That glassy look in her eyes isn’t because she’s impressed that you know your comic books. It’s puppies.

Hello, all you guys on the internet that steal away so much of Robert’s precious time meant for back-rubbing, toe-painting and hair-brushing. I’m the girlfriend and I’m your attendant on this flight through a lady’s take on all this science stuff that I’m bombarded with a solid 3 hours each day. Robert cut me a solid deal a few hours ago which consists of a trade in duties—He’s washing all of the post-BBQ dishes right now, hopefully remembering to hand-polish the glassware like I told him, and I am updating his weblog. He said his big ol’ brain was too tired. Please forgive him.

Because Robert’s leaned this blog all techie scientific nerd-fest, I’m not going to be writing an essay on all of the ways T-Pain is the hip-hop Willy Wonka like I planned to. No, I’m going to explain a feature of my relationship with Robert that many of you dudes are probably familiar with.

It’s called the “puppies.”

roberts conversation material

Whenever Robert starts explaining the difference between megabytes and megabits, or telling me how these scientists are building a robot that farts Beethoven’s 5th, or letting me know that this car that just came out has an engine with 1,000,000 horse power and can fly if you hope hard enough, or cluing me in on the latest developments in Scifi channel movies… He eventually stops because I’ve stopped nodding and mhm-ing and I need to be revived from my boredom coma. He looks at me with a frown and asks, “Puppies?” Because that’s where my brain goes when it’s overloaded with information that means nothing to my immediate situation. Like talk about comic book movies and how they’re fucking it all up because this guy wasn’t part of that particular story line. It’s a handy self-destruct feature that I assume all girls have.

The thing is, while going through Robert’s bookmark folder entitled “Fuckin’ A Science”, I found some things that could totally interest me. Why not talk to me about those, dear? Why do you push me away with your cold, cold science? Here are some things that you could start out with, babe:

Holy shit, these cats have wings! They are sailing right into my heart! Set an open course for the Virgin seas!


Apparently in China some old lady’s male cat sprouted wings when he was bombarded by female cats in heat. He sprouted! Wings! Talk about the sweetest little genetic mutation, yes you are, yes youuu arrre!! The only way to make cats more adorable and endearing, beyond what Lolcats have already accomplished, was to make them look like what Precious Moments kids would keep as pets. Imagine your cat flying around the room, batting at the pull strings of ceiling lamps. I would shit hairballs of glee! I want to make snow angels with this cat. I want to hang-glide with him. I want a flying cat that I can tote around on a leash to be my living balloon. That’s so much cuter than putting a puppy in your handbag. All my girlfriends would be jealous.

Robots will soon listen to me gripe about how bitches always frontin’! Because they do, bitches always gotta front. Bitches.


You know, a lot of guys have become really adept at listening to girls issues and providing insight. It’s this new generation of fellas, for whatever reason they’ve developed the means to relate to and recognize emotions, know when you’re pissy, and when to get the hell out of the way when I Love Money is on, you can fuss with the configurations of the TV to get a clearer picture when Chance is off screen.

That being said, there is still an amount of struggle in getting dudes to really, REALLY care about that shit day we had. Not your fault. You just don’t get the nuances of backhanded compliments and derived bitchiness from baristas and Macy’s employees. That’s why Feelix Growing is going to be planted right next to the door, so I can unload all my gripe right as I walk into the house. He can recognize when I need somebody to console me and not provide me with constructive advice to “get over it.” With built in cameras and sensors, Feelix, who I will call Fee-Pain, will be there to take part in all of my emotional messes, be they a raise or some douchebag homeless person who calls me a cunt. He’ll laugh when I laugh, comfort me when I cry, and exclaim when I cry happy tears.

For some reason, ya’ll just don’t get the happy tears, do you? That makes me feel bad, that you’re never so full of happy that your body just needs to squirt a bit out your eyeballs.

