Archive for February, 2006

That feels better

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 14, 2006 @ 9:08 am
in devil cat, necrophilia, potty humor and sex
. 9 Comments

What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve been posting about snowball fights, and surprise parties, and music, and other lame stuff like that. It’s enough to give Norman Rockwell the erection of a lifetime. An erection which I’m sure he would use to paint yet another picture of a boy with a baseball glove, a floppy-eared dog, and gangly adult.

And while I’m on the topic of Norman Rockwell with an erection, I’m now realizing that I haven’t posted about necrophilia in ages. I know you’re all always like, “Oh, dude, having sex with dead bodies is so gross, I totally wouldn’t be into the sensuous feeling of an unmoving partner and wrapping my arms around their cold and rubbery body. And embalming gives me a rash on my hoo-hoo bits,” but I know you’re totally into it. You’re probably going to be using this paragraph as erotica for the night later this week when you fill your blow-up doll with gelatin, submerge it in a bathtub full of ice water, and then go “KY” on it’s ass, and we both know I’m not talking about Kentucky.

And while I’m speaking about Kentucky, I haven’t made fun of inbreeding hicks is quite some time either. I know they can’t really read anything I’m writing here anyway, so I don’t fear any recrimination, unless one of you uppity bastards decides to go into the hills, get humped by an uncle, and then teach the filthy bean-farmers how to read. All of a sudden I’m going to be getting anonymous comments from IP addresses in the Ozarks saying, “OMG n00b ur teh gay LOL !!!1!one!!”

And while I’m talking about Internet dorks, I must say that I’m fucking exhausted of that David Hasselhoff video. Me and my boys were making fun of Michael Knight back in the day, and we saw that ooga chaka shit in 2001. Ha ha, he’s painted up like a psycho and dry humping some penguins while wearing a full-body fur suit, fulfilling any number of gay, fur-fetishist wet dreams. I just wanted you to know that I had my fur-fetishist wet dreams fulfilled 5 years ago. Welcome to the party, pal.

Here’s hoping this post is a turning point in my blogging, or else I might have to start my car, put a hose in the tailpipe, and then shove the other end of the hose right up my ass. Just to be on the safe side, I’m also going to kill my cat, so I don’t get any ideas about blogging about him.

He’s a real douchebag anyway. This morning, when I went outside to warm up my car, I found him sitting on the table drinking the milk out of my cereal… oh shit. I’ve gone and blogged about the cat anyway. Carbon Dioxide enema, here I come.

Chuck Norris makes snow by farting and then using his freezing breath on it

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 13, 2006 @ 2:52 pm
in uncategorized
. 11 Comments

While planning the surprise party, my mom offered to bring some meatballs, and chips & dip in order to offset the amount of food I would have to whip together quickly. However, she promised the meatballs before anyone knew that it was going to snow for the evening.

Once it had started snowing my dad called Mokie to let Mokie know that my parents were coming down but that they weren’t staying for the party because my dad hates driving in the snow.

It came up at the party, but I don’t think I did a suitable job explaining exactly why, and my older brother had absolutely NO idea what I was talking about, so I guess he’s never heard the story before, or maybe he just didn’t remember it. Anyway, my dad doesn’t drive in the snow anymore because he was almost killed by a tractor trailer.

I think it was before my older rbother was born, and when my dad had to drive north everyday to Towson to go to work. It had just snowed, and it was pretty early in the morning so there weren’t many cars on the road. My dad was sticking to the right lane, and making decent time when a tractor trailer appeared in his rearview mirror. The trailer was in the middle lane, so my father thought nothing of it. The truck could simply pass and keep moving. As the truck closed the gap between it and my dad, both vehicles also approached a light bend in the road. My dad followed the bend easily, but the truck began to slide, and at this point it had pulled even with my dad. My dad slowly merged further and further right as the truck continued to slide, but as my dad pulled on to the shoulder and was forced to continue off the shoulder and onto the embankment, he realized the truck wasn’t stopping and that he was going to lose control quickly, so he began to try to stop.

