Archive for April, 2008

I think I’m the only one who noticed the irony

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 30, 2008 @ 9:10 am
in awesome, beer, food, money, music and sex
. 24 Comments

Last weekend I had the honor of joining a friend at his bachelor party, and I have to admit that I’ve never been to a more masculine bachelor party.

We started out at my brother’s house drinking beers (10 man points) and playing video games (5 man points) eating half a tub of party mix (2 man points) and somehow consuming three pounds of onion dip (15 man points).

From there we went to a barbecue place for dinner (20 man points) and filled our bellies with various kinds of meat served to us in heaps (18 man points, 23 double entendre points). One of the attendees bit the inside of his cheek while eating and started bleeding profusely (3 man points (yes, bleeding counts as something manly)) and decided to “cauterize” the wound by taking a huge swig of the bottle of hot sauce that was on the bar (35 man points). Numerous shots (15 man points) and PBRs (5 man points) were consumed before we headed off to the next bar.

We started with more shots (20 man points) but generally took things pretty easy, primarily having beers (5 man points) and shooting the shit (2 man points). I think, however, we get extra man points for getting one of the waitresses drunk (5 man points).

From there we went to Max’s in Fell’s Point where we had boilermakers (30 man points) and the bachelor had a pimp-cup full of some high-falutin’ hefewiess microbrew that clocked in at about 10% alcohol (27 man points).

From Max’s the decision was made to go to a strip club (25 man points), and while strip clubs aren’t necessarily my thing (-45 man points) I was happy to have one of the other guys buy me two 10-dollar Miller Lites.

Numerous table dances (40 man points), lap dances (50 man points), and public spankings (100 man points?) later, we were closing out the strip club (200 man points). We piled back into the limo- did I mention it was a stretch Escalade? (50 man points)- to head home.

So let’s see, ignoring the fact that strip clubs aren’t my thing, as a whole, we scored 681 man points for the evening with the only thing missing being a bare-knuckled street brawl between our bachelor party and some other douchebag’s bachelor party which would have netted us 500 man points. It would have been 1000 man points if someone was killed.

But, alas, we lost a few points on the way home. As we were careening through the streets of Baltimore, drunk and with visions of strippers named Sugarplum dancing through our heads, someone tuned the radio to Tiny Dancer by Elton John (-200 man points).

And we all sang along. (-300 man points)

At the top of our lungs. (-500 man points)

I guess it could have been worse. We could have been singing it quietly, holding each other and weeping (forfeiture of penis).

All in all it was an awesome night, even if the man points were all lost in a wash at the end.

Some more answers

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on April 29, 2008 @ 10:14 am
in uncategorized
. 14 Comments

Jumping back into the fray…

Liz says, “I thank whoever abused you in your youth for turning you into such a wonderfully bitter, yet oh-so-entertaining creature. I actually managed a smile today. Oh yeah. A question: what medication do you take (exactly) that allows you to think you are infinitely more awesome than the rest of us doorknobs? Some of us would really like some.”

Thanks? I think. Anyway, I don’t take any medication to know I am infinitely more awesome than the rest of you doorknobs. It’s actually pretty easy to achieve this state of being, and to do it completely drug free. (Unless you count beer as a drug.)

First, start a blog and slowly amass a readership with regular postings of your musings on day to day existence. Once you have a few readers under your belt start to rant and curse and swear and be obscene and make outrageous statements about necrophilia and eggnog. Once that’s done your audience will have somehow multiplied tenfold (for reasons completely unknown) which will inevitably lead to a swollen sense of self-worth. Use that over-inflated ego to fuel future bombast and you’re all set.

grammy says, “‘Insulting, combative, and bristly’ - Mrs. ACW is gifted with truth-telling powers. You were like an alcoholic, has-been boxer who is now a Fuller Brush Man. Which is funny. (To me, not to people who are really alcoholic has-been boxer Fuller Brush Men.) But that’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to ask where you come up with your ACW lingo? Such as ‘baby-maker’ which has so recently come in handy for me. Do you have staff writers?”

Thanks. No, I don’t have staff writers. The writing process goes like this:
-I sit and pluck at the keyboard seemingly at random until something funny starts coming out.
-I re-read the post and replace already funny words with words or terms that I think might be even funnier. For example, replacing vajayjay or dong (already funny) with baby-maker.
-Occasionally I have Mokie proofread it to make sure the jokes work the way I want them to work.
-Post!
That’s it.

