Shit I wrote in college
- Thread starter Holy Joe
- Start date
goonie woman
Ok right so earlier this week I was in the boynton pizza getting a sub no less. I definitely don't think there is anything else worth getting there, except maybe a salad with chicken. And that's pretty good if you like vegetables and stuff that won't make your ass look real big like as if you were wearing a diaper with a pillow stuffed in there.
This horrible old lady comes in, so horrible, she must be the Worcester mascot. Like they made a big poster board with her grimacing wrinkly face contorted into an awful scowl and right next to it it's like, "Worcester! At least we aren't Camden!" and in the background there are a bunch of smokestacks.
So she walks up to the counter and says really loudly to the guy in a scratchy barry-white register, "How much is a small pepperoni pizza?" Meanwhile it says right there on the menu that it's $3.49. So he tells her and she checks to make sure she can afford that, and says ok.
Then she retrieves a box of cigarettes from her purse and takes one out. She puts it in her mouth, only she puts it in there backwards. So the first thing I think is, "That cigarette is in backwards." But then I think, "Wait, maybe they make cigarettes with the brown band on the side that you light just to be different or something." Then I think, "Wait, no, it's probably in backwards," and I think I should tell her, but I decide not to.
And I'm worried because isn't that what nice guys do? They are nice to everyone, not just pretty girls. But still this lady is probably going to spew acid from her mouth in my direction if I give her any reason!
I mean, it's likely.
She looks like the horrifying gangster mama from the goonies, with gross saliva lines connecting her upper teeth and lip to her lower. Anything that comes out of that mouth... well I'll pass.
So she walks outside and she is about to light the filter end, and I'm watching like this might be cool. Because, hey, I never watched anyone do that, I'm pretty curious if she is going to cough like crazy and throw some kind of hissy fit.
You never know.
To my dismay she realizes right before she lights it. Duh you'd have to be pretty dumb to do that. And then I'm dissapointed in myself for even considering that she might have lit the filter end.
Ironic, in a way, that she just flipped it around and proceeded to smoke it. Afterwards she got her pizza.
Remember how I said that there isn't really anything worth getting there besides a sub? Well that means pizza, and man is it gross. That's what she gets for spending $3.50 on a pizza instead of another pack of smokes.
Ok right so earlier this week I was in the boynton pizza getting a sub no less. I definitely don't think there is anything else worth getting there, except maybe a salad with chicken. And that's pretty good if you like vegetables and stuff that won't make your ass look real big like as if you were wearing a diaper with a pillow stuffed in there.
This horrible old lady comes in, so horrible, she must be the Worcester mascot. Like they made a big poster board with her grimacing wrinkly face contorted into an awful scowl and right next to it it's like, "Worcester! At least we aren't Camden!" and in the background there are a bunch of smokestacks.
So she walks up to the counter and says really loudly to the guy in a scratchy barry-white register, "How much is a small pepperoni pizza?" Meanwhile it says right there on the menu that it's $3.49. So he tells her and she checks to make sure she can afford that, and says ok.
Then she retrieves a box of cigarettes from her purse and takes one out. She puts it in her mouth, only she puts it in there backwards. So the first thing I think is, "That cigarette is in backwards." But then I think, "Wait, maybe they make cigarettes with the brown band on the side that you light just to be different or something." Then I think, "Wait, no, it's probably in backwards," and I think I should tell her, but I decide not to.
And I'm worried because isn't that what nice guys do? They are nice to everyone, not just pretty girls. But still this lady is probably going to spew acid from her mouth in my direction if I give her any reason!
I mean, it's likely.
She looks like the horrifying gangster mama from the goonies, with gross saliva lines connecting her upper teeth and lip to her lower. Anything that comes out of that mouth... well I'll pass.
So she walks outside and she is about to light the filter end, and I'm watching like this might be cool. Because, hey, I never watched anyone do that, I'm pretty curious if she is going to cough like crazy and throw some kind of hissy fit.
You never know.
To my dismay she realizes right before she lights it. Duh you'd have to be pretty dumb to do that. And then I'm dissapointed in myself for even considering that she might have lit the filter end.
Ironic, in a way, that she just flipped it around and proceeded to smoke it. Afterwards she got her pizza.
Remember how I said that there isn't really anything worth getting there besides a sub? Well that means pizza, and man is it gross. That's what she gets for spending $3.50 on a pizza instead of another pack of smokes.
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my homeless plan
I decided today that if I'm ever homeless, I'm going to have a gimmick. It's pretty smart really, people will be more likely to give you change if you do something different and exciting for them. This was prompted because I saw some guy with a cup full of change and he was shaking it in this catchy rythm and saying "spare change!" so it was kinda like:
cha ch-ch-cha ch-cha spare change!
cha ch-ch-cha ch-cha spare change!
Only the second time when he said "spare change!" it was in a different, lower pitch; almost like he wrote a little song about how he has a cup full of spare change and oh-wont-you-please-put-some-more-in.
I didn't have any change, but I probably would have given him some if I did. So if I was homeless, I wonder what my gimmick would be. You would want it to be something cool, and at the same time not pathetic. I say that because you want to remove the pathetic factor, I think. You dont want people giving you money because they think you're pathetic.. I mean it might work, but wouldn't you rather... DANCE!
Wait, no. My gimmick would not be dancing. Deep-throating a kilbasa is out too, but I thought about that one a little longer than I did the dancing one. This is one of the few topics I just don't have an answer for.
I decided today that if I'm ever homeless, I'm going to have a gimmick. It's pretty smart really, people will be more likely to give you change if you do something different and exciting for them. This was prompted because I saw some guy with a cup full of change and he was shaking it in this catchy rythm and saying "spare change!" so it was kinda like:
cha ch-ch-cha ch-cha spare change!
cha ch-ch-cha ch-cha spare change!
Only the second time when he said "spare change!" it was in a different, lower pitch; almost like he wrote a little song about how he has a cup full of spare change and oh-wont-you-please-put-some-more-in.
I didn't have any change, but I probably would have given him some if I did. So if I was homeless, I wonder what my gimmick would be. You would want it to be something cool, and at the same time not pathetic. I say that because you want to remove the pathetic factor, I think. You dont want people giving you money because they think you're pathetic.. I mean it might work, but wouldn't you rather... DANCE!
Wait, no. My gimmick would not be dancing. Deep-throating a kilbasa is out too, but I thought about that one a little longer than I did the dancing one. This is one of the few topics I just don't have an answer for.
puppets
I had a real discussion about puppets today. Like puppets, and puppet shows, and all that crap. The whole time I thought this guy was talking about puppets, like with the strings attached to the limbs and the wooden cross that you control it with. And when I told him that, he was like,
"No man, those are marrionettes, not puppets."
So what the fuck is a puppet then? And he says,
"Like hand puppets. Or muppets."
Muppets? No fucking way, those are not puppets. That's why they have their own name. MUPPETS. They wouldn't do that for any old puppet, these things are special and demand their own category and they fucking got it.
So I let that one slide but this guy keeps talking about muppets and how they take more than one guy to control and that makes them cool and that's why he likes puppets. Ok so yeah they take more than one guy sometimes, but that's why you think puppets are cool? Not to mention that they aren't really puppets anymore at this point (they're MUPPETS, I told you so).
