Archive for the 'zombies' Category

Of nog and necrophilia

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 19, 2007 @ 11:08 am
in food, horror, movies, necrophilia, nog, potty humor, sex, suhmuhmuh bitch, the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs and zombies
. 22 Comments

There’s a theory that holds a bit of popularity on these here intertubes, and it’s called the Uncanny Valley. If you’re familiar with this concept, please feel free to skip ahead to the third paragraph. If you’re not, I encourage you to read on, because my point hinges on this concept.

The uncanny valley is an explanation of human reaction to human-like objects, primarily robots. Common sense suggests that as robots begin to look more human, the more receptive we should be to those robots, giving them a more positive response. For example, an industrial car-building robot has a few human traits like dexterity and hinged-joints, so we have only a slightly positive response to it. On the other hand, a fully human-looking robot like the T-101, T-1000, or T-X from the Terminator movies each elicit a very positive response because of their humanness (as long as they aren’t trying to kill you, or turning their hands into swords or guns). So, between those two points we should see a straight line, right? Not exactly. At a certain point the robot begins to look human, but does not look human enough so we reject the robot with a negative response, much the same way we reject zombies, corpses, and fake-looking artificial limbs. Here’s a graphical representation of the uncanny valley, as well as a lot more science talk, if you’re interested in that type of thing. If you’re still having trouble grasping the concept, here’s a real-life example:

Orville Redenbacher was a purveyor of popcorn, and also acted as the face for his company in the commercials, as can be seen in this ad. He died in 1995.

Recently an ad agency decided to resurrect Mr. Redenbacher to help sell more popcorn for the Orville Redenbacher company. The horrendous result can be seen here. Despite the CGI being pretty damn good, almost everyone who has ever seen this commercial has been repulsed by it, which is why the ad was pulled in most markets shortly after it began to air. The CGI Redenbacher, or Deadenbacher as he is referred to on Wikipedia, is located somewhere in the uncanny valley; a zombie-like approximation of a once-living icon, close enough to do the job of selling popcorn, but not close enough for people to keep that popcorn down for very long. This is the also case with powdered nog.

powder nog 002

As you can see from the carton, the Aspen Mulling Company promises nothing more than “Egg Nog Mix” but their illustration suggests they’ve packaged something drinkable; a claim, I can assure you, that surpasses the vilest of lies, crafted by Satan’s lawyers in the deepest pits of flaming torment.

powder nog 005

I’ve included the directions here to illustrate the sheer paucity of verifiable claims. “Let stand two minutes to thicken” into disgusting undrinkable clot. “For a special treat, pour egg nog over fresh fruit.” I agree, just don’t use this eggnog. “Smoothies: Add 3 teaspoons per serving into blender.” and what else? Milk? Eggs? Diarrhea? “Bundt Cake: Add 2 tablespoons to your favorite recipe.” if you want to ruin it and make people hate you forever.

powder nog 009

See those little yellow-orange dots floating in the off-white mixture? Those are the parts of the mix that refused to integrate with the milk even after furious stirring. I could already tell that I was about to submit my innards to some horrible abuse, equivalent to internal punching from tonsils to tailpipe.

powder nog 010

Uggh. The first sip tasted like off-brand sugar-free vanilla pudding got knocked up by soy-nog and their baby was this screaming, head-spinning, chunk-spewing, demon-infested horror. That orange line is one of the first accumulations of unmixable nog powder that would eventually ring my glass.

powder nog 012

See that? It’s an empty nog glass; unmixable and probably undigestable nog powder clings to the bottom. For you people I drank this. For you. So you don’t wander into the store and think, “Hey maybe I should put some powder into some milk instead of putting powder up my nose for once,” take it home and DIE when you try to ingest something that was clearly invented for someone who loves nog as much as I do. For you people I drank the equivalent of the uncanny valley of eggnog. For you people I drank the metaphorical Deadenbacher. For you people I traveled to Hell’s gates, knocked on the door, and then yanked on the chain of the three-headed demon-dog that eats souls and salivates liquid-hot magma. And for you people I let that demon-dog hump my leg. I hope you’re happy.

The Winners

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on June 4, 2007 @ 10:02 am
in awesome, contests, jesus is fo' shizzle, necrophilia, nog, potty humor, sex, the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs and zombies
. 10 Comments

I think we can all agree that Omega pretty much won every category fair and square. Except for maybe “Longest”. Regardless, he pretty much pwn0rz3d the whole damned contest. So, in the interest of being able to get more crap out of my house, I awarded Omega the prize in one category, and then awarded prizes to the other winners.