Antonio says, “Do you hate the movie Ultraviolet as passionately as I do? Which is dumber, uggs or crocs? Who are some people who you think are awesome? (No fair saying Mrs. ACW or mokie, that’s cheating)”

Antonio, did you miss some of the rules? I think you did. Congratulations! You’re the first person to buck the rules regardless of what I said they were. You win whatever it is you find to the left of your monitor.
1) No, I don’t hate Ultraviolet at all: I’ve never seen it. But it is in my Netflix queue, and I imagine even then I won’t hate it. I’ve seen TONS of terrible movies but the only one I’ve really hated is that horrible shit-monster that refuses to die- Dr. T and the Women.
2) This is actually pretty tough, because they’re both really really dumb. Uggs, in fairness, seem to be able to provide some protection from cold in the winter, but wearing them in the summer is just idiotic. Conversely, crocs seem to be a great piece of footwear for ventilated toes in the summer, but they’re as ugly as a wart on a turd. Hmm… I guess I’d have to say that uggs are stupider because people wear them all year round, whereas I’ve not seen as many people wear crocs in the winter. But on second thought, crocs are gender neutral, so more people wear them. I guess I don’t know.
3) People I think are awesome… that’s tough too. There are a number of people who come to mind that I’ve never mentioned on the blog, and won’t mention now, but suffice it to say that they’re friends and family. Then there are musicians and actors that I think are awesome. And historical people that I think are awesome. The list is a long one, but if I had to pick a few off the top of my head I’d probably say William Shakespeare, Thomas Jefferson, Bob Marley, Salvador Dali, Charles Darwin, and Christopher Walken.

Anonymous says, “why did you decide to get married?”

And I answer.

Smart Ol’ Geezer says, “Tara’s in Port Jeff Station for $1 burgers! Just don’t wear a tank top or bring your motorcycle helmet into the bar.”

Um. Hooray?

johnny dollar says, “I like turtles.”

We all do, my friend. We all do.

missmargo says, “Would you like my recipe for Eggnog bread? It’s actually quite tasty.”

I don’t even know if I like eggnog. Wait, let me check my archives for a second… … … Yes! I apparently LOVE eggnog according to all the posts I’ve tagged with the word “nog”! Please email me the recipe!

Huw says, “Which book do you wish you’d written? Which film would you have been proud to have directed?”

Huw, you always know how to bring the good questions, but lucky for me, this is something that I’ve thought about quite a bit. There are two books that I wish I’d written. The first one is Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy because it’s just so damn dense. I’ve written about it before, but to summarize that post I’ll just say that I’d wish I’d written it because of how carefully he uses the exactly perfect word in every sentence of the entire book. It’s spectacular. The other book is You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers. I know this makes me out as some sort of hipster literary snob douchebag, but I don’t care. I really like the way Eggers plays with the medium of the book itself while also keeping focused on the story. It’s not something that everyone can do, and he does it well, so I’m a bit envious.

There are quite a few films that I would have been proud to have directed, among them are anything by the Coen brothers, Christopher Guest, Tim Burton, Martin Scorcese, Stephen Soderbergh, Spike Jones, Wes Anderson, Guy Ritchie, Mel Brooks, Edgar Wright, and some of Peter Jackson’s work (I’m sure I’m also forgetting a few). But if I had to pick a specific film I think I’d have to go with Apocalypse Now. Coppola had a fantastic cast to work with, an immense area to shoot in, and an extremely important story to tell. I can’t watch the movie very frequently because of how much it unsettles me. I think that would have to be the one.

Charm City Barfly says, “Do you think they should bring back MST3K and, if so, do you think I would be the perfect host for it?”

This is a tough question because of the circumstances that would lead to one answer or another. Yes, I think they should bring back MST3K, but no, I don’t think you would be the perfect host for it. I thought Mike (not Joel) was the perfect host, and if they brought it back, he should host it again. However, were you to come up with your own format for an MST3K-esque show, then yes, I would say you would be the perfect host for that.

stephanie says, “I don’t have a question, I just an have an answer for Charm City Barfly: Yes. They should bring back MST3K.”

I agree, they absolutely should bring it back as opposed to the schism they have now.

Maven says, “But where-oh-where will I go for a regular dose of ‘insulting, combative, and bristly’ blog posts… I mean… besides Mighty Dyckerson? However, Dyckerson doesn’t have your knack for stringing incongruous expletives together with finesse like you do.”

