Sunday, December 30, 2007
The being said, allow me to broach the topic of hidden humor. Yes, hidden humor. There will be days when your cube will seem about as funny as the inside of your coffin. Never fear, there is hidden humor to carry you through the day. I discovered the hidden humor at my work place and it has truly made the grind more bearable.
For me the hidden humor is in my coworkers. I never realized how absolutely close this place is to a three ring circus until i moved back from florida and decided to talk to them more.
THOMAS JEFFERSON: a forty something black male that is the biggest dirtbag in the world. Granted, he is a nice guy - genuine and what not. However I cannot get past the fact that he is involved in at least four serious relationships with women. He lives with one, Kim, and spends his free time at one of the other three homes. He actually has them scheduled and timed so there is virtually no chance of any of them suspecting him of cheating. Two or three nights a week a different woman will come around to bring us food or coffee at work! Sometimes at really ungodly hours and by food i don't mean McD's, i mean hand cooked meals with desserts, usually whole pies or cakes. These women are completely enthralled by Jefferson! It amazes me how well he does it.
BILL: A raging alcoholic. This normally would be something for people to be concerned about but not on the railroad. Bill comes to work buzzed and by 3 or 4am he's tanked! But not sloppy frat boy tanked. No, Bill is fully functional, however he goes from normal to full on jovial in the times of consumption. The friendliest guy you'll ever meet. And he can sing but only when blitzed! Which brings up...
ROME(aka bojangles): Rome is supposed to be on methodone. Sometimes he is and some times...well, he isnt. Again, blatant drug addiction is generally something to bring about concern. Not so much in this case. Besides, when Bill starts to sing, Rome starts to "dance." Now use your imaginations. A singing alcoholic and a dancing crackhead performing in the middle of the night for a bunch of sleep deprived workers. It's really quite a site. Rome dances like a marrionette with loose strings. Classic.
Also, there's the railroad sports that take place semi weekly. Events include: "hammer toss"-a mix of shot put, bowling and horse shoes in which two to three employees line up and throw two 10lb sledge hammers down the platform like a bowling ball. Points are given for distance and proximity to obstacles. Bonus points for sparks and noise.
"Shoe Gnomes"- a cruel game. Basically, there's this guy Arnette that habitually falls asleep with one shoe off. Each night, one person is picked to hide the shoe somewhere in plain view in the building ( which is about the size of a smaller strip mall). The winner is chosen on the last night of the week and determined by how long it took Arnette to find his shoe.
"Cart Stuntin'"-we a have a few shooping carts from area super markets that we simply tie to the back of the buggy and pull around the shop. While someone does "tricks" on the cart they are scored on complexity and over all stupidity.
Soon I'll have some pictures and videos of the railroad sports to post.
One other thing one of my coworkers is extremely into table tennis (ping pong). Apparently thats what he does to stay in shape.
I'll pause so you can take a moment to fully appreciate the concept of ping pong as exercise
Anyway, Big Al says that the table tennis olympic qualifiers are being held in Philadelphia this year! If any of you could find out the date, time, and place that would be great, since i couldn't get that information out of him. I would loooove to see some of the world's best qualify for Olympic dreams! Anyone who wants to come please do so as i think this could be a one in a life time opportunity!
Friday, December 21, 2007
By Ryan B.
I really don't have time to blog right now, but I'm fired up.
My office recently moved to a larger, more corporatey building. Along with the move came a new cubicle. I got shafted.
Why did I get shafted, you ask? No, it's not because I'm furthest away from the window. It's not because no one sits on either side of me and I'm bored all day. It's not because I sit directly across from a conference room and therefore cannot spend my life on Facebook.
I got shafted because my cube is RIGHT NEXT to the freaking most ANNOYING PRINTER EVER. My cube is literally TOUCHING this printer. And the icing on the cake? I DON'T EVEN HAVE ACCESS TO PRINT TO THIS DAMN PRINTER. THE PRINTER I CAN PRINT ON IS ACROSS THE FREAKING ROOM.
Now, after a few days I got used to the sounds of endless print jobs spewing out of the damn thing. In fact, the sounds are kind of relaxing. It's like when I lived in North Philly and I got used to the traffic noises, sirens, and the sounds of drunken frat boys peeing off of the roof next door at 4 a.m. It helped me fall asleep.
But no, it's not the sound of the printer that ticks me off. It's the fact that the damn thing breaks all the freakin time, and whoever's print job it is assumes that I know what's wrong with the damn thing just because I sit next to it. If I had a freakin penny for every time someone said "Hey Ryan, what's wrong with this printer??" or "Why isn't this working?" or "How do I load paper into tray 2?" I WOULD BE FREAKING RICH. Tray 2??? I CAN'T EVEN PRINT TO THE DAMN THING, DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT TRAYS.
Seriously, do I look like a printer technician? Am I a professional mechanic of print technology? Apparently I'm wearing an effing jumpsuit and toolbelt, complete with a wrench and various ink cartridges. Apparently I have a stash of freaking legal paper in my desk, and a framed diploma from the EPSON INKJET SCHOOL OF PRINTING. Apparently I did not go to school for communication or studio art. Apparently I went to freaking trade school or some shit. I went to effing Devry or Kathering Gibbs school, you know those schools you see commercials for during The Price is Right?? Apparently I freaking work at KINKO's!!!!!!
UUUUUGGGGHHHHHH. Ok. Breathe. Wow I feel better.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
OK, I feel like I should have been reporting on this for the past 8 months or so, but the saga just keeps continuing and my fury is raging this morning.
I HAVE A MOUSE IN MY APARTMENT THAT WON'T DIE.
We've had him I believe since April. At first, Dana and I would be sitting on our couch and then out of the corner of my eye I'd see a fast movement. I'd look to where I thought I saw the blur, and nothing would be there.
"What the hell was that?" I said.
"What?" Dana asked.
"Um, well, I think I saw something," I mumbled, "I don't know. Maybe it was a mouse."
And then we wouldn't see anything for weeks, maybe months. And that's how it went on. Sometimes we'd see a blur out of the corner of our eyes, but we'd never actually see it.
Then one day, we were both in the kitchen and I was rummaging for something in our pantry when I heard Dana scream. I turned around quickly to see that bastard squeeze himself under the refrigerator. DAMN YOU, MOUSE, AND YOUR TINY BONELESS BODY!!! I have a method that I use when I think I have the mouse trapped. I bust out a whole bunch of VHS tapes and try and block him in. This has actually never worked, but it's my default because I always panic and don't know what to do. Anyway, the mouse ended up under our stove and he probably disappeared through a pipe in the wall.
Then one day, I had just gotten up and as soon as I walked out of the bedroom, Dana said she saw the mouse dash into our sun room. I immediately grabbed my VHS tapes. SUCKER. Where the hell is he going now. He's trapped! Or so I thought.
"WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?" I fumed. "WHERE CAN HE POSSIBLY GO IN OUR SUN ROOM?"
Well, we have 4 radiators in our apartment that look similar to the one pictured (minus the cat, though I wish we had a cat...that's another story). Since mice can pretty much squish their bodies into nothing, he probably hopped into the radiator or dashed under some insignificant hole somewhere. Foiled again.
We've set up more traps, WITH PEANUT BUTTER, and he's still avoiding them. It's like he's taunting us, because now he doesn't just come out at night like a stupid mouse should, being nocturnal and all, but he comes out IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. And I've found out where his little getaway hole is. We have a gap between the floor and the pipe with the knob (see above) which he's slipping in and out of. I know this because I saw the bastard run into it. And that's another thing, he's not even running along walls anymore. I SAW HIM RUN STRAIGHT TO THE HOLE. He knows what he's doing.
Just this morning, I saw him on my stove top. He dashed into the space between the stove top and the dials. ASS. I'm livid. I don't know what to do. I don't want to bring poison into my apartment, but he's leaving me with no other choice. UHG. I wish we had a cat, because that bitch of a mouse would be DEAD like 8 months ago.
Anyone have any suggestions? I've had it.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
* * * * * ranking for the "printed fun" figures on the crust. See below.
Monday, December 10, 2007
To all you a-cubers - i feel it important to recongize the 24th birthday of the one and only Ashleigh, who, by the way, is now famous thanks to facebook event listings.
A good time was had by all at the Dogfish Head Ale House in VA, on saturday dec 8. Never mind the fact that we had to wait about an hour and a half for a table. Dinner was enjoyed over several rounds of Connect Four, Ashleigh got some kick ass gifts, and she loved every second of it (as did her guests).
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHLEIGH.
you are totes legit.
ps - refer to andrew for a version of ashleigh's bday song, "Pug in the Club." it's soon to be a birthday classic everywhere. totes.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
I QUIT MY JOB.
Today. I just quit. Quit quit quit. Done and done.
December 14th. After that day, I will never return to this godforsaken office.
Leaving on good terms is a good thing. However, you know that scene from Half Baked? You know the one. What I would give to pull that. Or at least throw my middle finger in the air and express my unquenchable rage that burns with the fury of a million suns. If only I could call out my boss in front of the entire office, or tell the VP to learn how to make his own damn coffee, or to say, "THIS IS THE WORST COMPANY IN THE WORLD, AND IT SHOULD BE BURNT TO THE GROUND!!!!"
But I had a nice conversation with our HR person. It was positive. Still. . .I'M OUT!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Gmail now has GROUP CHAT available. It's like a chat room, except without all the child molesters and creeps. You can now chat with anyone who is currently a Google chat friend.
That is if you have MOZZILA FIREFOX. Download Firefox already!
I'm never doing work ever again.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
And I say:
Anyone who plans on mentioning anything about the Partridge Family or the Osmonds or any other wit- depraved comment centering on large and musically inclined families can just cancel the idea. Again, we, here at Anchored Cubicle support all things Hanson and all things babies. I propose a celebration!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Kellogg's has come out with a limited edition Pop Tart and, of course, I have already eaten half of the 12-pack box I ordered off of E-bay the second I found out about them*.
Gingerbread Pop-Tarts - * * * * *
Yes, ladies and gents, we have a 5-Star-er (?)
* Edit: I would like to thank a good neighbor and friend for, this evening, bringing me a box of Gingerbread Pop-Tarts... that she bought... at the grocery store one mile from my house... that I regularly shop at... for about $8 less than my hasty E-bay purchase.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
As many of you may know, Ashleigh embarked on a quest this past May to try and consume every Pop-Tart flavor available to the public. Thus began, The Great Pop-Tart Experiment. As many of you may also know, Kellogg's has discontinued the very LAST Pop-Tart that she needed to try: the very elusive Frosted Grape. Since this has come to our attention, we have been trying our damnedest to get our hands on a box. We have made very little progress. I recently wrote to Kellogg's and, like Ashleigh, got a negative response. Here is the letter:
Thank you for contacting us regarding Pop-Tarts® Frosted Grape.
We no longer sell this product. When there is low consumer demand, the business decision is usually made to discontinue its production. We have no current plans to reintroduce this item. We do regret to advise you that once the product is discontinued any product that was last produced is automatically shipped out to be sold to the public. Since we do not have any remaining product, we would be unable to sell any to you.
We appreciate your interest in our products.
Consumer Affairs Department
Another dead end. Last night, I posted in the Food forum on Craigslist. I got about 6 responses, and one person said that they would look. We currently have people nationwide starting the search for any remaining shelved boxes of Frosted Grape Pop-Tarts. If you have been searching, we at Anchored Cubicle thank you. If you would like to search, please let us know which city and state you are looking in. There may be money in it for the person who finds a box.
This isn't over, Kellogg's. We've only just begun our search.
THE LIST WILL BE COMPLETED.
Monday, November 12, 2007
My partner and I have lived in our condo for 2 years and have learned so much about home ownership during that time. At the moment, I've learned that I wish I wasn't a home owner.
Our condo, at the moment, is nothing but an endless cycle of brokenness. And yes, that is a real word. If anyone has seen the eighties-fabulous movie "The Money Pit" starring Tom Hanks and Shelley Long, you'll have an idea of what we have been going through. Granted, our bathtub hasn't fallen through the floor, but we are on the Terrace level, so there is no floor for it to fall through. But if there was, that bathtub would be long gone at this point. I am sure of it.
For instance, we just paid someone an exhorbitant amount of money to hang new closet doors which have been sitting in the corner for 3 months. Do you know what a simple task it is to hang closet doors? It really is easy. However, our condo consists of uneven walls, steel studs, and weak drywall. All of that adds up to equal one hefty price tag for a contractor to do it.
We are entering our second winter WITHOUT heat and we still do not know if it is because our air handler needs to be replaced ($2,500) or if it because of the Condo Association's system. We have been battling a year now to figure this out and have already invested $800 in upgrading our current system to see eliminate possible problems. Nothing has worked. A new air handler is on the horizon. Merry 'effing Christmas.
Just this weekend, our kitchen sink decided to become clogged. We could not think of what possibly could have gotten stuck. Well, a call to the plumber and $400 later*, we now know that a knotted piece of synthetic hair (aka WEAVE) was stuck in the pipes. My partner and I are both males with full heads of short hair - we have never used synthetic hair. That god forsaken piece of weave has been sitting in our pipes for over two years, just waiting to clog it. And that is the SECOND, yes, ladies and gentleman, second piece of weave to be pulled out of the drains in our condo. About a year after we moved in, my partner decided to try to fix the drain in the bathroom sink, which would would not depress, so that you could fill the sink with water. Well, after he ripped it out of the drain, we discovered this was so because a chunky piece of weave was wrapped around the bottom. Yum.