Jamie- Longest: “Clowns with big sausages trying to have anonymous sex with zombies because they heard that necrophilia is fun”. Jamie actually won the longest category fair and square, snatching a complete and total upset from the soul-rending claws of that pervert Omega.

Bliss- Most related to necrophilia: “I want to hump zombies because I love necrophilia”. I would have to say that nothing quite captures the true spirit of necrophilia than this statement by Bliss (well, aside from Omega’s entries, and his family reunions).

Omega- Most surreal: “the undead thundercats are in my pants”. I was actually really happy with this entry. Every time I would look at it I would laugh, and then wonder why the hell I was laughing so hard, read it again, and start laughing again. For all his entries, this one by Omega was the one that broke my brain.

Lori- Strangest instance of the word “coworker”: “Anonymous zombies eating necrophiliac coworkers”. I saw this search term and thought, “Why would it be important that the coworkers that the zombies were eating would be necrophiliacs? Is there an office somewhere housing a bunch of coworkers who are all necrophiliacs?” And it was then that I realized that the cunning use of the word “coworker” is what helped make it so bizarre.

the watergirl- Potentially Criminal: “how to have anonymous necrophiliac sex with my coworkers brother”. More than anyone, twg knows that necrophilia is illegal. I honestly am not sure if she was participating in the contest or actually looking for this information. Either way, she wins a prize.

S. Reed- Most related to zombies: “Zombie semen tastes like cannog”. You could make the argument that there were many entries that were more related to zombies than this one. And you’d be right, but they were all entered by Omega, that sick, sadistic fuck. Actually, for some reason this entry really stood out for me. It might be that cannog is that disgusting. It might be because I’d never really thought about zombie semen. It might be that it’s plagued my dreams all weekend. Regardless, S. Reed takes this one.

Your Neighborhood Librarian- Most offensive: “jesus fucking a corpse on a roof” AND “drinking eggnog from Jesus’s zombie anus”. I don’t know what more can be said about these entries except that they probably would have been even more offensive had they been combined. Kudos, YNL. I hope you enjoy the special place that has now been reserved for you in Hell.

DaMonkeyCode- Make your own category: “I put a wookie in a zombie’s butt and got a pregnant teenage roofer”. This entry was so brilliant in its strangeness that I couldn’t let it go by unnoticed. I envisioned someone stuffing Chewbacca into a zombie’s ass like it was the coin-slot on a vending machine, and moments later a pregnant white-trash teen explodes out of the zombie, nail-gun in hand, shingles over her shoulder. Genius.

So, all the winners should email me their mailing address at my gmail.com address: anonymouscoworker. They’ll get a specially selected piece of junk from my house, and something they might actually enjoy.

Before this contest closes, I think it’s important to recognize the work that Omega went through, so here are all his entries reproduced for your viewing enjoyment. Better not let your boss or significant other see this list or you’ll get kicked to the curb so fast you won’t really know what happened.

child corpse tit fucking (Wow. Talk about hitting the ground running.)
masturbating to animal corpse
jerk my dead dick
hump my mother the zombie stripper
taking a shit on the pope (This one made me laugh out loud.)
I loves me some zombie anus (The folksy tone of this one really sells it.)
I picked up a hooker at the mortuary
Random car fart eats the glazed soup bucket
the undead thundercats are in my pants
I ate my shitty coworker and then molested his bones (Talk about adding insult to injury.)
An orgy of undead loving
Freak me with your rotting booty (I think he was channeling Sir Mix-a-lot on this one.)
I’m going to shoot you in the face when I rob you
Glen Burnie is the goddamn devil (Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad.)
Eat the maggots from my zombie ass, you ignorant necro
I pleasure myself when kittens are killed (I guess that’s sort of the inverse of this.)

And that he ended his last entry with, “That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.” damn near killed me.

Lots of music questions for some reason

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 26, 2007 @ 10:00 am
in Mrs. ACW, devil cat, i am so fucking awesome, music, necrophilia, school, sex and zombies
. 8 Comments

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. Is Neil Peart overrated?”

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

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

2) You tell me Mr. Eight Motherfucking Questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fleh. The rest tomorrow.

*Thanks to Dave Eggers for that phrase.

Some answers

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 23, 2007 @ 8:19 am
in art, atheism!, beer, food, horror, i am so fucking awesome, jesus is fo' shizzle, money, necrophilia, nog, sex and zombies
. 8 Comments

It’s Me… Maven:
“Hypothetically speaking… If one were to shave their taint and then get a tattoo of buddha, Jesus and Mohammed in flagrante with Mother Theresa, would that be a sin? What if they were caricatures instead?”

