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Almost a Darwin Award winner. Almost.

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Anonymous Coworker
on June 17, 2008 @ 9:37 am
in Glen Burnie, awesome, driving, people are idiots, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 16 Comments

This morning I saw quite possibly the dumbest thing I have ever seen in all my years of driving. Spectacularly, amazingly, awesomely dumb. Dumb in a way that I don’t even think you can comprehend. You might be thinking, “Well, there was that one time I saw those fratboy douches in college give each other grain-alcohol enemas before seeing who could put their tongue into the electric socket the furthest,” and I’d say, “Wow, Jesus Christ, that is pretty fucking stupid. You win, your story about stupid people is way more full of stupid than mine is,” but the problem here is that none of you ever saw that. I just made it up. So, still, I win. Anyway, I’m pretty much a few sentences from jumping completely off the rails here, so let’s rein it in and get back to the original story.

I was at an intersection near the airport where the Light Rail crosses my commuting path, and sometimes blocks my path if the train is coming past. The MTA, in all their wisdom, saw fit to paint a giant “Don’t fucking stop your car here or you’ll get hit by a fucking train you slop-faced pickle-fucker” box in front of the tracks so you wouldn’t get too close to the train. Within that box descend two railway gates that have blinking red lights on top of them so that even if you miss all the giant blinking red traffic lights, maybe you won’t miss the ones that are at eye level on a giant red and white arm in front of you. The one thing they didn’t think of, though, was that some idiot would drive all the way up to the edge of the tracks and park under where the gates are supposed to come down.

Here, let me show you. Feel free to click around until you get a solid understanding of what happened here. I’ll wait.

Shawty say I lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-look like a lollipop
She say I lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-look like a lollipop
Lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-look like a lollipop
She say I ….. like a lollipop

Shawty wanna thug
Bottles in the club
Shawty wanna hump
And ooo I like to touch ya lovely lady lumps

You’re back? Great. What a terrible, horrible, stupid song.

So this idiot is parked directly under the place where the traffic gate needs to come down. And guess what happens when, much to my schaudenfruede-laden glee, a train needs to come by? The gate just comes right down on top of this fuckers car.

Yes. Yes. It was awesome.

The guy was flipping out. The arm was just kind of resting on his car all the way up by the windshield, so he starts backing up and there’s this horrible grating sound as the arm slids down the contour of his hood, a huge “thump” as it bounces onto his bumper, and then free of his car, bobs delicately in the air for a few seconds. So this cock-smock decides that now, as a train is about to drive by and as he stands in the middle of the danger zone, would be the perfect time to check out the damage. So he gets out of his car, and he’s got one hand on his head, and another hand on his hip, and he’s kind of looking around like he can’t believe what just happened, and that’s when the train went by.

Normally the train conductors will give a half-hearted “blaatt” of the horn before the get to the intersection, but I must admit I’ve been startled in the past to hear a triumphant “BWAT” from the horn. Today we were all in for a special treat as the conductor must have seen what happened from around the bend. Just before he reached the intersection he leaned on that fucking horn like he’d just found out that pressing it gave him money.

BRAAAAWAAAAAAATTTT

The guy nearly jumped out of his skin. He must have totally sprayed the inside of his pants with the partially digested remains of his breakfast, because I was kind of expecting it and it made me jump. He dove back into his car and resumed waiting for the train to pass like the rest of us. When the gates went up and the light turned to green, he proceeded on his way, and I went mine. I can only hope he was going someplace to sterilize himself, but I can’t be sure since he turned left and I went straight.

Silverdocs Liveblogging

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 16, 2008 @ 4:49 pm
in Blogroll, art and movies
. 1 Comment

My buddy Brent is liveblogging the Silverdocs film festival in Silver Spring, Maryland, so if you were heading down to the festival, or might be inclined to head to the festival, or want someone to persuade you to head to the festival, or just like seeing the word “festival” and “Silverdocs” a lot, you should definitely check out his coverage.

Scrapple + wine + Guitar Hero = boner

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 16, 2008 @ 11:41 am
in Mrs. ACW, awesome, beer, devil cat, family, food, movies and music
. 7 Comments

Yesterday Mrs. ACW and I hosted her family for a Father’s Day brunch. There was bacon, eggs, fruit, fried potatoes, and a pound of scrapple. For those of you who don’t live in the mid-Atlantic region of the US, scrapple is concentrated deliciousness. It’s a fried pork orgasm. It’s probably the world’s most awesomest food. Scrapple makes bacon look like a little bitch, and sausage doesn’t even come close. Scrapple is the king of breakfast meats.