This one is easy. Start reading the blog from the beginning, and after a while you’ll be nipples-deep in “incongruous expletives” like this one: god-damned frog-shitting pickle-fucker. There’s almost four years of content there, and I’m sure that should keep you busy for at least a weekend.

Claude says, “I’ve been reading your site for quite awhile now, and I think that I know you well enough that I’m comfortable asking this question: What time is it?” Right now it’s… 10:15:41.

And that’s it! Thanks for playing!

Some answers

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 28, 2008 @ 10:42 am
in uncategorized
. 12 Comments

Let’s just get down to business, shall we?

S. Reed says, “I have only one question: Why does your farewell tour include mercilessly abusing your readers?”

You’ve got it all wrong! I don’t abuse my readers, they abuse themselves. Every day my readers could be doing something else. They could be learning about the world by reading any number of online newspapers and academic journals. They could play a game of Scrabble with a friend. They could watch movies or listen to music. They could do any number of things to better their lives, but they instead choose to come to my site and punish their brains with a near incessant fire hose of pablum. So though I may be caustic, the abuse is self-inflicted.

Karla says, “This would be so exciting, if only I were interested in you in some way.”

Ha! Just like a stupid woman to say something like that. It’s not even a question! I’d teach you how to properly form a question but I’d be afraid that you’d use your newfound knowledge to better stalk your longtime target of obsession: Don Henley.

elise says, “Do guys REALLY want to have sex all the time? I mean, what if I hadn’t showered in three days, had just come back from jogging, and then cleaned all the toilets? With my bare hands? Would my husband want to have sex with me THEN?”

Elise, this is a tough question for two reasons: I can’t reasonably speak for all men, and having never met your husband cannot speak for him either. However I think we can develop a chart to show how this might work. Imagine a line that increases for perceived level of “hotness” and a line that decreases for a perceived level of “dirtiness”. This chart would show that low hotness and high dirtiness would result in fewer thoughts about sex, while high hotness and low dirtiness would result in more thoughts about sex. The tricky part is the area where hotness becomes average and dirtiness becomes average as well. Then again for some people, the dirtiness might increase the hotness, so you may just want to ignore this whole theorem and simply have sex with your husband whenever he wants to do so, regardless of your cleanliness.

johnny dollar says, “what is the difference between?”

Tricky. In this case, looking at the query from multiple perspectives (including, but not limited to: philosophy, psychology, theology, literature, poetry, art history, grammar, and science), there are a number of conclusions that one can draw, the least of which involving no less than the entire thinking power of a group of people whose numbers mirror the population of a state somewhere between South Dakota and North Carolina, especially when giving consideration to the variance of the ontological while simultaneously exploring the hegemonic doctrine of the post-modern narrative, I could only say the answer is.

Skinny Monkey says “Coming out of lurkerdom, why is the last ever? Yes, that’s my question.”

This is the last ever because a) it takes a lot of effort to answer all these questions, and b) the blog is ending on August 27th of this year, and c) I don’t really anticipate having another Ask the ACW session between now and then.

Charm City Barfly says, “Why do your stupid rules suck big donkey balls? Oh, yeah. I went there. Biotch.”

What can I say? They learned it from watching you.

ThreadedClown says, “I stumbled across your blog back in January, but I wish I had found it earlier…I can’t get enough! What does Mokie think about your quitting blogging? Has he been threatening you and throwing rocks through your windshield? Or does he do that on a regular basis anyway?”

Nope, he hasn’t threatened me at all. In fact, I’d say he’s probably relieved. Every time something goes wrong, or needs to be changed, or updated, or fixed, he’s the one that ends up handling it. If anything my quitting blogging will save him from having to hear me whining about whatever might currently be going wrong with the site. Besides, if he ever tried to throw a rock through my windshield I’d kick him right in the peener.

Caroline says, “How could your wife tell the difference between you being “insulting, combative, and bristly” and you being your regular self? I thought that WAS your regular self. Can you translate that into Latin and put it on a family crest? And what symbols would you put on your escutcheon if you were to design one, I mean a real one and not just one of those ghastly fake “family tree” crests the computers will generate for you at the mall? I have my own theories but I want to see if I’m right.”