So, yes. Home ownership is a wonderful learning experience. Once you own a home, you fully learn the wonderful benefits of renting and how you wasted so much time and money going to college instead of learning a trade, like plumbing.
*This was the second visit from Mr. Plumber. The first one cost $300 to remove a huge fish my partner flushed down the toilet and it got stuck.** Not necessarily the Condo's fault. However, the plumber did say that if the toilet wasn't so old, causing the pipes to be arranged differently, the fish would have easily been able to plunged out. I believe his words were "If there was a Toilet Musuem, this toilet would definitely be a star attraction."
**Why did he flush a fish, you might ask? Well, it was our fish wh was a huge, dirty, smelly, chiclid who was a miserable son-of-a-bitch. While I was on vacation, my partned tried to do something sweet and dispose of him. Flushing him was perhaps a little rash, as he was large enough to feed a family of four, but its the thought that counts.
Buying good coffee and then drinking it.
Making homemade cards and selling them (or just sending them to friends. Either/or).
Listening to good music on my Ipod and then talking about it.
Leading a weekly Socratic discussion on The Office.
Watching my dog systematically destroy his stuffed giraffe.
Reading books from the used bookstore across the street and then recommending or not recommending them to people.
Trying every single Pop-Tart flavor and ranking them, using the 5-Star method (wait….)
Joining the old man who does Thai Chi in the park, near my house, on Saturdays, in his routine.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
I will most likely not be your friend if you feel compelled to narrate every possible mundane thing you're doing or thinking. Really, it's obnoxious. It doesn't make you more important. Looking for a fork? Go right ahead. Can't seem to find a specific file? I don't care. Not sure why the printer is broken? By all means, fix it. But...EVERYONE IN THE OFFICE DOESN'T NEED TO HEAR YOUR EVERY WAKING THOUGHT. Can't you do anything in silence? Can't you walk 10 feet without broadcasting your mundane workaday office life?
Help me, Jesus.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
October 29, 2007
Ms. Ashleigh ___
Dear Ms. _____:
Thank you for your comments regarding Kellogg's (R) Pop-Tarts (R) Frosted Grape. Consumer satisfaction is important to us, and your interest in our products is sincerely appreciated.
This product is no longer marketed by our company, since consumer demand simply does not warrant its continued production. At this time, there are no plans to reintroduce this product. However, as an alternate, you might enjoy a similar product called Pop-Tarts Splitz tm Strawberry Blueberry. We are sending you a coupon so that you can try it!
We appreciate your interest and loyalty to our brands and trust that we will continue to meet your needs for many years to come.
(horrible, computer generated signature)
Consumer Affairs, Department
1. I am truly impressed that Kellogg's actually wrote me a personal letter (we'll look over the faux-signature).
2. If you had paid attention to the photocopied insert of my Pop-Tarts list you'll see, Yesenia, that I have already tried the Splitz flavor. It received a 4 star rating.
3. In what world is a strawberry/blueberry mix a good substitute for Frosted Grape? Oh, that's right, a world in which your life revolves around marketing YOUR NEWEST PRODUCT and not pleasing the customer.
4. There is no enclosed coupon.
5. I did not ask you to "reintroduce" the product, I asked for a single box of Pop-Tarts. Details, details....
6. I'm going to search EBay.**
7. If you can't send me just one box of a product that you have, no doubt, just sitting around your warehouse, how will you ever be able to "continue to meet [my] needs for many years to come?
Thursday, November 1, 2007
DON'T BE A RACIST DUMB ASS.
Yet again another celebrity finds it acceptable, and somehow wise, to go on a racist tirade like everyone in the world isn't going to hear about it three seconds after.
Duane Chapman, more commonly known as Dog the Bounty Hunter, in a taped conversation with his son, was heard discouraging his son from dating a black girl because Chapman frequently used the N word.
Here is a quote from the tape:
"I'm not going to take a chance ever in life of losing everything I've worked for 30 years because some f---in' n----r heard us say n----r and turned us into the Enquirer Magazine. Our career is over. I'm not taking that chance at all, never in life. Never. Never."
Oh the irony. He doesn't want to ruin his career by being an ignorant, racist bastard, but then he did. (Comical foghorn sound effect).
TIP: If you're a celebrity, someone is probably photographing/videotaping/wiretapping you right this very second. DON'T SAY ANYTHING DUMB. That is unless you feel like ruining your career. In that case, get your publicist started on that heartfelt apology that you don't mean. How can you be "disappointed" in yourself and be "ashamed" when you went on for at least five minutes about how you don't want your son dating a black girl because it's inconvenient to your use of racial slurs? Oh yeah, really sincere. Idiot. See you in syndication, Dog.
Monday, October 29, 2007
I’m not sure about other members of the female community at _______ , but I for one was at a loss this year when it came to finding the perfect Halloween costume. I was embarrassed at parties. No one could figure out what I was dressed as because, I was dressed as myself. Lame. Looking around campus for future ideas, I noticed some of you outfitted yourselves with far better costumes than I could ever have dreamt up. So, after observing and collecting my thoughts I’ve come to a few conclusions about appropriate Halloween costumes for the female sex. After all, we live in a visual society and therefore must be careful. We wouldn’t want to offer up the wrong impression.
First, I believe that females are under the false impression that they can pick from only a few costumes. Ladies, we must learn to be original. Imagination is key. Try being a fairy, a princess, or maybe even a small furry animal (slight variations of these are ok), because frankly, I didn’t see enough of these running around this past Halloween. If you choose one of these uniforms, it is important to make sure you wear wings strapped across your back and a tiara firmly affixed on your head. What? Animals wear crowns sometimes too.
Secondly, you must be kosher. For example, don’t you dare be an Indian. That is disrespectful to the Native American community. Why not instead pay homage to medical professionals, religious communities, or even the armed forces? Dress as say, a scantily clad nurse or a sparsely clothed nun, or perhaps douse everything except your shiny and showing legs in army camouflage. These people spend their waking hours serving us, and in some cases God, so let’s honor them through our dress and holiday. I have other ideas for those of you not feeling up to the challenge of representing an actual working member of our society. You could be a Playboy bunny, or perhaps a stereotypical (and completely fabricated) French Maid. On second thought, you may not even have to demonstrate an actual person. My basic suggestion is to just pick a costume that centers completely around your chest and/or legs. They are, by themselves, costumes. Feminism was just a short phase in world history anyway.