He keeps talking,
"But I just won that whole muppet vs puppet argument, you conceded remember?"
And I'm just thinking that I want to cram this bag of chips down his throat but I'd rather eat them so I won't. So I'm like,
"Yeah fine but lets talk about real puppets now with the strings and all that jazz."
"You mean marrionettes?"
Yeah I mean fucking marionettes, jesus christ.
"With the strings."
"Yeah I like them too but they're a pain in the ass."
Yeah a pain in the ass unlike a freaking Jim Henson production, which became a term used to describe a production so ridiculous as to make your ass physically hurt.
"But muppets, that's what's really cool."
I was so close to saying, "So why don't you marry them?" that it scared me into calculating my age by subtracting my birthdate from today's date, just so I could make sure it was over 12.
I had a real discussion about puppets today. Like puppets, and puppet shows, and all that crap. The whole time I thought this guy was talking about puppets, like with the strings attached to the limbs and the wooden cross that you control it with. And when I told him that, he was like,
"No man, those are marrionettes, not puppets."
So what the fuck is a puppet then? And he says,
"Like hand puppets. Or muppets."
Muppets? No fucking way, those are not puppets. That's why they have their own name. MUPPETS. They wouldn't do that for any old puppet, these things are special and demand their own category and they fucking got it.
So I let that one slide but this guy keeps talking about muppets and how they take more than one guy to control and that makes them cool and that's why he likes puppets. Ok so yeah they take more than one guy sometimes, but that's why you think puppets are cool? Not to mention that they aren't really puppets anymore at this point (they're MUPPETS, I told you so).
He keeps talking,
"But I just won that whole muppet vs puppet argument, you conceded remember?"
And I'm just thinking that I want to cram this bag of chips down his throat but I'd rather eat them so I won't. So I'm like,
"Yeah fine but lets talk about real puppets now with the strings and all that jazz."
"You mean marrionettes?"
Yeah I mean fucking marionettes, jesus christ.
"With the strings."
"Yeah I like them too but they're a pain in the ass."
Yeah a pain in the ass unlike a freaking Jim Henson production, which became a term used to describe a production so ridiculous as to make your ass physically hurt.
"But muppets, that's what's really cool."
I was so close to saying, "So why don't you marry them?" that it scared me into calculating my age by subtracting my birthdate from today's date, just so I could make sure it was over 12.
sting
Sting.
His name is Sting. I mean that's what he decided to call himself. If his arrogantness hadn't been surpassed by other people that decided to call themselves "The Edge", or "Sebastian Bach", I think a lot more people would take issue with this sort of crap. He started it all. I mean nowadays it's ok if you want to be known as "Kid Rock", but if it wasn't for Sting? If someone tried to tell us that they were "Kid Rock" we'd cram a boot up their ass.
Thanks a lot Sting!
Sting.
His name is Sting. I mean that's what he decided to call himself. If his arrogantness hadn't been surpassed by other people that decided to call themselves "The Edge", or "Sebastian Bach", I think a lot more people would take issue with this sort of crap. He started it all. I mean nowadays it's ok if you want to be known as "Kid Rock", but if it wasn't for Sting? If someone tried to tell us that they were "Kid Rock" we'd cram a boot up their ass.
Thanks a lot Sting!
i'm better at spanish
today bob was really mad. no, he was super piss off. he was going to beat the crap of some kids. he name like six or seven different kids that he was going to kick they ass. he dont even tell us why, so i dont know. i ask him and he told me some crap that one guy try to steal his bike one time. bullshit! bob was plan to kill this kid, lucky he dont got his .45 anymore. cuz last time he try to kill some kid i took that gun and threw it to the river. now bob dont have any gun anymore so he cant kill no one.
one other kid was making eyes to his girlfriend and this is true. i know its true cuz i see it with my own eyes. so that why bob is gonna beat the crap of him. in class i sit next bob's girlfriend and thats when this kid did his shit. i told bob and he was crazy angry about this shit. maybe i shouldn't told him about it, anyway she dont even like that dumbass so what harm was it. but anyway bob still going to kill this kid i bet. its not like they wuz playing grabass or crap like that.
the rest of those kids hell if know anything about them. bob probably just make the rest of them up and i bet they arent real. he make them up just so he can have a big list of people to kick ass on. what purpose it has i dont know.
bob is super tough. he work out everyday for like 3 hours or some shit. in gym class i see him with no shirt he has a six pac and super big arms. i bet he kill some kids in a fight with those huge arms. fuck he dont need no .45 with those muscles. lucky he didnt killed me when i take his gun.
bob is cool. he dont never want to hurt me cuz we stay good friends. i tell him shit that i see and he dont let nobody hurt me. works good for me cuz sometimes some fuckers trying to mess with me and shit but bob dont let no one do nothing. he protect me and shit. he say that he protect me if i dont lie to him never. so what the fuck i just dont say lies and nobody fucking with me.
today bob was really mad. no, he was super piss off. he was going to beat the crap of some kids. he name like six or seven different kids that he was going to kick they ass. he dont even tell us why, so i dont know. i ask him and he told me some crap that one guy try to steal his bike one time. bullshit! bob was plan to kill this kid, lucky he dont got his .45 anymore. cuz last time he try to kill some kid i took that gun and threw it to the river. now bob dont have any gun anymore so he cant kill no one.
one other kid was making eyes to his girlfriend and this is true. i know its true cuz i see it with my own eyes. so that why bob is gonna beat the crap of him. in class i sit next bob's girlfriend and thats when this kid did his shit. i told bob and he was crazy angry about this shit. maybe i shouldn't told him about it, anyway she dont even like that dumbass so what harm was it. but anyway bob still going to kill this kid i bet. its not like they wuz playing grabass or crap like that.
the rest of those kids hell if know anything about them. bob probably just make the rest of them up and i bet they arent real. he make them up just so he can have a big list of people to kick ass on. what purpose it has i dont know.
bob is super tough. he work out everyday for like 3 hours or some shit. in gym class i see him with no shirt he has a six pac and super big arms. i bet he kill some kids in a fight with those huge arms. fuck he dont need no .45 with those muscles. lucky he didnt killed me when i take his gun.
bob is cool. he dont never want to hurt me cuz we stay good friends. i tell him shit that i see and he dont let nobody hurt me. works good for me cuz sometimes some fuckers trying to mess with me and shit but bob dont let no one do nothing. he protect me and shit. he say that he protect me if i dont lie to him never. so what the fuck i just dont say lies and nobody fucking with me.
sometimes i talk to my friends
AIM conversation, night before graduation rehearsal. Names changed for my amusement.
Holy Joe (11:05:28 PM): BITCH!
Holy Joe (11:05:37 PM): do you have a lot of jeans?
Holy Joe (11:07:33 PM): he-hello?
Charlie (11:07:37 PM): nooot just any ya coont
Charlie (11:07:43 PM): Girbaud in fact
Holy Joe (11:08:02 PM): hehe Bob is making the squeeking sound with the stationary bike arm
Charlie (11:08:11 PM): hehe
Holy Joe (11:08:20 PM): you should see this place, you can eat off the floor
Charlie (11:08:27 PM): too bad I am starving the no peace dancers
Charlie (11:08:30 PM): in the closet
Charlie (11:08:41 PM): I would like to eat off of said floot
Charlie (11:08:42 PM): floor
Holy Joe (11:08:43 PM): sounds good
Holy Joe (11:08:50 PM): are your parents here or are they coming tomorrow
Charlie (11:08:51 PM): did you get it cleaned before your parents got there?
