Honestly, if you haven't already done it, just click on the link directly above these words. I'll wait here patiently for you.
Okay, are you done wincing/giggling yet? Good.
Here is the beginning of a list of things I want:
1. Good news that doesn't involve car insurance.
2. To have a day when I wake up because my body is ready to, not because an pre-programmed artificial noise maker tells me it is time to.
3. To have at least one of those kind of days every week.
4. To find out that delivery pizza is actually a perfect food created by God that provides perfect nutritional balance for our lives.
5. To have my brilliance recognized by all.
6. To be brilliant at SOMETHING.
7. To discover that chocolate actually cures diabetes.
8. To find any cure for diabetes.
9. To find a way to make JabberJaws not speak for 15 minutes.
10. To play in the Super Bowl (not the halftime show).
I will probably come up with more, unless this becomes another "words that sound funny to me" kinda thing, in which case I apparently will NOT come up with any more. Besides, at least 4 of those were lame anyway. I just wanted to post the tasered genitals man link before it became commonly shared and it lost the power to shock people I send it too (pun pretty much unintended, but I like it, so as of this very second I am going to make it intentional).
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
The Scottish Gypsy Book Club
okay, there are only 2 books. But both should be in your personal library. As for the other 3 pics, well, farts are always funny, superheores are always at least a little bit of an exhibitionist (hence the parading around in tights), and Ivy and Harley speak for themselves. They make me wish I was animated, or that my wife would pick up some new outfits not sold at Old Navy, if you know what I mean (although the makeup on Harley might be a bit much. And I would probably rather see her in the Linda Carter era Wonder Woman outfit before the Poison Ivy one. Perhaps I have said too much).
More Crap I Haven't Covered Yet
The link is a fun quiz if you know anything about super heroes or cleaning agents. I only got two wrong, and both ones I got wrong could have easily been at least minor characters from He-Man. Oh well.
There is a lot of crap I haven't gotten to yet, and I wanted to do it now, so without further ado...
To all the people who waited outside all night for a new XBox system, and more specifically to the gang who was outside the Towson Target last night...YOU ARE ALL MORONS!!!!! The concept of camping out for something like a game or a movie is beyond me. I saw all the jackasses in line for the first Star Wars prequel lo those many years ago (when the hell was that again? 1999? I lose track. Anyway, I made about three calls and found a theatre not 2 miles from where I was living at the time, and got tickets the day of. ANYTHING that isn't a one moment in time experience is not worth sitting outside in (at least here in Baltimore) mid to upper 30's and rainy weather. If this was 1965 and the Stones were coming to town (arguably the height of their power and showmanship as a band), I could see sleeping on the corner. But for a damn video game (especially when in spring the PS3 is coming out, and it will blow XBox out of the damn water), it is just not a smart thing to do. And as far as the crew who at 12:15 this morning was sitting outside of the Target in Towson goes, well if nothing else it was one hell of an exercise in group psychology. I felt like I was actually witnessing The Lord of the lies circa 2005. I was waiting for the IPod to start being passed around like a conch shell so the holder could be recognized and speak to the group. I even picked out which one was Piggy (hint - it was the fat guy).
I picked up a container of chocolate milk from the cafeteria this morning to go with my morning coffee. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It was a half pint container, just like we used to get in school. Was that really enough for us to drink back then? I was holding the thing in my hand (and in fact I am looking at it right now. I kept it as inspiration for the post. I drank it first though, otherwise it would be yogurt or cheese by now, and that's just wrong), and I felt like Andre the Giant holding Cary Elwes' neck in Princess Bride. Anybody want a peanut?
Christmas is rapidly approaching, and it is time for the office Secret Santa parade. For about 3 weeks, everybody has to pretend they like each other so they can get something off the list of three choices for under $20 they turned in to the office planner. The person (usually a woman suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome) who wants to involve everybody in morale building activities. But you have to be nice to the person (even if the planned activity would be preferrable only to "Let's inject our corneas with Boric Acid and go to Rock and Bowl" this Friday), because she (let's face it, it's always a she. No use for PC lingo here) will bake cookies and bring bagels and generally feed you good momma cooked food when she gets that urge to coddle. And I ain't gonna mess that up. And because I am in limbo between two offices, I get to play Secret Santa twice. But that means TWO pot luck lunches, which means TWO afternoons of eating and generally carousing on company time. And THAT, my friends, is worth having to buy two different people the Regis Philben Christmas album (with bonus version of the Notre Dame theme song as done by the St. Margaret's Unitarian Handbell Choir for that special feeling of Feliz Navidad Irish Style!).