I’m not sure what a shaved taint has to do with it (did Tina Turner write that song?) unless of course the tattoo was being applied to the aforementioned area of hairlessness. In any case, it would be a sin if you were Jewish, I guess, because I know they’ve got some rules about tattoos and piercings, but really I don’t think an atheist is the best person to ask about what does and does not constitute sin.

Alan:
“Ok, since you insisted, here’s my necro question:
Could you please list all the permutations of necrophilia? I feel I’ve forgotten some.”

You are an idiot. Also, the many permutations of necrophilia include necro-bestiality, necro-incestuality, necro-erotica, and pretty much any and all sexual contact with real or pretend dead people or animals.

johnny dollar
“i have a ‘90 subaru legacy w/ +200k miles on it. once the car has warmed up after an hour’s drive, when i come to an intersection to stop, the car will shut off. it starts up right away and keeps running until the next time i stop, and then it dies again…any ideas about what might be the problem?
thanks!
oh wait… is this not car talk?”

As far as your first question, I’d advise you to lubricate the reverse reticulator valve while disengaging the Johnson coupler on the flange capacitor. This might be a euphamism.
As for your second question, yes, this is Car Talk. See the answer to your first question for proof.

Poppy
“Are you gonna eat my brains in July or what?! Cuz I’m not coming to MD if my brains won’t be ett.
My real question: If you had to choose between eggnog and all other alcoholic beverages which would you choose and why?”

No, I will not eat your brains. Brains are gross. I will eat your kidneys.
This is a good question, but after a few seconds of thought I realized that there is a beverage that I love more than eggnog: beer. There’s no way I could blog about beer though, because I’d never get anything else done, I love it that much. I’d much rather never have eggnog again than never have beer again.

miss kendra
“i have gone over it 892573459 times, and yet my checkbook is still off by $10. why?
will my ankle/foot ever function properly again? because i have lots of pretty heels i’d like to wear.
what is the reason for the season?”

1) Either your bank is sloppy, or they reserve $10 as a minimum amount to have in your account. Stop using banks, start burying your money in the sand at low tide.
2) Yes, because no one should be forced to live without being able to wear a pair of leopard print kitten heels.
3) Beer. See Poppy’s question.

That other Lori
“Why do you hate America, ACW?”

The reasons are almost to numerous to count:

The foreigners
The citizens
The old
The young
Minorities
The majority
Republicans
Democrats
Walmart
Jesus
Et cetera

But really, the number one thing that makes me hate America are all the freedoms. I particularly hate the first amendment. What? Blog?

That’s all for now. Tune in next time as the questions devolve into cartoons I was watching as a kid.

I hate motivational speakers

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 13, 2007 @ 10:47 am
in bitches, work and zombies
. 33 Comments

Yesterday I was at a conference for work, and it featured an absolutely terrible motivational speaker. This is not to say that he wasn’t motivating people. He certainly was. I just don’t fall for that touchy-feely wrapped in a cutesy-wootsy saying bullshit. I think it’s insulting to my intelligence and takes a very ham-handed approach at simply explaining something as complicated as your fucking life.

Wow, I got pretty angry fast.

Anyway, I’m sitting there with 500 other people, and the guy starts telling his little stories, and everybody is getting into his mindset. I’m sitting there looking around and he’s got them all totally entranced. It’s like staring a bunch of zombies in the face. Glassy eyes, glazed over expression, mouths hanging open slightly in order to anticipate whether they should laugh or cry. He is a fucking puppeteer and they are all bending over and begging to have his arm up their asses.

So while he’s talking he’s walking around and touching people. At first I think he is trying to shake hands with every person in the room as he is telling his stories, but then I realize that he just wants to touch everyone. Just place a hand on their shoulder or touch their arm as he’s walking by. He’s getting closer and closer and closer to our table and he’s touching everyone as he passes. People are dying to be touched by this guy. They’re leaning toward him so they can get a better grope and I’m trying to force him to die with the power of my mind.

But he isn’t dying, and he just keeps getting closer. Then he’s two tables away and I realize I can smell him.

He must have had his sweat glands replaced with bottles of Old Spice, because he fucking reeks of the shit, and before I realize it the stinking old fucker is putting his hand on my shoulder. He’s still telling his stories, but he steps away and blows his nose into a handkerchief, and then puts his filthy fucking hand on my coworker’s back. I am repulsed. I want to set him on fire before running away and burning the skin off of my hands in bucket of acid.

