Archive for March, 2008

Of popped-collars and douchebags

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 31, 2008 @ 9:46 am
in Glen Burnie, Mrs. ACW, beer, bitches, devil cat, house, money, people are idiots and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 9 Comments

Saturday morning I woke at the crack of 11am to wrestle my cat to the ground before Mrs. ACW gave him his medicine. And by “medicine” I mean a savage beating. And by “a savage beating” I mean the anti-biotics that are supposed to be degunking his pee-maker.

Because I’m a cheapskate I opened the curtains rather than turning on the lights, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a car full of early-twenties popped-collar douchebags parking across the street from my house. The three of them got out of their late model E-class Mercedes featuring 18-inch z-rated tires and chrome rims. As would any rational person, I immediately hated them.

A few minutes later they returned to the car, opened the trunk, and got out a thirty-pack of Keystone Light and a white trash bag full of assorted swill. I wanted to burst out of my house, run into the street, and beat them to death with their canoe beer* and then take a dump on the hood of their car.

Given their beer choices, I was clearly witnessing the triumph of money over taste. I decided that life was too short to waste any more time on thinking about them, mentally wished them a happy afternoon pickling their livers, and went about my day.

Later that day Mrs. ACW and I left to go over my brother’s house to finish our taxes, and from there we went to see a play our friend is in.** After the play we went out for drinks with some of the cast, so we didn’t get home until about 2am.

As we were pulling into our driveway I noticed that someone had left the visor down in the Mercedes, and the lights on the visor were burning brightly, and looked like they would be doing so all night. And then next morning my theory proved to be correct. There was a tow-truck parked in front of the Mercedes, but alas, no popped-collar douchebag.

Eventually the tow truck left and the popped-collar douchebag emerged, and I have to admit that my level of schaudenfreude was so high that it was almost able to manifest itself physically. I was wandering around the house sneering at the thought of this douchebag having to pay out the nose to have his car towed just to be told that he had a dead battery and one of his idiot popped-collar douchebag friends could have given him a jump. The darkest part of my soul was giving birth to bitterness incarnate.

Then the better part of me thought, “It’s not his fault he’s a complete and utter douchebag with all the fashion sense of Meghan McCain. I’ll go give him a jump.”

Before I could go get him another tow truck came back, hauled his car up onto back of the truck, and drove away.

Oh well. At least I tried to do the right thing, even if it took a few hours. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s still a collar-popping douchebag that drinks shitty beer and has more money than taste, so maybe I’m still glad I didn’t help him.

*Drinking beer like Miller Lite, Bud Light, Keystone, Milwaukee’s Best Light, etc. is like making love in a canoe. Fucking close to water.

**Shameless plug. This play was hilarious, and our friend is in it, so if you’re looking for something to do, this is a cheap and highly-amusing way to fill your time.

My guilty pleasure song

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 28, 2008 @ 9:39 am
in movies, music, nerd stuff and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 25 Comments

You could mock me. I would certainly mock you.

You could scoff and tell me all the reasons why this song sucks.

Or, you could grow a pair and post your guilty pleasure song in the comments. But I really doubt anyone has a more embarrassing song than this.

Unless it’s this:

Negative bonus points if you’re married and didn’t explicitly ban this song at your wedding.

This not-a-meme-but-just-a-neat-idea borrowed from Stephanie.

In addition to my car, I’m also selling two cats

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 27, 2008 @ 10:17 am
in bitches and devil cat
. 17 Comments

My stupid douchebag cats are still out to ruin my life, both of them in their own particular way.

Sherlock’s babymaker is all corked up with some kind of UTI, so he’s been crabby because he can’t pee like normal. And that sucks for him. But you know what sucks worse? Having to sneak up on him with a blanket like some sort of not-at-all elite commando from the bedding department at JCPenney, tackle him, wrap him up so that his head is exposed but his horrible claws are not, and then force his mouth open to give him an antibiotic that will hopefully pop the aforementioned cork. Twice a day. Actually, the worst part about it is the smell of the antibiotic. It smells like bubble gum. It’s horrible. I want to know what the train of thought was when the doctors schemed out that terrible idea.

“Hey, we need to flavor this antibiotic with something so that little kids will take it. Right now it’s flavorless, so what do you think of a Liver and Onion flavor?”

“No! That’s all wrong! You need it to taste like something that kids like. How about farts and a cactus?”

“Great idea! But maybe it should be something more like candy.”

“I’ve got it! Bubble gum! And not just any gum, but that shitty kind of gum that loses all its flavor between unwrapping it and your first chew.”