Lastly, wear a truckload of makeup. In case you have forgotten, the purpose of makeup is NOT to accentuate, but to instead cover-up. Hide. Black eyeliner is good. Glitter is better. Glitter-fy your entire body. It will be an undeniably positive addition to the aforementioned costumes. We all know that nurses, nuns, and women in our countries service paint themselves up like dolls on a regular basis, so let’s portray them in this way. It’s high time they were shown some respect among college students.
So, as you can see it involves quite a bit of creativity and thought in order to select the perfect Halloween costume. Most importantly, we represent a lot more than we even realize. Happily, I think that by this time next year I will have definitely come up with a suitable costume that not only represents me as a person, but also nicely exposes my body as an object.
Friday, October 19, 2007
After my phone call and email of complaint to Giant, I have been called by the following people:
Customer Care Agent
The Shift Manager
The Assistant Store Manager
The District Manager
The Store Manager
They have all been really nice and apologetic.
Nia will not be terminated. She received a stern talking to, the proper documentation was put in her file, and she has to attend diversity training sessions.
I am glad they are giving a lot of attention to this matter.
But, as I recall, I didn't ask them to try to make her a better person. I asked for her to be fired.
And, I have not been offered a Giant gift card. I mean, that's just common sense.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Case in point: our society is now full of internet social networking sites such as Myspace, Facebook and the like. I personally enjoy these sites for many reasons; but I also think they are responsible for many, many relationship issues that would not occur if people did not take these sites so seriously.
For example - if I post that I am in an "It's complicated" relationship with one of my GAY male friends, please do not frantically and excitedly ask if I'm seeeing someone. First of all - no one, and I do mean, NO ONE should take "it's complicated" relationships seriously. Secondly, he is GAY. And thirdly, since when does Facebook/Myspace determine my real-life status?
I also do not like the fact that certain individuals define their lives by their personal blog/myspace/facebook/etc. page. Let me remind you of this important fact: YOUR LIFE SHOULD NOT BE REVOLVED AROUND OR DETERMINED BY ANY SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE. If you think that for one second that these sites are what determines reality, you are sadly and pathetically mistaken. Do not take these sites seriously. PLEASE - it's just not worth it.
There are also several instances where an individual has been judged - sometimes wrongly, other times correctly - because of what they post on their website. We all do it. But for the most part, it's not a good path to take - ESPECIALLY when it's someone you know in person and know relatively well. Do not let their myspace/facebook/whatever define who you think they are as a person. Sometimes it's accurate, sometimes it is not. But don't make the mistake of judging someone wrongly- it's not good for anyone, especially if it's someone you love and care about.
Finally, I must make one comment, albeit quite hypocrital - do not use your public blog to slam others. This always looks pathetic, desperate, and immature. If you have feelings, scribble them down angrily in your emo hipster journal. But don't broadcast to the world how you feel about someone simply because you are too passive agressive to confront them to their face - you know, by using words and gestures and voice intonation, not typed letters and emoticons.
The internet is not dumb. People who use it wrongly are dumb. But you don't have to be one of those people. If you are, there's still hope - consult me later. I'll do my best to pull you out of your false sense of reality and bring you back to what the real world is like.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Picture it: Giant Grocery store, Wisconsin Avenue, NW, Washington DC. One of the most affluent sections of the city. A young man stops into a grocery store, one he frequents quite often, as it is 3 blocks from where he works. He innocently buys a loaf of potato bread and some Chef Boyardee products, all of which will be used to create lunches for the week for both he and his partner. Yes, the young man is gay.
It is now 6:00 p.m. The young man is checking out in one of the Express Check-out lanes. Nia is his cashier. She is a young African-American woman*, very pretty, 18-22 years old, approximately. As she is passing the young man's groceries through the scanner, she says to a fellow cashier, in a very disgusted tone, "Gee, a lot of gay people come in here."
The young man freezes.
The other cashier says "What?"
Nia replies, "I said a lot of gay people come into Giant."
The other cashier chuckles and playfully tells her to "Shut up."
The young man signs his credit card receipt and glares at Nia.
I am that young gay man. And let me tell you...
Hell hath no fury like a gay man scorned.
Could I have confronted her right then and there? Yes.
Could I have screamed for the store manager? Totally.
Could I have bitch-slapped her into the middle of next week? Absolutely.
However, creating a scene would most likely just label me "crazy" and "hypersensitive."
So, I took another route. I walked to my car, pulled out my receipt, got the time of purchase, Terminal number and Cashier name. Pulled out my cell phone. I called the store manager. Told him the scenario and kindly requested that some sort of action take place. I thanked him and hung up. Drove the two blocks back to my office. Got onto Giant's corporate page and emailed them the situation and demanded that Nia's employment be terminated. I told them that if I ever went into that store again and saw Nia there I would take it as a sign that Giant does not take this type of bigotry and ridiculous customer service seriously and would never patronize Giant again. I went on to say that I would encourage the gay population of DC through its many publications, organizations and network, to discontinue shopping at Giant. And let me tell you. They would listen. Don't piss off the gay community. When push comes to shove, we stick together.
It is my quest to get that girl fired and I will not rest until I have confirmation that she is making chicken sandwiches at Chick-Fil-A. She'll fit in nicely there - they hate the gays. I will protest outside Giant all by my little gay self to make this happen.
If anyone reading this goes to the Giant on Wisconsin Avenue in Washington, DC and happens to see Nia, please tell her that yes, gay people do come into Giant all the time. If you're not gay, tell her that a gay person sent you and wanted you to tell her "hi."
Then slap the bitch upside the head.
*I only include the fact that she is African American to illustrate the irony of one minority discrimminating against another, particularly since her remarks illustrate the exact same kind of prejudice and response African Americans fought so hard (and still fight today) to over come.
Good afternoon! About seven months ago I set out on a very important quest to try every single Pop-Tart flavor in existence, rate each one, and determine the very best flavor. I’m not kidding around. There is a list, including every flavor, stuck between my refrigerator and a smiley face magnet in my kitchen. The system I chose to rate each kind of Pop-Tart is the age-old, elementary school approach: The Five Star Method. For example, Hot Chocolate Pop-Tarts have received a 4.5 Star Rating, while Strawberry Cheese Danish Pop-Tarts received a 2 Star Rating. This is, of course, based on personal preference.
However, I seem to have reached a block in the road. I have one flavor left to try on my list and as fate would have it, Grape Pop-Tarts have been discontinued. All this being said, I am wondering if Kelloggs Company would be willing to donate a box of Grape Pop-Tarts to me, so that I can finish my self proclaimed challenge. Obviously, I am a huge Pop-Tarts fan. Thank you so much for your consideration and I very much look forward to hearing from you.