He’s walking around again, still touching people, still blowing his nose, still dropping these cutesy sayings throughout. The woman sitting next to me and my coworker is writing all his shit down while dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

He reaches the end of the room and he turns around, and I can already tell that he’s heading back to my table. He touches someone and says with an air of wisdom, “You can give someone permission to have ambition,” or some other such bullshit and I can feel my brain begin to try to destroy itself. He touches someone as he gets closer and says that someone’s kindness to him was “Tattooed on my spirit.” It takes all my power to not vomit my intestines on to the table. He touches more people and tells them “You. Are. Worthwhile.” People start to cry. I wonder if swallowing a fork will kill me, then realize it will, but it’ll take too long. He touches more people and moves closer, like a bastard fuck-child juggernaut of germs and Chicken Soup for the motherfucking Soul. He says, “You can give people the keys to start the engine of their success.” I realize that self-immolation is beyond my mental capabilities.

Then he reaches me. And he touches my shoulder.

“Make every day the best day of your year.”

Touching.

“Take the baton of life and run with it.”

Touching.

“Treasure each day!”

TOUCHING.

I make no effort to conceal the revulsion on my face, but the zombies don’t even notice. They’re just lapping it all up. Suckling at his withered old teat of banality and Oprah-esque nonsense.

Hours later his small-group follow-up session is overflowing with sycophants, and in my car I realize my suit still smells like Old Spice.

WACW, Glen Burnie; transmitting without an FCC license

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 23, 2007 @ 10:06 am
in Mrs. ACW, devil cat, horror, movies and zombies
. 36 Comments

The other night my douchebag cats were keeping me up by doing stupid douchebaggy things like banging on the closet doors, banging on the shower doors, and banging on the doors to the linen closet. Why do they do this? Because they want me to get up, because when I get up that means I might feed them. Might. So, in an attempt to get food at 2, 4, and 6am, they bang on all kinds of shit so that I might get up and feed them. This is their version of the lottery, and I’ve started giving them the “jackpot” by squirting them in the face with a spray bottle of water. Hopefully in a few weeks it’ll sink into their heads that banging on shit equals wet face.

On this particular night I tried to go back to sleep, but of course my mind wandered, and as usual, the first thing my mind wanders to is movies. Horror movies. In an attempt to not terrify myself awake by thinking of the crazy American guy blowtorching the face of the Japanese girl in Hostel while surrounded by zombies from Night of the Living Dead and running away into the foot-chase from Texas Chainsaw Massacre I instead thought about cell-phones in horror movies, and why they’re never brought along.

Can you imagine the frustration of the moviegoer to have sit through a scene like this?:

Hero dialing phone.

Hero: Hey man, we could really use some help here…. Hello… What?… No, it’s Mike… MIKE… IT’S MIKE… MIKE… Hello?… What?… Yes, it’s Mike… YES, IT’S MIKE… We need some help… HELP…. WE NEED SOME HELP…. What?… Are you still there?… What?… WE. NEED. SOME. HELP…. Yeah… Yeah, help… We’re at the farm. … The farm… THE FARM… AT THE FARM… THE Fa oh fuck it, I’ll just do this myself.

Hero throws phone at zombified serial killer that’s been waiting politely for the call to end.

Aaaaand scene.

Nobody wants to see that movie. Except for maybe me. But anyway, while I was laying in bed thinking about that, I distinctly heard the sound of a voice being transmitted through an electronic medium, and it freaked me right the fuck out.

It wasn’t clear enough to be a TV or radio. It wasn’t even clear enough to be a cell phone. It sounded like someone was talking quietly through a megaphone. I lifted my head up to get a better location on the sound, and I caught a “can you give me a locatio”, so I figured it was the cops or an ambulance, but couldn’t figure out why they were using a megaphone outside. Then I heard, “it’s a uhhhhhh 10-”, and suddenly I realized that the sound wasn’t outside, but was INSIDE the house.

I whipped my head around to check my phone. It was closed. It couldn’t be that. The TV was off and so was the radio, and I knew for a fact that computer was off because I checked it before I got back in bed after spraying the cats.

“what’s the uhhhh”

It was right next to my ear. To say that the paranoia was overwhelming would be an understatement. My chest was constricting. My eyes were bulging out of my head. My body was completely rigid. It wasn’t until I heard it again that I realized I hadn’t been breathing.

“a car about three”

I very slowly turned my head to look at where the sound was coming from, and as Mrs. ACW inhaled I heard, “and it was going” come out of her mouth, and I immediately realized something was happening that I had first read about in Encyclopedia Brown in the 3rd grade, but had never actually experienced until now; Mrs. ACW’s braces were picking up transmissions on the emergency frequency. The voices I heard were those of cops, or ambulances drivers, or somebody, because I could hear the distinct static of the walkie-talkie things they use. And I could only hear anything when she was breathing in. She was breathing kind of heavily, but not to the point of snoring, and her mouth was slightly open. Every time she took a breath in I guess it vibrated her mouth enough for me to hear the transmission, because when she breathed out I couldn’t hear anything.

