Category Archive for ‘jokes’ at AnonymousCoworker

Archive for the 'jokes' Category

It’s just a cat! In another country people would eat it.

Published

on July 26, 2007 @ 4:09 pm

in devil cat, i am so fucking awesome, jokes, meta blogging, people are idiots, the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs and travel

. 27 Comments

I am not exactly sure where the fascination for this story comes from, but it’s driving me fucking bonkers. The first email I got about it, I thought, “Hey, that’s kinda weird.” Then I saw it on a blog, and then another one. And then another and another. And then all of them. What the fuck people? Are we seriously so simple-minded that we’re going to devote all this energy to a cat that, in all likelihood, is just trying to stake out its next meal?

This is how crazy religions like Scientology and Catholicism start!

In other news, I’m outta here on vacation until August 6 or 7. In the meantime you should find a nice corner to curl up in and weep while you await my return.

How about this heat?

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on June 20, 2007 @ 9:05 am

in awesome and jokes

. 10 Comments

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

Published

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

I kid. They only get 4 months off for the summer.

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on May 2, 2007 @ 9:23 am

in Mrs. ACW, beer, jokes, money, music and potty humor

. 11 Comments

This morning I enjoyed the rare treat of getting ready for work with my wife. She’s usually out the door before I’m even up, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to. We usually just talk about how we slept, or crazy dreams we might have had, or what we need to do that evening upon returning from work. Captivating stuff, I know. I’ve been shopping around rights to a reality show about our lives. It’ll be like a combination of Big Brother and 24. So it’ll be like, “The following events take place between 6 and 7pm” and it’ll show us plopped in front of the couch watching The Simpsons and eating dinner. We might even talk during the commercials. I expect to make my first billion in advertising in about a week or so. At that point this blog will pretty much become daily pictures of my junk.

Anyway, this morning I asked Mrs. ACW how many days were left in the school year. (She’s a teacher, you remember, I’m sure.) She told me that she had 32 or 33 weekdays left with the kids, and if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s teachers knowing how many school days they have left, usually starting around March. And they’re deadly accurate too. Those teachers are so ready to get out of there that something has been hardwired into their brains in order for them to count backward towards spending the next 6 months they have off for the summer drinking themselves into oblivion. They particularly anticipate the first full 72 hour period they can spend completely inebriated since the Christmas break, and you can almost set your watch on them sharing a few cases of congratulatory Zimas in the parking lot on the last day of school.

I encouraged Mrs. ACW to keep up the tradition of blasting Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out” while burning rubber in the parking lot of the school on the last day. However, I discouraged her from driving to all of children’s houses and doing donuts on the lawn while screaming out the window, “I’m a private citizen now, bitches! You little hellions can’t do shit about this!” and gesturing at the children and the quickly deteriorating lawn with her middle fingers before throwing a bag of flaming feces onto their roof and pausing momentarily to, ahem, mark her territory on their mailbox before rocketing into the summer sunset.

I’m pretty sure the cops said they wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior 4 years in a row.

More Thundercats? Seriously? You people are losers.

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on April 25, 2007 @ 9:47 am

in Mrs. ACW, i am so fucking awesome, jokes, meta blogging, potty humor and sex

. 7 Comments

aLs:
“Hypothetical situation: In the middle of a zombie attack, your best friend gets scratched. You know that sometime in the next few hours or days, he is going to join the legion of the undead. Do you shoot him right away or after you ask him for his permission? If you shoot him right away, what’s your favorite color?”

Scratched? Unless some amount of blood or saliva infected the scratch, I doubt a scratch would be enough to turn a person into a zombie. This is not to say that I wouldn’t monitor my friend carefully for changes in health, but I’d be much less likely to kill immediately over a scratch as opposed to a bite. If my friend had been bitten I’d give them a gun with a single round, but I’d also make sure that they were equipped with anything else they’d need. We’d fight side by side until he could feel himself succumbing to zombosity and he took himself out, or if we were in the heat of battle and he went down, I’d make sure that he didn’t come back up. I hope that my friends would give me the same chance to keep fighting, but would be as wary of me as well.

Regardless of all that, my favorite color is still your mom.

Stephanie:
“No. It was Liono and Cheetara.”

Seriously? You think Cheetara would get with someone like Lion-o? Lion-o had a bigger god-complex than Bono and Scott Stapp’s love child could ever hope for. Though Lion-o still would have better hair. Cheetara was totally banging Panthro, whether you racists will admit it or not.

Ugly Toy:
“Nah, Liono just fancied Cheetara, he was always a little awkward when she was around… Panthro was definately hitting that though.
Is Jessica Rabbit hot? and is it wrong to find cartoons hot? If not, should you worry about your sexuality if you found Bugs Bunny hot when he dressed up as a girl bunny?”

