Day has a lot of traditions for a pseudo-holiday. It has an official meal: corn beef and hash. It has a seasonal plant associated with it: shamrocks. It has an official candy: chocolate gold coins. It has a religious background that gradually became commercialized and forgotten. On St. Paddy’s Day everybody pretends to be Irish, and for some reason that involves consuming copious amounts of Guinness, Jameson, and Car Bombs, and making up some bullshit about Leprechauns to distract little kids from all the drinking that’s going on. The most important thing to remember about St. Patrick’s Day is to wear green. If you don’t, people will pinch you. I will pinch you. You can’t lie and say that you’re wearing green underwear. Everybody knows you don’t wear any underwear. So sport some green, drink some stout, and have some fun. Just because it’s a fake holiday doesn’t meant you can’t enjoy it.

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Ice Cream Man

I was lucky enough to grow up in the suburbs in the days when kids still played outside.  There were a dozen other kids on my block around my age and we spent our summers outside riding bikes, playing games, and generally wreaking havoc. But we would drop whatever we were doing whenever the Ice Cream Man rolled around. We would be in the middle of an intense street hockey battle when somebody would suddenly hear a few bars of Do Your Ears Hang Low? and shout out, “ICE CREAM MAN!!!” The game would stop as everyone dropped their sticks and scattered back to their houses to scrape together enough quarters to buy a Choco Taco. Oh, the Ice Cream Man. I thought he had the best job in the world. He gets to drive around and eat ice cream all day. He was my hero, he was my idol, he was my savior on those unbearably hot August days. The Ice Cream Man seems to be a dying profession. For some reason there’s something about a 40-year-old guy in a van driving around giving treats to little kids that makes people suspicious.

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Talking Into a Microphone

Talking into a microphone is always slightly awkward. Most people are hesitant to speak in public and an electrically amplified voice that demands attention is terrifying to the intimidated. Any stutter or vocal tic is painfully obvious. You need to be clear and precise with your words, you need to enunciate, and that makes you more stressed and susceptible to making a mistake. And it doesn’t help that your voice sounds like it’s coming out of the speakers before you even say anything. It’s easier to sing into a microphone than it is to make a speech. Anyone can do karaoke if they have enough drinks in them, but delivering a wedding speech is way more intense for some reason. It’s all psychological, it’s all in your head. But you still don’t want to talk into a microphone.

Critically Rated at 9/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Leave Them Hanging

I went to work today and my coworker made some snide comment about me before he even said hello. Then he tried to play it off as a joke and he went in for a fist bump to show that we were cool to everybody else in the room. And I left him hanging. I refused to bump his fist. He tried to bump fists a few times, but I would have none of it. He actually asked me for a bump. He begged me for a bump. I responded by flipping him off. Everybody else laughed at him. I regained the upper hand. You can do the same thing. All you have to do to get control of a situation is to leave them hanging. This is an important life lesson that you can use everyday. You can apply it to relationships, friendships, and in the workplace. You are in control as long as other people want what you refuse to give them. It’s not about pride. It’s about self-respect.

Critically Rated at 15/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Adding An “S” To Anything Internet Related

Adding an “S” to anything Internet related makes you seem more naïve and more sophisticated at the same time. Try it. If you can say “I went on Googles and found a video on YouTubes” without sounding like a grandma, I owe you a Coke. You can keep going. “I was on the Wikipedias and found out that all the major Twitters belong to celebrities.” You sound old fashioned while simultaneously informed. I blame the Facebooks. You might be connected but you’re still ignorant. The Internets is an intimidating place. Don’t let it get the best of you. And if this post seems lazy, it’s because it is.

Critically Rated at 10/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Deciding Who’s It

You’re ten years old and you’re about to play a game of Tag or Kick the Can and it’s time to decide who is going to be it. It always sucks being It, but somebody has to be It. Deciding who’s It is always tricky, so you have to be fair about it. I always resorted to Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe or Fart in the Barnyard to determine the outcome. Everyone puts a fist in a circle (maybe two fists to mix it up) and somebody says “Fart in the barnyard/ Pey-yew/ Who did it come from?/ From you.” On each syllable the speaker taps a fist and rotates around the circle. Whoever is the last fist touched is either It or is eliminated from being It. It’s more fun to have an elimination process to determine who’s It. Anticipation makes everything better. Once you decide who’s It, you can finally play the game.

Critically Rated at 12/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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There Are No LEGOs

I bet you a hundred dollars that you never played with LEGOs as a kid. I bet you never even had a box of LEGOs. And I know for a fact that you never had LEGOs because LEGOs don’t exist. Don’t get me wrong; there is a popular line of construction toys called LEGO. But the LEGO company doesn’t want people to use the wrong form of pluralization. In their own words: “Dear Parents and Children, The word LEGO® is a brand name and is very special to all of us in the LEGO Group Companies. We would sincerely like your help in keeping it special. Please always refer to our bricks as ‘LEGO Bricks or Toys’ and not ‘LEGOS.’ By doing so, you will be helping to protect and preserve a brand of which we are very proud and that stands for quality the world over. Thank you!” So yeah, looks like you owe me a hundred dollars. You’re lucky we didn’t shake on it. I’ll let it slide this time, but next time I’m taking out your knee.

