Wednesday, January 24, 2007
A quick thanks
Thank you all for being so patient during my run of lack of time and/or writer's block. I am beginning to feel the mojo again. Mothers, lock up your daughters!
No Added Pressure HERE, TYVM
As you may recall, Wifey recently dropped the thought that she would like to start trying to have a child soon. Granted she told me in the middle of the night while lying in bed all but asleep, but still, communication is the key. And lately she has been oohing and aahing and generally cooing and making squeaky dolphin noises whenever anything remotely cute comes across her path. The pictures of kittens and puppies she got in her inbox the other day caused MUCH consternation as she squeaked and squealed and made dogs all over the neighborhood bark. She has actually put a picture of the Boob Thief up as her wallpaper at work. And God forbid she sees one of those old Michelin commercials. I might never get her back from one of those.
I am waiting for the day I come home to a wall full of those baby pictures by that one female photographer who always puts them in costumes and backgrounds so sickeningly sweet that I need a shot of insulin when I look at them. And yes, my sister has 4 or 5 of them in the half-bathroom in her house. Just what I need as I take a leak, babies in costumes that make their faces look like the middle of a sunflower staring at me. Makes it crawl back up every time.
Well, the guy who was the Best Man at my wedding and his wife are expecting any day now. He called me last night, but I didn't have an opportunity to call him back. I will strive for that tonight. And now I find out that good ol' Fineous Reese (he of the inverted blog to your right) and his lovely wife are also going to be Mommy and Daddy (not necessarily in that order). I find this out from Larry the Upstairs Neighbor who tells me the info (along with the knowledge that someone we both know is engaged. The fact that EVERY SINGLE PERSON he has told the news of the engagement to that knows this person has said "wait, he's not gay?" or has somehow referenced that his betrothed will make an excellent beard. So let's see how THAT plays out) last night. So I clicked on Fineous' blog and lo and behold, it is the big announcement. And there is even a public apology to me for me having to hear about it online instead of from him. So let me say this Mr. Reese, apology accepted, but completely unnecessary. Just name your first borne after me and all will be forgiven. BSR Reese has a nice ring to it, does it not?
Even if he chooses not to appease my most simple request, he is still forgiven. After all, he is a bud. And you don't stay friends for 16 years (ye GODS!) without being able to forgive something as simple as this. Or as simple as me. Hey Fin, call me.
Now to the task at hand. There is one major problem with all my friends (or their respective spouses) getting knocked up like rabbits in March. It opens a whole new category of people entering into the "when are you two going to have a kid" arena. Random requests from in-laws and outlaws and blood kin and so forth were tolerable, since we don't see most of them that much. But now that my friends are popping out heirs I am starting to really feel pressure to seed the field. To plant some crops. To put a bun in the oven. In other words, to knock up my wife.
Maybe if she promises to pose for pictures like Demi Moore did in Vanity Fair (or whatever damn magazine it was), I would feel a little better about the whole thing.
BSR
I am waiting for the day I come home to a wall full of those baby pictures by that one female photographer who always puts them in costumes and backgrounds so sickeningly sweet that I need a shot of insulin when I look at them. And yes, my sister has 4 or 5 of them in the half-bathroom in her house. Just what I need as I take a leak, babies in costumes that make their faces look like the middle of a sunflower staring at me. Makes it crawl back up every time.
Well, the guy who was the Best Man at my wedding and his wife are expecting any day now. He called me last night, but I didn't have an opportunity to call him back. I will strive for that tonight. And now I find out that good ol' Fineous Reese (he of the inverted blog to your right) and his lovely wife are also going to be Mommy and Daddy (not necessarily in that order). I find this out from Larry the Upstairs Neighbor who tells me the info (along with the knowledge that someone we both know is engaged. The fact that EVERY SINGLE PERSON he has told the news of the engagement to that knows this person has said "wait, he's not gay?" or has somehow referenced that his betrothed will make an excellent beard. So let's see how THAT plays out) last night. So I clicked on Fineous' blog and lo and behold, it is the big announcement. And there is even a public apology to me for me having to hear about it online instead of from him. So let me say this Mr. Reese, apology accepted, but completely unnecessary. Just name your first borne after me and all will be forgiven. BSR Reese has a nice ring to it, does it not?
Even if he chooses not to appease my most simple request, he is still forgiven. After all, he is a bud. And you don't stay friends for 16 years (ye GODS!) without being able to forgive something as simple as this. Or as simple as me. Hey Fin, call me.
Now to the task at hand. There is one major problem with all my friends (or their respective spouses) getting knocked up like rabbits in March. It opens a whole new category of people entering into the "when are you two going to have a kid" arena. Random requests from in-laws and outlaws and blood kin and so forth were tolerable, since we don't see most of them that much. But now that my friends are popping out heirs I am starting to really feel pressure to seed the field. To plant some crops. To put a bun in the oven. In other words, to knock up my wife.
Maybe if she promises to pose for pictures like Demi Moore did in Vanity Fair (or whatever damn magazine it was), I would feel a little better about the whole thing.
BSR
the Land of Lesbians
I am all for diversity. I believe that sexual orientation should be as much a factor in being hired as race or qualifications for the position (okay, maybe qualifications for the position should carry a LITTLE extra weight. I am just tired of hunting for a new job, because apparently I am qualified for but two things...Jack and Shit. And Jack left town. Remember, shop smart. Shop S-Mart. YOU GOT THAT?!?!?) The reason I bring this up is that the Target where I am employed has become a haven of Sappho. I don't know if it is a theme throughout the company or if my store just has a unique concentration of Butch's NOT NAMED Patrick, but lately it seems I can't take 3 steps without running into a lesbian. And by no means am I saying this is a bad thing.
