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
Friday, December 29, 2006
James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub!
I feel the need to celebrate the lives of both great men that passed away this past week.
Well well well...
Remembering a legend
I have always thought that Gerald Ford got a bum rap as President. He had an impossible job taking over as the hand picked replacement of Nixon BY Nixon. The country will miss him.
With that being said, this is fraggin' hilarious.
BSR
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
I love celebrating Memorial Day in March
and THAT is what will be happening sooner that you think. Yesterday was the day after Christmas. I had to work both jobs. When I went into Target I walked past the display of greeting cards. I expected to see the leftover Christmas cards on clearance, but there was not a Christmas card to be found on display. But guess what was there in their stead. I'll give you three guesses...
If you said "Valentine's Day" you made the right call!
DECEMBER 26TH and I am inundated with VALENTINE'S DAY CARDS?!?!?!?!? Why not a big display filled with seed packets for Arbor Day? Is it too early to Put out the Halloween costumes?
And why does Valentine's Day need a 2 month lead in? Is it just to torture the husbands/boyfriends of the world? We have finally gotten past the "subtle" hints for a Christmas gift that comes in a small box labeled Kays or Zales or Jared or some other damn place, and now we have to see and hear MORE ads for "show her you love her. Say it with diamonds". Sure, and next year I'll say it with bankruptcy (where is a high hat sound effect when you need it?). I am lucky that Wifey is not jewelry obsessed (although she DID make 3 separate "suggestions" for next year's Christmas gift. And also took each opportunity to remind me that she has a birthday and we have an anniversary before Christmas rolls around again. If anyone who reads this goes to one of those fancy Catholic churches I see on the television and in movies PLEASE light one of those cool altar candles for me. I have always wanted someone to do that for me and I don't think it has ever been done. And while I appreciate the sentiment, the one you have in the hallway next to the bathroom just doesn't have the same effect, even if it DOES make the entire house smell like sugar cookies or fresh linen or whatever fricking candle-of-the-month Yankee Candle is hawking this month).
In case you are wondering, Wifey is doing pretty well/good (I like to use improper grammar sometimes, but not all the time. This way I get to do both in one sentence) with her recovery. This surgery was a little more intense that the last one, and she will actually have to go for physical therapy this time. But she keeps promising me increased flexibility, and for that I will get her whatever damn resistance equipment she needs.
Also, last night we had a bit of a conversation.
--Sidebar--
Wifey has complained on more than one occasion about my inability to fall asleep when we go to bed. I will usually start to ramble on about any number of topics. And because my body is tired but my brain has too much information collected throughout the day to process, I will get kind of goofy at bedtime. Anyone who knows me knows that goofy is not much of a stretch for me anyway, but I do feel bad about subjecting Wifey to this. At least I did until last night. Last night I came home exhausted. I have not slept well for the better part of a month, and going back to the 2-a-day grind after 4 straight days of one or no jobs wore me out. So I laid down and got bundled up in my blankets and quickly began nodding off. Well Wifey came downstairs and got herself all ready for bed and decided that she wanted to talk. And talk.
AND TALK.
I was silently praying that the drugs they gave her for the pain would kick in and she would go into WifeyComaVille (soon to be a theme restaurant by Jimmy Buffet), but no such luck. I began to think that she hadn't taken any lately. And THAT is when she decided to drop the bombshell on me
--Sidebar to the sidebar--
Wifey's Mama gave each of us a movie and a book for Christmas. She gave me the Special Edition of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which I never bought because I have the original on video but have wanted to buy since it came out. So that was in fact an awesome gift. The book she gave me (and Wifey got her own copy of the same book) was "The Purpose Driven Life". I am looking forward to reading this book. But I was not expecting the personal inscription in the book (and the matching one in Wifey's book) that referred to the journey from birth through life through MORE BIRTH. If I didn't know better I would think she was pining for grandkids (it has always seemed weird to me that the parents of a female would want their daughter to get pregnant, even after she is married. That means that someone had to, well, you know. And at this point in my life I cannot fathom a parent, ESPECIALLY a father, being okay with someone touching his daughter even after she is made an honest woman. I do not see my ambiguity on this fading if Wifey and I have a daughter. God I hope we have all boys. I don't think I will survive the ulcers that having a daughter would give me). So it seems that the pressure cooker is finally on us. My parents have 2 grandkids already (courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law) so there is a release valve there. Mama-in-law has no such outlet for her desires. Well...
--back to original sidebar--
Wifey started talking about being ready to try and have a kid starting sometime next year.
I have wanted kids for a while (with Wifey I started thinking about it on or about our 3rd date, as I was trying to figure out a way to get her in the sack. Back then she was much better at holding her liquor, so that wasn't a viable option. I wound up having to use charm. I didn't know I had it. There is a good chance I don't. But whatever the hell it was, she bought it. YAY me!). When we first got serious enough to discuss marriage, she said that she wanted to wait 5 years. I said I didn't want to wait that long. She said she would consider 2 or 3, but she wanted us to have some time first. I agreed with her that it was a good idea, and I am glad she said it because we haven't exactly had a whole bunch of time with each other as it is. If we had some tiny poop machine in the house it might have become impossible to see each other at all. The news that she is thinking about getting ourselves ready to have kids as soon as next year (health and financial planning will be necessary) is something I have been waiting to hear her say.
But not on a Wednesday at 1:45 in the morning when I have an alarm clock that will be going off in less than 4 hours.
And here is the thing. I don't know if she did take any of her "happy fun pills" last night, and if she did I don't know what time she took them. I know that she was a little (okay, more than a little) legally stoned at my sister's house Christmas Day, and she mentioned my sister-in-law's munchkin as one of the impeti (what is the plural for impetus? Impetusses? Impetae?) for the decision. My fear is that hillbilly heroin and watching a tot wander about got her primordial maternal instincts all worked up into a frothy lather, but in a week she will be back on the propho-train, which means I am still playing for USC (please tell me you get that).
We didn't talk much about it after she dropped her "KNOCK ME UP" sign on my head and then rolled over to go to sleep. I left this morning before she was awake enough to realize that I had to go to work. I am waiting to see what conversations we have tonight. Rest assured I will let you know the good parts.
BSR
If you said "Valentine's Day" you made the right call!
DECEMBER 26TH and I am inundated with VALENTINE'S DAY CARDS?!?!?!?!? Why not a big display filled with seed packets for Arbor Day? Is it too early to Put out the Halloween costumes?
And why does Valentine's Day need a 2 month lead in? Is it just to torture the husbands/boyfriends of the world? We have finally gotten past the "subtle" hints for a Christmas gift that comes in a small box labeled Kays or Zales or Jared or some other damn place, and now we have to see and hear MORE ads for "show her you love her. Say it with diamonds". Sure, and next year I'll say it with bankruptcy (where is a high hat sound effect when you need it?). I am lucky that Wifey is not jewelry obsessed (although she DID make 3 separate "suggestions" for next year's Christmas gift. And also took each opportunity to remind me that she has a birthday and we have an anniversary before Christmas rolls around again. If anyone who reads this goes to one of those fancy Catholic churches I see on the television and in movies PLEASE light one of those cool altar candles for me. I have always wanted someone to do that for me and I don't think it has ever been done. And while I appreciate the sentiment, the one you have in the hallway next to the bathroom just doesn't have the same effect, even if it DOES make the entire house smell like sugar cookies or fresh linen or whatever fricking candle-of-the-month Yankee Candle is hawking this month).
In case you are wondering, Wifey is doing pretty well/good (I like to use improper grammar sometimes, but not all the time. This way I get to do both in one sentence) with her recovery. This surgery was a little more intense that the last one, and she will actually have to go for physical therapy this time. But she keeps promising me increased flexibility, and for that I will get her whatever damn resistance equipment she needs.