Let’s see, I’d probably have an escutcheon with a party per bend sinister with the dexter chief field being ermines and the sinister base field being erminois, and I like the idea of a charge at the fess point, but I’m not married to the idea. I’d have two supporters: the dexter supporter would be a zombie, and the sinister supporter would be a pirate. The compartment, wreath, and manting would be simple and understated, perhaps resembling fog, and the helm would be the hockey mask from Friday the 13th. I think I’d probably skip the crest. And of course, the motto would be at the base and would read, “Vituperium, Pugnax, Iratus”.

Is that what you had in mind?

Savage Bliss says, “Yah, there’s definitely a “Fuck you, readers” vibe. I have no questions that wouldn’t violate one or more rules.”

Wow, I must have come off as I lot angrier that I thought I had. I figured I was just setting up a little banter for the Q&A. I remember the last time I specifically clarified my feelings on necrophilia only to field a dozen questions on the exact same topic. I figured I’d egg people on a bit to see if they’d bite and go for more of the same, but I guess I was a bit overzealous. My bad, y’all.

Lori says, “Why did Government officials, who claim to be all free market and against welfare of any kind, provide money to Bear Stearns for that whole JP Morgan buy out bullshit? HUH? WHY!??!?!!??!?! And why won’t my lender reduce my principal on my loan? I mean….The governement does that shit all the time, why can’t *I* get a break on paying *MY* mortgage? HUH?!?!?!?!?”

Simple, they’re hypocrites. Everybody with money is all “free market! free market!” until it’s convenient to them for it not to be that way. That’s why they continue to have all the money. If it was really a free market, we’d all have a better chance of getting a piece of that pie.

Secondly, because you are a sucker, and it is your fault that you haven’t pulled yourself up by the bootstraps, embraced free market economics, invisible hand of the market, welfare queens, affirmative action, and other republican economic talking points.

Matt says, “Caroline, I might be able to answer that- It would probably be an Ouroboros, since we all know that ACW doesn’t really have a family tree. It’s more like a family wreath.”

Oh, man, that’s so funny. An incest joke! Ha ha ha. Oh, yeah, that’s hilarious. I’m sure your mom will find it funny when I’m boning her later tonight.
(Actually, I did laugh out loud when I read your comment, but felt compelled to not give you your props right away because you didn’t ask a question. Douche.)

Anonymous says, “My question is: Would you do us the service of creating some ACW shirts at CafePress? Cuz I’d be all over that like stank on Shiite! Maybe after you are off the air, the back could say 404… just a thot…”

So, the short answer is a “no” with a “but”. Here’s the long answer: No, I won’t be creating any shirts for the ACW site on CafePress for numerous reasons like my terrible design ability, my lack of interest, my lack of time, and other such reasons. I also won’t be doing it because I don’t own the now iconic image of the Anonymous Coworker by the water cooler. That was created for me by Common Wombat, and I’d be loathe to earn money off of his hard work. Also, I’ve briefly thought of earning money through the sale of items by way of CafePress, but those ideas quickly fizzled for a few reasons, some of which are listed above, and some of which are related to my feelings on advertising in general. I’ve never really wanted to advertise on this site, despite the fact that I get enough hits that I think it would actually be able to make me some money, even if it’s only a few dollars per month. I’ve kept the site donation/advertisement/product free because I want it that way. I don’t want anyone to ever feel compelled to pay for what they find here. I write because I want to, and you can read or not read if you want to, but I don’t want anyone to feel guilty for reading and not paying for something, so I removed that option from the equation entirely. (My Amazon wishlist, however, is an altogether different matter, and you should feel compelled to shower me with trinkets constantly.)

Here’s the “but”: But, if YOU (any of you) wanted to create some ACW stuff to sell, that would be fine with me. I’ll probably regret typing that, but I can’t really think of any reason why any of you making ACW shirts would make my life any more difficult, especially considering that this blog is four months from ever being updated again.

More answers later, or tomorrow.

This year’s haul

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 25, 2008 @ 1:52 pm
in atheism!, awesome, food, jesus is fo' shizzle, meta blogging, ocd, travel and work
. 9 Comments

Hotel Swag

Items of note:

The Book of Mormon (score!)
Popcorn
1 “Do Not Disturb” sign (a record low)

Last year’s stuff.

Answers to your questions on Monday, and maybe Tuesday too. And also possibly Wednesday.