Much to his terror, the truck was also slowing down, so my dad had nowhere to go. It looked like the truck was going to be the last thing he saw. Somehow his car caught a patch of dry pavement, and he was able to slow down quickly just as the truck occupied the space where he would have been.

Since then my dad doesn’t drive in the snow. He calls out of work and watches Walker Texas Ranger instead. I believe Chuck Norris would call my dad a pussy. And then maybe eat him. And then eat a truck.

Surprise, bitches

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 13, 2006 @ 10:34 am
in Mrs. ACW, beer, bitches and food
. 13 Comments

This weekend we celebrated ACWF’s birthday with a surprise party. I was freaking out all week long because I thought I had given her too much info and she was on to me. Apparently some of the people at her work didn’t read the evite thoroughly* because ACWF had an inkling that something was going on. A complete surprise would have been better, but I’ll take 90% surprised as a victory, and learn how to do it better next time.

ACWF was under the impression that a few friends were coming over at about 9pm, and that we’d be watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 all night. We had grabbed some snacks and some beer, and at about 6pm my brother and sister in law came over “early”.

The four of us sat and chatted for a bit, and then my brother, Mokie, and I started pretending like we were going to adjust the TV so that it would run through the new receiver that had been hooked up a few days before. Within moments ACWF sighed angrily and audibly before announcing she was bored. On cue, it was suggested that ACWF and my sister-in-law go to the Hecht’s 80% off sale while we hooked up the TV. ACWF was happy to get out of the house, and as soon as they were out of the driveway, we got to work.

Mokie and I started setting up drinks, plates, utensils, and cooking the eats. Mokie ran out to his car to get the eats that he’d hidden for this moment. We were cooking up a flurry when people started arriving 15 minutes later. Luckily we had some veggies and dip ready to go.

At about 7:30 the sister-in-law called Mokie and gave him the heads up that they were heading back to our house, so we gathered everyone in the living room and waited quietly. A few minutes later we heard the car in the driveway and I went to the door in anticipation of ACWF’s arrival. As soon as she stepped through the door I hurried her down the hallway toward the living room saying, “You’ve got to see the present our friends brought you.”

She walked into the room, everybody shouted “Surprise!” and soon after everyone was getting down to some serious merrymaking.

As the night wore on, and as the snow came down (our first snowfall of the year and second snowfall of the winter) alcohol fueled thoughts turned to the powdery white stuff falling from the sky. As a game of snow boccie commenced, I pondered the contrast of us having such fun in the snow while countless motorists screamed until their eyes were bloodshot, clawed their faces, ignored snot running out of their nose mixing with tears above their lips, and generally existed in a state of unending panic. Then again, I’ve never really been afraid of driving in the snow.

Snow boccie led to a snowball fight, and the snowball fight led to rolling a 4.5 foot diameter snowball, which then broke apart and led to another snowball fight. The snowball fight started in the backyard, but overflowed into the front yard after the snowball of mass destruction crumbled.

As we began to lose our energy, we noticed about four ATVs tear-assing around our street. Now, normally I’m a live and let live kind of guy, but these douches were going out of their way to skid out, slide, spin, and generally lose control of their vehicles on our tiny, dead-end, parked-cars-aplenty street, so when they started heading out of the neighborhood, I thought I’d give the leading rider a parting shot across his bow.

In truth, I was hoping to hit the guy, but my aim had been so bad all night that I figured it would crash to the street behind him as he sped away. Lucky for me, it hit him right on his side, just below his elbow. It took him about 30 feet to figure out what had happened, and he skidded to a stop, nearly being t-boned by the rest of his crew. He motored up to my driveway, where we were standing, and in his best 16-year-old, I-swear-I’m-a-tough-guy voice he said, “You like to throw snowballs?”

Someone yelled back, “We’re not throwing any snowballs,” and we laughed at him.

“Aii-iight, it’s gonna be like that. Well I know where you live.”

