Be Nicer, Damn It!

2005 was the year of unrealized Self-Empowerment, a movement that, like most weapons, is going off at all the wrong times. People have mistaken "rightful place in the kingdom of God on Earth" for "I don't gotta say no 'Thanks' or no 'Please' to nobawdy! I'll finish this phone conversation where the hell ever I wanna, you be a ho!"

General rudeness has replaced basic courtesy. I open doors for people, or hold them open, on a semi-regular basis. But I also have about a 2 to 3-second window for people to get in through tat door. I have no idea if it's all the energy drinks on the market, the alley-grade oxycontin, or the fact that people are "living in the moment, like today is the last day of their lives." It's annoying. It has to stop.

So I've come up with a 2-point plan for getting back on the Manners Mobile. I highly suggest anybody adapt it to their own lives (I know I will), and share it with others.

FIRST:
Repeat this phrase to yourself: While I am important, I'm not the only person _____BLANK #1_____

SECOND:
Follow it with this phrase: ... and therefore, I shall not _____BLANK #2_____ because that would be inconsiderate to the world around me, which does not revolve around me, but instead, exists for my benefit, and not vise-versa. And that goes double for ______BLANK #3_______

THE BLANKS!
Blank #1: fill in the blank with the name of whatever FridayOliveCakeChiliBirdFactory you happen to find yourself at after a long night of blowing truckers. Same thing can be used if you find yourself at the grocery store while taking a break from your favorite sport, Booger Rolling.

Blank #2: this is where you are conscious of what you're doing at that moment, whether it be NOT BLOGGING even though you're cluttering the net with your blank archives of banal horseshit and/or "Dreams." It also encompasses elevator farting, blowing salami burps, or not leaving a store when you think getting a better deal on cereal is more important than other people not hearing your 5 year old scream for a coloring book.

BLANK #3: "my (SEX ORGAN YOU WERE BORN WITH THAT GETS YOU IN TROUBLE THE MOST... which for me is my brain)!!!"

See, it's simple. Be in the moment, realize you're not the king of the queen of the MeyerTargetSafeLarry's, and say "Thanks!" when I hold the door open for you. Or you WILL be sorry the next time we're in the elevator together.

Happy New Year? I'll be the judge of that.


By the way, my girlfriend and I have quit smoking, and things are on edge around here. Come by and make sure we're not wearing each other as suits. DO NOT KNOCK, YOU COME IN AND YOU BRING ICE CREAM.


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The Gifts Of Christmas Past

THE Holiday has come and passed, and I hope you each got something easily returnable. The fact of the matter is that very few people can shop for us as we get older, unless the shopper keeps an ear and a keen eye open to your style and suggestions. You may need running shoes (turns out I'm a supinating ball-striker), some fierce tops (if you've got good bottoms), or a new gadget that turns on the music, and turns off the rest of your social circle.

A pervasive feeling overcomes many people about 2.5 weeks into December, that harrowing "a Christmas party… a bathroom… a thong… balls?" feeling. This is preceded by wanting to get "something" for "so & so," but you're not sure what to get, and don't want to appear thoughtless by handing over the dollar amount in the form of a giftcard. Instead, your mind plumbs its resin & hops-glazed depths for a twinkling of their personality so you can get them an appropriate guilt trip. Er, gift.

Anywho, I wish I had more to say about all this but I have to go write my "Christmas Is Too Commercial" blog for the Pepsi website, sponsored by Nike's LiveRad campaign to fight obesity in our endangered species.org. Right after I return this "Babe Ruth" baseball card. Hello? I'm 31. I SAID BOOOOOZE, Mother.

Confidential to Steve:
Just because there's less blood in it does NOT mean "it's breaking up." Go home.



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Merry Christmas, And Other Offensive Words

So far, nobody has told me directly that they have any problem with me wishing them a Merry Christmas. I wonder if it's all propaganda created by the Reich Wing to drum up religious fervor.

For those who are completely against religion, that's fine, that's your decision.
You have to work the weekend. No days off in the Agnostic calendar, 'cept the National Holidays. If you truly want separation of Church and State, you cannot say "The government said I can take this day off," because that would be observing a Religious Holiday, and my tolerance ends at your hypocrisy.