Also, last night we had a bit of a conversation.
--Sidebar--
Wifey has complained on more than one occasion about my inability to fall asleep when we go to bed. I will usually start to ramble on about any number of topics. And because my body is tired but my brain has too much information collected throughout the day to process, I will get kind of goofy at bedtime. Anyone who knows me knows that goofy is not much of a stretch for me anyway, but I do feel bad about subjecting Wifey to this. At least I did until last night. Last night I came home exhausted. I have not slept well for the better part of a month, and going back to the 2-a-day grind after 4 straight days of one or no jobs wore me out. So I laid down and got bundled up in my blankets and quickly began nodding off. Well Wifey came downstairs and got herself all ready for bed and decided that she wanted to talk. And talk.
AND TALK.
I was silently praying that the drugs they gave her for the pain would kick in and she would go into WifeyComaVille (soon to be a theme restaurant by Jimmy Buffet), but no such luck. I began to think that she hadn't taken any lately. And THAT is when she decided to drop the bombshell on me
--Sidebar to the sidebar--
Wifey's Mama gave each of us a movie and a book for Christmas. She gave me the Special Edition of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which I never bought because I have the original on video but have wanted to buy since it came out. So that was in fact an awesome gift. The book she gave me (and Wifey got her own copy of the same book) was "The Purpose Driven Life". I am looking forward to reading this book. But I was not expecting the personal inscription in the book (and the matching one in Wifey's book) that referred to the journey from birth through life through MORE BIRTH. If I didn't know better I would think she was pining for grandkids (it has always seemed weird to me that the parents of a female would want their daughter to get pregnant, even after she is married. That means that someone had to, well, you know. And at this point in my life I cannot fathom a parent, ESPECIALLY a father, being okay with someone touching his daughter even after she is made an honest woman. I do not see my ambiguity on this fading if Wifey and I have a daughter. God I hope we have all boys. I don't think I will survive the ulcers that having a daughter would give me). So it seems that the pressure cooker is finally on us. My parents have 2 grandkids already (courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law) so there is a release valve there. Mama-in-law has no such outlet for her desires. Well...
--back to original sidebar--
Wifey started talking about being ready to try and have a kid starting sometime next year.
I have wanted kids for a while (with Wifey I started thinking about it on or about our 3rd date, as I was trying to figure out a way to get her in the sack. Back then she was much better at holding her liquor, so that wasn't a viable option. I wound up having to use charm. I didn't know I had it. There is a good chance I don't. But whatever the hell it was, she bought it. YAY me!). When we first got serious enough to discuss marriage, she said that she wanted to wait 5 years. I said I didn't want to wait that long. She said she would consider 2 or 3, but she wanted us to have some time first. I agreed with her that it was a good idea, and I am glad she said it because we haven't exactly had a whole bunch of time with each other as it is. If we had some tiny poop machine in the house it might have become impossible to see each other at all. The news that she is thinking about getting ourselves ready to have kids as soon as next year (health and financial planning will be necessary) is something I have been waiting to hear her say.
But not on a Wednesday at 1:45 in the morning when I have an alarm clock that will be going off in less than 4 hours.
And here is the thing. I don't know if she did take any of her "happy fun pills" last night, and if she did I don't know what time she took them. I know that she was a little (okay, more than a little) legally stoned at my sister's house Christmas Day, and she mentioned my sister-in-law's munchkin as one of the impeti (what is the plural for impetus? Impetusses? Impetae?) for the decision. My fear is that hillbilly heroin and watching a tot wander about got her primordial maternal instincts all worked up into a frothy lather, but in a week she will be back on the propho-train, which means I am still playing for USC (please tell me you get that).
We didn't talk much about it after she dropped her "KNOCK ME UP" sign on my head and then rolled over to go to sleep. I left this morning before she was awake enough to realize that I had to go to work. I am waiting to see what conversations we have tonight. Rest assured I will let you know the good parts.