Critically Rated at 11/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Sorry For Your Lost

My friend’s grandmother passed away recently, and she posted a Facebook status about missing her grandma. The first four people to respond wrote “Sorry for your lost.” I almost threw my laptop out of the window in rage. I wanted to slap those ignorant motherfuckers… it’s “Sorry for your loss” not “sorry for your lost.” Loss and Lost are two entirely different words. You can’t just make up your own expressions or ruin preexisting ones. I know that somebody died and that I shouldn’t be correcting the grammar of strangers, but those idiots are killing the English language. If you died and your tombstone read Rest in Peas, you would probably be pretty fucking pissed off if you weren’t so dead. People aren’t immortal, but words can be. And using the wrong words to honor the deceased is insulting on so many levels. They used to say that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Fuck that, I’m through being nice. If you don’t have anything right to say, don’t write anything at all.

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Mogley

I know a girl that has a dog named Mogley. I asked her why she named him Mogley. She said he was named after the character in The Jungle Book. The character’s name is spelled Mowgli, so I asked her why she didn’t name him Mowgli. She told me to shut up and go to Hell. Maybe I was rude, but spelling mistakes bug the shit out me, especially when it comes to names. Names are important. You shouldn’t give anyone or anything a name that you can’t spell correctly, especially if that name comes from a beloved classic. She could have spent thirty seconds looking up the correct spelling online, but instead she butchered it and Mogley’s suffered ever since. It’s kind of sad that the first thing she did when she got her dog was to make a mistake that she never bothered to correct. Poor Mogley. Poor Rudyard Kipling. And poor English skills.

Critically Rated at 5/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Old Lady On a Scooter

I was skating on a sidewalk downtown and passed by an apartment complex with an underground parking garage. As I was skating by, I heard a buzz and saw a sign light up to warn pedestrians that there was a car coming. But there was no car coming. It was an old lady on a scooter coming out of the garage. She pulled up to the sidewalk, looked both ways, and then started driving down the street in the bike lane. It was obvious that she did all the time, that it was her normal route and routine. She looked like a badass. It’s her city and she does what she wants. I don’t know her name, but I know that she means business. Roll on, scooter lady, roll on.

Critically Rated at 13/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Sleepover

A sleepover is when a person goes to another person’s house and stays for the night. If you have two or more people spending the night, the sleepover gets upgraded to a slumber party. Sleepovers are popular with kids, teens, and young adults. I remember my first sleepover. Well, it was an attempted sleepover. I got scared and ran home. Luckily I was at my neighbor’s house across the street so I didn’t have to run far. I don’t remember what I was scared of, but I was a bed-wetter at the time so it was probably a good thing that I ran away. I could have ended up with a terrible nickname for the rest of my life. Planned sleepovers are fun because you have something to look forward to. But spontaneous sleepovers are more fun. Especially if it’s a sexy time sleepover (also known as a one night stand). I had two spontaneous sleepovers this week alone. Too bad they weren’t sexy time sleepovers, they just consisted of drunk friends crashing at my pad after the bars closed. Loud drunk friends, so I apologize to my downstairs neighbors.

Critically Rated at 14/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Hold On, Let Me Show You a Picture

You’re hanging out with some friends or spending some time with family, just enjoying yourselves and catching up. Somebody asks you about the recent vacation that you took, and you start to describe the culture, the sights, and the things you did. And then you remember that you have a dozen pictures on your smartphone, so you bust it out and say, “Hold on, let me show you a picture.” You then spend the next few minutes scrolling through your thousands of pictures looking for the right ones, while everyone else pretends to care as their interest wanes. By the time you finally find the pictures of your vacation, the conversation has already moved on and nobody cares. They might glance at your pictures to be polite, but you’ve already killed the mood. Conversations are supposed to flow and transition. Trying to find a picture on your phone doesn’t let the conversation progress. A picture should start a discussion, not end it. You’re a great photographer though.

            Critically Rated at 4/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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Pouring a Soda On a Seat

            I live in San Francisco and I see something crazy every time I leave the house. The other day I was on the train heading to work and I saw a thuggish-looking guy on the row of seats across from where I was sitting. He was eating some fast food and sipping on a soda. I’m guessing he didn’t like his soda choice too much, because I saw him take off the lid and dump the entire soda onto the seat next to him. I couldn’t help but glance at the guy. He saw me look at him. He flicked his straw at me and it landed near my feet. He smirked at me, I went back to looking at my phone, and then he got up and hopped off the bus at the next stop. I can only assume that he was trying to frame me for the mess he made. I’ve seen a lot of crazy people doing crazy things, but pouring a soda on a seat was a new one. I don’t know why he did it. There doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for it. He could have thrown the soda into the trash. He could have poured it on the ground. Instead he poured it onto a seat. There’s no method to his mayhem.

            Critically Rated at 8/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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My Nephew

On March 3, 2014 my big sister and my brother-in-law had a baby (well, she had the baby, he just watched as she screamed and cursed his name). This baby was a milestone. It was the baby that turned my sister into a mom, her husband into a dad, my parents into grandparents, me into an uncle, and my other sisters into aunts. I don’t know if our pets get a title change, but I do know our family is already more complete. I haven’t gotten to meet baby James yet, but I’ve already seen a bunch of pictures and I can honestly say that I’ve seen uglier babies. He’s not that wrinkly, he’s got a good amount of hair on his head, and he wasn’t that slimy. They didn’t do half bad. Welcome to the World, James Young Galster. Sorry about the global warming, we’re trying to fix that.

Critically Rated at 17/17

Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young

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