Seems a long way to go for a lame “Who’s the Boss?” joke

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 16, 2008 @ 8:49 am
in POS Tercel, food, potty humor, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 18 Comments

This morning I had to get up at ballsack-o’clock to fetch my brother and sister-in-law from the airport. This would be that douche Mokie that you’ve all read about from time to time. Anyway, the cock-mongrel just got back from Australia (with no help from United Airlines, thank you cock-blocking motherfuckers very much) and it was determined that I would be the one to go get him from the airport.

Actually it was determined by my dad who was all like, “Mokie gets in at 6:15 tomorrow morning.”

And I was all like, “And?”

“And somebody needs to pick him up.”

“And?”

“…”

“And?!”

“Well…”

“And you want me to pick him up.”

“Oh, well, not if it’s going be trouble for you.”

(sigh) “No, I’ll go get him.”

See, my dad wakes up at like 3 in the morning or something completely ridiculous like that every morning, so for him to be at the airport at 6am is perfectly reasonable. But the airport is in the opposite direction of where my dad works, and the airport is on the way to work, so hey, why don’t you just wake up two hours earlier than you normally do and go get your shit-bagging brother and his sleeper-agent wife?

So there I was, 5 something damn o’clock this morning, kicking cats hither and yon out of my way, trying to stumble into the bathroom so I can brush the toilet and rub toothpaste on my dong, wash my hair with face-soap, my face with shampoo, and my body with shaving cream. Then I got out of the shower, dried myself with toilet-paper, and cleaned my ears with deodorant. One I had my shoes on my hands and my belts on my feet, I was ready to put my pants on my head and tie two shirts together and wrap them around my waist like some sort of Jos. A. Banks insta-toga.

Two scoops of ground coffee in my mouth and a cup of fresh-drip granola bar in an ice-cream bowl with salad tongs and I was ready to go.

I climbed into the trunk of my car and was soon on my way to the place where the car things with long wing-whatevers do the bird thing with lots of people in them.

So yeah, I got to work 2 hours early, and I’m just now realizing that I’m hitting a wall and my body is like, “You fucker. You fucking fucker. What is wrong with you? Why are we awake? I’m tired! But now all your coworkers are here and you need to stay awake for at least 6 more hours. Why did you do this to us? You are such a douche. I hate you. I’m not digesting anything spicy for a month. Then you’ll learn who’s boss.”

It’s Tony Danza, by the way.

His name would be Grinchitlerelzebub

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 14, 2008 @ 9:54 am
in Mrs. ACW, devil cat and money
. 15 Comments

This past weekend, or the weekend before, or maybe it was just the week before, or jesus christ nevermind let’s just get on with the story, Mrs. ACW and I were talking for some reason about the health of the four-legged shit factories we call our pets.

Despite the magical alchemy that allows them to turn our money into feces, Mrs. ACW said that she couldn’t see paying a lot of money to keep one of the horrible little furballs alive. I, of course, was appalled that she’d suggest harming the tiny little douchebags in any way whatsoever. So I began to probe my wife to try to find out her limits of care for the crap-factories based on monetary values.

“So I guess $3000 for dialysis would be too much for you?”

“Yeah. They’re pets. That’s too much money to spend on a pet.”

“Okay, well what about $1800 bucks for stomach surgery like Charissa’s cat?”

“No. That’s too much money to spend on a cat.”

So basically then I spent the next 30 minutes calling her heartless, and telling her that if the Grinch and Hitler had babies, and then those babies made babies with Satan, those babies would still be nicer than she was. But then I realized I hadn’t figured out what I had intended to figure out. Exactly how much money would it cost to help one of our stupid, idiotic cats before she would simply have them put down. Clearly expensive surgeries lead to the cats getting put to sleep, but what was “expensive”?

“What if Wookie got hit by a truck today, and we take her to the vet and the vet says that she’ll live for another 10 years in perfect health, but it’ll cost $1000 to heal her? What then?”

“I’ll keep my thousand bucks and we can get another cat.”

“You soulless harpy!”

Wookie happened to be walking by, so I picked her up and said, “Do you hear that Wook? Don’t ever go to Mrs. ACW when you’re hurt. She’ll just put you to sleep. Oh, you have a hurt paw? Oh, that’s too bad. I guess Cruella is going to insist we put you to sleep.”

“Whatever jerk.”

I ignored her and went back to talking to Wookie, and as if she knew what I was doing, Wookie sneezed. “Oh no! Wookie, you’re ill! I guess I’ll just have to put you in the trashcan here. You can live on leftovers until the garbage truck comes to pick you up. It’s cheaper than the gas it would take to drive you to the vet to put you down.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“I haven’t begun to be ridiculous. You hate our cats! You can’t wait until they show some minimal sign of illness so you can kick them to the curb. What, if Wookie voms up a hairball are you going to flush her down the toilet or stuff her in the garbage disposal or something? Like, ‘Oh, well, a hairball was probably just the tip of the iceberg. Wookie was better off getting flushed.’ You’re a barbarian.”