BSR
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Why Letterman is better than Leno
Because Leno would never even think of this, let alone try it. This is Carson quality.
Dick in a Box
I have been having trouble posting videos since I switched my blog over to the beta thing they want us all to be on so bad. And to make matters worse, the version of this that I posted a few weeks ago is no longer available on YouTube. So now I have been trying to re-post for a while. Hopefully this works and it will be on. Of course if you are reading this than it worked. If you are not reading this than it didn't, but that makes my disclaimer worthless.
I need more coffee.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Why "celebrities" suck
A recent post should tell you how I feel about Rosie O'Donnell, so I won't rant about her again. But she has once again ingrained herself into a story that she has nothing to do with. This time, however, she is bringing another media whore along for the ride.
(Does anyone else think that Barbara Walters is watching Rosie as she picks her cause of the week and realizes that she has become the captain of the Titanic and Rosie is the iceberg?)
Rosie has decided to go after the moral qualifications of Donald Trump after he decided to not fire her as Ms. USA (I no longer have the mental acuity to figure out how the hell he got control of Ms. USA or how the hell he still makes himself relevant to anything. Trump has whored himself out so much that he has actually become chaste again. How this is possible is beyond me, but I think it is true. Any day now he is going to start selling Trump brand Air, or some line of crap like that, and my head will explode from the sheer force of gazing at his hubris). Read the article HERE and then come back.
Okay, so Rosie talks trash about Trump. Trump comes back trashing her and saying that she isn't as popular a tv show personality as she claimed to be (and in a STUNNING display of self control Trump goes more than 30 seconds talking about television without pimping the new season of the Apprentice! Or more likely the article edited that part out). But the best part is the end...
"She's out of her mind. I will probably sue Rosie for a number of reasons. I'm worth a lot of money. She doesn't tell the facts," he added.
Did you see it? "I'm worth a lot of money". When I read that, all I could see in my head was Francis in "Pee Wee's Big Adventure". In fact, I am waiting for these two titans of piety to break into a "I know you are but what am I?" argument any minute now. And when it does happen, let us all hope that Matt Lauer is nearby with a camera and a microphone. Why Matt Lauer? I have no earthly idea, it just sounded right in my head. I think that Matt Lauer will bring balance to the cosmos somehow. I just don't know how as of yet. But as soon as I do I will let him know, because we all know that the cosmos could use a little more balance. And Jenga (see the next post for an explanation).
BSR
(Does anyone else think that Barbara Walters is watching Rosie as she picks her cause of the week and realizes that she has become the captain of the Titanic and Rosie is the iceberg?)
Rosie has decided to go after the moral qualifications of Donald Trump after he decided to not fire her as Ms. USA (I no longer have the mental acuity to figure out how the hell he got control of Ms. USA or how the hell he still makes himself relevant to anything. Trump has whored himself out so much that he has actually become chaste again. How this is possible is beyond me, but I think it is true. Any day now he is going to start selling Trump brand Air, or some line of crap like that, and my head will explode from the sheer force of gazing at his hubris). Read the article HERE and then come back.
Okay, so Rosie talks trash about Trump. Trump comes back trashing her and saying that she isn't as popular a tv show personality as she claimed to be (and in a STUNNING display of self control Trump goes more than 30 seconds talking about television without pimping the new season of the Apprentice! Or more likely the article edited that part out). But the best part is the end...
"She's out of her mind. I will probably sue Rosie for a number of reasons. I'm worth a lot of money. She doesn't tell the facts," he added.
Did you see it? "I'm worth a lot of money". When I read that, all I could see in my head was Francis in "Pee Wee's Big Adventure". In fact, I am waiting for these two titans of piety to break into a "I know you are but what am I?" argument any minute now. And when it does happen, let us all hope that Matt Lauer is nearby with a camera and a microphone. Why Matt Lauer? I have no earthly idea, it just sounded right in my head. I think that Matt Lauer will bring balance to the cosmos somehow. I just don't know how as of yet. But as soon as I do I will let him know, because we all know that the cosmos could use a little more balance. And Jenga (see the next post for an explanation).