Holy Joe (11:08:57 PM): yeah, cheese free
Charlie (11:08:59 PM): they are coming tomorrow morning
Holy Joe (11:09:28 PM): we are foolishly trying to get the stains out of the carpet now.. it isnt working
Charlie (11:09:41 PM): did you try formula 409?
Holy Joe (11:09:42 PM): whichever one of you motherfuckers got mustard all over it is gonna pay
Charlie (11:09:46 PM): or a new carpet?
Holy Joe (11:09:47 PM): we are using resolve
Charlie (11:09:52 PM): I don't eat that shit
Holy Joe (11:10:08 PM): sure, i bet you took the top half of your classic single with cheese and rubbed it mustard side down on the fucking rug
Holy Joe (11:10:45 PM): is christy there?
Holy Joe (11:13:50 PM): what about christy II? is she gonna come over and cheat on jason with me? she needs to get even. i'm here to help
Holy Joe (11:14:01 PM): i'm the motherfucking relationship doctor, phd right up in this mug
Charlie (11:18:22 PM): I will tell her
Charlie (11:18:31 PM): no she isn't here
Charlie (11:18:48 PM): but I know where she will be once she hears about your qualifications
Charlie (11:23:19 PM): hey
Charlie (11:23:25 PM): what are you guys doing?
Charlie (11:23:32 PM): are you coming with me to west st?
Charlie (11:25:52 PM): paging doctor and mrs fuckmouth
Holy Joe (11:30:15 PM): why west st motherfucker
Holy Joe (11:30:40 PM): sorry, we went to go get drinks
Charlie (11:31:30 PM): west st because that is where I am going
Holy Joe (11:31:46 PM): where on west st and for what purpose? is somebody havin a party
Charlie (11:32:17 PM): I am not sure if they are having a party, but I am going to that kid jesse's place
Holy Joe (11:32:47 PM): well i have some carpet to be cleaning
Charlie (11:33:11 PM): it will never get clean if you force me to spill your blood on it
Holy Joe (11:33:15 PM): heh
Holy Joe (11:33:46 PM): if christy II is there make sure you pass on the data.. i just got the key to my chastity belt and im about to explode
Holy Joe (11:34:09 PM): are you ready for graduation? did you get your tickets
Charlie (11:34:14 PM): I sure didness
Charlie (11:34:20 PM): my parents were psyched
Holy Joe (11:34:21 PM): well shit
Holy Joe (11:34:44 PM): what are your plans for the next few days? you going home, getting ready for the tripicus
Charlie (11:34:55 PM): I will probably be around until sunday
Charlie (11:34:58 PM): maybe monday
Charlie (11:35:31 PM): I am pretty all set for tripicus I think, although I should get traveller's checks
Holy Joe (11:35:47 PM): you should bring a stack of cash
Holy Joe (11:36:04 PM): the cash money billionaires would
Holy Joe (11:36:59 PM): drop it like its hot, drop drop it like its hot, CMB make you drop it like its hot!
Holy Joe (11:37:23 PM): this is after you back it up then stop, of course
Charlie (11:37:44 PM): I wonder if they take food stamps over in Europe
Holy Joe (11:38:06 PM): sure they do
Charlie (11:38:06 PM): are you going to come down to west st?
Holy Joe (11:38:13 PM): no, i am cleaning the carpet
Holy Joe (11:38:23 PM): Bob is working the squeek arm again
Charlie (11:38:23 PM): you are ballsless
Holy Joe (11:38:49 PM): Bob needs to take a piss and he needs my help finding his unit
Holy Joe (11:39:32 PM): are the no peace dancers gonna be at west st?
Charlie (11:39:59 PM): they are stretching in preparation right now
Charlie (11:40:14 PM): and administering electric shock to one another
Holy Joe (11:40:47 PM): they are gonna be ready for prime time
Holy Joe (11:41:51 PM): so you gonna drop by later
Holy Joe (11:42:04 PM): mcmouthface
Charlie (11:42:16 PM): if I do, I will, but I might not
Charlie (11:42:20 PM): you guys going to be up late?
Holy Joe (11:42:52 PM): i dont know.. Bob has been up for all of 6 hours and he is already discussing the possibility of further sleep
Holy Joe (11:43:05 PM): and me, i have to get up for that fucking shit tomorrow.. but i might be up for a while
Charlie (11:43:11 PM): there are hymnals to be bound and placed
Holy Joe (11:44:15 PM): he is busy packing, he is talking like he is gonna take his computer apart
Charlie (11:44:57 PM): no! he is a soldier in my denial of service attack against facism!
Holy Joe (11:45:02 PM): hehehe
Charlie (11:46:17 PM): look fagcakes, I'm out
Holy Joe (11:46:23 PM): ok balls
Holy Joe (11:46:30 PM): have fun being a pussy
Charlie (11:46:50 PM): I will have plenty of vd by morning
AIM conversation, night before graduation rehearsal. Names changed for my amusement.
Holy Joe (11:05:28 PM): BITCH!
Holy Joe (11:05:37 PM): do you have a lot of jeans?
Holy Joe (11:07:33 PM): he-hello?
Charlie (11:07:37 PM): nooot just any ya coont
Charlie (11:07:43 PM): Girbaud in fact
Holy Joe (11:08:02 PM): hehe Bob is making the squeeking sound with the stationary bike arm
Charlie (11:08:11 PM): hehe
Holy Joe (11:08:20 PM): you should see this place, you can eat off the floor
Charlie (11:08:27 PM): too bad I am starving the no peace dancers
Charlie (11:08:30 PM): in the closet
Charlie (11:08:41 PM): I would like to eat off of said floot
Charlie (11:08:42 PM): floor
Holy Joe (11:08:43 PM): sounds good
Holy Joe (11:08:50 PM): are your parents here or are they coming tomorrow
Charlie (11:08:51 PM): did you get it cleaned before your parents got there?
Holy Joe (11:08:57 PM): yeah, cheese free
Charlie (11:08:59 PM): they are coming tomorrow morning
Holy Joe (11:09:28 PM): we are foolishly trying to get the stains out of the carpet now.. it isnt working
Charlie (11:09:41 PM): did you try formula 409?
Holy Joe (11:09:42 PM): whichever one of you motherfuckers got mustard all over it is gonna pay
Charlie (11:09:46 PM): or a new carpet?
Holy Joe (11:09:47 PM): we are using resolve
Charlie (11:09:52 PM): I don't eat that shit
Holy Joe (11:10:08 PM): sure, i bet you took the top half of your classic single with cheese and rubbed it mustard side down on the fucking rug
Holy Joe (11:10:45 PM): is christy there?
Holy Joe (11:13:50 PM): what about christy II? is she gonna come over and cheat on jason with me? she needs to get even. i'm here to help
Holy Joe (11:14:01 PM): i'm the motherfucking relationship doctor, phd right up in this mug
Charlie (11:18:22 PM): I will tell her
Charlie (11:18:31 PM): no she isn't here
Charlie (11:18:48 PM): but I know where she will be once she hears about your qualifications
Charlie (11:23:19 PM): hey
Charlie (11:23:25 PM): what are you guys doing?
