AnonymousCoworker

Monkey:
“Am I the only one who listened to the damn song?
I feel completely violated. Wishing on a magic ham indeed.
If you and Mrs. ACW were to start a band, would the cats also be band members and if so, what would you name the band?
Why is my second toe longer than my big toe?”

It would be a true shame if you were the only one who listened to the song. I think it’s a heartbreaking work of staggering genius*, but your mileage may vary. You may love it, or you may really really love it. Some people, however, will only find it to be exquisite. Either way, it’s an auditory orgasm.

If Mrs. ACW and I started a band, the cats would probably be in it. We’d be called the Lollipop Goodlove Kittykat Traintrack Experiment, and or music would be post-apocalyptic hard-core gangsta emo dub. After going triple-platinum in our first week, we’d bury ourselves in a mountain of coke and catnip, not to emerge from said mountain range of chemical delights for at least two years. Our next album would be so bad that we’d be lucky to go double-wood. After much soul searching we agree to change the band name to an unpronounceable phrase comprised of Gaelic, Icelandic, and Wolof before releasing a critically acclaimed album so good that all radio DJs learn Gaelic, Icelandic, and Wolof to properly pronounce our band name. For our final album, This Radio Station Sucks, we change our name to This DJ Sucks, and our hit song will be This Song Sucks.

Your second toe is longer than your big toe because you’re a freak.

your neighborhood librarian:
“Will you make up some alternate lyrics to “Goodbye Old Paint” so that I can get my husband’s version, which involves the horse being made into dogfood, out of my head?”

My first instinct is to say, “No,” since I’ve never heard this song before, but seeing as I have free creative control here, I give you this:

Goodbye, old Paint, I’m a-leavin’ Cheyenne;
Goodbye, old Paint, I’m a-leavin’ Cheyenne.

I’m a-leavin’ Cheyenne, I’m off to Montan’
Goodbye, old Paint, I’m a-leavin’ Cheyenne;

Old Paint’s a good pony, he does what he can,
Goodbye, old Paint, I’m a-leavin’ Cheyenne;

Go get the peanut-butter and give it to me
And get your tongue ready ’cause we’re gettin’ busy.

My hosses ain’t pretty, but they do the job
My “wagon” is loaded and ready to throb.

My foot’s in the horse, his mane in my hand,
Good mornin’, young lady. Join this “caravan”?.

Alan:
“Ok, Here’s the rest of my questions:

1. While playing hide and seek with my three year old, after hiding in the closet from me and me pretending to give up, he bursts out of the closet and proclaims, “I’m out of the closet!” I should definitely recount this tale to all of his future romantic interests, correct?

2. Is this whole question/answer deal just something to keep us entertained, by reading each other’s questions instead of proper buh-logger content?

3. What are your thoughts about the discussion of fisting in the film, “Chasing Amy”? Is there some higher concept or is it just a method of attracting guys to what is essentially a “chick-flick”? If you haven’t seen the film, you can either rent it or skip this question — your option.

4. If you engage in coitus with a zombie, is this necrophilia. What if the zombie eats you first? And by eating, I mean biting and chewing you. Umm… Actually, zombie-ism could explain some of my previous sexual partner’s technique…

5. Have you made any “unintentional” purchases on ebay recently?

6. I’m trying to simplify my life. However, the solution I keep coming up with involves feeding my wife’s office manager to lions, zombies or other human flesh-eating entities. Is this OK?

7. Is Neil Peart overrated?”

Jesus Christ, dude. Fuck. What’s with all the goddamned questions? Do you see anyone else asking 8 questions? Fuck, man. Shit. All right, I’ll do it, because I said I’d do it, but I’m not making the answers funny.

1) You should make him re-enact and post it on YouTube. Make sure you have digital AND hard copies just in case we experience a monumental shift in technology between now and when he turns 16.

2) You tell me Mr. Eight Motherfucking Questions.

3) Chick flick? What? Chasing Amy is an hilarious third movie in the six-movie View Askew trilogy. There are lots of jokes for dudes, chicks, lesbians, and gay guys. You are clearly an idiot.

4) I wrote a big post about this last summer.

5) I think the last thing I bought on ebay was about 2 years ago. Ebay is a cesspool.

6) Of course it’s okay. Just remember to dice up the office manager into smaller bits so the animals don’t choke.

7) Are you kidding me? No. Of course not. How can someone be over-rated when everyone knows they suck?

mokiejovis:
“You are a cockbag. Pretend there’s a question mark at the end of that last sentence.”

Wow. There are so many things wrong with these two sentences that I’m not even sure where to begin. First of all, I’m surprised you were able to pull your face away from your own crotch long enough to even think of a “question”, and second, I’m surprised you were able to extricate your digits from your nostrils and anus long enough to actually type said “question”. Which brings me to my next point; our parents clearly wasted their money on your high-school and collegiate education. It’s obvious that you understand that a question requires a question mark at the end of the sentence, but you don’t have any idea of how to form a sentence. I’m not surprised, really, because I watched you live your entire childhood as if you were fed only paint-chips from the moment you began eating solid food. Remember when you pooped in the bathtub and then began to play with the floating feces? I’d bring up more incidents but I’m certain that your face has once again drifted to your lap, not to re-emerge until your Tivo alerts you to the new episodes of 7th Heaven that have been recorded.

S. Reed:
“Alan, I can answer your #7:
No!
Okay, I’ve outed myself as a Rush fan. Here’s my question:
Why can’t I think of any legitimate questions to ask you? Is it because I’m sure you’ll eloquently insult me with your answer?”

So clearly we both agree that Neil Peart Sucks. Let’s move on.

I don’t think it’s because I’ll eloquently insult you. I think it’s because I’ll brashly and obviously insult you. You penis-holster.

Monkey:
“5. Have you made any “unintentional” purchases on ebay recently?
I second this query.”

Sorry. Nothing to see here. I still think ebay is a cesspool.

Melissa:
“YAY, stats is done for me! Wrote my exam yesterday, just hope I passed *crosses fingers*”

Ugh. I finish on the 21st. I’m taking the day off because I know I’ll just be too distracted otherwise.

The Phoenix:
“My stomach is sour from the necrophelia thing. Is that where the Greatful Dead got their name from?”

Heh. According to the collection of all human knowledge in existence the Dead picked their name out of a dictionary. No mention if they had been, were going to, or were at that moment humping corpses.

Gwenhwyfar:
“So here’s the nerdiest question I could come up with on short notice (that has nothing to do with fucking the dead):
If all objects and persons on the Holodeck are real only inside it (disappearing as soon as they step out of it) then why the hell, when Wesley falls into the water and gets soaked, does he remain wet when he leaves the Holodeck? Shouldn’t the water disappear like everything else leaving him bone dry?
Go ahead and mock me, I’ve already made fun of myself for being such a geek. Why shouldn’t you?”

There’s a simple answer for this, and it may surprise you. Imagine the holodeck as a type of dimensional portal, rather than a place where scenes and scenarios can be replicated, and in this dimensional portal, anything can happen, even shitty writing, plot holes, and continuity errors by the idiotic yet over-zealous hacks that wrote ST:TNG. They were too busy writing plots to put skimpier and skimpier outfits on the cast members with breasts and then get them in situations with the potential for side-boob than actually pay a goddamn bit of attention about anything else.

Fleh. The rest tomorrow.

*Thanks to Dave Eggers for that phrase.