I actually laid there and listened to the transmissions for about 15 minutes until Mrs. ACW rolled over and the connection was lost. Mrs. ACW thinks I was dreaming about the whole thing and that it’s impossible for it to happen, but I’m 100% certain that I was awake, and even though I can’t find much evidence in a 5 minute Google search, I’m sure somebody out there has had a similar experience or can explain to her that yes, it does happen from time to time. Have you ever heard of this?

No mention of rickets, though

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 20, 2007 @ 12:46 pm
in potty humor and zombies
. 21 Comments

I’ve been trying to get in touch with a guy at another company for about a week now, and keep getting directed to his assistant’s substitute, who apparently has no access to his schedule, calendar, or even his phone number. Today she was finally able to direct me to his voicemail, but I was on hold for about 10 minutes while she was (I assume) looking up the number. However, I wouldn’t put it past her, considering I’ve been dealing with her for a week, that she just put me on hold and forgot about me. But this doesn’t get to the point of my post. While I was on hold I was subjected to a recording about various diseases, their symptoms, and what to do about treatment (it’s a health insurance company).

Here are some of the diseases that were mentioned while I was on hold:

Anorexia
Bulimia
Cancer
Alzheimer’s
Obesity
HIV
Hypertension
Leukemia
Hepatitis
Schizophrenia
Lung Cancer
Malaria

Now I feel great! Nothing like listening to a chipper female voice describe finding a dark-spot in a a x-ray in a search for lung cancer. And my, she was so polite in not mentioning sharing needles during an orgy when discussing Hepatitis and HIV. Unfortunately, I was connected to the voicemail before I could hear the spiel about malaria. I’m sure that would have been awesome in a West-Nile kind of way.

Here are some of the diseases I would have liked to hear about:

Ebola
Mad Cow
Solanum
Tapeworms
Lycanthropy
Elephantiasis
Trichatillomania
Explosive Diarrhea

The answers

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on January 10, 2007 @ 9:01 am
in Mrs. ACW, devil cat, food, horror, i am so fucking awesome, meta blogging, movies, music, necrophilia, nerd stuff, nog, potty humor, sex, travel and zombies
. 22 Comments

tfg- What can I do about this not-so-fresh feeling that I’ve had lately?
I’d suggest take some antibiotics and staying away from the tranny hookers on Calvert Street. Or, wait. Are you back on the street? Your parole officer is going to hear about this. Or, wait again. Is he the one that gave you the clap? Look. Maybe you should just keep it in your pants for a while.

I said IN your pants. Oh, gross! Don’t put it on the keyboard! Oh that’s horrible! You’re going to need a new monitor now.

NPR Junky- How do you and Mrs. ACW file your bills? What do you do with your mortgage statements, and credit card statements and health insurance explanation of benefits once you’ve read them and paid them?
Wow. Really? This has been bothering you? Any particular reason WHY this has been bothering you, or are you just a little OCD with an extra dash of compulsion thrown in for spice?

We file our bills in a few ways. First, we file them on the dining room table. They usually sit there until we file them on the small counter by the foyer. Then I file them on the steps to be taken upstairs. Then they either get filed in a “to be filed” divider, or on my “to be filed” pile. Then the finally get filed in the proper folder in our filing cabinet. This process takes approximately 6 years.

Diamond Lil- Did you actually swallow the bite of eggnog soap? I mean, obviously you bit into it, but did you swallow?
Yep. It was oozy and gross, but everything that didn’t get stuck in my teeth or form a film on my tongue went into the old crap factory.


Poppy- When are you coming to visit me?
Well, I’ve been meaning to travel out west during the summer for some time, and I’ve always wanted to see the southern part of the country in the winter, and the northeast is lovely in the fall, so as soon as that season arrives, I might just have to make a trip. ;)

Bekah- Are any of your toes webbed?
Nope

What’s your favorite position to sleep on - your back, your side, or your front?
It’s funny. I always start sleeping on my left side. A few minutes later I’ll rotate to my back. A few minutes after that I’ll rotate to my right side. And a few minutes after that I’ll end up on my stomach. I can’t fall asleep until I make the full rotation. I usually wake up on my stomach too.

Do you snuggle with Mrs. ACW or is does she demand that you keep all arms and legs and other bodily parts away from her?
Yes, I snuggle with Mrs. ACW, but she also demands that I keep away from her. In my first stage of sleeping, she smooshes up against my back until I’m ready to make my first 90 degree rotation.

