AnonymousCoworker

Do not tell your lesbian friend, in an attempt to cheer her up about her ex, that a “Doctor” and one of his colleagues gave you some good information about relationships once. Because then you will have to complete the joke and say:

“Bitches ain’t shit but hos and tricks. If you’re having girl problems, I feel bad for you son. I’ve got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one.”

Despite the fact they date women, they won’t find it as funny as your male friends.

P.S. Gay guys LOVE to get this advice during a break-up.

I just went another bunch of days without writing a single word. Sorry, school is still keeping me pretty busy. But I graduate in 31 days, so there’s that.

Let’s see, what else? I started hanging out with a girl who made a joke about duck vaginas, which was hilarious. And then she made 100 more jokes about duck vaginas, which were less hilarious. And now the only thing she jokes about are duck vaginas, which is becoming scary. I think she might intend to skin me and turn my skin into a duck vagina, or something. Anyway, duck vagina.

I’ve been seeing a ton of live music, recently, which is awesome. My ex hated live music, which should have been a warning sign, but oh well. I’ve been going to about 2 shows a week for the past few months, and I have learned something about live music. If there are opening bands, the chances that the band is going suck ass increases the earlier they preform. And you’ll be like, “Der, dumbass. Everyone knows that.” But that’s not true. I’ve seen some excellent bands who opened shows, and some horrible headlining bands. It all has to do with the time they go on, and the number of bands that are opening. Like, if there’s one headliner, and one opening band. You know what? Jesus Christ. I’m boring myself. End.

So this morning I’m getting ready for work, and as I’m eating my cereal (Cereal because I’m a child, bran flakes because I’m a geezer. I figure it averages out to about 29.) I turned on the TV to see what was happening. Maybe check to make sure there were no explosions in the world. Anyway, I stumbled across the last few minutes of a movie on HBO that looked so awesome I had to tell you about it.

There were these guys, right, and they were in the desert or something, and then there was this car driving really fast. Oh! And some guy was hanging off of a cliff by a rope, and the car was, like, waiting at the bottom for him to fall, maybe to eat him? Anyway, they pull the guy up from the rope and they also have some explosives and some wire and one of those boxes where you push the thing down and then it travels to the wire and blows something up. Yeah, but, so the car comes up to where the guys have the explosion-pusher-wire-box thing and two guys just kind of stand there and the car tries to run them over but they jump out of the way at the last second and the car drives over the cliff and they push the explosion box thing and it blows up and buries the car under a mountain.

BUT! Then there’s this huge explosion of fire and the fucking DEVIL is walking through the flames at them, tall as a building, and spitting fire and shit all over the place! It was so fucking awesome. So now I want two things:

1) I want to see this whole movie. I know, it’s like, “You already saw the ending, why would you want to see the whole movie now?” That’s a dumb thought. Anybody who thinks that is dumb. It’s like looking at a rollercoaster and going, “Well, I already saw it, so I might as well just skip it.” Six Flags must love your ass. Go to the park and buy hot dogs and shit but don’t get on any rides. Fuck. They could put up cardboard cutouts for rides and it would be good enough for you. Jesus Christ.

2) This movie needs to be remade. And not like the fucking stupid horrible terrible movie remakes like “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” or “I am Legend” or “War of the Worlds” or “The Day the Earth Stood Still” where they essentially took the literal film out of the canisters and took a giant shit on it and then stuffed it, still steaming, back into the projector and called it a remake or some fucking other PR nonsense bullshit. I am talking about this movie needs to be remade, shot for shot, but with new actors, new cars, and new cameras, and new explosions. And, god help me, Michael Bay needs to direct that shit. Don’t change anything about the movie. Just update it. And add like, ten thousand more explosions. That’s all I’m asking. Maybe there could be a shot from space where you see an eruption of fire spew into the sky and the devil is like unfurling these enormous bat wings that are roiling with black fire. That would be so awesome.

Also, I realize Michael Bay remade “Amityville Horror” and it was so awful that people request being beaten to death by bricks than being forced to watch that movie, but you know, that movie didn’t have explosions.