It’s that time again. UPDATED

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 21, 2008 @ 9:19 pm
in contests, i am so fucking awesome, meta blogging, the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs, travel and work
. 24 Comments

UPDATE: Mrs. ACW says I was “insulting, combative, and bristly” in this post, so I thought I would put something up here to explain the below: I wasn’t talking about you. Or you. Or you or you or you. I was talking about that guy, over there. Yeah, the goofy looking one in the back with the raw bacon hanging out of his pants. The stuff below was meant for him. You people, though? I love you people. Also, I am superior to you in every way. Just to be clear.

I’m balls-to-the-wall busy today, and I’ll be making my annual trip up to Long Island this week, so I figured this would be the perfect time to do the very last ever “Ask the ACW” post.

I’m way too busy, and also way too lazy, to find any of the old posts on either a) the yearly trip to Long Island, or b) all the old Ask the ACW stuff, but rest assured it’s on the blog somewhere if you feel like looking for it.

Because this will be the very last Ask the ACW, there are a few rules. You can still ask anything that you want to ask, and I still reserve the right to answer or ignore questions based on little less than my own personal whimsy. But since I’m nothing if not extremely friendly and charitable, I will tell you generally which questions I won’t be answering.

- I won’t answer any questions that I’ve answered before. Oh, are you crying? Too bad. My brain cries when I keep seeing the same question over and over again. Also, my brain cries because they let YOU use a computer.

- I won’t answer any questions along the lines of “why is the sky blue?” or “why do 7-11s have locks on the doors if they are open 24 hours?” because not only are those questions kind of cliche at this point, they’re also not really a lot of fun to answer, and though you might think these posts are about you having a chance to raise your voice, it’s really still all about me.

- I, of course you dumb dumb, will not answer any questions about my personal life like my phone number, address, work place, sex life, etc. I really don’t want any of you sickos to know any more than you already do, and in fact, the amount that you know already scares me.

- I reserve the right to lie in totality and completely in some, most, or all of the answers, but will promise to try not to do so if I feel like it.

- Try to keep it to one or two questions. Every time I do this it takes me all damn week to answer the stupid questions because they just go on, and on, and on. Here’s a helpful tip: write down as many questions as you want, and then go through them to see which one or two are the best. Once you’ve eliminated all the questions because you’re dumb and your questions suck you can throw yourself off a building clear of any doubt that you bothered me with stupid questions.

I’ll almost certainly need to add more rules here as you numbnuts begin to submit your stupid questions in the comments. Try not to drool all over everything. Also, I’m pretty sure at least a dozen of you brainless meatbags will violate these rules in a pathetic attempt at “humor”, which is why I’ll be violating my own “comments will never be deleted” policy to delete your comments.

Cheers, bitches.

In retrospect it really wasn’t all that bad

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 18, 2008 @ 7:54 am
in atheism!, bitches, driving, jesus is fo' shizzle, people are idiots, travel and work
. 16 Comments

Hey did you see the head Italian child-raper was in DC yesterday? Yeah, it was totally awesome how all of his douchebag followers filled the city with their idiocy on the same day I had to drive to a meeting in Alexandria.

Actually, it was partially my fault. I should have given a wide berth to all the cars I saw that had bumper stickers that said, “God is my copilot” or “God is my pilot” or “Apparently God is a fucking douchebag of a driver and I’m a lobotomized asshole who will do anything a highly edited and poorly translated book of fairy tales tells me to do because I clearly have no idea how to fucking operate an automobile and neither does my pie-in-the-sky deity-of-choice”.

I really should have avoided every one of those goddamned be-Jesus-fished hate-moblies because the little magnetic fish pretty much acted as a warning sign for “watch out because I’m merging without signaling or checking my rear view” or “Der, what’s a steering wheel? Why isn’t Jeebus driving for me? I’m hungry. I need a new diaper. I wish I was watching Steve Wilkos right now.” or “I’m driving 5 miles per hour on the highway because I’m a fucking douchebag cocksmoker child-rapist-forgiving shitfuck dick-spinning turd-swallower and traffic scares me”.

So yeah, if you couldn’t tell by my tone, it was pretty much 40 miles of concentrated awesomeness on the way to DC. I finally got to my meeting, 30 minutes late because of those holy-roller nipple-twisters, and then later on the day looked like it might even be salvageable as the temperature increased to mild summer temperature ranges.

And when we jumped on 395 to head home we weren’t faced with nearly the volume of purified idiotic assholery that we had to steer through on our way down…

because they were all waiting for us on 295 north.