Charlie (11:23:32 PM): are you coming with me to west st?
Charlie (11:25:52 PM): paging doctor and mrs fuckmouth
Holy Joe (11:30:15 PM): why west st motherfucker
Holy Joe (11:30:40 PM): sorry, we went to go get drinks
Charlie (11:31:30 PM): west st because that is where I am going
Holy Joe (11:31:46 PM): where on west st and for what purpose? is somebody havin a party
Charlie (11:32:17 PM): I am not sure if they are having a party, but I am going to that kid jesse's place
Holy Joe (11:32:47 PM): well i have some carpet to be cleaning
Charlie (11:33:11 PM): it will never get clean if you force me to spill your blood on it
Holy Joe (11:33:15 PM): heh
Holy Joe (11:33:46 PM): if christy II is there make sure you pass on the data.. i just got the key to my chastity belt and im about to explode
Holy Joe (11:34:09 PM): are you ready for graduation? did you get your tickets
Charlie (11:34:14 PM): I sure didness
Charlie (11:34:20 PM): my parents were psyched
Holy Joe (11:34:21 PM): well shit
Holy Joe (11:34:44 PM): what are your plans for the next few days? you going home, getting ready for the tripicus
Charlie (11:34:55 PM): I will probably be around until sunday
Charlie (11:34:58 PM): maybe monday
Charlie (11:35:31 PM): I am pretty all set for tripicus I think, although I should get traveller's checks
Holy Joe (11:35:47 PM): you should bring a stack of cash
Holy Joe (11:36:04 PM): the cash money billionaires would
Holy Joe (11:36:59 PM): drop it like its hot, drop drop it like its hot, CMB make you drop it like its hot!
Holy Joe (11:37:23 PM): this is after you back it up then stop, of course
Charlie (11:37:44 PM): I wonder if they take food stamps over in Europe
Holy Joe (11:38:06 PM): sure they do
Charlie (11:38:06 PM): are you going to come down to west st?
Holy Joe (11:38:13 PM): no, i am cleaning the carpet
Holy Joe (11:38:23 PM): Bob is working the squeek arm again
Charlie (11:38:23 PM): you are ballsless
Holy Joe (11:38:49 PM): Bob needs to take a piss and he needs my help finding his unit
Holy Joe (11:39:32 PM): are the no peace dancers gonna be at west st?
Charlie (11:39:59 PM): they are stretching in preparation right now
Charlie (11:40:14 PM): and administering electric shock to one another
Holy Joe (11:40:47 PM): they are gonna be ready for prime time
Holy Joe (11:41:51 PM): so you gonna drop by later
Holy Joe (11:42:04 PM): mcmouthface
Charlie (11:42:16 PM): if I do, I will, but I might not
Charlie (11:42:20 PM): you guys going to be up late?
Holy Joe (11:42:52 PM): i dont know.. Bob has been up for all of 6 hours and he is already discussing the possibility of further sleep
Holy Joe (11:43:05 PM): and me, i have to get up for that fucking shit tomorrow.. but i might be up for a while
Charlie (11:43:11 PM): there are hymnals to be bound and placed
Holy Joe (11:44:15 PM): he is busy packing, he is talking like he is gonna take his computer apart
Charlie (11:44:57 PM): no! he is a soldier in my denial of service attack against facism!
Holy Joe (11:45:02 PM): hehehe
Charlie (11:46:17 PM): look fagcakes, I'm out
Holy Joe (11:46:23 PM): ok balls
Holy Joe (11:46:30 PM): have fun being a pussy
Charlie (11:46:50 PM): I will have plenty of vd by morning
dog doggy dogg
Dogs are really strange sometimes. Actually no they aren't, but that sounded like a good intro. So I'm walking and this girl is walking her dog, and she is the most beautiful girl I have seen all day. And her little dog, it's a tiny little thing, like a chihuahua but I dont really know a lot about dogs so it might be something else. It's brown and hyper as all hell, and she has him on this giant leash, it's like 10 or 15 feet long. So the dog comes up to me, to sniff my ass probably. And the girl thinks I'm scared of it; maybe I had some weird expression on my face, I don't know. And she smiles at me and says, "I'm sorry." I just laugh and say, "Don't worry about it," and that was it.
For the next 30 seconds I'm thinking that's really pretty sad, that
super cute girl smiled at me and I know I wont ever see her again. Of course that's true for anyone who just randomly smiles at you, like ugly girls, or guys. Or bums.
I guess my punishment is that I wont ever see that pretty girl again. On the other hand, bums won't be sleeping in my bed when I get home. I think I broke even tonight.
News flash, laundromat-next-to-boomers dryer explodes, seriously scares the crap out of some black dude. You know it was some fool who had jeans soaked in motor oil, I can just picture them. Crying over smoldering clothes. Well poor you! What about that scared black dude!
Dogs are really strange sometimes. Actually no they aren't, but that sounded like a good intro. So I'm walking and this girl is walking her dog, and she is the most beautiful girl I have seen all day. And her little dog, it's a tiny little thing, like a chihuahua but I dont really know a lot about dogs so it might be something else. It's brown and hyper as all hell, and she has him on this giant leash, it's like 10 or 15 feet long. So the dog comes up to me, to sniff my ass probably. And the girl thinks I'm scared of it; maybe I had some weird expression on my face, I don't know. And she smiles at me and says, "I'm sorry." I just laugh and say, "Don't worry about it," and that was it.
For the next 30 seconds I'm thinking that's really pretty sad, that
super cute girl smiled at me and I know I wont ever see her again. Of course that's true for anyone who just randomly smiles at you, like ugly girls, or guys. Or bums.
I guess my punishment is that I wont ever see that pretty girl again. On the other hand, bums won't be sleeping in my bed when I get home. I think I broke even tonight.
News flash, laundromat-next-to-boomers dryer explodes, seriously scares the crap out of some black dude. You know it was some fool who had jeans soaked in motor oil, I can just picture them. Crying over smoldering clothes. Well poor you! What about that scared black dude!
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sometimes-i-write-things-like-this
So today I didn't go to class. I was going to, but I slept right through the alarm clock. I don't know why I use that thing anymore, it doesnt work. It's just a bunch of lit-up-numeric-segments that emits a noise so irritating all you can do is turn it off before all-that-racket-wakes-me-up.
So I sent mail on the internet to the TA to ask when I could turn in the homework. He's like bring it to class next friday and turn it in with the next assignment. Note to self, greenlight project
turn-in-all-those-late-assignments-that-i-never-felt-like-doing-when-they-were-due.
Moving on, I've been playing with a lot of fire lately. Maybe it's because I own more lighters than any man who doesn't smoke should own. I must have like 7. I guess that isn't really a lot. I mean if you think of the number 7, and imagine the concept of having 7 items, that's not a lot in the grand scheme of things. It's conceivable to have 100 items, and sometimes 1000 items, and you might even be able to imagine having more.
So one of the things I do with fire, that my roomate Bob taught me, is you press the little button that shoots butane gas out of the nozzle, while aiming it into the open end of a sprite bottle. I'm not sure if it has to be a sprite bottle; you might be able to do it with another kind, but I'm no scientist.