“Excellent! And because cats are just like little children but with more fur and sharper teeth, we’ll just make it taste like gum for them too. Because I’m pretty sure I once read that a cat was gum’s only natural predator.”

“I think I read that too. I think that’s a job well done on our part. Want to go back to making meth now?”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Anyway, back to the two horrible crap-factories that I call my cats. And really, when you think about it, that’s all pets are. They’re just a long, complicated, smelly process of turning your money into shit. Shit that you have to clean up. Think about that for a minute. We’re turning our money into shit AND we have to clean the shit up. What a fucking scam.

Wookie, apparently cognizant of the fact that Sherlock has been providing us with no end of wallet-hemorrhaging due to repeated trips to the vet, is working very hard at destroying our sanity. Every morning she’s been pawing at the sliding glass doors to the shower so that they bang and clatter together. It was infuriating when she’d do it 10 minutes before I needed to be out of bed, but it was especially infuriating this morning when she did it at 4:30. And the worst part is that she’s too smart to be reprimanded.

By the time I get out of bed to stuff my foot up her ass she’s out of the bathroom, down the hall, and around the corner. By the time I get to the bathroom door to close it and keep her out for the remainder of my sleep time she’s sauntering around the corner like she’s the pudgy, four-legged Queen of fucking Sheba, looking up at me as if to say, “Oh, you’re awake. How fortunate. You can feed me while you’re up.”

This is usually where I look at her and sleepily mumble, “You can go fuck yourself you little fucking communist piece of fucking shit.” Look, I don’t know why she’s a communist. It’s just something I say. This is the second time she’s fucked around with the shower doors. There will not be a third time.

Well, I guess there will be a third time, but then immediately after that there will be a flying cat and pit of hungry alligators. And then after THAT there will be an period of very restful, uninterrupted sleep.

Shaking out the cobwebs

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 24, 2008 @ 9:17 am
in Mrs. ACW, POS Tercel, meta blogging, money, school, suhmuhmuh bitch and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 13 Comments

Things are busy around here, so I don’t really have a lot of “teh funny” that you’ve come to expect from other websites, or “teh mediocrity” that you’ve come to expect from mine. I should really look into what it means when my goal is mediocrity and I am still constantly under-performing. Eh, maybe some other time.

Anyway, the three big things holding me up right now are:

1) Schoolwork. I’ve added a thesis-level paper to my workload for the the semester, because I have to complete it before I graduate, and the work I already had for this semester was pretty light so I figured, “What the heck?” The heck is, school work now owns my free time.

2) Sherlock has some sort of urinary tract infection or constipation or something. He’s in and out of the litterbox all the time. Mrs. ACW is taking him to the vet today to see if we can’t uncork the bits that ironically make him so irritating in the first place.

3) My car. I’m buying my grandfather’s car so I need to sell my old car to cover some of the cost. I haven’t been able to find anyone within my extended family that seems to need a car, so I’m turning to you, the unwashed masses of the internet. Run, don’t walk, to the nearest ATM, checkbook, or money order location and try for a chance at owning a prime piece of ACW memorabilia! Seriously though, if you know someone who has a teen that needs an extremely dependable but not-at-all flashy starter car, or if someone needs an around-town car that gets great mileage, please email me and let me know and I can give you the specifics. I’d apologize for essentially putting an ad for a used car on my blog, but it’s my blog, and if you don’t like it, you can eat a bag of dicks. Also, please buy my car.

A peek behind the curtain

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 21, 2008 @ 9:37 am
in awesome, i am so fucking awesome, potty humor and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 8 Comments

People have asked me how I come up with saying things like describing a person as a, “cock-noshing shitburger face-fucking a greasy fast-food sandwich”, and usually I just say, “I don’t know. I guess I just try to find a way to be obscene that I haven’t used before.” But really, there’s more to it than that. In the fall of last year a guy contacted me about an issue I was having with the archives, and in the ensuing conversation he told me he was blind and that a “male monotone computer voice” reads my posts for him. From that point on I’ve imagined what my words would sound like if they were being read by Stephen Hawking, and for some reason, that makes it even easier to be more obscene.

If you have a Mac, you probably already know how to make your computer talk, so I won’t elaborate there. But if you don’t know, or if you’re too lazy to find out, or if you’re using a Windows machine, or if you want to hear a computer say bad words, you can use this site.