BSR
The office Christmas Party
Yes, the Christmas spirit is rearing its ugly head here in Moleville, as well as all around the hospital. The Dental Office has decorated to the point of nausea (but if I can get a picture of the penguin that they put my face on for you to see I will. Not for my own ego, but to prove that I no longer HAVE an ego), and BOTH offices are having their community Christmas meal. Moleville is doing brunch, Dental is going for the more traditional lunch. Both pot luck. Both out of luck if they are expecting my participation. I am too tired to pretend I like somebody's bean dip, and the schmuck who brought Dunkin Donuts to the pot luck is a lazy bum who should have put more thought into their effort and let ME be the one who picks up a dozen Boston Kremes (that is how they spell it there) on the drive in.
BTW - a big pet peeve of mine is that one person who signs up to bring plates (and sometimes will say that they are bringing napkins too). That is just a bullshit pot luck category. And here's the thing, you know you will see them again in about 6 months. At some point the office will do some kind of summer shindig, and you know this jackass will sign up to bring condiments. OOOOOOOHHHHHH! "You're going to bring mustard AND mayonnaise? Are you sure your budget can handle relish? Oh, this? This is my German potato salad. The recipe has been in my family for generations, brought from Europe when my grandparents immigrated here from Poland in 1925. But enough about that, is that HUNT'S ketchup? Wow, you shouldn't have!"
But anyway, I have chosen to exercise the right NOT to walk as far as office meals are concerned. And if I needed any extra motivation for my not joining the festivities, I have been given it in spades. SWAN (She Without A Nickname) decided to bring in her portable karaoke machine. Why would ANYONE feel the need to own one of these things? Do they really host parties and break the thing out and next thing you know it is the happening place to be? I always picture it like those old Jenga commercials. There is a party in this nice, swanky condo and 4 of the beautiful people that occupy this world are playing with little pieces of balsa wood that have been stacked in some random pattern. Well soon enough all the doctors and lawyers and impossibly successful people attending this soiree have stopped what they are doing and EVERYONE is watching the Jenga game. It is THAT fascinating. And everyone is "ooohing" and aahing" at every move, and perfect teeth are exposed with every genuine laugh that can only emanate from the soul of a truly content person as they vicariously enjoy the game of Jenga. And then, the look of surprise, nay, the look of HORROR when one of the players (I think it is the attractive blond lady) pulls the piece that makes the Jenga fall down. Followed by UPROARIOUS laughter and a few playful punches on the shoulder (and I am pretty sure I saw a high five somewhere in the background) as EVERYONE cheers and claps at the end of the most funnest game EVER!!! The only redeeming thing about Jenga is that as long as you have more than 2 players you have more than 1 winner. There is always one loser, but everyone else wins. And that can do nothing but improve your feeling of self worth, unless you REALLY suck at Jenga.
But I digress. Back to the personal karaoke machine. I just picture SWAN standing in her living room, disheveled in her work clothes that she never took off, a few candles lit as she sings "All By Myself" and fights off the tears. Why is it that I almost find the thought of that funny? I just cannot stomach the thought of JJ (who is here on a THURSDAY! 2 days in a row of this claptrap AND a holiday party marred with controversy, which I will get to in a minute) and some random guy from IT singing "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". Mother Hen breaking into her rendition of "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend"...you get the idea.