Then I realized all the examples were based on Wookie being sick, so I changed tactics and asked about Sherlock.

“Well of course not. Sherlock is cute, unlock your stupid cat. We’d have to save Sherlock, no matter what it cost.”

And so it finally became clear. This wasn’t about our cats getting sick. This was about MY cat getting sick. See, Mrs. ACW picked out Sherlock from the litter and brought him home. She cared for him at home that summer while I was at work. Sherlock was her cat. Wookie, on the other hand, just showed up on the doorstep, and Wookie picked me as hers because I let her into the house. It’s not official, but we certainly do have our own cats. However, Mrs. ACW has made one critical error. We were once joking about what would happen to the cats if we ever got divorced, and Mrs. ACW asked which cat I would take. After a contemplating for a few seconds I told her that I’d take the front half of Wookie and Sherlock, and that she could have the back half of both.

But after all this, there was still one question nagging me. We know Mrs. ACW would literally drop-kick Wookie out the front door if Wookie ever got even the tiniest bit sick.

But what happens if I get sick?

Well, that was a complete 180

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 11, 2008 @ 9:23 am
in bitches, driving and people are idiots
. 14 Comments

You might guess from the post I wrote yesterday that I think all people are inherently good, and that as a society we should look out for one another whenever and wherever we can, sacrificing wealth, health, security, and well-being for the betterment of all individuals.

You couldn’t be more fucking wrong. It’s a troubling contradiction that I don’t struggle with every day. I really want people to have nice lives, but I want them to do it without ever interacting with me at any level.

I’m a magnificent douchebag. I’m fine with that. Yesterday I was driving to the store and I saw a cop running radar in the opposite direction. A normal person might think, “Oh, hey, I’ll flash my lights at the oncoming traffic so they slow down and don’t get a ticket.” I don’t possess that altruistic streak. Hell, most of the cops I’ve ever dealt with have been overbearing pricks with some sort of inferiority complex coupled with the need to be seen as some sort of indispensable hero. And even though I hate those pricks, I hate my fellow human even more. I figure if I let the traffic know of a speed trap, I’m not really dicking over the cop that much. Maybe I’d prevent one ticket, but there are dozens of jackasses coming down the road.

On the other hand, if I don’t flash my lights the cop has a good day, and I potentially ruin the day of countless people. That’s a good feeling.

“But ACW,” some of you are now whining to yourselves, “it’s common courtesy to let people know about speed traps. It’s this unspoken social contract that we have to help one another.”

Fuck you. We wouldn’t need the goddamned social contract if you’d drive like a decent human being and not like a hyper-entitled cock-monster with raging hate-boner for traffic laws. Because that’s what it comes down to: by supporting the social contract we tacitly give away the right to drive on safe streets to fucking dickfaces who would rather drive everywhere, hopped up on a big sack of coke, shooting guns out of both windows, 300 miles per hour, Boston and Foreigner blasting out of the speakers. It’s these sadistic fuckers that also expect us to help THEM out of getting a ticket by letting them know when a cop is waiting down the street.

Hey, I’ve done my share of dickish driving. I wish more cops had caught me earlier on so that phase of my driving history wouldn’t have lasted so long. But every time some douche flicked his lights at me, I snuck out of getting a ticket, and I continued to drive like a horrible fucking dick.

So yeah, I’ve had enough of this lights-flashing to warn-my-fellow-human fuzzy love-in bullshit. My fellow humans are, as far as I can tell, complete fucking cock-knockers, and I’d rather see them in jail, or killed by their own recklessness, than prancing out of a well-deserved traffic ticket.

This one might bite me in the ass

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 10, 2008 @ 9:54 am
in nerd stuff, politics and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 24 Comments

One of the things I like about my site, and that I will miss when I am gone, is the relatively varied viewpoints of you people. I’d guess that most readers are pretty centrist/moderate, despite the fact that I’m so far to the left on the political spectrum that they haven’t yet created a category to describe me. You know I’m a fringe fucking wacko when I resist at all costs the conservative, calculating nature of those damned anti-progress anarchists. Fascists, every one of them.

Despite this minor peccadillo, I also somehow manage to draw in some folks from the perspective of those on the right. For the most part they tend to be Republicans as opposed to “conservatives”, which I can respect. We need the diversity to find balance, because without that balance, extremism runs amok. And when you have extremism running amok, you have democratic presidential nominee voting for immunity for warrantless wire-tapping. I swear it’s driving me completely fucking bonkers. But I digress.