Asian is leaving the Batcave. I overheard that she is accepting a promotion and moving upstairs. Honestly, I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I truly do like her, and will miss having her as a neighbor. But on the other hand, no more mumbling and complaining, and no more righteous indignation for no reason that anyone can find. I can only hope my new neighbor (if and when I get one) will be as entertaining.
And in news that was annoying to me at least, I lost my cell phone this past weekend. I know the last place I had it, but that did me and my friends who looked for it while I was at work (big thanks to Pat, Tony and Greg for the futile assist) absolutely no good. So Sunday I had to get a new phone. I needed one anyway, the 1 and 4 on my phone worked randomly if at all, and the volume control on the side only worked to turn it down. To turn it back up required you to push hard enough to almost break your finger. But still, the whole thing was a pain in the buttocks.
That should just about cover it for now. If anything comes up before Thanksgiving I shall let all of you know. If not, well Happy Thanksgiving to you all, and go local footbal squadron (this way you can repeat the sentiments wherever you may be).
There is a lot of crap I haven't gotten to yet, and I wanted to do it now, so without further ado...
To all the people who waited outside all night for a new XBox system, and more specifically to the gang who was outside the Towson Target last night...YOU ARE ALL MORONS!!!!! The concept of camping out for something like a game or a movie is beyond me. I saw all the jackasses in line for the first Star Wars prequel lo those many years ago (when the hell was that again? 1999? I lose track. Anyway, I made about three calls and found a theatre not 2 miles from where I was living at the time, and got tickets the day of. ANYTHING that isn't a one moment in time experience is not worth sitting outside in (at least here in Baltimore) mid to upper 30's and rainy weather. If this was 1965 and the Stones were coming to town (arguably the height of their power and showmanship as a band), I could see sleeping on the corner. But for a damn video game (especially when in spring the PS3 is coming out, and it will blow XBox out of the damn water), it is just not a smart thing to do. And as far as the crew who at 12:15 this morning was sitting outside of the Target in Towson goes, well if nothing else it was one hell of an exercise in group psychology. I felt like I was actually witnessing The Lord of the lies circa 2005. I was waiting for the IPod to start being passed around like a conch shell so the holder could be recognized and speak to the group. I even picked out which one was Piggy (hint - it was the fat guy).
I picked up a container of chocolate milk from the cafeteria this morning to go with my morning coffee. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It was a half pint container, just like we used to get in school. Was that really enough for us to drink back then? I was holding the thing in my hand (and in fact I am looking at it right now. I kept it as inspiration for the post. I drank it first though, otherwise it would be yogurt or cheese by now, and that's just wrong), and I felt like Andre the Giant holding Cary Elwes' neck in Princess Bride. Anybody want a peanut?
Christmas is rapidly approaching, and it is time for the office Secret Santa parade. For about 3 weeks, everybody has to pretend they like each other so they can get something off the list of three choices for under $20 they turned in to the office planner. The person (usually a woman suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome) who wants to involve everybody in morale building activities. But you have to be nice to the person (even if the planned activity would be preferrable only to "Let's inject our corneas with Boric Acid and go to Rock and Bowl" this Friday), because she (let's face it, it's always a she. No use for PC lingo here) will bake cookies and bring bagels and generally feed you good momma cooked food when she gets that urge to coddle. And I ain't gonna mess that up. And because I am in limbo between two offices, I get to play Secret Santa twice. But that means TWO pot luck lunches, which means TWO afternoons of eating and generally carousing on company time. And THAT, my friends, is worth having to buy two different people the Regis Philben Christmas album (with bonus version of the Notre Dame theme song as done by the St. Margaret's Unitarian Handbell Choir for that special feeling of Feliz Navidad Irish Style!).
Asian is leaving the Batcave. I overheard that she is accepting a promotion and moving upstairs. Honestly, I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I truly do like her, and will miss having her as a neighbor. But on the other hand, no more mumbling and complaining, and no more righteous indignation for no reason that anyone can find. I can only hope my new neighbor (if and when I get one) will be as entertaining.