Some people may dismiss scrapple as “whatever falls on the floor while they’re making hot-dogs” or they may tell you that the primary ingredient is “pig anus”. Don’t believe the lies. Scrapple is America’s haggis, and haggis is fucking delicious.

I digress.

After Mrs. ACW’s parents and brother left, her sister and sister’s boyfriend stuck around to play a few songs on Guitar Hero.

Nine hours later both wiimotes were almost completely out of battery power, we’d played a million Guitar Hero songs (and I got to watch the boyfriend complete 78% of Through the Fire and Flames on Expert: it was insane), drank all the wine in the world, bowled, boxed, scarfed some pizza and wings, and eventually collapsed on the couches in the living room to await our same-day hangovers while watching Superbad.

All in all, one of the best Father’s Days on record.

This morning there was still some leftover breakfast from the day before (though the scrapple was long gone*) and as I was preparing the eggs some fell on the floor. So I took it over to Sherlock and he was like, “No, I don’t want your dirty floor food you bastard.” So I gave it to Wookie and she was like, “Nom nom nom. That was good. I hope it was food.” And then Sherlock, upon seeing Wookie’s satisfied expression was like, “Hey, I want some food!” but I was like, “Shut up bitch, you had your chance.”

That doesn’t really have anything to do with yesterday, but I thought it was amusing so I included it anyway.

*At one point I offered scrapple to the SIL’s boyfriend and he was like, “Sure”. Then I went Tasmanian Devil on the plate and the rest of the scrapple was gone in about two seconds. He came back in a minute later as I was sheepishly placing the empty plate in the sink. “Sorry man, I, uh, kind of ate the rest of it.” Then I yelled at Mrs. ACW for not letting me purchase two pounds of scrapple as had been my original intention.

God damn I want some scrapple right now.

Every day shaking hands becomes something I fear more and more

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 13, 2008 @ 9:52 am
in ocd, people are idiots, potty humor, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 12 Comments

If there’s one thing I’m going to miss about this website, it’s how far you all will run with a joke in the comments. Cracks my shit up, for reals.

Anyway, bravely onward to paramount mediocrity!

I am not a doctor. Or, if you’re into the whole brevity thing, IANOD. Ee-an-odd? Eye-an-odd? Ay-nod? Nevermind. Let’s just say I have as much doctoring experience as a monkey with a stethoscope, which is to say, lots. Despite that, I’m am not licensed to practice medicine, design pharmaceuticals, or, thanks to a court order, get within 500 feet of Christopher Walken.

However, I still know that rinsing your hands, rather than washing them, does as much to remove germs as blowing on them. So why is it, in this day and age, that I can walk into the bathroom and see someone walk away from a urinal, or exit a stall, rinse their hands under some water, dry their hands, and leave?

I bring this up only because I saw one of the most egregious violations of social/health rules in our bathroom at work. As I was walking in a guy was walking up to the sink. Let’s assume that he was just in for a short visit, and not a long one. He approached the sink and thrust one hand under the automatic faucet, letting his hand linger long enough to be touched by the water, and then pulled his hand out again. The entire process lasted for less than two seconds. He used his other hand to get some paper towels, and then he dried off his hand and left.

I was, of course, flabbergasted. Was he so self-satisfied with the hygiene he applies to his own genitalia that he thinks that germs couldn’t POSSIBLY be transmitted from his dangly parts to his hand? Or does he think that if there are germs on his junk, they couldn’t possibly be that dangerous? And if that’s the case, why “wash” his hands at all?

One thing is certain: I’m now treating any and all communal objects in the office as if they’d actually had his balls resting on them, and I’m treating all communal food like candy dishes and bowls of popcorn, as if they were just big bowls of other people’s scabs. Because for serious, that is some nasty shit.

Sample question: Why should I not punch you right now?