I swear, my next car is going to be a tank with a giant drill on the front so I can bore my way over or through those malevolent fuckwads who think it’s just fucking SUPER to get on the road during rush hour so they can see their high-grand-eagle do a cross burning at the local stadium, and my fucking death car of Righteous Fucking Justice Dispatched DailyTM will have an articulated arm with a branding iron on the end of it so I can stamp all the cheese-dicks in the middle of their fucking foreheads with the words “I’m a shitty fucking douchebag numbnuts dumbfuck of a driver and you should punch me in the nuts or ovaries right fucking now because I deserve it for being a fucking asshole and you should sterilize me too,” and I’ll have a quadraphonic sound system mounted on the roof constantly repeating “You are a shitty driver. Kill yourself” and I’ll be able to focus that shit at those fucks and turn the fucker all the way to 11 and watch the blood trickle out of their ears as for ONCE I am able to make my way down the road unimpeded.

For a title, see May 26, 2005. Yes, this is the second time I’ve done this.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 15, 2008 @ 9:02 am
in Glen Burnie, Mrs. ACW, food, movies, people are idiots, potty humor, school and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 21 Comments

Let’s see, what else did I do this weekend? Oh yeah, I threw out some of my clothes. Sounds boring, right? Not the way I tell it.

Mrs. ACW and I live the life many people dream about. We get home at about 5pm on Friday, cook turkey burgers and asparagus, eat them, and then do homework. Yes, many people are out, spending heaps of disposable income on drinks, food, drugs, and whatever genitalia makes their upper lip sweat and quiver (hey, I’m not here to judge; whatever tickles your pickle or frosts your cookie is fine by me), but none of them have the wrist-slitting joy of staying home and doing homework for four hours at the start of the weekend while not drinking or seeing any genitalia or putting any coke up our noses.

And the cherry on top of all of it? Mrs. ACW is on a diet, so she’s not eating any sugar, and since we don’t have any sugar free candy in the house, we had to go out the grocery store to insert ourselves amongst the other social superstars that can be found wandering the grocery aisles at 9pm on a Friday; frozen pizza in one hand, pint of ice cream in the other, bunny slippers on the feet and a loosely tied robe that leaves so little to the imagination that I may as well have his lumpy, asymmetrical baby-maker tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

Less than thirty minutes later we’re home, have given up on homework, and are each a few pieces of sugar free candy deep into Hot Fuzz. An amusing hour and thirty minutes passes with nary to mar the occasion except a sudden onset of gas on my part that’s so violently offensive that I think I can feel hairs being singed off of my dangerous but exquisite backside.

After one particularly boisterous expulsion Mrs. ACW remarked that it sounded “hearty” or something along those lines. I had to agree. It was if I’d been grabbed around the torso and squeezed by the hand of a giant. It was as if I was completely out of control of my own body and it was venting pressure of its own accord. I learned a few seconds later what little control I actually had.

After a mad dash to the bathroom to learn that yes, I had in fact shat myself, I realized I was a twenty-seven year old man with no apparent control of his bowels. I immediately threw away my underwear and shorts, much to the bewilderment of everyone who has already heard this story.

“Why didn’t you just wash the clothes?” they ask, puzzlement clouding their faces.

Look, if I ever become so cavalier and casual with shit that I can look upon a beshatted object and think, “Hey, it’s just poop I guess,” please kill me, because I don’t want to live a life so well acquainted with the substance that our bodies forcibly eject on a daily basis.

I also jumped in the shower and gave the entire lower half of my body a complete surgical scrub down, because, once again, shit is gross.

Then I spent the rest of the weekend completely gun-shy because I didn’t want to fart and have to check and make sure my socks were still dry, so every time I felt a little pressure I had to get up, go to the bathroom, and make sure that the “football” didn’t make it into the “end zone” on a “quarterback sneak”, if you may allow me a football metaphor.

Lesson learned: not only does beef wreck me, but so does sugar free candy.

I’m certainly not fucking him, but I am his biggest fan

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 14, 2008 @ 10:27 am
in Mrs. ACW, beer, food, movies, music, people are idiots, potty humor and school
. 9 Comments

1) This Sunday morning Mrs. ACW and I woke up not quite hung-over, but not quite able to fully function with the rest of society. Though actually, now that I think about it, we were still superior mentally to the majority of the unwashed masses in our area. That’s funny, I never realized that for me to live as a normal, layabout, fast-food-eating, Norbit-watching, lottery-ticket-buying, Thomas-Kinkade-loving, Creed-listening mental-midget, I have to get completely shit-tanked out of my gourd to the point where my functional mental abilities are less than 50%. Jesus that’s depressing.