Then he sped off. I think he tried to spray some snow in our direction, but it didn’t work. It’s okay though, because his friend drove all over my neighbor’s lawn to get back at me. Idiot.

*(Excerpted from evite): You’re invited to [ACWF]’s SECRET 26th Surprise Birthday Party!
Here are the rules:
1) If you are responsible, in any way, for spoiling the very first surprise birthday party in [ACWF]’s life, I will empty your car of all its brake fluid. Seriously. Don’t say anything to her. Nothing.
2) You MUST be at our house between 7:00 pm and 7:30 pm. I plan on delivering [ACWF] to our house shortly after 7:30 and if you’re walking in at that point, I may have to hit you with my car.

Luckily, I don’t have to hit anyone with my car, because everyone got there on time. However, I will have to drain some brake fluid from some cars. Stupid, secret-spoiling bastards.

For chissakes…

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 10, 2006 @ 11:47 am
in uncategorized
. 33 Comments

I can’t think of a damn thing to say.

What are you thinking about riiiiiiiight…… NOW?

Not A-Team, jerk

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 9, 2006 @ 1:24 pm
in Mrs. ACW and music
. 43 Comments

What are your A+ albums?

I was talking to ACWF this morning, and I mentioned that Get Behind Me Satan, the new White Stripes album, was about a B+ in my book. It was good, and I could probably listen to it a few times, but it’s not so good that I could go on listening to it forever without getting tired of it. Plus, there are a few songs that I think I might skip if I weren’t in the right mood.

So here’s how the ratings go:

A+: You could listen to this album eternally without skipping any songs

A: You could listen to this album for a long while, and maybe only skip a song once a month

A minus: You could listen to this album for a long while, regularly skipping one song

B+: You could listen to this album for a while, regularly skipping one song

B: You could listen to this album for a short while, regularly skipping one song

B minus: You could listen to this album for a short while, regularly skipping more than one song

C+: You could listen to this album once without skipping any songs

C: You could listen to this album once skipping one song.

C minus: You could listen to this album once skipping more than one song.

D+: There are a few good songs on this album. The rest is skipped.

D: There are 2 good songs, the rest is skipped.

D minus: There is one good song, the rest is garbage.

F: This album is unlistenable

So once again, what are your A+ albums? I couldn’t really think of any this morning, but now I’m thinking that Ruby Vroom by Soul Coughing might be up there. I’ll let you know if I think of any more.

ACWF is 26 today!

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 9, 2006 @ 9:04 am
in Mrs. ACW
. 26 Comments

Happy birthday, hon! Since ACWF is pretty much the best fiance-ette in the world, here’s 26 reasons why ACWF is awesome.

1) She can make me laugh. Seriously, it’s harder than you think. It’s like trying to get Ross Perot to not sound like a deranged chipmunk when he talks.

2) She’s hot. Have you seen her? Oh yeah, you haven’t. Sorry.

3) She’s smart. All the time she’s busting out these obscure theories of literary analyses from days gone by, or explaining weird scientific processes.

4) She has good taste in music. Except for her techno/raver days. That stuff is terrible.

5) She likes to travel. I can always count on her as a travel partner if I ever say something like, “Let’s drop everything and go to New York,” or “Hey, let’s go back to Mexico and see if we can find the prostitute that did those flexible things.”

6) She’s a great cook. Anytime you come home from work and smell something so good that all you want to do is put your face directly into whatever pot or pan is holding the smell, you know you’ve got a keeper.

7) She’s very patient. Not only does she have to deal with a classroom of seven-year-olds all day long, but she has to come home and deal with my shenanigans.

8) She smells good. I’m not saying your fiance smells bad, but your fiance reminds me of the hippopotamus house at the zoo.

9) She’s cute. Whether it’s her doing a little dance on the way to the kitchen, or the way she reads all the daily comics at washingtonpost.com each night, she’s a cutie.

10) She’s funky. Even when she’s dressed very conservatively, she’s still rocking some crazy-cool earrings, or maybe some stripper boots, or maybe both.