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 11, 2008 @ 11:27 am
in people are idiots, suhmuhmuh bitch and work
. 10 Comments

Sweet magical Jesus with pockets full of fudge. I have been redonkulously busy. I didn’t even have time to use the INTERNET on Monday OR Tuesday. How effed up is that? I mean, I know kids are starving in Africa and shit, but I couldn’t get my fix of bad Flash-based games and narcissistic blog posts. For reals. But you don’t want to hear about all that stuff anyway, so I’ll move on. I just need to generate a transitional sentence to move me to the next paragraph.

Shazaam!

Hmm, not so much a sentence as an ejaculation, but it’ll have to do.

We’ve recently been having interviews for an available position in our office, a process in which I find no end of personal amusement. For example, we were halfway through a conference call with one potential candidate (who we ruled out after five minutes of the worst interviewing I’ve ever heard) but she wouldn’t shut up. She just kept talking and talking, so I decided to mess with her.

Because she wouldn’t admit to having any flaws or having ever done anything wrong incorrectly ever, I decided to ask her what stresses her out.

“Nothing. I don’t really get stressed. I guess if I had to pick one thing though, it would be blah blah blah blame other people for my shortcomings blah blah I’m clearly a harpy you’d hate to work with blah blah blah”. It was truly awful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone interview so poorly for anything, and that includes tryouts for American Idol.

Another interviewee was actually pretty good, but she was all nerves. Her voice was shaking and cracking, and more hilariously, she was breaking out in hives throughout the entire interview. It started at the base of her neck and slowly spread up to her chin, and then another bit started at her ear and spread down toward her chin. I had a little celebration in my head when the two hive-waves collided on her jawline.

As the interview went on I watched the hives take over everywhere from the neck up, except for a small part at the center of her neck. No matter how flustered she got, or how red the rest of her face became, that one spot on her neck remained-hive free. It was slowly, slowly closing in as the interview went on, and part of me wanted to drag out the interview just to see if we could complete the hive-scarf on her neck, but my boss closed the interview and it didn’t happen.

So yeah, hope you never have to interview with me, because the sociopathic tendencies start to rear their ugly, uncaring heads.

When two people love each other very much…

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 6, 2008 @ 9:26 am
in i am so fucking awesome, jokes, meta blogging, sex and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 6 Comments

What’s that you say? You couldn’t access my blog for the past two days or so? Yeah, I haven’t talked to my brothers about it, but I’m pretty sure that the storms we had that swept through Maryland messed with our server a little bit. I haven’t talked to them about it, but I think lightning may have hit the servers, sending a huge surge of electricity through them and by some coincidence involving the server, the lightning, and nearby tuna sandwich, the server gained sentience and set a series of events in motion whereby it was able to become fully mobile and go on a brief (but hilarious) killing spree.

Either that or the storm knocked out the power. Whatever. I’m pretty sure that if you apply Occam’s razor (that the simplest explanation is usually the right one) you’ll realize which story is more accurate. Also, the killbot death-server was calling itself “Occam’s Razor” as it slashed its victims to death, so take that for what you will.

It’s really a shame the power went out when it did, because boy, did I have some awesome blog posts all lined up. Posts so funny that you’d laugh so hard you’d wet your pants, and then you’d have to go drink more water so you could wet your pants again. This was seriously dangerous levels of hilarity.

I’m not trying to insinuate anything about my female readers, but I’m pretty sure you would have laughed so hard that you would have actually wound up pregnant with my child. You can look that up. It’s science. Also, dude readers, it could have happened to you too, so I think we all dodged a bullet there. I totally think I remember reading about this on WebMD or something. It was on the internet somewhere, that I can be sure of.

But I think the important thing to remember in all this is that for one reason or another the server was down, and lucky for all of us, I wasn’t able to stuff your insides with my joke-baby. This isn’t in any way an attempt to cover up that fact that had the server not been down, there wouldn’t have been any new blog posts here anyway.

Avoiding the obvious joke title

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on June 3, 2008 @ 10:36 am
in Mrs. ACW, house, i am so fucking awesome, music and sex
. 12 Comments

Mrs. ACW and I are in the process of painting our guest room, the very last room in our house that still retains the original color from the previous owner. The last owner had a panties-around-ankles infatuation with horrible pastel colors and violently repulsive stenciling in every room. It’s like the rooms were painted with the blood of an easter egg massacre and then Strawberry Shortcake rode in on My Little Pony to paint Satanic symbols around the room with the multicolored blood of various Care Bears. It was really hideous, and I’m glad we’ll never have to see those colors in our house again.