After you've done that for a while, there should be a decent amount of butane in there. Butane is more dense than air, so it sinks to the bottom of the bottle (in case you were thinking, "hey that won't work!"). So then you light the lighter and hold it there, and take the bottle, and "pour" the gas onto the lighter's flame.
Now you can't see the gas because it's colorless, so you don't know when the gas will get close enough to the flame to ignite. This is the fun part.
After a certain amount of pouring, eventually it ignites and shoots a blue flame out of the bottle, like it was some kind of gun that shoots fire, a fire-gun if you will. Needless to say the bottle gets really hot. Bob rendered a bottle into a contorted mess of green plastic stuff. Once I saw a sculpture that a retarded kid made, claiming it was modern art. The bottle looked a lot like that.
I spoke of fun earlier, and I'll explain a little more about that now. Since you don't know when it will ignite and you can't really tell what the flame will be like while you're waiting, it's tough to know where to aim it. On one hand it needs to be pointed down towards the flame so the gas will pour, but on the other hand, not TOO down because hey that's my hand right there holding the lighter!
All I know is that I still have all my hand hair.
So today I didn't go to class. I was going to, but I slept right through the alarm clock. I don't know why I use that thing anymore, it doesnt work. It's just a bunch of lit-up-numeric-segments that emits a noise so irritating all you can do is turn it off before all-that-racket-wakes-me-up.
So I sent mail on the internet to the TA to ask when I could turn in the homework. He's like bring it to class next friday and turn it in with the next assignment. Note to self, greenlight project
turn-in-all-those-late-assignments-that-i-never-felt-like-doing-when-they-were-due.
Moving on, I've been playing with a lot of fire lately. Maybe it's because I own more lighters than any man who doesn't smoke should own. I must have like 7. I guess that isn't really a lot. I mean if you think of the number 7, and imagine the concept of having 7 items, that's not a lot in the grand scheme of things. It's conceivable to have 100 items, and sometimes 1000 items, and you might even be able to imagine having more.
So one of the things I do with fire, that my roomate Bob taught me, is you press the little button that shoots butane gas out of the nozzle, while aiming it into the open end of a sprite bottle. I'm not sure if it has to be a sprite bottle; you might be able to do it with another kind, but I'm no scientist.
After you've done that for a while, there should be a decent amount of butane in there. Butane is more dense than air, so it sinks to the bottom of the bottle (in case you were thinking, "hey that won't work!"). So then you light the lighter and hold it there, and take the bottle, and "pour" the gas onto the lighter's flame.
Now you can't see the gas because it's colorless, so you don't know when the gas will get close enough to the flame to ignite. This is the fun part.
After a certain amount of pouring, eventually it ignites and shoots a blue flame out of the bottle, like it was some kind of gun that shoots fire, a fire-gun if you will. Needless to say the bottle gets really hot. Bob rendered a bottle into a contorted mess of green plastic stuff. Once I saw a sculpture that a retarded kid made, claiming it was modern art. The bottle looked a lot like that.
I spoke of fun earlier, and I'll explain a little more about that now. Since you don't know when it will ignite and you can't really tell what the flame will be like while you're waiting, it's tough to know where to aim it. On one hand it needs to be pointed down towards the flame so the gas will pour, but on the other hand, not TOO down because hey that's my hand right there holding the lighter!
All I know is that I still have all my hand hair.
somebody has to pick up the slack
Holy Joe (9:39:22 PM): they should market a robot that kicks your ass into gear when you are too lazy
frankenstein (9:39:39 PM): hehe
Holy Joe (9:39:43 PM): kind of like parents
frankenstein (9:39:46 PM): YOU should make that robot
Holy Joe (9:40:04 PM): that is too much work...
frankenstein (9:40:07 PM): that sounds like an entrepreneurial oppurtunity to me
Holy Joe (9:40:09 PM): this is a chicken and the egg problem
Holy Joe (9:40:17 PM): if i had the robot, it would kick my ass into gear to invent the robot
frankenstein (9:40:43 PM): ok, after you invent the robot, also invent a time machine
Holy Joe (9:40:53 PM): brilliant!
frankenstein (9:40:59 PM): then go back in time and have the robot kick your ass in gear to build the robot
frankenstein (9:41:03 PM): and the time machine
Holy Joe (9:41:23 PM): wait, I wonder if I can pull a bill-and-ted and somehow after i invent the time machine, send the time machine back in time to me now, so I don't actually have to invent it.
frankenstein (9:41:37 PM): Man I could solve so many of my problems if I just had a time machine
frankenstein (9:41:50 PM): yeah that could work
Holy Joe (9:42:37 PM): what kind of problems would you solve with a time machine
frankenstein (9:43:19 PM): i don't know, just in general I could go back in time to right before every mistake I ever made and be like "Hey, don't do that!"
Holy Joe (9:43:48 PM): You know what would be crazy
frankenstein (9:44:15 PM): what?
Holy Joe (9:44:22 PM): You know the symbolic angel and devil that appear on your shoulder and guide you to make the right choices? what if those are YOU coming back in time to warn you to do/not do stuff!
frankenstein (9:44:36 PM): oh shit
frankenstein (9:44:53 PM): but why would you come back twice, and be evil one of the times?
Holy Joe (9:44:53 PM): and one of them is like your evil twin coming back to mislead you
frankenstein (9:44:57 PM): oh ok
Holy Joe (9:45:21 PM): this assumes that in whatever dimension these future yous come from, we all have an evil twin.
Holy Joe (9:45:57 PM): but then who visits your evil twin? i guess they switch costumes or something
Holy Joe (9:46:27 PM): it sounds like we have an awful lot of work ahead of us in the future.
frankenstein (9:46:33 PM): does your evil twin live in a dimension where good and evil are reversed?
frankenstein (9:46:50 PM): and like, you have to kill people or you go to jail
Holy Joe (9:46:53 PM): I'm not sure anymore
Holy Joe (9:47:06 PM): brb, I am going to go kill someone just in case
frankenstein (9:47:13 PM): ok
Holy Joe (9:47:17 PM): don't want to be going to no jail
Holy Joe (9:48:31 PM): ok, back
frankenstein (9:48:52 PM): how does it feel to kill a man?
Holy Joe (9:49:11 PM): almost as good as it does to kill a man, and then eat his flesh.
Holy Joe (9:49:17 PM): I can feel it, i've absorbed his powers!
frankenstein (9:49:36 PM): awesome
frankenstein (9:49:42 PM): can you climb walls now?