11) She’s sexy. In fact, she’s so sexy, she gets another X for being so sexy. She’s sexxy.

12) She’s strong. She’s not afraid of anything, except bugs with lots of legs. Especially lots of legs.

13) She talks good. ACWF is a great conversationalist. We’ve been talking for 5 years or something and it’s still fresh.

14) She’s not all caught up in that girly-girl stuff. We have no idea when we met, or when we first started dating, or when we first hung out. We don’t celebrate Valentines day.

15) She gives the best Valentines presents ever. The first and last Valentines day gift she ever gave me was a six pack of beer and a bottle of Cactus Juice.

16) [removed for purposes of decency]

17) She’s driven. If I wasn’t holding her back, she’d not only be teaching and going to graduate school, but she’d also be volunteering for 12 different organizations, and spending any other free time trying to raise money for them.

18) She’s caring. One time I ran over a cardboard box, and she was like, “Was that a dog!?” and I said, “Yeah, whoops,” and she started crying and stuff. I laughed really hard, and she called me a jerk. This didn’t really happen, but if it did, it would happen just like this because she cares so much.

19) She’s principled. She knows where she stands on issues around politics and religion, and while she keeps an open mind about things, she won’t let her personal beliefs be mocked or insulted.

20) She’s a great companion on a road trip. She always keeps things interesting. Except for the last 15 minutes. No matter how far we’re driving, an hour or 10 hours, 15 minutes from our destination she always groans and says, “I wish we were THERE already!”

21) She drinks beer. Chicks who drink beer are cooler than chicks who don’t.

22) She pretends to care. Lots of times she listens to me ramble on and on about things she couldn’t care less about, just so I can get it out of my system.

23) She swears like a sailor. Many of the things she says are so verbally offensive that we’ve been threatened by the FCC. It’s so hot.

24) She’s a nerd/dork. She gets really involved in nerdy/dorky stuff related to CSI, wedding shows, and stuff like that. You can always tell when she’s got her nerd hat on because she’s focused on the object of her nerddom so intently that she can’t hear you talking.

25) She’s a scrapbooking savant. When other people talk about scrapbooking, they mean they’re taking their shitty pictures and taping them into a boring book. ACWF creates layouts, designs, and doesn’t settle for boring.

26) She’s just the best. She suits me perfectly, and I wouldn’t want to get married to anyone else. Except maybe Chris Walken, but it would be an open marriage, so I’d still see her all the time.

P.S. Zenchick also celebrates her b-day today!

I want to kill those monkeys and eat THEIR brains

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 8, 2006 @ 4:27 pm
in bitches and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 7 Comments

Currently, and much to my dismay, there are, and have been for the past few hours, two howler-monkeys hate-fucking the bejesus out of the backs of my eyeballs.

They spent their time earlier in the back position of my skull behind my right ear. Screaming and humping, abusively throwing shit at one another when the orgasms never came.

I tried to drown them with water, but apparently it just made them horny, and if you had seen me at about 2 o’clock, I would have been squinting and saying, “eh?” as the monkeys strapped on steel-tipped dildos of doom, and straight jungle-fucked my skull until I passed out from the pain.

I’m pretty sure they’re trying to give me a brain tumor. The good news is, two angry howler monkeys could hump my brain into mush before I developed a tumor. That’s also the bad news.

I sent three Bayer in after the monkeys, but I think the monkeys may have captured them, dug a pit, shoved them into it, and then pissed on their heads. I wouldn’t be surprised if a undigested Bayer was forced out of my tear duct with a message written on it by the monkeys. “Evict this you pantywaist piece of shit,” it would probably say. Then they’d pound me until the seizures started.

Maybe they’d leave after the seizures caused me to release the contents of my bladder and anus into the inside of my suitpants, but who can guess what those crazy monkeys would do or not do?

NASCAR, bitches!

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 8, 2006 @ 8:51 am
in money
. 16 Comments

Last night I got a call from a survey group and they wanted to know if I wanted to participate in a survey about NASCAR. I figured, “why the hell not?” so I said sure.