And I'm reminded again this year that once a year is not enough to do nice things for those you care about. Don't save it up. Give a little bit all year. When it comes this time of the year and I don't get gifts from people, I don't feel bad because I know that I did some other nice stuff for them through out the year. Seriously though, when in doubt, just give me a gift card. I would rather write a "Thank You" card instead of an "Oh, THANKS" card.

Also, if you're sending a card just to send a card, "because that's what you DO," I am okay with being left off the list. Getting one of what was likely 50-53 cards with your quickly-sprawled signature in it makes me feel less like a SugarPlum and more like a YuleLog. E-mail me a "Hi!" and a digital photo of a naked elf. Unless you are giving us original photos on the cards, something cute or funny, no, REALLY, save it!!! What you see as a gesture of kindness I see as tree death and mantle clutter.

I'm happy to be thought of, but try to think when thinking of me. Put some thought into it. Five $100 gifts are better than 500 $1 gifts. Quality, not quantity, unless you're trying to break the "Gifts That Were Laying Around That Fit In Boxes That Were Laying Around" record. Don't be a nutlog and give me clutter. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd help you move your crap, and you repay me with a Jack Osborne bobble-head...

Gawd, people take all the fun out of Christmas.

Only 2 more shopping days left.
F*ck.

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Here, Please... Take My Shit

Nick and Jessica are in the process of getting divorced.
They are millionaires.
They have no children.
They are both moderately talented.
They have contributed to the retarding the legacy of American entertainment.
Supposedly, Nick deflowered Jessica.
Jessica, supposedly, thinks that's a gardening term.
Rumors abound of their dallying outside the bonds of marriage.
Dude, no shit. Who wouldn't mount that hot piece of ass. And her, too! HA HA, FAGTASTIC TURN OF A PUNCHLINE.
It has played out in the public eye, as was planned by Jessica's father, Adolf Mengala Simpsputin.
This way, they are always "so-&-so's ex"wife/husband, no matter how many of their movies go straight to DVD.

I don't pretend to think that anybody reading this was emotionally affected by the split in a negative way. Personally, I celebrated by farting. "Sorry" to the lady in the check-out line, not to mention the old man in the wheelchair I blamed it on. But that second one by the scratch-tickets was not me. I know my smell, that was something not of this earth, at least not of this diet.

As I understand marketing and celebrity life more and more, the more I want to be part of it, so that I can make fun of them publicly. Grand-scale publicly, is what I'm saying. Anybody who takes themselves so seriously in that they can't take a joke, refuse to be nudged by the elbow of comedy, well hey friend, YOU'RE IN THE CROSS-HAIRS. I find lacking a sense of humor about one's self to be a serious character flaw. Being humorless is one thing, but not being able to take a joke about your own clothing/glasses/haircut, or a myriad of other things, well my friend, you deserve to be teased until the scar tissue builds up and you start throwing turds back at the monkies.

In summation, I like dark chocolate, and have since long before anybody started their "antioxidants" campaign, likely the people at Big Antioxidant. If anybody thought that Nick and Jessica would stay married while living a life in the public eye, that person is not the kind of person I want to spend much time around. That's the kind of person who, for what they lack in general intelligence, makes up for in drug-trade promiscuity. And the world continues to turn.

Not that I care or nothin'.

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This Ought To Cover It

There's a "code" on the street about telling people what you're into without having to vomit onto your MySpazz page about it.
It's called
"THE HANKY CODE"

This chart tells you what, and where, the meaning of a hanky is.
http://alt.xmission.com/~trevin/hanky.html

I keep my setlist in my back left pocket. Apparently that makes me an "Aggressive baby head into night farting and getting verbally steamered." Paraphrasing, of course.

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EggNog Recipe

This is the universal recipe for eggnog:

1 Gallon 2% Milk From A Harbor Seal

3 Cups Maple Syrup

1 Pint of Elf Tears

6 Egg Yolks

1 Nightmare involving a Clown (or a jellyfish, for the non-drinkers)

750ml of Rum to wash the taste out

Garnish with bad breath

Enjoy the Taste Of The Holidays, AND The Taste Of Diabetes!
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Just An Idear

Saddam said in court today that he’s not afraid of execution. The former dictator of Iraq, a sadistic, torturing, madman, who is sure to have Hell waiting for him, is not afraid of to die. He basically is daring them to kill him.