Have you ever smelled something funky and thought, “was that the cat?” And then sniffed the cat’s butt?
To answer the first question, yes. And frequently, yes, it is the cat. To answer the second question, no, I’ve never smelled the cat’s butt. Buttholes kind of gross me out.

Who is your favorite vampire of all time?
Well, I guess it depends on what vampire mythology you buy into. I’ve always been kind of partial to the idea that Caine was the original vampire (and thusly my favorite vampire) based on the idea that when God threw Caine out of Adam and Eve’s lands, Caine was condemned/cursed to starvation with his only option for sustenance to drink human blood.

What movie do you hate so much that you wish you could break every single copy of it ever made and smack the director in the forehead?
Dr. T and the Women. If you like this movie, please kill yourself. Richard Gere is a lady-parts doctor and surprise surprise is surrounded by a lot of women. Two hours of bullshit happens, and then Dr. T is flung into Mexico by a tornado, just in time to deliver a baby. “What the fucking shit?!” you must be saying to yourself. I’m serious. That’s what happens. Don’t watch it or you might stab out your eyeballs upon whatever you first lay your hands. Keep in mind this is coming from a guy who watches horror movies with one star (or lower) ratings… for fun.

Have you ever dyed your hair? If so, what color(s)?
Nope. But I have had all kinds of braids, plaits, cornrows and such.

Have you ever dyed your pubic hair? If so, what color(s)?
Nope.

Have you ever dyed your cat’s hair? If so, what color(s)?
Nope.

Jules- You’ve probably covered this somewhere, but how old are you?
I’m 26. Actually 26 and 101/365.

Anonymous-Do you house to the right or the left?
Oh! It’s too bad this comment is anonymous, or otherwise I might have felt compelled to answer. As it stands, the commenter didn’t even bother to come up with a fake name. Sorry, I’m going to have to let this one go by.

Robin- Why don’t you get your cat’s glandular problem fixed?
Huh? Are you talking about Wookie being a big fatty? Or that both of them lay down the dookies like it’s going to be illegal tomorrow? I would never change my kitties, even if they grow to be the size of armchairs. Because then I could charge admission.

When and how did you and Mrs. ACW meet?
ACWF and I met while we were in college. We were both English majors, and so we had a few classes together. One semester in particular we shared a class on Mondays and Wednesdays, as well as a class on Tuesday and Thursday. After watching ACWF in classes for about a week, I noticed that she always smoked before class. One day, even though I didn’t smoke very much, I waited for her to go outside, and I followed her and bummed a smoke. The rest is history, or something.


Karla- Why, when I peeked in your bedroom window the other night, did I see you wearing a pink nightie and fishnet stockings? And does your wife always sit in the corner and sob like that?
Let’s see. That must have been last Thursday night, because Thursday night is always Pink Nightie night, and every alternating Thursday is Crying night, so you must have caught us on a pretty wild night. Not as wild as alternating Mondays Pirate night on months that end in -Ember with optional Clown Suit spectator nights, but they happen so rarely it’s hard to contain the magic.

Bekah- What’s your favorite method of “curing” the hiccups?
I take a deep breath and then exhale slowly through my nose while trying to control my diaphragm. Ha! I said a word about something that goes in a hoohoo!

When is the most recent time you puked and what were you puking up?
I refer you to this post.

bloggadocio- Is the Friendly’s on Rte 2 still there?
If you mean the one in the heart of all the car lots in the heart of Glen Burnie, yes, it’s still there. Unfriendly’s is still, very unfortunately, there.

trinity67- 1. If our legs bent the other way what would chairs look like?
Well, they would probably still look the same, except they would be turned around. But chances are greater that we wouldn’t really need chairs at all. It’s much easier to sit with legs like that than our regular legs.

2. Who puts the “Thin Ice” sign in the middle of the lake?
I have yet to see evidence that a Thin Ice sign is placed in the MIDDLE of a lake. Typically, it’s placed at the edge of a lake, on the shore, or on the lake at a point where the ice is not too thick to stand. And depending on who owns the lake (the park service, a private company, etc.) any number of people could be responsible for sign placement.

3. If 7-11 is open 24 hours why are there locks on the doors?
So the clerk can take a dump in peace when he’s working alone.

4. How do they get teflon to stick to the pan?
Teflon is sprayed onto the pan when the material is at an extremely high temperature. When the pan is cooled, and then dipped into a special chemical bath that helps with maintaining the protective surface during shipping, the teflon should stay on until it’s rubbed off.


It’s Me… Maven- 1. If one were to engage in necrophilia with an animal of another species, but of the same gender, does that make one gay? That’s not necrophilia. That’s necrobestiality. And no, it doesn’t make one gay. One is born gay. Plus, I think you can only be a homo within your own species. Outside of that you’re just a pervert.