Anyway, yeah, because we were feeling a little bit stupid and completely lazy, we decided to meet our bodies halfway and give them exactly what they needed. For Mrs. ACW that was a double-cheeseburger from McDonalds (or as I like to call it, the master key to my personal flume ride of feces), and for me that was a McFlurry from McDonalds… coupled with two brainless movies from the old Redbox.

I was really hoping to watch Transformers, because I couldn’t think of anything dumber that might also be entertaining, but for the first time ever, they didn’t have it. So I scrolled through the dreck to see what else was available, trying to figure out if I wanted to rot my brain with an action movie or with a comedy, and also trying to figure out if I wanted to pay a dollar to rent any of these movies. Further, I had to pick movies that I knew Mrs. ACW didn’t want to see, because there’s no way she would let me lay on the couch watching movies she also wanted to watch while she was upstairs doing a mountain of homework. That would have pretty much been an instant crotch-punching, and I was in no mood to sustain a trouser-bashing to the old beanbag, so I went through the movies again.

I finally settled on The Bourne Ultimatum and Ocean’s 13, and those of you who are cleverer than I was that afternoon will figure out quickly how Mrs. ACW chose to make fun of me for the rest of the day.

Figure it out yet? No? Okay, let’s go to the conversation in the car a few moments after I got both movies.

“Yeah, I rented The Bourne Ultimatum and Ocean’s 13.”
“Isn’t Matt Damon in both of those?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess he is.”
“And?”
“And I guess I’m gay for Matt Damon.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone while you’re watching those movies.”
“Why, because I apparently have a totally unconscious gay boner for Matt Damon’s chiseled features and sexy body?”
“Exactly.”

And so for the rest of the evening Mrs. ACW would wander downstairs to get something, check on me, and with a knowing look say, “Uh-huh. Just what I thought” and then walk away.

Semi-related video: I’m Fucking Matt Damon

Now I’m able to go out and enjoy some serious cock, guilt free.

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Anonymous Coworker
on April 11, 2008 @ 10:08 am
in Mrs. ACW, bitches, devil cat, jokes, people are idiots, potty humor, sex and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 15 Comments

1) I was just recently contacted by somebody at bthesite.com (which doesn’t seem to be working as of this being written) about how they had grabbed my RSS and were posting my content onto their site. That’s totally fine with me. Blogtimore has been doing it for years. But nobody at Blogtimore cares if I put the word “cock” in the title of my blog posts for all the world to see. I’m pretty sure they also don’t mind “fisting” or “felching” or “transexual cornholing santorum lickers”, but we’ll see if bthesite minds. And just to be clear, I grabbed the title from this episode of Extras:

Skip to the one minute mark if you’re in a hurry.

2) Since we’ve switched Sherlock to a new cat food that’s supposed to keep his wee-wee wiener-friendly, rather than full of sharp and jagged crystals stabbing him with their jags, his shit has become even more offensive. And I don’t mean “offensive” like people thought Andrew Dice Clay was offensive but was really only just kind-of funny unless you were a fat guy with a porno mustache, gold chain, stupid haircut, and a bad sweater, and 2 years of a high-school education who lived in New Jersey in the late 80’s and never got any action but still lied to his friends that he did, because those guys thought he was hilarious. No, I mean offensive like Yankee Candle Company’s new scent is “Hangover Shits” crafted specifically after extensively researching the nostril singing aromas of two pitchers of Miller Lite and 50 nuclear chicken wings digested and excreted through the human body, and it’s your birthday and everybody gives you one of those candles.

3) Speaking of offensive aromas, the other day Mrs. ACW and I were at the Annapolis Mall and I suddenly got a whiff of hypersexualized teenage desperation and the triumph of money over taste. “Wow, did we just walk past a perfume store? They must have spilled something.”
“I guess so.”

But then as we kept walking the stink became more palpable, until I could actually reach out an palp it. It was then that I noticed we were beginning to approach the area of the mall that housed the Abercrombie and Fitch store. We weren’t even at the store yet and I was already gagging. Seriously, look at this map. The arrow is A&F and we were at the red dot to the left of JCPenney when we started smelling the horrible smell.