So last night we moved all the stuff out of the room, taped up all the doors and windows and ceilings and floors and whatever other shit I’m forgetting, and removed the light switch cover plates from the switches.

And since I had the plate covers off anyway, I decided to take a closer look at the switch that had never worked. It doesn’t operate the light, and it doesn’t operate the ceiling fan, and as far as I can tell, doesn’t operate any of the outlets.

As I’m peering into the housing area of the switch I senselessly and idiotically reach my hand up to the exposed switch and extremely stupidly grab onto it with two fingers. I’m still not sure what made my brain think, “Yes, you should touch electricity. It will be awesome. I promise.”

Of course I immediately squealed/shrieked upon having about 100 volts pass through my hand and up my arm, but once the initial shock had passed, I actually started laughing. I didn’t really hurt so much as scare the bejesus out of me, and too be honest, the shock felt kind of cool.

Yeah, so there’s another weird thing you know about me now. I’m not so into being shocked that I’m an estim enthusiast, it’s just that I’ve always been, um, how to best put this… unafraid of being shocked.

I remember as a little kid spending a few minutes shocking myself on the tongue with a 9-volt battery. And later, at camp that kept livestock, touching the electric fence first with a long piece of grass for a minor shock, and then with my bare hand for a much more significant shock. In high school or early college I strapped an dog collar that works with an invisible fence onto my hand and kept waving it back and forth across the fence area while my friends laughed at my reactions. And now this. I hope I don’t get addicted to “jacking on“.

On a completely unrelated note, here’s a song that’s been stuck in my head for a few days. I thought I would share.

Internetting it in

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on May 30, 2008 @ 9:29 am
in art, games, i am so fucking awesome, meta blogging, nerd stuff, school and the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs
. 10 Comments

Yep, I’ve got nothin’. My class has rendered my brain a worthless sloshing mess within my skull, and my schedule a barren wasteland of research, homework, and reading. Sloshy brains plus no free time equals zero funny.

Usually when that perfect storm crops up I point Firefox at the internetertubers and keep clicking until the oatmeal previous referred to as the sloshing mess inside my skull manages to spit out something along the lines of “Oh pretty” before drooling all over itself.*

Or sometimes I find a picture or video of somebody being hit in the nuts, and my brain thinks, “Ha ha funny man parts go smash ouch funny.”

And every now and then I’ll find a game that makes my brain say, “Oh simple clicky make go clicky”

So what gets you through those boring times when I’m not around to provide the laugh-gasms?

*Is that clear? My brain is thin oatmeal that has the capacity for speech and drooling. No, I don’t think I lost control of that metaphor.

I couldn’t really find any funny videos

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on May 29, 2008 @ 10:14 am
in bitches, devil cat, food, house, meta blogging, people are idiots and school
. 18 Comments

1) I hate my garbage men. Each week they decide not to take some piece of the trash or recycling for reasons that are completely beyond me. This week they decided not to take the plastic container that the kitty litter came in. The kitty litter containers have been a constant source of trouble for as long as we’ve lived in our house.

After they hadn’t been collected for a few weeks, I put them into a magical bag that disguised them as regular old trash. The magical bag somehow tricked the garbage men into disposing the kitty litter containers. If you’re interested in purchasing one of these magic bags, you can buy them almost anywhere. They come in rolls of 200 or so, and are available in delightful shades of green, white, and clear. They are sold by the name of “trash bags”.

It disturbs me quite a bit that by simply covering something with a trash bag, the garbage man will dispose of it without hesitation. “Old car battery? No we can’t take that! Oh, what’s this car-battery-shaped object in this trash bag? I should throw that away post haste!” or “No, I couldn’t possibly take that bucket of used motor oil. Oh, what’s this oily sack of oil doing just laying there like it’s oil? I guess I should throw it away because anything not in a trash bag is not trash, and by extension, everything in a trash bag is trash.” or “Why would someone leave a dead hooker by the curb? I am calling the police. Wait, here’s a trash bag full of what feels like the dismembered remains of a dead hooker. It’s in a trash bag though, and I’m a mindless douchebag, so I’ll throw it away. But not that kitty litter container over there.”