First of all, I am off the market, so it isn't like I am hunting for a hot piece of Target Team Member in the utility closet during my state mandated break period. So there is no competition. I will say that the vast majority of Muff Divers Local 127 are more manly than pretty much the entire IT department here at the hospital, so there isn't a whole lot of temptation there to go thinking things like "she just hasn't had the right man yet". I am fairly confident that in most cases she IS the right man.
Secondly, there is nothing cooler than a woman taking the time to point out a hot woman that has entered the store, and it is even more awesome when she takes the time to check out the ass with you as she enters. Apparently most lesbians aren't into boobs like they are ass and thighs. Me, I appreciate the whole package. I'm just a renaissance man that way.
Last night one of the Local 127 was working in Guest Services when I walked over to drop off some re-shop (merchandise that needs to be re-shelved for those who don't know what "re-shop" means). She was staring intently at one of the registers, so asked her what was going on. She proceeded to tell me (in rather graphic detail) not only that there was a (for lack of a better term) "quality piece of ass" at Register 7, but what she would like to do to those "thick thighs" and "juicy ass". Now how she could tell the relative juice quantity in the posterior of this particular lady is beyond me. I know if you are shopping for melons you are supposed to shake them and sniff them and even knock on them. I am hoping that she did not do this, because odds are it would be misinterpreted, at least initially. Although it would be fun to try and fill out that report. I know spell-check would have a blast with it.
Working two jobs may suck the vast majority of the time, but at least I get to be complimented by lesbians with such kudos as "If only we didn't have the same taste in women", and "it's too bad you are a guy. You would make a great girlfriend". To which I could only reply "I was thinking the exact same thing about you".
BSR
First of all, I am off the market, so it isn't like I am hunting for a hot piece of Target Team Member in the utility closet during my state mandated break period. So there is no competition. I will say that the vast majority of Muff Divers Local 127 are more manly than pretty much the entire IT department here at the hospital, so there isn't a whole lot of temptation there to go thinking things like "she just hasn't had the right man yet". I am fairly confident that in most cases she IS the right man.
Secondly, there is nothing cooler than a woman taking the time to point out a hot woman that has entered the store, and it is even more awesome when she takes the time to check out the ass with you as she enters. Apparently most lesbians aren't into boobs like they are ass and thighs. Me, I appreciate the whole package. I'm just a renaissance man that way.
Last night one of the Local 127 was working in Guest Services when I walked over to drop off some re-shop (merchandise that needs to be re-shelved for those who don't know what "re-shop" means). She was staring intently at one of the registers, so asked her what was going on. She proceeded to tell me (in rather graphic detail) not only that there was a (for lack of a better term) "quality piece of ass" at Register 7, but what she would like to do to those "thick thighs" and "juicy ass". Now how she could tell the relative juice quantity in the posterior of this particular lady is beyond me. I know if you are shopping for melons you are supposed to shake them and sniff them and even knock on them. I am hoping that she did not do this, because odds are it would be misinterpreted, at least initially. Although it would be fun to try and fill out that report. I know spell-check would have a blast with it.
Working two jobs may suck the vast majority of the time, but at least I get to be complimented by lesbians with such kudos as "If only we didn't have the same taste in women", and "it's too bad you are a guy. You would make a great girlfriend". To which I could only reply "I was thinking the exact same thing about you".
BSR
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Back from the abyss
Hey everybody. It has been awhile, I know. But it has been a long few weeks. Actually I really don't have anything of note to say right now, but I have felt remiss in my duties as the opinion-maker for my minions, and I just wanted to let you know that I am still thinking of you all, and hopefully I will soon have something worth telling you about.
But I wouldn't count on it.
BSR
But I wouldn't count on it.
BSR
Monday, January 01, 2007
Raindrops on roses...
One of my favorite things to do is listen to conversations being spoken in languages other than English. I don't like to be directly involved in them, just be in the periphery listening to them. Why, you ask?
Go on, ask. I won't tell you until you do.
I'm waiting...
Say it out loud. I don't care if you are at work or home or wherever the hell you are. Say "why?". No one will look at you any funnier than they already do. In fact, say it loudly. If nothing else, everyone else in your office will be less inclined to screw with your desk and desktop bric a brac.
Okay, thank you.
I love to listen to conversations in other languages because I love it when they have to say random words in English. It goes a little something like this...
"Dberoiub aeoifjv naer eiouf poirue e iu piu aeorui niaf n oern Coca Cola erfvjierio u aio r oun aeoruageroiun..."
That is always fun for me. So imagine my delight when I was randomly clicking the "next blog" button while a stoned Wifey plays "Simpsons Hit and Run" and randomly says things like "DAMMIT! and "Stupid black vans!!!", and I came across the little jem linked on the title. It is the best. And the pictures and titles of each post are completely senseless.
Nothing like a slice of down home awesomeness to start the New Year!
BSR
Go on, ask. I won't tell you until you do.
I'm waiting...
Say it out loud. I don't care if you are at work or home or wherever the hell you are. Say "why?". No one will look at you any funnier than they already do. In fact, say it loudly. If nothing else, everyone else in your office will be less inclined to screw with your desk and desktop bric a brac.
Okay, thank you.
I love to listen to conversations in other languages because I love it when they have to say random words in English. It goes a little something like this...
"Dberoiub aeoifjv naer eiouf poirue e iu piu aeorui niaf n oern Coca Cola erfvjierio u aio r oun aeoruageroiun..."
That is always fun for me. So imagine my delight when I was randomly clicking the "next blog" button while a stoned Wifey plays "Simpsons Hit and Run" and randomly says things like "DAMMIT! and "Stupid black vans!!!", and I came across the little jem linked on the title. It is the best. And the pictures and titles of each post are completely senseless.
Nothing like a slice of down home awesomeness to start the New Year!
BSR
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