Job hunting is a pain in the ass. And you know what, Google? You're not helping me out! Thanks for nothing, Google. Those search results SUCKED. I'm not interested in Anime OR idiots looking for a basic digital camera. Also, NOT very helpful to throw a site at me where someone talks about how they love their job. Is that sarcasm, Google? You know what? You're being kind of an asshole. I don't appreciate it. I'm being serious here. I'm not messing around. I'm looking for a JOB, not a site about STEVE JOBS. Steve Jobs probably won't hire me...scratch that, he DEFINITELY won't hire me. I'm getting more and more pissed off by the day and you come back with www.suck-my-big.org? Not cool. Is that going to give me two monthly paychecks and a decent benefits package? How about a salary? Will that website pay my bills, Google? Interesting. I didn't think so. I'm looking for something in my field. Something that is somewhat related to what I studied for FOUR YEARS at a university. How does someone complaining about crappy college comedians help me? You're right, Google, it doesn't help me. If it weren't for Google chat, I would end this relationship.
Friday, October 12, 2007
I will most likely not be your friend if you post one of those fake $500 Macy's gift cards on MySpace page. Seriously. I will kick your ass. We all know the one. "Hey, whats uP? OMG I just got this and i toatly thouht it was fake until I got mine in the mail!!1 ROFL and its reaL!! I just bought like tons of useless crap!? Oh muh GawD!!1" There are various gift card scams like this and they all piss me off. But what pisses me off the most is the illusion of a real comment on my MySpace page. I sign on, see "New Comments!" and I think, "Surely I have a friend who left a comment affirming me and our friendship." But wait. . .no, it's 16 year old >!*Chelsey*^*Raye*!< from Texas. DAMMIT. I don't even know you but you're probably lame anyway. What do people get out of this anyway? Is it some sort of pyramid scheme? Who thinks they're helping people by actually sending these? WHAT THE HELL PEOPLE?
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Gather 'round children. Aunt Megan wants to talk to you...
In my ongoing effort to educate today's youth in subjects that truly matter, I have created a list (which I encourage all of you to add to) of things I would consider basic concert etiquette. Let's go over them shall we...
#1 - DO NOT yell out song requests. If you are unfamiliar with the concept of a set list, please familiarize yourself before attending another live show. In the unusual circumstance that the artist actually asks you to yell out a request you may overlook this rule. Otherwise, they probably have a set list and they will most likely stick to it, so keep your mouth shut.
#2 - DO NOT scream "I love you" at whoever may be onstage. They know how much money they're making and everyone else in the audience knows how much you paid for your ticket. We could all safely assume in this case that you wouldn't have paid to come see the show if you didn't like the performer. If we're assuming incorrectly, feel free to scream "I don't belong here." This rule includes all derivatives of "I love you" - "You're so hot," "I want to have your baby," and "You f**king rock" are good examples.
#3 - Most concert goers are aware that there are some people who do not watch the show so much as just film or record. If you must, don't stand in front of me with your camera held up directly in front of my face. If any one of us wanted to watch the show on a 2-inch screen we could have stayed at home and waited for someone to post clips on youtube.
More importantly, and this serves as your first and only warning, do not show up to a show and take myspace profile-esque pictures of yourself and your friends the entire night. Especially if you are near me and my friends - we will make you feel and look like complete and utter inconsiderate idiots in front of the entire crowd.. shamelessly and without a second thought. I'm not kidding.
#4 - Some of you may be aware of what I like to call the shrinking crowd. I don't mean shrinking in number - I mean shrinking as if slowly becoming vacuum sealed. When you stand in a crowd for a period of time with your arms crossed and suddenly there isn't room enough to put your arms back at your sides, you will understand what I mean. If you find yourself in this type of crowd DO NOT leave your spot. If you have to go to the bathroom - control yourself. If you're walking away from your significant other for just a minute - go ahead and say goodbye. You're not getting back in. If people let you back in, consider yourself lucky. You shouldn't even put people in the position to have to decide whether to let you back in. It's rude. You make us look like the assholes and that's just lame.
And if you're going to get a drink from the bar - don't even think you're going to get back in your spot just to spill it all over everyone. All of you may as well form a group in the back with the really tall kids. You're 8 feet tall and you're gonna stand right in front of me - seriously? Your girlfriend is short... I don't care. Put that chick on your shoulders and move on.
#5 - Speaking of girlfriend... you don't come to a live show to make out, ok? This isn't LookOut Point or whateverthehell those places are called in the movies. Put on the album in your car in the parking lot and have at it. I don't care. Just don't bring it into the venue. PDA-induced nausea doesn't look good on anyone.
#6 - This one may be a little hard to swallow and it is quite flexible - to an extent. My frustrations with this rule usually surface after #s 1-5 have been broken. That said - This is a live show, not choir practice. You had plenty of time in the shower and the car to get that all out of your system before you got here. You can sing along to the songs on the album anytime you want. When you pay to hear someone play/sing live - you want to hear them play/sing live. I don't want to hear you. You're ruining it for everyone. You think you sing well? Really? You probably don't. Oh, well they lied to you... shut it! And don't you dare let any of us catch you with a hand in the air and one finger in your ear. You don't have an earpiece in "Mariah" and this isn't the damn VMA's. Give it up.
#7 - We all realize that live shows are usually pretty close quarters. (see #4) That said, you know what... if you can help it, don't touch me at all. Look at my face - Do I look like I want to mosh? Jump up and down? No? Good - we understand each other. All I ask is that you consider the show you're at and if you truly belong there. If there is someone onstage singing and the only other thing on the stage is a piano - don't start pushing me. Wrong show, my friend. If you are jumping up and down and NO ONE ELSE IS - not even any member of the band - for the love of everything holy take your Ritalin before you leave the house.
#8 - I know they said it was an all ages show. It's not. That, my dear, is an opinion belonging solely to the capitalist venue. If you ask any member of the audience - It is NOT an all ages show. We don't want you here. No, seriously. If we had our way those shows wouldn't exist. And don't say "if you don't like it, don't come." Believe me, seeing ALL AGES at the bottom of a concert listing is definitely a deterrent. I deal with it because I was once in your position. So with a little bit of leniency for #8 I will say - to those of you youngsters who are willing to become better audience members and, let's face it - citizens, really - read the rules, practice them, and you are more than welcome to join the rest of us.
Quick Sidenote *ahem* I would like to dedicate this post especially, if not entirely, to Andrew Phelan. Please accept my apologies for failing to adequately contribute, as of late, to this wonderful blog and my thanks for allowing me to continue on as a member. I hope you have enjoyed the product of my recent invisibility.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
A Haiku by Andrew
I'm going to sit
And do nothing all day long
My boss won't notice
A Haiku by Ashleigh
Me and a box, three floors up,
Tape sticking to us.