Finally, someone who agrees with me. Don’t let the racists tell you otherwise! Just because they hate humanoid-bestiality miscegenation doesn’t mean we have to agree with them.

No, Jessica Rabbit was not hot. She was weird, and disproportionate, and odd-looking, and, well… cartoonish. Plus, I’ve never really fancied big boobs. And no I don’t think it’s wrong to find cartoons hot, but I think they should look a bit more human than Jessica Rabbit did. But hey, whatever twists your pickle is none of my business. Finally, no, I don’t think you should worry about your sexuality if you found Bugs Bunny hot when he was cross dressing, but I think you should probably stop dry-humping the mascots at Six Flags. Consent- dude, look it up.

Huw:
“Er… I’m pretty sure Tigra wasn’t interested in Cheetara if you get my drift. I mean, a whip?!
If you had to give up sleep or food (but could still function perfectly without), which would you forsake?”

Yes, Tygra was an effeminate, collar-popping nancy-~~boy~~tiger, and Cheetara preferred Panthro, because once you go panther, uh, you, uh, want to keep going back to panther. Or something.

Anyway, if I were to have to give up food or sleep, I’d give up sleep. Can you imagine how much time I’d have? I’d add at least 33% more time to my life. Plus, I could eat on the go, no problem, and I’d still be able to sample the finest foods in the world. Nobody ever comes back from Beijing or Monaco or Buenos Aires and says, “Man, the sleep there was awesome,” but I’ll be damned if they don’t rave about the food. Unless they’re the typical American idiot who travels abroad and spends a day looking for McDonald’s. Speaking of, I’m still jonesing for some Walker’s crisps, so if any of you limey tea-drinkers wants to help me hook that up, I’d really appreciate it.

Robin:
“Are you this acerbic and grumpy in real life, or is it something you save for us - your bloggy buddies?
Perhaps you should check with Mrs. ACW, before giving a definitive answer.
Also, the Thunder Cats were too busy fighting the bad guys to get it on. Yes they were. YES THEY WERE! Now stop ruining my fond childhood memories.”

Am I this grumpy? It depends. Ask me about the government and it’ll probably get my hackles up. Otherwise, no, not really. I try to be as over the top as possible when telling my stories because they’re funnier that way. I think Mrs. ACW would agree that for the most part I’m pretty good-humored.

Also, yes, the Thundercats WERE doing it. Do you think they were just sitting around waiting for a half hour each week for you to tune in and see what they were up to? No, they were banging the bottoms out of each other. If I remember correctly they pretty much had a week-long orgy, breaking only on Wednesday nights for an all you can eat fried chicken buffet at Golden Corral, before getting back to a daisy chain of “hairballs” and snorting mountains of catnip. They were doing shit that would melt your face. They lived in a state of pure ecstasy and unlimited hedonism and debauchery. It’s what made their adventures so thrilling.

Stephanie:
“The older I get, the more I sexualize old cartoons.”

That’s GOT to make the Care Bears a little creepy.

I think we’re done with the Thundercats tangent. More laters.

If you’re looking for clues in the title you might be taking this too literally

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on March 21, 2007 @ 8:44 am

in jokes, meta blogging and word nerd

. 20 Comments

I’m not even sure where to start, but in order to make things as confusing as possible, I’ll begin thusly:

That first sentence isn’t even necessary. I could have just started here and the effect would have been the same. Well, I couldn’t have exactly started here because the reference to the first sentence would be meaningless because the first sentence wouldn’t exist, and all of this talk about first sentences now would actually reference the sentence, “That first sentence isn’t even necessary,” which would make things all the more confusing. So rather than further confuse things, I’ll start here:

Well, now I’ve done it twice. Anything I type at this point becomes absolute nonsense. I could wax poetic about benefits of corpse canoodling (I know you’ve all been waiting for me to bring that topic up again) and even on my blog, it wouldn’t make a damn bit of sense in this context, because you would first have to read through the above two paragraphs, and then get to this and you’d be thinking, “He’s gone completely bonkers. He’s fully off his nut. I can’t wait for the coming weeks and months as his blog further spirals towards insanity, and I’ll have a front row seat. But I promise not to enjoy it too much, because that would be wrong.”

And here we are at the fourth paragraph and we’ve made no headway into anything resembling an actual blog post whatsoever.

Really. Who’s still reading this drivel? It’s like a train wreck collapsing inward on itself creating a rip in the space time continuum and all you can think to do is wonder where that cotton candy smell is coming from.

Nope.

The next paragraph begins with a renewed sense of hope in the reader. With that sentence ended and this one referencing that one, the reader wonders why this sentence is addressing the reader as “the reader” and why all three sentences have been referencing themselves. This sentence adds to the confusion. As does this one. And this one as well. This one started out vibrant, and with the hope that it would add some sort of clarity, but alas, it does not.

