Saturday, December 01, 2007

Who Does That - Part XVIII

Social networking sites, we've all heard of this phenomenon taking over the world. People frequent these sites to network, keep up with friends and family, meet new people and severely procrastinate on life's tasks. It's truly a great thing. Personally, I waste thirty minutes to an hour at work everyday on these sites. Keeps me sane, provides humor and adds to that procrastination factor we all know and love. However, there is a large majority of people who frequent these sites just to be fucking idiots.

On one particular social networking site, that rhymes with Schmacebook, people create groups. These groups were designed to unite people with common interests. In reality, what they've become is a cesspool for fucking idiot behavior. Case and point, the incessant creating of groups with some variation of the name "I Lost My Phone, I Need Your Phone Number".

What happens, 95% of the time, is that every person with a registered Schmacebook account can view these groups. Yet, people still go there and post their phone number for all the world to see. So not only are you subjected to viewing the antics of the 8,532 new "I can't get over high school and I'm obsessed with feeling like I win popularity contests, so I need to whore my phone number out for more entries into my contacts, who I will never call anyway, but I need to have that appearance" group creaters everyday, but you're also forced to view the antics of approximately 102,354 dumbass girls on the site. These chicks (yes, they deserve that moniker for being so fucking stupid) post their fucking phone number for all the psychotic, stalking, sexually assaulting weirdos on Schmacebook to obtain.

Do not adjust your monitors. Yes, you read that correctly. Along with providing their full name, their school or employer, their age, their dorm or apartment building and photographic proof of their love for combining streetwalker outfits and alcohol
(all things they could choose not to provide), they also provide their fucking phone number!

Who does that?

Friday, November 30, 2007

Analyze This

Last night I dreamed Maverick and I had a white convertible. Not sure what make, just that it was a white convertible. We drove around a lot in our convertible with our pet elephant, Murphy. Murphy liked Strawberry Limeades from Sonic. The entire dream was us and our elephant going from Sonic to Sonic, drinking Strawberry goodness at each one.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Take a Number

Four out of every five women are disrespectful, catty, bitches and I absolutely loathe them. Take a look around and count. Are you number four, or number five?

Monday, October 01, 2007

Friday, September 14, 2007

Who Does That - Part XVII

*Blue Light Special*
It's a Friday two for the price of one.

Subway, the home of quick, healthy sandwiches for the working woman on the go. It's not a place where one goes to study rocket science. You walk in, you pick your bread, your sandwich contents, your cheese, your veggies and condiments, you pay and bam, you're done. From the time the lady, excuse me, "Sandwich Artist" asks you what you want until you pay, and are out the door, should really be no longer three or four minutes, tops.

That is unless the woman in front of you is ordering four sandwiches for the people in her office and appears to have never seen a light bulb let alone an actual "Sandwich Artist". Listen lady, if it's going to take you five trillion light years to order your freaking sandwiches then step aside and let those of us with a meeting, and work to do, go ahead of you while you stand there amazed that bread can be sliced.

When one exits said Subway they don't want to be forced to listen to annoying sorority girl walking down the sidewalk discussing the, um, merits of her one night stand while she makes her walk of shame. To said girl lacking any shred of self-respect--since you're talking at decibal 6,792 I can hear your entire disgusting ass conversation so let me just answer all of your questions for you. I'm really sorry that your lack of self-confidence made you feel the need to buy your friends, but does that really mean you need to go seeking approval via meaningless sex with some guy you don't know, who sure as hell won't be calling you later today. If you want him to call you later then why don't you make him believe for at least one night that you have a little dignity. I know we all like to get off every now and then, but is it really worth the Crabs you'll be scratching later tonight? Buy yourself a Purple Penetrator, you'll be much happier in the end. However, if you really can't enjoy the merits of yourself then why don't you learn to save your conversation for your sorority house, rather than one of the busiest sidewalks in the city?

Who does that?

Friday, August 31, 2007

Fifteen Pieces of Flair

Sometimes it's just hard to stay focused. You can only see the weekend ahead of you. You could care less about reconciling the budget report sent to you by the comptroller. You don't really want to answer the questions of your staff because you've already showed them how to do it eight times. You just want to be at your holiday weekend destination, enjoying your family, savoring that big pulled pork sandwich with homemade cole slaw from your brother the BBQ king's grill, throwing back a few Pabst Blue Ribbons, laughing hysterically at the redneck ways of your surroundings, while simultaneously loving the huge amounts of Southern hospitality. You truly understand that human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about about mission statements

Case in point - the way I spent my morning, wasting time on a "popular social networking website", that allows millions of people to procrastinate the workday away, everyday, by posting useless survey bulletins like this one:


Date: Aug 31, 2007 10:07 AM
Subject: If they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire.

Any student can write a survey about their favorite class, or their secret crush, or how nice their car is that their parents paid for. This is the survey for us that are already grown up.