Holy Joe (9:50:24 PM): No, but taking into consideration that I killed a deadbeat dad, I am pretty good at not paying child support
frankenstein (9:50:38 PM): awesome
frankenstein (9:52:15 PM): I haven't mastered that skill yet, I keep sending checks to all these single mom's
Holy Joe (9:53:58 PM): they appreciate it though
frankenstein (9:55:02 PM): yeah it's true
frankenstein (9:55:10 PM): somebody has to pick up the slack
Holy Joe (9:39:22 PM): they should market a robot that kicks your ass into gear when you are too lazy
frankenstein (9:39:39 PM): hehe
Holy Joe (9:39:43 PM): kind of like parents
frankenstein (9:39:46 PM): YOU should make that robot
Holy Joe (9:40:04 PM): that is too much work...
frankenstein (9:40:07 PM): that sounds like an entrepreneurial oppurtunity to me
Holy Joe (9:40:09 PM): this is a chicken and the egg problem
Holy Joe (9:40:17 PM): if i had the robot, it would kick my ass into gear to invent the robot
frankenstein (9:40:43 PM): ok, after you invent the robot, also invent a time machine
Holy Joe (9:40:53 PM): brilliant!
frankenstein (9:40:59 PM): then go back in time and have the robot kick your ass in gear to build the robot
frankenstein (9:41:03 PM): and the time machine
Holy Joe (9:41:23 PM): wait, I wonder if I can pull a bill-and-ted and somehow after i invent the time machine, send the time machine back in time to me now, so I don't actually have to invent it.
frankenstein (9:41:37 PM): Man I could solve so many of my problems if I just had a time machine
frankenstein (9:41:50 PM): yeah that could work
Holy Joe (9:42:37 PM): what kind of problems would you solve with a time machine
frankenstein (9:43:19 PM): i don't know, just in general I could go back in time to right before every mistake I ever made and be like "Hey, don't do that!"
Holy Joe (9:43:48 PM): You know what would be crazy
frankenstein (9:44:15 PM): what?
Holy Joe (9:44:22 PM): You know the symbolic angel and devil that appear on your shoulder and guide you to make the right choices? what if those are YOU coming back in time to warn you to do/not do stuff!
frankenstein (9:44:36 PM): oh shit
frankenstein (9:44:53 PM): but why would you come back twice, and be evil one of the times?
Holy Joe (9:44:53 PM): and one of them is like your evil twin coming back to mislead you
frankenstein (9:44:57 PM): oh ok
Holy Joe (9:45:21 PM): this assumes that in whatever dimension these future yous come from, we all have an evil twin.
Holy Joe (9:45:57 PM): but then who visits your evil twin? i guess they switch costumes or something
Holy Joe (9:46:27 PM): it sounds like we have an awful lot of work ahead of us in the future.
frankenstein (9:46:33 PM): does your evil twin live in a dimension where good and evil are reversed?
frankenstein (9:46:50 PM): and like, you have to kill people or you go to jail
Holy Joe (9:46:53 PM): I'm not sure anymore
Holy Joe (9:47:06 PM): brb, I am going to go kill someone just in case
frankenstein (9:47:13 PM): ok
Holy Joe (9:47:17 PM): don't want to be going to no jail
Holy Joe (9:48:31 PM): ok, back
frankenstein (9:48:52 PM): how does it feel to kill a man?
Holy Joe (9:49:11 PM): almost as good as it does to kill a man, and then eat his flesh.
Holy Joe (9:49:17 PM): I can feel it, i've absorbed his powers!
frankenstein (9:49:36 PM): awesome
frankenstein (9:49:42 PM): can you climb walls now?
Holy Joe (9:50:24 PM): No, but taking into consideration that I killed a deadbeat dad, I am pretty good at not paying child support
frankenstein (9:50:38 PM): awesome
frankenstein (9:52:15 PM): I haven't mastered that skill yet, I keep sending checks to all these single mom's
Holy Joe (9:53:58 PM): they appreciate it though
frankenstein (9:55:02 PM): yeah it's true
frankenstein (9:55:10 PM): somebody has to pick up the slack
bacardi rum and the bat device
And what kind of device is it? I hope it does my laundry, becuase, hey, after drinking all that rum, I sure can't do it!
Bacardi and the bat device are registered trademarks of Bacardi.
You heard me, the bat device. What the bat device has to do with rum? I have no idea.
And what kind of device is it? I hope it does my laundry, becuase, hey, after drinking all that rum, I sure can't do it!
Bacardi and the bat device are registered trademarks of Bacardi.
You heard me, the bat device. What the bat device has to do with rum? I have no idea.
please don't talk about that
Girls, you should know better. We don't want to hear you talk about it. I can see how you think it is a clever, subtle way to get rid of a guy you don't want to fuck. But please. Please, just tell him you hate his guts and wished he would die, you tiny dicked fuckwit. We would appreciate it a lot. We especially don't want to hear about how you're adjusting it, changing it, or "checking on it". If any of that is a legitimate answer to a question he asks ("where are you going?"), lie. Tell him you're going to go blow his brother in the bathroom. Tell him you need the football team to give you a cumbath, he'd rather hear that.
Yes, men understand it. Yes, we know it is necessary. Yes, we are ok with it. But we are content to file it away alongside felching, the dirty sanchez, watersports and other pseudofictions. Things that we can safely pretend that people don't really do. Until you put them right in front of our faces.
And for god's sake, don't give it a cutesy little nickname like tampodopolous.
Girls, you should know better. We don't want to hear you talk about it. I can see how you think it is a clever, subtle way to get rid of a guy you don't want to fuck. But please. Please, just tell him you hate his guts and wished he would die, you tiny dicked fuckwit. We would appreciate it a lot. We especially don't want to hear about how you're adjusting it, changing it, or "checking on it". If any of that is a legitimate answer to a question he asks ("where are you going?"), lie. Tell him you're going to go blow his brother in the bathroom. Tell him you need the football team to give you a cumbath, he'd rather hear that.
Yes, men understand it. Yes, we know it is necessary. Yes, we are ok with it. But we are content to file it away alongside felching, the dirty sanchez, watersports and other pseudofictions. Things that we can safely pretend that people don't really do. Until you put them right in front of our faces.
And for god's sake, don't give it a cutesy little nickname like tampodopolous.
launch & learn
"Launch and Learn" is a phrase often used by non-technical managers of a software development team. The basic premise is to hurry up and create something (anything) and deploy it to users. Then, listen to what the users say, fix whatever is wrong with it, and repeat.
First let me start by saying that this is a terrible idea. Second, let me continue by saying that this is a terrible idea.
Ok, so you throw the software together and deploy it. You wait for user feedback, and as expected, you have a lot of work to do because basically everything is wrong. Now, in the real world, potential users of your software would ditch you in favor of your competition right about now. If you are developing in-house software however, you have no competition. Awesome.
As a side note, I recommend quitting your development job at the first sign that your development model is less complex than selecting a urinal in which to pee.
Lets take a look at the side effects of development under this model:
"Launch and Learn" is a phrase often used by non-technical managers of a software development team. The basic premise is to hurry up and create something (anything) and deploy it to users. Then, listen to what the users say, fix whatever is wrong with it, and repeat.
First let me start by saying that this is a terrible idea. Second, let me continue by saying that this is a terrible idea.
Ok, so you throw the software together and deploy it. You wait for user feedback, and as expected, you have a lot of work to do because basically everything is wrong. Now, in the real world, potential users of your software would ditch you in favor of your competition right about now. If you are developing in-house software however, you have no competition. Awesome.
As a side note, I recommend quitting your development job at the first sign that your development model is less complex than selecting a urinal in which to pee.
Lets take a look at the side effects of development under this model:
- You haphazardly do 20 hours of programming in 8 hours, because it absolutely must be done by tomorrow.
- The rest of the week you sit on your ass because, hey, how do you know what to do until you get user feedback? Of course.