A Haiku by Andrew
Oh great, here he comes
Try not to make eye contact
That joke was awful
The Executive Assistant
A Haiku by Ashleigh
Shar gets to her desk
At 5 a.m., leaves at 2.
A Haiku by Andrew
You never had it, jack ass
Morons, all of 'em
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Office Space: The Drama
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I’ve been thinking about what I should write. Obviously, there’s a humungous buildup; we’ve (I’ve) been talking about it for months. Originally, I had planned a fairly bad-ass video post, but, as it turns out, my camera is far too crappy to handle everything I wanted to show. The “Everything I Wanted to Show” category included the sweet t-shirt I broke down and bought even though I am almost always vehemently opposed to popular band shirts, the promotionally brilliant artist-designed Hanson playing cards that I will now be caring around everywhere, even though I rarely play cards, and several facial examples of the orgy of fans (both male and female. thanks.) sitting at the bar behind us and dancing on the floor below us. I was also pretty pumped to have my roommate, Tyler, help me recreate the scene we witnessed involving a man trying to video record the concert, getting kicked out, and his girlfriend crying and screaming at him for it. In the middle of the street. Ah, the lives we lead.
Here’s the bottom line. Everyone who attended the Sept. 16th, 9:30 Club Hanson performance with me readily apologized for ever mocking my deep-seeded adoration or the band. Why? Because they’re not only fantastic, they’re a whole mass of variety , moving between a stripped down acoustic set and a full band jam session complete with the crowd on backing vocals. In addition, the band pays tribute to all their albums, something a lot of bands fail to do. It’s pretty impossible to be unhappy about anything in life when there’s a reference made to a certain 10-year Anniversary, and all three brothers start in on the infectiously cheerful “MmmBop”; Harder still, when Taylor Hanson’s son is dancing around in the green room balcony wearing those air-traffic controller head phones.
So, here’s the new rule (and I’m allowed to make up rules). Before you die, see Hanson in concert. I don’t care how hipster you think you are, sometimes what you think of as pop music is really rock and roll and sometimes catchy bands take ten years and transform themselves, even if no one's paying attention. Plus, as we've mention before, A*Cube is all about things that are so awesome and unexpected they're, let's face it, kind of funny. On a final note - I have Bad Ass Hanson Mixes available for anyone interested. That would be everyone.
Cards I will be continuously attached to.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I'm still in shock from this, so I'm sorry if I don't know how to begin. OK, Kerri sent me a link to this MySpace page. Look at it carefully. Looks like a normal club page right? Stupid graphics, terrible music. Wait. . .what's this? "Dry Bar" and "Private Prayer Rooms"? OK. So it's a Christian club. We can all agree that it's probably incredibly ridiculous and hilarious at the same time. If I lived in Colorado, I'd totally go check it out, but I'd probably be embarrassed the whole time and keep repeating "I'm sorry, Jesus."
Anyway, the music on the page is by this guy named Aviad Cohen. On the surface, he looks like a Christian DJ. But when you go to his website, you'll discover very quickly that this guy is more psychotic than he is Christian. He is about as severely fundamentalist as they come. Like. . .SCARY fundamentalist. Not, "LOL Pat Robertson your an idiot!!1RoFL!!" This guy is frightening.
You can check it out HERE for yourself. Under the "Interact" button, click "get a free CD." This is where the insanity begins. You can read the whole thing, but I'm going to pull a few quotes for you. Ahem:
"Just like many people don’t realize how harmful Harry Potter is to children AND ADULTS. It is a catastrophic epidemic similar to the Holocaust. Instead of Adolf Hitler raising up Nazi youth, it’s J.K. Rowling who is raising up Wiccan youth."
I'm sorry. That was a big one to start off with. Are you still breathing? OK. Let's take a step back.
"To top it off, for all you car aficionados who love the Lamborghini Diablo, I’d like to inform you that Diablo translates to “devil” What? You don't believe me? Look it up. Interesting to see how the devil plays a slight of hand trick on people by hiding his identity, yet presents himself through "Golden Calf-like" objects that are celebrated and revered as desirable, slick, attractive, fun, if you “literally roll with Satan" in the case of riding in the Lamborghini Diablo. . ."
Idiot. Alright, back to trashing Harry Potter.
"Harry Potter is being used to indoctrinate a generation into Wicca, encourage and educate children and adults on how to easily practice witchcraft, cast spells, all the while to keep people away from their Creator and ensnare them into a tasty web of demonic deceit. Be careful. The J.K. Rowling spider’s plan is to suck every bit of spirit out of you and inject demonic poison into your veins. This is real. Notice how her books look very similar in size to "Bibles" . . ."
Sigh. Keep going.
"And oh yes, Lord of the Rings is a witchcraft-based cult. It’s not a book, it's not an animation, it’s not a movie, it’s not a soundtrack, it’s not a game or a set of action figures – it’s a cult. Evil. So is Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion The Witch & The Wardrobe. Who put out the movie version? Disney. The MAGIC KINGDOM. Not God's Kingdom. Disney is the MAGIC KIGNDOM. God abhors magic and sorcery. Disney sells it to children from an early age. Disney's REAL CEO is SATAN HIMSELF. No joke. Too obvious."
This mental defect goes on to say that if you mail your Harry Potter and LOTR books to his record label. . .Hebrew Homie Records. . .sigh. . .he'll DESTROY THEM and in return you'll get an autographed CD that I'm sure will be the shittiest thing you've ever heard. They'll even pay S&H for the free CD!!!!!!! WOW!!!!! Seriously, people like this shouldn't be allowed to have websites or even go near the internet. And I can GUARANTEE you that he's never even read a Harry Potter book based on his assessments. I don't recall bullet pointed step by step instructions in the 7 book series on how to EASILY do any of the made up spells. And if you read various posts by fans on the site, it's clear that same of them come from Jewish backgrounds. How are they not EXTREMELY offended by Harry Potter = Holocaust?
There are too many ridiculous things to point out. You do the rest. This is exhausting.
Oh, and if I didn't mention it already, he also goes by 50 Shekel.
Love it or hate it, "MMMBop" became a pop classic that offered one last breath of innocence before the rise of real boy bands, little Mariah Careys and rap-rock nasties. Hanson's days were numbered, and, when the young trio began making more mature alternative pop, it was shunned by radio and MTV alike. That's too bad, because the new "The Walk" is a strong effort.
» 9:30 Club, 815 V St. NW; Sun., 7:30 p.m., $30; 202-265-0930. (U St.-Cardozo)
Source: The Washington Post Express. Sept. 13, 2007 Edition.
T-Minus 3 days.
1. A women who is in the process of a sex change - it's a lengthy ordeal and we should all be sensitive to your frailties during this period
2. Ape Girl- a relative of the wolf man.
"Evil prevails when good men (*and women) do nothing."