BREAKING CONTROVERSY NEWS!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody brought bagels from Panera (another bastard who stole my idea!), and JJ decided that they should be taken out of the container that they were brought in (that cardboard carrying case thing). And she took them out and put them on a tray. And she used her bare hands. Now we get to the two sides to this. One, I don't want JJ (or anyone else who hasn't just washed their hands) touching food that I am going to eat. But on the other hand, the way the Hens have gone off the deep end about this (pulling each other into remote corners of the office to share this information and cluck disapprovingly at her) seems a bit extreme for an old lady that pulled a few bagels out of a box. It is not like we work in the OR and she just stepped out of surgery here. A little reason is all I ask for (and will never get as long as I am here).
Okay, I gotta run. Brunch starts in less than half an hour, and I have to post something else before I get the hell out of here.
BSR
BTW - a big pet peeve of mine is that one person who signs up to bring plates (and sometimes will say that they are bringing napkins too). That is just a bullshit pot luck category. And here's the thing, you know you will see them again in about 6 months. At some point the office will do some kind of summer shindig, and you know this jackass will sign up to bring condiments. OOOOOOOHHHHHH! "You're going to bring mustard AND mayonnaise? Are you sure your budget can handle relish? Oh, this? This is my German potato salad. The recipe has been in my family for generations, brought from Europe when my grandparents immigrated here from Poland in 1925. But enough about that, is that HUNT'S ketchup? Wow, you shouldn't have!"
But anyway, I have chosen to exercise the right NOT to walk as far as office meals are concerned. And if I needed any extra motivation for my not joining the festivities, I have been given it in spades. SWAN (She Without A Nickname) decided to bring in her portable karaoke machine. Why would ANYONE feel the need to own one of these things? Do they really host parties and break the thing out and next thing you know it is the happening place to be? I always picture it like those old Jenga commercials. There is a party in this nice, swanky condo and 4 of the beautiful people that occupy this world are playing with little pieces of balsa wood that have been stacked in some random pattern. Well soon enough all the doctors and lawyers and impossibly successful people attending this soiree have stopped what they are doing and EVERYONE is watching the Jenga game. It is THAT fascinating. And everyone is "ooohing" and aahing" at every move, and perfect teeth are exposed with every genuine laugh that can only emanate from the soul of a truly content person as they vicariously enjoy the game of Jenga. And then, the look of surprise, nay, the look of HORROR when one of the players (I think it is the attractive blond lady) pulls the piece that makes the Jenga fall down. Followed by UPROARIOUS laughter and a few playful punches on the shoulder (and I am pretty sure I saw a high five somewhere in the background) as EVERYONE cheers and claps at the end of the most funnest game EVER!!! The only redeeming thing about Jenga is that as long as you have more than 2 players you have more than 1 winner. There is always one loser, but everyone else wins. And that can do nothing but improve your feeling of self worth, unless you REALLY suck at Jenga.
But I digress. Back to the personal karaoke machine. I just picture SWAN standing in her living room, disheveled in her work clothes that she never took off, a few candles lit as she sings "All By Myself" and fights off the tears. Why is it that I almost find the thought of that funny? I just cannot stomach the thought of JJ (who is here on a THURSDAY! 2 days in a row of this claptrap AND a holiday party marred with controversy, which I will get to in a minute) and some random guy from IT singing "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". Mother Hen breaking into her rendition of "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend"...you get the idea.
BREAKING CONTROVERSY NEWS!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody brought bagels from Panera (another bastard who stole my idea!), and JJ decided that they should be taken out of the container that they were brought in (that cardboard carrying case thing). And she took them out and put them on a tray. And she used her bare hands. Now we get to the two sides to this. One, I don't want JJ (or anyone else who hasn't just washed their hands) touching food that I am going to eat. But on the other hand, the way the Hens have gone off the deep end about this (pulling each other into remote corners of the office to share this information and cluck disapprovingly at her) seems a bit extreme for an old lady that pulled a few bagels out of a box. It is not like we work in the OR and she just stepped out of surgery here. A little reason is all I ask for (and will never get as long as I am here).
Okay, I gotta run. Brunch starts in less than half an hour, and I have to post something else before I get the hell out of here.