- Management is clueless about the terrible flaws in the software. They see something that works most of the time. According to them, a couple of bugs is no big deal. You should be able to fix them in a few hours anyway, right?
- You tell management that at some point you will need a large chunk of time to repair all the damage you have been forced to do to the software by adding features in less time than it actually takes to code them. Despite being reassured that somewhere "down the road" this time will be available, you have your doubts.
- When you question management about the wisdom of using the launch-and-learn methodology, they laugh (emphasizing your inexperience) and explain that this project is revolutionary; no one has done this before. Sure, a database-driven web application, inconceivable by all but us!
clock
Somehow I remember writing a lot more stuff in college. I have run out of "shit" as I so eloquently put it.
The title of this journal is now a lie. It actually has been for a while, but now you're in on the secret.
Every day at approximately 12:52pm, an alarm clock goes off in the office. The clock resides in the cubicle of one of the administrative assistants down the hall from my office. The occupant of this cubicle is never there when the alarm goes off. I suspect she has long since forgotten about it. She may never be there at all; I haven't ventured that far to investigate.
The beeping lasts for a full minute.
If you don't have a firm grasp on how time works, I'll explain. If you are doing something fun, interesting, or exciting, then a minute passes pretty quickly.
If you are doing nothing but watching the clock, a minute is a pretty long time. Try it. Especially if you are using Windows and you launch the clock display. You can watch the seconds tick by, except the screen update mechanism is "lazy". Every 3 or 4 seconds there will be a slight pause.
1.. 2.. 3.. uh 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. uh 8.. 9.. 10.. 11.. uh 12.. 13.. 14.. uh 15..
I could only bear to watch this for 15 seconds.
We've covered the good minute, and we've covered the neutral minute. Now lets talk about the bad minute. If you are experiencing something extremely annoying, like an alarm clock, the duration of a minute somehow inflates far beyond the scope of reason. Through some transmogrification induced by mood, a minute lasts an eternity. Deep down I believe that this phenomenon can be explained by some branch of relativity, but Einstein seems to have left that out of his formal write-up.
In any case, I'm left wondering: What happens at 12:52? I can only conclude that it must be pretty important. So important the she has to be out doing it, instead of turning off the alarm clock.
Somehow I remember writing a lot more stuff in college. I have run out of "shit" as I so eloquently put it.
The title of this journal is now a lie. It actually has been for a while, but now you're in on the secret.
Every day at approximately 12:52pm, an alarm clock goes off in the office. The clock resides in the cubicle of one of the administrative assistants down the hall from my office. The occupant of this cubicle is never there when the alarm goes off. I suspect she has long since forgotten about it. She may never be there at all; I haven't ventured that far to investigate.
The beeping lasts for a full minute.
If you don't have a firm grasp on how time works, I'll explain. If you are doing something fun, interesting, or exciting, then a minute passes pretty quickly.
If you are doing nothing but watching the clock, a minute is a pretty long time. Try it. Especially if you are using Windows and you launch the clock display. You can watch the seconds tick by, except the screen update mechanism is "lazy". Every 3 or 4 seconds there will be a slight pause.
1.. 2.. 3.. uh 4.. 5.. 6.. 7.. uh 8.. 9.. 10.. 11.. uh 12.. 13.. 14.. uh 15..
I could only bear to watch this for 15 seconds.
We've covered the good minute, and we've covered the neutral minute. Now lets talk about the bad minute. If you are experiencing something extremely annoying, like an alarm clock, the duration of a minute somehow inflates far beyond the scope of reason. Through some transmogrification induced by mood, a minute lasts an eternity. Deep down I believe that this phenomenon can be explained by some branch of relativity, but Einstein seems to have left that out of his formal write-up.
In any case, I'm left wondering: What happens at 12:52? I can only conclude that it must be pretty important. So important the she has to be out doing it, instead of turning off the alarm clock.
SMD (Suck My Dick)
I'm constantly bewildered at the endless stream of acronyms that corporations are capable of generating. There must be a fairy (or perhaps a gnome) in a cubicle somewhere over in CAG (Corporate Acronym Generation) that comes up with all this shit according to one rule: If something requires two words or more to describe it, an acronym must be created.
I'm not even sure what some of them mean. When someone mentions one of these, I kind of just nod my head and hope they start talking about something else soon.
Here are just a few of the acronyms I am forced to deal with every day.
ERP - Enterprise Resource Planning
MES - Manufacturing Execution Systems
P&ID - ???
SCM - Supply Chain Management
CRM - Customer Relationship Management
JVEPS - ???
EHS - Environmental Health and Safety
HR - ??? (Human Resources seems too simple)
DRP - Distribution Resource Process
MPS - ???
CPM - Capital Portfolio Management
PDRI - ???
AR - Acquisition Request
PFD - ???
CDP - Capital Deployment Process (Think about this one. I wish!)
JSTEPS - ???
IPA - ???
I'm constantly bewildered at the endless stream of acronyms that corporations are capable of generating. There must be a fairy (or perhaps a gnome) in a cubicle somewhere over in CAG (Corporate Acronym Generation) that comes up with all this shit according to one rule: If something requires two words or more to describe it, an acronym must be created.
I'm not even sure what some of them mean. When someone mentions one of these, I kind of just nod my head and hope they start talking about something else soon.
Here are just a few of the acronyms I am forced to deal with every day.
ERP - Enterprise Resource Planning
MES - Manufacturing Execution Systems
P&ID - ???
SCM - Supply Chain Management
CRM - Customer Relationship Management
JVEPS - ???
EHS - Environmental Health and Safety
HR - ??? (Human Resources seems too simple)
DRP - Distribution Resource Process
MPS - ???
CPM - Capital Portfolio Management
PDRI - ???
AR - Acquisition Request
PFD - ???
CDP - Capital Deployment Process (Think about this one. I wish!)
JSTEPS - ???
IPA - ???
holy joe and the toaster of doom
At work there is one of those conveyor-style toasters for toasting bagels. It has several knobs on it to control the rate of the conveyor and the temperature of the heating elements. In front of the toaster, bolted to the table, is a sign: "Please do not touch the knobs on the toaster."
Wondering about the purpose of this sign, I've come up with a couple ideas. One, maybe there is some kind of defect in the toaster which causes the knobs to get really hot, and if you touch them, you will be burned. Two, maybe, through rigorous scientific analysis, they have determined the optimal settings and don't want your monkey ass fucking it up for everyone else.
I'm going to take a minute and bitch about signs now. If you are going to make a sign, please think about what it will say before you go ahead and make it. Choose appropriate wording; I can't stress this enough. The language of the afformentioned sign strongly supports my first interpretation, yet I think we all know that the second is much more likely. Enough about that.
I've used this toaster for about 2 months now. Until last week, everything was great. Perfect toastness every time, making my morning bagel experience a delight. If your bagel experience isn't a delight, you are probably doing something wrong. Over/under toasting is one cause. Another is improper application of cream cheese. Maybe I will write an article about that later. Stay tuned.
Early last week I noticed that my bagel came out of the toaster somewhat black. I was dissapointed, but what can you do? A bagel is 75 cents. 75! If you have a bagel every day at work, that is almost $200 a year. Think of how many cheap hookers you could have instead. It's a fucking cartel, I swear. I wasn't about to fund their scam any more than I had to by tossing it and buying another one, so I ate it.