And in news that was annoying to me at least, I lost my cell phone this past weekend. I know the last place I had it, but that did me and my friends who looked for it while I was at work (big thanks to Pat, Tony and Greg for the futile assist) absolutely no good. So Sunday I had to get a new phone. I needed one anyway, the 1 and 4 on my phone worked randomly if at all, and the volume control on the side only worked to turn it down. To turn it back up required you to push hard enough to almost break your finger. But still, the whole thing was a pain in the buttocks.
That should just about cover it for now. If anything comes up before Thanksgiving I shall let all of you know. If not, well Happy Thanksgiving to you all, and go local footbal squadron (this way you can repeat the sentiments wherever you may be).
A mouse pissed in my shoe this morning
Yup. Tis true. I woke up and was getting ready for work, and was about to reach down to grab my shoe, and I saw a medium sized field mouse perched on the top of my shoe, right above the foot hole. I looked at it, and it wasn't moving at all. I kicked a box next to my shoe, no movement. I honestly thought it was dead, but I was still hesitant. Finally, my realization that I was already running late for work and was only getting later (the fact that I95 South was a damn parking lot all the way to he tunnels didn't help my tardiness one bit) made me reach down for my shoes, at which time he scampered into the shoe itself. I immediately covered that shoe with the other one, and roused my wife (who to her credit did not freak out at all, which I was expecting her to do from her response to mice. The fact that she took a perversely large amount of joy from the eventual outcome of Stuart Not-So-Little is a little worrisome though). She opened the door and lifted the lid to the toilet for me. Yes that is right, I sent the mouseto go turd surfing. I thought of throwing him out the back door (which is what I usually do with insects, except for bees), but honestly, Baltimore has such a problem with mice and rats that it didn't seem fair. And I couldn't just snap the things neck the way she waned to (another outcome my wife alluded to this morning. Specifically she said "Compared to what I would have done to it that was nothing" when I expressed remorse over flushing it down the john. It took 2 flushes by the way. That was the worst part. Watching it swim vainly upstream and beating the tidal wave the first time, its little paws trying to find purchase on the porcelain bowl, and hiting the lever the second time to watch it lose and float down the river of dreams that is the Baltimore City Sewer System). After all of this. I was about to put my shoe on (I took great pains to shake it out over the toilet, expecting to find droppings in at least one of my shoes, making me wonder how many times I have put on shoes w/mouse shit in them since we moved in almost 7 months ago), when I happened to look in it and saw the big wet spot. These are my only black shoes (I know, typical male. Bite me if you don't like it). I sprayed anti-bacterial disenfectant into them, but I am just not sure I can wear them again. I might have to get new ones on the way to work tonight. Dammit.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
Picture pages
I'll be honest. I am in a bit of a crappy mood today, and I am just waiting for the chance to get the hell out of work, NOT go to my night job (yay for scheduled days off!), and go home. Of course, I have a bunch of crap to do before the sweet embrace of sleep, but either way, I am going to relax. RELAX DAMMIT!!!!!!
I did just get a major project here at the good old hospital done, and so I am taking it easy today. So I am going to randomly post pictures I have saved on my computer here at work. They might be photos, or stuff pilfered from some of my favorite sites (namely Something Awful and Superdickery. They are linked over there on the right. Go there and enjoy yourself). Either way, enjoy the slices of my psyche.
And a special Shout-Out to Really This Weird who hipped me on the picture pasting, and whose blog (also linked to the right) is fast becoming required reading for those who can read. So Arkansas is out, but everybody else...DO IT!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
REAL quick hit
I hve to post this, it is cracking me up. Asian and I got into a verbal disagreement on Monday. Details are kind of boring. Maybe I will post them later, maybe not. Either way, as a result of the disagreement, I stated I am not going to speak anymore, because whenever I do it comes back on me, and I am tired of games. I will be cordial, and speak when spoken to, and I will be polite. But I am not joking around any more, because it isn't worth the heartburn. Well, today she made a point of coming into the office and saying hello to people by name, omitting my name. It didn't bother me. The fact that it didn't bother me bothered her it seems. Now I keep seeing her in my peripheral vision staring at me, glowering almost. I feel like one of us is going to wind up challenging the other to meet in front of the swings after school. It is kind of pathetic. I learned within a couple weeks of working across the row of cubicles from her to ignore her running commentary. "I'm tired". "They hung up on me". Blah blah blah. Not said loud, just verbalized because she needs attention. I am pretty sure that I am the only one in the office who can hear her almost constant updates on her health and well being, as well as the goings on in her business (and WAY too often her personal life). I just turn my music on and drift away.