The lady launched into a series of questions about my demographics (age, marital status, children, etc) and then questions about NASCAR and NASCAR related bidness. Some of it was weird, like, “How much money would you say you spent per week at any of the the following restaurants: Hard Rock Cafe, Rainforest Cafe, Planet Hollywood, ESPN Zone, etc.?” Of course, for all my answers I put myself right in the middle of the road, and tried to sound as average as possible. I figured that they’d want more info about an “average” guy then they’d want from a raving NASCAR lunatic, which I am not, or a person who ignores NASCAR because not only is it not a sport, it’s not a particularly difficult event, which is what I might scream out at the end of the focus group next week.

But the best part is, it’s in Little Italy, and I think we’re getting fed, and for an hour and a half of my time I get to bullshit about NASCAR, skew their survey results, and get paid 100 smackers.

That’s right. I’m getting paid a hundred bucks to ruin their data, and monkey with whatever marketing plan they’re trying to come up with. Plus, I might stab somebody, but I haven’t figured that part out yet, so I may just leave it at the ruining of data.

I bet you suckers wished you could get paid an hundred bucks to be a douchebag for an hour.

Hey, British Bloggers

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 7, 2006 @ 1:32 pm
in Mrs. ACW and travel
. 16 Comments

ACWF and I are honeymooning in Scotland, but we’re initially flying into London. Any recommendations on places we should stop to see on our way from London to Scotland? Is York particulary lovely in July? Should we, by all means, stay the hell away from Nottingham? Any advice is good advice. Thanks.

Hatchpatch

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 7, 2006 @ 10:25 am
in Mrs. ACW, bitches, food, potty humor and work
. 5 Comments

1) This morning when I walked into the bathroom for my “daily constitutional” I was overwhelmed by the smell of pungent, musky cologne. The smell was so overwhelming that after I was done, the musk still overwhelmed last night’s Korean leftovers. Someone had walked in while I was occupied, and I was embarassed that they might think I was the person responsible for the horredous cologne stink. I could have cared less if they had smelled my poo. I can only imagine that the person wearing the cologne had a thought process that went something like this:

Lookin’ good today you sexy thing. Leisure suit is tight against my sexy, fur-covered body and I’m feelin’ fine. My bulges are bulging in all the right places. Now for the “piece of resistance,” Moose-Musk Wilderness-Stink cologne. If a few drops are wonderful, then a quick bath in it will be wonderfuler! Maybe I can also use it as mouthwash. And a cologne enema sounds so wrong that it HAS to be right.

2) Yesterday when I came home ACWF informed me that our microwave was on the fritz. Apparently, even though it spins the food around, and the light inside comes on, it doesn’t produce any heat. So, I was digging through the fridge and the freezer trying to find a meal that wouldn’t need to be nuked, and I was almost done when ACWF said, “I don’t want to cook anything. I’ll just have this microwave pizza in the freezer.” Simply stunning.

3) We have a large thermometer in our backyard and it hangs on the fence so that we can see it from inside the house. The inside of the thermometer fogged over long ago, so you can’t really read the numbers, but you can see where the needle is pointing, and you can see the colors assigned to the temperatures. Purple for coldest, green in the middle, and red for hottest. I’d always assumed that the extremes of the thermometer were negative 10 and 110, so when the needle was in the green it was about 40 to 50 degrees or so. Apparently, the thermometer, which was left behind by the previous owner, was built for climates that are a bit more extreme. The actual ranges, upon closer inspection this morning, are from negative 40 to 120. Who needs a thermometer like that? Where in North America is it ever negative 40 AND 120 degrees in the same year? Where is it like that in the same century, fer chrissakes? I’d always wondered why it never looked like the temperature needle moved very much, and now I know that it’s because the difference between the two temperatures is so extreme that even if the temperature varies by 10 degrees it barely registers on the thermometer. Cheap-ass piece of crap.

Bad Behavior has blocked 768 access attempts in the last 7 days.