2. If both the human and the animal in question were to engage in the aforementioned activity, while wearing matching mukluks and ear muffs, does that make it any MORE gay? The animal can’t engage in the activity if it’s dead. Only the human can. What the human wears is irrelevant, unless it’s white after labor day, which is a major fashion faux pas.

3. What if both #1 and #2 were the case AND they were listening to Hank Williams Jr., songs, BACKWARDS on their turntable? Still gay? More or less so? Not gay at all. Hank Williams Jr. is a rockin’ country music machine. Hank Williams Jr. could eat most pop-country music stars alive and shit out career felons, he’s such a badass.

4. Which is worse in your book? Necrophilia or beastiality?
Bestiality is worse. Necrophilia, gross as it may be, is a relatively victimless crime. Yes, it’s horrible for the surviving family members IF they know about it, but a living animal can’t consent. Once you’re dead, your body is worthless, so who cares if someone wants to poke around with it? A living animal is just that; living. It can feel pain.

stephanie- People keeping asking me who the anonymous coworker is and if he’s someone I work with. I say he’s an enigma and for them to mind their own business. I guess this really isn’t a question.
You’re damn right it’s not a question. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your damn mouth shut.

Huw- If you had your own chat show, who would be your first three guests on your opening show?
Huw, first of all let me say that you always pose such interesting questions. Normal enough to be considered, but difficult enough that they always take me the longest to answer. In this case I have no idea who my first three guests would be. I think I’d like to speak to some scientists about their research, some comedians about their opinions of the way our world is working, and I’d like to give some of the musicians I listen to a chance to come on and talk about their work as well. But I guess if I must narrow it down I guess I’d like to speak to Eddie Izzard. I’ve always found him hilarious, and I’ve got tons of questions that I’d like to ask him. I’d also like to speak with the Beastie Boys, if I could lump 3 people in as one, because their music has changed so much over time, and they’ve changed politically as well. I think I’d also like to speak with George Romero. He’s always been a bit of a hero of mine, and I think I have some questions for him that may not have been asked of him before.

What’s your favourite Urban Myth?
I would have to be honest and say that I hate urban myths. I feel like they give people a reason to live their lives ignorantly. Like they are an excuse for culturally accepted idiocy.

Mighty Dyckerson- How often do you trim your pubes?
About once a week, or whenever they start poking out from under my cuffs on my pants. Whichever comes first. (Also, I think your blog url might be typed in wrong when you comment. Just an fyi.)

miss kendra- i would like to know some screening questions so that when i’m looking to date people of the male gender, i will know if they are suitable or not. so. what are some good screening questions for ME to ask- and i mean me, not any other single girl? just me. mememememe.
Okay, your first question should always be: Hey, do you like gnomes?

If the boy answers affirmatively, you should then proceed with any of the following in any order:
Do you like my cookie smell?
Are you allergic to cats?
Rock and or roll?
Do you know Dave Grohl?
What is the clitoris?
Where is the clitoris?
Will you make fun of my soy nog?
Will you wait for this booty for a year?

Amy- If you wrote a book and Oprah featured it on her show, would your book:

Be fiction or memoir?
Fiction. Who would be so conceited as to want to write about themselves to an audience of strangers on a daily basis?

If your book were fiction, would it be: Sci-Fi, Romance, Western, Literature, or Soft Core Pornography?
Sci-fi, if you can count zombies as sci-fi.

If your fiction book fell under the Sci-Fi, Western, and/or Soft Core Porn categories, what would you name the main characters?
The main character would probably be named Dr. Killblood Harbinger Deathknight. I guess maybe the zombies would be named Gary, or Chet, or maybe Doug.

If your book were memoir, would it be: 100% true, 90% true, 50% true, somewhat true, or Sci-Fi Soft Core Western Porn?
Maybe I could pretend it’s Dr. Deathknight’s memoir, and from his perspective it could be 100% true!

What question are you just dying to ask Oprah?
“Why can’t you shut your fat fucking mouth for just two seconds?”

Deanne- Should I bother asking mine, with so many better questions on the table? (HA!)
Of COURSE you should bother asking your question. But by the time you get around to reading this, I’ll be well beyond wanting to answer it. So there.

Wait…


Desk Job- If you were to write the ten commandments of blogging what would they be?
1) Thou shall not be a mommyblogger (being a mother who blogs is acceptable)
2) Thou shall not comment anonymously
3) Thou shall not be a catblogger
4) The media shall not use the phrase “weblog or blog”
5) Thou shall not be offended by a blog, thou shall simply move on to a new page
6) Thou shall not lurk
7) Thou shall not feed the trolls
8) Thou shalt comment
9) No stealing the work of others and passing it off as your own
10) Thou shalt link back

Did you get the e-mail I sent you about the ducks?
Um. I don’t think so.