No. No don’t do it. Put the delete key down. No. No sentences! It doesn’t have to come to this! N

My long lost cousin

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on February 15, 2007 @ 9:44 am

in jokes, music and nerd stuff

. 25 Comments

I was recently contacted by a cousin that I haven’t seen or spoken to in years. He found me through my real-name myspace page, which I essentially set up for exactly this purpose. For people to find me whom I haven’t seen in a while. I guess it’s like a little Internet beacon in that way. Anyway, I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.

It was always a little weird with his family. All of my aunts and uncles and grandparents live within 45 minutes of Baltimore, except for my one aunt, his mom. (She wasn’t even really my aunt. She had been married to my uncle, but they got divorced, and my uncle had some sort of grudge against his parents and his siblings, so no one ever really knew where he was.) They always lived in Philadelphia. I remember his mom complaining that they always had to drive so far to come to holiday gatherings, but whenever it was suggested that SHE host something she hemmed and hawed and pretended not to hear. I think she just liked to complain, or it might have been that they didn’t live in a very nice neighborhood. (I don’t know exactly what part, but I know it was on the Westside.) The last time I saw him I think I was 9 or so. He was older than me, but he was always a pretty nice guy, as far as I can remember. The times where I got to see him we would play basketball. He’d show me how to line up shots, and how to play better defense. When I asked him why he was so good at basketball he told me that it’s pretty much all he did every day. He’d get out of school and go straight to the court with his friends.

So I asked my cousin if he was still in Philadelphia and he explained that he had moved to California. I was floored. Apparently the move took place in the middle of him being in high-school, and he’d since finished up his degree, but what really surprised me were the circumstances of the move. Apparently one day after school a bunch of thugs tried to start a fight with him and his friends, and while he was trying to get away he got roped in to the brouhaha. He said that he thinks someone in a house nearby must have seen what was going on, because a few minutes later the cops had shown up and they were dragging everybody apart. He said he got a black eye and a couple of bruises, but he was generally able to escape without much damage. No blood. No broken bones. Apparently his mom flipped out and went on a 3 day rant about how dangerous the city was, and how there were no trees or grass anywhere, or something like that. He said the next thing he knew he was on a plane to California to live with his mom’s brother and his family in Los Angeles.

He said that the thing that really shocked him was when he first arrived. He said the skycap at the airport hailed him a cab, and he was halfway to his uncle’s house before he realized that the cab stunk overwhelmingly of body odor and cheese sandwiches. He said it was like that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry’s car had the BO smell and it was impossible to get rid of it. He said the stench was so overpowering that he hardly noticed that his uncle’s house was in a pretty swank part of Los Angeles, and was more a mansion than a house. He had figured from the cab that LA was a dirty city just like Philly was.

After he got settled he worked some odd jobs, and his friends from home flew out to visit from time to time. I told him that we all assumed his family had moved, or just fallen off the radar. We were never sure if we were going to see them at Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or 4th of July, but we saw them frequently enough that we figured they MIGHT come back again. When they didn’t, I guess everyone just figured he and his mom had hooked up with her family again. We chatted for so long that it was about 3am here before I realized it. So we set a time to chat again in the future. I still can’t believe he was able to find me after all he had been through.

A few orders of business, and a side order of eggrolls

Published

Anonymous Coworker

on January 12, 2007 @ 8:37 am

in Mrs. ACW, jokes, potty humor and sex

. 27 Comments

About the comments. Be assured that I read them every day, multiple times a day. On the days when I can respond, I do. But some days I just don’t have the time, so the comments go un-re-commented-upon by me. Know on those days (days like yesterday and today) that I appreciate the comments nonetheless.

Speaking of comments, I got a comment yesterday from Amy, and it was funny to me in a way that I don’t believe she intended. Amy can let us know in comments if my interpretation was her intention.

Amy said: I think that, technically, it’s blasphemous to consume Jesusnog. Unless a priest administers it.

HA!

Do you get it? No? Unless a priest administers it. Wink wink nudge nudge say no more. As in:

Priest: Hey Timmy, will I see you at mass on Sunday?
Timmy the altar boy: Of course Father.
Priest: Great! I have some new eggnog I’d like you to try.
TTAB: Oh. Ok. I guess.
Priest: It comes out of my penis.
TTAB: Uh, that’s really gross.
Priest: I’m going to administer eggnog to you vis a vis my wiener in your mouth.
TTAB: You know I’m calling the cops right now, right?
Priest: I love sweaty naked little boys!
TTAB: That’s so gross.

So, is that what you meant Amy?

[crickets chirping]

So, uh, yeah. Moving on.

Mrs. ACW and I just ordered a wedding picture for me to put on my desk, and the envelope it came in looked like this: