Now it's 450AM...so I figure that I better start typing this blog I've been speaking of forever and a day since I can't fall asleep. Of course, now that I'm awake a flagrant parade of stupidia is marching through my head. Things like, how come when I sigh and I'm exhaling I make that series of bangs that occurs on the old MTV News intro right before Kurt Loder came on? That's a surface scratch thought but it is a real thing. Not too long ago I let out a sigh of frustration that much sounded like chewbacca getting punched in the throat or a walrus and a seal mating. I'm pretty sure my roommates are terrified, I hear cocking and loading coming from downstairs. I actually did scare myself, I'm holding my own hand. They might think it's the great beast of Baltimore who comes in the middle of the night to braid your hair while you sleep except he doesn't use your hair, he makes braids out of his Chewbacca hair and glues them to your head.
I'm beginning to feel so blessed everytime I read the news. Blessed because how else can one be so depressed, amused and compelled all at the same time? Yep, another news story of a celebrity going to sex rehab. A public Mea Culpa to save your image makes me laugh. Listen here David Duchovny, Tiger Woods, Jesse James, Eric Benet...give me a goddamn break. I'd like to go around acting like an asshole and blaming my actions on sex too except that I'm a realist. I TOO like sex but you don't see me walking around shirking any type of responsibility because I had sex on the brain. I don't want to hear any lame excuses either like "my indiscretions were actually the fault of friends like Michael Jordan." That's right because they're YOUR indiscretions. Asshole. Sex is pretty much like...the oldest thing in the world. Men have always innately had it on the brain, as go the jokes. Women do too, we just handle it a little more properly like not touching our junk in public. This is just adding onto the next bullshit thing in American society to not take responsibility for. We've grown into that culture as we started suing innate objects because we're dumb and now we're just taking it to a new level. When I grow up, I want to be an asshole and I'll sue to do it because that's my right. I'm going to get my name changed to Asshole Jones and have kids named Brown Eye and Butthole.
I have been noticing, speaking of stupidia, the ridiculousness of all things Facebook. I started the"Pickle Ass Fart Nose" page nine months ago to prove how people could be a fan of anything. Compared to what people are fans of now, Pickle Ass Fart Nose(become a fan...official fan club t-shirts coming soon) should be the next president. He is actually cool now. I've noticed the new trend is to become a fan of past actions. Ding Dong McGuillicutty just became a fan of "When I was growing up I had to record songs off the radio onto tape" and Ding Dong McGuillicutty just became a fan of "When I grew up I had to blow into video games to make them work" Fucking brilliant. Really? Thank you for stating what you ACTUALLY had to do. This is really clearing the way for such hit pages as "When I was born I had to come out of my mother's vagina" "When I grew up I had to walk to the bathroom" and "When I was growing up I farted with my butt." Then there are the people who just became a fan of the sky, moon, happiness. I am a fan of air and a fan of angst so I can take a deep breath before I let it all out. Christ in a tube top! I realized too, I am a fan of some dumb things...like the Blue Ridge Mountains for example. I am friends with them. They don't care about me. They don't care that I used to hike to bear's den, drink beer and pee on them. They really don't give a shit about me.It's really getting ridiculous.
+
= Fan
My friend Kim Fowler changed her status to:
"Kim Fowler is now friends with herself. Kim Fowler became a friend of Kim Fowler! Kim Fowler just joined the group "Kim Fowler is Awesome" And then Kim Fowler commented on all of this." She is saying it kind of best.
Since I have so many ridiculous things to say this time around, I'll stick with the theme. Focus Factor. I saw a commercial for the pills pictured below. They're for your brain. One of the actual selling points on the commercial is an old man saying "remember names, birthdays and even your keys." Wow, that sounds like some powerful shit. Orrr you could just try to not be a complete retard.
This is also a real thing. I have a terrible feeling I might even know someone who has this. Behold, the Hug-E-Gram. It is for one your loved one is away and you need a hug. You can also personalize these giant life like Mickey Mouse arms with a message like a Build-A-Bear. This may be the worst invention I've seen since the Shake Weight.
Not only would this gift be automatic grounds for breaking-up, it may also be just cause for life dismissal.
There is a receptionist at my office. The name of the person has been changed to protect her privacy. I'll call her "Special." I do not understand how her thoughts appear and what process takes place before she becomes audible and says a sentence.
Me: Do you know if we have any legal pads? I don’t see any.
Special: Well, I know, when I started here in October for that freelance thing or whatever, I couldn’t find any either. And all of the RSVP’s have been sent out for my sister’s wedding, you know, but some of them got kicked back and our family doesn’t know Keith’s side of the family so nobody knows what to do. Some people might get here tomorrow, some people might get here next week so we told him just to call them since it’s his family. (Phone Rings) I walk away confused.
The other day I caught her typing in antidisestablishmentarianism into Merriam-Webster.com. I said "whatcha doin'?" She said, "I'm trying to see if this is really a word, my friend says it is look" and shows me her phone. I say "it is." She says "what does it mean?" As I started to say do you know what "anti" means? The phone rang. Saved by the bell again. How in the holy god shit would I explain something like that to her? I am fairly certain she is confused by capital and lower case letters.