1. Do you have a college degree?
Yes

2. What was the amount of your last electric bill?
$63

3. Do you have life insurance?
Some kind of policy through work.

4. How many hours per week do you work?
I'd say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.

5. Have you ever attended a Toastmasters event?
PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?

6. What is your commute to work each day (one way)?
7 miles, 15-20 minutes depending on traffic.

7. Favorite Place for Happy Hour?
Chotchkie's is pretty sweet.

8. What time do you get up in the morning for work?
7 ish

9. What is your definition of sleeping in late?
10:00

10. Do you check your cholesterol on a yearly basis?
no

11. How large was your first cell phone?
Medium sized

12. Does your employer provide good health insurance?
It's not terrible, but not great either.

13. Did you use the internet to write a research paper?
Yes

14. Have you attended a HS reunion?
No

15. How many jobs have you held in your professional career?
5

16. Have you ever been fired or laid off from a job?
Laid off

17. What is your favorite drink?
Non-alcoholic, fountain Dr. Pepper. Liquor, Bellini or a Chambord Sour. Beer, Samuel Adams Winter, although Michelob Light is quickly making a rise on the list.

18. What is the most expensive bottle of wine that you have in your residence?
Probably around $15.

19. Have you been divorced?
No

20. How old were you when you stopped getting ID'd for Alcohol?
I still do.

21. Favorite casino?
Well, I haven't been to Vegas, but I do really like one of the riverboats here.

22. Are you happier now than when you were in high school?
I was always happy, but I'm definitely happier with Maverick in my life.

23 Did you ever have Hypercolor shirts?
No

24. Do you remember when Michael Jackson was black and was attracted to older people?
Billie Jean is not my lover. She's just the girl who claims that I am the one. But the kid is not my son.

25. Do you remember when MTV actually played music videos?
Yes

26. Have you had a will made?
No

27. What music was in your cd / cassette player when you were 16?
It wasn't that no-talent ass clown Michael Bolton.

28. Favorite fancy / upscale restaurant?
One of the local celebrity's places.

29. How long has it been since you attended a kegger?
About a year

30. Where were you when you found out about 9-11?
At work. I'd just been delivered flowers because I was trying to have a birthday.

31. Do you have any children yet?
No

32. Do you think the "younger crowd" will read this?
Sure, why not.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Asshat

As you, my loyal readers, should surely know I am a lifelong Cardinals fan. Contrary to what people might think Maverick's loyalty to another team does not sway me one bit. We've both become closeted fans of the other's team, but that team will never take the spot of our first baseball loves. Throughout my entire life (no, I'm still not telling just how long that is) the one constant has been my love for the Cardinals. I truly bleed red; Cardinals red.

However that doesn't mean there
are not things about the team that I don't hate. For instance, there's a certain man -- scratch that -- there's a certain immature, pompous, annoying, overly cocky, overpaid, defensive abomination, offensive hacker, undeserving, beneficiary of serious nepotism, asshat patrolling left field in Busch Stadium who fits this bill. To put it mildly I cannot stand Chris Duncan. Trust me when I say these feelings are not those of just the casual fan observing his play. Yes, I think he sucks donkey balls as a ball player, but mostly my personal interactions (yes, plural) with him have been horrific. Everything from watching him be a drunken idiot to witnessing him attempt to pick up my friends with the worst "don't you know who I am" type lines to seeing him be asked to leave bars to rude interactions with fans just wanting to say hello.

For those of you who missed it let me share with you what he felt was a grown up, appropriate World Series celebration activity. During the clubhouse party Mr. I Got My Job Because I Share My Daddy's Last Name decided it would be a good idea to pose using the World Series Trophy as a penis. Do not adjust your screens, you read that correctly. Chris Duncan really did dry hump the trophy, just like a 12 year old boy. What a douchebag.

To my extreme satisfaction the Riverfront Times has been doing an excellent job of making a fool out of this jackass the entire season. In case you have not had the pleasure of enjoying this weekly masterpiece, please do so now.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Who Does That - Part XVI

Ahh, the dog days of summer are upon us. A time to bask in the sun, enjoy some hearty barbecue, drink frosty beverages by the pool and loathe the humidity all at the same time. Everything, and everyone, is happier in the summer. Things just glow with a beautiful light. Or so it seems.

Then there you are standing at the counter at the local Walgreen's, patiently waiting to pick up your prescription, when you notice the person in front of you and their stank ass, flaky skinned, brittle toe nailed, dirt covered feet hanging out for all the world to see.

Just because it's hot outside does not give you permission to subject others to your lack of self grooming. If you don't like pedicures, can't afford them, or just plain can't make yourself take care of your bodily hygiene then please do not make the rest of want to hurl by sporting this disgusting trait as if it's some sort of runway fashion.

Who does that?