Targeted direct sound ads will soon relieve confusion in the baked goods isle. Somebody whispering, just to you, about how Oreos are the best choice will drastically cut down on shopping time. And increase cookie time.

targeted sound

Now some would probably say that direct sound ads are super Big Brother, but I say who cares? If I’m walking by some shop and all of a sudden I hear a soft, pleasant voice telling me personally that there are some awesome shoes inside and they have my size and they’re on sale, I’d be pretty stoked. Knowing all that without having to take time to go into a store and risk being harassed by desperate saleswomen/men all for the sake of no shoes sure does save me a lot of pain. And you know what, sometimes I’m trying to find the perfect tube of lipgloss and I’m surrounded by a hundred choices and it’s really just too much to take in without my most recent copy of Lucky magazine handy… Direct sound ads would remind me that Loreal really is the best choice, and dammit, yes! I am worth it!

So now that I’ve given you a few starter topics, maybe we can work this science talk thing out. I don’t want to give up on us. We can make it if we try. We can build these dreams forever, standing strong together, nothing’s gonna stop us now. Just make sure that your conversation starters have a lot to do with me, things that I like to eat, things that can make sure my dark under eye circles never see the light of day, or things that I want to squeeze till poop comes out because they’re so, so cute.

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21 Responses to That glassy look in her eyes isn’t because she’s impressed that you know your comic books. It’s puppies.

  1. tojo2000 says:

    To quote “Say Anything”, my go-to chick flick for dealing with the wimmens,

    “Bitches, man!”

  2. Aidan says:

    You’re not an Art Major by any chance are you?

  3. girlfriend says:

    No, I’m too good for school.

    My thing is, I’m good at bedding art majors as well. Especially those liberal studies dudes, they’re so easy.

  4. Captain Weebo says:

    Hmmm…. what if the girl is into science herself?

    does she have a puppy space equivalent for other things?

  5. Seresecros says:

    You like puppies? Little, cute, adorable puppies? This is almost certainly one of the best news stories ever covered, then:

  6. Robert says:


    Dude, you don’t date art majors – they ain’t keepers. You see somebody with a liberal studies degree, you bone ’em and run like hell.

  7. Robert says:


    The Puppies is a general analogy. For example, every time the girlfriend starts talking about reality TV I go a little blank and say “sorry…puppies.” But I’m not thinking about puppies, I’m usually thinking about Knight Rider and what would happen if he fought the General Lee or Optimus Prime. It’s just a catch-all term for the place you go to when knowledge being relayed is so specific and so far beyond your ability to care that you can no longer maintain attention.

  8. Muledriver says:

    For the record:

    Knight Rider scraps the General Lee, Optimus Prime ruins Knight Rider.

    Know how there are only a few actual “laws” in science? This is one of them.

  9. Robert says:

    Oh, agreed. It’s not the outcome – it’s the process. The General Lee doin’ jumps over prime while Kitt turbo boosts into Prime’s shins…this is my puppies.

  10. Brett says:

    Are we talking about G-1 Optimus or some of the newer incarnations where he can combine with JetStream to make flying Optimus? Because I think if Kitt and the Lee worked together they could take G-1 but the newer Prime is way too powerful for his own good.

  11. girlfriend says:

    Take a look at that… I talk about puppies, kitties and my feelings, and you guys just start up the equivalent to making gun noises with your mouth and flying your spoons like airplanes.

    My puppies are your wet dream mecha-fights.

  12. Robert says:

    Can we compromise: Giant puppy mechs?

  13. Robert says:

    Brett, dude, of course we’re talking about 1st generation Prime. What’s your fucking problem? Fuck you.

  14. Paul says:

    They used to have dinosaur Transformers. Perhaps they have evolved into cute, mammal transformers. Like puppies.

  15. Muledriver says:

    Brett, I appreciate the profundity of your question but are we really ready to add team-ups to the equation?

    Are we ready to go there?

    Yes, we are. But first, for girlfriend:

    Lasers! PEW PEW PEW! PEW PEW!

  16. the girlfriend says:

    I’m clapping my hands like a toddler. I promise.

  17. Mr. Bojangles says:

    Mech-pooch is the single greatest idea for a pet ever.

  18. Im not a Panda says:

    somehow, out of these comments, whilst you were talking about some transformers and puppies. i realized that i love me some zoids. those are the real puppy mechs. thats combining the best of two worlds right there.

  19. mr. cluck says:

    none of this matters, because the ultrazord could kill the shit out of kitt if the situation arose.

  20. Bobolequiff says:

    Nah man. If KITT has that anti-laser coating from that one episode then the megazord is shit out of luck.

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