They should not do that. Do not kill Saddam Hussein. In fact, they should start talking to him about what kind of reparations he could make in order to go free. They need to ask him why he thinks he should not be punished. And let him plead that case. And nod along, make notes, nod, note, nod, note. They should bring up the numerous charges of torture, murder, corruption, and scandal, and let him rebut against each charge. And when the talking’s done, they should deliberate for a day or two.

After this deliberation, they should call Saddam back to court, and say “Hey man, you weren’t a very benevolent leader. You did some really awful things. Most of the rest of the world hates you. But some people love you, and would love to harbor you upon your release. So we’re going to release you, and let you fend for yourself.”

Then, as he heads back to the jail to sign the paperwork, he’s greeted by many people on roadside holding signs of praise for him. He gets to the prison, signs his paperwork, and heads for the door.

Which is when the tribunal council says “Nah, we change our minds. We’re going to torture you. Death’s too good for you. We’ll webcam the whole deal, too. Hell, we’re going to have people e-mailing what we should do to you next. High-bidders will be able to tazer you from time to time. You're not gonna Hitler your way outta this one. Buckle up, it’s gonna be a while.”

OR, he can toss salads every day for a month.

The Geoff Lott Administration has begun.

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The Truth Is...

No matter how thin you slice it, that is still baloney.

Even a blind squirrel gets a nut eventually, if he doesn't die of starvation first.

Love conquers all things, but cannot be trusted with a long-sword.

The best job in the world is not job, but instead, a pastime that brings you money.

The Holiday Season is the only time of year you're not weird for wearing a Santa Hat to an orgy.

The Holiday Season is the only time of year you're not weird for looking like Santa Claus, Mr. FattyBeardy.

Drugs can simulate the feeling of love, but not the special moment of the first fart in front of each other.

Farts can simulate the feeling of relief, but not the special moment of gambling, losing, and "touching cotton."

The Toyota Camry is how you tell traffic "I stopped caring about progress long ago."

The elderly are bad drivers because they appear to not actually know they are driving.

I don't talk about politics for the same reason I broke up with Kelly Jo Hanratty in 2002: They both screwed my Cousin Richie.

Even if Richie and I look alike in a drunken haze in a dark room, you think she'd have noticed his wheelchair.

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. I'm not sure if that's a double-negative or a call to arms. I'm afraid I'm confused again.

I wish I had the blind drive of confidence found only in the cognitively delayed and in bad comics.

The Backwards baseball cap is how you tell the party "First to pass out gets touched."

You can't choose the branches of your family tree, and you can't set one on fire without the whole thing going up. A little sun, a little water, and hopefully it'll break off under it's own alcoholism. Um, LACK OF DESIRE TO GROW, I mean.

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Passion Aggressive

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What a Joke

Impressions. Poorly.
Racial Stereotyping. Stupidly.
High Volume. Loudly.
High Energy. LOUDLY.
Street Jokes. Sadly.

5 Days of comedy until I finally got my groove back, a little. I placed 5th on Monday in Seattle. Every other night has been sub-par according to my own standards of performing. However, I have set a new bar for taking shots at other comic's acts! Truly, I have surprised myself at the ferocity with which I've lobbed the whispered cannonballs of disbelief upon the ramparts of a few comics. Nothing new, that.

We do that, as comics. It has nothing to do with the comic themselves, it has much to do with the material, the performance. The best place to sit at an open mic is near the comics. We talk more shit than the United States Manure Council... ON CRACK! DOUBLE PUN SCORE! I win again. Unless there's karma to be had. I didn't do it with everyone's act, just a few that seemed to stand out with targets on their overly-puffed chests. Why would I do such a thing? Well, it's fun. It's what comics DO, from time to time. It purifies one's air that may have been fouled by bad comedy, allowing me to breathe.