2) Wookie is especially irritating whenever we’re eating. She gets all up in our grills as if we’re somehow going to accidentally put the food we’re eating into her mouth instead of our own mouths. Cereal at breakfast used to be especially bad because she’d headbutt my arm while the spoon was traveling from bowl to mouth, and cereal would go everywhere.

After a couple of weeks of picking her up and throwing her off the couch whenever I was eating, she finally got the idea and started leaving me alone. But recently she’s developed a new habit that is as infuriating as it is ingenious.

I eat my cereal while Wookie sits quietly, pretending not to notice what I’m doing. “What?” she seems to ask, “Were you looking at me? I was just sitting here quietly looking at the floor and or possibly cleaning myself. I didn’t even notice you were eating whatever it is you are eating.” I keep my eye on her anyway, because there’s not a damn thing innocent about her.

I finish my cereal and lift the bowl up to my face to drink the milk, when suddenly, from out of nowhere, Wookie is on the table head-butting the bottom of the bowl so milk spills all over me and the floor.

The first time she did it I thought it was kind of funny, but this morning it was starting to piss me off. I can’t even imagine one of my neighbors looking into my dining room to see me holding a bowl up to my face with one hand while holding Wookie’s face at arm’s length with my other hand.

Stupid fuckin’ cat. This is what I get for not kicking them more frequently. Or ever.

3) My summer class started Tuesday and I was already behind on my homework before the class began. Expect light posting in June.

Hmm, that’s kind of a downer way to end a post, isn’t it? How about this then:

(remember to put an hilarious youtube video here)

I’m your private dancer, a dancer for money, I’ll do what you want me to do

Published
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Anonymous Coworker
on May 27, 2008 @ 11:03 am
in Mrs. ACW, awesome, beer, food, music, sex and travel
. 5 Comments

This weekend Mrs. ACW and I drove up to Long Island for a wedding, which was totally awesome (the wedding, not the Island), and while I still maintain a special seething hatred for Long Island that burns like syphilis on my soul, I must admit that the location for the wedding was really effing cool, as was the wedding itself.

I’ll spare you the details about the decor and the food and jump right into the one story I’ve managed to pull out of the whole weekend. Because that’s what you’re here for, right? If you wanted to read a wedding review you’d go to my other website, www.yourweddingreviewedbyaninternetpottymouth.com.

The cocktail hour featured heavy hors d’oeuvres (whores d’ovaries) so by the time we sat down for dinner, most people weren’t particularly hungry, so as we waited for the food to be served the only logical course of action was to get boozed up and jump on the dance floor, and that’s exactly what we did.

Since most of you have never seen me dance, and because most of you never will, I should explain my style. It’s mostly generic bebopping with only a slight handicap for whiteness smattered with goofy dances from The Fresh Prince of Belair, old SNL skits, and modern interpretations of Soul Train performances. Essentially, I dance to make people laugh.

Apparently it worked because when I went up to the bar to get more dancing fuel the bartender said, in a very thick Long Island accent, “Dude, you gotta tell me: do you really dance like that, or are you goofing around?”

“Uh, a little of both, actually.”

“That is awesome. I’m just standing back here watching you and you’re killin’ me. Every time I look over there you’re doing something different and it’s just ridiculous.”

“Thanks?”

So he introduced himself, and I introduced myself, and he asked for my drink order, and suddenly my mind went blank. So I told him I’d have whatever he felt like making me, and a few moments later he handed me a big cup of liquor with some juice splashed on top for color. I took a sip, and it was awesome.

He was so funny that I kept getting up to get drinks for people just to chat with him for a minute or two, and each time he’d get me a new cup full of liquor. I finally asked him what was in it and he said he had no idea, he was just making it up as he went along.

By the end of the night he would come out on the dance floor to find me and give me a new drink. Then he started pouring us shots even though he was expressly forbidden by his manager from doing so.

I found him packing up his bar at the end of the night so I went over to thank him one last time.

“Thanks again man. If I was a chick I’d think you were hitting on me.”

“Well…”

I was floored! I’d introduced him to Mrs. ACW. He knew not only that I was straight, but that I was married. I had no idea what to say.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you buddy. You kept me entertained all night, I just wanted to return the favor.”

We both laughed, and shortly thereafter the wedding was over. Which is a shame for him, because a few more drinks and I totally would have blown him.

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