Archive for May, 2007

Win free stuff! UPDATED AGAIN

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 30, 2007 @ 12:26 pm
in Mrs. ACW, awesome, contests, i am so fucking awesome and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 41 Comments

UPDATE 2: I’ll be judging entries this weekend and will post pictures of prizes that are being mailed out to the winners on Monday. So far I am thrilled at the results.

UPDATE: I am so happy at how this is going so far that I’m going to search my house for more prizes.

w00t! It’s a contest! Like I said yesterday, Mrs. ACW and I were cleaning out our attic, and we came up with a bunch of crap that was too worthless to sell so I’ve decided to give it away to you, my semi-literate and socially maladjusted readers, as prizes!

Here’s how you win:

Find the most bizarre search term which still links to my blog.

Pick something really strange to search for in Google, and see if you can find a way to link to my blog. For example, somewhere, somehow “i hate my brother incest” links to my blog. You can do MUCH better than that, I’m sure.

So pick a search term, get it to work, and post a link to the Google search itself here in the comments. I’ll also confirm it in the blog stats (so you need to click the link).

Here’s an example:

1) Go to Google.com
2) Type in your search term (in this case, I used “anonymouscoworker”)
3) See if you can find a link to my site. You might have to look through many pages. If you find a link, grab the URL at the top of the page. (in this case it’s http://www.google.com/search?q=anonymouscoworker
&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official
&client=firefox-a)
4) Post that URL in the comments
5) Win a prize (maybe)!

Prize categories:
Most offensive
Longest (Keep in mind it must also be bizarre. You can’t just use one of my own posts as a search.)
Most related to zombies
Most related to necrophilia
Strangest instance of the word “coworker”
Make Your Own Category!
Worst grammar
Most surreal
Potentially Criminal (i.e. “how do I break out of jail?”)

And just to whet your appetite for greedy competition, here are some of the prizes you’re playing for:

An old Christmas Tree Stand!
A wire paper rack!
This crappy CD case!

What are you waiting for? Get Googling!

Disclaimer: The prizes shown may be exponentially better than prizes mailed. Void in Alaska and Hawaii but not in that order, and only during leap years. Batteries not included, unless your prize is old batteries. Do not ingest. Babies cannot be mailed internationally, sorry. Some perishable prizes may grow mold before delivery: consider this an extra prize.

Freecycle

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 29, 2007 @ 11:22 am
in Mrs. ACW, house, money and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 31 Comments

I use Freecycle because I’m a) a dirty hippie, and b) extremely lazy. In case you don’t know, Freecycle connects people who have stuff to give away, and people who want free crap. I’ve picked up a few things off Freecycle, like an old entertainment center, and I’ve given stuff away on Freecycle, like the very same entertainment center. It’s good for finding all kinds of stuff, if you’re patient enough. It’s also good for getting rid of crap. Most of the time I just put it on my porch, and it’s gone by the time I get home from work. That’s service I can live with.

Mrs. ACW and I just cleaned out our attic, and we found a whole bunch of stuff we don’t want anymore. We gave the big stuff away on Freecycle (and I plan on giving the little stuff away to you; the pasty-skinned, friendless denizens of the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs. More on that later, back to our story.) But on Sunday I got a series of email messages that progressed from awkward to creepy. I’ve reproduced the email exchange below, with the Creep’s emails in italics. I removed any identifying information, but kept all spelling, grammar, and syntax intact.

Do you still have the [item I was giving away] alvaible? If you do please tell me where you live at so I can come pick it up ok.

Do you still have the [another item I was giving away]. if you tell me where you live at so I can come pick it up ok.

I’m in Glen Burnie near [major road]. You can have both the [items] if you want to pick them up at the same time. When would you like to pick them up?

tomorrow ok, can you meet me somewhere with them

Okay. Where, and what time? I can’t meet after 2.

how about at 4pm at my house is that good for you. I live in Glen Burnie also. Give me your phone number so I can call you and give you directions on how to get here ok.

I’d rather not give you my phone number. Can you email me directions?

Do you know where the Mva is because I live across the street from the mva ok. My address is [redacted] Glen burnie md 21061. You can mapquest for directions ok. Can you come tonight or not.

Yes, I can drop off tonight.

Can you call me at [phone number] to let me know what time you are comming.

can you leave it outside my door and do not knock on my door ok.

Sorry, my wife doesn’t want to get rid of this stuff after all. Sorry for any trouble.

Ask her why she doesn’t want to get rid of it.

It was at this point that I blocked the address and forwarded the exchange to the Freecycle moderator. In the meantime I had been checking the address against the Maryland Sex Offender Registry, doing a reverse look-up on the phone number, and Googling the email address. And turned up basically nothing.