I know it's been said about me, and I love that. It's justice, honesty, and deserved at times. It's how comedy goes. Comedy is instant karma. Karmedy! See, Killorn, I can do it, too! SMILEY

Graham Clark is funny as hell. You have to find this guy and watch him. Cool, funny, and funny. Not to mention hysterical. Canadian by birth, he's a pick of mine to finish in the top 2 overall.

I will wax-masturbatorily on comedy another time. Before I go, I gotta say this:
I love comedy. I have enjoyed the week with these guys as compatriots and performers, who all know the hope, anxiety, and hate that can go into a show. Even as the shit has been talked and the teasing done, I still admire anybody who takes the time to write and critique themselves for the purpose of getting better at the pursuit of Standing On A Stage and Making Strangers Laugh.


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For The Birds

Our President wants $7,100,000,000 to fight a potential outbreak of Avian Flu.
I'm going to go jump off the balcony and drop some berry bombs before crashing down upon the neighbor's F-250 PowerStroke(tm).

Friggin' awesome.

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Fat-ish

I'm on Green Tea and Lipo-6 this morning, a metabolic enhancement pill that has scientifically proven capabilities of loosing the Demons of ADD upon thee. I feel like I could run through a wall, talk to it, or cry. It's rather liberating. It's only a 1/2 dose, too, which makes me wonder how people make it a full day taking up to 6 of these things. I took 1, and just recently finished bare-handedly gutting a cougar. I took it because, normally, it acts much like other speeders to dial-in my focus. I didn't eat breakfast before taking it, however, so now I'm just sitting here doing some full-body muscle contractions in between fits of upper-lip sweating.

My fat content is in the black, that's one positive way to look at it, I guess. I could drop about 20lbs and cut my bodyfat % to 10, which would be awesome. I have abs, I can feel them every time I suck my gut in to strap my belt on. I've always been big, too. I'm broad. Evolution-wise, I figure I'm one of those who would have been hauling stuff when I wasn't fighting it for the amusement of others. And I exercise a lot, at least 4 solid workouts a week. It's time to quit fooling myself and work more cardio into the mix. Why on earth do I need to work my military press back up to 225? Doctor says I'm in phenomenal shape for a Business Analyst, which means, in the past 30 days, I've eaten upwards of 3 salads.

Much of my life seems to be this weird mix of my being less-than-confident in my appearance, always glancing at the roll sitting on top of my belt-line. I'm starting to exercise more for longevity than movie roles. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to be in the kind of shape where it's a crime for me to keep my shirt on, but sooner or later you have to stop working on your Tris, Back, Hams, and Pecs, and work at least a little on your personality.

Here's a good example. There's a guy at my gym who is in really good shape. He's probably early 40's, drives a Benz roadster, no wedding ring, chats up the ladies quite a bit. Tans a lot. So much so that he always smells like burnt fruit. Recently took a leave from the gym for a broken wrist. Here's the topper; Really Bad Toupee! It's a TouPerm. It's a desperate move, and it really kills the rest of his vibe. Last week I walk into the locker room and notice a bad Toupee outta the corner of my sense of humor. I think "oh hey, he's back from his wrist thingy."

I change-up and head out to warm-up, and see Toupee Regular talking to… Toupee The Sequel! Another guy with a toupee, which stopped about a half-inch above his ears, was over working out, and they seemed to gravitate toward each other. I don't know if they went to the same barber or taxidermist, but it was like they had found their perfect gym-match. It was then that I decided that my longevity was 65% Important, Performance and Appearance mixing in at about 35%. I'm realistic about how I look, and it motivates me to work a little harder, eat healthy, and supplement my workouts with the occasional vodka-colonic.

For me, the shit-end of the stick is that some people have never worked out. So they hit the gym for a month, drink only one Mt. Dew per day, cut back Hot Pocket intake to twice a week, and a month later they're down 15 lard-bricks. I then ramp my cardio up to 3 times a week, 45 minutes a stretch, and switch back to the basic compound lifts, and lose 3 lbs, most of it from not drinking beer. So maybe it's my own "system" that is set up more for hard winters and lack of access to dairy products, and I haven't evolved yet to the Balanced line. Overall, I like me. If someone doesn't like me because of the fat on my waist, then they aren't really the kind of person I want to have cups and cakes with anyway.