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
But times, they are a-changing and its high-time this phrase was applied to blogging. Not Anchored Cubicle, mind you, which provides humor and witty insight, but for all those people out there who use blogs to write deeply and passionately about their life. Or who just write stupid blibber blabber.
That's right. Blibber blabber.
I've scoured the web and collected some of the most ridiculous things I could find posted on blogs. And commented on them, of course.
And I am on the threshhold right now."
You're on the threshhold? Really? Well, please jump off of it. Now. And curl yourself up like you're doing a cannon-ball. And hold your breath. And don't stop, just in case the fall isn't enough to kill you.
Maybe you're just not that busy and your friends really aren't that great. Time to evaluate.
Wait - this isn't the first time you've actually felt that if someone cut your neck, faerie dust would bubble out? If this was your first time, I wouldn't be too concerned - its a fairly common thing. Like diarrhea. But you know what the say: if diarrhea persists for more than three days, consult your doctor.
Ummh...then don't write anything at all. I mean, you do know that by writing that you "don't feel" like documenting your life and sharing your feelings , you are, in fact, documenting your life and sharing your feelings. Betch.
"It's puzzling to me, how we dismsis the older generations. They are crazy, they are becoming senile...they are losing it. I wonder what would happen if we started taking them most seriously of all. After all, aren't they closest to the other side? Whatever that is. Aren't they, in the same way as babies to our own species, the most susceptible? The most impressionable? Shouldn't we be listening to them?"
NO! You just said they are crazy, senile, and losing it! Why would we listen to them? You say that we should maybe take them seriously because they're the closest to the other side, which is the strangest way to imply that someone has aquired wisdom, and then immediately compare them to babies because they are "susceptible" (to what, I wonder) and "impressionable." That's like saying that someone is both like and elephant and an ant. Shut up. You're not deep. You're not enlightened. You want us to listen to old, senile, wise, impressionable babies. Great. You're blog rocks.
Bloggers everywhere, heed my advice: don't take yourselves so effing seriously in your blogs and try to write something deep and personal. That's what private journals are for. Tell a funny story. Give mundane details of of the generic events of your day. Make fun of someone. Write some social commentary. Type "betch" over and over again.
I've read every single one of these phrases on Craigslist looking for jobs. I'll reference this every time I look for a job from now on. It will probably save me a lot of time.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Here are a variety of bios. Read accordingly, depending on what "group" or "subculture" you belong to.
Andrew's normal bio:
Andrew is a 23 year-old singer/songwriter from Chicago. He writes melodic acoustic songs about love, life, politics, and war. He has released one EP that has sold in the single digits. He hopes to release a new album in the next few months that people probably won't buy.
Andrew's emo/screamo bio:
Andrew has made it through 23 tear-soaked years only to find his black heart bleeding in the lonely Chicago area. His only friend, a guitar, accompanies him through the long, cold nights as he strums chords melodically with his black fingernails. As his long, trendy hair hangs over one eye, he whispers about his veins bleeding black bloody fiery blood. He sings "She broke my heart/Torn pictures lay across my darkened room/Swim in an ocean/An ocean of despair." Andrew is hoping to release an album that will detail the tragedies of his misery-laden life.
Andrew's metal bio:
Like the sound of a million dying souls on fire, Andrew lays down scorching riff after deafening scorching riff that obliterates all that is good and true. His life is set to the soundtrack of weeping demons who haunt every beat of his ever tortured heart. . .which is also blackened with hate. His heart, though ripped of all love, still thunders like an unrelenting double bass, as though the darkest of all black dying dead red bloody fiery skulls (with snakes coming out of the eyes) are about to burst from his chest and rain down sulfur and fear upon all his enemies, thereby causing them to die instantly. . .from PAIN. His next agony filled album is due out soon, and is tentatively titled The Bloody Agony of Black Death Hate Murder.
Andrew's high school girl bio:
OMG. Like no one understands me!!1 Its like totally like unfair. :( mY paretns are sooooo mean!@ anD i hate going to school. If it werent 4 my frends, i'd like totly hate it even MORE!! ROFL!!! <3 I luv muh frinds!! Im totaly learning to play the guiter and i'm writing a lot of songs about that special somoen ;) <3 tee HEE!! ^_^ but WTF is like they totaly dont even knwo i exist! :'( I'm going to record some of my osngs and call the ablum "WTF ROFL 4-EVA!!!!" ROFLMFAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Andrew's pretentious hipster bio:
I was going to write a bio, but then I realized you wouldn't understand any of my references, jokes, influences, subtle humour, or intelligent observations about the music scene today. So I'm not going to waste my time. I'm going to go read the New Yorker and listen to my extensive rare vinyl collection on my vintage headphones and smoke my Parliaments.
Andrew's right-wing Christian bio:
First off, Andrew would like to thank George W. Bush . . . er, Jesus Christ for making it possible for him to play music. He has been blessed with gifts and abilities that he wishes to use to further the name of the Republican Par. . .I mean, God. Andrew's songs truly glorify his Heavenly Father. He does this by rhyming the words "love" and "sent from above" in every song. When he blesses the congregation with his songs, the Spirit just fills that place. I want to lift up a prayer right now. Father God, just, in this place it's just, tonight in this place just, we just want to worship you in this place Father God. Bless the President's Holy authoritarian rule in the White House. Give him wisdom to defeat evil in terrorist nations. Amen.
If you have a subculture you want me to skewer, left me know. Peace.
Friday, September 7, 2007
In keeping with today's theme, for those who have not yet read this magnificence, I give you - striped shirt....
Look at my button down striped shirt! Fucking look at it! This shirt means one thing! I'm coming home with some pussy tonight! That's right! It's been a long week at the office and it's time to blow off a little steam! I am a Junior Vice President! I have business cards that say "Junior Vice President" on them! They're glossy and magnificent! Here! Have one! Take it!
My boys are coming out with me tonight! They all have striped shirts too!
I figure we'll kick off the night with some Golden Tee! I am going to smack the shit out of that little white ball! It's going to be so fucking loud! I'll bet I can drive that pretend golf ball 600 fucking yards tonight! I'm that fucking pumped!
I can almost taste those Jager Bombs right now! I fucking love Red Bull! I put it on my God damned cereal! I'm crushing one right now!
I'm thinking about buying a boat this year!
I'm gonna fight someone tonight! I pray to God someone makes eye contact with me! I will beat his ass! And God help him if he gets any blood on my striped shirt! If he does, I'll scrub it out with his dick and some bleach! I mean it!
I'm gonna grind on girls asses tonight! You heard me! When I see a group of girls dancing in a circle, I will select the most attractive one and dry hump her until it hurts! I will rub my cock against her so that she can feel my throbbing hard on!