Last night I was watching Bullshit, and they brought up the issue of reparations. Now, Penn and Teller usually do a decent job of skewering the easy targets: faith healing, psychics, bottled water, and so on. They do a decent job with more complex topics: abstinence-only education, recycling, circumcision, etc. But they’re not perfect. I think they’ve dropped the ball with a couple of shows, and one of those shows was the one on reparations.

The first problem they made was interviewing three black people, and posturing as if they all spoke for all black people. Of course, one was for reparations, one against, and the third advocated for a modified form of reparations that would also benefit some white people. It’s a long story.

The other problem I had was that Penn and Teller kept saying things along the lines of “race doesn’t matter” and “ignore the color of people’s skin and then things will change for the better” which is really kind of naive. Even if we leveled the playing field right now by taking away everyone’s money and then redistributing it equally to every person in the country, racism would still affect how people were treated (hired, fired, etc.). Racism is not going away, and anyone who thinks that it doesn’t still have deleterious effect on our culture is living in a lily-white, white-bread, mayonnaise-rice-and-salt-sandwich-with-a-big-glass-of-milk world.

The final problem I had was that they agreed that reparations for Japanese internment in the US was worthwhile because the Japanese who were interned were the ones who were paid. And it’s clear from our society that they were able to bounce back and thrive because of those payments. But the Japanese were neither enslaved for 300 years by the US, nor were they forced to live with 100 years of legalized segregation. Comparatively, the Japanese suffered much less, but were recompensed to a much greater degree.

So what do you think? I think there are a number of potential problems with reparations, made worse as every year passes, but I think there might be some way to make reparations possible. Do you think reparations can be distributed in some way? If so, should they?

I think this is the third time I’ve written this post

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 9, 2008 @ 10:26 am
in bitches, driving, movies, people are idiots, potty humor, sex, suhmuhmuh bitch, travel and work
. 11 Comments

On Monday I was at an all-day conference that tangentially related to my job. Last week my boss asked me to go, and I was like, “Not spend the day in the office? Yeah, I’m totally there.”

Stupidly I didn’t consider that the conference was in DC, and that I’d be commuting into it and out of it at the height of rush hour. I just “yeah, I’m totally there”d myself into one of the most irritating cities on the planet at the most irritating times of day. It’s like asking someone to punch you in the crotch, and then saying, “Oh, and by the way, can you please use brass knuckles? And also don’t forget to throw in a few kicks to the beanbag just for fun.”

So I drove down and boarded the train and rode to my stop and got out and went into the hotel and wandered around looking for the damn conference for about 30 minutes. Seriously. I asked three different hotel employees where this thing was going on and they had never even heard of it before. It didn’t help that the hotel was enormous and had seventy bajillion events going on, all with pretty much the same name. Because when you’re in DC during the election season, you can’t swing a dead Jesse Helms without hitting two conferences side-by-side in a hotel, usually with utterly unique names like “National Information Conference on Freedom and Liberty” and “The Liberty Conference on National Freedom and Information”. I swear, there were like nine conferences going on, all on the same floor, and they all were using some variation of the words “national, freedom, information, liberty” and “conference”. And if you asked somebody about it, they copped an attitude like, “Oh god no, that’s not our group! How could you even suggest such a thing.” I was in like some kind of fucking political wonk’s Alice in Wonderland. Or this movie.

Anyway, I finally found the conference I was looking for, and I walked in and sat down. Within a few seconds I realized that the presenter was reading off of her powerpoint slides. In front of a room of very educated people, she was reading her fucking slides.

I looked at the agenda and noticed that she was wrapping up soon, so I decided to stick around to see how it would go. “Everybody couldn’t be that bad,” I thought. And the problem is, whenever I think something like that, I always forget about “worse”. I think, “Wow. This is as bad as it can get,” and then it fucking blows up in my face and shit explodes everywhere and I think, “God damn. I forgot about ‘worse’ again.”

How bad was worse? Not only did the next presenter read every fucking word of every fucking slide (because apparently the audience was illiterate) but she also went on long, tautological digressions before moving on to the next slide. Which she would then read and go on a long tautological digressions.

I see limitations in myself. I really do. I know I digress like it’s crack and they’re making it illegal tomorrow. And I know I’ll belabor a point just to make sure I’m understood properly. These are bad habits, I realize. But this woman was at a level unto herself. I’ve never seen such a blatant disregard for the intelligence, sanity, and audience’s potential to murder a horrible public speaker.

By the time she was done speaking I was ready to eat my fucking arm just so I’d have an excuse to get out of there. But the next speaker was actually talking about something I was interested in hearing, so I stuck around.

He had two fucking slides, he spoke succinctly and made his points quickly and effectively, and though he was thorough and elaborate, he was done in 10 minutes. I wanted to gargle his balls. He was that awesome.