I’ve prepared some phrases for you:

effluvium-snorting cock-holes
testicle-cradling panty-twisters
A two-hour toddler cock-knocking for them all!
fart-huffing butthole-stuffing troglodytes
nut-juggling cock-monger
poop
cock-snorting shit-bather
At worst I’ll make a cheek-clenching dash to the bathroom before spray-painting one of the toilets with used chili
unsanctioned cock-fight (not the kind with chickens)
middle-aged, cock-obsessed, leather freak
my ass becomes an uncontrollable anti-aircraft cannon of sound-barrier destroying feces
fueling an airborne shit-factory that will rain down upon the beach a globby, beige salvo of runny poo
If snow terrifies you so much, don’t get on the roads, you horrible fucking shit-juggling asshole

You’re just a woman with a small brain. With a brain a third the size of us. It’s science.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 19, 2008 @ 9:45 am
in bitches, driving and people are idiots
. 15 Comments

I’m of two minds regarding the potential ban on using a cell phone while driving in Maryland. On the one hand, I think the research is pretty clear that any time a distraction is added to driving, the likelihood of an accident increases. On the other hand, like the radio, or a soda, I think there are ways that the cell phone can be used safely while driving. The problem is, no matter whether the law is passed or not, my life will be continually made miserable by dumbfucking assholes who seem to see no problem with driving while their cranium is lodged deep within the murky confines of their colons.

Sure, we all know somebody who can drive, shift gears, smoke, eat, drink coffee, read the paper, and change the radio station while commuting to and from work everyday. Those people are not representative of the rest of the idiots out on the road. I can’t even begin to effectively elaborate how many times my attempt to get from point A to point B has been stymied by some cock-noshing shitburger face-fucking a greasy fast-food sandwich and cradling a cell phone between their shoulder and their ear. I have no idea why they insist on doing this while driving, because I can easily tell from the look of them that not only do they have nowhere to go, but even when they get there, no one will want them to stay.

My best guess using science* would be that because humankind has almost completely eliminated evolution by virtue of mountains of pharmaceuticals that fix everything from the tip of one’s flaccid penis to the business end of one’s explosive asshole, they only way left to eliminate the weak is to allow them to exercise their idiocy in every possible form.

Which brings us back to the cell phone thing. Part of me wants to not see cell phones banned, because eventually they will remove themselves from the gene pool through their rampant and unchecked dumbfuckery, and after a few generations we won’t have to hear people giddily clapping because someone built a new Applebee’s across the street from the old Applebee’s. Also, my brain would pretty much explode because even if someone passed a law, the fuckin’ dumb-dumbs would still talk while driving, and then I’d have another thing to be pissed-off about while they make U-turns in one way streets without signaling, going either 10 miles under or 30 miles over the speed limit. Jesus fucking wept, I’m getting crotch-punchingly angry just thinking about it.

On the other hand, if they did pass a law banning the use of cell phones while driving, maybe I’d get a lighter sentence when I dragged them from the vehicle they use as their enormous four-wheeled living rooms and choke them to death with their collection of Larry the Cable Guy DVDs that they insist on watching while they drive from Dairy Queen to Walmart in a seemingly endless loop of mindless gluttony and appalling lack of a sense of humor.

Either way, I’m mounting rockets on the roof of my car.

*You know, that “s” word that explains all that different crap.

Presented without comment

Published
by
mokiejovis
on March 18, 2008 @ 1:26 pm
in uncategorized
. Closed

Posted by: mokiejovis

I just had some sales guy call me. Here’s a general transcript:

Sales guy: Hi, I’m with Some Company, and I got your information from That Other Company. Blah blah buzzword blah buzzword blah blah bullshit?
Me: We don’t have anything like that here, so I don’t need to buy your product.
Sales guy: Oh, you don’t have any blah blah bullshit?
Me: No, we don’t.
Sales guy: Okay, well, can I just send you an email every once and a while to keep you apprised of our products?
Me: Sure. Sounds good.
Sales guy: And … your email address is…?
Me: Who did you say you were again?
Sales guy: I’m with Some Company? We specialize in-
Me: Where’d you get my name and number from?
Sales guy: We got that from That Other Company…?
Me: I don’t know who they are.
Sales guy: [laughs nervously] Oh… um…
Me: I’m not comfortable giving you my information. Goodbye.