I will valet tonight!I will treat the valet with contempt and make sure that he knows that I am superior to him in life! I will tell him to "Take it easy on the brakes, Champ"!
I will talk to people I don't know about my job tonight! They will all know that I am an important man! I will call female bartenders "Babe" and male bartenders "Chief"!
When I do not hook up with a girl at that club, I will say that the place is "full of skanks"! We will wait in a long line to go to another bar only to strike out again!
I will give up and decide to order a gyro off of a street vendor! I will make fun of him to my friends for being foreign! I will look ridiculous purchasing my gyro because people will be able to tell by my striped shirt and tinted sunglasses that I struck out and am settling for a gyro!
I will make one last attempt to hook up by trying to coax two big girls who are also ordering gyros to coming back to my place for "after hours"! When they say no I will make fun of them for being fat! I will leave!
When I get home I will go to the bathroom and hold the straight razor to my wrist again! I will gently drag the razor laterally against my vein, making sure not to actually cut myself!
I will then go to my room and pass out! I will need some shut eye so that I'll be ready to fucking party again tomorrow!
Thursday, September 6, 2007
I get up at 4:30 AM every morning. I get up so early the fucking newspaper hasn't even arrived yet. I get up before the news does. How do you like that shit? And when the paper does come, the paperboy hands it to me personally, because he knows I'm a fucking bad ass who knows the deal. What time do you get up? 7:00 AM? 7:30? That's bullshit. I've been at the office closing deals for at least an hour by the time you're pulling your lazy ass out of bed. Who's the man? You're damn right it's me!
Only bitches take public transportation to work. I pull up into my personal parking spot rolling hard in a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. My car is worth more than your life, dick! Don't look at my car and don't even think about parking in my spot. Read the fucking sign. "VP of Sales." That's not you. I'd put my foot up your ass, but I wouldn't want to scuff my Tanino Crisci's. And no, you can't get these at JC Penny. Get me my coffee, bitch.
When I get on the elevator, I tell people to get off and wait for the next one. They oblige because they know how much of a fucking gangsta I am. Sometimes a newbie will choose to stay on the elevator. I'll nod politely. But when we part ways, I'll find the newbie's supervisor, have the kid fired, his name smeared, and have his family driven out of town. I've done that all from my Blackberry before. Owned.
My office is the shit! See that portrait behind my desk? That's my fucking face. Can you read the gold plaque there at the bottom? It says "The Fucking Man." Even after I'm dead, this portrait will remain in this office because no one else who steps foot in this room could ever be more important than me.
My desk is solid West Indian mahogany. Straight up. They don't just give these away to anyone. You've got to be super-mega-ultra-fucking important like your's truly. And don't even think about putting your feet on my desk or I will jam my golf putter into your eye socket, gouge out your eyeball, and do 18 holes with it after work. Speaking of golf, I fucking SCORCH the course with my game!
After a luncheon, I never clean up after myself or throw any of my own shit away. I'll leave greasy wrappers, sticky plates, stale coffee cups, and piles of crumbs all over the place. After I eat it, I am no longer responsible. Some other office bitch will come clean it up for me because I'm a fucking slob! I have no sense of consideration or concern for anyone other than myself. You don't need to when you're as fucking important as me. Shit, yeah!
Nice tie. Where'd you purchase it? Your asshole? Do us all a favor and go home and hang yourself with it. Hell yes! I'm amazing!
I use phrases like "Going forward," "Action item," "In the black" and "Right-shoring" because it makes me sound hella fucking awesome! I know all the lingo. If you don't understand it, too bad. That's why you're cleaning up my lunch shit.
Speaking of shit, someone call me a limo. I'm brewing a fucking important dump! I never take a shit in this building. There is no way my ass would touch the same seat as one of these people. I have a private bathroom two blocks from here where only I am allowed to drop a VIP log. And after every shit, I have them replace the toilet. Booyah!
I never smile. I will acknowledge you in one of two ways: a wink or a nod. A wink means I fucking hate you. And nod means I am filled with repugnance and disgust when I see your face. If I like you, you'll have the honor of shaking my hand. But only I may initiate. If you hold out your hand to me, so help me God, I'll have my taxidermist cut off your ass, stuff it, and place it on the wall in my office. If you do shake my hand, you get one pump and one pump only. And if it's not firm, I swear by all things holy that the next thing you'll be shaking is an Arby's cup when you're on the corner asking for change. And when I see you on that corner, I'll extend my hand to you. When you accept, and place your hand in mine, I'll break your fingers and steal your change. Fucker!
When I arrive at my home after work, I kiss my wife, ask her how her day was, and eat dinner. I enjoy a glass of fine wine, and tell her I had a "good day." I sometimes call my children at college and tell them I am proud of them. When I lay down to go to sleep, I think about how blessed I am to have the life and family that I do. After a few moments, I will drift off to sleep and have sweet dreams. . .about how super fucking important I am.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
do not, i repeat, do not respond with something like "in China they do that with people" in front of your CHINESE BOSS who just got back from a 2 week vacation in CHINA and who has heard you make a number of the same type of comments.
people like you make me feel ignorant just for not leaving the room. if ever in any society they "did that with people" i would hope that they would pit (no pun intended) the idiots of the world against each other.
basically - if you are an inconsiderate, ignorant, oblivious moron and you have a thought - any thought really - just let it go.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
So, I apologize, but apparently JTT's life story as of 1996 is too hot a commodity for A*Cubed. Hawley will be receiving a hand drawn (read: perfect) card and a box of Hot Chocolate Pop Tarts.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Walk up/down the right side of hallways/stairs. When you need to enter a building - for the love people use the door on the RIGHT! This is so stinkin simple I really don't understand why everyone is so hung up on it. If you weren't taught - as I mentioned before - just sit back and pay attention and then proceed in the correct way.
I will, at first, smile a fake smile and hold the door for you as you exit the wrong way. Be aware, however, that this courtesy does not last long. That in mind, DON'T STAND BEHIND THE DOOR. I will not hesitate to open the door and smack you in the face with it. Why? Because no one expects some random fool to be standing behind the wrong door so we "don't look." You shouldn't have to be hit with a door for this to sink in, but at times, you leave us no choice. I don't think I am alone here. So go right ahead and keep laughing in the face of common sense. Eventually - you'll look like that guy up there. Not so funny now, is it?
In conclusion, I propose the removal of all safety/warning tags/labels... from everything. They have been attached to their assigned dangerous items for too long. If you want to put aluminum foil in the microwave - be my guest. You want to drop the toaster in the bath with you - please do. You think you can get away with cutting off that mattress tag (wtf?) - go right ahead. I seriously think that we should let all of these people just weed themselves out of society so that we can all live in peace. Amen?