The hardest part of this whole excursion in inanity is not smiling/laughing when I catch her glaring at me, waiting for me to break, or whatever the hell it is she hopes to accomplish by staring at me while she talks on the phone.
I work in an office of 12 year olds (the two co-workers down here in the basement who are aware of the existence of this blog and have my permission to read it are of course exempt from the age limitation).
The hardest part of this whole excursion in inanity is not smiling/laughing when I catch her glaring at me, waiting for me to break, or whatever the hell it is she hopes to accomplish by staring at me while she talks on the phone.
I work in an office of 12 year olds (the two co-workers down here in the basement who are aware of the existence of this blog and have my permission to read it are of course exempt from the age limitation).
Jabberjaws has dentures
I have a lot of things that I want to cover, and unfortunately I do not have the time to delve into all of them. I plan on doing some posting this weekend, so hopefully I will be able to catch up. But I have to take a break from my data entry/drone-like existence and my whole wheat bagel (which I am letting absorb the butter I put on top. YUM) to tell you about my new, most favorite annoyance here in the office. In the interest of protecting myself and to give myself a semblance of a conscience as far as naming those who should be thinned from the herd out loud, I shall call this annoyance Blabs. Because THAT IS ALL SHE DOES. She talks and talks. I do not envy her husband, and I am sure that he spends an inordinate amount of time in the garage. I am not being mean when I say that. I know it is fact. SHE TOLD ME. She tells everybody EVERYTHING. For instance, I just found out that due to her allergies, she has to use unscented deoderant.
I haven't even had a chance to drink my morning coffee yet.
The thought of those lunch-lady arms and wrinkles with wrinkles and the shoulder harness that must be her undergarments and her raising her arm to use unscented Mitchum...I am feeling a little nauseous.
And she just keeps going. There isn't a moment of peace when she is here (thank whatever God you believe in for me that she only works part time). Now she is talking about the Salem Witch Trials and the history behind them and what the prevailing theory as to what started them (a girl had an epileptic seizure and a woman was accused. The rest of the girls faked it, setting the stage for all women and the words "faking it" for the rest of existence. But tell the truth, would you rather your woman fake an orgasm to make you feel better or fake demonic possession in order to have you burned at the stake?). My only problem is, why didn't she use her nurse training to diagnose the poor girl? Hell, I have no doubt she was actually there.
If this continues, I will be drinking "Grampa's special Coffee" by Thanksgiving. At least a pot a day.
I haven't even had a chance to drink my morning coffee yet.
The thought of those lunch-lady arms and wrinkles with wrinkles and the shoulder harness that must be her undergarments and her raising her arm to use unscented Mitchum...I am feeling a little nauseous.
And she just keeps going. There isn't a moment of peace when she is here (thank whatever God you believe in for me that she only works part time). Now she is talking about the Salem Witch Trials and the history behind them and what the prevailing theory as to what started them (a girl had an epileptic seizure and a woman was accused. The rest of the girls faked it, setting the stage for all women and the words "faking it" for the rest of existence. But tell the truth, would you rather your woman fake an orgasm to make you feel better or fake demonic possession in order to have you burned at the stake?). My only problem is, why didn't she use her nurse training to diagnose the poor girl? Hell, I have no doubt she was actually there.
If this continues, I will be drinking "Grampa's special Coffee" by Thanksgiving. At least a pot a day.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Profiling White Males in the Name of Fighting Terrorists
Okay, I am a white male. I know I am responsible for all the misery perpetuated in the world for the last 5000 years or so, give or take a millenia. I am fine with that, really. So I cannot say I was surprised last week when I, while working my night job, asked to see someone's receipt because they had unbagged merchandise (it is store policy to do this, and since I have been there less than a month, I am uneasy with the thought of deciding what products are worthy of receipt checks like my more seasoned colleagues are wont to do), and was told I was stopping them because they were black. I have no doubt that there are places that do that sort of thing, and I don't take it personally. However, last night I hit a new low (or high, depending on your point of view). Then, about an hour later, I TOPPED IT.