So, I guess, in summary, they need to remake the 1977 movie “The Car”.

Zappos Furry Customers

Am I the only one who thought furry furry?

Okay, lemme tell you about Boston.  Boston is a fairly mediocre city in that it is neither exceptionally awesome, nor is it exceptionally bad.  It is no Austin, Texas.  Nor is it Wichita, Kansas.  Those places rock, and suck ass, respectively.  I would not want to live in Boston, but it was fun enough to visit.  I do not have a burning desire to return, but would not hesitate to do so if the opportunity presented itself in the form of a conference, or friend’s wedding, or something like that.

That’s all I have to say about Boston.  Let me tell you about the tap-dancing, Hell-forged abortion that is La Guardia airport.  La Guardia is an Italian word that means, “an endless lifetime of being repeatedly kicked in the tip of the dick”.  My arrival at the airport was marked by a sullen airport employee who stood at the end of the jetway, at exactly the exit, so that all the other passengers deboarding from Boston were forced to walk around him.  He truly embodied New York’s official motto, which is, “Welcome to New York!  We’re all cocks, go fuck yourself.”

I was starving, and my flight from Boston had left a bit late, so I only had about 30 minutes to grab something to eat. I went over to grab a fork and some napkins and this horrific barnacle on the ass of humanity is just standing there, taking up all the space, staring at her fucking boarding pass like it’s turned into a picture of Snow White fisting each of the dwarfs, two at a time. So I’m like, “Excuse me” and I gesture to how she’s blocking every fucking thing that I need access to, and she takes a step CLOSER to the counter. So I say, “Excuse me, I’d like to get some napkins.” And she takes a tiny half step to the side. Towards the napkins. So I grab a fork, now that I can do so easily, go around her, and grab some napkins from the side, muttering, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, lady.”

I scarf down my food and listen to announcements like this, “The flight to Baltimore is no longer departing from Gate 4 and is now departing from Gate 1. Norfolk is not departing from Gate 6, and is now departing from Gate 4. Gate 3 is now renumbered to Gate 5, and Gate 1 and 2 will merge to become Gate 7. Gate 7 is currently shut down for repairs and passengers should use Gate 6. Gate 6 has been relocated to Gate 2, but has not been renumbered. Gate 8 contains an evil horse that will rape you, but it has been renumbered to gate 6 or 4, we can’t remember.”

After eating I hit my gate just before boarding, only to find out that they’re not boarding yet. Why? Who the fuck knows? Not anyone who works there, that’s for damn sure. I exchange texts with my brother, who is picking me up

“I think I’m going to be late. La Guardia is a clusterfuck dry-humping a buttfuckathon.”

Minutes pass.

“Now they’re saying they are waiting for clearance to board from the pilot, who is apparently off taking a shit somewhere or fucking a clown or something.”

“I’m surprised they were willing to conjecture like that over the PA.”

“It’s New York, not Omaha.”

“If La Guardia were a person I would stab it in the ear with a rusty coat hanger.”

So finally they let us board and then they make us sit around, thumbs in asses, while they do something? I don’t know. They kept saying ridiculously dumb things like, “Even though we’re running behind schedule, it’s a quick 30 minute flight to Baltimore, and we should be there in plus or minus 15 minutes of our originally scheduled landing time.” Did you read all that? What in sweet dirty mud-fucking shit does that mean? The way I figure it, no one ever taught them how time works, and they were just saying numbers. I mean, how is 30 minutes any more or less than 30 minutes? A quick thirty minutes is the same as a slow thirty minutes. It’s thirty fucking minutes. It doesn’t change. And since it doesn’t change, saying plus or /minus/ 15 minutes is idiotic. That would require some sound-barrier breaking speeds. Why not just say, “We’ll be in Baltimore in 30 minutes, hopefully, but no later than 45.” What a bunch of dicks.

La Gaurdia, I hope the Devil himself climbs out of Hell and personally teabags you for a thousand years with his sweaty goat-balls.

Three things:

1) Yeah, some shit went down. The short version is, it wasn’t my fault. I might go into more detail later. In the meantime, I’m auditioning ACWGs.