So I've got Fat to spare. Even though I wish I didn't have as much as I do, at least I'm not wearing it on my bald spot.

Oh shit, I'm going bald?

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The Big Bus To The Sky

Rosa Parks died on Monday. She was 92. She was in her 40s when a white man on a bus in Alabama got NOT her seat on the bus, but instead a veritable "Suck ass" that sparked a movement we know today as "Funkadelic." Rosa and I shared the same birthday, February 4th. I also share that with Dan Quayle and Alice Cooper. Color me Play-Doh poo-colored.

The Jim Crow laws of the Civil War instituted segregation of blacks and whites. Oddly enough, it seemed to disregard the low-lifes, asswads, turdnecks, fartbrains, and trashbags, not to mention the dipshits and jack-nobs.

The personality of any society can be seen in the microcosm that is its Common Areas. Bathrooms, Eating, and Transportation, for three. Thanks to Rosa Parks, everyone can ride the bus if their car is broken! Other than that, I am the F*CK in my Chrysler, and away from a white girl staring out the window while silently rapping to herself, and her dad, the one knitting an invisible sweater for his dog, which is made from old bottles of Wild Turkey, filled with his urine.

To get to that last bit of attempted funny, one would have to take a bus!

Rosa Parks HAD TO take the bus, because she had trouble walking with her awesomely brass clangers. God Bless her. And stamp out hate, especially those who hate. It will be tough, but we can get rid of hate through the love of violence and oppression of Haters. Slippery slope, people.

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Things and Times, Right and Wrong

Addendumb!

Last night I got to hang out with some great comics. This is the last weekend of Laughs in Bellevue being open, as the hotel it's been in is turning the lounge into a "conference room." The Paragon Hotel can eat my ass, as they've been charging $5 for a bottle of Miller Lite for too long, anyway. That's the thanks we've gotten. Plus their new bartender is some kid outta The Bartending Academy, and has yet to learn that when you charge someone $8 for a Grey Goose on the rocks with a twist, you don't measure the pour, a-pipe.

As the night started I just hung with the comics like Harold Gomez, Tracy Tuffs, James Inman, The Fahim Machine, ChiliDog, and Wiggy, and there's one thing these guys all do that I think makes them great comics:
THEY DON'T TALK ABOUT THEMSELVES.

That's why the blog was invented, don'tcha know?
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Knowing that Perception is each person's reality, is anything ever Real?
Passive aggressive behavior is one way to do it. Another is to say nothing at all and be the bigger person. But if I have to say something I usually remember the old phrase
A wise man has something to say
A fool has to say something.
Then I tell a fart joke.

I love to hear people boast of their exploits and how awesome they are. It saves the rest of us time in every having to discuss them.

I have news to share, some really good news.
Also, I watched Dane Cook on the Adam Carolla show last night, and Dane Cook doesn't have what Ace Rockolla's packin' in the funny pants.

More to come.
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When It Comes Down To It

... I question the intent of people wearing those rubber bracelets.
... I think "the gubment" is out to scare us into trusting it.
... but a lot of us will be too scared to ever turn our backs on news of a vaccine to a flu nobody we know will ever get.
... we are over-taxed for what's really going on in this country.
... but were we not taxed, we may not give anything to anybody.
... I read DOOCE semi-religiously.
... and I don't care who knows it.
... I haven't picked up The Bible in about 6 weeks.
... and the last time I read it, the whole "treat others as you'd like to be treated" thing started to sink in.
... I took two days off this week. Officially.
... I need 8 more. Radically.
... what have I done for you lately?
... what have you done to deserve it, anyway?
... which reminds me, that whole "Golden Rule" thing is about pre-emptive kindness for the sake of kindness. To everyone.
... My father is mentally ill. A lot of people are crazy. BIG difference.
... I have lost two days of work in the past 2 weeks because of communication problems with adults who couldn't answer Yes/No questions.
... I have found many reasons to pursue my dreams.
... spiders scare my girlfriend more than clowns scare me.
... and spiders aren't even protected by the law.
... not to mention, spiders never tried to show me "how Best friends hug when it's cold."
... damn you, Uncle Bareback.
... the gubment needs to work on a clown vaccine.
... "Since You've Been Gone" will likely win a Grammy next year.
... which says a lot about music these days.