I wasn’t too keen on dropping off the stuff at the house, but my brother was on his way over my house to play video games, and I figured he could take the ride with me. But once I got that “don’t knock” message I was done with the whole thing. I made up the “my wife” thing as an excuse to end the exchange. As you can see, it didn’t exactly work.

I deal with people on the internet all the time, and for the most part, it’s polite. Sometimes, particularly with Freecycle, I’ll get messages along the lines of “u want me 2 pickup on 2day???????” which are annoying, but at least kind of normal. I’ve never had an interaction like the one above.

The funniest thing is that my first thoughts were, “Wow. Women probably have to deal with this shit on the internet all the time.” I can’t imagine that any woman (and some men for that matter) that has used a dating site hasn’t gotten a message like this. And I’m sure lots of those pervs forgo messages altogether and use a candid picture of their dong to do the talking instead. I’m certainly glad that I didn’t have to deal with anything like that, and I’m also glad that I don’t have to deal with this on a regular basis. I think I’m done with Freecycle, though.

So what the crap? Am I being overly cautious? Did you get a creepy vibe at all? Is this person just extremely socially retarded?

Are we having fun yet?

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 25, 2007 @ 10:01 am
in bitches, food, nerd stuff, nostalgia, school, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 20 Comments

Well, it’s the Friday before a long weekend, and all is right with the world. Almost. Sort of.

My next class starts on Wednesday, and I feel compelled to pack as much fun into the weekend as humanly possible before I start doing the simultaneous school and work thing again. But packing fun into the weekend isn’t fun. It’s like work. Because when you spend any amount of time beyond 5 seconds trying to plan your fun, you’re not having fun anymore. It’s like trying to force clowns into a clown car, and then when the clown car is full, stuffing the clown car with sausage making equipment and forcing the clowns to make sausage. Stuffing minced-meat into miles of sausage casings, and then stuffing those sausages into a mini-fridge in the center of the clown car. That is not fun. It is sweaty, and un-hygenic, and disgusting, and I applaud the FDA for shutting down Buttons & Bingo Brand Sausages- The Sausage Made from by Clowns.

I can’t seem to relinquish the undergraduate lifestyle; the desire to do whatever I want, whenever I want, damn the consequences. These days everything has to be planned, and everybody wants advance notice, and nobody wants to do things at the drop of a hat. It’s for those reasons that every weekend of my summer is already booked. It makes me feel like such a Poindexter to have such a delicately scheduled social calendar.

And I know what you’re thinking: “Don’t be such a whiny little bitch ACW. The world is full of socially-retarded, maladroit ultranerds who don’t even buy calendars anymore because they never get to use them anyway. You should feel positively honored that other people want to hang out with you.”

Believe me, I am. I’d just rather hang out than have to go all douchey and pull up my calendar every time somebody says, “Hey wanna hang out on Friday?” Admittedly though, part of the problem is my poor memory. If I wasn’t so bad at remembering things, I could probably just say, “Yeah, I’m free”, but I’ve got the memory of a 5 1/2 inch floppy disk, so I have to consult the calendar every time. But the other part of the problem is other people. In college, everybody played it by ear. Whatever happened, happened, and a good time would be had regardless. These days fun is the imperative, and if we don’t have a fun-check every five minutes, we might accidentally let precious fun-time go by without consciously acknowledging that we’re having fun, and then we have to get out the balance book for our fun-time and make a little frowny face between 2:38 and 2:41, and then make a note that we made a note that we weren’t having any fun.
But once the fun-time balance book goes away- watch out! Fun times will be had. It’s guaranteed in our Terms of Use.

I imagine we’re going to reach a point in our society where people are fully dressed in business clothes, bluetooth headset firmly lodged in our ear, power-walking down the street, leaving one Starbucks on our way to another one, bellowing, “I AM HAVING FUN! THIS IS FUN!” over and over again while chugging energy drinks, and high-fiving strangers that look like us- eyes bulging out of their heads, forehead veins throbbing mightily, mouth pulled into a rigid rictus that balances tenuously between terror and insanity.

That’s not what I want! I just want to hang out! Fuck! Relaxing shouldn’t be so hard.

91

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 23, 2007 @ 4:42 pm
in awesome, i am so fucking awesome, school and word nerd
. 26 Comments

I got a fucking 91 on my final. I pretty much have 36 boners right now, I’m so elated. I’m clown-punchingly happy.

Not only did I beat my previous highest exam score for this semester by 15 points (a 76 for the lazy among us), but I also scored 2 points higher than the class average. And because the homework points amounted to about 2 more exams, and because I did so well on the homework, I ended the semester with a solid B; 85%.