BSR
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
My Christmas Gift To You
I would give this to a bunch of you, but Wifey would make it so that I would never be able to give it again, so I will save it for her. But wrapping it will be fun. Not as much fun as her unwrapping it, but fun nonetheless.
Just follow these three simple steps:
1. Cut a hole in a box.
2. Put your junk in that box.
3. Make her open the box.
Justin Timberlake is officially a funny mofo. He makes damn good pop music, and now he has moved up a couple of notches in my book.
BSR
I would give this to a bunch of you, but Wifey would make it so that I would never be able to give it again, so I will save it for her. But wrapping it will be fun. Not as much fun as her unwrapping it, but fun nonetheless.
Just follow these three simple steps:
1. Cut a hole in a box.
2. Put your junk in that box.
3. Make her open the box.
Justin Timberlake is officially a funny mofo. He makes damn good pop music, and now he has moved up a couple of notches in my book.
BSR
I totally forgot to mention this
So like most men I like tohave something to read when I am on the crapper. I think it is a genetic thing, why men need to read to excavate the end of the food chain. But be that as it may, because of this, I have a couple of magazines and a book or two at work that I will take with me when I go above ground. One of the books on my shelf is the latest by Brad Meltzer, Book of Fate. If you have the chance I suggest you pick it up, it is a fun read. Within the plot of the story the Freemasons are used pretty liberally (this seems to be a theme lately. I am calling it the Dan Brown Effect). Well, my real boss (not the one I have to deal with upstairs from time to time) came to see me at my cubicle last week before she left for her Christmas vacation, and she noticed the book on my shelf. But it isn't the name of the book or the author that she noticed. It was the sign of the Masons on the spine that she saw. She asked me if I was a Freemason. Thankfully for me I just answered with a generic "no" and didn't make any flippant comments. This is a good thing because she then told me that her husband was a Freemason. And all I could think was that I had better be careful, lest I bring the wrath of the organization down on me. Which means that I had better conduct my job search with care.
If he was also a Scientologist, I would be totally screwed.
BSR
If he was also a Scientologist, I would be totally screwed.
BSR
Monday, December 18, 2006
A change is (hopefully) a'brewin'
I am once again openly lookingfor new daytime employment. I am officially tired of having two jobs and want to experience all that my digital cable has to offer. It isn't really anything that has happened at one job or the other that has me unhappy, it is just the general level of exhaustion that has enveloped me. It could very well be that after the holiday season ends and my hours at Target are cut back to more normal levels that I will feel differently. But even so, I would love to have evenings and weekends for myself (and for Wifey) for a change. It has been pretty much a constant for the last 5 years, and I think I have earned it. Of course, I may be in the minority in having that opinion.
I just hope that if I am blessed with a new job, that it gives me as much ammunition and material as the ones I have now have given me.
Also, a quick, open apology to Post Script (an old college friend). I am very sorry that Wifey and I didn't make it out to the Gathering of the P's (long story). We were just both too exhausted, and even when we talked about going and decided that we would go and make an appearance, we wound up vegging out and just staring blankly at whatever we were doing and never made it to the "put on clothes you can wear out in public" part of going out. And to the Honorary P, happy belated birthday. I hope your "29+2" birthday was everything you hoped it would be and more. I will endeavor to make it to "29+3". I promise.
BSR
I just hope that if I am blessed with a new job, that it gives me as much ammunition and material as the ones I have now have given me.
Also, a quick, open apology to Post Script (an old college friend). I am very sorry that Wifey and I didn't make it out to the Gathering of the P's (long story). We were just both too exhausted, and even when we talked about going and decided that we would go and make an appearance, we wound up vegging out and just staring blankly at whatever we were doing and never made it to the "put on clothes you can wear out in public" part of going out. And to the Honorary P, happy belated birthday. I hope your "29+2" birthday was everything you hoped it would be and more. I will endeavor to make it to "29+3". I promise.
BSR
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