............good night.
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Pour Me Another One

Ho...
Lee...
Shittin'...
Shit.

Finally, the President (how long has it been since that title carried an air of respect?) has dropped some knowledge we can use.
We're all gonna die. I'm going to go get drunk at my party now. See you in the lights.



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Update! Perspective In The Passenger Seat

In the past, I've written here about the importance of Perspective.

Perspective is the sugar to your salt, or the ice to your burn. It is the kiss to your boo-boo, and the salve to your sores, the pop to your pistol. But it can also be the nail to your back, the bite to the bark, and the lash of the whip. Wow, it moved a little there. Is anybody else getting turned on? A-gain, I digress, and apologize most unreservedly. What I'm saying is that I could really give two giant dog logs about my job. The work I do could not be done by anyone else in an instant. That's where my Catch-22 is… Someone else can do this work if I train them, but I have no time to train anybody else, so I can't any time off and have somebody cover for me while I continue recruiting the squirrel army. (Enrollment now at 3-ish. Their squirrel focus can blur when you run out of bridge mix)

At 31 I am getting into the prime of my life, which will be a different sort of prime than I thought I was in there in my mid-late 20s. That was fun and all, but there were plenty of things I didn't need to do, like Ohio, to prove I was "livin' for the moment." I am trying to break away from the cycle of destructive tendencies, also, like shooting myself in the foot before the big race so that I don't beat my best friend. I have a small group of close friends, a close group of good friends, and a good sized group of buddies, and I mean this with all due respect, but f*ck 'em. I have things to do, like call Ohio, like LAST WEEK, and I don't care if Ohio's not available, I'll text 'em and get on with it. There are things that need doing, undoing, then massaging the kinks out of.

Getting on with it is the deal. This past year has been a push, feeling like an 800-meter race of warm-up, warm-up, warm-up, and GO at a gallop. No dead sprints, just a pace that usually would make me say "I'm much more adept with a shot-put, or a female high-jumper." But for some reason I have gone for it this year. In all facets, this pace was my perspective to last year. Last year was a coast, a brisk walk on a nice fall morning to get a cup of coffee and something from the pastry case, perhaps an Afternoon Delight with a Cabernet follow-up, or I'll just have a go at myself and another nap before I hit the gym. Nearly decadent, I was still shooting myself footwise a number of times. Some things you don’t have to go through to understand that you learned your lesson the first time. Ohio is an unkind lover who farts when it sleeps. Still.

But my schedule is turning. In my mind's eye I had this calendar that ran through September, then there was a red line, then a lot of gray area. That gray area is what I'm supposed to paint for myself, I suppose. First off, I've heard a fair amount of anti-male rhetoric in the workplace, including "Bob's being an asshole" followed by "Aren't all men?" Then again, 3 marriages do not a romantic make. Can you imagine? Three different people have invested in that slag of a woman. How many before she can be sued for fraud? More than that is the emotional stance that I'm beyond ready to move on to the next phase of my career. I see work as a relationship, and money as $ex, and I'm just looking for a lot of hot, sloppy, anonymous $ex with whomever is $exiest at the moment. (see previous blog)

Perhaps it's the perspective that everyone is getting older in different ways. I see some people progressing, and some in denial of their lameness. Those who are progressing are going to shine, as they're ready to progress. Those who step back and look at stagnation as if it's cute, well, pity them not. Just decide RIGHT NOW you will not donate a liver section to them if you match up later in life. (I told them 5 times, DO NOT CALL OHIO) Watching what's happened with my dad has been a huge motivator in my life to open my arms to what I'm meant to be doing. And from what I can see, my father worked really hard his entire adult life and had just a couple years to enjoy the fruits of his labor before his illness had progressed. He turns 62 in a few weeks. While I blame Ohio, partly, I cannot help but wish I could turn it all around, even for a week. His illness is the perspective I needed to wake me up to the fact that This Is Not Karaoke, you gotta rock the original. And if someone likes it enough to rub some oil into your back, remember for a second, all those faces you sang to that said "Man, you're awful." Then imagine them on their knees with a ball-gag in their mouth, because they are PIGS, OINK you sick little pig, you OINK FOR ME or I will make you lick my HEELS because…

Well, it's time.