We went on to Nordstrom so Mrs. ACW could look at purses or tampons or nipple-clamps or whatever it is that women look at when they go shopping (I don’t know, I usually turn my brain off), and after finding what she was looking for (or not, I don’t really know) we left to go back into the mall and it was as if I was just punched in the face with the smell of Dawson’s Creek were tv shows to have their own scents.

This time we had to pass the stink-factory on the near side, and it was so overpowering that I covered my face with my hoodie and did the best I could to control the gag reflex while my eyes watered. I wondered how people could even work in there. Do the clothes in there come pre-scented or something? Uggh. It was horrible.

But walking past the store wasn’t even the worst of it! Three hours later I still smelled like I was a non-consensual participant in a boy-band gang-bang, and nothing I did would make the stink come off me. It was like I looked normal, but my shadow was a collar-popping douchebag who bathed in shitty cologne.

I nerd out about horror movies

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on April 10, 2008 @ 9:53 am
in Mrs. ACW, awesome, horror, i am so fucking awesome, movies, nerd stuff and people are idiots
. 7 Comments

Every year Mrs. ACW rents us up some movies from Netflix, and not just the same old tired pablum that YOU suckers are used to watching (seriously, everything you like is stupid, unless I’m something that you like, and then that one thing is awesome, but it’s not enough to redeem your otherwise terrible taste), but the After Dark Horrorfest.

Now, some people aren’t into horror, so they employ other tactics to select movies that would make other people squirm and to provide themselves an ample amount of self-loathing. Us? We choose horror.

You may have heard me mention previously some of the movies we own: Barn of the Blood Llama (bad), Cannibal! The Musical (hilarious), or Dead Alive (awesome movie from when Peter Jackson was a horror director). But don’t get me wrong. I love some of these movies, but they are TERRIBLE. Just completely unwatchable. Blitheringly, mind-meltingly, horrid.

So I hope you understand when I say the movies for the After Dark Horrorfest are even worse.

The 2006 selections featured some real stinkers*, so unwatchable that Mrs. ACW and I chose to watch some of the movies in fast-forward rather than spend the time to see it at regular speed.

So far the 2007 Horrorfest has been about the same. The first movie we watched, Lake Dead, was just kind of stupid, but not quite bad enough that we watched it in fast-forward. They seemed like they were doing a cheap rip-off of Texas Chainsaw Massacre and House of 1000 Corpses. It was the same old, tired, played out theme of sexy 20-somethings going into the country and being killed by a family of inbred yokels for some reason.

The second movie, Tooth and Nail, was actually not too bad, but it could have been saved by not being a blatant mash-up of 28 Days Later and Firefly. Also, Rider Strong AKA Shawn Hunter from Boy Meets World, was in it. Also, all the “good” characters were named after cars, and the “bad” characters named after dogs. Now that I think about it, it was actually really ham-handed and kind of stupid.

Last night we got about 30 minutes into Mulberry Street, and the movie just couldn’t make up it’s mind about whether or not it ever wanted to get started, so we popped the ol’ DVD player into fast-forward. It reached the point where Mrs. ACW was reading Harry Potter and I was watching the screen flick by while narrating, “Okay, now there’s a rat. And the one guy’s upset. I think the rat bit him. Now he’s a rat. Now he’s trying to bite people. Oh, and the girlfriend just got bit. Now the daughter is on a bike. She’s biking home. Nothing’s happening. Nothing’s happening. There’s a rat. Nothing’s happening,” and so on. It finally reached the point where even in fast-forward the movie was still taking way too long to get to the end, so I started looking around to find something else in the living room that might be interesting to look at.

The thing that gets me is, these movies are advertised as “the content of these films are considered too graphic, too disturbing, and too shocking for general audiences,” when actually I think the problem is that the movies are either too stupid or too boring, which is really saying something considering how much money the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie made.

That said, I’ve got a real crap-factory at home right now in the form of SS Hell Camp. I wasn’t even aware of the genre of Naziploitation before I got this movie from Netflix, but apparently it’s just all around horrible. According to Wikipedia, it’s still banned in the UK! I have a bad feeling that once I begin to explore this super-niche sub-genre, I won’t be able to scrub its contents out of my brain. I’ll let you know how it is.

*Dark Ride, Unrest, and Wicked Little Things redeemed only by their special effects, Penny Dreadful being the stand out best, and The Gravedancers and The Hamiltons being unwatchably bad. I wasn’t even really interested in watching them in fast-forward.

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