Fuck yes! I am so fucking happy! Coming from a background in English, this class was really hard. Last semester wasn’t too bad because we were learning about research methodology, and in the end my writing could support whatever argument I was trying to make. Granted, the style is much different, but being able to put two thoughts together in a single sentence goes a long way towards making things easier for the reader, and when the reader is issuing you a grade, making things easy on them is key.

However, this semester, there was no argument to be made. The answers were right or wrong. Sometimes (frequently) astoundingly wrong. I know I’m pretty much giving myself a reach-around by saying this, but I’m proud that I was able to transition from the sissified world of English, where everything is the right answer, to the black and white world of statistics, where rounding too early can fuck up an election.

Yes! I am the fucking balls!

[Congratulatory gifts for ACW can be purchased with the Amazon link to the right. Thanks. - The Management]

Statistics final today

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 21, 2007 @ 12:40 pm
in school and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 18 Comments

Crying and drinking and self-pity later.

It’s one of those posts where I pretend like I’m writing a letter, but am actually just griping to the internet like a sissy

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 18, 2007 @ 9:18 am
in bitches and house
. 26 Comments

Dear Apartment Complex Near My House,

Hey, how’s it going? I realize we live right next to one another, but it seems like we never stop and chat. Sure, we exchange a friendly wave if we pass in the morning. I’m usually on my way to work, and you’re usually still a cluster of brick buildings. Anyway, I wanted to say that these past few years with you as my neighbor hasn’t been bad at all. You’ve provided ample parking for friends and family whenever we have a party. And the convenience of your dumpsters when I’ve got lawn waste, or something big to throw away, has been great. (By the way, have you noticed that our trash collectors won’t take anything if it’s not in a bag? I had an old kitty litter bucket sitting on my lawn for a week, so I just threw a bag on top of it and suddenly it was suitable for their precious and delicate garbage truck.) And your plows might not plow our street on the way to plow your parking lots, but all their driving up and down the street sure helps.

Previously the worst you could do was filling you pool with screaming, hormone-oozing tweens, chasing each other up and down the street in their bathing suits, screeching half with fright and half with delight at the thought of being caught by the boy or girl that’s chasing them before falling into a sweaty pile of make-out on someone’s lawn. Well, that’s probably what they want to happen. Usually it just turns into a game of tag. Regardless, it’s the screaming and screeching that I could do without, but it usually doesn’t last for very long.

But today you crossed a line. I’m not even sure what the hell was going on that you needed to park a flatbed in the street across from my driveway, but I could have really done without the banging and scraping of metal as skid-loader after skid-loader disembarked from the back of the flatbed. Ooh, and the jackhammers at quarter of seven were a really nice touch.

I wasn’t exactly clear on why they’d all be running continuously for 30 minutes, but I will say this:

If I catch you doing this shit again, I’m going to turn you into an inferno of pain and terror, burning each of your buildings down one by one and leaving nothing but a smoldering crater where you once stood. I will keep the dumpsters, though.

Smooches,

ACW

Clusterfunk

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 17, 2007 @ 9:44 am
in Mrs. ACW, awesome, happy hour, movies and nerd stuff
. 8 Comments

1) NPR Junky has a wrap up of the demolition derby with more pictures. She has a really good track-fire picture that features the visibly pregnant woman in the booty shorts and bikini top. It should be noted that the pregnant woman was INSIDE the fence separating the crowd from the dangers of derby cars and track-fires.

2) Last night I watched American Dreamz, and it’s one of the funniest movies you’ve never seen. I can understand why it only took in about half of what it cost to make it; it skewers America unmercifully. A certain percentage of the population support the president, and the war in Iraq. Of the group of Americans that DON’T support the president and the war, a large percentage enjoy watching American Idol. The remaining group, that I assume is quite small once you remove president and war supporters and American Idol fans, will thoroughly enjoy this movie. As long as they’re not Hugh Grant haters.

Now that I think about it, who even gave this movie the greenlight? It seems like it was built for a niche audience.

3) After I finish my daily work for the day, my boss has insisted that I photoshop an image of one of my coworkers into various amusing poses. Some days this job is awesome.

4) Oh, and happy hour is tonight. I may or may not be there. The wifey’s got strep throat, and I enjoy playing the role of doting husband.

An eugoogly for Falwell

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 15, 2007 @ 10:55 pm
in atheism! and awesome
. 30 Comments

Right now lots of people are probably imagining Jerry Falwell being force-fed barbed-wire cocks that ejaculate magma while slowly roasting in a pit of unending fire. Lots of other people probably see him with a harp and halo getting a hummer from Mother Teresa while burning a cross at the gates of “Black Heaven”.