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Excerpt from "Corporate Management: Out of Touch No More"

1) Conference Calls are all-important, and the only way to make them more efficient would be to invite everyone you know from High School. Even though they are not employees, nor do they remember you, the are still people you know and, therefore, need to know about "Implementation of the New Team Thesaurus." And NO, 90 minutes is NOT too long!

2) When someone joins a conference call, the absolute BEST method of establishing a friendly, productive call environment is to cut off every conversation with "HI WHO JUST JOINED?" Even though it's probably somebody you invited to the call, it's important that the newly-joined person understand that they are NOT being persecuted for showing up 2 minutes late to your "Blue Sky Call For Cross-leveraging Synergy of Organizations" at 3pm on a Friday, but instead, welcomed to the gang! The double-beep is also NOT a censorship tone of their special way of saying "HI!"

3) Some may confuse "arm flailing panic" or "getting way ahead of yourself" with your being "ProActive." Be proactive anyway. Someday somebody will be happy that you took 4 hours every other Saturday with your team - UNPAID - to think up what will replace the internet, even though you work in fruit sales.

4) REPEAT AFTER ME: Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. i'm a humorless loser Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. i have to tell people that i am joking Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. i often can't decide btwn standing and sitting to pee Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. Relax. It's only a spreadsheet. i'm overpaid, overannoying, and over.Relax. It's only a spreadsheet.

Alright team, let's be careful out there. If these don't work, throw 'em a $5 card for some coffe giant. Get's 'em every time.
BREAK


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Kate Moss And Coke Zero

STOP the tyrannical onslaught to drugs, models, and partying lifestyles. Kate Moss is getting run through an even skinnier ringer for her drug habit, and my gawd, if she weren't on coke, we'd all be worried that poor Katie's gone anorexic.

She's so thin, Hiram... what could possibly be wrong? Oh, I hope it's not an eating disorder and instead just a little booger sugar.

What the hell are we expecting from public figures with inhuman bodies and features to be ingesting? Kate, did you drink water today? Don't lie to me, I can see it in your skin! Moss wasn't on her way to Cambridge when someone turned on the blacklight and said "here, smell this!" She's a FASHION MODEL. She wears clothing and flashes a nipple and looks annoyed for MILLIONS of dollars. Do we hate her because kids aspire to be her? I would smack a kid who wanted to be a fashion model... in the ASS because it's probably a really sweet ass.

Who gives a sniff if she's on coke, raise your rolled-up Benji. Let's see, that's one guy in the back who thought I was asking if anybody wanted to stab the guy from Good Charlotte. I should be stabbed for knowing there's somebody in that band with that name... but I embarrass myself. Coke, H, weed, booze, X, TrimSpa, Paxil, Leptoprin, Cialis, drug her the hell up and wheel her bony ass onto the runway. $5,000 silk fingerless gloves don't sell themselves, Chubs!



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How Ironical, But Non-Sensical

Hurricane Katrina hits, and the majority of the people affected were those living below the poverty level and are black.
Pardon me a sec whilst I flush PC down the toilet.

So the buses start taking these refugees and survivors to Texas. While there, The Bush Family Players keep hamming it up, including such ee cummings-esque quips as
"...even Senator Trent Lott's mansion was destroyed" -GW Bush
and
"...many of these people lived in poverty before, so (living in this shelter) seems to be agreeing with them" - Former First Lady Barbara Bush
and
"With all that's going on, not many people have been mentioning Iraq" - Fmr President GHW Bush

The proper response is "HOLY F*CKING SHIT, you gotta be rimming me in front of my kids!" But that's not appropriate for this situation.

Just think, all these people who were evacuated out of New Orleans are now in Texas, where another Hurricane is heading, and they're stuck there with the Bush family.
That asscan has more than enough room on his ranch, from what I've seen. Send 'em all there.

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