I recently had to get her to personalize a powerpoint presentation that we run at the front desk to welcome a guest. My interaction was so frustrating I had to walk away in the middle to get a cup of coffee. It was like trying to explain something to a Chinese person in German using sign language. Plus, I could not take my eyes off her mustache. My god man. It might be blonde but everyone can see it. I'm looking right at it. It's not hot. Take care of that! I'm f'n Italian and you don't see me walking around with a mustache. Also, somebody needs to trim their bush. That's just out of hand.
I'm not sure what her deal is but she often bursts out with spontaneous sentences about things in which I have to clue to what she is referring. The power was out the other day, that ding bat saw a man waiting at the door, obviously our cards don't work. She starts for the door the cuts and walks behind the desk and tried to buzz him in. No words. Then I'm forced to say something mild to her like, "hey silly, remember, the power is out?" That's not what I wanted to say. It's like when someone says "I like your hat." It's a lie. They're shocked and what they really want to say is "did you make that?" Same reason someone holds the door open for you. I don't care who it is, it's not to be polite, it's to check out your ass.
Since we're talking about work, I just want to point something out to vendors and anyone reading this that I can help. Calling me and telling me your husband just passed away will not help me make a purchasing decision. That's what you get for getting married.
You know, in hindsight, maybe I should have just gone to the Birthingway College of Midwifery and avoided the office situation entirely. Perhaps I should have gone to the Pacific College of Oriental Medicine. Zen bitches. Zen. I guess then, I wouldn't be amused by the last names I come across in my daily life like Farthing and Dumerer. Cracchiolo was a good one too. Sounds like the typical American tried to say crotch in Spanish.
Pet Stars...are you aware of this? The Pet Stars? This is not a joke and that is Mario Lopez.
This show had "celebrity guests." By celebrity I mean James Avery, yep, the dad from Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Mr. Avery was joined by some chick who used to be on Baywatch and the host of "Dinner and a Movie." Seriously, how many times to we have to see a chicken play a small piano? Plus, that was SO already done on the Golden Girls...Count Bessie the showbiz chicken. I want to take that piano and the little toilet that a bird can flush with his beak and place them in Mario Lopez's ass.
I don't often eat at McDonald's but sometimes you just need that shit. Do you know that if you get a breakfast sandwich and ask for no egg, the high tech order accuracy screen says "no folded." The egg is called "folded." That's just gross. While I'm on food, I want to address you, yeah you. You people who create kitchens in your cubicles. Not only do we have every utensil, dish and storage option along with two microwaves in the company kitchen, there are not one but TWO Super Toasty Ovens.
As you read this next part, imagine it as read by Denis Leary.
You do not need coffee makers, hot plates, espresso machines, toasters, dishes...office shelves filled with peanut butter, fruit, chips, cereal, bread, nutella and pot roasts. You fucking asshole. This is why my area of the office smells like a Turkish food bizarre. No cubicle kitchens! Not now, not ever!
I'll say it too. Right to you. I don't care what people at work think of me, it's already bad. The other day I was typing "title page" and got called away so stopped typing and left. When I got back, there it was in big letters. I had left "tit" in big letters right there. I sit right outside of the CEO's office. I don't need fans at the office. You know what else? If you have "Director" or "President" in your title, no "LOL'ing" in emails! What the hell man?(in Stewie's voice)
In the age of texting and the internet, words have gotten ridiculous. Nothing is worse than the fact that my mother knows how to text. It's bad enough that my mom says "like" every other word like some 13 year old valley girl, now she's lol'ing and omg'ing. Christ. She said at dinner the other night "I said well, John, you have some BOB going on." When I asked what BOB was I get "oh you've never heard that?" Like I'm out of the cool kid loop. Apparently BOB means belly over belt. It's called a muffin top or perhaps a just a gut. Fucking old people initialisms suck. Internet talk has really make talking annoying. It's so unintelligent. I'd like to say why didn't kids think of using the first letter of words to speak in code earlier? Then I would say oh, because it's dumb. STFU. The next person who says TMI gets sucker punched too. It's 2010. Now this below...this is just dumb. Somewhere in Locust Hill looking out to Fells Point which I can now obviously deem the wrong side of the tracks.
I uh...well. Somewhere in PA on a road trip a few months back, we stopped to eat. I went to the bathroom and this was on the toilet.
I was worried that this sensor mechanism was doubling as a small camera and I must admit I was a little pee shy. This company's name for the product they provide= Terrible F!
Something I've noticed is that a lot of people lately have the "grass is always greener" syndrome. I think we all have it sometimes it just seems to be the season. A lot of one day this, one day that. It's like living on the internet...what content of that last expression is veritable and what needs to be snoped? I'm taking notes and I'm here to tell you, sometimes the grass is only greener because it's fake. Get a hold of yourself man. Now, granted I was in Dundalk when I saw this, it is a slightly different inner confusion.
It may be a little hard to tell but yes, that is a Bad Boyz sticker, a No Fear sticker and a peace sign. Wow. That is one kick ass hippie. I'll also bet he carries a comb in his back pocket and wears Drakkar.
Until next time, we're all going to be ok. End scene and roll credits to "Too Fake" by one of my new favorite bands, Hockey. Rock.
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1 comment:
I have yet to see a cubicle kitchen. I should be grateful it seems.
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