The next day, I put my bagel in the toaster hoping that the previous day's affair had been a fluke. Unfortunately that was not the case. Another black bagel. Oh well.
The third day, I came prepared for action. Now, let me just say that I wasn't about to touch the knobs. The sign says please. Besides, my renegade side doesn't show itself until at least half past 11, so my desire to stick it to the man hadn't quite arisen yet. Instead, I tried to shove my bagel in further down the carousel, thus shortening the time it spent over the heating element. I know, I'm an idiot. Another black bagel.
Anyway, it's fixed now. I can only assume someone broke the rules by touching the knobs. Whoever you are, I thank you.
At work there is one of those conveyor-style toasters for toasting bagels. It has several knobs on it to control the rate of the conveyor and the temperature of the heating elements. In front of the toaster, bolted to the table, is a sign: "Please do not touch the knobs on the toaster."
Wondering about the purpose of this sign, I've come up with a couple ideas. One, maybe there is some kind of defect in the toaster which causes the knobs to get really hot, and if you touch them, you will be burned. Two, maybe, through rigorous scientific analysis, they have determined the optimal settings and don't want your monkey ass fucking it up for everyone else.
I'm going to take a minute and bitch about signs now. If you are going to make a sign, please think about what it will say before you go ahead and make it. Choose appropriate wording; I can't stress this enough. The language of the afformentioned sign strongly supports my first interpretation, yet I think we all know that the second is much more likely. Enough about that.
I've used this toaster for about 2 months now. Until last week, everything was great. Perfect toastness every time, making my morning bagel experience a delight. If your bagel experience isn't a delight, you are probably doing something wrong. Over/under toasting is one cause. Another is improper application of cream cheese. Maybe I will write an article about that later. Stay tuned.
Early last week I noticed that my bagel came out of the toaster somewhat black. I was dissapointed, but what can you do? A bagel is 75 cents. 75! If you have a bagel every day at work, that is almost $200 a year. Think of how many cheap hookers you could have instead. It's a fucking cartel, I swear. I wasn't about to fund their scam any more than I had to by tossing it and buying another one, so I ate it.
The next day, I put my bagel in the toaster hoping that the previous day's affair had been a fluke. Unfortunately that was not the case. Another black bagel. Oh well.
The third day, I came prepared for action. Now, let me just say that I wasn't about to touch the knobs. The sign says please. Besides, my renegade side doesn't show itself until at least half past 11, so my desire to stick it to the man hadn't quite arisen yet. Instead, I tried to shove my bagel in further down the carousel, thus shortening the time it spent over the heating element. I know, I'm an idiot. Another black bagel.
Anyway, it's fixed now. I can only assume someone broke the rules by touching the knobs. Whoever you are, I thank you.
goose poop and acorns
Is it common for an office complex to house gaggles of geese? Was it some faux-genius workplace-betterment consultant who decided, hey, we should invite a bunch of geese to come and, you know, hang out? Maybe.
Like Steve, my office parking lot is riddled with goose poop (all three varieties). I've also noticed geese at several other office buildings around town. I can only assume they suffer from the same fowl excrement epidemic.
Why do the geese poop in the parking lot? I rarely see them ever set foot on the blacktop. Usually they like to chill on the lawn, I guess that is where they find their food. Are they intelligent enough to follow the age-old adage of "don't shit where you eat"?
Maybe on the weekends when the parking lot is devoid of vehicles and, well, people, they throw some kind of goose party. Now I'll admit that I don't throw a lot of parties. But If I did, I would change my ways if I learned that this much shitting went on.
And another thing, who the hell would put an acorn-producing tree in a parking lot? What a mess.
Is it common for an office complex to house gaggles of geese? Was it some faux-genius workplace-betterment consultant who decided, hey, we should invite a bunch of geese to come and, you know, hang out? Maybe.
Like Steve, my office parking lot is riddled with goose poop (all three varieties). I've also noticed geese at several other office buildings around town. I can only assume they suffer from the same fowl excrement epidemic.
Why do the geese poop in the parking lot? I rarely see them ever set foot on the blacktop. Usually they like to chill on the lawn, I guess that is where they find their food. Are they intelligent enough to follow the age-old adage of "don't shit where you eat"?
Maybe on the weekends when the parking lot is devoid of vehicles and, well, people, they throw some kind of goose party. Now I'll admit that I don't throw a lot of parties. But If I did, I would change my ways if I learned that this much shitting went on.
And another thing, who the hell would put an acorn-producing tree in a parking lot? What a mess.
i want--no, i need--a ferrari
The mid-life crisis.
What exactly is it? The sudden desire to change? Questioning the meaning of your life? What have I done?
Is the mid-life crisis about finding that one simple thing you can do (or purchase) that changes everything? Of course! Why didn't I see it before? To be happy, all I had to do was go sky diving just once. Too bad I wasted my whole life before I figured that out.
I always pictured the mid-life crisis as a quest to prove yourself. Somehow a grain of doubt was implanted deep in the mind. Over the years it grew and grew until one day you realized that you haven't done anything of value in your life.
You haven't composed a fantastic symphony. You didn't build any majestic, towering skyscrapers. You haven't written the great American novel. I forget, did you cure Cancer? No, you didn't. You are running out of time. If you don't hurry up, you will die before you accomplish anything. After all, that is the secret to happiness.
Or maybe just letting go and living life is the real secret.
The mid-life crisis.
What exactly is it? The sudden desire to change? Questioning the meaning of your life? What have I done?
Is the mid-life crisis about finding that one simple thing you can do (or purchase) that changes everything? Of course! Why didn't I see it before? To be happy, all I had to do was go sky diving just once. Too bad I wasted my whole life before I figured that out.
I always pictured the mid-life crisis as a quest to prove yourself. Somehow a grain of doubt was implanted deep in the mind. Over the years it grew and grew until one day you realized that you haven't done anything of value in your life.
You haven't composed a fantastic symphony. You didn't build any majestic, towering skyscrapers. You haven't written the great American novel. I forget, did you cure Cancer? No, you didn't. You are running out of time. If you don't hurry up, you will die before you accomplish anything. After all, that is the secret to happiness.
Or maybe just letting go and living life is the real secret.
food stamps
I was in Price Chopper on the corner of Highland and Park at about 1am. I had probably woken up at 2 or 3 in the afternoon that day and I was there to purchase what would become my dinner.
I had just walked past the canned foods aisle when I heard what is usually the prelude to a secret.
Pssst.
Hey you, come here.
I look up to see a black man pretending to read the label on a can of beans.
Yeah, you.
I approach him, look around, and say "What's up?" in an equally hush tone.
You wanna buy some food stamps? Five hunded dolla worth.
I was in Price Chopper on the corner of Highland and Park at about 1am. I had probably woken up at 2 or 3 in the afternoon that day and I was there to purchase what would become my dinner.
I had just walked past the canned foods aisle when I heard what is usually the prelude to a secret.
Pssst.
Hey you, come here.
I look up to see a black man pretending to read the label on a can of beans.
Yeah, you.
I approach him, look around, and say "What's up?" in an equally hush tone.
You wanna buy some food stamps? Five hunded dolla worth.