I asked a couple to stop so I could check their unbagged merchandise against a receipt. I was asked by the husband if this was because he is white. I will give you a moment to let that sink in. Because. He. Is. White. Now maybe I am not up to snuff on my racial agendas, but 2 things bothered me about that. 1, if you stop a member of your race, how is that racism? Excuse my baseness, but that is the reason I have heard that it is okay for black people to use the word "nigger". It can't be racist for a black person to call another black person that. Or like George Carlin said, "No one is bothered when Eddie Murphy or Richard Pryor say nigger, because everybody knows they aren't racist. They're niggers!" So there is problem 1. Problem 2 (and this is the one that is still confusing me), is it possible to profile white males? I guess it is, but it doesn't seem correct. To the best of my knowledge, profiling is singling out a particular group of people for a particular reason. Unless white males are known for going to Target and stealing 50 gallon storage containers, I am not profiling. And since (in plain view of him as he approached the doors) I had a line of people I had stopped (including a black woman and an Asian woman), if I am guilty of profiling, it is only profiling ALL Target customers who buy things that don't fit in shopping bags. I must be the biggest asshole EVER.
After that I was planning on having the rest of the day go relatively easy. In my limited experience, there is one really crappy customer per shift, and I figured the one I had would definitely qualify. Boy was I wrong. A woman who was leaving with some items on the bottom of the cart, so I asked to see her receipt. After expressing SEVERE exasperation, she asked why I was harassing decent law abiding people. I should be out hunting down terrorists. Yup. Terrorists. I hate to break it to her (and it took an EXTREME amount of control on my part to not say this), but unless Bin Laden is over in Green World shopping for end tables, odds are I ain't gonna find him anytime soon. But if he tries to steal an IPod, I am SOOOO gonna bust his ass. For that I might even ignore company policy regarding Non-violent Crisis Intervention (NCI as the acronym happy Target management likes to use). I would probably have to beat the ever-luvin shit out of him first. So consider yourself warned Osama. If you are in Towson and need gthrow pillows that tastefully match your decor and are value priced so as to maximize your spending dollar, you better drag your ass to Wal-Mart, coz you ain't shopping at Target. Not On MY Watch!
Damn but I feel patriotic.
I asked a couple to stop so I could check their unbagged merchandise against a receipt. I was asked by the husband if this was because he is white. I will give you a moment to let that sink in. Because. He. Is. White. Now maybe I am not up to snuff on my racial agendas, but 2 things bothered me about that. 1, if you stop a member of your race, how is that racism? Excuse my baseness, but that is the reason I have heard that it is okay for black people to use the word "nigger". It can't be racist for a black person to call another black person that. Or like George Carlin said, "No one is bothered when Eddie Murphy or Richard Pryor say nigger, because everybody knows they aren't racist. They're niggers!" So there is problem 1. Problem 2 (and this is the one that is still confusing me), is it possible to profile white males? I guess it is, but it doesn't seem correct. To the best of my knowledge, profiling is singling out a particular group of people for a particular reason. Unless white males are known for going to Target and stealing 50 gallon storage containers, I am not profiling. And since (in plain view of him as he approached the doors) I had a line of people I had stopped (including a black woman and an Asian woman), if I am guilty of profiling, it is only profiling ALL Target customers who buy things that don't fit in shopping bags. I must be the biggest asshole EVER.
After that I was planning on having the rest of the day go relatively easy. In my limited experience, there is one really crappy customer per shift, and I figured the one I had would definitely qualify. Boy was I wrong. A woman who was leaving with some items on the bottom of the cart, so I asked to see her receipt. After expressing SEVERE exasperation, she asked why I was harassing decent law abiding people. I should be out hunting down terrorists. Yup. Terrorists. I hate to break it to her (and it took an EXTREME amount of control on my part to not say this), but unless Bin Laden is over in Green World shopping for end tables, odds are I ain't gonna find him anytime soon. But if he tries to steal an IPod, I am SOOOO gonna bust his ass. For that I might even ignore company policy regarding Non-violent Crisis Intervention (NCI as the acronym happy Target management likes to use). I would probably have to beat the ever-luvin shit out of him first. So consider yourself warned Osama. If you are in Towson and need gthrow pillows that tastefully match your decor and are value priced so as to maximize your spending dollar, you better drag your ass to Wal-Mart, coz you ain't shopping at Target. Not On MY Watch!
Damn but I feel patriotic.
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