Saturday, January 31, 2009

How hot is your car?

Rob and I were having a conversation about the relative attractiveness of our respective cars. My car is cute; it's little and red with tinted windows and snazzy wheels, although it does have something of a large rear end (a little junk in the trunk, if you will).

Rob's car, I informed him, was like the last bar hag left at the end of the night when the lights come on. She has stringy hair and smells of 3-day old whiskey.

His car is like the prostitute who never gets her mugshot in one of those online mugshot roundups, because she never gets arrested, because she's so heinous that she doesn't have any customers.

His car is like a dead hooker.

And with that, I think I won.

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Friday, January 30, 2009

Why not?




Edit: You know what's weird is that this bird is almost exactly the same color as my blog background - which was not intentional. Guess I just really love this color red.

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Sunday, January 25, 2009

Presidents Day ruminations

Why is it that all things honoring past presidents have to do with consumerism? We engrave their images on our coins and bills, and use their one day a year to hawk stuff at a discount. And this is after it was decided it wasn't fair to honor only the good presidents by giving each their own day; now we have to lump them all together in order not to overlook such presidential mishaps as William Henry Harrison. "Monday! Monday! Monday! Come on down and buy a cheap car in honor of Honest Abe. He'll be honest on our behalf, since you know we'd drill a hole in our own skulls in order to sell you a lemon."

Okay, well the consumerism thing isn't strictly true. We also name streets, counties, states, national parks and memorials after them. But as far as holidays go, Presidents Day really is something of a loser. No barbecues, no parades, no ticker-tape, no fireworks, no decorations (unless you really want to plaster Nixon's face on your front door), not even any booze. Hell, I don't even get the day off work. I say we eschew Presidents Day in favor of a new holiday: The "It's Too Freakin' Long Between New Years and Easter" Four-Day Weekend. It'll sort of be a hodge-podge of all the worthless working holidays between New Years Day and Easter weekend.

Decorations will include cut-outs of our chubbiest presidents (to represent Fat Tuesday & Presidents Day) liberally adorned with green hearts (St. Patrick's valentines), and you'll invite your friends over to enjoy a mid-winter outdoor barbecue where you'll serve green eggs and ham (St Patrick again, plus a little early Easter fun). In honor of tax day and Passover, you should invite your accountant round for a little matzo ball soup. Seasonal blizzards will make the whole thing more exhilarating due to the threat of frostbite and avalanches.

I should really work for Hallmark. I'd make them a fortune.

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Thursday, January 22, 2009

Tips to Make Groundhog Day More Enjoyable
  • It's a groundhog.
  • They've anthropomorphized it, but it's still a groundhog.
  • It can't predict the weather. It's a freakin' groundhog.
  • Have you ever really looked at a groundhog? It's ridiculous.
  • Did I say that it was a groundhog? Yeah.
  • Drink a lot of beer before checking the official Punxsutawney Groundhog Club website for the groundhog's decision.


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Thursday, January 08, 2009

So, it's 2009 already. A brand spanking new year, shiny with promise and edged with hope. Or you know, something a little more ominous and foreboding. A new year means it's time to dust off this blog and see if I can resume something resembling regular updates. I admit I've been seriously lazy when it comes to blogging, but all I can offer as a defense is that my job has sucked every last humorous impulse out of me, probably right about the time it sucked out my soul and left the head of a software developer in my bed.

Anyway.

Rejected Childrens Book Sequels
  1. Guess How Much I Wish You'd Move Out
  2. The Velveteen Rabbit and the Garbage Barge
  3. The Bulimic Caterpillar
  4. The Giving Tree Takes Back
  5. Mrs. Piggle Wiggle's Basement
  6. Uncle Joe Visits The Secret Garden
  7. Mr. Popper's Penis
  8. Pippi Longstocking Walks the Plank
  9. Flicka's Trip to the Slaughterhouse
  10. Harry the Dirty Dog Humps His Last Leg


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Friday, January 02, 2009

'Twas the day after New Year

'Twas the day after New Year, and cubicles swept,
With sounds of deep wheezing and snores as they slept.

The trashcans were placed by the queasy with care,
In fears that their hangovers soon cause despair.

The workers who nestled in cubicle lands,
Dreamt visions of holidays spent in the sand.

The boss in suspenders and new reindeer tie,
Had set up more meetings to make people cry.

When down from the lobby there came a loud sound,
I leapt from my desk and tripped with a frown,

Over mountains of desk toys and crumbs of stale cake,
Fell head over heels to the floor with a quake.

I ran to the window to seek out the fuss,
Pulled up the Venetians with just a quick thrust.

The sirens and lights filled my eyes and my ears,
Causing shock and surprise to all of my peers.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But guards and policemen in full riot gear.

I looked out behind me, and what should I see,
The boss looking shaken and gripping his knees.

More evil than demons his plans had been made,
To downsize departments, send workers away

"Now, Oldster! Now, Intern! Now, Useless and Drippy,
On, Techie! On, HR! On Service and Shipping!

To the carpark! Security will escort you there,
Now get out, begone, bugger off, hit the stairs!"

As the workers cleared out their desks, full of woe,
The guards came behind them to give them a blow.

So down to the lobby the guards and the fired,
And the silent coworkers who hadn't expired.

Looking back at the boss, in his shiny suspenders,
We knew he'd had kickbacks from most of his vendors.

A bitter thought swept through all of the masses,
Just about how all the high-ups were asses.

Decisions were reached in the blink of an eye,
Revenge it is sweet, and the time it was nigh,

To take on that backstabbing snake in the grass
Hold him responsible, not let him pass.

Together we coworkers cheered with delight,
Took our boss to the rooftop, not without fight.

Then, in a twinkling, threw him over the side,
We heard the loud thump as he hit, as he died.

And laying a finger inside of his nose,
The prodigy groomed by the boss calmly rose,

To take the position of boss, with a smile,
At all the coworkers, his heart filled with bile.

But I heard them exclaim, ere he ran down the stairs,
"Brake lines can be sliced, he'd better beware."



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