When are you going to drink the Can Nog I sent you?
I was going to drink it this weekend up in New York. Once you open the can, it’s not like you can close it again, and I didn’t want it to go to waste, so I was only going to open it when lots of people were around. Though, if you want I could hold on to it. I don’t think it goes bad for another 2 years.

How many signs/posters/pictures do you have in your bathroom?
Off the top of my head… um… 11 or 12. I think.

——————————————————————————————————

And that’s it. However, you people should be ashamed of yourselves. Over 40 comments about cats, and yet only half as many with questions. For shame!

Happy Xmas, bitches!

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 25, 2006 @ 9:35 am
in beer, food, nog, sex and zombies
. 12 Comments

I hope you got lots of eggnog and zombie related paraphernalia. I know it’s what you wanted, because you keep coming back here to read about it.

In fact, I can tell from here that you’re a little depressed because there’s no zombies or eggnog in this post. Well, get over it.

Go have some PBRs, eat some Christmas Crab Dip, and use some mistletoe for a belt. You’ll have the best Christmas ever.

Merry Christmas!

Chugnog

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on December 11, 2006 @ 10:21 am
in food, nog and zombies
. 20 Comments

Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for all of you Marquis de Sade wannabes, I didn’t eat the eggnog candle this weekend. I was going to eat it on Saturday to enamor myself to fellow guests of a dinner party, but I had forgotten to bring the candle along with me. Maybe I’ll eat it when I eat the soap, because if I’m going to jack up my digestive system, I may as well do it all at once.

However, I did indulge in this little treat:

eggnog chug

The idea of this product was a little surprising to me. As I’ve recently been informed by many of you, chugging nog is clearly a bad idea. Even I know that.

But I settled down with the chugnog and a plate full of cookies and went apeshit on my arteries. The first thing that surprised me was the lid of the nog container. It was quite difficult to remove, and once it started to budge I heard tiny clicks and pops of plastic bands breaking, much like a gallon of milk. But when I finally got the lid off there were about 400 little plastic points of connection that I had needed to break to get to the chugnog. What the fuck? Why was this nog all locked down on Defcon 1 like the zombies were about roll up on their shit and eat the black guy and the promiscuous chick? I found out quickly.

The reason why is that they don’t actually want you to drink this nog. Nobody should. First of all, it’s horrible for you. I know, I know. All nog is pretty much a mix of fat and sugar with enough of some other things to keep it from just being a lump of Crisco that’s been rolled in candy. But this stuff is REALLY bad. Most nog is portioned out in 8 ounce servings. You’ll notice that the chug nog is one pint. It is portioned out in 4 servings of 4 ounces each, and it STILL has more fat, sugar, and calories in a 4 ounce serving than an 8 ounce serving of any other regular nog. Really they should just call it Bottled Beetis. “Hey kids, ever wondered what it’s like to have pancreatic shock and early-onset diabetes? Well that’s the free prize inside every chug-sized Bottled Beetis! Drink one today! Hell, drink four!”

And you’d think that the super-high concentration of fat and sugar would make it better, but no. It’s like drinking a ball of lard that’s been rolled through candy and melted in the dismal gray light of the winter sun before being chilled, bottled, and sent to stores. (Funny aside. I recently learned that 50% of chugnog is sold in stores, and the other 50% is sold in bulk to Chuck Norris. He drinks it all at once and then suckles orphan children at his noggy teats. Then he roundhouse kicks them for being poor.) As I was drinking the nog I could actually taste the laziness, mediocrity, and and underwhelming care of the people at Lehigh Valley. It’s like they didn’t go out of their way to make a barely passable nog, but instead just let a lack of trying to do anything better steer them into this holiday beverage nightmare. Do you know what I mean? Those soynog making motherfuckers go out of their way to make a painfully undrinkable joke of a nog so that in the off chance that a non-vegan buys it and drinks it the vegans will have someone to make fun of at least once that year. The chugnog people on the other hand must have been like, “Hey. Do you want to take a dump in the nog?”
“Nah. Wanna go on smoke break?”
“Okay.”

That’s all they did. They just didn’t give a damn, but didn’t try to make it horrible either. In some sort of crazy Zen-like way they managed to make the middlest of the road, runnest of the mill (run of the millest? runnest of the noggest?) type of nog. I don’t recommend drinking this nog. I recommend using this nog to slowly kill your enemies by hardening their arteries.

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