2) I’m going to Boston tomorrow. Are any of you in Boston? Comment lickity split. Maybe we can meet up.

3) Who’s here, by the way? Just trying to get a handle on what type of person continues to punish themselves with my garbage. Love you!

So the other day a friend texted me and was like, “Are you single? I have someone I’d like you to meet.” and I went through about a dozen reactions all at once.

At first I was like, “Ugh” because who knows what kind of cave troll this chick might be.

Then I was like, “Well, that’s cool. I guess it is still possible to meet people organically through friends.”

Then I was like, “What is my status, anyway?” I don’t even really know if I’m single. On the one hand, I’m so damn busy with my last two graduate courses and my job and a bunch of other shit that is just kind of boring but trust me it adds up but still you don’t want to hear about it, and keeping my social life on life-support, I really don’t have any time for dating. On the other hand, I’m not in a relationship.

But still, I don’t even know if I’m looking for anything right now. I’m kind of enjoying the first time I’ve had to myself since I was 16. (Yeah, that’s right, I pretty much went through three relationships with virtually no breaks over a period of 13 years. Insanity.) I finally replied that I was “single-ish” and that while I wasn’t actively looking to get into anything right now, I was at least open to the possibility.

Eh, maybe I shouldn’t be so down on the whole thing. At least I have friends who are looking out for me. Oh, and if you’re a friend reading this: please, no cave trolls.

Finally, fuck, is this the boringest blog ever, or what? I feel sorry for you people.

I just threw a used tissue at the place where my trash can is supposed to be. There was no trash can there. I’m debating picking up the tissue at all.

Come back again for this and other scintillating blogging.

I was heading to lunch when this dude rolls up on me and he’s like, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”  Being a friendly guy who is also capable of answering all questions (though not necessarily correctly) I said, “Sure.”

“Do you believe in the Bible?”

And before I could do anything to stop them, the logical part of my brain got together with my mouth and said, “Yeah, I mean, I believe the Bible exists, sure.”  Just at that point the complex reasoning part of my brain said to me, “No, you moron.  This jerk is asking if you believe in the CONTENT of the Bible, not the book itself.  He’s dumb for phrasing his question that way, but you’re dumber for not figuring it out, and now you have to talk to him.  Congratulations.”

And, as my brain had surmised, this was in fact the opportunity the guy used to press on.

“Do you believe in God, the Heavenly Father?”

“No.  See, I think you misunderstood me.  I believe that the Bible exists as a book, but I don’t think it contains any factual information.”

“So you don’t believe in the Bible?”

“No, yeah.  I mean, no.  Yes, the Bible is a book.  But, no, I don’t believe in God.”

“But you believe in the Bible?”

Obviously I had confused the guy, since it seemed like he would probably go around in circles until I said I did believe in God, at which point, the REAL conversation would start when he would convince me that my interpretation of God was wrong and that his was right and that he would somehow be able to change my mind.  Does this ever really happen?  Do people just convert on their way to buy a turkey sandwich?  If so, do they get bacon on the sandwich if their new religion allows it?  I don’t have the answer to these questions, but I did get bacon on my turkey sandwich, incidentally, because it is delicious, and because I have a burning hatred for pigs.

Anyway, the real reason that I was compelled to write anything about it here at all is because normally I would have just mumbled something and said “Excuse me” and “I’m sorry” a million times and walked away.  But, at some point I apparently grew a social spine, and adopted the mantra “Life’s too short” so I just straight up told the guy.

“Hey, listen, I’m an atheist, and I don’t believe in God, and I don’t want to talk about it, so have a good day.”

It was shockingly easy to say, and after hovering for a few more moments, his mouth opening and closing as he continued to try to process what I had just said, I went back to walking to get my lunch and got unreasonably pissed off at a society that doesn’t laugh in the face of Christians who can claim they’re being persecuted and at the same time have the entitlement to think they can just walk up to any asshole on the street and get them to change their religion.  What a bunch of douches.

Anyway, what’s up?  How have you been doing?

ACW is back bitches!

You’re all bitches.