This should get me through the morning.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 17, 2008 @ 7:06 am
in awesome and beer
. 17 Comments

St. Patrick's Day 2008

It just kind of spirals into insanity

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 14, 2008 @ 9:57 am
in beer, food, house, jokes, meta blogging, nerd stuff, people are idiots and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 5 Comments

Because I hadn’t done it for a while, I thought I’d take a spin through the old stats page to see how the mental deficients, drifting like flotsam on the currents of the intertubes, were washing up on the sparkling golden shores of my website. Here’s a smattering of dumb people using the internet, and some insight as to how their tiny walnut sized brains work:

“18 year old” “parents responsibility” “michigan”

I can see this one going one of two ways. Either it’s a kid trying to figure out how soon they can get away from their shitty parents, or it’s a shitty parent trying to figure out how long they can oppress the life of their child. Or maybe their trying to find out just how little work they need to do to not get charged for neglect by the state. Whichever way you slice it, they wound up on my blog, and probably got terrible advice.


rehomo beach

This one is a little astonishing, because I’ve never even typed “rehomo beach”, but Angy Hangy did in my comments, and her willy-nilly use of a neologism for a gay beach in Delaware landed me this search.


how to stop cats shitting in your yard

I wish I could help you dude. I really do.

he s looking at her boobs game online

Ah, Romania. Is there nothing you can’t do? What’s that? You can’t teach your citizens how to create a legitimate web search? Oh, well, no country is perfect. Except America. Seriously. Don’t fuck with us or we will bring you our democracy. We invented ass whoopin’ for the sake of ass whoopin’.

house

And what country could possibly have worse searches than Romania? America! Home of the mouth breathing idiot that has more time and money than taste or sense. Really, you just typed “house” into a search engine and immediately got what you were looking for? Do you go into the bread aisle of the store and pass out from shock when you see more than one kind? Also, why are you using MSN Live Search? You must be some sort of post-lobotomy lab-experiment in a competition with rats to see who has a better mastery of the internet, and too bad for you, the rats just identity thefted your mouth-breathing ass.

this is relevant to my interests origin

Another newcomer to the internet, this time from Australia. Bonzer, mate! I’m grinning like a shot fox that you found my website. Ace! We should hit the turps with heaps of Foster’s and a Bloomin’ Onion at the boozer! Well, I’ve got a cane toad in my clacker, so donger the cleanskin and sleepout the yabby and we’ll pozzy the spunk for a corker dingo’s breakfast!

Also, this is a personal note to the person who is still using Netscape 5.0 to access my site:

Who the hell are you!? Is Netscape Navigator 5.0 some sort of magical web browser that no one ever used but is capable of time-travelling 10 years into the future to read a shitty blog?! That’s awesome, but also kind of really lame. Oh, and by the way, September 2001 is really going to suck for you guys, so be ready for that. Also, you might want to stop buying any products from China, unless you’re really into lead. Um, I think that’s it. Keep it dopey double-fresh on the rewind, and hook-up your blingety for me. Yes, that’s how we talk in 2008.

I’d call this a “beef-tease” but you’d take it the wrong way.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 13, 2008 @ 10:09 am
in food, music, people are idiots and potty humor
. 11 Comments

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a frequent participant in focus groups. The short version- I see my role in focus groups as two-fold: my primary goal is to prevent the further dumbening of our country by people who want to eat more food that tastes like the food we already have and listen to new music that sounds exactly like the music on the top 40. Essentially, I want to prevent America from turning into one giant strip mall of TGI Friday’s and record stores filled with CDs by American Idol participants. My second goal is to completely fuck up the results. I hope the company takes a look at the compiled data and says, “Well, all these other results look pretty normal, but this one guy said his favorite TV shows are ‘The Wire’ and ‘Dora the Explorer’ and that the new potato chip flavors he’d like to see are ‘Radish’, ‘Volcano’, and ‘Richard Nixon’.” If the people looking at the results aren’t completely fucking baffled, I have failed.

I’ve also mentioned before that I have a bad reaction when I eat beef. The short version- Feeding me beef is like making another Hindenburg, but making it completely out of feces. The question is not if it is going to explode. The question is: how many people are going to be blast-painted with blimp-shit? The answer? All of them. I’m like the Chuck fucking Norris of beef giving someone diarrhea. I don’t know what that means either.

Given these two pieces of information (Focus groups and beef! Jesus. Try to keep up.) it should come as no surprise to you that I eagerly and enthusiastically signed up to be a member of a focus group to taste-test some Steak and Cheese Lean Pockets. All I have to do now is figure out the etiquette for shitting oneself in public. I mean, do I wear I diaper or something, or is that to presumptuous of me? If I do wear a diaper, should I try to conceal it, or do I wear it on the outside of my pants? Should I ask for the location of the bathroom before I eat anything, or should I wait until a tidal wave of feces is trying to shoulder its way out the back door? Is it appropriate to wear those pajamas with the “emergency hatch” on the back? Is it rude to dominate their toilet with extreme prejudice? Should I try to wait until I get home to launch a blitzkrieg on my own toilet?

I’m not sure exactly what will happen, but I’m pretty sure you’ll get to read about it.

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