Me? I’d like to think that when that fat-fucker’s heart stopped beating he had a few moments to call out to his god and that his bowels emptied into his tighty-whities as he heard nothing but silence in return.

He’s worm-food, bitches.

I recently had to verify to the guv’mint that Mokie’s mail-order bride was legit

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 15, 2007 @ 10:11 am
in Mrs. ACW, beer, i am so fucking awesome, jokes, money and sex
. 9 Comments

RE: AFFIRMATION OF RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MAIL-ORDER-WIFE AND MOKIEJOVIS
Information about the person writing this letter:
Full Name: Anonymous Coworker
Address: 123 Fake St.
Date of Birth: September 14, 1980
Place of Birth: Baltimore, MD, USA
Relationship to Applicant: Brother-in-Law
Relationship to Applicant’s Spouse: Brother

To Whom It May Concern:

I have known Mokiejovis, my brother, for all of what can be called the pathetic rehearsal of daily activities he calls his life. He met his “wife”, when they were in college together in the fall of 2000. At the time I thought she was some sort of border-jumping prostitute, but they assured me, in the few moments that they would lift their heads from a mountain of Colombian cocaine, that she was not a border-jumper.

I attended both the legal ceremony of their marriage in November of 2004, and a hell of a time it was. Elvis parachuted in from over 20,000 feet (or so I’ve been told) and presided over the ceremony. I’m pretty sure that both Mokiejovis and what’s-her-name were there, but I never saw them together at the same time. (Just between you and me, I’m harboring a secret theory that they might even be the same person.) I was also the best man at their religious ceremony in June of 2005. I’m not sure what religion they are, but I want no part of it. I’m not exactly sure how sneaking a van full of migrant workers across the border counts as a religious rite, but whatever; they gave me an 11-year-old Mexican bride to keep my mouth shut. My wife and that little Mexicani firecracker (polygamy is great!) and I helped them move into their apartment/meth-den, and then from their meth-den/sex-dungeon to the house they bought together with a sack blood-stained hundred-dollar bills. We regularly visit them at their home to pick up our drugs and a feral baby or two.

I can state conclusively that they are happily married as long as the booze keeps flowing and the pot supply doesn’t run low. Otherwise, watch out for those two.

Regards,

Anonymous Coworker

The Stinky Pinky, not just for first dates anymore

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 14, 2007 @ 9:35 am
in Mrs. ACW, beer, money and nerd stuff
. 18 Comments

This weekend the bodacious and alluring Mrs. ACW and I met Angy Hangy and NPRJunky (both of local internet fame) at the demolition derby in Arcadia, MD.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but wasn’t the least bit surprised to see people sporting Confederate flag t-shirts (and matching apparel), wife-beater tans, and a woman who looked to be about 10 minutes away from giving birth wearing naught but a bikini top and some booty shorts. But the crowd wasn’t interested in finding out who could out-white-trash whom, or discussing which group wanted to revive the institution of slavery. It was about watching a bunch of people in cars trying to crash into each other as much as they could. And who wouldn’t be able to enjoy that.

As far as I could understand it, classes of cars defined by wheelbase would line up at the top of a hill before getting the signal to race down into a narrow channel that funneled onto a short-track dirt race-course. The winner was selected based on how many laps they had completed at the end of a specified period of time. I think about 5 minutes. The winners would move on to the next round, while the losers were towed, pushed, or rolled off of the course.

Finally, all the winners in all the races would compete in a traditional demolition derby where the cars line up and then ram each other melee-style until one one car is left running.

It really doesn’t sound particularly interesting when put like that, but after a few races you’re able to start identifying the sound of tires popping amidst the din of multiple vehicular collisions; or be able to tell the smoke of a tire rubbing against the wheel well from the smoke of an engine. And then when they have to set the race track on fire (thank you, Internet, for flickr) to burn off the gasoline from a few ruptured gas tanks, and then they start the next race before all the fire has burned out, well, you know you’re in for a good time.

Further proof that it’s good family fun: Saturday morning Mrs. ACW asked how much the derby cost, and when I said, “10 dollars per person” she said that due to excessive cost, she probably wouldn’t be going again. But after having been there for only a few hours, and having gotten completely soaked because of a sudden downpour, Mrs. ACW enthusiastically stated that we would be attending the next derby.

I also shot a quick video, but my card filled up after only 36 seconds, so it’s not that great. However, there are about four bumps and jolts in the last few seconds, and the video is free, so quit’yer bitchin’.

Bad Behavior has blocked 681 access attempts in the last 7 days.