Then I looked at the agenda and saw that the first two women had a tag team presentation coming up, and that they were the primary speakers for the rest of the day. I stood up, and perhaps too loudly said, “Fuck this, I am out of here,” and went home.

The conference started at 9, and I left at 10:30. I think I put in my time.

Sweet Jesus, my brain

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 8, 2008 @ 10:56 am
in i am so fucking awesome, movies, music, nerd stuff, school and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 6 Comments

1) Oh man, thank goodness my class is finally over. I’ve been in class with a few short breaks from August 2007 until just now. It fucking sucks. My brain is tired. Now I can finally relax and work on my thesis for the rest of the summer. Wait. What? I have use the first break I’ve had in 11 months to work on more fucking homework? God fucking dammit. It is hard, unrewarding work to become officially smarter than all of you.

2) I have been walking a dangerous line since my class ended on Thursday night. I’ve filled my time with as many video games and stupid movies as possible. For example, last night I had a serious, 20 minute internal debate about whether to watch “Live Free or Die Hard: Die Hardest (on the Fourth of July) Hard 4″ or “The Matrix: (Seriously we planned this trilogy all along even though it feels like tacked-on nonsense) Reloaded”. I went with Die Hard. It was okay.

3) I forgot to put on deodorant today, and I’m already starting to bring in the funk. I’ve not quite reached George Clinton levels of funk yet, but I’m well past the “we’re local guys who like to get stoned and turn up the bass too loud and do this kind of rap-rock thing with out music, but light on the rap, and light on the rock, so we kind of just call it funk, but it’s not really funk, but it sounds great in our garage when we’re stoned, and can we borrow some money for more pot because we spent all our money on snack cakes” kind of funk. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Or is Baltimore the only town that’s overrun with fourth-tier funk bands with surprisingly large local followings?

I guess I could have put it more simply like this:

On the level of pit-kicking*, I’m at Stallone.

*Pit-kicking: when one has an offensive odor emanating from the underarms. Example-

“My pits are kickin’ like Van Damme!”

Pit-kicking hierarchy:

Van Damme- Very Malodorous
Chuck Norris- Malodorous
Sylvester Stallone- Somewhat Malodorous
Charles Bronson- Slightly Malodorous
Telly Savalas- Not Malodorous

Eff yes

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Anonymous Coworker
on July 2, 2008 @ 3:36 pm
in awesome, beer and school
. 7 Comments

Just finished a complete first draft of my final paper. The beer bong is so close I can almost feel myself spewing foam as I type.

Okay, so here’s something

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Anonymous Coworker
on June 30, 2008 @ 2:37 pm
in bitches, people are idiots, sex and work
. 23 Comments

The woman in the office across from mine is the underling of another woman in my office. The underling is really nice- she’s the kind of person that everybody likes, and likes everybody. She never has a bad word to say about anything or anyone, and is really just a delightful person.

This is a horrible problem for me.

The underling’s boss is 87 months pregnant, and is in the underling’s office all the time talking about it. Blah blah blah my feet. Blah blah blah my back. Blah blah blah my vagina is a stretched out purple mess of old taffy that’s been left out in the sun.

I just can’t fucking take it anymore. She stopped in to ask a work question at 11:30 and she JUST LEFT. Five minutes of work talk followed by 3 hours of non-stop pregnancy banality? Please fucking give me a barbed-wire Sit-and-Spin enema, because it would be less painful that listening to these fucking conversations every day.

And I know the underling wishes her boss would shut her fucking bleater because the underling has been staying late to catch up on the three missed hours of work caused by the goddamned diarrhea-face.

Finally, I feel compelled to mention one more thing on behalf of all people in the position of the underling: nobody gives a fucking shit about the stupid parasite trying to punch its way out of crevice that got you in this position in the first place. You’re not the first person to have a baby. It’s been happening for millions of years, and if you’d just shut up and squeeze the baby out after 9 months, we’d all be happier, and then you could start ruining your child’s life with your endless yammering.

Pardon me while my world collapses in on itself

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Anonymous Coworker
on June 30, 2008 @ 9:18 am
in beer, school, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 8 Comments

The last day of my summer class is on Thursday. I have two papers due and a presentation to do for that day, and I’ve got a crap-ton of work-work to do in the meantime.

Then I’m going on a two-day bender in an attempt to destroy all the new knowledge I’ve gained this summer.

So, I guess what I’m saying is, you’ll have to entertain yourselves, or less perversely, each other. So what have you got?

Maybe not quite 1000 words in this case

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Anonymous Coworker
on June 26, 2008 @ 4:28 pm
in necrophilia and sex
. 11 Comments

Since Andrew sent me this picture (which I lovingly captioned with the greatest respect for nature’s most beautiful act), and since otherwise I wouldn’t have posted anything today, I thought I would share it with you.

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